#Just wanted to draw iris and this came to mind

[pokemonblack3white3]

Anybody else own one of these deaths traps as a kid

[catgirlkirigiri]

Iris my love... gotta have the girly secondary fursona. For gender time. Actually think she's being demoted to fursona number 3 but idk we'll see about the pecking order when refs are all done. She was waaay overdue for a redesign oh shit I just realized I didn't put a color palette on here. Oh well ig too late for that now I am not rearranging that bg

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

BUT, IF YOU HAD TO CHOOSE. ( HOTD x READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! I'm still figuring out how to write him as I mostly do Aegon ( cuz he's highly requested and a part of my fanfic ) <3 pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Lady Ashford! Reader prompt : kinda based off 'The Election of 1800' by Hamilton ( not rlly just the vibe of it ) word count: 1, 000+ words

For as long as you could remember back, you knew one thing for a certain fact, Jacaerys Velaryon was a bastard. Princess Rhaenyra could argue and point that such slanders all came from Queen Alicent and her well known hatred towards her, but it was clear to all those with eyes. He did not bore Targaryen, Velaryon, nor Baratheon features. 

Not an ounce of silver of Targaryen in his locs, not a hint of midnight black that Baratheon’s bore in his locs, not a spec of amethyst in his iris, not a glimmer of their traits to excuse the whispers as lies. If he bore silver locs, you could excuse his dark eyes as not important enough to fret over, for he looked Targaryen enough. If he bore midnight black locs with specs of amethyst in his irises, you could say it was from his Grandmother Rhaenys. But, he held none.

Common features, those of bastardly lineage mocked his face. Curly brown hair, dark brown eyes. Strong features. Strong enough to point question to his Mother’s sworn guard, Ser Harwin. Though, you did pity him. For being damned to be questioned for his parentage. For being mocked by the Gods. For the burden placed upon his shoulders. For having to prove himself constantly, as a man and a Targaryen.

Thus, came the conflict that led you to picking apart his very being in your mind. The upsurge of his Mother’s throne, that soon be his when she drawed her final breath. He needed alliances. He needed men. He needed coin. He needed food. He needed everything that you could offer. With your Father ill, and younger brother still in the cradle, you ruled as Head of House Ashford. 

Chewing on your bottom lip out of habit, you drum your fingers on the armrest of your chair, eyes picking him apart. You did not want to bend the knee to him, to his Mother. It wasn't a matter of believing women should not rule, but you knew it was pointless. A man would rule, the Lords would argue and whisper about bastard blood on the Iron Throne. Because, if bastard blood ruled, what made the Iron Throne so special anymore? So sakrete? What were the limits? Could other nobility be forced to allow their own bastards to take their seats? It was a mess.

Then, there was the issue of what would happen if she did take the Iron Throne. It would cause a battle between her bastards and trueborn sons. It was always what happened. Would  happen. Their ancestors had made it clear when they united the Realm. Men over women, no matter which was born first or who was more competent than the other. If not her younger brother Aegon, then another man would. Daemon. Aemond. Daeron. Her true born sons. Why waste time now and bend the knee when another war would just brew soon enough?

“You are unwed, I can assure you a bountiful match, should you accept⎯” He offers, attempting to sweeten the deal.

“I have no need for a match, I have a match.” You wave away, not hiding your displeasure. 

“Who?” He raises a brow, his eyes panicked.

“Lord Lannister’s nephew, Gaemon, there is no other man you could offer me that would make me stray.” You mock, “Though, I do implore you to try.” 

“My cousin, though admittedly distant related, but he is unwed. Ser Vaemond’s⎯”

“The man your Mother’s husband beheaded?” You scoff, “Was it not after he challenged the rule for Driftmark? You’d offer me his son?”

It was a pathetic offer⎯or rather a pathetic act of desperation, truly. House Velaryon was having their own crisis, whether they wished to admit it or not, who would inherit it? Their heir was dead, pieces littered around Shipbreaker Bay for the fishes to eat. Corlys was old, no heir would sprout from his loins anytime soon. Who would he give it too? His slain brother’s children, or his own bastards? A scoff leaves your lips, there it was again, bastards. The issue of them, of whether they should inherit over trueborn or not, and what Rhaenyra was going to do with them. 

“I would, he’d made a fine husband.” He tries, making you roll your eyes. 

“So would Lord Lannister’s nephew. After all, he is set to inherit when he comes of age, all the wealth of Casterly Rock.” You counter back, “What does your cousin have to offer? The hope of inheriting?”

“His hand.”

“His hand will not feed my family, it will not keep them warm at night.” You slowly rise from your seat, “It will not help my people. So I ask again, what does your cousin have to offer?”

Clasping your hands together, you keep your head held high and proud, lips curled up into a forced thin line. You wanted to insult him. You wanted to damn him to the Seven Hells. You wanted to throw his bastardly lineage in his face. How dare he, a bastard, demean you. How dare he offer you some distant Velaryon’s hand and expect you to revel in such an insulting offer.

You had a Lannister, one set to inherit vast wealth. One who was handsome, and kind. One who made you smile, and laugh. You were more than happy with your betrothed. Did he really think you’d give it all up? To risk your baby brother’s life, his future for him? Someone who’d not ever sit on the Iron Throne. Or for his Mother? A woman who put bastards on the Iron Throne. Who’d pull apart the Realm and traditions for herself? 

“Forgive me, my Lady. But, I am being far more kind than most would be in my position.” He shifts in his seat, his jaw clenching. 

“I could say the same.” You shake your head, “You come into my house, feast on my food, and insult me with such pathetic offers in exchange for so much. I should take your tongue, but I won’t.”

“Very kind of you.”

“It is. Instead, I will let you leave and go to your dragon. You will fly to Dragonstone, and you will tell your Mother to not insult me.” You snap back, “If she truly wishes to ask for much of me, she should give me her son, not some distant relative.”

The more he spoke, the more he tried. The more it made your blood boil and your lips itch to curl up into a hateful sneer. Bastards were monstrous by nature. They bring ruin. He’d bring ruin to the Realm as King, and Rhaenyra was no better trying to excuse his nature. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand, you forcefully take a breath in, shoulders shagging. Duty told you to never let a bastard touch such privileges of trueborns, but honor told you to bend the knee or face the anger of the dragon. It was a thunderous storm in your head, Aegon or Rhaenyra. 

“We can offer your brother⎯” He tries one last time, making your temper flare to a high.

“What? A chance to be a cupbearer to your Mother’s council? Or mayhaps, even, a wife?” You mock, “He is but a babe, still latched to my Mother’s teat. He had no need nor use for a wife. Even so, who would you offer?”

“I am sure a match can be found.” He stands up from his seat, hands clasped at his side.

“Who? Who will wait that long for a babe to grow?” You roll your eyes hard at his words, “Tell me.” 

He stays silent. 

---

[defaist]

Iris

warnings - obsession, obsessive behavior, overboard jealousy, smoking ..

pairings - loser!art donaldson x popular!reader

summary - just like in his favorite song, you were his Iris. He had a small obsession with you but it was like you never saw him. He was invisible to you until you were put together for a project. He wasn’t invisible, not anymore.

just like in his favorite song, you were his Iris and he’d give up forever just to touch you. The way you sauntered down the hallway always attracted his attention though he knew his attention isn’t the one you were trying to attract.

but fuck, you were so hot but you were way too out of his league.

everyday was the same thing, he watched you walk the hallways in the morning. His head following you, unashamed. Next was that class you both had together.

he sat right behind you, staring at your hair with his head resting on his hand. His free hand sketching a drawing out of you in his notebook.

he stayed back during cheer practice to watch you, yes— he kind of was a creep but was he ashamed? kind of?..

he was just like..a ghost in your world. You never even gave him a proper glance when he wished you would.

if he was staring at you and you waved in his direction, he always knew to turn around because it possibly wasn’t him you were waving at.

when in class, your teacher had assigned you partners. You didn’t speak to art much so you were a bit disappointed to be partnered with him. You sighed as you sat next to him, he awkwardly smiled at you.

“Hi.” He mumbled.

“Hi..” you mumbled back, he awkwardly scratched his neck and properly turned to you. “So..the project, who’s house are we doing it at?”

you sat for a bit before answering, “uh..we can go to yours. Totally.” he nodded.

it was a tuesday. You walked with him to his house, he opened the door and let you in. The house was empty and a bit gloomy, a big contrast to yours. “You always home alone?” You asked,

“most of the time.” he answered with a shrug, entering his room. It was pretty clean and organized, he only cleaned it because he knew you were coming over. You stared at all the posters on his wall, you gasped when you saw his Led Zeppelin poster.

“Wow! Led Zeppelin?” You smiled and he nodded, “yeah, you listen?” He asked.

“I literally love them!” You giggled. That just made him fall Inlove with you more, you enjoyed one of his favorite bands! you both sat and tried to start the project but you both kept getting distracted.

laughing at each others awkward jokes, you weren’t bad. You were surprisingly sweet and hilarious, each time you giggled..he wanted to kiss you and shove his tongue down your throat. that’s weird, isn’t it?

when you finally started, it was pretty late. You checked your phone and groaned. “it’s late, I probably should go.”

he nodded, “yeah totally but..uh— you’ll come tomorrow right? cause we barley did anything.” A small forming at his words, you responded. “Definitely, it was fun. You’re pretty cool.”

and after that, he couldn’t even sleep. He was going crazy, crazy at the fact that he was once invisible but now you were calling him cool and being with him was fun.

when you came over the next day, he smiled at you as you both sat on his bed. The bed creaking under your weight, he reached under his pillow and took out something.

“you smoke?” he asked you suddenly and you nodded, he let out a soft chuckle. “Really? I guess— I kinda didn’t expect you too.”

“No one does.” You giggled. now there you both were, smoking with his window open and you were high out of your fucking minds.

both of you traveling downstairs just to get snacks, occasionally. Laughing at the littlest things was something you both did all night until, he just blurted..

“I’m— you know, I have the fattest crush on you.” He laughed, “I just— is it weird to say that I’m thankful for our teacher?” His words earning a laugh out of you,

“I guess..I like you too.” you giggled, and his silly smile grew before he grabbed your face. Kissing you deeply, both of you deep into this kiss. He took this chance and his tongue asked for entrance into your mouth, you agreed. Both your tongues swirling together.

as you both pulled away, his pale face was flushed. He awkwardly laughed and so did you. His pale skin enhanced his very red eyes which made you laugh, “what?— what’s so funny?” He chuckled.

and after that, he wasn’t invisible to you anymore. When you waved in his direction, you were now waving at him. And the best part? you weren’t afraid to be seen with him despite your reputation as a popular girl.

and well— you weren’t dating. It was just a small kiss but it was almost like you were dropping hints that you only wanted to be friends. when you spoke about him or to him, the word friend was always mentioned and it pissed him off.

and at one point, you didn’t wanna be his friend anymore. You had seen his true colors when you had asked for his notebook. He didn’t hesitate to give it to you, not focusing on the fact that there was a billion drawings of you and things written about you in the exact notebook you were holding.

you stared down at the different drawings of you, some of you smiling, others of his point of view from being behind you. Many others and writings right near them and well— as flattering it was, it made you uncomfortable.

you passed him his notebook with hesitation, a look of uncertainty on your face. He raised an eyebrow at you and you just turned away.

after that, everytime he attempted to approach you. You immediately headed another way or into the girls bathroom, knowing he couldn’t enter.

Frustration built within art as he saw you with someone new, one of those basketball players. He wasn’t kidding when he thought about beating his ass, showing him that he wasn’t worth your time or even a glance.

and that’s how the huge fight broke out, a circle surrounding him and your boyfriend. He wasn’t even thinking as he punched and punched back, and now he was in the nurses off.

you walked in and shook your head, staring at him holding an ice pack to his head. His lip bleeding along with other injuries. You scoffed, “art, what the hell were you thinking fighting my boyfriend?”

he shrugged and stayed silent before you scoffed and walked out. He frowned as he watched you walk away through the door.

“highschool fucking sucks.” He grumbled. “Thankfully I’m graduating this year.”

well— he lost two things this year. This fight and a change to go out with you, great.

[serensama]

Thursday Bangers: Dr, Who?

Eighth instalment! How crazy hahah >_< As always, I must thank and send all the love to @woundedsoul12 for this game and KICK ASS song choice this week. I love this song and had been secretly hoping it would be chosen (granted a little later for um... other reasons) but I hope I made it work XD As always- went over board - over 5k so, yes, LONG POST.

Read on Ao3

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow, You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be, And I don't wanna go home right now ~ Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

——— 

They sat in the backseat of the Uber, and Neve was chatting about something to do with shoe polish, nail polish or Polish sausage, but she just couldn’t keep her mind from straying to a certain man with cheekbones so sharp they should have been classified as weapons. Lips so plush that she wanted to spend hours just nibbling on them and-

“... Want a napkin for your drool?”

“Huh?” she answered eloquently, turning to face her quickly, a surprised look on her dazed face. Neve laughed and leaned against the side of the door, taking a long look at her and laughing even harder. “What?! What is it?”

“You really bloody like this guy.”

“What the hell are you talking about now?” Lilya groused, shirking away and sitting with her back ramrod straight against the seat.

“You were spacing out with a dreamy look on your face. You have never done that except when you first started dating Ashur; you certainly haven't done it since. Well, I mean, except for right now, of course,” she said, leaning over to pinch her friend’s cheek and getting pinched in return. “Ah- hey! Don’t shoot the messenger! It’s not my fault you’re so repressed, you didn’t notice it!”

Lilya threatened to pinch her again, but kept her hands to herself. It was hardly fair to do so when her friend was right. She really hadn’t noticed, just told herself it was all in her head and that it was hormones and couldn’t be anything else… especially with someone like Illario Dellamorte. Even with the things she had to dismiss because it was a secondhand account from Lucanis, it didn’t mean he wasn’t splashed around in the society pages.

After her initial meeting with him, her mild obsession took over her, so she did the perfectly normal thing to do: she googled the shit out of him. He wasn’t hard to find, and he wasn’t particularly secretive about who he was and what he did. He’d been seen with different debutantes and heiresses from around the world, attending fashion shows, and of course, she’d heard his name spoken by people in her circle at times, though she never paid attention to it. They didn’t run in the same crowds, but it didn’t mean their lives couldn’t occasionally intersect. Both of them came from money; his older than hers, but both names and fortunes were well respected. Outside of their family businesses, they were unlikely to have met, except perhaps as a brief greeting at a benefit or a mutual acquaintance’s gala event.

And yet. They met. And every subsequent time they met, the feeling in her chest grew more insistent… she didn’t want to admit it, but not being able to kiss him before physically hurt, like something was torn away from her. She kept herself hidden, hiding behind the pretence of professionalism and what was right. She had followed the rules; her patient was well looked after and no longer under her care. There was no hard and fast length of time that she had to wait to start something with Illario, but still, she would need to speak to her licensing board. Was that something she wanted to do? Did she want to risk her credibility, possibly undermine people’s trust in her, just because she had a little crush? That stuff followed you forever. Was this worth the pain? Could she live without ever knowing?

“Hey Neve.”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna abuse your powers as a detective?”

Neve sent her a sidelong glance and crossed her arms. “... I’m listening.”

“You want to get me Illario’s address? If I recall correctly, he lived uptown because it only took about ten minutes to get to my clinic from his place… I don’t really remember much because I ran out of his house so quickly the last time. This way I can go there real quick and confirm whether all I’m feeling is just me being hornier than I’ve ever felt, or if I actually like him you know.. as a person and stuff.”

Their driver choked on his drink.

“Yeah… no. Not doing that for you. Surely there’s someone in your family who knows him. Just ask them. Go to his office-”

“I’m not doing that again.”

“Again? Maker, I need to be caught up on the latest gossip.”

“Thank you for nothing, you upstanding pillar of the law.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now I’m going to have to call him.”

“...You had his number all this time?” Neve stared at her agape, shaking her head at her friend.

“Yeah?”

“And you didn’t call him?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Damn. That’s big. Such restraint from your part.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re obviously really into him, Lil.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“I have eyes. They both work just fine. I may only have one leg, but both my eyes are in tip-top shape. You’re biting your lip, your right leg is bouncing nervously, and your left thumb is flicking at each fingertip- you’re nervous. You’re excited. It’s cute.”

“Shut up. Just keep smoking and ruin your eyes already, stop seeing things so well.”

“Damn. Such a hater.”

The phone was ringing and she was so close to hanging up, freaking out that she was about to get his voicemail and she didn’t know what to say. ‘Hey Illario, it’s Lilya. Uh. Dr Lilya de Riva… in case you know more Lilya’s. Anyway, Yeah. So, this is my number, and now you have it. Now, I’m going to anxious-puke into this driver’s backseat console. Bye.’ That would charm the pants right back on to him and super glue them in place.

She was going to hang up-

“Hello?”

Shit. Damn. Shit. Shit!

“...Hello?”

Lilya squeezed her eyes shut and weathered the good-natured slaps from Neve after she heard the deeper voice on the other end of the line.

“Maker, Zara, if this is you-”

“I sure hope you don’t lump me in the same boat as your ex, Mr. Dellamorte,” she replied, Neve nodding and silently snapping her fingers to amp her up. She was a shit, but she was her shit, Maker bless her. Lilya heard a surprised huff, and a delicious chuckle followed. She could imagine him dipping further into the seat of his town car, his head thrown back on the headrest, his hand deep in his pocket, and the biggest grin on his face. As if he had won a bet, and her crawling back to him was his prize.

