#Also I haven’t drawn Pizza Head IN SO LONG so he looks a little different

[whereismyhat5678]

I DID IT I DID THE ONE TWITTER THING-

Granted I did some tweaking, like adding Brick in the back with Gus cuz I thought it’d be cute 😅 and having a hard time choosing a third character but I chose Pizza Head! ✨💕

Original photo underneath:

[erwinsvow]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 | 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧

author's note: sorry i just cannot stop writing headcanons! it's my favorite thing to write. i really hope everyone enjoys these, they include things from these two works of mine as well :) -shea

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

very much the involved boyfriend

once you guys finally start dating, he just immediately wants you guys to merge lives and share friends, even though that’s not a simple process

but it’s really because he cares about you so deeply he doesn’t want there to be a part of his life that you’re just not involved in

therefore; very involved

you guys manage your schedules together and plan out dinners and dates in advance

he mostly really likes having something to look forward too, like time with you

the kind of boyfriend that remembers little stuff you say here and there

like if you mention your mom’s birthday is coming up, he’ll ask later what you’re getting her and suggest some ideas. probably would send your mom flowers too to earn brownie points

or if you have a stressful week with exams and papers, he’ll stop by randomly with coffee and a snack and a hug

i honestly don’t see jean as the kind of boyfriend to start/carry on a fight, because he would hate knowing that you two are upset with each other. so i think any fights would be resolved pretty quickly

if one did happen to go over night or last a few days, he would definitely apologize first and bring you flowers, even if you were the one who started it

honestly though, with a guy like jean, what is there to fight about

overall, just a super caring boyfriend that makes the little stuff the memorable stuff

𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭

the! best! boyfriend! ever!

i see armin as the ideal caring boyfriend

he just really likes to have someone to take care of, and he is also really touched that someone trusts him enough to ensure their heart to him

so he takes every measure to make sure he’s being the best partner he can be

a lot of emotional sharing, and i feel like would happen pretty early on as well

only because he is so trustworthy and you know you can tell him everything on your mind, even stuff that you maybe haven’t told anyone else

this just makes your relationship progress even further. you two are the couple that has been dating for a month but knows they are going to be together for a long time

speaking of, you are the mom and the dad of the friend group, which is so adorable but calls for a lot of teasing from your friends

but armin knows he’s going to marry you one day, so he just laughs when eren cracks another joke about it

𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

i’ll be real, this relationship is definitely not the easiest

reiner definitely loves you, don’t get me wrong, but a big part of him probably thinks he doesn’t deserve someone like you to care about him

which isn’t easy in a relationship because i feel like he would try and distance himself from getting too attached in the beginning

maybe he just thinks you’re going to see through him and realize you don’t want this anymore (which is not true at all, but just his intrusive thoughts)

i think you would try to reassure him about your feelings and how much you want this relationship, but then he feels like you shouldn’t have to reassure him, and that you shouldn’t be in the kind of relationship where you have to reassure the person. basically he thinks you deserve someone better, and you know that there is no one better for you

eventually i think this reaches a breaking point. through a lot of angst and honesty and tears, you two finally work it out

i think after clearing things up, things take a huge turn for the better

he definitely learns that there’s nothing wrong with being a relationship where you have to take care of each other, and he’s definitely thankful that you continued to stand by him

so sorry about this angst, but on the bright side, this man would be such a devoted boyfriend

his friends definitely make fun of him for looking at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky

i also think all this angst would lead to you two being really open and vulnerable with each other, which is really important to him

also definitely a mama’s boy and can’t wait to introduce you to her

just like armin, he knows you’re gonna be his wife someday

𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

even though i think it would take eren a long time to settle down and commit to a healthy, long-term relationship, once he does, he would be a great boyfriend

he is a really caring guy, and i feel like part of his hesitance is about opening up to someone if they’re just gonna leave

but i think he can tell early on that this would be different

i have a feeling his love language is quality time, and so you two are always planning little things together

he especially loves last-minute, impromptu dates that arise from a random thought

like he’ll grab two sandwiches and take you to the beach at sunset, even if you just got home or had something to get done

or knock on your door at midnight and take you to the nearest roof to stargaze together

i feel like eren is the boyfriend who becomes your closest friend over time

you guys go to each other first when you need to rant or talk or babble endlessly

it’s an interesting dynamic but it works well for you guys

the kind of bf that people assume he’s a single bachelor and will stay that way forever, or people don’t believe that he’s settled down, and then when they see you two together they’re shocked

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭

you and marco have the most wholesome relationship

if i had to picture anyone whose relationship feels like the honeymoon phase even after a whole year, it is marco

he has a habit of making every small date, every meeting or interaction just feel so special, like every day is a special occasion

the kind of boyfriend who gets you a promise ring early on with every intention of replacing it with an engagement ring and wedding band one day

a big moment for him is introducing you to his friends! he knows they’ll love you, and he just wants you to meet the other most important people in his life

especially you and jean, this boy would be on cloud nine seeing you two get along so well. makes him super happy and teary-eyed

the responsible bf who takes care of everything for you, even little, everyday things so you don’t have to worry about it

like making sure there’s a cup of water on the nightstand when you go to bed, or setting an extra alarm to make sure you don’t oversleep, or reminding you about a deadline

overall just <3 boyfriend marco

𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

the nonchalant, cool boyfriend who has to hide how sappy he actually is

pretends like he’s not nervous as all hell on your first date. acts like you leaning into him on the walk back home, or kissing his cheek at your doorstep before you say good night isn’t giving him heart palpitations.

also majorly touch-starved. after you two really open up to each other, which happens way sooner than he expected, it’s hard for him to keep his hands away from you.

he’s reserved in public, a simple arm around you waist or hands interlaced while you guys are out

but when you’re in the privacy of your home, it’s almost instinctual for him to pull you close

he loves when you lay your head on his chest, but nothing compares to when you let him lay his head on yours.

you stroke his hair and sit in silence, appreciating the quiet mumble of the television and the sound of each other breathing

always falls asleep like this, and he’s never been much of a nap guy, but ever since he met you, he’s reformed

not to mention your skin is always so warm and soft, and his is always on the colder side, so he’s just drawn to you

also i see him as the kind of guy who proposes out of nowhere, like you aren’t expecting it at all after a quiet dinner together at home, you’re getting up to grab dessert and he pulls out a ring

“how about dessert and naps for as long as we both shall live?”

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

once again, pock tries to put on a tough facade but we all know he’s just a softie on the inside

in fact, it’s a little while into your relationship that you notice him softening up with you, trying less hard to seem like someone else and getting more comfortable around you

you definitely don’t mention it, because you don’t want him to realize how you’ve been noticing it lately, but it definitely makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of him being more himself

it’s not long at all before you can’t even see any semblance of that tough guy you met for the first time

the kind of whipped boyfriend that carries your bags when you go shopping, grabs your coffee order on the way to visit you, and likes to have quiet nights in more than going out

your favorite memories with him include watching rom-coms and munching on popcorn in his apartment, everyone else out and about on a saturday night

the leftover pizza is sitting on the counter, and you turn to go put it away when you notice pock teary-eyed at the movie!

yes, this boy cries at sappy romantic movies and you regret ever putting on the notebook that one night because you wanted to get laid after and that just did not happen because he was crying too much

but also just treats you so right and has every intention of being the best boyfriend he can, doesn’t ever want to do anything to hurt you and is highkey very glad he met you and has someone to be so open and comfortable with!

𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

can you spell boyfriend material.

the most comforting, wholesome boyfriend in the world. you actually can’t believe he’s single when you guys meet for the first time, because there’s just no way.

this is the take him home to meet your parents guy, introduce him to your friends right away guy because you know it’s serious

i talked about how bertholdt is the bf who just listens to your talks and rambles for as long as you need to, and always offers advice and sweet words, but he really does take it to the next level

lets you cry it out when you need to, rubbing your back and hair softly and not minding when his shirt is covered in tears

or alternatively lets you rant about your annoying professor or a terribly rude stranger or whatever else is plaguing your mind today

texts you every day asking how you’re doing, always calls you before bed if you guys aren’t together

he just has the ability to make you feel so heard and seen

and of course you never forget to take care of him, as well. it makes for a really comfortable dynamic.

very easy to imagine spending the rest of your life with him despite the fact that he has kicked you off the bed multiple times in his sleep

𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡

alternatively, husband material

takes all of five minutes into having a conversation with him to realize this is a responsible, mature guy

which are usually far and few between

i’d like to think he’s similar to marco in the way that he likes to make sure things are taken care for you, he likes to get things off of your shoulders even though you feel like you should be doing it for him instead

this translates to a lot of checking in phone calls, making sure you’ve eaten dinner and haven’t skipped meals because of your busy schedule

always makes time for you and especially loves having date nights every saturday, it’s wonderful when you haven’t been able to see him all week

anyways, you get engaged and married so fast bc you just had to snatch him up

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Which member do you think is the most supportive of VMIN?

Admin 1: For a change I’ll be the one that’ll use comparatively few words since I don’t have that big of an opinion. As much as I enjoy joining in on the jokes about how Jimin is the president of the Namjinists (due to his April Fool’s Day joke tweet from years ago and other such things), I’ve never given much thought to who among the members might be the most supportive of vmin.

But perhaps I’d say it could be Hoseok due to his general fondness of both Jimin and Tae as individuals but also as them together, how he said his favorite song off of MOTS7 is Friends and even sung it during the FESTA karaoke with the iconic (very suggestive and heavy on the implications) hip thrust during Tae’s “hey, Jimin, oneul” part. I’m sure you know exactly what I mean. Also if we consider that Jimin and Hoseok were roommates for a long time, I guess it wouldn’t be too far-fetched of an assumption to make on my part that surely they had a number of deep late night talks over the years, and chances are Jimin would’ve sought out advice from Hoseok during one of them, perhaps even confided in him about his feelings for Tae (regardless which ones, both would be valid and something you’d talk about with a close friend).

Another option might be Namjoon, since he’s the leader and thus certainly the person who would have to know about such developments within the group for obvious reasons, but also it seems like Namjoon sought out consolation and advice from both Jimin (like that scene in BV4 around the bonfire off to the side from the group) and Tae (like the story he told at 5th Muster Seoul (?) about how he was kind of sad/feeling off so he talked to Tae before the encore and what Tae said made him feel better), meaning they are more than close enough to bring up certain topics with each other. So, based on that, it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch that he would stand up/look out for them if need be in conversations with BH etc.

That being said, regardless of how we interpret vmin and their bond, I think it’s safe to say that all the members are endlessly supportive of them, just like they are with any other duo within the group, though it’s easy to see that they do highlight vmin at times as something…special. A bond that’s noteworthy, stands out, even within a group as close as they are.

Admin 2: Chances are that what I think and am about to say might be a bit controversial. At the same time I’d like to note that this is only my personal opinion and theory, and not some kind of proven fact, yes? Perhaps no one will agree with me, but after putting many thoughts into this and looking at different content and events that have transpired over the years, as well as some other factors I’ll explain later, these are the conclusions I’ve drawn when it comes to the members and vmin. Furthermore, I don’t want to negate/comment on other ships since those don’t really play any role in this the way some might assume.

I think it’s important to remember that BTS basically exist in two version (though they are closely intertwined):

1: the idols on screen, who stand on stage, who share their music with us, who film content and who, to a certain degree, play a role, keep up an appearance that’s part honest and part mystery.

“I think V can show parts of Kim Taehyung and parts of V, but Kim Taehyung can’t show V. Kim Taehyung is Kim Taehyung. Kim Taehyung is someone who’s still filled with a lot of curiosity and he’s inquisitive about a lot of things. There are so many things he wants to do. Also I think there’s so many things he is curious about.” – Tae, Break the Silence: Persona

2: the real-life humans with private lives, private friendships and personalities that are similar but not quite the same as what we know and see.

Both of these are real in their own right, and both of them influence each other in more ways than one. So, when we look at vmin in the context of both, the question of support and showing certain things and how those affect version 1 and 2 are tricky, multifaceted and much more complex than some imagine or present it as. Because the moment we assume private life vmin are real, that sort of swift in dynamic ultimately also affects their work and demands adjustments from all parties involved, especially the other members. A large portion of what they do and say on screen or anywhere that we can see it is, to a certain degree, planned or has been discussed prior.

More below the cut since this kind of got long:

In one of the Break the Silence episodes Namjoon spoke about how with the more recent tours they haven’t been really able to do as much “free style” stuff (as in moving freely around stage and being silly, that sort of thing) between songs with choreographies, as opposed to how it used to be in the early days, since much of the show is perfectly timed and planned down to every little detail and every single light surrounding the stage. Much the same way everything else sure is, too. Look at RUN, even there you can notice them looking at printed out pages that surely contain a short storyboard of how the episode should more or less go in general terms, since that makes editing and keeping things cohesive much easier, especially since BTS are seven people, therefore seven moving independent variables.

Keeping all of this in mind, I’ve come to the conclusion that, in my opinion, the biggest vmin supporter is JK, followed by Hobi and Namjoon. I don’t mean, by any means, that completely idiotic theory some have created that one ship hides another, because that isn’t at all what I am going for with this. Of course Tae and JK are T*ek*ok (a subunit name they’ve after all created themselves though that context of that moment has long been changed by people) and Jimin and JK are J*ko*k, and depending on the demand (from a PR point of view as well as those of fans) and situations, those ships are utilized/highlighted in certain ways to achieve certain things. With this I don’t mean to belittle the actual real-life bonds between the real-life members, merely the “fantasy” versions created in large parts by shippers.

But that isn’t what I mean. Let me explain.

There are several situations that I think support my theory/opinion, past and more recent, but for the sake of fresh memories that we’ll all be able to recall, I’ll use more recent ones. During their vlive when BE and Life Goes On were just released, the one where they wore PJs, had pizza and that cardboard cutout of Yoongi, there was a moment when Tae was supposed to put lipstick on Jimin. He pulled Jimin close with his arm around his shoulder while Jimin giggled and playfully pretended to try and push him away or stop him from doing it, despite seemingly holding on to his top to keep him close anyway. While that was happening, the other members checked what they were doing and notably JK, upon seeing what vmin were up to, moved a few steps away closer toward the cameras and stood as though between vmin and said cameras while holding that silver screen thing used for lighting in photography (I’m not sure how it’s called). Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but seeing as Namjoon, who carried the Yoongi cutout, joined him, it seemed like they were trying to hide vmin, which of course didn’t work out since the producers simply switched to a different camera.

This might be me going temporarily delulu but toward the end of that sequence there was a moment where we couldn’t see much of vmin save for the tops of their heads. At some point Tae made a move with his head which some (including myself) have interpreted as a potential smooch (as in an actual one or just him pretending/doing the motion of it, that’s up for debate) which caused Hobi to break out in loud laughter.

A second example is day two of MOTS ON:E when it was time for Dynamite. Usually vmin just walk past each other doing something funny or interacting in some way, but on that day instead Jimin pulled Tae closer, enough so that their foreheads touched, and they looked at each other in quite a meaningful way. At the same time JK stood right behind them, since he’s the one that opens the song, and watched what was happening. Just like with the above example, he stepped toward them and put his hand on the back of Tae’s head in a gesture that I interpreted as a form of safety measurement that IF vmin were to potentially do something…risky, he could intervene by quite literally pulling them apart/stopping them. This moment of course has been twisted and manipulated in many different ways to, for example, showcase some supposed jealousy or alike, but I think that’s just plain stupid.

I’d also like to show you a few other pictures that I think show us the kind of dynamic he really has with vmin, how he watches (over) his hyungs with affection and support, so to speak:

(the following pictures, left to right: JM, JK, TH)

The sole fact that three maknae ships can exist simultaneously, while vmin might be the likely one to be real, in my opinion shows that everything between the three of them must be more than okay, that there’s harmony and understanding between them, everyone knowing their place/role exactly, that there’s no jealousy or other negative emotions involved. Even more so when we consider the stakes that come with it all, at the top of it all being money, not only for the members but also BH (including everyone who invested money in stocks, as well as all their employees that need to be paid). And the fact that BTS aren’t rookies anymore, but instead they have a big and very relevant role in a broader sense when it comes to influence, power, and fame.

Look at how professional they are when it comes to being idols and everything that entails, including shipping. Just look at how despite Tae’s Weverse comment to that one shipper, and the conversation in In The Soop, they played their roles so convincingly that no one who is in favor of that ship is willing to believe them or consider that perhaps they were wrong. But, this is more of a topic for another post, so I’ll leave it at that.

Looking at all these moments, bigger and smaller ones, gestures that some didn’t even notice or did but interpreted in a completely different way for their own reasons, it brought me to the conclusion that JK is their biggest supporter.

Just like Admin 1 said, I also think that Hobi and Namjoon are big supporter as well. Although I can’t for the life of me remember the piece of content where he said this (if anyone knows, please do let me know), I recall a moment where Namjoon spoke to Tae and said that he’s his responsibility, which made me wonder if that perhaps meant that Namjoon gave his vote of confidence about Tae (and vmin) to BH or agreed to keep an eye on him/them to keep them in check. But that’s just a thought/theory.

At the end of the day, whatever our opinion may be, we have to remember that we know very little about their private life, a tiny percentage if even, so it’s important to stick to/pay attention to/based our opinions on the original material and what the members say, instead of taking into account edited videos on YT or opinions influenced by others agendas, but that, too, is something to be discussed in a different post.

Thank you for this interesting question!

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 12

Prompt: You meet your soulmate in your dreams every night.

Word Count: 3,321

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

Logan drifted off with a smile on his face. Soon, he was met with a large room that took up two stories, a bay window that had a lovely area to curl up in, and more bookshelves than anyone could ask for filled to the brim with books on any subject he’d ever learned. Looking out the window would reveal that it was constantly pouring, a gentle rain that released a calm into the air. Upon the seat at the window was a figure in a hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head. His feet were curled beneath him as he sat back against the padded wall. He was deep in a book, lost to the world around him. 

Logan smiled at the sight of his soulmate, walking over to the window seat and the figure curled up on it. “How are you tonight?” His voice was soft, speaking before he approached. 

Virgil looked up, eyes bleary from being dragged out of the story. “Hmm?”

Logan couldn't help but laugh as he sat down next to his soulmate. He knew he wasn’t really his soulmate, just his mind's recreation of him. But he’d been assured that his soulmate acted just like his mind thought he did. Logan didn’t know the science behind it but assumed it was a defense against differences in time zones and sleeping habits or a way of letting soulmates meet, even if one has died.

“Oh, I’m doing fine.” Virgil‘s voice drew him out of his thoughts. 

Logan smiled, shifting so he was sitting with a pillow in his lap and his legs drawn up beside him. He gently patted the pillow, inviting Virgil to lay his head on it. When he did so, Logan began to run his fingers through his hair, having been told that it calms Virgil’s anxiety as it lets him know Logan is there and it feels nice. “Do you have a topic in mind for our talk tonight?” Logan asked absentmindedly.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I could always just read to you.”

Logan shook his head, pausing to gently scratch his nails against Virgil’s scalp. “No, I don’t think I’m in the mood for that. Are you?”

“I was simply offering it. If you want to talk about the latest episode of the paranormal podcast I’ve listened to, that’s up to you.”

Logan smiled. “Sure, tell me about that.” And thus, another quiet night was spent with his soulmate in his arms.

The next morning, Logan woke to an empty bed, an empty room, an empty apartment. He got dressed, ate his breakfast, and left for work. That was the thing about seeing his soulmate in his dreams; he got used to it. He got used to seeing him on a regular basis, got used to living with him in his mind. He got used to having Virgil there. It was hard to wake up sometimes, knowing all he had to do was drift off to see him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he got to work, his mind switching gears to focus on the lecture of the day. He went about the morning classes productively, until he got to office hours. He’d just sat down at his desk, his door open for students, when a knock sounded. 

“Come in!” He called without looking up.

