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bitethedevil · 5 months

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A Portrait of A Cambion

Link to this fic on AO3

Summary: Raphael rejects his icky mortal feelings for Tav because he remembers what happens when one is distracted by matters of the heart. He reminisces about a woman who taught him how to paint and who stole his non-existent heart over a thousand years ago.

(This is essentially a sort of 'origin story' headcanon that I ended up writing into a fic because people were asking about my dark headcanon that Raphael has experienced love before, but Mephistopheles took it from him. It ended up as a fic because I had a very specific image in my head of how Raphael fell in love for the first time and how he lost that love. Also cambions don't have a heart. Source?: Pulled it out of my ass.) TW: Mention of Death, Blood, Abusive Relationship with Parent (although that should almost be a given with Mephistopheles in the tags)

Another nightmare about Tav. This time it had not been about her and her fellow adventurers besting him. Instead, he had dreamt about her dying a cruel death.

He shouldn’t care and he didn’t, but his mind was sabotaging him and in the midst of the dream, he had felt fear for her. It shook Raphael awake from his nightly meditation and made him sit up in his bed.

He rubbed his eyes and sneered at that disgusting mortal feeling that still lingered in his chest. He had to remind himself that she was no more than a means to an end.

He could not afford such distractions, especially now when the crown was so close…

Raphael’s eyes drifted to the right-hand portrait in his boudoir, the one where he hid his safe behind.

There it was again. That stabbing feeling in his chest. He could not even remember the face of the painter that had made the portrait, but looking at that painting was just the reminder he needed: Distractions will cost you dearly.

It was over a thousand years ago that he had met her. It was before he had even laid his eyes on the Crown of Karsus and witnessed Netheril’s fall. He was still perfecting his art when it came to soul collecting. Back then he mainly went after the most desperate of the desperate and this girl could not have been more perfect.

Her name was Lucienna and she lived in Westgate, a city known for its history with criminal organizations and piracy. The young human woman had managed to make herself quite unpopular with the group of mercenaries that ruled the city then.

She was on the run with two of Westgate’s best killers at her heels when Raphael unceremoniously whisked her away to the Hells. Back then he still lived in Cania under his father’s rule.

The young woman took in her new surroundings while she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at Raphael who was still in his human form.

“Where am I?” she wheezed, out of breath. “And thank you, I suppose.”

“The Eighth Layer of the Hells,” Raphael explained smoothly. He found no reason to pretend when her contract was already as good as signed with the circumstances, she found herself in.

“…Oh,” she said a bit too calmly for Raphael’s liking and nodded.

“Quite a mess you’ve found yourself in, dear,” Raphael said with a smile. “Was it worth it? The protesting, I mean?”

Lucienna narrowed her green eyes at him.

He had done his research. The whole reason that she was on the hitlist of the mercenary government of Westgate, was all because of some posters, she had made and plastered around the city. They criticized the government and called the population to protest.

“It was actually worth it, yes,” she said with defensiveness in her voice. “And I’d do it again.”

She crossed her arms and looked at him. Raphael looked her up and down with a smile on his face.

“I saw your work before they were all taken down and burned,” Raphael said. “You are clearly talented. As a great admirer of the arts, it would pain me to see someone with so much to offer the world dead in a ditch somewhere. Which is why I have a proposal for you…”

“Whatever you are selling, I don’t want any,” she said and interrupted his sales-pitch. “Who are you anyway?”

“Oh, do forgive my manners. I am Raphael,” he said with a bow and in a flash of fire he was in his cambion form. “Very much at your service.”

Her eyes widened for a moment at the reveal of his true nature, but she quickly gathered herself.

“I mean…” she said. “I suppose I could have guessed since you said we were in the Hells, but…”

She looked him up and down, studying his form for a moment before looking back at his smug face.

“I still stand by what I said,” she said stubbornly. “Especially if my soul is the price.”

Raphael’s smirk faltered. He had been so certain that this would have been an easy deal.

“Perhaps you don’t grasp the severity of your situation,” Raphael said with a dramatic hand gesture. “I can make this whole mess disappear if you simply sign my contract. If you do not, I will simply send you back to the exact spot I found you to be hunted for sport by the best killers Westgate has to offer.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’ll take my chances,” she said with a shrug.

Raphael’s brow furrowed. That was not what he wanted to hear.

“Suit yourself,” Raphael said with a sneer and snapped his fingers to send her back to where she came from.

If the little idiot so desperately wanted to walk into her own grave, Raphael would not stop her. However, it did infuriate him that she did not even seem the least bit interested in even hearing his offer. If she did, by some miracle, survive, she could be certain that Raphael was not done with her.

Raphael followed her movements through the city closely. Luck seemed to be on her side because she did eventually make it out of the city in one piece. He tracked her to a house in the middle of nowhere out on the countryside. He kept an eye on her little hiding spot for a couple of weeks before approaching her.

He manifested in a room where a small fortune in painting supplies laid scattered everywhere. There were paintings leaning up against every wall. His person of interest sat in the middle of the room. She looked up from the canvas she was working on and jumped at his presence.

“Are you ready to accept my kind offer or do you intend to hide here for the rest of your days?” Raphael asked with a smile.

“Shhh,” she hushed and put a finger to her lips. “Please, lower your voice. My father might hear you.”

She was bold, he would give her that. Raphael huffed in annoyance but complied.

“Well?” he asked in a more hushed voice.

“I’m perfectly content here, thank you,” she said while her focus returned to the painting she was working on.

Raphael could not believe what he was hearing.

“Please correct me if I misunderstand,” Raphael said. “You would run from the very city that you have been fighting to protect from tyranny, to stay here? You are aware that the mercenaries of Westgate do not forget a face and that you getting out of the city does not mean that you are safe?”

“I understand just fine,” she said calmly. “I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough. I know I’m not safe but that doesn’t mean I want to hand over my soul to you...No offense, of course.”

Her stubbornness was getting on his nerves. Perhaps, it would just be easier to leave her alone, as it seemed he was getting nowhere with her. She was a hopeless case.

“Raphael, was it?” she asked and looked at him.

Raphael nodded with a tired look in his eyes.

“I had a feeling that you would be back, so I have something for you, Raphael,” she said and got up from her chair. “If you don’t like it, I won’t take offense.”

Raphael’s brow furrowed as he watched her go pick up a painting. This was new.

She picked up the canvas that was almost as big as her and turned it around so he could see it. His eyes softened, despite himself.

It was a painting of him in his cambion form, painted in shades of orange. He was wearing armor and was holding a flame in one hand in the painting. He looked imposing yet regal. It was beautifully done.

“The likeness isn’t perfect,” she said with a shrug. “But I also only ever met you that one time, so…”

Raphael blinked and tried to hide how impressed he was with her work.

“Why did you do this?” he asked and looked at her.

“My little trip to the Hells was long enough for the people chasing me to lose my trail,” she explained. “So, if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would be dead.”

His eyes drifted back to the painting.

“Besides, I’ve never seen a devil before,” she said. “I thought you looked quite impressive, so I guess I got inspired. You did say that you were an ‘admirer of the arts’, so I thought it could be compensation for saving my life.”

He was flattered, even though he would never admit it. He could not remember ever receiving a gift willingly from a mortal like this.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly, as if she was half-expecting a ‘no’.

“It’s beautiful,” he said with a nod. “You are quite talented, like I said when we first met.”

“It’s yours, if you want it,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said briefly, smiling back at her. He snapped his fingers and teleported the painting to a safe location in his house.

They were quiet for a moment. For once, Raphael was not sure what to say. There was no more business to talk about, but it also felt wrong to simply leave after receiving such a gift. It was Lucienna that ended up breaking the silence.

“So, do you paint?” she asked.

“No, I do not,” he answered and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it is one of the few things that I have never sat down to properly learn. Although, I do see the appeal and I certainly do appreciate the art.”

“Do you want to learn?” she asked. “I’ve taught students before, you know…”

Although the idea of some mortal teaching him anything did not fill him with joy, he was tempted. Perhaps he could gain her trust and make her sign his deal anyway, as he had already wasted too much time on her. It also gave him an opportunity to study this odd mortal who did not seem to fear him.

“Hm,” he hummed in thought. “Yes, why not?”

They kept meeting in her father’s basement as Lucienna taught him how to paint. Raphael started enjoying the sessions. There was something about it. It brought him a sense of peace to paint. He did not mind the compliments to his progress either. She was good at teaching him without ever being condescending.

“You’re a natural at this, you know,” she said, leaning on his shoulder as she watched him work. “The only note I have is to work on the colors. This part isn’t actually red. It’s brown.”

She pointed to the bowl of fruit on the table.

“Are you telling me that red apples are not red?” Raphael said with a chuckle.

She smiled as she mixed some colors onto a piece of paper and held it next to the apple.

“That’s because you use your head too much and not your eyes,” she said. “This is painting. Not writing.”

Raphael huffed. She was right, of course. He could see when she held the paper next to it.

Whenever he practiced at home, it was always the same motif: her. He was determined to eventually pay her back for the gift she gave him. He noticed that Lucienna’s hair was not red either, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes were also not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow.

Somewhere along the way, the contract was brought up more as an excuse to be in her presence, rather than him actually wanting her soul. In the end it was not brought up at all. Raphael knew that she was too stubborn to sign it anyway, and perhaps she was right: perhaps she was truly safe in this peaceful little haven away from everything.

He enjoyed her company, though he loathed to admit it. The way she would lean on his shoulder when she was watching him work. The way that she looked almost insane when she was deep in concentration, with a paintbrush in her mouth or stuck in her hair as she painted like her life depended on it. The way that they could be in each other’s presence for hours without even saying a word to each other.

He knew that she liked him, but for some reason he did not want to exploit it in the same way he had done with earlier clients. It would have been all too easy to manipulate her into a deal by playing on her feelings, yet he never did.

Lucienna became an indulgence. Someone to take him far way from the endless clients and the toiling for his ungrateful father. Away from all the devils in the Hells that loathed him and away from all the mortals that feared him. Just for a moment.

It was the day when he finally decided to give her the portrait that he had painted of her that their relationship furthered into unknown territory for Raphael.

After he had made endless excuses about him not being as talented as her, he had shown her the painting that he had been working endlessly on from home. Her face brightened up and she pulled him into a kiss. After the initial shock, he wrapped his arms around her and melted into it.

Raphael was far from new to the concept of sex, although those below the Archdevils were not supposed to indulge in such things. The difference was that most of his sexual experiences had been with the incubi and succubi of his father’s palace, or rehearsed manipulation tactics he had used to lure clients. Both of which were exceptions that were acceptable for a devil of his lower rank.

This was new and most definitely forbidden, because this bordered on that awfully mortal feeling: love. Sex with her was so different from the almost theatrical performance of the incubi and succubi that he had been with during his longer visits to his father. Raphael also found no desire to put on a rehearsed performance himself.

Sex with Lucienna was clumsy and imperfect in a highly intoxicating way. They got completely lost in each other and nothing else mattered in that moment. It was heated and passionate, but in such a genuine way that it took Raphael’s breath away.

When they were done, Lucienna rested her head on his chest. Raphael was brushing his fingers through her hair when he suddenly felt her tense up a bit.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“Your heartbeat…” she said and pressed her ear to his chest again. “You don’t have one…”

Raphael chuckled and smiled.

“I don’t have a heart, dear,” he explained. “It works differently for devils.”

“Hm,” she said and nuzzled her head against his chest. “Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

“Oh, how dare you?” Raphael chided jokingly. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Mm…you can’t fool me,” she said and smiled. “It is slightly unsettling though…To not hear anything when you expect to.”

“I’m sure,” he said, tracing the soft skin of her arms with his fingers.

She got off his chest to lay down on her back. She patted her chest with a hand, inviting him to lay down on it.

“Here, listen to mine,” she said with a smile.

Raphael hesitated. The vulnerability of such an act did not sit well with him, but he had quickly found that he had a hard time denying this woman of anything.

He put his head on her chest and listened to her heartbeat. She held him close and rested her chin on his head. It would have looked comical for an outsider to see this much bigger man being held by this small woman, but Raphael found that he did not care.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he felt safe. Loved even. Perhaps, for the first time in his long life. There was a feeling, a flutter, in the place where his heart would have been, had he been a mortal man. They fell asleep like that together.

When he finally returned to his house in Cania in the morning, it was difficult to wipe the smile from his face. He could not stop thinking about her. He sat down to write, to try and clear his mind and record this feeling of happiness that he had not tasted for years.

