#i am apparently not even allowed to choose when I go on the walks he forces me to go on

[lynxgirlpaws]

>dad gets home >immediately shits on me neat

[pseudowho]

It was in the corridors of Jujutsu High, that Nanami Kento first learned that one of the First Years had gone missing.

Whispers of varying voice rose and fell along the wood-panelled walls as Kento walked with a growing unease. Rumours rose on both sides around him, as if in some uncanny valley.

"...off the rails..."

"...not answering calls apparently..."

"...unauthorised? Gojo's not here..."

"...gone rogue. Sukuna's vessel?"

Kento paused, outwardly unreadable as his blood ran cold, with his hand upon the doorknob. Balanced on a knife edge, he moved again, slow and considered, stepping out before closing the door behind him. His feet paddled madly beneath still water, and Kento pulled out his phone, typing fast.

His phone to his ear. A pause.

"Hi, Fushiguro-kun? Do you know where Itadori-kun is?" A pause. A single flat command. "Tell me, immediately."

Another pause; a nod, a pen and paper not required.

Kento waited until he was completely out of the line of sight, to begin running beneath Jujutsu High's tree-lined torii gates.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Scum.

Yuuji's red boots skid, bloodslick, and he stumbled around a corridor with his breath loud in his ears.

--execute him already--

He wasn't experienced enough for this; but he knew that when he came, hoping to earn his own goodness as proof, to those who determined his worth based on the monster he contained.

--better off dead--

And maybe I am, Yuuji thought, slammed by flailing bestial limbs into concrete, that crumpled like wet paper beneath his body. Slumping down against the wall, Yuuji accepted that the only dignity he could afford himself, would be to choose a good death for himself, as the boy he was, fighting to save lives, instead of the beast within, fighting to take them.

"Itadori-kun. Move behind me. I'll take it from here."

Yuuji looked up from the floor, slow and stunned. Kento stood before him, stony-faced as he bound his spotted tie around his fist, alight with swathes of blue fire.

"...Nanamin...I--"

"I'll scold you after. Behind me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yuuji's eyes were downcast, and chunks of rubble shook from his hair to his thighs, when Kento slammed his car door. As Kento stepped into his own seat, Yuuji caught the tail end of a conversation.

"...coming home to ours. Gojo knows. He's got it handled with the school. Yes. Alright. We won't be long."

The car rumbled to life. Yuuji's fists clenched in his lap, his face twisted with pain, guilt, the crushing weight of failure and embarrassment. Kento allowed him this, for a few minutes, driving seamlessly through the Tokyo evening traffic.

"Are you going to explain what you were doing, Itadori-kun?"

Yuuji was silent, gagged by the sheer volumes he could speak, all fighting for precedence. He heard the faintest sigh from Kento.

"Yuuji?"

Still, nothing. Kento's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter.

"I see. We shall talk after dinner."

"...you can just drop me back to the school--"

"We shall talk after dinner."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Your hands worried the baggy sleeves of your cardigan before you heard the front door unlock. You stopped, plastering on a smile, and walking over to greet Yuuji as the door clicked open, Kento guiding Yuuji in and shutting the door behind him.

Yuuji's eyes never left the floor to accept your smile. He was thoroughly reduced, hidden behind cloud. Your eyes flicked to Kento, sensing his fixed cool anger, and you redoubled your efforts for Yuuji.

"Busy day, huh? You hungry? I've made lots...come on."

You sat together, tense in silence. Kento ate, robotic and clipped. Yuuji pushed the food around his plate, utterly silent. Kento pressed a napkin to his mouth, lowering it and clearing his throat. He repeated himself.

'Yuuji. Are you going to explain what you were doing?"

Silence. You placed your knife and fork down, your throat thickening with impending confrontation. Yuuji squirmed in his seat as frost formed beneath Kento.

"...I just...just wanted to be useful."

"Useful?"

"...just...wanted to be better than they say I am."

"They?"

You felt Yuuji's stress climbing, racking exponentially with Kento's insistent dig for clarity. You opened your mouth to try to soften Kento's blows before Yuuji blurted.

"Anyone who matters at Jujutsu High thinks I'm scum. Thinks I'm--I'm-- no better than--than him." Yuuji snapped, gesturing to the slits of Sukuna's other eyes on his face, and shoving his plate away with a clatter. Kento bristled, the frost thickening.

"Control your temper, Yuuji--"

"Oh yeah? And why should I? I could have died a good death there-- trying to help people, if you hadn't--"

Kento slapped his napkin down on the table, moving to stand, and you felt yourself shut down beneath the gravity of his rage, knowing it was all concern, but terrifying nonetheless, and you felt the escalation as Yuuji stood, too, facing Kento with combatant teenage fury--

"And who, exactly, were you helping, Yuuji? Were you helping the sorcerers who would have come to rescue you, if I hadn't? You call that a good death, giving the higher ups exactly what they want--"

"--well they can fucking have what they want, then, can't they, nobody gives a shit about me anyway--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

"--nobody fucking cares--"

"I care."

Yuuji's face crumpled, his anger burning out hot and fast. Transitioning from man to boy again, his sleeves rubbed the rage tumbling out as tears.

Kento's chest heaved with the fever-pitch of battle. He turned on the spot, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as he stared up at the ceiling, calming himself. He turned to Yuuji again.

"I care. And I need you safe. And while I cannot fathom the stress you are under, I am so disappointed with you, that you view yourself with the same ill-regard as those with such pithy, ignorant understanding."

Yuuji's hands hung limp at his sides, now, the tears falling freely. Kento rubbed one hand down over his own face, appraising Yuuji with ruffled impassivity.

"...finish your dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

A sigh, weary. "Then go and get cleaned up, and go to your room."

"I...dont have a room, here."

"You do. Third door on the left."

A heavy pause. Slow footsteps carried Yuuji away. Your head rested on steepled fingertips, your dinner churning in your stomach as you bit back nausea.

You thought of all of the words you could say to Kento, but dismissed them as soon as they came into your head; all too visceral, none of them helpful, and maturity held your tongue.

"...you get cleaned up, too. I'll tidy away dinner."

"No, no. You cooked. I'll tidy--"

"Nanami Kento. Do as you are told."

Kento was silent, stewing. Eventually, he stood, walking away down the corridor. You heard two showers, running. You left spare pyjamas in Yuuji's bedroom.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A gentle three knock-knock-knocks sounded at Yuuji's bedroom door, and he sat up fast in his borrowed pyjamas, wide eyes tired in a tearstained face. He sniffled.

"Y-yeah, uh...come in."

You peeked your head around the door, smiling. Yuuji offered a watery smile in return.

"Alright, kiddo?"

Yuuji swallowed thickly, nodding, resting his chin on drawn-up knees. You sat at the end of his bed, pressing a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, and he felt it balm his soul before he had even drunk it; the act of receiving it, so much more significant than its imbibement. You let him warm in the gesture for a moment.

"...he cares about you, Yuuji. A lot. You know that, right?"

Yuuji's mouth puckered, and he shrugged his rejection, churlish. You raised one eyebrow at him, a gentle, chastising challenge, and Yuuji blushed.

"...yeah, I guess. I mean...I...I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

You smirked, eyes twinkling. "What gave it away? Was it the running to save you in battle? Or the bringing you home for dinner?"

Yuuji's mouth was obscured, buried in his knees. He paused. You didn't manage to hear the words muffled by his legs, and you tilted your head to one side.

"...sorry?"

"It was--...was when he said he was...disappointed with me."

[pearlymel]

Cold bed—Alhaitham

꒰ A very short fluffy fic <3 ꒱

꒰ The use of petnames ꒱: "habibti" and "dearest".

Alhaitham sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and numerous books scattered around him. He seemed to be in a state of deep concentration, his eyes fixated on the documents before him as his hand swiftly skimmed through the pages. It was clear that he had been working for hours, barely pausing to even take a break. As the evening wore on, the room grew darker, the glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across his tired face. You, concerned for his well-being, decided to approach him.

"You have been overworking in the past few days," you utter out in the quiet space, slowly walking from behind his back then encircling your arms around his neck while resting your chin on his shoulder which made Alhaitham lean back in his chair, allowing himself to bask in your affectionate gesture. His shoulders slumped slightly, a gesture of surrender and acceptance of your concern.

"I'm aware," he replied in a monotone voice, his eyes still fixated on the documents in front of him. "There is much work to be done, and I cannot afford to waste time on trivialities."

"Mm, but our cold bed misses you," he could feel your apparent pouty lips against his neck, earning a small smirk curling up his lips in return. "Oh, habibti. Is it our cold bed that misses me or a certain clingy someone else?" He huffs out a chuckle, and you tighten your arms around him in return, "i could choke you right now, you know?" You roll your eyes and he only hums at the useless threat.

"Although I do apologize," he said quietly, reaching up to place his hand on yours, a gesture of affection. "I do not intend to neglect you, but these matters require my immediate attention."

This time you hum back in return, burying your face into his neck and planting sweet featherlight kisses along his skin to which he visibly flinched as your lips continued grazing his skin, a barely discernible sign of irritation, his focus broken by your affection.

"Your attempts to disarm me through affection are not unnoticed," he remarked, his tone hinting at a subtle irritation. "As you are well aware, dearest, I am attempting to focus on my work at the moment."

"I'm barely doing anything distracting." you reply innocently. Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his expression, "Barely?" he echoed, glancing at you skeptically. "You are practically draped over me like a limp leaf. Surely you can see how your presence alone might be a tad distracting."

You sigh at his words, choosing to just stay quiet in his presence, you do find it soothing sometimes.

"I suggest you find something else to keep you occupied while I finish my work."

"Come to bed with me to sleep, pleaseee. Just tonight."

Alhaitham visibly faltered at your persistence, his resolve starting to crumble. He knew that he could never truly deny you anything, especially when you used your most effective strategies against him.

"Fine," he finally relented, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. "But only for tonight. I still have much to attend to come morning." You move back, patting your own shoulder in victory.

"and i win again."

"You are insufferable." He pushes himself back from the seat and stands up, only to see your hand out for him to slot his hand in, "You truly are a relentless force," he remarked quietly, "But I suppose I should not be surprised by now. Come, let us retire for the night."

As he led you both back to your room, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?" You ask as you sit on the soft mattress of the bed, Alhaitham following after.

"Only one." He murmured, lifting a hand to gently hold one side of your face while leaning closer to give your lips a chaste kiss. "Two," you insist, already pressing your lips together before he could protest.

"... What can i do without you."

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[polarisbibliotheque]

Vergil and his s/o training together

Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.

Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.

Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.

Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD

“We’re done for today.”

Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.

“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”

“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.

“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”

“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.

“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.

It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.

A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.

Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.

You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.

He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.

And that was something you always proudly said you could do.

“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”

“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”

“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.

“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”

“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”

With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.

“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.

Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.

With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.

You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.

Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.

“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.

Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.

Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.

“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.

And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.

After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.

“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.

You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.

Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.

As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.

Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.

Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.

As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.

As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.

You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.

“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”

“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”

His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.

He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.

With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.

It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.

Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.

You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.

After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.

A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.

Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.

A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.

You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.

As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.

When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.

One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.

Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.

You had your guard down.

“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.

“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.

Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.

[blues824]

Mwhahahahah! I love fake dating that turns into dating! Could I have a #20 & #10 for Malleus Draconia please? You’re the absolute best!

You requested: Mistletoe + Fake Dating for Christmas Ball

Malleus Draconia

It was a cold night out, and the moon was the only thing giving light at this hour. You were waiting for a certain prince to come, as it was time for your nightly walks. Then, there was black smoke, and you smiled, knowing your prince had arrived. 

…Well, he wasn’t your prince…

“Child of Man, I am here,” Once the smoke cleared, you saw Malleus in full. He was wearing his dorm uniform, and he had a grin on his face.

“Hello, Tsunotarou! How was your day?”

And that started your walk with each other. It was a calm moment, an appreciated moment after such a stressful day, filled with Grim and Ace getting into trouble and you and Deuce being dragged into that trouble. This was a nice way to relax as you placed your hand in the crook of Malleus’s elbow when he extended his arm to you.

“It was well. Might I be able to inquire about yours?”

“Same as usual. The group of idiots that I call ‘friends’ caused trouble like normal.”

“Well, I am hoping to make it better, as I do have something to ask you. You are aware of the upcoming Christmas Ball, correct?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good, because I was hoping you would accompany me as my partner… if that is something you would like.”

“Of course! But what about your retainers?”

“Sebek is not going to attend, as he does have some work to do. Lilia and Silver put their names down as partners, as I apparently need to be ‘guarded’.” You laughed at the thought of the two saying it, knowing full well that the former just wanted to party. Silver probably knew that as well, but it didn’t matter.

“Alright! That sounds nice. Now I can’t wait!!” You exclaimed, happy that your crush had just asked you to the ball.

