#(I have no one to talk to about this :pensive: i don't think anyone cares)

[ahollowgrave]

genuinely abuzz with ideas about sphene and odette but also gotta............ wait a bit.......... see what happens...... you know?

[midnight-black2]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : you decide to show farleigh just how much you love him

disclaimer : praise, sub!farleigh, softdom!gn!reader, masturbation (m receiving), very sappy, just a bit vanilla unfortunately but i wanted to keep it gender neutral

note : this is loosely inspired by the song "to love" by suki waterhouse, so to enhance the reading experience, listen to it !!

it was dark outside, the moonlight spilled into your dorm through the window. farleigh lie next to you, peacefully. the two of you completely content with the warm silence that filled the room. completely content in just each others presence. he was looking at the moon and you? you were looking at him. he seemed, preoccupied; a look on his face you couldn't quite decipher.

"y/n?" farleigh called, softly.

"hm?" you hummed, eyes darting between his and his lips--you couldn't decide what was a better sight.

"i think you're the only person who's actually cared for me...loved me, even," he said, pensively as he kept his eyes on the moon. there was a beat of utter silence. "i mean, just think about it, you were supposed to be out having fun with your friends and instead you're here, with me. anyone else i know would've dropped me in a heartbeat."

"you don't know that," you answered, with a small frown.

"oh but yes i do," he countered, with a sigh. he chuckled, he didn't know how else to deal with his feelings but laugh. alas, he was never good at expressing himself through words. "it's just i-...why do you stay? even when im rude, or i don't communicate properly like im doing now, you stay. why?"

"because i love you, farleigh. you're the only person i've ever wanted to be around. we understand each other, and i understand you, all of you. your flaws and your strengths," you responded. it almost broke your heart the way he couldn't see how much he meant to you. "i love you so, so much."

"yeah?" he queried, a small grin creeping up on his lips, as he turned over to face you.

"yeah," you assured, returning the smile. he leaned in just a bit closer, your noses touching.

"let me prove it to you," you uttered out, against his lips. his brows furrowed slightly, as he swallowed shallowly.

"what?" he questioned. he knew what you meant, although he wanted to hear you say it.

"let me show you just how much i love you. then maybe you'll stop all this crazy talk," you said, eyes flickering to his lips. he nodded eagerly, a small smirk on his face. you pulled him into a kiss, a gentle one. you wanted to treat him right. your hand found its way to his cheek, holding gently. you slipped your tongue inside his mouth, before you adjust yourself to straddle him. you break away from the kiss, the both of you breathless.

"you're so pretty, love," you said, gazing into his eyes. his cheeks turned a crimson color, as he kept eye contact with you. you leaned back in for another kiss, before grabbing the hem of his jumper. he helped you in the effort of pulling it over his head. you tossed the sweater off to the side, before you trailed kisses down his chin, and to his neck. you left faint marks and hickeys on his smooth skin. he sighed pleasurably at the feeling.

your hands traveled down his unclothed chest , your fingers grazing his nipples, causing his breath to hitch in the slightest. you smiled at that, reminding yourself of how sensitive he really was. your hands found their way to his jeans. his eyes were trained on you, anticipating every single action you made.

"do you want me to continue?" you asked. after all, consent is hot. he squinted his eyes a bit, and scoffed.

"are you seriously asking me that?" he asked, sassily.

"yes, i am. do you want me to continue?"

"wha-yes! yes of course i want you to continue! please."

"that's all you had to say, love," you said, with a small laugh, before you began to unbuckle his belt. you then unbuttoned his jeans. he pulled them down, and you lifted your hips so he could get them off. you discarded the jeans to go along with his jumper. he was left only in his neon orange boxers. they were bold, they were very...him.

"interesting choice of boxers," you teased, with a chuckle.

"oh don't bully me," he replied, dramatically with an eye roll. nonetheless, there was an uncontrollable smile on his face.

"i like them, i do. they are definitely something you would pick." you both shared a laugh, before you kissed him once again. you smiled against his lips when he pulled away to say something.

"god, can't you just fuck me already? with all of this love and kissing you're making me feel so...i don't know," he protested, a prisoner to your stare.

"i wanted to take my time with you." he gulped, cheeks burning. he felt showered in love by you.

"i don't think i could love you anymore."

"likewise." you said, as you continued kissing his neck. your hand snuck its way into his boxers. your forefinger circled his tip. he whimpered, softly, but still audibly. he was growing harder by the second.

"you're such a tease," he said, breathily. you grinned as your finger traced up and down his length. you put him out of his torture, and finally form a circle with your fingers, properly stroking him.

"oh fuck," he whines, as he locks eyes with you. you smile softly at the sight of him, writhing and whining and moaning underneath you.

"you're such a good boy, farleigh," you say, quietly. he whines even louder, he didn't think he could handle it--he was gonna faint. you were being so kind, and he didn't even know how to handle it.

"i-i oh, oh my god," he moans.

"you're doing so well, angel," you praise, before enveloping him in yet another kiss, swallowing all of the sounds he let out. your pace sped up, your thumb rubbing the tip of his cock gently. he let his mouth fall slack, brows knitting together.

"s-shit please," he moaned. goodness, he wasn't even sure what he was begging for at that point.

"i love you so much, sweet boy," you kissed his forehead. he looked up at you, big doe eyes clouded and hazy with pleasure.

"l-love you too," he barely managed to mumble out. he whines as your hand twists and teases his length. "fuck, y/n, think m'gonna come."

"come whenever you want to, my love," you responded, admiring him as he breathed more heavily. soon enough, he stayed true to his word, cumming. he felt utter euphoria wash over him, as his mouth fell impossibly more open in a silent moan. you rode out his high, slowing down your pumps. he could hardly breathe, but there was a content smile on his lips.

"you did so good f'me, farleigh," you said, before pecking lips softly. "now do you believe i love you more than life?" there was a beat of silence as he tried to catch his breath, he smirked a bit.

"i don't know, you might have to prove it to me again."

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[saiilorstars]

Chapter 10: Journey of Secrets

TVD ||  Enzo x OFC

Story Masterlist | Rosalie’s Masterlist

Also on: Fanfic • Ao3 • Wattpad

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag@arrthurpendragon@transformerfan97@stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic@kmc1989  @castielscaplan

‿︵‿︵‿୨🥀 ୧‿︵‿︵🥀 ୧‿︵‿‿︵‿୨🥀 ୧‿︵‿︵‿

Rosalie sat on the foot of her bed pensively, much like she'd done for the past week. There had been a lot happening lately and it left her wary and, as usual, embarrassed. Everyone knew of her magical situation now.

"So you don't have magic?" Katherine had said bluntly after listening to Rosalie's tale of her unique physiology.

"I mean, not…it's not exactly like that," Rosalie cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Elena was giving her the same look the witches used to give her in the past. "I have magic...it's just not a lot."

"I've never heard of a witch having little to almost no magic before…" Bonnie said. She was lying on Katherine's bed with an elbow propped up to rest her cheek on her hand. "Usually, a witch is just blocked or something."

"I wish this was the case," Rosalie said. "But this is the way I was born and our coven did not take it so lightly. We fled because—"

"Because you don't have your own magic," Katherine said with a careless shrug.

"No, Elena, aren't you listening?" Caroline came out of the bathroom in pajamas and went to her bed where Rosalie was sitting. "Rose has power, we've seen it before, right?" She glanced at Rosalie. "You put up the barrier at Tessa's cabin on your own, you helped dessicate Silas…"

"I did," nodded Rosalie, "but it's just been harder to do magic ever since…since Qetsiyah died."

"Well, most witches' power is rooted in their emotions," Bonnie remarked, "You lost someone really important to you and, even more, you came back to life after being dead for a very long time."

Caroline gasped. "Exactly! See?" She nudged Rosalie. "You're just stuck in a mourning funk!"

"Mourning funk?" Bonnie raised an eyebrow at Caroline then laughed. "Way to be gentle, Care."

"Whatever, the point here is that we can help Rosie!"

"There's nothing to help, Caroline," Rosalie said, feeling like she had said the same thing many times before. "I was always like this."

"She's right," said Bonnie, "I think maybe it's more about finding your own talisman now, especially if you don't feel comfortable wearing Tessa's yet."

"Better find one fast then," Katherine said, turning her head in Rosalie's direction. "You know what they say, 'use it or lose it'."

Rosalie looked back at her night stand. Use it or lose it. That had never been an issue for her in the past but then again, she had stopped using magic since Qetsiyah died. What if it was actually a thing? Either you use it or you lose it.

~ 0 ~

Days Later.

Rosalie came down the stairs in an excited rush. Something great had just happened to her and she wanted to tell someone—

"Oh my God, Stefan, you won't believe it!" She laughed and ran into the living room. "I just—"

"Rosalie, we're studying!" Katherine's sharp exclaim stopped Rosalie in her tracks. The witch swallowed hard, face flushed.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt…" she apologized and sighed to herself. She was having the worst luck staying on Elena's good side lately and it only seemed to be getting worse.

In reality, Katherine Pierce was beginning to hate Rosalie more and more with each day that passed by.

Stefan sat up on the couch and closed the history textbook in his hands. "Don't worry about it, Rose. She was acing the quiz anyway." He offered the book to Katherine and stood up from the couch. "What's going on?"

Rosalie no longer felt the urgency to tell him (or anyone else, for that matter) about her triumph, not when she was sure that Elena was glaring daggers at her behind that textbook. "Never mind…" She mumbled. "I think I'll go out."

"What? Hey!" Stefan was right in front of when she turned away. "What are you talking about? Where are you going to go?"

"Anywhere," Rosalie replied coolly. She would feel a lot more comfortable in any other room where Elena wasn't present. It truly felt like Elena thought that everything she did was wrong. Rosalie didn't understand what had changed. What was worse is that nobody else seemed to notice it.

The doorbell rang and Caroline walked in. Rosalie was eager for the escape, but unfortunately Caroline was coming on business thanks to Stefan's request from a few days ago.

"You were right!" the blonde announced and waved a folder in her hands. "My mom's got a whole file of missing persons and animal attacks all courtesy of the one and only Damon Salvatore! He's off the rails!"

Stefan took the folder from her and started skimming through the pages.

"All of the victims were found inside their homes without their heads and…" Caroline seemed hesitant to finish but given the gravity of the situation, she went ahead and did, "their skin was desiccated…"

"What?" Rosalie frowned. "Why would the victims be desiccated? Unless…"

Stefan closed his eyes as he came to the same conclusion that Rosalie and Caroline had. "Damon's feeding on vampires…I shouldn't have let him go."

"No!" Caroline snatched the folder from his hands. "Nu-uh! No! You are not turning Damon's roosting chickens into a Stefan Salvatore guilt trip. No one could've stopped him from going after Wes the other night."

"Roosting chickens?" Rosalie made a face.

"I guess Wes must have injected him with whatever he was going to give Elena that makes vampires feed on vampires," Stefan sat back down on the couch, feeling utterly guilty.

"Ah, good news, bad news!" Caroline raised a finger at him. "Bad news is that when this happened to Jesse, we had to kill him, but the good news is…" She glanced at Rosalie hoping that the witch would have something good to say. Turns neither one of them had an idea. "I'm sorry, usually there's some good news."

"I have to find him," Stefan decided.

"Well, I can come with you," Katherine suddenly chimed in.

"I didn't know that you were going to be here…" Caroline remarked suspiciously.

"Well, Stefan has been helping me study before we were rudely interrupted…" she muttered and Rosalie ducked her head.

"Oh, you mean Stefan who doesn't go to college?"

"Stefan, who's an expert in history," Katherine corrected.

Caroline didn't really know what to say next but thankfully her phone went off and saved her the trouble. "It's Tyler," she said before taking the call.

"Stefan, if you need help finding Damon, I may have something that could help," Rosalie said quietly to him. She came to sit down next to him on the couch. "I've managed to get over, uh…my…issues."

"Is that what you were going to tell us earlier?" He asked

Rosalie nodded, the excitement returning to her face. Behind them, Elena — Katherine — was glaring again.

Soon though, her attention was taken away by Caroline's phone call with Tyler. Matt Donovan was missing and the last person he was with was none other than Nadia Petrova, who had been caught red handed compelling him.

"What's wrong?" Rosalie asked Caroline when the latter had hung up. She was the only one who hadn't been able to overhear the phone conversation.

"Nadia may have done something to Matt," Caroline said, "I'm gonna go talk to Tyler and figure something out."

"Oh, maybe I should come with you?" Katherine volunteered. If she was closer to the mess, she could clean it up without anyone noticing.

"I can help Stefan find Damon," Rosalie said, "I've been trying to use Qetsiyah's talisman again…"

Caroline gasped happily. "Are you serious?" Rosalie nodded. "Ah! Rosie! See!? I told you could do it!"

Rosalie chuckled, her cheeks a bright pink from all the attention. "It's not like I'm back to what I used to be but I've been getting some progress done. Bonnie was right, my powers were tied to my emotions. I think If I'm close to Damon's location, I might be able to do a clean locator spell and maybe even a barrier to keep him in one place."

"But that means you'd have to be extra close, no?" Katherine tilted her head at Rosalie. "Would it really work then?"

"We won't know if we don't try," Rosalie shrugged, "And I'm willing to try." She looked at Stefan with all the honesty in the world. "You get me as close as you can to the area, and I'll do my best, I swear."

Stefan nodded at her. "I'll thank you if you can."

"I can be back up then," Katherine suddenly decided, biting the inside of her cheek before something non-Elena came out from her lips. "If Damon's feeding on vampires, you're gonna need all the muscle you can get."

"Is that okay, Caroline?" Rosalie sheepishly asked the blonde. "I know the stuff with Tyler's still rough—"

"I got it," Caroline said easily, "I'll get Bonnie to come down too. Besides, it's time Tyler and I move into the next phase of our post-break-up, pre-friendship relationship timeline."

"If you say so…and you're really okay with it…"

"I am!"

"Well, if that's settled, I'm going to get some clothes and you'll pick me up at my dorm?" Katherine came around the couch to Stefan's side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sure," he nodded at her.

Katherine grinned and took off.

"The bad news is that Tyler hates you…" Stefan gazed at Caroline and just like her minutes before, he was struggling to finish his words the right way, "The good news is... Hmmm…"

Caroline broke into a chuckle. "It'll be fine…we both have weird ex-friend situations."

"We... there's nothing weird going on between Elena and me!"

"Then why'd you automatically think of her when Caroline said that, hm?" Rosalie nudged him and smirked.

"Oh, not you too," Stefan rolled his eyes. "Stop teaching her, Caroline."

Caroline laughed again and declared her innocence in the matter. "We're not wrong! First, Elena tells you she's going to fight to get Damon back and then she re-breaks up with him and now she's here, with you, her ex "studying.""

"She's here with her friend studying without the implied quotes!"

"Well, look, I'm just saying that Elena and Damon's break-up is messy and you are not messy. You're stable and sane and…"

"We're about to spend 12 hours in a car with her…" Stefan nodded to herself then out of nowhere side-glanced Rosalie, "I'm gonna apologize in advance."

"Oh!" Rosalie giggled. "What the hell are you planning on doing?"

"Nothing!" Stefan said. "I'm just saying it's gonna be a long road trip."

"I'm going and I'm going to use my magic to help!" Rosalie said, freshly determined to make herself useful. "I'm gonna pack a few things and meet you downstairs in 10, okay?"

Stefan promised he would wait for her downstairs.

~ 0 ~

The car ride was very long.

And Katherine was losing it.

Despite sticking Rosalie in the backseat of the car, she had somehow still claimed most of the attention with what Katherine considered useless and stupid things.

Rosalie was still navigating the new world and she was making fine progress, according to Stefan and the rest of their friends. While the girls went to college, she hung out at the boarding house learning the new world through movies and shows and the internet.

And when she wasn't doing that stuff, Stefan was the one taking her out to meet new places.

Apparently, the two had spent a lot more time together than Katherine previously thought. She had to put a stop to it but getting rid of Rosalie was a lot harder than she thought. Everyone adored the new witch and wanted to help her adjust to the new world. It made Katherine want to snap Rosalie's neck. It was uncanny that even though Elena Gilbert was gone, someone else was still taking all the attention. Katherine couldn't see them take a pit stop any sooner because she might just snap and break her cover.

Stefan pulled over to fill the car up with gas. Rosalie took the opportunity to go to the restroom and stretch her legs.

"You know, uh, I appreciate you being here, but you didn't have to come," Stefan said to Katherine while they waited for the gas to fill up.