“Mephistopheles missed you last night,” a voice said.

Raphael looked up to find one of Mephistopheles’s warlocks leaned against the wall, watching him. Raphael had forgotten everything about the meeting that he had promised to attend.

“Care to explain?” the warlock asked.

“I was working, Lestor,” Raphael replied coldly.

“All night? What a dutiful boy you are,” Lestor said with that shit-eating grin that Raphael had gotten so used to seeing.

It took everything to not lose his temper and tear the warlock apart for having the nerve to call him ‘boy’. Raphael knew the consequences if he did. Mephistopheles enjoyed sending mortal warlocks to spy on his son, simply to remind Raphael that he was not even worth sending another devil for.

“There were complications,” Raphael said through gritted teeth. “Please, do send Mephistopheles my deepest apologies.”

“Complications, eh?” Lestor said with a knowing smile that made Raphael slightly paranoid. “I will make sure to tell him how deeply sorry you are. Remember that you are needed at the palace these next couple of days. Whatever ‘work’ you have can wait.”

Lestor left his house. Raphael’s paranoia grew when he was left alone. Lestor couldn’t have known, could he? He had been so careful, and no one knew where she lived…

There was nothing that Raphael could do about it now. He had to get through the next couple of days before he could return to her, or he would feel his father’s wrath.

Five days later, Raphael finally had time for himself, and he decided to visit the woman who had occupied his mind ever since he returned to the Hells.

The first sign that something was wrong was that the door to the house stood open. Lucienna’s father was a paranoid man who always locked his doors.

Not two steps into the house, was the old man that he had only spoken to a couple of times during his visits. He laid sprawled on the floor, ripped apart and covered in his own blood.

Raphael’s blood in his veins turned to ice, as he saw the sigil of the mercenaries of Westgate smeared in blood on the wall.

“No…” Raphael mumbled to himself and ran to the basement.

There she was. A paintbrush in her hair, exactly where she always put them when she was focused on working. Her green eyes, that weren’t really green, stared emptily up into the ceiling above her.

“No…no…” Raphael said and fell to his knees beside her.

He leaned his head down to her chest. He knew there was no way she would be alive with the way she had been torn apart, but he had to check. The comforting pitter-patter of her heart that he had fallen asleep to just five days earlier, was gone. Raphael cried for the first time in a millennium.

“I told you…you stubborn woman…” he said angrily and brushed his fingers gently through her red hair. “You weren’t safe…”

He held her in his arms while he sobbed. He was spiraling. The emotional walls that he had used hundreds of years to build up had crashed down around him, and for a moment he was experiencing a millennium worth of pure mortal grief and sadness all at once.

He looked at her. At all the paintings that were stacked around him. He noticed that the portrait he had given her had already been hung up on the wall, and it sent a sharp pain through his chest where his heart would have been.

His eyes finally locked unto the sigil that was painted with blood on the wall, with the words under it: “Westgate does not forget”. His sadness slowly boiled into anger. Anger overtook every ounce of his being when he heard a familiar grating voice behind him:

“Mephistopheles wants to talk to you, boy,” Lestor said.

He could practically hear the smug smile in the warlock’s voice. That little shit had known, and he had informed Westgate of her whereabouts. Something in Raphael snapped.

Raphael spent that afternoon doing unspeakable things to his father’s warlock. When he was done, he burned the whole house down. He burned the all the paintings in there, the mangled corpse of Lestor, Lucienna’s father, and Lucienna, the one woman who ever loved him. A part of Raphael burned away in that fire as well. If he could, he would happily have burned down to ash with them. He felt dead inside as he returned to Cania to face his father.

“You spit in my face by not showing up to our meetings and now you arrive late yet again. I sent Lestor to collect you five hours ago. Where is he?” Mephistopheles voice boomed throughout the throne room.

“Lestor is dead,” Raphael answered.

“Dead?” Mephistopheles asked in a dangerously low voice and leaned forward on his frozen throne. “Why? Because he did his job and informed me that you were too busy fucking mortals instead of doing your job of collecting their souls?”

Raphael inhaled slowly, trying to calm the rage inside him.

“I promise you, son,” Mephistopheles said the word ‘son’ as if it was a joke to him. “Fucking mortal women isn’t worth the headache. It’s how you end up with useless fucking half-breed bastards like you.”

Raphael swallowed hard and looked at the ground, as the devils in his father’s court snickered and laughed at him.

“You have high thoughts about yourself,” Mephistopheles said. “But let me remind you that you are not even close to a rank where you are entitled to stick your cock in anything or to keep consorts! Those privileges are reserved for Archdevils exclusively, which you are not. The only reason you are alive, is because I see use for you. I will not tolerate you getting distracted from your purpose. You work for me! Is that clear?”

Raphael hated that his father could still make him flinch, just by yelling at him. He nodded.

“Yes, my lord,” Raphael said quietly, still grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Good, my boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile that would make anyone uncomfortable.

Raphael bowed his head and turned to leave.

“One last thing,” Mephistopheles called out. “I have a gift for my little would-be lordling.”

Raphael took a deep breath and turned around. Whatever this was, it could not be good. Mephistopheles smirked at him and snapped his fingers. Someone entered the throne room and Raphael’s closed his eyes in embarrassment at the sight.

One of his father’s incubi that Raphael had slept with during one of his visits to the palace, walked through the door. They were wearing Raphael’s form. They sauntered into the room, wearing skimpy leather clothing.

The throne room was filled with roaring laughter. Even Mephistopheles was laughing from his frozen throne.

“A fitting consort for you, wouldn’t you say, boy?” Mephistopheles chuckled. “Since you only ever seem to think about yourself. Their name is Haarlep. Give it a few nights with them and you won’t even remember that little mortal bitch you seemed so obsessed with.”

Rage was threatening to overtake him. He wanted to kill every last laughing devil in the room. He wanted to give his father the most excruciating death he could think of. Raphael also knew that he was no match for any of them. He had to bide his time, and that time would come someday. He would make sure of it.

“What do you say then?” Mephistopheles said, looking down on him from his throne.

Raphael looked at the incubus with disdain and then at his father. Raphael wanted to say many things in that moment: That he would one day take his father’s throne. That Mephistopheles would one day cower at the feet of his son. That he did not care if he had to wait millennium after millennium for him to finally get his revenge.

Raphael took a deep breath and bit his tongue, though it took everything in him to do so.

“Thank you, my lord,” Raphael said through gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile. “Now get out of my sight. I hope you have learned something from this.”

Raphael was sitting in his bed, looking at the right-hand painting in his boudoir. The painting that Lucienna had gifted him all those years ago. He had spent so much money throughout the years on getting it carefully restored.

He couldn’t remember her face anymore, but he could remember all those colors he studied when he looked at her. Her red hair, that was not red, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes that were not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow. He heard the sound of her heartbeat in his mind each time he went to rest.

When he looked at Tav, that stubborn whelp, he sometimes found himself wondering what her heartbeat sounded like. Wondering which colors he would use if he were to paint her hair and her eyes. And there it was again that flutter where his heart would have been if he had one. Lucienna’s words echoed in his mind.

“Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

No. He didn’t and he couldn’t. That part of him was dead and gone and it would remain that way. Raphael shook his head and crushed that feeling in his chest. No more distractions. Not when he was so close to the crown. Not when he was so close to finally getting his revenge.

#writing #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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kenposting · 1 year

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You're Protesting the Air?

Summary: The tension between Holland and his client had been building for weeks. You were proud of yourself for keeping your cool - until Healy left you under the care of his partner.

WC: 1.4k

AN: i am sorry but holland is so [redacted] i just want to [redacted] ARGHHHHH!!!!!!!! n e ways thank u for enjoying all my silly little stories!!!!! life has been insane lately but i plan to write more now that im settled again :3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚🍸˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“And keep the girl safe!”

“The girl?! I’m a fucking P.I.!”

The air grew thick with the slam of the door. Holland stood beside you, disheveled as always, but almost different this time. He wasn’t cool or collected and he wasn’t drunk either. He was nervous, which was odd, given that this is maybe the first time this week he wasn’t caught in an active shooting or laid next to a dead pornstar.

Half of you regretted ever even contacting these guys. You called the number listed on their ad when the last guy that hired you expected something… more than what you agreed to. You were dismissive, figuring he was just some creep. And he was! Until he started following you around.

Even though you were widely renowned as one of the best (and toughest) private investigators this side of town, your reputation as a young, attractive, easily-kidnappable female was often undeniable – and now, inescapable. Being on your own was no longer enough.

He watched you carefully, entirely missing his usual cue to quip back following your sigh of frustration. You needed protection from that guy, not from doing your job. You fully intended on letting him have it.

“This is all your fault, you know!”

An accusatory finger pointed up in his direction.

“My fault?!”

“Yes, hello! Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“Stop him – you hired him! Hy didn’t you stop him?!”

“I tried! You watched me try, what, did you miss that too? Just like the numerous times we’ve asked you to stay put, follow this car, pick us up from this spot, don’t fall off the fucking roof, listen to this story about when I shot a guy in a diner – should I continue?”

“Hey, that’s not fair, he approached me at a time when he should’ve known I wouldn’t be listening, that’s just bad discernment.”

You watched as his stature towered over you, his hand placed dramatically against his hip (the other in a cast, of course). Even at this volume, stuck in this situation, he wasn’t hostile or threatening at all. He was charming, actually.

“Oh, good grief, when are you listening?”

“Right now!”

If looks could kill he'd be dead right now. You were fucking furious.. He looked good! And it was incredibly annoying.

“You know what, I can’t take you, March. You stand around all day pretending like you’re doing your job when in reality, if you’d care to join us, you’re just staring at me.” “I am doing my job! Staring at you is my job!”

“No it’s not, you halfwit! That’s why Healy gave you this stupid fucking task of watching over me – that’s the one thing you can’t possibly fuck up.”

“Oh yeah? I bet I could!”

He hesitated after speaking, realizing he wasn’t defending himself any longer and instead proved your point greatly. A gently raised (and very broken) arm buffered the silence as he searched for something else to say.

“You know what, that’s not fair. You make me nervous and I can’t be quick-witted when I’m nervous. Everyone knows that.”

“I make you nervous? Is that why you both still treat me like I’m your kid that needs looking after?! You’re only five years older than me, Holland! All I do is worry about you not getting shot to death while you’re busy getting drunk all the time.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath, you realized it was a little absurd to be upset that they were watching you. That is in fact what you paid them to do.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be drunk all the time if you weren’t around to distract me!”

“Distract you?!”

“Yeah, distract me! You’re all I can think about and it’s driving me fucking insane!”

He paused. He did not mean to say that.

“Is that right?! Well, I’d say it's much more fitting to state the facts here – you’re the one distracting me!”

“Oh, now I’m distracting you?”

“Of course you are!”

He paused, sighing. He was not prepped for this response.

“Look, I’m just trying to do my job. And I can’t do it with all of–”

He gestured between the two of you,

“This bullshit! The air is palpable and I won't stand for it!”

“Well me neither!”

The two of you were face to face now. He was doubled over to match your height.

He truly had been distracting you since the second you met him. It wasn’t fair. You hired him to watch your back and all you both did was watch each other, leaving Healy to do all the jobs himself. It wasn’t fair, but he started it!

He was handsome, though. You didn’t mind paying him to stand there and look pretty. And he really was good at his job when he tried, but that’s not the point. All logic was thrown out the window here, he was on your last fucking nerve and you just had to tell him all about it.

“So, Holland, since you’re so good at your job, what do you suggest we do about it then?!”

“Maybe we should just get it over with! There’s clearly pining here of… of the sexual kind and it’s distracting both of us from doing our jobs.”

“Fine!”

A brief pause, brows furrowed and jaws clenched, sweat beading on his forehead, before the two of you moved towards each other in one swift motion. His hands were large and moved confidently, resting at the small of your back like he’d been mapping it out all day long. Truth be told, he had been.

His (one good) hand moved, coming up to rest on the right of your face, the precursor to a kiss that had been building for weeks now. It was rushed and intense, but neither of you were complaining. After all, you preferred for this not to take ages, as who knows when his (and your) partner would be returning.

He was back to his old self almost immediately, like all that had been missing was the confirmation that you wanted this too. He could’ve sworn he caught you looking at him a handful of times. Now he knew for sure, and it filled him up with the same cockiness that had been ever-present long before you hired him.