“I will come by Ramshackle at night right before it starts to walk with you.”

~~~~~~~~

The night of, you found yourself a bit anxious. You were dressed in your fanciest clothing, thanks to Professor Crewel and how he helped you choose an outfit and he even paid for it. He was really becoming a father figure to you, and you appreciated it a lot.

Anyway, you jumped when there was a knock on the front door. You opened it and were met with the Crowned Prince of Briar Valley, dressed up in a very formal tuxedo. You went up to him and gave him a hug, a smile on your face.

“You look very nice, Tsunotarou,” Your compliment made the draconic prince’s heart soar.

“And you do as well, Child of Man. Now, we must depart for the Ball,” Once again, he extended his arm to you, and, once again, you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow. Then, you both set off on the–rather small–journey to the NRC cafeteria that was cleared out and decorated for the big event.

In front of the doors was a crowd of people chatting eagerly, waiting for their partners to arrive. The doors were open, but unless the person you put your name down with was with you, you were not allowed entrance. Luckily for you, you were able to duck out of the cold because your partner was right there.

Inside, you marveled at the decor. There was a giant tree, and on it were candles and ornaments of all sorts in NRC’s colors. You twirled about, taking in everything as there were garlands strung about.

Malleus watched as you let go of his arm and he adored the look of surprise and awe on your face. An urge to preserve that look washed over him, but he quickly shook it off. You were his friend, after all, and he would not like to ruin that.

~~~~~~~~

It had been an hour into the Ball, and you had already picked up a few sweets. However, the DJ gained everyone’s attention by speaking into the mic.

“Partners, head to the dance floor! The waltz will begin shortly.”

The fae turned to you, looking into your eyes as he extended his hand out to you.

“Would you dance with me, Child of Man?” He took note of your sudden nervousness, and he was about to retract his request before you responded.

“I don’t know how to waltz…” You admitted, a tad embarrassed. To be fair, there was no reason why you would learn something like waltzing back in your world.

“It will be okay. I can show you, if you’d like,” Still a bit hesitant, you put your hand in his, and you were immediately pulled flush against his chest. “You will place your right hand on my shoulder, my left hand will go on your waist. Then, our free hands will join one another.”

This was the first time you had been this close to him. It was the first time where you actually held his hand, and it felt so intimate, so special.

He told you that your steps would go by count of three, and he told you to just look into his eyes rather than down at your feet. Surprisingly, you had only stepped on his feet three times, and he didn’t even really feel it.

While it only lasted a few minutes, it felt like you were dancing for hours with the feelings you both told each other with your eyes. You didn’t even realize what was going on around you until someone shouted something that caught your attention.

“Hey, is that mistletoe above the Prefect and Malleus?” You heard Ace call out.

Both of you looked up to confirm Ace’s observation. There was a piece of mistletoe levitating above you, and you turned to see if someone was using a spell (Lilia), but you couldn’t find anybody.

“Y/N, what does this mean?” Malleus asked.

You’ve gotta be kidding me, you thought.

“Uh… Well, when two people are under the mistletoe, it is tradition for them to share a kiss. If one of those people refuses, then they have bad luck for the year.”

All of a sudden, he placed both his hands on your waist and looked down at your lips.

“Would you like for me to kiss you?” He asked, face getting closer.

A moment passed, and you just pulled him in by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket into a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, and it was minutes later where you both finally broke apart.

“I love you,” He whispered. You could tell he meant it, which made you feel warm inside.

“I love you, too, Tsunotarou,” You whispered back.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Seven on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

The alcohol is definitely making you sentimental and it's hard not to reflect on how isolated you'd been for… so many years. These old locals aren't your friends, but they're certainly friendly. You hadn't planned on putting down any roots here, but then John happened, and now Soap and maybe even Simon. The old Wild fan who you celebrate with when the muppets win. The night receptionist at the gym. You're not sure when it happened, but at some point you'd allowed yourself to become enmeshed - just a bit - in the tapestry of this town.

CW: alcohol consumption, heavy petting but no sex

The place John chooses is understated and casual, for which you're relieved. You don't mind being wined and dined but you'd dressed comfortably, with only skating in mind, so you're glad he hasn't brought you to some fancy touristy place downtown. He holds doors open for you and walks around like a peacock when his hand settles low on your back. He asks for a booth and at this point, you're not even surprised when he tucks in next to you instead of opposite, his big thigh resting warm and sturdy against your own; his elbow placed firmly on the table in front of you so you have to lean against his tricep to read the one menu he's apparently decided you'll share.

It's… nice.

You ask to see the salad section when he settles on some sloppy pile of meats, caramelized veggies, and eggs. He pulls a face at that but obliges and you decide to believe that's not somehow weight related.

"This one looks good," John comments a little too-blandly, pointing at a trough consisting of ninety percent steak and maybe a handful of arugula.

"Are you anemic? Should I be worried?"

John laughs, his arm shaking slightly against your chest. "It's actually your iron levels I'm worried about."

Ah. That's… maybe a little weird, but cute.

"I'm fine, John. Don't have much of an appetite, to be honest."

John looks a little miffed by this but doesn't comment when you ask the waitress for a simple Caesar. He gets his meat monstrosity and asks for it bloody in a voice that could charm the skin of a snake. He knows what he's doing, too, based on the entirely too innocent smile he gives the waitress as he moves onto his drink order, a strawberry shake. You can't help but laugh a little at him.

"I didn't expect you to have such a sweet tooth considering how skinny you are," you confide, a teasing smirk on your face which is immediately wiped straight off when John gives you a hurt, borderline panicked look.

"You think I'm skinny!?"

"Uh… no, like -. I mean, in shape. Fit. Sorry, no, you're definitely not skinny. That was poorly worded." You're floundering, trying desperately to fix whatever it is you'd fucked up. It had never occurred to you that someone wouldn't want to be called skinny, though it makes sense now that someone who clearly put as much work into maintaining his body would never want to be called scrawny. Christ, you'd fucked up. That's twice now. Oh god, he's never going to want to see you again. "I'm so sorry, I only meant -."

But John's peering back at you suspiciously now and it has your hands wringing. "It's okay, honey," he says after a moment, clears his throat. "I uh… lost a lot of weight over the winter. Suppose I'm a little sensitive about it, is all."

You're still a nervous wreck, doubly afraid now that you've upset him. Fucking hell, man's probably got some health issues he's getting over and you had to go and comment on his fucking body. "I'm so, so sorry, I should've thought -."

"Sweetheart, look at me. You're fine. I'm not mad."

Holy shit, he's not. He's -.

Right. This is John.

"Besides, you're right," he continues brightly, beaming at the waitress when she places the shake in front of him. "I am a little twiggy. Let's see if we can't fix that, eh?"

You're still mortified that you even commented on his body. After all the bullshit you've put up with in your life, you know better than to pull this shit. You hadn't meant it negatively, of course, but you know from first hand experience how little that matters. John looks happy enough now, but you won't soon forget how hurt he'd looked after your comment. You're still mulling over the best way to move on when he offers you a sip off his pink treat, dopey smile in place. You can't say no to that and he somehow manages to look even more pleased when you take a sip from his straw.

"So… weight loss… did you have any health scares?"

"Hm?" He jolts, eyes focused entirely on your lips. "Oh, no. Strong as a bear," he winks - weird. "Just lose my appetite under the Arizona sun. Always spend all summer trying to gain the weight back," he laughs, a little sad. "Good excuse to indulge, though."

"Well, indulge away. I do think you look good, by the way. Bet you'll look even better when you're comfortable and confident."

John smiles and kisses your forehead with slightly sticky lips. "Thanks, bunny. I think you look very good too, by the way."

He says it the same way he'd appraised the menu. "Thank you," you mutter, grateful that the waitress chooses that moment to return so he doesn't notice how much you blush from his attentions. It's still odd to you, someone as absurdly handsome as John Price being this sweet on you.

John eats like someone's coming to steal it off his plate. He remembers himself maybe midway through his burger and offers you a bite, but when you shake your head he shrugs and goes back to scarfing it like a stray dog. It's kind of impressive, honestly. More out of curiosity than any genuine hunger, you slowly and obviously grab a French fry from his plate which prompts him to grin goofily around a mouthful and spin the plate so the fries are closer to you. You'd been worried for a moment there that he may have some kind of feeder kink, but the voracity with which he's shoveling food into his own mouth combined with how he picks a singular cherry tomato off your dish has you thinking food might be more of a love language to him. That's okay. Cute. You can handle that.

John doesn't throw in the towel until his plate is completely cleared and when you see him eyeing your half full bowl you laugh and slide it his way. He laughs too, and says he'll make you something at the bar later to make up for it. You're not sure you'll take him up on that, but you won't lie that the ease with which he guarantees your next meal means a lot to you, considering how often a spoonful of peanut butter counts as dinner for you these days.

The waitress asks if you want dessert and John eyes you hopefully.

"You go right ahead, big guy, but I'm out."

With a sigh, he admits he should probably go relieve Simon and the two of you pack up without any sweets.

You follow him to the bar and he guides your Jeep back past a little awning and behind the building. He opens your door for you once you put it in park and gives you a hand down. "You can park right here anytime you need, honey," he says and you can't deny that the privacy afforded by the two surrounding walls is pretty tempting.

John takes you in through the kitchen where you find the most intimidating man you've ever seen in your life. He's muscled like a bull and taller even than John. A shock of pale blond hair; scarred, furrowed brows over dark, blank eyes; a black surgical mask and a matching baby gap t-shirt pulled taut over biceps bigger than your head. Here is a man that could make even Phil flinch just by yawning a little too hard, surely, and when he greets John, his voice is low like an oncoming bulldozer and just as deadly.

"Where the fuck 'ave you been?"

John doesn't even flinch. "Got lunch."

The blond man turns his gaze upon you for exactly forty-three seconds. Technically, his expression is completely neutral, but you can't help feeling like he's brought a pumpkin gutter to your eye socket, taken your measure by literally weighing whatever he finds in there. (Metric, of course, for accuracy's sake.)

"'Hope you 'ad fun. I fuckin' quit."

"Sure, sure," John rolls his eyes. He nods toward the front of the shop, "How's he doing?"

"Can't speak English."

"You can barely speak English, you filthy manc. How'd he do with customers?"

"Gave out 'is number three times, if that's what you're looking for in a keep."

John shrugs, "If it keeps 'em coming back."

"Gaz would've never."

"No, Gaz would've gotten theirs. He good with the till?"

"'Ardly trusted him with it, did I?"

"Christ, Simon, did you train him on anything?"

"Too busy house breaking 'im."

John snorts. "How'd he do, honest?"

"Hmph," Simon grunts.

"Hmph?" John repeats, valley girl inflection.

"Mm."

John gives you a 'holy shit, you seeing this?' look. "That good?"

"Said what I said. This the bird?" Simon nods at you, but John is hardly deterred.

"Yes. Should I extend him a year round offer, then?"

The other man's turn to ignore John: "Hi, pet. Nice to meet you."

"You're Simon, I gather?" You grit down on your resolve and extend him a hand which he gracefully doesn't crush in his calloused palm. "I believe I have you to thank for a great coffee date?"

"That's right, so if you ever want to trade up, I know plenty of things -."

But whatever he knows, you never will because John chooses that moment to get adorably jealous. "Awrigh', 'nough of tha'." His accent is thick when his hand finds your shoulder and guides you through the swing door into the front area. You pop out behind the bar, where a roguishly handsome man with a short cropped mohawk and upsettingly blue eyes is already grinning at you, probably having heard every word from the kitchen.

Sure enough, you have enough time to hear Simon warn John he was going to regret that before the mohawked man is inching closer. "Hi, bonnie," he greets you in a thick Scottish accent and you don't even have a chance to respond before John is right there, crowding you just enough to put the Scot on his back foot.

"Soap," John greets the other man, and mohawk smiles warmly at his boss, devilish eyes glinting with easy charm and just a touch of mischief.

"Price. Who's the lass?"

"Your test subject tonight. Pretend she's just a regular customer who doesn't know what she wants -." John guides you around the end of the bar to the very last stool as he speaks. "What would you start her off with?"

"Tha's easy, bonnie lass like her. Sit tight, hen." Soap (Soap?) gets to work behind the bar as John ducks back into the kitchen area for a moment. Whatever Soap's making looks simple enough, maybe four ingredients, but he makes it into an art form, coating the glass with whatever sticky syrup he's using for flavor before pouring his mix in and adding garnish. John returns wielding a laptop just in time to see Soap putting back the ingredients he'd used. Soap misses the small, pleasantly surprised look that crosses John's face, but you don't, and you understand when you take a sip; the light, citrusy flavor not at all what you'd expected when you saw him break out the thick syrup. You can't help your hum of satisfaction and Soap beams. "Good, right? Not too heavy?"

