#why were we avoided and isolated and ruined

[crittertalez]

sometimes its insane to think that your abusers will live on to think they were the victim. my life will never be the same and i have to rebuild bit by bit because of how theyve ruined me through and through and yet they get to keep nearly everything and to claim that their happiness is whats important because their victims were a little mean to them sometimes. how is that fair. how is that just.

[staryuee]

HOW THEY REACT TO YOUR SILENT TREATMENT.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread … sigh

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you and your partner are having a “cooling down period”, a time of détente, after a recent argument. how do they deal with the lack of love from you?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, eula, wanderer, ayato, gorou, tartaglia, lyney, wriothesley, neuvillette, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . as a psychology student ☝️🤓 i can safely say that the silent treatment is usually frowned upon due to its connotations with emotional abuse, therefore i tried my best to make it apparent that this sort of silence is within the boundaries of the relationship ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ ) please communicate with your loved ones if you feel a certain way :)

you and your beloved recently had a pretty bad argument. out of respect for both of your feelings you both decided to have a period of détente to allow a gradual recovery of your emotions and logical reasonings.

there was no need to argue, and there was also no need to be hostile or petty; therefore your silent treatment wasn’t a way to maliciously gain control or make your lover come running back to you, it was a way for both of you to regain composure and come back to the topic when prepared.

that did unfortunately, lead to much less affectionate gestures from both of you. of course there was still the casual “i love you” every morning and night accompanied by a simple kiss, but it never went anything beyond that.

while your lover fully knew why this sort of peaceful coexistence was necessary, sometimes it’s sincerely difficult to not just reach out and kiss you breathless.

you’re so close yet so far, it’s unbearable.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

master diluc has been rather restless lately.

constant muttering to himself, plucking the dried up skin that stuck out from his badly bitten lips, his gloved hands constantly scratching a non existent scratch; honestly, if the fellow residents of dawn winery didn’t know any better they’d think he was possessed and required an immediate exorcist.

adelinde refuses to see her precious baby sink his eyes into ruin purely because he’s out secretly patrolling once he wakes up in the middle of the night to clear his head. you’re always there with him throughout the night: but why does it still feel so empty regardless?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST ?

diluc is no pushover or people pleaser; if you were guilty, then you’re guilty and he’ll wait all the time in the world till you eventually own up and apologise (please let that come sooner or later though otherwise he’ll give into ruin and sip alcohol for a breather). otherwise, if its his fault, or no ones and it was a mere misunderstanding, the silent treatment lasts for a day. not any longer not any less; he doesn’t allow it to.

he’s more than happy to wait forever for you but gods if he ever made a mistake that accidentally led you to elongating this supposed transient silence till the end of time, diluc would much rather swallow his pride and give his all to you. you’re worth more than pettiness, and he’ll prove that to you once you wake up and get greeted with all your favourite luxuries and a bright, relieved smile on his face.

EULA — 优菈

you’re beyond delusion if you think this woman won’t turn this into a healthy-ish competition of sorts.

you wish to avoid her for days on end? she’s already used to the world avoiding her mere gaze, she can withstand the somber feeling of having the one person who’s fully understood her as the complex person she is self-isolating from her for a little while.

never mind, no, she literally can’t. come back to her right now. we have problem right? lets talk about it, isn’t that what you taught her in the first place? what do you mean you need a break and want to clear your head for a while to not hurt her feelings? you think eula of all people cares about something like that?

she’d rather you spit at her than withstand another hour of this mindless nonsense.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

she doesn’t apologise unless she sees whatever caused this perilous argument in the first place truly hurt you and you ended up in tears; otherwise whats the use in pointless words when you can easily hug it out and call it a day?

she lets you apologise under the guise of “if you don’t, my vengeance towards you will be greater than my foes”, but in reality? eula is hardly paying any attention to the words slipping past your lips. all she’s thinking about is how she’ll be able to shake off this uneasy tension that’s somehow been created between you two.

WANDERER — 流浪者

you can’t tell which one of you needed this little breather more, after all, you’d hope scara would allow himself to soften after distancing from you after a while, and scara hoped you’d see reason within your argument and eventually, as always, forgive him.

but forgiveness is a two way straight in the way most people subconsciously ignore; does he and could he ever forgive himself? that image of your teary eyed face, the harsh puffs of breath you heaved to prevent any more molten venom to burn his plastic skin, the slight clenching of your jaw, fuck it hurt.

he couldn’t admit it at the time, but right now after being forcefully peeled away from you for about week and forcing auntie nahida to listen to his venting rambles? he wished he just gave it all up and did something: anything at all. kissed you, hugged you, consoled you, swiped your tears away with his thumbs, fluttered his eyelashes on your cheek gently as he whispered an i love you.

yet all he could do right now was wait.

wait until you hopefully came back, he couldn’t face you. if you abandoned him he’d deal with it. the petals on the floor and the hushed whispers of “they love me, they love me not” are just hallucinations from his worried caregiver, he swears.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

never would he stoop so low as to apologise.

verbally. that is. if he’s aware that he’s in the wrong (believe me that look on your face does wonders for trying to figure out whats on your mind) he’ll begrudgingly come up with some covert way of making it up to you. he doesn’t want to be stuck in this immortalised silence forever; believe me, he likes your talking more than he realises and this little test trial of abandonment was more than enough proof that your existence within his life is essential.

if you’re not there standing by his side, what even is the point in that fraudulent pacemaker of his? your laughter is in the same shape of his heartbeat; if you’re not here, he’s just back to being that dumb little puppet cuddled ashore in the slim darkness of the night.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

bile builds up in ayato’s throat, eyes threatening to spill hazardous tears on his paperwork. he HATES being away from you. yes, you’ll be back comfortably in his arms with a kiss on your forehead soon…but time isn’t making that “soon” come any quicker and it’s killing him.

‘silence’ is only the act of not speaking, right? so he’s technically allowed to sneak in pastries onto your desk when you’ve gone to take a break — he’s also most certainly allowed to write down his frustrations about not being able to be overly affectionate with you and then pitifully sliding them under your door in hopes you’ll read them and maybe write one back.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

he desperately tries to convince himself that if he works long enough, he’ll forget the hollowing feeling in his heart that’s left in the silhouette of you. he puts down his calligraphy pen with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples with rough motions as if to completely rid himself of any lingering thought of you.

that’ll never work, and ayato thinks you two have calmed down enough so therefore he trudged his way into your room, knocking of course, and sat down with you for a lengthy but beneficial conversation.

without a doubt, ayato will be the one to apologise first. whether it’s a conscious decision or not completely depends on how long he’s been away from you; at some point you just fall back into regular routine completely by accident.

GOROU — 五郎

he’s glad you’ve decided to take this sort of approach to your relationship instead of having a painful battle of the wits with him but right now, he’d withstand a thousand hours of scolding than the way his fellow soldiers worryingly clutter around their little general and ask about his well-being purely because those furry ears atop his bundle of bed hair decided to stay drooped down all week.

but he can’t help it! he’s utterly miserable! you didn’t even give him your complimentary “good morning, have fun at work, be safe” kiss before he left the door in the static quiet of your abode. to top this torture off? you haven’t pet him once, and while he’d normally revel in not being treated like an actual lap dog…you’re a huge exception in that rule!

unfortunately, it’s not like he can just outright demand attention from you merely because he’s feeling a bit down on his luck. you asked for peace, he’ll give it to you. he’s a war veteran but treats you like a flower thats sprouted on a ruined patch of sand.

ehem, but please come back to him soon. please?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

whatever it takes to get your pretty hand to ruffle through his brunette locks he’ll do, he doesn’t care if the apology consists of him kneeling down on pitifully shaking his head near your thigh with his lips puckered into a pout. shame doesn’t exist within your relationship right? he’s more than willing to apologise first regardless of who was to blame.

if the argument was a little more serious however, he’ll sit down you on your couch that holds so many sweet significant memories within your mind, his head resting atop your collarbone and tail sneakily swishing from side to side now that your heartbeat was so clear to him. he’ll hear you out, talk through it, but more importantly, love and appreciate you.

TARTAGLIA — 公子

nuh uh. you think you’re getting silence with someone like him around? unless one or both of you fucked up really bad, tartaglia can’t see the point in silent ignorance; if you want to ignore him to personally calm down? sure, do whatever you want honey, you’re still getting treated like the other piece of his heart that you are.

if you’re genuinely annoyed he can leave you alone…for maybe two hours thirty minutes max. he loves you so much, talk to him, he doesn’t care if you insult him out of anger, lash out at him if you must. so long as you return into his arms so he can sway you around within his tender embrace and pepper your face with kisses, he’ll be more than happy and satisfied.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

him all day — call it the big brother complex with having to always apologise first whenever he got into a slight squabble or disagreement with his siblings when he were younger, or call it pure unadulterated love for you and the refusal to continue with this pointless staring battles whenever you guys were sitting across from each other.

whatever it is, just know he takes your feelings seriously regardless of the teasing grin across his face when you try not to squirm from the way his hand traveled from across your waist to the slither of exposed stomach. he just wants to assure you that his love won’t ever fade even if it becomes so deliberately one sided. he’s yours, after all.

LYNEY — 林尼

he’s used to eerie silence that bellowed icy winds against his ears, used to the tension that forced out his fight or flight response, but currently all he could do was freeze and overthink. how come this silence seemed so much more deafening than usual?

lyney doesn’t want this worse than capital punishment torture to continue without at least the slightest bit of laughter mingled into both of your days; he tries his best to curve your lips to even the slightest twenty degree lift using whatever he could. silly little flower reappearing trick there, a sneaky kiss to the side of your neck here; just any fleeting desperate attempt for some reciprocation on your part.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

lyney’s used to apologising first given his experiences within the house of hearth and the father herself. so imagine his surprise when you both incidentally stammer over one another as you two splutter apologies helplessly. god he’s so happy your relationship is built open gushes of giggles instead of the splats of tears because if it weren’t for that cute little accident? lyney was sure the second you opened your lovely lips to speak he would’ve teared up.

he missed that voice telling him constant i love yous, the affectionate cradling of his face against your neck and the way you wouldn’t hesitate to hold his flushed face within your cooling hands to comfort him after a particularly stress inducing performance.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

you left the conversation with an “i love you.” so he knows that you’ll come back to him.

however, the last time he blindly trusted the comforting words of a loved one, it ended with blood on his hands and a lengthy sentence at the fortress of meropide. luckily for his heart and your own, he knows your charms and honeyed words aren’t for show and truly mean something.

wriothesley respects your boundaries and wishes to the t, he won’t speak to you like nothing at all happened but that doesn’t mean he won’t be overly cautious when it comes to your behavioural patterns. if he notices this sentence of silence is clearly taking its toll on you, he will, with no hesitation, talk everything out with you.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

depending on the argument, he’ll apologise first. if it’s rather undeniable that you were the one in the wrong however, he’ll explain his feelings thoroughly until you apologise — the standard. he doesn’t want this silence to end till the fortress of meropide overflows with primordial water so once you see multiple guards on your case more than ever, just know he’d like to talk to you.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

fontaine has been drenched in rain for the past couple of days. every hour, every minute, every second neuvillette spends alone in his office makes him realise just how grand and solemn it is. everything is so mundane and banal…even the cheerful mutters and chatters of the sweet melusines couldn’t bring a smile to his face — much to the dismay of the little sigewinne who even so kindly brought him a cake to cheer him up…

what makes it even worse is that everything reminds him of you…and oh god the muddied clouds have once again been cursed with rain. this unquenchable thirst for your presence cannot be ignored by a mere sip from his intricate cup and being the ever so carefully mindful iudex, neuvillette sees it more than fit to call this hopeless game of silence to quits.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

regardless of who’s in the wrong, neuvillette apologises first. he’s sorry for letting this go so far, he should’ve just trusted his gut and returned to your side even if it meant having to persuade you with his clever tongue or the coiling of his draconic tail around your leg to pull you sweetly closer.

honestly, if he could, he’d make this a punishment in the fortress of meropide for every couple. you committed a petty, technically non offensive crime? well instead of doing some charity work for the city, you’re not allowed by the side of your beloved for a few weeks.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

a bunny within the jaws of a spring locked beast thinking it can persuade the tides in their favour with silence? arlecchino is amused you’d think such cheap tomfoolery would work to solve through your problems.

“darling, come here,” she taps her lap with her blood-stained nail, her eyes looking up at you greedily to soak up every single jitter of your movements as you alas fall onto your rightful throne, “my dumb bunny,” arlecchino coos at you with that devilishly low hum of her voice. “do you think the phrases ignorance is bliss, distance brings fondness, truly work within our relationship?���

arlecchino painfully grasps at your waist, that grip only loosening once you comfortably situate yourself on her thighs and lace your arms around her neck per routine. “i’d expect this behaviour from my children at the house of hearth, not you, angel.” she nibbles on your earlobe deliberately, forcing your lips to part just the way she likes. that perfect look of both surprise and desire; it’s a gorgeous display of your vulnerability.

“explain to me your problems, or else we can be at this forever.”

no such thing as the silent treatment when the very epitome of a wordless shadow has betrothed you.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (V)

alexia putellas x sister

chapter I, II, III, IV

from alexia's perspective tonight :)

~~~~~~

My younger sister hates me. 

I don't know why, I don't even know when it happened. 

But I know that my younger sister hates me, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. 

I have known there was something wrong since she started skipping our dinners on Thursdays, claiming to have Barcelona B training until late. 

I knew they finished up an hour before dinner started. 

Alba says that I spent to much time away from her, that I didn't focus on her enough. 

Mami says that she is growing up and simply becoming less reliant on her older sisters. 

But neither of those explanations seem to make sense, because my younger sister is not the girl that I once knew any more. 

The girl who would sleep in my bed every night, who wiped my tears when I cried and put a smile on my face when all I wanted to do was bury my face into my pillow and scream about how unfair the world was. 

Because she's Elena and she's happy, she always has been.

But Elena does not seem happy anymore. And I don't know when it changed, but I hate myself for not being there to make her smile like she did for me so many times when we were younger. I hate myself for not being there to put a smile back on her face as soon as it fell off. 

She lives with bags under her eyes, her usually olive skin turned pale, her eyes constantly downcast and her eyebrows set in a solemn line. 

She used to tell me everything, but then I blinked and my baby sister's name was on my team sheet and I didn't even know she had been training with the first team. 

Mami said that she was sleeping, that she didn't want to talk about it now. Mapi told me the next day that she found her 45 minutes away from home, sitting in the park by her house. 

I should have been there more, I should have gone to her games. I know that, everyone knows that. But I broke up with Jenni, who had been my rock for as long as I could remember. I broke up with Jenni and she moved to Mexico, leaving me alone for the first time, in an apartment full of memories that would swallow me every time I entered.

I felt alone, every fibre of my being felt alone. I was isolated and my world was crumbling around me. And I didn't know who to turn to, I didn't know where I could find support. 

I didn't know that Elena was sat at home in bed, staring at her phone and waiting for me to call her, to text her. 

I used to call her every night, but slowly, those phone calls died out. Elena would all asleep with her phone in her lap. Until she gave up. Until she switched her phone off as soon as she reached her bedroom in the evenings. 

Back when Papi died, I relied probably a bit too much on my little sister to get me through it. Mami always said it was the wrong thing so I didn't want to make that mistake again. I avoided Elena, not wanting her to realise how weak I really am. She always said she admired me for being strong, powerful. I was her inspiration, her hero. 

I didn't want to ruin that image she had of me by crying on Mami's couch, unable to be alone after something as superficial as a breakup. 

But I think I ruined that image in other ways. 

I stopped going to her games. 

I stopped holding her as she fell asleep in my lap on a Thursday evening, instead watching her move further and further away from me on the sofa, until she wasn't there at all. 

I stopped being there for her, helping her with her homework, picking her up from training, taking her out for ice cream. 

I stopped being her sister, and I don't think I will ever forgive myself. 

I don't think she will ever forgive me either. 

And to make everything worse, I only thought about it properly when Olga brought it up a few weeks ago. 

"Why haven't I met your younger sister yet? There are so many photos of her here, but I have never even spoken to her."

It was then that everything came crashing down, reality hitting me like a truck, driving 100 kilometres an hour along the highway. 

Olga couldn't understand why I was suddenly sobbing into her arms, my words more incoherent than my thoughts. But she held me close and told me one thing. 

"If there is something wrong with your little sister, you need to fix it."

Obviously she was right, she didn't need to tell me that. 

I felt an enormous surge of guilt explode inside of me, and for once Olga's arms didn't do anything to help me. I don't deserve her comfort, I don't deserve to feel good when I have left my baby sister behind. 

Because she is everything to me but I haven't spoken to her in two years. 

I don't know how I let it go this far.

