#i'll post it within the next few days i just need to touch it up

[oceanwithouthermoon]

been thinking about kubosai with saiki meeting kuboyasus dogs again...

the dogs TEASING KUSUO for having an obvious crush on aren and they all think the two of them are either in a situationship, since theyre CLEARLY in love but dont really look like theyre dating, OR that theyre straight up dating but are hiding it cuz they havent told arens mom yet

"does he know you love him? have you told him?"

"i dont love him..."

"ಠ_ಠ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)"

"i regret showing you that i can talk to you."

this from aren and his mom's perspectives is just kusuo having a staring contest with a dog and looking very annoyed for some reason lmao

[generalsmemories]

Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[zarnzarn]

the angsty prequel to this (ik there's plotholes now but shh I'll fix it in a bit) that i accidentally made after getting possessed and writing for 3 hours straight for what was supposed to be a short hc post jfc. angst ahead (brain damage talk, temporary mcd), but there's a happy ending!

-

zeus saying he's going to make athena's "kingdom fall" doesn't make sense unless you consider. the lightning bolt she takes to the face gives her brain damage.

no one notices at first. Athena brushes it all off, goes to odysseus, oversees their long-awaited reunion. stays in their house after- because it's not like they'll be around forever, after all. and she can do her work just as well from down here- there's no need, to be honest, to go back to Mount Olympus. anyone who needs her comes to Ithaka, and she's content, for the first time in a very, very long time.

and then one day odysseus comes across her seizing on the floor.

she doesn't know the details of what happened- only remembers the first terrified scream of horror, remembers warm hands on her face and being carried to a bed, remembers Penelope's voice shaking as she drags a wet cloth across her forehead. comes to confused and mute minutes later, wandering around and stumbling into walls, unresponsive to the voices begging her to stop, to rest.

finally, she reaches a familiar room with a familiar face, and she touches Telemachus on the cheek lightly before collapsing onto the nearest chair. panicked voices chatter above her and calloused palms lift her face up to meet her own grey eyes, worried and scared, and it finally dawns on her that something has gone terribly wrong.

(later she will find out odysseus held her and sobbed the whole night, knowing more than anyone else what had happened to her and what it meant; he'd taken the throne at thirteen for the same reason, after all)

(later she will find out that penelope wrote to every ally they had within the hour for healers and literature; letting more than half their cleverly planned schemes fall through in exchange for it as she begged)

(later, she will find out that telemachus went running barefoot through the market, banging on doors and shouting for the healers and making the alarmed roused villagers sing prayers for her even though it was the middle of the night)

she recovers under the attention; court abandoned in favour of emergency, odysseus proclaims when he bullies her into placing her head in his lap so he can massage her aching head, not having left her side for six straight days in a row. penelope comes in every few hours, feeding her the olives from the wedding bed she lies in, unable to move, and brushes out her hair. telemachus barely shows during the days, but he comes in every evening without fail, curling up by her side and hugging her tight.

but it happens again. and again and again, and each time she regains consciousness in one of the royal family's arms, no matter where she was at the time. she never remembers it, only has the disgusting taste in her mouth and dried spit on her chin and tears in the eyes of those around her to know it happened.

she loses time as well- has no idea how long it's been happening until she becomes aware of the sound of Odysseus' calm, steady voice dragging her out of a trance, gentle fingers tracing her palm as they stand next to an unassuming tapestry. she'll be walking one moment and be lost to everything around her the next, staring at nothing.

Odysseus has done this all before, she realises one day, when he seamlessly pulls her out of another relapse and ropes her into a cheerful, easy conversation about goats that Athena keeps having stilted replies to.

"Do you know how to do this because-" She murmurs, and his eyes go wide and then grieving.

"Yes," He murmurs sadly, and Athena feels guilt settle in her belly at making him go through this again. He massages at her temples, and she closes her eyes, listening to the smile in his voice. "But there is no hardship, Pallas Athena. The sadness is that you have to go through this, not for the taking care of a cherished one."

"And anyways, Laertes suffered madness in the wake of a terrible fever and the stress of a famine," Penelope says without looking up from the newest scrolls they'd received. Athena feels the guilt worsen at the sleep bags under her eyes, when she knew the reason and just didn't have the courage to- "Your sudden collapses could be due to this one witch curse we found, or perhaps a-"

"It was Zeus."

The room falls silent as two heads slowly turn to look at her.

"What?" Odysseus says quietly, with barely withheld rage.

Athena takes a shuddering breath. "I am sorry, my Penelope, that I didn't have the courage to tell you before." Penelope leaves the desk to cross the room to her, and Athena feels tears prick at her eyes as the queen takes her hand. "But when I petitioned the court of Olympus, Zeus did not take kindly to everyone agreeing to me over him- and such was his punishment. To make-"

Her breath hitches in a sob and she notes with surprise that she's crying. Penelope and Odysseus are both crying with her, staring down in horror.

"To make my kingdom fall, he said," Athena whispers, shoulders jerking oddly as she forces it out, acknowledges what he'd done. "But my kingdom is the mind and-"

Odysseus lets out an animal cry of sorrow and descends on her, pulling her to his chest as she breaks down into shivering tears, the fear running through her as she realises the scale, the enormity of the consequences. Penelope stands by the bed and trembles with anger for a full minute, before she crumples too, crawling into their bed and pressing Athena tight between them.

"I forget things," She confesses in a whisper, shaking. "I blank out during fights, cannot recall certain strategies- I- I do not know how much worse-"

"Easy, darling, easy," Penelope whispers in a rush, stroking her face. Odysseus really is so lucky to have her as a wife, she thinks disjointedly, pressing into the gentleness. "Don't say that. It won't get worse."

"And even if it does," Odysseus continues, pressing a kiss to her cheek, where the lichtenberg scars cross her right eye, to her brow. "We will write down everything you know, copy it a hundred times and keep it safe. So you will never forget."

"And we will find you a Lytrakas owl, to keep you safe when we are no longer here to do it," Penelope murmurs, lips brushing Athena's neck as she speaks. She relaxes finally under the combined reassurances, at the solutions and possibilities that would work, finding a content she has never achieved before in their embrace. "We will keep you safe, our goddess."

And they do. When she teaches the children of Ithaka sparring, at least one of them is there, ready to intervene smoothly if they sense something wrong. They make the books they promised her, and she sends it to her realm, so she doesn't lose them. They cannot come with her when she has to travel- she wouldn't ask it of any of them- but Telemachus is always humming a hymn when she's away so she remembers where to return. When she dissociates in the middle of talking, Penelope guides her over to the loom so she can weave until she feels better, muscle memory kicking in enough for it to help the gradual lift of the fog.

Odysseus always somehow knows when she's about to have a seizure, in the forty years after that they spend together. In all her time in Ithaka, she never woke up from one without the familiar gravely cadence of Odysseus singing under his breath above her, head in his lap and Telemachus perched on her thighs or Penelope by her shoulders.

-

But it can't last forever.

Odysseus kicks her out of the room when he dies, Penelope's breath already slowing on the bed behind him, peaceful in the way that means she won't survive the night. They all know Odysseus will go with her, and Athena feels herself tremble as Odysseus gently guides her outside.

"You are not watching us pass," He tells her firmly, as she opens her mouth to scream at him. He's an old man now, but his eyes are the same, and the different versions of him flash in front of her eyes as he gives her a crooked smile. "I will not have you watch, are you crazy?"

"Odysseus," She chokes out, gripping tight onto her spear.

"My beautiful, wonderful goddess," Odysseus murmurs adoringly, leaning up to press their foreheads together. She sobs. "Thank you. For everything. And know-" His breath hitches. "-know that, for the rest of your existence, remember it- that you were loved."

"How can I ever forget?" She smiles back through the tears. "I will never be the same."

"My Athene," He whispers, swaying them back and forth. She closes her eyes, trembling, and pulls him into their last embrace, last touch.

"You will always be my favourite," She confesses, half-laugh, half-sob.

Odysseus smirks at that, a trace of smugness, then turns to a sobbing, chuckling Telemachus, who's also been kicked out, pulls them both in a hug. "We will meet again, my son," he murmurs. "But Penelope is waiting for me now. Goodnight."

He closes the door, two bright last flashes of smiles aimed at them as it shuts and Athena and Telemachus both fall to pieces.

Telemachus takes twice the care of her than his parents did, somehow juggling ruling the kingdom and spending as much time as he can with her as he can. His wife is sly and mischievous, more fox than owl- but Athena loves her too, just as she loves their children. Telemachus goes with a smile on his face and an arrow in his heart, having taken an arrow for someone else, holding Athena's hand as he laughs for the last time.

It is horrible and she wanders around desolately for days, grieving. But then she sees bright eyes spying on her from behind a bush, carefully watching her to see if she's alright and Athena smiles and goes back to continue the legacy.

-

For 500 years, Ithaka does not fall- when it does, she makes sure the grey-eyed children all make it off the island, scattering on the mainland as at last, her job is done.

Which means there is nothing left for her here, and it is time to go back to Mount Olympus.

She's met with teasing quips and pointed comments, but general ignorance, no one bothering to ask where she was. After almost six hundred years of care, it feels untethering and strange, but the grief of losing Ithaka makes her relieved for it, even if she has to lie down sometimes, press her face into the roots of the olive tree scattered about in her realm and pretend there are three sets of hands in her hair, a familiar voice humming above her.

How did you do it, she wants to ask Penelope. How did you survive knowing what you were missing, she wants to ask Odysseus. Will you sit with me one last time, she wants to ask Telemachus.

Eventually, she can no longer bear the quiet, and one evening she sets out and crosses the pantheon floor to go gently sit down in Apollo's room.

Artemis is there, slouched on the floor with mud in her hair and an arrow in her eye as Apollo chides her. They both look up when she comes in, bowing and worriedly asking if something was wrong.

"Nothing," she says, ignoring the pang of sadness that that would be the only reason she was here. But the idea of leaving back to the books written in Odysseus' horrible chickenscratch penmanship is worse, and she takes a tentative seat in the corner. "Continue your work."

They do so hesitantly, conversation slower and interspersed with bouts of asking her if she wanted ambrosia or a new dish or something while she was here. She declines.

She feels awkwardness radiating off all three of them as she leaves an hour later, but it doesn't stop her from coming back again, stubborn. She will hold a conversation this time- it has been two decades since Ithaka, but that is nothing to her, and she cannot have forgotten how so soon.

Apollo seems to have prepared for the same thing this time, lighting up with a pleased grin like he wasn't sure she would come. "Enter!" He says cheerfully. "Come here, give me your wisdom on this piece I've been composing- I know, I know, owls are not songbirds, but just see if you can help, it's driving me mad-"

Athena closes her mouth and listens to the melody quietly. Thinks about how Telemachus' third daughter would have spun it, added her Ithakan folk style to it, interspersed the perfection with carefree, imperfect beats.

"May I?" She asks, holding her hands out, and Apollo's mouth drops, even as he scrambles to hand her the lyre. She concentrates, trying to pull the melody out from the strings. "Here," she says, manifesting her spear and shield and handing it to an increasingly wild-eyed Apollo. "Bang them together. Create a tempo."

They create something of a passing song in the next few hours until Athena's headache makes its way to the forefront and she has to retreat. Apollo accompanies her across the floor to her room, pressing herbs onto her even as he chatters a mile a minute, excitedly going on and on about new ideas and begging Athena to come by again. She smiles, briefly, and promises to return when she is free, going back to her pallet under the olive trees.

(She cannot bear to sleep anywhere else.)

The next day, Apollo is busy creating new songs and she knows better than to disturb him. She turns and goes to his twin's realm instead, shedding her armour for bark and a bow. Artemis and her women look as equally terrified as Apollo did at the start, looking at her like she's lost her mind, but they all straighten up when Athena raises an eyebrow and silently descend on the night.

"You must teach me!" Artemis enthuses at the end of it. She does not do anything other than scowl often, but she looks more like her twin than ever now, as she beams up at her. "I never knew there were so many strategies, how much smoother-"

"Peace," Athena chuckles, amused. "I will teach you, sister. Next fortnight?"

"Aye," Artemis says, hair matted and covered in filth, eyes sparkling.

"Here," Athena says, taking out her own ribbon- one of the many she has from Penelope, braided in her hair from all those years ago- and turns Artemis around to tie her mess of a mane out of her eyes. "Do not impede your vision in the name of wildness."

"Okay," Artemis squeaks quietly, and Athena snorts and squeezes her shoulder as she departs.

She sits in Aephastus' forge next, watching him create weapon after weapon, with the best of each round being blessed onto a blacksmith in the mortal world.

"Come to see if my work is up to par, Pallas Athena?" Aephastus says self-deprecatingly, a flash of resigned hurt in his eyes.

"No. I wish to learn," Athena decides suddenly, pushing herself up and removing her helmet at the blast of heat that comes from the forge as she nears. "It is shameful, I think, that I know not how my own tools are made."

Aephastus stares at her with surprise, then his kind eyes crinkle into a smile. "Only if you let me replace that," He nods to her admittedly rather dented helmet. "I have been wanting to fix your armour to something respectable for centuries."

Athena laughs.

Of course, once it is done, she has to use it. It fills her with excitement she had almost forgotten, the idea of a good, difficult spar, and she barges into Aphrodite's realm and bangs on the edge of the bed with her new spear, making the occupants screech and jump in fright.

"Good evening," She nods at Aphrodite, who looks to the side and then back at her as if she'll find an explanation somehow, stunned. She turns to her brother, and tries on a grin. "Ares, my brother. Would you care to spar? Aephastus has gifted me this new set and I find myself eager to test it out."

"...Are you fucking possessed?" Ares asks her, flabbergasted, and she clicks her tongue and smacks him upside the head.

"Yes or no?" She says, crossing her hands.

"Y- yes, yes!" Ares blurts out, straightening up. He looks something approaching disbelieving excitement, a small, tentative grin appearing on his face. "You are... not joking, right?"

"Do I look like I joke?" Athena jokes, smiling. Ruffles his hair in a bout of fondness. "You are the only one who will actually give me a good fight, as erratic as you are. I look forward to it."

"What did I FUCKING MISS?" Aphrodite shrieks after her as she goes. "Wha- Athena, get back here, you better have not fallen in love while I wasn't looking-!"

But Athena's not ready to face Aphrodite just yet, so she takes advantage of their height difference and strides back to her realm as her sister chases her, shouting.

The next day, they meet in the arena, and Athena feels herself freeze up as soon as she steps in. Sees the lightning scorch marks on the ground she had almost forgotten, and cannot move.