"I told you," Katherine gave him a friendly smile, "I'm doing this for you. Because you're still holding on to hope that maybe this is the time that Damon can be saved."

"And you don't think he can?" Stefan's question was met with silence. "Look. I know that he crossed the line with Jeremy, but, you know, he has crossed many lines before."

"You mean when he actually killed Jeremy. Yes, I recall."

"I'm just saying, you've never really closed him off like this before…"

"I mean.. Obviously, I still care about Damon, I guess I got my hopes up too many times. I want off the emotional roller-coaster that is Damon's redemption. You know It's just, just, dizzying." And with that, Katherine wanted out of the topic. "Are you hungry because I'm just starving."

"Uhh. Sure. What do you want?" Stefan checked the store and saw Rosalie coming out from the restroom's side.

"Whatever you're having, with a lot more salt and maybe covered in chocolate," Katherine shrugged with a girlish smile.

"Coming right up," Stefan nodded. "Maybe I'll ask Rose on the way if she wants something."

"Right…" Katherine's smile tightened. "She doesn't have any allergies, does she?" The question came out in a blurt. A nut allergy would be really good right about now.

"I don't think so…" Stefan said pensively, "Maybe I'll ask."

"Good idea," Katherine gestured for him to leave. Her smile dropped as Stefan brought Rosalie into the store. God, she couldn't stand the witch any longer.

~ 0 ~

Rosalie would never get used to the millions of options there were to pick from when it came to snacks. Stefan laughed but she was dead serious when she claimed it overwhelmed her.

"We did not have sour twizzlers or gummy bears!" she said on their way out of the store. "It's a lot for someone like me."

Stefan gave a playful roll of his eyes. "And yet in a few months, I'm sure it'll become normal to you."

"If you say so, but in a few months I hope — I expect — that I'm gonna be paying for my stuff now."

Stefan rolled his eyes at her and told her to just focus on her magic. He had already told her that finding a job was not as important as she made it seem. She had plenty of time to grow accustomed to the fast-paced life of an American. What he didn't tell her was that he worried about her getting a job. He wanted her to be more acclimated to the world and plunging straight into a job might be too overwhelming for her. Maybe he worried too much, who knew, but he just wanted to avoid her an unpleasant situation.

"We got you these!" Rosalie showed Katherine a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. "Hope you like them?"

"Thanks," Katherine took the bag without much interest. She had other things rolling. "Um, hey Stefan? I heard like a weird noise coming from the engine or something? I'm not sure…"

"Oh, really?" Stefan handed the bag of treats to Rosalie to inspect. He went to the hood of the car while Katherine watched behind him.

"I mean, I could've been wrong…" Katherine said as an afterthought, "I don't know much about car…"

It was then that Stefan pulled out a black tube from the hood, looking pretty disgruntled with it.

"Ooh," hummed Rosalie, "I don't know much about cars either, but that can't be good…"

"Yeah, can you hold this for a second?" Stefan held the tube out to Katherine. "Careful, there's grease on it."

Katherine wasn't so fond of the idea but she grabbed the hose anyways. "Oh. Okay…"

"I have no idea how this hose ripped out, but we're not going to be able to go anywhere until I get a new one…" Stefan mumbled to himself; face first in the hood.

Katherine also noticed that Rosalie was face first in the bag of treats rummaging for something new to chew on. Quickly, she rubbed the hose against her shirt, successfully getting grease.

"Ahh. I guess I'll see if that mechanic has a spare," Stefan resolved and straightened up, shutting the hood of the car. The moment he turned, he saw all the grease over Katherine's shirt. "Ah, you weren't careful at all."

Rosalie looked up and gasped as she saw the ugly stains of grease on Katherine's shirt. "That's not gonna come off anymore…"

Katherine pretended to freak out over the stain and even dropped the hose for effect. "Ohh! I love this shirt!"

"You loved that shirt," Stefan corrected her.

Katherine rubbed her hands along her forehead and temples, groaning. "Great. Awesome...that's just awesome!"

"Mm, now it's over your face," Rosalie pointed. "I'd put your hands up or else it'll end up all over you."

"Yeah, probably," Katherine groaned one more time and sighed. "Well, you've got all that engine stuff on you, and I clearly have to change. I saw a hotel, like, a couple streets down that way. Do you think we should get a room, so that we can shower while we're waiting for the car?"

"You don't really need to shower for that, just wash your face and get changed in the restroom here," Rosalie said distractedly. She could've sworn she threw in a bag of chocolate pretzels for herself.

Katherine's glare formed quickly and deeply.

"Yeah, and I should probably stay here in case they finish early," said Stefan.

"Just give them your phone number," Katherine insisted. "And Rosalie…" Shut up. "The restrooms here are gross. Unless there's a secret one I missed?"

Rosalie looked up from the bag with a scrunched nose. "You got that right. Maybe a quick stop won't be so bad after all."

"There we go," Katherine grinned triumphantly at Stefan. "You've been outnumbered."

Stefan had to agree. Rosalie also liked the idea of getting to rest on a bed for a few hours.

"Will you grab my bag?" Katherine pointed at the trunk then started to walk off, turning away to hide her giant smirk.

~0~

The necessity to get rid of Rosalie was becoming an urgency. Katherine's plan involved a little more one-on-one with Stefan and although Rosalie was on the bed watching a show on her phone — via Damon's Netflix account — with earphones on (that Katherine may have thrown at her in an annoyed moment), the fact remained that Rosalie was still here.

Katherine sat alone on the couch of their dingy motel room, her arms crossed and fingers tapping relentlessly on her arms. Stefan was in the restroom washing up which left the two women alone for the moment. Katherine stared at Rosalie (the witch was none the wiser) as she came up with about a dozen different scenarios where Rosalie didn't make it out alive.

"Are you okay?" Rosalie's sudden voice made Katherine snap out of her darkened thoughts. Rosalie had pulled out one of her earphones and was waiting for Elena to answer her.

Katherine cleared her throat and plastered a smile on her face. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? Just another day of trying to save Damon, am I right?"

Rosalie didn't smile and instead pulled her other earphone out then turned her phone screen off. "I think it's noble what you're doing for Stefan but this has to be difficult for you. You were really in love with Damon…"

"But I'm working past that now," Katherine was quick to say. The last thing she needed was for Rosalie to reaffirm that statement to Stefan and push him further away from her.

"Maybe Caroline's right though," Rosalie swung her legs on the side of the bed facing Katherine. "You should work through your emotions before you think about it, you know…" She made a nod at the bathroom where Stefan was.

It took every part of her will not to do it right there and then. Smile, Katherine reminded herself. "I'll take that into consideration but honestly—"

Rosalie's phone screen came to life as it buzzed with an incoming call. She looked down at it on the bed. Katherine was curious when the witch's eyes widened and more importantly, when Rosalie chose not to answer the phone.

"Something the matter?" Katherine watched Rosalie stand up from the bed. The phone buzzed once more with what Katherine presumed was a text message.

"Uh, nope! Just the wrong number. I get those, uh — what do you call them? — scam calls all the time. They're annoying."

"Mm…right, so annoying…" Katherine nodded. She looked around and gasped lightly. "Hey you know what? I saw a vending machine with coffee bottles that maybe we can dig into with those chocolate pretzels?"

"Oh, yeah!" Rosalie beamed. She would take any opportunity to get on Elena's good side for once. "I'll be right back!"

"Mhm, yeah," Katherine smiled fakily and wiggled her fingers. Her smile dropped as soon as Rosalie closed the door behind her. In a snap of a finger, Katherine was in front of the bed picking up Rosalie's phone.

"Stupid witch doesn't even have a passcode," Katherine muttered gleefully to herself. She was able to access the recent calls and took quite a surprise when she saw who had been the missed call.

She couldn't let the opportunity pass by and since Stefan was still in the restroom and Rosalie was no doubt trying to figure out the vending machine, Katherine pressed the dial button.

"Rose! How kind of you to call back quickly. Long story short, I'm gonna need your help…"

Katherine was pleasantly surprised and immediately thought of about ten ways to make Rosalie suffer with this. "Enzo? How do you have Rosie's number?" Her Elena Gilbert confused voice was perfect, if she said so herself.

~0~

Rosalie was on her way up the stairs when she saw 'Elena' waiting for her. "I wasn't sure what flavor you wanted so I brought caramel just to be safe."

Katherine took one of the coffee bottles with a perfectly wide smile. "Thanks. You forgot this." She waved Rosalie's phone in her hand.

"Oh, didn't realize it…" Rosalie reached for her phone when Katherine pulled the phone away.

"I gotta say, I was a little surprised when your phone rang again…"

"It rang again?"

Katherine found it almost impossible not to laugh at the panic that filled Rosalie's features in such a record time.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I thought it was someone important so I answered—"

"You answered?"

"—and for some reason, Enzo was on the other end of that call." Katherine pursed her lips together so as to not end up laughing at Rosalie's reaction. She put on her best concerned face to really sell it. "I just don't understand what you would be doing talking to such a dangerous person. Rosie, you know how badly Stefan would react to this?"

Rosalie's heart was racing and Katherine could hear it almost burst from her chest. Rosalie took her phone back from Katherine and held it close to her. "I-I don't know, honestly…he just…one night he just…he gave me his number and I stupidly texted him…I don't know what I was thinking…"

"How long has this been going on?" Katherine tilted her head, truthfully curious about the matter. This was about the most interesting thing Rosalie had done since they met.

"Since Tyler's welcome back party…" Rosalie replied quietly.

Katherine's eyes widened and a noise came out of her lips implying just how shocked and funny she thought it was. "Seriously? Wow! I mean, are you and him—"

"No!" Rosalie exclaimed. "It's been harmless conversations!"

"I believe you," Katherine put a hand on her chest, "It's just…" She sucked air through her teeth and crossed her arms, "I don't think Stefan is going to think it's harmless. Caroline will for sure think it's a horrible idea and Bonnie…"

"Oh God, how angry do you think they'll be with me?" Rosalie asked fearfully.

"Given that he's part of the reason Damon went off the rails…I don't think it's going to be pretty," Katherine nodded to herself. "No, I think it's going to get real bad when they find out."

"What am I going to do?" Rosalie brought her hand holding her phone to her forehead and continued to panic for the next couple of minutes while Katherine enjoyed the view. "We just talked, that's it. I didn't think — I mean, I guess never considered that it could—"

"Okay, calm down," Katherine said, pressing her hands down on Rosalie's shoulders, "I think the only real solution here would be for you to just…vanish."

"What?" Rosalie's eyes snapped to Katherine. "Vanish? You can't be serious…"

"Think about it," Katherine gripped Rosalie's shoulders (perhaps just a bit too much as she felt Rosalie squirm for a moment, "The first person that's gonna find out is Stefan and he loathes Enzo. I mean, didn't he try killing him at one point? At the very least he's going to try and do that when we find Damon. Stefan hates betrayal and that's what you're doing right now. Betraying him. Like an awful friend."

Rosalie's brows furrowed. "No, I — I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Nothing wrong?" Katherine chuckled. Rosalie swiped her hands off her shoulder.

"Stop laughing!" she snapped. "I didn't do anything wrong! I'm allowed to talk to anyone I want!"

"Yeah, except for our enemies and last time I checked, Enzo was not our friend."

"He might not be yours but he's mine!"

Katherine laughed condescendingly. "You think that guy's your friend? Rosie," she touched Rosalie's shoulder only for the witch to shove her hand away again, "The guy's been trapped for decades. All you have to do is look away for 2 seconds and he'll rip your throat out because he's bored."

Rosalie scowled. "What is wrong with you, Elena? Why are you so angry with me?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are! You have been for a while! I notice all the looks you give me, the things you say when nobody else is listening. What did I do to you?"

Katherine thought this was the perfect moment to drive things home. "Fine," she said flatly. "The truth is I don't like you because I don't trust you."

"But I—"

"You worked with Tessa" — she started walking forwards which forced Rosalie to backtrack — "and you hurt my friends. You fried Stefan's brain for God's sake!"

"That was an accident and I promised to get his memories back!" Rosalie stopped when her foot nearly slipped on the top step.

"But you didn't! You weren't useful back then and you sure as hell aren't now! We should have found Damon a long time ago but you can't even do a stupid locator spell because you're too sad!" Katherine mocked a crying face. "Where were you when Jeremy nearly died? And at the hands of Enzo, I should add! That was my brother and you didn't lift a finger! You couldn't even save poor Matt who was buried in that safe!"

"You know how my magic is right now!" Rosalie exclaimed, gripping the staircase rail. "I'm trying—"

"It's not enough!" snapped Katherine who was now towering over Rosalie. The witch was forced down one step. "And honestly, did you think nobody would ever get tired of babysitting you? I mean, we can't even let you go out to the Grill by yourself! We have our own lives, Rosalie. We don't have time to be your babysitters. Trust me, this little secret rendezvous is going to be the tip of the iceberg! You want to stick around and see Stefan's reaction? After everything we've done for you…"

Rosalie helplessly tried looking past Katherine to their room.

"You want to take that risk?" Katherine raised a brow at her. "Because if you stay, I will tell Stefan myself what you've been up to behind our backs!"

Rosalie froze altogether and stared at Katherine in disbelief. Of all the people to do this kind of stuff, Elena Gilbert was not on that list.

Katherine didn't waver from her position which just made it even more impossible to believe.

Rosalie looked around desperately. She had no idea what to do and what's more, she didn't know if there was something she could do. For the first time since Qetsiyah died, she realized just how lonely she was. Everyone from her time was gone and she was here…trying to live a life that was already ruined.

"I'm sorry…"

Katherine hummed carelessly. "I'm sure you are."

Rosalie turned away from Katherine and slowly started making her way down the stairs.

~ 0 ~

Damon pulled on his chains every now and then out of pure spite. He was angry beyond belief but also undeniably hungry as well. He'd been pushing it back for several hours now and it was starting to reach the crucial — and fatal — point where his gums ached for his next meal. Unfortunately, his only source of food was his only friend. The thrashing against the chains became an instinct.

Enzo watched him from a distance. "It'll be alright, mate. We'll sort something out…"

Damon highly doubted that. He continued pulling on his chains until he smelled a brand new source of food, although not an appetizing one.

"Why does this not surprise me?" Rosalie stood just outside the house staring at his predicament.

"No, no, no, what are you doing here?" Damon practically whined. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

Rosalie waved her phone at him. "Got the address."

"And you sure took your time, didn't you?" Enzo gave her a sharp look. "I thought your friend Elena would be quicker."

"No, no, no, you brought me the one witch in the world who won't do magic?" Damon threw his head back and shut his eyes. "Great! My day seriously can't get any worse now."

"But mine can so shut it," snapped Enzo then walked up to the door. "Tell me there's something you can do to get this barrier down."

"Could you actually step to the side for a moment?" Rosalie gestured and although confused, Enzo listened and stepped to his right, leaving a clear view of Damon. "Fuck you, Damon! Nobody has to help you, you know!"

Damon met her reprimanding gaze with a sour smile. "I didn't ask you to come. I didn't ask anyone to come. I'm still wondering how the hell your number was on his phone," he threw a look at Enzo. "Lots of explaining to do my friend."

"In her words, just be quiet for a moment," Enzo turned to the door again and looked urgently at Rosalie. "Tell me you can do something. He's about 2 seconds away from ripping my throat out."

Rosalie pulled something out of her pocket and held it up to him. It was Qetsiyah's pendant. "This is a talisman from my friend — she's dead now — and I'm gonna use it to bring the barrier down. There's just one problem."

"One of many, as you can see," Enzo said bitterly. "I'll take the chances."

Rosalie understood his reasoning. "I ran into the Travelers. They're literally surrounding the area waiting for Damon to eat you."

"And yet somehow you made it through…" Damon swayed his head, "Aren't we so lucky? How did you even get here?"

"I ubered then ran like hell," Rosalie said curtly. "Trust me, there's no better motivation than losing the friends you made."

While Damon scoffed at her, Enzo noticed the heavyhearted look on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"Long story short," Rosalie crossed her arms, "Elena sort of blackmailed me."

Damon scoffed even harder. "Elena? No way!"

"Yeah, that's what I would've said if someone told me the same thing," Rosalie shook her head. She still couldn't believe it honestly.

"What did she blackmail you with?" asked Enzo.

"You," Rosalie said flatly.

"Me? What did I do!?"

"You are you and you called me and you and I should not be talking to each other!"

"Yeah, again, how are you two on a phone number basis?" Damon tilted his head at the two. The curiosity was temporarily easing the hunger in his throat.

"Shut up!" Rosalie and Enzo snapped at him.

