#so i have been meaning to change the header for FOREVER

[im-still-watching-anime]

i’ve been meaning to change my header to bsd for forever because i LOVE bsd but yall are really gonna tell me all about the new minato thing right as im about to finally go for it and stop me AGAIN?? yall cannot do this to me im literally never going to get over minato and kushina

[trashytracktales]

I need lando ANGST. Make me cry! But also smut! Goshhhh I need it. Something like they’ve been distancing each other and things have been so tense and one day lando catches reader getting herself off so he says ‘if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.’ And then he ruins here. But lots of angst in the beginning. Ty I love you xx

Endings, beginnings | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Well. I was sobbing while writing this. Hope you're proud of yourself 💔

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𐙚 summary ──── They’re at a breaking point in their relationship, their stubbornness and jealousy pushing them so close to the edge. After agreeing to distance each other during an exhausting triple header, Lando returns home unexpectedly to find her in his apartment, trying to cope with his absence.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, angst, smut, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, descriptive language, masturbation, oral & fingering ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, potential relationship breakdown.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── This is my 10th work ayeee! Thank you guys so much for investing your time into reading my silly little stories, and for trusting me enough to bring your requests to life. I appreciate you a lot 🤍🎀

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

IT'S LATE. THE kind of hour that turns Monaco into a still painting, muted and hollow, yet as breathtaking as ever.

Lando isn’t supposed to be home yet. The plan was to stay in Brazil for a couple more days after the race, but plans change when you're a professional overthinker. Somewhere between the chaos of three back-to-back races, he couldn’t stand the thought of another night in a hotel.

He needed to be in his own space so he could think.

The elevator ride to his floor seems like going on forever, his suitcase dragging heavily behind him, its wheels scratching aggressively against the polished floors the second he gets out of it. He’s expecting silence; an empty apartment, untouched, heavy with the ghosts of their last argument. But when he opens the door, the faint smell of her perfume hits him hard across the face, and his heart tightens.

His living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a scented candle casting long shadows on the walls. A throw blanket is draped over the couch, and a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.

And then he sees her.

She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Its sleeves cover her hands as she hugs her knees to her chest, her face partially hidden in the dim light of the room. Her hair is a little messy, and there’s a redness to her eyes that tells him she hasn’t been sleeping well — he knows he shouldn't, but he's glad he isn't the only one losing sleep over this. On a deeper level, it means they both care enough to let it consume them.

So, it has to count for something, right?

For a moment, he just stands there, staring. Then, the words spill out before he can stop them, or think of something else to ask, “Why are you here?”

Her head snaps toward him, her wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and guilt. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place.

She straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Lan…” she blinks in amazement, her voice barely audible.

“I just asked you a question,” he says, sharper than he initially intended.

He's not usually like this. But considering how they left things before he had to go, Lando is entitled to ask questions. It was her suggestion to separate, and finding her here only messes with his head more.

“I… know. I'm sorry,” she looks away, her fingers tugging at the hem of the hoodie. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” his suitcase thuds against the floor while he fixes his eyes on her. “Why are you in my apartment? We said we’d take some time apart.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively, but her voice remains the same as he knows it — soothing, carrying so much tenderness that it could stop wars. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lando exhales harshly, nodding while dragging a hand through his curls. “We agreed on space, remember?” he insists, “You can’t just show up here like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t—show up,” she snaps, her tone suddenly sharper. “I’ve been here for a while. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon,” she repeats.

“Okay, then. Let me get this straight. You're here, but you don’t answer my texts anymore,” he fires back. “Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn't for me.”

“I was going to,” she retorts, standing now, the oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.

Lando takes a step forward, his hands on his hips. “I don't understand you. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Space. Time. A chance to figure out if we even work anymore.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “I wanted to figure us out, not pretend we don’t exist.”

Lando's voice rises, his frustration spilling over, “You think I’m pretending? I’m doing what I thought you wanted! Because every time we’re together, we just end up—”

“Fighting,” she finishes bitterly. “Yeah, I know. Do you think I enjoy feeling like this all the time?”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I don’t know what to think or do anymore.”

They stand there in silence, the weight of their shared frustration pressing down on them. She sits back down on the couch, clasping her hands on the edge of it.

When she finally speaks again, her voice cracks. “I don't want to fight, Lando. I’ve been staying here because I couldn’t be in my own place. Everywhere I looked, I saw you. I thought maybe if I stayed here, it would make sense to feel your presence, because it's your place.”

Lando’s jaw tightens as he lets her words sink in. The sight of her, wearing his clothes with tears in her eyes makes his chest ache. He wants to wrap himself around her and make sure nothing will ever hurt her again, but the ego works a double shift tonight.

Still, “I'm not mad that you're here,” he clarifies. “But why didn’t you tell me?” asks Lando quietly.

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” she whispers. “I planned to leave before you… Well, it doesn't matter now.”

“See, that right there is the fucking problem. Of course it matters! Why wouldn't—”

“Because!” her firm voice interrupts him. “We keep hurting each other, and I honestly don’t think we'll ever stop. You’re stubborn and selfish, and I’m jealous, and we both jump to the worst conclusions about each other all the fucking time.”

Lando sighs, “Right,” he says after a pause, his voice laced with guilt. “I am stubborn and selfish,” he agrees, “I get angry too fast. Is that it? And you—you think I’m always looking for a reason to leave.”

Her breath catches as she looks down at a random point on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He steps much closer, his voice firm. “No. I’m not. But you make it so damn hard to stay sometimes.”

He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. He's aware that she's not the only one to blame for the situation that they're in, but at the moment, he's making it seem that way. He can't look at her hurt expression, so Lando closes his eyes for a second, a long silence settling in the distance dug so deeply between them.

She continues to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Yeah, well, you make it hard to trust you, Lando. Every time you’re away, I feel like I’m waiting for the other bomb to drop.”

He finally opens his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you want from me, hm?” he asks. “I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Her voice breaks as she replies, “I don't have any expectations left. I just want to stop feeling like I’m losing you all the time.”

Lando’s face softens, the exhaustion from weeks of racing and months of fighting etched into every line. He steps closer, slowly, until he’s standing in front of her. He crouches down so they’re eye level, his expression conflicted.

Even as hurt as she is now, he is still amazed by her beauty. Gazing down at him, she spreads her legs gently so she could make more room for him in her space. However, she's doesn't dare to touch him, no matter how badly she needs to feel him, just to remind herself that he's real.

“I'm so fucking tired, baby,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Every day, especially when you're not here,” she chokes out. “But I still want to try. God, Lando, I can’t imagine not trying.”

His hands reach for hers almost instinctively, but he acts with the same hesitation, pulling back at the last second. She notices, the flicker of hurt on her face evident in the way she squeezes her eyes shut, only to erase that image from her memory.

They sit in silence for a while, the air thick with unresolved issues and the weight of everything they can’t say. He studies her, trying to think ahead, but it’s impossible when she's like this — indecisive and lost.

Finally, Lando stands up, exhaling sharply. “I need a shower,” he mutters, heading toward the bathroom without another word.

She watches him go, her heart sinking. She’s still here, but somehow, it feels like she’s further away from him than ever. All she wants to do is jump into his arms and tell him she's missed him so much these past few weeks. Tell him how much she loves him, and that she would do anything to see him happy and satisfied with their life together. But she's too far away, and if she doesn't jump high enough, she could find herself free-falling, with no one to catch her on the other side. And that's too much of a risk, even for her.

When Lando comes back, his hair damp and his expression unreadable, she’s standing by the window, looking out at the city lights.

She doesn’t turn when he approaches, but she speaks softly, her voice small. “Do you even want me here?”

Lando freezes, her question cutting deeper than he expects. After a long pause, he answers, his voice low. “Of course,” he says. “But I honestly don’t think it's a good idea.”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah…” the girl nods slowly. “I just—Lando. I can’t keep doing this if I’m the only one who believes we can make it.”

Lando nods. “Thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore,” he says honestly, his voice steady.

A simple truth that neither of them wants to acknowledge. But even as the words hang in the air, neither of them moves to leave. Because for all the pain, there’s still something tethering them together — something they’re both terrified to lose.

“I’ll take the couch,” he finally says, tugging the throw blanket off the armrest. His voice is flat, drained of the emotion that had filled it earlier.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“You can have the bed,” he clarifies, avoiding her gaze as he starts arranging the blanket. “It’s late. We’re both tired, and this… we can’t fix this tonight. We should rest and talk it out in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to protest, the words forming instinctively, but then she stops herself. He looks so tired, not just physically but emotionally. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knows so well. He’s trying to create the space she's been asking for — not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, her voice small. Defeated. Once again.

At that, Lando turns to meet her eyes, his expression serious, almost distant. It’s a side of him she doesn’t see often, the version of Lando that’s careful and guarded. She hates it, hates the way it makes her feel like a stranger to him. But mostly, she hates that she’s the one who’s brought this out in him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a finality that makes her stomach churn.

Alright then.

“'Night,” she replies, walking past him, their arms touching lightly.

She retreats to his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. The familiar scent of him — clean, musky, intoxicating but soothing, grounding her with its quiet presence and making her feel more at home than ever — wraps around her as she crawls into the bed they’ve shared so many times before. But it feels different now, colder, emptier. Foreign, somehow.

For a stupid, silly moment, she lets herself believe that things will be okay in the morning. That they’ll talk, really talk, and find a way back to each other. She clings to that thought as she stares up at the ceiling, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't shake the feeling that this is it.

Neither of them sleeps for hours after that.

IT'S FOUR IN the morning when Lando lies on the couch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling as his thoughts race. He can hear the faint creak of the bed when she shifts, knowing she's not asleep, either, and it tugs at something deep inside him. He’s never been good at leaving things unfinished, and this is no different.

He pushes himself up from the couch for what feels like the hundredth time, his fingers curling and uncurling in frustration.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come home.

Maybe this is exactly why they need space, because when they're in each other's proximity, he simply can't think straight. Especially when she's just a few feet away, separated by only a simple door.

A door that masks the sounds of her soft cry.

Then, he hears the same faint sound, broken, but unmistakable. It cuts through his doubts like a knife through butter, sending a sharp pang of guilt and something deeper, a lot darker, straight to his chest. He hesitates for only a moment before moving toward the bedroom, his steps careful, almost hesitant. His hand hovers over the door, his heart pounding against his ribs as he takes a deep breath in.

Lando knocks softly, his voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the apartment. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing.

He knocks again, his jaw tightening.

The silence presses against him, thick and suffocating, until he can’t take it anymore. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes adjust to the dim light.

She’s sprawled on his bed, the sheets tangled around her hips, one hand clenched in the fabric while the other moves between her thighs. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted in soft, shaky gasps, and her eyes are squeezed shut like she’s trying to block out the rest of the world.

His throat goes dry, his emotions colliding in a chaotic storm of shock, desire, and something dangerously close to anger. Not anger at her — it never is — but at the situation, at the rift between them that’s left her seeking comfort this way. And at himself, for not being able to fix it.

He should walk away. He knows he should. But instead, he steps into the room, his movements slow and calculated as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching her intently.

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment, she looks utterly petrified. Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as she scrambles to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she fumbles for words.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you,” says Lando, his voice low and rough.

“You scared the shit out of me, Lando,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I thought you were…”

Asleep.

“And I thought you were crying,” he says, wetting his lips. “Well, I was right in a way.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and she looks away, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. He hates the way she shrinks under his gaze, but he can’t stop himself from taking another step forward. His jaw tightens again. He doesn’t know what to say or do, circling back to the same feeling.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, either — hurt, anger, longing?

So much lust.

The silence stretches between them until it’s almost unbearable. And then, finally, she moves, swinging her legs off the bed like she’s about to leave.

But he doesn’t let her.

His hand shoots out, grabbing her ankle and tugging her back toward the edge of the bed. Her gasp echoes in the quiet room, her wide eyes locked on his as he steps between her legs, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky, a mix of uncertainty and... hope that she already knows the answer.

“Fuck if I know,” he admits. His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart again, and he drops to his knees in front of her. “But I can’t just… I can’t leave you like this.”

“Baby,” she breathes, her tone caught between a plea and a warning.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Please. I can't take this shit anymore.”

At the sound of his pleading, she reaches out, her fingers threading through his hair as her breath hitches. It’s all the permission he needs to press his lips to her warm entrance, soft and tentative at first, but when she arches into him, her body trembling beneath his touch, something inside him snaps.

Lando doesn’t hesitate once she gives in, her fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs tremble against his shoulders. His hands grip her legs, his touch firm but reverent, holding her open for him like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

The first swipe of his tongue over her slit is slow and deliberate, tasting her in a way that makes her breath hitch. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shockwave through her that has her head falling back against the mattress.

“Lan…do,” her voice breaks on his name, a soft moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Always so sweet for me, love,” he exhales heavily, her scent intoxicating.

Lando's grip on her thighs tightens as he pulls her closer, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling her clit and flicking in a rhythm that makes her toes curl. The erotic sounds from between her legs make her close her eyes in pleasure, her pussy tightening around him with each intentional stroke of his tongue. He’s thorough, so meticulous, as though he’s trying to commit every whimper and every twitch of her body to memory.

“That's so good, Lan. Feels so good,” she lets out a string of moans, her eyes rolling as the air gets knocked out of her lungs. “Oh, god, I've missed your mouth so much.”

She traces her hand through his hair, holding him while her hips push forward, the bridge of his nose tickling her clit so sweetly. He wants to drown in her, to lose himself in the way she responds to him, every single time.

Each gasp feels like a lifeline, tethering him to something real, something he can hold on to when everything else feels so uncertain. Her fingers curl in his hair, tugging slightly as her hips begin to move against him, chasing the friction he so willingly gives. Lando's jaw clenches at the way she’s unraveling for him, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently, as he pulls out to suck gently on her clit.

“Baby, please,” she's almost crying, her voice shaky, but still cutting through the air like a plea for salvation. “Need you… so close.”

Lando doesn’t stop. He can’t. Especially not when her legs start to tremble against him, her breathing becoming erratic as she teeters on the edge. Instead, he slides one hand from her thigh to her hip, pressing her down slightly to keep her steady while his other hand moves swiftly to where he has been tongue-fucking her. His long fingers slide gently through her wetness, curling inside as he finds the spot that makes her see stars.

She feels herself opening wider for him, then clenching harder while he adds just enough pressure to make her body tense, his tongue never ceasing its rhythm.

“Lando, I—” her words dissolve into a broken moan, and he knows she’s close.

His heart pounds in his chest as he keeps going, the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of her pussy blending so beautifully with the noise of his tongue lapping at her clit. He doesn’t care how long it takes; he’ll stay between her thighs forever if he has to. He won't move again until she falls apart beneath him. For him. Maybe then Lando will understand why he needs her so much, why the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of himself.

When she comes, it’s like the world stops from spinning. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as she cries out his name, over and over again, her release washing over her in waves. He should pull out and give her time to ride out her orgasm, but his tongue and fingers coaxing her through it, making her gasp for another breath, is sending shocks of ecstasy to his hardened cock. In his desperate attempt to relieve his pain, he rubs himself against the bed, but it is not nearly enough.

Finally, when her hands are falling limply from his hair, that's when Lando slows down his movements. He presses soft kisses against her inner thighs as he pulls back slightly, his hands gently stroking her soft legs.

“You alright?” asks Lando, his voice raw.

She looks down at him, her chest heaving as their eyes meet. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something that makes her throat tighten. His lips are swollen and glossy, his chin slick and glistening from her arousal. His breathing is as unsteady as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s just run a marathon. The sight of him like this — completely undone and yet so devastatingly composed — makes her stomach clench with need. More need.

“Mhm,” she manages, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks, while her hand involuntarily travels back between her own legs.