"ATHENA!" Ares booms, snapping her out of it. "TODAY YOU WILL MEET YOUR DEFEAT AT MY HANDS AT LAST!"

"WHY ARE YOU SO ANNOYING," She shouts back automatically, and Ares bursts out in a peal of laughter, surprised out of him. She knows he has three aspects- the boyish glory-seeker, the soldier filled with bloodlust, the hardened warrior- but Athena thinks the first one suits him best.

He readjusts his grip on his sword and grins. "Begin!"

-

She continues this, finding a strange happiness she never had before in meeting all the other gods, major and minor. She'd never known how intimidated they all were by her, but they open up readily enough, bringing her peace for a little while as she sits with them.

(She avoids Aphrodite, who is getting increasingly more frazzled by the day as she fails to find a hidden lover that does not exist and then switches to trying to find Athena a companion when it is clear that there is no one, in a comic game of chase around the realms that is a great source of amusement to everyone else.

She avoids Hermes too, because it hurts too much to see him. But she leaves him a book of riddles once in a while, when he's away, and he always takes it.)

Hera walks in her room one day, with her train of peacocks and attendants.

"God-Queen," Athena bows, setting her weaving down.

"Athena," Hera nods back. "I hear you have been visiting your siblings."

Athena nods, confused. "Yes?"

Hera studies her and Athena shifts, wondering what she's seeing. "The Pantheon is no longer silent, you know. The Olympians meet in the court almost every day, sharing their gifts with each other. Something I have found out is because of you."

Athena has no idea where this is going.

Hera shifts closer, opening her mouth to say something, then her eyes catch on the weaving, widening in shock. "What is that?"

Athena looks down, also unaware of what exactly she'd made. Then her heart skips a beat in fear.

"No, no, no, no," Athena snaps to her feet, shaking her hands out in dismissal, trying to stop the impending damage. "This is not what you think it is."

Hera's eyes are getting wider and wider, a manic grin on her face. "Athena! A wedding veil? Do you-"

"No!" Athena interrupts. "No, Hera, it's nothing like that, please-"

"Nonsense!" Hera says, grabbing it from her and holding it to the light, grinning wider than Athena has seen from her in years. "You must have made it for a reason. Do not worry daughter, I know you are shy, I will handle it all."

"Hera, it really is not like that!" She pleads. "I was simply weaving- I made a fisherman's garb the other day as well, it does not mean I want to get out into the sea!"

"Have you made the rest of the outfit as well?" Hera says excitedly, ignoring her as she moves to the wardrobe to rifle through. "Oh, Athena, how beautiful! Is this what you would like to wear?"

She pulls out a men's wedding outfit and Athena stops protesting to stare in disbelief. When had she made that?

"I must go announce this to the others," Hera squeals, bangles jangling. "Oh, I had almost given up on you, dear, but you have made me so happy today! I would have arranged something for you so long ago, why didn't you tell me you were interested?"

"Because I am not," She groans, pulling her hands down over her face. "Hera, please, I do not even have anyone-"

"Easily remedied," Hera dismisses her with the wave of a hand as she strides off. "Oh Aphrodite, you won't believe what I just found in your sister's closet! Look!"

A deafening din rises from the crowd there and Athena is forced to tackle Hera to the ground.

She laughs, surprisingly, and tosses the outfit over to Aphrodite, who snatches it up with a scream of excitement. Athena is immediately flanked by a crowd of screaming gods, each talking over the other, and Athena has to bellow at them all for two hours before the misunderstanding is cleared.

"Oh, but you really have outdone yourself with this one," Aphrodite gushes appreciatively as she lands next to a panting Athena. She turns it back and forth. "So soft, and such patterns! The Ithakan style, yes?"

Then her smile drops like a stone as she hears her own words and freezes, and Athena's stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat as she stops breathing. Aphrodite turns to her slowly, cold horror in her eyes, realisation solidifying at the terrified, raw, pained expression on Athena's face.

"The Ithakan style," She repeats in a whisper, horrified grief creeping into her voice. "Athena-"

Athena snatches the outfit from her and closes herself off in her realm, breathing hard in the dim blue light of the olive tree orchard. She suddenly realises she's holding the robes against her chest and unfolds it hurriedly to look at them.

It is the Ithakan style. It is, in fact, a mix of Penelope's and Odysseus' wedding outfits, in her size.

She throws it into a trunk and screams.

-

She does not know if Aphrodite tells Hera, but the latter does not stop coming by every day to pester her for details of an imaginary wedding.

So now she has three gods to avoid.

-

But of course, the effects of her affliction cannot be hidden forever. She gets up one day from the Pantheon floor to retrieve the threads from her room to be used in the game they are playing, and feels the room swim in a familiar, hated manner, and she only has a moment to feel dread before she tilts sideways and falls.

When she regains consciousness, she feels for a moment the delicate hands on her cheeks, the weight of a young man on her belly, the gravely singing above her- and then it dissipates and she becomes aware of shouting all around her.

"Can you hear me? Athena, can you hear me?" Hera says, shaking her. "WILL SOMEONE FIND APOLLO?"

Athena moans and pushes off the hands on her body, bruising in their panic. She pushes herself up, ignoring the dizziness. "Do not bother."

"Athena, what on Gaia was that?" Ares demands, ashen. "Have I injured you? What-"

"It is of no concern," Athena snaps, getting to her feet and glaring at them, mortification blazing through her. "All I need is rest. Goodnight."

They shout after her, but she's already at her room, closing the shields back up. It nearly knocks her out again to do so, and she barely drags herself to her bed before she collapses.

"What are you staring at?" Hypnos asks her the next day, confused. Athena blinks and realizes she's standing between the thrones, facing an odd patch of wall and losing time.

"Nothing," She sighs, and hefts her spear and walks away.

She fends off all other questions, curt and snapping, and the others uneasily let it go. She has not forgotten her purpose, after all, and will not do anything less than a perfect job, even with this impediment.

Yet-

"Athena," Aphrodite shakes her, and Athena blinks as she comes to herself. It is night, Pantheon bathed in blue and both of them in their nightclothes. Aphrodite is crying and Athena's face is wet.

"What-?" She murmurs.

"You were calling out for Odysseus," Aphrodite whispers, sounding stricken. "Asking him to stop hiding from training. Then laughing with nothing and telling Penelope to stop tormenting your allies."

It hits her straight in the sternum, making her gasp with grief that hits her so hard it feels new, and oh, she misses them, she misses them, she misses them so.

She sobs, and Aphrodite brings her close, holding her as she shakes.

"What is happening, sister? Why is this happening? Please, tell us," Aphrodite pleads. "We only want to help." She pushes her back to stare at her. "It cannot be just for them- something else happened to you."

Athena cannot reply for weeping, and Aphrodite's face crumples on seeing her tears. "You loved them." She says, her own voice catching tears. "You loved them so much, didn't you? That's who the dress was for. Them."

Athena sobs louder and doesn't reply.

-

Zeus' eldest daughter has not talked to him for over eight hundred years.

He still burns with anger some days, on remembering her insolence, her disrespect for his orders. Yet, now it has cooled off and he rather misses her quiet presence, her wit. She is angry with him in turn, cold and formal when they talk, never meeting his eyes.

"How fares Athena?" He asks casually one day. Hera stops removing her earrings and looks up at him sharply- she's been frosty with him since that day as well, disapproving of his actions. "I have not seen her in quite some time."

"That is of your own design," Hera replies blandly. "She spends time often with her siblings now. I am quite proud of her for it, actually- it is no mean a feat to get the entire Pantheon to sit down and indulge in few games without bloodshed."

"Games?" Zeus frowns. "With the others? Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"Well, if you left your realm ever, you would know." Hera says distractedly, shrugging as she takes off her necklace. "They gather in the courtroom, usually."

The wind blows in, blows out.

Zeus ponders on this in silence, thinking of what to do next. Perhaps he should extend the first hand, since she had followed all the rules. He remembers her on the ground, beaten and burning, one hand extended to beg him to let that insolent hero she had pinned all her hopes on leave Ogygia. Frowns again in discomfort at the memory.

Her gamble paid off. Even as the Greek Pantheon declined in power, the story of her hero persisted to give the gods power, to keep them remembered.

Wise Athena, he thinks fondly. Smarter than him, he can admit now.

Zeus is just about to ask Hera if Athena would appreciate a spar when the rustle of fabric past the door of their realm catches his attention.

"Who is there?" He calls out, and Hera turns as well to look. No one enters and they both look to each other with a frown.

Quick footsteps sound out and both of them push themselves to their feet immediately, armed and tense as they rush to the door.

"Athena?" Hera calls out, confused, as they look down over the empty courtroom, Athena pacing erratically silently alone in the middle, no lights on. She does not reply. "Athena!"

Zeus feels foreboding creep up on him as they carefully walk down. "What are you doing up, Athena?" He calls out, voice authoritative. Hera glares at him, and he amends his tone, gentling it. "Is something the matter?"

Athena does not stop walking, at that same hurried pace, turning around at the end of the hall and continuing back towards them, ignoring his words. Zeus feels irritation spark, but the sudden glimpse of his daughter's eyes makes the words die on his tongue, unseeing and glazed over. She does not have her armour on, and her hair is tangled and open, he suddenly realises, along with the growing certainty that something is wrong.

And then Athena drops to the ground and starts seizing.

"ATHENA!" They scream as one, and all the gods of the Pantheon come awake, lamps catching fire as they all come stumbling out of their rooms and realms. Zeus reaches out and holds her hands down as she starts clawing at herself, drawing blood. The others start shouting and crying around them, Athena's head snapping back and forth gruesomely, eyes bleeding ichor. "Athena, gather yourself!" He shouts at her. "Cease this- cease this at once, you are stronger than this!"

"She cannot hear you!" Hera cries, falling to her other side, trying to straighten Athena out from the fetal position she is curling into with painful, stuff jerks. "She never does- she doesn't-"

"This has happened before?" Zeus bellows, outraged. His answer comes in the form of Ares pulling her weapons off her body, the ones who can't help holding onto each other and hiding their faces in each other's shoulders or staring at Athena with fear as they sob.

Her arm slips Zeus' grip and swings at him erratically before he can grab it again. It nearly knocks him down, so powerful in its animal madness that he actually feels his aspect waver to half its size for a moment- but he is her father and he pulls himself together enough to stay standing, pinning her down again.

"No, let her go!" Apollo shouts as he sits down besides them in his night robes, flipping through an old book of some kind, barely holding in his own panic and fear. "Don't hold her down, give her space."

Zeus grimaces but lets her go, feeling nausea and fear rise within him as she writhes and twists, unhearing of Hera's desperate sobs for her to stop. "What is happening to her?" He demands, unable to watch. He is furious, lightning blazing in his hands as he itches to find the culprit, to find who dared to do this. "Who did this to her?"

"I do not know," Apollo says horrifically, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking up to her and then back down to the book. "But I found this in her realm- she apparently is aware of it, this is some sort of book of instructions on the affliction-"

"Give me that," Zeus growls, snatching it away, and flipping through it. "Go get a bed," He instructs, the other Olympians springing up to do so immediately, desperate to help. "Olive- olive branches, she wakes to branches. Get water- no, get ambrosia, get a cloth to wipe her face. A change of clothes. A cold compress, if she has fever. It will stop on its own, let it run its course- Muses, what is this?"

"A lullaby," Euterpe says, pulling the book down to scan it. "From old Ithaka, if I'm not mistaken."

The gods all stop and stare at her. "Ithaka?" Zeus repeats, flipping to the front of the book. "Who has written this-"

"PENELOPE!" Athena screams suddenly, making them all jump in fright. Her back arches to a painful degree, spit running down the side of her mouth as her eyes roll back in her head. "PENELOPE, TELEMACHUS-"

Aphrodite puts her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, just as Athena takes a deep breath in and screams louder than before, "ODYSSEUS!"

(In life, he had only failed her once. But now he is dead, and cannot come.)

"Odysseus, please," She moans, in the old Greek that has not been used in decades. "You promised to help, please- Penelope, where are- where is- Telemachus, please-"

Zeus feels his heart break as proud, strong Athena breaks down on the floor, calling for mortals clearly much dearer to her than they thought. But it's not the end of it- he flips through the book again, desperately searching for something to stop this, a cause, an enemy- and then he sees his own name.

Curse proud Zeus, may his life never be happy, may his legacy forever be tainted, Odysseus has written, the letters harsh and burning with fury, even though the curse means nothing from a mortal, even though he risked the ire of the gods writing it. Below it, in what must be Penelope's neat handwriting, an equally furious and clipped diagnosis is penned- brain damage, extensive but occasional, caused by a lightning bolt to the face, that targeted her realm's power and left her with seizures, memory loss and dissociation.

A lightning bolt to the face.

Zeus stands there numbly, as the Pantheon scrambles and chatters worriedly around him, hesitantly singing along to the lullaby in the book as Athena continues to shake, unresponsive. His fault. It is his fault that she is like this, that she is left reduced to calling for dead mortals, crying blood over her siblings' feet.

He did not mean to, he thinks, feeling small and pathetic and monstrous. He did not mean for this to happen- only wanted to teach her a lesson, keep his pride; had not meant for her realm to sustain damage for so long. He thought she'd healed. He thought she hadn't been hurt, past the scar on her face that he'd felt vaguely guilty about, from time to time.

How stupid he was.

"Athena," He whispers, aching to reach out, but she screams again and it's drowned out completely. His daughter. All his own, no longer his- because she was never angry at all, these past years; she simply no longer saw him as her father. And why should she, when he has done the unforgivable, when he has done what no other had managed to do, and broken her.

What has he done?

"We are here," Hera says desperately, taking Athena's head in her lap. Ares sings creakily next to her, offtune and shaking. "We are here, love."

"Odysseus," Athena wails, unseeing. "Penelope, Telemachus."

Zeus steps back to let the others rush in, each providing their own solutions, some calling to Athena entreatingly to guide her back to herself. He is not needed here- he does not deserve it, and knows not what more damage he will wreak.

I am sorry, he wants to tell her, as froth escapes her mouth like a rabid dog. I am so sorry, I beg forgiveness, my daughter, please let me fix it.

But she cannot hear him and Zeus raises his head to look for Hermes instead. The messenger god is standing at the very back, well out of view, with a blank face as he meets Zeus' gaze. He feels a surge of fury at the lack of caring, before he remembers that Athena's hero and his son were descendants of Hermes- and sees past the facade to see the other's gods multiplied distress at that fact, unable to come forward to help without possibly making it worse with the likeness.