Footsteps sounded before a voice he would recognize anywhere spoke. “I seem to have gotten a bit turned around. Could you help me find Professor Engel’’s office?”

He raised his head, eyes coming to rest on a face he’d only ever seen in his dreams. He smiled. “Are you her new TA, Virgil?”

The man startled. “Have we met before?”

Logan decided to just be cheesy, knowing Virgil loved Disney and secretly loved cheesy things. “Once upon a dream.”

He relaxed, sagging against the door frame. “Great, I just found my soulmate.” He muttered beneath his breath.

Logan chuckled. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He decided to forgo the question of why Virgil didn’t recognize him as he could already see the eye bags that signaled he was not one to sleep often. 

His soulmate shrugged. “Just a little. Seriously, though,” he glanced at the nameplate on the door, “Logan, I really need to know where her office is.”

Logan nodded. “Of course. Take a left at the end of this hall and a right at the end of that one. Her office should be the third door on the right.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks.” There was a pause as he stood there for a few more seconds. “Should I come back later to discuss the soulmate thing?”

“I’m just doing office hours right now so as long as a student isn’t in here, you’re free to do so.”

Virgil left, coming back in half an hour. In that time, only one student had briefly dropped by in between classes to ask him to clarify something from the syllabus. He made a note to change that to be clearer if he reused that particular syllabus. “Hey, you still open?”

Logan looked up briefly. “I just have to finish this note and then I’m free to talk.”

Virgil took a seat and waited, his fingers fiddling with the lid of the thermos he carried. Logan jotted down the correction on a sticky note before spinning around to stick it to the wall. He let the momentum carry him around a full rotation, coming back around to face Virgil, who was smiling at his antics. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Virgil sighed, his fingers stilling. “How about that stupid law that says that once you meet your soulmate you have to move in with them as soon as possible?”

“Yeah, there’s that. How is your living situation?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve just got a small apartment. No pets, no roommates.”

Logan pulled out a notepad and began to jot things down.  “How many bedrooms does it have?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “Why does that matter?” His voice was defensive.

Logan looked up at him. “It matters because I’d prefer to sleep in two separate rooms as we are still practically strangers. This way, we’d be closer to roommates than soulmates and would feel no need to form a romantic relationship if we don’t desire one.” He paused, ignoring the fact that he knew he was already in love with Virgil. “Would you be more comfortable sleeping in the same bed?” 

Virgil shook his head almost too quickly. “No, two bedrooms is ideal. My current apartment only has one.”

Logan made another note. “My apartment has two bedrooms. Is yours close to anything you like, such as a favorite store, park, movie theatre, or even the school?”

Virgil bobbled his head as he thought. “Not really.”

“Mine is only a fifteen minutes drive from most things.” Logan paused as a thought hit him. “Even though my apartment sounds like the obvious choice, would you prefer to find a completely new apartment? It might feel better for both of us to move into something instead of one person moving into the other’s space.”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, a new apartment sounds nice. You know, this is almost providence as the lease of my current apartment is almost up anyways.”

Logan wrote that down as well. “Do you have anything you are allergic to? Food, creatures, medicine?”

“I can’t have most seafood due to iodine. I’m also allergic to red fire ants. You?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts but you are welcome to have them in the house in any form as long as you make sure to label them and clean up after the mess as even just a bit of the oil on my skin can be dangerous. Other than that, I don’t think so.”

Logan searched through his drawers, pulling out a calendar. He flipped it open to the current month. “Do you have any time that’s good for apartment hunting?”

Virgil pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket and Logan couldn’t help but notice the Nightmare Before Christmas case he had on it. “Uhh, I’m free on the weekend or any time after three in the afternoon.”

They planned for the next few minutes of where they preferred the apartment to be and what times worked best for them. A few days later, they were out apartment hunting together. They found the one they wanted and applied, managing to get it on the first try. Both of their names were on the lease and they were moving in the next weekend. Logan had his friend Roman come and help while Virgil roped his brother Patton into doing so, finding out the pair were soulmates in the process.

Logan had loved Virgil for about three years now but it was quite clear that Virgil hadn’t been aware of Logan’s existence until they’d met. So, while they were sitting on the floor of their shared apartment and eating a dinner of pizza, Logan decided to ask about it. “Virgil, may I ask about your sleeping habits?”

Virgil put down the slice of pizza he’d been raising to his mouth. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“I’m sure you know of seeing your soulmate in your dreams so by all means you should have recognized me on sight, just as I did you. Have you . . .  never seen me at all?” Logan was scared. He was scared to think that Virgil had never seen him but was more scared to think that Virgil had chosen to forget about him, chosen to not acknowledge his existence within him. 

Virgil shrugged, a small almost apologetic smile gracing his face. “I don’t sleep.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as a million questions jumped into his brain. “How is that possible? You’d have to sleep eventually.”

“I have pretty bad insomnia. Only one thing seems to have helped but I haven’t been able to do that since I was small. So, I deal with it. I plan around it, drinking energy drinks and caffeine, waiting for the inevitable collapse that comes where I basically just pass out for a few hours. As I’m unconscious, I don’t dream. Thus, I’ve never met my soulmate until you recognized me.”

Logan nodded, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Is there any way I can help? You mentioned something you could do to help it?”

“No, there’s nothing you can do to help although I appreciate the offer.”

With that, the conversation changed to a different topic while Logan’s mind wandered. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help. Determined, he silently promised to be the best housemate anyone could ever ask for. He was going to be quiet whenever possible and make sure to stay out of Virgil’s way. He’d pretend to not even be there for much of the time. 

That lasted a week before the system broke down. Logan had been sitting on the couch doing some work when Virgil came home, looking even more exhausted than usual. Logan began to gather his things, meaning to move to his room to give Virgil space. As he did so, he glanced up at his roommate, who looked close to tears.

Logan instantly dropped everything he had, not caring about the scattering of his neat piles, to move over to Virgil, hands hovering. “Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?”

Virgil dropped his bag. “Do you really hate me that much?” His voice was watery and he looked even closer to tears now.

Logan paused, confusion plain on his face. “What do you mean? Why would I hate you?” His voice was as soft as he could make it, trying to be gentle with his sleep deprived soulmate.

“You always leave the room as soon as I walk in, you only talk to me when I speak first. Do you really hate me already?”

Logan shook his head. “No! I don’t hate you, quite the opposite in fact.”

Virgil sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Then why do you avoid me so much?”

“I don’t mean to avoid you. My intention was to give you space so you don’t feel like I forced you to move in with me.” Logan had no idea what to do about the sleep deprived TA in front of him so he was as sincere as possible. 

Virgil nodded before shuffling over to the couch and dropping onto it. “Don’t. Just stay.”

Logan got the hint and sat back down, beginning to fix his piles. He glanced over at Virgil every once in a while, seeing he was in the same position of sitting with his head thrown back and eyes closed. He eventually sat back as he set up his computer on his lap. It was then that Virgil tilted to the side, his head ending up on Logan’s shoulder. Logan froze, waiting for Virgil to move or say something. Instead, his roommate and soulmate just snored. 

Logan smiled, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of his head and whisper, “Sleep well,” before going back to his work.

When he woke, Virgil stirred and Logan’s hand came up to cradle Virgil’s head, quietly shushing him. Virgil pulled away entirely but still sat close. Logan put down his book and looked over at him. “Did you have a nice nap? I tried to be quiet so as to not interrupt it.”

Virgil smiled. “I dreamt for the first time in ten years.”

Logan was surprised but happy. “Oh, that’s nice. Did you enjoy the experience? I find it rather calming myself.”

Virgil nodded. “I did. Although, I do have a few questions for you.”

“I’ll answer them as best I can.”

“Did our conversation before I fell asleep actually happen or was that part of the dream?”

“You came home and got upset when you saw me begin moving back to my room. You expressed a feeling of inadequacy that I corrected as best I could. Is that the conversation you were thinking of?”

Virgil nodded. “Okay, so, how do you feel about me?”

Logan reached out, as if he wanted to cradle Virgil’s face. “I don’t want to tell you the extent of my emotions as I’m not sure you’re ready for them. I can say that I don’t hate you in the slightest.” He hesitated. “Do you hate me?”

Virgil was quick to shake his head, hand reaching out to rest on Logan's arm. “I may not have had enough time yet to accurately gauge your personality but I like what I’ve seen so far.”

Logan nodded and he felt like there was a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Okay. In that case, I think we need to establish some house rules.”

They discussed at length such things as shared spaces and personal ones, communication of needs, and communication in general. Then, as it was already getting to their usual eating time, they both made their way to the kitchen. Logan started looking through the fridge. “Hey, how was the latest episode of your paranormal podcast?” He popped his head out of the fridge to look at Virgil. “Sorry, I just realized how creepy that could sound.”

Virgil just shrugged, settling onto a clean and out of the way part of the counter. “It’s fine. I’m always willing to talk about that thing as no one else seems to care.”

Logan pulled out ingredients for pancakes before closing the door. “Well, I enjoy hearing about it and find it a calming part of my routine.” He didn’t mention that he found Virgil looked his best when he was animated and talking about a topic he enjoyed. He didn’t mention that he could watch and listen to him for hours, never getting bored of him. He didn’t  say it, knowing that it’s too soon and it would freak him out. So, instead, he listened to him ramble with a smile on his face, occasionally making comments to spur him down a different rabbit hole. 

The rest of the month went smoothly. They got to know each other over that time, Logan learning the small things that showed that Virgil was alive and not just his imagination and Virgil learning everything there was to know about Logan. Logan made sure to answer any question he had and gave him as much information as he could while doing so. 

It was toward the end of the month when it happened. Logan had just been drifting off when he heard a soft knock at his door. Sitting up, he fumbled for his glasses case and the lamp switch. “Virgil? Is that you?” He called quietly.

The door opened with a barely audible click, Virgil coming to stand in the doorway. Logan finally got his glasses on to see Virgil in his nightclothes, fingers playing with the ends of his too long sleeves. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice sounded different, softer and more scared than Logan had ever heard from him. 

Logan smiled, gesturing for him to come in. “It’s alright. Is there something I can help with?”

“I can’t sleep.” It almost sounded like an apology.

Logan nodded, sitting up fully and crossing his legs beneath his weighted blanket. “Okay. Do you want me to talk with you for a bit?”’

“I was actually hoping you could . . . Nevermind, this was stupid.” He turned to go.

Logan stood, reaching Virgil in a few strides. He didn’t try to stop him, but did put a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, no. Your needs and wants are valid. Talk to me, please.”

Virgil shrugged. “I fell asleep on your shoulder a month ago and dreamt for the first time in ten years. I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering if I could try that again.”

Logan smiled. “You want to try to sleep with physical contact?”

“Yeah, that.” Virgil sounded relieved that he didn't have to explain himself further.

“Okay. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

In a few minutes, they were curled up together in bed. Virgil was on his stomach, head on Logan's chest, while Logan had his arms wrapped around his roommate. The lamp had been turned off and Logan’s glasses had been safely returned to their case. After being in a similar position with his imagination’s fabrication of Virgil, Logan raised a hand to card through Virgil’s hair. He realized what he was doing and stopped, putting the hand flat on the mattress.

Virgil tilted his head to look at Logan. “You don’t have to stop. That felt kind of nice, actually.”

Logan smiled, his hand going back to the familiar rhythm that calmed him even after years of doing it. They both soon drifted off like that, held in each other’s arms and perfectly content. In the morning, Virgil told Logan he’d dreamt again and they celebrated a little before they had to get to work.

Soon, that became a recurring event. Sometimes, it was three nights a week that Logan would find Virgil curled up beside him, sometimes it was less or more. After the third week in a row of this behavior, Logan had to sit down and talk with Virgil about it. They worked out that having physical contact with another human helped Virgil sleep, something about his anxiety calming when he felt protected. 

One night, Virgil was curled against Logan, who was reading aloud in an attempt to lull Virgil to sleep. Virgil reached up, his hand coming to curve around Logan’s jaw and pause his reading. Leaning closer, Virgil softly planted a kiss on Logan’s cheek and muttered, “I love you, soulmate.”

Logan turned, kissing Virgil’s palm. “I love you too, soulmate.” He closed the book and set it aside, turning off the lamp before sliding deeper into the bed and curling around Virgil. They both fell asleep, comfortable, protected, and loved.

[edie-k]

Looking Out (Romione, PG-13)

Title: Looking Out

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Ron/Hermione, implied Harry/Ginny, Harry & Hermione friendship vibes

Summary: Harry Potter is always going to look out for his best friends - even if it means an awkward conversation or two. 

Notes: I think some of this story was inspired by too many “he looked at me” TikToks. A big thanks to cheesyficwriter for her beta help on this. And I swear, I don't lowkey hate Harry but if you have read my last few pieces and think that, I don't blame you. Not owned by me, characters are not mine. Hopefully, you all get zero Harry/Hermione vibes from this. Hermione is just a little sensitive to be perceived as uptight and Harry does not want to think about Hermione in any way BUT uptight.

Link to AO3

“Stop!”

Harry tapped his fingers on the wooden table and glanced at the closed door.

“Ron! Quit!” He heard Hermione’s muffled voice shout from the other room. Ron responded but it was too mumbled for Harry to understand. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Go. Now,” Hermione stated and he heard Ron’s low chuckle before the door swung open and the two of them strolled into the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Apparently I have drawn the short straw and I will be fetching the pizza,” Ron sighed.

“Oh.” Harry furrowed his brow further and frowned. “Can you do that?”

“Yes!” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “Harry, he’s had you completely snowed this entire year. He is quite capable of managing Muggle money now, he’s just been pretending to be incompetent.”

Ron shrugged. “The only downside of having you home for good is that I’m busted. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Margherita, please,” Hermione requested.

“Piles of meat, you’ve got it,” Ron replied   and gave Hermione a kiss that lingered long enough that Harry almost looked away. Before he could, Hermione put both hands on Ron’s chest and pushed him away.

“Get going! You know what it’s like if your sister gets here after practice and there’s no food!”

Harry heard the front door close as Hermione pulled out the chair across from him and picked up the copy of The Daily Prophet she had been reading that morning at breakfast. “Didn’t you already read that this morning?” he asked, glancing up from the training manual he was reviewing.

“Mmm,” she said. “I got down too late to really read it in-depth, just scanned it. I wanted to go back and read this feature on a new non-profit that’s a combined effort of a Muggleborn witch and a Squib.”

Hermione settled into her reading and Harry tried to resume his reviewing. After a few minutes of silence, Hermione broke the quiet. “Harry? Is there something on your mind?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” he said nervously.

“Then why are you looking at me every thirty seconds?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Another minute of quiet reading went by before Hermione spoke again. “Really, Harry. What’s going on?”

Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, look, this is awkward. Ron’s my best friend. But so are you.”

“I’m familiar with our dynamic,” she replied, an amused look on her face.

“If you ever need my support or me to talk to him or something… I don’t want to but I would do it. If he’s bothering you or-”

“Bothering me?”

“Yeah.” Harry squirmed in his seat. “Like earlier.”

“What, you mean the pizza toppings?” asked Hermione, looking confused.       

“No,” said Harry. “Just… you know.”

“I do not know.”  

“Earlier when you were in the kitchen.”

“Harry,” said Hermione, the frustration clear from her face and tone. “Stop dancing around and tell me precisely what is going on.”

“You were telling Ron to stop bothering you and he wasn’t!” Harry blurted out.

“What?” asked Hermione, looking completely bewildered. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were!” Harry insisted. “I heard you tell him to stop and quit twice before you came out here.”

“I don’t - oh,” Hermione stopped abruptly and then her cheeks turned pink.  

“And you told him again as he was leaving. Look, I’m not, it’s fine if you don’t want him... touching you all the time and if he’s not taking the hint, I would very awkwardly tell him to -”

“No,” Hermione interrupted. “Harry, that’s just, that’s flirting.”

“Huh?” asked Harry, looking in her direction. “But you don’t flirt!”

“Of course I do!” Hermione insisted.

“I have never seen you flirt,” insisted Harry.

“Well I do,” she stated indignantly.

“Since when?” demanded Harry.

“For a while but I suppose it was a bit more blatant after Ron’s birthday in sixth year,” she replied, blushing a bit.

“He was still dating Lavender!”

“Oh, and you weren’t flirting with Ginny while she was with Dean? It wasn’t as though we were snogging! It was just…little comments. Brushing hands. Lingering glances. That type of thing.”

“No way,” said Harry.

“We typically didn’t do it in front of you.”

Harry stopped for a moment. That response sparked a whole slew of other questions in his mind but he shook his head and kept to the topic at hand.

“So Ron’s not bothering you?”

“No, my boyfriend, that I have been separated from for ten months, is not bothering me,” she replied, rolling her eyes yet again. “On the rare occasion that I’m not in the mood and I want him to actually stop, I say, ‘Ron stop’ and he always does.” Harry recognized that voice as her standard no-nonsense tone.

“How is that different from what I heard?”

Now Hermione gave him a      look     that he did recognize - the one that she used when she thought one of her friends was being an idiot. “The tone should be a big giveaway.”

“So what’s the flirting sound like?”

“It sounds like what I said earlier.”

“It was too muffled for me to get the full context. Please Hermione?”

“I’m not doing it for you!”

“How am I to know the difference?”

“You don’t need to!”

“Hermione. I feel like such a git. I was really just trying to look out for you and instead, I accused my best mate of treating you terribly when I know how much he loves you. I just don’t want to make that mistake again.”

Hermione just shook her head.

“Come on! Do it for Ron. Ron can’t know I doubted him and I’ll just feel better when I know the difference!”

Hermione exhaled sharply. “Fine. I say ‘Stop, Ron.’”

The words were spoken in a light, giggly, and sultry tone that belonged to someone else but came out of Hermione’s mouth.

Harry stared at her.

Hermione stared back.

“What the hell was that?”

Hermione now gave an angry snort that sounded exactly like her.

“No, really,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I don’t know who that was but it wasn’t you.”

“Just because you haven’t witnessed it before doesn’t mean it’s not me.”

 “Hermione, outside of last year, the amount of time we’ve spent apart is measured in weeks at most. There can’t be an entire chunk of your personality that I’m missing.”

     “Well apparently there is.”

“So you’re just an entirely different person with Ron when I’m not around?” Harry asked.

“No,” insisted Hermione. “I’m the same person but with some additional traits that you aren’t familiar with. I know there are things that Ginny sees that Ron and I don’t…” Harry grimaced. “Not - oh gross, you know what I mean.”

“Apart from that, Ginny sees the exact same things you two do,” Harry proclaimed.

“That’s impossible. I was there at the end of our sixth year. Ginny had fun Harry and we got the other version.”

“Well, damn Hermione, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t a delight to be around when I was being hunted by - ”

“Ugh, Harry, now you’re being impossible. The whole thing with Ginny at that time was brand new and fun. It’s the same thing with Ron and I. It still feels new to be open and vulnerable with him in a way I never could before and it’s fun. All I meant was that Ginny makes you happy in a way we don’t but it’s the same with Ron and me.”

“Except I don’t try to be some sort of weird sexy version of myself.”

In that moment, Harry realized just how much he had matured since he was 15 and that he was definitely getting better at recognizing other people’s emotions. Because after only five seconds, he realized that he made a terrible mistake with no clear path to redemption.

“Hermione, I don’t mean it’s weird like, weird-weird. It’s just for me, you aren’t or you, um…”

“Not only do I have pizza, I found this one wandering about so I brought her in. Looks rather ragged, figured we should feed her up,” said Ron, bursting into the room with two pizzas and Ginny trailing him, rolling her eyes at his lame joke.

It was a close second for the happiest Harry had ever been to see him.

Ron set the pizzas on the table and looked between Harry and Hermione, who were still glaring at one another. “What’s going on?”

Hermione turned her gaze from Harry to Ron and her eyes darkened. She crossed the room in three steps, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down to meet her lips. Harry looked away from the two of them while also carefully avoiding Ginny’s eyes. He could feel her staring at him with questions written across her face.

