#it’s a good thing I live alone isn’t it

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ꒱ 이민형

summary : one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you — even if you were annoyingly drunk — and he was embarrassingly in love

genre : fluff, mark x afab!reader, slice of life tws : language, kissing, mentions of alcohol, pet names author notes : oh he’d be a good boyfriend i just know it word count : 1k

it’s a good thing the elevator in your apartment hadn’t gone out yet, otherwise the man on your arm would’ve been upset — though he’d never let you know that.

he just loved you too much for that. and you kept telling him about how much of a good night it was for you; he’d never dream of ruining that.

“baby,” he stated quietly, pulling your arm around his waist higher, as it kept slipping, “hold on, just a little longer… why’d you have to live on the 10th floor? thank god the elevator isn’t out. is the view really worth it though?” he watched the numbers climb, illuminated electronically above the door.

your eyebrows furrowed, and though you were hunched against him, you willed your head up. deadpanning, you replied, “duh.” to which he just laughed at. “you just don’t get it mark! have you seen it? it’s beautiful! not more than you, but you know.”

“many times — actually, i helped you move in, baby.”

you giggled, head falling into his side, “y-yeah, you did… do you remember haechan falling up the stairs? he wasn’t even carrying anything heavy! oh my god, it was so funny i swear i peed my pants!”

mark thought that, for a drunk girl, you were very good at not sounding slurred with your words. however, standing or walking in a straight line were two very different tasks for you to accomplish in this state. but he thought it was cute that you thought of him to pick you up and make sure you got home safely. he loved that you loved him so much; shared so many memories with him and were still willing to make more. and truthfully, he loved you more.

the elevator dinged, the voice telling you that the doors were now opening. mark braced his arm around you tighter, hiking you up to be, at least a little, straighter.

you trudged along, holding him back with his attempts to keep a steady pace. you knew it was difficult to move on your own accord in your current state but, honestly you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor if you fell.

“work— with— me— here, y/n. please,” he gritted, practically dragging your giggling figure. “do you even want to sleep in your own bed?”

your eyes narrowed soberly, “are you staying?”

“will that make you walk faster?”

as if possessed, the thought alone was enough to make you straighten your back and begin willing your legs to move — clumsily, but you knew your boyfriend was still a crutch to make sure you didn’t hit the floor.

he laughed in disbelief, then relief once you two finally had made it to your numbered door; mark putting in the passcode and it chiming with satisfaction.

“you scare me sometimes, baby.”

you hopped in place, the door swinging open with the length of his arm. you slumped against the wall, unhooking the strap of your heels and kicking them off.

“let’s go to bed!” and when you were about take off down the hall, a hand grabbed yours and stopped you — your feet comically still stomping in place. your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked over your shoulder in confusion.

“first,” he started, leading you down the hall; for a moment you thought he just didn’t want you to run, but he turned off into your bathroom. he hit the switch and illuminated the room, your eyes shutting instinctively. “your makeup.”

you whined, trying to get out of his grip, “no.”

“you’ll kill me in the morning, babe,” he grabbed your waist, hoisting you onto the counter and trapping you with his body, “it won’t take long.”

your pinky swung from the porcelain and into his view, “promise.” you weren’t asking, and that made him laugh.

his pinky connected with yours, “promise.” he replied adamantly, mimicking your movement and kissing the end of his balled fist.

he got to work, grabbing the remover and a couple cotton rounds. he gently swiped your skin, and you swear your head kept drifting to the side with tiredness. you couldn’t help that your boyfriend was the sole reason you could get a good-nights sleep. instead of trying to keep you up, he grabbed it, huffing out another laugh at your antics, but letting you fully fall asleep in his hand.

mark admired you as he tried his best to get the mascara off, smudging it and making you look a little foolish. he thought you were cute; the way your lips were parted, small snores leaving them. the slight crease of your brows as he put your moisturizer and serums on. he swears he could feel his heart swell, knowing you were just that comfortable around him — so adamant to have him by your side — to have him love you.

and he did.

he loved you so fucking much. his future was you. if he was your world, you were his sun. you were his lifeline. you were the one person he knew he could rely on without contest. if he was a producer, you were his muse. everything revolved around you. even if his thoughts weren’t originally for you, they’d eventually make their way back to you. he was excited to talk to you about anything and everything. he was blindsided by a love as strong as this mutual one. he’d die for you, and that’s why he lives.

honestly, he was so embarrassingly emotional right now for you, he could feel the tears welling up.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbing the other side of your head and watching as you blinked blearily.

you smiled sleepily, “when’d you get here, baby?”

he could feel your arms climb to be around his neck, pulling him and simultaneously pushing yourself to get body-to-body. you always craved the warmth (even without thinking) like you were cold-blooded.

“i’m always here.” he kissed the side of your mouth, whispering against your lips, “now, let’s go to bed?”

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[trippinsorrows]

with me + part six

authors note: i'm very sorry in advance for how this ends, it was just getting wayyyy too long, and there was no good place to slice it in half, so i cut it before shit unfolds, so yes please don't hate me!!!

pairing: roman reigns x black!reader

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive dialogue, angst

song inspo: ‘with me’ by destiny’s child

words: 6.5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“Whoa.”

Mariah’s reaction is expected. Your living room, specifically the sofa, is occupied by several of Callie’s dolls. A tea party that you were so kindly invited to attend this morning. 

“Girl, you should see her playroom. Pretty soon the floor is going to be non-visible.” 

A small part of you regrets not trying to straighten up before Mariah came over, but this is also your literal best friend. You know she’s seen more than almost anyone else in your life, and she would never judge you, let alone over the state of your apartment when she has a child of her own. 

Mariah looks over at you with a raised brow. “He did all this?” You nod. “Why?”

“Because she’s his little girl and of course he’s going to spoil her. A quote.” You chuckle as you and Mariah decide to just sit at the kitchen island. It’s probably best to leave the dolls untouched as Callie’s likely to wake up from her nap wanting to play again. 

Mariah gives you a look. “You don’t find that weird?”

Confused, you ask, “what?”

Mariah shrugs and circles the top of her water bottle with her index finger. “I don’t know. He just found out about her, and now he’s buying her stuff? Seems like he’s trying to buy her love.”

“You don’t know Joe.” It’s an easy dismissal, because you do know him and know that’s the last thing on his mind. “That’s not him at all. He just wants to see her happy.”

Mariah looks unfazed and stands ten toes down, adding on, “then he should be here full time instead of randomly popping in.” You just look at her, slightly confused where this is coming from. “I mean, I’m happy she’s getting to know him, but this is all so messy, you know? He’s married. He has a wife, and he’s coming here seeing his secret child with his secret mistress.”

You can only look at her, stunned by her words, even if a small part of you knows there’s some element of truth. Joe swiftly dodged the only question you’ve asked about how and when he’s going to tell his wife about Callie. It was a valid question that deserved an answer.  But the things Mariah is saying, you can’t tell if it angers you because it’s not true or hurts you because it is. 

She seems to detect your conflicted emotions and reaches over with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be negative. I just remember how hard it was for you when you and Joe broke up the first time. I hated seeing you so hurt.”

“We’re not together, Mariah. We’re coparenting.” You hate how soft your voice is, giving away that her words now have your head spinning. 

“So you honestly mean to tell me that you have no feelings for him? None whatsoever.” You can’t give her an answer, or either refuse to. It’s another valid question but the answer isn’t as simple for you to express. You know you feel something for Joe, but that could just be because of the fact that you two share a child together. There has to be some type of emotional connection between any two people who create life. “Exactly. Just be careful. He broke your heart once before. Don’t let him do it again.”

Your feelings are so mixed, agreeing with certain aspects of what’s being said and disagreeing with others. Mariah has triggered some big thoughts, ones that you probably should sort through at some point. You’re just not eager for right now to be that moment.

“Enough about me, what’s been going on with you?”

You pray she knows you well enough to know that you’re desperate to change the subject. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like we haven’t spoken much lately, and I know that’s partially on me. It’s just been a lot on my end, I’m sorry.” 

She shrugs. “It’s cool.”

Something tells you that she’s just saying that, and there’s a level of bitterness towards you for the distance. But, you can’t allow yourself to be hurt by that, because it’s fair. Mariah has been too good of a friend to be ditched the minute your ex comes back around. 

‘How are things with Caleb? Are you guys getting along any better?” Caleb and Mariah have only been married for two years but have already hit a rough patch, enough where he’s temporarily moved out of the house. Last you spoke with her, they were supposed to meet up to discuss what they were going to do, especially for the sake of Miach.

“Did you see him at my place last time you were there?” Her response is all you need to know that that is still a sensitive spot for her as well. Understandably so, but her shut down is so cold and unlike the sweet, gentle friend you’ve always known her to be. You were always known as the outspoken, brutal friend, though it seems that maybe as the years go by, the roles are reversing. 

Unless there's something else at play.

—-------

Today is going to be a good day. 