Zeus inclines his head and then tilts it towards Hades pointedly. Hermes twitches in surprise, then nods determinedly, running off.

Zeus exhales and looks back at Athena as she finally calms, breathing hard. Shoulders slump in relief, frightened muttering taking its place- this wasn't supposed to happen to gods, to Olympians.

Zeus steps forward and brushes her hair out of her eyes as Athena loses consciousness, as they pull her onto a makeshift palanquin and prepare to take her to her room.

"I am sorry," He whispers to her, but it is far, far too late.

[wiliowisp]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons | Pt.2

Part one | Part two | Part three

What Sebastian is like in a romantic relationship:

➻ he has a jealous and possessive streak, for sure, but he's working on it. it comes from a place of trauma and insecurity rather than any malice, and he practices letting his SO be close to people who aren't him.

➻ that doesn't mean it doesn't come out though; especially regarding people like leander, who seem more than happy to be intimately familiar with his lover.

➻ another expression of this is in protectiveness. in any dangerous situation, his priority is the safety of his SO. even if they are more than capable of defending themselves, he would much rather take the hits than have them be in harm's way.

➻ his primary love language is acts of service. he will happily do anything you ask of him and them some. 'i noticed you didn't have breakfast so i bought you some fruit.' 'you need help with your homework? say no more.' 'i picked up a book that can help with that subject you're struggling with.' and more.

➻ that being said, he's clingy. after his parent's death, physical affection was really only for him and anne. now that he has an SO, all he wants is to touch them. in class, his hands are wrapped around them or his leg is pressed up against them. when studying, he'll lean on them or have his head in their lap while reading. if they cuddle him, he'll melt.

➻ he's constantly fighting the urge to kiss his SO. he loves making out, but understands that 24 hours of the day can't be dedicated to it; he also knows himself enough that once he starts, its difficult for him to stop. when they do kiss, it gets passionate—quick. he simply can't get enough of the feeling, like a balloon in his chest, and wants them closer and closer.

➻ he gets devoted, very fast. sebastian isn't a man who does things half-way. within the first few months of courting, he's thinking about marriage. of course, he understands that they're still in school and can't come on too quick, but he's made his mind up before they've even graduated.

➻ he loves sharing good conversation with his SO. topics like deep dives into the origin of magic, or the possibilities of time travel. he's an avid reader so loves dissecting fiction books or poetry; if his SO can meet him halfway and listen to his rambles, he's in love.

➻ dates with sebastian are always very understated. he's not one for big shows of affection and more for practicing love every day. a date can be something as simple as an afternoon walk, or reading a book together. to him, spending time together is the most important aspect, the rest is just ruffles and feathers.

➻ post graduation, proposal is at the forefront of his mind. sebastian is no gentlemen, but concerning marriage he's dedicated to doing it right. he get's anne's approval first—without it, a proposal simply won't happen. then, he gets the approval from his SO's parents or guardians. he wants everything to be perfect, and for once goes above and beyond to make sure his lover knows they're the one.

(i'll probably be doing NSFW headcanons next, so keep an eye out for that hehe)

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter five

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 6,3k

❱ summary: a hot summer day & two conversations

❱ warnings: mature language + jokes, Legolas being a nuisance

❱ an: third attempt to post this.. man I hate tumblr sometimes. I just want to bless you all with this juicy chapter. I'll try to add the pictures in later

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FIVE: POOL

Time, as it often does whenever you want to hold on to it, passed in a rush of essays that needed to be written, lectures demanding attention, and the ever-present need to work as many shifts to be able to make rent.

Which, in fairness, were a lot less than many other students though it irked you all the same to stand behind the counter at the small yet overfurnitured café on campus and relish the the summer sun through a window.

"Could you be a dear and fill up the coffee beans?"

You looked away from a couple dozing on a bench to your co-worker Tauriel and nodded. She was a pretty woman, red-haired just like Gimli, and smart as hell.

She was funny too, and made the shifts you got paired together manageable and bearable.

You used the towel over your shoulder to wipe over your forehead, patting some of the sweat away that accumulated within seconds.

The sunshine and warm temperatures had been fun at first for they meant longer nights and earlier mornings, lounging around with sunglasses and opening the windows of lecture halls to fill the rooms with soft breezes and the chatter of the students hanging around on the lawn in groups and pairs.

The temperatures hadn't dropped though, they kept on rising and rising, the air got warm and stuffy and every breeze was like a soothing balm on sweat-coated legs, arms and faces.

You were thankful that the café had AC, a wonder of technology compared to the unbearable lecture halls and, to your pain, your dorm as well.

A week ago it suddenly stopped working and ever since then, you dreaded coming home and spent even more time at Legolas' and Thranduil's.

There were more overnight stays, starting with long nights watching movies between Legolas and Thranduil, or cooking dinner for when Thranduil came home from work and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you humming a song, flipping eggs and Legolas setting the table, snorting and rolling his eyes over the "disgustingly heart eyes" that his father supposedly threw at you.

Those stays ended with breakfast on the patio, fresh orange juice in jugs, coffee in mugs, the old radio that crackled every then and again and filled the warm air with the sounds of Queen, Oasis and The Cranberries as you snacked on apple slices and watched Thranduil read the newspaper, casting soft smiles over the edge of the paper whenever he caught you looking or let his hand brush your ankle as you popped your foot on the empty seat between you two.

If it hadn't been before, it was now established that you were wandering in and out of their house as if it were your own.

There was a pair of slippers next to Thranduils' "old man" Birkenstocks (Legolas' words), a second toothbrush next to Legolas' bamboo one, and the pillow you always cuddled on what now was your space on the couch.

Neither Legolas nor Thranduil minded.

That much was clear by Legolas' pure enthusiasm of having someone to spend the entire night gossiping under the canopy of his bed, chatting you an ear off over something.. no anything that Aragorn had done and said and my god, you even learned about the times your ruggedly handsome best friend had so much as breathed in Legolas direction.

And well for Thranduil you couldn't say that whatever was there blossomed into more than those looks and soft touches.

Nothing like that moment a few weeks ago happened again, and although the memory of that car ride and the teasing and tension as he had you pressed against the painting in the halfway was still fresh and sent thrills through you, there was a much more subtle string connecting you.

You always meant to confront him, to pull him aside and ask why the hell he wouldn't just tell you what exactly was happening.

Still, every time you were ready, Thranduil would disappear into his office or cease all touches and go back to that infuriating look of yearning all across the room without actually stepping into it.

You nearly lost yourself in this conflicting back and forth, and came close to overfilling the coffee machine with beans that would have been a pain to clean up so the jingle of the bell came right on time to snap you out of the little trance.

"Hi, could I please get one Grande Triple Sugar-Free Cinnamon Frappuccino at 100 degrees with Honey and one extra shot of Caramel and cream?"

"Oh my god," you whipped around to the counter and nearly threw your towel at the new customer, hand already balling the wet fabric into your fist.

"That's literally the worst fucking order I've ever heard," Tauriel barked out, slamming the metal cup for steaming milk onto the counter loud enough that another student shuffled right back out the door.

You would have felt bad if you weren't busy stalking toward the bar until it was just the wooden counter separating you from climbing over it, fists ready for swinging.

"Woow," Legolas, –a little dramatically– leaned back and stared at you with curled lips, "this how you treat your best customer?"

"No," you shook your head, "no, this is how we treat dickheads with annoying fucking orders!"

"I'll let you know that while I very much appreciate dick–"

"STOP!"

"As well as head–"

"Someone stop him, please," Tauriel cried out, scaring yet another woman with the alarmed tone of her voice.

"I don't particularly enjoy being called such a mean, mean word when I was simply trying to get a coffee"

Even on tiptoes, it was impossible to reach Legolas, as much as you tried to slap a hand over his mouth that now curved into a satisfied smile over the chaos he had ensured in the mere moments he was in the shop.

"Simply?" Tauriel sneered, still looking truly murderous which you couldn't blame her for.

Legolas order, for the atrocious sugar bomb, that it sounded like, came only close to the worst drink that went over to a customer today.

After mixing a Matcha frappe with raspberry, caramel, cinnamon, and whipped cream not only once but twice for the same dude, her reaction to another monstrosity was well in its right. "Simply?!"

Legolas scoffed, tapping his pink fingernails against the wood, contemplating something over in that thick head of his before running his tongue over his teeth, baring them in a grimace.

"Fine, then I'll take a triple espresso, cold and without ice. That's not too much to ask, right? Don't want ya hitting the walls because you have to do your fucking job!"

He then turned to the first years that had taken over one of the biggest tables right after you'd opened, their wide eyes showing their struggle of 'should we stay and watch? or go? what's going on?' while staying glued on where they had spent the last few hours loudly gossiping, though as Legolas grazed them with their attention, they fell silent.

"So rude, am I right?" he asked.

All five of the girls nodded their heads fast, not blinking once.

Legolas, not caring at all that he was ogled like a piece of meat, propped both arms on the table and rested his head on his folded hands.

"Now, when do you get off again?" He fluttered his lashes, ignoring the snort you let out at his words.

"Well, my shift ends in ten, if that's what you want to know."

"Great!" Legolas tilted his head, watching as you busied yourself wiping a few glasses, "Soo, d'you wanna hit mine and drown ourselves in the pool?"

He leaned forward, grabbing one of the sugar packets you gave out, flicking his finger against the upper half before ripping it open.

He then, like it was totally normal and didn't hurt your teeth by just looking at it, licked his finger and stuck it into the packet to suck his finger clean.

Eyes stuck on his hand, already reaching back into the sugar, you curled your lips, "Sure. The others there as well?"

He grinned a Cheshire grin, releasing the finger with a 'pop'. "Mhmm, Gimli said he's in for a late night over at his friends. Aragorn has some poetry writing to do but he wants to join us later.

You stared at him, waiting.

There was an obvious question left hanging between you, one that bothered you if not answered and here he was, acting like a total dick by avoiding your stare and thanking Tauriel for the to-go cup of pure caffeine.

"Well, I'm going to wait outside–"

"Legolas!" you hissed just as he jumped down the barstool, tipping his rosé sunglasses back onto his nose.

He paused, turning and smiling sugar-sweetly. "Yes? Was there anything else that you want to know?"

Scowling you draw your eyebrows together, munching on the words, pulling them between your teeth. "Ishegoingtobehome?" you rushed out, barely understandable for you and you doubted that anyone around you actually got what you had said, but Legolas' smile softened.

"Maybe," he said, quieter and with a hint of a sigh, "Who knows these days? He was early the last two days, wouldn't count on it though."

You tried your hardest not to let your smile waver.

It threatened to break down at the edges, the tell-tale signs of the wave of insecurity that always pushed onto you at the topic of Thranduil; nipping your cheeks and you crushed them with a hard click of your tongue, pushing them away into the darkest corner of your mind.

Legolas, observant little shit that he was, scrunched his nose and squinted over at you through his glasses.

"Meet you in fifteen?" he asked instead and after you nodded, he waved at Tauriel, "Good coffee! Lacks a bit in friendliness but I think I'll leave a good Yelp review nevertheless!"

The doorbell chimed as he left the café– a bounce in his step and lifting his face toward the sun as soon as he stepped outside.

He was, by all means, the loveliest friend you could've ever wished for.

You spent the last few minutes rushing iced coffee orders, serving them to students all heading out of the uni toward the longed-for weekend, and helping Tauriel clean up for the shift-switch.

The uniform was thrown into your locker, exchanged with a yellow summer dress that flowed right above your knee and would, despite the airy fabric and barely there straps, prove to be far too hot because as soon as you and Tauriel stepped outside, away from the air conditioning, the sultry air enveloped you in a gripping hug.

It was borderline unbearable if not for the sunnies that you quickly pushed on top of your nose and the iced coffee that Tauriel had quickly whipped up for you both while instructing the other shift on what to do.

You said goodbye to Tauriel when she climbed onto her bike and you turned to the car park where you made a beeline toward Legolas.

While you appreciated Thranduils sleek sports car, you absolutely loved the days Legolas pulled up in his Chevy convertible and drove around without the hood.

With the others around, you'd always get a backseat so that Aragorn could sit in the front but now that he wasn't there, you couldn't be bothered to open the door and jumped just right into the seat next to Legolas.

"Hi Asshole," you greeted him and placed your coffee in between your legs to fasten the seatbelt, "you're so lucky Tauriel didn't just kill you for that order."

Legolas scoffed, already fiddling with the console and turning the keys.

He threw one look over his shoulder, made sure that this time there wasn't a bike that he could crash into, and passed you his phone.

"For what?" he asked, "I just wanted to try something new, is that against the rules?"

"No," you entered his code, a combination of your birthdays, "you wanted to be a pain right before shift end and you know we know you don't give a shit about any rules."

"Oh sue me. Next time I want to have some fun I'll post a warning beforehand. What the fuck are you doing?" Legolas turned his head as you tapped onto one of the many playlists he had and a soft guitarre song started playing.

He was met with the largest smirk on your face, eyes gleaming full of mischief.

"Ayo, my my… Las, care to tell me what I'm seing right now?"

Your only goal had been to tease him for the playlist titled 'For Las' but the further you scrolled, squealing and giggling, the more Legolas blushed, blushed!

"Oh my god, please–" he begged and tried to reach over though you giggled and shook your head.

"Legolas, who… who made this for you?" your eyes widened, taking in a lot of songs mouth agape, "This is twelve hours long!"

The blonde, who was now nearly as pink as the glasses on his face, pressed onto the pedals a bit harder, flying around a corner and onto the highway.

"Yes? And? You have playlists that long as well." He was evading the answer, fiddling with the console to overpower you, "I even made you one playlist that long!"

You snorted and turned the music louder on the phone, "Legolas, the playlist you made me was full of kpop and Kesha. This–" you pointed at the phone screen, showing him the cover that was a picture of himself, snapped on some forest ground and his blonde hair in disarray, "–this is not some platonic shit."

"What? D'you really think that?" Now, instead of just looking like he wanted to die out of embarrassment, he pulled a face as if you'd told him you believed the earth was flat; in total incredulity.

"Legolas–" you stared at him, still holding up the phone, "Legolas this is twelve hours full of what.. Hozier, Lord Huron.. there's even some Mitski and Lana Del Rey."

"Yes?" Legolas glanced over to you, his long manicured fingers drumming the steering wheel in that nervous habit of his where he couldn't, for the life of his, be still for just a second and think.

Or maybe stop thinking.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," you said and for his sake, switched to another playlist, one that ended his suffering, "who made this? This says it's by your account but I know.. I know you're not that self-centered."