Lando slowly wipes the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. The motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he wants her to remember every second of her high. Then he rises to his feet, his big frame towering over her as he leans forward, bracing himself on either side of her hips. Her breath catches as he hovers above her, so beautiful and wrecked, his face so close that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

She expects Lando to kiss her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, but instead, he tilts his head and murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down her spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby,” his unfiltered voice makes her heart race in her chest. “I don’t care that we’re fighting. It doesn’t matter how tired I am,” he continues, his eyes dark and piercing as they lock onto hers. “I’ll stop anything, drop everything, just to fuck my needy girl, yeah?”

The bluntness of his words, paired with the raw intensity in his voice, leaves her momentarily speechless, the pads of her fingers collecting whatever is left from her release. She whimpers softly, her lips parting again as she brings her fingers to his, pushing inside his mouth while watching his pupils dilating. Lando sucks on them with the same thirst as earlier, biting softly when she tires to pull out. At that, something inside her snaps. She surges up, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, slick with the taste of her still lingering there, and she can’t help the way she moans into his mouth. He groans in response, deep and guttural, as his tongue slides between her lips, claiming her in a way that makes her stomach flip.

It feels like fire and desperation, like he’s trying to pour all of his frustration into one single kiss. When his tongue moves against hers, she whimpers, the sensation achingly familiar yet entirely overwhelming. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s consuming her from the inside out, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Lan,” she moans into his mouth, “Please…”

Her pleading seem to break something in him. Lando pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his lips curling into a slow, crooked grin, making her realize how bad she's missed seeing it. There’s something tender yet profoundly sad in his expression, though, a quiet heartbreak that makes her chest burn.

“Please, what? Hm, what do you need?” he murmurs, his hand tracing a soft, reverent path down her body.

His fingers graze her collarbone, her ribs, her hip, each touch filled with a tenderness that feels almost out of place amidst the heat between them. But she doesn’t care about the sadness or the hesitation. Not right now. She arches into his touch, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she's whispering nonsense, too drunk on him to make more sense than that.

Lando’s breath mingles with hers, his lips brushing hers in the faintest of kisses as he whispers, “You aching for me, baby?”

Her nod is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels it, and his hand slips down to her hip, grounding her. The weight of his touch is familiar, comforting even, and it sends a tremor through her body that she doesn’t try to hide.

“Hurts so bad,” she admits, her voice cracking as her eyes meet his.

“I know,” he nods slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I me make it better?”

“Always.”

He presses his lips to hers fully now, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a balm against the ache between them. It starts soft, tentative, as if they’re testing the waters, but quickly grows deeper. His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, and she opens for him, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with all the longing, irritation, and so much love that he’s been holding back.

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of her shirt — his shirt — and pushing it up, exposing her bare skin. She gasps as his palms graze her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through her veins.

Lando pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head, his eyes darkening as he takes her in. “My beautiful baby,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself that she still belongs to him and vice versa.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He helps her, pulling it off in one fluid motion before pressing his chest against hers, their bare skin meeting in a way that feels like coming back home after a long, tiring trip.

They move together like this, slowly shedding the layers between them until there’s nothing left but their bodies and the weight of everything they've done wrong.

He lowers her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he settles between her legs. The warmth of his body, the solidity of him, makes her feel anchored, even as the storm inside her threatens to consume her. And when he enters her, it’s heaven, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her. She moans, her hands flying to his shoulders as he stretches her, filling her with his perfect length. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as they both adjust to his size.

“Remember how easy it used to be?” he whispers.

She nods while his lips are brushing her temple. “Yeah. I remember.”

The first thrust is painfully slow, managing to pull a soft moan from her lips. But soon enough, Lando sets a rhythm, one that feels familiar, almost nostalgic, like they’re trying to recapture the simplicity of how things used to be. She matches him, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

As the pace builds, so does the intensity and vulnerability between them. The kisses become messier, more desperate, and his thrusts deepen, driving into her with a force that feels like a mix of anger and love.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking as her nails dig into his back, leaving crimson lines in their wake.

“No?” she asks, a little hesitant.

His movements falter for a split second before he recovers, his eyes locking onto hers. “God. No, baby,” he says, his voice thick with determination. “We can fix this. I swear we can.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she can see his own glistening in the obscure lighting. They’re both breaking, and yet neither of them wants to let go.

Lando thrusts harder now, the force of it making her cry out as her body arches beneath him. She meets him halfway, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulls him deeper inside her, as close as humanly possible. The room fills with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other, their breathing, and their muffled cries.

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of their movements. “Like this, all the time. Only you.”

“You have me,” he replies, his voice breaking. “You’ll always have me, you know that.”

“Promise me,” she demands as she starts clenching around him, the heat building once again inside her.

Lando gasps at the feeling, fucking into her harder. “Shit, baby. I promise you. I promise.”

The weight of his words pushes her over the edge, her release hitting her harder the second time around. She cries out, tears streaming down her face as her body shakes beneath him. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing through him as he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders trembling with the force of it.

They stay like that, tangled together, their bodies molding into each other as they come down from the high. But the tears don’t stop. They cling to each other, crying softly as the reality of their situation crashes down on them.

“I love you so much,” he says, feeling her fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“I love you, too,” she admits without hesitation. “Do you think that's enough?”

Lando lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed but full of a tentative hope. “No. But it's a start.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

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© trashy track tales, 2024

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆…

part 4 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - you finally made your decision.

warning - angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, attempt at gaslighting, betrayal, disappointment.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You had woken up the next day, and you just laid there. You couldn’t move, your entire being ached, you were exhausted both physically, emotionally, and mentally. You had never felt this exhausted in your whole life, you never felt this broken and stuck. 

You knew you had to choose. The weight on your shoulders was bringing you down and you didn’t know if you could go on any longer without making a choice, a decision that could change your life forever. 

You could either pretend and live on in an obvious one–sided marriage while your husband continues to sleep around with your EX–best friend and any other woman he has on the side OR you could confront him and leave, making him sign the divorce papers that you would have to get a lawyer for the moment you left. But it would mean you would have to start all over again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, the memories from last night flash through your mind again, your husband and ex–best friend fucking each other in the bathroom, them fucking while you “slept”. You don’t think you could do this again nor could you pretend that everything was okay. You could hear them from the lounge room, their voices the only thing filling the quiet home. They sounded happy as they bantered and teased each other. 

You slowly slide to the edge of the bed and sit up. Your eyes connect in the mirror, and you finally look at yourself. You didn’t recognise the woman staring back at you, she seemed so lifeless, so broken. Where had the old you gone? Was she still there? You could see the sadness and rage swirling beneath your eyes, followed by bags and dried tears underneath. 

You were so sick of crying. When did you become so weak over a man?

Everything seemed to click when those beautiful blue eyes appeared in your mind. You could finally feel yourself think more clearly, you finally knew your decision. You weren’t making your decision because of those eyes, but they seemed to help clarify what you wanted. You could feel your soul tugging as the unknown man appeared in your thoughts. 

With one last look at yourself and a deep breath later, you turned. Ready. 

And finally, you chose yourself. 

“You got this.” You say and you will forever say it even with tears in your eyes. You move swiftly around the room, grabbing a suitcase from your cupboard and laying it down on the bed. You begin to pack, folding your clothes neatly before you place them in. You move onto shoes, accessories, makeup, perfume, and anything else that was yours. Once you zipped up your suitcase, you looked around the room. Your eyes caught in the mirror, and you finally felt freer. 

You grabbed your suitcase and spare outfit and left the bedroom. Resting the suitcase against the front door, you head into the spare bathroom as your other had been tainted with your husband’s infidelity and your ex–best friend’s betrayal. 

You had taken your time in the shower, washing the pain and sadness from your body. You even took your time making yourself look good, wanting him to regret his choices the moment you left him. With a final look in the mirror, you head out of the bathroom and into the lounge room. Your soon–to–be ex–husband and ex–best friend sitting too close for comfort, the sadness and anger that had been bubbling over had slowly disappeared as a blanket of numbness covered you. You could finally focus without your emotions getting in the way. 

“Somehow, I expected that this would happen eventually.” Your voice fills the room and the two on the couch jump apart, eyes wide as their heads whip towards you. You stare blankly, your heart still hurts but it was good. It was reminding you of what they had done. It was true, the old you had expected this would happen, but you were so caught up in thinking he loved you that you were blinded by him and his lies. “Given your history, I should have known better.” 

Johnny chuckles nervously, looking between you and Sarah. He wasn’t expecting this, but maybe he could lie and get out of it. Make you think it’s all in your head. “Babe, what are you talking about? I haven’t done anything!” He had to be careful, you hadn’t said what it was and if he wanted to lie, he couldn’t give anything away by saying the wrong thing. 

“So, you didn’t cheat on me?” You decided to play dumb. You remembered who you were, and the game changed. You wouldn’t let anyone make you forget again. 

Johnny scoffs. “Of course not, Babe! I love you! We’re just friends.” It was at that moment that he knew he fucked up.

“Just friends, huh?” You laugh. “Well, just friends don’t practically sit on top of each other especially when one is married, just friends don’t flirt with one another in a not so platonic way. Just friends don’t fuck each other in the bathroom while one friends wife is showering, just friends don’t slip out of bed when they think their wife is sleeping to fuck their friend in the other room. I’ve never had any friends like that, Johnny.” Your glare sharpens as you spit his name out with venom. 

His mouth opens and closes, and Sarah’s eyes widen. “How did you find out?” 

“You fucked her in OUR house! How do you think I found out?!” Your anger began to push against the numbness, wanting to be unleashed “I also remember everything. Every time you’d leave, look at another woman only for you and her to disappear a few minutes later, how you’d always be on your phone, OUR wedding.” You watched as they paled at the last part. 

“Babe! It was never supposed to get this far! Trust me, I’m so sorry!” He gets up and moves closer to you. Hurt flashes through his eyes when you back away from him, the thought of him touching you again disgusted you. 

“Get away from me! You’re not sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught! So don’t lie to me! I can’t believe I trusted you.” You could feel it, the blanket of numbness was slowly slipping away, and the tears returned, but they didn’t fall like before. 

“Did you ever really love me...?” Your gaze shifted, your ex–best friend didn’t even look guilty, it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. What did you ever do to her? “Do you love her?” 

“Yes, I love you! I don’t love her, please believe me. It was just sex! She means nothing to me.” You could see the lie in his eyes, you wondered when he fell in love with her. You wondered if any of it was real. You wondered if his soul tugged the same way yours did when you bumped into that man, but if it did. Why didn’t he just leave? Why did they have to hurt you so bad? Why did they have to break you? 

You shake your head. “I don’t believe you.” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “You made a promise. The same day you made that promise you had your dick in someone else. Tell me, was any part of this at least real?” You stared into his eyes, watching him think. You sighed, “Do you have any regrets doing this to me?” A part of you needed to know.

Instead of answering your question, he responded with. “Do we really have to end it all?” Your eyes ached from the weight of unshed tears. He was your home, did he not understand? But, you weren’t his and it was time for you to go.

With a heavy sigh, you ignore his question like he did yours and pull off your wedding and engagement ring. “I loved you in this lifetime… I won’t make that mistake in the next.” With shaky hands you push the rings into his chest, letting go of them as his hand comes up. Hoping to catch yours, but instead he only catches the rings. “Goodbye, Johnny. I guess our story ends here…” You walk out of the room and towards the door, grabbing your things. This was it…

Maybe she was his happy ending. Hopefully you could find yours.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[saddeneddimple]

—𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐇.𝐉𝐒 ✿

Genre: Fluff, non-idol au (this is 18+ content. All interactions below the age will be blocked)

Extra warning: This story contains actions that are 21+ (mentions of drinking/intoxication). Although the content is 18+, drinking for some, is not. Be responsible!!

~You move into your new home with your best friend, Joshua, being your roommate. You both have always been there for each other and have known each other for longer than you haven’t. One night after a difficult and stressful week, you’re decorating your bedroom to alleviate stress. That’s when Joshua decided to accompany you. That was until the conversation strung more to a deeper side, leading in drunken confessions and probable words that’ll leave you embarrassed in the morning. ♡~

Pairing: BestFriend!Joshua x ArtsyAfab!Reader

(Reader loves painting, she loved having little floral/cute painted details in her room. Being a little Rapunzel painting the walls of her room/Reader is a lightweight drinker)

Warning(s): Mentions of drinking/intoxication, deep conversations about overthinking, mentions/actions of reader getting anxious and a little paranoid, confession, probable established relationship

a/n: this is my first actual fanfic here! i really hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reqs are open if you ever wanna ask me to do anything (guidelines in my pinned post)

svt masterlist the bookshelf (main masterlist)

extra a/n: remeber this is all fictional and meant for entertainment purposes only! it’s pretty much making up a character and making fiction on it. enjoy!!! (header by: me lul)

song mentioned (optional): 🎧🎧

taglist: @hoshifighting @fatherdanii @mansaenetwork

word count: 2.8k

A month into living in your new home after almost completely settling in has been exhausting yet the best month you’ve had. Not only because you’re finally living in your forever home, but because you’re living with the one person who means everything to you. Your best friend, Joshua is the type of person who has proven to you that love exists. He has always been the type of man to carry you up when you’re down, has been your shoulder to cry on, someone you don’t need filters with or need to hide your personality around. He’s the one person who will always make you feel included, no matter who you are.

Joshua has been in your life longer than he hasn’t been, and you wouldn’t change it for a second.

You both agreed on being roommates due to both convenience and the fact you wouldn’t want it to be anybody else. He’s the person you’re most comfortable with and you know how he is and his responsibilities, therefore you trust him as not only your best friend but as someone you’re sharing a house with. You both only came to one agreement:

If either of you have a partner, to not do any freaky deaky stuff in the shared spaces.

Mainly because either of you don’t want any awkward walk-ins or any well…stains…The thought of that alone made you shudder and curl into a ball in cringe. But deep down, the thought of him with someone else was dreadful. You kept denying and ignoring the feeling, passing it as something else, but you just couldn’t shake it off entirely. He’s been in relationships before, both of you have.

However, lately, it’s been different.

His smile has been making your stomach flutter, his hugs felt warmer, sometimes the thought of him makes you smile to yourself. You suppressed the feelings from the moment it began, not wanting to ruin something that meant everything to you and something you’ve had for so long. You ignored it and even distracted yourself from it, possibly in someone else’s company, the whole “to get over someone get under someone else,” as fucked up as it sounds. It would help but in reality, it never stopped.

The work week finally ended, it being more stressful and exhausting than usual. Massive delays in projects you needed to make up for even though you had nothing to do with the delay, and just the constant flame under your ass from your boss to make sure everything is done before the deadline. You got promoted at your job and as phenomenal as the pay may be, your boss has been slacking off a lot more than they should’ve, making you pick up after them. It sucked. But it was finally over and everything was up to date and back on track. Now, it’s time to go home and just enjoy the rest of the day.

You get home, empty due to Joshua being at work. Usually he gets home a couple hours after you do, so this was no shocker. You put everything away and without a single care, you undress on your way to your room to take a hot shower before doing anything else. After your thorough shower which consisted of just standing there and letting the hot water hit your skin the majority of the time, you get into your most comfortable clothes and pull up the wooden blinds of your window, but not to look outside.

You get two old empty water bottles you recycled and cut them in half, only needing the bottoms of the plastic bottle. You go into your painting cabinet and pull out two tubes of acrylic paint, squeezing the separate colors into their appropriate d.i.y’d plastic cup. You grab your plastic paint palette, more tubes of paint, and squeeze smaller blobs separately placed on the palette. You grab your mason jar of brushes and grab the ones you were going to use, then with a smaller jar, you fill it halfway with water, finally set up to paint your windowsill with the design you had in mind from the moment you picked out your room.

You put on your headphones as well as grabbed a bottle of rosé, got on your chair and began with a plain sketch of the outline of what you were going to paint.

From the moment the music started and you dipped your brush into the half of the plastic bottle, you felt your tense body finally relax. Painting was one of your favorite hobbies and found so much peace making these cute images and designs. And your favorite canvas was your own room—from the doors to your closet to the windowsill, making floral or vine-like designs or just small pieces that gave your room so much character and life. Good music along with painting freestyle designs in your room was your free therapy.