“I would never, Doc. It hurts that you think I ever would,” he said swiftly, and Lilya could hear the smile in his voice. It almost made her want to hang up just to spite him, but that would get them nowhere. “Zara is a breed unto her own. But then again, so are you-”

“...What?!”

“She is an accident of nature. You are the pinnacle of it, hardly comparable.”

Oh, he was smooth; she would give him that.

Neve mouthed, ‘ask for his address,’ and Lilya smacked her, earning a kick in the shin from her prosthetic, and she yelped loudly, causing Illario to ask if she was okay, obvious concern flooding his tone. Her friend whispered her apologies and tried to rub her smarting leg, the commotion resulting in their hushed voices talking over each other.

“Stop it!”

‘‘No, I’m so sorry!”

“Would you stop touching me!”

“Oh, Lil, I feel terrible. I take it back, you can sleep with Elek.”

“What the hell is going on over there?” he asked, his amusement shadowed by worry that the woman might accept the offer to sleep with another man. “Lilya?!”

Lilya pushed her friend off of her and put the phone back to her ear, cursing that she would sound more winded and agitated than before. “Hi, yes, yes, I’m here! Sorry about that. If you see that a woman was killed in the back seat of her Uber, and her friend was the prime suspect, I was with you all evening? Okay?”

She heard him laugh, and she hated to admit that she liked how it sounded- deep and rich. “You got it, alibi secured, you were with me all night- murder away.”

Lilya paused and reminded herself that fortune only favoured the brave. “Do… Do you think we could make that alibi… real?” she said, instantly smacking her forehead to her palm, if that didn’t sound like the worst way to invite herself over for a booty call, she didn’t know what was.

A long stretch of silence played on between them as Illario processed what she had said.

“Um… hello?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Doc.”

“It’s fine. Ignore me. I just… I’m going to go- I’m so sorry to call you so late-”

“I’ll text you my address… unless you want to text me yours?”

“I… we’re not going to have sex!” she blurted out, Neve snorting in the background, and again, Illario laughed.

“Well, that’s a shame, but I figured as much. I’ll send it to you now, see you soon,” he said, promptly hanging up.

---

The woman never failed to surprise him.

Just half an hour ago, he had formulated a plan to win the woman over; he was going to break down her walls, systematically destroy every argument she had to oppose him, and bend every rule there was to get to her. Nothing was going to stop him.

Except her, apparently. Beating him to the punch.

His driver pulled out in front of his building as instructed, and Illario sat back and laughed.

---

Lilya finished fixing herself up - “Yeah, you’re definitely not here to have sex aye, Lil, there’s another reason why you’re pushing your tits up and over your dress” - and pressed call icon under his name, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder as she climbed out of the car. She didn’t even hear one full ring before it cut off to his voicemail, the generic robotic voice telling her to leave a message, and she hung up, ready to text him back saying she was in front of his building.

“Fancy seeing you here, Doc.”

It was unfair that the man moved so smoothly that he made walking look like he was dancing. She was so entranced by him that he had almost made it to the front of the Uber.

“N-No, wait, stop!” she called out, arm out in front of her, shocking the man to pause with a confused look. “I just… You need to be over there, and I need to be here.”

Illario stuck his tongue in his cheek and grinned, trying not to snicker. “Oh, you do? I wonder why that is?”

“Oh, don’t tease me, Mr Dellamorte,” she sassed him back, hugging his jacket tighter around him, which for some reason he seemed to approve of.

“Why not? You know from experience just how good at it I am.”

He licked at his incisor, and Lilya was tempted to tell him to stop doing that, but she knew he’d relish it far too much. Because she would, if she were in his shoes. Lilya pressed her lips together and shooed him back, Illario raising his arms with his elbows bent in question as he stepped backward until he was in line with the back of his car. “Alright… that’s… that’s far enough.”

“I’m sorry- are you talking? I can’t hear you from over here in Orlais,” he called out, shoving his hands into his pockets. Maker. She hadn’t noticed before but he had rolled up his sleeves and she could see his toned forearms, part of her remembering how some of his veins had become more visible when he had held her up by her hips and she- damn it.

“Just… please, you owe me, remember?” she said, with enough edge to her voice that made Illario drop his usual tone. He gently dipped his head to show he yielded and stood there quietly, waiting for her next move. “I don’t know… whatever it is this is that seems to be between us,” she started, searching for the right words, “but… it will not let me be. I am not too proud to say that you have been on my mind more than I care to admit. But I am not sure if that’s just because we have good chemistry, or if there’s an actual connection there. And I need to know.”

Illario tilted his head to the side and appraised her, unsure of what she meant. Wasn’t that the same thing?

“I know next to nothing about you, the real you, we’ve met less than a handful of times, and we did not do a lot of talking for it to be a viable connection. But I can’t help but wonder… if I'm wrong. And if I am- am I okay with never knowing that?”

He took a moment to mull over her words and deemed them fair enough. Logically, what she said was correct, but for him, it didn’t quite fit. He had never experienced what they shared before in his life; he had so many partners and some of the most intense sexual escapades one could have, but none left him reeling like that night with her. The kisses they shared in his office had felt like he was able to think again, as if everything noisy within him had gone quiet, stilled, and steady. Nothing in his life had ever been able to do that, no drink, no drug, no one. Except this woman who picked him up from a bar and then literally ran out of his life.

“How do you propose to answer this?” he asked, crossing his arms and fixing her with a discerning stare.

“We shall play a game.”

“... A…game?”

“Mhmm. You ask a question, and if I like the answer, you can step forward; if I don’t, you take a step back. I will do the same. Until we either finally meet or stay apart. Do you agree?”

“Does that count as the first question?”

“Illario.”

“Step forward.”

“What?”

“You called me by my name. I liked your answer. Please step forward.”

Lilya’s laughter bubbled out of her without her realising, covering her mouth to stifle herself, as she didn’t need one of his uppity neighbours calling the police on her for being unruly. Though thankfully, it was Antiva, the city never truly slept. “You tricky bastard. I get to ask two questions now.”

“What the hell- that’s not how you said we played the game.”

“I also didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Are you sure you’re not a lawyer? That doesn’t seem like a therapist-y thing to say.”

“I am. That counts as another one of your questions, by the way, so now I guess I have three questions in a row to ask you,” she said, doing her best not to smile or gloat. Illario’s eyes squinted at her as a grin appeared on his face, chuckling into his hand when he knew he’d been played.

“Please step forward again. What can I say, I liked your answer, Doc. Almost makes me wish you worked for me, that’s some hard ball negotiating even I couldn’t argue against… but I guess if you did work for me, we wouldn’t be here in front of my building playing this weird game at midnight, so, I’ll just be happy you’re not on my payroll.”

“You couldn’t afford me on your payroll.”

“I am wealthy.”

“So am I… and if you tell me to step forward because of that answer, I will lose it.”

Illario raised his hands in surrender and mock innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, it wasn’t a question.”

Three questions. She had three questions to ask him when there were so many that raced around her mind. Go with your gut, it hasn’t led you astray yet. “Alright, what were you doing in the club tonight?”

“I was going to meet someone there for business, I hadn’t expected to find you there.” She nodded, and he took a step forward.

“If money weren’t an object, what would you be doing with your life?”

He paused and took the time to think out his answer. “The thing is, Doc… money isn’t an issue. I’ve never really thought about it because I didn’t think I could think about it. My life has been planned for me since the day I was born. This is who I am. I don’t think… the question should be if money weren’t an object. It should be, if I weren’t a Dellamorte, what would I be doing with my life?”

She had not expected him to be so candid, especially with the witty and flirty responses she had become accustomed to. Lilya nodded again, and he took a step. “Do you see yourself in a committed relationship in the future?”

“Yes.”

It was the way he said it, with his eyes pinned to hers and the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, that made her swallow audibly. He said that with his whole chest. No hesitation. Eyes on the prize. That’s the second time she thought of herself as a prize, that was some egotistical shit right there. She felt herself nod, and he took a larger step toward her, but she said nothing against it, for he answered a big question.

“That’s three questions. My turn. Why did you call me?”

“I-” she stopped talking, about to give some stupid answer, but she owed it to herself to be honest. “... My friend in the car there… shared some keen insight with me that I truly hadn’t considered, and I needed to make sure before resigning myself to a course of action. What-ifs always kill me.”

“Take a step, Doc.”

Lilya took a step forward and realised she was already in front of the side mirror of the car, and Illario was already midway by the driver’s window. “Who was the one that got away?”

He leaned back and laughed, his eyes crinkling shut with such mirth that she was inspired to smile back at him.

“Doc… isn’t it obvious?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Believe it or not, I am not accustomed to anyone running away from me, let alone getting away from me.”

“So is that it- you’re just intrigued because I’m the first one who didn’t fall over themselves to be with you straight away?”

“That may be a part of it. I don’t know,” he shrugged, still smiling like an idiot. “All I do know is that there is something about you, something in me can’t shake. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to forget about you, I’ve tried to meet other people, but whatever it is inside me doesn’t seem to want to work if it’s not you.”

“They have pills for that now, by the way. Small. Blue. Popular with the men, I hear.”

“Fuck me, Doc, you’re killing me here,” he groaned, shaking his head with a grin.

The sound of a window rolling down, and they were met with a very unimpressed Neve. She looked up at Lilya and tapped on her phone at the time. “Are we planning to stay here all night? Henry needs to get to sleep; he has an early start tomorrow.”

“Who the hell is Henry?” Lilya asked, utterly befuddled.

“Our driver! He’s been waiting here, watching you two play footpath footsie for the last ten minutes, and we’re his last ride. Either you wrap this up now, or we need to let him go.”

Illario strode forward and bowed down slightly in front of Neve’s door with his right hand over his heart in apology. “I am so sorry to you and your driver, please, let my driver take you wherever you need to be.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m invested now,” Neve replied nonplussed. “And I’m not leaving her without a ride, without a witness. I don’t care how pretty you are, there’s just no way. Not with what I’ve seen in this world,” she said, looping her arm around Lilya’s waist. The doctor looked upon the detective with grateful eyes and hugged her back, thankful to have such a friend.

“Alright, Dellamorte, speed round- if I told you we needed to wait two years because I need to adhere to what my licensing board expected of me after reporting this, what would you do? Would you move on, or would you wait with the possibility that whatever you’re feeling would dissipate before the time was even finished?”

“I’d wait.”

“You can’t answer that quickly!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something that can be answered quickly, especially by someone who spent ages pondering what they’d like to do if they were able to!”

“Well, I’m not just anyone. I’m the CFO of our conglomerate. My job involves literally looking at something, running the numbers, casting projections, reviewing potential returns on investments, and analysing our cost-to-benefit ratio for all our acquisitions. I already know that if I invest two years of time in you, whatever I get would produce a return I can’t even quantify. There is only one risk I can see.”

“What’s that?”

“That you don’t see the same when you look at me.”

Lilya’s hand shot out and grabbed Neve by the arm, fingers wrapping around her wrist tightly, as if to ground her and convince herself she wasn’t dreaming. Her friend’s hand rested on top of hers and squeezed back.

“Shit, Lil. If you don’t kiss him, I just might.”

Illario smirked. He almost said “I’m game” in reflex when he realised that, surprisingly, he wasn’t. There was another beautiful woman in front of him paying a compliment he’d normally eat up, but he could only focus on the one who had been haunting him for months on end.

“Take… take many steps forward,” Lilya said against her better judgement.

Neve clucked her tongue and moved toward Illario’s car, talking over her shoulder in their general direction. “I will hop in with -“

“Marcel.”

“That’s right, thank you, Illario. I’ll hop in with Marcel and circle the block a few… dozen… times. You two talk. I’ll be back soon… ish. Lil, I’m a phone call away. He does anything- you call me, and you won’t even need an alibi if something happens to him.”

“Tough words from the cop who wouldn’t even get me an address.”

Neve turned on her heel and pressed her hand daintily to her chest as if she were offended. “There are some sacred lines you just don’t cross, Lil. I’ll be back. Make good choices. Remember, public indecency isn’t cool. So don’t get caught.”

“Just go, Neve!”

Lilya exhaled and closed her eyes, exasperated at her bestie’s antics. She heard the click of his shoes against the pavement and knew he took liberty with how many steps were classified as “many,” stopping short, just in front of her. It was her fault. She had not been specific.

“What is truly holding you back?” he asked, hands twitching at his sides with his need to touch her again. Up close, he could see it, the flicker of emotions, the rapid fire of thoughts as they moved across her face. She was choosing her words carefully, weighing them not just for him, but for herself as well.

“The professional aspects are a real concern. It is. I worked too long, too hard and care about my patients too much to lose everything- because my licence can be taken away from me, because of this,” Lilya said as she wildly gestured between them. She took a breath and hugged herself, knowing there was no point in indulging her self-denial any longer. “And yeah, that’s not just it- there’s more luggage than that to unpack. I know there is, and none of it is your fault. I don’t know quite how to fix it because there was no one worth fixing it for before”

He gave in to his desire, reaching for her waist and pulling her gently toward him, closing the last sliver of distance- bringing them back to where they’d been earlier that evening, earlier that day. Just a breath apart. Lilya’s hands moved without thought, settling against his chest. The fine silk of his shirt was warm beneath her fingers, smooth and soft, just like the skin she remembered, the skin she shouldn’t still be thinking about. But she was.

“Final question… You seem willing to go through with this. The waiting. My ethical responsibilities. The crazy friends I keep in the wings to torment you… all of it…”

“That’s a statement, not a question. It’s a true statement surely, but not a question, Doc.”

Lilya’s nails lightly grazed along his chest as she curled her hands into fists, a frown playing at her lips. “The question is… would you go through with all of it, even if it meant hurting your cousin? Because it might. It could really hurt him if we were to continue. Are you willing to do that?”

Illario froze. Could it? Could he?

Lilya smiled sadly at his hesitation- read him like a headline. She took a step back, both of them instantly colder for it.

“And that… that right there. That is why we can’t do this.”

He reached for her, his instincts overriding everything, but she stepped further out of his reach. Illario could feel his heart pounding in his chest as she took another. They were so close, right there, and he felt the chance slip through his fingers. How did the closing of this door feel worse than any of his actual relationships? Were they all so shallow that this flicker of real, actual connection with someone meant more to him than anything he had before? Was that a thing?

“… Yeah, Neve. Come back. It’s okay- I’m fine, I’m fine, we’ve just finished talking. Mhmm. Yup. We’ll get another ride. See you soon.”

Clearing his throat, Illario blinked a few times to come back to himself. “You can take my car. I said he’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“ I couldn’t-“

“You can. You should. Please, I insist.”

“I… thank you.”

They stood in silence as they waited for Neve to return. Lilya shivered and suddenly realised she was still wearing his jacket.

“I should- your jacket”

“It’s fine. Keep it until you get home.”

“Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

An eternity passed as they stood side by side, the awkward tension growing by the second. She wanted to tell him to go inside, but she knew he’d tell her he wasn’t going to leave her alone, and then it would be even more awkward because it would make her heart flutter. Even more than the mere thought of it already did.

“Just tell me this. What was the point then, of coming here? Of this entire exercise?”

“If it were just about sex, then I might be able to sublimate that I’m human and I can make one more mistake. Get you out of my system. But I think... that it’s more than chemistry. And to go into anything with that knowledge, I can’t even pretend to know how to face doing that every day. To choose to make a mistake that hurts the people I promised to help, every day. That’s not who I am.”

“So if it was just sex that’d be fine, but because I actually like you, that’s what makes it worse?!”

“Yes.”

“You shrinks are messed up, you know that?”

“Yes.”

“So what… this is it. For real. No chance of anything, now or in two years?”

“… Yes.”

He swallowed as an acrid taste, like something burnt, bloomed at the back of his throat. “Fine. Then, please, as a man who makes mistakes, may I just have one more? For our old fuck-ups’ sake?”

She looked at him for a moment, something fragile and knowing in her eyes, and then she nodded- slowly, solemnly- with no illusions or promises. Just the quiet agreement of two people who had already said goodbye in everything but gesture.

He stepped down off the curb. She stood slightly above him on the footpath, and he couldn’t help but notice, with a flicker of fond amusement he knew he shouldn’t have, that even now, he was still taller. Illario reached up, brushing a few stray hairs from her face, fingers longing to linger upon her skin. She was still utterly, impossibly enchanting, more so in this moment, wrapped in silence and streetlight and the ache of what they wouldn’t become. And maybe that’s why it hurt. Because she was standing right there, close enough to touch, but still not his.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then her temple. And finally, a last, gentle kiss to her lips. Chaste, reverent, a farewell shaped from the affection he bore her from the fleeting moments they had shared. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t have to. They both knew this was the end of it.

When he stepped back, the space between them felt even heavier than before. He had wanted to say something cool or suave or, at the very least, memorable, but his car turned the corner and he missed his chance. Again.

A cold wind tugged at her as if it was urging her to stay back, but her feet remained rooted to the spot. The tension between them, once warm with possibility, cooled fast, like a breath on glass- already fading. She reached for the right words, but found none that would give him the solace he deserved after what she put them through, to sate her own damn curiosity.