"Nope, just right. Thank you."

"Good, means you'll be able to drink all night," he winks. He turns to John, motioning to the register. "Am I…?"

"No, but you know how much that would cost?" John asks as he settles next to you and powers on his laptop.

"Sixteen ninety nine," Soap answers confidently and you nearly spit the drink back out.

But John is unaffected, sliding you the remote as he pulls up some scheduling app. "Good lad," he tells Soap and the man nods once, before getting lost on the other side of the bar, cleaning glasses.

John waits until the audience has left to sneak a sip from your drink. You raise a brow at him and he nods his approval before returning it to you. You settle on some old Quantum Leap reruns and John conveniently makes it clear exactly then that you need only say if you get bored.

You can't help but grin at him. "Unlikely. My buddy made up a hell of a drinking game for this show. Been a while since I've played it so I'll have to check the rules, but I think I can keep myself entertained for as long as this block goes."

"Drinking game for a show?" John asks, apprehensive.

"'Course, boss," Soap calls from the other end, not bothering to hide his eavesdropping. "When they, then you…" To you he adds, "Drink whenever Scott Bakula looks in a mirror?"

"That's what? One to start? We can do better." And just like that, you text a friend you hadn't been allowed to speak to in years.

You don't, so you send him the new one and within moments you're settling in to intentionally get tipsy, something you haven't done since the first time Phil laid a hand on you. There's a part of you that can't help feeling this is a bad idea, but another, much larger part of you is determined to put these fears in the past. So you share the rules with Soap and John nods approvingly when he pours himself a water to drink along with you. It's silly, and you feel a little weird drinking by yourself, but John's left hand stays rooted to your thigh, and Soap is eager to make sure you drink every time you're queued. He keeps your glass full, each drink slightly different. You comment exactly once that you don't want to mix your liquors and after that, Soap keeps you plied with the same honeyed whiskey he'd started you off with. They're all delicious, and John seems to agree if his tiny nods after each sample is any indication.

Eventually, real customers start bellying up and John sneaks back behind the bar with a kiss to your temple. By now you've switched the entertainment to the game seven you've been dreading, and the quiet old man next to you seems invested so you shoot the shit with him for a bit. Soap does well, from what you can tell. At least well enough that John feels comfortable spending much of the night in the kitchen. He pops out occasionally to offer you scraps, and check the score, says he's 'starting to get invested in these muppets.' John gloms on pretty quickly to the fact that melty cheese is your weak point, and you end up eating nearly a full dinner despite your general queasiness. The small crowd that gathers around the bar is mostly older, but they're all friendly, and the atmosphere is quiet enough that personal conversations eventually grow to include the whole group and you can't help the smile that slowly grows to overtake your face. The alcohol is definitely making you sentimental and it's hard not to reflect on how isolated you'd been for… so many years. These old locals aren't your friends, but they're certainly friendly. You hadn't planned on putting down any roots here, but then John happened, and now Soap and maybe even Simon. The old Wild fan who you celebrate with when the muppets win. The night receptionist at the gym. You're not sure when it happened, but at some point you'd allowed yourself to become enmeshed - just a bit - in the tapestry of this town. It's exactly what you said you wouldn't do, but when John subtly shakes a bottle of Advil at you from behind the kitchen saloon door, you can't bring yourself to regret it. You nod and he brings you out two along with a bottle of water. Soap switches you to ciders after that without being prompted. You're wary at first because of the sweetness, but he assures you the cider is light and crisp - that it comes from New York so you know it's good. You laugh, wondering if he knows, and take your first sip of home in years.

***

The good thing about living out of your car is you're never unprepared for anything. Before ascending to John's apartment, you stop by the Jeep to grab toiletries and pajamas. John grumbles about putting you in his clothes but you'd be mortified if you leaked on them so you make up some (not wholly untruthful) excuse about sensory issues and clothes needing to fit just right which you can see John filing away with the same seriousness he'd been using to prepare his schedule earlier. There's a nondescript door just in front of John's Suburban which he holds open for you. You lead the way up the stairs and laugh when you hear him hum appreciatively at the view it leaves him with. It turns to a squeak when he pinches just below the crease where your ass meets your thigh and then it's John's turn to laugh when the hand you reach back to stop him doesn't shove him away, simply keeps him in place. By now you've reached the landing and as John draws level with you, his heavy palm slides out and over your hip, coming to rest just a hair too low on your waistline to be decent. The landing is narrow, barely enough to fit a man as big as John, let alone your wide frame, but John doesn't seem in a hurry to open the door into his place. The only light source in the stairway is a small night light back behind John's calves and the ambient light coming through his curtained door panel. Backlit and bowed forward, John's presence is overwhelming. His scent - pine, petrichor, something personal - is inescapable and you almost wish he'd get the kiss you know is coming done and over with so you can get to finally (finally) sticking your face in his chest and just breathing.

Of course, then he does kiss you and you don't want it to end.

John's movements as he bridges the gap between you are slow and impending when he steps closer, boots heavy as one wedges its way in between your shoes. You're already impossibly close when he reels you that final inch by the grip he still has on your waist, meeting your lips with a measured duck of his head that leaves your own tilted back, neck exposed to the wide breadth of his hand which he places on the side there, cradling your jaw in such a way it keeps your head tilted exactly the way he wants you.

It's slow, sweet. Hot. John's mustache tickles but not unpleasantly - too neat and well groomed to be prickly. His lips are soft, addictive, and when he deepens the kiss, his tongue scorches across your own. He groans contentedly and somehow you know this ridiculous man is pleased with the taste of you: honeyed whiskey and sweet cider, the bits of greasy cheese he himself made for you.

He breaks off but doesn't go far, burrows his nose right under your ear and takes a deep, steadying breath. "You drive me fucking crazy, bunny. 'S this alrigh'? I can kiss you?"

"Yes," you breathe and he's immediately back on you, both hands framing your jaw now. At some point your own have found the unzipped edges of his Carhart and you try pulling him closer. You only succeed in moving yourself, however, because you'd forgotten John is built like a brick shithouse, even if he thinks he's scrawny.

He obliges you anyway, backs you up enough that you gently bump into the wall, and then your skull is cupped in a protective hand as you're pushed more insistently against it. John is a solid, burning wall at your front. Even through the layers of thermals and jackets you can feel the heat of his skin and you're torn between the desire to be naked under him, sweaty, slick, panting; and to simply see if he'd humor you by holding still long enough to be used like a heating pad.

You pant when John moves to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there until he draws a breath from you that sounds suspiciously like his name. Like this, you can see where his beanie has ridden up just slightly, exposing a bit of hair above his temple and you feel like some repressed Victorian man catching a glimpse of ankle. You're on him in a moment, sniffing his scalp like a fucking dog and you'd maybe feel a little bad about it if not for the way he groans - if not for the way his overwhelming presence makes you feel a little crazy.

"Want you," John tells the bit of décolletage he's uncovered, 'T' enunciated with teeth framing collar bone. Some harefooted intrusive thought has you wishing he'd bite down, wanting to hear it crunch under his jaw. You can feel him now, hard against your hip. He doesn't do anything with it - doesn't grind it into your flesh or bully your hands down to feel the weight of it - but it's enough to know it's there, has your grip moving under his jacket, spanning his ribs.

"John," you gasp again - pleading maybe. Perhaps a warning.

"I know, honey. I know." He sounds miserable. "Won't touch, I promise. But this is okay, right? I can -. We can -."

"Yes."

You're not sure how or when John gets the door open. There's a clatter and a lighting change you barely register from behind your closed eyes and your lifted onto a counter and that's about the hottest thing anyone's ever been able to do for you so you spread your thighs wide on instinct and John takes his reward by slotting himself in as if he bought the fucking deed. "Won't touch, sweetheart, I promise," he repeats as he shoves your coat off your shoulders and admires his handiwork. "Just want to feel you. I want -. Want to…"

Instead of running his intentions by you verbally, John drops to his knees and buries his face in the crotch of your leggings. You yip in embarrassment and try to scramble further onto the counter to get away from him but his grip on your thighs may as well be made of iron. "John, that's… I'm -."

You're interrupted by the heavy sound of his breathing as he takes a fucking whiff of your cunt.

"John!"

"Christ, bunny, I could eat your right up," John murmurs, lips still pressed against your pussy. You gape at him but the look he gives you from under his heavy brow isn't chastised at all.

He looks rabid.

You gulp and John chuckles, deep and dark. "Not gonna," he assures you yet again, but the hot streak he licks up the seam of your leggings almost has you wishing he would. "Not gonna," he says again, and you realize he's saying it for his own benefit when he stands and places a quick peck on your mons. You're briefly embarrassed by the hair he can probably feel through your thin layers, but you catch him taking another quick sniff which -.

Well, it's odd but at least it completely eliminates every ounce of self-consciousness you've ever felt about your pussy.

John groans, works his teeth against the texture he's found.

"Not gonna?" you tease him, not really at all surprised by how breathless you sound.

John huffs, hot and humid where it gets trapped in the fabric beneath his mouth. "Not tonight," he agrees.

"C'mere." You try to help his weak morals by hauling him up by the shoulder. It's a laughable attempt at best, but John doesn't laugh as he obliges.

"Shouldn't have gotten you drunk," he pouts against your lips.

"Still would've been on my period," you remind him, embarrassed as if the word shouldn't even be spoken at a time like this.

"Always did like my lamb bloody."

"John!" he laughs and you tap him lightly on the pec, which only seems to please him more.

"You won't let me play with my food, bunny?" He's looming over you now, hand resting on the counter behind you. You try to imagine him with blood - your blood - all over his face and find -,

"It's not gross?"

John's smile is wolfish and you're caught in his jaws. "No, sweetheart. One of my favorite treats."

"Oh." That's -.

Why doesn't that gross you out?

"We'll talk about it in the morning, yeah? For now, let's get you comfy and ready for bed."

He gives you one final, lingering kiss. You're not sure when he managed to pry your bag off you, but he retrieves it from the kitchen floor and guides you to his en suite. When he runs the shower, you ask if he plans on joining and the look he gives you is that of an owl spotting a field mouse.

A stupid, drunken voice in your head is starting to believe this man actually wants to eat you.

"Won't touch."

When he leaves, he doesn't close the door so neither do you.

John's body wash doesn't smell like him. It's some citrusy bergamot number, at which you are entirely pissed. Still, the water is hot and the pressure is good so you luxuriate a bit, trying to angle yourself right so that the stream can massage some of your back ache away. You had a blast today, but you'll definitely be happy just to lay down soon. You hope John's not too proper to share a bed with you as you kinda really want to be snuggled. When you exit the shower to find him sitting on his bed, staring at you unabashedly as you towel off, you're pretty sure you have your answer. You give him a little show, giggling when he grunts at the way you bend to reach your bag. Eventually you do have to shut the door on him so you can take care of some more private concerns. He's in flannel trousers and not much else when you finally emerge from the bathroom, still just sitting on the edge of the bed. You stare at him for a moment, a little timid after your show. John is solid: thick muscles cording under a thin layer of fat. You think maybe his skin looks slightly baggy on him, but it's hard to tell through the thick hair that coats him. He lets you look your fill for a moment before motioning you closer with a quick curl of his fingers. You stand between his legs and his big palm skates up over your thigh, hooking his fingers into the band of the men's boxer briefs you wear to bed from where it's visible above your sweats and snapping it lightly.

"Whose are these?"

"Mine?"

"Mm. Coulda given you a pair of mine, if you wanted."

"I can wear my own underwear, thank you," you laugh. "Wait, are you jealous?"

"Yes," John admits easily, fingers pulling at the band as if threatening to take them off.

"Of what? I bought these myself," you laugh again.

"Ah." John has the decency to look sheepish as he gently lays the band back where he found it, double rolled to keep from indenting your skin.

"You're ridiculous, you know?" His jealousy rings a tiny little alarm in the back of your mind but you choose to ignore it until you're sober and can be more reasonable.

"No argument there. Are you ready for bed now or do you want to watch something?" He looks so sweet again, big puppy dog eyes as he looks up at you. This is the man who takes you on dates and kisses your temple in public. It's hard to reconcile him with the starved animal he'd been when he'd had you laid out on his counter, but you find you definitely don't mind the duality.

"Are you up for a movie?"

He nods, "Whatever you want, honey."

"Well, what I want is a stupid kids movie, but that'll probably ruin the mood so, like… you pick."

John just smiles up at you dopily. "That sounds perfect. Anything to help me keep it PG," he winks. It's not a good joke, but he's so proud of it it's hard not to laugh. You decide on Who Framed Roger Rabbit because it's a good goddamn movie and because you don't want to subject him to anything egregiously childish. John laughs at the title and too late you realize your mistake.