You were in your zone, the music flowing through your body as your hand mindlessly stroked the small paintbrush along the piece of polished wood. You bopped your head to the rhythm, humming softly as you occasionally paused your work to take occasional sips of the rosé. The sweet, fruity and floral notes hitting your lips and drowning your tongue, the subtle warmth of the alcohol coating your throat with each sip.

The sun was now covered by a dark and starry blanket, the moon now glimmering in the sky, your source of light replaced by a desk lamp beaming directly at the windowsill to help see what you’re doing. A favorite song from The Neighbourhood blared through the headphones as you were finishing final details, excitement jolting in your body as your little piece is almost complete. Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder, casing you to jump in surprise as you quickly turn around.

That’s when you see Joshua, towering over you with a soft smile accompanied by tired eyes, he clearly took a shower himself before he entered your room due to his damp hair and his change of clothes into loungewear.

“Oh my god! You scared me.” You chuckled, taking off your headphones as you paused the current song you were listening to.

“Hey, there.” He greeted, his hand on your head, softly ruffling your hair.

“Hi, Josh. You got back from work this late?” You question, noticing the time being much later than the usual time he comes home.

“Not too late, I stayed another hour but I took a nap and a long shower. I’m sorry I didn’t come see you sooner.” He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the windowsill.

“You have nothing to apologize for, silly! I’m glad you were able to rest.” You put your brush down and get up to sit next to him, until you suddenly felt really lightheaded. That’s when you acknowledged you drank nearly half of the bottle of rosé as you were painting.

Joshua reacted to your subtle loss of balance, nearly about to grab you in case you tripped,

“You alright?” He chuckled, noticing the bottle.

“Yes. Yes I’m okay. Want some?” You offered your now room temperature booze.

“Nah not today.” His smile widening, showing his pretty teeth that gave you butterflies.

You sit next to him on the bed, not before reaching the bottle, taking a much larger swig before putting it back. The drink being warmer made it taste bitter, making you cringe and put the bottle down. You felt your eyes get heavier, pretty sure you hit your point when you realize the swing was more of a chug you went passed the halfway point of the bottle. Joshua would’ve stopped you, but knowing you wouldn’t drink past that especially with the different taste, all he did was humorously smile at your personal realization of your intoxication.

“I missed you, Josh.” You go in to hug him. His warm arms wrap around you, melting you to his chest. His hand sneaks its way to your hair, softly caressing your head, his fingers delicately massaging your scalp.

“I missed you too.” He sighed, hearing his smile in those words. You took a deep breath, your relaxed body resting against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Did you have a good day at work?” He asked, his pillowy voice making your ears turn pink. His thumb started caressing your back.

You shake your head in response, your eyes still closed, “There was such a delay that they made me pick up. It wasn’t even my fault, it just sucked. But it’s over now.” You sigh in his chest.

“Aww, poor baby,” He cooed as he kissed the top of your head, which made your entire body flush, the fluttering in your stomach turned aching. You purse your lips in attempt to hold in a smile and giggle like a schoolgirl. “I’m glad you’re relaxing now.”

“God, Josh. You’re just—Why are you so sweeeet?” You giggled out, breaking the hug and cupping his face, playfully squeezing his cheeks.

He giggled to your question, “You’re my best friend and I love you. Of course I’ll be sweet to you.”

Although this statement was factual and you loved it, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit of a sharp sting to your stomach by the comment. His words felt like a reminder of where your infatuation would end. Of where those hidden feelings for him truly lie;

Under the dirt.

You felt your smile fade, even though you tried to pick it back up, you barely were able to stop yourself, even in your drunken state. He caught up to your micro-expressions and raised his eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah..completely.” You shake yourself off, “I’m just tired from this week. It really stressed me out.” One flaw you had, especially around Joshua was that:

You were a terrible liar.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” His eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern as his doe eyes looked deeply into yours, giving into him so easily it was pathetic.

“It’s really nothing, it’s just my mind messing with me. I don’t know why I sometimes have these unrealistic expectations, even though I’m aware of the lack of reality. I dunno maybe that rosé made my brain go mushy.” You attempt to stray away from the topic while still being honest with your emotions, breaking eye contact and looking down to avoid meeting his eyes.

“What are those expectations?” He tilts his head, his index and thumb softly holding your chin, lifting your head up, meeting with his patient and worried eyes.

You didn’t want to hold back, knowing in your sober state, you would’ve at least tried to.

“It’s just I always hold on to something that I shouldn’t hold onto, I guess. I suppress it a lot but I end up bringing it back and it feels pointless and it even scares me a little bit. Cause I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“What are you afraid of ruining?” He asks.

“This.” You respond with nothing following after. That word alone made you want to smack yourself in the face from embarrassment.

He tilts his head, “Is ‘this’ related to us?” He played confused but already started connecting the dots.

“Yes, it is, Josh. I’m sorry I don’t want to be weird I don’t know.” You distance yourself a little bit, anxious and drunkenly getting paranoid.

“Hey, hey.” He calls out, his tone soft and reassuring. “You’re not being weird. You’re not doing anything wrong. Be honest with me. What are you worried about?” He gently holds your hand, grounding you and calming you as best he could.

You sigh, in any other condition, you’d hold back so much but at this moment in your state, you don’t care. You’re letting it all out,

“Josh, I don’t want to ruin what we have. You literally mean so much to me that I just hide it all the time,” You start slurring out, “I literally can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t even think about anybody but you. It’s so embarrassing and I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to ruin anything. But I can’t. I have really strong feelings for you. I’m sorry.” You cover your face in embarrassment as your heart begins to race, now terrified of the reaction.

“You do?” He asks in the same soft and comforting tone.

“Isn’t it obvious? I literally can’t even look at you long enough without wanting to kiss you. I get so nervous around you it’s pathetic.” You confessed, not even thinking as you speak even though you were anxious.

Joshua’s eyes widen a little, but attempted to keep his composure to make sure you don’t get more anxious, but in reality the confession shocked him. His curiosity takes over him, a million questions running through his head but in order to not trigger you in your panicked and intoxicated state, he asked only one at the moment,

“Why do you think that would ruin everything?”

You chuckled, finding amusement in the question after confessing something that was originally planned on being taken to the grave,

“You’re my best friend, Joshua. And again, you mean so much to me. I mean, we’re living together now, I wouldn’t do this with just anyone. I’m sorry I don’t know why I said anything. It was stupid.”

Joshua holds both of your hands, pulling you a little closer. He frees himself to cup your cheek, making you look directly as his eyes, a smile etched on his lips, “None of this ruins anything, love, I promise.” His thumb caressed your soft skin as your eyes kept shifting between his eyes and his lips. His reassuring reaction along with his genuine smile felt like a dream, none of this felt real.

You felt light as a cloud, your body colliding to his touch as you inch yourself closer, your lips grazing his, both you and Joshuas breathing growing heavy. But since you were drunk, you felt as if it were now or never, unaware and careless of any consequence at this point. Your lips met his, his plush lips against yours made you feel as if you were flying, your surroundings shifting into nothingness, the world only being you and him.

You paused yourself then pushed back, grounding to reality and realizing what you just did, “Oh shit, I’m sorry—“ He completely cuts you off by reuniting his lips against yours, he kisses you hungrily, craving you in the most innocent way. Somewhat surprised at his reaction, you didn’t stop it. Smiling against his lips, you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers intertwined with his soft hair that was almost dry. One of his hands trailed to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You sigh to his touch, prior tension going away the longer your lips were intertwined. He breaks the kiss, foreheads together hardly a few inches apart from each other’s lips, “My only question is that why you didn’t tell me this sooner?” His voice turned hoarse as he spoke quietly, shivers running down your spine from the question.

“Should I have said something?” You ask in the most innocent way, your sparkling eyes met his.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to just do this.” He chuckled, your already blushing face turning beet red.

“I’m sorry I didn’t. I didn’t know.” You chuckled back, hiding how flustered you got.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my love.” He pulled you back him, kissing him once again, never wanting to let go.

The next morning, you both woke up in the same bed. Nothing further than the kissing happened especially since Joshua didn’t want to take it further in your state.

Surprisingly you didn’t feel shitty or hungover. However, the rush of embarrassment took over when the memory of your string of confessions hit you like a truck. You look over to Joshua, who woke up to your movement.

“Morning.” He says groggily.

“Oh my god. Josh, I’m so sorry I was so embarrassing.” You immediately start apologizing, not letting each of you process the fact you’re even on this planet.

Joshua sat up, cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your soft skin,

“Don’t apologize, baby. Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

You nodded as you sat up, facing him. “I do and I realized how bad I sounded.”

“Do you remember how I reacted?” He tilted his head, his sleepy eyes blinking slowly.

You went quiet, remembering his kiss, making your cheeks warm.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t push you into anything further because you were drunk and I’m not gonna push it further regardless. But you know how I feel about you and you know there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You take a deep breath, calming yourself, “Do you really feel the same?”

He pulled you in, his pillowy lips pressed against yours so gently.

“I have felt the same for the longest time, y/n. And I didn’t say anything for the same reason. I didn’t want to ruin it. I’ve been wanting to but since we moved in together, I felt like it wasn’t the best idea to not make it awkward. I’m glad you told me.”

You smile softly, pulling him in for a hug.

>>ahhhhh i rlly hoped you liked this! i was so

nervous about posting this but oh well<<

header made by: me!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

[osarina]

helloooo miss Carina!! first of all I just noticed your new header with the claw machine header, the gif is soooo cute and creative! it feels kinda like those mini shorts before and after a commercial break in anime if you know what I mean >.< secondly I have a few questions I'm curious about and because you said you didn't have anything to talk about >u< so!!

question one: what were you up to today? c: question two: you write sooo much and with tons of different aus! what is your writing process like from idea to posting? o: question three: what drew you to Osamu when you first met him?

(no pressure to answer all of them! <3 but I am excited to see what you have to say ^u^)

WAHHHHHHH ZE I LOVE U. ISN'T IT SO CUTE IM STILL SO OBSESSED WITH IT DAUFHASIUFHD EVERY TIME I LOOK AT MY BLOG I GIGGLE <333 AND DOUBLE WAAHHHH THANK U FOR LETTING ME YAP IVE LITERALLY BEEN SITTING HERE ANTSY WITH NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT DFUHASDFIUSAHDFI

today i had WORK blah and what was even worse </333 i got a surprise assignment and now im stressing over it </333 but now im trying to relax and forget about all of my problems because im avoidant HAHAHAHAH what about you?? how was your day??

omg HAHAH my writing process is pretty chaotic at first. its just like . a few vague ideas for scenes and then try to build a plot that pulls them together aifuhasudfih once i have like a general idea for a plot, i'll start to fill out everything around it. and THEN my favorite step, i drag myself to the SPREADSHEETS. i love my spreadsheets. once i get my spreadsheets (if it's a series), ill decide my chapter limit (which usually changes. see: civzai, what was supposed to be a 3 parter and became a 12 chapter fic with a sequel LOL.) but i always do try to start with a limit dfuahsudfhsa. once i get the general chapter count, ill decide what the main conflict of each chapter is/what changes in the plot in this chapter. i try to limit myself for four scenes to get to that progression otherwise fhauisfhudsa it would get ridiculous. i don't usually go into detail about each chapter while planning though. when i do, i usually get bored and don't finish things, so i just leave it as the general plot progression and then when i get to the chapter itself, ill just go in and write the chapter, and then go back to the spreadsheet to add in the details so that i have a reference to go back to for future chapters IF THAT MAKES SENSE LOL there is a method to the madness i swear

and omg. im gonna answer this in two ways. 1 being like actual real life watching the anime and 2 being selfship. but:

1) i was repulsed by him at first LOLLL. i dropped bsd because ppl hyped me up to him and told me id like him, and i met him in episode 1 and just couldn't continue because i didn't like him. when i picked it back up again 2 ish years ago, i managed to like . stay strong until the mersault arc. but then i finally gave in like ugh i kind of like fyodor ...... and then the walls i had up for dazai crumbled quite quickly after that LOLL. could u imagine, me accepting that i like fyodor led me to accepting i like dazai . he's forever bitter about it.

2) BUT FOR SELFSHIP . i hc in my selfship (ill go main au, so its my wykyk/pmreader universe) that i was like . very conflicted about him at first. like i was instinctively drawn to him - we were both very lonely & found like a kindred spirit in each other, but both of us were also wary of letting our guard down around someone. i was on my own because of mori for a while trying to hold my own in kyoto, and he was making his name in the port mafia & always having to watch his back and could never trust anyone. so it was quite a bit of dancing around each other for a few weeks. + a part of me was resentful and bitter cuz i felt like i'd been cast aside by mori for him. but . one thing led to another and LOL he ended up literally moving into my apartment and we ended up getting close to each other bc of that. casamu is the epitome of "never casual" i fear. neither of us can be casual about anything.

[mylittleredgirl]

m*a*s*h reaction post released from my drafts!! i don't know why i have been worried about making a Good Post when legitimately everything that could ever be said about this show has been said.

so i will SHARE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT SEASON THREE currently in progress:

ooooh war got a sweet budget increase in the off-season. pyrotechnics! helicopters! ACTIONNN BAYBEEEE

i'm falling more in love with everyone, details to follow

top of the list: trapper my bestie has been promoted to trapper my legit fictional crush 💕

don't get me wrong, in real life i would slap his face, but i'm with hot lips on this one. the hair, the smile, every time he takes off his shirt... take me to the supply tent or lose me forever

HOWEVER, i happened to notice that he is not on the header pic on hulu* and none of you talk about him so i must regretfully conclude that he will eventually leave the show

DON'T TELL ME WHEN

anyway i am cherishing him as one cherishes an old dog not long for this world

*speaking of hulu: i have now joined the henry blake appreciation society thanks to this One Weird Trick (reupping my hulu account for a month because i lost my shit after the dvds cut out at the climax of an episode AGAIN)

i went back to rewatch the episodes that didn't play on the dvds, and turns out a lot of them were henry eps (including the trial of henry blake and the one where he is waiting for news about his new baby...) (and also the one where he fell in love with a cheerleader but you can’t win ‘em all)

just in time to appreciate that scene in "o.r." where he tells hawkeye he doesn't want to be discharged so that he can keep doing real doctoring 🥺

"o.r." had so many good character bits!! even frank got some depth?? or at least an explanation for why he's Like That...

other eps i liked:

"iron guts kelly" -- felt like a follow-up to the one last season where hot lips got wasted and broke up with frank and then hawkeye and trapper had to sober her up, which i also loved! "we hate her but she's OURS to hate" is such a good character dynamic.

also lmao every time she cheats on frank, GET YOURS GIRL 😘

the frank/margaret thing is strangely compelling actually? it's like an inverse ship for real. will-they-or-won't-they but for breaking up. same energy though, like i'm glued to the screen rooting for them to fight instead of kiss.

"check-up" i was sooooo brave you guys making peace with the situation BUT THEN TRAPPER STAYED!!! i feel like my crush has been given a stay of execution

i don't know if i ship it per se but i really hope he and margaret hook up exactly once and literally everyone regrets it

i've seen some more episodes and have more thoughts but i need to lie down a lot first

oh one more thing:

i realize "m*a*s*h actors amazing" is not breaking news, but i'm specifically obsessed right now with how they are always interacting with props. i don't even mean the o.r. tools or scripted things, but how in every scene they're doing comedy while also moving crap around, pouring things, drinking, shaving, changing clothes, handing (or THROWING) things to each other, just making a mess all the time while still hitting their lines and comic beats. it's a master class in whatever that is.

anyway it's so good!!! more to come 💕

[lestappenforever]

A bit if a rant, but bear with me, I’ve been in this brain rot since seeing RBR’s threads and i just wanna get it out. (Yes i am the same person who hopes that Christian and RBR are so cold in DTS and this is the reason why i believe that there might actually be something going on, slowly brewing and simmering in low heat till it fucking explodes in *hopefully* Ferrari’s face) (if you couldn’t guess, I’m an RBR girl through and through)

Now lets start it from after Singapore, it was the very first time RBR posted Charles and Max, and let’s all be real for a moment, I personally don’t think that there was much to it, I mean, they’ve posted Lando, Fernando, Esteban, Pierre, etc. Its not that weird that they did that. That same weekend, Ferrari fucked up Charles and prioritized Carlos, despite the fact that both had a chance at a podium, but Ferrari (as Geogre said in that heartbreaking radio for any Charles fan) sacrificed Charles for Carlos. And then Fred saying that Charles agreed?! Let’s all just look back at something very slight, Charles is a petty king, he wants to win, he’s hungry, doesn’t want to be second, EVERYTHING that he’s done since karting proves that, but what Ferrari and Fred said that weekend didn’t make much sense. Yes, this weekend was not detrimental for the whole Charles to Red Bull agenda, but it might have been the start to it all.