"You know what? I'd blackmail you for this," Damon rolled his eyes. "Now be a good little witch, Rosie, and either take the barrier down or get the hell out of here."

"That's what I'm trying but there's an issue—"

A gunshot rang and Rosalie and Enzo screamed. Rosalie clutched her arm and looked ahead of her to see blood oozing from Enzo's shoulder.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed frantically. The bullet had only grazed her skin — clearly she wasn't the intended target.

And soon the Travelers made their appearance, revealing Rosalie was telling the truth about them having the whole house surrounded.

"You said I had 5 minutes!" Rosalie shouted at the chanting group.

"Five minutes for what?" called Damon from inside.

"They're the problem!" Rosalie gestured to the Travelers nearing them. "I can bring the barrier down but they'll just put it back up. We are very outnumbered here, you guys."

"Evening," Wes appeared at the front steps and walked up beside Rosalie. "We didn't mean to harm you. You were just too close."

"If you were aiming for my heart, you missed!" Enzo scowled at him.

"Oh, don't worry, I wasn't. The chains were a good idea…" Wes said as he came up the porch steps. "Now, I can see exactly how strong Damon becomes when enraged."

The scent of fresh vampire blood brought out Damon's veins underneath his eyes. The chains keeping him tied were obliterated as he lunged from his chair towards Enzo.

"Conclusion: very strong," Wes said triumphantly.

Enzo managed to throw Damon across the room. "Boy, do I miss the indestructible Augustine cage right about now."

The next time Damon lunged, however, Enzo didn't have the same luck. Damon sank his fangs into his neck and drank.

"Damon, Stop! Damon, Stop!" Enzo screamed and put all his efforts to throw Damon off him. "STOP! PLEASE, DAMON, STOP!"

Rosalie was horrified and looked back at the Travelers. "Stop!"

"They're not going to listen to you," said Wes smugly. "They're in it as much as I am."

Rosalie started fastening the talisman around her neck. She made a run towards the doorway only to feel an insane weight of a dozen bricks crashing down on her head. She fell to her knees, screaming and clutching her head.

"Stop! Stop it!" she cried. Everything got louder around her between her own screams, Enzo's scream, and the Travelers' chants. Her ears rang and then suddenly she blurted: "I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT! STOP IT AND I'LL HELP YOU!"

The weight lifted from her head.

Damon started choking on the very blood he was downing.

Rosalie's vision cleared up and she saw him stumble away from Enzo. He fell to his knees, coughing and throwing up the blood. Rosalie's eyes widened as the skin around Damon's mouth sizzled.

"What did you do!?" Enzo turned towards them, one hand clutching his bloody neck.

"It wasn't me!" Rosalie looked at the Travelers again.

One of them — a woman — came forwards and stopped at the bottom of the porch. "You will help?" she looked directly at Rosalie.

Rosalie let out a small breath. She'd walked herself straight into a trap. But the consequences if she went back on her word would be fatal now. There wasn't a choice. "Yes, I'll help you," she gritted her teeth together. "But you have to let Enzo out of there. Damon's gonna try again soon…"

Damon had stopped coughing and was just regaining his strength again…

"Just as well. There's one more thing I need from you," Wes said to Enzo, "Then I'll let you go for good. The other option is to stay in here with your cannibal friend and see how long you last."

"Go Enzo! I tried to kill you, I'll do it again!" Damon said, still groaning from the lingering pain in his throat.

"You don't need him," Rosalie scowled at Wes. "The Travelers don't either."

"This is for my personal research," Wes said dismissively. "You stick to your doings and I will to mine. Well Enzo, what's it gonna be?"

With limited options, Enzo grabbed his jacket and fled the house. Wary, Rosalie looked down at the female Traveler waiting for her as well.

"He'll take into consideration what you're doing for the community," she promised Rosalie with a wide grin.

"I doubt it..."

"What is she talking about?" Enzo stood beside Rosalie now, eyeing the witch curiously, and frankly concerned. Rosalie looked terrified.

"They're trying to resurrect their leader."

"And you know this how?"

"…because he's on the Other Side…just like I was." Rosalie walked down the steps towards the Travelers. "And I knew him."

~0~

There were many reasons to be worried about and that was despite the fact that Damon was finally restrained somewhere safe. Stefan couldn't get ahold of Rosalie no matter how much he tried. Calling Caroline in did little to no help either. In fact, she panicked even more than he had.

Caroline left another voicemail on Rosalie's phone and then proceeded to continue pacing back and forth in the Salvatore living room. "She's not picking up!"

Stefan returned from the cellar after giving Damon another dose of vervain. "According to Damon, she took off with the Travelers."

"What?" Caroline snorted. "And he expects us to believe that? For all we know, he bit poor Rose and she's somewhere out there bleeding to death!" Stefan managed a little smile at that and Caroline reprimanded him for it. "It's not funny! This is serious!"

"I know, I know," Stefan raised his hands in front of him. "But I doubt Damon did that to her."

"Fine, then it was that Enzo guy or the Travelers or creepy Wes doctor!" Caroline plopped down on the couch. "Somebody might have her!" She noticed something strange on Stefan's face in the midst of her spiraling thoughts. "What? What is it?"

Stefan seemed unsure even as he thought the same thing. "It's just…Damon told me something…something strange."

"Like what?"

Stefan came to sit with her on the couch. "Damon practically swears that Elena wanted me to kill him back at the farmhouse."

"What?" Caroline laughed at such an absurdity. "She would never do that!"

"Right…" Stefan's voice implied there was a 'but' coming and Caroline honestly couldn't believe he would try to agree with Damon and his insanity. "Except that earlier, Elena told me Rosalie disappeared going to the vending machines and now 5 minutes ago Damon tells me that Rosalie swore Elena blackmailed her."

"Okay, again, what?" Caroline shook her head. "You can't believe that! Damon's lying! Elena would never do something like that."

Once again, Stefan uttered 'right' with a 'but' to come after. "Fact is, Rosalie was gone and she wouldn't just get up and leave and not answer your calls. And what does Damon gain from that lie? Not like I'm gonna let him go help us find her. Not that he would."

"But it doesn't make sense!" Caroline insisted. "What could Elena blackmail her with? It's Rosalie. And it's Elena, for God's sake!"

"Rosalie's been talking to Enzo behind our backs. He's the one who gave her the address to find them."

Caroline gave Stefan a disbelieving look and when Stefan didn't take the accusation back, Caroline shook her head. "What the hell could she be talking to him about? And even then, that's not grounds for blackmail."

"But Rosalie wouldn't see it like that," Stefan said. He could truly picture Rosalie freaking out that she did something considered bad by the rest of them. It was just hard picturing Elena of all people being the one to make her feel like that. "I don't know, it's all a jumbled mess on top of a jumbled day."

At that, Caroline agreed. She leaned back on the couch with a sigh. "You know Tyler was right about Nadia? She has been compelling Matt to forget things."

Stefan wasn't even going to act surprised by the news. It sounded a lot like something a Petrova would do. "What kind of things?"

Caroline shrugged. "Who knows? He tried to message me, but Nadia stopped him." She showed him her phone and the message that Matt half sent her. "Help. K" was all I got."

"Great, we'll add it to the list…" Stefan rubbed his forehead wearily.

Caroline looked at him with sympathy. They were pretty much on the same boat. "So besides all this, you and Elena…did you figure it out?" Her original plan was asking Rosalie behind his back but it seemed like that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

Stefan dropped his hand with a long breath. "Um, well... she's acting strange. She kissed me."

Caroline almost rounded on him in an instant. "Um, excuse me?"

"Yeah," nodded Stefan. "My car broke down, so we got a hotel room so she could shower and…"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah. You guys got a hotel room? With a shower?"

"Yeah, but I mean, Rosalie was there—" Stefan stopped abruptly as a new thought occurred to him. "Until she wasn't…"

Caroline raised an eyebrow at him. "Until she wasn't?" As soon as she said that, it donned on her. "Oh my god, until she wasn't!" She couldn't believe she'd just said that and so had Stefan.

"I mean, I stopped it, obviously. I couldn't do it to Damon…" he said.

"Yeah, but she could?! I just.. I don't get it. She knows that this would destroy him, what does... what is she doing?"

"That's what I mean, it's like she's given up on Damon; and he thinks that she was trying to get me to kill him tonight."

"On top of getting Rosie out of the way for that to even happen?" Caroline laughed through sheer confusion. "What is she doing!? She would never blackmail anyone let alone try to kill Damon, no matter how angry she was with him."

"Exactly," Stefan leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. None of it made sense to him. The blackmailing, the alleged homicide plan…it just wasn't Elena. Elena.

Stefan's eyes opened in a snap. "Elena would never do any of this stuff…"

"Yeah!" Caroline exclaimed.

Stefan leaned off the couch and looked hard at Caroline. "Matt texted you 'help. K' before Nadia stopped him. 'K', as in Katherine. And when Katherine was dying, Nadia figured out a way to put Katherine's spirit inside Nadia's body."

"Yeah, but that didn't happen because Katherine had a change of heart…" Caroline trailed off following Stefan's look, "No... No. You don't think that... It's impossible that she'd be...We would have noticed! It's Elena. We know her…!" But the more she thought about things the more sense it made that someone else had done all the atrocious stuff. "Oh my goodness, Katherine never got over Rosalie not helping alter her lifespan…Oh my God…"

As awful as things were — because they were — it also brought a sense of normality. They weren't crazy and most importantly Elena didn't do any of this stuff.

Katherine had just taken over her body…for weeks.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

Author's Note:

Now we're getting to the good parts! I also want to reiterate that, like I said at the start of the story, I am changing the timelines! That means things with the Travelers will be different! It'll be more apparent in the next chapters now when Markos shows up!

[therealslimstrider]

I'm pondering on the concept of "as above, so below" in relation to personal strengths and weaknesses - usually they are two sides of the same coin.

Someone incredibly passionate and ambitious about their work will often come off as distracted to their loved ones at times. Someone who is pensive will often come off as aloof, or maybe a wallflower. Someone who puts everything they have into taking care of others will often have difficulty asserting personal boundaries. Someone who is quick to anger could, under the right point of view, be seen as endearing for that very trait. Someone who is caring and attentive could be considered smothering at times.

I spent a decent chunk of my 20s attempting to methodically snuff out every single flaw I am personally aware of, which is all of them, all of the time. I have a flat affect and am usually distracted and struggle with conversation, which sometimes presents the image of me being uncaring, or just extremely fucking awkward. I am so self-obsessed and my head is so far up my ass. I take myself way too seriously, and I find the energy expended to remediate this not worth the side effects of being even more neurotic and compulsive in the process of putting myself under an even stronger microscope. This is an eternal zero sum game. I can only net neutral. I want nothing less than the very best possible life for those around me, but this compulsion is rooted in my obsession of control. Or is my obsession of control rooted in the love for those around me? It's impossible to give a finite answer to this, and stupid to try.

I also spent my 20s actively looking for a partner. I fucking hate being alone. I don't care if I can be perfectly happy without a partner - the need for someone in my life to become mutually completely obsessed with has been my deepest darkest passion since I was old enough to have those. And I got those pretty early.

I had been through so many fruitless repetitive at best - downright humiliating and mental breakdown inducing at other times - conversations and gone so long without any follow through. I had grown distant from my family for a couple of years, isolated by the shame of never being in control of my flaws enough to avoid arguments or silent treatment or downright cruelty from people who I thought were my friends. From the time I woke up to the time I cried myself to sleep, I was under prey animal levels of stress. And I genuinely believed every second of it was my fault for not doing better. How could I tell my family I'm a complete fuckup who makes his friends miserable?

I don't think I was a perfect friend, and I freely admit I needed more self-awareness and tact at the time. But, without sharing details, I let myself get treated like fucking dogshit because it was easier than six hour arguments and being left out.

It just one day... I guess clicked in my brain like hey. This doesn't happen to me when I talk to Dave, or Jane, or anyone. I can just talk to them. Any time I'd make a misstep, I would break the fuck down. I would freak out.

And it'd be fine. Not even that they had made this grand effort to forgive me - it just didn't faze them.

And John... I never thought I'd meet the Prince Charming of my dreams. I have a very vivid imagination and very particular tastes. I am high maintenance. I'm possessive, and surrounded by equally possessive splinters. I'm cranky most of the day.

It's nothing to him. It's like at worst I bumped his shoulder. He doesn't even care. And believe me, I've interrogated him thoroughly. He makes it so fucking easy to feel loved, that for the first several months it terrified me. I kept waiting for that to fade, or for him to stop asking to come over, or to set me down like hey, we need to have a serious talk. But it's just been day after day of both of us being ourselves, exactly as we are comfortable being - but together. It just works.

Clawing my way out of that spiral back into having confidence took so much out of me. I'll be god mother fucking damned if I lose that spark again.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Six: 10-42

Jason woke Barbara out of her sleep that night, and she sat up and looked at him. He seemed far away. "What's wrong?" Barbara asked. Jason sat on her bed next to her. "Jason?"

"You didn't say anything to me when we got back home... Do you want me to leave?" Jason asked. Barbara shook her head. "Then why won't you speak to me? Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad. I just—. You've been here almost three months, and I've never once seen you act like that," Barbara confessed. Jason hugged his knees.

"I just didn't want him to hurt anyone," Jason explained, "And—."

"Why didn't you stop?" Barbara blurted out. Jason's heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

Barbara didn't realize the weight her question carried. All Jason could think about was how it felt to watch his father in a blind rage and how nothing could stop him when he was angry. Jason hoped that wasn't what Barbara saw in him. He wondered if he was becoming Willis.

Barbara turned to Jason, waiting for an answer, but he didn't have one. She sat there staring as he wrung his trembling hands. "What makes a person evil?" Jason asked.

"You're not evil. Jason, everyone makes choices," she whispered.

Jason lay his head on Barbara's shoulder. "Don't get mad at my next question... Have you ever thought of going to a therapist?"

Jason pulled away. "A shrink?" he asked. Barbara nodded.

"You'd be surprised how many people throw on a costume and fight crime simply because they didn't go to therapy—."

"Then why don't you train me to fight crime?" Jason asked. Barbara shook her head.

"No," she half-yelled, "One, you're too young. Two, you don't have self-control for crime-fighting. Three, you see a lot of—."

"I've seen a lot of messed up shit, Barbara," Jason whispered. His tone worried her.

"Jason," she whispered. He looked at her with his big intense eyes, and she couldn't say yes, but she couldn't exactly say no either. "I'll train you if you agree to go to therapy."

"What's the catch?" Jason asked.

"The catch is that you don't go out until I say you're ready... But, I'll teach you everything I know, and I'll let you pick your therapist," Barbara replied. Jason leaned forward, his chin resting in his palm as he considered her proposal.

"Okay... Sure, and I know this is a way for you to shut me up and that you might never let me do what you do," Jason yawned, "But, I don't care. I'm gonna make you and Pop proud. I will." He lay back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Pop? I bet he eats that up," Barbara smiled. She looked over at Jason, who looked up pensively at the ceiling. Barbara lay back next to him. "You still having trouble sleeping?"

"Just tonight," Jason whispered, "I couldn't sleep. Kept wondering if you had second thoughts about letting me stay."

"No, I think you're meant to be here... And I hope you stay. I also hope you know I'm not always gonna be soft on you. I'm gonna be tough, and I might even seem like I'm being mean, but that's because I care about you," Barbara whispered. He didn't answer. She looked over at him, and he lay fast asleep. She took the blanket from the foot of her bed and draped it over him.

She turned on her side facing the door and drifted off to sleep. It eased her mind to talk to know Jason was okay. She woke up that morning to Jason still sleeping soundly, holding onto her arm. She tapped him lightly on his nose with her finger. Jason pushed her hand away. "Can I have my arm back?" Barbara asked.

"Barbara?" Jason asked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Can I ask you a question?"

Barbara sat up and put on her glasses. "I'm listening," she whispered.

"Do you think people can be fixed?" Jason asked.

Barbara looked at him, and when she saw how serious he was, she answered with a soft, "It depends... If you're talking about yourself, I don't think you need to be fixed. I just think you need a little guidance... Maybe therapy—."

"No," Jason interrupted.

"Jason, just think about it. It's not as bad as it sounds. There's nothing wrong with getting a little help. Maybe you can talk about your childhood and what it's like here and—." Jason climbed out of her bed and left her alone in the room.

She covered her face and groaned. Jim knocked on her door, and she got up and let him in. "What happened?" Jim asked.

"I said the wrong thing. I know I did... Things were going fine, and I messed it up again," Barbara sighed. Jim didn't say anything. "I suggested that he go to therapy."