~~~~~~

Mapi's voice is scratchy and quiet over the phone, and I could tell something is wrong. She wouldn't tell me what. 

"Elena is here with me. I texted Eli but she didn't reply but I needed to tell someone that she is safe and asleep in my spare room. We will take her to the game in the morning."

She didn't say much else, other than that she found my sister at the park after she had taken the bus from home. 

But, the look that she gave me at the game the next day told me everything I need to know. 

It wasn't angry, really, she just looked confused and hurt. She looked upset as well and I knew exactly what it was about. Because Elena has always loved Mapi, and Mapi has always treated Elena like a little sister. 

Elena would have told Mapi something, and even though I don't know what it was, I know it would have been bad enough to make Mapi overthink everything, to realise how awful I have been over the past few years. 

I was anxious through the whole game, separated from my best friend by Frido and Jana, trying my best to ignore the looks that Mapi kept sending me. 

The looks that were filled with such emotion that I couldn't handle. Emotions that were hard to read because they were filled with so much meaning. 

I am too much of a coward to face her and my consequences, I realise, so I ignore it for as long as I can. 

But I knew I could not avoid everything when Mami pulled me to the side after the rest of the girls had gone back into the changing rooms, after Alba had gone to the bathroom. 

"What are you doing?" 

She was furious, and for good reason. But I stay silent, still too scared, too guilty about everything I had done. The only thing on my mind was  trying to figure out how I could ever fix this. 

"Alexia Putellas! Answer me! What are you doing?" 

Her face was almost red, but if I looked hard enough I would have been able to see the tears that dried up in her eyes, never given the chance to slip down her face. 

"What do you mean, Mami?" 

She rolled her eyes dramatically and scoffed loudly. 

"Your baby sister is 15 years old and without any help from you, her older sister, was sitting on the bench for your team. The best team in Europe. She is 15, Alexia! This is such a huge achievement and all she wants is a hug from you, for you to tell her you are proud of her, that you love her. But no. Nothing. Nothing at all from the great Alexia Putellas who cares about nothing but her career!" 

Mami's words are a slap in the face, really. Thinking back to them, however, they are the truth. The terrible, painful, horrendous truth. 

Not that I don't care about anything but my career, of course, but about how I haven't done anything to help Elena get to where she is. 

I pause before responding, debating internally how I should respond. 

I could respond with fire, but that would just make Mami even more furious.

So I don't. 

"I know she is, Mami! That is why I am about to go do exactly that. I am so, so proud of her but I can't find the words to tell her just how proud I am."

She looks at me for a moment, as if assessing the validity of my statement. 

"We are going out to dinner tonight, Alexia. You are coming with us and we are celebrating Elena. Not you, Elena."

I nod, telling her that I will go get Elena and meet her and Alba outside. 

Except that doesn't happen, because I see Elena in the changing rooms, but she doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me. 

I see the 15 year old girl laughing and interacting with my team, holding Aitana close and whispering in her ear. 

But honestly, the whole scene flipped my insides out. I am not focused on Olga as she chats to me, as she notices how distant I am from reality, moving towards Mapi. 

When I do finally speak to my sister, it does not go well. She is cold and I don't know how to get through to her because she is right to not want to talk to me, she is right to stick up for herself. I have messed up and I still have no idea how to fix things. And until I do, she is right to act like this. 

So I didn't end up going to their dinner, instead sitting alone in my apartment and staring blankly at my switched off tv, wondering what on earth I can do to fix this mess. To fix this mess that I single handedly created. 

It meant that Mami came round late, storming into my apartment, smoke practically billowing from her ears.

"You have messed up, Alexia. She is so upset and it is entirely your fault! You are stupid, you are irresponsible and you have been a terrible sister." 

I cowered under her strong gaze but she did not soften. She sat down, placing her head in her hands.

"You are almost 30! You should know better. I have not raised you to be like this, I have not raised you to throw people away without any thought, not caring how it might affect them. She is so confused and so, so upset and it is all because of you. All because you decided a few years ago that you did not have time for her anymore."

"Mami-"

There are tears in my eyes, but Mami can not see them. Mami does not care, she should not care because I did all of this, all by myself. 

"No, Alexia. You will tell me what has happened, why you have done this. You have ripped apart our family, Alexia. Alba is practically mourning the destruction of it and I just can not begin to understand why you have decided Elena doesn't mean anything to you any more."

"I haven't decided that!" My yell took my mother off guard and she recoiled. I continued before she could speak again. 

"I love her! So much and I am proud of her! I don't know what I have done, Mami and I don't know how to fix this." The tears that filled my eyes began to slip down my face. "I have ruined everything."

My voice broke and Mami softened, looking at me in confusion, some sort of inner turmoil and for the first time in my life, I recognised that she had no idea what to do. 

She didn't know what to do as I broke down into sobs, my body practically folding into itself, loud cries wracking through my body. 

"I don't know what is wrong with me." 

~~~~~~

Mami and I spoke for ages that evening. She convinced me that I should take a step back and let Elena come to me. That I should try and talk to Elena soon to tell her that I love her, that I am proud of her. 

But it ended up with another unsuccessful attempt of speaking to Elena. She was in bed and wanted nothing to do with what I wanted to say. I told her everything that Mami told me I should, ignoring the protests of my insides. 

I do not want to take a step back because I am already so far away. I want to be there for my sister like I should be, there for a hug or for some assurance. But that is not what I tell her, because apparently, that is not what would be the best for her. 

All I want is the best for her. 

I want nothing more than to tell her I want to be a part of her life like I used to be, I want things to just go back to normal. But nothing is that easy. I have to face the consequences of all my mistakes. 

Huge, terrible, life altering mistakes.

I tried again the next morning, but she ignored me completely, heading up to her room without a single utterance of a word. I could practically hear her exhale in relief as the piano chair creaked and waited until she had begun her playing to walk upstairs and sit by her door. 

She has improved at it so much, skyrocketing right past the level that Papi used to play at. The notes rang out at such a pace that I could barely keep track of where the song was going, up, down, fast, slow, loud, soft. 

The rhythms flew through the house and I didn't register the warm liquid slipping down my face until it fell with a splat into my lap. 

It is painful to realise how much I have missed; how much I miss her. 

Her playing is mesmerising and I could feel the emotion that radiates from her and her piano. 

It used to be Papi's, but now it is hers.

Because she has grown up into such a talented person and our father would be so proud of her. 

Me, I don't think he would be so proud of. 

And I hate myself because of it. 

The song broke down into soft chords and if I strained my ears I could hear her quiet whimpers. But I can't comfort her any more. 

No matter how much I want to. 

She will not be comforted by me. She doesn't want me there to comfort her. 

So I creep down the stairs and leave. I drive back to my apartment, back to Olga. 

At this point, I am used to the constant stream of water on my face. 

But there is nobody to blame but myself. 

~~~~~~

The next few weeks were equally as painful, despite Olga's efforts to lighten me up. My mood was down when I woke up in the mornings, and only got worse after training, seeing Elena light up when she spoke to my friends but escape every room I entered, cowering when I glanced over at her, leaving conversations as soon as I joined them. 

It's like she is scared of me, intimidated by me. I hate it. 

Mapi was silent in rehab, which is a big change from the constant stream of chatter I am used to. I don't think she knows what to say to me anymore, knowing what I have done. 

I wouldn't know what to say to me either. 

It is Vicky approaches me one day after training. We are all sat in the changing rooms when wanders over and asks for help with her homework. It is maths, and I tell her with a laugh that I will be no help at all, but she persists, opening her book and pointing at the maths equations, confusion written all over her face. 

I help her as much as I can, laughing at the drawings she has scrawled out on her page, explaining the trigonometry to her as she stares at me intensely. It takes a while, but she gets it eventually, finally answering a question correctly. 

"Nice, Vicky! So much better, so quickly!" 

Mapi stands up from across the room, grabbing her bag and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

From where they are sitting in quiet conversation, my sister and Aitana look up at the door, their eyes scanning the room. Aitana's eyes land on me first and she rolls them dramatically, shaking her head in what looks like disgust. 

"Vicky, I did that yesterday. I can help you." 

Elena's voice is level, but I can see confusion in her eyes at the scene that had just unfolded. 

Vicky sighs in relief, closing her book and walking across the room to Elena. 

"I forgot you were smart!" She beams, plonking herself down on the seat beside my sister and they both dive into the world of mathematics. 

Aitana is standing up by now, her bag over her shoulder. 

"Alexia, can I speak to you outside?" Her voice is steady as she continues. "There is something wrong with my dribbling and I would like some help."

It is a lie and everyone knows it. There is never anything wrong with Aitana's dribbling. 

But I pick up my bag, following the shorter midfielder out the door, immediately faced by Mapi who stands there, anger all over her face. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice is low and her words come out as a whisper, full of venom. Full of anger. 

It is something I am not used to from Mapi and it takes me off guard. My hesitance gives her the chance to continue.

"Helping Vicky Lopez with her maths when you don't have the first clue whether Elena is even at school. Elena, your sister."

"She goes to school." 

My voice is full of confidence, but Mapi is right, I don't even know how she manages to fit it all in. I don't know the first thing about her timetable. 

She rolls her eyes, scoffing. 

"Do you understand just how much damage you have done?"

I nod, inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

"She hates me, I know. I have ruined everything. It is all my fault."

Mapi nods, but it is Aitana who speaks next. 

"She doesn't even hate you, Alexia. It just shows how much she loves you. You have done all this and she still loves you, still would do absolutely anything to get your approval, your attention."

I blink to stop the tears and bite the insides of my mouth to stop it from trembling. 

"She has been begging for you to notice how hard she has been working. How well she is doing. But you do not, you don't see her, it is like you are blind! And then Vicky Lopez gets a maths question right and you give her more praise than you give Elena for being selected in this team, for working hard, for being so, so incredible." 

If Aitana wasn't whispering to keep this conversation from the ears of the people in the room we just left, she would be fully yelling, her face red and her eyes narrow. 

"She is perfect, Alexia, and it is so sad because you just can't see it, you can't see how good she is, how smart, how kind, caring. And it makes me so, so angry because you have changed her so much in the past few years, and not in a good way."

Mapi puts her hand on Aitana's arm, trying to get her to stop. Mapi knows me well, and knows when I am about to break. 

But the usually stoic midfielder has tears in her eyes when she continues, her voice softening and breaking at the same time. 

"She was such a happy little girl, so excited by everything. She loves you so much and she always looked up to you. But now she is insecure, she is lonely, isolated. She is confused and feels like she needs to fight for validation every day. Everyone has pressure on them in this team, especially when they are young, new blood. Coming from La Masia and the B team you should know this, Alexia. You should know about the pressure better than anyone because I do too. But your sister? She has it worse than anyone because she has all that, but she is your sister. Alexia Putellas, two time Ballon d'Or winner. She has to live up to that in some way and is trying to hard to do it without anyone's help. She is only 15, Alexia. 15."

Aitana stops, but I am not sure whether it is because she has nothing more to say or if it is because she is too upset. She is silenced by weak tears, shaking her head as Mapi places a soft arm around her shoulder. 

"She is right, Alexia." Mapi's voice is soft and she looks at me with that same concerned glint in her eye. "And I don't know what is going on with you, but whatever it is, it needs to be fixed. You have made some significant damage and if you don't do something about it, it will all become irreparable."

"I don't know what to do." It is a cry for help, and it is all I can say without letting my tears escape from me once more. 

Because Aitana's words are nothing I don't know, but the fact that she is saying them, that she feels the need to tell me all that, is enough to tell me that it is not clear to anyone that I already know. 

Because I have been a bad sister, I am not denying it. 

And I am guilty, I feel absolutely terrible. 

Mami said to leave her alone, let her come to me, but I don't think that was her best advice any more, because my sister is struggling. 

She is struggling and I am only making it worse. 

But I can't do anything about it. 

When she was little, she would be the person I would go to when I needed to be cheered up. She would make me smile, laugh, feel better about myself and the world around me. Her small arms would wrap around me, her chubby fingers would wipe my tears from my face and she would chatter and giggle into my ears until I was smiling again. 

She was the light in our household when Papi died, but I think that was partially because she didn't understand what was happening. 

We avoided his study like it had the plague, she would go and sit on the piano stall, practicing the songs he had taught her. 

She gave us endless cuddles, basking in our attention, her heart set on making us feel better, on putting a smile back on our faces. 

She made the darkest time of our lives bearable, she helped me get through the hardest times of my life. 

And this... this is how I repay her. 

"Ale... Alexia? Ale." Mapi's hand is on my shoulder and Aitana looks at me curiously. 

"Stop, just... stop." My voice is soft, and Mapi's eyes soften as I slide down the wall behind me. "I just... I don't know what to do."

Mapi sits down beside me, perhaps thinking that maybe she had been too harsh. 

"I had Elena over yesterday." Mapi's voice is quiet. "She said... she said she misses you, Alexia. And that... she said you told her you were going to take a step back. She thinks you already did. She doesn't want that. She just wants you."

"But I have ruined everything, Maria. This is all my fault." A singular tear finds itself on my cheek and Mapi places an arm around me. 