“For whatever it’s worth,” she began, meeting his eyes one last time, “I’m thankful to know it was more than sex between us. I’ll mourn it… and be grateful. For what could have been. And I’ll rest easier knowing it wasn’t just chemistry- it was real.” She inhaled sharply, bracing herself. “It just… couldn’t be.”

The silence stretched on between them, tremulous, terrible and tender.

The car pulled up behind him, its headlights slicing through the darkness like a spotlight on a stage, the last act of their messy play. He stepped back, his face unreadable, jaw clenched in silent compliance. He opened the door for her without a word, but his eyes followed her like she was about to step behind a closing curtain he wasn’t ready to let fall.

“Goodbye, Mr. Dellamorte.”

A nod.

“See you around, Dr de Riva.”

Their formality a shield, an effort at dignity between them as they both unravelled.

She slid into the car and he did not look away, even as the shadows stole her from him.

She collapsed into Neve’s waiting arms, embracing her without hesitation, like she’d been bracing for the impact all along. Neve had always known when Lilya was coming apart; she’d learned to listen for her unspoken words long before they were ever said. Lilya tucked her head beneath Neve’s chin, her voice muffled but unmistakably raw. “I don’t want… I can’t be alone tonight. Can I stay with you?”

Neve rested her cheek on the top of her head, her hands rubbing at her arms in quiet reassurance. “Yeah, of course. I’ll have to tidy a little… okay, a lot… but yeah. Of course.”

Lilya closed her eyes. Guilt coiled low in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if she’d made the right choice for her, for them- only that she had made a choice. And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

---

Outside, the car pulled away, its taillights fading into the dark. He stood there, unmoving, like a damned statue carved from an artist’s confusion and regret, watching until even the red smear of light had vanished into the night. He didn’t follow. He couldn’t. Not now. Not after that.

He laughed again, at himself, for he'd fancied himself a hunter. Told himself he would chase her, sweep her off her feet. She really never failed to surprise him. He hadn’t expected her to look at him with those big, bright eyes that told him yesand no within the same breath. She’d given him a taste of maybe, just long enough for him to believe, before snatching it away from them both like a cruel trick, some malicious sleight of hand.

She wanted him. Maker, he knew that much. She did too. It was heard in her trembling voice, felt in the way her hands had touched him, seen from the shine in her eyes she blinked back too quickly to be ever called tears- but it was there, she was there. But wanting wasn't enough. Not for her. Not when it meant hurting Lucanis. So she left- noble, broken and beautiful in retreat.

And he stood there, thoughts soaked in bitterness, drowning in the quiet. A would-be hunter, shot down before the hunt even began. Wounded not by her rejection, but by the brief flare of promise. He was just a man who wandered too close to the flame and never learnt, no matter how many times he was burnt. All he could do was bleed out silently in the dark, as she slipped away and the night closed in behind her.

Softly tagging: @jenn2d2 @rookamell @davrinsleftpectoral @thedissonantverses @mythals-whore @kabsey @brennacedria @talkmagically @gingervitus @jukkaricity @basedonconjecture @serstolas @selennes @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody @hedwigoprah @himluv and anyone else who may want to play!!! <3

[winniefrezcomics]

How many kids do iris and perry have ??

Eight!! And that’s NOT counting any babies or crisis kids they’ve fostered over the years, just the permanent family members! (Easiest to see them all in this comic, further explanation/design credits below 🫶)

I’ll ramble more about thier human versions and backstories when I finally draw a proper lineup of them BUT!! (Inhales deeply)

As stated in the past, all the PerrIris kids are human versions of Perirep fankids designed by beloved mutuals! 💕

The first was WREN- made by Winter_blossom9 https://x.com/winter_blossom9?s=21&t=Su86tNHhEwY3o6hoLmiSHw this adoption was UNPLANNED, as they had to rescue one of Perry’s students from a bad home situation, but quickly realized they loved being parents, and that’s when the chain reaction started lol

Then came thier bio twins/wish babies, Westly and Annie, after wren asked for a baby sibling!! These adorable beans were Designed by @phobylee / @theharbingerofdoomtime and @perisprinkles / @zennyzach -and Zach drew this ADORABLE peice of dad Iris with the twins that always kills me 😭😭

Next came ELI, a troubled kid designed by https://x.com/dimtraveller?s=21&t=Su86tNHhEwY3o6hoLmiSHw who grows to love his adopted parents very much, but is slow to trust, so he has LEZAH (now an offical working godparent!!) assigned to him to assist with his adjustment period

Next was THE BIG one, where Dusty was adopted as a playmate for wren and Eli, since they didn’t get along super well, designed by my discord fren @shibadino !

The reason I call it “the big one” tho, is that Dusty was adopted on the same day and Ellen and Nelle, the teenage twin sisters! Designed by @sandyferal

(Perry and Iris were only expecting to come home with one kid, but after hearing about another “problem child” Iris convinced his husband that the two girls were equally in need of a home, despite Ellen not even WANTING to be adopted at first, and having to be convinced by her sister . Nowadays though, Ellen has come to love her family just as much as Nelle does, and is fiercely protective of her younger siblings, even the ones she hasn’t known as long and dusty ;w; )

The most recent addition to thier family is baby tulip, designed by @uolivegb !!💕

Now listen, I KNOW that seems CRAZY, but keep in mind!!! Perry was an elementary school teacher for like a DECADE, so he’s very used to dealing with WAY more than eight kids, and couldn’t be happier to have built such a big happy family with the man he loves more than anyone else in the universe, even if that man also happens to be the person who’s caused him the most STRIFE of anyone in the universe 😂😂

As for Iris, he loves his ‘minons’ more than anything, and has never found more fulfillment than he has in parenting, ESPECIALLY when it comes to getting through to children who were deemed “difficult” the way HE was as a kid 😭

Uuuuuhhhhh ANYWAY, thank u to anyone who read this far dhwdjejjdjd, and ESPICALLY HUGE THANK YOU to all of my beloved mooties who lent me thier babies’ likenesses to incorporate into my aus canon!! 💕💕💕❤️❤️❤️🫶🫶🥺🥺

I’ll do a proper lineup/timeline soon but for now here’s a sneak peek at yet another disgustingly wholesome family comic w my dumb queer dads and thier hundred children shdhdbdbdhd (context on previous page but I recant finished it and also that’s the image limit wheeze)

[kikikoifish]

AYOOO NEW POSTER CHATT 🗣🗣

Guys Bonnie mentioned 🗣🗣🎉🎉✨️

I'm gonna yap if yall want to stay and hear me babble about lore for a sec (we would love if you stayed 😊)

I was playing Security Breach with a friend yesterday, but something I noticed while starting was the color of Freddy's eyes. Now some of you know the art of Vanny, GlamBonnie, and Glitchtrap I did just the other day (link here), but I realized that Bonnie and Freddy have the same eye color, a bright yellowish-white. Wheras the other animatronics have their normal eye colors. This was something I had never realized before, and I think it's an interesting thing to look into!

Here is a list of things that I think might be relevant when considering the meaning or significance of eye color in Security Breach:

In all promotional material, the animatronics have their "normal" eye colors (for Freddy this is typically blue, but ocassionally appears to be more indigo or violet, as well as a few times having plain black irises)

In the opening sequence, all have their normal eye colors, including Freddy

Freddy's eye color changes to yellow-white after he boots up in safe mode

Even after he collapses after attacked by moon (this is when moon drags him away and Gregory must do the Endo section), Freddy's eyes are still on and white-yellow

Bonnie's eye color in all promotional art is either a dark pink or magenta color, with one cutout of him falling in particular being much more akin to a maroon color

Bonnie's eye color when we find his body is yellow-white, the same shade as the wet floor bot's eye color. When we deactivate all wet floor bots, his eyes return to his normal dark pink color.

SOMETHING OF NOTE: while Freddy's irises are yellow-white with his pupils are black, we only see Bonnie with yellow-white irises and pupils.

The wet floor bots all have the same yellow-white "eye" color

Freddy's eyes change purple when being mind controlled by Burntrap/Glitchtrap/Mimic??

In the different endings of the came with the comic-style drawings, we actually see Freddy with multiple different eye colors (despite all canonically needing to be completed after he receives Roxy eyes)

Car Escape Ending: Freddy has his normal blue eyes

VIP Ending: Freddy has yellow eyes like Roxy

Dissasemble Vanny Ending: Freddy has blue eyes as he begins to power off

Princess Quest Ending: Freddy has blue eyes again

Dissasemble Freddy Cutscene: his eyes are still yellow-white here like in game

Burntrap Ending Cutscene: his eyes are white-yellow here as well

In a Playstation State of Play GIF, we can see the main Glamrock Animatronics going up the main stage elevator, all appearing to have their normal iris color, but instead with piercing red pupils

It also appears that Freddy's eyes are yellow-white in his minigame in Help Wanted 2, but he may be the only one who has this? If anyone has more info about Help Wanted 2 that would be helpful, as I've never played it myself and don't know enough of the smaller details like eye color and stuff.

Current Theory!!

I still have a lot more research to do, but my current theory is that the change in eye color signifies that they are booted in Safe Mode, since that could be the main similarity between them. However, considering Bonnie is not likely to be functional or present, that could be why his pupils aren't black. However, the fact that he's still powered on is telling. So is it possible that he lives through the wet floor bots? Or that he receives power from the bots, since he powers off when they are powered off? Honestly I think it's a mixture of both!! The pupils tell us he's not present in his own body, but the yellow tells us he's not gone completely.

Sorry this isn't a super polished theory yet!! I want to spend more time working on this, so thank you for being patient!! I hope you guys have a good day, and that this gives you somw things to think about :D

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |12|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of The Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You were in Clarisse’s bathroom finishing setting up everything you’d need to create a rainbow. You had the shower running, Clarisse found a smaller mirror you could use to help reflect that light from the window to the mirror above the sink. It took a few minutes but once everything was positioned properly you pulled out a gold drachma, your last one, and tossed it into the rainbow.

You closed your eyes after a minute, silently hoping this would work. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Thalia’s voice, yelling at some of the other Hunters about how to set up the camp. You let out a shaky breath, the noise seeming to draw Thalia’s attention.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

“Language!” You heard one of your sisters yell. A moment later she popped up through the mist, her eyes widening as soon as she saw you. “Oh, my gods, you’re alive!”

“Get Artemis,” Thalia demanded, your sister instantly took off at the order. “I can’t believe you’re alive, what happened?”

You nodded; you probably shouldn’t have been so surprised at their shock. You knew you had just up and disappeared, but you didn’t think they’d all assume you were dead.

“What’s going on?” Artemis’s voice came, a second later she appeared next to Thalia. She turned, her eyes widening upon seeing you.

“Apologies my goddess,” you rasped out. Your voice suddenly a lot drier than it had previously been. “I did not mean to disappear on you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“What happened?” Artemis asked softly. “We were beginning to think the worst.” Even through the iris message you could see the care and worry in your goddesses’ eyes. The loss of Zoe was still fresh and then you up and disappeared for you didn’t know how long, you were sure it wasn’t easy on Artemis or the Hunters.

“You look like shit,” Thalia said. Artemis quickly shot her a glare and Thalia was quick to mumble an apology. “Seriously, did you like take a shortcut through the underworld?”

“I wish,” you sighed. “I was downtown, picking up the ambrosia and nectar when I saw Clarisse.” Thalia’s widened in shock, but Artemis tilted her head at the unknown person. “She’s a daughter of Ares from camp Half-Blood.”

“The one you’ve been communicating with,” Artemis concluded.

Your entire body tensed up. Artemis knew you were talking to someone from camp you had befriended but she didn’t know much more. You were afraid of her knowing more, if she saw you and Clarisse together, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d pick up on the fact that you had feelings for the other girl. You might not have crossed any lines yet but that didn’t mean Artemis would be forgiving. She could decide Clarisse was a distraction and order you to cut contact with her. Still, you nodded nonetheless, confirming what Artemis already knew.

“She’s the one that’s been missing,” Thalia added. You furrowed your brow at that. You weren’t too surprised that Chiron and the camp knew she was gone but you weren’t sure how Thalia knew. “I talked to Annabeth.” Now that made sense.

“Chiron asked us to keep an eye out for a missing camper,” Artemis said. “He mentioned how they hadn’t met their check-in’s and last he heard from them they were still in the city.”

“How long were we gone?” You asked. You tried processing everything they were telling you. A day or two would be worrisome but not enough to inform others. If Chiron asked Artemis and the Hunters to keep an eye out that meant you had to have been in the labyrinth for a significant amount of time.”

“Three months.” Your eyes widened at that. You were thinking maybe a few weeks at most, not three whole months.

“It only felt like two days,” you mumbled to yourself. Two days in the labyrinth, one night, and yet on the outside world it had been three months.

“You found it,” Thalia whispered, her eyes widening.

Your eyes snapped back up to hers. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the mission. She talked to Annabeth regularly, they were best friends, she was probably the only person outside of Annabeth, Chiron, and Clarisse to know about it. You slowly nodded your head.

“What were you doing with her?” Artemis asked. “How did you end up in the labyrinth?” You weren’t even surprised that she knew as well, Chiron probably informed her what Clarisse was working on when she went missing.

“I saw Clarisse looking around a hotel across the street from where I was,” you said. “I knew she was on a secret mission but didn’t know what for. After she told me, I suggested searching the basement instead of outside the hotel.”

“You know she was supposed to just find the door not actually enter, right?” Thalia snarked.

You gave Thalia an unamused look. “That wasn’t intentional.” You glanced back to the closed bathroom door, you could hear Clarisse mumbling and moving around as she talked to Chris. “There was a monster, we took cover and it ended up being the door to the labyrinth.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, we-” there was a loud bang as if something had been thrown at the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

You kept your attention on the door, ignoring Thalia’s question. There was more banging, and you heard Clarisse yelling. You took a step towards the door, ready to fling it open and help Clarisse with whatever she was dealing with. You waited a second and the banging eventually died down.

“You good?” you called out. You needed to be sure that Clarisse answered you and it hadn’t gotten quite because Chris did something.

“Yeah,” Clarisse called out, though it was muffled through the door.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to the ceiling. “Sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “We found Chris.”

Thalia furrowed her brow. “Chris, Chris?” she asked. You nodded, watching as her eyes widened. “Chris Rodriguez, Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell did you find him?” Thalia gestured with her hands.

“Arizona,” you sighed tiredly. Thalia raised her eyebrows at that. “We followed one of Hephaestus’ mechanical spiders, it led us to the door that got us out of the labyrinth which apparently was in Arizona.” You could only shrug, you were glad they knew about the labyrinth because your words sounded insane.

“And why is he still with you?” Thalia asked hesitantly.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. You glanced back at the door as if you could see through it, you remembered the look Clarisse had in her eyes upon seeing Chris like that. You didn’t know how close Clarisse and Chris were before his betrayal, she had never mentioned him, but it was clear she cared for him. Getting him back to her house wasn’t easy, he fought the both of you at every turn, but Clarisse had still treated him with kindness. You wanted to just knock him out and drag him back, but she didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

“He’s not right,” you said quietly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what happened to him in the labyrinth but whatever it was,” you shook your head, flicking your gaze up to meet Thalia and Artemis’s. “It wasn’t good.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Artemis said. “Where are you now?”

“Clarisse’s,” you looked around. “Got lucky it seems, we popped out not to far from her place.”

“We’re camping for the night.”

“Where? I can meet you.” You didn’t want to leave Clarisse so soon after surviving what the two of you just did but you needed to be back with your sisters.

“Rest.” Though Artemis’s tone was soft you couldn’t help but frown. “You look like you need it. We’re leaving at first light, if you leave early morning, we should be able to meet up. You know our usual spot just north of you?”

“Of course,” you nodded. The Hunters always stopped in the same spot if they were passing by. It was a gorgeous natural area, somehow completely secluded and nearly untouched by humans. That was rare to find, and it also happened to be one of the best places to see the stars.

“See you then,” Artemis gave a final nod, then walked away.

You stood there for a moment, staring down at the floor. “Are you okay?” Thalia asked.

You let out a long breath. “The labyrinth…” you shook your head. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Luke might be trying to find a way to make it work for him, but Annabeth needs to be careful with whatever she’s planning.”

Thalia nodded; she was looking off to the side, deep in thought. You didn’t know Annabeth well, you truly only had met her twice, but she was Thalia’s best friend. Thalia didn’t seem thrilled about whatever Annabeth’s plan was. You weren’t sure if Thalia knew all the details about what Annabeth wanted to do but she knew enough and knew Annebeth well enough to be able to guess what her friend’s logic was.

“Do you want me to contact Chiron for you?” Thalia asked after a few seconds.

You shook your head. “Clarisse will,” you sighed. “Once I take over Chris watch.”

“Is he really that bad?”

You nodded. “I’d only ever heard the stories, people losing their mind in the maze, I never imagined it would be like this though.”

Thalia nodded. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It would suck if that not even a year into being Artemis’s lieutenant I lost my second.”

“Had a close call but I don’t intend to die on you.”

Thalia tilted her head at your words, but she didn’t press. You weren’t ready to talk about what happened, you were still processing everything. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” With that you ended the call.