Jim made a pained noise. "I'll talk to him... Wait, did Jason sleep in here?" Jim asked. He held back a smile.

"He thought I was mad at him, but yeah, he slept in here. I don't think he planned on it," Barbara whispered. She wouldn't admit it, but she slept a little better knowing that Jason was close by.

"I'll talk to him. Besides, I think it'll be nice to do some father-son bonding," Jim replied, with a proud smile on his face. He kissed the top of Barbara's head and left her to get ready.

Jim went about the rest of his morning, and Jason eventually came out and made himself a bowl of cereal. "Want to go on a ride with me after breakfast?" Jim asked casually. Jason nodded. Jim smiled and messed up Jason's hair as he walked past. "Do you need me to change the bandages on your face?"

"No thanks. I changed them a minute ago," Jason replied before drinking the milk in his cereal. "Hey, Pop? Can I still call you pop?"

"Of course you can," Jim answered, "On one condition... I can tell anyone who asks that you're my son."

Jason put his bowl in the sink so that Jim couldn't see him smiling. "You've got a deal, Pop," Jason whispered, "So where are we going?"

Jim chuckled and playfully scooped Jason under his arm and carried him to the car. Jason laughed with him. "It's just a ride, Jason," Jim replied once he put Jason down, and they both got in the car. They rode around in silence for a few minutes until Jim felt it was the right time to speak. "Jason... You know Barbara didn't mean any harm this morning, right?"

"She told you what she said to me?" Jason asked. Jim nodded.

"And I have to admit, I felt that way when I was young too... But I see a therapist now," Jim explained.

"How come?" Jason asked as he stared out of the window.

"I see a lot of things in the field. But I also have trouble sorting through my day-to-day emotions sometimes... But that's okay, Jason," Jim paused to take a deep breath, "How would you feel about me going with you?"

"I never said I'd go," Jason replied. Jim shrugged and bounced his head from side to side.

"Well, do you want to tell me what your childhood was like?" Jim asked.

Jason shook his head. "Why does it matter?" he questioned in reply.

"Your past makes you who you are, good or bad. Your past is important. What about your past hurts so bad that you can't talk about it?" Jim asked.

He didn't expect an answer from Jason, so he was surprised when Jason broke the silence with a soft, "What if I say it out loud and no one listens? What if no one takes me seriously?" Jason answered.

"It's hard keeping all those thoughts and memories inside yourself. Jason, you've got to trust someone at some point. We love you, and we just want to understand you... It's a weight off your shoulders when you know someone really understands how you feel," Jim explained softly. Jason's chest was tight as he held back tears. "Besides, if something bothers you, it's serious to me. You don't seem like the type of kid to exaggerate."

"Okay... But you promise you'll be there with me?" Jason mumbled. Jim nodded.

"I'll be there with you for as long as you need me to be," Jim whispered, "Jason, I know exactly how strange it can feel to open up to people that you barely know... But it does help."

"Do you like going?" Jason asked. Jim nodded.

He turned on a street that Jason wasn't familiar with. "It's okay. You're gonna have good days and bad days with therapy, like with school. Treat it as a challenge to do your best because it'll really help you," Jim explained.

"Guess I owe Barbara an apology," Jason whispered. Jim messed up Jason's hair.

"I'd wait a little while if I were you. Surprise Babs. If you change your mind right away, she'll know it's because I talked to you. Let her have this one," Jim replied. Jason nodded, and Jim changed the subject. "I got an email from your history teacher. She said you've got an impressive grasp on the content. Not sure what the content is, but I just want you to know I'm proud of you. I know homeschool is weird and that you're working really hard to catch up... I just want you to know you're speeding along just fine and that I'm not only proud of you. I'm amazed." Jim smiled, only when he noticed his commendation made Jason smile.

Jim's phone rang, and he nudged Jason. "Answer that for me," Jim sighed. Jason put the phone on speaker. "Jim Gordon."

"Ten-forty-two at the Opera House," the officer replied. Jim cursed.

"I'll be right there as soon as I drop my kid off," Jim answered, and Jason hung up the phone for him.

"Pop, what's a ten-forty-two?" Jason asked. Jim didn't want to answer because he didn't want Jason to worry. Jason asked a second time.

"It's a bomb threat," Jim took a deep breath, "I'm gonna drop you off with Barbara—."

"No, you can't," Jason replied. Jim shook his head.

"Actually, I have to. Jason, I'm gonna drop you off with Barbara, and the second I'm done with work, I'll come back and take you out for ice cream—."

"I don't want ice cream. I don't want you to go. Just tell everyone you can't go," Jason started to raise his voice.

"Jason, take a deep breath—."

"You can't go! Let someone else go!" Jason yelled.

"I have done things like this before, I will do this again, and I will be fine. Call Barbara for me," Jim commanded in a stern tone of voice. Jason obeyed. "Hey, are you at work?"

"Yeah, what's wrong? I thought it was your day—. What is it?" Barbara asked.

"Ten-forty-two. I'm dropping Jason off with you," Jim replied. Jason turned away from Jim and crossed his arms. Jim knew Jason wasn't angry, but it still hurt to make him so upset. "Jason, I'm gonna take you out for ice cream as soon as I can get away."

[all-pacas]

compared to their canon counterparts, did houseswapped! fall in love hard and quick? and was cameron more or less in denial about her feelings?

Yes and yes.

There's a few differences inherent to the AU. We've talked before about how Chase is different, even before his accident: he's starting in his late thirties, not late twenties; he never had House and Diagnostics and a place/mentor he was really attached to, felt like he fit in and would do anything to stay in. He's lonelier, more isolated: he never had his later friendships with 13 or Park or his friendship with Cameron (and a lesser extent Foreman).

And a lot of this applies to Cameron, too. Her career has been a success, but… she's also a decade older, right? She didn't have House and Diagnostics to thrive in/learn from/fixate on. We don't talk about her character development enough, but Cameron changes a lot from her time in Diagnostics, she leaves a much more confident, assured person. She's really cheerful in S4-5 in a way she wasn't often in S1-2, where she was more pensive and overly-serious. I don't think in this AU she'd be as isolated and lonely as Chase, because Cameron actually is good at connecting to others; I think she has friends in the ER and maybe dated TB guy for a while and is great at pretending to be well adjusted… but she doesn't have that confidence in herself and her convictions. Cameron's also… kind of a person who wants relationships, who defines herself pretty heavily through love and men and romance, for good or ill. In this AU, she's gone through her thirties alone. Her husband's been dead fifteen years at least. She can't cling to him as an excuse the way she did when she was barely thirty. She also can't cling to her love of House as something selfless and real and as a substitute for an actual relationship.

In the AU, She and Chase were colleagues in the sense that they knew one another and worked in the same hospital, but they didn't have that kind of overlap or years of friendship/working together/seeing one another every single day, either. There's no let's be FWB because it's convenient: when they started their relationship, it was always a relationship. I think he asked her out because Chase has no problems doing that, and Cameron agreed because she's lonely and not fixated on anyone else and can always ghost him after the date if it sucked, and it didn't suck, and so… they did it again. There was no meth sex or fwb denial or anything; they were dating. Cameron didn't have a chance to play relationship chicken. There was no wanting more/not wanting to admit feelings. It was always a relationship.

Chase probably still did his Chase thing and fell harder and faster because he's even more starved for intimacy and affection, and Cameron… I think she kind of got off on that a little. She got to have the emotional control of the relationship, to be the more experienced one, getting all the benefits of being adored without having to be completely vulnerable in return. Which isn't to say she didn't care, or was a bad girlfriend, but she's still going to be reserved and afraid and the extra time and loneliness makes it worse, because how can this be happening now? Can it really last?

But it was their honeymoon period, any problems (Chase's inability to open up when things bother him, as another example) are easily overlooked, it hasn't been that long… and then the accident happened. Their divorce was bad enough in canon, and that's with them knowing one another and their flaws inside and out. Cameron and Chase's biggest problem was always that they have wildly opposite reactions to difficult situations — she runs, he feels rejected and gives up; he shuts her out, she feels rejected and gives up — and now compound it with them just learning these things. Cameron doesn't know why Chase won't talk to her anymore. Chase is only now learning about her savior complex and maybe even the details of her dead husband. It was messy.

[marointhemoon]

i'll go on and on and on again / if my chest don't cave in

In which one friend is another’s strength.

Written for AI-less Whumptober 2024, Day 3: Survivor's guilt/"It's not your fault."

Length: 1,295 words

Trip and Malcolm walk quickly down the busy hall. Seven million people are dead back on Earth, and there are preparations to make. Trip feels like there's a hole in his chest; there's nothing to do about it but pray it closes.

"Is there going to be some kind of service?" Malcolm asks innocently. To anyone else, the question would sound flippant. Trip knows Malcolm better than that; the armory officer is treading carefully.

He still eyes him anyway. "For Lizzie?" He knows the answer. "If you're talking about a funeral, it's kind of pointless when there's nothing left." Somehow, he manages to sound less hollow than he feels. Not a high bar, but fuck it.

He can do this.

Malcolm’s frown deepens. "I guess I was talking about a memorial."

Or not.

"My sister wasn't big on memorials," Trip retorts. He sounds angrier than he means to.

Malcolm pauses, as though to measure his words. "I read there was a day of remembrance for all the victims a couple of months ago," he offers, his voice a little softer. "I'm sorry you missed it."

The hole in Trip's chest grows. "Why are you so obsessed with memorials?"

"I'm not obsessed—"

"She's dead," Trip snaps, immediately hating himself for it. "So are seven million others. She was no more important than any of them."

A look comes over Malcolm's face. Pity? "She was more important to you." His voice is almost soft. Gentle, even. "There's nothing wrong in admitting that." Trip's chest tightens. He can't do this. Not here. He stops. Malcolm looks at him, concern written all over his face.

"I'm getting real tired of you telling me what I can and can't do," Trip seethes, vaguely wondering if Malcolm can see the tears in his eyes. "And while we're at it, I don't need you to remind me that Elizabeth was killed, so just let it alone." He can already see the hurt in Malcolm's expression, but he's too angry not to take another shot. "Maybe you should pay more attention to upgrading your weapons, so you can blow the hell out of those bastards when we find them." Malcolm's never gonna speak to me again after this, he thinks.

He's still too angry not to storm off.

---

Malcolm stands in the corridor, stunned. It's not that he expected Trip to react well to the conversation. He's not that dense. But for him to snap like that, even with the stress he's under?

A pit settles in his stomach. He needs to do something.

---

Trip lays in his bunk, his eyes burning as he stares at the ceiling. He wishes it'd been him. Something deep inside him knows it should've been him. It should never have been Elizabeth—so full of promise, snuffed out like she didn't mean anything.

Realistically, he thinks, she didn't. Hell, he'd said it himself: she was no more important than any of them.

He scowls. He can't even say her name anymore. What kind of brother even is he, anyway?

While he's at it, it's not like he's a good friend either. Snapping at Malcolm while he's just trying to be supportive. The fuck's that all about? Some small piece of him knows he should apologize.

But then, says a larger part of him, maybe that's just more evidence that it should've been me and not her.

His train of thought is derailed by the chime of his doorbell. His scowl deepens as he rises. He walks over to the door, barely caring who's behind it.

Probably Hoshi, or Travis.

Maybe Jon. (Wishful thinking.)

It's Malcolm.

His heart skips a beat.

"Evening." His voice and expression are both neutral, but not unfriendly. Trip's face goes almost slack.

"Malcolm," he replies lamely, sounding more annoyed than he is. He silently kicks himself.

"Might I come in?" Malcolm asks softly.

"Oh, uh..." What. "Sure. Yeah."

The next fifteen seconds feel like one. Next thing he knows, the older man is leaning against his desk, looking at him pensively.

No—intentionally.

As though he's taking aim.

True to the marksman he is, his next words go straight through Trip’s heart. "You do know this isn't your fault, don't you?"

What.

"What?"

"Elizabeth. Her death wasn't your fault."

You son of a—

Trip scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Never said it was."

“You didn’t have to,” Malcolm replies coolly, as though they’re talking about literally anything else. But then something changes—no, turns sympathetic—in the older man’s eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’d feel the same if it had been Madeline.”

Something flickers through Trip’s eyes, hurt and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about."

Malcolm takes aim again, standing up fully. “Maybe not.” He gives him a wan, sad smile, and he swears he can feel the hole in his chest open again. Not that it was ever closed. “But I know you, Trip.”

Trip glares at Malcolm, the tears in his eyes extinguishing some of the rage behind them. "Lieutenant," he growls through his teeth, his voice strained. "I’m warning you. Shut the fuck up."

"Trying to make yourself forget Elizabeth is not going to help anyone," Malcolm continues, ignoring the attempt to pull rank.

Another shot through the heart.

Before Trip can move to patch it, Malcolm fires again.

"Elizabeth Tucker was important. She was your sister, and she was important to you. And it—" Malcolm pauses, seeming to have some difficulty of his own, before huffing out a sigh. "It fucking kills me to see you try to deny that.” He shrugs, exasperated. “I—You were right, Trip. I can't tell you what you can or can't do. Certainly not when you are my superior officer. As your friend, however—” Trip winces as he hears Malcolm’s voice break. “I will not watch you drive yourself into the ground like this."

Trip looks down, his eyes swimming. The tears are hot as they spill down his face. He hears quiet footsteps, until he can see Malcolm's blurry feet right in front of his. He feels a hand on each shoulder.

“I don’t care that you snapped at me,” Malcolm murmurs, the tenderness of it ripping at what’s left of Trip’s heart. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re hurt.”

Malcolm's forehead presses against the top of his head.

"And we are going to make sure that the Xindi pay fucking dearly for what they've done." He punctuates the point with a short squeeze of Trip’s shoulders, his voice breaking again as he does. "But there's time still before we do that, Trip. Be angry. Be devastated. Cry. Scream. Whatever you need to do."

Malcolm's hands come up towards Trip’s throat. Work-roughened fingers hold his neck, his thumbs gently stroking his jawline. "Just let. Go. We will help you pick up the pieces, and we will make the Xindi pay."

The hole in his chest may as well be a chasm now.

Everything comes out at once.

---

Malcolm suddenly feels the weight of Trip's head on his shoulder as he's crushed into a warm body. His shoulder becomes wet.

"My baby sister..." comes a broken whisper.

Malcolm breathes, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away his tears. This is about Trip; he will be strong for him. Freeing his arms, he reaches up to hold Trip's head to his shoulder.

"I know," he whispers back. "It wasn't your fault."

Malcolm starts to card his fingers through Trip’s short blond hair. He rests his chin on Trip's shoulder, letting himself fit into the space he’s left as he wraps his free arm around him. 

As Trip shatters, bawling into him hard enough to make both of them shake, Malcolm holds together. He will do that for his friend.

Today's theme: Rounds - The Oh Hellos

Youtube link || Spotify link

I picked this as today's theme for two reasons:

The title was inspired by a line in it.

This song tends to make me feel like my own chest is caving in.

The second point kind of explains the first, but I've always associated this song with the end. (Figures, it's the last song of this (REALLY GOOD) album.) In particular, the first minute-and-a-half reminds me of something coming full circle, something coming back to itself.

"The Forgotten" reminds me of that, too: Trip is, by and large, an emotional man who cares deeply about those close to him (especially Lizzie). When he breaks down, he's coming back to that a little, returning from having shoved those feelings down for months. I just wanted to write something where that return happened a little sooner.

For the full list of prompts, go here!

[aleximustd13]

Touch starved/cuddle curse

This with Terror Twins. I would be cool if like Nikki can't be touched for whatever reason (superpowers, curse, non supernatural reasons) and Tommy seems the only one to care or break it

[i feel like this isnt exactly what you asked for but here you go bestie <3]

It all started when Nikki was trying to summon a demon. The reason why he would do that is unknown even to him, probably because he thought it would've been cool or funny, for shits and giggles as one would say.

Nikki didn't manage to bring a beast from the underworld in the kingdom of the living, as in he didn't see the monster in flesh and bone, but it must've disturbed some dark presence or energy, since strange things began happening after he started his demon summoning shenanigans. Forks and knives were raising from the cutlery drawer and flying towards him, to name one; black cats seemed to have taken a liking to him, following him everywhere; but the strangest thing was definitely the fact that whoever Nikki tried to touch, even by mistake, those who had contact with him fell sick.

As soon as Nikki realized what was happening, he started getting very nervous and paranoid about human contact, becoming more and more aggressive towards others in order to keep them a good distance away from him, bringing great tension between him and his band mates and the girls they would take to home sometimes. Little did they know, he was trying to protect them.