"You're right, you made so many mistakes. But I know you, I know you love her. She means everything to you. And she loves you as well, Ale. I know you two can get through this, but she is struggling to stay afloat with all this pressure and no support. Aitana and I... we need to look out for her because your Mami works all the time and she doesn't want to burden Alba with her problems and ruin her life. We need to be there for her at the moment because the poor girl is crumbling."

I wish she would realise that I am crumbling too. 

Olga is always there to hold me, to calm me down, but as much as she tries, she can't understand what is going on with Elena. She doesn't know Elena, which I know is my fault. 

But Mami is angry with me, so is Alba. For good reason. 

And Mapi is my best friend, but she needs to be there for Elena. 

All I want to do is cry out for help, but I know I can not because I caused it. 

"I am taking Elena out this afternoon." Aitana speaks up from where she has been stood silently. "I will talk to her again, we will work on it. I'm going to go now, but Alexia, if you need to, you can talk to any one of us."

I nod at her, trying to muster a smile onto my face as she walks back into the changing room. 

"Mapi, you are my best friend." 

She nods. 

"You will be honest?"

She nods again. 

"Do you think this is fixable? Do you think I've ruined my chance of ever getting my Lena back?" 

She rests her head on my shoulder. 

"I hope so. I miss seeing the smiles on both of your faces and truthfully, I don't think that Elena will thrive here if she keeps going on like this. She needs support, from you, your Mami and your sister and I don't really think she is getting it."

"But Mami and Alba are there for her!" I find myself getting defensive of my family. 

"I know they are, but she needs more than that at the moment. She has been skipping school because nobody is home to tell her to go to it, she has been skipping meals because nobody is home to eat with her. She doesn't sleep properly, she doesn't eat properly. It is not your mother's fault that she has to work, or Alba's fault that Elena doesn't want to burden her, but she needs more support than she is getting." 

My brain is telling me that Mapi is wrong, that my sister is fine, that my family is fine. But in my heart, I know she is right. And it makes me feel sick. 

Because if it wasn't for me being such a terrible sister, such a terrible person, Elena would not be struggling so much. She would not need Mami or Alba as much as she does, she would be thriving in this environment. 

But she is not. 

The pressure is something I only really felt when I got older, when I had thicker skin. I had a force of people around me to fall back on, to get support from. But Elena has so much pressure building on her at 15, with less experience, with less people to support her. 

And the pressure will keep building and building on top of her, until it is so high that everything falls over, falling down on top of her until she breaks. 

As if reading my mind, Mapi continues after her pause. 