Just as you ended the call you heard more shouting, and stuff being thrown around. You didn’t hesitate this time as you flung open the door and ran out into her bedroom. Your eyes widened at the scene before you. Chris was thrashing around on the bed, reaching for whatever he could get his hands on as Clarisse held him down by the shoulders, trying to pin him. His right hand was still tied, though loose, and he had somehow broken free of the restraint on his left hand.

You rushed forward, ripping the lamp out of Chris’s hand before he could smash it over Clarisse’s head. She glanced at you; eyes wide as they went from you to Chris to the lamp. You nodded at her as you grabbed Chris’s left arm, pushing him harder into the mattress. He was practically foaming at the mouth as he screamed and thrashed around.

You looked at Clarisse until she looked up at you again. “Sorry,” you whispered. She only had time to furrow her brow before you took one of your hands off of Chris and punched him in the face. You didn’t pay attention to Clarisse’s reaction as you punched him in the face two more times, finally knocking him out.

You slumped back, but unable to take your eyes off Chris, you were waiting for him to pop back up and try clawing your eyes out. “We need to restrain him better,” you finally said. “I know you don’t want to hurt him.” You glanced at Clarisse; but her eyes were still on Chris. “But it’s for the best. He could hurt himself or someone else otherwise.” You didn’t move from the side of the bed until Clarisse gave you a nod.

You re-tied and tightened the old fabric Clarisse had torn up to tie Chris to the headboard. You grabbed the extra pieces of fabric and tied them around his ankles then to the posts at the end of the bed. When you were done Clarisse got up from the bed, without a word she began digging through her bag until she pulled out some rope, handing it to you without so much as glancing in your direction. You tied the rope around the fabric as tight as you could without cutting off Chris’s circulation. The rope would hold him in place better, it was stronger, but the fabric underneath it would hopefully prevent it from digging into his wrists when he inevitably woke up and started thrashing around.

“I’m going to contact Chiron,” Clarisse mumbled before heading off to the bathroom.

You decided to plop yourself down in the chair at her desk. You kept an eye on Chris, he twitched every once in a while, like he was in a nightmare, but he didn’t wake up. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, it was like you were getting an inside look at Clarisse’s mind. She had a large stereo on a shelf and her walls were lined with posters, you assumed from bands based on some of them holding instruments. There were also books on famous wars, a few photos and art prints depicting famous battles. There were also weapons littered all over the place, swords and axes hanging form the walls, and daggers lying on table tops and under books.

“How’d it go?” you asked, pushing yourself out of the chair when Clarisse walked out of the bathroom.

“Chiron’s on his way,” Clarisse said. “Maybe he can help,” she glanced at Chris.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. You were sorry someone she clearly cared for was suffering, you were sorry you had to tie him up, you were sorry for being the reason she lost her spear, you were sorry for so much and yet ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled, walking up to Chris’s side. She reached out, brushing some hair out of the way that was sticking to his forehead. “I used to have a crush on him.” It was nearly a whisper, but you heard it, you couldn’t help the way your heart dropped at those words. “Before he was a traitor.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Clarisse shook her head. “My first crush turned out to be a traitor and my second…”

You dropped your eyes to the floor. Her first crush was a traitor and her second was you, a Hunter, someone she could never be with. “Really know how to pick ’em,” she sighed.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” you said softly. “And it will be someone that actually deserves you.”

You gave a half smile when you saw a small smile appear on Clarisse’s face, though it was a sad one. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone,” she shrugged.

You shook your head. “I don’t believe that. There’s someone out there that will be everything you desire; they’ll see you for how strong and incredible you truly are.” Clarisse finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes for the first time since you restrained Chris. “The only way you don’t end up with someone is if you decide that’s not what you want.”

Clarisse glanced around her room, avoiding eye contact with you once again, clearly trying to hide her emotions. “I assume you’re leaving,” she abruptly changed the subject.

“In the morning,” you said, allowing the subject change. “Hope it’s okay to crash on your couch.”

“Of course.”

After getting cleaned up and getting some clean clothes from Clarisse, since yours were covered in dirt and blood, you went downstairs to see Clarisse setting out a blanket and pillow for you on the couch. You didn’t know where her mom was and she hadn’t mentioned her, you figured her mom not being home was probably a common thing. It was still light out as you settled in for sleep, but your body was definitely feeling the toll the labyrinth had taken on it. Clarisse volunteered for Chris duty, she was going to sleep in her mom’s room, which was just down the hall, so she would be the closest anyway.

Sleep came easy for you; you didn’t wake up once. When you did wake up the rest of the house was silent, and it was still dark out. You glanced at the clock in the room, seeing it was just before sunrise. As quietly as you could you folded the blanket, sitting it and the pillow on the couch as nicely as you could. Then you grabbed your bag, making sure you had everything, and going through a mental checklist of anything you might need to get before meeting up with the others.

“You leaving?” Clarisse whispered.

You glanced back to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, you had to give her credit, you hadn’t even heard her walk down the steps. “In a few minutes,” you said, closing up your pack. “Don’t worry, I was going to say goodbye.” You gave her a soft smile as you turned around to fully face her. “How was last night?” you nodded towards the stairs.

“Seems you knocked him out very well.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you hadn’t meant to hit him quite that hard, but you were glad if it meant Clarisse finally got some sleep.

Before anything else could be said there was a knock at the door. You and Clarisse glanced at each other before she cautiously walked to the door. You reached for your bow as she turned the door handle, not relaxing your grip until you saw Chiron walk in.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Chiron said. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” Clarisse answered, pointing Chiron in the direction. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You watched as Chiron disappeared up the stairs. You walked over to the front door where Clarisse was still standing. You reached out, brushing your fingers against hers, you were about to pull away when she intertwined your hands.

“He’ll be okay,” you whispered, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

She nodded. “Be safe and keep in touch,” she said, giving your hand a gently squeeze back.

With that you made your way out her front door. You looked back once, watching as she finally closed the door behind you. You truly hoped Chiron would be able to help Chris, no one deserved to be going through what he was. You gave a final look at the house, not sure when you’d see Clarisse again before turning and making your way to the place you’d meet your sisters.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

[sukibenders]

comfort and care

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: for the past few days, you've been noticing a change in percy's demeanor as of late. from the bags gathering under his eyes from lack of sleep to his more irritable nature, everything had screamed "wrong" to you. in your attempts to find some resolve, you set out to find ways to tend to his needs.

contents: sad!percy, poor boy is struggling (specifics aren't mentioned) and needs comfort, fluff, angst, mentions of lack of personal care (such as poor sleep and struggling emotional health), percy not being kind to himself (dismissing his feelings), concerned!reader, cute couple moments, reader takes care of percy, mentions of cooking but can easily be ignored or altered if you can't cook, percy calling you babe, i hope percy doesn't seem ooc in this.

note" thank you so much to everyone who showed support to my first percy x reader, as that really warmed my heart. this one came to mind when i thought about how little x reader imagines there are that involve percy receiving comfort and felt like our boy needed someone to be able to vent to. ergo, this came to be. hope you enjoy!

You first noticed it during one of your weekly Iris Messaging calls with Percy, a familiar routine the two of you had come up with when you both had to leave camp to return to your respective household during the school season. It had helped ease the long-distance separation, considering demigods weren't allowed electronic devices such as phones with the risk of drawing the attention of monsters, and allowed for you both to speak for hours and hours without worrying about racking up on a phone bill. It was a bonus that it allowed you to see one another, especially now.

While it was evident that Percy was attempting to hide any signs of fatigue, you had known him well enough to see past the feeble attempts and hesitantly brought the issue forward. "You look tired," you had said, eyes scanning over his frame through the hazy messaging system. "When was the last time that you slept?"

At the question, Percy let out a soft laugh, waving his hand in dismissal. "C'mon, babe, let's not weigh down our talk with boring stuff like my sleep schedule. Wouldn't you like to focus on something more interesting?"

To which you retorted. "I would like focus on making sure that my boyfriend is doing okay, taking care of himself. That would interest me just fine."

The inky haired boy let out a small sound that rumbled in the back of his throat, taking in your words and the unwavering concern in your gaze. A part of him practically leaned towards you (or more so you image), wanting to seek you out for as much comfort as he could gain. But another, more darker part of him, had drew him to a halt and left his previous wants to plunder into nothing more than wants rather than needs.

"It's nothing, really." Lie. "I've just been stressed with school is all." Another lie, well, partially. "You know I'm not the sharpest tool in the box." He was attempting to be humorous, in hopes of drawing away your concern on to something else. It didn't work.

Your burrows narrowed in a way he'd only seen when you get protective over things that you care about, and being on the receiving end of that look made him wince. "Don't be so hard on yourself," you said with a stern tone. "Besides, I don't like it when people insult my boyfriend. He's a genius in his own ways."

"Even when it's me?"

"Especially when it's you." A part of you warmed slightly when you notice a glint of gratitude sparkle in the inky haired boy's eyes at your defense, even if it was from his own self. But, even with that, it did little to provide any solution to the dilemma at hand as Percy had used quick thinking to find a way of branching to a new subject that, before you knew it, left little room for you to return to your concerns before you both had to call it a night.

That didn't mean that this problem was over, nor would your attempts to fix it be hindered.

It would seem so that you weren't the only one to notice Percy's shift as most of your friends had noticed it too. From Annabeth, who was ready to report any of her findings discovered during the pairs talks with one another to you or other members of the Seven dropping casual hints of concern (Jason had mentioned that he noticed Percy's hands tremble whenever they would drag across his face, Leo had noted that his jokes---which were usually funny---had either fallen flat or gave a vibe of uneasiness, Hazel had commented on the way his smile no longer reached his eyes and so on). You had used your family phone to call Sally who at the time was nowhere near Percy, thankfully, and had nearly broken down to you over the phone about her worries. She had done the best she could, but she was only one person.

It didn't take you long to formulate a plan, all that was needed was a way of travel to the Jackson's residence. It was lucky for you that a certain son of Hades had been open to the idea of helping as he dropped you off via shadow travel in front of the apartment complex. After a thanks of gratitude, the di Angelo boy left with saying "Tell Percy that I hope he gets better" before disappearing into the shadows.

You had already informed Sally and Paul of your plan, and the two had readily abided by it by taking Estelle on a trip around the city, leaving you and Percy to have some alone time. By the time you had gotten to your destination, a sudden bundle of nerves had crept their way inside you as you waited for Percy to open the door. What if he didn't want you here? What if it only made him more upset? What if you being here simply did nothing at all?

All your thoughts were put on hold when the boy himself threw open the door, a look of surprise marking his features as he took you in, as if trying to determine whether you were really there or not.

"Surprise!" You had said with hopefully enthusiasm, a conscious smile painting your face as you waited for a response.

Instead of words, a pair of strong arms circled you and pulled you into a muscular chest, body molding around yours as two became one in a matter of seconds. "You're here." Percy mumbled, though more as a statement than surprise even though your sudden appearance was one for sure.

"Of course I am, babe." You smiled into his chest, rubbing your hands up and down his back in a way that you hoped would bleed all the love and comfort from your heart that you wished give.

It didn't take long for him to pull you in to the shelter of his apartment, and even less before the two of you reached his bedroom. You both had fallen on to his bed, laying side by side facing one another with a little distance to allow you to look into each other's eyes. It was moments like these were almost anything in the world could be happening, right outside the window even, and neither of you would care. All that would matter would be the warmth of your bodies pressed together, fingers interlocking in a complex hold that neither of you wanted to be freed from, and the mingling of your even breaths dancing with one another in the faintly lit room.

"I wished you told me that you were coming. I would've cleaned up a bit." Percy joked, waving a hand in the direction towards his mess of a room before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out snort, raising your hand to card your fingers through his messy locs. A smile pulled on your lips at the soft mewl that emitted from your boyfriend before he ducked his face into your neck. "I don't mind, I think my happiness at seeing you might overpower some of my observation skills."

Percy hummed. "Maybe I'm in luck then." You could tell that he was attempting to divert the conversation again, already knowing the reason for your abrupt visit. And a part of you was almost inclined to do so, wrapped in the comfort of your lover's embrace, physically after weeks of Iris Messages that left you only wanting more. But this social visit wasn't for you. As much as you wanted to lounge around all day, hearing Percy rattle off details of his days away or a spiel of jokes that would be sure to make you laugh.

But now was not the time.

"Percy," You whisper softly after a moment, thumb rubbing against the junction where his neck met his shoulders. He shivered, whether at the movement or your voice as the question he had been awaiting. "I've known you for a long time, like you've known me, and I can tell when something is wrong. Just as you would for me. And you and I both know that something is wrong. You haven't been yourself lately."

Percy didn't speak. His face remained hidden in your neck.

"You don't have to tell me right now as I won't force you. But I just want you to know that I'm here, and so are the others...if you ever want or need..." you pause, your hand stopping in its movements down his spine when you felt his body tremble beside you. "Percy?"

Labored breathing turned into harsh, muffled sobs that shook your heart with each one. Percy's usually tall frame clung to you as he pressed his face further into your neck, if that was even possible, littering the skin with a river of tears. The more he tried to speak, as if believing he had to explain himself, the more his words were choked by the sobs. You simply held him closer, pulling his body further into yours and caressing him from his back to his neck to scalp and back again, whispering comforting phrase from one's of love to one's of reassurance.

"It's all right," you whispered as he shook, running your nose along his temple. "You've been holding this in for a long time and now it's time to let it out. I've got you."

You both stayed like that until Percy's tears had run dry, until his heavy sobs turned into weak hiccups until his body stopped shaking and his breathing evened into one accompanied by an eased sleep. His body fell lacks at your side, his breaths tickling your skin every now and again. The collar of your shirt was dampened from Percy's tears, but you paid it no mind as you carded your fingers through his hair, soothing him even in his sleep because it was what he needed. What he deserved.

A thought had popped into your head when you felt your stomach growl in attention, your hunger taking focus as you realized, after looking at the clock on the bedside, how much time had past since between your arrival and now. Raising to your feet, taking precautions not to wake the sleeping boy, you slipped out of the room and towards the kitchen. Sally had been kind enough to offer to cook something before leaving, but you had simply offered to make something instead and leave one less thing for her to worry about.

You were an hour or so into cooking, the scents floating into the air and clouding throughout the apartment, when you heard hurried footsteps making their way down the hall. Glancing over your shoulder you watched as Percy slid into the room, his appearance ruffled from sleep but his eyes wide and alert as they scanned the room, searching for something. Or someone, more like it, as they stopped when they landed on you.

It seems as if a weight had left his shoulders as they dropped, no longer tense, and he easily made his way towards you. You were in his arms in less than a second, his face pressed into your hair as he breathe in deeply. "I almost thought it was all a dream. You being here."

You hummed, smiling into his arm. "Glad that I'm not?"

"You have no idea." You stood like that for a few moments, occasionally rocking back and forth to keep blood flowing through your legs when Percy spoke again. "Thank you. Thank you for...for..."

But you shushed him, shaking your head as you met his eyes. No words needed to be said, and he understood. His gaze drifted over to the assemble littering the kitchen counter with a raised brow. "Anything that I can help with?"

"Think you can handle it?"

This caused him to snort. "Please, I was raised by the Sally Jackson, learning how to cook was a given." He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders confidently, moving closer the counter. "Now, chef, tell me what we're working with."

"Yes, chef!"