"Oh, bunny, you don't think this one will be too scary for you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, fluffing a pillow a little too aggressively in his direction. He pulls it from you easily and uses it to prop himself up against the headboard a bit. The position turns his belly into a perfect pillow of your own and you dive in, kissing the ticklish hairs under your cheek just to watch his abs twitch.

"Brave rabbit. Keep testing me and Judge Doom won't be the scariest thing you see tonight."

"Why do you call me a rabbit, anyway? That a Britishism?"

"Sure."

With John's fingers in your hair and the low buzz of whiskey still in your veins, you only make it to the patty cake bit before you're dozing off.

John notices. "Am I sleeping in here tonight, bunny?" His voice is low, an earthquake at the edge of your hearing.

"God I hope so," you mumble into his belly, mortified to find a bit of drool sticking to his hair. If he notices, he doesn't say anything and you fall back asleep for a while. When the movie ends, his shifting wakes you again. You wouldn't mind except it seems the Advil from earlier has finally worn off and you're starting to get crampy. You shift, restless, but John slots himself against your back, his skin like a furnace on your achy back.

"Shh, I got you sweetheart. Go back to bed." You do, right after pulling at his arm until his broad, warm palm places a good amount of pressure right over your sensitive belly, too content to feel self conscious.

Next>>

[raviolirash]

ok so apparently there is a way to become a Harper with Jaheira in the epilogue and she has some incredibly sweet things to say to a resist durge

Jaheira: Good evening again, young Harper. Ensure you ever-maintain balance between drink, water, and nourishment on a night like this

and EPI_Epilogue_State_PlayerBecomesHarper

WHAT MUST I DO

you're supposed to be able to ask her in the epilogue if i am reading things correctly, she accepts you even if you're a squid :>

Jaheira: The Harpers welcome any into their ranks, so long as their soul is willing. You've proven you have one, mind flayer or no. I have lived many lives. It is only right you be allowed to live another. Take this.

Resist Durge dialogue. I am going to fucking CRY

Jaheira: When you forsook Bhaal, I know you lost your only place in the world, even if it was one that you needed to lose.I wished at that very moment to give you a new purpose: to invite you to the Harpers. You were ready. You were worthy. I wanted you to have time. For you to come to me, and say as you have said. To choose for yourself, rather than have a destiny thrust upon you. You will make the very best of Harpers, Bhaalspawn. Take this. The old harp of harmony. You know its song.

She has something to say for every Origin. I'll make another post if people want to see that. (but she rightfully hates Ascended Astarion when he asks to join).

Jaheira: In walking in the sun, you have forgotten how to keep to the shadows. You would betray the Harpers faster than you could drop your pin.

Here's the regular Tav one:

I love her ;_;

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚠𝚘; 𝙰 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝

a/n: Wanda, you sweet baby bean, I'm sorry people suck. That's all I've gotta say about this chapter uhm... please don't yell at me too much, I promise it's all going to be So Fine

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; a surprise over lunch leads you to spend a lot more time with Wanda. You like her and she does as well, but not everyone is happy about your new friend

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; I've said before since turning this into a series we're going to have a slower, more subtle corruption kink so: mentions of handsiness/groping, Wanda being a shy yearning gay, R being a terrible student, bullying, jealousy, Wanda shedding a tear because my friends seem to think I need to make that a warning

✎— words: 5.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

Even with your lunch offer, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to let you do all the work; after picking up sandwiches from her favorite deli, she directed you down the block to her -and apparently, your- apartment building. When realization set in, the two of you had a laugh until you suggested going to your unit. 

“You’re serious?”

“What, afraid I’m luring you into my apartment to have my way with you?” Wanda didn’t respond to that, just shook her head as you quickly discovered she did whenever she was talking herself out of a thought. Oh what you’d give to see what was running through that imagination. “Such a good girl, not trusting strangers, but I don’t bite, I promise. We can go to yours instead?” 

She had to have told you her apartment number along the way because you’d gotten there with ease, guiding her down the hall with a hand on her back, but two simple words made her forget the whole walk. Wanda was a good kid, an amazing student, she’d heard words of encouragement so many times over the years— none of it affected her how it had earlier. 

If you noticed her nerves, you were gracious enough not to point them out even as she carelessly dropped her bag to the floor and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door tight. Wanda calmed herself with a splash of water and a quick talking to, reminding to keep it together. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything, it was lunch. All this meant was you were a decent enough human not to stoop to the level of an overgrown schoolyard bully and feeling bad doesn’t make them a friend. Certainly didn’t mean she had a chance with you. 

That rationale didn’t stop her from talking out her nerves in the form of oversharing.

From that, you learned a lot about Wanda. She’s a twin, the younger one as her brother Pietro so often loved to remind her. They were close, but when it came time to choose colleges, he decided on another university in the next state over— mostly because of a very generous track scholarship he was offered. She nearly went with him, wanting to take advantage of their massive literature program, but their father said it’d break his heart if both of them left and Wanda, darling daughter that she is, caved and attended a more local school. 

Part of her compromise was being allowed her apartment. Leaving home to live off-campus by herself was an instant no, but for once, Wanda pushed. It was around the same cost of any room and board fees and she had the freedom she insisted on having. Partially to live away from home, but mostly because the possibility of rooming with one of her childhood enemies was high and she’d rather go without college than deal with that stress.

“I raised such a fuss that night, Pietro thought I’d lost my mind. It’s worth it, I think. I like it here.” Here in what turned out to be your shared building, blaming different schedules on why you’d never run into the other. In the end, her dad could rarely hold firm against Wanda’s puppy dog eyes and constant pleas and she won the small space now filled with various plants and cozy furnishings.

“Well, I for one, am very happy to find out the cute girl I’ve been wanting to talk to only lives a few floors away.” You said it so casually, like it was easy as chewing your ham and cheese sandwich to call her cute. It wasn’t helping that she’s just being nice mantra Wanda had going in her head to keep her calm.

While you ate, Wanda searched for any other reason you’d be so flirtatious and came up empty. Still, she couldn’t discount her inexperience for how she perceived your wanting to have lunch, your compliments, even the comment about asking her to dinner could’ve just been a passing joke she hung on to too seriously. She’d never been allowed to date, not that it mattered with how she got treated like the plague, and she didn’t know the first thing about well, anything. Somehow Pietro fared much better in that sense, sneaking out and rebelling any chance he could. 

Some nights when she couldn’t sleep, Wanda would catch him stumbling out of the woods that bordered their backyard and tired as she was, helped him climb through the window, questioning him all the while about his disheveled clothes and the glittery lip gloss smeared along his neck. “Stop being dad’s golden child and maybe you’ll find out one day.” Wanda never was bold enough to try nor did she like the options to try with. None of her classmates were interesting enough to be worth getting in trouble for.

The few times she did go out, the situation got the better of her and she had more anxiety than rowdiness. Wanda tried, really she did, there was just so much to remember: how to drink, who to drink with, the perfect things to say and no matter what, she always came up short. Then came that dreadful night after junior prom; her fatal mistake— distressed to the point of tears, Wanda called her father to pick her up, not thinking how not parent-approved the activities swirling around were. His appearance and the subsequent adult discourse at church the next morning solidified her status as Westview’s pious snitch. Ultimately, as much as she hated talking about it, even after Pietro took her side and offered to take matters into his own hands, she didn’t regret it for one day.

Opportunities to act out quickly dropped to zero after that incident. College was supposed to be better, new people and new surroundings, maybe a whole new her if she could figure out how to upgrade, but the proximity to her hometown made the past three years an extended high school. And then, there you were, shiny and brand new, straight out of her prayers— but they got to you first. 

Wanda resigned herself to staring at you in class, watching you text under the table with Carol Danvers who’d given you her number almost as soon as you’d first sat in your chair. If you’d been in the front of the class, she’d have slipped you her number instead; that’s what she told herself at least. Everyone else was too fast and forward, and Wanda didn’t stand a chance when everyone’s classes overlapped as much as they did. Each time Wanda caught you looking back at her, she turned away so fast she missed your smile or the silent waves you tried sending her way, too afraid to see if you’d regard her with the same disdain your new acquaintances offered. 

There weren’t a lot of people in class today; the middle of the semester meant burn out was creeping in, students skipped more now, but you were there in your usual spot, empty seats all around. If you weren’t always cutting your arrival so short, Wanda could’ve moved next to you, but class began and, not wanting to disrupt, she stayed put. Those next ninety minutes were the most distracted she’d been her entire college career, solidifying exactly how she’d introduce herself, act cool and collected while she gave you her handwritten phone number, written and rejected countless times over so Wanda could draw the little heart at the end just right. She’d been so close too, just feet away from your desk; Brock always had a way of ruining even her best laid plans.

“Earth to Wanda, where’d you go?”

“Huh?” The poor girl had been staring much too intently at her crumpled sandwich wrapper for the last few minutes, having decided she wasn’t listening when she didn’t react after your suggestion to run away and buy an RV. Wanda was adorable when she zoned off, playing with her rings absentmindedly and spinning them around her fingers, but you did wonder where she flew off to. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Clearly…” Gathering any lingering trash gave Wanda a task away from your watchful gaze, wiping off the table with another mumbled apology before skipping off to the kitchen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself against what to do now that she’d gotten this far. Her plan only went as far as exchanging phone numbers, maybe putting the digits in your phone if she was brave enough, but you’d skipped that stage and gotten straight to the apartment hangouts and she was… lost. 

Luckily for Wanda, you had no problem taking charge. The moment she returned to the living room, you took hold of her arm and pulled her down until she was finally sitting right next to you instead of her far off spot. All of lunch she’d been far away and selfishly, you missed how close you’d been when you walked earlier. Now with Wanda’s thigh brushing against yours, you could see each one of her little reactions intimately. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I was thinking about earlier and got carried away, nothing important.” Wanda shook her head again, hoping to settle at least a fraction of the blush that’d overtaken her face, but when she tried to pull her hand away from yours, you held tight. As much as she loved the feeling of your warm, steady hand wrapped around her cold and shaky one, Wanda feared growing too used to it too fast and having to fight not seeking out your touch from then on.

“If it’s got you this frazzled, it’s gotta be some kind of important. You can tell me, I promise.” You almost wondered aloud who you’d tell, but she didn’t need to be reminded of who you talked to. Not that you’d ever say anything, no, mostly you just wanted to see Wanda all sweet and flustered, committing the sight to memory on the off chance she kept her distance after today. 

She stared hard, judging your sincerity before deciding whether or not she’d lie or divulge the truth. Unpracticed as she was with this, Wanda wasn’t an idiot; this afternoon was nice, but she couldn’t blurt out her crush only a few hours after your first official meeting. She could tell half-truths, thoughts buzzing in her brain that ranked lower on the exposure scale to hopefully not scare you away. “Well.. you know how I tried talking to you in class?” 

You nodded, politely letting her continue, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying painfully hard not to think about your thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, obviously, but it meant everything to Wanda who’d never been on the receiving end of such gentle reassurance. “I’d been waiting to do that since the first week of class.”

So you weren’t imagining her sneaking glances at each class; good to know you could still sense when someone was into you. Most girls tended to talk way before Wanda did and you started wondering if your attraction to her made her small acknowledgments into something a lot bigger than it actually was. “Why didn’t you?”

“Someone else always got there first.” The truth was embarrassing. As isolated as Wanda had been, she didn’t actively dislike most of her peers. It was that one particular group you hung out with that seemed to go out of their way to not only make Wanda’s life hell, but also warn anyone they possibly could away from ever giving her a chance. She grew up being taught hateful behavior only bred more hate, that it wasn’t polite or productive, but if there was anyone she hated, it was them.

When she saw you with Brock and Carol and the rest of their tiring friend group, she nearly cursed aloud, strangely mad that of all the transfers, they had to get you too— it wasn’t fair. In her defense, Wanda gave ignoring you a good, honest try, but every time she saw you wander through the door, she wanted to be the one who waved you over, who sat with you and leaned in close or put a flirtatious little kiss on your cheek. “You seemed..busy.” 

Finally, once the jealousy threatened to consume her alive, she did change course, ignoring you wasn’t working so why not try talking? Worst case scenario, you tell her to shoo or get lost; painful, but nothing she hadn’t heard before. When she heard Brock talking about her, the brunette swore she felt her heart drop into her stomach, any hope she had of possibly getting close to you just… dashed in an instant. She had to pack her stuff quickly, not because she was afraid, but because she felt so embarrassed she knew she’d cry if she heard another word of that conversation. 

“I’m not stupid, I know they talk about me. They don’t really try to hide how they feel.” Wanda’s laugh held a bitter edge, laced with the defeat of someone who knew what to expect when trying to make new friends. “I just- I didn’t want to interfere or get you involved with any of their weird… whatever and.. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it’d go over well to talk to you when you’re already friends with them.”