Hermione let the hand gripping Ron’s collar trace down his chest to right below his belt before she grasped his hand and turned. “Upstairs now,” she ordered, pulling him behind her. Ron followed her wordlessly, looking gobsmacked but ecstatic.

“What the fuck was that?” asked Ginny, watching them go, amusement in her voice. Harry opened the pizza box, ignoring the question.

“Harry?” asked Ginny, now looking more curious.

“I’m really not sure,” Harry said. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Uh, okay,” said Ginny. She watched Harry grab two beers out of the icebox. As he slid one across the table to her, a thump and a moan came from overhead.

“Ugh, did they not do a silencing charm?” said Ginny, crinkling her nose.

“In fact, I wouldn’t put it past her to have used an amplifying charm,” said Harry. “I believe I may have offended her.”

“Oh Ron, don’t stop!”  

“Correction,” said Harry. “I am now certain that I offended her.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Ginny shook her head, taking her wand and silencing the kitchen.

An hour later, Ron came back in the kitchen in his flannel pajama bottoms. He shifted the leftover pizza into a single box and closed it up before opening the icebox and grabbing two beers. He pushed the door open with his elbow and started to back out but stopped short when he saw Harry and Ginny still seated at the table.

“Harry,” Ron said with a lopsided grin. “I have no idea what the two of you were talking about before I got back but thanks for looking out for me, mate.”

[rikalovesrice]

Douxie x Reader #4 - Comfort (Part 1)

Reader Recap : Lives in older sister’s shadow, rarely ever acknowledged by her parents or people at school. Has a host of insecurities because of it. Part-time pizza delivery girl on a scooter. A partner in crime when hunting for monsters in the late hours of night with Douxie, Archie, and Zoe. You and Douxie have become close friends. 

You didn’t know where you going and you didn’t care. All you knew is that you had to get as far away from your house and the people inside of it as you could without leaving Arcadia. 

You floored it on your scooter, fueled by the frustration and hurt pumping through your veins. Eventually you rolled into town and parked the scooter in the park, dismounting and leaning back against the seat, holding yourself. There was a dull sort of ache in your head and you could feel the pressure of tears forming but refusing to fall. It brought you to the ground and you curled in on yourself, rocking forward onto the balls of your feet. It was times like this, when being swept aside became too much, that you questioned your very existence. Why you even bothered sometimes. If your parents even knew they had another child. If you really were just a speck of dirt on your older sister’s pristine image.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there all balled up beside your scooter, taking deep breathes and crying softly into your arms. You had just noticed a bizarre, prickling rasp in your ear when -

“(Name)!!”

There as a flash of blue and you instinctively ducked, rolling forward and roughly onto your side as some kind of misty, shadowy form took the brunt of a blast of blue. The creature screeched and quickly recovered from the attack. It was about the size of a squirrel and it twitched and jerked about like a glitch. White, ghastly, hollow eyes pulsed against a shape of black and gray smoke, like distorted full moons. You backed away on your elbows, terrified when not one, not two, but what looked like a hundred more of the things manifested from the night, rising like a wave from behind your scooter.

You braced yourself as the creatures descended upon you, squeezing your eyes shut, when a hand clamped around your shoulder and pulled you snug against a familiar bundle of black. 

“Douxie...!” you gasped, looked up at his face creased with concentration. You flinched at the force of the shadowy creatures slamming into the shield of magic Douxie had conjured, his left arm extended, charm bracelet alight with symbols. When they’d dispersed, Douxie lowered the shield and helped you to your feet, checking you over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, patting your shoulders and arms. “What are you doing here? I thought you had something with your family tonight.”

“What...What are those things?” you huffed, wondering how you’d manage to forget what Arcadia’s like after midnight. The flurry of writhing shadows regrouped in the air, a frightening show against the street lights, and were circling back. Douxie moved in front of you, watching them closely with charm bracelet at the ready.

“Hollowsprites,” Douxie said lowly. “Nasty things. Haven’t seen this many since Morgana returned. Drawn to darkness. They feed upon strong negative emotions and feelings. Fear. Anger. Sadness.” His voice lost some edge and his head turned slightly back towards you. “Pain and suffering...”

Sensing a lapse in attention, the hollowsprites spiraled downward, only to be intercepted by a bright flash of pink and a burst of fire. Archie and Zoe were hurrying onto the scene, Archie perching himself around Douxie’s shoulders.

“(Name)! Change your mind about tonight?” Archie asked, glancing back at you.

“So this is where they all went,” Zoe said, pink electricity sparking between her fingers. “Thought you were gonna have all the fun, did you, Doux?”

“Ugh, you’re welcome for finding them,” Douxie retorted. Then he grinned, his charm bracelet flickering as he clenched his fist. “Go on, Zoe. I’ve worn them down for you!”

“Yeah cause more hollowsprites showing up is wearing them down.” 

“Provoking is more like it,” Archie added. “Dramatically emoting?”

“Whose side are you on?” Douxie whined.

“Uh, sorry, Arch,” you say. “I think I was one...er, emoting.”

Archie turned in the air to face you, his white eyebrows creased. “That so? Are you alright, (Name)?” 

Douxie let his guard down even more, slightly lowering his charm bracelet and equally concerned as he looked back at you. 

“Okay not to be insensitive but can we do this later cause we’ve kinda got a situation here!” Zoe lashed the angry hollowsprites with sparks of magic. “Sit tight, (Name). Come on you two!”

“Thought you wanted all the fun, Zoe!”

“Douxie, I swear -”

Continuing their banter, Douxie, Zoe, and Archie got to work blasting and zapping and burning the hollowsprites into submission. The pain in your heart was suspended for the moment as you were fixated on the action in front of you. Several hollowsprites lunged at you, but they ended up barreling into another one of Douxie’s shields. 

“(Name), whatever negative emotions are inside of you, they want to consume them,” he said, looking back at you. “They want to use your emotions to make them stronger and corrupt you. But you can resist them. Don’t let them win!” Douxie shoved the magical shield forward with a loud grunt, the magic bursting and causing the hollowsprites to scatter furiously. 

Corruption. That was a concept that hadn’t occurred to you. But now that you thought about it, it made sense. There were plenty of times the hurt threatened to melt into bitter hatred, to the point where you considered being a nasty person yourself in retaliation. Everything was constantly being taken away from you. Everything. But...There were things within you that your family could never touch. Things no one could touch or take, not if you had any say in it. And right now...It seems you did. 

No one would steal the peace of a bookstore. The warmth of a cafe. Jamming out in a record store. The thrill of cruising on a scooter under a starlit sky. The wonder of literal magic, the kind you thought only existed in movies. A talking cat with glasses and a pair of wings. Headphones over a head of pink hair. Black clothes and golden eyes and that breathtaking smile of his.

The place where you belonged.

The friends you now cherished.

The love you had found.

The pain of understanding now what life could be. What it should have been.

You were constantly aware of the exhaustion of choosing love. Choosing to have grace. Choosing to be strong and steadfast. Choosing to be different. But as tiring as it was, you never once regretted it. And that belonged to you, too. 

The decision, your resolve, to try and be better.

You planted your feet, grounding yourself as the hollowsprites once again took aim at you. As they dove down, Douxie almost conjured another shield but you stepped firmly in front of him.

“Stay away from my emotions you freaks!” you yelled at the mass of writhing shadows. “They’re mine! My feelings are mine!” Almost immediately, the hollowsprites recoiled as if stung, screeching and squealing in confusion.

“That’s it!” Douxie said with a broad smile, summoning rings of magic to attack the creatures further. Archie flew between the rings, setting Douxie’s magic ablaze to amplify his spells. Soon blue flames were raining down like falling leaves from hollowsprites being burned alive.

“Big mistake messing with my friend!” Zoe said, engulfing herself in pink electricity. With two taps of her toes on the ground, she bolted forward, powerful streams of lightning trailing behind her and frying any hollowsprite in her path. The ravenous behavior of the creatures dissolved into frustrated disorientation, members of the shadowy cluster zipping around aimlessly.

You noticed that the hollowsprites weren’t actually dying. Rather the number of hollowsprites began to dwindle as members of the swarm shot off into the night like dark firecrackers. 

Eventually all the hollowsprites fled, an eerie silence filling the town in their wake. All three of your magical friends loosened in exhaustion, Douxie actually dropping to the ground to sit.

“None of them were destroyed,” you commented, looking up into the night where the creatures had vanished.

“Yea, well...As long as negative emotions exist, hollowsprites can’t be destroyed,” Zoe said. “Just shooed away, really.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Douxie said. “We’ve been seeing more and more of them lately anyway.”

“You see, hollowsprites are also drawn to...‘disturbances’ in the realms, so to speak,” Archie said. “We suspect something must be amiss...”

“There’s that, too, yes. But I suppose they targeted you because your emotions were so strong...” 

You locked eyes with Douxie, a moment passing between you both. His eyes were soft with concern. For some reason, looking to those eyes, you felt really vulnerable.

Zoe cleared her throat. “Erm, Archie? Why don’t we make sure the rest of the town is clear of those things?”

“Pardon...?” Archie said. “But- Oh. Oh...Y-yes! Good idea, Zoe!”

Zoe gave you a quick hug. “I’ll text you later. You better answer me! Make sure she gets home safe, Doux.” 

You felt a blush on your cheeks. They were leaving you alone with him? 

“Uh, hold on-” But Zoe and Archie were already hurrying away. You leaned back against the seat of your scooter, fumbling with your fingers and saying nothing. And suddenly extremely aware of Douxie’s presence. You actually jumped a little when he said your name.

“(Name)...Um...” Douxie scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...But if you don’t mind me asking what happened...?”

Of course you didn’t mind. Douxie was a safe space where the monsters couldn’t reach you. Your place of respite. But even though the tears came easily then, it didn’t mean you weren’t embarrassed.

“They all forgot,” you said, your voice already thick with tears. “They forgot about the dinner I had planned to um...celebrate my dad’s promotion.” With an empty laugh, you wiped your face with your palm. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. I just...”

Douxie got up off the ground, stepping closer to you. “(Name)...”

“I just wanted to do something nice for my dad. For my family. But I’m dumb and I actually thought they’d care. Mom and dad just went out to eat and my sister just stayed in her room and the food was getting cold and -”

As soon as his arms wrapped around you, you sobbed into his sweatshirt. You were vaguely aware that you were probably getting tears and snot and dribble all over your crush but you couldn’t stop crying for a solid three minutes. Douxie just held you the whole time, hand squeezing your shoulder and thumb stroking your back. 

"I’m emoting all over you...,” you whimpered, having settled down into soft sniffling and hiccups.

“Oh stop it,” Douxie said. Then he hugged you tighter. “I’m so sorry they treat you like this. You know you can always come to me...Zoe, and Archie, right? I... We’ll never sweep you aside.”

You almost came undone again. Not wanting to soak Douxie’s sweatshirt further, you moved back and pressed your forehead against his collarbone, still staying as close as you could to his warmth. To his eyes like the sun and moon, glowing with compassion, soft with understanding. To his smile that always made you smile. To his gentle hands. Those streaks of blue hair. The comforting shadow of his presence. His magic, bright and beautiful like he was. 

It terrified you.

“Yeah...” You pulled away to look up at him, still holding his arms. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I...I believe you. I’ll try....”

Douxie gazed at you for a moment before smiling softy, wiping a tear away with his finger. 

“Good,” he said. Then he smooshed your face between his hands, forcing your cheeks and lips to pucker.

“H-hey!!”

He released you, laughing. “Shall I walk you home?”

Blushing wildly and rubbing your face, you managed a smile.

“That’d be nice.”

~

~

There wasn’t any hurry. It was probably two in the morning now but would your family notice your absence? Negative.

You guided your scooter along as Douxie strolled beside you, the two of you chatting about any and everything. Douxie went off a bit talking about how he didn’t understand people who ate fondant and how much of a jerk Shakespeare was. It was the cutest thing. Then you started going on and on about how pretty the moon was tonight and how crescent moons were your favorite. For a second, Douxie might’ve been staring at you, but, no, duh, you definitely imagined it.

“Well uh...This is me.” You took one look at your front door and sighed. “Sadly.”

“Hey.” Douxie placed a hand on your arm. “Remember what I said. Anytime. A phone call, a text-”

“A raven?”

He snickered. “Especially a raven. But seriously...Just say the word.”

Under the moonlight, Douxie was otherworldly. So gorgeous your heart threatened to swell to bursting. How was it that your paths could possibly have crossed? It escaped you, and you had no hope of catching it.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” Douxie repeated. “Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight, Douxie.”

Neither of you moved.

“Ah, go on, then,” Douxie said kindly, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay until you’re inside.”

“O-oh. Okay, thanks.” You parked your scooter next to your sister’s car. Just as your hand touched the doorknob, you were overwhelmed with the urge to just tell him. Heart racing, you tried to say his name, starting to turn back around.

“Uh..Uh D-Doux-”

“(Name).”

You paused. “Y-yeah?”

Douxie smiled warmly. “I’m glad that I met you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

It was sweetness followed by a stab. 

“Me, too,” you said, meaning it with your whole aching heart. “You...” A shaky breath. “You guys mean the world to me.”

Before he could say anything else, you hurried inside, up the stairs in the dark, and into your room, not caring if you woke anyone up. You curled up on your bed, face in your forearms. 

You were happy. So, so happy. 

And so utterly crushed.

Just outside, still in front of your house, Douxie’s eyes fixated on your bedroom window. Then he turned and started back towards the town, wondering how he could ease the pain in your life and thinking about the look on your face, the glow in your eyes, as you enthused over the moonlight.

[10moonymhrivertam]

Buffy/Witcher fic fragment

“Julian, duck!” The voice is a little shrill and definitely frantic. Jaskier’s still reeling from the portal, but something about the words has his hand shooting out to drag Geralt down with him. Something flies over their heads, and he looks up to see a headless body crumbling into dust. Which he hasn’t seen anything do in a very, very long time. He tenses at running footsteps, and he has a dagger in hand based sheerly on how frayed his nerves are. The girl standing over them is in jeans and a t-shirt, and he hasn’t seen the combination in decades.

“It is you! Everyone’s going to flip. It’s been years, I’m pretty sure they thought you were dead, especially since nobody really did magic yet when you went missing.” The girl has a hand out, and Jaskier stares at it, his brain buffering. Eventually, he realizes why. He’d gotten a spell to help him learn the most common language on the Continent when he’d arrived there, and now his brain is scrambling to parse English for the first time in twenty years.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks, the words wrapping strangely around his tongue. The girl frowns, her face scrunching into an expression that rings a bell deep in his memory. He’d had a friend that made a face like that...

“Right. The spell. You were gone.” Her hand still hangs in the air between them. “I’m Dawn Summers. I can take you to Giles, if you want.”

Jaskier eyes her for another moment before accepting the hand and then turning to help Geralt up. He doesn’t refuse the help, but there’s something tight in his face that says he doesn’t trust conversations he didn’t understand being had over his head.

“She knows someone that might know something,” he says to Geralt. Geralt grunts, his eyes darting from grave to grave. Jaskier suppresses a sigh and turns back to Dawn.

“Lead the way, Miss Summers.” Her face does something strange, but without a word, she turns on her heel and heads for the gate of the cemetery with unerring accuracy. Geralt’s stony silence felt significant, but every time Jaskier thought of something to say, all he could think was how Geralt was going to tear him apart for this pile of shit later when Jaskier wasn’t the only translator around. Another voice speaking English stopped his anxiety from ratcheting higher.

“Dawn, all I want to know is how I didn’t see you go.”

“I literally just waited until you stopped asking me questions while you were reading. But look, I survived!” Her voice is as bright as the sun. “Also, I found something!”

“You found something?” It wouldn’t have been easy to miss the skepticism in his voice even if Jaskier didn’t already know him. Dawn looks back, drawing Giles’s eye. Jaskier waves awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how much distance time has put between them.

“Julian?”

“Giles. It’s been...a while, for me.”

“It hardly looks like it.” Jaskier recognizes the look from seeing one like it on Geralt’s face more than he remembers it on Giles’s.

“I think that first portal did something to the way I age. Do you want to not-invite us back somewhere?” Which clears up a little bit of the look on Giles’s face, at least.

“I suppose there is an anniversary pizza party which can use a few more guests.”

“Oh, yeah!” Dawn grinned. “You haven’t met Tara yet! Oh, and, um - who are you? Sorry.” Jaskier looked back at Geralt - for a split second, he was waiting for Geralt to answer, then remembered.

“Geralt, this is Dawn and Giles. Giles, Dawn; Geralt. Language barrier.” Geralt had figured that much out already, so he didn’t feel the need to repeat himself.

“Sounded Polish.” Giles said a string of something which almost sounded like a greeting, but made Jaskier make a face. The easiest explanation was just that his accent was incomprehensible, but - then he remembered that they’d hopped from the thirteenth century to the twentieth.

“I’ll look into it,” Jaskier said in very firm English. Giles winced, and Jaskier felt bad for a moment. They quickly got on their way, and silence reigned. Jaskier hated the thick tension in the air, so with a mental fuck-it, he started speaking.

“Say something,” he pleaded with Geralt. “Anything. Three words or less?” The prompt usually worked when all else failed, but then - that had been before that awful dragon hunt half a year ago.

“Apologies are difficult.” The words came slowly, and Geralt looked pained. Jaskier didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Geralt eyed him for a moment before dropping his eyes to the sidewalk. “Harder now that I’m confused. And you’re the only one that knows what’s going on.”

Jaskier bit his lip, processing that. Geralt wanted to apologize, before they were portalled into Sunnydale. That was...a lot.

“This is...” Jaskier trailed off. “It’s where I’m from.” He looked away from Geralt. “A few years before we met, a portal took me from here and dropped me on the Continent. There was a mage that was so frustrated with my charades that she just slapped a translation spell on me. I’m just lucky the mechanics of it mean I can be a great bard. I can still tell the languages are separate, they still feel different, but I just - understand them.” He tapped his temple.

“This is where you’re from?” Geralt repeated. Jaskier looked over to see his eyes roaming from the sidewalk to the road to the power lines.

“It’s got monsters, too, but no witchers. Got something else, though. Oh, and it’s the twentieth century. Twenty-first, maybe, depending how long I was gone. It was the 90’s.”

“You know them?”

“The man. The girl said something about a spell, but...I don’t know what she means. Hold on. Miss Summers, what was that you said before about a spell?”

“Oh, yes, you were gone.” Hearing Giles say the same thing was a point in her favor. “It’s...rather complicated. There was memory alteration involved.”

“So I forgot you?” Jaskier couldn’t help but be a little upset by the idea.

“Wrong way around,” Dawn said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “We probably should wait until we get back, and then everyone else can tell you the way they remember things. It might be kind of neat to see how you tell things.”

“Alright, then.” Jaskier flashed them a disarming smile before turning his attention back to Geralt and shrugging. Geralt hummed and fell quiet again. Jaskier did the same despite himself, at least until the girl drifted back towards them.

[disappearance somewhere mid-s3; this is set in an ambiguous post-s5 everyone-is-happy-fuck-you]

“Is that a guitar?”

“A lute. Learning it was a little different. The tuning’s a bitch.” Giles shot him a look over his shoulder, and Jaskier rolled his eyes. “This is a special one. I got it from the king of the elves.”

Dawn’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, Bilbo.”

“Hey, no, they’re real on the Continent!” Jasker protested. He outlined what history he’d learned at Oxenfurt for her, and by the time he was coming to the end of his impromptu lecture, they were outside a house he recognized, just barely. Giles was first through the door, tossing out a greeting to get a chorus of voices in return. Dawn followed. Jaskier hesitated just one moment. His high school friends seemed to be in there. He hadn’t seen them in going on thirty years. Nonetheless, if he didn’t go, Giles wouldn’t trust him, and he didn’t have any chance of either settling in here or finding his way home. So he forged ahead, hanging onto Geralt’s sleeve. He crossed the threshold without a lick of trouble, and Geralt shadowed him silently.