"And if she does crumble under all this pressure, she will need so much support. Aitana and I will be there for her, if nobody else is."

~~~~~~ hope you enjoyed :)

Will probably be back to elena's perspective next chapter, just thought it'd be easier to write this in a different one

part VI

[yrluvjane]

Hello hello hello

may I request a Sirius x fem reader

Maybe they have a small argument on something small but it gets sort of heated and they just give each-other the cold shoulder refusing to relent even tho they’re sick of acting as if they dont care and maybe reader starts thinking she messed everything up and that he doesn’t want her anymore and he’s like??? Hell no?? And just hurt/comfort and healthy communication? <3

The argument had started over something trivial—whether to attend James's party or stay in for a quiet night. It was the kind of disagreement that usually resolved itself quickly, but tonight, both of you were unusually overly stubborn.

"It's just one night, love. We always stay in," Sirius said, frustration evident in his voice.

"And we always go out," you countered, crossing your arms defensively. "Can't we just have one night to ourselves?"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"Why are you?" you shot back, your own irritation flaring.

"Because, it's not just about this one night," Sirius retorted, his voice rising. "It's about you always wanting to stay in and isolate ourselves. We need to see our friends too!"

"And what about us, Sirius?" you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. "When do we get time for just us? Or does that not matter to you anymore?"

"Don't twist my words!" he yelled, his frustration boiling over. "Of course, you matter to me, but you're acting like I'm asking for the moon here!"

"Well, it feels like it," you replied, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. "Every time we go out, you end up ignoring me! You’re always surrounded by people—by James, by Remus, by Peter, by Marlene, by some chick I don't know but you sure as hell do, and I’m left all alone standing in a corner with a bunch of drunks who assume I'm some bathroom tour-guide!"

Sirius looked taken aback, his expression softening slightly. "Tha-that’s not true. I just… I thought you were having a good time."

"Clearly, you thought wrong," you said coldly, turning away from him. "Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if you paid more attention to me."

Sirius's face fell, guilt washing over him. "Y/N, I didn't realize you felt that way. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I shouldn't have to," you snapped, your eyes welling up with tears. "You should just know."

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. Neither of you wanted to back down—with how stubborn you two were it was no surprise—, and so the argument ended with both of you turning away, refusing to look at each other.

The cold shoulder treatment continued into the next day. You avoided Sirius, Sirius avoided you, both of you throwing yourselves into work and other distractions. But as the hours passed, the silence grew heavier, and doubt began to creep into your mind.

What if this fight had ruined everything?

What if Sirius didn't want you anymore?

Oh, God.

That evening, you sat alone in the living room, staring at your phone. The urge to talk to Sirius was overwhelming, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to seem desperate or weak, but the thought of losing him was unbearable.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Sirius was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He hated the silence, hated the distance between you.

He wanted to fix things, but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with apologies.

Finally, unable to take it any longer and at the edge of ripping his hair out, Sirius made his way to the living room. He paused in the doorway, watching you for a moment. Curled up in the sofa, you looked so small, so lost, and it broke his heart.

"Y/N," he said softly, stepping into the room.

You looked up, surprised to see him standing there. "Sirius," you replied, your voice trembling.

He crossed the room and sat down beside you, reaching out to take your hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand."

"I'm sorry too. I hate fighting with you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "Me too," he murmured into your hair. "I love you, Y/N. And I never want you to doubt that."

"I just…—I was scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought maybe you didn't want me anymore."

Sirius pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. "Don't ever think that," he said firmly. "I love you more than anything. This fight, it doesn't change that."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Sirius. I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together."

"Always?"

"Always."

The two of you sat there for a long time, holding each other, and as you lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Sirius's heartbeat, the evening wore on. And you found yourselves talking, really talking, about everything that had been bothering you. It was cathartic.

"I didn't realize how much you felt ignored when we go out with friends," Sirius started, breaking the silence.

"It's not just that, Sirius," you said softly. "I feel like we don't get enough us time. It's always parties or gatherings, but we rarely have quiet moments together."

"You're right," Sirius admitted after a moment of silence, a sigh escaping his lips. "I get so caught up in wanting to see everyone that i forget that we need our time too. We'll plan a date night."

You smiled sheepishly, "You don't have to do that, I—"

"No I do! I want to clear everything between us. So tell me all that's been troubling you, every tiny knack that you have stored." He assured determinedly.

You gave him an unsure look and he must've registered it as that, because he lifted your chin so that you met his eyes perfectly.

"I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future," he said hesitantly but sincerity was clear in his eyes. "Sometimes...I stay up late, worried we might end-up wanting different things."

"Sirius-"

"No, give me a second." His eyes bored into you as he emphasized each letter in his next words, "I want to build a future with you, and I need to know what you envision too."

"We all have baggage," Sirius said added gently. "I want us to work through it together. I want you to feel secure and loved, always. So please, talk to me."

You heart grew triple it's size at his words and you subconsciously leaned closer to him, "I need you to be more attentive to how I'm feeling, I shouldn't have to always be the one to bring it up."

If you were going to get this out, it will be all or nothing. "Sometimes I worry that I'm not enough for you, that you'll get tired of me," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

When Sirius aimed to speak, you asked him to wait.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to voice your next concern. "And I think I still have some insecurities from past relationships that I haven't dealt with, and I'm always afraid I may have or will project those onto us."

"And I need some space to breathe and be myself sometimes," you added. "I feel smothered by all the social obligations."

"That's never going to happen," Sirius said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening. "I love you more than anything, you're more than enough for me."

"I know—"

"No, you don't."

Sirius cupped your face in his hands, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart ache. "I want you listen to me," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

"You are my everything, my world, my home. I could lose every material thing I own, and it would mean nothing as long as I still have you. Every laugh, every tear, every quiet moment we share is etched into my soul. I will never-ever get tired of you, never find you lacking, because you are the most extraordinary person I've ever known. I love you with a depth and fierceness that scares me sometimes, but it’s the only thing in my life that feels completely right. You are enough, more than enough, and I promise to spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you that, if you allow me too. I promise you, I will never have you doubt my love for you, not even for a single second."

[sssarrrra]

Why did God abandon Dostoevsky & how Osamu Dazai can help Fyodor regain his humanity (bsd analysis)

1. Heaven out of reach

Dostoevsky firmly believes that every sinner should be redeemed, recycled and turned into a pure light ascending to paradise. Sadly, ability users are oblivious to their sinfulness. They're too stupid to die themselves. So Fyodor has to help. He's going to be the one to set them on the right path. They're all be in heaven soon enough.

But if Fyodor believes that he can send anyone to heaven, why isn't he going there himself?

He paradise as a savior, while fearing that his soul isn't worthy of salvation.

Fyodor is convinced: if he dies now, God will just cast him into oblivion as a punishment for what he's done. And to avoid it he has to “redeem” himself by “saving” others.

It's an endless cycle. What does Fyodor blame for being stuck in there? An ability that has been corrupting his mind for centuries.

So we have an interesting paradox: Dostoevsky believes that he can send people to heaven, but he himself can't go there (yet).

So what's so wrong with Fyodor's soul? (apart from committing thousands of crimes, of course).

Let's start with the belief behind his motivation: “All abilities are sinful without expectation”.

What's so bad with having a special skill? Why does Fyodor see them as bad and evil?

From Fyodor's perspective, every ability is an abnormality that defines God. A special skill could give its owner a chance they weren't meant to have in the first place. It goes against the laws of reality and God's plan.

It also creates a huge power imbalance between a skill user and everyone else. It gives them some extra “temptation” in the form of a power that's difficult to handle.

This cursed gift alienates a person, pushes them into isolation, makes it harder for them to relate to others. All because a special ability changes the way it's user perceives reality with everyone in it. It morphs their world view, leading them away from humanity.

And heaven is created for humans and maybe other pure animal souls. The “inhuman”, abnormal skill users don't belong there anymore. Their unnatural talents distort their very core.

At least, Fyodor thinks like that.

This is Dostoevsky's ideology in a nutshell: Special ability corrodes its user's humanity and makes them unworthy of heaven.

Where did Fyodor get this from? His own life experience and the pain he's been feeling for a very long time.

2. Fyodor's broken dream and how his ability ruined his self-esteem

Fyodor Dostoevsky seems like a person who's probably wanted to die early and become as symbol of his beliefs (that's why he has “clicked” with Nikolai Gogol so easily).

Maybe, an idea of becoming a martyr was alluring to him. Martyrs sacrifice their lives for something greater than themselves. After their death, they often become saints. They're worshiped and praised for being selfless, virtuous, and kind. They're considered beacons of light that lead everyone to paradise.

And become Fyodor is heavily influenced by an early orthodox Christianity, he has probably read a lot about the lives of saints. To the point he wanted to become one himself.

For someone, like Dostoevsky, who was most likely terribly unloved throughout his formative years, an idea of being loved, even worshiped, after death is very tempting.

So it's not a far stretch to say that Fyodor dreamt of becoming a martyr, and welcomed an early death as a ticket to paradise.

And well, you can guess, how it all turned out.

Due to Fyodor's ability, he can't die as a martyr at someone's hands. He can't clear his sins with his blood. That means, regardless of what he does, he won't ascend to Heaven or become a saint through the deathly suffering someone inflicts on him.

Of course, not all saints were killed by someone in a painful or brutal way. Some of them met a very peaceful end. But knowing Fyodor, he probably believed that the best way to get rid of his sins is to suffer and die.

And then, this plan didn't work out. Fyodor learned that he had an ability, that defies a death itself. So no matter what sins he committed throughout his life, he couldn't redeem himself by dying. He died, and died, and died. But he was unable to go to paradise.

Maybe, at first, Dostoevsky thought he had a “set amount” of lives, like cats that are supposed to have 9. So he probably got himself killed multiple times, but with no result.

At one point, it clicked in Fyodor's head:

What if he can't be accepted to Heaven as he is now?

What if it made Fyodor think that God found his soul so repulsive, he couldn't die during his first “death”?

Dostoevsky started fearing that God didn't want him, and therefore he couldn't meet his creator in the afterlife. Perhaps, Fyodor decided that his ability made him so unworthy, he couldn't even come close to God.

“Crime and punishment” postpones Dostoevsky's demise. It goes against God's plans and resets the time at which Fyodor has been “meant” to die. His ability is so unnatural, it distorts the death itself. Maybe, that's what angered the creator?

Even more so, dying humanizes people. “Everyone dies”. It's something everyone believes in. According to some Christian believes people live, die and then their souls get evaluated in order to be sent either to hell, heaven, or limbo. Except for Fyodor. He can't even face the trial. At least via his preferable way of dying.

What other ways of achieving death does he have?

It's either suicide, an accident or an old age.

I doubt that Fyodor would willingly kill himself by the poison injection or some other method. It's not that he doesn't want to. His suicidal ideation is pretty strong. But unaliving oneself is considered a sin in many religions, especially in the orthodox Christianity from the early days. And Fyodor is afraid of Hell and God's wrath.

Dying from a disease or an old age won't do either. Since Fyodor considers himself very “sinful”, he craves a redemption as big as the crimes he committed. Cue his dreams of being a martyr.

But if Fyodor just waits until his body gets old and dies, won't it mean that he's gotten an “easy” way out? Will God forgive him after that? Unlikely. He'll probably get stuck in limbo, somewhere in between, and he can't live with it.

So if Fyodor gets killed by his own body, he won't go to heaven. 'Cause he wouldn't repent for the sins he already committed.

The same goes with the death by an accident. Dying too early means not earning God's forgiveness. Plus, if an accident is caused by another human, he'll still get reincarnated into their body.

“No longer human” could apply to Dostoevsky so well. How can he be human if he can't experience death like everyone else?

Wouldn't it mean that he was already marked as a “worst sinner of all” even before he was born?

Dostoy probably thinks that he isn't worthy of Heaven YET, or he hasn't done enough to earn his place there. For centuries, no one has been able to give Fyodor the gift of “absolute silence” (death).

So Dostoevsky didn't die as a martyr = didn't purify himself= couldn't ascend to Heaven.

It doesn't seem that Fyodor wants to live. He is exhausted, angry and almost lucid. But his consciousness clings to one idea: that all of this will get better, if he just “removes” his ability from himself.

This is why Fyodor is also afraid of dying NOW, before he can pull off his world-changing plan.

Dostoevsky thinks that until he'll get rid of his ability, he won't be accepted into Paradise. He is terrified that if he dies without removing “Crime and punishment” he will be doomed to endless suffering.

So he wants to make a sacrifice. He'll sacrifice what's left of his humanity, sanity and any personal connections. He'll erase any traces of desire for comfort and salvation by life, not by death.

His place on Earth will be sacrificed for his place near God.

That was his plan all along.

But then… Dazai came.

3. Osamu Dazai is what Fyodor can be if he gives a chance to his humanity

Dazai did what he does best: intervened with the plans and mixed up everything else.

Now Fyodor's sinful ability could be erased by the touch that wasn't God's at all. Now he could be killed by another human being. Now he could risk dying and seeing what was on the other side.

But Dostoevsky was terrified. After so many centuries of avoiding death, it almost became a reflex.

The more Fyodor lived, the more he sinned, the more he got scared of would happen to his soul in the end. And as a result, he became even more attached to his plan of “earning God's forgiveness by purifying the mankind”.

But then Dazai entered the scene and introduced Fyodor to another side of God, a side he used to overlook for so long.

Dazai believed in another version of a Devine being. And his was far more realistic and convincing. The God that Osamu envisioned was different. He was forgiving, messy, humane, and capable of change.

And of course, Fyodor could use his favorite trick to debunk this belief. “He is too stupid to understand anything”. Only this ploy wouldn't work this time. Because Dazai was smart.

That's why, in Fyodor's eyes, Osamu was so disgusting. He was intelligent enough to be different from everyone else, but somehow it didn't cause him to feel the same isolation Fyodor had to suffer through for all these years. At least in the present days, Dazai had friends, colleges, and aspirations. And he was capable of winning their chess game over and over again.

This made Dostoevsky's core belief shake up a little bit.

Did Heaven really exist? Did Fyodor choose the right pass to get to it?

Dazai made him doubt the way he acted. That's why Dostoevsky was so angry. Osamu threatened his faith. That was unforgivable.

Feeling cornered, Fyodor threw every bit of the intellect he had to destroy the agency and the bandaged man.

If Fyodor won, it would mean he was right all alone.

And if he didn't… He would die as a sinner, unloved by the very God he sought.

Impossible.

4. Two Gods and one desire: to reunite with a humankind

Fyodor says that God is a perfect, intangible being that loves ideally planned things. To be like him, one needs to be objective, emotionless, and prepared to discard everything for the greater purpose.

Dazai says that God is humane, imperfect and made of everyone's desires and emotions. Therefore, to be like him one needs to be a human to the best of their abilities.

Fyodor craves the love that Dazai's God can give him. He secretly wants all the imperfect, fun, messy things that can give his life a meaning. But humanity scares him. It's too unpredictable, wild, and difficult to control.

So human God terrifies him to the core.

It's a tragic a case of “want this, but need that”. Fyodor chases God, but craves humanity.

Dazai had to learn how to be human, and Dostoevsky could do it too. But Fyodor is too stuck in his ways to see another perspective. He doesn't know how to change, so he pretends not to care.

Until all the Fyodor's defenses will be completely demolished and broken down, he won't even allow himself to change his mind.

Maybe, his salvation will happen through death.

But it doesn't have to be this way.

[medusapelagia]

15 The summer camp

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Childhood) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: secretly alien ) Rating: teen and up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: implied violence Words: 1912

Eddie fucking hated the summer.

Yes, fucking, even if that was a bad word, and Wayne would be really disappointed in Eddie but it wasn't his fault if it was the third year Wayne sent him to the stupid summer camp with the stupid kids of the stupid plant for two entire weeks.

Eddie was twelve, he was old enough that he could have stayed home alone, but no, Wayne signed him up for the stupid camp, again. Eddie cried and screamed, he even begged and promised to eat all his greens and not play loud music by night, but nothing convinced Wayne. 

So here he is, sitting in the back of the stupid bus, alone, with his tape player to the maximum volume just to piss Wayne off. He always says that he's going to ruin his hearing blasting music so loudly, but Eddie doesn't care. It's the only way to isolate himself from those mouth breathers.

They all have the same age, more or less, the younger is Jonathan. who is ten, the oldest is Eddie, who is going to be twelve in a couple of months, and in Wayne's opinion that should be enough to have fun. It's definitely not. All those kids wear fancy clothes their moms buy for them at the mall, while Eddie is always wearing second-hand clothes way too big because Wayne says he'll grow into them. So right now he's wearing a very sick Metallica t-shirt that's way too big for him, and a pair of jeans cuffed so many times he lost count.

As soon as they get there the camp counselors are going to divide them into units, or Dens, and Eddie will try to do his best to find a place where to hide and avoid any kind of physical activity the counselors will propose. No swimming, no rafting, no riding, no archery. He has enough books in his backpack to keep busy for the entire duration of the Summer camp.