At first you laughed, disbelieving Wanda could ever think you were off limits just because you’d spent a month or so interacting with people who, admittedly, weren’t the greatest, but one look at Wanda’s troubled face showed she was all too serious. “I can talk to more than one person, you know!” 

You weren’t the type to blindly follow everything someone said, preferring to make your own judgements, and after a few hours with Wanda you could tell that, just as expected, she truly wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be. Shy and reserved, sure, but you couldn’t count those as bad qualities. Not when she was just as gentle, funny, and kind as you’d imagined she’d be. 

“It’s always more than just one person talking or inviting you somewhere or shoving their phone in your face asking you to text them…” The last part was mumbled, but you caught it all the same. Her earlier confirmed watching combined with that last comment had the last piece sliding into place so perfectly in your head, you’re sure you heard a snap. 

Wanda didn’t just want to say hi, she wanted what she saw; flirtatious texts, low-spoken promises of naughty after class activities— not that Wanda knew that’s what she was asking for. Sweet thing… you’d show her how it all worked.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You beckoned her closer with a finger and she leant in with innocent curiosity, shivering as you came to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather text you so I’d like your number, if you don’t mind.”

It was the truth; sure you messed around with one of two girls since being here, but none of them stopped you wanting the darling girl in front of you. The longer you sat with her, the more you wanted to know and not just to sleep with her. Not that Wanda would probably let you right away; she didn’t have to say it for you to know she was virginal as a little lamb.

Your lips brushed against her cheek, the barest hint of a kiss, but it stunned Wanda all the same. She pulled back, searching for her phone much more intently than needed to play off how affected she really was. “Does that mean you want to have lunch again?”

“I want to do a lot more than just have lunch with you but..” Eventually you gave Wanda your own phone to give the poor girl something to do where she was not so subtly scrambling. When she handed you hers, you punched your number in and as she took it back, you watched her sign your name off with a set of hearts. How precious. “Yes, if you want to?”

Wanda agreed perhaps a little too eagerly, but she couldn’t stop herself planning your next lunch date complete with food she made herself. She really hoped you liked homemade things. “Absolutely!”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

And so it went like that for the following weeks, walking around campus with Wanda and having lunch together when you were both free, going to her apartment multiple times a week to collaborate on school things or just to talk to her. Whatever you were doing, Wanda was a pleasure to be around and she never complained when you copied her answers on homework or came over just to lay on her couch and watch movies.

For Wanda’s part, she might as well have been in heaven; having someone to spend time with regularly was nicer than she remembered. Of course, growing up, she had Pietro, but this was different. You made her laugh just as much as he did, but you didn’t torment her nearly as much, and the big difference, obviously, was that she most certainly did not want to kiss her brother. 

When she showed up to your apartment door with a box of heart-shaped sandwiches, she felt silly, but the moment your face lit up when you laid eyes on them… she wanted to drop the food and kiss you until you fell to the floor.

But she’d always wanted her first kiss to be special, memorable and at least pleasant; it couldn’t be over a stupid sandwich in a doorway. So Wanda waited until.. well, until she felt the time was right to politely ask.

You made her nervous, not in the frightened way others had, but with a giddy, butterflies in her stomach feeling that left Wanda always wanting more. If you’d asked Wanda a few months ago, she’d say her ideal romance was to be blissfully swept off her feet like she’d seen in movies, brought flowers, chocolates, and lovingly courted until she finally says yes— meeting you through all of that out her balcony window. For the first time in her life, Wanda wanted what she’d seen her peers get ever since hormones descended over her sixth grade class. She craved casually possessive hugs and touches, that anticipated first kiss… special private time she’d stumbled upon during late-night internet browsing.

The first one thankfully Wanda didn’t have to wait for. 

Startling as it was the next day when you not only walked with Wanda to class, but traded your spot in the back of the class to coax her to sit off to the side, she didn’t complain. How could she when you insisted sitting next to her made class more bearable; whether it was true or not, Wanda couldn’t know, but she didn’t care, the compliment made her blush every time.

A chair next to the top student should’ve meant you paid more attention, but it was the opposite. Before you’d watched Wanda from afar, now with her close, you couldn’t help but stare longer, much more intrigued with how she bit her tongue whenever she concentrated than anything your professors taught. 

Even more since you’d begun vying for her attention during class, Wanda liked to ask questions of them after lectures were done, getting clarification for anything she couldn’t pick up in the discussion. Jokingly, you called her a nerd, but you took her notes to study from all the same so you figured the least you could do was hang back and wait for her— the perfect opportunity for Carol to strike up a conversation. 

“She wheeled you right on in, didn’t she?” The blonde also went to school with Wanda and while she wasn’t ever directly antagonistic towards your new friend, she’d never made an effort to include her either. To you Carol was nice enough; if you were being honest, you hadn’t given it much thought whenever you fell into bed with her.

Hanging out with Wanda meant abandoning your typical seat next to Carol in your Wednesday morning class and while you missed her sharp banter and the silly drawings she snuck in the corners of your notebooks, nothing beat sliding your arm around Wanda and toying with her skirt under the desk. She didn’t fully know what you were up to, grew squirmy as she felt the room’s chill on her thighs, but even when you pinched at her hips, Wanda didn’t want to cause a class disruption by protesting. 

Not that you and Carol hadn’t done the same, but Wanda’s reactions were so pure and sweet, just like her. Carol was fun, but Wanda was something else entirely and you actually wanted to get to know her. The brunette was easy to be around in a way you couldn’t remember experiencing and where Wanda didn’t go out of her way to mention your first friend group, you didn’t miss the judgemental looks Carol shot Wanda’s way whether the brunette’s back was turned or not.  “It’s easy when you’re not an asshole. Try it sometime.”

She brushed off your comment, sliding further in your line of sight until she blocked your view of Wanda at the podium. What you two shared might’ve not been serious, but losing your situationship to someone like Wanda was an ego hit Carol refused to believe was actually real. “I’m having a party on Saturday. You’re coming.” 

“Guess I’ll cancel my plans…” The singular party of Carol’s you’d been to was a riot. Admittedly, you didn’t remember much besides large hits from shared pre-rolls and waking up in her bed the next morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs, but even after stumbling back to your apartment with a throbbing headache, you were more than excited at the prospect of going to another. Coincidentally, that particularly reckless night was days before you first talked to Wanda and now, only a few weeks later, you hesitated. 

“Is anyone invited?” You searched over Carol’s shoulder to find Wanda still chatting away, dutifully scribbling down something your professor was referring to. You couldn’t imagine she’d be upset if you went at all; Wanda might even appreciate a Saturday night to herself after you’d wormed your way into her plans week after week. It was you who didn’t want to go to the party without her.

Both of you knew the singular ‘anyone’ you were referring to, and Carol’s expression soured. “I said I’m having a party, not bible study.” 

Sam walked over then, the large guy you’d met at orientation having also made fast friends with the people who threw the best after hours get-togethers. He was nice enough, louder than his roommate Steve, but always a fun time. “Come on, Danvers, she can’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t her dad like, an hour away now?” 

Word really did travel fast on this campus. Even new kids retained personal facts about the girl who didn’t know the first thing about them, but Sam was another one who hadn’t bought into the group verdict on Wanda and for that, you were grateful. If you did bring Wanda along, you thankfully wouldn’t be the only one looking out for her. Not that you planned on letting her out of your sight. “I doubt she’d call the police.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d want to chance.” She wouldn’t get grounded like she had back in high school, but violating the lease on the house she and her friends rented wasn’t in the cards either. Catching sight of Wanda making her way back over to where the three of you gathered, she nudged your shoulder and you felt a heavy lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to be caught talking about her, much less make her believe you were plotting anything malicious. 

Carol was well aware of your growing soft spot in the past few weeks, taking note how you instantly shifted focus away from Wanda whenever someone dared bring her up in your presence; it’d almost be sweet if she didn’t hate her. And so, instead of cutting the chat short, Carol waited until she was sure Wanda was within earshot, “If she ruins anything, it’s on you.” 

Wanda, reticent as she was, strolled right up to you with a smile, but your stunned face made her brow furrow. She knew she’d been the topic of conversation, both having caught the tail end of Carol’s conditions and gauging the apprehension you regarded her with. 

“Look who it is, missionary of the hour…” Carol mumbled, Sam only getting a fraction of his snicker out before you shut him up with a warning glare. 

With a nervous breath, you tried playing it off, but the blonde’s icy temperament was impossible to mask, “We were just talking about this thing Carol’s got going on Saturday, but it’s a party so…”

Wanda nodded, ignoring the other woman completely, which only made her stew further. Honestly whatever was said wouldn’t be anything new; she did have a terrible reputation for disrupting parties and she was far past expecting to be wanted there. The hesitation didn’t bother her, but Carol did; if she could come out on top just once, she’d die happy. 

So this time, instead of being forced to watch Carol flirt with you and exchange texts in class, Wanda was the one who’d spent hours getting to know you and the last lecture blushing through your teasing, pushing you away when you got too handsy, giggling into her hands when you told her something especially funny; she knew, on some undescribed level, you liked her better. 

Maybe that’s where the confidence to link her arm with yours and press a chaste kiss into your temple stemmed from, “Well, I love parties! We have to go!”

If your eyes weren’t already wide enough to fall out of your head, they certainly were now. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, darting between the two of you while Sam, loud as ever, laughed at the clear and present tension between the two women on either side of you. “Last thing: Don’t let her wear anything like…” Carol gestured to Wanda, dressed in a light floral dress and one of her favorite cozy sweaters, “that. I’m not having a church social.”

Wanda’s grip loosened at the insult, brief confidence struck down as fast as it’d come, but you didn’t let her fall away completely, winding your arms around her midsection. “I told her she should wear this sweater today. But don’t worry, she’ll look even cuter than she normally does.” Scooting the stunned girl closer until she was snug between your legs, you kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. 

When Wanda didn’t move a singular muscle, shoulders still slumped, you wished there was a hug tight enough to say I’m sorry I let them hurt you again. “See you Saturday!”

You never did thrive amidst conflict, preferring to sit back and let any drama go by far away from you, but it wasn’t fair staying silent when Wanda could barely stand up for herself. Whether it was your defense of Wanda’s outfit choice or your protective hold you kept, your defense was enough to get Carol to roll her eyes and back off for now, “Fine whatever, I’ll text you the details later.” 

Sam left you with a pat on the back, shaking his head at the tension he happened to stumble in on and couldn’t wait to tell Steve and Bucky, “Way to stand up for your girl, kiddo, well done.”

“Don’t call me kiddo! You’re maybe six months older than me, and she’s not my— fuck, whatever.” He was jogging out the door before you could correct him, but you dropped your arms anyway and Wanda tried to ignore the loss she felt. She longed to admit she needed at minimum five more minutes of that hug to truly keep her tears at bay, but she couldn’t ask. 

It was bad enough you had to lie about picking her sweater; Wanda threw it on not only because it kept her warm in the often chilly lecture halls, but Pietro bought it for her years ago for her birthday and the familiar fabric kept her calm. She wore the sweater and her current dress often enough for the outfit to be considered a wardrobe staple, Carol saw it constantly; there was no way she didn’t know how pointed her insult was. “Sorry about that…”

Wanda half expected you to run after Carol, trying to smooth things over with her for the sake of preserving whatever you two had that Wanda threatened. Instead she found her hand loosely caught in yours, thumb rubbing over it just as you had the first day she shared her anxieties, and when dim green eyes traveled from your touch to your face, she saw concern so genuine Wanda wanted to fall back into your arms and sob. Not only for herself, but for you and how much of a burden she feared she was already becoming. Her family always dubbed her the crybaby and she couldn’t deny it; of the three of them, Wanda was the first to let her eyes go watery. The only thing worse than dealing with what you’d just witnessed would be having to console the crying mess of your new friend.

But you wouldn’t have minded, not one bit. “Don’t apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not fair,”  You spotted her frown and longed to ask her what you could do to help, but as soon as you opened your mouth, Wanda pulled away.

She was quick to replace her sad expression with another smile, pushing your forgotten books into your now empty hands. If you didn’t watch her so much, the sudden change wouldn’t mean anything, but the smile she was trying so hard to pass off didn’t reach her eyes— it wasn’t real. “You’re going to be late for class again, get moving.” 

“Well yeah, but…” Clearly, Wanda was deflecting again, you’d be a fool to miss the nervous way she hugged herself tight as if she could hide the knee length dress she’d walked out of her apartment in so happily just hours ago. Choosing the sweater wasn’t a lie, but what you thought about her look wasn’t; Wanda dressed in a comfortable yet sweet style you found wholly endearing. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean for all that to happen, I only wanted to ask if I could bring you along.”