He gripped the wheel even tighter, white knuckles protruding as he lifted one hand to bite onto his pointer finger.

Not once had you seen him this out of it and it made you wonder how you must've looked before you'd told them all about Thranduil.

Had you been this obvious as well?

Fidgeting whenever his name was dropped or Legolas had asked you if you could set another plate for his father?

Close to fainting just because Thranduil would pick you up?

"Promise me that you won't laugh?" he asked and you knew he was serious.

This was more than jokes, this was top-secret-bedroom-whisper-secret-level, and you reached over to pull his hand away from his mouth, linking your own pinkie with his.

"Promise."

"It's from Aragorn! Aragorn wrote me a letter with the songs listed as well as the Polaroid he made when we were out for a walk at that one party at Bilbo's, y'know? And fuck, do you really think that this is romantic and a hundred percent sure this couldn't be a 'hey buddy, here're some tunes that I found cool and that reminded me of our friendship, have a nice day dude' playlist!?"

Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, led to the scream you let out as the words burst out of Legolas like a balloon popping under pressure, rushing out all at once and leaving you to bounce around as good as you could in the car.

The car that had no roof and thus drew all kinds of looks from other drivers onto you shrieking.

"Aragorn made this? Are you kidding me?" you yelled, already slapping Legolas' arm that wasn't on the wheel. "No fucking way you looked at the songs 'Francesca' and; Jesus there's even a song literally titled 'I'm in love with you'," you paused, once again boxing his side, "and you thought this was platonic?"

"Maybe?" Legolas shrugged meekly, glancing over to you over his glasses, "I dunno, it's Aragorn. Why would it ever be romantic?"

"Because," you made sure to emphasize your next words carefully, "because you're both idiots and I love you- I love you very much but you both are so very stupid and so very blind."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled and smoothed some flyaway hairs behind his ear so as to not eat them due to the wind. "Were you not the one just asking me if Ada is home or not because you two can't get your shit together?"

It didn't suit you at all that he suddenly turned the conversation around to you, when you were just talking about Aragorn, very potentially not only reciprocating Legolas' feelings but trying to reach out to him as well, to shine the spotlight somewhere where you preferred darkness as long as you weren't sure yourself.

You buried your teeth in your lower lip, pushing it out into a pout, before turning your head away from your best friend.

"Look," he said faintly, resting one hand on your leg, "this isn't easy for me as well. He's my dad and your my best friend in the whole world. But watching you two is so hard and not for the reasons you may think. Of course, I don't get why you would choose him of all people, we could've made fantastic-looking babies as well–"

You involuntarily hiccuped a laugh, rolling your eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that lover boy."

Legolas grinned, though returned to a more serious expression as he started tapping away on the wheel again, "But you do like him and I know Ada so I know he likes you two. He's.. well he's an idiot like his son and would rather perish than admit to having feelings like anyone else. That would mean he needs to open up, to let someone into his heart."

Legolas turned the car onto a quieter road, driving past trees that threw their shadows onto your warmed skin and filtered the sun through their thick green foliage.

"I'm willing to do that," you said after a while of thinking. "For him, I mean. I'm ready to work on us, to take on every hurdle together, and to talk. Gods, I really want to talk to him."

You let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes to watch the black and golden points dance over shut lids.

Mentally you were preparing a list of all the things you wanted to tell Thranduil, firstmost your feelings, yes, but you also wanted him to know your favorite color, your first memory of him, how much you loved to dance and that you never threw away movie tickets.

You wanted to ask him on what side of the bed he slept in, which countries he had seen, what his favorite animal was.

"By the way," you blinked open both eyes, meeting Legolas' gaze, "talk to Aragorn, please. The man needs to hear you say that you like him the same way."

Legolas relaxed with a chuckle, "Gimli's going to hate us."

Laughing you could do nothing but agree with him.

The rest of the drive is all the usual, the sincere and deep talks pushed away for jibs and jokes, complaints about work and moans about Professors who think summer break is to prepare with even more coursework.

You didn't mention the playlist, Legolas stayed silent about Thranduil, a mutual agreement.

The sun was impossibly high as Legolas parked his Chevy next to the other (empty) spot, beating down on you in a manner that screams for sunscreen and…

"Pool!" Legolas yelled and jumped out of the car. "Water! Refreshments!"

You both raced over the gravel path, not bothering walking through the house but rather dashing to the gate in a wooden fence, that led directly to the garden.

Even while you were still running, Legolas tore off his tanktop, throwing it away to land somewhere next to the seating area, flinging his shorts onto a lounge chair, and you followed his example.

You kicked your shoes away to run through the soft grass and at the sight of the shimmering pool, wrestled the sundress over your head.

Glad that you had the foresight to wear a bikini instead of normal underwear, you don't think twice before pulling your knees to your chest and crashed into the ice-cold water at the same time Legolas fell into the water face first.

For a bit, you two did nothing but splash around, using feet and hands and every unfair method you could think of trying to get the other to swallow as much water as possible.

Legolas, once again having quite the advantage due to his height and slender figure, got so good at diving under you and pulling you down, that after an hour of coming up sputtering and coughing, you were the one raising the metaphorical white flag.

After a short refreshment break consisting of (unchlorinated) water, Legolas went to grab two inflatable floaties from the pool house, throwing one in your direction before making himself comfortable on the green one.

"This is the life," he sighed, hands crossed behind his head.

You found not one bit of motivation to answer him using anything else but a drawn-out "Mhmm" as you laid down on your stomach, face hidden in the crook of your arm.

"I think, I'll take a nap." Legolas yawned but already sounded very far away for your eyes closed as well, exhaustion of the day and the fight seeping into your bones.

It was the combination of the gentle rocking of the inflatable, the water splashing in the background, muffled by your ear pressed against your arm, the sun drying your wet body with her warm rays that sent you into a blissful rest, floating away in the pool as well as your dreams.

When you awoke, it was to the gentle caressing of water running through your hand as well as someone blocking out the sun.

"Las," you mumbled, "Laaas, go away"

Nothing happened, the shadow casted onto you didn't move an inch.

"'M getting up cranky," you threatened as a last attempt, groaning into your skin as the last bit of sleep slipped away from you. "Now you've done it– I hate you."

"And I probably deserve it." The voice that finally piped up was, to your absolute horror, not your best friend.

Immediately your head shot up, nearly tearing some muscle as you craned it up… and up the body of the man standing in front of the sun.

Golden light fell onto strong shoulders, creating a halo that made it very hard to look at Thranduil without needing to squint your eyes against it.

Seeing your struggle and taking pity, Thranduil crouched down to your height. "May I?"

Incapable of saying anything, you nodded. Your mind was caught on the last threads of sleep, drowsiness tugging on your consciousness that was trying its best to keep up with the current happenings.

Thranduil let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge, not caring the slightest bit that his shorts were getting wet, and kicked his long legs into the water, sending ripples toward where you floated.

He did not attempt to start a conversation, instead, he just leaned back, large hands spread on the stone behind his back, his face angled just the right way for you to know his eyes were not completely shut but focused on you through lowered lashes.

There wasn't a need to mention how gorgeous he looked, bathed in sunlight and the buttons of a moss green linen shirt that much undone, that you could follow the line of his throat down to a small peek of a rosy porcelain chest.

You felt your throat clog up at the sight of him, effortlessly graceful and despite the humid air, not breaking a single sweat.

You quickly lowered your head again, burying your nose in your arm to not get distracted by his pine wood perfume that wafted over to you.

"Can we talk?" Thranduils voice was low, a soft rumble that barely topped the gurgling and splashing of the water.

"Mhm," you cleared your throat, "I don't know, can you? Kinda felt like you lost any ability to, or maybe that was special treatment for me." You let the words wander away and glared at him in a manner that screamed 'Give me a break'.

"Point taken."

"That wasn't nice, Thranduil."

"I know."

"Good. Did Legolas send you?" You moved your head, scanning the pool for any sign of your best friend but except for you and Thranduil and some bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering in the air, there was no one else. "Where is he?"

"Inside. Came in when Aragorn rang the bell and after he nearly killed me with one murderous look, they both disappeared up the stairs."

"Ah," the disappointment seeped into the single expression, weighing down onto your shoulders, "So you came to talk because Las told you."

"No, not at all!" With an alarmed expression on his face, Thranduil leaned forward, resting one hand on his broad thigh instead of the stone. "I understood I needed to talk to you soon. Legolas just kicked my ass one more time. I've thought of nothing but you for the last few days."

The blood immediately rushed to your cheeks at this statement. "You're thinking about me?"

"Constantly. How could I not?"

"I wasn't sure," you admitted quietly, "after you... well, after you drove me home the last time, everything changed somehow."

Saying what you felt had never been easy for you, admitting things meant exposing yourself and that feeling of pure nakedness when the other person saw you, heard what you were revealing like little messages encoded through meter-high walls, it always brought that dizziness with it.

Fears that the other person wouldn't like you if they found out you weren't perfect, that they might realize how your flaws and imperfections didn't fit their expectations.

You'd rather cram the truth behind well-chosen and hopefully satisfying answers that covered up the cracks.

"I was a daft idiot," Thranduil said and, to your surprise, let out a shaky laugh that sounded more fearful than anything else.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow, knowing better than to interrupt a man wanting to explain himself.

Mulling over his words, Thranduil dropped one hand into the water, swirling it back and forth in even rotations of his wrist.

"This–", he lifted it, dripping droplets onto his beige shorts as he pointed to you and then to him, "this caught me unexpectedly. For years I blocked off any attempts of lo– of liking someone. First I blamed it on the need to focus on Legolas, his upbringing and when he was old enough to become completely uninterested in his old Ada and reached the top shelf without me needing to lift him onto my shoulders, then I searched for other reasons. My job doesn't allow much time, they would just want my money, it's just not the right time..."

While he talked, the flow of the water had carried you close enough to him for the pool float to dodge the edge of the pool. You didn't attempt to push yourself back into the water.

Instead, you reached one hand over, holding onto the warm stone next to his thighs.

"This– you, my dear, dropped onto me so out of the blue that I realized I do not have the skills to converse as easily as you may hope."

His jaw muscles protruded as he lowered his head, the tip of his ponytail falling onto his chest.

Taking that bit of courage you found in you, you let the stone go, instead laying one hand gently onto his toned thigh next to his hand.

The muscles flexed as soon as you touched the pleasantly warm skin, moving under your palm in uncontrolled spasms that you ignored for the sake of both your minds right now.

Now that you had some stability, you tried to sit up. Doing your best to hold your balance while the wobbling made it difficult, you drew your legs to your chest and then straddled the pool float, huffing out a breath full of tension.

Thranduil, halfway through your struggle grabbed one corner and prevented you from drifting away.

"There," you said and blew some hair out of your face, "now, this is hard for me too."

As you sat up, you saw Thranduil's gaze snap up to you, or more explicitly; to your whole body.

There was a hitch in his chest, a gulp so loud it would've been embarrassing to draw attention to but while you make a point of focusing on the conversation, you can't help or stop the blush that spread over your whole body, a heat that traveled faster than the sun and that left you stuttering for the right words.

"And well, I– what I meant was that I don't expect a lot, just for you to be there. Don't leave me behind in the unknown. I.. I'm in zero gravity space here, floating around in these endless questions." You gestured a lot with your hands, fiddling with the bow on your bikini top, smearing some water over the heated plastic in front of you, anything to calm your racing mind.

You were, like you said, out of your own depth and that not only came from Thranduil being different than other guys but also because your feelings were so much grander than anything else you've felt before.

Not just lust.

Not just attraction.

Not just admiration.

When Thranduil spoke up again, his voice was firm; calm, quiet, meant for just you, and firm: "I'm here and I'm in, one hundred percent of me."

"Good," you whispered, "Me too."

In that single moment, just thirteen words and a trembling of lips, a wave of relief washed over you, freeing you from the weight of countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, worried that all of this would be for nothing.

Thirteen simple words, mere letters strung together in infinite combinations, yet in that particular arrangement, they held the power to soothe your soul like nothing else could.

There was something in your chest that snapped, a tight leash of worries that had been bound around your heart, layering that precious muscle in a protective case so as to not get hurt again.

He visibly relaxed at that, not entirely, but there was a drop in his shoulders, a shift in his thighs; physically opening up to you and not just emotionally.

You decided to do the same and smiled.

"So," you started, "now that's finally out of the way. Was this the reason why you got all sassy and distant?"

He huffed, ever-attentive eyes roaming over the wide slopes and curves of the garden behind you as if there was an easier answer out there that he could offer you.

But you knew, without turning around, there was nothing else except for flowers and trees, maybe some hidden wine bottles that Legolas and you had snuck out and buried as time capsules right next to the patch of vegetables.

"Sassy, you say," he pondered, and you too thought back to the snippy comments that he had thrown Legolas's way when he came down the stairs and found Legolas rummaging through a box of old movies to watch with you; coming on rather defensive over movies you'd watched together, the three of you, two nights ago.

Or the night he knocked on Legolas's door to send you both to bed like you were two children and all you did was stare at each other in disbelief.

He must've come to the same conclusion as you, he pulled a very apologetic face that was downright hurtful to watch. "Oh, yes. I may or may not have been a total ass, haven't I?"

You agreed with a nod. "Total ass, like stage five. Me and Legolas were already thinking you'd robbed a bank or planned to overthrow the government with all the mood switches you'd going on."

There was a playful tone in your voice, despite the underlying accusation though you couldn't be bothered to force him to explain anything if he didn't wanted.

What he just said, the admission of attraction was more than you'd thought you got today, so you decided to let him off easy.

"Darling," he smirked, throwing the teasing right back at you, and you swallow loudly at the nickname, "I'm rich and a lawyer. If I wanted to lead this country I could simply pay for that seat." The way he said that completely self-assured in his abilities... or well... his bank account, made your stomach flip.

It took a total amount of five slow and counted breaths before you went back to thinking straight, or let alone to speaking again.

"I offer you my support in exchange for clearing my college debts. Sounds quite fair to me," you stated.

"I can just pay them off for you," Thranduil offered.

"Sure," you burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," Thranduil insisted but was met with a quick headshake from you. "Okay. But, and don't shoot me this look, the offer stands. You don't have to accept it right away, not in the near future. It's there, okay? Just like I am."

The words lingered between you, folded into your chest directly beneath your heart, which seemed to have no intention of stopping its erratic beating.

You were aware that if Legolas had made the same offer, you would have reacted differently—probably lashed out at him. After all, you weren't a charity case.