“Who’s that?” That was Joyce’s voice, he thought.

“We found them in the cemetery!” Dawn said, far too cheerfully. “But we didn’t invite them in,” she added quickly. “You heard!”

“We heard.” That was another familiar one. A few moments later, one of his old friends was in the doorway. “...Julian?”

There was a chorus of ‘what’s, and suddenly it seemed like the entirety of whatever party they were having was in the doorway. Before he’d quite processed it all, Xander had drawn him into a hell of a hug.

“Lute!” He protested, squirming out of the hug. He took off his case and floundered for a place to set it. Geralt gently removed it from his hands and nodded back to the others. Jaskier flashed him a quick, warm smile, then turned his attention back to distributing hugs.

“It’s been a while,” he offered when they’d had their fill.

“How are you not dead?” Xander asked, earning an elbow in the side from Willow. He winced and pouted at her. 

“There was a portal. Which did do something strange to my aging, I’ll admit.”

“You barely look older than me,” Dawn observed, which didn’t help Jaskier as much as it ought to.

“Well, that’s flattering.”

“Why, how old are you?” Buffy asked.

“Coming up on forty-three.” Geralt tensed at the various ‘bullshit’s that rose up. Jaskier flashed him a smile to reassure him. “I’d offer to prove it, but all I have is Geralt’s word, and he never even argued with Yennefer about those crow’s feet jokes, so I don’t know if he noticed.”

“Oh, what are we all standing around the hall for?” Joyce tittered. “Come on, come sit. There’s pizza; soda; some wine.”

“Ooh, they’ve got wine, Geralt!” Geralt hummed. Still holding Jaskier’s lute with something like reverence, he followed Jaskier. At least until Jaskier stopped dead in the door, his eyes narrowing at the man with bleach-blond hair in the middle of what sounded like a pop culture argument with a woman who hadn’t come to greet him. 

“You have more to catch me up on, right now,” he said lowly. Spike looked over and his eyebrows shot up. 

“Pretty boy. Thought you were dead. Nice going on the still being here.” Spike made a vague gesture of congratulations and then turned back to his partner, but she was squinting at Jaskier like she knew him.

“There was a thing,” Dawn answered, dropping onto the couch. “An organizationy thing. Now he basically has a taser in his brain so he can’t eat people. He doesn’t have a soul but he’s still okay.”

“Watch yourself, little bit.” Spike waved a threatening finger at her, and Jaskier nearly leapt forward with his dagger, clear invitation be damned. A hand landed on his shoulder. He tensed and nearly whipped around. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled in his ear. “What’s going on?”

“When I left, that bastard was out to kill us.”

“And now?”

Jaskier huffed angrily through his nose. “He’s been invited to the party.”

“Treat him like he’s Valdo Marx, then.”

“Not fucking well helpful, Geralt, someday I’ll murder that little shit, I really will.”

“You’re Jaskier and Geralt of Rivia!” The accusation was sudden, giddy, and in the language Jaskier was used to hearing. He and Geralt turned as one to look at Spike’s conversation partner. Jaskier distantly noticed he was staring at her, too, though in a more ‘what the fuck’ way.

“And who would you be, madam?” The flirty, pleased smile touched easily on Jaskier’s face. Xander’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, when I went there, I usually went as Anyanka.”

“Anyanka...that’s familiar.”

“It had better be. I had at least three separate summons that stopped me and Hallie having days out because of you.”

“Summons?” Most of Jaskier’s excitement had dropped away.

“I was a demon zemsty.”

“Shit.” Jaskier could feel himself go pale. He could feel Geralt at his back, but couldn’t tell if he was angry or smug or indifferent. 

“But I’m not stupid. Witchers are almost as infamous as Slayers, and you’re the White Wolf’s bard.”

“Slayers?” Geralt asked. 

“It’s what I told you we have instead of Witchers. Except there’s only one, and she’s always a girl.”

“Seems like a lot of responsibility for one person,” he remarked. 

“Which is why Buffy has everyone.” Jaskier made a gesture encompassing the room. “And hasn’t died yet. No, wait, Kendra was Called. Well, she’s never died properly.”

[narcissasdaffodil]

Femslash February 2021

Day 2: Tears

This one is also for the 6 month anniversary of LCBC, I’m using multiple prompt lists x Here’s the A03 link if you prefer reading on there x

It’s unexpected, mostly. When you give your entire heart to someone, you don’t expect them to stamp on it. Marisol found herself replaying the same section of the episode over and over, watching Lottie getting ready to leave.

On screen, the door opened and a tall redhead ran through, and hugged her from behind.

“You can’t leave. I seriously won’t let you. What am I going to do without your witchy love to support me?” Just the soft voice of the redhead breaks Marisol’s heart again. Aderyn Bevan had stolen her heart from the moment she had arrived all those months ago. She had tried to make relationships work with everyone but her mind always came back to her.

When they finally got together, she was so happy. It hurts to remember those memories, but she doesn’t have a heart to break any more. She feels it beating occasionally, but feels so entirely numb.

She forces herself to turn back to the TV, her eyes drawn in by Aderyn, even now. The musician had played her like a fiddle, and managed it effortlessly. Pretending to be in love with her despite holding a small crush on Lottie persistently. Despite taking your side during Roccogate, you could tell how much it hurt her to do that. Going against Lottie wasn’t something she could do without guilt.

“I wish I could stay too, you know. Seeing you and Marisol together, made me realise something. I’ve been sitting on these feelings and pretending they don’t exist, but…” Lottie’s cut off by Aderyn pulling her close and kissing her on the lips. Lottie gasps in surprise, but kisses her back, her arms wind around Aderyn’s back and pull her close. They only separate to breathe and stare into each other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? Have I seen something you didn’t?” Aderyn watched Lottie with wild eyes, strands of hair escaping from her elaborate braided bun. For someone who usually looks so polished, to see the mascara tears trailing down her cheeks and the hair slowly escaping and coming loose in wild auburn curls, felt so strange. Come to think of it, Aderyn had always kept part of herself hidden around you. It was only Lottie, and Lucas who she let herself loose with. You were just left with the public image version of her, the one who kept all emotions hidden and solved all problems with a wide smile on her face. Elisa had warned you about her, said she was far too good to be true. But she had everyone else wrapped around her little finger, so there was no hope for you, really.

Fresh tears spilt down Marisol’s cheeks and she let them go. Her flat was such a tip currently, pizza boxes stacked in piles on every available surface, and tissues. She was usually so neat, but the current situation had left her unable to clean up her own stuff, she had become such a mess. She no longer cared about her flat being a mess, she had barely been out recently. She only went out for the essentials and nothing more. Her phone beeped and she left it on the table, not having the energy to move from the sofa.

“No, of course not. I feel it too. But what about Marisol? I know I left it so late to even say anything, and I have to leave soon. I just never thought you might like me in that way. And can you promise me something? Win, and we’ll work out what’s happening from there,” Lottie squeezed her hand before letting go. She grabbed her suitcase and they left the room together.

Marisol fast forwarded the rest of the episode, not able to see herself and Aderyn together, and in love. Or was she even in love with you? She didn’t accept to be your girlfriend, and looked...uneasy when you said ‘I love you’. Did she just lead you on and were you too blind to see it?

Her flat turned silent as the episode finished and she turned off the TV. She sat in the silent dark room, unable to convince herself to move. We were something, don’t you think so? You’ve turned from someone who as a rule doesn’t listen to Taylor Swift and hates too much noise to needing noise all the time and having a full playlist of sad Taylor Swift songs. Anything to prevent your thoughts from spiralling. But you were the same after Olivia, so of course this happened again.

Her phone beeped again and she continued to leave it. She was in the Islanders group chat, but struggled to see everyone so happy. Everyone found their person, even if they didn’t always leave with them. Hope and Lucas were together, which fit far better than Hope and Noah. Noah himself was with Priya and those were just the people she remembered. She struggled to stay in touch with most of them and could feel them slipping away from her. Hope and Bobby were the only ones who keep contacting you, but they’ll give up eventually. Priya was always saying that she was the outcast, but that was more like you.

As for her, she who cannot be named, the little bird was enjoying life with Lottie. No sign of an apology, or anything to even explain what happened. You were the first person to give her that nickname. To call Aderyn little bird, which started as a joke. To her, you were the sunshine, she took that from your name. Now you can’t even see the sunlight without thinking of her.

She snapped herself out of her head, the loud knocking coming from the door making her jump out of her skin. The knocking didn't appear to stop, so she stood up and slipped her feet into her slippers and made her way to the door, retrieving her keys as she passed the key bowl. She slid her keys into the keyhole and opened the door, to see Bobby and Hope on the other side. She tried to smile, but fresh tears spilled down her cheeks and she stepped backwards into her flat.

“It’ll probably be better if you come in, don’t particularly want to be a mess out in the hallway. Excuse the mess, I didn’t plan for guests,” she laughs slightly. She was such a mess she didn’t feel like pretending otherwise, and she was relieved they didn’t comment on it.

They followed her, Hope closed the door behind her and locked it. She put the keys back in the key dish as she passed it.

“I’ve been very worried about you. You haven’t been answering any texts or phone calls, I know that the...situation with Aderyn must really hurt,” Hope moved forward and puts her arms around Marisol, giving her a hug. Marisol sniffed, and let out fresh tears into Hope’s shoulder. Hope stroked her back, and held onto her. The small attempt at comfort helped her relax a little bit, and eventually they separated.

“T...thank you. I keep wondering if you’re going to give up on me eventually. If you’re going to leave like she did. I don’t even know what I did wrong, why she chose me of all people’s hearts to break. She had the pick of everyone, even Bobby. As for Lottie, after last time she kissed Gary and there was all that backlash, you’d think she’d think twice about starting another kiss gate. Trust my luck to be fucked over twice,” her eyes flash in anger as she looks over to Hope. It’s a relief to feel something other than heartbreak, or numbness.

“It was far from your fault. It was her choice to make, entirely. I won’t give up on you, and that’s a promise,” Bobby nodded from next to Hope.

“And same for me, too. I don’t support either of them with that decision. I’m pretty certain Aderyn knew all too well what she was doing. She appeared too good to be true, I got ensnared myself by her. Don’t blame yourself for that either. You deserve better, I know that,” Bobby took her hands in his and squeezed them tight.

“What about Gary? How did he take this? Considering how he was together with Aderyn for so long, until I coupled up with her, this must’ve hurt him too…” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked back at them.

Bobby sighed.“About as well as can be expected, really. It was a surprise for him too. And both of them are just pretending they did absolutely nothing wrong, and have moved to California to get away from all the backlash. The rest of us are very much there for you, though. You deserve so much better.”

“Elisa warned me and all. She said Aderyn’s far too good to be true. Yet I was too stubborn to listen. Not only that, but she was always hiding stuff from me, so I guess I expected it...anyway, I could do with a distraction. This is going to sound pathetic, but I keep replaying that kiss, and noticing something. How different she seems with Lottie, how much more free and happy she is. But an apology would be nice, but of course that’s too much to ask…” Marisol bit her lip hard and blinked. She ignored the tears reappearing and moved into the kitchen. She stared at the mess, sighed softly, and turned back around.

“Do you fancy pizza? My treat,” Hope winked at her. “I’ll even get ham and pineapple. Even though I can’t stand it,” Marisol’s eyes lit up and she grinned.

“Sure. But maybe split it, so half ham and pineapple, and half ham and mushroom. As you like mushrooms, right? I would make something, but…” she gestured towards the mess in her flat. It’s weird you no longer care about the mess, but oh well.

Hope retrieved her phone and started to order pizza.

“I’ll help with the mess, if you’re comfortable with that,” Bobby said from beside her.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to tackle it. But don’t have the energy, for obvious reasons,” she gave him a wobbly smile.

Once Hope finished her phone call, the three of them started tackling the mess. The stacks of boxes are nearly taller than Marisol herself, and as she started to see the countertops beneath the mess she breathed a sigh of relief. Nearly normal again. Hopefully soon you can heal.

She heard a knock at the door and Hope scrambled to answer it, getting there before Marisol and paying the delivery person.

“I did say I would pay. Now you need to relax. Maybe we can find something on TV?” Hope moved with the boxes and drinks towards the sofa, and Marisol and Bobby followed suit.

Marisol retrieved the remote and switched on Netflix. As they choose something to watch she feels a smile settle on her face and relaxed, focused on her food and the pleasure of having company. Maybe you didn’t find love in Love Island. But you found something more valuable, friends for life.

[peachyteabuck]

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day. 

a commission for @lovelycarose​

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.  

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident.  “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.  

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.  

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Pizza Party (2/1/2021)

Alastor gets a part in Hell’s first totally-unauthorized smuggled-down-from-the-living-world production of Hamilton, and he wants to celebrate; Sir Pentious @usedhearts reveals he hasn’t had a meal in A While; Alastor takes the opportunity to come over with pizza to celebrate and moon over Sir Pentious some more in a totally normal very platonic friend way. They talk about Alastor’s part in the show, discuss relocating the airship for further repairs, and Alastor invites Sir Pentious to a Mardi Gras ball. You know. Platonically.

usedhearts

🎩 ALASTOR, I WOULD HATE TO BE A BOTHER BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN TO....EAT....AGAIN HA.....

🎩 I ONCE AGAIN GOT TOO ENGROSSED IN MY WORK IT SEEMS!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh, wonderful, I need someone to celebrate with! In the mood for anything in particular? I’ll probably just harass one of my regular haunts for a couple of plates!

usedhearts

🎩 NO NOTHING PARTICULAR THAT I CAN THINK OF! I WOULD LOVE TO CELEBRATE WITH YOU THOUGH!

🎩 I'M AT THE AIRSHIP! I WILL LOVE TO SHOW YOU THE REPAIRS SO FAR TOO!

🎩 I MAY BE IN THE BATH WHEN YOU ARRIVE, I NEED TO SCRUB OFF ALL THE GREASE AND OIL FROM MY WORKING!

🎩 MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME THOUGH, I WON'T TAKE TOO TERRIBLY LONG!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh!

🎶 Sure sure, that’s fine! Where should I wait?

usedhearts

🎩 THE KITCHEN SEEMS LIKE A GOOD CHOICE! OR THE BRIDGE! WHICHEVER YOU WISH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Kitchen seems most convenient for a meal, I’ll wait for you there! I’m sure you’d like to give me a tour of the bridge’s repairs, anyway.

usedhearts

🎩 bossman said to tell u that he would like to do that also hi this is egg #310 :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Well, hello! Tell your boss I'm bringing pizza. It's quick and it leaves leftovers.

🎶 But quality pizza. Not one of those junk food chains.

usedhearts

🎩 i told him he said that that sounds good! we are helping him scrub off all the grease!! :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh.

🎶 Super!

🎶 Be there soon.

usedhearts

🎩 yes, it is! we will see u soon mr radio man! :)

Alastor

Alastor had arrived early with three boxes of pizza and was waiting in the kitchen—not that anyone had probably noticed that yet. He hadn't turned the lights on and he'd been uncharacteristically dead silent since his arrival—listening to the faint sound of singing echoing from elsewhere in the airship.

Sir Pentious

He had good timing, Telly was now out of the bath, mostly dry, and slithering back into his bedroom. He just finished Jolly Sailor Bold and slid immediately into another song. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful/Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom/I've murdered half the town/Left you love-notes on their headstones/I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._"

Alastor

Oh, now there was something different. Thus far it had been all show tunes and shanties, but he just barely recognized this one as a modern tune.

It wasn't a pleasant recognition. But he could close his eyes and pretend the song was being sung for him. The thought of being murdered for was... nice.

Was Sir Pentious a little louder? Maybe he was getting closer.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered about his bedroom, towel wrapped around his hips-- not that he needed it, just a habit really. He headed towards his dresser as he kept singing. "_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness/Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines/I want you stuffed into my mouth/Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you, love/I'd never hurt you/But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix/I will eat you slowly..._"

Alastor

Oh, what a beautiful sentiment. Maybe Sir Pentious *was* singing about Alastor—

Ha! Sure, keep dreaming. And try not to drool. He'd just enjoy the performance as long as he could.

Sir Pentious

"_Oh, the horror of our love/Never so much blood pulled through my veins/Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood._" He spun around the room, belting the song as he put on his shirt. He sang the next few verses, and noticed the kitchen light wasn't on. Alastor must've still been waiting on the food. He slithered through the door singing the end of the song, and flicked on the light-- and was startled to see Alastor's there! His hood flared in surprised before settling instantly. His hand on his chest, he shook his head.

"You startled me, Alastor!"

Alastor

Alastor was so absorbed in listening to the singing—hovering near the doorway, glowing eyes shut as he listened—that he didn't even register that the singing had drawn dangerously close until the lights flashed on. His eyes snapped open. Oh, whoops.

"You think *you're* startled?! Imagine this from my perspective! Here I am, minding my own business lurking in the shadows, when someone turns on the light and flares a cobra hood in my face!" Studio audience laughter.

Alastor gestured with a flourish toward the kitchen table where three pizza boxes are stacked. "Here we are! Someday I'll make something fancy for you, but in the meantime I thought it was more important to get you fed sooner rather than later."

Sir Pentious

Telly was, once again, VERY thankful that he couldn't blush. God, he would be bright red right now if he were still human. He glanced over at the pizzas, barely registering them or what Alastor was saying. He should pay attention, shouldn't he? Yes, but also....Alastor was right here and Telly was feeling oh so warm and cuddly.

And so he indulges his urges a little, moving closer to coil around Alastor and give him a hug. Warm hug from a snake in a t-shirt.

"Congratulations again on your roles! I haven't had the chance to see Hamilton yet, but I'm sure whatever the roles entail, you'll excel at." He didn't want to let go, but his stomach gave a painful sort of twist-- one that came from being empty too long.

"Let's eat, though, I'm starving." He laughed.

Alastor

Oh, good god, he was so warm. Warm and wearing nothing but a single layer of cotton, and he smelled fresh and perfumy and clean, and at the moment the thought of stuffing as much of Sir Pentious into his mouth as he could fit and ripping out a chunk was wildly appealing.

It took him a moment to register what Sir Pentious had actually said. "I'm starving, too." *Part* of what Sir Pentious had said.

Sir Pentious

Telly opened one of the boxes and flicked his tongue to sniff. Oh, that smelled good. He didn't even bother with a plate, taking a slice and swallowing it whole-- as a snake normally would, but that just looked odd for someone who was normally so prim and proper. He took another slice and this time bit it, y'know, like a normal human being. After swallowing his bite, he spoke.

"So, tell me about the audition, how did it go? I saw the outfit you wore, it was very bad, but in a very you way, I adored it!" He let out a Pentious Cackle.

Alastor

Oh wow. Never mind, maybe what Alastor wanted was to be stuffed inside Sir Pentious's mouth.

He opened a second box—helpfully labeled "SOYLENT ;)" in marker—and grabbed a slice for himself. "Oh, *right!* Why, for a moment there I nearly forgot what we were celebrating, what with the"—singing and hugging—"pizza and all."

Alastor had been congratulated a moment ago, hadn't he? "Thank you—apparently it went well! Hah! I wasn't sure it would! The casting director was impressed by my performing abilities and my resume—but not my performing *style.* It's a... are you familiar with *rap?* Most of the show is rap. My natural instinct is to go a little too melodic. There's a couple of songs I'm not sure *how* I'm going to do." He looked nervous for a split second; but only that long, and then the look was gone. "But if I was good enough for him, that's good enough for me! We've got plenty of rehearsals, we'll make it work."

Sir Pentious

Rap! Oh yes he'd heard a few rap songs, even liked a couple! He nodded. "Yes, that does seem outside your normal range, but I'm sure you can find a way to do it! You are the most skilled performer I know, Alastor."