***

When they arrive, the same smiling faces welcome them. Eddie wonders if it's possible that in three years none of those young men graduated and got a real job. So pathetic. He grabs his bag and waits for the same stupid rituals that will divide the kids into two different groups, when he notices a tiny boy, half hidden behind a tree. He doesn’t remember him from the bus and he’s wearing some clothes that are way too big. His jeans are dirt at the knees like he felt playing through the woods. 

And he’s not the only one to notice him. Andy is pointing at him, grinning with his stupid minions, while four-eyes Alex finally turns and sees the dirty boy.

“Hey, you. Why are you hiding? We are all friends here. I’m Alex, and I’m going to be your counselor. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy seems unsure for a moment, but in the end, he mutters, “Steve.” in the softest voice Eddie has ever heard. 

Alex grabs his name list, reading the names one by one two times before finally finding the boy.

“Steve found you! Our latest addition, huh? Did your parents leave you here alone?”

Steve nods quietly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, they probably thought we were already here, but don’t worry! We are going to have so much fun together this summer." Alex promises, putting a hand on the kid's back and gently pushing him toward the rest of the group.

"Ok, everyone, this is Steve. It's his first year here with us at the Hideout Camp, so give him a warm welcome."

A choir of Hi, Steve, fills the air, while the kid tries to put up a strong face, but Eddie can see tears in his eyes.

Fuck. Those kids are going to tear him into pieces in no time.

Alex and Jacob start to divide the kids into two groups, and Andy, the son of the plant's HR Director, keeps grinning, pointing at Steve. Eddie knows that he's planning some stupid and dangerous prank because he has been his victim in the past years, so when Eddie is assigned to the Moose Den and Andy to the Teddy one, Eddie decides that maybe, for once, he could care about someone else, so the steps toward Steve and shakes his hand, "Hi, do you want to join my Den? I'm in the Moose one and it's very cool."

It isn't. They both suck, but at least Andy isn't there.

Steve turns toward Alex, unsure, but four-eyes winks at him, "It doesn't happen often that someone asks you to join their Den, Steve. It's a great honor."

"Ok. Well. Thank you. I'll join your Den." Steve replies softly, and Eddie doesn't lose any time and drags him far away from Andy.

As soon as they are far enough from Alex, Eddie whispers, to Steve’s ear “Ok. So. Andy is a prick. Stay away from him and you’ll be fine.” 

He doesn’t wait for a reply, he just walks to the end of the line, waiting to get to the last bunk where he could hide and read all the books he wants for the next two weeks, but when he turns the annoying kid is at his side, smiling brightly.

“I’m Steve.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie snarls back, not interested in the latest.

“You should tell me your name." Steve insists.

"Why should I? What are you? A cop?"

"No, I’m not." Steve replies, scared, staring at Eddie with his huge doe eyes, “I’m just a kid.

"If I tell you my name will you just fuck off?" Steve nods, eagerly, so Eddie sighs, and turning his back he adds, "Eddie."

"That's a nice name."

"No, it isn't. It's a shit name. Now can you leave me be?"

"But… you asked me to join your Den!" Steve protests.

"Only to save you from Andy. Now you know you have to avoid him so we can part ways." Eddie replies, grabbing his backpack and following Alex toward their bungalow. He doesn't turn to see if Steve is following as well, it's none of his business, or so he thinks, until he feels a sweaty little hand taking his and he finds Steve smiling brightly at him.

"We are going to be best friends."

Fuck.

This Summer Camp is going to be hell.

***

Even if it’s his first year at the summer camp, Steve seems to outshine in every game or activity the counselors propose to them: archery, obstacle course, climbing, Steve attends every activity and is always the best, and what's worse, it's that he's always dragging Eddie with him. When Eddie protests that he's not strong enough for the canoe, Steve makes sure they are on the same one and does his best to row for the both of them. And when he complains that he doesn’t want to play water balloon dodgeball, Steve hits him first and Eddie starts running to get his revenge.

At the end of the day, they are tired but happy when the counselor gathers them all around the campfire to share some horror stories.

No, Eddie isn’t happy. He’s living a nightmare. Two weeks are almost gone and Eddie hardly finished one of his books, because every time he hides somewhere Steve tracks him down like a fucking bloodhound and drags him somewhere to do something.

“Why are you always so eager to do stuff!” Eddie complains, resting on the grass, and staring at the sky.

“There are so many things to do! And I want to learn them all! I’m not going to have a lot of time to learn and we are going to leave soon.”

“You live in town, huh? That must be cool” Eddie comments, ripping a blade of grass and starting whistling with it. At the sound, Steve covers his ears, shaking his head, and for a brief moment, Eddie could swear he saw a tail. An honest to god tail! Slim and thin like a mouse tail, but still a tail!

“Steve?!” Eddie asks, looking at him worriedly, but Steve keeps covering his face with his hands.

“Why did you do that?” Steve cries.

“I’m sorry, I was just whistling, I didn’t know you didn’t like it. I won’t whistle anymore,” Eddie promises, throwing away the blade of grass.

“Never again?”

“Never again,” Eddie confirms, and Steve slowly lowers his hands.

“Steve…” Eddie asks while they walk back toward the kitchen to have lunch with the others, “Do you… do you have a tail?” 

Eddie isn’t a scientist but he knows humans have no tails. Still. He saw Steve’s tail.

The other boy looks at him, his eyes wide with terror while he bites his lower lip, “Why are you asking?”

“I think I saw a tail when you covered your ears.”

“A tail? Does little Steve have a tail? Let's check!” Andy says, grabbing Steve's pants and trying to strip him in front of everyone.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Steve cries, kicking and screaming, but Andy and his friends have almost immobilized him.

“Stupid prick! Let Steve go!” Eddie yells, biting Andy’s arm. He will be kicked out of the camp but he doesn’t give a fuck. Steve is his friend and he won’t let anyone hurt him! But they are two against five, and there’s no way Eddie can manage to free Steve. Maybe if he ran toward the kitchen he could ask a counselor’s help. 

Eddie doesn’t even have the time to make a plan that the slim pink tail appears once more and this time it grabs Andy’s ankle making him fall on the ground, then it yanks another boy until Steve is finally free and standing, moving his tail like a whip, threatening the boys to get closer.

“Steve?” Eddie calls, confused, and when the chestnut boy turns his eyes are big and wide, and his skin is a grayish color.

“Steve?” Eddie calls again.

“I’m sorry Eddie. My parents sent me here to learn how to survive your world.”

“In my world? What the hell are you saying?!”

Steve doesn’t have time to reply because a bright light starts to shine above them and when Eddie lifts his eyes a flying saucer is standing above them.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, confused and terrified.

“Those are my parents. They came to take me away.” Steve replies, grabbing Eddie’s hand, “But don’t worry. We’ll meet again. I promise. Just… don’t whistle around me, ok?” the kid asks and then he disappears.

***

Years have passed since Eddie’s encounter with an alien, that’s what he’s convinced it was.

None at the camp did remember Steve when Eddie came back and even if he did numerous research about the mysterious boy or other alien appearances he never managed to find proof that it wasn’t just a kid's dream.

In the meantime, Eddie has become a writer, and most of his books are sci-fi books about a hero alien called: Steve.

He’s mindlessly signing some copy of his last novel, the same script with everyone, “Hey, thank you for coming. What’s your name?” and then writing the same custom dedication, “To (insert name). Thank you for being with me during this new adventure.”

Kimberly, Jonathan, Francis, one name after the other Eddie writes the same sentence over and over until a familiar voice makes him finally lift his head.

“Steve. Name is Steve.” 

[misstycloud]

Haii!! I've read your work before! And I absolutely adore all your fics < 3

If possible, may I request a yandere actor x background actor reader? (Like they have no speaking role, just their role is to stand there?) And somehow the reader caught the yandere's attention? XD

A/n: sup’ I’ve been gone a while. Sry for not being so active but here’s this.

————-

She didn’t do anything; nothing except standing there quietly in the background, melting into it like one tree among many in a forest. She was worth a penny compared to him- she didn’t even have any lines! So why were his eyes always drawn to her?

Perhaps it was because she didn’t try to cover his attention like all the others. It was offensive, really, how they thought he didn’t notice; they believed he couldn’t se through their over the top compliments and fake smiles.

But it was a small price to pay for such success. ‘You can’t have everything’, his father told him that. ‘You can either be rich, or you can be happy. There is no in between.’

(They were neither, but that hardly seems important)

He had to admit his father’s judgement to be correct.

“Shooting in ten!” Someone yelled.

There was no time for him to ponder over useless things, he was there to work, not to waste away inside the trailer. After having the makeup artist give him a touch-up, the tall man went over to the set(while reviewing the script inside his head one last time) in order to film the next scene.

“It’s all thanks to Gareth’s amazing, awesome, fantastic performance and quick thinking we’ve been able to stay on time of schedule - I really did think we were gonners’ after that last prop broke.” The employee guiltily admitted before his collueges. “But luckily-“ he swung his arm around Gareth’s shoulders “- our dear ‘X- city’s Top Actor’ was here to save us, and to that I propose a toast!”

Gareth held back a sneer. It didn’t matter how enticing it sounded like, he could not do it. Because if he did, then his perfect facade would be torn apart by these…people. That couldn’t happen. Ever. Too much sweat and blood has been shed for his position and there was no fucking way he would let anyone ruin that; that included himself.

Gareth wished for nothing more than to lock himself up inside his trailer and read in blissful silence, however that appeared to be near impossible. The team of employees had all joined forces to throw an ‘almost done’- party, where he was the star. Escaping was not possible.

With a sigh, he drank from his glass of wine. It was not the expensive kind he was now used to, but it would have to do. At least he managed to get some privacy at the party since most were currently drunk, throwing up in the bathroom or busy comverimg about-no doubt- stupid stuff. In a way, it was almost better this way. Despite what his line of work would say, he felt more comfortable when no one was looking at him- searching for faults and broken pieces.

“Enjoying the party?” A curious voice poked a hole in his bubble of isolation.

What surprised Gareth first was the owner of the voice, and secondly that it didn’t sound drunk at all. It was her, the extra from some of the scenes. The third surprise that grazed his mind was the thought:

‘She’s pretty.’

The actor was close to smacking himself in the face. What was he thinking so suddenly? He must’ve had too much to drink as well. Yes, that was surely it. But he found it hard to avoid the kind yet perceptive eyes.

“Ehem,” He cleared his throat, choosing to look straight ahead. “Of course, I enjoy it very much.”

It was but wishful thinking she’d accept his answer and move on.

“Really?”

She sounded genuinely confused now. Why did she sound like the surprised one? It was starting to get on Gareth’s nerves. Who did she think she was, coming here and questioning him?

“Should I not be?” It came off a little harsher than he’d imagined, but if she noticed she didn’t comment.

“Ah, that’s not what I meant, sorry.”

He sighed. She apologised which meant he must do it too if he didn’t want to come across as an asshole.

“No, it is I who have not been in the best mood tonight, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She laughed in response, pulling some out-of-control hair away from her face. Strangely, a part of him wished she didn’t do that, it was cute and framed her face well. Gareth was always a man of perfection and he enjoyed it on others as well. He was a star, why would he waste time on someone who didn’t even take into consideration to be presentable in front of others. But it’s not like he could voice these opinions to the public, or he’ll be done for.

Maybe he’d still get jobs(celebrities often gets a pass for things), but it would definitely change the view on him.

“I just didn’t think you liked these kind of events- with all the booze and social pressure and fakeness, I mean.”

Gareth turned to her in slight awe, listening as she continued.

“You usually have a detached look in your eyes, like you’re not really there? I don’t know how to explain it, but I just assumed you didn’t like parties. Besides, - I might not be an A-list celebrity- but I can see how it must be hard for you too. People come flocking around you, hoping to gain your favour, and you don’t know who to trust. Who is truly there for you, and who is only there for something else?” The young woman breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sorry if I rambled by the way, it can happen sometimes.”

Gareth, still in awe, stood silently and stared at her. Honestly, what the fuck? How did she- a mere background actor- manage to see through and tear apart the strong wall he’d spent so many hours to perfect? He was an actor for god’s sake, it was his job to pretend, and someone saw the true him anyway. But he was sure he’d never let his face betray him. So, how……?

“Hey are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, the man dismissed any previous thought and focused on the matter at hand. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.” It was then he recalled something important he forgot to ask. “What is your name? I didn’t ask earlier, how rude of me.”

She smiled back at him, pointing at herself as she said, “I’m (y/n), it’s nice to meet you.” She proceeded to shake his hand politely. When their skin touched, all Gareth felt was the warmth that came with it.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too… (Y/n).”

It was after that night Gareth found himself seeking out (y/n) more. Though he’d tell himself that it was for job purposes and nothing else. He simply wanted to see that there was nothing bad going on and everything was running smoothly. It was a movie he started in, of course it had to be flawless; nothing short of perfect; absolutely splendid.

But whenever trouble arose or someone needed some sort of help, it made it easier for Gareth to sneak off and find his new friend. Were they friends? At least, that’s what he thought. He and (y/n) had shared many more conversations after that fateful party and she never wore a disgusted(maybe he’s exaggerating) expression when talking to him. So they have to be friends, right? It would be strange if they weren’t.

(Y/n) was, in fact, lovely. He’d had that suspicion about her since the beginning and it turned out to be accurate. She always asked how he felt that day, and it wasn’t in the superficial, polite way, she meant it. The thoughtfulness brought a new kind of ache to his chest. It hurt in some ways, yet he couldn’t get enough of it.

Other times she even came to him with a box of home cooked food. She said that he was free to throw it away if he didn’t like it and she wouldn’t hunt him down or anything. Gareth was stunned. Why would he wish to throw out the food she’s so carefully prepared for him? No way. He’d eat all of it. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not, he couldn’t dishonour her like that. It wasn’t polite. (He actually loved the food)

Gareth had at first felt goddy at the prospect that (y/n) willingly spent her free time to cook something for him. He must be special to her then; only that thought was later crushed. The actor was on his way outside to take a breather after a longer shoot, and in the corner of his eye he saw two of his colleagues sitting on a staircase. He paused. In their laps’ were plastic containers - lunch boxes- but that wasn’t what drew in his attention; they looked oddily familiar.

‘Wait a little…this is..?’

Oh, he definitively recognised the pink notes and the same-collection of stickers that attached it to the box. If he looked even closer, he was certain the handwriting would be familiar as well.

How could he be so stupid? Of course (y/n) made lunch for all her close colleagues, not just him. Why would she treat him any special? Yes, he was considered a star on the rise for more success, but he knew that hardly mattered to her. Although he tried convincing himself it hardly meant anything as long as he’s getting good meals and they’re still friends, it made things different. The meals weren’t the only thing he noticed afterwards. There were smiles, plenty of them, all wasted on pathetic nobodies. There were also the affection, the hugs, the hand holding. They were given to crew members feeling down and in need of comfort.

It was good that (y/n) cared about others; a quality many perceived as positive. However, Gareth himself could not see this as a good thing. Instead it left a sour taste in his mouth, just like the meal-donation.

Gareth grumbled over this for a long time and tried to figure out why he felt this way. It was stupid, he thought, that he was this worked up over some woman. Gareth a couple months ago would scoff at his current situation and tell him he was being ridiculous and had to stop grovelling in the dirt over some background actor.

The Gareth from a few months ago wouldn’t believe he had the ability to resort to something so childish, either. He was avoiding her like the plague, and barely glanced in her direction. If he absolutely had to talk to her then his answers would be curt and ‘don’t-bother-me-like’. What the hell was he doing? Giving (y/n) the silent treatment, like a child not getting the attention from his parents as he would’ve liked. He could tell the change in his behaviour made her sad, and she probably didn’t understand why either, which was even more sad. But the saddest part of all was that Gareth’s pride was stronger than his feeling of guilt.

A result from the prince-treatment he’d been getting for years.

It wasn’t until the day she approached him during break and said, “I wanted to say goodbye.” that he broke out of his bubble.

“What do you mean?” He asked, immediately straightening his back.

(Y/n) smiled melancholy, “the scenes I’m in-standing in the background, that is- are all over. It’s time for me to go home now. There’s nothing else for me to do here.”

The gears turned in the actors head. She was leaving? This place? Him?

“No, you can’t leave.” He blurted out without thinking. It came off as desperate and breathless, like a whining kid. He hated himself.

(Y/n) chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I wish I could stay longer, but I’m just a background character. I don’t have that privilege.”

Gareth though he heard her mutter under her breath, ‘-not like you.’

“Well this is goodbye then, it was fun to get to know you Gareth and be your friend.” She said before turning around and leaving him alone.

It wasn’t true. They hadn’t been friends at all the last weeks, and it was all his fault. Because he felt some petty competitiveness. And now (yn) was going away forever. What if he never gets to see her again? The idea hurt more than anything he’s felt before. It definitively hurt more than the time he broke his toe, or the time he slipped and got a concussion. None of it was close to the pain he experienced with the thought of losing her.

His sweet little background actor.

Now he understood. It was love. All of it was love. That’s why he was threatened by others taking up (y/n)’s time and why he enjoyed her company so much. He loved her. It was that simple.

There’s no way he could let her slip out of reach now. Not when she belongs to him.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Thirty-Seven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Alcohol.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.4k

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"Are you sure he invited us?" you ask, giving your fiancé a very stern and scrutinous look. You were on your way to Kuraigana Island, Mihawk's place of residence, and you were wondering if the poor man even knew of Shanks' plans.

A smirk tugs at Shanks' lips. "Mihawk? He's aware of everything. Trust me, he's probably already preparing some sarcastic remark for when we arrive. Did I mention he has a very impressive wine cellar?"

You raise an eyebrow. "So our wedding will be entirely based on the fact that Mihawk has impeccable taste in wine?"

Shanks chuckles. "Not entirely. Mihawk's an old friend. It's good to catch up once in a while. He's also a captain which means he can officiate our wedding, treasure. Don't worry, everything will work out." With that Shanks leaves you at the stern, glowering at the idea of dropping unannounced.