Fast forward to the triple header, as Japan and Qatar didn’t have much, of course other than padel, but in terms if teams, controversies and fuck ups from Ferrari, there weren’t much.

Austin was the start to it all, the way RBR posted Lestappen VERY CLEARLY on their socials, shows that there’s something brewing, but not by much, its just, yeah 2 generational talents who have fought each other forever in their racing careers, doung it again, etc. But that wasn’t the only case. Red Bull have posted them both together, but so did Christian, and Horner ain’t one to be taken lightly. Everything this man does is fucking calculated, he’s chaotic, but in a way that I don’t think anyone can be, he knows how to play, and play he does. After the USGP with Ferrari’s most famous fuck ups of the floor infringement and putting Charles ONLY on a one stop, where the weather was EXTREMELY HOT on track, and all that with the lame excuse of “oh he’s better at tyre management” despite being on pole, shows something, Ferrari is NOT being a seriou team with Charles, because they then went ahead and were celebrating Carlos’ podium as if their other driver didn’t get disqualified.

On to Mexico, (aka the epitome of my delulus that RB are doing something in DTS in regards to Charles) we have the crazy pole that Charles pulled, as well as his data and onboards being shown along Max and Checo, there were no other drivers who were on that pit wall. We also have the part prior to the GP, where we all saw Christian and Charles arriving at the paddock at suspiciously close (you could say almost together if you didn’t know any better) then waiting for him, by the entrance of the paddock, where he knows Netflix are there and the fans are there, for a seemingly innocent hello (NOT), as well as Christian defending Charles, who had an accident with HIS DRIVER AT HIS HOME GP. You don’t see that, in a normal situation, Charles would be blamed for Checo’s DNF by Checo’s TP.

Onto Brazil, the final major fuck up by Ferrari, which cost a hungry Charles a battle with Max, and a chance at a win, simply because Ferrari decided againts changing the engine, which then fucks up the hydraulics, causing Charles a DNS. In addition to, again, Only his data is along side the RB boys. During this weekend, you could feel the shift in Charles, like he couldn’t take it anymore, he’s done being the scapegoat, the rag that Ferrari could do anything they want as he’s their Il Predesinato, he’s HUNGRY, he wants to win, and Ferrari simply for the last 5 years were unable to provide him with what he wants.

That’s how it was in Vegas and Abu Dhabi, Charles fought, he fought hard, and you might even feel like he’s hell-bent on getting these podiums, to show Ferrari how much they fuck him up during races, and what he’s capable of when they don’t.

All of that while both RBR and the official F1 accounts are pushing the Lestappen agneda, posts, Max’s statements that are kind of throwing shade at Ferrari, mentioning that he would mind anyone (while blatantly pointing at Charles) to be his teammate if checo were to leave by the end of the 2024 season, the RBR garage and team being friendly with Charles a bit too often. And then the most recent posts of putting Charles on the RBR Christmas tree, while Yuki, who is closely more related to RBR isn’t, and the most recent thread of “claiming” Charles,

RBR, Horner and even Marko are not stupid, they know how to stir a pot, how to cause chaos and drama, how to be cold, how to be that young team that could seem innocent, approachable, intriguing, in order to get what they want, how they want it and When they want it. And the fact that we know nothing of the new season of DTS, Ferrari just posting shit trying to distract from the fact that they haven’t announced Charles renewing, and they way the talk has died down about it, in addition to trying to distract from the RBR Lestappen saga on all socials that is happening rn, shows that there could be something, something thing, detrimental, vold as fuck and chaotic as fuck. Another thing that I have forgotten to mention is the whole Twitter saga that happened because of Will Buxton and Albert Fabrega around the time of the Triple header shows that there is Chaos that’s going to be unleashed, could be in DTS. And what’s Chaos with the Agents of Chaos?

(I’m extremely sorry for how fucking long this is, i just let my mind do the talking and didn’t realise how long i wrote until i was done 🤪)

I'm not even going to add anything to this, my lovely anon, because this ask deserves to shine on its own.

I love your beautiful mind, anon. Please come share your brainrots with me at any time. ❤️

[wizardsaur]

PINNED POST - ABOUT ME

🌈👻📽🎬🖼🪄🏳️‍⚧️♍️⏫️🛏🗝🌿🖤🦕🌌🎃🐝🍔☮️🌃🌈📸🎧🌹🌻🎶🐦‍⬛🔮🌳✨️🍁🦚🦓🥦🍜💀🧠🧙‍♂️🦇👨‍🦽🧎‍♂️‍➡️🧛‍♂️🕸🍀🖊🗒🖌📚👓♈️🔅🧚‍♂️🐈‍⬛🌄🌙🏴‍☠️🪩🎨📌💼✒️💿🕯

This is my main blog now. Gonna try my best to be a minimally insufferable internet tumblr personality.

I call myself a wizard, my religion is ?????

This is a witch and magic blog. But one of the cool ones, I swear. I like frogs, and being a good person. I post kinda consistently, and I've been active a REALLY LONG TIME in tumblr years.

Doing my best not to be appropriative or exclusionary in any way, also painfully human (read as: can make mistakes and will happily correct them). I also try to spread awareness about cults, misinformation, and other relevant topics in the magic community.

I have chronic pain, and am learning to use mobility aids. Dislocated my hip trying to get outta the bathtub, and my knee WHILE SLEEPING. Physical therapy and compression wear are my friends. 🤣 (getting that diagnosis figured out, I hurt a lot, All the time. I have theories 🦓.)

I thought I met God once in a cemetery in December 2018, and It told me to leave an abusive marriage. I don't really know what that means because I don't understand what Higher Power is. I just hope and try to believe it's there. Due to this and my religious upbringing, I am known to trip and fall into cults, or to be singled out by cult recruiters (Hi. Yes, this has happened literally more than 7 times).

I was raised in arguably one of the biggest cults in the world - no, not scientology. So I sincerely believe the only way to find God or Upper Whatever is to figure it out yourself. I suspect everyone is probably wrong in some ways, right in others. Ergo, I'm painfully agnostic. Again, cults can sniff me out - if I'm getting weird, please check on me. I'm learning to catch myself.

I work with Change in the form of Death - or Death as Change - I'm not sure if that matters. I also work with Uni, the Cat God Of Self. Which. I made up. I made a blog about that, if you can find it. You will see that a lot here. I struggle to actually "worship" anything, probably due to religious trauma. Having a lack of Faith is hard for me.

I write spells, cultivate cool posts. I hardcore try to peer review, please don't hunt me for sport for reblogging a shitty blog. My header has all my DNIS. Just send me an ask and call me out - I'll be reasonable. I also share stories.

I like dinosaurs, vegetarian food (not exclusively), talking about glasses, writing, movies, goth culture, history, reading, art, plants, and dark humor. I write a lot in the bathtub. I live in an old house in the US. Hopefully I become locally famous too, so I can quit my job and freelance forever with my chronic pain problems. Or be a ghost tour guide as my real job.

I'm a story worm. Which is like a bookworm, but with all forms of stories, like movies and podcasts and personal anecdotes. Sometimes, I tell stories. I hope the stories have value for you. I've been enamored with the art of sharing stories my entire life.

[infinitestarsdev]

Devlog 2025-01-25

Devlog

Happy sort-of, possibly still Friday!

Writing has been going well, both Infinite Stars and the sealed-with-a-kiss jam entry. Most of my time this week has been focused on Infinite Stars, but with the jam deadline coming up next week, I'll shift some of my focus towards that. Our newest two writers have also started working on their respective projects (Project Syndicate and Draegan Herald, both of which have not been receiving the TLC they demand until now), so we'll have some more updates soon.

I also realised that an Infinite Stars release might be sooner than later due to how the story is structured. It was taking longer than usual, and looking into it, we've kind of 'over' written. We had planned a release point, and somehow, we overshot it. That means the original planned content is about 4/5ths done, AND the next release after that is also 2/3rds done. Usually, I would say meh, we're so close we might as well wrap up the entire episode, but it's been a while since the last release, so I'd rather return to the original planned release and then have a shorter dev cycle for the release after the next one to finish Episode IV.

I also have some fun artwork to share for sealed-with-a-kiss! We swapped some sprites around, and I can now show you the final version of the Captain! (The image in the header!)

The other crew members for the game are all done, and we even have our first-ever CG scene. I'm not a huge fan of CG scenes (I prefer theatre of the mind), but it's mandatory to qualify for the jam.

On the personal side, my partner is travelling overseas for work, and we're saying goodbye to each other this Sunday. It's only for a week, but it will feel like forever. It's the longest we've been apart in 10 years. I'll also be solo parenting for our little one during that time. I dread their inevitable tears from not understanding where my partner is, but we'll get through it.

On a more positive note, 2025 has started off great. I've been getting more work done (day job and Infinite Stars), and I feel pretty good and hopeful inside my bubble despite all the changes and uncertainty in the world right now.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, Patreon has been nagging me that I need to update our tier rewards and pricing, as we haven't done so in nearly 4 years. I'm working on that. I'm planning to introduce the new pricing structure (and tier rewards) from 1 March 2025. I hate inflation; I hate paying more for my basic necessities than I did last week or the week before that. I hate having to increase prices and being part of the problem, but the reality is I have to. We'll add a new tip tier at the same price as our current 'ensign' membership. Most tiers will see a $2-$3 increase, which is quite high (percentage-wise) on the lowest tiers and quite low (percentage-wise) on the higher tiers, especially if you divide it by 4 years to get the average annual increase, which we haven't done for the past 4 years, and I hope not to do again for at least another few years. It also means that you'll be seeing a short reminder about this every week until the increase does happen, as I don't want to blindside anyone.

That's it from me. Have a beautiful weekend, be safe, and try to remember that everyone you interact with is dealing with something, so be the catalyst for kindness.

[fountainpenguin]

Minor Fanfic Updates

- I'm slowing Life of a Loser's posting schedule down to just Wednesdays and Saturdays [my time zone] instead of every other day. An update will go out Thursday so the end note can inform readers of its schedule change, and the next one will be Saturday.

-> Update schedule was so frequent because I didn't see the point in holding out too long when the whole 'fic is already up on FFN (and I'm not familiar with best schedule for chapters that average 3k words or less, and this 'fic is summer vibes so I didn't want to take forever), but I do think the every other day schedule is overwhelming. Slowing down is smart.

- I have several Hermitcraft-themed 'fics in the anonymous Guess the Authors collection that will have authors revealed on Monday. I spoke more about what that means for subscription emails and plans HERE.

- Updated my Pinned Post to include a What's Going On? section. I added the FOP 'Fics page link, the MCYT 'Fics page link is there but currently unlinked, and I updated my Currently Updating section.

-> You can check that any time you want to see the update schedules for my current projects.

- I've been making Frayed Knots progress, but it's still slow (I have a big, personal thing happening IRL that takes lots of my attention; everything I've been updating throughout the summer is stuff I'd prepped in advance).

-> I was hoping to post consistently in June or July, but I think sometime in August/September is more likely, as I would rather have multiple chapters on hand before I post. My big thing ends early August, so I'll be able to give more attention to writing new content then.

- I've been thinking of finishing Come What May before posting more Frayed Knots. It has 6 chapters left and then I can finally wipe my hands of it after starting it in 2018. I'd love to finish it before 2025. Thank you to everyone for being patient with it!

- I recently added new headers to Dog's Life, Origin of the Pixies, and Frayed Knots that include links to their chapter-by-chapter recap info, so that's there for anyone who wants a recap guide as they go. I've prepped a more detailed recap for the next Frayed Knots chapter that recounts what's happened thus far in Act 3 since it was on hiatus a long time.

- Drafted a series page for my MCYT 'fics (similar to my 130 Series Table of Contents page). It will be up on Monday after Guess the Author is revealed. The purpose of this page:

-> To be linked in my Pinned Post for easy access to people browsing my Tumblr (as previously my only AO3 link there was my multifandom Personal Faves list)

-> Help people see what I write and direct them to series so they can customize the content they receive AO3 emails for

-> I was linking to every other series on my individual MCYT series pages, and there are a lot of them. Every time I added a new series, I had to edit every series page and it got annoying. I'm planning to redirect people to the Tumblr page for series info, which mirrors my current set-up with the 130 series (as of my recent footer update).

-> After the author reveal on Monday, I'm going to update the footers for all my MCYT 'fics (as they are currently inconsistent) to link to this page. I'm working on some more detailed descriptions for series content as well, which will also be linked there to help people decide if they're interested in reading.

- Factor It In still on hiatus for now. I was hoping to update it again in August, but my IRL busy-ness has slowed my ability to get Frayed Knots up. Factor It In is not abandoned; just paused while I work on a 'fic that's older.

-> /cry smile as I think about how Frayed Knots is only one year older than Factor despite them being posted online 6 years apart

-> I promise I have not lost interest in Factor, lol... It's my baby, but it's also my middle grade-adjacent style experiment and it's important to me that it feels a certain way, so I don't want to rush it.

-> Might finish some little WordGirl one-shots I have sitting around, though. They've been sitting with me since 2018... I've just been nervous to post them because. idk. Feelings about them.

- I have been sitting on a far-future Inside Out draft since the movie came out, and now that Inside Out 2 is out (it was lovely! Seeing it a second time today with family), I'm tempted to finish it... You might see that or maybe you won't.

-> It's about the inherent awkwardness of trying to control a body and flirt with another's emotions you know exist but will never meet, especially if you yourself are an emotion and aren't getting the physical sensations that other parts of the body are :') Anxiety and Ennui also getting dropped in my lap, my beloved...

All righty! Thanks for reading my work!

[sandushengshou]

tag game ✨

tagged by my darlings @eohachu @highwarlockkareena and @thitiponqs xoxo

1. why did you choose your url?

because he's my honeybunch sugarplum pumpy-umpy-umpkin my sweetie pie (and i had it saved, i was just being lazy about changing my url until pscentral had an url event)

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

i have 3 sideblogs for my top 3 hyperfixations. and no i won't name them <3 if you know, you know. idc about spamming people, I just like to keep separate blogs like archives of the things I love

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

2012? too long

4. do you have a queue tag?

nah but most of my posts are queued

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

hmm fandom was moving here? I rarely used LJ and tumblr seemed more my style.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

because that's my man as one of my fav characters

7. why did you choose your header?

see answer #1

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

I think it's this one

9. how many mutuals do you have?

I have no idea

10. how many followers do you have?

I have 1 follower. i'm still doing my 1 follower celebration btw, I just take forever to do requests

11. how many people do you follow?

according to tumblr I'm not following anyone

but i think it's like 192? I want to follow more people, I just forget to do it

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

yes

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

multiple times a day, but I check it for like 2 mins at a time unless I'm chatting with someone

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

just once. they calmed down after a reply so it wasn't a big deal. I don't like to engage with people looking to argue. waste of time!