Perhaps this was a violation of proper workplace relationship boundaries, but then again, so was the rest of your job. The things the both of you had done were enough to send you straight six feet under, but he fought so hard for the girls that were being killed and exploited on his last case. You read about him in the paper – the same paper that had been clipped and stuck to the fridge he now had you pinned against.

You grabbed at him, clinging towards anything that could keep you grounded. His shirt was unbuttoned already, his chest heaving against your hand, lips following as you moved to reposition yourself. With one swoop of his (one good) arm, he lifted you up and sat you on the counter. Even placed way high up, he still stood taller than you.

“You know,”

He mustered everything within himself to pause for a moment, stepping back from you, blinking. His ears and cheeks were flushed pink and he was eager to continue, but thought it polite to stop and listen.

“I was never even mad at you I don’t think.”

He blinked at you again, thinking it so absurd you were trying to actually have a constructive conversation right now.

“Uh-huh.”

His lips found your neck.

“I just wanted to say that. So you don’t think I’m mad at you or anything. Also, I’ve been thinking about this for so long and I just wanted it to be right and–”

“Sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered as you hummed in response.

“Be quiet. I know.”

You opened your mouth to protest but were rudely interrupted by the clicking of a lock. Heavy footsteps followed the sound and you were met with Healy stood right there in Holland’s living room.

“Seriously?”

You looked at Holland. Holland looked at you. “You guys aren’t done yet? I thought it’d take him, like, five minutes, tops.”

It occurred to you that the three of you had actually completed your tasks for the day, but that all seemed much less important earlier. You landed on a playful slap of the shoulder towards Holland who had clearly set this all up.

“You asked him to leave just so you could argue with me?!”

“What?! No! You really think I would do that!?”

The two of you were at it again, missing Healy’s eye roll as he stepped back outside, locking the door behind him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚🍸˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

#AHHHHHHH #holland march #holand march x reader #the nice guys #<3

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aria-ashryver · 11 months

Text

my introverted ass gets a lil shy about participating in fandom events sometimes lol, but I wanted to give some folks some love for ✨Choices Fandom Shoutout Day!✨

Firstly, to all my moots, but especially @pudb1e @alleykatart @icanmakewords @honeyinadream @scrumptioustimemachinetragedy @aces-and-angels @zhoras-bitch @lilyoffandoms and anyone else i've missed! (chemo brain is a bitch)

ngl, every time you guys like something to do with the Starlight blorbos it makes me giddy. You make this such a warm and joyous place to be with every little interaction -- your joy is my joy, and I'm so glad our shared love of ID and Choices fandom stuff (and hopefully, my writing too!) has brought you all some happiness.

I hope something makes you smile today. You deserve all the happiness in the world and I appreciate you all so much 🌻🌼🌷

I wanted to give an extra special shout out to @jerzwriter for making this fandom such an inclusive and welcoming place -- you are just straight up lovely! I know I barely know you, but you have a generosity of spirit that I really, greatly admire.

[Skip this bit if you want, as I'm touching on heavier health stuff]. I realise I haven't actually got around to posting the fic in question yet (writing takes a lot out of me atm), but I have been frittering away at a piece based on the ask you sent me forever ago, and I really wanted to thank you for taking the time to send that ask in the first place. Not only did it make me feel like I really was a part of the community here, but you actually sent me that ask right before a meeting with my oncologist where I was due to find out whether I had been responding to chemotherapy or not. (I am getting better! ✨🎉) It was a pretty rough morning, and through some truly serendipitous timing, you swooped in and offered me the perfect distraction. I immediately found myself imagining all these soft scenarios and trying to cobble together little plot points instead of fixating on my anxiety; you gave me an escape when I really needed it.

And for me, that's exactly what fandom is all about! That's what fanfic writers and fanartists are so wonderful at achieving with their works; is bringing this refuge of joy and levity and beauty when we need it the most. So, truly, thank you -- not just for the ask that day, not just for all your hard work with @choicesficwriterscreations, but simply for being you and for sharing your stories with the world. You really do bring a light 💛

And through all of this, my OG reader and wonderful friend @freedom-kitty ✨ You've been there since the beginning bringing so much enthusiasm and eagerness and leaving some of the most wonderful comments on my fics that I have ever had the joy of reading. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that you are an absolute GEM and I'm so glad ID brought us together 💖 I have so many of your comments saved to go back and re-read when I'm doubting my own skills, or when I just need a smile (I'm still absolutely cracking up about the Aria the Great saga when I "joined you" on holiday lmao). You are the best ever, and I hope you know it.

Thank you for cheering me on, both in writing and in life with all the bullshit going on this year. You kick ass, lovely, and you should feel awesome about being you 💕

Lastly, thank you so much @choicesfandomappreciation for your hard work and thoughtfulness in hosting such an awesome event!! 🧁🎀 I love seeing events like this!

Sending you all hugs (if you are the hugs sort) and sunshine and warmth (if that's more your jam)

You are loved

You are brilliant

You are capable

You are enough 🌻

all my love,

aria xx

#choices spread kindness #shoutout day

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greenshi · 2 months

Note

alright tell me about YOUR current favorite guy now

I AM FINALLY DOING THIS i have been. so distracted lmaooo. BUT I decided to do the guy in my icon, fifth member of weezer and best FE character, Python <3. He may not be the Number One guy in my brain right this moment, but that spot and most after it are all taken by OCs, so. We're doing him instead. Also because of this tag because I think you'd like this guy jort

ANYWAY, Python. My guy. He's a character from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, a recruitable archer early on in Alm's route.

Now, in Echoes, the class discrepancy between nobles and commoners is a prominent theme, especially in Alm's route. This is something that comes up in a lot of FE games, unsurprisingly, seeing as princes and thieves fight together side by side. And the games (at least those I've played, which is only FEA-FE3H. I know.) tend to handwave a lot of the more unsavory points of that topic. A lot of the time, conversations or supports that delve into that topic end in "yeah, being poor and starving sucks, but you know what also sucks? Being royalty! It's really hard :[" which, like, yeah, it is, but also one party here has the means to help the other, but is choosing not to instead say how their life sucks too, actually. Idk, these conversations always rubbed me in the wrong way a bit.

ALL THAT BEING SAID, Python is a commoner. And he doesnt buy any of that "being rich is hard too guys :[" shit for a Second. In his support with Clive (a nobleman knight who's opinion on the whole situation is "well some people have to be poor so I can be rich") he straight up tells him that his ideas on how society should be run are wrong and that his view on common people are condescending at best.

youtube

Python doesn't fight for honor or any sense of duty, he fights for his paycheck and his childhood friend who does feel that duty, Forsyth. Even if he and Forsyth disagree on many things, there's a mutual respect between the two, an understanding of their station, and a small rivalry between how to best navigate said station. Forsyth encourages Python to get out there, try things, put some effort into life. But Python just, doesn't see much of a point. But it's not for any depressive reason, or even straight apathy. Python just prioritizes rest and relaxation. He doesn't live to work, he has no dream job (which Forsyth takes as having no dream at all, not that Python would disagree), he just wants to enjoy his life; sleeping in the sun, having a few drinks, spending time with friends, and sharing stories and gossip.

Speaking of friends and gossip, I'm going to drop my favorite support of his, maybe even my favorite support in the whole game (even though its locked behind a dlc map like seriously what was up with this games dlc why is a support between two base game units behind a paywall-)

youtube

Going from this support, and the fact that neither of them have romantic endings, (Lukas' even saying he 'never wanted for companionship') this is a pretty clear attempt by FE at writing two aroace (or at least just aro) characters. And, idk, I think its really special. Neither are framed as missing out or needing another to be happy, the conversation is to the point and respectful, and they are both allowed to be full characters beyond this detail of their lives.

And that's a common thread through Python's character that I admire. In any other story, the character that had no want for big dreams, constant improvement, or romance would be framed as an empty person, someone deeply unhappy without anything to strive for. But, even as the other characters try and impose that narrative onto Python, that's never actually the case. He is happy as he is, doing just enough to be as comfortable as he can, taking rests and shortcuts all along the way. He will not sell his time more than he must, he will not work harder than he has to, he will not allow those who push themselves to breaking for those above them to guilt him into doing the same. He has nothing to prove, nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, the one time he could push himself, in his bad ending after Forsyth dies, *THAT* is when he is empty and miserable, fighting like his friend once did until his early, untimely death.

Python is just such a breath of fresh air. He was the one in my brain telling me say no to my boss long before Chilchuck, he is a character that not even FE has been able to write like that again (even when writing for him specifically, like his Heroes characterization is so off and bad augh). He is one of the very few canonically aro characters I can find, and I'm proud to have him napping in my icon for the foreseeable future.

#ask #fire emblem #fire emblem echoes #shadows of valentia #python fire emblem #python fe #i love this guy a lot. if you couldnt tell wjhebckjwenj #python my friend python

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fantastic-mr-corvid · 3 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you Dujour! alas neither of my wotr fic made the cut but one ffxiv sneaked its way among the jojos, and one non oc work snuck in among Muro n co as well as well. Oops went a bit ham on how i feel about them before realizing i should have been doing summaries, so my personal feelings for each under the cut<3

They Make Me Mad- JJBA- oc

Celia finally snaps after listening to Soverano chatting shit all night- but as she approaches to give him what the righteous anger inside of her thinks he deserves she is instead pushed to escort a drunk and high Tesoro home, distracting her and avoiding the fallout that would come from a fight between her and Soverano. But she easily sees through the ruse, angry at Soverano escaping justice, and after Tesoro is definitely made sober after being drenched with a bucket of water, they start arguing about the dangers of doing what's right in their world, which ends with Celia storming off home.

I am the softly falling snow - FFXIV- Post-Heavensward

The observations and musings of a soldier of Camp Dragonhead as he watches the warrior of light mourning, a while after the dragon song war is over, when Ishgard is rebuilding and the camps have new recruits.

old habits die hard, hope for a better future dies faster- JJBA

Conficcare is cornered, and is reminded of when he was younger. try and he might to win, he's not as strong as he thinks he is, and also distracted. ending up on his back with a boot pressing on his rib. during all hes thinking about how he and his friends have changed. His friend that's changed the most arrives and rescues him, but he spirals further into anger and grief and how much the Celia he knew has been warped into the Muro he knows today. Eventually Muro gets through to him, and carries him home, where he tries to comfort Conficcare, and Conficcare gets a glimpse of part of his old friend he though long dead.

A knife offered in friendship- JJBA

After his fight with the stand user Formaggio, and while Giorno, Abbachio and Fugo are in Pompeii, Narancia tries to help Trish feel more safe by offering her his knife in a gesture of friendship- although his way of gifting it to her was not the best in terms of stopping her panicking

Born to Run- JJBA

Chasing promises of power from a mysterious new figure in the Napoli underworld, the youths prepare to race, with Celia called as the mechanic, however carefully laid plans for victory go awry when their leader is attacked on the way to the starting line- and driven by Elena's ernest passion to win, Celia takes the wheel and leads them to victory, with Elena beside her, ensuring they get that far.

They Make Me Mad- JJBA- oc

maybe on here because of recency bias, but i do love it, being the second look at a teen Celia, and her complex relationship with Tesoro [its the foreshadowing, hypocrisy and tragedy- i am nothing if not a sucker for becoming the thing you hated<3]

I am the softly falling snow - FFXIV- Post-Heavensward an outlier in terms of fandom, and quite old actually, well in terms of my writing i still like, at about six months. games were i end up forming such strong emotional bonds with characters will always stick with me, and for the very linear story, ffxiv manages to get me every time<3 its short and bittersweet but im still very proud of it,

old habits die hard, hope for a better future dies faster- JJBA

Shaking them both. i still like You hurt them like they're nothing but Old habits really shows the complexity of their relationship, not just the effects.

A knife offered in friendship- JJBA

Not oc-centric! not even a single oc! Trish Una you will always been the main character of part five to me<3 i also think Narancia deserves better. Knife part isnpired by me thinking how tf did you make this 15 year old girl feel safe around you.

Born to Run- JJBA

again, i love everlasting kiss but born to run is very much a part two that builds on born to run, and i just love the rollercoaster of tension and action and stupid teenagers in love and grief

#thebirdwrites #<-ig?#tyyy for the ask Dujour!