But there was one person who was brave and careless enough to go past Nikki's hostility: Tommy. The drummer, very attached to the bassist and always looking for an excuse to snuggle him, knew that something was up: Nikki has never been the cuddly type, but whenever Tommy offered him a hug Nikki wouldn't say no either; lately, though, Nikki seemed to be very unfriendly even to him, which was very suspicious to say the least.

On the latest attempt of Tommy to get a hug from Nikki, to which he responded with a “Don't touch me!”, Tommy had enough of that behavior.

“Can you tell me what the hell is your deal, man? You've been avoiding me for weeks now!” Said Tommy.

Nikki turned his gaze up from the smutty magazine he was reading and raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, dude?”

Tommy came closer. “Don't play dumb with me, Nik! Did I do something to you?”

Nikki sighed, visibly annoyed, and returned to read.

Tommy teared the magazine out of his hands.

“Hey, give it back – !”

“Not until you tell me what is wrong with you!”

Nikki frowned, throwing his arms in the air. “Do you want a list or what?”

“I didn't mean in general!” Exclaimed Tommy, rolling his eyes. “You've been acting super weird lately, and I know something's up.” He added.

Nikki hesitated. “Fine.” He said in the end, “But don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Mick, he'll be all like I told you so for the rest of my life.”

Tommy nodded.

“Do you remember when we tried to summon Satan?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Well... I think I've been cursed.”

Tommy widened his eyes.

“You gotta believe me, man! Everyone I touch seems to get sick, or become very unlucky all of a sudden. And I don't want this to happen to you...”

“Alright, that makes sense.” Said Tommy pensively, sitting down on the couch next to Nikki. “But I feel like I've touched you many times since then, and I'm fine!”

“You almost burned the house down three times.”

“That's because I can't cook!”

“How do you burn cereal?!”

Tommy inclined his head to the side, as to think about it, then he raised his index finger: “Okay, that one was an outlier, for sure.”

A pause.

“Do you think... Do you think that I am immune because I was with you when you did the summoning?” Asked Tommy after a while, turning towards Nikki.

The bassist shrugged. “Probably. You're still alive, so that has to count for something. Although...” He brought a finger to his chin.

“What?”

“Maybe you've been cursed as well but with the opposite. A cuddle curse, if you will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't think I haven't noticed. You crave affection all the time, hugging Vince and Mick whenever you can.”

“Well, uhm...” Tommy hesitated. “Maybe.”

“So I'm not the only one who got cursed, huh!” Nikki sneered. “You lied to me!”

“I didn't lie! I just didn't tell you!”

“That's even worse!”

“Whatever!” Tommy was sick of arguing, and his skin was itching for human contact. “How do we break the curse?”

Nikki shook his head. “I have no idea...”

“Well, I have one, but I don't know if it's gonna work.”

“I'm all ears.”

“What if we kissed?”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “A kiss...?”

“If you think about it, every fairy tale ends with like, the curse being lifted by a kiss. What if it's the same for us?”

Nikki raised both eyebrows.

“Just hear me out for a second, dude!”

“Alright, alright, I'm willing to try. Hell, I'll try anything at this point.”

Tommy came closer to Nikki and cupped Nikki's face with his trembling hands. Their lips touched, and the world around them seemed to dissipate.

Nikki recalled that they already kissed maybe once, while drunk and emotional, so it wasn't as shocking. Tommy's lips were warm and soft, like a summer breeze. Then, they quickly separated and exchanged gazes.

“Felt anything? Like a curse leaving your body?” Tommy asked in between breaths, as if he ran a marathon.

“Don't think so.” Replied Nikki, his heart racing. “Have you?”

Tommy shook his head. “Well... Apart from the fact that now I feel... Like a weight on my shoulders has been lifted.”

“Yeah, me too... Maybe that was it, but I expected something more striking and obvious, like the heavens would open up above us or something.”

Tommy looked at Nikki and shrugged. “I dunno man, I have never been cursed before. I don't know what's supposed to –”

“We should try again.” Suggested the bassist, all of a sudden.

“Wait are you sure –” Tommy didn't have the time to finish the sentence that Nikki pulled him closer and planted a kiss on him. As soon as their lips came into contact again, a warm rush ran through their bodies, as if they were made of fire, feeling their lips burn to the touch of one another.

They distanced themselves and looked at each other.

“Dude...” Whispered Tommy. “Have you felt it too?”

Nikki nodded. “It was like...”

“Like a fire coming out of our bodies?”

“Exactly!”

Tommy looked at his hands, then back at Nikki. “I don't feel the urge to touch everyone anymore. Y'know, I always felt like an itch going through my body before, but now it's gone.”

“That's a good sign.” Said Nikki, pensively. “I, too, feel like the dark presence that was following has disappeared.” He added, instinctively looking around.

Tommy could finally hug his best friend. “We did it, dude!”

Nikki hugged him back, squeezing tightly, realizing how good it felt being touched again.

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

[fiore-region-appreciation]

Work Meetings: Deleted scenes

Because when I originally wrote it, I re-read it and realised it was basically 8 solid pages of yAP between two characters with barely any chemistry.

... but 8 pages of yap is still 8 pages of worldbuilding + additional Joel backstory hc, so it'd be a shame to let it all go to waste, right?

____

"It's a bad habit of mine." Lucian chuckled, swirling that splendid Paldean red wine he'd ordered for their table around his glass. "I'm trying to kick it, but well… old habits die hard, as they say." 

Joel mused over his own glass, his free hand running up one of Dordrio's heads, which now rested contentedly in his lap. "I wish I could say the same. I can't remember the last time I read anything."

Lucian smiled sadly. "Let me guess; school killed whatever passion you had for it?"

"You could say that." Though if anything, it exacerbated an already existing disinterest, in fiction books anyway. Even as a child he barely read anything other than factual or educational books. "I don't even think our school had a fiction section. Only remember it having textbooks when I was there."

His companion looked at him pensively. "What kind of school was it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Ranger Academy." Another sip of wine. "Or, I think they changed it to Ranger School a few years ago. Apparently "academy" sounded too formal. They said it was… 'scaring off potential students', something like that. I don't think it did much though."

"I've heard it's quite the expensive profession to get into."

"If you go the school route then yes." And in all honesty, he barely knew anyone who hadn't gone the school route. Cameron hadn't, he knew that, and he was fairly certain one of Spenser's protégés hadn't either, but everyone else he knew had. "There's other ways to get in, but you really don't hear about it much. A lot of bases push the school route as much as possible."

"I see…" He seemed pensive. "Have you always wanted to be a ranger then?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

He drained his glass. "I actually come from a Doduo racing background."

"Oh really!"

"I know, it's not exactly what you'd expect from a Ranger given our… history with the racing community." He refilled his glass. "But it's ultimately what made me think about Pokémon's feelings and our relationship with them. Growing up, I just remembered seeing a lot of discussion over whether racers really cared about their Pokémon, and it always bothered me because my parents always took very good care of theirs, so I threw myself into learning more, managed to convince my parents to send me to Ranger Academy, and well, the rest is history."

There was that gleam again. "I'd like to know the history, if you'd be so kind to share."

"About my job or what I learnt?"

"Let's start with what you learnt."

He chuckled. "You want a lecture?"

Lucian leaned in, so close Joel felt his lips brush against his hair as he whispered into his ear. "I'd love a lecture."

"Well, if you insist…" Joel straightened his back,  if just to actually face his companion whilst they were talking. "First day at the academy and I immediately realise the average person knows next to nothing about Pokémon-"

"Next to nothing?"

"Well, maybe not next to nothing, but an extraordinarily small amount nonetheless. Performing a capture for the very first time was…" 

Truth be told, it was hard to put the feeling into words. Even after twenty years on the job he still struggled to articulate what performing a capture truly felt like. It was something he feared he had started to take for granted, especially with the speed he could complete a capture in.

He savoured a mouthful of wine as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, it was like looking into another world."

Lucian seemed taken aback. "You performed a capture on the first day?"

"It's part of the entrance exam."

"I see." Lucian seemed thoughtful for a moment. "They really let you operate one of those capturing machines that early?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I just give a lecture on why you shouldn't give a ten year old a Pokéball?"

"Yes, but I thought you'd need some form of training, no?"

"Do you need training to use a Pokéball?"

"A Pokéball is intuitive."

"And this isn't?" He retrieved his styler from his pocket, extending the aerial with a stylish flick. "I personally found it to be quite intuitive when I was fourteen."

"You were fourteen?"

"Again, you can use a Pokéball from-"

"I know, I know, it's just…" Lucian paused. Joel suspected he was running out of points to argue. A shame really. He always enjoyed a good back and forth. "Bah, I think it's just a cultural thing. Forgive me."

"Don't worry about it." He helped himself to some more wine. "And yourself? How did you get into your job?"

Lucian kicked back in his chair, with a kind of swagger which suggested the wine was starting to get to him. "I suppose I just fell into it. I never really knew what I wanted to do with myself, even when I was younger. Did the whole rigmarole with school and university, couldn't figure out what I wanted to do after that… Took up battling out of boredom, one thing led to another and next thing I know I'm in the League full time. Honestly I still don't even know if training's my true calling. It's a rather dead-end job once you reach a certain point, and I think I hit that point a long time ago."

He absently swirled his wine around its glass, as though he was lost in his own thoughts, before snapping back. "Sorry, I think I brought the mood down there, didn't I?"

"It's fine." Joel thought for a moment, trying to wrangle a thought from his now wine-hazed mind. "I suppose I can't really imagine what that's like. Been in my job… Gosh, it's been well over twenty years now, and it still finds new ways to surprise me. "Every day's a school day," as they like to say."

"Your job must be so much more interesting than mine." Lucian reclined again, eyes aimed squarely at the ceiling. "All I do is stand in a room all day, and maybe someone will come in and I'll actually get to do something. Or maybe not. Once a trainer's already been through the League once or twice and knows what to expect,

Joel nodded politely, desperately wracking his brain for what any of those terms meant. Lucian continued with an exasperated sigh. "Do you know how humiliating it is to have defeat handed to you by a ten year old?"

"Fortunately not, though I can imagine something similar." Having your reputation at the base threatened by a sixteen year old rookie certainly sprang to mind. Though at least Ranger base culture encouraged a certain degree of rivalry, even with those younger and newer than you. Something told him the average Pokémon League wouldn't take so kindly to a grown adult choosing to pick on a schoolkid. "Are most of your challengers that young?"

"Thankfully, no. Think I'd have already left if that were the case." He absently swirled the dregs of his wine around his glass, clicking his tongue as he apparently ran out of musings. "I don't like talking about my job, tell me more about yours."

"What would you like to know?"

Lucian thought for a moment. "Tell me about her." He pointed to Dodrio, who lifted her head briefly before settling back into Joel's lap. "Is she a pet or-?"

"We prefer the term 'partner'." Of course, he knew how she must have looked right now, a head under each wing and the third resting on his right thigh, clearly enjoying the absent minded petting she was receiving. Certainly not the steely and distinguished partner his colleagues and the citizens of Fiore were so used to seeing. "I know she doesn't seem like it now, but this old girl's arguably been the best colleague I've had these last twenty years."

That made her other two heads stir, and look up at him briefly with a contended coo. Lucian giggled. "Oh, she understood that."

"She understands every word I say, trust me." 

"What's the story behind how you met? Is she one of your parent's, or…?"

"Well unfortunately for some of the points I made in that meeting, she was actually wild once upon a time, though in my defence I was a fully trained ranger at the time we met." In all honesty, he wasn't even too opposed to non-Rangers domesticating wild Pokémon in the first place. Providing they were capable adults and well-intentioned, of course. "It's a bit of a long story-"

"And you already know I want to hear it." 

"As you wish." He poured out the last of the wine into his glass, duly realising he'd neglected to take note of how many bottles they'd had so far. "So, for a bit of context, there was this theory amongst Rangers that the Doduo racing business was damaging the wild populations, you with poaching for stud breeding and what have you, and I wanted to try and test that theory-"

"It always comes back to Doduo racing, eh?"

"Sure does." A sip of wine before he continued. "I'd gotten to a point where I was trusted to assign myself my own missions, so I decided to investigate. Part one of this self assigned mission was to find and capture a wild Doduo, just so I had an idea as to where the population might be concentrated but…"

He briefly stopped stroking Dodrio (much to her annoyance), lowering his glass to his lap pensively. "It took far longer than I anticipated. I think I worked on this case for… months, honestly, and found absolutely nothing. I reached a point where I genuinely thought they'd gone extinct in the wild, something a lot of people including my parents had told me at the start, and eventually I just… gave up. I actually ended up finding one by complete accident, I can't even remember what I'd been assigned to do, I just remember being so overcome with emotion that my relief must have been conveyed during the capture and well…"

He tilted her head up, scratching under her chin. "She's been by my side ever since."

"Wait so she was still-" Lucian's thought process was visible, to say the least. "So how did she evolve then? Surely you don't battle."

"Slowly." Slowly was probably the best way to describe it without giving his companion nightmares. "I wouldn't think about it too much." 

"I won't." Lucian distracted himself by looking around the bar, before perking up, seemingly more aware of his surroundings. "Looks like they're closing the bar now. Shall we…?"

[makwandis]

i’m actually so curious what your roderich hcs are 👀 what do you think about when writing him and how do you see his dynamic with gilbert? with antonio?

Oh my gosh it's a big thing to answer UMMM I got dis

so I feel like roderich is femme fatale as a boy. Venus as a boy. He's antinous. He's beautiful. He's sensitive. He's very very demure. He reminds me of Scarlett ohara and he reminds me of Blanche Dubois. He reminds me of s delicate flower but watch out the flower is poisonous as fuck. I think overall yeah He's a sensitive, pensive, observant quiet gentleman with refined tastes and also like is a total bitch. He's gay as fuck. I love him. He's preminger from the barbie movies too lowkey. I always just picture like what would like a very beautiful man from antiquity or whatever be like what would happen to him ya know. I personally love roderich a lot cuz I honestly can relate to him a lot too. He's a nurturer, he's a kind soul, hes reserved , he's been hurt a lot, he doesn't trust easily, but he's a good friend to have.

As for him and Gilbert UM talk about toxic lol. Pruaus is my endgame and my fave Pru ship by far, I think Gilbert has been madly in love w roderich since he first saw him and roderich is the most beautiful boy Gilbert has ever seen. I really hype up rod being pretty NO UGLY AUSTRIAS THANKS lol. But Gilbert is insane and frankly so is roderich when he's around him. Roderich is usually quite reserved snd it's very hard to get a reaction out of him- he doesn't really yell when he's mad. Normally. Around Gilbert though? He just can't help it he becomes THIS FIRECRACKER he's feisty and sassy and will fucking slap Gilbert lmao. Gilbert has made him madder than anyone else on the planet and I feel he's an adrenaline rush for roderich that roderich is lowkey high key lowkey addicted to. Gilbert had also made roderich laugh harder than anyone else on the planet too. Gilbert just brings out all these extremes in roderich that can either exhaust him or he enjoys it a lot. They've had their ups and their many many many many downs. They have been terrible to each other but I think Gilbert has been worse. Roderich deserves better but Gilbert is the bad decision he can't help but make time and time again against all logic and reason and advice from his friends lol. But i think as Gilbert matures he's becoming a better and better decision for roderich. Retirement has done wonders for gilbert and roderich both lol. I love them so much.

Antonioooo and him I see as like- roderich was very young and stupid and toni was this smooth talking kind of older man who was able to schmooz roderich. Roderich and he were probably married and I think roderich wasn't very happy at first but ya know lay back and think of the emperor lmfao. Toni and roderich were also pretty toxic, I think rod has a thing for toxic masc dudes who are really jealous and intense and it is NOT GOOD FOR RODERICH. But toni is a Spaniard the dude is cheating. It was very up and down, very very toxic, and roderich was happy to get rid of him- but I think toni thinks rod is his "one that got away" which is just so dumb but I don't think the guy is very bright or introspective. Overall, roderichs ex, who sometimes still gets drunk and calls him, and Roderich really doesn't care about him anymore. I have met many dudes like toni, in spanish we'd call him un pinche mujeriego cabron or something along those lines... but he and roderich dooooo make a very handsome couple lol.

Those are my thoughts but feel free to ask for my discord I can talk about this all fucking day and night !!!!

[duhragonball]

Neon Genesis Evangelion 18

"Hey, everybody, I'm Eva Unit 03! I just flew in from America, and boy are my arms tired! Heh. I'm just kidding, of course, we Evas can't fly. Anyway, I know I'm a little late to this show, but I'm looking forward to working with all of you, and I just know we'll all be the best of friends. Right? What's the matter, why is everyone looking away from me? Did I do something wrong?"