Well, the Red Force will continue to sail smoothly towards the dark and foreboding Kuraigana Island in the distance regardless of your wish for proper decorum. As the Red Force draws near, you can see the silhouette of Mihawk's castle looms against the horizon, a stark contrast to the vibrant, bustling atmosphere of your pirate ship. Your heart races with anticipation and unease.

"Land ho!" Yasopp shouts from the crow's nest.

The Red Force slows down, its massive hull creaking as it approaches the dock at the abandoned harbor. You clutch the railing, peering into the thick fog that blankets Kuraigana Island. The place feels otherworldly, almost like a forgotten realm.

“Why is the whole island so dark and gloomy?” you ask, unable to hide the apprehension in your voice.

Benn Beckman steps beside you, his ever-present cigarette glowing dimly in the mist. “It wasn’t always like this,” he begins, his voice carrying a weight of history. “Years ago, this island was home to the Shikkearu Kingdom. It thrived until war and calamity reduced it to ruins.”

You look around, noticing how the desolation seems to seep into every crevice of the island. The air feels thick with memories of a lost era.

“Mihawk took up residence here after that,” Benn continues, nodding towards the looming castle. “He found solace in its isolation. Suits him well—no distractions, no interruptions.”

You glance at Shanks, who’s busy directing the crew as they secure the ship. This is were he wanted to marry you? A confusing idea but no doubt he had his reasons so you would trust him. He catches your eye and gives you a reassuring smile. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you sense a deep respect for Mihawk and this desolate place.

“Don’t let appearances fool you,” Benn adds, sensing your unease. “Mihawk’s castle might look grim from out here, but inside it’s quite different—full of life and color. You should see that atrium.”

You nod slowly, trying to reconcile the island’s grim exterior with Benn’s description of Mihawk’s sanctuary. The contrast intrigues you, making you eager yet anxious to step onto solid ground.

As the gangplank is lowered, Shanks offers you his hand with a wink. “Ready to meet the ghost of Kuraigana, treasure?”

"If we don't lose ourselves in the fog," you speak, taking his hand and stepping onto the dock. The other men follow suit, Lucky Roux carrying a barrel you suspected contained alcohol, Gab and Limejuice lofting crates of food on their shoulders. Even monster had a bag slung across his body. "What are you planning? A seven day feast?" You continue, eyeing Yasopp who now carries a crate labeled 'explosives'. "And why do you need explosives?"

"A wedding, Lady Captain!" Yasopp booms in reply. You can only hope the explosives were for fireworks and not something actually exploding. However you had seen Gab stuffing extra knifes into his pack before leaving so knife throwing challenges are definitely on the table.

The castle looms ahead, its dark silhouette cutting through the mist like a jagged tooth. The closer you get, the more imposing it becomes. Yet, there's an undeniable beauty in its gothic architecture, a stark contrast to the vibrant life aboard the Red Force.

As you approach Mihawk's castle, the massive doors creak open. There he stands, Dracule Mihawk himself—tall, imposing, with those hawk-like eyes that seem to pierce right through you. You find that your eyes are drawn to the massive sword hanging on his back, the hilt bejeweled and shining.

"Mihawk!" Shanks calls out cheerfully.

Mihawk’s gaze shifts to Shanks and then to you. His expression is unreadable as he steps forward. "Shanks," he says slowly, the name laced with mild irritation. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

You shoot Shanks a dirty look which he promptly ignores, and Mihawk definitely catches.

Shanks grins broadly, entirely unfazed by Mihawk's demeanor, or your glare. "I need a captain."

"Whatever for," Mihawk sighs out. "Or have you lost your title?"

Shanks’ grin widens as he steps closer to Mihawk. “I need an officiant, my friend.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrow, his gaze flickering briefly to you and then back to Shanks. “You’re capable of officiating a wedding on your own, are you not?”

A chuckle escapes Shanks as he shakes his head. “I may be a captain, but even I can’t officiate my own wedding. It’s bad form. I need someone I trust to do the honors.”

Mihawk's gaze shifts to you, his eyes narrowing in curiosity and perhaps a hint of disdain. "And who is the brave soul foolish enough to marry you?"

You step forward, lifting your chin with the poise instilled in you since birth. "That would be me," you declare, your voice steady and clear. "Linaria Bonn, though I prefer to go by Aria now."

A flicker of recognition crosses Mihawk’s face, quickly replaced by an inscrutable expression. "The noblewoman who fled her arranged marriage," he states, not as a question but as a fact.

"Indeed," you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. "And now, I'm choosing my own path."

Mihawk studies you for a moment longer, then inclines his head slightly. "You must be quite brave—or perhaps just reckless."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "I’ve learned that bravery and recklessness often walk hand in hand."

Mihawk’s eyes flash with something akin to amusement. "Spoken like someone who has faced adversity and come out stronger." He glances at Shanks before returning his attention to you. "Very well. I will officiate this wedding—if only to see what kind of chaos it brings."

"Chaos follows Shanks wherever he goes," you respond with a touch of dry humor. "And I take it with my afternoon tea."

Mihawk’s piercing gaze lingers on you, his hawk-like eyes assessing every inch of your resolve. For a moment, the gloomy island around you fades, and it's just you and the warlord locked in a silent battle of wills. But you don’t flinch or look away. Instead, you hold his gaze, your chin lifted high and eyebrow arched.

A hint of a smile touches Mihawk’s lips, barely perceptible but unmistakable. "You have spirit," he finally says, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Perhaps more than I anticipated."

Before you can respond, Shanks steps in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did I mention Aria has an impeccable taste in wine?"

Mihawk's interest piques visibly. His eyebrows arch ever so slightly as he turns to Shanks. "Is that so?"

Shanks nods enthusiastically, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Indeed. She’s quite the connoisseur. It's been rather difficult finding wines she will actually dink."

Mihawk's gaze returns to you, curiosity mingling with respect. "Very well then," he says. "Let's put that claim to the test."

Mihawk offers his arm and without taking your eyes off his incredible hawk-like eyes, you step forwards and slid your hand through his arm. His embroidered jacket feels deceptively soft beneath your fingertips as Mihawk turns to lead you to the wine cellar.

As you walk away, Shanks' voice rings out behind you. "Oi, Mihawk! You better not seduce my future wife with the allure of your wine cellar!"

You can almost hear the smirk in Mihawk’s voice as he replies without turning around. "I assure you, Shanks, my intentions are purely professional."

"I never said mine were," you inject with a soft giggle, smirking to yourself as Shanks groans in exasperation. You glance back to see Shanks shaking his head with a grin, clearly trusting Mihawk despite his playful warning and your teasing words.

Benn slaps his shoulder. "Seems like Aria finally met her match," he says with a smirk.

Mihawk leads you through the castle, his stride steady and purposeful. The air inside feels cooler, a refreshing change from the outside humidity. As you descend into the wine cellar, the earthy scent of aged oak and fermented grapes envelops you. Rows upon rows of barrels and bottles line the stone walls, creating an ambiance that is both inviting and mysterious.

He gestures to a polished wooden table set with an array of crystal glasses. "Shall we begin?"

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of this unexpected adventure. Mihawk carefully selects a bottle from the nearest rack, its label aged and slightly faded.

"This," he says, holding it up for you to see, "is a vintage from the Muggy Kingdom's prime years. A deep red with notes of blackberry and leather."

He pours a small amount into your glass, the rich liquid catching the light as it swirls. You lift it to your nose, inhaling deeply. The aroma is intoxicating—earthy with a hint of spice.

You take a sip, letting the wine coat your tongue before swallowing. "It's bold," you observe, savoring the lingering taste. "The tannins are firm but not overpowering. There's an underlying sweetness that balances it out."

Mihawk nods appreciatively. "Precisely. The balance is key with this vintage." He pours himself a glass and takes a sip, his eyes closing briefly in contemplation.

He reaches for another bottle, this one with a more vibrant label. "Now, for something different—a white wine from Sabaody Archipelago."

As he pours the pale liquid into your glass, you notice its light, almost translucent color. You bring it to your lips and take a sip.

"It's crisp," you say thoughtfully. "With hints of citrus and green apple. The acidity is sharp but refreshing. A rather pleasing wine for a spring day I should think."

Mihawk smiles faintly. "An excellent observation." He takes his own sip, his eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glass.

The two of you continue like this, moving through various bottles and vintages as if time has no hold on this hidden cellar. Each wine brings its own story—a tale of land and climate, of skillful hands and patient aging.

"This one," Mihawk says, presenting a bottle with an intricate label depicting waves crashing against rocks, "is from Water 7. A complex red with layers of flavor—cherry, tobacco, a hint of Agua Laguna sea salt."

You taste it and nod in agreement. "It's like drinking the essence of the sea itself. How peculiar…"

The hours slip by unnoticed as you and Mihawk delve deeper into the wine cellar, your conversations echoing softly against the stone walls. Each bottle brings with it a new discovery, a fresh wave of flavors and stories that bind you in a shared passion for the art of winemaking.

“This one,” Mihawk announces, holding up a dusty bottle with reverence, “is from a small vineyard in Alabasta. Only a few dozen bottles were ever made.”

You gaze at the bottle with wide eyes, excitement bubbling within you. “Oh I do so wish to have a taste,” you say wistfully, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

Mihawk’s eyes gleam with mischief as he uncorks the bottle and pours the deep, crimson liquid into your glass. The aroma is intoxicating, rich with the scent of dark berries and exotic spices. You take a sip, savoring the complex layers of flavor that unfold on your tongue.

“Exquisite,” you murmur, closing your eyes to fully appreciate the taste.

Mihawk nods in agreement. “Indeed. The winemaker was a true artist.”

The conversation flows as easily as the wine, each topic leading naturally into the next. You find yourself discussing the merits of various wine regions, debating which climate produces the best grapes.

"Alabasta's dry heat brings out such intensity in the grapes," Mihawk states firmly.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "But nothing compares to the cool breezes of Sabaody Archipelago. The balance it brings is unmatched."

The night wears on and more bottles are emptied, your inhibitions soon fade away. You feel a lightness in your head, a warm flush spreading through your body.

“I’ve always wondered,” you begin, giggling as you struggle to form your thoughts coherently, “is Rosé closer to white or red wine? I think Rosé is clearly closer to a white wine,” you declare, your words slightly slurred from the wine. “It’s lighter, more refreshing. It’s like a summer breeze in a glass.”

Mihawk, equally inebriated, narrows his hawk-like eyes at you. “That’s where you’re wrong. Rosé is much closer to red wine. The process involves leaving the skins on for a short time, which imparts color and some tannins.”

You shake your head vehemently, nearly spilling your wine. “But it’s not just about the color! The flavor profile is lighter, the body is more delicate. It doesn’t have the same heaviness as red wine.”

Mihawk leans closer, his eyes burning with intensity. “The skins, Aria. The skins are crucial. They give Rosé its character. Without them, it would be insipid, lacking depth.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a surge of stubbornness rise within you. “But what about the acidity? Rosé has a higher acidity, much like white wine. It’s crisp and vibrant, not rich and bold like a red.”

“Acidity isn’t everything,” Mihawk counters, his voice rising slightly. “The structure, the backbone of Rosé comes from the skins and the tannins. It shares more DNA with reds than whites.”

Your cheeks flush with frustration and wine. “Oh please, Mihawk! Just because it has some tannins doesn’t make it a red wine! It’s all about the experience—the lightness, the freshness!”

Before Mihawk can respond, Shanks steps into the cellar, blinking in surprise at the heated exchange before him.

“What in the world are you two arguing about?” Shanks asks with a bemused smile.

You turn to Shanks, gesturing wildly with your glass. “This stubborn man insists that Rosé is closer to red wine! Can you believe that?”

Mihawk crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze never leaving yours. “And she insists it’s closer to white wine,” he says with a huff.

Shanks looks between the two of you, clearly amused by your drunken debate. “Is this what happens when I leave you alone with Mihawk for a couple of hours?” He chuckles. “You get drunk and start arguing over technicalities?”

You nod vigorously, pointing an accusatory finger at Mihawk. “He just doesn’t understand!”

Shanks steps closer, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Alright, alright, I think it’s time for bed,” he says, reaching for your hand.

You pull away, shaking your head defiantly. “No! We still haven’t figured out if Rosé is closer to white or red wine!” Your voice rises in pitch as you glare at Mihawk, who simply raises an eyebrow in response.

Shanks rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “You can debate wine all you want tomorrow. Right now, you need sleep.”

“But Shanks—” you begin, only to have your wine glass gently pried from your fingers. You let out a small noise of protest and your hands paw at the glass now out of reach, but Shanks remains undeterred.

“Come on, treasure,” he says softly, pulling you to your feet. The room spins slightly as you stand, and you grip Shanks’ arm for support.

Mihawk watches the exchange with a bemused expression. “Good luck,” he says dryly to Shanks.

“Thanks,” Shanks replies with a chuckle. “I’ll need it.”

As Shanks guides you out of the cellar, you continue to grumble under your breath. “It’s not fair… We were just getting to the good part…”

“I promise you can continue your debate in the morning,” Shanks assures you, his tone gentle but firm.

You pout but allow him to lead you through the castle halls. The cool air helps clear your head slightly, but you’re still unsteady on your feet. Shanks’ presence beside you is a comforting anchor as he steers you towards the guest quarters.

When you reach the room designated for you, Shanks opens the door and nudges you inside. “In you go.”

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed in stubborn determination. “This isn’t over.”

Shanks laughs softly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of ending it prematurely.” He leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead before guiding you towards the bed. "Sit, let's get you changed into your nightgown."

You sink onto the edge of the bed, your mind still swirling with the remnants of your wine-fueled debate. Shanks kneels before you, his one good arm working deftly to remove your shoes.

“You’re not as steady as you think,” he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You huff in response, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was perfectly steady until Mihawk started with his nonsense about Rosé being closer to red wine." You scoff at the idea.

Shanks’ touch is careful, almost reverent, as he sets each shoe aside. You watch him through the haze of wine, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. There's something undeniably comforting about his presence.

He stands and offers you a hand. "Up you go," he says softly.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The room sways slightly, but Shanks' steady grip keeps you standing. He begins to untie the strings of your dress, his fingers nimble despite the task being more suited for two hands.

You try to help, but your movements are clumsy and uncoordinated. Shanks chuckles softly. "Hold still, treasure," he murmurs. "Let me do this."

You nod and let your arms fall to your sides, trusting him completely. He is so endearingly attractive like this. The dress loosens and falls away, leaving you standing in your undergarments. Shanks unhooks your bra and pulls it from your arms as you blink.

He retrieves your nightgown from a nearby chair and slips it over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with practiced ease. The fabric is soft against your skin, and you sigh from happiness.

"All done," he says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. You smile up at him, feeling a sense of calm settle over you.

"Thank you," you whisper, swaying slightly on your feet.

Shanks catches you before you can stumble, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. "Easy there," he says with a grin. "Let's get you into bed."

You pull back from Shanks’ embrace, shaking your head stubbornly. "I don’t want to go to bed yet," you insist, your voice still tinged with the defiance fueled by wine and unresolved petty debates.

Shanks sighs softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, how about we cuddle instead?" His tone is gentle, coaxing, as if he knows exactly how to navigate your stubbornness.

You pause, considering his offer. The idea of cuddling sounds incredibly appealing. Reluctantly, you nod.

Shanks’ smile widens as he guides you to the bed. "Come on then," he says, settling down and pulling you into his arms. You nestle against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. His lone arm wraps around you securely, holding you close.

The room is quiet except for the soft sounds of your breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. You feel safe in Shanks’ embrace, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling haze of wine and emotions.

He strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing. "Feeling better?" he asks softly.

You nod against his chest, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "Yes," you murmur. "This is nice."

Shanks chuckles softly. "Thought it might be." He continues to stroke your hair, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic patterns that lull you further into relaxation. Your eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment, the warmth and comfort of Shanks' embrace making it impossible to stay awake.

Date Published: 8/19/24

Last Edit: 8/19/24

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[melminli]

𝗡𝗼 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 - 𝟬𝟮

pairing: jjk x fem. reader

summery - meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, but that's how you make new friends.

word count: 1.2k

content: x reader, pre canon au, genshin impact inspired themes, crack, fluff, (in the future: manga spoilers, angst, gojo satoru x reader...)

series masterlist | previous chapter! | next chapter!

tokyo, august 21 2005

"i think i'll have the blueberry cheesecake..." you finally decide after thinking about it for a while and looking at the different options at the shop window.

satoru joined you. "yeah, me too."

you looked at him in annoyance in response. "are you stupid? pick something else. we can't both have the same thing." you pointed at something else in the window by tapping on the glass. "take the chocolate cake. i want to try it."

his mood worsened at your statement. "you always do this, and then you don't share yourself, so i always end up eating the things you actually want!" he threw the accusation at you being finally fed up with your behavior.

you laughed lightly and didn't take him seriously. "is that so?" you didn't elaborate further because you didn't really care, to be honest. it wasn't your fault that he always wanted to order the same thing you did. hasn't he ever heard of the rule that when you go out to eat somewhere, you have to pick different stuff?

you waited outside on a bench while he went in to buy the pastries, and you looked a little surprised when he came out a few minutes later with a box too big for just two cakes. "what did you buy?" you asked him a bit judgmentally. though, maybe the right question to ask was how much. you shouldn't have let him go in alone.

he just shrugged his shoulders. "the cakes and a few other things because we're going to meet some of my friends." he casually gave the reason while being very aware of the fact that this wasn't the original plan.

you shook your head. "no, we didn't talk about anything like that. i don't want to meet your friends." you said directly without hesitation. you had a relatively good day today, a good mood, and the weather was nice. you wouldn't ruin that by spending your precious time being awkward around other people.