You worked not only to finance your university and room but also your free time, just as you had planned long before the Oropherion household showed you how easily some things came with money.

That's exactly what you would have told Legolas, perhaps adorned with a few curses or insincere insults, a bit offended until you both apologized.

Although Thranduil's offer hit the same sore spot and your ego, you couldn't help but ponder how it would feel to be cared for by him.

"I neither accept nor decline, okay?" You nailed him with a glance at the ground, through which he raised his hands in defense with a smirk. "First, I want a pony, one with a beautiful, long, blonde mane, because you never allow us to braid yours." Admittedly, you had never asked, but that didn't matter in this playful banter.

"Just–" Thranduil laughed huskily, "Just take it easy on this old man, alright?" Both of his hands grabbed the pool float with ease, pulling you into the open space his spread legs provided.

Your knees touched his, water sloshing up.

"Huh?" you pretended to look around, already breathless despite not having moved an inch.

"What are you doing?"

"Well–" you said, knee nudging his playful, "I'm looking for the old man. Wouldn't want some creep staring over the hedge."

Thranduil rolled his eyes slightly and raised one of his eyebrows. "I can see," he began, shaking his head with a harsh laugh, "you firecracker are about to drive me out of my mind."

You grinned cheekily at him. Your body unconsciously leaned forward, propped up on your elbows, you looked up at him and pursed your lips. "We never talked about playing fair."

He followed your example, his upper body leaning down until his face was mere inches away from yours.

This must be it, you think, taking him in one last time, rosy plush lips opened slightly, piercing eyes searching your face, blonde hair framing strong cheekbones, and you let your eyes fall close.

There was water rushing, the gentle bobbing on top of it, the wet coolness nipping everywhere except where his knees touched yours.

You leaned forward some more, yearning to finally learn what he tasted like, to memorize the burning touch of his lips on yours.

The inflatable shifted as he let go, opting to instead hold you close by laying his large hands on your neck, nearly spreading his fingers all around and you knew he felt your breath hitch and you suspected he must've felt the nervous flutter of your pulse like a hummingbird as well.

You awaited the kiss with bated breath.

It didn't come.

The subtle shift in weight, as you inched closer to Thranduil, proved to be the catalyst that upset the delicate equilibrium of the pool float.

In an instant, it slipped between your legs, and the last thing you felt was the tight grip of Thranduils hands on your shoulders.

The subsequent splash echoed with a deafening resonance, the world above the water muffled as you found yourself submerged, cut off from the surface.

Thranduil's body followed swiftly, his legs intertwined with yours, forcing him to tip underwater as well.

When you gasped for air, your brain not quite realizing that there was no air, not only did you swallow a mouthful of chlorinated water, the jerk of your knee came also close enough to kick him into the groin.

Thankfully you only got his thigh.

The water embraced you, surrounding you with playful gurgles and chuckles, as if nature itself joined in on the amusement of your unexpected descent.

Thranduil was the first to react.

His hands reached out, a strong arm securing around your middle, pulling you close. With a powerful push of his feet, you both burst through the water's surface.

"Fuck," you sputtered, the sting of chlorine in your eyes forcing you to shut them tightly against the blazing sun. "Fuck, shit, fuck."

Your flailing feet found purpose when Thranduil murmured, "Hold on, I've– I've got you!" Responding instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him.

Just before he hoisted you out of the water and placed you on the sun-soaked stones, you registered the firmness of his chest, the smoothness of his skin, and the subtle flex of every.single.muscle at play.

Coughing loudly and deeply from the shock and the overwhelming intake of water, not intended to be enjoyed in such excessive amounts, you spat some out onto the grass next to you.

"Fuck," you repeated. The stress of the situation crashed onto you, leaving you to cough and sit in the embarrassing position where you could only blink and take in a mushy version of Thranduils handsome face peering up at you.

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright." His voice pulled you back, calming the scratch in your throat.

"What– how?" you wheezed, body curling until you could rest your head on his broad shoulder. It was no comfortable position with him kicking the water to hold himself upright, hands holding onto your thighs and you bend nearly in half, but it helped.

The soothing circles his thumb drew over your skin, the reassuring words he mumbled.

"I'm so embarrassed, oh my god," you whined. "I can't believe this happened."

"Hey–" His large palm cupped your cheek, tipping your head back to lock his eyes onto yours. "Hey look at me." His fingers stroked over your temple, slightly pressing into it. "You could've hit a much worse spot than you did."

You snorted, "Yes, then I would've probably drowned myself."

The same moment you wanted to try again, chasing that adrenaline high, the loud "What the fuck happened?" of Legolas sounded over to you and all you two could do was burst out into laughter.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

I. “the club within the club”

parts: next

plot: when you find yourself needing a topic for a journalism final, you seek out an interview from Gotham’s elusive vigilante: Batman. this proves even more difficult than it already sounds, and tensions rise when you discover an intimate secret—just as Bruce Wayne realizes his own.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MATURE! NSFW! canon-typical violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, forced proximity, eventual smut, mutual pining, POV alternating, Bruce Wayne needs a hug, mental health issues (psychosis, suicidality), substance use, blackmail (or is it?), serious health issues, grief, brief mention of sa, gaslighting, mild gore

words: 1.8k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve posted to tumblr and ao3, very excited to see how people like it ✨ same user on ao3 :) comments and reblogs are so appreciated! 💖

"I couldn't turn in the assignment last week, I'm so sorry," You fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Your professor wasn't too happy with you; this assignment was creating a piece of journalism (she heavily implied wanting it to be about happenings in Gotham, though it wasn’t a requirement) but you couldn't get any leads. Dr. Vry was usually the picture of impatience, though she had a soft spot for you—she described you as a ‘journalistic prodigy’. You didn't see it, and it didn't help that you couldn't even write your final piece when graduation was so near. While you’d done well in the intro courses, now that the material was more complex… you were struggling. She would say it’s all in your head, and the only thing holding you back was lack of confidence in your burgeoning journalism skills—you weren’t so sure. You had come from a sociology background but had interest in learning journalism with your last few credits, unaware how much grief this would cause you.

Dr. Vry gently shook her head, breaking you out of your ruminations. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. I'll extend it until the end of next week without point reduction. But after that it's out of my hands!" With that you thanked her, hurrying out of the class with your book tightly squeezed to your chest. Thank god, you thought. I can’t fail out of a class in my last term.

That evening you holed up in your apartment per usual. You lazily texted your one friend here in the city, but she was out clubbing. Her name was Margaret; you’d met in a sociology course last school year when you transferred, and she had been the only one kind enough to show you around the city. She was a social butterfly, however, so you and her kept in touch but it was only ever surface-level. You longed for more companionship, but knew you'd be leaving Gotham after graduation. It was too lonely here. Mar didn't usually respond but tonight, she did.

Y/N, get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little to yourself at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers.

No thanks, have fun! You typed back.

Within a second she had disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. Ugh. You were tired from a long day of classes, and didn't want to go get humped by random men. Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to try and get something from a woman. You should have expected as much, but coming from your small town you were naive. You picked up your phone and looked back at the screen. More inspiration... she might be right. You looked around at your empty walls and the waning light outside, the sun rapidly falling giving way to a dark, rainy abyss.

Fine, only for an hour.

You reluctantly walked over to your closet to pick an outfit. This was gonna be a long night.

You found yourself standing out under your apartment patio, shivering in your mini dress. You chose one that was black and sequined, with some shiny black faux leather heels to match. You had hurried and only put on lashes, lipgloss, and brow gel, because you thought your driver would be on time. You whipped out your phone and went onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social media. You didn't bother going on very often, only on the rare occasion Mar dragged you out into the city. There was a handy 'Crime' tab, which had up-to-the-minute updates on crime here. It seemed pretty empty, only some car vandalisms in the past hour. Hmm. You felt a little uneasy, it was unusually calm for a Friday evening. Maybe it's a good thing. Wouldn't want to go out during a crime surge. You looked up just as bright headlights pulled up. Your driver called out your name, and you slunk into the backseat.

The drive was quick, with clubs practically on every corner. Mar hadn't told you which one, so you weren't prepared when the car pulled up to the most elite club in the city. Your face went pale, and you started making excuses to the driver. "I'm so sorry, my friend must have given you wrong directions—"

"No, it's correct." He replied, sternly. You started taking out cash to pay, but he shook his head and put his hand up to you. "Your friend already paid, Miss." Flustered, you thanked him and stepped out. The line wasn't too long, so you got behind a few people who were laughing hysterically. You noticed some green tinfoil out of their pocket. Drops. You forgot all the biggest dealers hung around here every night. What was Mar thinking bringing you here?

The line moved fast so you didn't have much time to find an excuse to leave. You held out your ID to the burly, tall bouncer who gave you a once-over and a smirk. You stifled a groan, hating being looked at like a meal. Men in Gotham. Of course. The bouncer grinned and handed back your card, holding out another hand for the club fee. Shit. You fumbled in your bag and realized you didn't know the amount. Sheepishly, you looked over from your bag and scanned the wall behind him as quickly as possible. $50. Jesus. You managed to find three twenties crumpled at the bottom of your bag, and begrudgingly handed them over. He smiled and opened the door for you. "No change."

Well, guess I'm eating ramen this week.

Your ears began ringing the second you entered the booming club. People were packed in like sardines, and before you could even muster a thought you were grabbed fast from behind.

"Y/N!!!" Mar wrapped you in a hug and you grabbed her to steady yourself. "Shit, Mar,"

"You look SO good! Fuck yeah!" She smiled and smacked your butt as she took your hand and led you towards the stairs. "I met some guys that got us a lounge!" She was giggling but you pulled back, wincing. You didn't want to be surrounded by men all night, you'd already been sufficiently creeped on by the bouncer.

"Jeez, I thought this was a girl's night," You moaned. She shook her head, grinning. "C'mon Y/N, get loose!" As she turned back to step up the stairs, a circle of green tinfoil fell from her pocket. You yanked your hand back, frustrated. She was wasted right now. "MAR." You bent down to pick up the tinfoil just as a tall man came up behind you, grinding against your ass. You turned around and shoved him back as Mar stepped up. "Hey, you don't fuck with a woman like that bitch!" She shouted.

BAM BAM BAM BAM. Popping noises that sounded like gunshots rang out from the far corner of the bar. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You grabbed for the railing to head for the exit when people running from downstairs rammed into you. You covered your head with your arms while you ducked, hearing the gunshots get closer and closer. I shouldn't have come. I don't want to die. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be in Gotham. What the fuck am I doing here? I shouldn't have come. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm going to fucking die.

You heard a rapid increase in gunfire and then a total ceasing. You wanted to look up, but it was too terrifying. You felt sweat on your entire body as it became electrified with adrenaline — you had known how unsafe Gotham was, you just hadn't seen yourself in the crossfire... until now. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing yourself hard against the side of the stair to try and make your body as small and compact as possible. I could be dead with just one bullet.

Before more morbid thoughts could form, you felt your body being lifted and you were slung over someone's shoulder. Something was hard and slick against your stomach, and you quickly opened your eyes to see the world whizzing around you. The arm that held you was strong, so strong you couldn't slip out if you tried. You ducked your head as the person ran you both toward the back exit with total ease. Panic began to set in. It's so dark. Who is this? Is he gonna have his way with me?

As soon as you were brought an alley down, fully away from the chaos, you began fighting against the person. The streets were so dark you still could hardly see, but it felt like they were armored. "Let me GO!" You shouted, trying with all your might to shove them off of you, to no avail.

"Stop fighting." A low, gravelly voice said right next to your ear. You continued to try and push your way off of him to the point where you felt a bruise forming on your bottom ribs. This motherfucker isn't gonna let me go, is he?

Now he relinquished his grasp and you slid off the stranger, landing squarely in a puddle. You looked up and through the darkness saw a masked man clad in deepest black... the Batman.

"Thanks, uh," You immediately broke eye contact, feeling awkward. You felt bad for fighting so hard against him, but you didn't know any better. Before you could fully realize the gravity of what had just happened, how Vengeance himself was standing before you, he noticed something glint behind your ear.

"Wait, turn around." The voice was low and gravelly still, and you spun around instantaneously. You'd heard good things about the Batman in your year and a half here. A few of your classmates had direct experience with him, having been saved on one occasion or another. "He never stuck around, he was always gone as quickly as he came." Your peers told you.

Suddenly the back of your head lit up in flaming pain.

"You need stitches." He stepped back and through the dark of night you saw a screen light up on his arm. "Victim with head wound on Feller and Kelley." You heard a faint 'Roger' before the screen went black. You'd hit your head pretty damn hard, and fear shot through you at the same time as relief. You were technically safe, but you had to get a needle snaked through your scalp. The thought made you physically ill.

To your surprise, he was already halfway down the alleyway when you looked back; just as he turned out of view, police lights illuminated the alley behind you. Holy fuck, you'd just met the Batman.

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Hello! I am a fellow affogato (simp ahem) FAN-fan yes-fan

and I would like to request a yandere!affogato(with hypnotic abilities ofc) with a warrior reader who slowly falls for him and well

what happened next is up to you

(also Pookie bear may I be 🪻anon?)

Advisor in Distress

I'm just gonna be making apologies to my requesters from December so prepare yourself for a bunch of repetitive comments- Also, I think I did add you to my anon list, but I'll check just in case.

Disclaimer: I did not edit this, at all.

Tw: basically drugging but in small amounts, hypnosis

You knew who Affogato was. Everybody knew who he was. The grand royal advisor for his majesty. From your knowledge, he could be quite the snarky one. He would come to your comrades to comment that they haven't trained properly or guarded the citadel's walls.

You hated it when he insulted your friends and higher-ups. You knew they were doing their job as best as they could and were doing anything but slacking off. But it seemed Affogato wanted to do everything but be appreciative of them.

That was until a few weeks ago.

He started to hang around where the warriors were more frequently. Often going up to you and praising how hard you were working or how strong you were. It was weird and quite creepy. You were the only one getting this barrage of praises, so you felt like your comrades weren't getting enough.

So most days you ignored him or just answered with a nod.

But today he had more to give. All the warriors within your group had gotten incense sticks from Affogato as a present. Yours looked slightly more purple, but you didn't pay much mind to it. When you lit the sticks in honour of your dead comrades, there was a certain smell.

The scent had a heavy espresso smell along with a hint of cream. It was a pleasant one to be around. As you kneeled before the incense pot, you felt a sudden dizziness come over you. You steady yourself with a hand to the ground, but some thoughts start rushing through your mind.

The royal advisor did look extremely pretty last Tuesday. Was it his eyes? Or was it his elegant walk? You aren't sure. You brush it off and go back to your post.