[upinthecloudss]

NVM ignore my newgen suggestion, I just read your hsl hc and I'm in Nostalgia Mode TM. I'd love to read your more detailed insight about the friendships between Kim and Violette, Castiel and Iris, Nath and Lys (I feel like even if not bffs, they would have got along well??), and any other "pairing" that comes to your mind!

hehe you inspired me with the other suggestion so i'm writing both if that's ok :> i'm always on mcl nostalgia mode - so i'll prolly finish this one before the new gen one

also thank you for letting me yap about mcl even more bcus there is sm to say

MCL HSL RELATIONSHIPS

my personal ramblings + ideas

Kim and Violette

i never really knew if they were intended to have a something more than friends vibe going on but i choose to believe that maybe they did have feelings for each other but never realised it

have a super supportive relationship nevertheless - romantic or not

and one of the most wholesome in the class, i loved seeing it whenever it came up in-game

kim helps violette go out of her comfort zone and to speak up for herself, that's the most obvious one to us as players

but i feel that violette helped kim put down her 'walls'

kim is a pretty guarded person, we as the main character don't get to learn much about her personal life throughout the whole series even if she does consider us to be friends - we see that kim tries to regain contact when candy is back in town in UL

but idk she seems pretty uncomfortable with letting people into her life, and being vulnerable in general

i feel that violette is one of the only people outside of her family that she confides in

violette is very authentic to herself and doesn't judge, and that made kim feel more comfortable with opening up to her

besides they have history

very long friendship - they give me childhood friends vibes

i just realised this but kim definitely helped her through violette's grief of losing her mother years before mcl canon

even if kim felt lost in helping someone through their grief, she tried to always be there for violette, even if it meant sitting in silence under the tree in the school's courtyard while violette sketched and destroyed many drawings of her mother over and over and then wordlessly stood up to go home after a few hours

violette will forever be greatful for her friendship during that time

and at any time tbh

violette feels a bit lost without kim (e.g when she wanted to cancel on iris´party when kim had to cancel) but she got better at going out to the world by herself because she knew that kim wouldn't be forever with her

even though kim plans on being her friend as long as she can

they defo hang out by themselves outside of school a whole lot

by themselves, because of violette being less comfortable in larger groups and kim enjoying violette's company more than anyone elses

besties for life i don't make the rules

seem so different but they complement each other perfectly

also kim would murder for violette and the latter knows this

mcl new gen confirm that they're still friends (and maybe gfs) in ep 11 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

maybe were each other's first kiss who knows

but that's just a theory

a game theory

i shipped them back in 2016 and still do im sorry

Castiel and Iris

they also give me childhood friends vibes but it is revealed that iris came into Sweet Amoris a few years before candy so maybe its a high school friends thing

we see that they're close regardless - even if in ep 9 they didn't go to the beach together i imagine that they started doing it a little after that to hang out

they were also a pretty unexpected friendship to any outsiders, but they make sense in a way

theyre literally sunshine x sunshine protector

iris is a pretty empathetic person, and i feel that she wouldn't be too taken aback by castiel's initial bad temper and cold attitude to strangers, but try to understand how to make him feel comfortable around her

she is such a sweetheart how can you hate her

castiel appreciates her because of that, she never pressured him to be the socially acceptable 'friendly' and just let him open up to her by his own terms

over time they grow to have an understanding with each other

hang out every now and then, aren't super besties but they enjoy making plans together

iris loves demon, and since she lives in a neighbourhood near the park she usually makes plans to go on walks with him and castiel

castiel babysat thomas a whole lot - even during his time with deborah

when they were leaving out the door thomas stopped castiel by pulling on his sleeve - he was 7 at most by that time

"castiel, don't bring that nasty lady again, please."

thomas knew something was up with her (what an empath)

he still babysits him but iris feels bad asking him to do it too often

castiel doesn't mind, he enjoys thomas' company, and helping iris out

even if he finds him perplexing

iris asks castiel to teach her some basics of guitar so she can bond with thomas

castiel thinks it's a very strange way to bond with someone but he does it anyway because she's his friend and she asked him nicely

on that topic castiel is unable to say no to iris this is canon

they have,,, an extensive history for sure

there was a time when they were starting to become closer to each other where they hung out a whole lot (after dark to an abandoned skate park kind of plans)

skater girl iris btw

anyway

i don't see them being romantically involved but they def kissed at some point when they were around each other a lot and came to the conclusion that they don't go well together in that way

castiel would pretend to be her boyfriend to get creepy guys off of her back if she asked to though

i feel that castiel drops this piece of information in the middle of some convo with lys years later as if it were some random fun fact with no substantial importance

because to them it isn't really

and lys doesn't react as vigorously as anyone else would've in his situation (candy and armin, for example, basically backflip when castiel mentions it during a round of truth or dare at iris´ house)

obviously he is shocked at first, but after thinking about it he realises that it makes sense that it happened

honestly anyone that knew them the years before candy came into school would get it

it was obvious that they were close-ish, relatively

given that castiel was civilised with her and lys more than anyone else, yea, she's a close friend

amber used to be very nasty towards her out of jealousy, calmed down over the years

iris was also quite supportive during his first breakup with deborah

while lys was a comforting presence whenever he needed some to be quiet near someone, iris offered comforting words when he felt that his world was falling apart

was kinda cold with nath for a while because of the situation, but nath doesn't resent her for it

castiel really appreciates her for that too

they don't hang out nearly as much anymore but they can still get on each other's wavelengths pretty easily

they have a pretty solid friendship, based on mutual understanding

and surprisingly, shared interests

iris is a scene kid in my mind, but she enjoys music similar to castiel's tastes

they had an MCR phase together (never really left)

also this is just a silly headcanon of mine but i like to think that they went emo together for a while

maybe lasted a few months but everyone remembers it very clearly as much as castiel wishes they didn't

iris finds it funny and reminds castiel a whole lot

she's the only one who can remind castiel of it without getting murdered (not even lys, the topic is off limits)

nath always wanted to make fun of castiel for it but that would mean making fun of iris too and that he couldn't do

also i love the fact that iris IN CANON said that if she were to choose anyone to help her hide a body it would be castiel

castiel acts shocked but honestly i think it's sweet to see that he allows her to say those things without him getting mad at her

because i feel that if someone else he doesn't get along with said it, he'd take it the wrong way

"so you think i'm a criminal or something"

he's such a little drama queen - it was impossible to raise his lovometer without guides most of the time istg,,,,

my condolences to castielettes or however tf u call yourselves lmao

they're just their authentic selves around each other, and feel comfortable doing so

i imagine that candy in castiel's route has some insecurities regarding this friendship, but they make it clear that they're nothing more than close friends

besides iris is more than happy to see castiel with a girl who will actually treat him right

she was deeply dissapointed with deborah's actions in ep 16

not just because she was a fake friend, but because of how she planned to use castiel

tried her best to make castiel come back to class during the time that he became kinda depressed after ep 16

worried about him like a mother lmao, got mad when he went awol

veredict? sister and brother from a different mother (and father)

used to hang out a lot, but not as much nowadays

life gets in the way

doesn't mean that they don't care for each other deeply

Nath and Lys

this friendship is such a big brain moment because yes - they prolly did get along well

another case of beemoov wasting potential urghhh

they at least have some respect for each other

nath appreciates when lys gets castiel off of his back - he realises when his best friend is going too far with him picking fights with nathaniel

lys appreciates nath's respect for other people's boundaries and trusts that nath wouldn't read his writing without his permission if he ever finds his lost notebook

curiosity is a very ugly defect after all

got so nostalgic saying that holy shit

lys also respects nath's position as head of student council, something that nath rarely sees from any student, and his respect for teachers is something that nath also appreciates

lys probably managed to get a copy of the basement's keys from nathaniel because

if it had been just castiel asking, nath would have absolutely NOT given a copy over to him

but since lys asked in an actual civilised way (unlike his bruteish excuse of a best friend - nath's words, not mine), nath asked for special permission for them to practice there after school

they appreciate and connect with each other more easily than with the other guys in the class because they have some essential personality traits in common

they can be in comfortable silences together

and maybe get book/novel/poetry recs from each other

nerds (lovingly)

not the closest, but they have a pleasant friendship (acquaintainceship?) - they're kind of between the line of being friends or just classmates who get along

they don't stay in touch after high school is what i mean, even if they don't necessarily hate each other

after nath gains his independence, and he allows himself to delve into music-related hobbies that his dad would have not approved of, he goes to lys for advice

lys is very patient in introducing him to music (even if he kind of already did for the concert some time prior)

even if nath turns out to be absolutely tone deaf, he appreciates lys' help

they do consider each other friends around the time where nath comes out of his shell (post ep 23 approximately)

however, they have a key thing that they will never agree on

castiel

nathaniel will never understand how lys can stand him - not to talk about being best friends

lys will never understand nath's inability to change his close minded attitude towards his friend, he knows that nath could choose to tell castiel about deborah's lies, but he does know of their history and how the damage that they caused after the incident cannot be solved as easily

so they both get that they will never be able to be on the same page with that topic

agree to disagree, in a way

apart from that, they get along just fine

they defo have potential - if it hadn't been for the rivalry with castiel, and nath's home life which made him focus on studies rather than friendships, i feel that they would've been able to develop a deeper bond

i do feel that nath kind of is jealous of lys in a way - deep down

they're both similar people, but come from completely different family environments

good students, model ones at that, calm introverts, lovers of literature, and similar ways of percieving the world

lys will never know what it is to be scared of his father, or the need to be perfect, or to have a sibling that he doesn't get along with

all that is nath is good at, he did it to appease his father

lys did it because he wanted to

and nath will never have that, and lys reminds him of that sometimes

so he avoids being around him too much maybe

i feel that they kind of reflect each other well

what would have been of fairly similar people in different home environments - even if ik damn well that beemoov prolly put any thought into that ever

but that's me reading WAY too much into it

okay that's too much realness for me for the night

[callsign-magnolia]

Love In The Dark // Ch. 1

Mature Content 18+

Summary: Iris never realized how much she truly depended on her eyesight until it was gone. But it never really stopped her, just another hurdle to jump over in life. Depending on people was never something she got used to, she still attempts to do things herself. Eventually, her roommate and best friend let's her down, but a tall, sandy brown haired aviator catches her.

Rooster x Blind!OC

Warnings: Being stranded, yelling, if I miss any let me know.

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist

The Hard Deck was a place where you could find all kinds of people. Pilots and civilians dancing around each other in the crowd attempting to keep their drinks upright. Penny loved her bar and she loved seeing fresh faces as well "What can I get you ladies?" She asked as she wiped the bar down. "I'll take a water, please?" The girl who crawled into the bar stool smiled at her and she returned it. She took notice how her tall blonde friend held her arm. "I'll take a tequila shot and a tequila sunrise." Penny nodded and turned to make the drinks. "You're driving." Mandi looked down at her friend in the barstool. "Oh calm down. Iris I'll be fine." That's what she said last time and Iris had to call an uber and fight her to get in it. "Here you are girls." Mandi slid the water to Iris until it barely bumped her hand. Iris drank smoothly as Mandi wandered off into the crowd. "What time do you wanna go home?" Iris asked to nobody. Iris didn't really want to be here. But Mandi mentioned how long it's been since they went out together and she felt bad and agreed. The only problem was, to Mandi, her nine o'clock is midnight. “Why don't you get up and mingle?" Penny asked. Iris turned to face her and Penny took notice of how the young woman's eyes never met hers.

"Oh, I'm fine here." Iris said. Mandi stood against the wall staring out at the sea of officers, as if she was a predator searching for her next prey. She clocked a tall blonde with a million dollar smile with a bunch of other officers at a pool table. She stared at him and as if he sensed her, he met her eye and she gave him a dazzling smile of her own, casting her eyes down to her drink feigning shyness. Jake watched her closely and as soon as her drink was gone, he made his move. He walked ever, head held high, shoulders back and she leaned back against the wall. "Hi," he greeted. Southern accent prominent. "Hi Cowboy." He placed his hand on the wall next to her head. "What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" She bit her lip as she stirred her drink. "Just came out with my roommate." He raised a brow. "Doesn't explain why you're alone." She giggled at him, leaning closer. "I just had to step away from my roommate. She's what you could call co-dependent." He hummed. "So she's annoying." He deadpanned and Mandi shrugged. "Sometimes." He reached out taking her glass from her. "Let me buy you a drink?" She raised a brow at him. "I don't even know your name sailor." She saw his name badge. but she didn't have to let him know that. "Lieutenant Jake Seresin ma'am, and I'm an aviator." She raised her brows as he took her hand and tucked it in his elbows. "Wow, so you fly those really fast jets?" Mandi knew stroking his ego would land him right in the palm of her hand. "Yes. Yes I do." 

Penny raised a brow as the duo approached the bar. "Hello Penny dear.” She just smiled at him. "Bagman." She replied. Normally the name would bother him, but he had a gut feeling he knew how his evening would end, so he was unbothered. "Another drink for the lady." She nodded and took the glass. "Another water, dear?" She asked as she passed Iris. "Oh, no thank you." Anymore and she'd have to get up to go to the bathroom, and attempting to navigate the crowd was a task she wasn't up for. Mandi looked over at her roommate, Iris looked bored out of her mind, drawing shapes in the water that pooled on the bar top. Mandi thought she should probably check in with her, but she didn't want to step away from Jake. "Here you go.” Penny said as she slid the drink towards her. "Thanks Pen." He said. "No problem, Hangman." With that Jake led her towards his friends. Hours went by. Hours of teaching Mandi to play pool, her ass pressed flush against his crotch as he leaned over her. Making out in the shadows until he finally asked. "Come home with me?" she grinned and kissed him again. "I was starting to think you'd never ask." With that he paid their tabs and she met him at the door. Iris was bored and tired. Mandi hasn't checked in with her and she was ready to leave. 

"Excuse me? Penny?" The woman handed off the drink and turned to the girl. "What's up?" She asked. "Could you tell me what time it is?" Penny furrowed her brows at the girl. She looked at the clock behind her and back to Iris. "It's one a.m. We have thirty minutes till last call." Iris sighed. "Hey Penny!" A male voice startled Iris. "Oh, sorry. "Rooster said, looking down at the girl. "Ready to close?" Penny asked him. "I lost a game of pool to Phoenix so I have to pay hers too." She nodded and took his card. "Were you gonna ask me something else?" She asked as she ran Roosters card. "Um, have you seen my friend?" Penny looked to Rooster, a look of concern on her face. "Last I saw her, one of the aviators bought her a drink." Penny noticed Iris's eyes get glassy. "How many did Mandi have?" Penny felt bad, realizing she put the poor girl in a situation. "The one she bought and Hangman bought her five more." A tear of stress slipped down her cheek, she did not want to deal with a drunk Mandi. "Dammit." Iris muttered. "She was supposed to drive home. Now I have to get us a damn uber." Iris turned in the barstool. "Your friend Mandi? Is she tall? Blonde?" Truth be told, Iris has never seen Mandi to give a description but she does know she's tall and blonde. "Yeah." Rooster looked down at the girl whose eyes were glued to his sternum. "She left with my friend." He said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "What?" The worry in her voice caused his chest to ache. "How long ago?"

Mandi has done some shitty things but this was a new low. "About an hour and a half ago.” Iris huffed, pulling her phone out of her pocket and practically slamming it on the bar. Penny looked down at it just as a drunk patron came over. "PHONE ON THE BAR!" He yelled, "Penny! Ring the bell!" She glared at the man. "No. I'll be with you in just a minute." Iris turned to the man next to her before turning back to Penny. "What's he talking about?" Penny sighed. "We have a rule here. Disrespect a lady, the navy or put your phone on my bar, you buy a round.” Iris’ face fell as well as her gut. "I-I-I don't I didn't-" "I'm not gonna make you buy a round." She interrupted the stuttering girl. "Thank you." Iris pulled out a small wallet. "How much was Mandi's tab?" Penny shook her head. "Hangman already paid it." Iris let out a breath of relief. "At least one thing went right tonight." She stood from the bar stool, legs tingling from falling asleep. "I'm sorry. You were drinking water, so I assumed you were the DD." Iris shook her head.

"It's okay. You didn't know. I just don't drive." The Hard Deck was packed, bodies everywhere and Iris knew that. "Thanks for your help." She said to both of them before walking away. Penny and Rooster watched as she walked, keeping her hand out just enough to graze the barstools. She was going at a slow pace but just as she turned for the door she bumped into a guy. "Watch where the fuck you're going! Can you not see?" As if she was unfazed, Iris stepped around him, following a group of girls out the door. "Roaster? Will you go check on her? Something feels off about all of this." He nodded to Penny. "Just wait with her till she gets in her uber?" He shook his head, eyes never leaving the doors. "I'll give her a ride." Penny smiled at him." Thank you. Be careful." He left with an 'I will.’ and headed out the doors. 

Iris managed to press her back against the building. She dragged her finger along her phone screen until she found her uber app. Opening it she attempted to order a ride but she was so upset that she kept missing the button. "Hey, need a ride?" She turned around when she heard the same voice from inside the bar. "Uh no. I'll get home on my own." She said, turning back around. Rooster watched as she looked down at her phone, muttering something before she groaned. He took a few steps forward and noticed her tense up. "Seriously, let me give you a ride. Your roommate shouldn't have just left you here, and I feel kind of bad since she did leave with my friend." She thought about it, remembering that Penny addressed him as Rooster. "Promise you'll take me home?" She was nervous, and he could tell, so he offered her a smile. "Nowhere else but your front door." She sighed and shoved her phone in her pocket. "Okay, Rooster. I'll let you drive me home." Rooster just grinned and nodded, finally getting a good look at her beautiful eyes as she faced him. "Awesome. Follow me." 

He turned towards the Bronco, starting across the lot when he noticed she wasn't following. "Hey, my trucks this way." He said, and she slowly held out her hand. "Help me?" She asked. He furrowed his brows and walked closer, taking her small hand in his. "Sure. You okay?" She nodded and he led her over to the Bronco but he stopped when she saw her reach her hand out ahead of her, as if searching for the Bronco. "Hey, woah." He caught her as she almost tripped on a rock. "Sorry." She said, standing up straight. He let her go and watched her head swing around, as if looking for him when he's standing right in front of her. "Hey." She immediately faced him. "Can you not see?" He asked, keeping his tone gentle, not wanting her to assume he was making fun of her. "Um, no. I'm blind." Her voice was shaky. "Okay. Well let's get you in the truck and I'll get you home." She seemed relaxed by his reaction which made him smile down at her.

Even though she was glad Rooster reacted the way she did, she still sat against the passenger side door. Rooster just let the radio play until they pulled into the driveway of the address she gave him. "Okay, we're here. Stay there and I'll help you out.” She huffed. "I don't need help." She muttered and unbuckled. She pushed the door open and stepped onto the running board. "Here" Bradley held out his hand and she took it, feeling uneasy. "Thank you." She said, "I'll walk you to the door if you're okay with it." She nodded and he followed her to the door watching as she expertly unlocked the front door and sauntered in. "Thank you for the ride. Um, would you like something to drink?" She was looking at him and he finally got a good look at her. She was pretty, in a way that drew him in like a siren song. "Sure water is fine." She nodded and turned. Rooster worried she'd bump into a wall or even the furniture but she maneuvered around it all with a grace he's never seen. "You can have a seat on the couch if you want." He sat on the soft gray sectional and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. When she came back she tucked her foot under herself as she sat. "So, what questions do you have?" 