This one starts out pretty slow, mostly recapping things we already know. Toji Suzuhara's the new Eva pilot, Asuka doesn't like that one bit, Big Rigg Mahoney begs Misato to make him the next pilot, unaware that the job's already been filled. Shinji also doesn't know, because Misato never got around to telling him. Also, that girl with the pigtails is kind of into Suzuhara and started bringing him leftovers from the lunches she cooks for her sisters.

The one new bit here is when Rei goes to see Suzuhara brooding on the roof at school. He's surprised to see her showing concern for someone else besides Shinji, and she's a little surprised to hear him say that she cares about Shinji.

Whats-her-face sees the two of them on the roof and wonders if they might be an item, so she talks to Asuka about it, who assures her that Rei is too thick to relate to anyone, so there's no chance of this. Asuka is astonished that anyone would be in love with Suzuhara, though, but Pigtails says she admires his compassion.

Misato's out at the test site to get Unit 03 up and running, so Kaji stays over with the kids. That night, Shinji asks Kaji about his dad, and... have Gendo and Kaji even been on screen together at the same time? Wait, yeah, he dropped off that big suitcase with the fetus in it. The point is Kaji probably doesn't have a lot of insight into Shinji's dad, so he shifts the conversation to women. Kaji sucks.

The next day, Suzuhara's not at school, so Pigtails gives her extra lunch to Asuka. Asuka knows why he's not here, but she doesn't want to say.

You know, I'm not sure why nobody wants to talk about this. I mean, they each have their reasons. Asuka's ego is bruised by it, Rei's not very forthcoming in general, and Suzuhara himself is very pensive about the whole thing, and he's in no mood to brag about it. Even so, they seem to be going out of their way to not explain what's going on. At one point Shinji asks Asuka directly if she knows who the new pilot is, and the shuts him down.

I think part of it is that nobody wants to be the one who says it. But it's very ominous, like they all expect something terrible will happen to Suzuhara and they just don't want to speak it into existence. Which is a fantastic tone to set for the episode, don't get me wrong, but it feels like Suzuhara died last night and no one wants to say it.

Now, about here, it occurred to me that maybe Suzuhara doesn't even live long enough to die in a battle. Maybe he dies in this episode, during the test stages, and his pilot career ends before it can even begin. It's a new Eva, after all, and it could be defective. I could see this show doing an episode where Suzuhara dies on the launch pad, and everyone is haunted by the tragedy of random chance. But no... ha ha! No...

It's not what I thought. It's much much worse! As Unit 03 comes on line, they detect another energy reading inside it, and it turns out to be the 13th Angel. Whoops!

The entire testing ground is destroyed, and Misato and Ritsuko are lost, perhaps dead.

The other three Evas are deployed, and while Shinji is worried about Misato, Rei assures him that Gendo Ikari will assume command of their operation. Gendo orders the pilot to be ejected from Unit 03, but it doesn't work. They have no control over Unit 03 whatsoever. Gendo orders it to be abandoned "at this time", and for the unit to be relisted on the tactical readouts as the 13th Angel. He orders the Evas to go in and destroy it.

This does not go over well with the remaining pilots. Asuka wonders how an Angel could have possessed and Eva, perhaps worrying that her Unit might suffer the same fate. Somehow, the 13th Angel gets the drop on her and takes her out off-screen.

Shinji, meanwhile, is more worried about the pilot. He never did learn who was inside the thing, but he knows it must be a child his age, and that bothers him a lot.

Gendo orders Rei to try to sneak up behind it and attack from a distance, but it's no good. She gets a clean shot at it, but she hesitates, and that's enough for the 13th Angel to do a sick backflip and overwhelm her.

The Angel then secretes some sort of goop on to Unit 00's left arm, which damages it and hurts Rei's arm, since they're still connected. I think the Angel may have been attempting to take over Rei's Eva, just as it already took control of Unit 03, but I can't be sure.

What I do know is that Gendo is worried enough about this that he orders Unit 00's left arm to be severed completely. I guess they can just do that in the control room, just send a signal to pop off one of the Eva's arms. The people at the controls object that they have to disconnect the pilot first, but Gendo insists that there's no time. So they do amputate Unit 00's arm, and Rei feels like her arm just got lopped off at the same time. She's completely out of this fight.

So that just leaves Shinji in Unit 01. The only problem is that he still doesn't want to fight this thing, since there's an innocent child inside. So the Angel attacks him, and it's more than just an Eva now. For example, it has stretchy-arm powers, and it starts choking Unit 01, and by extension, Shinji.

Gendo demands to know why Shinji won't fight back, and Shinji reminds him that there's somebody in there. Gendo warns that if he doesn't defend himself, the Angel will kill him, and Shinji says he'd rather die. So Gendo resolves the dilemma neatly.

He orders Shinji to be disconnected from Unit 01 so they can switch to the Dummy Plug instead. Everyone's like "What the fuck? Ritsuko said that's not even ready for use." And he's like "It's better than the pilot, do it."

If you're just joining us, the Dummy Plug was introduced last episode as a way to operate an Eva without a human pilot. It contains a computer simulation of a pilot's brainwaves-- Rei's brain, to be specific-- and in theory it should at least trick an Eva into thinking there's a live pilot at the wheel. If it works, I guess it's the best of both worlds for NERV, as they can just order the Eva around remotely without having to worry about unruly children. If it works. Ritusko recommended against using it, which is why they recruited Suzuhara to pilot Unit 03 in the first place.

From inside Unit 01, Shinji can only watch helplessly. He's spared the choking sensation from the Angel, but he's powerless to do anything as the Dummy Plug takes over. He quickly realizes that his father is going to use the Eva to do what Shinji would not.

So forget Shinji, this is Dummy Plug's time to shine. First thing it does is choke out the Angel the same way it was choking Unit 01. Is this what Rei would be doing in this situation? Hard to say.

I don't even remember taking this scrreenshot. I think that's Unit 01 smashing Unit 03's head. Well okay.

I'm not quite sure what happens next. Unit 01 mounts the Angel-Eva and starts either pounding on it with its fists, or Unit 01 starts ripping the thing apart, piece by bloody piece. Even the goons in the command center are horrified to witnes this.

This one can't even bear to watch.

Is this Angel blood or Unit 03's blood? Well, I doubt either of them had literal blood, but you get the idea. This is fuckin' sick.

The whole time, Shinji keeps screaming into the comm line, begging his father to stop this. And Gendo just sits there watching his monitors with satisfaction. That's what makes this shot of the bloody traffic light so amazing. At first I just assumed it was on a red light to suit the colors of this shot, but then I realized it's begging Gendo to stop, just like Shinji is.

And to think I was bored with this show last week! I mean, the early episodes were pretty dull, but look where we are now!

Shinji tries to use the controls, but that's just an exercise in futility. At last, the Entry Plug from Unit 03 is exposed, and Unit 01 picks it up, but there's no human at the controls, so there's no one to tell it that this piece isn't a threat.

And yeah, that's about what I expected at this point. Nice knowing you, Suzuhara.

Oh this was just awful to watch. The screencaps don't do it justice. This went on for an uncomfortably long time, and I'm pretty sure the Angel didn't even live that long into the beating. I'm blown away. Really.

But this show isn't done. Oh no, we now cut to that girl who was going to make lunch for Suzuhara, and she's planning her next meal. "I sure hope he's going to eat tomorrow." Just twisting the hell out of that knife.

Meanwhile, Misato wakes up. She was hurt in the attack, but she's going to be okay. Ritsuko survived too, apparently. She gets the news, then contacts Shinji to apologize for not telling him who the pilot was.

But Shinji's not exactly in a good place right now. I mean, what can I say? Obviously whatever relationship he's been rebuilding with his father is ruined forever now, right? And he still doesn't know who was in Unit 03, so that's another shock he'll have to deal with... wait...

He's alive?! How the fuck did he survive all of that? And this is how Shinji finds out who the pilot was. That's gonna be really interesting, but we'll have to wait until next time to see how this plays out...

[theautumnpicker]

Read on AO3.

The arm and leg of a teddy bear lay beside its mutilated body. As far as Astarion is concerned, it's the consequences of Karlach's own actions. If the bear was so important to her, she shouldn't have left it at camp in reach of the dog. From Volo's report, Scratch hadn't even shaken the thing particularly hard; it seemed to fall apart the moment he put his teeth on it. No surprise there. The bear was ratty to begin with.

Well, it's no great loss. At least the mutt hadn't chewed up anything of actual value. Astarion feels worse for Scratch, really, who is now curled up on the far side of the camp with his tail over his nose, whining now and then and looking deeply ashamed. He only wanted to play.

Karlach doesn't weep over the teddy like a child, but Astarion's not sure he's ever seen that mournful look persist on her face for more than five minutes. Even if it is her own fault, it's damned depressing being in the same camp as her. No one talks that evening. It's an eerie silence over the campfire. By the hells, anyone would think someone had actually died.

While the others are eating dinner, then, Astarion collects the pieces of the bear and brings them to his tent. He breaks out his sewing kit, the same he uses every second evening to repair the damage to his armor or clothing, and gets started with reattaching the limbs to the aging fabric. It's even less of a surprise that they'd fallen off, now that he's holding the bear in his hands and can see just how many of the seams have split, how the thread attaching the eyes has loosened to the degree that one of them is in danger of falling out at any moment. There's no point in doing this at all if he doesn't do it right, so Astarion reinforces the seams with careful stitches in his practiced hand.

He's still repairing a small gash to the foot when Gale approaches the tent adjacent his, evidently having finished eating first. Astarion glances up and sees Karlach still staring pensively into a bowl of stew.

"Is that Karlach's bear?" asks Gale, and Astarion sighs. "That's very nice of you, Astarion!" He sounds genuinely touched.

"I don't know what you mean, darling. I'm always nice." He peers up at the wizard, tilting his chin back in a haughty pose and narrowing his eyes. "But if you say a word about this to anyone else, I might forget to be. I'd rather not play seamstress to the entire camp."

Gale looks amused in a way that infuriates Astarion, like he thinks he's learned something about him. "You don't need to worry on my account. My lips are sealed."

"Good. Now, do keep them that way while I'm working. If anyone asks, I've been out hunting." Astarion redoubles his efforts now that some of the others are beginning to finish their meal. He runs his fingers over the fabric of the bear, checking for weak points. It can't exactly be called good as new, but at least it won't fall apart again if given a firm shaking.

Much to the continued amusement of the wizard beside him, once he's finished, Astarion directs his Mage Hand to carry the bear back to Karlach's tent and dismisses it afterwards, sight unseen. Just as he's stealing away into the woods to make good on his alibi, he can hear Karlach's delighted cry: "Clive! How— Did you do this, Gale? Oh, I'd hug you if I could!"

Astarion doesn't hear the wizard's response, but as he slips away, the smile forms on his face for once without deliberation.

[vivianwantstosleep]

You could never see her

And yet you want to be her

With how she sings on that stage

It's like she's putting put up a charade

Her mystic visage

Is it just a mirage

Her beautiful age

Is it all for stage

Do you think all that pain

Is worth the rage

Or are you as blind

As her and I

To the tears that fall from her eyes

Is it worth those 15 minutes

Or is just another gold ticket

I implore you to stick around

And find out how this canary

Got caged and got out

All we know of this story

And the marionette of this quarry

Listen well and listen wide

As I tell you the story of

Starlight Hyde

People running in different directions.

Instructions being shouted in all directions.

And in the middle was a gaggle of girls and their manager, standing in one location.

Even with all the hustle and bustle you could still hear what he said clearly,

As if he wanted the whole world to know.

"Look at you girls, you’ve grown so much. Starlight's new single hit number one on the charts. CANDYS ‘album has hit the top 100. And not to mention being the guest appearance on that popular afternoon Tv show. Aren’t we glad that the host was a fan of Starlight’s. You guys have another concert tomorrow to celebrate your 2nd year anniversary and it the dress rehearsal looked great today. Good job Starlight… and girls. A toast is in order, you all did great."

He walked them to their changing room.

Then as the man exited the scene, all but one huddled together.

They had locked her out, like always.

She was excluded.

She sat outside their circle, as they gossiped and grimaced in front of her face.

As if they didn’t care.

As if she didn’t exist.

"Honestly it sounded like he just wanted to congratulate Starlight. He doesn't care about the rest of us."

"Hmm."

"True."

“Her new single did get number one. Maybe that’s why.”

“But he always talks about her. What’s so special about her?”

“I know right? She’s not even that cute.”

“And she’s so dull. Why doesn’t he pay attention to me?”

“Or at least anyone but her.”

“She’s just a hog.”

"She’s so mean."

"What's the point?"

There was a long silence in the room. The sound of ice clicking together in the cup was heard by all.

"Maybe we should just graduate already."

There was a shift in the table as someone jumped up. Knocking into the table.

"No! You can't. I need you guys. The company needs you guys."

"No, you don't. In fact, nobody needs us. Our manager does not care. I don’t think the fans even care.”

A pensive face appeared on her. She just couldn't understand. Why would they say that. That's not true! Even if she knew deep down that it was true, she couldn't accept that. They can't leave.

"That's not true, he does! He mentioned the album and it raising in the ranks. He wouldn't have if he didn't care. And the fans would riot if you guys suddenly disappeared.”

"Oh come on Starlight. The fans don’t care. And he obviously did it to not sound bias. We all heard him raving about your up-and-coming single. And it's no wonder he did, you know how much money the company makes off you. You are all he cares about, we're just collateral."

"That's not true! He's proud of you, of us. We did great in that album and poured our hearts and souls into it. He knows it. This is a huge accomplishment for the group, for us. We'll be world-renowned in no time. And he knows that. It's not just me, it's all of u-"

"SHUT UP. He doesn't give a fuck about the rest of us. The only thing he liked from the album was your solos. I heard him say it to the other managers. 'Starlight was so good. The rest suck though, but at least they make Starlight look better blah blah blah.' He couldn't care less. After all, you the company's golden goose, this group was made around you. All the interns practically worship the ground you walk on. Managers, fight for you. Executives, “whatever you want”. PR team, it doesn't matter. News reporters, you can do no wrong. Gossip mags, she's the greatest. Fans, we'd DIE for you. Hell, even other celebrities LOVE you. He doesn't care about us, they don't care about us. It wouldn't matter if we all quit, as long as you're here nobody would bat an eye. They would just hire our replacements or something off the bat. I bet the only reason we still have our jobs is because of you. Well, am I right?"

"..."

You couldn't lie. It was true. They had almost been terminated a couple of times. But you fought for them every time. You wonder if the cared or were insulted. After all it's not like they liked you.

"I fucking knew it. He doesn't care because he has you. What's the point in being a part of this group if I'm always going to play second fiddle to the same pompous, immature brat."

*BANG*

Your manager had returned awhile ago. Listening the whole time. Biting his tongue or more of peacefully observing, watching what you'd say. It's only when he felt like they had gone far enough, did he say something. His calm demeanor turned cold in seconds, slamming both hands on the table rattling the drinks on it.

"CAMI! Be nicer to Starlight! Or else I'll have you terminated."

"See, I told you. Let's go girls."

And with that they left.

Alone.

Without her.

She was alone, so alone.

Even as her manager slowly wrapped his arms around her in comfort, she felt so alone.

More alone than ever before.

They hate me

Maybe... I should just go

Maybe... I should just leave

Escape to where no one can find me...

Because I'm tired...

I'm tired of this.

The saddest tune is sung by thee

Will no one answer her plee

I don’t own and of the dividers

[truly-morgan]

[Aroace!JC and JL]

Jiang Cheng | Mo Dao Zu Shi Modern AU 14-04-2021

[modern aroace #jiangcheng and jin ling]

where jl grew up with jc never really being in a relationship and the handful of ones he had only going on for a couple of weeks (or even days one time) before breaking off.

he wonders if it's because of him, since jc is young but had to take care of a small child. obviously, jc reassures him about this and simply says "I was too busy with school and wasn't even looking for a relationship, don't worry a-ling".

But jl doesn't want him to be alone so he tries to sneakily get jc to find someone or just put is attention on people. "Isn't she pretty?" "Oh, she seems to like you". but he realises quickly that his uncle doesn't seem interested in ladies, so he changes his strategy and tries with guys. The results are as bad. it's only around 15-16 that jl realises something: his uncle is just /not/ interested in anybody and seems really uncomfortable when people are obviously flirting with him.