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The night is evident by the darkened sky and the glowing stars. The citadel is asleep, except for a few guards ensuring the safety of the kingdom. Through the shadows and dim spaces, a cookie in black robes swiftly passes by the silent halls.

They slide the door open to one of the many rooms for the warriors. The cookie steps inside without a sound, shutting the door with careful movement. They take off their hood, revealing none other than Affogato himself.

He kneels by the sleeping mat, watching the warrior sleep; the warrior being MC Cookie, his dear beloved. He smiles a wicked and loving grin. "Oh, how long will it take for you to fall in love with me? I need someone to protect me once I'm ruler, you know~" He whispers to them, expecting no response.

He leans closer, so close to touching their blanket-covered body now. "I've waited far too long. Everything will be in my grasp: the kingdom, the people, and you. My sweet knight." The advisor pressed a light kiss onto their cheek before leaving the room. No trace was left except for a small incense burning on top of a dresser; hidden from plain view.

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(Jealous twink needs his protector- honestly goals)

(This was pretty fun to write! Honestly, requests aren't that bad once you start writing them. It's the effort to start them that's hard).

- Celina

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

Truth or dare - Joe Toye x F!Reader

Summary: Could taking Toye's cigarette from his mouth on a dare be the push Reader and him need to cut the recent tension in their friendship?

Warnings: Cursing, heavy make-up, suggestive ending. 1st person POV (female, no use of y/n).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: This is the second fic I've posted today and I'm really hoping it's good. The ending leaves room for a possible smut part 2 if anyone is interesting. Comments, likes, reblogs mean everything to me. Thank you & enjoy!

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"What's so funny?" I ask as I sit down at the nurses table in the mess hall. I got there just in time to grab the last bits of lunch options before my shift starts.

"We are playing 'truth or dare' and Emily just had to answer who she'd rather kiss: Tab or Luz." Betty told me between giggles.

"Well? Who'd you pick?" I shoot Emily a smirk, already knowing her answer as we've been the only ones in our group that came from Toccoa and therefore the closest.

"Tab." Her face gets redder, as if that was possible, then she gets a mischievous look in her eye. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." I know she knows too much dirt on me to let her ask a question. But judging by the smile spreading on her face, I'm not sure I chose correctly.

"Go get that cigarette Toye is smoking." Her smile widens as the girls within earshot say 'oh' and some whistle.

Joe Toye is not someone that most of the nurses like dealing with. Not that he's rude or inappropriate, he just intimidates them. Not as bad as Spiers, but they put him right up there. From an outsiders point of view I can understand, he's not overly friendly like most of the guys in Easy you have to work a little to weasel past the hard exterior.

For myself, all I had to do was shoot Tab down for the billionth time back in Georgia as I was wrapping up his ankle that he twisted on yet another Currahee run. Don't get me wrong, I like Tab but not in that way and the quicker I could make him understand that the sooner we could just enjoy being friends.

Right when I was finishing up with his wrap, he started to say another pick-up line and being at my wits end I snapped a little. Grabbing his ankle I put enough pressure on it that made him stop talking and sit up straighter.

"Tab, if you come onto me one more time I will break your ankle. Do you understand me?" I kept my voice low and hard, maintaining direct eye contact so he knew I wasn't playing. With a small gulp, he nodded his head and I put on my most charming smile. "Wonderful, now take it easy with that ankle. If Sobel gives you a hard time about it, let me know and I'll put in a word with my supervisor to find a reason to annoy him."

With a final nod, I got him off the bed and started to help him to the door when a hand pushed me to the side and took my spot next to Tab. My protest died on my lips as I came face to face with Toye.

"I can take him from here, ma'am, thanks." He threw Tab's arm over his shoulder and started moving to the door. Two steps later he looked over his shoulder back at me with a small smirk on his face and said, "Remind me to not piss you off when you're fixing me up." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back around and kept himself and Tab moving.

From that day forward a friendship of sorts grew and since landing in Europe and dealing with the horrors of the war in our faces everyday, we'd grown even closer. The past few weeks things are taken a turn to being more flirty with beginning stages of intimacy. Jokes whispered in each others ears just so we can be closer than normal, fingers touching when handing each other items, lingering hugs, forehead and cheek kisses. It was all adding up and creating a tension neither of us seemed ready yet to break but didn't want to dispel either.

Emily's foot nudging mine under the table breaks me from my memories and makes me send her a glare. She's fully aware of the gray area Toye and I are in at the moment and seems to be all too happy to add fuel to that fire. I give a loud sigh and look around till I find him sitting a few rows to our left, sitting with Guarnere and Buck. Inwardly I groan, those two are never going to let me live this down.

With a final glare in her direction, I stand up and make my way over towards the guys. I can feel all of the girls eyes on my back which does nothing in helping me stay calm.

All three of them see me at the same time and smile in greeting.

"Hey doll, how's it going?" Buck asks as I sit across from him, next to Toye.

"About to go on shift, thought I'd say a quick hi and get a smoke." I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Here ya go." Bill tosses his pack my way from next to Buck.

"Thanks, but uh, I think I'll take this one." Before I can over think it, I pluck the cigarette resting between Toye's lips and take a long drag. I blow the smoke right in his face, hoping it'll hide how red my face is and stand up quickly. "Always a pleasure."

I practically jog to the nurses table, ignoring the laughs and 'good jobs' as I grab Emily by the arm and force her to leave the mess hall with me. I don't let go of her until we are nearly at the medic station. With a final puff I toss my stolen cigarette into the road and turn to face my friend that hasn't stopped beaming at me since I grabbed her.

"What?!" I sound almost frantic.

"Oh calm down, it's not the end of the world. It was just a cigarette."

"How do I even begin to explain what that was?" I put my hands on my hips.

Emily shrugs and flicks some invisible dust off her shoulder, "Just tell him that it was dare. But honestly, I don't think he really cares why you did it. The way he was looking at you as we left was more than mild interest. You're welcome." She pats my cheek and goes into the medic station, leaving me with no choice but to groan and follow her.

It doesn't take long for me to push the earlier experience from my mind and become overwhelmed with current and new patients in need of varying medical attention. Most are stable and just need an easy wrapping or cleaning up. There's a few that have been with us for a little while that still need monitoring but they're in relatively good spirits so it helps make the shift not too depression.

It's fully dark outside when I finally am able to step away and take a breather. With a signal to Emily letting her know I'll be around back, I slip out quietly and lean against the backwall of the building. I can't be alone more than a few minutes when I hear footsteps heading my way. I just want to be alone. But my annoyance goes away when I see who it is.

Neither of us speaks as he stops right in front of me and tucks a lose piece of hair behind my ear.

"You okay?" His words are soft and light, barely above a whisper as if he's afraid anything louder would break the small bit of peace we've managed to get in this hidden area. All I do is nod, not wanting to elaborate on the different faces and wounds I've been dealing with the past hours. His response is to pull me in his arms and spin us around so that his back is against the wall and I'm leaning against him.

We stay like that for a bit, listening to the noises on the street and each other breathing. It's nearly enough to make me fall asleep when I feel his chest rumble and the question I've been dreading is asked.

"So what was that at lunch?" I groan into his chest before pushing back far enough to look at his face. Fuck Joe Toye for being beautiful and sexy at the same time when he allows himself to give a full smile, not just a smirk.

"The girls were playing truth or dare and that was my dare. Sorry." I shoot him a small smile and pray he just drops it. He gives a small hum as he takes in my words.

"Well then, truth or dare?" He leans more against the wall, waiting for my answer. I gape at him.

"You can't be serious." The intimidating Joe Toye is trying to play 'truth or dare' with me? What the fuck.

"I'm always seriously," Joe winks, "so, truth or dare?" The glint in his eyes tells me there is no safe choice.

"Dare." I'd rather do something stupid than be asked something I'd rather not answer right now.

The silence stretches between us almost to an unbearable point, making me start to fidget in his arms.

"Close your eyes." His words make me freeze and my face scrunches up in confusion.

"That's my dare?" I'm trying to figure out what the catch is, but I can't find one.

"Close. Your. Eyes." His voice leaves no room for argument and since it's not anything crazy all I can do is comply.

With my eyes closed I try to use my others senses to figure out what his next step is. At first all he does is stand up straighter, move one hand up my back and gently cups my cheek. Joe pulls me a little closer to him and then I can feel his breathe on my lips.

"I'm going to do something now and I only want you to respond if it's something you really want. If you don't, just push me away." I barely finish processing his words when his lips brush against mine softly, teasingly.

When I don't make a move to push him away, he gently pecks my lips still in a teasing manner. The next time his lips touch mine I grab onto his jacket to hold him there and kiss him back. At the feel of his tongue tracing my lips I open my mouth and let him have complete control.

We lose track of time staying wrapped up in each others arms, making out like teenagers. We break apart at the same time when we finally need air. I'm not sure what comes over me but I kiss along his cheek, making my way to his neck and begin nipping at his exposed flesh. The hand that had been on my check moves to my the back of my head, fisting my hair but not moving me away. His breathing is becoming more ragged and when a groan escapes his lips from a particular bite I leave I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. As my tongue works to sooth the sting, the hand that was on my back drops down and grabs my ass, pushing my hips against his, letting me feel his erection.

"Joe." His name comes out as a whimper mixed with a moan and that makes him grind against me again.

Just as we are about to kiss again, someone clears their throat and we freeze.

"Very sorry to interrupt, and believe me I am sorry, but I need help checking wounds and restocking the stations." Emily's voice is both amused and apologetic.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, Em." My voice comes out much too ragged but it's not like she doesn't know the reason at this point. I wait till her footsteps grow faint, before beginning to pull away from Joe. He's slow to let me go and only manages to move his hands back to my waist.

"I should be off in a few more hours...can I come find you after?"

"No need, I'll be waiting outside for you. I believe we have some things to finish." He pulls me flush against him, making his point perfectly clear. Before I can think of a cheeky response, he gives me a final, firm kiss and spins me around towards to way back inside the building.

I walk a few steps, then turn around and shoot him an innocent smile, "No touching before you find me, Toye. I have a few ideas on how to spice up 'truth or dare'." I laugh lightly to myself when all I can hear as I round the corner to the building entrance is Joe cursing.

[luckybitchsstuff]

could you do something angsty with trent alexander arnold? like maybe you two get into a huge fight and break up but he wants you back?

Sometimes we say things we don't mean - Trent Alexander Arnold

Pairing - Trent Alexander Arnold x female reader

Warnings - some swear words and arguing but nothing to bad

Omg okay, this is a good one. Also, I have around seven requests at the moment, including this one, so if you have requested and it takes a while for me to post it, I'm sorry

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It was stupid you made a silly remark on how girls were tripping over their own feet after seeing Trent. At first, he laughed about it, but as soon as you got home, he changed completely, and now you were stuck in the middle of a fight that was stupid and didn't need to be happening

“I don't even know why you are so angry. It was a little joke,” you shouted back at him as he scoffed. “You know exactly what you have been doing. You get so possessive and controlling over anything I do. You must stop blaming girls within a 5-meter radius of being in love with me.”

You shook your head. “I'm not being possessive or controlling. It's true, Trent. Everywhere we go, girls are drooling over you, and you barely pay any attention to me. It hurts, you know to be thrown to the side as I watch girls touch up on you, and you act like nothing is happening!” you felt tears burning in your eyes you could just curl into a ball

“Maybe if you didn't need attention 24/7 like a lost puppy, I wouldn't act like this, and you expect me to stand next to you when you look likeninjsut picked you up off the street for about 20 pounds an hour.” you stared at him in disbelief no fucking way he just compared you to a prostitute

“Fuck you, and we're done.” before he could say anything else, you grabbed your bag and keys and walked straight to your car, getting in and driving away without looking back. You couldn't believe he'd say that to you after your four years together. A fight has never been that bad

You got to your sister's house it was around 12:30 when you got there so you were sure she wasn't awake but you needed to stay somewhere and she was the only place close you walked up to the door ringing the door bell twice after a minute you heard the door unlocking to see a very sleepy personnstood at the door it wasn't your sister it was her boyfriend

“Is y/s/n here?” he nodded, and after seeing your state, he let you in. If anyone had seen your state, they would think you were pissed out of your mind, the mascara all over your face, bloodshot eyes from the crying, and your hair wasn't straight anymore. It was frizzy

“She's upstairs in bed. She's awake, though. I'll sit down here till you want me to come up.” you rubbed your back slightly before going to sit on the sofa. You made your way up the stairs and walked into your sister's room. She lifted her head from her phone, and as soon as she saw you, she sat up and wrapped her arms around you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes before she stood up to get some makeup wipes for you to wipe your face. “What happened?” she sat in front of you handing you the wipes

You told her starting from when you were out to when you left the house she gave you another hug telling you that you can sleep in her spear bedroom

It had been two days since your and Trent's argument, and you were starting to feel a little better, but you needed him back. You had barely slept because you couldn't without him there.

You heard a knock on the front door. You were about to stand up, but your sister beat you to it and walked towards the door, which you couldn’t see from the living room. You heard someone come in thinking nothing about it since her friends came over a lot

Your sister walked in, giving you a look, and then Trent followed. You felt relieved to see him, but you were still hurt by what he said to you. He smiled slightly at you before asking if you guys could talk. You nodded, and your sister left the room to go upstairs to give you both space to talk.

“I'm just going to say this now before you say anything. Whatever I said to you that night was wrong, and I know I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you, either. You were telling me how you feel, and as your boyfriend, I should always listen to you.” he stopped for a few seconds before continuing. “I'm not saying you must forgive me yet, but please just come home. I can't sleep knowing you're angry at me and also knowing you're just not with me, so please just come home.”

He looked down while waiting for you to respond. You didn't know what to say. You knew you wanted to forgive him, but you didn't know how or what to say

“I forgive you, but it still hurts Trent. Hearing the words come out of your mouth hurts a lot. I knew you didn't mean it straight away, but at the time, it was heated, and I shouldn't have dragged it out. This isn't just your fault I'll come home but I need to get my stuff ready okay?” you looked up at him to see him staring at you

You stood up to go get your bag but your sister was already holding it at the door. “Wow, you really must want to get rid of me!” you both laughed as Trent grabbed your bag for you and took it to your car as you were putting your shoes on he came back in

He gave you a hug you felt comforted again. God, had you missed this, you looked up at him, going on your tiptoes to kiss him before sinking back down and laying your head on his chest again. “I'm sorry I hurt you,” he said lowly. You lifted your head and looked up at him. “I forgive you.” he leaned it, connecting your lips again, and for the first time in 3 days, you felt comfort knowing you were back in his arms and that he was still yours.