The brunette scoffed loudly and in the interest of not making the situation any worse, you ignored how her voice cracked, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Right okay, I just- I’ll see you later then? If you’re up for it?” If Wanda didn’t want to talk about it now, maybe this afternoon she’d be up to discuss and unfortunately, she was right. You only had about ten minutes now to rush across the courtyard to your next lecture; no time to argue with her. It was too early in the semester to routinely skip all of your classes.

Wanda joined you to the door, hands tight around her backpack strap. The walk was short, too short; you hated leaving her to fend for herself when she was obviously still upset. You’d make it up to her later, maybe ask her favorite movie and bring over pizza to watch it with her. For now, resolved to be on time, you left her with a hurried wave and a clumsy sprint that admittedly did make her chuckle just a little, “You know where to find me!” 

With you gone, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and Wanda wiped them away with the knit sleeve of the sweater she couldn’t stand wearing right now. It was too cold out to only have her shoulders exposed, but she tore it off anyways, bundling it as small as she could in her clammy palms. 

She walked briskly, destination clear, but for once, she wasn’t going home. Any other time, Wanda would’ve been polite enough to text ahead and assure she was welcome, but the harder it got to hold back a full cry, the less she worried about etiquette. If anyone could tell her what to do, how to proceed, anything… it was them. 

From the class schedules they’d shared with her at the beginning of the year, they should be in; Wanda hoped their ‘you’re welcome whenever you want some company, no questions asked’ sentiment held true just this once.

The route home seemed endless, late summer breezes stinging her blotched cheeks; she looked a mess and she knew it, her frazzled appearance driving her to practically run down her apartment floor hall. Wanda knocked on the door just a few doors down from her own, the one she hated to bother but loved being in all the same, “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I really need your help, please?”

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

🪢 KH-OC Week 2024 🪢 - Day 7 Package 💙💜🧡🐲🐻

Admin note: Due to the absolute trouble my mind is putting me through, Day 7 will be a LONG read due to the multiple (but fun and interesting) processes I've had to go through to get the juices to flow. There will be multiple prompts and ideas addressed, because I will not be capitulating to these blockages 💪🏻 I am finishing @khoc-week strong whether my brain likes it or not XD

---

Unlike the other days that simply had their submission package, Day 7 will be split into two parts:

The actual submission package.

The official revelation of the surprise that was mentioned on Day 5.

---

And... OMG there is no prompt for Day 7!

Well, there is/was one pre-determined, but with poor Terra being tossed here, there and everywhere during the week, Dinh-Yu said to make Day 7 all about him [Terra]... With the centre of it being OC related of course. And looking back in a sense, the connections with Riku have actually already been touched on during various previous days.

So re. Terra and whichever OCs we intertwine, here goes:

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SECTION 1A: Prompt / Eraqus

This is an extension of Dinh Yu's Day 7 prompt, and to let you guys in on the fact that someone (don't know who) called 'the cavalry'. The reason Master Eraqus is now considered powerful is because he has now passed on in my timeline, due to the assumption of KH3's ending.

Why do I also include this tidbit of exposure? There was apparently a Day 6 prompt called journal. The way my journal works? It's a magic journal. So not only can I write in it, but others can choose to direct their communication into it if they wish. All they have to do is feel in their heart/mind what they want to say to me, and the journal will magically transcribe their words into it, waiting for me to open it and read it, and even respond in kind. It's basically like Email, but through a book and a person's thoughts, instead of the PC and actively typing both ways.

They envision in their minds; their message writes itself into my book [A to B].

I write back in my book, it gets translated into a thought in that person/s head[B to A]:

~9:10 PM (AEST)

Master Eraqus: “Karla… I know you might be uncomfortable with me, and even if so, we may have never spoken before. I apologise for any preconceived notions I may have given to you through my previous actions to Terra, Aqua and Ventus. But if you can allow me to assist you. As you know from 2022 onwards, I have allowed and I even encourage Terra to walk by your side to atone for the immeasurable pain and suffering that I have caused him and his friends… I think they need you to finish what I started, even though you offer a different relationship, not so much their teacher in the realm of light. While Ven was being checked for bad energies [mind blockage/poison], I quickly had a word into the ear of your newest dream guide, Young Cricket, or as you otherwise call him, Dinh Yu. I have been let in on the fact that he is leading you for KH-OC Week, but not even he can seem to navigate you past this energetic block that seems to be tormenting you with regards to Terra. I have asked Dinh Yu to hand his spot over to me for just a short while, and I will guide you where you have always meant to go for Day 7… As Terra’s teacher and someone who now knows him well [after Xehanort]. Dinh-Yu will be back in the driver’s seat at the end to check your balances with you and sign you off.

So first of all, I see you’ve already put up a pre-commissioned artwork of Terra. Continue to discuss the meaning of that and why you got it done. When Terra was your strongest bridge, what is it that made the Land of Departure feel like home to you? Was it the land itself, or was it Terra’s stewardship? When you’re with Terra alone, how does he make you feel? I have come to understand that you didn’t want to wield a keyblade, but when Terra got involved, the very little keyblade knowledge you gained suddenly expanded greatly. Was it the love between you and Terra that made Riku capitulate from his initial arrogance and annoyance?

I come to hear that you’ve in-fact done numerous artworks of you and Terra in the last year. Share those as well. Not so much as descriptions, or you’ll leave them with a strenuous encyclopaedia. But just a gallery of your art if you will and a sentence or two about those works if you must.

I’m now looking at your Day 5 post in the data, and I see you’ve mentioned Neverland as a favorite spot that you liked to go to with Terra. Maybe now is the time to explain why if you wanted to. Again I don’t recommend you follow on all of my ideas if it makes your work unsuitably long, but I am simply cramming in all these ideas so that this severe energy blockage you seem to have undergone in the past few days can’t disable you anymore. I wish you the best of luck, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you need any further help.

And wait! Just one more thing before I go or at least take the passenger’s seat. Say you were out of all energy impairments. You can still address the official Day 7 prompt if you wanted to envision any future scenarios with Terra… But that one may be difficult in your current state. Good luck”.

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SECTION 1B: Commission / Ventus

First of all, I want to re-show off this beautiful art that was drawn by 'Nexathila' within the last year. She does not have a Tumblr, but you can find her by going to this carrd: https://nexathila.carrd.co/

I knew I wanted an artwork with Terra at the time, but I'm not very good at being organised when asking for commissions 😅 So I thought fast and asked for a drawing at the Land of Departure as we did stargazing...

~9:55 PM (AEST):

Sierra: “She’s going to fail the test!”.

Selvian: “Eraqus has given her the prompts. She just now needs to do them”.

Dinh-Yu: “Ahhhhh”.

Selvian: “Relief huh?”.

Dinh-Yu: “Yes. Such a relief. Has she had that bad a blockage before?”.

Selvian: “They come and they go. But that’s the first one you’ve had to deal with. She’s had the doggie not let go of Riku before, and now it’s trying the same thing on Terra”.

Sierra: “Did Ventus get captured because he was trying to help Terra?”.

Selvian: “Yes, sadly”.

Krystal: “I’ve gotten Ven to help out!”.

Selvian: “You have?”.

Krystal: “He’s feeding her thoughts on the Land of Departure, and Cricket’s [Dinh-Yu's] transcribing them into a document and sending them to her journal”.

Selvian: “Thank the Lord in Heaven”.

~10:00 PM - 12:15 AM (AEST)

Ventus:

“The stargazing, she loved it so much. She tried to pretend she didn’t when Aqua and I were around. But when she was alone with Terra and we had a peak, it was something different. I find it amazing how Terra always got answers out of her that none of the other guardians would ever get. I think it’s because Terra never pushed, and not once did he ever betray her trust by spilling things to other people, at least not without asking her permission first.

So even though SHE thought she was rushing to choose something for a commission, I think she was meant to be shown stargazing with Terra there. I notice the artist put their keyblades in the background. She didn’t want or think she’d be getting them in the image to begin with, but then something spoke to her when they WERE included. She had just finished training with Terra, and that was always an also unique experience in itself. Karla seemed to feel this sense of obligation when training with other guardians, but Terra always slipped her into it in the most subtle ways, and he made it fun for her… Y’know, that feeling of having a job but never working a day in your life.

I’m just getting this abstract thought. So I want to address it while I have it. Terra was originally meant as a distraction for Karla, at least that’s what he came for. We all didn’t know what was up when she asked for Riku in May 2020, and as someone who watched over Riku as it were, Terra had genuine concerns. But you know Terra, he’s not one to be mean to anyone, so he simply tried to divert Karla’s attention but she was one smart cookie. And then as Terra was trying to help Riku, he decided to help her too. Y’know? Starting out as one thing but then diverging into another? Terra wasn’t even Karla’s dream guide to begin with, but he just felt this sudden compassion and need to work her out, like there was more to her than meets the eye.

I guess Terra wedging himself into her life did work out as she needed him in late 2021. Like… As in because he made an effort to connect with her and know her, she knew he was the next best option to add to Riku. But I digress.

Back to keyblade training. Again, what Karla thought was a chore, Terra made it seamless for her. And the way he taught her, I’ve never seen him be so as accommodating to anyone as he was to her. Like his method was brute strength and hard hits, but he knew that he was the only one she’d train with, so Terra made it a point to control his power around her. And like Terra made it his business to watch and learn Aqua’s style so that he could teach that to Karla. With Aqua’s style but Karla’s own magic added, she became a powerhouse and even shocked Terra. But where Terra eventually got her is sometimes she’d spend too long manifesting a spiritual or cosmically powered spell to support her attack, and then Terra would smack her from behind and tell her she’s gotta take the rose-coloured glasses off when reality comes flying at her all of a sudden. I think that’s why her mind isolated her only to Riku these days… Because he’s more head on. So I think it’s about the need for her to find a middle ground and then she’ll be able to keep them both.

Let’s see now. I addressed the art and stargazing, which then led to keyblade training. Oh! I should tell you that Mahna Templestowe is not the first keyblade she manifested. Because like I said, she has universal manifestation and other psychic powers, so with it, the first keyblade she manifested was a clone of Terra’s and we were all shocked. But it just went to show how much Terra meant to her, and I remember a tear falling out of his eye when he saw that keyblade. I heard she got Mahna Templestowe later down the track when her keyblade use became more regular, and at the time, she was doing something with Riku or Terra in the realm of darkness. When she was put on her own to save one of them, rather than relying on them, that’s where she got her ‘personality’ so to speak.

Now I’ve been told that the master suggested talking about why she likes going to Neverland with Terra. I don’t really know the answer, as that’s between her and him. And… Cricket! Don’t peer into her dream journal! That’s an invasion of privacy! Well… I guess we’ve got answers now. So they would always sit on a rock and look out to the sea as Terra held her. They didn’t talk as much in Neverland; that was more just a tranquil moment together, or more recreation as it were. I think as she felt the Land of Departure was her base point, that’s where she’d find herself if she needed to have a really important conversation with Terra. Like she’d seek out his home and he’d give it to her in a sense. In summary, the she’d travel with Terra to all these BBS worlds and each one had a unique feel for a different activity, but the Land of Departure was at the heart of it all, and basically what she associates Terra with.

I’m really sad that Karla’s mind (energy levels) started to attack her in regards to Terra and tried to prevent her from finishing OC Week, but my teddy friend Krystal stayed with me in customs, and she actually managed to talk me out of the astral lock I was put into. So as Terra’s friend and someone who really loves Karla, I’m doing my part to save the day and I’ve been asked by Selvian and Cricket to contribute to her story ❤️"

Krystal running in with Ventus goes to show that the teddies have a mind of their own. Just like I didn't know Sibella wasn't right for Terra, I didn't know Krystal remained with Ventus. I assigned Krystal to Ventus at one point, but never heard from her since. Then when Selvian brought Ventus to 'customs' to try and help me with my severe mind blockages, Krystal came with him! So those two have had a good friendship. And now come to think of it... I have envisioned her doing things with Ventus in the LoD from time to time 🤔

---

I don't have a teddy version of Krystal drawn up (because obvs she surprised me). So here is a human model from January this year:

MISS KRYSTAL LEBAUCHEN (Ventus) - ISFP:

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SECTION 1C: Art Gallery (KB)

^Official DG 'family photoshoot' done in 2023. Karla is between her KH dream guides here. Riku and Terra's expressions are portrayed so accurately here 😊

^Karla normally doesn't like early mornings, but at the Land of Departure, Terra makes it worthwhile if she's up for it.

^Terra being the gentleman as always. He accompanied Karla to a Christmas photoshoot at the end of 2023. They both have a copy of the photo in their homes.

---

~12:35 AM (AEST)

With sheer patience and shameless intervention from nearly the entirety of my team AND Kingdom Hearts, we beat the energy block even though it presented a Good Game! Thank you for playing lol. In the words of Master Eraqus himself. CHECKMATE.