For Callie at least. 

Your earlier conversation with Mariah, who seemed far too eager to leave when you mentioned Joe would be arriving in less than two hours, is still circulating in your head. You know she’s only trying to look out for you, and you’re very appreciative of that, but there was some undertone to the way she spoke to you that you can’t shake off. Like, it wasn’t coming just from a place of concern, but something else that didn’t seem as genuine.

“Mommy, why are we cleaning?”

Because mommy is too broke for a maid.

You instead settle on the answer, “because we want our home nice and clean, baby.”

“But, it is clean.” She’s not entirely wrong, it’s just every so often you like to deep clean, dusting, mopping, the extra shit that usually isn’t done with daily cleaning. 

Taking a break from wiping down your kitchen counters with some overpriced cleaner you picked up from Target, you see Callie is ready to be done, the dust rag you’d given here now sitting on the coffee table.

With a heavy sigh, you ask, “you wanna play, don’t you?” Her eyes widen and her head nods enthusiastically. A quick glance at the clock indicates that Joe should be knocking at your door any minute, so you try to buy some more time. “Alright, let mommy finish here, and I’ll come play with you.”

“Yay!”

Chuckling, you listen to the sound of her run in the direction of her playroom while you finish scrubbing the counters, even if they’re as clean as they can get. It’s most likely a result of all the overthinking you’ve done the past few hours. The older you get, the more you realize you’ve become that ‘i’m anxious, so let’s clean until we’re physically exhausted’ mom. Which, technically, isn’t a horrible thing, but it’s also probably not the best way to deal with your emotions.

Not that you’ve always been the best with that either.

And that’s when you hear it, the solid two knocks you’ve been waiting for all morning. 

Smiling, you call out for Callie who marches out seconds later with a doll in her hand. “You wanna see who’s at the door for mommy?” Callie looks rightfully confused. At the same time you taught her how to open, close, and lock the door because you never know what can happen, you stressed to her that she is to never open it without permission or unless during an emergency. So, you emphasize, “it’s okay.”

Shrugging, she skips, literally skips to the door. You chuckle. This kid has so much damn personality. Moving to the sink to rinse your hands, you move slowly, waiting for it.

A loud gasp. “Joe!”

You can mentally picture the absolute surprise and happiness splashed over her little face. Grabbing the towel to dry your hands, Joe walks in holding Callie who you haven’t seen look so happy since the last time Joe was in town. 

“Mommy, Joe’s here!” 

Kids announcing the most obvious things will always be hilarious. “He sure is.” Leaning against the counter, you focus on him. “Hey.” He looks good, but he always looks good. That was always the damn problem.

He takes in you for a second, eyes lingering longer than what’s probably necessary, “hey.” He easily returns his attention back to Callie who can’t seem to stop smiling, which makes you smile. You love seeing her so happy. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" She glances over at you, partially contrite. “Mommy, I’m gonna play with Joe instead, okay?”

You pretend to be shocked, standing upright and crossing your arms and making a face before laughing, waving her off.

“That’s fine, baby, because I am going to take a nap.” It’s much needed. Your sleep has been kinda shitty lately, and you know yourself well enough to know that exhaustion makes you bitchy. And the last thing you want is to unintentionally take that bitchiness out on her. Even Joe. Walking up to them, you poke him in his stomach. Jesus, he’s ripped. “Help yourself to anything. Just make sure she doesn’t destroy my house, please. And make her clean.”

At that, her face sours, and Joe chuckles.

“You got it.”

Satisfied, you walk back into your room, deciding to close the door. Callie will absolutely welcome herself in if need be. Plopping down on the mattress, you stare up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, momentarily stopping yourself from closing your eyes. For a second, you forget that Callie is not alone and unattended, thus preventing you from sleeping.

Call it being an anxious, overprotective parent, you’ve never allowed yourself to nap when it’s just the two of you. Even when she’s asleep, and when you do, you set an alarm to wake you up every ten minutes, just to make sure she’s still knocked out. It makes taking time to rest pretty difficult, if not impossible, but it’s what makes you comfortable.

It’s an easy sacrifice to make for your child.

So having another adult around, her dad, of all people, is a nice feeling. You know she’s safe and watched over. And it’s what allows you to actually fall into a peaceful slumber. 

Just for a little bit.

—-------

It is, in fact, just for a little bit.

Because you’re awoken by your phone ringing, your mom on the other end wondering what time she can expect you and Callie to come over.

Shit. 

You completely forget that you’d agreed to bring Callie to see her as it’d been “too long," according to her. You partially agreed, realizing you haven’t visited your mom since the day everything went down, what with you reaching out to Joe again and that whole fiasco.

And that’s another thing.

Your mother has no idea he’s back in the picture.

Walking out of the room, you find them in the living room, of course, watching Toy Story 2. 

Callie’s eyes light up when she sees you, but that doesn’t pull her from her position, tucked right under Joe’s side on your sofa. If you had your phone, you’d try to snap a picture. 

“That wasn’t long,” he snickers, and you glare, stopping yourself from flipping him off.

You move over to the sofa, sitting on the armrest. “That’s cause my mom called and woke me up.”

“Grandma?”

Nodding, you explain to both Callie and Joe. “I forgot we were supposed to go visit her today.”

She moves up on her knees, asking, “can we go?” She looks over at Joe. “Joe can come with us!”

You consider her suggestion. Your mom didn’t even find out about Joe until you told her you were pregnant. You kept that part of your life a secret from her for good reasons. This doesn’t seem like the best way for her to find out, to drop it on her yet again. However, one look at Callie’s desperate expression, and you already know your answer.

“Of course,” you then add on, “if he wants to.” 

Callie, being Callie, answers for him. “He wants to!” She tugs on his sleeve, excitement bubbling. “You can meet my grandma!”

You glance over at him, “are you sure? I’m sorry, I know this was supposed to be one on one with her….”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “If she wants to go, let’s go.”

You nod, praying this doesn’t end up being a bad idea.

—-------

“Mama!” You call out, watching Joe shut and lock the door behind him. Seeing that allows you to focus on where the hell your mother is. She usually meets you at the door when she knows you’re coming over. “Where is this woman?”

The car drive was pleasant enough, Callie talking almost the entire time, as expected. And Joe eating it up the whole time, also, as expected. 

You can see now he’s definitely going to be that dad. The dad who finds anything and everything his kid does to be adorable. You can’t wait for him to be on the receiving end of one of Callie’s temper tantrums and see how he handles it. 

“Grandma!” Callie suddenly calls, all the while keeping her hand in Joe’s. “I’m here!”

Finally, the sound of footsteps from upstairs as your mom comes down the stairs, home phone, yes, a home phone, held between her ear and shoulder. “I told her Bishop wasn’t gonna go for that, but you know how she is. Old fool.” It’s when she’s in the vicinity to see that it’s not just you and Callie, her eyes grow wide. “Cheryl, let me call you back.” 

Damn. 

You know that tone, that ‘let me talk to you’ tone. 

Thankfully, you get a brief save. The sight of your mom makes Callie drop Joe’s hand to sprint off to meet her on the steps. “Grandma!”

She leans down to pick up Callie, smothering her with kisses. “My favorite little lady.” 

Callie giggles as your mom descends from the steps, Callie on her hip, to approach you and Joe who’d, wisely, remained quiet up until this point. 

You watch your mom’s eyes land on him, but before she can say anything, Callie jumps in. 

“Grandma, this is Joe! He’s mommy’s friend and mine too!”

Fuck. Your mom’s eyes travel between him and Callie, once, twice, and on the third time, you know. You just know that she knows.

And that’s when you jump in, knowing you desperately need to speak with her. “Callie, why don’t you show Joe the play area?” 

Her eyes blaze with enthusiasm as your mom places her back on the ground. Callie’s little feet carry her back over to Joe who seems to understand you need to talk with your mother.

“Come on!” Taking his hand, she begins to direct him to the back of the house and through the sliding door. 

Your mom waits until she knows the two of you are alone to speak. “Girl, you done got my blood pressure all up.”

“Mama—”

“That’s Callie’s daddy, ain’t it?” She doesn’t even give you time to answer. “Don’t try to lie, either. She looks just like him.”

There’s no need in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

Her mouth drops open in rightful shock. “And just when did you plan to tell me he was back in the picture?” The questions keep coming, understandably so considering how you’ve just dropped this on her. “And why is she calling him by his first name?”

“Because she doesn't know,” you answer the second question, hating the disappointed look on her face. “We–he hasn’t told her yet.” 

“It just keeps getting worse.” She’s rubbing her temple and you just know she’s gonna need to take an Excedrin before the night is over. “Tell me everything. Now.”

And so, you do, starting with Callie’s initial question about her dad, to your phone call with Joe, his visit where he confirmed he had a daughter, all of it. And when you’re done, your mom is visibly shaken.