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts

no

16. do you like tag games?

yes! I just take forever to do them

17. do you like ask games?

sometimes

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

kareena is famous for being mean to me. all of you are famous <3

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

yes. platonic crushes <3

20. tags

@gege @radellama @midnightinjapan @lordsandladiesofthesilverscreen @yilinglaozuhot @lianhuajing anyone who wants to do this, say I tagged you

[asimplearchivist]

𝓒𝓗. 𝓥 — [𓂧𓁷𓏏] (‘𝓭𝓗𝓻𝓽’ | 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu knows, logically, that your shared arrangement will not last forever—it cannot. such is the nature of humanity, to change on a whim. he realizes, however, that it is difficult to face.⤏ an unexpected boon granted from the child he’d blessed makes that concept complicated still. pairing ☽ khonshu/singlemom!avatar!reader word count ☾ 11.0k a/n ☽ [header credit] ⤏ this is one of those chapters that I struggled with greatly, if the length of time between updates is any indication. the first scene spilled forth effortlessly. the rest of it? like prying teeth. i am not one to utilize time skips to help with progressing plot because i feel it is over (and so often poorly) done, but due to the nature of this fic and its (admittedly loose) timeline in my mind, i will have to work out of my comfort zone and let it slide more than keep it rigid. hopefully the end result is halfway smooth. my apologies that it took so long—y’all’s comments really kept poking my conscience to get me going again. please enjoy! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

Human courtship rituals had never made sense in ancient history, and they certainly didn't in the present day—even less so, perhaps.

What one culture might have found offensive, another regarded it as a necessity. Taboos and essentials abounded without any sense of rationality, nor any modicum of moderation. Such social constructs appeared difficult enough to navigate without accounting for the fickle natures of mortals with their own individual preferences. Everyone had a 'type', and everyone expected a certain list of behaviors to be demonstrated by suitors of that type—often without communicating such needs to their partner, expecting them to intrinsically know what to do, and when or how to do it.

The entire ordeal always seemed pointless to Khonshu. At the end of the process, no matter how varied, the result was the same: the humans copulated, and most produced children as a result of the union. Many realized that their partner was not as appealing as once anticipated or chose to deceive them, so splits in family units were common—though so much more in the past couple of centuries than ever before. Children were always torn in the tumult that such division wrought despite its necessity at times.

Khonshu had observed it time and again, this so-called "love" about which humans waxed so wistfully in endless records of poetry and songs and art, frequently the perpetrator of heartache and sorrow and war. It blinded and leached and crumbled anyone and anything it touched. Once he was called upon by new couples for assistance in starting families, to heal their loved ones or children, or to protect a traveling husband and father while journeying back to his home throughout the night. That alone wearied him, dealing with the outer echelons of matrimony and the like—he had never understood how his kin could deal so intimately in the very heart of those matters, as messy and complicated as such feelings grew to be, without feeling exhausted at all times.

Love wasn't simple. Love had layers and contexts and depths that Khonshu didn't care to traverse. It had no concrete definition, no factual basis. It was not his specialty by any means. The judgment and execution of justice had been his closest companion for over a millenia, and it was all he needed.

His proximity to the greatest folly of humanity had narrowed significantly, once he'd reduced his influence. Even still, countless avatars under his auspices had been inflicted by romantic inclination, often resulting in him having to turn them loose to pursue it to its fullest. A mortal with no one for whom to live was a useful implement, lacking attachment—a mortal devoted to another, and to those they may create, was always harder to hone and utilize. Past experience dictated that it was better to cut ties and seek out another mortal more suited to the role he would give them.

He knew it would be better to leave you now, before the turmoil of conflicting interests set in...but he couldn't quite fathom bringing himself to do so.

Khonshu sat wordlessly within a tall windowsill of a bleak, gray brick office building across the street from the multi-level, upper-class restaurant to which your unannounced courter had brought you, arms coiled around his folded knees with his staff gripped tightly in his hands against his shins. The cold winds, acquiescent to his dour mood, whipped through the street below, snarling and biting with frigid teeth at the tails of his tattered cloak. The humans milling about hunkered into their coats and scarves to stave off their shivers, but Khonshu remained deathly still as he peered through the broad glass windows spilling sultry golden light onto the glistening pavement. The gentleman had chosen a small booth flush with the view into the narrow stone garden lining the sidewalk, sitting across from you and leaning attentively forward as you chattered on with a smile. He had driven his vehicle with caution and had opened the doors of both his car and the building for you. You were clearly charmed, fingers coiled around the stem of your glass of wine, eyelashes cast low over your eyes, heart fluttering incessantly against the inside of your ribs—he could feel it as acutely as the odd, foreign tightness within his own chest.

Khonshu had followed from lamppost to banister to rooftop the entire drive into uptown London, withholding himself from your field of vision—you'd grown attuned to his presence while he remained in the astral realm (much to his chagrin), looking over your shoulder like a tense prey animal every time you sensed him near, but if he maintained a certain distance from you he seemed to be able to avoid your detection. He kept his magic as close as possible, folded carefully around himself in a shroud that would (hopefully) conceal him from your view. 

Your "date" was a good-looking man, obviously wealthy, with a sincere interest in you—Khonshu could discern no evident wrongdoing in him, no lingering malice. You found him attractive, too, if your subconscious behaviors were any indication. Your clear apprehension had evaporated almost instantly with his disarming, genteel mannerisms. He would likely care for you, with ample room to spare for your child, given his experience with his own—he would unquestionably be able to see to your needs. After that man had ruined your marriage, you'd remained mostly independent, other than your reliance on Elizabeth—but Khonshu hadn't considered that you would potentially, eventually seek out another partner with whom to share your burdens.

Khonshu had no say in the matter. He knew, logically, that he should start seeking out another candidate to be his avatar. It was difficult enough for you to care for your son, maintain your occupation, and serve himself well into the wee hours of morning, all while maintaining your secret from your closest friend—entering a new relationship would be next to impossible to manage. He had favored you for far longer and had devoted more time and power to you than he had to any of his avatars in decades—the reason he'd chosen you to begin with was an unusual one, unconventional by the Ennead's standards. It was bound to unravel at some point. The sands of time would shift, and he would yet again be moving on to another human destined to dwindle away.

And yet...

Khonshu watched you head tilt with laughter, your hand rising to cover your mouth to stifle the noise. The gentleman's eyes shone as he watched, grinning from ear to ear. His fingertips brushed yours to the side of the small appetizer plate, ginger and shy. The boiling inferno brewing within the lunar god caused the ancient wood of his staff to creak dangerously under his unforgiving grip.

Khonshu hated getting involved in humans' personal affairs. He had given too much of himself away in the days of old attempting to garner dedication from his followers—oftentimes his efforts had been shortly forgotten, their faith and worship lost once their needs had been met. He owed them nothing, even if he relied upon them for what scant sustenance he gleaned from day to day—there was a reason that his kindred had all but abandoned humanity thousands of years ago. He ultimately owed you nothing, despite the unusual circumstances of him becoming intertwined into your life.

...And yet.

Khonshu continued to observe (to make sure you were truly safe, of course—it still was his job to protect you for the time being, after all, even if that time may have been unexpectedly cut shorter due to newly developing events). He watched the waitress bring out your entrees and refills for your drinks, watched you eat far more primly than you ever did in the comfort of your own home. The gentleman continued to prove himself responsible, at least—he opted for water after his first alcoholic beverage, since he was your chauffeur for the night. You did the same, for the sake of exercising caution.

Khonshu studied (not for the first time, though he wouldn't dare admit it to himself nor another soul) your features in the borderline otherworldly lighting: the glossy sheen of your hair framing your face, the curve of your cheek, the confident jut of your chin, the feathered, gossamer shadows cast by your lashes—all accented with a brazen splash from the interior of the restaurant against the heathery gloom seeping in through the window. Khonshu hadn't seen you dress in raiment any finer than your work uniforms or your loungewear, much less the soft pigments applied to your face, but you appeared rather fetching to the eye. The gentleman had definitely taken notice, if the frequent tugging at his buttoned collar was any indication.

Food consumed and water downed, the pair of you settled in over a dessert—two separate spoons delved into the same dish. Khonshu turned his attention to the man with a far more critical gaze, noting the tension in his shoulders paired with the tightness in the corner of his mouth. Where minutes before he'd been entirely invested in your company, now he tapped his foot incessantly against the tile beneath the table. Anxiety? Or anticipation?

Mid-bite, the gentleman stopped. He dropped his eyes to the tablecloth, set his spoon to the side, and murmured something that caused your expression to morph faintly into concern. You responded, offering him a small smile, and watched him as he folded the cloth napkin laid over his lap, set it to the side, and stood to make a bee-line deeper into the establishment and out of Khonshus' sight.

Ideas raced through Khonshu's mind. He'd seen such behavior numerous times: of predators growing excited to latch onto their prey. The mere thought that the man could have the audacity to bring you any harm nearly blinded him with boiling rage.

Before he could even form another comprehensible thought, Khonshu had already dropped into the booth across from you in the gentleman's place, throwing down his invisibility with a snap that made you jump and curse out loud. Several other patrons near your table cast sidelong glances of incredulity, murmuring amongst themselves.

You stared at him for a beat, eyes rounded and lips parted, before snatching your phone out of your purse and pressing it to your ear—though your heated gaze never faltered from his.

"You could've given me a little warning," you hissed, and the lingering scrutiny from the other humans was dismissed for the acceptance of your simply taking an unexpected call. "What are you doing?"

He is acting suspiciously, Khonshu growled, leaning over the table. He was comically large compared to it; the tops of his thighs would be pressing into its underside if he were corporeal. I suggest that you leave while he's distracted.

"What do you mean?" you questioned, frowning.

He has grown nervous. He may be preparing to act upon his deceit. I have seen such behavior before in individuals new to malfeasance or working as a front for others.

Your brows wrinkled in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Khonshu squeezed the grip of his staff, propped to the side of the plush leather seat. Despite the lack of moonlight, I can take you back—

"Have you been spying on me?" you interrupted sharply.

Khonshu stopped, taken aback by your anger. I—

"Oh my god, you were," you continued, voice pitching. You pressed your face into your free hand, propping an elbow on the edge of the table. "You were actually—" You let out a harsh sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. "I cannot believe you."

I am trying to keep you out of danger, Khonshu began, voice hardening, and that man—

"Is as harmless as a dove." You lifted your gaze back to him, blazing like wildfire. "I've never tried prying into your personal matters when you're not hanging around me. This is the one night a month I don't have to run around the city for you, and you still can't let me have any damned privacy."

Rarity of rarities, Khonshu was rendered speechless by your audacity. He let out a low rumble, his free fist curling atop the tablecloth. The glasses shivered where they stood, their melting ice cubes rattling. You forget exactly to whom you speak.

"My damned chaperone, apparently," you growled right back. "I am a grown-ass adult and I can handle myself—"

Sodjem eni, Sri mewt—Ianuk mktyek*! the god of the moon boomed from the depths of his chest, rattling the cutlery and porcelain. A couple having exited the restaurant inadvertently let in a violent gust of frigid wind through the door that nearly blew the host at the front off his feet. The other patrons shivered and eyed their table settings warily. You would do well to heed my warning—

"You've taught me how to defend myself, and I'd be able to get away if I had to," you retorted. "But for god's sake, Khonshu, it's just a date—"

A soft, uncertain clearing of one's throat caused you to jump again, turning and placing your phone face-down on the tabletop. The gentleman was back, face wan and eyes reddened, looking rather downtrodden compared to his earlier assured demeanor.

"Gideon, what's wrong?" you asked immediately, concern flooding over you in place of your ire. Khonshu leaned back, eyeing him skeptically. "Are you okay?"

"I am all right, choupinette." He offered you a small, thin smile. "I have already taken care of the bill." You opened your mouth to protest, but he waved you off gently. "Please, it is the least I could do for troubling you." He picked up his coat from the back of the seat, shrugging it on and extended an open hand to help you stand. "I need to discuss something personal with you, however."

You frowned, glancing towards Khonshu, but accepted the man's assistance—he held your coat for you as you threaded your arms through, cradled your purse as you buttoned up and readjusted your scarf, and offered you his elbow as he walked you back out into the cold night air. Khonshu followed closely behind, looming just within arm's reach of you.

"I have thoroughly enjoyed your company tonight," Gideon told you quietly, tucking you into his side to block off the wind blustering by and tugging at the ends of your hair. "You are a delightfully intellectual woman, and I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I did," you confessed. You were watching his face, gauging—and you'd occasionally peek over your shoulder at your brooding shadow. "Thank you for taking me out, it was really nice. I appreciate your time—and you didn't have to foot the ticket."

"You are welcome." Gideon's gaze was fixated upon the street. "But please do not rob me of my courtesy—I was raised to have chivalry." He lightly squeezed your gloved hand with his own, taking a steadying breath. "...I was not entirely forthcoming with you, I am afraid."

You tensed slightly. Khonshu observed the flash of several emotions over your face—surprise, suspicion, distrust, namely—in time with your racing thoughts. Is he secretly remarried? Was he just after sex? Did he chicken out because you had repulsed him somehow? "I'd really rather you be transparent with me," you finally said, low and tight.

"It is what you are owed for your earnesty and patience with me." He finally met your beseeching stare, gray eyes glimmering. A fine, misty drizzle began to descend from the mantle of clouds hanging low overhead, catching on your eyelashes. "I...please, do not take this as any lack of interest on my part. You are truly a fine woman whom any man of sense and repute should pursue. Neither did I mean to deceive you in any way."

Your brow rose, just so, and you became a little more guarded. "Alright...?"

"...It's...difficult to express in a manner that wouldn't cause you any offense nor hurt." His expression wrinkled with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "But I suppose I should just be plain, instead. I...truthfully, I thought that I might be ready to seek out another relationship, after…one that is long-term, preferably, as I would like to have stability for Abielle's sake. You have always been kind to me, and I have long admired you for your talents and capabilities since you were hired. You are dependable and steadfast, and you are not frivolous nor capricious as many other women are. You are one of the sincerest people that I have met here in England, and I..." He sighed and shook his head, voice thickening with every word. He attempted to clear his throat. "I apologize if it seems that I have led you on, but I suspect I will be unable to continue any future dates for...a while yet."

"Oh," you murmured, expression softening instantly. "No, Gideon, that's—entirely understandable. Did you think I'd be angry with you?"

He opened his mouth, debated on a response, then finally nodded remorsefully.

You stopped walking, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and placed your hands on his arms. He could scarcely meet your eyes. "It's entirely normal to grieve a loved one for a long time," you told him patiently. "If you've had anybody telling you that you should be over it by now, they are entirely in the wrong. Everyone processes things a little differently. You'll know when you're ready to take on any changes in your life before anyone else does, so don't feel pressured to do anything that makes you uncomfortable because it's 'normal' or whatever."

He bit his lip, gratitude bleeding from him in waves. "I...thank you."

You offered him a small, wry grin. "Want to hug it out, Doc?"

Your attempt to lighten the mood worked like magic. Gideon laughed softly, wetly, and pulled you in close for a long moment. You did not release him until he drew back, patting his arm again. He dipped his head, cheeks darkening. "I...suppose I got overwhelmed. I did not know how you would react."

"Believe me, I understand more than you might think." You offered him your elbow this time, instead, and the pair of you continued to walk towards the parking garage on the other side of the block. Khonshu allowed a bit more distance between himself and you, continuing to observe. "I don't think I'm over my ex quite yet, either."

To his credit, Gideon's expression darkened for the first time that evening at the mere mention of that man. "I am sorry for what he did to you, choupinette. No one deserves that, and you least of all."

You shrugged a shoulder, dismissing it before you could dwell on it for too long. "I'm fine with just having Ru for right now. I think I've realized that I don't want to have to worry about a relationship for a long time." You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Maybe tonight was good for the both of us."

"Perhaps," Gideon agreed. "...No hard feelings?"

"None," you chirped. You winked at him. "Now I just get bragging rights in the ward."

His low laughter tapered as you both rounded the corner. "You know it will infuriate the lot of them..."

Khonshu's stride slowed to a stop, the winds all but gone as the drizzle grew into a right and proper rain. The rigidity of his shoulders had fallen, and where once his fury had seethed in the pit of his belly, an unyielding lump remained lodged deep within his chest instead. He heard your laughter over the slosh of tires cutting through the water running into the gutters, almost out of earshot.

Khonshu's fingers tightened, and he slammed the end of his staff into the wet pavement as he punched himself back through the veil into the astral realm.