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amethystina · 5 months

Note

hiii! just curious of you've watched beyond evil? 🤔 (ps: i loveeee ur fics <3)

I have not, no, but it's been on my list of things to watch since I saw The Devil Judge. Though mainly because I had seen (and liked) Yeo Jin Goo in Hotel del Luna and was curious to see him in a drama with a different tone and story (i.e. I had no idea about the comparisons between The Devil Judge and Beyond Evil at the time). It was actually one of the dramas I had planned to watch right after The Devil Judge, but then got too distracted writing fanfics x'D

And, by now, I'm mostly postponing it because I don't want to collect another drama I possibly want to write for, which is the same reason why I haven't watched Word of Honor or Evilive, for example.

(For real: I took one look at Kim Young Kwang in Evilive before noping the fuck out because I have a type — a specific brand of kryptonite, if you will — and that man, in that specific drama, so perfectly encapsulates it that my flight-or-fight response kicked in. I feel like I dodged a bullet on that one)

(But I will eventually watch it — just give me some time)

Anyway! Also, from what I've gathered, the Beyond Evil peeps are doing fine without me? Like, they seem to be having a great time! No need for me to show up like the aggressive, invasive species that I am and ruin it x'D

I do want to watch it some day, though, but I admit a part of me is also kind of... hesitant? Because people have hyped it up so much? And what happens if I watch it and don't like it? Or don't find it as fascinating as everyone else seems to? x'D

(I'm pretty sure I will, but the worry is there nonetheless)

I'm one of those people who prefer to go into things blind. If I hear too much, I will build expectations (or start figuring out spoilers) without meaning to and it usually influences my experience in ways that are detrimental to the drama/show/movie in question. The less I know, the better (aside from triggers and warnings, of course).

And while I know next to nothing about Beyond Evil's plot (and would like to keep it that way so please don't spoil me!) some of the posts I've seen here on Tumblr have already influenced me negatively towards it. Which I absolutely HATE. And I'm referring to the ones that basically say that everyone should watch Beyond Evil instead of The Devil Judge because it's so much better. And while that might very well be true (especially since a lot of that is subjective), I'm still going to end up unintentionally siding with the only one of those that I actually know in more detail (i.e. The Devil Judge).

"You can't tell me what to like or not like" and all that.

Which I know is a ridiculous response and I'm trying to combat it, but I can't deny that it still affects me. To the point where I honestly wished I had watched Beyond Evil sooner since now I worry I'm going to be biased in a negative way, simply because of the discourse I've happened to glimpse online. I don't want to compare the two, but I feel defensive enough that I still might, despite my best intentions. I want to be able to judge things based on their own merit.

So can we please just stop pitting things against each other? It's tiring and ruins the experience for me.

I just want to be able to watch and enjoy cool things :C

TLDR: I haven't watched it yet but hope to at some point since it sounds like it will be good. But I'm hesitant because I already have too many projects and don't want to stumble into another fandom I want to write for right now x'D

And thank you so much! I'm glad you like my fics 💜

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #There are so many shows I'm postponing because I don't want to get distracted #Beyond Evil and Word of Honor are the most prominent #Because it's been YEARS at this point #Maybe I should just get it over with?#Rip it off like a bandaid #But again #I'm worried I'll get distracted #And I do love my current fics so much #On the other hand #Both Beyond Evil and Word of Honor are so well established at this point #With no doubt so many good fics already #There probably won't be much I can add xD #So maybe I could convince myself the fandom doesn't need my fics as well

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whumping-valentine · 2 months

Text

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 14 🦌

"The Apocalypse"

Content: ??? Idk this is kinda tame. Nothing whumpy happens. I suppose Stockholm syndrome and captivity, mayhaps. Oh also people die but that's whatever lolll.

3,200 words

Hey y'all, it's time for part 14! I meant to get this out like over a week ago now but I got distracted by drawing because I'm trying a new art style and am absolutely obsessed with it.

Since I've gotten lots of followers since the last part's release, here's the Masterlist if you wanna read it!

As always, I apologize for my writing quality 😓

Enjoy! 🛸

Severin's adaptation to werewolf life in a cult was difficult and surreal, to say the least. Not to mention scary. No one had yet realized he wasn't actually a part of the pack, though some have commented on his unfamiliar smell. The trio assured them he'd been here for a while now. Agnes and Anthony's rank was enough to keep them from prying any further.

The good news was none of this speculation had gotten back to Ethel. If she heard of the suspicions and wanted to check it out for herself, Severin would be a goner. Surely she'd also figure out her two top dogs were behind it, too. That wouldn't be good for anyone.

They've made it by for a week now, and news was starting to circulate around Severin's spacecraft…

-----

“I'm here at the sight of the crash in the small town of Woodmar. An apparent UFO has wrecked in the middle of the woods. Authentic, or hoax? Let's find out.” A news reporter spoke. She and the cameraman inspected the wreckage while commentating.

By now, it had run out of power, so none of the technology worked. While the craft might have been able to be explained away as an art project, the destruction it left in its wake didn't have the same level of excusability. As soon as this story got out, it was sure to gain traction all over the internet. It was the most definitive proof of extraterrestrial life the world had ever seen, and it was right here, up close and personal.

Both the reporter and cameraman got noticeably more excited and scared as they inspected. It got harder and harder to pass off as anything other than the truth of what it was: a UFO. The two of them talked about how they wished it was a live broadcast instead of a pre-recording, they wanted the world to see this immediately!

In the middle of the reporter's sentence, the microphone's signal was unexpectedly cut off, and the camera stopped working completely. The two inspected their devices, unaware of the creatures who stalked them from behind the trees.

In an instant, both the reporter and the cameraman were shot dead.

A pair of aliens emerged from behind the bushes, guns in hand as they approached the human corpses. They looked down on them in scorn before inspecting the ship.

“Oh, of course." One of the aliens groaned, "You know who's ship this is? It's Severin's!”

“I always knew he wasn't cut out for this." The other shook their head, "Should we tell The Council?”

“No, of course not. We cannot let them know someone has already fumbled the mission, they will think poorly of us all. It's not good that the humans are already suspicious of our plans. We need them to be oblivious, at least for a little while longer.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“There is not anything that we need to do. It wasn't a live broadcast. All we need to do is destroy the camera, and the evidence is gone. By the time the news station realizes the reporters they sent are missing, it'll be too late. We won't need to hide anymore.”

“We’re already here, aren’t we? We’re already infiltrating. It’ll only take a few days now before we have control over this pathetic planet. By the time The Council arrives to survey, the human race will already be enslaved and ready to serve the Empire.”

“I sure hope so.” they said, "So long as the fuck up doesn't fuck it up anymore than they already have..."

----

Hunter let out a sigh as they awoke, groaning as they stretched their arms, bones cracking.

“You sure slept in.” Fawn mumbled, already wide awake, sitting with their hands cupping their head, “Though maybe it’s 8 am and I’m the one up early. Who knows.”

“Mm. You sound depressed.” Hunter mumbled, “It's day 40, you know? Hooray, give it up for day 40!” They cheered sarcastically.

Fawn sighed and rubbed their face, “Oh, human life is so short. I can't believe I'm wasting away my precious days trapped here doing nothing! My precious, sweet young days! Why couldn't it have been when I'm older, at least then my glory days would've been behind me!”

Hunter chuckled, though it was more sad, “Glory days are a myth. Don't worry about your youth. Some people peak early, others late, and some not at all. Some people die before their good days. Some never had a chance in the first place.”

“Yeah, because people like you took it away from them.”

“I know.” Hunter said, though it wasn't remorseful nor regretful. It was simply an admission, or acknowledgement. “I won't pretend to be a good person. I'm not. Though… I do wish I could've done things differently.”

“What, you expect me to feel sympathy for you, or something?”

“No, of course not. I'm not looking for pity, I don't want pity. I'm just stating how I feel. How you feel about that in return is up to you, I don't fucking care.”

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you do.”

Hunter sighed, “Look… this isn't easy for me to say, but I'll finally tell the truth for once. I like you, Fawn. Well, not romantically or anything like that, but I… I enjoy your company.”

Fawn wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“Jesus, I say something sentimental for once in my life and you look at me like I'm insane.”

“Well…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m already insane.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“I know.”

Neither spoke another word.

One of the members walked into view with two plates of food.

“Oh, day 41, even better!” Hunter said. The member placed the plates on the floor, before introducing themself sheepishly.

“Um… hi. My name is Severin. I'm… from space?” He said, awkwardly pointing upwards.

“You're an alien?” Fawn questioned.

“Shh, not so loud! I'm… not supposed to be here. I'm planning on leaving soon... with… two of my friends. They told me they wanted you to come with us.”

“What, the two people who took us here in the first place? And now they’re making you do the risky job of getting us out? Yeah, friends that I’d definitely trust.”

“You don’t understand- ugh- look, do you want out or not?”

“Of course I do! Are you kidding me?”

Severin unlocked the door, “Then follow me and stay quiet.”

Fawn's eyes widened. Oh, this was happening fast. They quickly, yet cautiously with suspicion, stepped out of the cell. Hunter hopped to their feet to follow.

“Can we leave this one here?” Fawn whispered. Hunter folded their arms, and Severin shook his head before hurriedly rushing both of them out.

He snuck them up the stairs where Anthony and Agnes were waiting to help keep cover. The three acted like a shield, even though there wasn't anyone else around. Agnes and Anthony had managed to get them to leave the area due to their height on the hierarchy. They'd said Ethel wanted them for something. Once that was figured out a lie, it'd be over for them.

Ethel will surely find out about all of this and won't be pleased in the slightest, but the twins made their decision to leave no matter the cost. Once a nice distance away, Agnes and Anthony took off their masks, heaving a sigh of relief.

Agnes had long dark brown hair that looked choppy and uneven. Freckles lined her face, her eyes were tired and grey.

Anthony had short light brown hair, that was a slight bit lengthy and very, very messy. Just like Agnes he too had freckles.

“Oh, wow. You guys look… normal.” Fawn said.

“Huh? Why?” Agnes questioned, “What did you think we looked like?”

“I dunno, like werewolves, I guess.”

“What do you mean ‘like werewolves’?”

“I don’t know, like all hairy, or something.”

“Is that racist?” Anthony asked.

“I don’t know, you’re the werewolf, you tell me!”

“Listen,” Agnes said, changing the subject, “We may be out, but we aren't safe, and we never will be. Anthony and I were Ethel's top members, when she realizes we're gone, she's gonna come and find us. Especially once she and the rest of the pack also notice the humans are missing, and we gave them false directions, and then the rest of the whole Apocalypse stuff…”

“So… what do we do now?” Fawn asked.

Anthony shrugged, “I dunno. Try to survive, I guess.”

“We need some kind of plan.” Agnes said, “Ethel will find us, and she'll be angry.”

“And the other invaders have to know I've messed up badly by now…” said Severin.

Fawn clasped their hands together, “Welp, it sure sucks to be you guys. See ya!”

Agnes scoffed and folded her arms, “Do you really think you're safe? You and your friend here are more screwed than we are.”

“W- okay, first of all, they're not my friend, and secondly… I'm still leaving.” they said, and turned to leave, walking away.

I didn't call it the Great Human Extinction for nothing.” Anthony yelled out to them.

Fawn stopped and turned, “And why did you call it that?”

"Why do you think?”

“Well… considering I’ve seen werewolves, vampires, and now aliens, I’m gonna guess an overthrow of Earth?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Agnes confirmed, “Worst case scenario is you die. Best case scenario is you’ll no longer be human by the end of this. Or both. Both is highly likely.”

“Well that’s great to hear.”

“If you don’t end up dead or a non-human, you’ll be enslaved by my people.” Severin said.

“You guys are the best at delivering good news.”

“See? You're screwed, too. We're in this together.” Agnes said.

“I didn't ask to be in this in the first place!”

“Do you think anyone asked to be in this? No, we didn't. Our chances are stronger together, so you can either go and fend this off alone, or bare the storm with us.”

“Ugh.” Fawn groaned, “Fine.” They said, folding their arms. Everyone looked to Hunter.

“What about you?” Agnes asked.

Hunter responded, “Bold of you to assume I have anything better going on in my life.”

“Well then, we have a group at least.” Anthony said, “that's a start, right?”

“Barely.” Agnes said, “Let's get out of these woods, first and foremost. We'll go from there.”

And so, the group of five made their way through the forest. Anthony was anxiously trying to rip apart his mask, Agnes distracted herself by gazing up at the trees, and Severin jumped at every cracking branch. Hunter looked unbothered, and Fawn felt like they were running a marathon from how fast their heart was beating.