He's purring now, and taking another bite of pizza. God, he really was hungry right now, how had he not noticed earlier? "I'm very excited to see you on stage! You'll get to show all of Hell a whole new side to the Radio Demon! Or maybe, just a slightly different songs-- it's not like anyone who knows you isn't already aware that you love musical theater!"

He chuckled. Telly folded the rest of the pizza slice in half before swallowing it down like the first. He really was too hungry right now. "I'm certain that the speed of these raps won't be a problem for you-- is it just the style you're worried about?"

Alastor

"Hah! Don't know many performers, do you?" He tilted his head dismissively, like he was ducking the compliment. "I'm better than most, sure—but half of that's because I've got my own traveling band. That's not going to be the case up on the stage, it'll be just me. And by myself, among a whole cast of professional musical theater actors? I'm just the guy who got turned down by every show in New York for three years straight." He clucked his tongue. "But, here I am. I don't know if standards are that much lower in Hell than they were in New York, or if I got that much better—but I hope it's the latter."

Oh, the *thought* of getting to show that side to Hell—of being up on the stage, all spotlights on him, drowned in thunderous applause... Don't mind him if he stares off into the distance for a moment as applause faintly plays, he's fantasizing. Sorry, what were they talking about? "Sure! Anyone who knows me won't be surprised—but how many people know me? Everyone else in Hell will be meeting me for the first time!" He desperately hoped it made a difference.

"Oh, the speed's no problem—the fastest song in the show goes like so—" He played a clip from one song, "—*I'm takin' this horse by the reins makin' Redcoats redder with bloodstains*—" then cut back in and picked up where it left off, "And I've got no trouble keeping up, 'And I'm never gonna stop until I make them drop and burn them up and scatter their remains,' see." He did indeed sing it just as fast as the recording—but that was the thing, he was definitely singing it, setting the lyrics to a mostly monotone tune. It didn't sound bad, but it definitely stood out as Not Rapping.

Sir Pentious

He blinked at the speed of that-- wow it really was fast! He'd never be able to sing that, certainly. But Alastor definitely could and Telly leaned closer as he did. Hm, yes, there was that tune to it.

"Well, perhaps all you need is to practice? It's something new, you're not going to be perfect at it straight off the bat." He leaned closer and playfully blelele'd against his ear. Oh, wait, was that weird? He pulled back and went back to eating. Monch monch.

"It's like...swimming or engineering or even singing normally, it's a skill you'd have to develop, right?"

Alastor

Oh, tongue flick. He hoped his ear smelled okay. Of course it did, why wouldn't his ear smell okay? He took a bite of his pizza, he'd hardly eaten so far.

"Sure," he sighed. "Can I develop it before opening night, though—that's the question! What I'd like best is if we could tweak the songs a little to mesh with *my* style—but then getting that to mesh back into the *show's* style will take time and practice, too, so I've got to decide which it's going to be soon enough that we can figure it out before opening night... The director might come down hard one way or the other and settle the matter, but what if they're too nervous to give me direction because I'm the Radio Demon?" He flung up a hand. "It will be fine, I'm sure it will be fine. I know. But I don't like the waiting. Anyway, if the whole show crashes and burns, at least it'll be fun to watch." He already had a plan B, apparently.

Sir Pentious

"Maybe you'd just need to workshop it a little? Try it out different ways and see if the director likes it?" There WAS that intimidation factor of him being the Radio Demon. "I don't know what to do about the reputation part of it, unfortunately, that's a conundrum."

His head tilted, and he swallowed down another slice. Whole. There he goes. And he's picking up another slice.

"Perhaps having a one on one talk with the director to ensure them that you won't kill them for simply doing their job?"

Alastor

"That's probably what we're going to do. And see how it goes from there, I suppose."

And there went another slice, down the hatch. Was Sir Pentious even tasting them? Alastor finished his first (!) slice and grabbed a second.

"I'm going to be having talks like that for *weeks.* With the director, with the other actors, with the crew backstage—in groups, individually, in public, in private... I'm bringing a cake and my best sweet-and-innocent face to our first rehearsals."

Sir Pentious

"That's a good idea! Just try to be as non-threatening as possible." He shrugged a bit, taking a bite this time.

"If you want help practicing or running lines, or whatnot, I would be very willing to help with that." He smiled. "Oh!" He moved to the sink and turned on the tap, looking proud of himself. "The water's fixed! And the heat too! The warehouse is also almost done being repaired, though I'm sure that people have seen the swarming eggs and know I'm here now. I should probably look into moving soon, or hire some guards."

Alastor

"That's the plan! If everything works out, by our third rehearsal session they'll be wondering whether all the rumors about the Radio Demon were complete hogwash!" Assuming none of them had met him before. Ooh, maybe they'd met him during his brief foray into the theater scene in the seventies, he'd made a good impression on a few people then, hadn't he? He could hope.

"With Valera in the show and Charlie falling all over herself with excitement that I've picked up an activity that doesn't end in bloodshed, I think I'm fine on practice partners." Especially considering that *all* the lines were music, and mostly very fast music. "But I'll be more than happy to come by and show off in front of you!"

He played a round of applause for the demonstration of running water. "You have other warehouses you can move to, I hope?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do. I just need to get the airship mobile before I can do that. Or find a truck capable of taking it somewhere else." He sighed and moved back next to Alastor. Telly finished the slice in his hand and then got another one. Why yes, he was that hungry.

"I'd love for you to show off for me, though. It'll be my first experience with the musical! I haven't gotten my hands on a copy yet." He shrugged a bit.

Alastor

Telly was already on his fifth slice. Alastor was glad he’d gotten three pizzas. “Or find an incredibly powerful friend capable of opening a portal big enough to transport an airship through?” Look at that sweet smile.

“Oh! The hotel has a copy, we could watch it together!” Too presumptuous? “Or I could—send it to you, whichever you prefer.”

Sir Pentious

"I would love to watch it with you, Alastor. Who better than one who's going to be in it?" He grinned, nibbling at this slice. "We can make a night of it! It'll be fun!"

He hummed. "Would it be alright for you to transport something so large? And would I need to brace anything within the airship or without?"

Alastor

*Movie night.* Oh, that sounded delightful. “We’ll call it part of my practice! I can get up and perform my parts for you.” And spend the rest of the time in Telly’s coils... He liked coiling around Alastor, right? He sure seemed like he did. That’d be fine.

“Why, sure, not a problem! Just buy me dinner.” Speaking of dinner—he finished of his second slice and grabbed a third. “Brace it the way you would for any other transport. I can open the portal underneath, so gravity can do most of the work—but I presume you don’t want it to go into free fall. Might be best if you set up some cranes or whatnot to lower it through a little more gracefully. And of course, it’s going to be passing through my friends’ dimension. It shouldn’t be a problem, but if I were you I’d keep the doors locked just in case.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, humming a a bit. "Yes, I'll need to make some preperations before we were to move it then. We don't want it becoming _more_ damaged after all."

He nibbled more at his pizza, and smiled. "Thank you for coming over, Alastor. You always make my day better when you do." Oh no, was that too much? He cleared his throat and looked away. "So, ah, when would you want to watch Hamilton? I would be 'down' for whenever."

Alastor

There was a burst of interference noise as Alastor’s heart lodged itself somewhere in his throat. He swallowed it back down with half a slice of pizza. “And it’s always my *greatest* pleasure to do so! You make for fine company, my friend!” He resisted the urge to lay it on even thicker. “I’ll have to find out when rehearsals are starting up and what that schedule looks like—oh, and Mardi Gras is coming up, I *must* find out when all the parades are this year—so I’ll let you know once I know when I’m free!” He laughed, “I’m not used to having a schedule!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, Mardi Gras! Yes, the Alastor here gets very excited about that too!" He laughed a bit. "I didn't know about it before I met him, but it all seems like fun!"

He leaned his elbow on the table and then his chin on his hand. "You're becoming a busy man, just hope you'll have time for me. It'd be nice to still see you, every now and again."

Alastor

“Of course I’ll have time for you!” He reached out to grab Telly’s hand. “You don’t think I’m the kind of man who’d abandon his friends just because I caught a hint of medium-level semi-stardom, do you? If I get so busy I don’t have time to visit you, then I’m dragging *you* along to visit *me.*” He registered, belatedly, that holding Telly’s hand meant he was also holding Telly’s pizza. He politely relinquished his grip. Ahem. “Maybe Mardi Gras is a good opportunity for that! Have you ever been? I can’t take you to *everything,* but the parades are all public! And maybe one of the balls that doesn’t need an invitation—“ Did he just invite Telly to a dance.

Sir Pentious

"I went one year with the Alastor here-- it's terribly loud with so many people, but it was fun too." He smiled, and didn't seem to mind when Alastor grabbed his hand and pizza. He even, rather pointedly, still brought the slice up for another bite.

"We never went to a ball, though, that sounds like fun. Oh!" He seemed to light up. "Would we get to wear costumes? Would it be like a masquerade? I do miss those, all the vibrant costumes and the intricate masks!" He sighed dreamily, then blinked, straightening a bit and looking a little abashed.

"Well, good, though-- I can't exactly pop open a portal to come to you, so this will only work with your continued interest," He said, laughing, but there was certainly a bitter tinge to it.

Alastor

“Oh, some of the balls are snobbish black tie affairs—the only costuming is rich people trying to look like even richer people.” He scoffed. “At the *good* ones, though—costumes are *highly* encouraged, masks and all. I never go without a mask—ha, as if anyone would talk to me if I did!”

He heard that bitterness. His hand crept back over to... he’ll go with Sir Pentious’s wrist this time. “If I’ve got anything to say about it, you’ll never have to worry about that.” Maybe there was a way he could give Telly his own way to open up portals to come visit...

Sir Pentious

His heart clenched at that touch, those words. How he wished he didn't have the little voice whispering in the back of his head saying that it wasn't true. But this wasn't Leclerq, this was different. This Alastor hadn't hurt him, and he looked so earnest right now...

Telly took a breath, looking away a moment, his chin coming off his hand so it could cover Alastor's. "I know, I'm sorry-- it's nothing that has to do with you, just....old worries raising their heads again. Things that I have no reason to ascribe to you. Thank you, for reassuring me, though, Alastor. And I'd love to coordinate costumes with you for the actual good balls." His smile returned now, a bit more genuine and much more warm.

Alastor

“No need to apologize! I’m not a figure that inspires trust, I know that. I’ll just have to keep saying it until it sounds believable, won’t I?” He’d say it for decades if he had to.

His eyes lit up and he squeezed Telly’s wrist excitedly. “Oh—I’ve never coordinated costumes with someone before!” He looks like a kid who’s been handed a dollar in a penny candy store.

Sir Pentious

Telly sat up straighter and his face brightened again. "Oh, yes, it's sso much fun! We can pick a theme and find a tailor and--" He cut himself off his face screwing up momentarily.

"Though all the onesss I know are rather too expensssive consssidering I ssstill have to pay for all thisss." He gestured to the airship around them. "Damn angelsss," He muttered.

Alastor

“We can get pre-made costumes and tweak ‘em a little. And Rosie can help! She’s a regular sorceress with a sewing machine!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! We'd need to find ones that aren't cheaply made, you know how they love to mass produce everything nowadays. Sacrificing quality for quantity..." He shook his head and sighed. Telly's face turned shy and laughed softly.

"I actually have never met Rosie, if you can believe it. Not even when Alastor and I--" He cut himself off. Nope, not going to start digging into that right now. He'd _just_ pushed those feelings aside. "Anyway, I haven't met her, but I'd be happy to do so with an introduction from you."

Alastor

"I *know,* the cheap polyester things that aren't even hemmed properly!" He shook his head while his invisible audience booed disapproval. "No, we'll have none of that cheap Halloween fare! We'll be going for theater costumes and rental costumes, the high quality products! I know some *wonderful* little claustrophobic holes in the wall—clothing racks packed so tightly you can hardly move between them, jewelry and decorations arranged in rainbow order down the length of an entire wall, an entire room dedicated just to masks, dressing rooms the size of closets and restrooms smaller than the dressing rooms, no two costumes alike in the whole store! It's going to be such fun!" He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Sir Pentious

His excitement was infectious and it had Telly nearly bouncing on his coils too. "Oh, yes, that does sound like fun! I've never done anything like that, I've always had my things bespoke from a tailor's or given as gifts. But I do wonder what we can find hidden like jewels in the depths!"

As he's nearly vibrating, he slithered around the table, getting ready to put the boxes in the fridge. "Are you done eating? I want to show you how much I've gotten done! But first the leftovers need to go into the icebox."

Alastor

"Oh, hold on!" He grabbed two more slices and stuffed them in his mouth. "Don't put them in the icebox in their boxes, that'll dry them out and the leftovers won't last as long! You want them in cling wrap or a ziplock." Mr. Foodie over here getting fussy over food he didn't even make. "Careful with mine, it's got people on it. Do you eat people?" He didn't think they'd discussed it before, had they?

Sir Pentious

"I eat what I can get my hands on." Oh, he said that too fast and that was a bit too honest. So he's going to busy himself looking for something suitable. "I think I have some cling wrap in here somewhere..."

Alastor

Oh, that was heartbreaking. "Then my leftovers are yours!" He leaned on a counter to wait while Telly searched. "We'll see about finding costumes and then visit Rosie if they need altering. She'll be pleased to meet any friend of mine—especially one willing to dine in the Cannibal Colony! Just don't mind her if she gets a bit... tease-y."

Sir Pentious

"Tease-y?" He looked at Alastor as he finally fished out the roll of cling wrap. He offered it to Alastor-- he didn't really like the stuff, but hey, if it kept the pizza fresher longer....

Alastor

He started wrapping up slices in little stacks of three at a time. "She's noticed my tendency to befriend every snake I cross paths with and has taken to poking fun at me for it, that's all." She also heartily disapproved. She was convinced it was just going to keep ending in heartbreak, and wasn't impressed with Alastor for becoming the kind of person who'd do that to himself. But surely she'd be courteous to Sir Pentious himself.

Sir Pentious

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "I suppose your relationship is one of those vitriolic friendships, where you tease one another? Or am I assuming wrong again?" His eyes narrowed as he thought.

Alastor

"I can't stand vitriolic friendships. Just enemies who smile at each other—and I have enough of those. No no—at most, harmless friendly banter, and even that's rare." And powered not by vitriol but by concern, worry disguised under jokes.

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "Yes, I, too, do not like that. I have enough enemies, but most don't smile anymore, just laugh in my face." Said face twisted into a hateful expression before he sighed and relaxed. He started putting the finished packets of three slices into the frige-- one of those really old kinds with the handle in the middle.

Alastor

"I've got one or two like that. I've found the best way to deal with them is to ignore them completely. Let them stew unhappily in your lukewarm indifference!"

Sir Pentious

His head tilts and he frowns a bit. "People dare to laugh in _the_ Radio Demon's face?" He hummed. "They either must be brave or stupid. Or both. But unfortunately, I don't think I have a talent for indifference."

Alastor

"Powerful," Alastor said. "And stupid, but that's unrelated." A shrug. "Indifference is a skill! It can be practiced. But step one is 'keep smiling'—and I'm afraid you're very expressive, my friend."

Sir Pentious

And Alastor's point is proven when his face scrunches again. "Yes, it's always been a problem, even when I was alive." He let out a huffy sigh, putting the rest of the pizza packets in the fridge before closing it. His arms crossed. "I don't think I've ever been able to control my expression..."

Alastor

"In your case, you might have an easier time practicing an equally valuable skill." He smiled maliciously. "Teach people to fear the sight of your displeasure."

Sir Pentious

He blinked, and then that patented Evil Pentious Grin slid over his face. "You know, Alastor, I think you're right." Telly laughed, that evil laugh that Alastor loved, and then put his hands on his hips, his chest puffing.

"Which the repairs to my airship will help accomplish! Come, come, let's go to the bridge! I want to show you how good it looks now."

Alastor

Oh, *there* was a glimpse of that villainous megalomania Alastor so adored. He gestured grandly. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

And lead he does! Through the bedroom-- which, if Alastor will notice, looks much more put together than before and there's a special place on the coat hanger for the leviathan leather belt he'd gotten Telly-- and then up the ramp to the bridge. Look! No glass on the floor now! Everything's clean and dusted and in order. Telly beelines it for the organ, and presses a key. There isn't the normal organ drone, but it DOES tink like a piano key.

"I UPGRADED A BIT! I FIGURED WHILE IT WAS OUT OF ORDER, I COULD ADD A FEW MORE INSTRUMENTS TO THE ORGAN'S REPERTOIRE!"

Alastor

He spared a passing glance to the bedroom, picking up random details as he hurried by—including the belt, oh, that warms his dead heart—but not slowing down as they hurried on to the bridge. What was Sir Pentious so eager to show off? A completely overhauled bridge? Glowing hologram projections, perhaps? Additional weaponry?

He was not expecting “an organ with a piano hidden inside it.” Somehow that was more outlandish than anything else he’d expected.

“*You what.*” Alastor was fighting not to laugh in delight. He took a seat and tried a couple of random keys on separate keyboards—were all of the keyboards outfitted as pianos now?

Sir Pentious

Telly was downright delighted by Alastor's reaction. Only the main, lowest set, keyboard made the piano sounds. The other two still sat dead.

"YES! I wanted it to have more versatility, and I thought, why not? A piano has keys, and so does an organ, it was simple enough to fit them together!" He laughed, slithering behind Alastor. He placed his hands on his shoulders, before leaning close over him to press a few keys.

"At least it can be played now, until the pipes for the rest of it is fixed!"

Alastor

He momentarily stiffened in shock when Sir Pentious leaned behind him and placed his hands on Alastor’s shoulders, instantly distracted by being *loomed over,* hyper aware of the hands on his shoulders. He shook off the feeling and quickly leaned forward to try out the piano, hoping that Telly wouldn’t notice the momentary tension.

He ran a few quick arpeggios to see how it sounded; then, on a spur of the moment decision, launched into a familiar blues bassline—familiar to him, anyway. After getting into the rhythm of it, he started singing: “‘So what’d I miss? What’d I miss?’—this is one of my songs—‘Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss...’”

Sir Pentious

He did notice the tension, his hand feeling it in Alastor's shoulder, but he didn't say anything. Instead he moved to the side, where the violins were kept, his head tilting as he listened to the music.

"That ones seems very _you_! It's very jazzy." He hummed along as he opened the panel to retrieve one of the instruments. He propped it on his shoulder, taking another few moments to listen before he joined the melody. He wasn't sure if this song had violin originally, but it did now!

Alastor

Alastor’s grin widened when Sir Pentious started playing along. There hadn’t been violin where Sir Pentious happened to be playing, but he was the last person who’d complain about an impromptu addition to a spontaneous musical number.

He played through to the point where his part ended and some other as-yet-unknown actor was supposed to pick up the song—“‘He grabs my arm and I respond, what’s going on?’”—then cut it off with a glissando and a flourish. “*That’s* the song that convinced me I want to be in this show.”

Sir Pentious

Telly finished his bit with a vibrato and then lowered the violin. "I can see why! It's definitely in your wheelhouse. I like it."

He put the violin back and shut the panel again, slithering back to sit on his coils near Alastor. "I look forward to hearing your other songs, as well." He sat up, remembering the real reason they'd come to the bridge. "Oh! Yes! So, I have the water fixed, plumbing is coming along, no leaks so far. Electricity is back up and running, so the heat is back as well! The outer areas are being repaired nicely and quickly, and soon we'll be able to start adding the pipes for the organ and the tanks back in!" He ticked all of these off on his fingers.

Alastor

“And it’s even better in context! Much darker.”

He turned to straddle the bench and look at Telly directly as he spoke. Water, plumbing, electricity—it struck him as odd that heat was a higher priority than air conditioning, in Hell of all places, but then the air was colder higher up, wasn’t it? Was it cold enough to require heating? Or did Telly just get cold that easily? “Sounds like you’re coming right along! You’ll have this bird back up in the sky in no time.”