“Lord, he found out about her through social media?” You still feel badly about that, about a lot of it. “Well….does his wife know?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. We haven’t really talked about that yet.” Before your mom can protest, you add, “we will. I’ll make sure of it. He just wants to get to know her first. For himself.”

Your mom chuckles, obviously having studied the close interaction between the two of them in the few minutes she’s been privy to see them engage with one another. “seems like that’s already a done deal.” 

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “He’s really good with her.”

And it’s the truth, Joe seems to be naturally good with a lot of things, but there’s something so impressive about his ability to interact and connect with Callie. It’s so natural. 

“So, are you two…..”

“No,” you shut that down immediately. “We’re just trying to navigate coparenting.”

Your mom nods but doesn’t say anything, and you know her well enough to know it’s because she doesn’t entirely believe you. But, she won’t push.

“Well.” She claps her hands together, nodding to the backdoor. “Let me go properly introduce myself, since you got me out here looking rude. Probably got that boy thinking I don’t like him.”

“I promise, he’s not like that.” You two start walking toward the backyard where you’re certain Callie is talking a hole in his head, describing the play area your mom put together just for her when she spends the night.

She places her hand on the sliding door but pauses to look at you, “let me just say this though, that is one fine young man. I see now why you had a hard time letting him go. The devil sure knows how to tempt people.”

“Mama!” You try to suppress your laughter as the two of you walk out, sure enough to find Callie on the swing, Joe pushing her as they share their own conversation. 

She walks up to him, wearing a warm smile, giving a wink to Callie. “I’m so sorry about that. My daughter just didn’t tell me you were gonna be here.” 

Joe, forever respectful, starts to indirectly apologize.  “I hope it's not a problem. If so, I can—”

She waves him off, “oh, hush.” She leans in to whisper, “you’re practically family.” He returns her smile as she introduces herself by name, he offers his, and your wonderful mother then informs, “well, this one is gonna help me tend to my garden, cause winter will be here before we know it.” She leans down and kisses the top of Callie’s head, as she’s stopped swinging and is instead sitting. Her eyes light up at the idea of gardening with your mom. The same way you used to garden with your grandma. A bit of a tradition being passed down. “And in the meantime, you two can go finish organizing the office.” 

Your eyes widen. No wonder she didn’t hear you all coming in right away. That room, once your bedroom, became your mom’s storage area and over the years has accumulated stuff on top of stuff. Nowhere near a hoarding level, but just a lot of things that she doesn’t want to part with but needs to organize. “Mama, that's not—”

“I don't want to hear no complaining. You really want me up on that ladder?” You roll your eyes, realizing she’s referring to the top of your old closet where she keeps the storage bins of memorabilia, mostly photos. “I'm not getting any younger. What if I fall? Then you gon feel bad.”

“You're so dramatic.” Your mom acts like she's 75 and at death's door sometimes. The woman is 52 and teaches a Zumba class at the rec center every Saturday. She could fall and jump right back up like nothing happened. 

She places her hand on Joe’s arm, smiling slyly. “You got this strong, handsome man to help you out.” One thing you’ve learned as you’ve gotten older is that your tendency to unintentionally flirt from time to time 100% came from your mother. Clearly. “Besides, if you do fall, you'll be fine. You got enough booty back there to cushion it.”

“Mama!” One glance at Joe, and you see him make a face that reads clearly 'she's not entirely wrong.’ At that, you shove him, not that it does anything. He's solid as a rock. “Fine, we'll organize your mess, but not for long. Joe is only in town until tomorrow night, and he did not come here to be a part of your cleaning crew.”

“I don’t mind,” Joe adds. Of course, he doesn't. He hasn’t seen it yet, and he’s a gentleman. “Whatever you need help with, I’ll do it.”

Your mom gives you another look and then looks at him. “I like you, Joseph.”

Callie lifts her head, adding, “I like him too!”

I like him too.

“Well, get to it. When we’re done, ya’ll can help me fix some dinner.” Her eyes then land on you. “Well, not you. You can make the lemonade or something.”

Joe coughs awkwardly, poorly hiding his laughter. “I’m getting really sick of ya’ll coming for me and my poor cooking skills.”' 

Your mom directs Callie to grab her caddy with their needed gardening supplies. “Baby, you are a lot of things, but a cook ain’t one of them.” She points at Joe, sharing, “remind me to tell you the story about how she almost burned down my house.”

“Okay, we’re gonna go now.” You grab Joe’s hand and lead him back into the house toward the stairs, which he motions for you to go up first, realizing after the fact that he probably did so to stare at your ass. 

This man….

Entering your former bedroom, you stretch your arm to show you just what you signed up for. He walks in, clearly surprised. “Okay.”

“Yup.” There’s items scattered all over, your mom clearly in the middle of trying to categorize the millions of family photos ya’ll have. “Still don’t mind?”

He shrugs forever unbothered. “There’s two of us. We’ll get it done.”

Sucking your teeth, you look around, trying to figure out where the hell to start. “Your optimism is annoying.”

Chuckling, his smartass remarks, “Glass half full, baby. Glass half full.”

“Yeah, yeah, well glass your ass over there and reach me the ladder. I need the box these pictures can go in from the top.” 

He follows where you’re pointing but also gestures to the closet. “That one?” Joe makes a sound and instead of following your directions, casually walks over to said closet, reaches up and grabs the box with all the ease of someone who’s 6’3. 

Smug expression on his face, he hands it to you as you glare. “Show off.”

Joe assesses you, eyes settling on your chest before redirecting them to your face. “Maybe I should have let you get up there. View and all.”

Holding back your smile is difficult, so you settle for biting on your bottom lip and bumping his side as you move past him. “Shut up.” You know his gaze is on you and that should bother you, his flirty comment should bother you, but it doesn’t.

It doesn’t at all.

—-------

“I still can’t believe you were a cheerleader.” 

There’s probably been a decent combination of conversation and organization in your time working together to ‘unmess’ your mom’s mess. That’s not entirely surprising though. Joe has always been immensely easy to talk to, to be around. And you couldn’t deny that you missed this kind of interaction with him, the most and maybe first since he’s re-entered your life. You wholly understand why he spends and devotes most of his time with Callie, but there’s a small part of you that’s missed this. 

Missed it being just the two of you. 

Chuckling, you comment, “you’re not the first. I was….different in high school and college than I am now.”

He’s intrigued, asking, “how?”

“Well, for one, I don’t party damn near every night anymore.” One thing you could never deny about your early days was that you always liked to have a good time, liked to make your expected appearances at whatever party of the week, or day, was happening. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t drink or smoke. That was never my thing. I just….I liked to have fun, probably too much fun more often than not.” You chuckle to yourself, grabbing a stack of photos to put in the container. “Now, I like to be in bed by 9:30, 10 at the latest.”

He smiles and looks over at the wall that still has many of your cheer accolades proudly displayed. “Obviously, you were pretty damn good.”

Shrugging, you push some of your hair behind your ear. Not that it does much. Your curls have always been voluminous and wild. “I was, but….it came at a cost to some extent. Cheer is insanely competitive, and I didn’t always handle that the best.”

Competitiveness was something you deeply struggled with when you were younger. Feeling like you had to be the best, not even better than anyone else per se, but the best that you could be. Always trying to prove that you were good enough.

Looking back now, you have a solid guess of where that came from and what drove it. 

Joe’s studying you, trying to gauge your comfort level with this conversation. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you answer, honestly. “Until I didn’t. Shortly before college, I think, is when the love started to fade.”

“But you cheered in college too, didn’t you?”

You nod, explaining, “I got a scholarship for cheer, and I wasn’t about to put that stress on my mom to have her help me figure out how to pay for school when I had an easy ride.” Around that time is when your relationship with your mom started to strengthen, and the last thing you wanted to do was risk messing it back up by being selfish. You’d cheered damn near your whole life, what was another 4 years? 

“I like your mom,” he announces, almost suddenly. It’s unsurprising. Most people do. But, there is something that pleases you about her tentative approval of him and now his of her. 

“She’s really great. I don’t know what I would do without her, and Callie adores her.” You look over at him, playfully. “Not as much as she adores you, though.”

You can see the delight in his eyes. “Yeah?”

His disbelief surprises you. How can he not see how crazy Callie is over him? “Are you kidding me? That lil girl already doesn’t shut up, but she really doesn’t shut up about you. It’s Joe this, Joe that. The first thing she asks me when I pick her up from school is always if she can call you.” Deciding this is a perfect segue, you add on, carefully. “You know….you should tell her. I can promise you, she won’t be upset. She’s gonna be thrilled.”

She already loves you.

You don’t know if it’s too soon to say that, if it’s something you should even say vs let him hear from Callie herself. You just know that there’s probably very little he could do at this point to make Callie not love him. She’s hooked.

“Christmas,” he announces, adding, “I’ll tell her when I come back for Christmas.” 

This surprises you, as he hasn’t discussed his next visit up until this point. You also don’t feel the need to comment or counter his plan and timeline to tell Callie. You can’t think of a better Christmas gift for her. “You got the time off?”