"Do you think jiujiu is alright?" he ask his friends once after telling them (he has no one else apart from them and jc to talk about it. It was rather obvious jc is not an option).

"Maybe he just doesn't feel that kind of attraction?" suggest oyz, a bit unsure how it would work.

"Maybe he's like Wen Ning" suggest lsz only to have the three other turn to him. They didn't know much about lsz extended cousin, so they were unsure what he was talking about, just asking for more detail.

"He just doesn't experience sexual or romantic attraction at all, I forgot the words for it I would need to ask him for that" he explained. This made a lot of sense in jl mind, assuming jc probably already knew that about himself and just never told him about it (probably unsure how he would react or because he didn't see it necessary?).

So he instead switches to push away anyone who was trying to bother him by flirting heavily. It was to a point even his friend would (more subtly) make people understand jc was not interested.

of course, jc catches onto that 180 his nephew and finds it a bit weird. He was all in to apparently find him a date and now he chases away anyone who approaches him?

So at dinner one time, he asks about it.

"Isn't jiujiu aromantic and asexual? Doesn't it make you uncomfortable when people do that?" jl answers.

and this throws jc into confusion because what is he talking about?! so jl explains to him, looking a bit unsure that he might have wrongly assumed (again) something about his jiujiu. but what could he do when he doesn't tell him much in that department?!

jc looks pensive for a while, making jl a bit nervous, before he sees realisation and relief flashing over his jiujiu face, looking up towards him.

"You're telling me... there are other people who feel like this?"

and this is when jl realises his jiujiu /never/ knew. jc eyes look teary rather quickly, looking to the side a bit. "So there isn't something wrong with me, other people feel like that too".

oh. his jiujiu thought something was /wrong/ with him. jl feel sad about the idea that his jc had believed all these years that something was wrong and had probably forced himself into a relationship "No! There is nothing wrong with you!" he quickly replied, wanting to reassure his jiujiu.

They end up talking some more about it, jl is happy to see his uncle looking so relieved and reassured about something he felt like people might have shamed him for. from there on out, jl is jc biggest ally ever and supports him and is ready to remind him nothing is wrong with him.

(jl is the best ally until he realises he might not be as straight as he thought he was, nor as all as he thought he was)

Like, I can easily imagine jfm and yzy shoving in his head that he /will/ find a wife one day. Hence making him feel shame because he's /failing/ them /again/.

Not to help some of his past relationships might not have had the best reaction to him trying to put it into words.

and he overall stopped mentioning it since the couple of people he confided in only made him feel worst and broken as if something was really wrong with him and that no one else was like that.

Original

[dxstielhehe]

Title: Touch (another version)

Dean Winchester x Castiel

warning: cringeness

I love it tho... but don't know about u guys :"

(it's my first time writing it... sorry if it's weird or overall cringe:" )

Dean dragged himself into the bunker, ready to collapse. The hunt had been brutal - too many claw marks, not enough sleep. All he wanted was a beer and some peace and quiet.

He shuffled into the war room, heading straight for the mini fridge. He popped the cap off a bottle and slumped into a chair with a heavy sigh. His mind began to shut down as the alcohol took effect.

Just then, arms slipped around his shoulders from behind. Dean let out an involuntarily yelp, flailing slightly and almost toppling his chair over in the process. He twisted around to see Cas standing there, arms dropped to his sides now, a puzzled look on his face.

"Cas, what the hell?!" Dean gasped, clutching his pounding heart.

"My apologies, Dean, I didn't mean to startle you. I was merely offering a hug in greeting," Cas replied calmly.

"Yeah, well, warn a guy next time!" Dean snapped, embarrassment and adrenaline fueling his anger.

Cas nodded pensively. "I will. Goodnight, Dean." And with that, he wandered off down the hallway.

Dean tried to calm his racing pulse and forget about the unexpected hug. But throughout the ensuing days, he found himself replaying it over and over in his head. Cas's strong arms surrounding him with gentle care. The soft puff of breath in his hair as Cas hovered close behind.

Dammit, why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Dean knew it didn't mean anything to Cas, it was just an innocent show of affection between friends. Or so he told himself as he avoided the angel for the next few days, hiding out in his room whenever possible.

One night as Dean laid awake, mulling things over for the hundredth time, there was a soft knock at his door. He sighed, running a hand down his exhausted face, already knowing who was outside. "Come in, Cas."

The door creaked open and Cas slipped inside. He tilted his head inquisitively at Dean. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Dean rolled over, turning his back to Cas. "I ain't avoiding you, man. Been busy is all."

But Cas was unconvinced. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Dean, please talk to me." His gravelly voice held nothing but kindness and concern.

Dean screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way Cas saying his name sent shivers down his spine. He stiffened as a warm hand closed gently over his own.

Cas rubbed soothing circles over Dean's knuckles with his thumb. "You don't have to suffer alone. Whatever's troubling you, let me help."

Dean couldn't help but relax into Cas's tender touch. It had been so long since anyone handled him with such care. Hesitantly, he rolled to face Cas again, though he remained silent, eyes fixed on their joint hands.

Cas's heart ached at the vulnerability etched into Dean's features. He lifted Dean's hand, pressing a reverent kiss to his knuckles. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Dean sucked in a shaking breath, unable to meet Cas's earnest gaze. "It's... stupid."

"If it's upsetting you, it's not stupid," Cas countered gently.

After several deep breaths, Dean blurted out in a small voice, "That hug, a few days ago... I, uh, kinda liked it."

"That's not stupid at all, Dean," Cas soothed. "There's no shame in craving affection."

Dean clenched his jaw, suddenly fighting back tears. "It's not... manly, you know? Guys don't..."

"Who says?" Cas interrupted in a fierce whisper. "Real strength comes from embracing vulnerability, not denying your emotions."

Dean nodded shakily, brought to the brink by Cas's fierce care and understanding. He looked up finally, eyes pooling with unshed tears. "Cas, can you... hug me?"

Without hesitation, Cas gathered Dean into his arms. Dean clutched at his coat, burying his face into the crook of Cas's neck as silent tears soaked through.

Cas rubbed soothing circles onto Dean's heaving back. "It's alright, Dean, I've got you. You deserve to be cared for. Let it all out."

They stayed that way for long minutes as Dean purged years of pent up pain and loneliness. Eventually he quieted, reduced to hiccuping breaths, completely limp in Cas's hold.

"Thank you, Cas," he rasped throatily when he found his voice again. Cas just squeezed him closer in response.

Too wrung out to maintain his guard any longer, Dean melted into Cas's warm embrace. Cas's fingers softly carding through his hair didn't help him regain composure either.

Before long, the rhythmic rise and fall of Cas's chest had lulled Dean into a deep, peaceful slumber. Cas smiled fondly down at the sleeping hunter, still nestled protectively against him.

"Rest now, my dear. I've got you," Cas whispered, brushing his lips to Dean's hairline. He shifted them both under the blankets, Dean instinctively curling into Cas's chest as the little spoon.

Cas wrapped Dean securely in his arms once more, ready to chase away any nightmares that might disturb his hunter's much-needed rest. Content to simply hold his charge through the night, Cas allowed himself to drift off as well, feeling finally that he had helped Dean begin to heal.

[dadsbongos]

why did you ask me out? (3)

1 / 2 / chapter 3 - heartbroken but alive / 4 / 5

5.4K words

warnings - quick c-tier slur, jason carver is homophobic (go figure) and shoves you into a desk, eddie outs you to your friends in a convoluted and roundabout way (everything ends fine), speedrun enemies to friends to lovers trope

summary - You and Chrissy are long-lost best friends that join sides to pull one over on the girls hoping to make you prom queen as a bet. Things don't always go to plan - sometimes you realize you're in love and sometimes the girls shoot back at you.

~~

1986. Senior Year.

It felt pathetic to still be in love with her then. Hell, it feels pathetic now.

Chrissy isn’t one to lie, you know that after this she won’t let you go like she did over the summer of ‘82, but you’re sort of dreading that. Having to pretend you’re okay hearing about Jason Carver and his stupid hair and his stupid lips and his stupid body. 

You never understood how Chrissy and Jason started dating. Sure, she left and she stood by but she was anything except evil. Jason Carver, however, was evil.

“How’re you and Jason?”

“We’re not talking.”

You hate to smile, but she doesn’t seem too upset so you hope they secretly break up. Not because you’re jealous (a little bit because you’re jealous) but because he’s so terrible and she’s so good, you doubt that anything he could ever do would be worthy of her affection. Not that you think you’re much better.

“What happened?” Chrissy swipes a shade of red over your palm and quickly pairs it with a pink, then turns to her own forearm to do the same.

“We got into a fight,” she frowns, “I feel bad that I don’t…” you wonder why she bothered bringing you if she was just going to test the shades on her skin anyway, “I don’t really care.”

It’s whispered. Shaky. Like she’s petrified at the idea of being overheard.

“I mean, maybe it’s just… that time,” you mutter, hoping you can sound dismal enough to be convincing, “Jason’s an asshole, in case you haven’t noticed.”

She most certainly did. Chrissy picks out the palette from the shelf and moves to the lipstick. Her gentle fingers brush over a few until she crosses a vermillion shade and holds it up to your face. She squeezes one eye shut before nodding to herself and shoving the lipstick into your hand, then taking up a watermelon pink for herself.

You think you might’ve said the wrong thing, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Chrissy’s making a mistake with Jason and if it really hurts her to hear you say that, you’ll apologize - but you won’t be taking it back. He screams in the face of common decency and still gets to call himself the golden boy. He gets to claim that the tragedies of Hawkins fuel the basketball team and he gets to be selfish and he gets to call innocent kids with innocent passions freaks.

He’s worse than an asshole. You think he’s a monster.

She tells the girls that you two are done shopping and sits by a bench at the front of the store while they finish up. You join her and find it too awkward to look at her pensive face. Just before you can mutter a half-sincere apology, though, she’s speaking again.

“You wanna know what happened?” Chrissy’s voice is so quiet, you’re almost worried you imagined her speaking.

“You two fought,” you’re just as quiet, leaning closer so that the two of you can feel alone, “You just- “

“No, during the fight. What it was about,” she turns to face you and you have to force yourself to lean back, lest the other patrons think you want to kiss her (you do, but that’s not for them to know), “I haven’t told anyone and I don’t think he’s told anyone either.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to,” her foot bounces and you remember a time when it was excusable for you to place a hand on her knee in public. Now you’re a little too old to explain it on not seeing the issue, “He found out I was smoking weed, and he almost punched a hole through my wall.”

“Jesus, Chris,” you don’t mean to gasp, but you couldn’t stop it before it flew from your mouth, “That’s bad. Like, insane bad.”

“I know. I wanna break up with him so bad,” she’s even quieter than before. Like it’s forbidden she have such a desire. Like she’ll be locked away if she’s heard.

“So, just do it,” you don’t understand the world she’s in, but you know enough to know that people like Chrissy more than they like Jason, “Your status as queen won’t change or anything.”

“I don’t wanna be alone, and if we break up then he’ll spread rumors or make it sound like I’m crazy,” she sucks in a sharp breath, “I can’t be alone like that.”

“You won’t be,” for the first time tonight, Chrissy’s shocked by how earnest you sound. You take one of her hands in yours, and she finally has the courage to lock eyes with you, “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there. The Hellfire guys will love you, too,” you turn away to cough awkwardly, “I- I know we’re not the cheer squad or the sports teams or anything, but we’re good people. I like to think so, at least.”

“No, I know you all are,” she presses her lips, “My mom would lose her shit, though.”

“Your monthly swear makes its appearance,” when she glares at you weakly, you look down, “Sorry,” she chuckles in good humor and you feel the tension leak from your muscles, “Fuck your mom, though. Not literally, but just, like, fuck her. You know? She’s not looking out for you.”

Not like I did.

You choose not to say that on account of how douchey it sounds.

“At the expense of sounding naive, I’ll admit that for the longest time I had no clue why my mom hated you,” Chrissy lets out a hollow laugh, “I just did what she said so it’d feel like she actually liked me.”

Your hand moves from hers to her shoulder, you’re careful - gentle, even - as you press your thumb into her skin.

“I don’t really care that much anymore,” she laughs again but it feels more lively, “I just want you.”

“That’s good, it’d be awkward if this were part of the bet, too.”

“Not so loud or they’ll know you know,” she giggles now, full and hearty and alive, leaning into your side, “I like this.”

“Me too.”

Chrissy suddenly bounds up from the bench and to the cashier. A row of nail polish was on display and she’s carefully examining it for just the right color (Chrissy never had enough nail polish despite having her bin and desk cluttered with the bottles, not that you were really complaining). You join her at the register as the cheerleaders flock out from the aisles and towards Chrissy.

She holds up the nail polish once it’s been scanned, “Black! I didn’t have any and I figured you’d wanna have some color for tonight.”

“What? You don’t like,” you hold up your hands, “chipped to shit, ugly ass moss green?”

“Not particularly,” she teases, nudging your hip with hers. You take the bag of makeup and nail polish from her hand and begin out the store with the other girls.

1982. Eighth Grade.

“Thanks again,” you murmur to Chrissy, “I know this isn’t your scene.”

“What? I’m happy to come,” she seems uncomfortable in the cramped bedroom of your family’s trailer, but says nothing.

The boys shuffle about in the room as you finish tuning your bass. Well, almost all the boys. Gareth was sitting out in what was technically your family’s backyard with his drum set. You bounced up from your bed and over to the open window he sat outside.

He had his walkman on, the tape for Corroded Coffin’s song of choice already loaded and ready. 

“Thanks again!” you cheer and he nods, lips pressed thinly and you can feel how embarrassed he is like this. You move into position with the rest of the boys and shoot Chrissy a nervous smile. She gives one back.

“Sorry if you hate it,” you look down at your hands. Callused and rough and sometimes you wondered if Chrissy would hold them anyway.

“Don’t be a bunny,” she waves off. She insists on the phrase even though it’s so dated by now. Cute, she calls it. 

Eddie signals off to Gareth and the two quickly find their rhythm. You don’t look back up at Chrissy, knowing full well that if you do then you’ll lose your nerve.

The middle school talent show was soon and Chrissy was more than willing to sit in and listen to what Corroded Coffin had lined up.

Chrissy isn’t much surprised you chose a KISS song, though she’ll admit that the choice of I Was Made For Lovin’ You did shock her. Although, according to you it was either this or Paranoid by Black Sabbath and she took your word that Paranoid was too long.

She doesn’t know that you chose this song for her and she doesn’t know that your hands shake because you’re in love with her and she doesn’t know how badly you sometimes wish you were a boy so that it’d be easier for you to love her. But that’s okay, the favor is returned eventually.

Because what you don’t know is that soon after this, she would slowly stop being your best friend. And after that, she’ll slowly stop being your friend altogether.

1982. Freshman Year.

The summer months have you scorching for a reason besides the heat. You hate to admit it, but you’re mad. Mad enough that when the boys are setting up their instruments, they can all feel the ick that radiates off you in thick rolls.

“Are you sure you’re gonna keep your cool?” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he’d see through your lies if he stared hard enough, “This is our first gig and if you fuck up ‘cuz you’re all heartbroken your cheerleader best friend is gone, we’ll kill you. Collectively.”

“If this goes wrong it’s ‘cuz you’re slumming it with a bunch of 14-year-olds, not ‘cuz I’m heartbroken,” you grumble, making a point of staring at the shiny finish of your bass rather than looking at your lead, “Because I’m not, by the way.”

“So are,” Jeff instantly denies, “I saw you staring at her during lunch. And algebra.”

You totally were and you totally are.

“So what?”

“So, you’re upset,” Gareth jabs one of his drumsticks between your shoulder blades and you whip around to glare at him, “It’s fine, just own up to it.”

“I’m not even upset, it’s fine,” you look up as the nurses herd in the attendees of Corroded Coffin’s first ever gig, “How we even got booked at a nursing home is what you guys should be focusing on.”

Eddie shrugs, shooting you a wink, “I know a guy.”

The elderly didn’t appreciate Corroded Coffin’s rendition of War Pigs by Black Sabbath quite as much as you’d hoped they did.

1986. Senior Year.

The girls have disbanded and now you’re up in Chrissy’s bedroom as if she never left. Here you are, watching through her vanity mirror as she carefully, carefully, applies the red eyeshadow to her outerlid. Her lips are pursed and sometimes she bites her tongue when she’s focusing, it brings you back to every time you wanted to kiss her in this very bedroom. Right now being no exception.

You can’t help but roll over onto your stomach, just to stop staring at an image more beautiful than any painting in the Louvre. Quickly, you decide to busy yourself with her cassette player, rummaging through her tapes and shaking your head - hoping above all hope that she notices you.