Sir Pentious

"Indeed! I hope that it will be sky-worthy again in at least a few months! That is, as long as I don't get distracted by other ideas and projects, but at least the Eggs will keep up with it, even if I am not actively working on it!" He laughed again.

"But so far, there's now MORE outside the bridge! Come, see!" He gestured for Alastor to follow and went over to a closed set of doors-- which opened to a rather plain looking, but functioning, hallway. After about fifty yards, it dropped off suddenly, with scaffolding and some Eggs continuing the repairs. "Obviously, all the flourishes aren't added back in yet, but function before fashion is the name of the game currently!"

Alastor

“What a pity, being so beholden to pragmatism!” He shook his head in sympathy. “Does the hallway lead anywhere interesting yet, or is it a spine without ribs at this point?”

Sir Pentious

"Exactly that-- spine without ribs, buuuut..." He trailed off, leading to the edge and leaning out to peek over. "Down there, you can see the tanks being rebuilt!"

Alastor

“Are these the water and toilet tanks?” He leaned over to see for himself, a bit farther than necessary. Don’t worry, he’s got great balance.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Currently the water's hooked into the city lines, but once those are done, I'll be able to unhook it without loosing water access." He pulled back, a smirk on his lips.

"Would you like to see them up close?" He asked his hand reaching out to grasp a pole that looked sturdier than the rest of the scaffolding. It stretched all the way down to where the in construction tanks sat, looking like something from a fire station.

Alastor

It looked *very much* like something from a fire station. The temptation was irresistible. “Absolutely!” He grabbed the pole and slide down it, spinning around it as he went.

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" Telly laughed when Alastor slid down and waited until he reached the bottom before grabbing on himself. He twirled the end of his tail around it for support and down he went. The tour continued!

[1004kjhgfdsa]

Moon and Stars

+ himeyachi au (Himekawa Aoi & Yachi Hitoka)

+ 969 words

+ tooth-rotting fluff

+ please ship my babies himeyachi

It was a chilly Friday night at Hitoka’s rooftop. It was one of those nights their work schedules coordinated. So, it felt like a long weekend for the both of them, but it also meant they’ll be with each other for that long span of time.

Both of them are sprawled over the big, soft blanket--yes, with peaches for patterns--that Aoi brought. Pizza boxes and baskets of mojos leftovers were abandoned on the side. Hitoka was resting her head on Aoi’s shoulder, looking up to the cloudless night sky. Millions of stars stretched above; the crescent moon, smiling down on them, and planet venus accompanying it.

Hitoka stretched both of her hands towards the sky, reaching out the vast space. “What do you think would it feel like? Holding those stars?” Hitoka looked up to Aoi who was already gazing at her.

“Mmmm,” Aoi scrunched his eyebrows, thinking. “I think I would be blinded by it.” He covered her eyes and chuckled at her startled reaction. Hitoka held his hand and pushed it away, “Aoiiii!!” she laughed at her boyfriend’s silly tactics.

Aoi is always fascinated when his girlfriend talks about astronomy. The way her eyes sparkle when someone chats with her about it. The way her body bounces and radiates energy when she discloses it. It’s impossible to ignore it; you’ll be drawn in on how she passionately discusses it, like a black hole vacuuming you in.

“Did you know there’s a white hole? Instead of sucking matter in, white hole spits it out.”

“Can you please construct your sentence better?”

“What? It’s theoretically the opposite of a black hole. Doesn’t that intrigue you?”

“Of course, it does.” He really was curious. Ever since Hitoka developed an interest in astronomy, he’s also been doing his research to keep up with her.

Aoi snapped out his thoughts when Hitoka grabbed his hand and pushed it towards the sky. “With the naked eye, we can see 2,000 to 2,500 stars so imagine those little gaseous matter in your hands.” Hitoka stated, smiling back at the moon.

“Do you really want to have those stars in your pretty hands?” Aoi jokingly asked, intertwining his fingers on his girlfriend’s hands. “Are you not listening to me?” She pouted and snapped her head to him, eyebrows frowning.

“Of course, I am. If I was not listening then I wouldn’t have this.” Aoi pulled out a ring and placed it beside Hitoka’s reached out hand. It’s a simple ring; a thin gold band, engraved with stars that are filled with diamonds. Hitoka squinted to see what it was. “What’s that?” It was like one of the twinkling stars above, but closer. When realization hits, she looked at Aoi who was smiling and eyes tearing up. He was always a cry baby.

Aoi sat up and held the ring in front of Hitoka. “You have been a blessing in my life. You came in like a shooting star, suddenly appearing and burning so bright, but you didn’t disappear; you stayed with me. Through my ups and downs, you saw who I was; my principles, my beliefs, my virtues. Even though we have our differences, we communicated and made it work. You never gave up on me when I was on the verge of giving up. And I promise you, I will never give us up. I want to be with you forever. And I hope you want that too. Will you marry me, Hitoka?” Aoi held his breath when he said the question.

Hitoka was already crying when Aoi started his speech. Damn, she loves the guy. So much. He really loves her to the moon and back. He loved her even in her darkest of times. She believes that they’re soulmates in this life, in another life, and in many more lives. Aoi made her the happiest woman alive and she would want that to happen for the rest of her life. Who wouldn’t?

With a smile, and tears like stars, Hitoka breathed out, “Yes. A million stars, yes!”

Aoi exhaled the breath that he has been holding in and let out a delighted laugh. He positioned the ring to Hitoka’s ring finger with a cheery smile. Hitoka then admirably stared at the gold band and spread out her fingers; her hand got a lot more prettier decorated by it. She looked at it with one eye, like taking a picture with a camera, and stretched out her hands to the sky, to the city lights, then in front of his fiancé. The similarities? They all look like stars.

“Do you like it?” Aoi asked because Hitoka can’t seem to stop staring at her ring. “Of course, I like it. I love it!” She put her hand on top of her chest. “I love you. Thank you, Aoi, for all of these; for effortlessly making me happy at all times, for listening to my astronomical babblers, for being by my side when I get a little side tracked, and for making me love you.”

Aoi moved towards his fiancé and hugged her comfortingly. “I should be the one thanking you.” He kissed the side of her head and felt her vibrate as she laughed at him. “Then we should be thanking ourselves.”

Hitoka lovingly looked at Aoi’s chocolate brown eyes and kissed him on his lips. She smiled when he gently kissed back.

The crescent moon glowed and the stars twinkled above, happily witnessing the newly engaged couple glimmered with love.

———————————————————————

NOTES:

i know i haven’t posted in a while cause school has been giving me hell 😭

writing has been my stress reliever and i’m enjoying every story i make 💜

i might post all of my stories here from twitter. for archive matters 😌

feedbacks are appreciated!! my ask is always open. let’s talk about haikyuu or just anything!!

THANK YOU FOR READING 💜

love lots xx

[davecall93]

Teddy (6)

“Good boy,” said Coach, as he pulled himself out of Teddy’s ass. He laid back and let Teddy curl up to his side. He stared lovingly at Teddy’s paunch, which was unmistakable. Awash in post-coital contentment, he took his hand and began to rub it. “Maybe I’ll get a wish.”

Teddy smirked and felt, despite Coach’s feelings towards his body, a slight rush of embarrassment.

Coach noticed this. It was not the embarrassment he minded but its suggestion of a place where Teddy remained untouched by him. His day to day assault on Teddy’s conception of himself had halted at a recessed corner in Teddy’s mind. Coach, who hated to feel he was being laughed at, did not like that there was some place in Teddy’s mind could be out reach, that could will itself out of reach, that could be mocking him, that could emerge unchanged by Coach. Dominion, knew Coach, was hierarchical. Man over the Earth and God over Man.

And Coach over  a little boy named Teddy.

“Does Teddy want a midnight snack?”

“Sure.”

“I need to rinse.”

As Coach plodded downstairs in a worn terrycloth robe, the little piece in Teddy’s mind that resisted him stuck out. By the time he had finished assembling a meal for Teddy (grilled cheese, glass of whole milk, brownie drowned in ice cream), the pleasure of sex had diminished, and the same spirit that had made Coach a hot-headed competitive swimmer in high school emerged. For that, he piled whip cream on the ice cream.

As Teddy ate next to him, Coach went on the offensive. “You’re resisting me, boy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re resisting me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s because you have a limited capacity for self-reflection.” Teddy rolled his eyes. However, Coach was correct. He was attracted to that in Teddy’s nature: that things were as simple as he  thought. It was what made Teddy malleable and accepting. It was what made one day’s interior transformation the next day’s most natural order of things. But it also blocked entry into parts of Teddy.

“Would you be eating if I was not here? Who are you?” Coach knew he was being slightly obtuse.

“What do you mean?”

Coach growled. “Don’t answer back with questions.”

“I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Goodnight.” Coach turned off the light and turned to his side. The room, whose blackout curtains were drawn, was pitch black.

“I’m still eating!”

“I know. There are crumbs in the bed. Goodnight.”

Teddy finished eating in the dark.

“Was that a fight?” Asked Teddy the next morning.

“Was what a fight?”

“I don’t know…you know turning off the light and pouting.”

“That was not a fight. I was not pouting. You were not answering my questions.”

“Oh my god,” said Teddy, frustrated. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I am about to head out; there’s a family lunch I have to go to. I have ordered you three pizzas from that new wood-fired place. Snacks are in the pantry.”

“Can I go out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so. I just let you out last week. Besides, this way you can try all their pizzas.”

“Do you like….know the owner or something?”

“Yes, he’s a friend of mine. Also, we own the building. Restaurants are risky because they have a high rate of failure, so I feel I should be supportive.” Coach grabbed his wallet and keys. As he walked past Teddy at the breakfast table, he patted his stomach, “Eat local.” He kissed Teddy on the head and left. “Don’t forget to report what you eat and when you eat it.

A minute later Coach reappeared. “Forget it, we’re going to go eat pizza.”

“That was quick.”

“Go shower and put on some clothes.”

“ But didn’t you already order pizzas to come?”

“Lost your appetite, fatty? You can eat them later.”

Whatever had made Coach change his mind was unclear to Teddy. It was a surprisingly normal lunch, its origins aside. Coach ordered salad and caught Teddy by surprise when he did not order for him.

“You didn’t order for me?” Asked Teddy when the waiter left.

Coach smiled, “I am just being a normal boyfriend in public.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” replied Coach. “Absolutely nothing.”

Despite what Coach said, Teddy found the next few days strange. There was a clockwork, mechanical feel to things. Coach appeared distant, all while maintaining the life that they had so quickly settled into: morning Boosts, rough handling Teddy, the teasing, three large meals a day. But in certain, intermittent instants, Coach seemed to pull back as if his actions all sprang from a series of suddenly recalled afterthoughts. While he had ceased to notice that the surprise snacks and stuffings that Coach lived to surprise him with, he now noticed that they seemed perfunctory. When he came ba

One morning as Teddy made extra effort to be messy, Coach simply handed him some napkins, rather than yelling or slapping him, or acting like he had to help Teddy clean up.

“Are you mad at me, Coach? Did I do something?”

“No, baby. Not all.” Coach smiled. “Wipe your face, you have some milk dribbling down your face.”

Teddy had even attempted to test him. “Coach…,” he said one evening, as they lay on the couch. “Do you think maybe we…I…should slow down…?”

Coach put down his book. “Is this too fast for you?”

“I don’t mean us…I mean…” Teddy poked his stomach. “You know…”

Coach looked tenderly at Teddy. “Oh, Teddy, we can go at any speed you want.” Teddy panicked inwardly. He had expected more of a reaction.

Coach then suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled it tight and hissed in his ear. “Slow does not mean stop, fatty. Remember that.” He then tossed Teddy’s head away.

That was…normal enough, thought Teddy.

The next week Coach skipped morning boosts and left Teddy to make his own breakfasts and lunch. They had good sex, pleasant conversation, and Coach tied Teddy up for one dinner stuffing, although he asked very politely if he could before hand. Although Teddy did not say anything, he felt as if Coach may as well have masturbated.

On Sunday, Teddy received an invite for a group brunch the following weekend. Someone had reserved a place at the students called “the good brunch spot.”

“Do you want to come?” asked Teddy. In his mind, the question was something of a test for Coach. Like all tests of romantic partners it was poorly calibrated: Coach would not brunch with college students to prove his attachment.

“No, but I will drive you.”

“Oh.”

Coach laughed at Teddy. “I’ve had you cooped up for a while now. Don’t you want some time away?”

“I mean…I guess so…”

“Did you want me to go?”

“I mean…yes…but no…”

“Oh, Teddy, trust me. They’ll have more fun. You should know by now that it’s a fucking drag when people bring their significant others to these things.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. The whole point of your twenties is to wish your friend’s significant others weren’t there.” Coach pulled him over to cuddle him. “Besides, you’re gonna need all the room at that table. I can barely get my arms around you.”

Teddy realized Coach hadn’t teased him about his weight in three days. Why, he wondered, did each time he try to prove something was off did everything fall back in place?

***

They were 14 at brunch. Teddy knew a fewer people than he expected. The boy who had brought him a plate of food at the part was there. Teddy noticed that he worked his way over specifically to talk to him. His name was Henry.

“Good to see again, man! How’s your summer been?”

Henry had upbeat personality and a warm presence. He was boyish, not unlike in the way Teddy was, but ventured slightly towards having the personality of a brightly colored brochure. However, this was mitigated by a sense of sincerity to everything he said, as well as a certain unmistakable air of sexiness.

Teddy, who was somewhat mopey and confused as to what do with the attention, replied, “Oh, you know…it’s weird to be graduated. I don’t have a job yet.”

At this, Henry burst into a bit of a monologue about how he felt about graduation and life changes. His boyfriend was still on study abroad and wouldn’t be back for another month. Teddy found his positivity disarming. Henry was one of those people who had a way of making people he spoke to feel as if they were a part of what he was saying, even when it was only about himself.

“Yeah, I just met someone,” said Teddy when he took his turn. “It’s different. I haven’t really dated before. He’s a fucking piece of work, and I can’t really tell how it’s going.”

Before Henry could explain to Teddy his philosophy on self-actualization in new relationships, the group was sat. Henry stayed close to Teddy, although they had not known each other before.

As Teddy sat there, his mind, which had been entirely occupied with figuring out what was wrong between him and coach, was forced to settle on new surroundings. He felt suddenly disoriented as his mind was flooded with the realization that this was a world he had been away from for longer than he had realized. Surrounded by people who called him Theo, who knew him as a study partner, partygoer and occasional drunken mess, his mind raced to the little recess where it still kept the remnants of what and who he was before Coach.

Made aware of their own materiallessness by the sudden evacuation of the settings that were his life with Coach, those remnants sparked and sputtered as Teddy blinked and tried to figure out why he felt so strange in a situation he knew so well. It lasted up until the moment that the waitress came by to ask his order.

It came when Teddy began with his usual, practiced order, “I’ll have the chicken fried steak with potatoes and scrambled eggs…” and then added, as the little voice of Coach inside him rose triumphant, “and a side of blueberry pancakes, extra whip cream, and a vanilla milkshake.” Theo had not added that. Teddy had.

Coach could not have known that that day would be the one where the siege of the last two weeks would bear fruit. He would have loved to have been there, and he would have come instantaneously in long, stranding ropes, unaided by anything more than watching Theo surrender to Teddy. Patient and disciplined as erosion, Coach had worn down that final last space. He had not been there, but he had not asked to be. He asked only that it come. He was, as he felt himself to be, remarkable.

As Teddy acknowledged, however dimly, that this marked a change in, he could hear Henry next him saying, “Theo, living his best graduated life!”

“I’m eating for two, now,” he said, patting his stomach.

[my-one-true-l]

Hi, first of all I love your posts and I'm obsessed with your depiction of BB ♡ I'm very interested to know what the Wammy boy's ideal girlfriend would be like (her personality, how they treat her, traits they are obsessed with).

Hello Dear BeyondBirthdayxx!!! Aww, thank you so much! That makes me very happy.

BTW~ I love this ask!

Under a cut because Wall Of Text.

L

Their personalities compliment each other’s, which makes them a really good team no matter what they’re doing.

She’s someone that’s intelligent, but her thought process is different from his. Let’s say they’re working on a case together. They come to the same conclusions, but she usually got there a different way than he did. (He actually loves this about her because she can open his eyes to things he had been tunnel visioned from seeing.)

She’s creative. She has no trouble doing her own thing when he’s busy on a case. She has no shortage of interests and she always has something new to share with him or something she wants to show him. She makes his world a little brighter and pushes him to do/try things he probably wouldn’t have if not for her.

She’s patient. She understands that his work is demanding and sometimes (more often than not) she’s going to have to go with the flow and let his work dictate their schedule. It doesn’t mean that she means any less to him or that he doesn’t love her and she knows that.

She loves bantering with him and has no problem holding her own against him. (which he absolutely loves).

Long story short, she’s never boring and the way their personalities are together, she’s a perfect challenge for him.

Believe it or not, he’s quite affectionate, especially when they’re alone. He loves her touch and misses her when they’re apart, which makes it all that much sweeter when they can be alone.

He shamelessly spoils her. If there’s something she wants, it’s hers, no questions asked. Partly because he adores her and wants her to want for nothing and partly to make up for how often he’s busy. (She never takes advantage of his generosity).

He actually chooses to go to bed more often. Even if he doesn’t sleep, he wants to be with her and cuddle.

She is the most important thing in the world to him and he hopes that he does a good job of letting her know.

Looks have never mattered much to him. When he falls in love with her, she’s beautiful to him. He really does love the way her eyes look when she looks at him. It makes him feel safe.

He is very overprotective of her. He can’t help it. He’s seen too much to not worry about her.

Mello

She is strong-willed and not afraid of taking chances. He wants her to be able to handle his lifestyle.

He wants someone that will be on his side, even if they know he’s wrong, no questions asked (until they are alone anyway), a true ride or die.

She has a very loving side that only comes out when they’re alone. She wants to take care of him and make sure he feels loved.

She’s very good at letting him vent and express his frustrations. She doesn’t take it personally. She likes to know that she can help him when he’s angry.

She’s tough. She has no problem telling someone off if she thinks they aren’t treating Mello well. She’s one of his greatest defenders.

She has an edgy look that goes well with his style.

He thinks she’s the greatest thing in the whole world and wonders what he did to deserve someone like her, especially since he doesn’t think he’s worthy of the kind of love she gives him.

He calls her princess.

He loves to cook for her.

He’s super protective of her. He worries that he will make a misstep and she will be in danger (or worse) but he also knows she is smart and resourceful and can hold her own.

Near

She’s very kind and mild. She tends to be a little quiet. She’s perfectly happy to read or draw while Near is busy on a case.

She has a great imagination and likes playing with his toys with him.

She’s friendly, but mostly likes to keep to herself, unless she’s spending time with him.

He loves her very much, but is quiet in the ways he shows her, like holding her hand or pecks on the cheek (at least when others are around).

He makes sure there is always her favorite foods at his HQ, especially ice cream which is her favorite sweet.

She has her very own room that is full of art supplies. He even had a dark room put in when she took up photography.

At night, he snuggles up to her and they read to each other.

I don’t think looks matter much to Near, but flowy dresses and flowers in her hair always gets his attention.

Matt

She’s laid back. It takes a lot to upset her.

When she does get upset, she’s quick to forgive.

Once in a while, she can kick is ass at whatever video game they’re playing (and he doesn’t let her win).

She has a lot of hobbies that she’s pretty good at, but nothing she takes seriously or would want to pursue as a career.

She isn’t big on making things “official”, but wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with him.

He has a bunch of cute nicknames for her, all of them coming from characters in video games.

Every Friday, He takes her to her favorite pizza or burger place. They haven’t missed a Friday since they’ve been together.

He picks her up from work every day so she doesn’t have to walk home.

He, too, finds anyone he’s with beautiful, but really likes purple or blue streaks dyed in their hair.

Beyond Birthday

She’s intelligent. She’s on his level, but is submissive to him.