He nods, providing specifics. “I’ll be here the day before Christmas Eve. Gotta fly back out on the 26th though.”

“Stay with us.” Where this comes from, you’re not sure, but there’s not a lot of regret once it's released. “I know you hate that damn hotel, and Callie would be thrilled to have you around 24/7.” Getting up off the floor, you carry the now filled container and move up the ladder you’d used a couple times because he’d been preoccupied organizing other areas. Sliding it back in the same spot, you descend down the steps only to feel strong hands grip your waist. 

Bringing you to the ground, he carefully turns you around, but that’s not what you’re focused on. What you’re focused on is how close he is to you, your chests nearly touching, his eyes burning into you. Instantly, your stomach is knotting. You know that look, know it all too well. 

“Joe….” Your voice is soft, much softer than it needs to be when trying to assert yourself. And you hate yourself for the tiny sigh that leaves your mouth when he brings his palm to your cheek. “We—we can’t—”

“I’m divorced.”

This man, so fine and kind, and damn near pressed against you is distracting, so much so that you’re briefly disconnected from what he’s just said. But, it’s forcing yourself to come back to reality that his words truly hit you. You’re not sure you could have ever guessed that statement would ever leave his mouth. 

Slightly in shock, staring at him with bewilderment, you stammer, “w–what?”

“Two months ago, Jadah and I filed for divorce. It was uncontested, and the state of Florida is one of the quickest when it comes to processing these things.” His other hand moves to your hip, holding you still, as if he knows you want to move away from him. “I got notice it was finalized a few days ago.”

You’re listening, you really are, but hearing is another story. This has to be some type of sick joke, some type of cruel prank ripped directly out the pages of a journal kept and maintained so long ago. Cause you’d absolutely written about this at one point, written about what it would be like if he were to leave his wife. 

You just never could have anticipated it would one day become a reality.

“I—I don’t understand.” Joe only found out about Callie less than a month ago, so there’s no way she was the reason for the split. Still, you have to ask. “Wh–why?”

Something flashes in his eyes. Hurt. “It was long overdue.” He doesn’t say anything beyond that, and while you expected more, you can also see there’s more to the story. More that he’s not saying, but it’s the brief glimpse of pain that prevents you from pushing. Whatever it is, it’s clearly difficult for him to discuss. 

“Oh.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but you’re truly in a state of shock and don’t know what else to say. 

The biggest and only issue that ever existed between yourself and Joe has always been his marriage, the fact that he was already taken. It was the only reason you ever broke it off with him, but now, he’s standing before you, telling you that this is no longer the case.

You’re all of the emotions: confused, nervous, happy, hopeful, and so many more that you can’t even label.

“I didn’t say anything at first, because meeting Callie was my priority. Establishing a relationship with her was a priority. And it still is, but…..” Your eyes shut as he drops his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ve missed you.” Your hands gradually lift to lay against his chest as he sighs into you, ‘I’ve missed everything about you.” Eyes remaining shut, your nails claw gently against him as he moves his mouth over your neck. “The way you smile, the way you laugh.” His hand on your back slowly inches downward. “The way you taste.” Your breath catches as his teeth graze your collarbone. “The way you feel when I’m inside you.”

“Joe,” you breathe, the air suddenly thick, your throat tight. Breathing is incredibly arduous in this moment. “I—”

“Mommy! Joe!”

Joe’s suddenly across the damn room, it seems like, as Callie enters at both the perfect and worst time with a smile, completely oblivious to what she’s just interrupted. “Grandma said come eat!”

Frowning, you glance at the clock and realize it’s most definitely dinner time and that your mom had most likely just had Callie help her prepare the meal instead of asking you two to help.

Huh.

She moves across the room, tackling Joe from the side and craning up her head as she excitedly asks, “Wanna see what I made? Grandma helped me!”

Leaning down to pick her up, he answers, “of course, I wanna see.” He begins to walk out the door as Callie calls out for you to follow behind.

And you will. 

You just need a moment.

Because what the hell just happened?

—-------

I’m divorced.

It keeps playing in your head, on a vicious repeating cycle, like that annoying song the radio plays every 15 minutes, forcing it down your throat.

For almost the entire time you were together, you infrequently allowed yourself to dream about what your life would be like if the circumstances were different, if he wasn’t already taken. If he wasn’t already married. And each time only left you feeling worse than before, because it was stupid. You were three years deep into the situationship; if he hadn’t left his wife by then, he wasn’t leaving her period.

It was a harsh pill that took you forever to swallow.

And even then, you knew that you could never be happy. Not with the knowledge that he’d left his wife for you. It may be bliss initially, but the guilt would have eaten you up and ruined things regardless.

So accepting and telling yourself that it would never work out long-term was what kept your head above water, especially in the two months after you broke things off. And once you learned you were pregnant with Callie, there was a new kind of stress, a new kind of distraction.

Not that it made you forget about him. Hardly.

Every check up, every milestone, every kick, your mind would wander to him. Wander to a fantasy world where you imagined he was with you every step of the way, the two of you preparing together for the arrival of your first child.

Even as the years went on and Callie got older, you still would find yourself from time to time imagining how different things would be if he was around.

Well, now he is. He’s not only around, but he’s going to be actively involved in Callie’s life for the rest of her life.

And he’s now single.

All of this makes for one fucked up emotional rollercoaster ride.

Dinner is an experience, only for you, maybe Joe to some extent. He’s always had a tendency to compartmentalize emotions though, unlike yourself. Granted, if it was a struggle for him, he did a damn good job not showing it. It also probably helped a ton that Callie talked a hole in his and your mom’s head.

You knew your mom could see something was up with you but graciously opted to not ask you any questions. You wouldn’t have any answers to give her anyway. 

And you indicated as much when you were back at your apartment, and Callie in her room gathering her favorite pajamas for bed. 

“I just need time to think.” 

It’s all you can offer him, because it’s the truth. There’s so much more to consider than you could have imagined, and it’s really hard to contemplate when you still have Mariah’s voice oscillating in the back of your mind, your insecurities, and even your mom. 

So many differing perspectives, it’s hard to focus and hear your own.

Thankfully, he accepts that answer, and you accept that you’re running out of different ways to escape confronting your own emotions. 

Maybe.

Because this day has already been exceedingly long, and you’re more emotionally exhausted than anything. So when Callie comes to you complaining of a tummy ache, you administer her Children’s Tylenol, lay with her until she falls asleep, and take advantage of this rare opportunity to turn your brain off and just rest.

The hard shit could wait.

—-------

“Mommy!”

There's a certain tone every person has that's reserved for emergencies, saved for moments when something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

This is one of those moments.

You nearly trip with how quickly you jump out the bed and sprint down the hall to Callie’s room. Hitting the light switch, your stomach drops when you see her.

On her side, in a fetal position, crying profusely. 

Rushing over to her, you see too that she's pale and a hand to her forehead reveals she's burning up. Sheer panic climbs up your body, settling into your stomach and the back of your throat. Still, you do your best to not show her your fear.

“Baby, is it your tummy?” You take a hand to feel her stomach, but she screams out in pain, making you jump from her reaction.

“Mommy, it hurts,” she sobs, and you're instantly moving the blankets off her, already knowing what you need to do. 

Hand on her forehead, you assure, “I’lll be right back, okay?”

You rush back into your room, sliding on the first pair of shoes that you come across. You grab your phone off the nightstand and throw it in your purse, all in under a minute, still too long. And as soon as you're back in her room, you waste no time in lifting her into your arms. 

She winces, so you reassure, “come on, baby. It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”

It's what you're telling yourself, the only thing keeping you from panicking. Unsure and uncaring at this moment if you lock the front door behind you, you carry her down the steps and into the dark of night, carefully but quickly buckling her into her carseat.

Hating to see her continue to cry, to be in pain, you kiss her forehead, “I’m gonna get you some help, okay? We're going to the hospital.”

She can only nod, and your eyes water. Your forever talkative child is rendered speechless by her pain. It crushes you.

Hopping into the driver's seat, you grab your phone, trembling fingers locating the address of the hospital. You hit share and send it to Joe before pressing the call button and tossing your phone into the passenger seat to zoom out of the parking lot.

Your phone is connected to your vehicle, ringing three times before he picks up, voice heavy with sleep. “Hey.”

“I need you to meet me at the hospital. I already sent you the address.” You do your best to remain calm and collected, to not scare Callie more than she's already scared. Even if you’re fucking terrified. “Something is wrong with Calista.”

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is for @noire610 - Don't go.

Cere is the first to leave. Cal can barely look at her, his anger, his disappointment, choking him into silence. He finds her in her cabin, packing up her belongings. Well, she’s missing one, and he holds it out to her; her lightsaber hilt, his crystal removed from it.

She takes it, as mute as he is. He’s not sure what the gesture truly means.