“What’re you doing over there?” she hums, moving onto the pink shadow now.

“Searching for something good.”

Despite knowing exactly what you’re about to say, Chrissy opens the door for your jab anyway, “Find anything?”

Madonna - Like a Virgin Michael Jackson - Billie Jean Fleetwood Mac - Farmer’s Daughter ABBA - Angeleyes Madonna - Borderline Madonna - Burning UpMadonna - Crazy For You ABBA - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Jesus Christ, maybe you’re as pretentious as Eddie.

“Nope,” your fingers continue to flick through tapes until you come to the end of the line, “Remind me to make you a new mixtape.”

“What? You think your music taste is better than mine?”

“Yup,” you reply without hesitation.

“Wow,” she turns now, looking at you as you lay back in her bed. Cat that ate the canary grin and crossed legs and fidgeting fingers, “Such a snob.”

“‘m not a sob,” you protest even though you’re partially convinced it’s true, “Just want my girl to have good music.”

For some odd reason, your heart doesn’t seize when you let the pet name slip. Not when Chrissy’s smiling as she turns back to the mirror and picks up the lipstick she got herself.

“Your girl, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, then come here and let your girl put on your lipstick, ‘kay?”

“‘kay.”

You slide off Chrissy’s bed and kneel down in front of her, your hands settle on her knees and she uncaps the dark red lipstick.

She holds up her hand to your chin, “Can I…?”

Without thinking, you nod, eyes falling closed, “Whatever you need.”

Carefully, her hand takes to your chin, and tilts your head upwards. The press of lipstick is gentle as she swipes it across the skin. It almost feels like in another life this could lead to something more. Smudged pink and red lipstick and frisky hands and Jason Carver never getting the privilege of so much as seeing Chrissy Cunningham ever again. 

But this isn’t that life and Jason will be going to prom, most assuredly. So you sit still until she’s done and when she is, you look in the mirror. Blinking away the bleariness, you grin and watch how the deep red accentuates your lips.

“If I was a guy, I’d kiss you,” Chrissy nods to herself. More so to say you look pretty than an actual desire, you’re sure.

“If I was a guy, I’d kiss you,” you repeat.

Chrissy hopes you mean it the same way she does, but she isn’t sure that you mean it genuinely - so she lets it slide as a compliment rather than voiced desire.

“Now, nails,” she grabs the black polish and shakes it while you lay your hands flat over her thighs. Repressing a shiver (a good shiver, she’s flustered to admit), Chrissy unscrews the cap and picks up one of your hands, “This way, it can dry and we’ll have time to put on the dress.”

1984. Sophomore Year.

You went on a secret date one time. With a girl. With Vivian Coord - one year your senior and captain of the tennis team. 

You two shared the same chemistry class and she was pretty and nice and you liked talking to each other. You found out she liked girls by accidentally finding old doodles of her and another girl in her notebook and she found out you liked girls when you told her in a split second attempt to calm her down.

This date was nice. You two went skating and got the pleasure of disguising the hand holding as her guiding you through the rink. But there was something missing, and you really felt bad.

“I don’t wanna lead you on,” you turn to her before she can let you out of her car, “I’m just…” one hand flies up in dramatics, “not over my ex.”

“Yeah,” she nods slowly, one hand bumping against the steering wheel, her lips press and she shrugs, “I’m not either.”

“Is she the one you drew, creeper?” you tease.

“Shut it,” Vivian jokingly pops you in the arm.

“She is,” you open the door and wave, “Good luck with that.”

“Good luck with yours.”

Vivian was funny and lighthearted and she could take it just as much as she dished it - you have no idea why your heart wasn’t in the rink with her tonight.

You’re lying when you think that.

Your arms are wrapped around yourself tightly in the chill that blows through Hawkins. You watch your feet hit the dirt road leading into Forest Hills and you can’t help but wonder.

Why would you lie in the car? Vivian barely knew you, why did it matter what she thought of you now?

Well, it was easier than admitting you were still in love with a girl you had no chance with. 

Vivian could swallow the ex response, but if you even tried spooning the Chrissy Cunningham schlop to her, she’d slap it out of your hand. 

Chrissy is so high above you now that sometimes it’s crazy to remember there was ever a time you two would practice kissing together. There’s a Chrissy-sized hole in your head when you think about your loved ones and there’s a Chrissy-sized hole that blares through your heart when you see her and Jason kiss in the halls.

A few months later, Vivian and the junior would get closer and when you’d spot them linking pinkies under the table at lunch, you knew what that meant. You’re happy for them, you are - you’d just rather not be alone.

You don’t know it as a sophomore, but even years later - you still go on to daydream about Chrissy Cunningham.

1986. Senior Year.

You know why you’re here. To fuck with Anne Mark and Lily Pham. You know that just as well as you know how sad it is to still be in love with the cheer captain dating the star basketball player.

But as Chrissy is applying the black polish to your nails, it feels different. Nobody is here to impress or trick and this is purely for you two. This isn’t about the bet or fucking over either girl doomed to peak in high school. This is about you and Chrissy and the fact nobody else is home. 

And the fact that Jason Carver is probably on his way out as a taken man.

She gently blows against the polish as if it’ll actually dry that much faster before switching to your next hand, “Do you want a top coat?”

“No, I like when it peels,” when she gives you a bewildered stare, you restrain a shrug for the sake of her work, “I think it makes me look cool.”

“You look cool all the time,” she grins.

Her hair is in pigtails that you helped do. It gently cascades down and sometimes it falls into your face, but you don’t mind. You’d spend forever with your face pressed into the gentle waves and loose curls of her honey blond hair if you could.

But you don’t admit that, instead you say something completely lame, “I forgot how to dance.”

“You don’t just forget how to dance.”

“Well, I did.”

“Don’t be a bunny.”

“That phrase expired like six years ago.”

“Well, I like it.”

“You do you, Chris.”

Keep on truckin’, she mouths and you roll your eyes, but there’s such an undeniable smile swiped over your red-stained lips that she doesn’t even care.

“No, but really, I don’t know how to dance.”

“Nobody knows how to dance,” she grins, “They just follow everyone else’s lead and think they look cool. But you know what?” hm, you hum, “I think the coolest people are actually the ones that don’t follow the others, and do what they want - they know how to dance.”

“What about the people who don’t dance at all?”

“They’re waiting for somebody to show them it’s okay to.”

You watched her carefully. Her soft eyes under this pink light. She sits so pretty and looks so kissable. You clear your throat, “Who do you think I’m waiting for?”

Chrissy looks away from her work on your nails, just for a moment, “To show you?”

“Yeah.”

It’s so ballsy to say me, but something about the way you’re looking at her makes her feel like that’s the exact answer you’re waiting for. If she’s wrong you might run away like she did. But if she’s right and she doesn’t say it, nothing will happen. That should be good, right?

Nothing changes if nothing happens and everyone’s happy.

So why does the idea make her want to roll into an early grave?

She’s tired of doing nothing, so she relents.

“Me.”

“Really?” if your tone weren’t so clearly teasing, she might’ve been embarrassed.

But there’s light in your eyes. She did well. So she doubles down and nods, “Yeah.”

“You’ll have to stick with me, then,” you watch her lips curl into an ‘o’ shape as she blows on your other hand’s coat of polish, “Show me how to dance.”

“I can’t show you, but I can encourage you,” she sets your hand down and you back away for her to stand, “like in fifth grade, during the winter dance.”

“You remember that?” 

“How could I forget?”

I fell in love with you that night, you both almost say.

…

Chrissy’s heels have advanced since elementary school. You’re fitted in a pair of black pumps she says are reserved for church and court and she’s got on kitten heels. 

“I always have trouble with the straps,” she pouted while pulling them on.

Looking back on it, you think it was just a ploy for her to not have to do anything. You don’t regret it, though.

You click one heel into place. Then the next.

Your fingers linger at Chrissy’s calf as you look up at her. She smiles down at you and leans forward, you don’t move.

“Thanks again for coming,” she whispers, so close you can feel her breath gently sweep across your lips.

“Sounded fun,” you lean ever closer, “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you a lot, too.”

And just like when you guys were eleven, back in sixth grade in 1979, the last night of 1979, you both lean in. 

You’re both more experienced now, though. Heads tilted and lips soft, her hands cup your cheeks and yours settle on the tops of her thighs. Your thumbs press into the soft skin and she hums sweetly. She parts your lips with the press of hers and gasps when your hands just dare to climb a little higher.

Then, she’s pulling away, “We still have somewhere to be.”

You pull away, too and your hands settle onto your own thighs, “Probably best you fix our makeup.”

Chrissy’s head turns to the mirror and her eyes widen at the sight.

One minute you’re both laughing at the specks of red riddled into Chrissy’s pink lipstick and the pink faintly sprinkled into your red. The next minute? The next minute, Jason Carver is bursting through the window she forgot to shut and is calling you a carpet-munching freak.

All boyfriends have their way of apologizing, you suppose.

“What is she doing here?!” he shouts and Chrissy jumps away like you’ve been set ablaze.

You can only stare up at him in terror. The man who’s given Dustin and Mike twisted ankles. The man who’s given Jeff a black eye. The man who’s given Gareth two split lips over one summer. The man who chased Grant down the road with his lackeys. The man who dumps cola over you whenever he sees you’ve made an effort to look nice. The man Eddie swears is the real Satanist, despite all his prayers to God. He stands before you with an iron fist.

“She has no right to be here, she’s against God, Chris,” Jason storms over to you and winds a hand behind your neck, squeezing like you’re a kitten and he’s the mother. He pulls back until you’re sitting straight on your knees, “What the fuck is she doing in your room?!”

“We’re just hanging out, Jason,” she tries to reason, “Let her go!” now she’s firmer, heels harsh on the carpet as she stomps forward and pushes her boyfriend, “Let her go, Jason Carver!”

“Let her go? Let her go?” he laughs in her face and gives another harsh squeeze to your neck, “You’re siding with this- this freak?!”

“Yes, I am!” she shouts, “And we’re so over- so just let her go or I- “ her eyes dart down to you nervously and you know whatever threat comes next is a lie, “I’ll call the cops!”

“For what? Treating a freak the way she deserves?” Jason grins like a hyena before dying prey, shaking his head, “I’ll let her go, Chris.”

She doesn’t relax, though. If anything, she’s more tense than before.

Jason doesn’t let you go, more like he tosses you. The second his elbow yanks back you know you’re in trouble, his fingers slip from your neck and your head bangs into the side of Chrissy’s vanity.

A throb forms at your forehead as she screams and Jason pushes her back when she goes to lift you.

From your angle on the floor, you can faintly see up the Sixteen Candles poster Chrissy hung and you can see the hole in the wall that Jason did end up punching.

1985. Junior Year.

The five of you do this every year now. Well, maybe not this specifically - the beer part - but the five of you - Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, freaks, etc. - gather around Eddie’s trailer at the end of every single school year to shoot the shit and drink. This year the drink is beer, now that Eddie is lax enough to let you all have alcohol on his property. It’s a step up from whatever soda he has stocked in the fridge.

You all like to look back on good times and pretend that Eddie should still be in high school. This coming year, especially, since you’ll all be seniors when Eddie should technically be a sophomore in college.

Not that it matters to any of you. Judgment is hardly found between your quintet and you all look up to Eddie (in a half-brotherly, half-role model sort of way that none of you are willing to own up to). Yes, as the DM and face of Corroded Coffin he’s the leader, but he’s also the only guy willing to give four misfits a place to call theirs. Judgment and scorn are hardly a thing between you all, but now you wonder how true that is.

When it’s brought up, you can’t help but seize and wonder if tonight is the night that discrimination finds its place in your home across from home.

“Wasn’t there that rumor? That you’re gay,” Jeff chuckles against the lip of his beer, “God, that was fucking weird.”

“So weird,” Grant nods, then turns to you, “Where’d that even come from?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling heat lick at your skin under their collective gaze, “Dunno.”

Eddie’s smile falls at your mood change, his brows draw tight, “Do you really have no clue?”

The question isn’t insulting nor is it insinuating anything. Not framed as though he knows something he shouldn’t. It’s pure curiosity.

If there’s anything you want to tell us, now’s the time.

Not in a mean way. More like gentle (if annoying) prodding, like a sitcom mother.

“Yeah. No idea.”

Gareth is suspiciously quiet and attention turns to him. He simply stares at his shoes. Unmoving, unwilling to speak. All eyes return to you and you’re just the same.

Eddie scoots closer to you, he tilts his head, eyes squinting in that stupid way he does when he doesn’t believe you, “Is…”

Your eyes finally shoot up and he hates the fear he sees. It reminds him of how he used to be before his shell grew. 

No, this is different. Nothing like when the popular kids would sneer at him and make his life hell. You’re scared of him. You’re scared of your friends.

“Is it true…?” he’s quiet enough to where you can easily back out and just shake him away.

Jeff and Grant lean away as if you need the air to breathe. You swallow harshly and look to Gareth, who only stares right back. 

Gareth takes the bold move to whisper to you, “No matter what happens, I’m here,” when he can tell you don’t believe him, he continues, “Not joking. I’ll quit the band right now in outrage.”

That gets you to smile and the other boys mirror it.

“It’s okay,” Jeff finally hunches forward again, “if it’s true.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Gareth adds as he pulls away.

Part of you is scared to come through with the truth - too scared to lose the boys you consider family. Another part of you is scared of hiding yourself from them. Gareth is with you, and if you two don’t have a place here then you trust him to follow you to another one. And if that place isn’t right, then you two can build your own. Maybe Jeff and Grant will even join you both.

But what about Eddie? The one that built the palace you all reside in? The one who held his hand out to you that day with an overly broad smile when Gareth said you could play bass. The one who stands up to Jason when you don’t have the energy. The one who said he wanted to run away with your group and be a traveling circus in his van.

If the boys were your family, Eddie was your bona fide brother. You can’t take the disappointment, but the question is out and he’ll know no matter what you say. The silence would double - it was true and you were ashamed. You’re tired of being ashamed, though.

“Yeah,” you huff and stand, starting to walk away only to turn right back.

They stare up at you. Whether in disbelief or shock or horror, you can’t ultimately tell.

Your hands shove into your pants pockets and you look at the starlit sky.

You decide to close up before they - before Eddie - can say something to shatter you completely.

“If you have a problem with it: fuck you, but please don’t tell anybody,” you kick up dirt from the road, staring down at your shoe rather than the band of boys, “Like it even matters, people already fucking know.”

Slowly, they all come to a stand in front of you.

“Nobody actually knows,” Eddie lays a hand on your shoulder, “and none of us care.”

“We care,” Jeff steps in, pushing Eddie to the side so he can look you in the eyes, his gaze is kind and his smile is reassuring, “just not in the way you’re worried about.”

“We just want you to be happy,” Grant pitches in, “It might take getting used to, but we still love you.”

“You’re one of us, little witch,” Eddie wraps you in his arms, refusing to let go even as you groan about the lingering smell of cigarettes on his clothes. His embrace is chain tight but you can’t bring yourself to want out of it.

Gareth sticks back in the hopes nobody picks up on the fact that he already knew. You two happen to spot each other from over Eddie’s shoulder, though, and he nods with a thumbs up - you return it. 

I’m proud of you, he mouths.

You spent years wondering what everyone in your life would say about you liking girls. What would your parents say? They were open-minded but you could never be completely sure. What would your neighbors say? What would your classmates say? What would Chrissy have said? Her mom would surely disapprove.

Your arms slowly come around Eddie and you squeeze, head lowering until it’s pressed against his shoulder.

Years wasted pretending your heart didn’t beat just a little faster when a pretty girl would smile at you (back when they did, anyway; before you were a total outcast). Months wasted pretending the welcoming bartender at The Hideout that liked to call you hun had no effect on you. Years pretending you weren’t in love with Chrissy Cunningham.

Chrissy was gone but her hands remained wrapped around your heart. If she couldn’t say she loved you then you were content to lay, heartbroken but alive, with the boys you knew were home.

You hate the way your lashes wet and the way you know Eddie can feel your tears blotting through his Metallica shirt. You feel hands rub your back lovingly and you feel Gareth join the hug with a “don’t tell anyone about this” as if his reputation actually matters to him.

You hated that Chrissy left, but you feel so loved - it’s all you could really ask for. Maybe a little more.

A heavy hiccup falls through you and Eddie presses a tender kiss to your head, just like a big brother would. You’re quiet, but you’re sure they hear you,

“Thanks guys.”

They just hug you tighter.