“Are you going to admit that you were wrong and threw a tantrum, or are we going to keep agreeing to disagree?”

Khonshu didn’t dignify you with a response, hunching forward and glaring down into the street brimming with civilians below the building upon the edge of which the pair of you perched. You sat on the crumbling brickwork, kicking your legs idly as you watched the goings-on—the vendors had thrown open the doors of their establishments, spilling shafts of warm golden light upon the damp pavement that glittered like spilled, shattered glass. Children ran to and fro, laughing and shrieking and chattering as they migrated from door to door in myriad costumes. It being a secluded part of the city at so late an hour, most people were walking on foot rather than in vehicles. Parents walked idly behind their darting progeny, conversing between themselves as they kept watchful eyes upon the overdressed terrors.

A month had slid by in one-sided conversations and, eventually, discomfit silences. Khonshu rarely spent much more time in your presence than what was strictly necessary for instruction and further training. You had become rather adept at sparring with him, though the unpredictability of strangers still caught you unawares at times—even still, you rarely incurred many injuries these days, and only the previous night you’d stopped a bank from being robbed at gunpoint without incurring a scratch. You had grown accustomed to the route that Khonshu directed you every night, so more often than not he merely had to point out a particular situation or redirect you for dire occasions, watching you act and react mostly from afar.

Khonshu hadn’t spoken a single word out of turn regarding your tasks in more than a week, yet you still addressed him the same as you always had—infuriatingly irreverent and incessantly curious.

You turned your head to peer up at him, mercurial eyes narrowed slightly. “If you don’t say anything, I’ll be taking that as a yes, Big Bird. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Khonshu’s knuckles creaked as he stood up and straightened. We should move on.

“Oh, you’re still ignoring me. Cool.” You bobbed your head briefly, letting out a sigh. “Because you’re actually five years old rather than several millennia.”

There is nothing to be found here. Khonshu stepped up onto the lip of the building, preparing to leap off and slip into the astral realm. There are skirmishes further into the city that need attending to.

“Are they urgent?”

He turned his skull to peer critically at you.

You had stood, likewise, and had your hands placed firmly on your hips. He had the distinct impression that you raised a brow at him.

Minor squabbles, he shared reluctantly.

“Okay.” You pointed at him. “I’ve gathered that I upset you, but nothing came of it. What can I do to fix this?”

Fix what? he grumbled, half-turning, half tempted to disappear to avoid the conversation altogether.

You gestured agitatedly between yourself and him. “This—whatever weird tension this is. You’re pissed off at me but I can’t seem to get you to calm down no matter what I do. You’re even more constipated than usual.”

I know not of what you speak, he responded.

“The hell you don’t,” you retorted. You squared your frame, comically small, still, to his height—posturing like a lap dog. “This is the first semi-constructive conversation we’ve had in weeks. You’re not even visiting Ru like you had been!” At his stiffening shoulders, you squinted at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Khonshu raised a hand to point at you in response, but you cut him off.

“I don’t know what you want from me to get you to pull your beak out of your ass, but you’re not getting an apology. What I do on my one night off and during my free time is my business. I wasn’t in any danger, and even if I was you don’t have to hover over me like I’m about to run off the first chance I get—”

Khonshu slumped in spite of himself, bracing his weight into his staff. Even if the shift was minute, even to his own perception, you caught the movement effortlessly—you saw right through him at times, and, truly, it frightened surprised him.

Your eyes widened slightly to take him in, and he watched the bandages retreat from your face beneath the hood to reveal your softened expression. He went rigid once more at your scrutiny, twisting his forearm to curl around the staff’s hilt, and resisted the urge to back down. You would not intimidate him—he was the god of the night sky, older than time itself, and you were a mere mortal, an inconsequential speck of stardust in the grand scheme of the universe’s endless cycle. What was a human to a god?

“Khonshu,” you said softly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was not what he had expected nor what he wanted you to say.

I misread the situation, he acquiesced, if all but to avoid the dangerous edge of borderline sympathy creeping into your tone.

“And overreacted.” Your gaze narrowed, just so. “You were worried about me.”

Your conviction, the lack of uncertainty, caused his wrappings to itch. He turned to face the street once more. Some of the people had moved on, so it wasn’t nearly as crowded. If you dally any longer, the travelers—

“Khonshu.”

Despite every iota of iron-wrought willpower he possessed, he stopped. He didn’t even understand why.

“We made a deal. I don’t go back on my word.” You stepped closer—the scuff of your soles and the shift of linen gave it away. “Until you decide you don’t want me as your avatar anymore, I’ll try my best to work with you. I just need some space every now and then—that’s a normal thing for humans, to need some times to themselves. It’s good for our mental health so we don’t get burnt out.”

Khonshu was filled with immediate revulsion when your hand rested lightly on the crook of his elbow—not with you, your warmth beneath the gauze of his armor, nor your gentleness as though you were approaching a wild, cornered animal—but for the way he flinched at the not-so-unexpected touch, and for the way that you pulled away instantly, as though concerned for his well-being rather than your own fear of getting snapped at, which normally drove you.

It does not matter to me what you do, he rumbled. Your life is your own, no matter what portion of it I dictate. He did not want to have this conversation—everything within him was coiled up in protest, every instinct screaming at him to get away and ignore it and flee from you and your infuriatingly perspicacious gaze alike. (He should release you now. You knew too much, and if you learned more he was certainly doomed. He couldn’t afford that—couldn’t afford the devastation it would cause. He should, but he couldn’t. What did he want, truly?) But…you deserved better. You’d been through enough, and you valued trust above all else. He knew you, he knew why. It was the least he could do to repay you, for everything that you had done for him—you and your son. (...What had you done for him, exactly?) I…will release you, if that is what you wish.

“Is that what you want?”

Were Khonshu capable of it in his present state, he would have scowled. How was it that you were always able to catch him so unawares with your responses? You were so very vexing. It does not matter what I want. You are my ward, and it is my duty to—

“I’m not asking you about duty. I’m asking you about your desire. You can’t seem to stand being around me, yet I can’t hardly get rid of you. You ignore me, but no matter what I do you stick around. If I’m that much of a bother to you, then you need to tell me if you want me gone. I don’t much appreciate it when people drag me along without telling me what they really think and feel—I’ve had enough people lie to me in the last couple of years, and frankly I’ve had my fill. So I need you to be honest with me. You promised me that you’d be honest with me.”

Khonshu’s hands ached from the strength with which he ground his joints together clutching his staff. Truly a miracle it was that the enchanted cedar had yet to snap as often as he stressed its groaning grain. I never said that, he responded automatically. He barely gave his word on anything in which he wasn’t entirely confident—and his incomplete disclosure with you was the very source of his internal turmoil, to begin with. He had implied his compliance with your desire for honest communication above all else, but had never sworn to it for this very reason. He simply could not afford to tell you everything—for then you would know far too much, and it would inadvertently place you on the path to inevitable and far more incredible danger as a result. I promised—’pinky promised’—that I would catch you should you ever fall.

You fell silent for a long moment, considering—he felt your gaze heavy and heated upon his profile, as well as the brumous ambiance of your thoughts threatening to overcome your restraint. He, too, resisted the urge to look at you, because it would unmake him and every wall he had ever painstakingly built with bloody fingers and trembling hands.

That was why he should let you go. You held too much power over him to handle.

“Then catch me,” you finally said.

Capricious neket-iadet**, he inwardly growled—outwardly, he questioned, What?

“Keep your word,” you told him plainly, and just as he broke his resolve and turned his skull to glare at you for your incomprehension, he watched you decisively take a step backwards off the edge of the building and allow your body to tumble after it.

For a briefest moment of time—slowed and agonizing, as was his gut instinct to cast as everything within him dropped in shock—he watched you descend into open air. The impact with the concrete below would maim you, if not kill you instantly based on the trajectory. You were always wary of making any jumps, regardless of the height and of his assurances that the breezes would carry you, and yet instead of screaming you merely gazed at him with placid confidence. You didn’t look down, fully focused on him as you were, and didn’t even flinch.

In a blink, Khonshu rushed after you. The resulting gale of wind in his wake blasted anything unattached in the street below—paper and confetti and banners snapped in protest. Within the span of time it took for you to suck in a breath, he had snatched you up and pinned you firmly upon the opposite rooftop, caged in by his arms as his entire body shook mightily.

What the hell were you thinking? he snarled. Are you trying to bring yourself to harm?!

You merely stared up at him, only mildly dazed, nonplussed by his fingertips digging so deeply into the brickwork directly next to your head that it crumbled into dust. You reached up slowly, but despite expecting it and doing nothing to avoid it, his body still went rigid as your fingers—unbound, soft and smooth and so very warm—traced the jagged, uneven edge of his mandible with the most delicate of touches. You didn’t pull away that time, only gauged his reactions like one would a child: with a low, steady tone and a gentle, unflinching gaze.

Just like you did with Ru upon the rare occasion of being inconsolably upset.

“Now I’ve got your full attention,” you murmured, “and it only took me putting myself in harm’s way. Who would’ve thought?”

Khonshu stiffened further, feeling each individual ridge and arch and whorl of your fingerprint as the sensation seared itself into his very marrow. Every ounce of willpower he possessed was focused upon remaining unyielding, for if he faltered now, he would melt beyond repair. When was the last time he had been touched with reverence rather than wroth?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you told him. “Not intentionally. Just like I know you’d never hurt me.” Your exploratory trail curled directly under the arch of his ocular cavity and followed the curve of his beak downward. “You asked me to trust you, Khonshu, and I’ve been doing my best to do just that. But I need you to trust me, too, if this is going to work.”

His resolution cracked, and his quaking resumed with greater force than before—if you noticed it, however, you gave no indication.

“And I will stay as long as you’ll have need of me, and not a second more,” you continued quietly. Your fingertips stopped at the taper at the end of his beak, unheeding of the sharpness as you hooked them underneath to anchor him in—as though he weren’t already fixated to your touch. “So don’t shut me out. We’re a team, remember? Even if you call the shots. I can’t help you if you withdraw like this. I can’t exactly read minds.”

You couldn’t, but he could. And, oh, how calm yours was, blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within his own—as serene as an oasis drenched in the receding light of a blazing sunset, uncaring that his comparatively massive frame trapped you in full range of his physical and magical might with nowhere to run. He could bask in that security if he allowed himself the indulgence, bathe in the unadulterated safety you felt in his presence. You did trust him. You were not afraid of him—you never had been. You saw him, through him, despite everything that he had done for thousands of years to remain indistinguishable to most, including his kin. He couldn’t risk you worming your way in past his shell, couldn’t fathom the thought of you seeing more and discovering more and knowing more—he wouldn’t survive it.

He didn’t call the shots, not really.

You were in danger, but you were dangerous.

He could scarcely take it.

You know nothing, he croaked; a weak incantation, one he knew he couldn’t validate.

You blinked once, but didn’t immediately respond. He couldn’t withstand the burden of your gaze, yet never wanted to be parted from it.

“About what?” you pressed softly.

About my desire, lay on the very tip of his incorporeal tongue, but he retained enough self-control instead to growl, About what it means to trust a god.

“But I’m trying to,” you told him. “I want to.”

You shouldn’t. It slipped, this time. He was helpless to resist it—to resist you.

“So sue me.” Your brows furrowed. “You’re stuck with me until you decide to get rid of me, Big Bird, so you better get used to it. I’ll stand at your side, but not behind you. If you have a problem with that, you need to speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He had nothing to say, except, …Very well. But you bring this upon yourself, Sri mewt.

You quirked a brow at him. “I didn’t accept the offer to be your avatar without expecting some degree of hardship. But consider that I might need this as much as you do, Khonshu.”

Khonshu hesitated, your thoughts inextricably brushing along the edge of his own: I need you. You’re too important to me now to lose.

He retreated, then, abruptly—physically and mentally. Your lips parted as he shifted and straightened, upright a good three paces away from your prostrate form before you could blink.

Forgive me, he muttered, leaning into his staff wearily.

“It’s all right,” you responded carefully, sitting up and climbing to your feet. Your eyes were brimming with questions and curiosity, but to his relief you settled on, “Did I hurt you?”

No, he said. Despite himself, he added quietly, I am simply unused to it.

“Okay. Just tell me if you ever want me to stop,” you reply, and you don’t know how badly he wanted to take you up on your offer—to demand that you stop everything, like constantly chipping away at his barriers, or looking at him like he’s something to be understood with care rather than downtrodden, or making him question everything he’d ever thought he’d known about himself so fervently that he was no longer certain of anything anymore.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was in too deep, past the point of no return, and he knew it—he knew it as intimately as he knew the contours of your body just underneath his armor, the frequency of your voice vibrating within his skull, and the exact number of crinkles in the corners of your eyes whenever you smiled as brilliantly as the moon at your son—yet he could summon no strength to pull himself back from the very brink of the sheer insanity he was willing to and already enduring for the sake of continuing to have you so close. It would arguably hurt him worse to part himself from you, now, than to push you away.

He would be made the continued mockery of the gods if they knew how desperately he craved to be subservient to you rather than the other way around.

“Hey.”

He refocused on you, realizing that he had totally missed you stepping directly in front of him. You could put your forehead on his torso if you just leaned forward a bit.

“I’m always here to listen if you want or need to talk,” you told him. “You’ve listened to me rant plenty of times. It’s only fair of me to offer the same favor.” The faintest wry quirk of your mouth twisted every metaphorical organ in his chest cavity, and he couldn’t breathe even if he had to. “I can’t even imagine what goes on in that empty skull of yours, and I’d rather avoid any squabbles that would make you give me the cold shoulder for so long again, if possible.”

I will…endeavor to remember that. He turned and faced the cityscape once more, bandages crawling with discomfort after the weight of the entire conversation finally struck him. Let us move on. There is work to be done.

“Lead on,” you told him, drawing the gauze back over your face and hands.

Khonshu wordlessly summoned a fierce gust to carry you halfway across London as he slipped back into the invisible safety of the astral realm to observe like the coward he truly was.

Khonshu, as always, was able to suppress the majority of his internal conflict enough for your shared routine to return to relative normalcy over the course of the next couple of weeks. You were comfortable enough to resume your oft one-sided conversations with him while he lingered in your home during the day just as he finally allowed himself to return to that habit, though his extended silences were due mainly to contemplation rather than avoidance (since you still saw it fit to ask him every question man could seem to conjure under the sun), and you seemed to be satisfied by the familiarity of it. 

Your skills only continued to improve, and oftentimes he no longer felt the need to intervene in your skirmishes, even when you faced a disadvantage. You were clever—definitely too cunning for your own good—and now that he had successfully equipped you with the knowledge and muscle memory to deal effectively with your adversaries, you outsmarted them more often than not strictly on account of being faster and unpredictable.

Ironic, certainly, that the bane of his existence was your sharp, analytical mind, and yet he valued it so greatly in the field to execute his vengeance.

Although he didn’t find himself particularly inclined to tell you so, for it would surely go to your head and render you even more insufferable than your smuggest of days discovering such great delight in incessantly needling his ever-waning patience, he was extremely pleased with your progress. You were eager to learn whenever he would introduce a new technique or ability to you, and usually you had mastered it within a week in execution. He hadn’t had so skilled and studious an avatar in decades, as sufficient as the last several had proven, and despite the inward dread he felt at your personal life intermingling so unabashedly into his, he was increasingly grateful as every night passed that he had decided to go out on a limb for you.

Even if the long-term benefits arguably outweighed the present ones.

Ru was growing stronger and developing his mother’s wits at what normally would have been an alarming rate in a normal child. Being so consistently exposed to Khonshu and his power was feeding the blessing in that child and causing it to manifest in his strapping health and burgeoning development. His physician had told you, surprise plain in his features, that he was farther along than he should be—not a bad sign, surely, just unexpected and, to uneducated human minds, inexplicable.

You didn’t seem to bat an eye at the concept, really. You truly only cared for him to be healthy and happy over the odd, if not beneficial, traits he demonstrated.

Khonshu himself was thankful that you chose not to question any of that, at least. And he was relieved to be able to observe the child unscrutinized once more.