It’s yours, it belongs with you, take it back. It feels right.

I can make my own lightsaber. I’ll find my own way without you.

Thank you, Cere, for everything.

Cere shoulders her pack and heads for the exit. Her final words?

“Be safe, all of you.”

Greez sobs.

Merrin returns her well wishes.

BD accepts a final pat on the head.

Cal says nothing.

Don’t go.

He can’t say it. He’s not sure he means it.

(He does. He does mean it. Don’t go, Cere. Don’t leave – )

Merrin is the next to leave. Like Cere, she takes everything she has, packing it all into a backpack she shoulders without complaint. She gives Greez a hug, accepts one from BD, and takes one of Cal’s hands in her own.

“I will see you again,” she tells him.

Don’t go.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice so harsh he’ll be lucky if Merrin ever looks his way again, let alone speaks to him. “Be safe.”

He can sense her need to say more, a need maybe to explain herself, but even if she screamed it directly into his ears, he wouldn’t be able to understand it.

Don’t go.

They drop her off on Ord Mantell. She doesn’t look back, and Cal doesn’t watch her go.

It’s no surprise when Greez says he’s going too, it’s too much for him, he’s lost his touch, literally, and all this flying from one warzone to the next isn’t doing him any good. He tells Cal to leave him on Nar Shaddaa, he’ll figure it out from there, and yeah, kid, the Mantis is yours, take care of her until I ask for her back, because she’s still mine, don’t you forget it, and by the way –

Don’t go.

But Greez goes too. He goes, and then it’s just Cal, BD, and the Mantis. It’s too big for the two of them. It doesn’t matter than Cal can walk around barefoot or leave dirty plates, cups and spoons all over the galley without reprimand. It doesn’t matter that he can leave laundry wherever he wants. It doesn’t matter if he fails to wipe down the decks. Who cares if he takes caf into the cockpit? No one’s there to yell at him.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Don’t leave me with all your echoes.

Greez in the cockpit, checking landing coordinates.

Cere, reading in the lounge.

Merrin, making potions in the galley.

All three of them, living ghosts all over the ship.

He sits in the pilot’s seat, adjusted for his height and number of arms, staring out at space, BD beside him on the dash. He swallows, throat dry, belly empty because he’s forgotten to eat. He’s forgotten a lot of things, including how long he’s been staring out at the stars.

Alone, again.

Adrift, again.

“BD?”

BD looks over.

“If you’re waiting for the time to tell me you’re going to, this would be it.”

Outraged, BD squawks and launches himself into Cal’s arms. He’s not going anywhere. Where Cal goes, BD goes.

“You’re sure?” Cal hears a crack in his voice.

Sure? Is he sure? BD thumps his head against Cal’s chest.

“Thanks, buddy. For everything.”

BD suggests they get back to the mission, after Cal’s had some dinner.

“You up for it?”

Of course BD’s up for it! “Great, because I know where Saw Gerrera’s at, and he’ll have a mission for us.”

[littleholmes]

If no one else has the guts to do it, then I’ll be the monster!

This…makes so much sense.

I’m gonna ramble for a second but—damn. It really goes back to when Satoru and Suguru were in high school and those pivotal losses of Amanai and Haibara that really forced these two to confront the horrible reality that is their jujutsu society.

From birth, everything has been riding on Satoru Gojo. He’s had to do everything because he’s the Six Eyes and has the Limitless technique and it’s just expected. He’s had bounties and death threats since before he could crawl, and he’s grown up as the strongest and has had to do so much for the jujutsu society because that’s his role. That’s the expectation. He’s had to bear the burden of the whole jujutsu world riding on him and he’s been lonely at the top—until Suguru, who was the closest to his equal in power. Both of them experienced the day Amanai was killed, and Satoru immediately went into “why don’t we just kill them?” mode, but they didn’t.

Then later when Haibara died and Nanami wanted to just leave everything to Satoru, Suguru was reminded that this jujutsu world they’re in has so much hinging on sorcerers as cogs in the machine and pawns in the sacrifice, and that Satoru holds the most amount of power—and it still isn’t enough. When he saved Mimiko and Nanako and chose his path, he tried to get Satoru to join him so they could both just end this and stop being pawns and take control instead of being controlled, but they separated and went about it in differently, each becoming monstrous in their own ways—and it wasn’t enough. It still isn’t enough.

No matter what he does, sorcerers are still being sacrificed, the youth of young sorcerers keeps getting snatched away and replaced with death and stress and fighting much like it was for Suguru and Shoko and himself, and unnecessary losses keep happening and the higher ups are in on it, so many people are in on it, and he’s still the biggest player on the chessboard, so he couldn’t get away and live on his own terms like Suguru, who surpassed him in one of the biggest ways, and that’s by leaving this system and doing things for himself without the higher ups and the other head families further using him and his abilities as the last bastion of safety.

They were both the strongest but there was only one Satoru Gojo and he couldn’t just leave. He had to stay, continue to be the monster, and be alone the entire time as he gets used by the system. Even after death he’s needed and I just…damn this jujutsu society. And one of the last things he could do to help his students is take out the higher ups so if they make it out and survive this, the jujutsu society hopefully will change and the students can have a chance at a future and a different life than his and Suguru.

Idk I’m rambling and I’m sure this doesn’t make sense and, as always I’m tagging in @psychewritesbs but the jujutsu society is so awful and it made a monster out of Satoru and Suguru and they’re both collateral in this machine that is still churning and using these students and sorcerers who get nothing in return but death, and few to no options as they continue to move forward and dismantle these generations-old systems (Maki and the Zenin clan, Satoru and these higher ups, Yuta and Kenjaku (and then reclaiming Kenjaku’s technique for good)) and try to win this so they can hopefully, maybe, perhaps, possibly reclaim their futures.

[spacebarbarianweird]

the officialized Dadstarion request:

I was thinking that Astarion is trying to teach his moody pre-teen dhampir how to fight and she’s not having a good time, because why would someone as strong as her bother with mortal weapons, let alone some knives. But Astarion is pretty set on teaching her how to defend herself in a way that has her rely on skills other than her inherent dhampir powers.

There’s definitely a clash of opinions but both slowly get where the other is coming from—Astarion who was weak and had to learn how to be strong; his kid—born strong having to come to terms with the fact that strength isn’t everything

Thank you, hehe ✨

Ooof, I finally made it! Hope you will enjoy the story about how to train your dhampir!

If you wonder who is Nris and how he ended up in the Ancunins' basement, you can read The Dead, the Half-Dead and the Undead (but you don't have to).

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Alethaine how to fight

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, necromancy, father-daughter relationship, Tiriel is being a bitch, slice of life

Alethaine's age: 11

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine drops her bag on an empty chair and yawns, showing her dhampir fangs (and causing a tiny human child next to her to flinch).

The teacher, an elderly tiefling with a broken tail, explains the town’s kids things so basic that the dhampir already knew them when she was four. 

Unfortunately, there is only one person in the whole Daggerlake who has decided to teach the local kids at least something, and once a week, a bunch of children aged eight to fourteen gather in a small hut to listen to the tiefling bragging about the “good old days” and also learn some basics of math and Infernal.

“What are you doing here?” a dwarven girl, Rutha, whispers. “I thought your dad locked someone in the basement to teach you...magic stuff!”

“Nris knows no shit!” Alethaine answers. “All he teaches me is how to draw stupid runes and sigils and he can’t even raise a dead dog from the dead!” She stumbles. “Wait! How do you know dad locked someone in the basement?!”

“Everyone in town knows Astarion kidnapped a dark wizard,” Rutha shrugs. “He’s been there for how long? Does your dad feed on him?”

Alethaine bites her lower lip. It was supposed to be a secret along with her necromantic abilities. A year ago she accidentally revived a dead kitten. As if the gods had decided that elf-dhampir wasn't enough and also gave Alethaine an innate talent for necromancy.

Sorceress.

That’s what Alethaine Ancunin is.

Her dad, Astarion, faced and solved this problem in his own manner: he brought his daughter a teacher. Nris, a poor necromancer whose soul had been sold to the devils. Astarion broke the necromancer’s pact but made him sign another. Nris was supposed to teach Alethaine necromancy while hiding in the basement of the Ancunin’s house as long as his service was needed.

“No, he just lives there. And he is a useless piece of shit!” Alethaine says in her normal voice as the human boys who sit in the front row start arguing with the teacher calling him a demon.

“Why is that necromancer still there?” Rutha exclaims.

“I AM TIRED OF YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” the teacher yells and drags one of the boys to the board.

“Because of my mum!” Alethaine answers. “Dad wanted to get rid of Nris in a week. And you know what happened? Mum went down to the basement, looked at the necromancer, and yelled that he owed her money!”

“How so?”

“OH, YOU WANNA A FIST FIGHT?!” The tiefling roars at the ten-year-old. “YOU WILL GET A FIST FIGHT!”

Alethaine got closer to Rutha.