She’s sweet and gentle towards him. She thinks he’s the most wonderful, interesting person in the world. Every quirk, every obsession, she adores and is on board with whatever he wants to do. She is his greatest supporter.

She knows all about him having the Shinigami eyes and believes him without question. This makes having them somehow easier for Beyond.

She has a long lifespan above her head, which he can’t help but be drawn to.

She is extremely patient. She wants to help him more than anything in the world and when he is upset or on a rant about L, she does everything in her power to help him.

She doesn’t understand why he wants to take on “whomever this L person is”. She loves Beyond exactly as he is and wishes he could see it, too.

She worries all the time that he will snap one day because of his obsession with L.

If she had her way, he would forget about his past and marry her, having a happy life together because she thinks he deserves that and wants him to have it.

She’s playful and can see the gentler side of Beyond, the one that he pushed down many years ago.

He brings her little trinkets that he comes across during his days when he’s away being a “detective”.

Calls her every few hours just to remind her that he loves her and misses her.

He loves to hold her and stroke her hair while they watch t.v. or a movie.

He may have odd ways of showing it, but he adores her and has grown to rely on her. She is the only reason he hasn’t gone over the edge about L…yet.

[jaxl-road]

Scar Tissue, chapter 12

Everything is on the table now, and our boys finally get to talk.

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Steven/Vince, side Axl/Izzy, side Nikki/Tommy

Warnings: Discussed/implied past abuse (non-explicit)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The alley was dark.

A narrow pocket of shadow amongst the bright neons of the Sunset Strip, ignored by the masses which were drawn towards the lights like moths. Muffled music drifted from within brick walls, and the air was hazy with smoke which seemed to curl and part when the door opened, allowing a tall figure to slip into the darkness to hide.

Duff couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as he ducked out of the club and into the side alley, the pulsing music and overlapping voices softening as the door closed behind him. His PCS was almost completely gone, but he still found himself prone to headaches if he lingered too long around all the flashing lights. Setting his bag and his bass down on a relatively clean looking patch of asphalt, he took out his cigarettes and lit one up as he debated his options.

He had made a decent amount of money from work and gigs this week, so he could probably afford a motel for a night or two. Was that the best use of his money though? If he kept couch surfing like he’d been doing he might be able to save more until he had enough for a deposit on an apartment. That was the better option as far as long term goals. Still, he sighed to himself as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, the idea of not being a burden on someone for a few nights was very appealing at the moment. He was so sick of being in the way.

Before he could come to a decision, the club door burst open, the bassist jumping at the loud ‘BANG’ as it hit the wall, his heart rate skyrocketing at the sudden noise.

“There you are!!”

Standing in the doorway was a scrawny young man with wild blonde hair, grinning widely. Duff found himself looking side to side, trying to find whoever the boy could be talking to, but it was just the two of them in the alley and the other blonde practically skipped over to him. For a moment, Duff was mortified- did he know this person? Oh God, he had no idea who this was, had they met and Duff had forgotten? Had Duff been drunk? Should he just act cool and pretend he remembered him or-

“Hi, I’m Steven!” The cheery blonde offered his hand, clearing up part of Duff’s concerns but not alleviating any of his confusion about the situation.

“Oh, um…” he shook his hand hesitantly, “hi?”

“You’re the bass player from the last band, right?” Steven pointed a thumb back towards the club, still smiling, and Duff is head and shoulders above him but he still finds himself wary.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Duff,” he introduces himself belatedly, “I’m not their usual bass player, I was just, y’know, filling in for the night.”

“I figured, I’ve seen you play with a few different groups. Listen, I’m in a band- I’m the drummer!- and we don’t have a bass player right now.”

“Oh!” Understanding dawns on him, “You want me to fill in for you guys?”

“No, I want you to join us!”

That has Duff blinking in surprise, “What, like, as a regular member?”

“Yeah!” Steven gestures excitedly, “I mean, the other guys will have to approve too- our singer can be a real hardass- but I think you rock!” The drummer must notice his hesitance, because he quickly rambles out, “Will you at least come jam with us? You don’t have to commit to anything right away. If nothing else I think it’d be a good time!”

Duff hums in consideration. He did miss being a regular member of a band. The days with 10 Minute Warning felt so far away now, and jumping between bands was getting tiring. And like the other man said, it wasn’t like he was signing a contract or anything. It was just a jam.

“...Yeah, okay,” he finally answered, “Why not?”

Steven cheered, “Awesome! It’ll be great, you’ll see!” He rattled off an address where his band had been rehearsing occasionally, and they agreed on a time to meet in a few days.

As the drummer turned to leave, Duff had a thought and called out to him, “Oh, hey, Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your band called?”

Turning around, Steven grinned widely.

“Guns N’ Roses!”

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

It’s just starting to get light outside when Slash carefully extracts himself from Duff’s grip, moving slowly and gently, practically holding his breath in an attempt not to wake the tall blonde. Luckily, he doesn’t stir, and Slash is able to slip out of the room. It’s not that he wants to leave Duff- if anything, he feels a stab of guilt for leaving the embrace- but he really had to piss. Also, he was starting to worry that his growling stomach would end up waking the bassist before his movements would, and Duff seemed like he really needed the rest.

Once he finished with the restroom, he wandered into the kitchen. On the way, he noticed a figure sprawled on the couch in the living room. Pausing, he raised a hand in a quiet greeting as Izzy gave him a curt nod. Continuing to the kitchen, he reached into the fridge and grabbed a slice of leftover pizza, not bothering to heat it up or grab a plate. Taking a bite, he glanced back towards the living room. After a moment of mental debate, he left the kitchen.

Izzy was stretched out on the beat up couch, and Slash dropped down across from him, leaning against the opposite arm and casually letting his legs stretch on top of the other guitarist’s. Tilting his head, Izzy gestured at the coffee table where his rig was laying.

“Want some?”

It was a testament to how shitty the past few days had been, because Izzy never shared his stash.

Shrugging, Slash didn’t even try to resist, “Sure. Thanks.”

After a few minutes, once he had finished his pizza and felt the calm of the dope spreading through him, he felt ready to ask, “So. What’d I miss last night?”

“Not much to be honest,” Izzy replied, “I watched Nikki and Tommy get a few hits in, then they dragged him outside and I had to go stop Axl from destroying the dressing room. They seemed pretty damn pleased with themselves when they got back though, so if I had to guess I’d say the bastard is probably just a smear on the sidewalk outside the Whiskey now.”

Slash snorted, “Good.”

"Agreed," Izzy nodded casually.

There was another long silence, Slash opening and closing his mouth several times before finally voicing the question that had been biting him for hours.

“...How long have you known?”

Izzy sighed, leaning his head back against the arm rest to look at the ceiling. “A while,” he admitted flatly. Before Slash could ruminate too much on his answer, he tilted his head to look him in the eye, “Not because he, like, confided in me or anything. Duff didn’t tell any of us, it’s not like he only hid it from you or something.”

“Oh…” Slash feels a little ashamed at the relief he feels at that, but Izzy only shrugs.

“Axl just figured it out. Then he told me because he needed someone to talk to about it. I’m assuming something similar happened with Nikki and Tommy.”

Slash couldn’t help but snort, “God, what a fucked up club I’m apparently a part of. We should make t-shirts.”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” Izzy pointed his cigarrette at him accusingly, “If Tommy hears you say that shit he’ll actually make t-shirts. Then Axl will kill him, Nikki will kill Axl, I’ll have to kill Nikki, our bands will go to war like some fucked up Montague and Capulet shit with fucking Vince and Steven in the middle of it and all of that blood will be on your hands, you fucker!”

It felt odd to be laughing in the midst of all that had happened, but Slash couldn’t help it, “Oh come on, if you’re gonna use that metaphor at least make us The Jets and The Sharks!” he giggled. Maybe it was the heroin. Maybe he just really needed to laugh.

Too soon though, his chuckles died off, and he found his mind wandering back to darker thoughts, “Y’know,” he spoke slowly, “part of me can’t help but wish that I’d met Duff…” he waved his hand vaguely, “before,” he sighed. “I love him now. I really do. But I just… I wonder what he was like. I wonder what things would have been like if I had gotten to him first, y’know?” Izzy nodded knowingly, and Slash turned to him, asking casually, “Do you ever feel that way about Axl?”

Izzy takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette and holds it, keeping it in his lungs for so long it has to burn, before exhaling, “Axl doesn’t have a ‘before’.”

Slash closes his eyes as he mutters, “Jesus Christ...”

Across from him, Izzy shrugs, “Yeah.” He taps on Slash’s leg with his foot to get his attention, “It’s okay to wish he hadn’t been hurt, man. It doesn’t mean you love him less or anything.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, “it just…”

“Sucks?” Izzy offered with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Slash huffed out a laugh, “Yeah,” he nodded, “It sucks.”

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Slash! I have a question,” Tommy skipped over to the guitarist, “You have a pet snake, right?”

“Um,” Slash blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, “I have a couple, yeah, but they’re back at my mom and grandma’s place.”

“Cool, cool,” Tommy nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I’m trying to convince the guys that we should get a pet-”

Duff titled his head curiously, but before he could find out the rest of Tommy’s inquiry, a hand fell on his shoulder, tugging him to a stop.

Nikki grinned, “Hey, smoke with me for a sec. I haven’t gotten to spend time with my bass bro in ages.”

Nodding, Duff turned to let Slash- his boyfriend, holy shit- know what he was doing, but found himself blinking in surprise when he found the other man gone. A quick glance showed that Tommy was ushering him into the Motley Crue apartment.

“Come on, I promise Tommy wont get him into too much trouble,” Nikki joked, getting his attention again.

Duff chuckled, “I dunno man, the two of them together? I don’t think either of them are exactly known for resisting chaos.”

“Fair point,” Nikki laughed, passing him his lighter until they were both smoking casually. “So,” the dark haired bassist drawled with a smirk, “you and Slash finally stopped dancing around each other, huh?”

Snorting, Duff shrugged, “Apparently. It’s still pretty surreal to be honest.” He was still a little embarrassed at how quickly the terror twins had honed in on his crush when they first met, but their teasing had always seemed good natured at least.

Nikki patted his shoulder, “Slash is a good dude, he’ll treat ya right.”

Maybe it was the nerves, or exhaustion from the show, or exhaustion from the last 22 years, but Duff found himself replying softly, “Yeah...hopefully.”

Turning to look at him, Nikki didn’t look remotely surprised by Duff’s comment, but he still raised an eyebrow questioningly, “You think he won't?”

“I- No, not, not like that,” he waved a hand as he backtracked, “That came out wrong.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on,” Nikki crossed his arms, and Duff felt like his eyes were staring right through him, “You think he’s a good guy, right? That’s why you like him.”

“Yeah, no, yeah of course,” his hands gestured wildly as he tried to explain himself, “He’s great, it’s just, y’know, even great guys can only put up with so much shit y’know?” He grinned nervously, “I just meant that I hope I don't fuck up. That’s all.”

Nikki narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, the guitarist in question was jogging over to them.

“Hey guys,” Slash smiled tensely, “I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said to Duff, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Duff gave a nervous laugh. “just got caught up in conversation.”

“Bassist bonding, y’know?” Nikki grinned, taking a long drag of his cigarette and looking at Slash calculatingly.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to convince Mick to join me and Izzy for ‘guitarist get-togethers,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely need to see that,” Nikki laughed, seeming to relax if just slightly.

Leaning heavier against Duff, Slash turned to him, “I’m pretty beat from the show. I was thinking maybe we could get out of here…?” he suggested with a sly smile.

Duff knew exactly what that meant, and he felt his stomach twist into knots even as he nodded, “Oh, yeah, sure, I-”

“Aw, don’t leave so soon!” Nikki interrupted, giving them exaggerated puppy eyes, “You only just got here,” sauntering around them, put his arms around them both, ducking his head between them, “At least stay for a few drinks.”

As he guided them into the apartment, Duff quietly sighed in relief. He was prepared to do anything Slash asked of him.

But it’d be easier if he had a few drinks in him first.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Slash returns to his room about an hour later, he is carrying two mugs of coffee and Duff is laying on his stomach with a pillow covering his head.

“...Duff?” Slash whispers, just to be safe, “Are you awake?”

He receives a long groan in response, and he can’t help just let out a snort of laughter.

“I can’t decide if I want to never drink again or never be sober again,” Duff’s muffled voice eventually replies.

Slash shook his head fondly as he chuckled, “Well, I brought you coffee?”

Duff’s movements were tense and hesitant, turning and pulling the pillow away just enough to glance at Slash with one weary, sad eye. After a moment he reluctantly sat up, smiling weakly when Slash handed him his mug, giving a quiet “Thanks” before sipping the drink quietly and staring at his lap.

Sitting on the bed next to him, Slash allowed both of them a minute to just drink their coffee quietly. Duff raised one hand to press his fingers into the side of his head, cringing at what Slash was sure was an impressive hangover.

Keeping his voice soft, Slash jerked his head at the blonde, “How are you feeling?”

Scoffing, Duff ran his hand through his hair, “Fucking mortified,” he replied, voice dripping with self-loathing.

Slash blinked in surprise. He had meant to ask about how Duff was physically feeling, and had expected the bassist to jump at the opportunity to put off an emotional conversation. He wasn’t sure if the unexpected development was a good sign or a bad one.

“Why?”

Duff’s head snapped to look at him, face incredulous, “What do you mean why?” One hand flailed helplessly as he rambled, “My ex showed up and I was a coward and ran off with my tail between my legs, got completely plastered, and then tried to drunkenly jump you like some sort of fucking groupie or something!” He dropped his head roughly onto his knees, his words muffled but no less vitriolic, “And then I fucking cried! Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more pathetic…”

“Hey,” Slash doesn’t raise his voice, but he’s still firm as he tugs lightly on a strand of bleached hair, “stop that. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

Turning his head hesitantly, Duff’s face was a cross between confusion and hope, “We’re still boyfriends?”

“Wha- of course we are!” Slash cried in dismay.

“...Oh,” Duff sighed, smiling slightly before hiding his face in his knees again as he let out a huff of relieved laughter, “Fuck, man. I figured you were just, y’know, trying to let me down easy,” he waved a hand vaguely, the other still clutching his empty coffee mug.

Slash hesitates for a moment, but then he can’t resist slowly putting an arm around Duff’s shoulders, tugging him closer to lean against his side, “Duff,” he says softly, “all the shit that’s happened this week, and the things you told me… none of that makes me think less of you. None of that makes me... like you less.”

There’s no response at first, and he wonders if Duff believes him. After a minute of just sitting together, Duff finally turns to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting to see how the conversation will move forward. Then the bassist gives a slow, wry grin.

“I need a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

He should probably slow down. He hadn’t eaten since before the show and the bassist was downing vodka like water. That was probably why he barely noticed when Axl linked arms with him and tugged him out of the kitchen.

“Seriously, it’s about time,” the redhead rambled, “Slash has been insufferable ever since you joined Guns. He practically had little cartoon hearts around his head every time you walked into a room.”

Duff chuckled, absentmindedly reaching out to snag another bottle of vodka he saw sitting on the coffee table. “I was convinced I didn’t have a chance with him,” he admitted.

Axl snorted as he scared off some groupies so they could sit on the worn down couch in the corner, “Please. I’m not kidding, day fucking one you could have said jump and he would've said how high.”

“Nah, that’s me,” he grinned, taking another shot from his bottle.

Taking a long sip from his own cup, Axl hummed in consideration, before grinning in excitement, “Oh man, I just realized I totally get to give Slash the shovel talk. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Frowning, Duff looked at him in confusion, “What?”

“The shovel talk,” Axl repeated, “You know, the ‘you hurt him, I’ll hurt you’ lecture that dads give to dudes who date their daughters. Or so I’ve been told,” he shrugged.

“No I, I know that,” Duff shook his head, “I mean why would you do that with Slash?”

“Because Izzy kept saying I was the band mom, I called bullshit, and after like a week of arguing we eventually compromised on me being the dad.”

Duff nearly growled in frustration, “No, that’s not-” he shook his head, trying to pull his thoughts together, “The whole lecture thing is- I mean, if Slash did do something it’d be because I fucked up, y’know? You can’t threaten him or whatever for something like that.”

For a moment, Duff thought he could see actual flames in Axl’s eyes as the singer nearly slammed his cup down onto the coffee table, “Oh yes I fucking can.”

Eyes widening, Duff could only stare as Axl leaned forward and launched into a frantic rant, “I don’t give a fuck what you do, or think you do, or whatever. If he or anyone else ever lifts a goddamn finger towards you, you fucking tell me. Hell, if someone steps on your goddamn foot I wanna hear about it, do you understand? Tell. Me. Fuck, tell Izzy, or Steven, or fucking Nikki, anyone, I don’t fucking care, but you don’t keep that shit to yourself anymore, got it?”

Axl stared at him intently, and Duff could only gape in confusion, not sure how to respond to his snarling words. But before he had a chance, he felt a kiss on the top of his head, jumping as Slash rested his chin on his hair.

“Hey babe,” he sang, “I missed you!”

In front of him, Axl huffed, narrowing his eyes, “Um, rude? We were clearly talking.”

Slash glared right back, draping his arms over Duff’s shoulders, “Hey, he’s my boyfriend, so I get to call dibs.”

Even as he took another sip of Vodka, Duff couldn’t help but smile. Even after everything, he was still a hopeless romantic. Surely it was all worth it for the way his heart fluttered at that one simple gesture.

Right?

~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you with me?”

Slash can’t help but ask. They’re both on their second beers, silently agreeing to forgo the hard alcohol this morning. They also snagged the rest of the leftover pizza, the nearly empty box sitting open on the bed in front of them as they ate casually.

“I just mean,” Slash elaborated, “it doesn’t seem like you’re exactly… comfortable. With the whole dating thing. So why didn’t you just shoot me down?”

Duff shrugged, shooting him a smirk, “Because I liked you,” he says simply. He takes another sip of his beer as he considers his next words, “I couldn’t help it. You’re cool, and sweet, and talented. And despite, y’know, everything,” he waved a hand vaguely, “the fact that you are unfairly hot did not escape me either,” he grinned, chuckling when Slash shoved his shoulder playfully. “And then against all odds you actually liked me back, and I just...”

He looks down at his hands, peeling the label off his bottle as he admits quietly, “You kissed me and all my self-preservation went out the fucking window.”

Frowning, Slash put his drink down, leaning forward to try to catch Duff’s eye, “You know I’d never do anything to you… right? I mean, I don’t even like getting into fights with people I hate. I can’t even imagine…” he trails off, shuddering at the very idea of hurting Duff. He’s never hit any of his partners, and he’s not about to start now.

Duff hums in consideration, tilting his head and replying slowly, “...I know you’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.” Slash feels his chest tighten, but before he can even begin to think of how to respond, Duff smiles slowly, quirking an eyebrow at him as he lifts his bottle to take another drink.

“All’s fair in love and war. Right?”

~~~~~~~~~

The vodka is really starting to hit by the time Izzy pulls him to his feet so Tommy can take his spot on the couch. Does that stop him from tipping the bottle back to get those last few drops?

Of course not.

He lets Izzy tug him to the other side of the room, Nikki already standing and smoking lazily. Duff nods at him in greeting as he leans heavily against the wall, blinking slowly as the room tilts around him. He’s almost drunk enough, he thinks. Almost.

“Duff.”

Shaking his head to try to focus, he turns to give Izzy his attention. The rhythm guitarist is frowning just slightly, “Duff,” he says again, voice soft, “I’m gonna level with you here. We’re worried about you.”

That has him furrowing his brows, “‘m fine, just…” he waves the empty bottle in his hand, “a little buzzed. That’s all."

“Oh we are definitely not talking about that,” Nikki chimed in.

“I meant we’re worried about you and Slash,” Izzy continued. Duff opened his mouth, but Izzy cut him off, “I know Slash. He’s a really good guy- I don’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt you on purpose.”

“What we’re worried about,” Nikki drawls, “is that he’ll do something by accident and you won't tell him.”

“But…” For a moment, Duff just stares, feeling the floor rock back and forth like a ship on the sea. Then he shakes his head slowly, his eyes drifting shut as he smiles softly.

“That’s what love is,” he explains, “It’s… it’s the people who are allowed to hurt you.”

When he opens his eyes, Izzy is looking at him with a sad, tired expression.

“No,” he says, “it’s not.”