His eyes widened as he looked at her. "I- I don't have any questions." She gave him a look as if to say, ‘Yeaḥ right’. “I can answer any question you have. It doesn't bother me." She gave him a soft smile, almost encouraging him to ask questions. "Um, were you born blind?” Her smile grew and she giggled. "No. I went blind when I was seventeen." He raised his brows in surprise. "How?" He asked. "Meningitis. It was bad to say the least I nearly died." He stared at her. "When I started to get better, I noticed my eyesight worsening. Doctors said my ocular nerves were damaged beyond repair and we would have to wait and see how bad the damage would be." She seemed almost nonchalant about it. "Did they expect you to go totally blind?" She shook her head. "No, they actually said my chances for total blindness were slim. They expected some form of blindness but one day it was just gone." Bradley stared down at the water bottle resting against his leg. "Is it total darkness?" She nodded." "I can't even perceive light." Bradley felt a heaviness in the air and he didn't know what to say. 

"Sorry.” Iris started "That took a dark turn." Iris laughed and Rooster bit his lip. "You can laugh if you found it funny." He chuckled a little. "I didn't mean to put a damper on the mood." Bradley quickly shook his head. "No. You didn't." She smiled at him, leaning her head to rest on the back of the couch "Going blind isn't a light topic, Rooster. It's normal to feel sad." He watched as her eyelids slowly closed and struggled to open again. "It's late, I should get home." She hummed and nodded. "I'll walk you out." She trailed behind him slowly. He opened the door and she held the handle as he stepped out. He looked at her as she stood there. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay here alone?" She chuckled at him. "Rooster, I've been blind for almost thirteen years, and I know my way around the house." He held his hands up in defense ‘Okay, don't question the blind woman.’ he thought. “Good night Iris." She gave him a smile. "Good night, Rooster." After a second she closed the door and locked it. A moment later she heard his footsteps descending the stairs. She was surprised. He waited till he heard the door lock.

The next morning Iris awoke feeling completely exhausted. She dragged herself downstairs, seeking the warmth of a coffee mug. Once her mug was full she grabbed the milk and sugar, pouring just a little of each into it. As she took her first sip, the front door opened. "Mandi?" She called out. Mandi walked into the house, heels in hand, hair in a messy bun and no bra because she couldn't find it when she got out of Jake's bed. She groaned and rolled her eyes when she heard Iris's voice. "What?" She barked. Iris clenched her teeth and inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth. "Just making sure it was you." Iris leaned on the wall next to the kitchen. "Who else would it fucking be?" Iris felt her eye twitch in frustration. "Anyone who can pick a lock. What the hell is your problem?" She asked and Mandi Iooked at her incredulously. "My problem? I have a hangover from hell!" Iris didn't react to her yelling. Mandi was a raging bitch when she didn't feel good. "Well that's not my fault. So don't yell at me. Also, while I have you here, what the fuck was up with leaving me stranded at the bar last night?!"

Mandi rolled her eyes knowing Iris couldn't see. "Oh calm down. You made it home alive didn't you?" Then Mandi furrowed her brows. "How did you get home?" Iris scoffed. "One of your fuck buddies friends brought me home." Mandi's brows raised "Which one?" "Rooster" Iris blurted. Mandi remembered him. Him and Jake argued a bit. "Ooh, he's hot." Inis rolled her own eyes this time, not caring that Mandi saw. "I wouldn't know anything about that. But he is very sweet and very kind to bring me home after your stunt. You've done shitty things before Mandi. But this was the worst." Mandi just wanted to sleep but she knew Iris wouldn't drop it. "I don't see the problem!" Iris was baffled. "The problem is you abandoned me in a place I've never been before even if I was sighted, it's a shit thing to do!" Mandi threw her hands up. "I'm too hungover for this shit." Iris scowled at her. "Just walk away like you do every other conversation Mandi!" Mandi slammed the door to her room, making Iris flinch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @roosterforme @mygyn @kmc1989 @briseisgone @lyn-js @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @lilylilyyyyyy

[skyedancer-rae]

Mind sharing some of your TGAA headcanons?

I've had this sitting in my inbox for a bit because when I first saw it, my mind went blank and I couldn't think of anything lol. Full disclosure: I feel like I don't have very many concrete headcanons. A lot of the time, if there isn't much canon evidence to support a headcanon, I tend to be more flexible and may change how I depict things depending on what suits my drawing/comic/story.

But I did think of a few to share, so here we go!

While Mrs. Hudson probably provided a lot of the meals for Sholmes & Iris before Iris got older and discovered a love for cooking, I believe that Sholmes CAN cook. He just has to make sure that he sets timers and follows the recipe to the letter. Because as soon as he gets distracted or turns the recipe into an experiment, it becomes inedible.

Because he did help uncover the truth about all of Stronghart's conspiracies and he ultimately did not kill anyone nor intend to go through with the assassination exchange, Kazuma is given a royal pardon after the game, allowing him to continue his study tour in Britain. However, that pardon also comes with a strict warning of "We'll be watching you and if you do something like this again, there will be consequences." I also believe there would still be a long probationary period where he can only help with Barok's cases at first. Then he can only lead the prosecution with Barok supervising his work before he finally earns the right to lead a case by himself.

Oddly enough, I have very strong headcanons for Rei's parents. I feel like they're both pretty chill and liberal. When their daughter came home one day like "I want to study dead bodies like Susato's dad," they were just like "Unconventional career choice, but we'll figure out a way to make it happen."

I guess I also tend to headcanon that Rei and Susato are childhood friends and that Rei fell in love with medicine/forensic science from listening to Mikotoba's stories.

Genshin does not particularly like Sholmes. He is grateful that Sholmes has been such a good friend to Mikotoba and helped to pull him out of his spiral of grief, and he appreciates Sholmes' commitment to the truth and justice. But every time they interact, he is constantly fighting the urge to throw Sholmes out the nearest window and/or into the Thames.

Since it is my understanding that traditional Japanese cuisine does not use a lot of (if any) dairy, I wonder how many of the Japanese cast would be lactose intolerant. I headcanon that Ryunosuke, at least, can eat dairy with no issues. Because he apparently has an iron gut.

Regarding Susato's all-knowing British encyclopedia she carries around, my thoughts are that either (1) she made that book herself, carefully copying down any piece of information she thought might be relevant, (2) her kimonos sleeves are the gateway to a pocket dimension where she can access her entire library, or (3) she has photographic memory and just has all these facts memorizes. But because of her super-humility (which she needs to work on because she's awesome and she should own her talents and abilities), she pretends that she's just looking it up in her book.

Susato and Kazuma lost a fight to a frog when they were younger, and they are both still mortified by that memory to this day.

On Gina and Kazuma's first case together post-game, Sholmes showed up to offer his assistance. They allowed him to stay because it annoyed Barok.

They have kicked Sholmes out of every single crime scene since then.

[lunarcrown]

Kind of a random question but, were the black markings on Tango always supposed to be because of withering or were they originally added for decorative purposes? (I like hearing about people’s thought process behind designing characters and this question has been floating around in my mind for the past couple days)

Originally both the marks and the cuffs were just design!!!

I wanted something that would make him stand out a lil and while blackened limbs and soot marks (and even steel cuffs!) aren’t new territory for many tango’s, I felt really happy about how I arranged everything.

I wanted him to have a sort of gothy/emo/grunge look, and since I took away his red sclera, I wanted to add something else to his eyes to make them different!

( I took away the sclera honestly bc it makes it hard to tell where he’s looking in my sketches and I don’t color my stuff often so it just looked strange in shades of grey? But having just the iris colored was an easy pop of saturation that helped sell his red eyes without coloring it all in! )

I’m very much a design first, story later kind of person, MUCH to the chargrin of friends who are like “oh why is these here?” And I’m like “idk it looks cool!!” But luckily @aquaquadrant is a long time pal who I trust with expanding on things as much as she wants, so after designing him I thought about it a lil and came to her with like “what if tango is actually a hels that got swapped into the overworld and escaped hybrid harvesting” and the rest was HISTORY

At this point too, I’m pretty sure I’m keeping the look whether he’s in au-verse or not? Probably dropping the cuffs for non au things but I like his lil goth tear tracks and blackened ears too much to draw him bereft of them HAHA

[sylfen]

Inversion: Ch. 8 - Give and take

Chapter 1 ←Previous Next→ On Ao3.

Relationships: Ramattra/Genji Shimada, Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada

In the quiet box of a prison, another hour rolled over. 

Ramattra did not notice, gone to the world in his deep, trance-like state. Meditation, as the Shambali had taught it, was a helpful tool to part with worldly woes. A simple practice to adopt, yet deceptively hard to master and achieve spiritual equilibrium.

Ramattra, however, was in need of no such thing. Wandering through freezing mountains, scorching deserts and sinful cities, he had concluded his goal was not one of inner peace. He came to reject that which he considered weakness in the face of obligation; resolve must be tempered to mantle a responsibility beyond scope, of which personal fulfillment would only stand in the way. 

Therefore, oil-slicked hands had molded the Shambali dharma into its antithesis: A weapon.

In his mindscape—an intangible realm of digital—endless spectra of thoughts and possibilities vied for attention. Ramattra's psyche was a prism, through which the muddy stream of sentience turned clear, crystallizing into separate structures flickering all around him. These, when tapped into with a psychic eye, parted with their essence, the core of their idea.

This was a period of distance, away from limiters such as emotion. With a shift of Shambali hand gestures, the sentimental crumbled in a snap, leaving only logic. These remainders, of methodology and epiphanies, these he combed through. Sorted them into appropriate rows, a grid of virtual soldiers standing at attention, awaiting further shaping through criticism and hindsight.

Most ideas would never survive this process, too flawed to consider. Today would be no exception. But unlike times past, his present predicament was wholly unique, and in contrast, the numbers dwindled. Steadily, until left behind was a sole contender.

It was offered a single glance, and Ramattra concluded he did not want this one.

Again, he centered himself. Embraced the chaos of sentience. Distanced himself, then sifted through cold logic. Studied them all just the slightest bit closer, opening himself to possibilities otherwise shot down without remorse. 

Still, when finished, only that one remained. And he tried, again and again, only to arrive at the same result, and at some point, he lost count of his attempts. 

Gradually, a shrill ringing fell over his hearing, drawing focus with it; a cue to return to the waking world. Uncertain of what lay beyond this trance, never having dared venture further, Ramattra did not wish to gamble his mind and devolve into an endless loop of considerations. 

Before him, the digital pyramid spun slowly. Invitingly and tauntingly, a dare to chance its contents. 

Gingerly, he conceded. He extended a spectral arm, transparent fingers alighting atop the glimmering surface. 

Hours earlier, Ramattra would never have entertained it. Nor would he have considered that twisting the Shambali dharma would prove to be as much a weapon against himself as his enemies. Found within that spinning data point was memories just shy of a few days old; they punched through his system, relentlessly flashing, all caustic reminders of defeat, as per definition: The attempted assassination, the theft of his Void Accelerator, Zenyatta’s affliction, the destruction of Null Sector’s Iris, and his ensuing imprisonment.  

Yet, hidden amongst the setbacks, there lay the solution. Highlighted in every frame of memory, a promise that this did not have to be the end, that all was not lost. A variable, which could alter the course he had found himself in. 

“Ramattra.”

Snapped out of his reverie, Ramattra had not heard the low hum of electricity die off, nor the parting of doors. 

And there he was. The auspicious premium, for Ramattra to steal away all for himself. 

Genji.

The agent shifted awkwardly, bouncing his weight in between feet. Tension and restlessness radiated off him in waves, and Ramattra surmised he had returned fresh off a mission. Until an item was presented, held out rigidly in offering. A small, green, metal case. 

Genji’s fidgeting, together with the mysterious charity, curled Ramattra’s wires with paranoia. He reared back, regarding the item with suspicion, ready to be overwhelmed with demands and stipulations.

“For your arm,” Genji assured, taking an encouraging step forward. “As I said earlier, none of our engineers are present, so... This is what I can offer you.”

Ramattra inclined his head, patently taken off-guard. Still convinced of illicit goals, fingers curled slowly around the case, testing, as if it would produce a shock or something much more insidious. When nothing happened, and suspicions receded, the offering was accepted with hesitance despite eagerness to get to work.

“This can hardly be proper protocol,” Ramattra remarked as he set the case on a knee, still scanning over it for any hint of malicious intent.

“Probably not. It's at my own discretion,” Genji said indifferently, giving a noncommittal shrug.

Duly noting the attitude toward authority, the case was flicked open, Ramattra's eyes drawn to the kanji symbols engraved into the metal. Nigh instantly, his HUD translated them.

     For Genji

     -Hanzo

He briefly considered who Hanzo could be. A superior? Perhaps an old friend? A brother in arms? Such a considerate and tasteful gift spoke of no mere acquaintanceship. 

Contrastingly less refined were the stickers placed around the insides, depicting stylized triceratops in pastels. Cotton candy cute. Not what he would have expected based on his perception of the stoic ninja. Perhaps there were facets unconsidered.

Poring over the actual contents, Ramattra noted the selection of tools were specifically tailored to basic repairs. Personal travel paraphernalia, then. Not the most efficient way to fix damage, but invaluable out on the field, even more so in his predicament. Excitement pitter-pattered in his wires for a chance to tinker, and in spite of the reluctant gratitude he felt for the gesture, the need to be derisive was stronger.

“A quick, hour-long job drawn out to last more than a day.” Ramattra pulled his inert limb into an appropriate position. “You Overwatch scum certainly have a talent for turning the easiest of tasks into a chore.”

Genji chuckled in a way that told he had more up his sleeve. “Longer than that without this,” he said, producing a plastic container from his pocket, holding it securely between index and middle finger. As he moved closer, he wagged it to-and-fro, a mannerism rooted in good-natured teasing. “I recognized the part when I checked your diagnostics.”

“How fortunate I am.” Attempting to unlatch the panel covering his forearm, the limb slipped off Ramattra’s lap and he irritably shuffled it back into place. “What other lucky coincidence do you have for me today?”

Genji gave a tame snort. “Nothing more.” A beat passed, then he dipped down onto his knees, curled his hands around Ramattra's wrist and forearm to lock the limb in place. “Let me help you.”

With a dismissive click of his synthesizer, Ramattra struck the notion down. “Help would be to leave the door unlocked. This is a mere pittance.”

“Do you often complain at acts of kindness?”

From under the voided slits of his faceplate, Ramattra glared at the agent, who let the look bounce off him harmlessly. “Acts of kindness? This?” A scoff. “I shudder to think what you consider rude.”

“Accepting help without a thank you.”

“Very cute. I assume you feel clever.”

Genji nodded confidently, arrogance lacing his reply. “I do.”

In between the interplay of words, the broken arm was promptly forgotten about. With his pointer, Ramattra jabbed at Genji’s chest, but much like the glare, it was patently ignored.

“Such behavior is in need of correcting.”

“Yeah? Speaking of correcting.”

Ramattra froze, neither flinching nor drawing away at the fingers touching the crack in his mask. 

“What about your faceplate? It can’t be left like this.”

Such audacity. Such disrespect. Such—such brazen, misplaced empathy!

Empathy, Ramattra realized. Yes, that was what was needed; an involuntary, insidious connector, an aspect which could ease his plans. So despite the imprudent dare, Ramattra sat still, indulged the whim and allowed the digits to roam across his face. 

The touch was reverent. As the bronze pads moved, they were deceptively soft and warm, molding to pressure and springing back into shape when relieved of stress. Very subtly, almost imperceptibly, Ramattra leaned into the touch. Emboldened by the quiet consent, Genji carefully traced the spindly length, ghosting over the embedded splinter, and at the sharp electric hiss he withdrew. Beyond the pain, left behind was warmth, an ephemeral memento that waned all too quickly.

“Careful,” Ramattra chided, irritation blooming in his chest, though he was not sure from what. “There is bullet shrapnel.”

“Sorry,” Genji apologized meekly. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

With a cautious eye, Ramattra regarded him. “Against my better judgement... Yes. I would prefer not to suffer any longer.” 

Words were allowed to sink in, to rouse proper affect. At the compassion stirring Genji’s composure, Ramattra reached out; he brushed over the furrows latticing Genji’s arm, and tethered them together with their experiences. 

“The fight we fought aboard my ship—it was relentless. I understand you have suffered a great deal as well.”

Genji glanced at the digits pressed to him, contemplating the exchange of gestures. “It's a part of my work as an agent. Discomfort is a small price to pay to keep people safe.”

Ramattra rescinded his hand. Picking up the case, he held it out toward Genji, presenting its contents.

Presenting trust.

Forceps were plucked without question, and the agent shuffled closer. 

“I will refrain from commenting on Overwatch’s success in that area,” Ramattra replied flatly.

“Until I'm done,” Genji added cheekily. 

The touch returned, a warm palm settling under Ramattra's jaw. 

“Yes.” He would have swallowed if he could. “Until you're done.”

A nervous energy enveloped the small room, both anxious over the imminent operation. Ramattra fidgeted with the cloth of his pants, otherwise keeping still. His head was tilted around as the best angle of approach was considered, Genji humming at each with uncertainty. Deciding to spare himself the apprehension, Ramattra closed the apertures of his optics, though the pitch black did not do much to soothe him. His head was rotated a scant few more times and a part of him expected Genji to abort the enterprise entirely.