satoru just rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "i know you don't like talking to strangers, but you need to get out of your comfort zone a bit."

there was literally no reason why you had to do that. you didn't know why he made that his mission today. "i'm doing this with you already, isn't that enough?" you complained.

he sent you an offended look at that statement. "we've known each other for ages. that's definitely not the definition of strangers." he said a bit bitter. you always had to unintentionally break his heart like that.

you avoided his gaze. "i'll look up the definition right now if you keep bugging me." you said, being a little petty but also didn't want to risk exposing yourself in case he was right. you guys had been hanging out pretty often since you met two months ago, and he also texts you every day and spams your phone with dumb memes. "besides, i don't want to meet your stupid friends."

"they're not stupid. come on." he ignored your whining and went ahead. he knew you would follow him eventually since he was carrying your blueberry cheesecake. otherwise, he wouldn't have acted so confidently.

you considered following him for a while until you shouted. "wait for me!" you said and ran after him.

a while after that...

you ate your cake in silence and didn't pay much attention to the others. it was kind of relaxing to picnic outside, you thought. especially in the shady place under the trees. but even though you were a person who said what was on their mind most of the time, you were pretty quiet right now. well, you were kinda outnumbered here, so one could say that you felt a little intimidated, perhaps.

was it very obvious that you had grown up isolated and had never actually interacted with others around your age? you hoped not because even if you didn't like to admit it, satoru was the only person you would consider somewhat of a friend, and you certainly didn't want to put that on your resume.

"so, why aren't you a jujutsu sorcerer if you can see curses?" the girl next to you asked you in a casual tone.

you shrugged your shoulders and answered without looking her in the face. you were pretty nervous right now, you always wanted to be friends with a girl. "i don't know. why do you ask stupid questions when you can just shut up?"

satoru looked at you with disappointment. "hey, what did we talk about? stop being mean to others as a defense meschanism. you need to let others into you." he said the last sentence in a therapist voice while pointing both his hands to his heart. "this way, you just come across as a total asshole and no one will like you that way."

you just rolled your eyes and wondered why he always bothered you to hang out with him if you were such an ass. "that's what your mom did last night."

the other two friends laughed lightly at the trap that the gojo had set up for himself. he looked a bit betrayed at the two before he started saying something quick to somehow save his honor. "well, unlike you, i have a certain charm that appeals to older women. so i don't know. maybe i actually have a chance with your mom." he countered, emphasizing the last words extra hard.

it was a little painful to watch him try so hard. he just made things worse with that awkward statement. "my mom's dead, actually." she wasn't, but you loved the look on others' faces when you told them that after they made a your mom joke. you tried to stifle your laughter at satoru's expression, but you couldn't help but slightly contort your face.

it was a bit difficult not to be childish when you had lost your childhood to the hands of adults. it was something you would never get back and therefore would always stick with you.

the white-haired boy finally noticed what you did. "stop lying to make me look like a idiot! you really made me seem like a bad person!"

the three of you thought the same thing at what he said. he was worried about that? satoru's best friend couldn't help but add something as well. you think his name was suguru. "you don't need her help for that, i think you can do that all by yourself."

this led to the two continuing to bicker and exchange insults and threats with each other as they butted heads.

shoko ignored them and turned to you again. she didn't really mind your rudeness. you seemed like a good person with a tough shell. she asked you something because she wanted to make sure that she had heard you correctly before. "what did you say your last name was again?"

you looked at her and answered with a disinterested tone after reaching for a fruit roll. "raiden. why?"

she shook her head. "no reason." she looked up through the small gaps in the foliage, which let out pretty rays of sunlight. raiden means thunder and lightning, doesn't it?

to be continued...

next chapter!

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Themes in Pit Babe (or why the racing omegaverse show is deeper than you think)

As we're getting close to the end for Pit Babe, I can't help but think about the reoccurring themes around both self-worth and self-determination that are coming through in the show. It's very unexpected, but also a big part of what I love about it (reminder, I adore shows with heart). So let's talk about it a little bit.

Part 1: Self-Worth & Characterization

Let's start with the characters. First up:

Tony's "kids" (which just so happens to be most of the cast).

It's incredibly important that all of these men were "acquired" as small children, and then raised within an abusive household.

We don't get clear info on all of their backgrounds, and where they came from, but removal of children from their biological family is almost always a traumatic thing (even in cases where it is genuinely necessary). We know in the case of Babe that Tony ruined his father financially to make giving up Babe seem like an act of care, and it's not a stretch that he did similar things to get other children, particularly those with special abilities he deemed potentially profitable.

Once they were in the household, they experienced varying degrees of abuse. Tony doesn't seem to get physical with everyone, but Babe was definitely extremely isolated, and considering how close in age the rest of them are, and how most of them didn't know about each other, it seems like he did keep them all under very strict limitations. No outside school, no enrichment, just focus on developing their abilities. They were expected to be silent and obedient, and to produce the results that Tony wanted (or make themselves otherwise useful), or they were disposable.

In short, none of them had a healthy childhood, and all of them have varying degrees of trauma as a result.

Babe

Babe had the experience of being with a loving father, who then handed him over to Tony. Although his father saw it as something that would give his son a positive future, for Babe, it was the most severe kind of rejection. And once he was in Tony's hands, it was made abundantly clear that his only value was in his alpha senses.

When he managed to leave Tony's house, he tried to find something to give himself a sense of identity, and succeeded with racing. But it becomes clear through the series that his "Pit Babe" bravado is a facade, and underneath he is still deeply insecure and feels unworthy. There's nothing wrong with keeping sexual encounters to one time events, but through his time with Charlie we learn that he desperately wants love, and has been keeping relationships at bay to avoid further rejection.

Charlie

Charlie seems confident a lot of the time, in his assertive pursuit of Babe, and his steadfastness in keeping to the path that he is on. But the further we delve into it, it becomes more clear that although he is driven by his love for Babe, and permanently freeing Babe from Tony's clutches, he is not at all confident when it comes to his own self-worth. His plan to make Babe think he was dead seems terribly cruel, until you realize that he genuinely did not think it would devastate Babe. He isn't kidding when he offers to die to give Babe his powers back. He wants to be there for Babe, he wants to take care of him, but he also sees himself as nothing particularly special or irreplaceable.

Jeff

Jeff has a lot of similar qualities to Charlie, which makes sense if they were allowed to spend time together as children. Jeff also is similarly confident in his belief that Tony has to be stopped, in the path he is on, and that sometimes bad things have to be done for the cause. Where Jeff's self-worth comes in is around his abilities. The story of Cassandra is a tragedy for a reason - prophecy is not the gift that it would seem to be. Again, we don't know what Jeff has experienced in his childhood, but he has definitely experienced people around him being put off and uncomfortable due to his visions. As he gets closer to Alan, he brings up the challenge of dating someone like him multiple times, because he is genuinely struggling to understand why anyone would go through the trouble of loving him.

Way

To be clear, having experienced abuse is never an excuse to hurt others. But it is important to understand just how much damage can happen when someone is told for their entire childhood that they have no inherent value, and are only worthy for what they can do for someone else.

We don't know what Tony's plans were before Babe ran away. What was Way being raised for? What were the plans for him? Enigmas are very rare, his abilities are really valuable on their own, so one would expect that Tony planned to keep him close, and keep utilizing him as needed. Which means it was likely made very clear to him that his freedom to go out into the world, join the racing team, and form his friendship with Babe was all contingent on him staying obedient - or he could lose it all.

*Side note - the interesting thing here is how long Babe & Way had been friends. Because Tony strikes me as someone who is both extremely impatient, and someone who would have zero issue with obtaining his goal through sexual assault. Which yes, Way does finally cross that line, but what about all the years before then? It just seems like he might have been finding ways, possibly through his powers, to keep Tony at bay. Until Charlie showed up and Way made some extremely bad choices.

Again, hard to know without the full backstory - but Way's lack of self-worth feels like it comes with a side of despair. Tony will win, Tony always wins, Tony can take everything away, so there's no point in fighting.

Kenta

This last episode made it very clear just how terribly Kenta has been abused by Tony. His insistence on being grateful to Tony makes me wonder if he was someone who had an abusive family of origin as well, or if he was an orphan who felt rescued by being brought this this wealthy man's home. Or perhaps it was just that Tony constantly reinforced that as someone without powers, Kenta was lucky that Tony deigned to keep him around.

For those who are not familiar with abuse dynamics it can be hard to understand why there would be such loyalty to someone so cruel. But that's the insidious thing. Kenta was raised to believe that he only mattered if he mattered to Tony. His sense of self-worth is entirely wrapped up in Tony. He had a shining spot in his friendship with Pete, but Pete left. Kenta sees that as a betrayal, and as proof that no one else could possibly care about him.

Pete

Pete is a really interesting one. Unfortunately we don't get to see very much of his experience in Tony's house, but he does seem to have a degree of freedom that some of the other children don't have. He is also an enigma, but unlike Way his power seems to be more empathy-based. And I think that this empathy is key. He seems to be able to both evoke memories/feelings in others (he seemed to do this when Kenta was attacking him), and read what others are thinking & feeling.

Pete doesn't struggle with his self-worth like the others do, because he is more focused on those outside of himself. He can see the pain that others are dealing with, and it gives him purpose. One could argue that it's to an unhealthy degree - his own wants & needs are important. But to him, the mission is what matters. His self-worth is created through his goal of freeing others from Tony & men like him.

And now for the few men who managed to escape being adopted by Tony:

Alan

Again, not much backstory, but it seems like Alan was raised in a relatively loving and privileged home. He leads with compassion and understanding. He's not aggressive and he never talks down to people. He gets awkward at times, but overall is a confident business owner and Uncle to his collection of idiots. He's a man who seems to get a fair amount of self-worth out of taking care of others and bringing people under his wing.

Kim

Kim rocks, and he knows it. This is a man who has zero struggle with his sense of self-worth. He knows his inherent value has nothing to do with winning or losing, he just enjoys a good challenge. He has a strong moral compass, and will do the right thing just because. This man is self-worth goals.

Sonic & North

They are idiots, but they are comfortable in who they are. They know where they belong, they aren't offended by not being key racers for their team, they just find where they fit and make it work. Also you have to have confidence to dress like these two.

Dean & Winner

We don't get a ton of characterization with these two, but they are a good example of what happens when you tie your self-worth with winning, or otherwise being "superior" to others. This kind of self-worth usually comes with a pretty huge dose of insecurity, and feeling like you have something to prove.

--------------------

Gah, this has gotten longer than I expected.

Coming soon: Part 2: Self-worth & Relationships

[operationslipperypuppet]

out of all the broken trios, Jolene/Marabelle/Cobb is a little bit the most interesting.

to start, they're basically the second one introduced overall. they establish that Alanis/Thiala/Ulfgar is the beginning of a pattern, not an isolated incident.

second - we know the most about them the fastest. while it takes a while to build to backstory as to the why and how other heroes separated, Cobb explains what happened to his adventuring party the first time he's asked. they are also visited in narrative flashbacks more often than any other trio, iirc. we get to see Jolene fighting alongside her daughter in the endgame, saving the One Hells. Cobb is basically a member of the Boobs for two entire arcs, and comes back at the end for a bit. we see the most from them when it comes to fights and supporting new heroes.

third - their reconciliation is poignant and immediate. but it's also possible. Aryox is long gone, and Telaine likely wouldn't have heard him out. Thiala was a fascist, Alanis will never forgive her (nor should she). there is reconciliation possible and that happens for other trios, but not in the same way. when Cobb leans down it's because he's already forgiven Marabelle's mistake. Moonshine knows she can pretend to be Jolene because Jolene, too, would immediately forgive her sister. and when the context is explained to Jolene, all the ill will she ever had for her sister (which was likely low at that point) washed away.

fourth - Cobb and Jolene clearly and without exception remain a duo, friends, together, even without the third member of their party. Marabelle's assumed betrayal hurts them, certainly, but it does not have a long-term effect on their friendship. we don't exactly see independent duos with the other broken trios. not from the outset. when Jolene takes her place as the MeeMaw, Cobb remains. he's a stalwart defender of the Crick. there's nothing anyone could say to get me to believe he wasn't sent to Galaderon on Jolene's request, as he does in the later episodes when he travels to Irondeep and helps the Goo Gone Gang. he's an institution at the Crick, he makes the best fireworks shows (non-magical) and is someone everyone knows and cares about, in a place where someone he could have avoided due to baggage is in charge. but they don't really let the issues break apart their friendship. not that we can see.

and finally - it's the one that, now, we see as the most broken. Jolene was always going to outlive Cobb. it just happened tragically, and likely sooner than she expected. when we return to the Crick in campaign 3, an argument could have been made (by me, to me, at least) that Cobb was out on a scouting mission, and that Murph did backflips to get the Boobs to leave him behind in C1, so why would he tempt them with him again (this is a joke, to be clear). but that's not the case. he's gone, and Jolene is alone. the only member of her party to remain. Alanis let the breakup of her adventuring party crumble her: she meddled with the world for centuries, trying to right her wrongs; she’s still doing work to make sure Thiala’s actions don’t destroy the world and she may never be finished. Jolene would never fall into that path. she keeps working toward the advancement and protection of her community, even when it's threatened. she stays the defender of the Crick that she always was, the woman we know as an audience. she won't rain arrows down from her towers, she will always shine a light.

broken trios break the people in them. we have seen most of the other broken trios as shattered parts of the whole, where the individuals, even if they come back together, continue to show the baggage of their break. Cobb, Marabelle, and Jolene are the exception to that second half of the rule. and a little bit that’s because of the Crick and how they were raised and continue to live, but it’s also about who they are as people and how they (Cobb and Jolene) seemingly actively chose to not let what happened ruin that.

and if you were to ask me? the band of boobs will follow their path, especially given that hardwon is on his way back to them.

[heliads]

final vigils from a cursed son

Luke Castellan is going to leave Camp Half-Blood for the final time. He reaches out to his father for old times' sake. Or he tries to, at least. Hermes never answers, anyway.

masterlist

Luke Castellan prays to Hermes one last time before he goes.

He hadn’t meant to, really. It wasn’t anything he had in mind. Praying to his father was something Luke considered fairly irrelevant by this point; either Hermes would ignore it or, worse, he’d do something stupid like give Luke someone else’s quest so he could come back as half the boy he was before he left, rewarded with no glory but a face split up the side like a ruined seam. Still, it happened. Miracles, as it turns out, can still be achieved through prayer. Fathers can listen. They can try to give you something more than isolation.

Luke finds himself in the strawberry fields. Connor Stoll once told Luke that this was where he had felt the spirit of Hermes the strongest, or maybe that was just because he’d been stealing berries right under Argus’ many eyes and got away with it. Regardless, it seemed like a good place to start. Campers tend to avoid the place this time of year, too afraid that they’ll get drafted to help with the produce. Demeter kids love it, but they’ve all wrapped up for the day.

This leaves Luke alone in the waving mass of green. Red berries dot the ground; fleetingly, it reminds Luke of blood spattered on the ground. His original plan had not been to start a war, it had merely been to Get Revenge, whatever that might entail. Kronos was the one who suggested that a total cleansing of the old ways might be in order. Eradication of the gods had seemed good to Luke, so he’d agreed. Even if that might involve more blood than just berries spilled on the soil of Camp Half-Blood. Who said revolutions were clean?

Luke kneels. Even after a few minutes, his knees begin to twinge with the ache of being locked in an uncomfortable pose. It’s either a sign that he needs to stretch more or just another bonus of being his dad’s kid. No one in Cabin Eleven is good at sitting still for long, except the unclaimed ones. Either way, Luke needs to find a way to quit it. The Titan Lord will need a good soldier, a strong one, and what has Luke ever been but willing?

He doesn’t really know how to pray. It feels strange doing it to someone who’s supposed to be your father, even an absent one. Especially an absent one. Luke lets his eyes close slowly, crosses his hands in his lap, and thinks–

Hermes?

He breathes out, slow and low. I want you dead. A pause. I also wanted to give you one last chance. It’s not like you’ve given me anything so far but a bad quest and one useless token of patronage, but here it is anyway. One final shot. What are you going to do with it?

Luke leans back on his heels. This is stupid. The god probably isn’t listening anyway, but even if he was, he’s just giving away his own plan. Even so, he feels somehow compelled to finish it, to bring closure to something Hermes had never bothered to contribute to his whole damn life.

You never should have met my mother. You cursed her. You made her what she is. You made me what I am. Maybe the other campers don’t see it yet, but I do. The gods curse whatever they touch. The only way to save all of us is to cut you out of the equation.

A frustrated, heaving breath tears through him. I don’t know why I can’t just sit back and accept it like the rest. I don’t know why none of them see it, too. You’re hypocrites. Millions of years of wisdom you have and you still ignore us. We needed you. What good is a god without an altar? Without prayers? We were never good enough for your attention. I hope this is enough to draw your focus.