“When mum was twenty, he gave her a quest to retrieve some magic item from some ogres. She did find it, but the ogres broke her hand in two places. When she came back, Nris refused to pay and Mum had to stay in a temple till she fully recovered. So, Dad calculated the interest since it’s been almost fifty years ago and also the moral damage – and now Nris is staying till he pays back by teaching me!”

A wooden chair flies over the girls’ heads and smashes against the wall.

“YOU MOTHERF –” the teacher suddenly remembers he is in the room full of children and switches to Infernal. The insults pour down on them and Alethaine takes a piece of paper to write down at least a few words. Who knows, maybe she will need to make a devil cry one day?

“Slow down!” Alethaine yells back. “I am taking notes!”

Someone in the classroom joins the screaming match and Alethaine’s head starts aching. Acute hearing causes more trouble than common people think.

… When Alethaine leaves school (if one can call it that), it’s still afternoon. Usually, the dhampir helps the healer with the herbs – the halfling doesn’t see in the dark of the underground tunnels and can’t walk up the walls, so Alethaine has been helping her since she was five. Kelma pays her and the dhampir often has some money to spend on herself, especially when traveling sellers visit Daggerlake or her parents take her to Secomber, a bigger city fifty miles to the West. 

Alethaine takes the stone stairs and walks to the underground part of the town. The dhampir has no idea why Kelma prefers to live there without dark vision, but it seems like she is perfectly fine in the shadows.

“Oh, you are early today,” Kelma says, seeing Alethaine entering the yard. 

“The teacher fought the smith’s daughter.”

“Ah, he’s drunk his own brains with fire whiskey. I have no work today, Aletha, take a day off.”

“Don’t you need anything?”

“Do you want to help me clean the hut? I can give you the rugs to mop the ceiling,” the healer chuckles.

“Nope.”

“I thought so. You know, Alethaine, you were always a bit lazy. Tiriel would come to me asking if it was normal for an elf to sleep as much like you did.”

“Kelma—” Alethaine groans.

“Oh, and I remember you absolutely refused to walk when you already could. Why bother walking if mum and dad carried you around? They have been spoiling you rotten, especially Astarion!” Kelma laughs.

“You know Kelma… I will busy myself with something!”

“Good, Alethaine. Tomorrow, I will need your help to carry sacks around.”

“The teacher wants to give us a test in math tomorrow.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“Then I expect to see you at noon,” the halfling takes her pipe out and smokes.

Alethaine closes the fence. She doesn’t want to go home – Tiriel will try to force her to learn magic from Nris. And not because she really thinks he can teach her anything, but because she wants compensation for what the necromancer did to her fifty years ago. To her daughter, Tiriel has never come across as vindictive;now Alethaine thinks  her mother will rip the throat of anyone refusing to pay for her services in battle.

So, the dhampir goes further into the underground tunnels.

This part of the town is completely prohibited for the town's kids, but Alethaine has been going there since she was little. The tunnels are a part of some ancient temple that disappeared into oblivion millennia ago. They spread further and further under the ground, nearly reaching the Underdark.

And the whole place is deliciously creepy.

Alethaine jumps on what looks like a part of the wall, spreads her arms as if she needs to keep her balance and walks forward.

The sounds of the town fade as the girl explores the dark place. 

Alethaine Ancunin sees the world in shades of gray. She senses the presence of creatures full of warm blood and skeletons buried beneath the stones.

Skulls can tell a lot if one knows how to make them talk…

Someone grabs Alethaine from up above. She smells fresh blood and senses the familiar embrace.

“Dad! Let me go!” She laughs as Astarion holds her a few feet above the wall. 

“Hm? Should I?” he chuckles. His shirt is blood-stained and his skin is unnaturally warm.

“Yes! Dad, let me go!” Aletaine insists and he immediately puts her back.

Then, Astarion jumps on the wall and now they stand in front of each other. Alethaine smiles and hugs him.

“I thought you didn't want me to hold you?” he mocks her, patting her back.

“I don’t like being held upside down!”

“It’s actually ridiculous because it’s natural to walk like that” he sits at the edge of the wall. Alethaine joins him. It’s about twenty feet to the solid ground and it would concern Alethaine if a fall could do any harm to her.

Well, it still can. When Alethaine was eight she had a nasty fall into a crevice and broke her leg. She crawled back using her spider climb and then went straight home. It took her longer with a broken leg and she ugly cried because there was no one around. By the time she arrived home, her leg had already healed thanks to her regenerative abilities, but it didn’t mean the whole experience was less horrifying for the little dhampir. 

Alethaine remembers entering the house, all dirty, with a blood-stained dress, without one boot, hair dirty and messy, limping (because the leg hurt as hell) while her parents were talking in the kitchen. Now that she is eleven, she suspects she witnessed Astarion drinking Tiriel’s blood.

She knows her father dines on her mother’s blood. She also knows that it involves adult things she isn’t supposed to see. 

“How was school?” Astarion asks, taking his daughter’s hand. Alethaine’s skin is as pale as his.

“I learned how to swear in Infernal.”

“A rather practical skill!” he laughs. “I had a fight with a behir. Rather horrible beasts. And their blood tastes… weird”

“Do you drink any blood?” she suddenly asks. “Like, will any living creature do?”

“Blood is blood,” Astarion shrugs. “I can feed on fleas and worms as long they are alive.”

“Ew! Gross!” Alethaine cringes and her father smiles. There is something bitter about it, but Alethaine doesn’t know why. 

“...your mother's blood tastes different from that of any...,” he sighs dreamily and Alethaine covers her pointy ears.

They sit in silence for a while.

“You need to be careful,” he says. “There are many dangers in the tunnels and also in the woods.”

“I can deal with danger! I am a dhampir!” She bares her fangs and then takes a boulder that weighs almost as much as hers and tosses it into the air like a rubber ball. “I can rip their throats and break their bones. And I also know dark spells!”

“Alethaine, you are eleven. You aren’t invincible. I want you to be careful.”

“What for? I can fight an ogre if I need to! I am a Dhampir and a necromancer, I already know more than this filthy man you locked in the basement!”

Astarion’s face gets a serious expression.

“You know more than him, princess, because he is a wizard and you are a sorcerer. He taught himself all the things you were born with. But it doesn't seem like you know how to use these skills.”

“I will be fine!”

“All right then,” Astarion chuckles.

Aethaine turns around and suddenly a cold grip closes on her throat. Astarion’s eyes glow red.

“Dad…”

And then he jumps from the wall dragging her with him. In a heartbeat Alethaine finds herself restrained on the stones with her father’s knees on her ribcage and his dagger against her neck.

“So, where is your strength and where is the necromancy?” he asks softly. “If I were an enemy, you would be already dead.”

Alethaine pushes Astarion and he lets her go. The anger awakes something feral in the dhampir, the predatory side that screams “kill the vampire,” and she jumps on Astarion.

KILL THE VAMPIRE.

Only to be thrown away.

Astarion moves gracefully, holding daggers in his hands.

“Cast a spell.”

“But—”

“Cast at least something, princess, since you are so proud of your abilities!”

Alethaine raises her hand. For a brief second, her fingertips prickle, and a green ray strikes Astarion. 

And nothing happens even though Alethaine is sure he has been hit.

“What do the drunkard at school and the moron in the basement even teach you…” Astarion mutters. Now, he looks just disappointed. “I am undead. I am immune to necrotic damage!”

“Fuck,” Alethaine says.

“Fuck indeed. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I am fine.”

Astarion kneels in front of her. “Princess, you are not invincible. Many things will want to hurt you. And if you don't know how to protect yourself, you will die. And you’d better pray you just die in the blink of an eye not feeling anything. Because there are things worse than death. Being trapped by a hag. Being a slave in the Underdark. Getting your memories and personality erased. Turning into a disgusting monster. You can’t turn into a vampire, that’s for sure, but dhampirs are our worst enemies. Your mother and I released seven thousand bloodsuckers into the Underdark and who knows how many vampires are there now. And if they learnt you exist, young and innocent, they will want you dead before you become a menace.”

Astarion hands her a dagger.

“You need to learn how to fight.”

**

Alethaine is tired, dirty, and angry.

Every time she thinks she understands how to use daggers in a fight, she somehow ends up on the ground over and over again.

Or against the wall.

Or with a blade against her throat.

Or face down with her father pressing a knee on her back.

And over and over again she is forced to stand and try again. 

Her bones have been broken at least thrice. One time she even lost consciousness after Astarion pushed against a boulder. She woke up in a second and tried to bite her dad but instead ended up in a pool of dirt once again.

“You are dhampir!” he encourages her. “You are stronger than I am! You don’t have my weaknesses! You can take me in a fight!”

“Who said that,” Alethaine sniffs and tries once again. 

And again.

And again.

“I am tired,” she pouts. “And hungry. We can try again later!”

Astarion looks at her and nods. 