The boy was growing faster than Khonshu could reasonably fathom. The god of the moon remembered what it was like to be young—cradled in his mother’s arms, perched on her lap, and guided by her hand clasping his. A Heliopolitan’s lifespan could not be truly compared to a human’s, as he had mentioned to you before, on account of the differing biologies. But he had been a child once, though he’d grown far more rapidly into adulthood than mortals could imagine. The Egyptians had struggled to comprehend his vastly differing appearances throughout time, leading to his myriad depictions varying so widely in reliefs, statues, and literature.

Even still, Khonshu had never remained in such close proximity to a human child—nevermind one that he had blessed (though he had monitored those in the past, he had mostly disregarded their existence until they were old enough to prove themselves useful for servitude). Possessing no offspring of his own, he ought not to have any practical experience or knowledge beyond what he’d learned by exposure over time, but it was startlingly easy, instinctual even, to interact with the boy. He was mild-mannered, rarely fussed without good reason, and observed with far more intelligence than Khonshu could ever have anticipated.

His incessant inquisitiveness, it seemed, was a hereditary trait passed directly on from his mother.

Badru was now five months old, and Khonshu scarcely recognized the swaddled bundle of ruddy, rounded flesh you had brought into the world. His eyes were bright and attentive, constantly tracking your movements as long as you were within viewing range—but they always seemed to find Khonshu even before he’d manifest into the physical plain. He still struggled with mobility, but he touched everything within his reach to study its texture and color with as rapt a fixation as you did your paperwork. He was particularly adept at finding the most tender places to tug Khonshu’s wrappings, the deity had come to learn—despite his stern, if long-suffering, scoldings not to grab his beak, the boy would only giggle in rebellious mockery and continue with his mischief.

Khonshu tried not to connect with him too much, he really did—it would only lead to disaster in the future. But everything the child did, everything he thought (although his thoughts were still rudimentarily instinctual), drew Khonshu’s own dormant curiosity. Khonshu knew the effects that a child conceived under a crescent moon combined with his blessings experienced based on the differences the adults displayed in the past: improved senses, memory, intelligence, strength, reflexes, agility, among other comparatively minor enhancements upon humanity’s inherently flawed physiology—but he had failed to realize how early that these traits would impact an infant’s early growth.

You were certainly proud of your son’s development, even if you didn’t question its rapid rate. You spent as much time as physically possible with the boy, stimulating him with toys, stories, and teaching that Khonshu found painfully rudimentary but, ultimately, necessary. You were flourishing as a mother, truly, and nothing quite matched the sight of your blinding smiles when you did interact with him.

The joy that the babe undeniably brought you mitigated Khonshu’s underlying guilt for the most part—but the moments where you trudged with weariness, pushed your limits beyond reason, and tried to hide your lows only reminded him exactly whose fault it was that you struggled.

Khonshu, despite his reluctance to nurture the child’s dependence upon him, wanted to help you wherever he could, though he was limited to what he could offer besides healing the boy and holding him when you were busy with chores. The child seemed magnetized to his presence, did everything he could to get to him and gets his grubby little fingers on him, and Khonshu was uncertain whether it was caused by his blessing or by some innate fascination with the familiarity of the hulking eldritch deity making himself comfortable in their home. And, over time, Khonshu came to the realization that there was an unexpected side benefit to directly interacting with the boy.

Khonshu was unsuited to understand the exact nature of his powers and abilities, much less how they worked (such comprehension was better explained by the likes of Heka)—so to anticipate that such a connection would form some sort of feedback loop with Khonshu’s wellspring would have been impossible. Even simply touching the child resulted in a shocking amount of power directed back into the deity. It only amplified the more that Khonshu spent time around him, particularly when he spoke, even if was derogatory or chastisement.

Even though the replenishment was relatively small compared to what Khonshu used to receive in praise, prayers, and offerings (something he lamented often, especially on nights of the new moon), it was far more than he’d gleaned in decades. The nourishment was invaluable, and Khonshu had begun to notice the slight changes it made in his current manifestation—his wrappings had stopped their gradual decay, perhaps even had reverted, he felt stronger, and his magic had improved in efficacy and speed. It only assisted your endeavors, as the armor became more resilient, improved your superhuman abilities, and healed you faster when you incurred injuries.

Further experimentation would be required to determine the quantitative supply of what the boy was capable of returning to his patron, but for the time being Khonshu found that he could not fault you for the amount of happiness Badru brought you. His laughter was easily provoked, whether it was through physical prods to his midsection and underarms or Khonshu’s grave, booming tone. What prompted the reaction the most, however, was an odd game Khonshu observed you play with the infant on numerous occasions. You would conceal your face behind your hands, wait until the babe would utter a noise of confusion, and then reveal yourself with a soft exclamation. Despite the fact that you may have repeated the action numerous times prior to the current occasion, Badru would react the exact same—with equal parts surprise and mirth.

It puzzled Khonshu, truly. You had explained the concept of object permanence to him when he’d inquired about the boy’s worryingly consistent forgetful behavior (as well as the lack thereof that Badru would not develop for some time), but he still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. You sat with the boy on your lap, yet the child acted as though you had disappeared from the face of the earth simply because he could not see your face. Asinine, perhaps, but…Khonshu’s judgement was belayed by a certain (if limited) amount of endearment.

It would benefit Khonshu in the long run to conduct the aforementioned experiments while he remained in your good graces (at least for the time being), and if he could do so while entertaining the child when you were busy…well, what did humans say about two birds and one stone?

He decided to try it one late evening when Elizabeth was out on a date. The pair of you had joked about the bad luck she’d had the last time since you had (not so) unexpectedly gone into labor in the middle of her dinner, but since you possessed no more tricks up your sleeve to interfere you encouraged the ginger to go out and have a good time—and, like Khonshu had observed you two do when you went on your ‘date’ with the gentleman, Elizabeth told you her expected destinations, estimated durations, and potential secondary locations while updating her tracking on her cellular device. You had promised her with only some mirth that if anything malicious happened to her, you’d descend like the fury of hell upon her paramour—Khonshu had been forced to stifle a chuckle at the oblivious eye-roll your friend with which your friend had responded to your only half-hearted threat.

You were left to your own devices, then, being off that night. You went about the motions of cooking supper, and Khonshu bided his time looming in the living room until Badru began to get bored with the blunted wooden blocks you’d laid out for him to play with and notify you of his malcontent with soft, displeased grunts.

“I know, baby,” you called over your shoulder, stirring the creamy sauce in the simmering pan to prevent it from scorching on the bottom. “I’ll be there in a moment, just let me—”

I’ll get him, Khonshu told you, materializing into your plain and bending down to scoop the child up from the plush rug. Prepare your meal.

“I—oh. Thank you.” You blinked at him, brows arching slightly, but didn’t protest as Khonshu wandered down the hallway towards the child’s room. “Let me know if he gives you any trouble!”

He will not, he returned dryly, turning into the darkness and snapping his fingers to activate the bedside lamp next to your rocking chair. He extended his arms to eye the child in his entirety, watching him with rounded eyes and an open mouth. Khonshu scrutinized the hair growing in full force upon the boy’s head, identical to yours in color and texture, as well as the subtle definition of features he recognized from looking at your face—the shapes of his eyes, mouth, and nose, although his ears must have been inherited from his father.

The thought sent a wave of revulsion through Khonshu, but even he couldn’t manipulate genetics.

Khonshu descended to the floor, crossing his legs the same way you did. He settled Badru into the cradle his interlocking calves formed, though the size difference was far more pronounced. The boy was perplexed, evidenced by the strong feeling of newness resounding from his otherwise empty mind. Khonshu tilted his skull to eye the wrinkles of his expression, then experimentally covered his eye sockets with his hand before lifting it a few seconds later.

Nothing. Badru looked even more skeptical than before.

Difficult to please, aren’t you? Khonshu grumbled. Or is it favoritism at play?

The babe reached out with flexing hands towards his torso in response.

Does the practice require two hands? Khonshu continued dryly, pressing the babe back to his original position before attempting just that.

Still nothing.

You made it look remarkably easy. What was it that had anchored the child’s attention so raptly? Did he have to utter that specific incantation to evoke the boy’s startlement? Did you actually possess a sensitivity to heka*** that Khonshu had previously failed to perceive?

Khonshu concealed his skull, then parted his hands, thankful, for once, for his isolation—he’d prefer to never have an audience be aware of this situation as long as he lived. …Boo…?

Badru blinked slowly, as though questioning his hesitance.

Khonshu tried again. Boo.

His mouth twitched.

Boo.

The boy smiled, at least, but still offered no laughter.

Khonshu let out an agitated huff. Puzzling child. You seek only to spite me, don’t you? Defiant like your mother.

Badru gurgled and smiled around the fist he attempted to shove past his lips. Khonshu hooked his wrist with one solitary, spindly finger, tugging it away from the oozing maw. The babe let out a  grunt, his flat brow wrinkling in displeasure, but Khonshu hushed him with a low tone.

And despite having not accomplished any significant task, Khonshu could feel the steady, if narrow, trickle of power through the link he shared with the child in his lap. In the peak of his influence, he never would have noticed such a comparatively insignificant supply at the time—now he was ravenous for it. The tension in his shoulders eased the longer that he studied Badru’s sparkling eyes, tracking over the sharp edges and contours of the old god’s skull. Such wonder, in those eyes, just like yours; such innocence.

Khonshu, chest tight, released the wrappings from his free hand and slowly, hesitantly, brushed his fingertips across the babe’s forehead to cradle the crown of his head. Impossibly smooth, unblemished, and warmer than he had expected—the downy strands felt like the finest of silk, enhanced by the soaps with which you used to bathe him. And in spite of the certain discomfort that the scars mottling Khonshu’s tarnished, otherworldly hand brought, Badru only cooed at his whisper-soft touch. The boy reached up with his own free hand, unanchored by Khonshu’s other loose forefinger and thumb, and grabbed blindly at the coarse gauze—as pristine a white as it had looked in months (years, even)—to investigate the texture with rapt, unwavering attention.

Khonshu tilted his skull to the other side, and the sudden movement after the period of stillness caused the child to jump slightly—then giggle quietly.

Khonshu hummed in thought. He glanced over his shoulder, finding the hallway still dark and unoccupied. He could hear you humming in the kitchen along to the music playing from your phone, a bare foot tapping on the tile along with the beat. The scrape of wood on copper kept you busy. He turned back to Badru, allowing the form from his shoulders up to coalesce into a form he hadn’t adopted in…longer than he could readily recall.

Badru blinked, mouth gaping in awe.

Then, like a snap, Khonshu reverted back. Boo!

The peal of belly-clenching laughter took the moon god by complete surprise. His turn to jump, he mused, watching the child light up with incomprehensible humor lost on anyone older than himself. And the surge of delight along their connection precluded a tide of power that made Khonshu’s entire aura sag with relief.

You require startlement, he observed mildly. And here I thought that humans hated to be frightened.

Ru slung his hand insistently, gurgling like a drunkard.

Khonshu switched once more. Boo!

Badru laughed even louder, and even had the decency to clap for the moon god’s performance before demanding its repetition again.

This cycle carried on for several minutes, and every thought fell away from the forefront of Khonshu’s mind save one—who could have anticipated the utter delight that a baby’s laugh could elicit in even the coldest and darkest of hearts? Khonshu certainly hadn’t. It…almost made him feel—

“I see someone has learned how to keep him entertained.”

Khonshu’s insides leapt. Fortunately, he was in his usual state as he turned to glare over his shoulder at you leaning against the doorway. He hadn’t even noticed your approach. He rebound his hand and grunted as he stood, tucking the cackling babe into the crook of his arm. Deceptively simple, he lied. Humans are so very easy to entertain, after all.

“Of course,” you grinned, eyes glittering with mirth, looking all like the cat who trapped the canary.

Khonshu pressed the child back into your grasp. Your hands brushed his as the exchange was made, and even though he was at least one layer separated from your skin, the ghostly sensation still sent frissons rocketing up his arms. Would you be as pleasant to touch, he wondered, were he to investigate with his weathered palms?

I have matters to which I must attend until later, he rumbled stiffly, summoning his staff where he’d left it in the astral plane. Do not be late.

“I never am,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile, brimming with teeth this time, and Khonshu disappeared from your view with some relief—if he’d had a heart, it would have been racing.

You had almost seen, and that most certainly wouldn’t do.

“It’s going to get busier the closer we get to the holidays,” you warned Khonshu absently, closing your eyes as the draft continued to carry you through the clouds crowding over the slumbering city far below. “Everyone always decides to act like idiots or develop problems when medical staff try to take a break. I’ll try my best to keep up with everything, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up if I’m more tired than usual.”

Khonshu merely hummed from his space within the astral realm, tilting his fingers this way and that to guide the currents that carried the crescent-shaped cloak billowing in the otherwise frigid wind. It has been a recurring theme throughout the years, no matter what country or culture his avatars originated from—even when Egypt still stood, they had their festivities that often interfered with their duties, though at least those events pertained directly to the Ennead.

“…The next new moon falls on the night of the hospital facility Christmas party, too,” you added more quietly, “just so you know.”

And why would I need to know that? Khonshu questioned.

“You got…you acted like it bothered you last time.” You cleared your throat. “When I made plans outside of the usual routine and didn’t let you know, anyway. I didn’t want to surprise you again if I could help it.”

 Khonshu…wasn’t certain how to respond. Since your rooftop dive to provoke him into speaking with you, you hadn’t mentioned anything remotely close to the event not of any extracurricular activities in which you intended to participate on your next “off-day”. Things had returned to relative normalcy since then, and he’d been able to put it to the back of his mind (but he hadn’t forgotten it—no, he was uncertain that he’d ever be able to get the image of you in that dress out of his mind’s eye, nor the sheer bitterness that the entire situation had summoned in him like bile; he still inwardly growled to think of it, of the gentleman’s hands on you, even as courteous and chaste as he had been). He hadn’t ever insisted on you giving him an itinerary of your upcoming obligations, but…you were right, as much as he begrudged to admit it. It had bothered him. More than he had anticipated at the time.

 Khonshu had never counted himself to be the possessive sort of god, unlike those of his kindred who prided themselves on it—Sobek chief among them, the slant-eyed, narcissistic bastard. He’d always given his avatars wide berth to go about their daily lives, having never particularly cared about their whereabouts or goings-on unless they impeded their servitude to him. You were the first human whose company he’d actively sought in hundreds of years, and the first he’d…enjoyedin thousands. Despite how you irritated him so, your presence was a balm of serenity he hadn’t felt in ages. You had no ulterior motives for accessing his abilities save the agreement of your son’s protection, and didn’t ever attempt to utilize said abilities for anything other than the work he gave you—oftentimes he was the one forced to summon the suit in order to heal the various wounds you incurred, as you attempted to go about your day as normal without tending to them. You reminded him, in some ways, of his own mother—though the revelation was one that hurt more than comforted him.

You called him asinine names, talked incessantly, and it seemed your curiosity was never sated. You made him unbearably uncomfortable at times, and at others he could recall scarcely fewer moments when he’d felt as at ease. You were brimming with contradictions, and yet…Khonshu found himself continually and inexorably magnetized and drawn to remain in your orbit.

Fitting, he supposed. The moon will always be doomed to the circle the earth’s nurturing outer reaches—but never closer. Disaster would surely follow.

Still. He appreciated your thoughtfulness, your care to see to his needs (even if he refused to admit that he did need him to know—for your safety). Your expectation weighed heavy on the back of your mind, a steady inquisitive pressure that eventually won out over his inclination to remain silent. Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” You twisted over lazily, rolling in the draft that surged beneath the crescent-shaped cloak cracking like canvas. “Also…I know it might be a bit much to ask, but…can I have off Christmas Eve? Lizzie and I have a tradition of staying up til’ midnight, and since I’ve got Ru now, I thought…well. I’d like to stay with him. If that’s okay with you.”

Khonshu found that it was much easier to grant you such a request than he ever had before. As you wish, srit mewt****.