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Sorry this took so long I've been so busy recently but ill start posting more again soon thank you guys for the requests love you all

[writinggremlin]

It. Is time. I'm hyped, I hope you are too. Let's fucking go!!!!

Here is the ask that spawned this series. (Prompt from the Video Game Whump Prompts)

I'm using a screenshot for now because only part of the plot contains the binding and gagging and--... killing? Well anygay, I'll answer the ask properly once that part goes up. Until then, enjoy!

Something to note, I am considering this series to be an AU as of posting this. That's because I tend to keep the Cafe Pals as side characters that stay out and away from the main plot. This might change in the future, it might not, but for now it shall be an AU.

Masterlist

CW (under cut): Kidnapping/Capture, Drugging, (Dart) Gun, Manhandling, Choking, Non-Con Touching (Not Sexual), Unconsciousness

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Bind... Gag... Kill. (Pt. 1)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The sound of jingling bells signaled the arrival of another customer. Jacky glanced up towards the doorway that lead out to the front where Sunni was, then up at the clock. The last of the afternoon rush had recently left, and it was far from dinner time still, so it was likely that they just came in for a treat. Maybe a coffee for that mid-day energy boost.

Whatever the reason, she knew Sunni would be able to handle it, so she went back to kneading her bread dough.

It wasn't long before an unexpected thump sounded through the otherwise empty cafe. That... didn't sound right. She looked over to Mars, who exchanged a glance with her.

"The hell...?" He muttered, before heading out to the front to check it out.

Jacky grabbed a towel for her hands, and followed after him. Her pace sped up when she heard him yelp.

"Woah, ok, don't-- AH! Hey!! What are you-- what did you--... you... shhhit..."

Jacky rounded the corner just in time to watch Mars crumple to the ground in front of her. Behind the counter was Sunni, who was also out cold, and on the other side was a young woman with short, rainbow hair. She was holding a pistol-like gun, and her attention shot up to Jacky as soon as she came within view.

Instead of aiming the gun over at her too, she lowered it, grinning as she put it down on the counter, "Haiii!!" Her voice was bright, with a level of cheerfulness that Jacky found hard to believe was even possible for a situation like this. The woman laughed in a sheepish manner as she continued, "Sorry about all of this! I'll be out of your hair here soon, we just need to... borrow you guys for a quick moment here, ok?"

Jacky stumbled a step back. Her heart started to pound in her chest. Who even was this woman?! "W-Wh-- I-- Borrow?? What the fuck do y--"

She was cut short by an arm that wrapped around her neck from behind. In the same moment, that stranger had vanished from her view in the blink of an eye. A mask was quickly clamped over her mouth and nose.

"Shhhhh..." Came a cheerfully hushed voice next to her ear, "Just relax and take a deep breath for me. Don't try to fight it, and you'll be out in no time."

"Like hell, you fucking bitch! Let me go!!" Her words were muffled through the mask, and she already started to feel lightheaded from whatever was getting dumped into her system. But she couldn't just let herself go without a fight, and so the struggle began.

Despite the arms securing her looking thin and small, her attacker was far from weak. Her hold was firm; solid like steel. But even so, it only took a few elbows to the gut for Jacky to be able to wrench herself free.

She stumbled, coughed, then turned and lunged at her assailant; wrestled her down to the ground. The tussle was a blur. They grappled with each other, both with the goal to restrain the other.

Jacky soon managed to secure a chokehold on the attempted kidnapper. She squeezed her arm around her neck tight, and wrapped her legs tighter around her torso.

Her eyes glanced to the side as she caught her breath. Her glasses were on the floor near the mask, which was attached to a handheld canister of gas.

A jolt went through her body when there was suddenly nothing in her arms, and something -- or rather, someone -- looming over her. That confirmed her suspicions from earlier. This person can teleport.

"Gotta say," The young woman sounded out of breath, "I didn't expect you to put up such a good fight! That was fun, but sadly, I have a curfew and no more time to waste soooo... Goodnight!"

Before Jacky could respond, the attacker wound up her fist and--

...

A low groan escaped Jacky as she blinked open her eyes. The noise sounded odd, foreign... strange... Everything was feeling strange.

A pair of shoes entered her vision. Black shoes, with the colors of the rainbow across the bottoms of the soles. She was on the ground, she realized. Trying to push herself up, she felt something move on her face. It was covering her mouth and nose. A hand grabbed her shoulder, gently pushing her back down.

The rainbow woman crouched down next to her, "Shhhh, lay back down for me now. All of that fighting must've left you so tired, wouldn't you say?" Jacky felt fingers starting to card through her hair, and though it felt nice, she still knew who the touch belonged to. She jerked away, which felt more exhausting than she thought.

There was a twinkle of laughter dancing about her words, "Calm down, sweetie. It's ok! I'm not gonna hurt you." She spoke in soft coos and gentle tones, as if befriending a stray cat.

Jacky felt the hand return to her shoulder, now gently massaging and caressing the area. Part of her knew it was a shallow, faux comfort, but she found that she didn't have the strength to pull away anymore. And besides... she had to admit, it felt maybe, just a little nice...

"You must've really tuckered yourself out, huh? That's ok, you can sleep if you want to."

She could sleep if she wanted to...

"That's right. Just let those heavy-- nono, it's ok. It's ok, love. Don't resist it. Just let your eyelids flutter shut... Yes, just like that... There you go. Good, very good."

She felt the hand in her hair again, and she automatically leaned into the touch this time, eliciting a hum of a laugh from the other.

"Awww, you're so adorable!"

"You're so adorable, you know that?"

The corner of Jacky's mouth quirked up slightly at the imagined sound of Sunni's voice.

"Just go to sleep now..."

"You can go to sleep for a little bit, I don't mind."

"Everything will be..."

"Everything will be..."

"Just fine..."

"Just fine..."

"When you wake up..."

"When you wake up..."

"I will be right here if you need anything..."

"You're safe."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Is she though? Is she really? Teehee

Tune in next time to see where this fun, exciting field trip leads them!

Masterlist | Next

Taglist (:000!! I have a taglist now!!): @whumperofworlds (you wanted more Cafe Pals? You get more Cafe Pals. It seems that the ask gods have smiled down on you today, my friend.)

If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, feel free to let me know!

[scoonsalicious]

Since I'm on a posting break until the 23rd so I can write, I thought I'd entertain you with some Unwanted: Unusables, or, early drafts from the fic that didn't make it into the final cut.

This first one is from an early draft of Chapter 5: Unprofessional. A little bit about the draft: In the beginning, Pocket and Bucky were never meant to actually get into a relationship. They were just FWB until Jade came along (who had many in between names, like Emily, Jewel, Sage, etc., and was NOT supposed to be crazy evil, just... kind of a bitch), and the plan was for only Pocket to catch feelings at first, and for Bucky to sleep with Jade in Russia because he actually liked her and wanted to, and to come back to the Tower with her as his girlfriend and kind of leaving Pocket in the dust.

Obviously, this isn't what ended up happening. I couldn't help myself. I needed these two idiots in love. With that in mind, please enjoy these next few days of "Unusables." This particular one starts off with Pocket going back to her room after giving Jade her Tower tour.

I'm actually scheduling all of these before I start my break, lol, so don't worry-- by the time you read this, I'll be writing more WFLT...

You made it back down to your suite in record time and were delighted to find Bucky sitting in one of your arm chairs, an open copy The Times in his hands.

"Hey there, soldier," you said as you kicked off your heels. You raised your skirt as you approached him, giving your legs the freedom they needed to straddle his lap as you sat down in front of him.

He didn't look up from his paper, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well, hello there, Pocket." His metal hand came up to rest on your knee, fingers tracing circles on your skin. The touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" you asked with a smirk.

Bucky snorted, finally looking up from his paper, one eyebrow raised. "Mouth like that, did they let you into this fancy building, or did you just sneak in through the vents?"

You smiled, tracing the lines of his face with your fingers. "Maybe I just I crawled up through the sewer line," you teased, putting a kiss to his jawline.

"That's my dirty girl," he grinned. You looked at him. You knew he was only teasing you, but he'd called you his girl.

And damn if that wasn't doing something to your insides.

"You okay, Doll?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You nodded, trying to push away the seemingly overwhelming emotions that were stirring within you. "Um, yeah, I'm fine. Just got lost in thought for a minute; Jewel Carthage is upstairs meeting with Steve and Tony right now. They'll be

coming down to the common room to introduce her to everyone once they're finished."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Jewel's interview was today." Bucky's tone was completely unconvincing. "It completely slipped my mind."

"Oh, we lying to each other now?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light and your insecurity at bay. It was totally fine for him to express interest in getting to know a potential new member of the team, you reminded yourself. Totally fine and not a complete rejection of you at all. Okay, who was the liar now?

"Absolutely not," his voice was now deep with sincerity. "Never." You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, but he leaned back and asked:

"So, how did the tour go? What was she like?" You debated whether or not to tell him about what she'd said about him, but decided against it. You found you didn't want him feeling flattered by her disgusting line of questioning, and the fact that you were censoring what you said to him made you feel gross.

"Can't say I was a fan," you told him. At least that was the truth. Just not all of it. "I found her to be incredibly unprofessional and, honestly? Kind of a bitch."

"Hey," Bucky gently chastised, "give the kid a break. She was probably freaking out. It's hard being the new kid in the Tower, you know?" You shrugged; you didn't know, really. You'd been with Tony from the beginning. Bucky went on: "Remember how much of an ass I was when I first met you?" he asked, then impersonating himself, said: "'What the hell kind of name is Pocket?'" You nodded, giggling as you remembered. "But you looked past my obnoxious nerves and I wormed my way into your heart and now you're my best friend and you're stuck with me forever." You nodded, laughing at the memory.

"Well, you're lucky I wanna be stuck with you forever," you told him without thinking.

"Is that so?" he asked, voice growing thick.

"Ugh, don't let it go to your head, Barnes." You buried your head into his shoulder to cover your embarrassment, only for him to put his hands on your hips and roll your core across his clothed erection.

"Oh, it definitely went to my head, Doll," he said as he drew your hips together again, eliciting a moan from deep within you. "I just can't confirm which one." The friction was delicious, and you put your hands on his shoulders to find purchase as you began grinding against him in an increasing rhythm.

"Fuck, Pocket," Buck grunted as he thrust his pelvis up into yours, "how can you feel this fucking good before I can even get inside you?"

"Jesus, Buck," you gasped as you felt the length of him drag along your covered slit, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit every time he pulled you forward, "just like that... Harder, please, God, please.' You were panting, desperate for the release that you were chasing. "You feel so good. God, so fucking good."

Bucky took his metal hand off of your hip and gripped your chin. "Come here," he growled, pulling your lips to his in a desperate kiss as he continued grinding you against him.

"Gonna make me cum in my pants like a fucking teenager," he moaned. His hand gripped the back of your head, pulling your forehead against his. "You're so fucking sweet, Pocket." You loved the words that came out of his mouth the more he came undone beneath you, and the fact that you were the one doing it to him made you feel incredibly powerful.

"Ms. (Y/L/N)," FRIDAY's voice filled your room, causing Bucky to halt his movements, "Mr. Stark is requesting you and Mr. Barnes in the common room for Ms. Carthage's team meet and greet in fifteen minutes."

You groaned, trying to pull Bucky closer so you could chase his lips in spite of the interruption, but he moved his head away.

"We should head up, then, huh?" Bucky gently moved to tug you off of his lap.

"We could be a little late," you said, reluctantly standing up and straightening your skirt. "There's no rule that says we have to be perfectly punctual. Let me at least get you off before we go up." You started to kneel in front of him, reaching for his belt, but Bucky stood up, stopping you.

"I don't want to be rude," he said, reaching up and freeing your hair from its bun, running his fingers across your scalp.

"Oh, God," you murmured as you leaned into his touch, "that feels fucking amazing." He brought his other hand up and began massaging your scalp with both hands, gently tugging at the roots of your hair. The sensation immediately relaxed you.

After a few moments, you felt his hands pull away. Cupping your face, he smiled at you. "Why don't I head up now, and you can get changed and meet me?"

You checked your watch; he really hadn't given you much of a choice at this point.

But then, he abruptly stopped and stepped back, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, doll, we should probably behave ourselves for now." He pulled away and returned to his discarded copy of The Times. You tried to hide your disappointment. He hadn't initiated any intimate contact with you since the day he had seen Jewel's file almost two weeks ago. You were started to take it a little personally.

You had never really thought of him as anything more than your best friend (and someone you had mind-blowing sex with), but lately, there had been moments where you couldn't stop thinking about him. Moments where his touch felt electric, or his voice made you feel something deep in your core.

It was confusing, and part of you was terrified at the idea of giving in to those feelings. But another part of you wondered if maybe there was something worth exploring there. If maybe you were ready for something real.

But his recent distance had given you pause. Had you done something off putting? He had seemed to really enjoy the blow job you'd given him that night, which was the last time the two of you had done anything that could be remotely described as sexual. You made a promise to yourself to broach the topic with him when you both got ready for bed later in the evening, after the meet and greet with Jade was over and you could put her out of both of your minds, for good.

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #42

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, not a foot

...

Sideburns Check

The above image is brightened a little.

The sideburns are still pointing to Crowley's mouth. That's what they tend to do when Crowley is not in the mausoleum during this minisode.

The space itself is within a human space with many lit candles at night. Crowley both sits and stands during the scene. All three characters do not wear hats during the entire scene. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are no longer wearing gloves.

...

Comparison

Here is a comparison picture between the last scene and this one, also brightened a little.

The curls on Crowley's right side of his head are more defined in this space than the last.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Aziraphale's vendetta against the backs of chairs has activated, so there's some extra thing in his chair that he has his back to, that's not in the other chairs.

Both Aziraphale and Mr. Dalrymple sit the entire time.

Crowley stands to pick up the container Mr. Dalrymple indicates with a tumor inside.

Each character touches a glass of whiskey during the scene.

Aziraphale touches the container with the tumor after Crowley passes it to him.

Mr. Dalrymple says the name, "Dr. McFell."

Aziraphale has questions with, "I'm sorry?" and, "But if you're in such dire need of bodies, why not dig them up yourself instead of making the poor and the desperate do it?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a question with, "Seriously, though?"

Mr. Dalrymple addresses Crowley as, "Doctor," which might qualify well enough for a name substitute as a title.