The moment he turns around, Alethaine snatches the dagger and stabs his hip forcing Astarion to fall down with a short cry.

She pulls the blood-stained dagger and jumps on him, pointing the weapons at his face.

Astarion stares at her in shock and then starts laughing.

“You did it! Gods, Alethaine, you did!” He sits up and hugs her. “My ferocious little princess, you took me down!”

Alethaine looks at his hip which has already stopped bleeding. 

“It was fun,” Alethaine admits as they return home.

“I suppose you enjoyed the part when you threatened to cut my perfect face?”

“It was fun to fight. I want to know more about fencing!”

“I will teach you, don’t worry. You will challenge evil vampire lords to duels and end their pathetic lives!”

Alethaine smiles holding her father’s hand.

“I will tell Nris you are tired,” he says when they approach home.

“Dad… about that… Could you please send him away?”

“Your mother wants him to stay.”

“And I don’t! The whole point was for him to teach me, not Mum to get her revenge!”

“All right, I will talk to her,'' Astarion promises. “Now go and clean yourself before eating.”

Alethaine spends an hour in the bath washing off the dirt and sweat. She hears her parents talking but can’t decipher their words. 

When she finally returns to the kitchen, Tiriel hands out a plate with dinner in front of her.

“Kitten, so you really don’t learn anything from Nris?” the red-headed warrior asks.

“The drunk tiefling at school teaches me more!”

“Great. I am tired of having a stranger in the house. Besides, we need the basement for something else!” she suspiciously winks to Astarion and the vampires grins.

Alethaine pretends she didn’t hear that.

Tiriel goes downstairs. Something slams against the wall.

“Wake up, moron!” Tiriel yells.

“What now?” Nris grunts as the barbarian drags him upstairs. “Oh, hello creatures of the night. You’ve decided to eat me and end my sufferings?”

Tiriel pushes him to the table. The necromancer looks pathetic – he wears rags, reeks of cheap ale, and the symbol of Thay on his chest is covered with the remains of his last dinner. 

“You know, I really needed those ten gold back,” Tiriel grabs his short hair as if she wanted to slam his face against the table. “I was twenty, I was all alone, no soul to care about me and the only thing I wanted was to do my job and get a fucking reward!”

“Mum, I am still a minor!” Alethane protests.

“Kitten, I am well aware of your skills in insulting others!” Tiriel returns back to Nris. “So, imagine me crawling back from that disgusting cave with my hand broken in two, bleeding and tired, only for you, Nris, to take the item and cast me out like a cat on the streets!”

“I am sorry! Tiriel, I’ve already apologized! Astarion, tell her!”

“Nris, there are only two people in this world I care about and neither likes you,” Astarion keeps sharpening his dagger.

“You apologized only because you realized your well-being depended on me, a once poor stupid girl who couldn’t read! Fuck off, I don’t want to ever see you again.”

Nris stares at her with horror. “You let me go? Just like this?”

“Well, not exactly,” Tiriel takes his right hand and breaks the bone with a disgusting cracking sound.

“YOU BITCH!!” the necromancer cries out. “FUCK!”

Tiriel grabs Nris’s collar and drags him all the way to the front door to throw him out like a drunk client in a tavern.

Alethaine looks at Astarion.

“And mum is supposed to be the normal one?” she says.

“Your mum allowed a vampire to bite her, what are you even talking about…”

Tiriel walks back and sits at the table, taking her portion of the food.

“And now you two tell me why you look worse than I did after working for that piece of shit!”

**

Astarion goes downstairs to the basement. The place reeks of the necromancer even though he has left.

“We need to burn everything down,” Tiriel says, looking around.

“Darling, I am not ready to move anywhere, especially after an arson,” he hugs her and teases her left ear. “But now, the basement is all ours!”

“I actually got tired of wishing for Alethaine to go for a walk every time we want to have sex. Do you remember how easy it was before? Whenever and wherever we wanted!”

“Acute dhampir hearing be damned,” Astarion sticks his hand inside Tiriel’s waistband. “But she can’t hear us from down here; is your desire for justice satisfied?”

“Oh, absolutely! But you’ve made a pact with him, haven't you?”

“I did. So, if Alethaine needs him for something he can’t say no because otherwise his former masters will come for him. He really did need to pay you back then!” His left hand traces along her curves.

“I was hurt and lonely,” she pouts. “It was a cold autumn, and I had to sleep on the floor of the temple of Tyr. I imagined someone hugging me to fall asleep.”

“Hm? Was it an elf with short silver hair?” he chuckles.

“I imagined him with long hair like your people usually have,” Tiriel sticks her neck out, inviting him for a bite.

Astarion pierces the skin and Tiriel’s blood gushes down his throat. 

Her blood is unique, no other sentient being can compare. Even small droplets of it satiate him, make his heart beat, and warm his skin.

He lets her go before pushing her on the floor.

“I love you,” Astarion says, getting rid of her clothes as she unlaces his trousers. 

“I love you, too,” Tiriel answers, tugging him as close as possible.

--

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[howlsofbloodhounds]

Thinking about how, while in ST1, Killer has to worry about how he could and would legitimately hurt even the people he cares about in other Stages simply because he was designed to be a danger.

Having to worry about people with “savior/hero” complexes getting hurt because they think they’ll somehow be an exception, or that it isn’t actually as bad as ST1 says it can and will be. Thinking about how he’ll have to constantly warn people that bother getting close to him, and constantly reminding people that, no, kindness isn’t enough to fix him.

For most parts of himself, kindness and mercy doesn’t even exist in their worlds. He won’t understand or care for your kindness if something triggered him into ST3.

ST3 only knows fear, aggression, and survival. ST4 seemingly only knows to kill and fulfill its duties; your kindness means nothing to those won’t be “tricked” by it or simply just writes you off as being weak for having mercy at all.

And he will be left with the overwhelming guilt and shame after. And he will have to deal with the rest of the Multiverse deeming him even more of a monster.

Or how the Multiverse demands him to react to things in a way they feel makes sense or the way they feel he should, trying to shove his jagged pieces into too small boxes they created for him in their minds. They demand guilt and remorse for Killer’s actions, not knowing that ST2 Killer simply isn’t capable of it, nor would he see the logic in feeling remorseful.

Papyrus was an obstacle. Why should he feel remorse for clearing the path and crossing off an objective? That makes no sense.

Why would ST3 guilty for surviving when Papyrus was weak enough to refuse to even fight? If you don’t understand what it takes survive, then why should your opinions matter? Make it your monster. If it means surviving, it’ll gladly prove you right.

Why would ST4 care about lines of codes, why would it feel bad for making Chara happy with its obedience, why would it feel bad for completing the mission and its tasks, why would it feel bad for being good? Its duty is to Chara, who is its everything, not Chara’s enemies.

They don’t know him. Why would they mourn who they don’t know?

It must be extremely exhausting and terrifying having to bare your soul and explain yourself to every person who enters your life, because they deserve to make informed choices and you don’t want to risk their lives for existing near you and you don’t want to get attached to those who’ll leave once they realize they were out of their depth.

And you can’t even muster the energy to be angry or hurt because you understand and you’re just glad you can’t ruin another life, even if it means you’re alone again and no one will understand what you are.

It’s as inevitable as death is. You’ll have to learn to accept it.

I bet he often yearns to just rewind time to when the thought of ever turning the blade on Chara was never even a whisper. Things made sense with them and they understood him because they made him and they were untouchable and could never die, despite how that knowledge used to plague him during those times. The world was what Chara made it, and they often made it a scary place, but it made sense.

Killer!Sans doesn’t have anywhere to go after Chara besides Nightmare and those who offer more don’t often truly understand how to help him or why he functions like he does.

Sometimes they accidentally make things worse in their confused but well meaning intentions and he’s often left as scared and angry as he always is, just wanting the world to leave him alone. He doesn’t want to live his life in fear but that seems to be the only option most days when even existing hurts him.

He’s often too much, too complicated, too confusing, too violent in his fear and anger, too broken to shove back together again. If he isn’t a bad person or a tool or an experiment, then he’s someone’s charity case or pet project.

Must’ve been reliving to have met someone as strong as Color, someone willing to bravely face the twisted mess that he is and still be kind enough to try and help, not because Color wants to boost his ego by “fixing” him or “taming” Nightmare’s pet murderer—but because it’s the right thing to do and he cares about Killer. And he doesn’t turn away whenever he finds something about Killer he doesn’t really understand or grasp completely.

[mayasdeluca]

I love Stefania but I have no interest in watching/listening that podcast. Any chance you’ll do a recap of the highlights?

Sure...I just finished watching so this is what I took from it:

Says that it’s starting to sink in that it’s the series finale but also feels like they’re on hiatus and that when they’re supposed to go back in July that’s when it will probably really sink in.

They were supposed to film this podcast episode while they were still filming the finale but it was too hectic with them filming overnights and such. 

After long days of interacting with people all day long she needs time to just be alone and recharge/watches Friends to wind down. 