Luke is struck by the sudden urge to sob. All my mother wanted was you. You could have been enough. Why weren’t we enough for you? What is it about a god that only thinks for itself?

Thunder rumbles ominously across the camp; Luke rears back slightly, but then his heart hardens. You’ll see soon enough, though. I’ll never be scared again. I’ll never need anything like I needed you. You’re nothing to me. I hope you’re the first to die.

He doesn’t know how to end this awful, soul-wrenching prayer, so he just says nothing more, forcing open his eyelids again. The shocking light of the sun makes him feel as if his eyes are about to bleed, but he keeps them open anyway, staring out into the bright sky until they adjust again.

Luke waits for something to happen– a divine message, perhaps, or a sign, or any indication at all that Hermes had heard him. Unsurprisingly, he’s greeted by nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been ignored by his godly parent. However, Luke thinks, standing up slowly and relishing the rush of blood back through his lower half, it will be the last.

Luke walks purposefully from the strawberry fields. He needs to stop by Percy Jackson before he goes. After that, he’ll be in the clear.

pjo tag list: @w1shes43, @fadedver, @anxiety-werewolf, @runawayprincesslily

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[xximpressions]

Heir to Valyria

Daemon Targaryen x Valyrian!reader

Summary: What if the Targaryens survived the Doom of Valyria only to discover three centuries later that they were not the only family to have made it out? When such news comes to light, the Rogue Prince may be the only one to keep this new House as a friendly ally rather than as a deadly enemy.

Word Count: 1,048

A/N: This idea took hold of me and would not let go until it was written 😭😅 If you guys like it, leave a comment below and I'll decide if I want to continue it 😘

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House of the Dragon Masterlist

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The uproar that bellowed out behind you only caused a small satisfied smile to break out on your face.

You had known some kind of reaction would follow your announcement, and the courtiers present in the throne room had not failed to provide it. 

“Silence!” The King commanded.

When the room fell quiet again, Viserys looked to you as he questioningly said,

“Now, what do you speak of?”

You were smirking as you replied,

“Well, it is just as I said. My family and I hail from the destructed ruins of Old Valyria just as yours does.”

Continuing, you went on to say,

“But while your family used dragons to conquer Westeros, mine used dragons to protect and rebuild our home.”

Raising a hand to briefly pause your explanation, the King was curious as he inquired after apologizing,

“Where is your home located?”

The smirk on your face only grew as you answered,

“Where else, your Majesty? The Smoking Sea.”

This caused another round of murmurs to break out in the room as the Hand to the King condescendingly declared over the astonished voices,

“That is impossible. There is nothing in those cursed waters other than uninhabitable lands.”

Barely flicking your eyes over to the royal advisor as he spoke, you easily returned your gaze to the King as you nonchalantly responded,

“And yet, here I stand as a habitant of those uninhabitable lands.”

With a look in the Hand’s direction, Viserys’ expression told Lord Hightower to hold his tongue for the moment before he turned back to you and kindly said,

“Please, go on.”

After a brief nod of your head, you began to speak.

“Before the Doom, both of our families resided on Dragonstone. That is how we escaped the fate of all those lost in the extinction.”

Your voice was strong as you recounted the story that had been passed down for generations.

“After Valyria fell, your family went west and mine went east to salvage what was left of our ancestry. It was during this search that we came across a lone island located in the heart of the Smoking Sea.”

Your eyes took on an unseeing look as you said,

“They soon realized that island was all that remained of their once great country.”

Pausing with a bow of your head as if you were there and felt their pain as your own, you gave a sigh as you were brought back to reality. You chose to focus your gaze on the King as you proceeded to say,

“They had lost everything. But, with the help of their dragons, they were able to reshape the land they had found and rebuilt it into our ancestral home. And that is where we have resided for the past three centuries.”

The King thought on all you had said and was curious as he asked,

“If your family had been there all that time, why did they choose to isolate from the rest of the world?”

“We did no such thing, your Highness,” You said smiling. “It was the rest of the world that decided the Smoking Sea was to be avoided since the waters off our shores are apparently ‘cursed’.” 

Your tone was amused as you pointedly looked at the Hand who only scowled back at you before you continued talking.

“Though we did not seek isolation, it is true that we have been isolated. That is why I am here today. To rectify this matter.”

Viserys’ curiosity only grew as he inquiringly said,

“Rectify it how?”

Confidently, you proceeded to declare,

“I have been given permission to propose a union between our two great houses.”

There was silence before the King hesitatingly asked,

“What sort of union did your people have in mind?”

Your smirk began to return as you answered,

“The strongest union there is, one of marriage.”

After hearing your response, it was the Hand who scoffed out,

“And who exactly do you propose this marriage with?”

That is when you finally allowed yourself to look past the King and his advisor in order to take in the only other royal in the room.

He was watching you with intrigue and had been since you entered the room.

Keeping your eyes on him meant you got to see the surprise on his face as you said in answer to the previous question,

“We hear the King has an unwed brother,”

Looking back to the man sat on the throne, you finished by saying,

“We would like to betroth him to she who is set to inherit our ancestral home.”

Being forced to call for silence again, Viserys waited for his command to be obeyed before he attempted to speak.

But just as he opened his mouth to utter a word, he was interrupted.

“This is nonsense!” The Hand declared. “There is no proof anything she is saying is true! If it was, at the very least, she would have brought indisputable proof in the form of a dragon—”

Only he was interrupted as well as a magnificent roar shook the very walls of the room you were all standing in.

You could not hide the mischievous element to your grin as the so-called dragonkeepers rushed through the entrance in a panic.

“My King, there is a great beast upon us!” One huffed out.

“It even outsizes Vhagar, Sire!” Another one said in disbelieving terror.

Amused at their fear, it was difficult to hide your smile before you said,

“Yes, that beast would be my beloved creature. Forgive her for she seems to be in a playful mood at the moment.”

Though you had made an attempt at humor, it fell flat simply because it finally seemed to hit your audience that you were speaking the truth.

Looking at you with wonder, the Prince said in your native tongue,

“You are truly from the country of old?”

You allowed your smile to be kind as you nodded your head in answer to his question before the King asked another one.

“Then when shall we meet the one you want to betroth to my brother?”

Your smile transformed into a knowing smirk as you responded,

“You have already met her.” Speaking with pride, you announced, “I am the heir to Valyria.”

Next

[akutasoda]

Could we get a reader with an avoidant personality disorder (avpd) with Jouno and ayatsuji? (I love how you make content for him, my beloved deserves it)

Thank you!!

please talk to me

synopsis - you are everything to your lover, but you just couldn't see why

includes - jouno, ayatsuji

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, feelings of insecurity, social anxiety, wc - 530

a/n: he indeed deserves more content and im more than happy to provide it haha!

saigiku jouno ★↷

you probably met jouno as a hunting dog. your constant need to do your best as to avoid disappointment in others lead you to becoming of such a high position. he immediately would notice your lack of interaction with fellow hunting dogs, only talking when absolutely necessary. he were even more quieter than tecchou.

however he felt naturally attracted to you and despite your obvious adversion to becoming close with people he managed to succeed in getting somewhat close to you. it took even longer for you two to become official. he obviously would of made the first move.

you would've been too scared to ruin what you had managed to obtain so far by confessing and potentially getting rejected. he did find your shyness quite endearing up until it stopped you from doing things and your constant way of stopping yourself from doing anything. he wouldn't kind of be stumped at how to help you.

but he would definitely make sure to compliment you more often and if he noticed you feeling particularly bad ine day would make sure you stopped thinking like that and list the reasons why you were so great. kind of gives it a tough love approach.

would take it slow with you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or make you feel even worse. but wouldn't stand you constantly feeling bad about yourself, you were the greatest thing in the world to him and he wanted you to see why.

yukito ayatsuji ★↷

similarly, you had met ayatsuji by being a co-worker of tsujimura and had been assigned to watch him with her. while it made you quite uneasy having to constantly be around people, you were more scared to disappoint them.

you had probably gotten to your position through this, constantly wanting to be the best you could to avoid being criticized and or disappoint those around you. it would be a new routine but you would eventually get used to it.

he had immediately noticed your stark contrast in personality compared to tsujimura. you were quite and avoided talking the best you could, sometimes even seeming like you even distrusted her.

it would probably take a very long time for you to actually start a relationship a friendship with him and he most likely had to be the one to ask you out. you had feared constantly that one of the first friendships you had would turn to nothing if you tried to advance it.

but through the whole time he would try and subtly build up your self-esteem. he obviously was attracted to you because of who you were and seeing you constantly doubt yourself and be so self isolated made his heart break. how could you think so lowly of yourself? you were amazing!

but he knew if he pressed to much it would make it worse so that's why he would do it subtly. making sure you knew how much you actually meant to him. slowly increasing his compliments towards you and making sure it became a second nature to hear it and not make it uncomfortable for you. and hoping to eventually bring you out of your little habits.

[gyorklady]

So, I did a thing...

This was inspired by the finale of Candela Obscura: Crimson Mirror as well as the references to Tide and Bone made during the chapter courtesy of Mr. Liam "Heartbreak Prince" "Little Shit" O'Brien. Credit also needs to go to my fellow Grimm family/Tide and Bone stan @inconmess and the many conversations we had brainstorming ideas and connections between the members of Crimson Mirror and Tide and Bone.

There may be a second part to this, there may not.

Cosmo Grimm did not like Fourth Pharos. 

He wasn’t alone; there weren’t many Candela agents that could say they liked spending time in Candela’s vault for dangerous magickal items and phenomena, and most tried to avoid going there when they could.  Cosmo was no exception.  Whenever one of his Circles came across an artifact that needed to be locked up or studied, he would leave it to their Lightkeeper or another Circle member to deliver it to the vault.  And he always took care not to risk significant exposure to Bleed, lest he end up in one of Pharos’ isolation rooms.  It wasn’t because of the artifacts or phenomena that Candela kept locked in their vault (though some of those did unnerve Cosmo, truth be told).  It wasn’t even his fear of Oscar being imprisoned in the vault someday. 

It was the gods-be-damned hallway. 

Cosmo stopped for what seemed like the fourth or fifth time as he slowly made his way down the hall, head leaning against the wall, eyes closed, waiting for his head to stop spinning and his stomach to stop churning.  He had never been motion sick as a child, but since he’d joined Candela the hallway of Fourth Pharos always affected him like this.  The fact that he was one of a handful of Candela agents who were similarly affected was small consolation, as was the fact that their scientists were “looking into” ways of alleviating it.  If it hadn’t been for the summons from Lightkeeper Zora Manning, telling him that the matter was urgent, Cosmo wouldn’t have come at all.   

Taking a deep breath, Cosmo sat back up, only to feel his chair jolt slightly as someone took the handles and began pushing him forward. “It’s only me, Cosmo,” he heard Zora’s voice from behind him. “I’m sorry; my meeting with the council ran late, otherwise I would have been there to meet you.” 

“It’s all right, Zora,” Cosmo assured her, keeping his eyes shut.  The hallway was easier for him to manage if he couldn’t see it.  With a weak chuckle he added, “I do think I’m getting better; I didn’t need to stop as often as I had to the last time I was here.” 

“I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have sent for you if I didn’t think you were needed,” she apologized. 

Dread pooled in Cosmo’s stomach now, instead of nausea.  In all his time with Candela, nothing good had ever followed those words.  He grabbed the wheels of his chair to stop it and, when Zora let go in surprise, turned around to face her. “What happened?” he asked. 

Zora’s face crumpled, as though she was going to burst into tears, but then she took a deep breath to compose herself. “The Circle of the Wyrm perished during their excavation of Calinus’ vault in the ruins of Oldfaire. The Circle of the Crimson Mirror was assigned to check on them after we lost communication; they neutralized the threat that killed Wyrm, but at the cost of two of their own,” she told him. 

“Oh, no.  Oh, Zora, I am so sorry, child.” Cosmo closed his eyes and bowed his head out of grief for the Circle and the Candela agents that were lost.  Looking back up at Zora he asked, “Who survived?” 

“Leo Amicus, and Grimoria,” Zora answered as she resumed pushing Cosmo down the hall, “which is why I called you here.  Leo’s wounds require him to remain in Pharos for a while longer, but Grimoria has been cleared to be released.  I’d rather she not be alone during this time, so I was hoping that you would agree to let her stay at your chapter house for a few days.  At least until Leo is well enough to leave.” 

Cosmo looked up, over his shoulder, at Zora. “What about her guardians?” he asked.  As a Candela agent and a dealer in antiquities himself, Cosmo was not a fan of Oliver and Cynthia Fogg.  He knew that the couple had claimed guardianship over Grimoria after she was orphaned just so that they could exploit her gifts.  There had been many times, before she joined to Crimson Mirror, that Grimoria had sought refuge at the Antiquarian when the Foggs’ treatment became too much. Unfortunately, Grimoria’s misplaced sense of loyalty to them made it difficult for her friends to convince her to move out and find lodging elsewhere. 

“They are…otherwise occupied at the moment,” the Lightkeeper replied, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a smile. “When Grimoria hadn’t returned home after several days, the Foggs had no choice but to file a missing person's report with the Periphery.  Unfortunately for them, the officer that came to take their statement happened to be there when a dissatisfied customer showed up, accusing the Foggs of selling counterfeit goods – a customer with ties to the Primacy.  Cynthia and Oliver were taken to the nearest Periphery Station for questioning, and the last I heard they were occupying separate cells while their business was being investigated.” 

“Oh, dear.  What a shame,” Cosmo said without an ounce of sincerity.  There was a stifled chuckle from Zora as she continued to push him along.  Finally, they stopped at one of the many doors that lined the hallway.  Zora reached out and put her hand on the knob, flexed her fingers for a second, waited for another two, then opened the door. 

It was one of Pharos’ standard hospital rooms rather than an isolation room, so there was no antechamber to separate them from the patient inside.  Grimoria sat on the edge of the single bed in the room, her gaze focused on her folded hands in her lap.  Zora knocked on the door as she opened it to announce herself. “Grimoria?” she called. 

Hearing her name, the young medium looked up. “Hello, Zora,” she greeted her Lightkeeper with a wan smile. “How’s Leo doing today?” 

“I’ve been assured that Leo’s recovery is progressing nicely, but Dr. Aguilar isn’t ready to release him yet,” Zora answered. “You, on the other hand, are being released today.  Unfortunately, your guardians have been…detained by the Periphery for the foreseeable future, so you won’t be able to return to them.” 

“Oh.” Grimoria blinked in surprise. “Well, Leo did say that I could stay with him for as long as I wanted to.  I guess I can go back to his apartment.” 

“Yes, well… Be that as it may, I’d rather you not be alone during this time,” said Zora. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at another chapter house, at least until Leo is back on his feet.” 

“Where?” 

Recognizing his cue, Cosmo wheeled himself into the room. “At the Antiquarian, with Oscar and I,” he said.  Grimoria’s eyes widened imperceptibly when she saw him. “Ms. Manning told me a little bit of what happened to your Circle, child, and the loss of Mr. Trills and Dr. Lycoris.  I am so terribly sorry.” Grimoria sniffled, then suddenly the girl flung herself at Cosmo, wrapping her arms around his neck before bursting into tears.  Zora moved to pry her off, but Cosmo held up a hand to stop her. 

Yes, Cosmo Grimm hated Fourth Pharos.  But, for now, he had a reason to stay. 

[flameswallower]

Another reason is that art that depicts these things-- sometimes even art that depicts these things in weird, questionable, problematic ways-- can be how a person figures out that they were raped or abused (or maybe just subjected to a really messed up environment), and starts to make sense of it, or how a person realizes that they are far from alone in having had an experience, that it is possible to incorporate it into a narrative, and that they are/should be Allowed To Talk About It, including its most uncomfortable, unsavory, and thorny elements.

A third reason-- speaking of thorny elements, and speaking of glorifying/promoting/etc.-- is that it's really, really common for people who have had abusive sexual experiences to go through a period where they eroticize those experiences, or some imaginary variation on those experiences. (It is, of course, also really, really common for people who have had abusive sexual experiences to be extremely triggered and upset by seeing or hearing about anything that resembles the experiences or reminds them of the experiences-- I would hope we can all understand and respect both responses.)

I definitely think there are inappropriate times/places/ways to express this stuff, and I definitely find it alarming and uncomfortable when I'm reading something I would consider a rape kink story and I get the vibe that the author...doesn't really understand that they are describing a rape at all, or may earnestly believe that "getting raped until you enjoy it" is a thing that happens/can happen in real life...but I also think there's a place in the world for the rape kink story (clearly labeled as such, shared among people who want to see it, not super easy to bumble into as a random person who emphatically doesn't want to see it, not pulling double duty as some kind of actual pro-rape-in-real-life manifesto). Shaming, harassing, and/or monsterizing people who have this trauma response is not going to make it go away (telling them it means they will become rapists or are actually pro-rape is both cruel and likely to exacerbate typical rape survivor feelings of isolation, alienation, being "soiled"/"ruined", being forbidden from expressing feelings about what happened or saying what happened at all, &c). Ditto, interrogating everyone who writes this kind of fiction to make sure they are the acceptable kind of rape kink writer (traumatized) just results in a situation where people feel pressured to disclose some of the worst shit that ever happened to them in order to avoid online harassment. I should think it's pretty obvious why that's not a good situation! (It also won't weed out people who are actually dangerous or bad actors.)

This final part, obviously, is speaking much more to fan fiction and related genres of online writing + attendant subcultures than it is to "literature" and whether certain books should be allowed in the public library, which is more what the first post and the first part of this post were addressing. But there's enough conceptual overlap that it doesn't feel inappropriate or like a huge stretch to bring it in.