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SECTION 2: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU

Now I did say back in Day 5 that I had a surprise for a certain someone, for putting his hand up and acting as my Jiminy for this event. Thank you for being so accommodating and allowing him to work his magic:

Now sadly, he'll have to bus Natasha and Erika back home, but I hope you had a great time learning about them and getting to know them, and at least they now have a foothold in Kingdom Hearts if they need to do any future field work there. And with that, Sierra and Erika have to go their own ways for now unless they decide to visit each other down the track, but nothing is planned yet.

Natasha and Erika will have their keyblades hung somewhere in Cricket's dojo until they decide to use them again.

---

Thank you to the mods of KH-OC Week itself; for making everyone feel welcome and putting on a successful event (it's still here in 2024 😶). I've loved seeing everyone else's works and where they come from. I think we all deserve to have an inheritance [individual timelines] in KH, hence why I link the user to the OC. Including how I bridge myself.

As much as I have hilariously complained because my mind has been pushing exhaustion on me (and didn't like Terra 🥲) , increasingly leading up to Day 7. Here are some of the benefits that I have received from KH-OC Week 2024, as opposed to if I didn't participate:

It has reminded me to check my lore and restabilise my bridge with Kingdom Hearts.

Terra probably would have remained at the depths of limbo without this event. My mind throwing a tantrum was a good thing IMO because now I know what steps to take to get him back FULLY. Even if it takes more than just a week. KH-OC Week (and Dinh-Yu's unique prompts and instruction) pushed me into awareness and progress. I honestly think Dinh-Yu knew Terra was in trouble beforehand; he's cluey like that.

I would have never discovered that someone wasn't suitable for Terra. We have now introduced someone that he'll have a much better relationship with.

Sierra got to spend time with her sister. And as Erika is an ESFJ, she actually forged connections with some of the Kingdom Hearts members.

We have evidence and a stern commitment from Riku that he isn't the grouch we met back in 2020. His loyalty to us is unwavering, and it even bleeds down to the bears. He is personally thanking Dinh-Yu for doing KH-OC Week with me.

Whenever OC Week happens, new lore just pops up out of nowhere, which is why the Days can change so suddenly from their initial plan.

Admin Edit: I just looked at my clock upon finishing and it says 1:23! The subliminal msg I got when looking at the clock was that despite all the mental battle, KH-OC Week has indeed finished on a positive and strong note.

And...

Thanks Universe XD 💖

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

WHO DO YOU CHOOSE? - Translation

Translator's notes can be found at the end and are marked with an asterisk.

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Van: What do you say? You still can’t choose yet…

Van: Do you feel like there’s still something missing?

Yamato: If you like us all about the same, we should settle this fairly with our strength.

Eiichi: In that case, how about a race then?

Eiichi: If you guys don’t think it’s fair, I don’t mind if we make it a Chicken race* instead to test our courage.

Van: No, no! That is way too dangerous! A calm home run contest is better-

Kira: I reject all of them. We should do something fair and just.

Nagi: Nagi is also against it! Even if we gave them a huge handicap, I still don’t want to do either of them!

Nagi: Shion doesn’t either, right?

Shion: … If I am allowed to call my wildlife friends, then… perhaps I can do it.

Nagi: Eh?!

Eiji: If we make it about who can get up the earliest, I might do better…

Kira: If it’s about getting up early, I won’t be beaten either.

Kira: When I bisque-fire my work, I watch over the kiln starting in the morning.

Nagi: Stop! Everyone, stop getting in Nagi’s way!

Nagi: I’m trying really hard to get us to stop entertaining these meaningless physical strength tests!

Nagi: Listen, do you remember what we are fighting for in the first place? It’s true love!

Eiji: Oh, sorry. Nagi is right. Choosing like this is no good. My feelings for Angel got the best of me and I ended up getting carried away.

Shion: Amakusa too.

Shion: It’s a disgrace for a researcher to be so intent on seeking a result that he did not realize that he was taking the wrong course of action to achieve it.

Kira: Me too. I got a little competitive.

Kira: It wasn’t very mature of me.

Eiichi: In that case, should we go back to the starting point?

Eiichi: That is to say, if we’re going to compete, it should be with words of love for Angel. Yes, that is all there is to it.

Van: So I guess each of us will be confessing. It’s the safest choice, but it’s the correct one.

Kira: Is that okay with you, Angel?

(the listener replies)

Eiji: I’m glad. It’s settled, then.

Eiji: What should the order be?

Eiji: Can we start with my older brother since he came up with the idea?

Eiichi: That is fine. I even prefer it that way.

Eiichi: What I offer you is eternal love. It will never perish and will continue to shine radiantly under any circumstances. You will always be happy.

Kira: There is nothing that you and I aren’t able to do together.

Kira: The future ahead of us is dazzling and shimmering. Let’s walk alongside each other forever.

Nagi: With me, you’ll never be lost again. I’ll always find the right answer for you. I’ll always make you smile.

Nagi: You’ll be glad we’re together every day from here on out. So, choose me.

Eiji: I still don't know if I'm worthy of being chosen. However, my feelings for you are sincere.

Eiji: So I would be happy if you could accept my heart as it is. I just want you to smile, even if it’s only during the moment you receive it.

Van: After living together, I have been influenced by you.

Van: Honesty is the most important thing, so I’ll allow myself to say something selfish unashamedly. I want to have a special place in your heart.

Yamato: Don’t make it harder for yourself by thinking too much. You can go with your gut like I do. That is also a legitimate way of doing things.

Yamato: Hey, tell me that your choice is me.

Shion: I am strongly drawn to you. I believe I will never meet someone like you again.

Shion: I hope you will make apparent the miracle of our chance encounter with a message of love.

All: Now, who will you choose?

(simultaneously)

Eiichi: …

Nagi: What?!

Van: You still can’t choose?

Eiichi: We weren’t able to reach a conclusion.

Nagi: You haven’t decided?

Shion: Oh my…!

Kira: I want you to think about it more.

Eiji: Oh no…

Shion: Angel…

Yamato: It’s still no good?

Yamato: What should we do… Does anyone have any other ideas?

All: …

Shion: In Amakusa’s research, when it’s not easy to draw a conclusion, the number of subjects observed is increased… or the observation period is extended.

Eiji: That’s it, Shion! Extending the period of time!

Eiji: If it's okay with everyone, how about we continue to live together until it's decided?

Kira: I agree. It’s like in pottery. Patience is my greatest weapon.

Van: So basically like extra innings in baseball? I’m used to that kind of thing, so there’s no problem.

Yamato: That's fine with me, too.

Eiichi: Of course, I don’t mind that. So the only one left is…

(they all turn to Nagi, waiting for his answer)

Nagi: Geez, it can’t be helped… Naturally, it is OK! Under these circumstances, I can only agree to it, right?

Eiichi: All right. So, let's extend the time and start the second round now.

Eiichi: And if you still can't decide by then, we go by sudden death*. We’ll accompany Angel until they can make up their mind.

Nagi: Say, Angel. Do you dislike the idea of being with me forever from now on? Nagi doesn’t want to be apart from you even for a second. Of course, you feel the same way, don’t you?

Yamato: This time, victory will be mine. Of course, my opponent is you, Angel. In the end, you will pick me.

Eiji: I’ll work even harder than I am now. I’m done holding back from today onwards. Because I really like you. I want to take the initiative to convey my feelings to you.

Shion: This sentiment of love that I have found with you… If we continue to nurture it, how far will it grow? I want the two of us to witness it together.

Van: I will whisper passionate words of love to you as many times as you want, Angel. We’ll talk about so many interesting things, too. I hope you can always smile from the bottom of your heart.

Kira: I think only of your happiness. All my words and actions are for you. As long as I have your love, I don’t need anything else.

Eiichi: I will act according to your heart and offer you as much love as you want. Because my feelings for you will never wither.

(sound of a clock ticking, then striking)

All: HE★VENS LOVE AFFAIR!

All: Let's have a love affair that is like ascending to heaven.

Notes: *1 Chicken race- Eiichi is referring to a game in which two drivers drive toward each other and one must swerve or both may die in the crash. If one driver swerves and the other does not, the one who swerved will be called a "chicken".

*2 Sudden death- A way of quickly deciding a winner in which the first to score wins automatically

[lucrezianoin]

okay... i am... trying something :'D if you stumble upon this and would like to read a tav/astarion snippet from wyll's pov I was wondering... does Tav seem too harsh? a bit harsh? this is an experiment with something

Shadowheart heals their wounds as they walk and limp their way out of the spiders' lair. Wyll is exhausted, nursing what he is sure is a dislocated wrist. He does not want to inconvenience Shadowheart more than she can offer.

"Was it really necessary?" she complains, eyeing the dark amethyst that Tav is still holding in his hand. Gale, even limping and grunting with fatigue, allows himself to a long winded explanation on how the persuit of knowledge is always worth some pain; how the gem could maybe unlock the book they found at the necromancer's basement, a book that surely held more than a few secrets. Wyll is pretty sure 'dangerous lair of spiders' and 'necromancer's book full of secrets' are definitely not words he would have happily encouraged in the past. But apparently travelling with such a mismatched group has given more than ample opportunities to pick his battles.

"I'm going to give the book to Astarion," Tav says, putting the amethyst away in his satchel

To his credit, Gale falter just for a second, quickly recovering from his surprise. "You are going to give the mysterious powerful probably dangerous book on necromancy to Astarion. He doesn't even practice magic!"

"Let's just destroy the book, and everyone will be happy," Shadowheart deadpans, and Wyll nods to himself. That is really the ideal solution, isn't it? But he saw how impossible of a reality it was going to be the moment Astarion and Gale started bickering about the tome.

Tav chuckles, patting Gale's shoulder amicably. "Unfortunately he is much more convincing than you."

That makes Gale sputter and flaunder, because they all know what Tav means. The elven druid and the vampire have made no secret of their relationship. Wyll has not tried to pry, but it has been impossible to miss the longing gazes, the sneaking out, the way Tav's decisions so often swayed in the favor of Astarion. Just like now.

Once they are back at camp, Gale hides to sulk in his tent. Wyll has learnt to pick and choose his battles - or he is trying to learn - so he simply sits at the fire, gladly accepting the tea Karlach has prepared for them. She is currently enjoying trying all the herbs the Grove has to offer, tastes and smells she has not had for too many years. Wyll sips at his hot cup, recognizing a trace of lemon balm and mint.

"Darling, you look like death," Astarion's voice pipes up. He is reading in front of his tent, legs crossed onto a carpet that definitely was not there that morning. He jumps onto his feet when he sees the other elf get a book and a violet gem out of his pack. "You didn't! May I?" The vampire takes a step closer, but Wyll cannot hear what Tav replies. It must be a yes, because a grin spreads through Astarion's face.

Wyll immediately averts his eyes when Astarion, instead of grabbing the book, closes his fingers around the leather strap keeping Tav's druiduing symbol anchored to his chest to pull him onto the tent behind them.

Karlach sighs. "Man, I also want to get laid, this is so unfair."

Wyll shakes his head, but he is smiling. He still cannot believe this is Karlach. This young tiefling woman who is far too kind for someone who has been forced to fight in the Hells, someone who more often than not is ready to align herself with Wyll's need to help others. All things considered, letting Tav spoil his new lover is a little price to pay after he has convinced Wyll to see the right path. He does not even want to imagine what could have happened to him and Karlach if Tav has not been there.

Tav sometimes has unconventional methods, but he has not failed them yet. And Wyll might not know much of love, but he understands crushes and the need to impress. He has stolen more than a few flowers in his teenager years.

They were back at the Grove and selling some of the items Tav and Karlach had found along the way, when Tav announced: "We should tell Astarion."

Wyll pauses, boots covered in mud and the blood of the escaped hag still caked under his fingers. At least they had managed to save the girl. "Why? That Gandrel is not going to be able to make any deals with the hag, and we often move camps. He is not going to find us again."

"He has a right to know," Tav insists, pocketing the few coins they had earned with their barter.

"You're gonna ask him about the kids? The monster hunter said he stole some kids," Karlach demands, the words falling out of her as if they had been simmering at the surface.

Wyll had no doubt the man they had met in the swamp had been honest. While he was less likely to trust his own intuition these days, Wyll could recognize a fellow monster hunter easily enough. And no monster hunter needed a story, or needed to invent a bunch of kids being kidnapped in the night - the monster being a monster was usually enough of a convincing tale.

"And when you tell him this man is after him? Mark my words, Astarion will want him dead. We are not going to kill an innocent man."

"He said he wants to bring him back to Baldur's Gate. Have you thought that maybe his master sent him?"

[bi-functional]

Do I already have an au thats got its own folder in my google drive about Visually Impaired Bill? Yes. Do I want to talk about it because I broke my glasses and forgot how blind I am? Yes.