Thunk, and the tip of the forceps pushed into the crack. The invasion was less than pleasant, to put it mildly. It hurt horribly, the metal prongs jiggling around to try to and clamp around the splinter.

No dice. Genji pulled out the calipers to a grunt of pain.

“Shit,” he swore with force, “I—I apologize. It's too difficult to reach. I—we should stop.”

Ramattra took hold of Genji's wrist before he could withdraw. “Don't make me suffer in vain. Only you can do this. Please,” he pleaded empathetically. Tentatively, Genji nodded, mustering courage for a second attempt, and at the confirmation apertures closed. 

Getting up on his knees, Genji slid his hand into a better position, splayed his fingers under Ramattra's chin to crane his neck, and the Ravager had to remind himself about trust. Exposing the seam between skull and neck was an exceptionally vulnerable act. As much as the parallel disgusted him, the area was as sensitive and susceptible for omnics as for humans; bundles of important wires and components ran the length. One jab, one cut wire, and death could be nigh instantaneous.

With anxiety swirling around his internals, Ramattra could not help but peek, open his apertures into the slightest fissures, ignoring the forceps to stare up at the opaque visor glass.

Genji was close.

All too close.

Something clawed up Ramattra's throat—a protest, a noise, electricity—but it died before it could escape, and he blinded himself again, discontent not only with the proximity but with his own weakness. 

Fortunately, he was given no more time to fret, promptly stabbed again. Searing fire spread from sensor to sensor, urging him to jerk away to cease it entirely. He relied on discipline to push through, curled his hand into a fist and tensed his jaw for distraction, harder and harder until he thought hinges would break.

Some more maddening fiddling, and the perfect angle was found. With grip finally achieved, the prongs withdrew alongside their prize and the relief was immediate. Pain ebbed, tension released and Ramattra slacked forward, into the hand supporting him. 

Delirious from agony, heavy from bodily strain, he surmised that, if there was any consolation to be found in this mess of a procedure, it was that Genji was so unusually warm for an omnic.

A balm for his ails.

And that would be all, as he decided he would never do something so invasive without a proper setup ever again, Iris so help him.

“How is it now?”

Gingerly removing himself from the touch—away from the comfortable warmth—Ramattra straightened his posture and dared a testing rub at the fracture, sighing in relief when no spark of pain arose.

“It's passable. No more than a dull throb,” he answered, gratitude saturating his synthesizer. He would need no theatrics for that, earnest in his emotion. The sound made Genji light up and he was quick with new ways to help.

“I can check for filler agents. Or a band-aid, if that would help keep dirt out.”

Ramattra considered the offer. Without adequate covering, he risked debris causing flare-ups. But that would be a small price to pay to ensure Genji stayed, as any future meeting was not set in stone.

“I would rather wait and have it tended to professionally. You strike me as the kind who is better at destroying than creating.”

“Yes, I am. But, ah...” A light quality saturated Genji’s tone, trying to stifle a chuckle. "That could take a while, as Overwatch is busy cleaning up after your destruction.”

Ramattra grumbled; he kept setting up these opportunities for Genji to take. Instead of engaging the agent in his little game of wits with his own—and gosh did he want to—Ramattra forced down the desire. And still he could not help but allow some bite to slip through.

“Then you won't have any issue assisting me in disassembly. Unlatch this for me.”

Genji did as told to no fanfare, much to Ramattra’s abject thrill. He placed his palms atop the metal plate and tested the resistance, gradually increasing his strength before the covering eventually dislodged. At the very least, he had a knack for a soft approach, Ramattra observed. Altogether a complete contrast to the ruthless ferocity demonstrated in battle.

As the uncovered internals came into view, Genji expressed intrigue in hushed Japanese. Spiritedly, he looked up at Ramattra. “Is there anything else I can do?”

As opposed to the procedure to remove the splinter, with no current to activate pain receptors in his arm, Ramattra would not need to worry about discomfort.

“You may as well. Unscrew these,” Ramattra pointed into the compartment with an index finger. 

“Phillips size 0, right?” Genji asked, eagerly swapping the interchangeable head of the small screwdriver with said bit. Obedient and excitable. Like a pup. Seemed he was not as unaffected by Ravager influence as he fancied.

“Yes, that is correct. Hm. I might have been too hasty in my assessment. This won't take quite as long as I believed.” Ramattra's wires crackled with a smug, electric smile.

Defeat may yet be a mere setback.

◇◇◇

They continued in such a manner for a while. For what Genji lacked in mechanical skill, he made up for with a steady hand, unbothered to be working under the critical eye of a perfectionist engineer. As a heap of components steadily formed, he felt inclined to acknowledge the ease in which Ramattra could instruct; close the oil valves. Unplug that wire. Now, unscrew this board. Detach the solenoid...

Thoughts percolated. If they shared a semiconductor chip, LEDS and boards, did their machinery share other design philosophies? Genji's lip twitched, the questions stopping short of spoken, allowing the harsh words of the Shimada Elders to steer his conduct.

Kuchi wa wazawai no moto. The mouth is the source of disaster.

Unlike back then, this was not just about thrill, curiosity or combating restlessness, Genji knew. It had struck him the instant he laid eyes upon the broken chip; if he could get Ramattra to open up, he could convince him to part with the schematics of his Subjugator technology. And then—then Master was not a lost cause. He would not continue to suffer for his repeated failures.

For once in what felt like forever, the thought of Zenyatta did not instill panic and hopelessness. In fact, Genji felt an unsettling sense of hope, and though it goaded spontaneous instinct—to engage with immediate effect—his time at Blackwatch taught him interrogations were a balancing act. 

With sly determination, he resolved to keep tugging at the loose end. Eventually, all would unravel.

So, begrudgingly keeping quiet, he focused on the slow emergence of their joint goal. Abetted by small talk in between instructions, time escaped him, and after what could have been hours just as well as minutes, he held the tiny perpetrator in his grasp: The broken chip.

Genji marveled at the small component, to think a single piece could have such a profound effect on the whole. 

Satisfaction welled in him to be permitted to unpackage the replacement—the mediator which had opened the way for this opportunity in the first place—and delight tugged at him for the honor of clicking it into place.

It is nice to see tangible progress for a change.

“Very good.” Ramattra nodded at the work, pleased at the outcome. “But I will need to do the soldering myself. Hold my arm, would you?”

Their knees knocked together, and once more, Genji found himself steadying the slack limb.

“Thank you,” Ramattra let slip without thinking, and Genji angled his head, just enough to peer past the ridged headpiece and up at him. The expression of gratitude turned the twitch on his lips into a lopsided smile of gratification, and he deemed this to be the seizable moment.

“Hey.”

Without missing a beat, and without looking up, Ramattra hummed an acknowledgement. Smoke rose in a continuous stream from the tip of the soldering iron, curling around in plumes, a formless third to eavesdrop on the conversation. Any prior effect it would have had on Genji's composure was overshadowed by determination.

“One for one, right?”

The smoke dispersed, and this time, the hand controlling the tool stilled. Gingerly, Ramattra raised his head, calling upon a combative resistance.

“Do you know what Master did before the Awakening?”

The soldering iron nearly slipped past fingers at the question, and Genji swore he could hear the flabbergasted blinking of apertures. 

“Out of everything to request…!” Ramattra’s expressed disbelief trailed off, shaking his head in amazement. Tension in artificial limbs softened, and Ramattra stared down at the hands securing his arm. 

Finding his answer, he tore his attention away from his thoughts to look squarely at Genji. Feelings lay hidden behind the alabaster mask, yet not his tone, which turned wistful and affectionate. “Last time I asked him, he claimed he stacked pins at a bowling alley.”

Genji tucked his chin and pressed his mouth into a thin line, resisting the compulsion to laugh at the scenario playing in his mind: Zenyatta dashing between the lanes of a bowling alley, hurrying to replace the pins before the next bowling ball could be sent careening toward him.

“Maybe that was the truth,” Genji offered, still testing the thread, mindful it might just have ended.

“Ha!” Ramattra’s chortle was so loud, it was felt bouncing between the walls of the holding cell. “I don't think so, but he wouldn't tell me.”

Then Genji’s laugh joined Ramattra’s, his distrust whisking away in an instant. Any other answer—any other claim—and he would have known. And so he responded in kind.

“He won't tell me either.”

Warden and prisoner shared a meaningful look. Just like that, as if the words they exchanged were rooted in secret code, they had established a connection which transcended their given roles.

Unbeknownst to either, it had been mutually concluded that, yes, there existed a solution after all.

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 29 || Sentimental Value

Warnings: None

Words: 2700

Previous || Next

~29~

Barry entered her apartment with the spicy scent of takeout following in his wake, as well as the lingering chill that seemed to bleed from his coat. Even with his hands full, he still greeted her with a kiss on the cheek when she stepped aside to let him in. He placed the food in her kitchen while she locked up behind him.

“How was the time at the station?” he asked once she’d finished her double-check routine. “I wanted to ask you earlier, but everyone was around-”

Iris smiled in assurance and stepped forward to place a hand on his forearm. “Don’t worry about that. It was…long. I never thought I’d have to pull up every detail of my past like that. I’ve spent so long trying to just push it aside, forget about it, I’m surprised how easily it all came back.” She found herself staring absently toward her fridge as she was speaking, remembering the details she’d penned out for the police to use.

Barry came forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in until she was securely tucked into his side. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve brought it up.”

Iris shook her head before she turned it, leaning her forehead against his chest as she wrapped an arm around his back. “It gets easier each time, but it’s still such a raw feeling. It was a bit easier when I went last time and Felicia was there, even just to know that someone was there waiting for me.”

His hand, so large against her back, soothingly stroked up and down. Warm and comforting. Safe and secure. She leaned her weight in against him just a bit more, taking in the faded scent of cologne and sweat. It almost drowned out the scent of the food he’d brought, but the spicy aroma was beginning to permeate her small apartment.

It made her stomach clench with hunger.

Pulling back enough to remain pressed bodily against him but to finally look him in the eye, Iris gave a soothing smile. “Let’s eat. Enough about police and crazy pasts.”

Barry’s smile was bright and welcoming. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She collected plates and cups for each of them while he pulled the Styrofoam takeaway containers from the bags he’d brought in. He explained what each dish was as he opened it, warning her which ones were spicy and others sweeter and nuttier. He watched in amusement as she carefully leaned over each of the dishes, smelling them.

He’d gotten way more than the two of them needed, but he wanted to give her the chance to try as many in one go as he could. The lady that had taken his purchase had been more than kind, patiently ringing through everything as he’d stood there staring at the menu. His co-worker had been helpful, actually, and recommended ones that his own girlfriend favoured. Although, she apparently liked her food hot enough to sweat out Satan.

He wasn’t going to tell Iris that.

Iris took a bit of everything, unable to resist wanting to try a bit of each selection, and they had soon moved to sit on her bed—as had become their routine—with their meals sitting on pillows in their laps. Deciding it was safest to use forks instead of the provided chopsticks, they fell into easy conversation about their day as Barry watched Iris’s reactions with each attempt.

“I don’t mind a bit of spice, but that one’s more than I think I can handle,” she commented after trying one of the noddle dishes, reaching for her water to try and dull the sting a bit. Barry laughed before he scooped the remainder of the spicey noodles off of her plate and onto his. Iris just gave him a small, but grateful smile as she continued to sip from her water.

“So, is there anything you don’t like, for future reference? Aside from the spicier variety.”

“Uhm, sushi’s not really my thing, not much for fish in general but anything raw is definitely a no. I don’t have any allergies, that I know of. I hate the taste of milk just on its own, and I’m not a huge fan of sour foods. I am open to at least trying new things once, though.” Iris ducked down to her plate as she took another forkful of noodles, this time one of the sweeter ones, and made a soft humming sound of satisfaction as she chewed. He smiled at the reaction, glad that even just one dish was a win.

He forced his focus away before she caught him watching her tongue swipe the sauce from her finger.

Barry nodded along as she spoke, remembering the conversations they’d had the morning after he had first slept over regarding their coffee preferences and blueberries vs chocolate.

“What about you? Any major culinary dos and don’ts I should know about?”

By the time Barry had finished recounting his meal preferences, which were actually quite similar to hers with the exception of liking spice and loving a glass of milk, they had finished their meal and the plates were sitting in a careful stack at the foot of the bed.

When Barry asked her what book she’d been reading when he called, she gasped suddenly and jumped up from the bed. He jolted slightly at her abrupt movement, the curls of her hair swinging behind her as she scrambled up, and watched as she rushed over to the small collection of books he’d once inspected. She grabbed one sitting right on top of all the others, a bookmark poking out of the top, but also grabbed a plastic bag with her work’s logo on the front.

She deposited the book and the bag onto the bed before picking up their discarded dishes and quickly dumping them in the sink already filled with soapy water. Barry quickly read the title of the book she had, The Martian staring up at him, before she rejoined him. She bounced slightly as she jumped up onto the bed and quickly crossed her legs.

He had taken to stretching out across her bed once they’d finished eating, leaning up on one elbow while his shin nearly brushed her knee.

When Iris reclaimed her spot, her hand fell to rest on his knee for balance and the area bloomed with warmth upon contact. Something so small was able to make his skin flush with the knowledge that she was touching him.

It was simple and casual, but it was something that she would not have done unless she was truly growing comfortable in his presence. Butterflies erupted in his belly at the knowledge; the implication. His love for her grew just a little more in that moment, settling in his core like a familiar, weighted comfort.

“Here,” she declared, offering him the bag. It gave off a distinct rattling sound, like a spray-paint can. “I got this for you. I wanted to thank you for dropping everything to come and get me after the incident at work. I know it was stressful for you as well, and you helped me so much. So, thank you.”

She blushed as she said it, bashful and shy, but anxiously waiting his reaction as he carefully took it from her. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me something for that.”

“I wanted to,” she pressed. “You’ve all been doing so much for me, I feel like I need to return the favour more often. So, I got you this.”

Barry smiled at her simple excitement coupled with her kindness. He sat up to get a better handle on the bag and reached inside without looking. Iris was watching his expression carefully, waiting. From the bag, he withdrew a new, leather-bound sketch book. The weight of the paper was a lighter variety, designed for charcoal, conte and pastels. Accompanying the sketchbook was a can of fixative spray, and a pack of charcoal pencils that came with a knife to sharpen, a sandpaper pad and a kneaded eraser. It was everything he would need to make and preserve a charcoal drawing.

“Iris,” he mumbled in surprise. It was not a cheap amount of art supplies. He was guessing nearly two hundred with the leather-bound book.

“Do you like it? It is something you’ll use? I know that depending on the art the supplies can be very particular but these are our best sell-”

Barry dropped the haul onto the bed between them to catch Iris’s face in his hands, cradling her delicate jaw to pull her in as his lips slanted across hers. She had to catch her balance, her hand bracing her weight at the sudden shift of her bodyweight. One of his hands remained delicately holding her jaw and neck while the other slipped back into her hair and cupped her skull.

Iris, initially caught off guard, relaxed into the kiss and leaned in closer. Her scalp tingled at the feeling of his fingers running along her skin, carding through her hair.

Barry pulled back from the kiss long enough to breathe a quick ‘thank you’ against her lips before he pulled her back in. He was sure he could feel her smiling against his lips now, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her just yet in order to be certain. She could swear her entire body flushed with the desperate way he followed her lips, pulled her in to remove any semblance of distance.

It wouldn’t surprise her if he was able to feel how her skin pebbled, or how her body quaked with a pleasurable shiver.

The crinkle of the plastic wrapping on the items made a faint sound as Barry rose to his knees, the bag sliding off the edge of the bed with a muffled thump. It went ignored. He nearly towered above Iris, even though his hold on her remained gentle—though passionate—even as he bore his weight down against her. The hand she had previously been resting on his knee became a splayed palm against his thigh. It felt like a searing heat penetrating straight through his jeans, even just the knowledge of where she was touching enough to set his heart racing.

“Barry,” she gasped faintly in a moment when they broke to breathe, her free hand lifted to trace cool fingers across his cheek.

His nose traced along hers, nearly cheek to cheek, as he leaned in against her form. Iris settled back easily, welcomingly, until Barry’s body pressed hers down into the mattress with a gentle, controlled weight. He could feel the sharp press of her hip against his, her sturdy ribs supporting his weight as his fingers delved deeper into her hair. She could feel the warm breath he exhaled against her lips a moment before soft skin glided along hers, barely a tease of contact.

“Iris,” he breathed softly, invitingly. A hand slid against her waist, framing the delicate width, and sending a quaking shiver through her form.

She didn’t seem fully cognizant of her actions as her head tipped backward, baring her pale throat, until her head was buried deep in the pillows atop her bed. Barry dipped his focus to the welcoming stretch, pressing his lips to the graceful curve of her throat. The muscles were pulled taut, corded beneath the skin and pressed firm beneath the caress of his mouth.

Like porcelain. White as snow and smooth as silk.

So focused on her neck, her skin and scent reeling him in and holding him fast, he almost jolted in surprise when the soft scratch of her nails met the back of his neck. Starting at the base of his skull and steadily moving downward. Soon, the scratch of her nails was dipping beneath the collar of his shirt and Barry hummed softly against her skin.