As they walked, they could see a building up ahead through the trees. They could feel their heart flutter as they picked up their speed. Once their feet hit the concrete and they knew where they were, they took off without a second thought.

They ran down the street as fast as their legs could carry them, running all the way up to an average, inconspicuous house. It was small and feeble, but by God, it was home.

Fawn nearly burst the door down as they unlocked it with a hidden key. The first thing they did was collapse onto their couch, and began sobbing. They weren’t sure if it was out of relief, fear, sadness, or all of the above. Probably all of the above.

Agnes, Anthony, and Severin followed them inside, while Hunter stood in the doorway. They rubbed their arm awkwardly as Fawn cried, feeling… strange. Guilty? Did they feel guilty? They felt intrusive just being in the doorway, so they turned around and sat in their front yard.

After a minute, Fawn’s cries slowly dwindled until they were left sniffling. They felt like they could fall asleep right there as they were. They were exhausted in every sense of the word, and now for the first time in months, they felt they could truly, finally relax. They were home. On their couch. It felt like everything could be okay again…

If it weren’t for the whole apocalypse thing.

Fawn took in a deep breath, exhaling it in a mix of a sigh and a groan. They pushed themself up, sitting criss-crossed on the couch. They rubbed their eyes under their glasses, then just sat. Sat and stared at the dirty carpet of their living room floor.

Nothing would ever be the same again, nor would it ever be how they’d hoped. All of their plans, their dreams, their entire life, it was gone. It didn’t matter if they were still trapped with Hunter at the cabin, or by the werewolves, or even if they were right here back home on their couch. It would all end up the same. Nothing mattered anymore. They wondered if it ever did.

They stood up from the couch after what felt like hours, and walked up the creaky wooden stairs to their bedroom. Their heart skipped a beat as they turned the old knob. Everything was just as they left it before going out on their walk.

They grabbed a spare pair of glasses they had, and they weren't prepared for how amazing it was to see without cracks. They sat on their bed and stared down at the old pair, running their thumb over the cracks. Their hands began to shake, and they tossed them away to the floor, landing in a pile of clothes. They reached for their medication on the bedside table and stared down at it.

It would be so nice to not feel like they're dying all the time, but… They’ve already been forced to stop taking them all at once, and considering the whole apocalypse thing, they doubted they’d be able to refill their prescription. This bottle was all they had left, and it would be for the best to just deal with the anxiety- as awful as it may be. At least they weren’t someone who needed drugs in order to live…

Their favorite old jacket was thrown over a wooden chair. They put it on, and it felt like the most comforting thing to exist. So warm and secure. They picked up a handheld mirror that laid on their desk and took a look at their reflection. They knew their hair had grown over the last few months, but seeing their actual face really put it in perspective. Their hair was down past their shoulders. They couldn’t recall the last time it was that long.

Before going back downstairs, they grabbed a wooden baseball bat they had lying underneath their bed. Agnes and Anthony were being nosy as they innocently looked through Fawn’s things, but Fawn didn’t care. Severin looked fascinated by the alien-to-him objects, typing stuff down on his half-working tablet.

Fawn left their house where they saw Hunter sitting criss-crossed in the grass, picking at the clovers and dandelions. They cautiously approached them, sitting down next to them with a bit of distance. Hunter glazed over to them with a side eye, keeping their attention on the ground.

Fawn twiddled with their thumbs, and fidgeted with the loose threads of their jacket, unable to think of something to say. It was strange, what they had. They were a captive and a captor, a victim and a murderer, a fawn and a hunter. Yet now, they could almost feel like… friends. Fawn scrunched their face at the thought.

Hunter was the one to break the silence, “Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean? This is my yard.”

“Oh. Yeah. That is true… I guess the better question is, why am I here, huh?”

“Yeah, Hunter, why are you here?” Fawn said, “That’s not even your real name, either, is it?”

“No, it’s not. Does it matter?”

“If you wanna sit in my yard and rip up my grass then yes, it does. Tell me your real name or get out.”

Hunter shrugged and got up.

"Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

“Hey, you gave me an either or and I took it. Have fun with your group of four, I'll finally fuck off.” They said, and began walking away down the street.

“Ugh- wait.” Fawn said, getting up to follow them. Hunter didn't stop walking.

“What, grow attached to me now?”

“Fuck you.”

“uh huh. I see."

"Fuck you." Fawn said again, "The woods were my only escape, and now it’s the fucking apocalypse. No one has anywhere to go. This is it… why… why did you even take me in the first place?"

"I... I was sadistic."

"What would you know? You're not me."

"That's not the reason. At least not the main one."

“Earlier today, you told me you liked me. You… kept me because you were lonely.”

“You say that with a lot of confidence.”

“Well I’m right, ain’t I? You decided you liked me, so instead of killing me, you kept me. That’s what you did.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! You literally told me!”

“Did I?”

“Yes! Today!”

“I don’t think I said that.”

“UAGH!” Fawn groaned, “You’re fucking impossible! You’re infuriating!” They plopped down onto a curb, putting their head in their hands. Hunter leaned against a street sign.

Fawn sighed, "... Back... when I was sick and you were taking- taking care of me. That was- it was the first time I've ever been cared for like that. Not even my own mother showed me that kind of kindness. I- I just can't deal with it.”

For a moment Hunter’s face softened. Just a moment. “What, so I remind you of your shitty mom?”

"No, you're like my shitty mother if my shitty mother was also a fucking creep who gave even just a single fuck about me."

The two sat on the curb in silence as they stared out at the sunset over the skyline. The air was warm with a gentle cool breeze.

"Ooohhh, I see. So I'm not like your mother, I'm like your mommy." Hunter teased, and Fawn turned an embarrassed shade of red, making Hunter chuckle. They sat down next to them.

Fawn finally spoke, "Fuck. I think I have Stockholm syndrome."

"Hey, at least you're self-aware. Spending 41 days trapped with me as an equal fucked ya up, didn't it?” They teased, nudging Fawn with their elbow.

“You're not funny, or cute, or quirky.”

“I ain't sayin’ I am. I'm an asshole who likes to torment people. I think you need to care a little less."

"Does it even fucking matter anymore? It's the end of the world, Hunter!"

“Yeah, so what better time is there to stop caring?”

“We’re all going to die. You heard what Severin said. The aliens want to enslave us, the werewolves want to use us as some kind of godly sacrifice, and the vampires… what do they want? Our blood, and- oh, god, is Anaira okay?!”

“Okay, look. Sure, maybe the world as we know it is ending. Sure, maybe we're all doomed by the narrative. But that doesn't mean we can't fight to the end, does it? I mean, you said it yourself, nothing matters anymore. So let's forget about trivial problems and fuck shit up. There are no more consequences.”

“If there are no more consequences, then I should be able to strangle you right here, right now. Beat you with this bat."

“I mean… yeah. You could try. You think once this whole thing really gets going that the police are gonna care? Or rather that they'll still exist at all. It's a time for anarchy, it's time to actually eat the rich. It's time to fuck around and find out. What's there left to lose? So, yeah, you can try to strangle me. The only person who'd be stopping you is me.”

Fawn stood up, and began walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, it's the Apocalypse, ain't it? So let's get prepared.”

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms @fruitypinapple00 @otterfrost

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thanks for reading !! 💕🦌

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #my writing #whump things #whump writing #whump story #whump series

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linasofia · 2 years

Text

A Shooting Star

Part 3

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is the third part of this fic. You can find the previous parts here.

Balin read the edict in his hand and then met Thorin’s steadfast gaze.

”Thorin, are you certain of this? I agree with you, the ancient books are in need of restoration, but not many dwarves care for old tales about the stars these days.”

”They should, Balin,” Thorin growled. ”The tales are fascinating. Some of them actually tell our history—our legacy—both the good and the bad. And it’s done in a less heavy way than any of the dusty books I read with my tutor as a young boy.” He pointed at the thickest of them all; a book with a leather cover adorned with seven stars. ”Have you ever read this one, Balin?”

The prudent white-haired dwarf in front of him shook his head, and his long beard swayed.

”You—who have read more books than anyone I know—are not familiar with the true gems in the Royal Library?” A small mocking lingered in Thorin’s voice, but Balin chose to ignore it. Instead, he shifted tactics.

”Why are you suddenly so interested in our conservators’ works? Not only do you interfere with the planning, you interrupt their current work too. Master Kvasir will most certainly question your personal interest in these books.”

”Then let him come with his questions,” Thorin muttered, and the thought of the unpleasant—but highly skilled—Master Kvasir made his mood sour. ”I do not think I need to explain my motives to him, or anyone else.”

Balin raised a hand in defense. ”I do not mean to question your motives, I am merely asking out of curiosity.” Thorin glared at him, and Balin knew better than to keep pushing his old friend for a reason he was certain he would find out sooner or later anyway. ”Very well,” he stretched his back and folded the edict, ”we shall see it done.”

***

A paper scroll with the king’s wax seal was open and on full display on the dining table when Vega returned from her visit to the seamstress. Neither her father nor mother seemed to be home, and therefore she dared to read the letter without permission. Her father’s post was clearly not for her eyes, but she could not resist when she saw the royal blue ribbon next to the roll. Only members of the royal family were allowed to use that specific shade of blue, and it was easily recognizable. The letter contained an invitation to the welcome banquet upon Lord Dain’s arrival, something Vega had never attended before. Usually, the king’s cousin stayed for a couple of weeks at the time, and several feasts were held in the meantime—all meant to entertain the large entourage traveling with him. The invitation was for the whole family, and Vega wondered what her father would say of such an event. Especially now, when the news about the delayed building start for the new giant furnace was fresh in his mind. He had worked so long for this—an opportunity to double Erebor’s capacity—and due to a single error in the agreement, King Thorin refused to sign it. She stroked the letter, fully aware that the king did not write it himself, but her heart made a flip at the thought of potentially seeing him soon again. Thorin. She closed her eyes and summoned the picture of him from their last meeting on the rampart. A sigh fell from her trembling lips—he was so distracting.

Vega did not have to wait long for an answer to her question; her father brought up the topic during their family dinner the following evening. He was pleased to finally receive an invitation to the prestigious welcome banquet, a night reserved only for the kings’s closest circle. It was considered a great honor to be invited and it was said the king used to redraw that circle every year, depending on the performance of his advisors and negotiators. Vega’s father had always worked hard and finally, he was rewarded in a way he thought was fitting for an advisor with his reputation. He admitted the invitation arrived at the very last minute, but it was clear that he could overlook this minor mistake from the royal administration. As she listened to her father’s too-long explanation of his important work, her mind drifted, as it did so often recently, to the alluring sound of the king’s deep voice. She longed to hear him speak again, and a small seed of envy grew in her heart as she thought of how her father often spent hours in the king’s presence. Vega wished it was her. She knew her father sacrificed a lot for his work, but her silly heart kept whispering about another—more unrealistic—reason for the invitation. Ashamed of her ungrateful thought, she lowered her gaze and finished her meal in silence.

King Thorin’s cousin, Lord Dain of the Iron Hills, arrived at the front gate of Erebor on a misty afternoon when the grass was damp and the air smelled of wet soil. The red-bearded lord instantly pulled attention to himself by refusing to wait for the welcome committee; he simply marched directly to the royal wing and demanded to see his kin. Dain was not a man of small words or gestures; he was big, loud and with a fiery temper—just as his cousin. Nobody who saw Dain that afternoon doubted what he longed for the most after his journey; amber-colored ale, strong Dorwinion wine, and smoked meat in large portions.

The welcome banquet would be held the following evening, not in the main hall where a very large number of people could fit, but in a smaller hall, closer to the royal wing. As Vega stood by her mirror and watched the maid tie her corset on her back, she felt nervous. The thought of the king—Thorin—had kept her awake far longer than she intended, and when she woke in the morning, she had dark shadows under her eyes. But her mother discreetly slipped her a small jar and told her to put the smooth content on the skin. Whatever miracle her mother had hidden in her drawer worked, and Vega now looked as if she had never slept better. Her hair was arranged in a festive creation, with only a few locks framing her face. The maid held up her gown and Vega easily slipped into it and patiently waited while the maid finished her work. Vega’s mother was a modest woman, despite their increasing status, but when it came to clothing on gatherings of this dignity, she was very specific in her demands. Lady Vanadis would never accept anything less than the best for her family. Vega had accepted it for evenings like this, as part of their new lifestyle, but she was not really comfortable with having someone else dress her.