There’s just something about low visibility and how it’s such a concept to play with. My eyesight is Horrible and it’s almost impossible for me to get 20/20 vision, you could be standing a yard from me and I wouldn’t be able to see your face and my eye sight is just going to keep deteriorating with age. And for those curious, I do have contacts to wear, though like I mentioned, they do not give me 20/20 and also my jokes of being unable to cry or show emotions was taken too seriously by my eyes which decided they would also be unable to produce moisture properly, which makes contacts extremely irritating and hard to wear for long periods of time, even with the aid of special eyedrops.

But also, it’s been brought to my attention how like… genuinely fun and eerie you can make low visibility, and this isn’t me making light of being visually impaired or anything this is just genuine shit that’s been happening to me for the past week and I’d like you to imagine the following scenarios with Bill in mind:

Staring at people completely dead eyed, only to be told to stop staring at them cause it’s creepy. Apparently we’ve been having a staring contest but I was just trying to track movement of the faceless thing that walked in so I could stay aware of my surroundings.

Being told repeatedly to look at things that’s impossible for me to make out without any aid, fr sometimes I feel like Toph from avatar with the way my family tries to show me shit and has to be reminded I cannot, in fact, see them or what they’re trying to show me.

Having to keep a physical hand on the people I go out with in order to keep a physical marker on them. If I were to loose them in a crowd I would not be able to find them.

The people who choose to adapt to my extremely low visibility and those who choose to be irritated by it. The difference between those two.

With Bill having only One Eye, imagining that one eye having terrible and deteriorating vision is just a concept that I enthusiastically get my grubby little hands all over uk? Regardless of if it’s a human au, or if it’s an ‘axolotl sent me to earth in a human form as punishment’ au or however you want to spin it. An all seeing Eye and being of an alternate dimension warped with dreams and nightmares and unreality being unable to properly conceive the reality he’s been so desperate to find his way into is just a Good Prompt to me idk broski.

It is now time for some of the Bill headcanons I have in this department and in that previously mentioned AU folder.

Bill calls Dipper Pinetree after stealing his cap and discovering the embroidered pine tree on it. Dipper had refused to give his name hoping to be left alone but Bill simply found other solutions.

Bill keeping a constant hand or arm around Dipper while in public spaces.

Others initiating obvious and intentional contact with Bill when they start speaking to him, commonly but not limited to group conversations. It’s a more meaningful way to ‘maintain eye contact’ or allow them to give him their full attention.

Bill also has a contact he can wear when he needs to, but sometimes due to migraines or general discomfort he simply won’t wear it.

This post is already way too long but yeah ❤️ Wether it’s a human au or not just Bill having to deal with a human version of himself that’s extremely visually impaired as a juxtaposition to the All Seeing Eye of his true form. That’s all I’m pitching here. I have so many thoughts uk. So many au’s.

[delicatenightfury]

Coming Home

Month of Writing: Day 13

Pairing: Heimdall x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 757

Author's Note: please don't steal my work. you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work.

Heimdall AU where he survived Infinity War and Endgame, because I am sad that he's dead.

“Heimdall.” The man turned his attention from the large plans in front of him toward Valkyrie. The king had a gentle smile on her face. “You have been working hard. Go home and get some rest.”

“There is still much to do, my king,” Heimdall said.

“Aye, there is, but we have other people who can fill in and do the work. You need not do it all alone, you know.”

Heimdall nodded.

“I know. I suppose I am still not used to having additional support.”

“You served as Asgard’s Gatekeeper for many years, and now you are New Asgard’s head of security. You have done your job well, but even you must rest.” Valkyrie crossed her arms and smirked. “Besides, you have a wife and child to return to, do you not?”

Heimdall smiled at the mention of his family. He did indeed have people waiting for him back home.

“I do indeed,” he said. He stood to his full height and bowed his head to Valkyrie. “I shall take my leave then, my king.”

“Go on,” she replied. “And tell your wife I said hello.”

Heimdall chuckled, promising he would do so. He slowly made his way back home, taking his time as he walked since he enjoyed the small journey. He was tempted to look in on his home, but resisted. He liked to be surprised when he came through the door.

When he got to the front door of his home, he paused. Sometimes he was able to hear his wife talking or singing to herself and to their child. He listened closely, again refraining from using his powers, but was unable to hear her. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, quickly discarding his shoes.

“y/n?” he called. He did not see her in the living nor the kitchen. “y/n?”

He tapped into his powers briefly enough to listen for her. He could hear her breathing coming from their bedroom. Heimdall smiled and walked down the hall. The door was already cracked open, allowing him to slip inside without a problem. His heart melted at the sight before him.

y/n was lying on the bed, her hair sprawled out on her pillow. Her hand reached over her stomach to touch the small body lying next to her. Heimdall came closer, his smile growing further at the sight of his daughter sleeping peacefully beside her mother.

Heimdall shed his over clothes and slipped into bed as gently as he possibly could. It had to be quite a sight for someone so large.

He felt y/n shuffle, and she groaned lightly, signs that she was stirring awake. Heimdall winced slightly; he did not mean to wake her up.

“Heimdall?” she mumbled.

“I’m here, love.”

She hummed happily, turning her head to face him. Her eyes slowly opened and looked up at him.

“You’re home early.”

“The king sent me home,” he told her. “She said I should spend time with my wife and child.”

“And quite an exciting bunch we are at the moment.”

“This is perfect.” Heimdall laid down all the way, sliding his body behind y/n’s. He loved how her body fit perfectly against his. He maneuvered his arm under her neck and pillow to get even closer to her. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” y/n said. “We spent a lot of time playing before I tried to put her down for a nap. She was a little fussy so I laid down with her. Apparently I fell asleep too.”

Heimdall kissed the side of her head before nuzzling his face into her neck.

“You deserve a rest as much as I,” Heimdall said. “Perhaps I shall request some time off so that I may spend more time with you two.”

y/n smiled and turned enough so that she could kiss him.

“I would love that, Heimdall.”

The two smiled at one another for a long moment before Heimdall leaned in to kiss his wife. They were in no rush, but that did not stop them from putting their love for one another into the kiss. y/n smiled and pulled away so that she could catch her breath. Heimdall chuckled at her flushed cheeks.

“I look forward to spending my time with you, my love.”

“I’m looking forward to it too. And I know a little someone who will be very excited to have her father around. She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[rainbowvamp]

an unsent letter: 1946

AO3

They call it shell shock. The jumping at loud noises, and the panicking at unexpected touch, and the nightmares, god, the nightmares. 

They call it shell shock. What a name. As though shock encompasses the experience of blood and horror that war presents. 

I have never fought in a world like this one. I have never had such terrible realities thrust in front of me when I could do so little about it. 

I was happy to dodge the draft in the last Great War. I wish I had not fought in this war, but in a way, I am glad of it. I am glad that I fought this war and that I was there to see the horrors of it. Even with my shell shock and my ringing ears, and the hearing that may or may not return to me. 

Even with all of that, I am glad I was there, and helped where I could. I’m glad to have been a part of liberating people who were wrongly imprisoned, even at the risk of my own mind. If you told me before I enlisted that this would be my fate, I would choose no differently, except perhaps to go in earlier. 

I am a panicking, grumbling mess. I have more fear now than I had in the aftermath of drowning and drowning and drowning.

At least drowning only lasted a short time. War lasted for two years.

You only spoke to me for a few hours in all my lifetimes, and you have left the most profound mark upon me. Of course after 2 years in the trenches I have emerged a different man.

I don’t know if I am the same man who loved you, before. I don’t know if I am the same man who sat across from you at a table and asked for friendship. I can’t help but feel like I should have pushed for more. Because my life may not be short but it is ever changing. The man who loved you then will never be allowed to love you. I am too different now. Too changed. By the horrors of war that I had nearly forgotten in all my years spent away from them.

The man who was desperate to be your friend, so desperate that he would refuse his own love of you, I don’t know him anymore. 

I think, if you were standing before me here, and now, I would rise and touch your face and kiss your perfect lips and never ask why I shouldn’t. Because I want to. Because I want to love you openly and perfectly and with every ounce of me that still exists with love and devotion.

When all of that was stripped away, and I was just a soldier, I had to fight, tooth and nail to find it again.

I can’t hide it. I don’t want to hide it. I love you, and damn you for walking away from it.

Maybe you don’t love me, maybe you can’t love me, but you cannot deny you care. I know you care. I’ve seen you care.

There is no strength in stoicism, no matter what they say. 

I have healed more from letting myself cry than I ever have from trying to pretend I didn’t want to. Maybe you would be well served by something similar. 

Prove me wrong, try it and show me that I am wrong, and I will never mention it again. There is no strength if locking yourself away and refusing to acknowledge the people who love you. 

Do you know I love you? Has that ever crossed your mind? Have you ever though I might love you, for all the time we spent together, for all the tables we shared, for all the nights I wish we’d shared, did you know I loved you? Is that why you really left? Because you could hear the falsity behind my declaration of our friendship.

I am your friend. I do love you as a friend, it’s just something else besides.

The sound of thunder rolling through the city sets my teeth on edge. Sometimes I’m back there and apparently I scream, if the neighbors are to be believed.

I’m far from the only one like me. There will be a whole generation of men who come back form the front changed for the worse for having been there. 

I hope you never have to fight in such wars. I hope your station, whatever it may be, keeps you away from such conflicts. I hope that you are safe and well and unharmed in these trying times. The war may be over, but the healing is only just beginning, and we all know it.

I love you. I can’t even think about you anymore without thinking that I love you. I’m tired of denying it. I’m tired of pretending. I just love you. I love you even though I don’t know you. Maybe I love you because I don’t know you. I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know that I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here to look at me with those perfect blue eyes and speak to me in that soothing voice and tell me that things will be okay again, one day, even if you don’t believe it.

I need your advice, stranger. I need your support. I need… I need. I just need. 

I love you. Please. Please, come back to me soon. Please. Please. Please.

[moosecow]

Yeah, apparently, no on agrees with me on this, but…I’m done. I can already see the trajectory that TLOU HBO is going.

First they straight up, NERF, Tess’s character. This was a woman that was so terrifying that she can get people to stand down just by walking up to them. This was a woman that held her cool, knew the terror of the world, and choose to go out GUNS BLAZING, in the game. This was the character that saved your ass in the early stages of the story. This was a battle hardened woman, one that Joel respected, even if he was too broken to admit that he had feelings for her.

And what did the HBO series do? Nothing. Tess does nothing. She doesn’t shoot a guy in the head, no mercy, because he stole their guns. In the tunnels, in HBO TLOU’s first episode, she acts as though she’s never seen an infected before. Doesn’t this woman repeatedly go outside to smuggle goods? When it’s her turn to die, she freezes. SHE’S LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY WEAPONS and instead of picking up some grenades, blasting, shooting, fighting back. She freezes.

This is the woman who, in the game, in her dying moments, told Joel that she will NOT ever turn into one of those things. She was afraid, but she went to death like the warrior she was.

In the HBO series? She just stands still. Are you kidding me? She bosses Joel around sure, but there aren’t any moments that show us how badass and straight up TERRIFYING she is. Sure Robert is afraid of her, but we never get to see why. We never get to see her shooting skills, her battle worn ruthlessness, her fighting back against the infected (except for that one scene where it quickly flashes back to Joel and Ellie).

And the GODDAMN DISRESPECT! That infected kiss, was absolutely unnecessary. That isn’t a PEACEFUL death. My ass. That’s a woman, absolutely terrified, getting assaulted right before she dies. That’s not Tess. Game Tess would never have put up with that shit. And it’s such sexist shit! It didn’t gross me out, it didn’t make the infected anymore terrifying then they already area. We already had enough examples of how horrible they were.

All that scene did was piss me off. I can understand shortening the story, I can understand nerfing Tess and not allowing her to shine because of time constraints. But that kiss scene, was nothing more then creepy male gaze further reducing Tess to no more then a one note sacrifice to further Joel’s development. If Tess were a male character, she would NOT have been treated that way. She would have been be ripped apart after making a grand last stand. I would have preferred if she were ripped apart. THAT would have been terrifying. To know that the infected would still violently maul someone, even if they’re calm, or already one of them.

This scene, basically tells me that TLOU HBO is getting the hollywood treatment. Where they DON’T know how to write women, or make compelling drama without relying on shock factor (which to me is a lazy way to get your audience to care).

I’m done. I already had nitpicks with the series, like the lack of spores, how some of the acting is not as good as in the game, Ellie and Marlene not being familiar with each other, but unnecessary, sexual assault of a woman on screen, for no more then the shock factor, is a deal breaker for me.

And yeah, I know Neil Druckman is one of the primary show runners of The Last of Us, HBO, but newsflash, every author has their bad creative decisions. If you enjoy this show. GREAT! I am sincerely happy for you. But I was under the impression that the Last of Us, treated its female characters with respect.