Her pulse thrummed beneath his lips, racing.

A sigh was prompted from her when he began massaging her scalp, her hair wrapped securely around his fingers, and her head tipped further into his hold. “Sweetheart.” Iris hummed again, acknowledging him as she continued to revel in his touch. Her own touches continued, gentle, against the back of his neck and along the top of his spine.

Lifting himself up to prop more on his elbows, removing his weight from her body—surprisingly, she’d sustained his bodyweight completely without complaint. Those soft eyes opened at the loss of contact, meeting his eyes as her reddened lips upturned into a serene little smile. Making a minute adjustment to his hold, Barry continued to cradle her head while he stroked his thumbs along the sharp hinges of her jaw.

“I love you,” he whispered. Even though the words had been exchanged between them already, they felt just as heavy and profound as when they’d been uttered under the falling snow. Iris’s small smile bloomed into a look of pure joy, eyes creasing at the corners with the unabashed expression. Barry was helpless against the contagious happiness, a grin taking over before he leaned back down to peck a kiss against her lips.

The kiss was silly in comparison to their previous ones, their shared smiles causing teeth to click together and a giggle to erupt from Iris. Her laughter was enough to shake them slightly, causing the man above her to huff an answering laugh.

“I love you, too, Barry,” she answered happily once he’d departed from her lips once more. “So much,” she added a moment later, softer, as one of her hands came forward to trace along his cheekbone, following the crease of his smile, across his bottom lip. He remained propped above her, leaning on one hip and his elbows, as Iris’s fingertip tickled along his skin.

It was like she was trying to map out his smile, his happiness.

Barry moved to roll off of Iris before he potentially crushed her.

“No,” she jolted suddenly, hands fisting in his shirt.

“Sweetheart, I’m gunna crush you.”

Iris smiled softly as she shook her head. “Stay. I like it…it feels safe. You make me feel safe.” Barry held her gaze, assessing, before he finally gave a faint nod of assent.

The moment lulled and soothed, like being rocked on calm waters. Barry stretched out atop Iris, his arms hooked under her shoulders to hold her slim torso, with his cheek was cushioned on her chest. Even though she was quite thin, he could feel the slight swell of her breast beneath his cheek and fought against the burning flush in his cheeks at the notion. Her thighs came up on either side of his waist, enveloping him in plush warmth. Gentle fingertips continued to soothe and stroke along his back and neck, although the feeling was slightly muted through his shirt.

Once comfortable, Iris started to hum a song that Barry knew was familiar, but he couldn’t seem to place. The humming vibrated through her chest and against his cheek. It was such an addicting feeling that his hands slid from beneath her shoulders to cradle her ribs instead, large hands framing her sides almost entirely. Iris smiled at the enveloping feeling—he boxed her in from all sides, pressing her into the mattress without causing any smothering or claustrophobic sensations to come up.

Continuing to hum, she mindlessly stroked her fingers up and down his back. Occasionally, she lifted her touch enough to scratch fingers along the growing stubble of his hair. Barry seemed to enjoy those moments the most, exhaling in long, deep breaths that she could feel both through her shirt and in the large shift of his torso.

Sleep never quite came, but neither knew how long they laid out on her mattress with Iris’s soft humming to fill the silence of the apartment. Full bellies and sated emotions left them drifting, absorbed in one another. It was a moment neither wanted to break. Nothing pressing needed their attentions; no fathers or work, no phone calls or police matters. Just the two of them in a cozy apartment, enjoying the safe comfort they could provide.

For once, it was just love and acceptance.

Previous || Next

[oeight]

HAYMITCH ABERNATHY IMAGINE

haymitch x f!oc: lorna harkner

summary: post-reaping goodbyes with 'his girl'

warnings: angst, swearing, inaccuracies from books/films (e.g. slight bending of post-reaping rules/age of minor characters)

She was the last one allowed in. 

His mother and Gordy had left in a flood of tears, hands lingering over his chest as though to commit the thundering of his heart to memory before the inevitable chop, slice, or hit would quell the life coursing through his veins forever.

Quell. He chuckled bitterly, unable to help his lower lip wobble.

Their faces. He would never forget their faces in that moment, nor would he forget the sheer panic that gripped his heart – a cold, steely compression that sent shots of pain through his chest and up past his shoulder. Their watery blue eyes, so much like his own, and their tear-stained cheeks. His mother’s cries, begging the Peacekeepers just five more minutes before my boy leaves me.

He’d never really noticed it before, but his mother was going grey. Perhaps it was because they weren’t exactly a touchy-family – close like that – or perhaps it was because she was a tall, slender woman and he’d had his growth spurt late and only just begun to tower over her. But they were there, clear as day. Thick, wiry strands of grey that curled on the top of her head like broken strands. A reminder that he wouldn’t be there to see her grow into an old lady. 

No, the Capitol took that right away from him. They made sure of that.

Fourty-eight fucking tributes. A death sentence. His predestined doomsday, or week, however the hell long he’d last in that bloodbath. 

He’d been hounded with quick whispers of encouragement from a naive Gordy – who, bless his soul, at seven didn’t really know what the reaping was or what it would mean for Haymitch. If anything, Haymitch struggled to stomach looking at him for long periods of time. Where he sported a thick mess of wavy dark hair that curled slightly over his ears, Gordy had a curly mop of sandy hair on top of his head. He also had freckles – a star-shaped one under his left eye – and a brown splodge within his blue iris. 

But Haymitch kind of hated his little brother in their last moments together. And then he hated himself for hating him in the first place, and his heart quickened when he remembered that in the last thirty seconds of blurred hysteria as he mumbled and blinked his way through a half-hearted conversation with his mother, that he didn’t even tell Gordy how much he loved him. Didn’t tell him that the front door had to be lifted up with his foot before it could be shut properly, or that Lorna leaves a rabbit on the back step each week expecting nothing but a quick doodle in return. Gordy couldn’t draw.

Not like Haymitch could. 

And that was what was going through his mind when he felt a gentle, apprehensive hand cradle his bicep.

He hadn’t even realised that the heels of his palms had stuck themselves in his eye sockets, or that he’d fallen against a rickety table, his chest heaving and salty tears streaming down his face. In his haze of numbness and dissociation, he’d failed to recognise the door creaking open and the hurried, concerned footsteps of her boots crunch against the floor to reach him.

He’d never been a touchy person, but Lorna Harkner was, and when it came to her, he’d tolerate just about anything if it meant she’d be with him. In whatever way she wanted.

“Lor–” He gasped, his limbs locked in place as the pressure behind his eyeballs built up tremendously. He could see white worms in the darkness of his vision, and his elbows were digging into his thighs with such ferocity he knew there was no way he wouldn’t bruise. He’d hoped the pain in his thighs would distract him from the…everything, but it only seemed to amplify his confusion because the next thing he knew – for certain – was that her hands were everywhere.

A gentle tug on his wrist had his hands falling free from his eyes, and a soft push against his thighs had the backs of his legs scraping against the wooden floor, and a pleasant warmth blooming across his cheeks had his stinging eyes open a crack. She was blurry and there was an aura of green surrounding her as her fingers continued to lightly wipe away his tears.

Other than the raging tsunami of his heart hammering so painfully against his rubs; the panic that seemed to blaze every nerve in his body; the whirlwind of thoughts flying through his mind; the sudden desire to jump up off the floor and scream until his throat was raw; the heaviness of his eyelids; the hot tears still somehow leaking down his cheeks, he was still. So still Lorna paused her movements, her own bottom lip trembling as she fought not to break in front of him, and pressed two quick fingers to the inside of his wrist.

Through his frenzy, Haymitch felt his nose crinkle slightly as his cloudy eyes lazily dropped down to where she was touching his bare skin, “Did you just check my pulse?” He mumbled, brows going slack against his face as his eyelids half-closed.

He wanted to look at her – really look at her before time ran out, but it seemed his body had other plans. He was so tired.

“Yes.” She breathed, voice trembling. 

“Why?” He blinked slowly, brows struggling to complete the furrow he was going for. 

She swallowed, her fingers still pressed to his skin. The electrifying buzz that bubbled between them was somewhat hard to ignore. Haymitch revelled in it, holding his breath as he waited for her response.

“Because you stopped breathing.”

At this, the air locked in his lungs expelled, as if his body had just remembered what oxygen felt like, “I did?”

The blurry shape in front of him shifted slightly, and he could just make out the bounce of dark curls before she moved her hand away from his wrist, “You did.”

He caught a sniffle, and the next time he blinked, his vision cleared slightly. She wasn’t looking at him – that was the first thing he registered. The second thing was that her knee was pulled up under her chin, and clear droplets fell right onto the floor with the low angle her face was pointed. The silence between them almost made him forget why he was locked in that room in the first place. 

At that moment, it was just Haymitch and Lorna. The girl he’d had his eye on since he was eight and only worked up the guts to talk to her not half a year ago.

She was his best friend.

And though he tried to deny it – that insatiable craving for her touch all the time – he liked her more than he should. And right now, even though he knew she was crying because of him, she was still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It was that paired with the knowledge that they were on a timer before she’d be ripped from him that sent a surge of courage through his entire body, the nerves at the tips of his fingers tingling as he reached a hand out to her.

He had nothing and everything to lose.

It was delicate, the way he lightly brushed her raven locks behind her ear to grab her attention, and it was delicate in the way she looked up at him, her eyes watery and bloodshot as she took in his equally dishevelled appearance. His blue shirt had been crumpled from the hands of his mother and brother, and his trouser legs had ruffled up his calves when he’d scrambled to the desk. Brunette locks hung in front of his eyes, highlighting his need for a haircut – and it stuck out at odd angles from when he must have run his hands through it. She could just make out the blonde strands shining in the sun, and wanted nothing more than to drag her hands through it and scope out how much of it would be left before he’d grow out of it. 

It’d probably be dyed completely brown by the time he stepped into the arena.

His touch was featherlight as he traced her cheekbone, his eyelids heavy as his bottom lip wobbled once more. 

She didn’t say anything, but gripped his wrist and relished in the warmth. She could feel his heart beating. 

She could tell he needed the reassurance more than she did, and it was that thought that drove her forward and into his chest. Her arm wrapped around the back of his neck, hand just splaying over the hair that curled down his nape. Her other arm wrapped itself around his torso – lean. She could smell the musk aftershave that used to be his father’s clinging to his shirt, but it was the familiar waft of lavender that overpowered her senses.

He seemed to lean back against the table, dragging her with him, and in one swift motion, her head was on his shoulder and her body was draped across his lap. He brought one knee up, caging her in against his torso, and used one hand to smooth her hair down before pressing a quick kiss on her forehead and using the other hand to press her further into him. 

They were quiet, every second tinged with morbid disdain.

“You’re smart.” She whispered, nudging his chin off the top of her head to look at him.

His blue eyes peered down at her – confusion evident.

“You’re intelligent, you need to use that.” She sat up, one leg swung around his waist and the other folded underneath her. 

They’d barely poot a foot between them, but Haymitch was still uneasy with that.

“You think I’m intelligent?” His mouth dried up, and his cheeks flushed as he searched her face for any hint of a lie.

“No, I know you’re intelligent, that’s why—” She sighed – breath shaky, rolling her eyes, “You’re focusing on the wrong things here. What I’m trying to say is that your brain can get you further than you think. Use it. Please. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

He nodded, though she knew it was more for her own sake than his. Everyone knew that all sense went out of the window for the first few days – if you even made it that far.

“And find a knife, shelter, and try not to piss anyone off enough to make enemies before you’re thrown in there.” 

“Of course.” 

“Why aren’t you fighting back with me here?”

Haymitch looked down at her trembling hands, and the green ribbon on her wrist.

“Can I have that?” He asked, his own fingers automatically going to untie it before she could even answer.

She didn’t reply, just watched numbly as he untied it off her wrist and tied it back on his.

“Haymitch?”

“I’ve accepted my fate.” Was all he said, twisting his wrist to admire his handiwork.

Lorna tilted her head inquisitively, “You’ve given up already?”

He looked so utterly defeated, a stark contrast already to the state she previously found him in when she first entered the room.

“Accepting isn’t the same as giving up, Lor.” 

“It is in there.”

He sighed, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he refrained from wanting to place both hands on the side of her head and just tug her into him for the rest of their time together. Was it so selfish of him to want to hold her when the end of his life was so near?

He didn’t think so. But he could read the room, and now wasn’t the right time to do such a thing when she was looking at him so devastatingly. Her lips seemed to be drawn into a frown, one that twitched as she wrestled to keep her emotions in check. Her brows were drawn together, creases on her forehead appearing as she blinked rapidly, looking to the ceiling to dispel the water gathering in her eyes.

He shook his head, unable to take it when she wasn’t looking at him. He had to memorise her as best as he could in the short time left. 

He wasn’t entirely thinking straight when he encouraged her to look back at him by tapping the underneath of her chin and sitting up straighter. They were so close their noses bumped and he vaguely noticed the way her breath hitched in her chest for a millisecond when she realised it too, and he most certainly acted on sheer impulse when he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her impossibly closer. So close that their chests bumped, so close that Lorna instinctively dipped her head down a little lower, and pressed a burning kiss against his cheek. 

Then the other. Then against the bridge of his nose, his forehead, his chin, in between his eyebrows.

Until Haymitch couldn’t take it anymore and turned his head fractionally to the left and caught her.

He felt her inhale sharply, their lips slotting together so painfully perfectly. He took her by surprise, but she reacted quick enough. Quick enough to suggest that she’d been expecting him to do such a thing – that she’d drawn that reaction out of him on purpose.

One of her hands tentatively hovered in front of his face – he could see the shadow in his periphery – but she dropped it, almost as though she thought better of it, so he took the initiative to grab it and place it on the base of his neck, right where he felt it necessary. The way her fingers gently scraped the back of his neck up into his hair sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, and his jaw dropped in pleasant shock, their lips detaching.

It was over almost as quickly as it began.

He could feel his cheeks heat up as she slowly pulled away, though not too far. Her own cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. 

He felt drunk on euphoria, and if he shut his eyes he knew he’d be able to feel the phantom touch of her on him again. 

“Accepting my fate doesn’t mean I’ve given up,” he was breathless, but he still managed to convey the note of sincerity he wished to get across when he tilted his face up to hers, maintaining as much eye contact as he could, “It means that I know there’s nothing that I can do that will prevent me from being in there. It doesn’t mean I won’t fight like hell to get out.”

She crossed her arms, hand sliding off the back of his neck. He missed the warmth almost immediately after she removed it, “You’re good with knives.” She whispered.

“I know, Sunshine, I know. And I’ll—” he felt like a crazed man when he surged forward hungrily, hastily kissing her once more. He’d had a taste of her and now he couldn’t leave off. She was addictive and it killed him knowing he’d have to leave her so soon, “I’ll try and come back but I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.”

He felt her shake her head against his mouth as he pressed a hot kiss against her forehead, “This doesn’t feel real. Why did it have to be you?”

Haymitch pulled back, eyes scanning her green ones. His mind was stuck reciting the first part of what she just said, “What doesn’t feel real? Us?” 

His heart hammered in his chest and he felt the sickening feeling of dread creep up the back of his throat. He was about to be sentenced to imminent death and he was worried about rejection. The idea of the hilarity of that was not lost on him at all.

“Us? I mean, I guess, but I meant The Games. It doesn’t feel real that you were picked. Out of everyone, it had to be you.”

Haymitch smiled bitterly at her words, his hand caressing the skin from her collarbone to her neck and then under her hair. Relief wasn’t the correct word to use to describe the way his body seemed to relax upon her confession, nor the way he melted into her touch when it was her that instigated their next kiss. 

“It’s the Quarter Quell,” he breathed heavily, nudging his nose against her cheek, “double the tributes from each district significantly increases my chances at being picked.” 

“I wish you weren’t such a hardheaded, miserable–”

“Sorry?”

“If you’d have told me you felt like this,” she gestured between them both, “then we could have been doing this much longer.”

“I’m not miserable–”

“Let’s not do this now.”

“When else are we going to do it?” His voice was sharp, and the mood instantaneously darkened.

A grey cloud hung over them, but they didn’t move away from each other or look away. Lorna’s gaze was full of sorrow, Haymitch’s equally as harrowing.

Something unspoken passed through them, and despite their rushed conversation and hurried movements, they chose to use the rest of their time to bask in each other’s presence. Haymitch was glad she didn’t continue giving him tips on how to survive. It gave him an opportunity to forget the horrors of what he was about to experience. He allowed himself to grasp onto the slither of hope she offered, that silent realisation that she’d be waiting for him if he ever made it back alive. 

That was until multiple pairs of heavy footsteps were heard nearing the room, and Lorna scrambled to her feet, dragging him with her, before pulling him into a crushing hug so tight he could feel the ferocity of her heart pounding against her sternum through the material of her dress and his father’s shirt and he clutched her tighter, afraid to let her go and afraid to let his unadulterated terror consume him whole before he was reduced to a trembling mess. 

When the door burst open she pressed one last chaste kiss to the side of his neck, before she was torn away.

She uttered her last words under her breath, but he caught them with ease, “Please try.” 

He said nothing in return, but offered a short, sharp nod of his head as their hands were ripped apart. She was ushered out of the room without protest, but she caught his eye just before the door slammed shut in her face, locking them apart. Potentially forever.

He was terrified.