Stefania eats a lot of sweets on set (chocolate donuts) and then they started talking about broccoli for like 5 minutes because Stefania said she loves to eat broccoli and kale and healthier things when she travels because she’s eating all the sweet stuff on set lol

She said she’s not a good cook and didn’t inherit a cooking gene and only does it out of necessity.

Talks about transitioning from dance to acting and says that one day she just felt she was done and she loved dance, it was a great relationship but she’s ready to move on. 

She started dancing when she was six because there was this drawing competition in school and the winner got free dancing lessons for a year and she drew a ballerina and won. Did ballet first but was bored and picked it up years later and did more modern jazz type dance. 

A good portion is then spent of Gaby and Stefania speaking in italian because Gaby lived there for a while. They start to talk about an Italian tv show. 

Jaina and Gaby pointed out that Stefania looks so comfortable speaking in Italian and so herself but Stefania said when she’s acting in Italian, she’s not comfortable and prefers to act speaking English because she has an accent with every language she speaks and she has a different inflection now when speaking Italian while acting. 

North Africa is somewhere she wants to check off on her bucket list.

She prefers the grainy look to film/tv/photo and doesn’t like HD. Film makes it more poetic, dreamy, special. 

Her digital camera she carries around is from the 90’s so the quality isn’t as sharp as pictures are today. 

She talked about her episode that she directed and a lot of her ideas went hand in hand with the script like the scene where everybody was angry and so they then slammed the doors and create the rhythm to create more drama. 

She talked about Zita Sempri and the meaning of ‘always a girlfriend, never a wife’ and how her mom taught her to always keep the freshness of when you’re first dating someone and to never give up your dreams/prioritize others before your own like women tend to do especially once getting into a marriage and that's something especially known for women to do in Sicily.

She says Jeff is super sweet with humans but loves to be the alpha with other dogs and gets aggressive and shows dominance when it comes to her stuff: food, treats, etc. 

Biggest fears: losing loved ones, losing her health/getting injured. Then talks about how she booked Grey’s two days after she was in acting class crying about her accent thinking it was too limited and she wouldn’t get a juicy role. And the minute they got told Station 19 was cancelled, all the fears she had about her accent came back that she will never book a role again.  (ABC count your days for this)

They talk about the difference in fashion/style in Italy compared to the US and Stefania says she has a different closet for clothes she wears in Italy and it’s much more structured/fancy as opposed to when she’s in LA wearing t-shirt/jeans.

They talked about how social media makes everything feel more aware and rigid and like there’s a filter and you have to be careful what you post not to upset anyone and constantly have to edit and you’re less free, authentic, less yourself. 

Stuck on an island and you could have three things: pizza, Jeff, something to drink (she mentioned bringing a water fountain lol)

Something people don’t know about her: she’s shy/reserved. It takes a while for her to open up to someone but once she does she’s more outgoing. She feels like a burden when opening up to someone so she has to make sure it will be well received/feels comfortable doing so.

What she’ll miss the most from Station 19: the people - cast, crew, human connection

What are you excited for in this next chapter? Not to talk about IVF and excited to talk about more stuff that’s more authentically in line with more of what her taste is and has become throughout the years. It has been incredible to play Carina and talk about the baby storyline and the struggles of it but she’s excited to tackle other things that are more true to her. She doesn’t want to have kids and for the past 3 years she has played a character who is desperate to have kids and she said it was beautiful because it was fun to connect with this different version of her and great to act out but she’s excited to act out some things that she does care about. 

She’s working on some kind of story as a director but didn’t want to say to much about it and jinx it. 

She took a pair of Carina’s pants from set but said she should have taken Carina’s lab coat. 

Most difficult scene to shoot - Andrew’s death. Emotionally tolling, a lot of crying, exhausting. 

If she could be in any tv show airing right now what would it be? My Brilliant Friend (Italian show) and she would have loved to be in the movie 7 pounds

She tends to lean more towards drama but would love to do comedy things as well. They talk about how she can pretty much cry on cue and can just think about all the shitty things that have happened to her and it comes instantly. She does a lot of emotional scenes/has to cry a lot. 

Espresso or English Tea? Espresso

Sicily Beaches or Hollywood Hills? Sicily beaches

Art museums or Theme parks on a day off? Art museums 

Dinner at home or Dinner out? Out

Gelato in Milano or Fish and Chips in London? Gelato 

Pizza or Pasta? Pizza on pasta

Tennis or PIckleball? Tennis

Travel to the past or future? The present

Saving lives in the ER or on the field with firefighters? ER

Station 19 or Grey’s Anatomy? no answer

She’s on Instagram and off Twitter for good, her therapist told her to. (And that’s literally all that was said about that and then it ended)

[thresholdbb]

Casually screaming about Tuvok’s goodbye to Neelix

[cats-in-the-clouds]

idk if this has any merit to it so correct me if i’ve got the wrong idea but a thing i’ve been thinking lately is that the biblical dichotomy between jew and gentile (which new testament scripture teaches is no more) is sort of reborn in the modern dichotomy between like.,,, cradle catholic and random atheist/agnostic

point being, God will reach out to everyone. even those who aren’t doing all the little traditional rituals right, even those who don’t know what they’re doing, even those who just walked in out of nowhere. so the former need to remember to have humility and compassion for others who are trying their best to seek truth.

this is not to say the former are doing anything wrong by going through all those motions- of course not! and of course those motions aren’t insignificant; they’ve got so much history and tradition behind them. but ultimately they aren’t what save us. the foreign gentile who just showed up one day is baptized and saved. the deathbed convert is baptized and saved. funny how that is

the devout jewish people of the scriptures and the modern day hardcore tradcaths are neither better nor worse than other people- they are the people fortunate enough to be born in the ‘right’ environment, so encountering Christ and being saved will be much easier for them. but this also means they have a responsibility to do more.

and if they go haywire in the way they behave the consequences will be so much worse because of what they’re supposed to be representing (and i’m sure we all know that biblically the jewish people have caused lots of their own problems and presently. well. a lot of catholics Suck™️. we are all that person sometimes. often. usually)

[cometrose]

Yes to all of what you said about Hae in and Hyun woo's relationship the discourse on some of these platforms is insane like people on Twitter and Instagram are unhinged and gave the dumbest takes that make it seem they're watching an entirely different show, "HW is toxic and evil and HI deserves better she's perfect" ummm.... I'm glad that at least here there seems to be a consensus of they're both flawed and need to communicate and do better

exactlyyyyy

I don't understand how people are interpreting this dynamic weirdly when it is the same rich stoic chaebol x poor emotional affectionate girl like always the only difference is the gender reversal.

Haein is the stoic, cold, calculating, emotionally-constipated, workaholic, rich heir. She clearly loves Hyunwoo but she is so emotionally shut off that she doesn't say anything she just expects all of her feelings to be conveyed to him. Of course I understand why she is like that and i don't want to dig into her too much, growing up in that household especially after the death of her older brother was suffocating and she probably only worsened after losing their child.

But I can't say she is perfect when as I mentioned she never protected him from her family (at least in front of him), berated him in front of employees, never visited his family, never comforted him at his lowest, and never communicated her feelings.

Remember in like ep.3 or something Hyunwoo mentions that for the first anniversary he did a big party but she didn't like that and at the second anniversary he did nothing but she also hated that. Like it is very clear that Haein absolutely sucks at expressing her true feelings and Hyunwoo isn't a mindreader, nobody is. You can't be mad at Hyunwoo for not understanding her feelings or not comforting her when she shut him out, when she doesn't tell him how she feels.

The whole shocked by the divorce is super common in this genre too because typically the male lead never thought his wife was feeling this way. Like those male leads, Haein believed that even though her partner is acting distant and closed off, that he still loves her because she still loves him when that couldn't be further from the truth.

You can't close your heart to the world and expect them to mourn you. If Hyunwoo didn't care about Haein's feelings then Haein equally ignored his feelings, both of them don't know how the other person is truly feeling and made little to no effort to resolve this miscommunication and just lived with the assumption. Their terrible, just abysmal, communication is making them suffer, they are supposed to do things together!!! they are partners!!! Both of them failed at being there for each other and it drove them a part.

[brookheimer]

didn’t expect the anne carson post to get notes but now that it has i myself am the recipient of bad takes. horrible

[designernishiki]

im at the haruka + akiyama duo section of 5 now and i love it <3 both for the uncle/niece sort of dynamic they have and because i fucking love me a murder mystery baby

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

moved into new room. rain is pattering on my new window. feeling super alive. & grateful.

[aardvaark]

i’m back ‘home’ for the holidays so i’m almost certainly about to go through a horrific depressive episode! great! that’ll either mean that i’m on tumblr way way more, or way way less, idk yet lol.

[strohller27]

.

[dykefever]

well the good news my housemates have stopped doing nangs in the bedroom right next to mine unfortunately they are now having loud sex instead