When Vega entered the banquet hall, she tried to focus on her conversation with her mother, but her gaze expectantly searched among the many faces in the hall, and it did not take long before she spotted the real reason for the excitement she felt in her chest. The king was in deep conversation with his cousin, and among the guests next to him, she noticed both his nephews and the captain of the royal guards. King Thorin had not seen her, and it gave her the possibility to admire him from a distance. Vega put on a kind smile, mingled with advisors and their families, was greeted by people she dreaded she would never be able to remember the name of, and gave polite hugs to a few daughters in her father’s small circle of friends.

Massive tables stood head to head, creating long aisles between them and at the end—the table of honor—reserved for King Thorin, members of the royal family, and a large number of the king’s legendary company. Food and beverages were carried from the kitchen by an endless stream of servants, and no plates remained empty for long. The wealth of Erebor was flaunted—a reminder of the enormous treasure safely secured deep in the Mountain. Vega secured a good seat for herself, far from the king, obviously, but she could spot him if she leaned back a little. She was accompanied by a merry group of women, who—unlike her—found banquets and balls a perfect opportunity to see what was on the exclusive market, as they unashamedly called it.

Dinner lasted—as always, under the Mountain—for many hours. Vega’s mother was seated next to her father at another table and Lady Vanadis had insisted on Vega being allowed to choose her own place instead of the awful suggestion her father had; next to the son of one of King Thorin’s top negotiators. The son went in his father’s footsteps and had already made a name for himself. Privately, his reputation was far from pleasant; he was an unpredictable snake; he would always smile but hide a dagger behind his back, ready to threaten or even stab if he found it necessary. Vega assumed her father had no knowledge of the rumors surrounding the young lord, but she was relieved she did not have to endure yet another dinner in the company of a potential suitor. Even though she was a grown woman, her father still tried to steer her in the direction he thought was suitable.

As the endless servings finally ebbed, dwarves from all tables rose to stretch their full bellies, exchange words with new acquaintances, or just refill their pints from the large barrels waiting along one of the walls. Even though her company was far more enjoyable than she first expected, Vega still felt the need to be alone for a short while. A break, a chance to breathe without the constant chatter in her ears, would do her good. She excused herself and walked, without even a glance over her shoulder, out from the banquet hall.

The huge corridor held a more pleasant temperature, and the air was not filled with the heavy smell of roasted meat and ale. She took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax. A few moments were all she needed; nobody would know or miss her. Especially not her parents—or the very occupied king. She was not even sure he had seen her. But what had she been expecting? That he would come and sweep her off her feet, like the hero in that book she loved to read as a young girl? Or ask her to join him at his table, in front of his kin and friends? Vega sighed—it was ridiculous.

Dain was just telling Thorin about some recent raid of orcs near the Iron Hills when Thorin suddenly witnessed Vega rising from her table and walking out of the hall. It took him only a blink of an eye to decide, but he quickly got on his feet, muttering a few words to Dain about his needs after the many pints they had been drinking. His cousin let out a rumbling laugh and turned his drunken focus to Fili, seated on his other side. Thorin had seen Vega the moment she entered the hall together with Lord Vimar and his wife, but since his advisor was seated separately from his daughter, Thorin found no excuse good enough to approach her. Now, however, he saw an opportunity too good to miss.

He used the side door—the shortcut to the royal wing—but it gave him the possibility to leave the room without raising questions. If he hurried, he could make it to the other side, catch a glimpse of where she was going and eventually make her aware of his presence. He hastened, in a very unkingly manner, down the corridor, and just as he predicted, he saw her as soon as he turned around the corner. Thorin had to force himself to slow down; it would not make a good impression if he came storming after her. Vega had stopped by the large tapestry hanging to the left of the entrance to the hall. It was a beautiful piece—created to impress—and welcome guests to his kingdom. She must have heard him, because she turned when he came closer and the expression on her face made his heart sing. Thorin stopped at a respectable distance, suddenly uncertain if his presence would make her uncomfortable. They were alone for the moment, but a large group of dwarves were laughing and singing on the other side of the colossal stone wall. He tried to make up a reason for his sudden appearance, but as her beautiful emerald eyes widened in surprise, he found none. At least not one he could tell her. Not here. Maybe never.

Vega did not believe her eyes when she saw who was approaching her from an unexpected direction. As the king stopped in front of her, she curtsied gracefully—deeply affected by the powerful aura surrounding him. His dark hair resembled the night sky, with the light from a hundred tiny shooting stars creating the silver strands in his thick mane. His temple braids were recently braided, and his beard was trimmed to perfection. The black tunic was generously embroidered with thick golden threads, and a sharp line of gorgeous dark chest hair peeked up from the open collar. Vega swallowed hard at the sight and forced herself to meet the king’s azure gaze. The raven crown rested on his head, and Vega could not remember seeing Thorin more regal than at this moment.

“Lady Vega.” His deep voice made her shiver. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.” A small smile danced over his lips, and Vega noticed how his upper lip twitched as he waited for her reply. Confused thoughts crossed her mind. Was it possible that she was right in her silly imagination; had the letter been sent to her father with the intention of bringing her to the banquet? Surely her mind was playing tricks on her again, just as it had done on the cold rampart.

“My father was very honored, My King. Thank you.”

“And how are you faring this evening? Would you rather be watching the stars?” The twinkle in his eyes brought a smile to Vega’s face.

“There will be other nights to study the sky.”

“And other full moons,” he added. Then he lowered his voice and leaned in ever so slightly, but it was enough to make Vega’s heart beat faster. “Together, I hope.”

“I hope so too,” she whispered, but as soon as the words fell from her lips, she realized she had allowed him to see too much of her feelings. But he smiled back at her, the same warm smile that kept her awake the previous night. And she could not help thinking that he was a thief—dressed like a king—for he had truly stolen her heart.

Thorin watched Vega as her eyes glimmered, and when the sweetest blush spread on her smooth cheeks, he wondered what path her thoughts took. Could it be him—did his presence affect her in any way? He could not ask her; it would be highly unseemly, but deep down, he hoped he was the reason for her delicious reaction. He knew he was older than her—maybe even too old—but she awoke a longing in him, a feeling he accepted years ago was never meant for him. His obligations to his people and the safety of his family had always been his highest priority, and he fulfilled both duties without even thinking of his own sacrifice. Vega, however, was shaking the pillars he was standing on. His inner vault was trembling.

“I bring news which I hope you will find interesting.” He grasped a sensible reason to stay with her for a little while longer.

“My King?”

”Please, Thorin for now.”

Vega smiled apologetically but nodded. It was easier to try to think of him as only Thorin when he was not wearing the legendary crown on his head.

“I made inquiries regarding the books in the Royal Library. There is a fine collection of old books with star maps and they are all to be restored. We cannot allow them to be neglected any longer, they are simply too valuable for future generations.”

“This is fantastic news!” He could hear the amazement in her voice. ”Thank you, for letting me know of this important work.”

Vega’s face lit up in the most beautiful smile, and Thorin wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her. The exquisite gown she was wearing made him slightly dizzy, as it offered him a delightful glimpse of her body's curves. She wore her hair up and it brought his attention to her exposed, delicate neck. Her skin appeared to shimmer, and it made Thorin think that Vega truly was a rare gem. One of a kind. If anyone could match the raw beauty of the Arkenstone, it was her.

”I am glad it brings you joy, Vega.”

He really meant it; Thorin thought as he stored the memory of her warm exclamation in his heart. She had reacted exactly how he wanted, and his satisfaction mingled with her joy, until he suddenly came to think of the reason behind their possibility to meet tonight. His cousin was probably already questioning everybody at their table where the King Under the Mountain was. Thorin would have preferred to stay in Vega’s company for a while longer, but he knew far too well what would happen if Dain spotted him with a beautiful, unmarried lady. He would never hear the end of it.

”Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to see if my cousin is still reasonable,” Thorin declared with a smirk. Dain’s drinking games were well–known, and he often challenged Dwalin to follow him. ”If I do not have the pleasure of speaking with you in private again, I wish you a good night.” He allowed himself to linger in her warm gaze one final time, but when he turned to leave, his boots felt unusually heavy. ”I will see you beneath the full moon, Vega.”

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk

#thorin oakenshield #thorin #the hobbit #thorin x oc #erebor #richard armitage #fanfic #thorin fic #thorin fanfic #pining #the hobbit fanfic #a shooting star

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heliads · 1 year

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Hi, congrats on 7k!! May I have a 💌: love letter with Leo Valdez? I go by she/her. I get pretty anxious when thrown in certain situations rather that be talking to a group of people or just one person. But when I get to know someone I never stop talking. I am a ranter and rambler which means I could be ranting about something that happened and then start talking about something else that may or may not be related to the original subject. Though I do enjoy listening to other people talk. I am considered the mom friend because I tend to be the most logical. I'm also a very determined, stubborn person who usually is kinda pessimistic but still has a huge imagination. And despite all the anxiety I am usually a relatively confident person and am not afraid to take up for anyone I care about. Also I am pretty good in school despite having a kinda bad memory. Also an INTJ and Sagittarius.

I absolutely love writing, art, music, reading, and watching various shows/movies. I also really like walking around and enjoying nature. There's a few nature trails I love going on and would go to the zoo every weekend if I had the chance. Which also goes along to my love for animals. Also I do like going to random places with my friends.

And that's about all I can think of to say, hope it wasn't too much lol. But anyways, thanks in advance :)

i am also a walking believer. i love going places

Leo always gets nervous at the campfires. He can’t help it. It’s a reflex from the machine shop fire, he supposes, flames get a little too tall when no one seems to be paying attention and he can’t help but freak out. Leo is supposed to be sitting with the rest of the Hephaestus cabin now, but he’s clinging to the outskirts of the whole gathering, knees hugged close to his chest as he tries and fails to convince himself that he is in control.

Someone’s shadow darkens the grass in front of him, and seconds later there’s another camper sitting by his side. Leo recognizes her in a second: Y/N L/N, one of Leo’s better friends at camp. She knows enough to identify his physical signs of distress, and offers a solution accordingly.

“Distraction?” She asks.

“Please,” Leo replies. Anything to get him out of his own head.

And she talks to him. She talks to him about everything. Pop culture news she should have no way of knowing since they’re not supposed to have Internet access at camp. The training drills they did this morning. Even the campfire songs, rating them on a scale of ‘gods-awful’ to ‘put this on Spotify ASAP.’ How much she wants to explore the woods surrounding camp even though they’re totally filled with monsters.

As she continues, Leo lets the sound of her voice fill his eyes, blocking out all the stress, all the fear. He feels his fingers unclench from each other, his shoulders lose their stiffness. She carries him away on a billowing wave of her words, and Leo is alright. Of course he is.

He blinks and she’s gone silent, staring out at the fire instead of him. When she notices him looking, she grins, a slight tint of self-deprecation shading her eyes from their previous shine.

“Sorry,” Y/N murmurs, “I have a habit of rambling. Tell me to stop next time, alright?”

“No,” Leo says a little too quickly, “No, please don’t. Keep going, actually. If you want, that is. I– I liked hearing you talk. A lot.”

Y/N flashes him this smile, and Leo thinks his heart might overload. “Well,” she grins, “if you say so.”

She remembers something that had happened yesterday, a funny story involving a satyr, four new demigods, and way too much celestial bronze. Leo tilts his head back and lets himself take it all in. The stars, the fire, her. Everything is perfect.

thank you for taking part in my 7k celebration!

#leo valdez #pjo #7k celebration

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shade-without-color · 6 months

Text

Do you find knights on drunken parties?(A Midokirin drabble)

Note: It has been forever so I have to write a story based on my birthday piece from @clearwillow, so I am simply tapping upon my nostalgia for all things 2000's teen rom-coms, I am sorry if I took much longer than usual, as I have a bad writers' block- I hope you enjoy that!

On the starry night away from the laughter of college kids, Kirinmaru found himself moving away from the cheap shots of tequila and loud music blasting from cheap speakers in their phone, to see Midoriko rocking herself back and forth in a wooden swing, simply thinking, simply…

Simply….

“I suppose that Jakotsu’s snacks did not agree with you….” Midoriko found herself pausing her swings. “What are you going, drag my hair to enjoy another drunken night and wake up miserable and desiring to drink pickle juice to keep myself focused for next class….”