Crowley has a question with, "Well, in my professional opinion, that seems to be... I say that seems to me a... um... well, what do you think?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a number and a question with, "If you two smart gentlemen can't identify it, then what are my students to make of it?" Then he has another number with, "I removed this tumor from a seven-year-old boy. "

Aziraphale has a question with, "And...is he...?"

...

For pockets, I won't log it all here, but I'll share at least the following:

Aziraphale is visually pocketed between chairs when it's shown that the back to his particular chair is different.

Crowley is briefly visually pocketed between candles when he stands.

...

Story Commentary

(For reference Post #26 (my side)) The scene starts with Aziraphale looking at the drink in hesitance.

Much like in the A Companion to Owls minisode, the camera itself is making specific choices about what it shows when it comes to drinking alcohol. Mr. Dalrymple is shown finishing taking a drink when Aziraphale is asking him about digging up the bodies himself. When the scene finishes, as Mr. Dalrymple is about take a drink, the camera cuts away before the drink actually enters his mouth.

Crowley is heavily implied to be drinking. He raises his glass when saying, "More murders! I'll drink to that!" He raises it again in agreement with Aziraphale about the item in the jar not being a foot. He reaches for a bottle filled with more. However, the camera never, ever shows him in the actual act of drinking.

...

I think this minisode is supposed to match Pestilence of the four Horseman of the Apocalypse, given the context of Mr. Dalrymple talking about the tumor.

...

Present Day Aziraphale

Let's check in on Aziraphale's side of things with the forming connection.

I'm not going over the entire scene, just a few parts.

As Aziraphale parks, or more likely the car is parking itself, the car is shown to have acquired its new extra doors in its transformation.

Aziraphale also shows the interior of the driver's door has changed.

He wears a hat with a "66" on it. Is he trying to be a demon beacon?

He uses a pocket for his notepad and pen.

The road looks different from when he walks across the street to the road shown as he arrives closer to the pub.

When he arrives at the pub, he finally sees the barrel next to the jukebox. The drawing of Gabriel he shows is different than the one the story has shown him working on. This drawing shows a turtleneck and looks more like Gabriel did when Aziraphale last saw Gabriel in season 1 at the air base.

With a look to the pub sign after exit, we are taken back into the minisode.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[everythingunderthestarsthings]

When you fall asleep in their room

For characters: Jeremie Belpois, Odd Della Robbia, Ulrich Stern, William Dunbar

note:

gender neutral reader.

for girls edition here

Code Lyoko Masterlist

Send me requests after reading my ask rules!

Navigate through my other posts and masterlists here!

~

Fighting X.A.N.A. was a job that should come with more coffee, you think as you sway through the halls of the Kadic dormitory.

Classes were over for the day, and so were your detention duties at the library and the garden shed.

The library duty was actually Aelita's, but before Jim could brand her with detention, you had swooped in to take the blame. It had become an unspoken rule amongst the others that Aelita -- baby angel -- shouldn't go through any more than she was already going through, so if she was in trouble for something, they would do anything for her.

Come to think of it, that's how we began, anyway... you think sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you find the room you're looking for. There is never any need to knock -- you just open the door and make a beeline for whatever free space is available.

A voice calls your name just as you plop headfirst onto the mattress.

"I'm crashing here." you announce before making yourself more comfortable and snuggling against the pillow.

You hear a chuckle and a reply.

Jeremie:

"You're as bad as Odd these days."

You're already asleep by then, so Jeremie just smiles to himself and gets back to his work on the antivirus.

However, he cannnot get work done.

Your relationship is fairly new, but the two of you have actually been friends throughout Kadic, but these naps mean something else to him now that you're both romantic partners.

It's not the first time you've crashed in his room unannounced, but that's the thing -- he likes it! He loves that you feel like it's a safe place for you to let your guard down.

You actually sleeping in his room also encourages him to work harder so that he can wow you with his techie prowess by making more progress on something that would help them fight X.A.N.A.

After a few minutes, though, he locks his bedroom door and crawls into bed beside you.

His sleep schedule is whack now, but because of that, he knows when Jim would come on rounds -- in fact, he can tell from five rooms away -- so he wants to nap with you for a while.

Sometimes he just lays with you for a while, listening to your breathing sounds (it calms him) before getting back to work.

Sometimes, he kisses your forehead and naps with you, with your foreheads touching as you lay side by side.

Odd:

"Hold on, sweetie, I'll join you too."

Ulrich: "Again?!"

Odd, and you at the same time: "Piss off, Ulrich."

Ulrich shrugs and either a) goes somewhere else or b) plugs in his earphones and chills there itself.

Odd loves cuddles!

He settles Kiwi down (or has him join too, if you're a dog person) and joins you on the bed.

You hum and nuzzle into the crook of his neck with your arms around his waist.

Odd actually cried out of joy the first time you did this. Ulrich has pictures.

Now he smiles and hugs your waist back, resting his chin on his head and closing his eyes.

Both you and Odd fall asleep within minutes.

If either of you gets warm or your limb falls asleep, you automatically switch positions in your sleep.

Odd can do anything in his sleep. One time, he dog-walked Kiwi while asleep and the gang had no idea what to do with him until Yumi came to the rescue (Hiroki probably had sleepwalking episodes).

Both of you wake up to a) Jeremie alerting them all about X.A.N.A., b) Jim coming on rounds, c) Kiwi jumping on Odd, or d) Ulrich drawing on one of your -- or both -- faces.

Ulrich:

"At this rate, you're practically my roommate, babe."

He crawls into bed with you, with a couple kisses on your face (this is when Odd isn't around or when Odd is napping too). "But I don't mind."

When Odd's there, he's just less cheesy and just climbes onto bed.

Ulrich is either sitting next to you or lying down next to you. He may not feel sleepy when you do sometimes, but he wants to be next to you when you're napping in his room.

Sometimes he finds your hand and plays with your fingers.

Odd: "You've got a real finger thing, Ulrich."

Ulrich: "Shut the hell up, Odd, and if you wake (y/n) up, I will bring hell to you."

When he naps with you, he prefers to be the big spoon and you the little spoon. I feel like Ulrich doesn't necessarily like the feeling of someone breathing on him.

Sometimes he hums to you (Odd can be present for this, he doesn't care).

Sometimes he whispers how much he loves you and how happy and lucky he is to have you (this happens when Odd can't hear him be cheesy).

William:

"Oh, babydoll..."

William loves you coming over like this.

He does not care if he has homework, a call with his parents, or even a goddamn exam -- he will join you.

Unless there's a X.A.N.A. attack, ofc.

He snuggles up next to you and strokes your hair as you slowly fall asleep.

He does not move away from you one bit.

Sometimes he reads poetry or classics to you and you hum back and sleep.

Then William slowly moves your head to his chest (if you didn't already do this when he came to cuddle, that is) and keeps running a finger or two in your hair.

If you're somewhat awake enough, you move up to his face for kisses and he happily obliges.

"I love you,"

"Mm, love you too, baby."

Sometimes, William just stares at the ceiling, his mind wandering as he strokes your hair and cuddles you in your sleep. Sometimes, he joins you.

Jim knows about this because he has caught the two of you on multiple occassions in the same month.

After the fourth time, though, he just gave up and let you two be.

[literaryxbones]

DIY Idea 1: -Fishnet Jeans

It's been a long time since I've attempted DIY. The last project I worked on was in an embroidery kit I bought for $10. I was working on the tutorial flowers and vines and my stitches weren't coming in straight. I'll continue it eventually, but I want to pivot to something that might be a bit easier than sewing by hand. I want to be able to actually gain some sort of experience in the DIY space. I realized I had a lot of plain black jeans. I need a cooler pair of pants so I figured I'd start there. MATERIAL 1:

An old, boring pair of jeans. Next, I found some black mesh on Joanne's for $5.99! I'll be cutting holes into the first layer of denim and gluing the mesh on to make fishnet jeans!

Next, I'll be distressing parts of the denim. Think something like this, but alongside the added fishnets.

The final touch, is in my opinion, one of the most important parts! I plan to add jewelry that reflects my personal style, interests, and tastes. I hope to loop around chains and have a nice charm dangling off the waist. I could do something with the hems but I don't know if I'd want to alter it.

Please note that this probably won't be what my charm is shaped like. I'll pick up whatever I find. I already have chain links stored away somewhere at my house. You can buy chains cheaply at pet stores, craft stores, craft fairs, and possibly the hardware store. And finally, I'll post the tutorials I'll be following.

The first is for making the fishnet jean itself.

DIY FISHNET JEANS - YouTube

The second relates to ripping/fraying the jeans.

HOW TO : DIY Distressed / Ripped Jeans Tutorial - YouTube

When I'm finished my pair, I'll showcase the process and results here. Since I have my permit, it might take a few days to convince my mom to drive me over to Joanne's. This upcycle is completely within my budget, and she won't have to pay for any of it. She's just hesitant to drive with me because of ridiculous, high gas prices.

Wish me luck!

[legacieswcrp]

In the advertisement, you mention that there will be adjustments made to the rp to fit the better bones au, and I'm just wondering what that means for the ranks! what are their names now and what do they do, if we have new ones/different ones. And also, what's the limit on how many characters we can have?

This is a pretty big one, but I'll try to keep this as brief as possible for now - there are much lengthier descriptions on the server proper.

On character limitations:

For now, there is no character limit at all, nor is there a limit to how many limited ranks you can audition for. Staff will generally preferentially pick players with no limrank characters over players who already have one, but it's entirely possible to end up running multiple - or even many, if that works for the RP and playerbase as a whole - limranks at the same time.

The first caveat to this is that there is a time limit on how frequently you can create or drop characters. Whenever you drop or make a character, you're effectively on cooldown for both until the next moon update goes live.

The second caveat is the activity requirement. Activity checks are per character, and while you don't have to RP all of your characters every month to meet activity requirements, you do need to keep all of your characters in touch with the RP world enough to provide monthly updates on their activities. Staff will step in if people are skirting these rules to ghost plots and character relations, and/or if characters are only taking up space in their faction/rank. Generally speaking, though, we aren't going to ask anyone to drop a character if that character's presence isn't disrupting RP for anyone, and we give ample opportunity for people to patch plot and relation holes through things like adoptable substitutes for plot-essential character roles.

On faction organization:

Each faction has its own distinct way of organizing its membership and distributing power, informed by the history that shaped those systems. This is just an important thing to keep in mind for the future post-launch, but isn't immediately relevant here - the ranks listed below are for StormClan only and do not apply to the other groups in the RP. If there are specific inspirations for Better Bones that you're disappointed to be missing in StormClan, I wouldn't give up on them ever making any appearances in the RP.

That said -- Like the classic book Clans, StormClan maintains the ranks of leader, deputy, warrior, and apprentice (and kit, if you want to count that as an official/legal rank), which function fairly similarly to how they do in canon, but with a few changes to make them more flexible and the politics of the Clan less centralized. StormClan also uses three other ranks that are specified in neither book canon nor the Better Bones AU, which break the ranks of elder and cleric (medicine cat) into three roles -- sages, kitsitters, and medics.

As for specific StormClan ranks:

Leaders are diplomats and mediators. They speak for the Clan when dealing with outsiders and use their supernaturally long lives to advise their Clanmates on interpersonal and (sometimes) political disputes. In terms of daily life and tactics, StormClan's leaders are back-ups to their deputies, not the other way around.

Deputies are the day to day leaders of the Clan. They organize patrols, supervise apprentice training, and direct the Clan during a crisis. They succeed their leader when their leader dies or is otherwise stripped of StarClan's blessing, but deputyship is a complete job in its own right. Most notably, StormClan deputies are not chosen by the Clan leader; they are instead elected by a council of sages. This is a very recent change to StormClan's code in the RP timeline, instated within Rotstar's lifetime.

Sages are the occult experts and spiritual advisors of the Clan, as well as its historical and legal experts; the rank is reserved for the oldest cats in the Clan who know the most about StormClan's past, have had the most time to refine their occult techniques, and stand closest to the veil between life and death. Sages replace both elders and the spiritual aspect of the cleric rank in StormClan, but non-occultist seniors and younger occultists are also still around - they just keep the honors of warriorship.

Kitsitters are the nursery aides of the Clan. They teach and protect kits, advise new and expecting parents during and after pregnancy, and look after all of the exceptional health needs of StormClan's expecting and nursing cats, up to and including delivering kittens. They are the highest tier of medical specialist in the Clan.

The lower - but still essential - tier of StormClan medical specialists are medics, whose main responsibility is as emergency responders. Medics generally treat all infections and serious injuries, but minor wounds and field dressings are left in the paws of the Clan's warriors; basic first aid and essential herb and poison ID are part of every apprentice's training regimen, usually taught directly by a medic. Cats who want to be medics or kitsitters have to finish their warrior training before starting medical training, and fully trained medics need even more training if they want to be kitsitters.

Apprentices are functionally the same, but apprenticeship can start at any age for outsiders who join the Clan. In StormClan, apprenticeship functions moreso as a precursor to citizenship/full membership (warriorship) in the Clan. Apprentices learn the basics for survival and Clan traditions, and completing the first tasks and accepting a warrior name are treated specifically as part of one's vow to be loyal members of the Clan. It should be noted that warriors training to be medics or kitsitters do not become apprentices again, but are specifically grouped under unofficial ranks as trainee medics and kitsitters respectively - a cat can only undertake the first tasks once.

Warriors are less bound to combat roles as well; "warrior" in StormClan is moreso just the rank of fully dedicated Clan members, and encompasses cats with a huge range of interests, specialties, and abilities. Gardeners, cooks, artisans, hunters, foragers, amateur herbalists, novice occultists, residents with no specific vocation, and more all fall comfortably under the warrior umbrella.

Lastly (but certainly not least) -- age and disability do not affect a StormClan cat's rank, full stop, and in StormClan cats with scars and permanent or chronic conditions are often celebrated as survivors. As in the Better Bones AU, such cats are often recipients of honor titles, special names granted to exceptional cats who accomplish great things in life, which specifically reference their feats, talents, and/or conditions.

Beyond this, though rare, StormClan will sometimes make prisoners of their criminals, especially if they are Clanborn, rather than sentencing them to exile - remember, StormClan's motto is that no cat suffers alone. Exile is a fate worse than death in the minds of many in the Clan. These cats are not an official rank in the Clan, and are usually kept under the surveillance and protection of combat-ready warriors. Prisoners are barred from traditional Clan ceremonies and can't mentor or train, but are otherwise free to move and live as they like. If a prisoner chooses to flee the Clan, they're usually not pursued, but from that point on are treated as rogues.