“Thank you.” He felt the distinct pull of your smile beneath the gauze covering your face. “I’ll be sure to leave out some cookies and milk for you, too, Big Bird. Unless you’d have a different preference.”

…You’re welcome. Khonshu huffed quietly. And that is unnecessary.

“Oh, come on, there’s got to be something you like.” You began to count off on your fingers. “Sugar, chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin…oh, I bet you’re a white chocolate and macadamia nut kind of guy!”

Were Khonshu capable of rolling his eyes, he would have. He opted for another terse sigh instead, intentionally directed into your ears. I have not had cookies, and therefore have no preference. I needn’t remind you that I am incapable of ingesting corporeal sustenance in my present state.

“That’s a damn shame,” you responded forlornly, though he didn’t miss the shiver that wracked your frame from his previous low register. “I’m not sure what I’d do without cookies. They’ve gotten me through a lot of tough times, you know.”

Humans have always had a proclivity towards sugar throughout the ages, and it would seem that it has…compounded over time.

“…I really hope you’re not calling me fat, Granddaddy Long-Beak, because I will start pulling out the skeleton jokes and you will apologize.”

I had no such implication, he simpered, spotting the location of his quarry come over the horizon between several squatting metal storehouses in the outskirts of the industrial district of the city. But Elizabeth’s stash of sweets has inexplicably diminished lately. She has not been pleased.

“It’s November, Khonshu. If I don’t get my pumpkin spice fix now it’ll be too late.”

I am certain that her massacred population of Kit-Kats would agree with you.

“You don’t eat, remember? So you have no right to judge me. Try one of those things and see if you don’t get addicted.”

It would likely cause me to disintegrate, as ‘frail’ as you are so convinced of my constitution being.

“I…did you just make a joke?”

The source of the scuffle is down there. Khonshu directed the winds to take you in a low sweep over the buildings. Be swift, and be quiet. There may be others lingering nearby.

You laughed quietly as you landed upon the iron beams framing the broken ceiling, muffled under the mask and stifled by your poor grasp at restraint. Your shadow fell upon the concrete below, surrounded by the moon’s mercurial glow, and yet the bickering lackeys below were none the wiser. “Fine, Khonshu. Spoil my fun. But if you’re ever in a position that Lizzie finds out about you, do not tell her that I did it.”

It is best to keep as few people aware of our activities as possible, he reminded you grimly, watching you size up the three large men toting guns on their hips. But even then, I will make no such promises.

“Traitor,” you gasped dramatically, and the sound drew the attention of the skinniest of the three—and obviously the jumpiest, because he immediately bolted towards their truck to start it while the slower two craned their necks back to squint up at your silhouette with some confusion. “Welp. Looks like I’ve lost the element of surprise. Sorry to drop in unannounced, fellas, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to crash the pity party!”

Khonshu, slipping out of the astral realm into a crouch, observing with some amusement as you nimbly stepped off the beam and descended in a flurry of ivory linen to apprehend the painfully amateur bank thieves. Your khopeshes cleaved their pistols in half like butter, and a good throw into the radiator of their vehicle killed its chugging engine the exact moment the skinniest one managed to coax it to life.

This is what he had missed while stewing in his own misery—your easy conversation, your lighthearted quips, your humored reactivity. This is what made you dangerous. This is why he should let you go.

But, sea of nothing, he didn’t think he could bear to.

[a-lonely-tatertot]

@soryasongsaa HEY!!! ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY!! (IGNORE THAT I AM. AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE) dude i. god i've been waiting for this since my birthday and look, it's not a song it definitely cant one up a whole fucking song (you win. THIS TIME) but in the end this was the best way i could convey all of the love i have for you man. you are, fuckin you are my best friend and i am forever grateful that you responded to my dm after spending an hour and a half scrolling through your oc tag. im forever grateful that i have you, when it's a late night and i need to scream about everything awful ever, and i am forever grateful i have you to binge watch clone wars with, make stupid jokes like verdi the wiener dog and reminisce on spicy gatorade and change your header with me. i could write a whole essay on all the things i love about you, and about our friendship, and how much you mean to me bc i dont care if you beat me to it by putting it into a song but you truely mean so much to me. throughout the worst couple years youve been there and one day i'll give you an actual letter for your birthday because i know you love those but until then- heres this :]

Originally, this was going to have little doodles of all the stuff we talked about doing on our roadtrip. because fuck everything, we are going on that roadtrip if it kills me, because that stupid joke has gotten me through so much. but in my head, this is our discord chatbox that we keep collapsing in recently, but its sort of a, whatever fucking happens, whatever bullshit we both have to go through to get there: this is our 3 years and something month long joke and it means that even if i have to pull back the sun to not get to the end we will get to it and we will be here.

Anyways, i love you, and nonroad thingy in the middle is under the cut <3

[alieinthemorning]

Love Like You [Cholenette]

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Song: Love Like You (Steven Universe)

Pairing: Queen Bee | Chloé Bourgeois/Ladybug | Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Header: @/valvalentintin

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me

She didn’t know what made her forgive her in the end.

I could do about anything I could even learn how to love

“I want to apologize… for everything I’ve done to you. The name-calling, the bullying, the ignorance.” Chloé sighed. “I was so mean to you because I couldn’t keep my shit at home together.”

“I forgive you.”

“Huh?”

“We were kids then, we’re adults now. Things have changed.” Marinette paused. “For the better, I hope?”

“Yes, I promise!”

When I see the way you act Wondering when I’m coming back

Especially when it took her this long.

I could do about anything I could even learn how to love

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah…?”

“I’m Ladybug.”

One beat.

Two beat.

Three beat.

Four.

“WHAT?”

Chloé could barely hear Marinette’s laughter over the sound of her beating heart pounding in her ears.

Her longtime crush was her new-found crush!?

I always thought I might be bad Now I’m sure that it’s true

Watching Marinette— Ladybug soar through the air was a different feeling.

Her heart pounded in two different directions.

One in admiration,

And the other in distress.

‘Cause I think you’re so good And I’m nothing like you

To watch her put her life on the line to protect the people of Paris.

When she’s only ever put them in harm's way.

Look at you go I just adore you

“You’ve got this, Ladybug!”

Ladybug winked. “With my number one fan here, I can do anything!”

I wish I knew What makes you think I’m so special

“Chloé!”

Chloé smiled and went to face her, but Marinette had other plans as she launched herself on her back.

Causing them both to tumble to the ground.

“Marinette!” Chloé tried to say sternly, but she couldn’t help but join in the giggles.

If I could begin to do Something that does right by you

Ladybug hadn’t seen it coming.

But she did

And so she moved in.

I would do about anything I would even learn how to love

“Ladybug!”

“Huh— CHLOÉ!”

When I see the way you look Shaken by how long it took

She would have been hospitalized if it weren’t the Miraculous Cure.

She did however receive the scolding of a lifetime.

I could do about anything I could even learn how to love like you

“Please never do that again.”

“But without you, then—"

“I can’t lose you, Chloé.”

“And I can’t lose you, Marinette.”

Love like you

And so,

They did the one thing that they felt would keep them together forever.

Till death do them part.  

Love me like you

“Love you, I do."

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[drew-the-pic]

My favourite books in my personal library: (in completely random order)

The Little Prince by Antione de Saint Exupery. 111pg

'The little prince lived alone on a tiny planet no larger than a house. He owned three volcanoes, two active and one extinct. He also owned a flower, unlike any flower in all the galaxy, of great beauty and of inordinate pride. It was this pride that ruined the serenity of the little prince's world and started him on the interplanetary travels that brought him to earth, where he learned, finally, from a fox, the secret of what is really important in life.'

OH, my heart-. This absolute journey of a story is impossibly dear to me. I always pull it out when I need a reminder to grow old, but never grow up; and how stupid grown-ups can be. I've read this at least 7 times and watched the corresponding movie at least 5 times. It puts such a thrilling perspective on things I have had to fight with myself whether it should go in the fantasy or philosophy section. Sometimes we all need to remember how simple the world really is.

High Maintenance by Jennifer Belle 351pg

'Liv Kellerman has just left her cheating husband and--more tragically--their fabulous duplex with its Empire State Building views. Now Liv--alone for the first time in her life with few marketable skills, and crammed into a crumbling "fixer-upper" in Greenwich Village--is contemplating her next move...'

This book is HILARIOUS. I read it during my first and only trip to The Big Apple and finished it in the hotel room on the 2nd day (if I remember correctly). High Maintenance made the trip so much more thoughtful, and the people-watching much more interesting. People-watching in New York is already AMAZING, but I was able to better imagine the story behind the dude doing pull-ups on the street lamp (no joke). And it honestly made me think more than it made me laugh.S

tonewords, A Ghost Story by Pam Conrad 130pg

'The first time Zoe met Zoe Louise, Zoe was four years old. Zoe Louise was more than one hundred. From that day on--living in the same house, separated by a staircase and a century--Zoe and Zoe Louise have been an important and permanent part of each other's lives. Now Zoe is older. And although Zoe Louise never grows up, she is changing in dreadful, frightening ways. Time is running out for Zoe's best friend--and Zoe is the only one who can help her. To do so, she must travel back one hundred years in time and somehow alter the past. But in changing the past, must she also change the present? If she saves her friend's life, will she lose Zoe Louise forever?'

Stonewords is an annual fixture in my life. Though it doesn't in my book classify as a thriller it's still a ghost story and my favorite thing to read late on Halloween night. It's also one of the only books that use theoretical time travel that I will tolerate (mainly because it doesn't try to explain it away but rolls with the ideas). The character development is refreshing, as it is not in the ways you would originally expect.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown 489pg

'An ingenious code hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci. A desperate race through the cathedrals and castles of Europe. An astonishing truth concealed for centuries...unveiled at last.'

This book is an absolute constant stream of 'I should have seen that coming!!!' I mean, are you kidding me?! Twists and turns left and right, never quite knowing where you are for a couple of paragraphs, and riddles hidden in the page headers! And an absolute wonder as a mythology lover having grown up in a Mormon household. The recognition of pagan beliefs and traditions that have become such essential parts of Christian culture is incredible. The Da Vinci Code rivals Good Omens as my favourite book of all time.

Please Ignore Vera Dietz by A. S. King 323pg

'Is it okay to hate a dead kid? Even if I loved him once? Even if he was my best friend? Is it okay to hate him for being dead? Vera's spent her whole life secretly in love with her best friend, Charlie Kahn. And over the years she's kept a lot of his secrets. Even after he betrayed her. Even after he ruined everything. So when Charlie dies in dark circumstances, Vera knows a lot more than anyone--the kids at school, his family, even the police. But will she emerge to clear his name? Does she even want to?'

This was a surprisingly recent read; and though it took a little bit to get into it, I was entranced. It was really just an erratic puzzle coming together much slower than I would have liked it to, and it was terribly easy to relate to Vera's desire to please be ignored. I have to be honest; I grew as a person, reading this book. You get to know the dead kid more than you think you would. It is altogether nowhere near what I expected, and more than I thought I'd ever need.

Scarpetta by Patricia Cornwell 579pg

'Leaving behind her private forensic pathology practice in Charleston, South Carolina, Kay Scarpetta takes an assignment in New York City, where an injured patient in Bellevue Hospital's psychiatric prison ward has specifically asked for her. While Scarpetta examines him, she listens to one of the most bizarre stories she has ever heard. Oscar Bane says his injuries were sustained in the course of a murder...that he did not commit...' (the blurb is paraphrased as it is the longest blurb in history sorry)

Not only is this book written by one of my favourite milfs, but there is also a very homo romantic subplot that I could not get enough of!!! (pg354 AAAH!!!) Scarpetta and everyone around her had me hooked from the first words (which were 'Brain tissue'). There is nothing I could do while reading this but live the plot. The incredibly emotive writing dragged me along for a rough but worthwhile ride.

Frogkisser! by Garth Nix 372pg

'Poor Princess Anya. Forced to live with her evil stepmother's new husband, her evil stepstepfather. Plagued with an unfortunate ability to break curses with a magic-assisted kiss. And forced to go on the run when her stepstepfather decides to make the kingdom entirely his own. Aided by a loyal talking dog, a boy thief trapped in the body of a newt, and some extraordinarily mischievous wizards, Anya sets off on a Quest that, if she plays it right, will ultimately free her land--and teach her a thing or two about the use of power, the effectiveness of a well-placed pucker, and the finding of friends in places both high and low.'

I bought this book from an elementary school book fair when I was maybe 10 years old, and it must be one of my most 'loved' paperbacks with all it's been through. It has been in the hands of family and friends and calls me out in ways I will never admit. Frogkisser! is a beautiful story with the perfect doses of snarky and silly weaved throughout every character. I used to know the plot so well that I would open to a page at random and read it just to cheer myself up. Now it's a nostalgic symbol of my childhood; not just of the good parts, but a basis of the good parts.

Skellig by David Almond 182pg

'Michael was looking forward to moving into a new house. It was all going to be wonderful. But now his baby sister's ill, his parents are frantic, and Dr. Death has come to call. Michael feels helpless. Then one day he steps into the crumbling garage. What is this thing beneath the spiderwebs and dead flies? A human being, or a strange kind of beast never seen before? The only person Michael can confide in is his new friend Mina. Together they carry the creature out into the light, and Michael's world changes forever.'

This was also a very recent read and oh my goodness gracious aGnES NUTTER, WITCH! I didn't know what to do with myself after it. I... I can't even explain it. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, to read this book for the first time. I was helpless in dreaming of angels and owls and clay and death and life and everything in between. I could never possibly do Skellig justice, so I'll leave it at this. Read it, and you'll know what I mean.

Notes: Good Omens is not listed here as it lives in my schoolbag, not my personal library. Coincidentally, all books listed were paperbacks LMAO

[cheswirls]

tried pageless gdoc to see if it would get rid of the bright white border around the page that appears in the high contrast dark mode i have enabled. i feel like i've unlocked nirvana. the text didn't extend as far as i thought it would, like there's a clear margin from the edge of the webpage that's perfect for me.

for a while now, i've written on docs with print mode disabled so there's no vertical separation of pages. at some point this got changed so there's a thin dotted line to "mark" where a new page begins, so it hasn't been as seamless as it was previously. it's easy to ignore most of the time, but in this particular dark mode, the grey color is suuuuper bright and distracting over the pitch black page.

it got to a point tonight where the more the horizontal divider bothered me, the more the vertical page borders bothered me as well. i honestly can't remember if i ever noticed them before. switching back to the dark mode i usually have enabled makes the page a slightly lighter shade of grey than the dark grey background, so it could be that the contrast wasn't high enough for the page border to register. honestly, this more intense dark mode setting would be perfect if it wasn't so obsessed with rendering white lines to separate different parts of the webpage that end up the same color. the gdoc page and the backdrop can blend into one, or that would be ideal, because the borders are such high contrast that it's sooooo distracting. everything "dark" like shadows under elements and containers gets turned white, which is super unbearable to someone who has such poor vision and writes in the dead of night

anyway all this long ranting to say. basically my cop-out from trying pageless is defunct and i may start using it more often bc i like it. but it's also rly dark and i am a bit tired and this doc i have open is just for silly short drabbles and the like, so the lack of "organization" that comes with having set "pages" (even w/o print layout where there's no page separation on top/btm) doesn't matter as much. my usual format means i don't necessarily worry much anymore over fitting things into a single page bc the run-off is hard to tell, but it does serve a purpose. if i adopted pageless as my new norm, i'd have to marry the idea of using headers as markers so i can open the outline tab and jump to whatever spot i have marked.

i don't do that nearly enough now bc i can take page number into account, knowing it appears as one long roll of paper on the display but when scrolling, it's still the same length to define a "new" page. on pageless, idk, i tried scrolling 2 diff times and i can't tell. the first time it seemed to turn page numbers very quickly, and the 2nd it almost took forever to change.

anyway none of this is rly impt now bc it's just for the one doc. but the idea is out there!!! i don't hate pageless like i thought i would! no more white lines in the darkness to blind me as i scroll thru this doc! rare gdocs w