“No….” Kirinmaru shrugged his shoulders, conveniently shuffling himself unto that empty swing and began to rock his feet back and forth. “I would not let you, I think you deserve some respite. After all, I observe that you made a face to one of Jakotsu’s friends when he touched your butt despite your protests.” Midoriko chuckled a little, there is a term that the clique of girls said to guys who are genuinely thinking with their heads rather their dicks called ‘Green Flag guy’, “You read me too well perhaps…” distracting herself from Kirinmaru’s soft timbre, maybe he is doing that to slide his hands to her hips. “You read me too well…..”, her tone of voice betrayed otherwise, impressed and yet careful. “I went there, not to have fun, but to keep watch of my girlfriend-Yuna, I think you saw her, flirting with the other guys….” Kirinmaru nodded to Midoriko’s word as she recounted that Yuna went through a rough breakup and decided to got to that party to drown her sorrows, in hopes to find a cute guy. Kirinmaru frowned a little, recalling Yuna’s face- she was one of the prettiest girls in the party, drunk on cheerful oblivion, munching through all of the store-bought dips and giving sweet smiles to Kirinmaru.

“I suggest that we can go for a small spa day at my house and watch shitty movies…” Midoriko kicked her legs back and forth, gazing over the shimmering night sky . “But she would not listen, instead she wasted herself unto that stupid party….”

Kirinmaru quietly looped his arms unto the wired ropes, mirroring her movements “And I suppose you feel like you could not do anything….” As if on cue, Midoriko noticed Yuna swaying back and forth, walking towards Midoriko and Kirinmaru, drunk with cheap liquor and misery. “Hey….I do not feel good at all….” Midoriko got out from the swing grabbing Yuna while Kirinmaru held Yuna’s back, sighing at her pitiful state. “Maybe…we….should… bring her somewhere quiet, if you want, I could drive her home if you want Midoriko….”

Yuna meanwhile mumbled to Midoriko’s ear. “Hey….we should stay at Bankotsu’s place longer I heard that Jakotsu is ordering some more pizza….”, before nuzzling to her shoulder. “I…” Midoriko shook her head. “Hey….this party kinda sucks Yuna, we should head back….” , Yuna did not protest, but instead mumble to Midoriko. “Yeah….I got a stupid test to study….” Kirinmaru nodded to Midoriko, quietly nodding to Yuna. “You do….well Kirinmaru is cool enough to drive us back home, thankfully not drunk” Midoriko heaved a sigh of relief that Yuna actually comply to their words, as she watched that night sky twinkle brightly in the sky, As Kirinmaru quietly opened the door, allowing Yuna to pass through the car seat, Yuna mumbled to herself. “Shit I feel shitty…..” nuzzling at Midoriko’s shoulder.

“Do not worry…..” Midoriko quietly smile observing Kirinmaru switching the radio on-to dull the sound of the car engines rubbling, with Coldplay’s Fix You playing softly. “We are going back to the dorm….I will get the painkillers and ginger sodas…” Kirinmaru observed Midoriko stroking Yura’s hair away from her forehead. “Hey, are you ladies comfortable?”, Midoriko did not reply, as she is lulled to the comforting aroma of pine in the car. Kirinmaru did not need to speak, expect to watch for the shimmering traffic lights and road signs.

////

Moments later.

“Here ya go….” Midoriko gently moved Yura out of Kirinmaru’s car seat, careful that she would not knock a lamp post or a sign. Kirinmaru meanwhile lean his hand onto the front of the car. “Hey you do not need to act like you are our bodyguard, we are big girls….” Midoriko smiled quietly. Kirinmaru has a slight blush in his face upon Midoriko’s statement. “Well, I do not feel good when I leave you two girls alone….” Midoriko sighed quietly upon Kirinmaru’s quiet quiver in his lips, as they are about to walk past the guardhouse.

It seems so endearing.

“Hey you know what,….” Midoriko grinned a little. “I will pass you my number, and I will update you on my friend….” That eased Kirinmaru’s heart. She quietly smiled at him. “Do you happen to have a piece of paper?”

“Well….” Kirinmaru muttered quietly. “Oh give me a moment

////

Few weeks later.

Midoriko with Kirinmaru standing together at the record store for their date, which Midoriko picked up the Cranberries- “You like that….” Kirinmaru rubbed smooth circles around Midoriko’s thumb. “I never expect you to like them…” Midoriko laughed quietly at his quiet affection.

“Then what do you like….”

Kirinmaru quietly took the record of Smashing Pumpkins, passing it to Midoriko. “This…Tonight, Tonight is so good….” Midoriko giggled a little. “Ok I will take your suggestion, Kirin…..” Midoriko brought to the cash counter. “Then in return, I will pick something for you….”

“As you wish….” Kirinmaru smiled quietly, waiting patiently for Midoriko to choose the album for him.

Midoriko never thought on that horrid college party that she will meet her knight in shining armour, who eventually followed up with them with many acts of kindness- like checking on Yura’s hangover, or searching for that much needed library book- with the biggest surprise being that he ended up being her boyfriend.

And of course a very sweet one.

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #kirinmaru #midoriko #midokirin #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #hope you enjoy this cute and sweet story I made #college AU #fanfic

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astronnova · 1 year

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Okay but I wouldn't purely blame LMK for the flanderization of Tripitaka. All the flanderized depictions in fan works I've seen are from people who actually read the book and made fan art of the original source. And both versions of Trip develop into better people, anyways. Also, it's a little hurtful to say that most people don't analyze what they read, no? Granted, it's a kids show so much of the fanbase are minors, but like...kids will be kids.

my bad that it came across as hurtful! thats not my intention, i meant it as more of an objective viewpoint on something that's become widespread online and irl then just an insult to people.

unfortunately, a lot of people within the uhhh lets say 15-early 20s range dont... dive as deep into literature as they should. you ever heard of that one meme about "the door is blue because the author liked the color blue" ?

this is just one of many, and you couldnt go anywhere online without seeing somebody make this kind of joke. schools dont even really teach deep analysis of literature recently (i should know, ive been in multiple english lit classes and most of them don't dive as deep as you could and should. the only one that does that is with my most recent professor), and this stuff happens in highschool. yknow, during students most formative years of learnin stuff.

kids shouldnt just get a free pass on choosing to ignore the main point of a piece of literature because "kids will be kids". literature is the backbone of critical thinking, most people develop that skill through reading, and stories have a greater purpose, especially classical ones, than just "heres a show that provides constant stimulation with no reason".

i probably sound a little crazy or something, and im not articulating this as well as i could due to me taking *checks notes* two melatonin like 30 minutes ago BUT anyway tldr for that section is that a lot of people just dont dive deep into literature and its true meaning. a lot of folks like only looking at the surface level bits because its so much easier and simplier than writing an 1000 word essay about the importance of a certain theme within a piece of classical literature or something

steering this back to monkie kid,

the thing i explained above i think is one of the sources as to tripitaka, and sun wukong's, flanderization within the monkie kid fandom. instead of looking at the characters with the original intent of the religious text, its looked at as more of a "well he did X so he's a bad person". its too literal for a religious allegory. trying to apply strict "real world black & white morals" onto characters like this just wont work and will end with every character from the original jttw with the label of "bad person".

i could go onto a whole rant about how the recent decline of deep analysis of literature is the reason so many people seem to prefer "childrens cartoons" (because of the easier to understand morality/lessons) over, say, classical work or hell even some modern classics. this isnt an insult towards ppl that like "kids cartoons" btw, like look at my whole blog its just about cartoons LOL . i think theres more than just that one reason as to why people, at least online, gravitate towards childrens cartoons (likely because theyre more fantastical rather than trying to cater towards "adult gritty realism" and are animated, which is hard to find nowadays with all this "live action remake" junk), but i do think its one reason.

again, my bad if i sound like an ass or something or if i dont make sense, its like 12 am and i shouldve been asleep like an hour ago but im easily distracted LOLOL . but yeah, i think the source of the flanderization is just people misunderstanding the point of the original text and trying to apply modern storytelling conventions to something thats meant to be a big ass metaphor for enlightenment

#critical . txt #🐒 critical watches the kid monkie show

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bookofkatherine · 1 month

Text

Distracted by an Angel: Chris Hemsworth Kicks Silver Surfer to the Curb

Thursday August 22, 2024 5:55 p.m.

Dear Journal,

Fucking Chris Hemsworth, man. It's like he knew - he KNEW - I had just logged onto Tumblr and was about to write a post about Chris Evans and maybe even John Krasinski.

And he couldn't have that now, could he? Oh no. Ohhh NO! (He's one of the more competitive angels among my Knights.) So! He sent me this photo instead. He knew what it would do. He knew I hadn't seen it before. He knew I'd be totally and utterly distracted. That was the goal.

And it worked.

Now what am I supposed to do!?!?!

Gone are my plans to write about killing the Silver Surfer this morning... down the drain. Whoosh!

Gone are my plans to write about another angel among us, Ryan Gosling, and how Denzel Washington's role in the Equalizer movies are all based on real-life adventures Ryan has actually lived.

Gone are all the poems I planned to write, share and read. Gone are all the news stories, the love stories and the ideas I had in my head to share here, there and everywhere - gone, gone, gone!!!

Even poor Tom Hiddleston, trapped on the Otherside, who was finally allowed to reconnect with me today, taking me past the brink of ecstasy for the first time in what feels like eternity - no posts about him. No thoughts about him. No laying back in bed to remember where he put his fingers and lips...

No. Not even Tom's recommendations for our next rendevous helped.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

As much as I should be thinking about wrapping a black silk tie around my wrist and wearing nothing but lingerie with the black-bow heels Tom sent me... Nope!

I'm just thinking about Thor's hands.

Or should I say... hand.

Because - Mr. Thor knows exactly what he can do with his right hand. And he knows that I know how talented he is with that hand too.

Dammit.

And I know, I know.

Why isn't Chris Hemsworth sending me photos from the hotel room he's in right now?

Well.... that would break protocol. I don't even send him original photos. None of us in The Order do. It's too risky.

Instead we have various handles, accounts and pseudonyms all over the internet to share our lives with each other without compromising our locations or our safety. We are in the most dangerous battle, after all, the Final War. It's much easier to send each other media from before, when the Last Battle hadn't begun yet.

For example, Tom Hiddleston is on the Otherside. The dead don't have smart phones. Cameras are most definitely not allowed.

The best he can do is make me small Loki's in the clouds when I go out for a drive. Before he was sent to the Otherside, when he was here, he'd make giant Loki clouds with enormous horns, horns that were bigger than my house.

But now he has to settle for itty bitty horns atop a tiny Loki cloud. I don't mind. I'd rather see him in the clouds than lose him altogether.

Cap (Chris Evans) is on my lawn helping to train the Knights for war. No one thinks to take a photo while training in the arena. If they did, Merlin the Wizard would probably appear out of thin air and confiscate the phone.

And Chris Hemsworth? Thor himself!?

Well... he's in a hotel room with the final prophet who just arrived a couple of weeks ago. Oh, they aren't alone. The prophet's son is there, and Chris, Merlin, Dumbledore, Kyle, Jordan and even my husband Nick aare all there to save the son's life.

Why is the prophet's son in danger of dying? Well, you can thank Chris Hemworth for that - and Tom Hiddleston. Those two tinker with fucking magic like they really are gods instead of fucking angels.

You know what? Don't get me started. I'm pretty upset about the whole thing. I was supposed to marry that prophet over a decade ago, before Nick. And those two angels - Tom/Loki and Chris/Thos - got so jealous that they cast spells on us to break us up.

And not once... those two did it TWICE!!!

Aaaaarrrrggghhh!!!

"I love ya, babe," Chris Hemsworth just said. Yeah. Yeah. He knows I'm in love with him. I can't help it. So he's just giving me a wink and a smile.

You know why?

Because he sent me THESE!!!

I didn't even know he could ride!!!! Did you!?!? Holy fucking Christ!!!! This is totally unfair!!!

And he knows I go weak in the knees for this smile, especially when he's with adorable animals.

I still remember why, though:

Alexander Skarsgard and the lamb. Remember that photo??? And all the others like it? (Oh. Right. You might be new. Alex was the first angel I ever fell in love with. That was back in 2014. I didn't meet Chris Hemsworth until December 2023 - but he had been guarding me since I was born. So he got pretty jealous of Alex when the Lord allowed him into my life long, long, long before Chris Hemsworth.)

Anyhow - a bunch of the angels began taking photos like this after Alex took these for me while away.

Yeah. Adorable right?

How no one figured out that Alexander Skarsgard was a literal angel walking among us before now, I'll never know. The signs were all that. That man... well. I guess that's another post.

*happy sigh*

Anyhow!!!

Chris Hemsworth sent me this too. And goddammit - I just can't resist. My brain is full of him now, and the result?

The result is as folllows:

-I didn't spend time with anyone in the Dreamworld

-I didn't write the poem Original Sin for Cap (Chris Evans) like I planned too

-I didn't stretch my new muscles out after a vigorous lovemaking session with John, Tom and the Knights, when my muscles were nice and warm

-I didn't get healing (many of the Knights can heal me through the Dreamworld)

-I didn't write about anyone else except for Chris Hemsworth/Thor again, when I haven't written about anyone else on here yet!!!

Oh, dear journal.

I fucking killed the Silver Surfer at 6:00 a.m. in the morning today. And it's not even on my mind.

My boy had got me all caught up.

I suppose, in the end, it's a good problem to have.

I mean.... would you LOOK at him??? He just sent this at lunch. It's as if he was saying, "I'm gonna drive you nuts later today - and you know what? You're going to love me anyway, babe."

And you know what?

He was right.

Note: I call Chris Hemsworth by both of his names: Thor and Chris. I call him Thor at times because he does indeed have most of the powers attributed to Thor Odinson.

I'll write about this more in the future, but the angels of Earth were often called gods by various cultures. Angels are immortal. They don't die. They are sent to either heaven or the Pit, a prison for the Fallen.

Anyhow, Chris Hemsworth is an angel. He can walk among us, just like the angels did when they visited Enoch, Daniel, Mary, Joseph and John the Apostle. Angels even visited Sodom and Gemorrah. And at all times, these angels are described as tall, bronze, buff and hot as hell.

Sounds like Chris Hemsworth to me.

I mean, he can fly.

The man has wings. Hell, I have wings! A lot of people in The Order do.

But my point is, Chris Hemsworth is not just an angel, he is one of the most powerful angels ever created. Around the world he was called various names, including Thor and even Alexander the Great.

But the majority of his adventures have been told in the movies under the name Thor. I mean, he is Tom Hiddleston's brother. (And yes, Tom Hiddleston is also pretty fucking powerful. He has Loki's powers, as one of the twelve Olympians - though in Rome he was called Hephaestus.)

Thank you for reading!!! I love you guys!!! I post @ prophetsjournal on Twitter the most often. It's just easier. But I'm glad I joined the Tumblr community. There's so much freedom here, and the readers are just fantastic.

Love you!!! Have an AMAZING day!

(And, by the way, you should really read my stuff while you're on your way to the New Earth. Like Noah Ark, the Lord's provided a way out of this apocalypse/climate change. Take it! I'm only here to fight Satan back so you can go ahead to safety without interruption. Please do!!! Before the pearly gate portals close. xoxo, K)

#thor #thor odinson #chris hemsworth #bookofkatherine #book of katherine #prophetsjournal #a prophets journal #loki #tom hiddleston #angel #angels #heaven #apocalypse #thor smut #thorsmut #alexander skarsgard

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causenessus · 1 month

Note

HI HI HI HI NESS IM BACKKFJFKSMSOS so first of all tumblr hates me why is that the FOURTH ask of mine u answered that i wasnt notified of should i just die

anyways im eating lunch rn

healthy girl era did not work out i took a 6 hour (?) nap yesterday so!!

trying again today

N E WAYS

today the teacher told us her old students were too non che lent (nonchalant!!) so they failed the exam (wat.)

and my friend wanted to laugh about it w me but i wasnt looking so she yeeted my OTHER friends eraser at me

but it

it hit (near?) the teacher..

she was sooo mad omfg

giggling i hate her

like basically i answer all her questions out of spite now like YEAH BRO I KNOW THIS ALR😕😕

Also i swear i dif this math problem right but the teacher said it was wrong (wat.) and my friend did it too and we got the same answer (wat.)

i wrote fanfiction at school ☝️😎 it has already been digitalised but like i DID write it

and tjen my friend read an original short story (? 1.2k words) i wrote which was basically me projecting and she almost cried so like Uh

slay???

dude i love talking so much u have no idea actually

ALSO THE THING ABOUT THE ENRGY LIKe I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY OMG SO I GET EXCITED YK

n e ways..

i was watching american psycho last night but i got distracted..😭 ALSO IM SO EXCITED ABT ONICS LIKE EUSHEPSHAPSJXOSKAJDKAAKKDKD

>tries 2 normal

>fails

OK SO!! HRU AND WHATS GOING ON IN UR LIFE AND IF U EVER NEED TO HIRE A HITMAN IM HERE FOR U ❤️‍🩹 as the hitman btw ❤️‍🩹

U SHOULD NOT DIE!!! TUMBLR SHOULD DIE HOW DARE THEY!!! i am so confused at like what is happening at tumblr hq 😭😭 like there are problems that need to be solved!!!! and i feel like they should be pretty simple to fix!!! but instead they're like "NO LET'S MAKE TAGGING USERS GO BLUE AND COMMENTS UGLY"

but anyway!! i hope your lunch was good!! AND A SIX HOUR NAP SOUNDS AMAZING AND JUST AS PRODUCTIVE AS WORKING OUT!! it's hard to balance everything so definitely don't stress too much about it!! you have your whole life ahead of you to like do something like working out so not doing it one day is totally okay!! (yk?? i hope that made sense and i'm sorry i hope it's okay to say that 😭)

??? nonchalant -> failing exam???? i do not see the correlation??? 😭 YOUR TEACHER IS VV SPECIAL!! IS THIS THE ONE THAT TEACHES ENGLISH BUT ISN'T....ACTUALLY....THAT GREAT....AT ENGLISH??? 😭 OR MAYBE IT'S UR MATH TEACHER BC U ALSO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THAT BUT THE ERASER ALMOST HITTING YOUR TEACHER IS CRAZY I WOULD'VE DIED ON THE SPOT 😭😭

also math teachers love to like??? tell u ur wrong and then not explain how to correctly do something??? so i think u should just blame them for everything!! that sounds fair <3

I'VE ALSO WRITTEN FANFICTION AT SCHOOL LMAOOO i remember being on my computer during french class and my guy was just so boring i pulled out the doc and started writing but LUCKILY it was like an oc fic so it wasn't as scary to write as a x reader UNLIKE WHEN I WAS MAKING TONIC PFPS AND MY DOCUMENT WAS LITERALLY CALLED LIKE yn & atsumu and for some reason all of my friends wanted to COME UP FROM BEHIND ME AND HUG ME!! OR LOOK AT MY SCREEN!! and i was just 😃😃😃 but i have no shame so oh well

THE ORIGINAL SHORT STORY SOUNDS GOOD!! ESP IF IT ALMOST MADE YOUR FRIEND CRY?? 😭 I HOPE YOU'RE DOING ALRIGHT THOUGH <3 AND I LOVE HEARING YOU TALK!! PLEASE TALK AS MUCH AS YOU WANT I WILL READ EVERYTHING YOU TELL ME <33

I'M SO SO GLAD YOU'RE EXCITED FOR TONICS!! I AM TOO <333 I'M SLOWLY PLANNING IT OUT LIKE ONE CHAPTER AT A TIME AND I'M LITERALLY SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT OMG OMG OMG <33

THANK U LINA!!! I WOULD LOVE FOR U TO BE MY HITMAN <33 I MAY NEED ONE JUST TO GET THRU SCHOOL BC MY HALLS FR ARE SCARY SOMETIMES YK?? like too many scary girls who look me up and down in their little crop tops and shorts and nike air forces and are like "why are u wearing pants in the summer" BC I CAN?? AND I DON'T LIKE SHOWING THAT MUCH SKIN THANK U?? (sorry this probably makes no sense i think my brain has short circuited today </33) BUT I'M DOING ALR!!! i'm stressed about my theatre duties starting up very very soon 😭😭 but i'll let u know how that goes once they start!!! I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL TODAY!!! AND EAT SOMETHING GOOD <33

#IT'S SO GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU LINA!!#I LOVE HEARING YOU TALK <3333 #answers <3 #i heart lina <3

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blackacre13 · 1 year

Note

hello! can you write a fluff between boss!debbie and hr!lou where they’re trying to hide their relationship but actually the whole office already know about their relationship. love your stories!! thank you :D

“Just go out my door, baby,” Debbie whispered, shooing the blonde towards the door leading out to the main office. “You don’t have to wait for her to go on lunch. Mita won’t ask questions.”

“She’ll know exactly what’s going on, Deb,” Lou sighed. “And you know what a nightmare that is. Not only are you my boss—but I’m the head of HR. You know, like the asshole that enforces all these rules about dating and inappropriateness in the workplace.”

“What’s inappropriate about this?” Debbie asked, smirking at Lou, still seated on top of her desk.

“For one, you missed a button when you were putting your blouse back on,” Lou grinned, folding her arms across her chest, now satisfied that her point had been proven.

“You’re the one who took it off,” Debbie hissed.

“Did you not like that?” Lou asked, fingering the lapel of her own blazer as Debbie bit her lip, trying her damndest not to blush. “You can always file a complaint with HR.”

“Like hell I’ll be doing that,” Debbie snorted. “But seriously go. We could have been in a meeting. That’s why I had Amita put our little rendezvous on my calendar.”

“We should just tell everyone,” Lou thought aloud, her hand on the door. “Instead of the sneaking around. I mean don’t get me wrong. It was and still is a turn on having you be my dirty little secret.”

“Dirty?” The brunette scoffed, hopping down from the desk, her button down still askew, slightly coming out of her pencil skirt in a cute and barely messy way that made Lou swoon. “I’m farrrrr from dirty.”

“Not when it comes to your mouth, love,” Lou grinned. “But it’s one of my favorite things about you. But anyway, distractions aside, we should just tell everyone. Sure, you’re my boss. And I hold a supervisory position but we’re allowed to date under HR rules. You’re not actually supervising me. We’re basically on the same level. Nobody is taking advantage of anybody. It’s consensual. It’s sexy. It’s amazing. And you’re like the love of my life so—“

“Lou,” Debbie blushed, coming to stand in front of her as she played with the collar of Lou’s shirt. “I know, baby. I want to. I just—I want them to still take us seriously. What would they think? We’re the two people in charge of them they report to and are supposed to respect. I don’t want to ruin the productivity of the office. And I want them to treat us the way they do now.”

“They will, Debs,” Lou murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. “I promise. And they’ll appreciate the fact that we’re being transparent and honest with them instead of sneaking around. And it’s not like it’s some hookup. This is real. This is going somewhere. What? We’re going to wait until our assistants realize that we both took the same week off for our honeymoon?”

“Our honeymoon, mm?” Debbie giggled.

There was a gentle knock on the door that made Lou jump, bumping into Debbie, the two of them ricocheting across the room as Debbie stumbled into her chair and Lou booked it towards the arm chair across from her.

“Come in!” Debbie called, Debbie’s assistant coming in with her hands over her eyes, shyly making her way to the desk. “Mita! Am I running late for my next meeting?”

“No, you’re fine. It’s just—uh—I don’t quite know how to say this but you sort of um—sat on your desk intercom button and well—I overheard your conversation,” she squeaked.

“Fucking shit,” Lou groaned, sinking down in her chair as she flung her tie over her shoulder. “Listen, Mita—what you heard—“

“No, I actually came in because. Because it’s okay!”

“Amita, I know you’re my assistant but you don’t have to keep secrets for me,” Debbie promised her. “If you’re uncomfortable in any way, please—“

“No,” Amita grinned, stringing her hands together. “I mean it’s okay because we all kind of know already?”

“You know that…” Debbie prompted.

“That you two are together,” Amita shrugged. “I mean Constance saw you two having dinner a few months ago which could have been anything but then Rose said she saw you two at Target together the other day and well—we’ve kind of pieced stuff together.”

“God, we can’t even sneak around properly,” Debbie exhaled, covering her face with her hands. “We thought we were being so sly.”

“I mean, yeah,” Amita laughed. “But you also have zero standing appointments on your calendar except for Lou. I mean Ms. Miller. And she’s the only one you don’t have me take a message for and always patch through. I’m just saying, you two don’t need to worry. We’re big fans around here.”

“We’ve got fans, babe,” Lou laughed.

“Shut it, HR.”

“You got it, boss.”

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