~~~~~~~

“...Do you… still want to give this a shot?”

Duff’s head jerks up to look at him. The room is hazy from smoke, alternating between cigarettes and joints once they finished their beers, the empty pizza box shoved unceremoniously onto the floor.

Slash continues, “I really, really like you, man. But… I’d get it. If you’d rather, y’know, take a step back. You can, if you want, I won’t be mad or anything.”

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Duff thinks for a moment, exhaling slowly and tapping his fingers against his knee. When he finally answers, he smiles at Slash shyly, “Is it fucked up that I don’t?” He dropped the end of his cigarette into one of the empty beer bottles next to the bed, “I like you, yeah, but I also like… being with you. Even with the, y’know, stress and whatever, the last few weeks have been really… nice,” he explains slowly before glancing up at Slash out of the corner of his eye, “All this shit has kind of been my attempt at not losing this.”

Despite himself, Slash huffs out a laugh, twirling his lighter in his hand, “Is it fucked up that I’m kind of relieved?” He grins at him, “I don’t want to lose this either.”

Duff shrugged, “Eh. Maybe we’re both fucked up.”

This time, Slash laughs fully, “Yeah,” he reaches out to lace their fingers together, “Yeah, maybe we are.”

~~~~~~

The walk home was gentle. It was their arms around each other’s waists, supporting each other as they swayed, Slash peppering kisses along his shoulder and neck. The vodka keeps him loose and relaxed, and Slash keeps him smiling.

Back home, falling back onto the bed, Duff’s eyes drift shut. Even in the dark behind his eyelids everything still spins, but it’s a slow spin, more hypnotic than dizzying. It slows even more when he feels a weight rest gently on top of him, a soft sigh against his chest.

“Mmmm… Slash?” Duff muttered, turning his head to try to look at the guitarist, a mass of blurry curls blocking his view, “I-... ‘re you…”

Slash hushed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rolling them onto their sides, tucking his head beneath Duff’s chin, “Long day,” he slurred with a smile, “Let’s just sleep now. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow,” he promised.

Duff can’t remember the last time he was on a date. He feels like he’s dreaming, laying in bed with Slash for the second time in as many days, his arms around him and nothing hurting.

“...Oh,” Duff let out a breath that he feels like he’s been holding since the day they met, “Okay,” he laughed a little, bringing a hand up to smooth back Slash’s wild curls, and he feels a kiss pressed against his shoulder, and warmth that he can’t name spreads across his body.

The guitarist’s breath evens out, falling asleep easily. Duff feels himself drifting as well, but he fights it off as long as he can, wanting to savor this unfamiliar feeling, trying to taste its name before it disappears.

Just as he succumbs to sleep, his tongue finally finds the name.

Safe.

[blooddrop-palace]

Project Updates - What to Look Forward To

<3 Hello all! I've realized (humbly) that I have a small following of very nice people that seem quite interested in what I've written so far, and after seeing some mutuals post update-status posts, I thought I should share what's going on with my projects, also. (Thanks for the encouragement, @queenmuzz!)

Updated Dec-10-20

Sons of Fortune

Probably somehow my main focus now, though I am steadily working on other works. Currently working on the “In Between” special short before I start on Chapter 12.

I would also like to talk a little bit about my plans for this story: if anyone has paid attention to this story's tags, yes, I am touching up on the plots of most of the games. In fact, all of them, and the anime. (I already dealt with DMC4. No, I will not tear apart Fortuna lol.) Not all relevant tags are in, yet, because small spoilers. It looks like it's going to be a long while before I even get to the Temen-ni-gru, though. (There is a reason why that event is getting pushed back.) I want to have fun with the family fluff that is the twins each learning how to parent, first. 

Hell Froze Over, and We Shall Reignite It

The drama of it all! Dante and Vergil are finally back from Hell, and Nero doesn’t even know his mother is now standing right in front of him. Meanwhile, even I’m anticipating seen how Snow and Dante is going to handle the obvious things currently unsaid... and I have a feeling a small measure of stupidity is still going to be involved.

Current chapter progress: Outline complete.

It's going to feel so interesting, shifting from "Fortune" back to Reignite. I get to write Sera and Vergil falling in love all over again, with a different set of circumstances. Whoa.

And, and... Nero meeting Sera... odd that I'm saying this as the writer, but I have a "I hope he likes his mom" feeling going on. 

Also, no doubt Dante's brain is going to 404 when he sees Snow. 

Nico prepares popcorn.

This is Not an Office Rom-Com

I have... about 8 new skits planned out. Nothing more written just yet.

That’s all I’m saying about this for now. =P

Hierarchy of Kings

Purely indulgent M/M romance of Vergil and an OC, existing all thanks to

@wordborne

Working on chapter 2. 

I know I said 3 chapters only. I might have lied depending on how much I want to write. It's supposed to be just... awkward fluff of a listless part-devil who somewhat-recently lost his mate, got in a bit of a tiff with his brother, and now his children are trying to set him up with the prospective-king-of-hell, Vergil. 

I think about this one a lot but I haven't written anything new for it yet, only because "Fortune" is taking over my life right now, haha.

Through the Lens of the Beholder

Okay, so...This story has no real plot. As a result, my drive for it is purely down to "if I think of a badass or cool photograph to describe." There is a TINY bit of plot. Only a little. And I don't know when I'll update. But this is why I'm trying not to START new projects. Four  is a lot already! But because this one is supposed to be simpler than the other two, I will most likely finish this one before the others, so I can open a new project. 

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

Speaking of new projects... Here are things ideas bouncing through my head:

- I still have a prompt from @maybeishouldwait sitting in my inbox. I WILL have it done one day, when I find the perfect way to write it. 

A whole, entirely royally late set of Dadgil week fics.  Yep. I want to write them. They just won’t be on time. 

Written in Ink

A plot-less post-DMC5 story. 

I say plot-less. There is a plot. The plot is:

Dante: Damn it, Verge, are you trying to turn my office into a zoo??

In which Vergil compulsively starts contracting strong demons he's defeated, left and right, because he's discovered "the joy of pets." The demons all take on a dark animistic form and things get wild. 

A Persona and DMC fusion/AU

I have no title for this yet, and I absolutely cannot start this one until I have finished one of my other big projects. This one will take a lot of big planning, because I am making a new plot, using the mechanics of Persona, with DMC characters and setup.

What I want to write, is a teenage Nero as the protagonist, trying to solve a mystery... probably starting with the sudden disappearance of his mother. (Most likely Sera.) And he meets a lot of "new" people, and even finds new family... and yes, he will find his dad. (I'm thinking he'll know about Vergil, though. At least in name and a photo? Isn't that an interesting difference?)

For those of you not familiar with Persona, the major theme I really want to play with is that of the protagonist growing as a person (and in power) by befriending different people that helps them grow as a person. Each party member and important NPC is represented by a Tarot Card, signifying the type of journey the protagonist (The Fool) "embarks" with that character. There is growth in both the protagonist and that characters. 

Again, this is ambitious to try and pull off... but it's in the back of my head. I'll focus on it once I've cleared some other stuff. 

Sugar Sweet

A somewhat short-chapter series reader fic... of a surgeon/doctor!reader (barely 30 and good at what you do) who often saves the lives of shady people (e.g. mafia) because you care about saving lives, not the politics. But you do make good money out of it. (Hey, you gotta be at least a bit morally ambiguous if you're going to deal with devils.)

You meet one mess of a young mercenary named Dante, who is totally not human and deals with things like having bullets healed into his back, and he can't reach them to cut them out. 

Dante doesn't care about bills for his office, or a lot of the debts in his life. You don't know where his money is going, or if he even makes much money at all (for the kind of specialty work he does? Money's going somewhere, but that's none of your business.)

You won't pay Dante's bills, or his debts, but he will accept pizza and ice cream. And new parts for his jukebox. And maybe a motorcycle. Or a new coat. Or a new car...

And you might complain to him about your dumb patients. Or just listen to him talk about his job. Or you two watch a movie together.

And this just continues. For years. 

Tokusatsu DMC fusion/AU

So. First thing's first: I'm a big fan of Sentai/Tokusatsu. What is that, you might ask? It's a Japanese genre, and if you're familiar with Power Rangers, that's derived from Sentai. 

Basically: Masked heroes with transformation gadgets, sometimes with motorcycles, fighting against evil. ("Magical girls" but strictly the opposite, a lot more physical combat involved, may involve upgrade gadgets, and not strictly limited to male heroes though mostly a male cast. Also not strictly for male-only audience. Girls like the eye-candy, too. :eyes-emoji:)

Why am I thinking about this?

Because I have found out that: Vergil's VA, Dan Southworth, was the Quantum Ranger (WHICH WAS RED). Nero's VA, Johnny Yong Bosch, was a Black Ranger and a Green Ranger. 

...And Dante's VA, Reuben Langdon, had a role in a Japanese Toku show as "B-Fighter Yanma" forever ago???? (HE WAS BLUE!!)

What am I going to do with this info? I'll let you know later. But my Sentai/Toku-loving little heart is about to burst with hyperfixation overlap. 

If I ever write this out, expect it to be just as cheesy as an actual Kamen Rider show. Or, at the very least, expect some art. I love Kamen Rider stuff!

Family Fantasy MMO

Snow introduces Dante, Vergil, Nero, and Kyrie to Final Fantasy 14 (because that’s the MMO I play) for family bonding. Yep. Mainly for silly indulgence.

Stardew Valley Visit

Post DMC5, Vergil and Dante accidentally end up going on a vacation when they try to leave Hell. No pairing with the farmer, but instead just a relaxing and somewhat introspective moment of the boys being stuck with most of their power temporarily sealed, learning how to take care of a farm, and maybe do a bit of healing by interacting with the townsfolk while they try to find out where their swords went and how to get home. 

Re-Colourize

Otherwise what I would call the “re-colour of Nero and Snow” AU. 

What if Vergil was found by Kassy’s family and raised among them? What if Dante ended up briefly in Fortuna and then convinced Sera to run away from the island?

What if we have a Nero who, though brash, is outwardly more soft and open-hearted, and has red-orange and gold colours instead? What if we have a Snow who is named Chiyuki, who wields her katana more like Vergil does, and has a more ice-queen aura about her, and has a teal and blue colouring about her?

This is my excuse to switch up the pairings, but also write Vergil being taught to fight more like an assassin. 

Raised by the Blade

Imagine: Yamato, cracked, broken, and separated from her Master... desperately searching for a way to get back to him, and ended up washed up on the shores of Fortuna. Humanoid, but clearly not if anyone saw the cracked, broken, and no-normal look of “shattered” in her torso, that she would have to keep covered. 

Made from the power of Sparda, she is pale with white hair... and she finds herself drawn to the orphanage...

Where she finds the toddler that is Nero.

Devil Hunters’ Podcast

Nico “accidentally” finds entertainment in recording the Sparda Family arguments as they talk about hunting; after all, they all share one braincell. 

Ascended Monochrome

A white angel remains by the side of Nelo Angelo. Mundus was not pleased by the behavior of his second creation, from the human woman that he had picked up with the treacherous Son of Sparda. But he later discovered that by using her, he could keep Nelo Angelo complacent. Eventually, underestimating love will be his downfall.

Fall to Royalty

A story of where Vergil wins against Mundus the first time, and takes the throne of Hell. But what is he to do next? Eventually, ruling Hell seemed meaningless when there was no one by his side, so he goes to seek out the Lady Knight that he had vowed to never think of or go back to unless he had obtained the power he sought.

Doppelganger Woes

So, I heard Capcom retconned Gilver to be some sort of imitation created by Mundus. I’m all for this! And I’m going to DO something with this.

Side-Project: DMC Tarot List

I started on this maybe months ago; and I have a tentative list oh what characters go with what card and a few detailed descriptions. I think I should confer with

@harlot-of-oblivion

at some point about this, and anyone else interested in, well, Tarot stuff. 

[luci-cunt]

@petalsfloating​ ilysm akjsdfajsdlfkjasdlk

#i want details#i am a fann#please how did mycroft and irene get together#how did sherlock and watson meet#is carrie realllly a babey do they have le qualifications huh#please no pressure but i would like to seee

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!!!! <333

(also @moonsandstarsaregay if you have anything to add on feel free <33)

Ok so #1: How did Mycroft and Irene get together? 

asldkfja;sljfal;sdkfj this one’s funny because Moony and I haven’t really thought about how they got together XDD, it was probably something like Mycroft going “oh my god you’re gorgeous please let me feed you expensive food and kiss u” and Irene going “abso-fucking-lutely” BUTT!!! the way they get engaged,,,,, now that’s a story!!!

I’ll give u a snippet from the plot outline: 

[More happens but later on Mycroft wisens up and runs through the rain to stand, dripping, on Sherlock’s doorstep asking for Irene.]

“Irene Adler,” Mycroft said softly, her voice shook as she said it, and it was like watching rain fall up seeing this woman so fragile as she watched Irene through her wet, ruined hair. “When I look at you I feel more than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I hate it sometimes, because I think it’s going to kill me,” she took a long breath, setting her jaw as her eyes shone with emotion. “But hell is a heaven compared to what life would be like without you.” 

“Yes,” Irene said, tears streaking down her face as she reached out for Mycroft and kissed her frantically. It seemed like an odd response, at least until Mycroft broke from the kiss to curse. 

“Jesus fucking christ woman I didn’t even pull out the ring yet,” she hissed, and Irene laughed though her sob and threw herself into Mycroft’s arms. 

#1: Is Carrie really a baby?

In the figurative sense of the word? yes. In the physical sense of the word? No akjdssadflkajsd, he’s actually older than Watson!

For context, Carrie, Bill, Watson, and Kent had all been in foster care for a while before they got dumped into a boys home where they all met and became really quick friends. Carlton Watson--a local police chief--helped out at the home enough that he and the boys started getting close, and then when the ppl running the home found out Bill was a “girl” (because he’s transitioned but hasn’t had surgery) they were going to send him to a girls home and in order to avoid that Carlton adopts Bill, but he can’t just leave the other boys so he adopts them all. Their actual ages go: Kent, then Carrie and Bill, and then Watson, but the fam acts like Kent and Watson are the oldest. 

Also Carrie and Bill always get called the “twins” because their birthdays are like 3 days apart and they make it “twin week.” Also they’re the closest of the brothers and just akjd;flakjsdf perfect I love them so much. 

“Do they have le qualifications?” alksdjf;lajsdflkajsd absolutely. 

Carrie doesn’t like confrontation, at all--he had a special spot under the stairs he used to hide in when he was growing up anytime the boys started fighting. He also jsut really wants everyone to get along. He and Bill share an apartment with some roommates because both of them had a hard time moving out of Carlton’s place. He became a cop because his brothers (except Watson) and dad did and he wanted to work with them more. aajsd;lkfajlsdk there’s more but this is so long I love him he’s babey.

Here’s a snippet (also this is technically the begining of Sherlock and Watson’s 2nd meeting!): 

he got a text from Bill. Dinner.  Bill always phrased questions like that, rarely using question marks. It was something he’d picked up from Kent and Carlton--though, which one of them got it from the other was debatable. Carrie was the only one aside from Watson himself who had actual manners, and his text came through a few minutes after Bill’s. Dinner? Bill wants Chinese but I want pizza. Thoughts? 

Before Watson could answer however, another text came through. Please say pizza? Ask Kent, I don’t care. Watson tapped out, filling his coffee maker with water and flicking it on. He poked his head in his fridge, but the contents were abysmal, so he stuck a bagel in the toaster and called it good as his phone rang again. Kent said to ask you :( Because of course he did. A text from Bill came through. If u say yes to pizza its favoritism and Ill hate u forever. Carrie’s: pleeeeaaaseee came through at the same time, along with a string of emojis.    Instead of answering Watson called Kent. “What do you want?” Kent answered, picking up on the third ring like he always did. “Pizza or Chinese?” Watson asked. “I’m working Watty,” Kent said, with an exhausted sounding sigh. Watson just waited, and he heard another sigh before the sound of Kent opening the door to his office to yell for Bill and Carrie to stop bothering Watson and get back to work. “There,” he said, back on the phone. “Thanks, are you still working the DeMain case?” Watson asked, pouring his finished coffee into a mug and singing his fingers on the toasted bagel. “Yeah, it’s mostly just paperwork at this point.” “Make the twins do it.” “I’m not--what do you want? What--yeah it’s Watty wh--what?” Kent’s tone suddenly went up four octaves in surprise and Watson furrowed his brow. Before he could get a word in though Kent was back on the line. “Jonathan Watson do you have something to tell me?” he said sharply, and Watson blinked, freezing where he was about to bite into the bagel. “What?” Watson managed. “Do we get to go to the reception at least!?” Carrie’s muffled voice came over the line, which only proved to further confuse Watson. “Watty there’s a nutjob here for you claiming to be your husband,” Bill’s voice suddenly piped in, and Watson swore colorfully. “This had better be some asshole I need to have committed because if this is how I’m finding out--” Kent threatened, and Watson tipped his head back and muttered more curses at the ceiling. “No--no, I’m not--Jesus--relax, ok, I’m not married or getting married,” Watson said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

#3: How did Sherlock and Watson meet? 

At a crime scene askdjf;lasjdf;lkj Watson was hired to steal Sherlock’s job but instead he helped solve the case and then Sherlock fell in love and moved from Portland to Seattle so he could work with him more kajs;dlfkjalsdfj

Here’s a snippet: 

[WARNING: non-graphic mentions of suicide]

Before he could really look into it, however, the front door slammed open. “Remarkable how you didn’t even think to call me--” a man said as he sauntered in. “You’re giving me the impression you don’t like me.” The man’s grin was feral looking, a bit unsettling. He was tall--though shorter than Watson by almost a full foot--and lanky. Seemingly all long, sharp limbs that somehow managed to fall exactly where he seemed to want them. He was wearing a haphazard version of the clean suits, with the actual jumpsuit only half on and a pair of gloves. His longer brown hair was tied back and he didn’t have a mask on. Watson knew in a moment this must be Sherlock, and he was already annoyed by the man simply by his blatant disrespect of sterile crime scenes. He looked like a TV show detective, it was infuriating. “Montez! Baby! Give me the details, who’s our lady?” the man said with a sloppy grin as he crossed the room with his arms out. “What was it this time? Pills? No--don’t answer that I can see it,” he said, frowning a little as he examined the woman’s body, lingering for a moment on the slipper that had fallen off. “See, funny story, I actually didn’t call you because I don’t want you here,” Montez said with a scowl Watson could see even behind her mask. “You just keep getting funnier Montez,” Sherlock said, cocking his head and then following some invisible trail to the bathroom, where Watson was still standing. Watson went back to looking at the iPad. The doctor who’d prescribed the pills appeared to be legit, and the pharmacy was too--just down the street actually. He was scrolling through the other crime scenes to check for pills as well when suddenly Sherlock stopped in front of him. “You--” the man said, narrowing his eyes on Watson. “--are new…” “They called him in to disprove your crack-pipe theory,” Montez said, and Watson suppressed a sigh. “Really?” Sherlock said, his smile was not the reaction Watson expected. “And what are you looking up Mr. Job-Stealer?” He asked, standing on his toes to look over the top of the iPad. Watson jerked it out of view without thinking, but that just made Sherlock’s grin widen. “Oh! That’s something new--look Montez he doesn’t think your people can do basic detective work,” Sherlock said, before patting Watson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry you’re not wrong but--” “What?” Montez asked, and Watson really did sigh then. “I’m not--” Watson started, but Sherlock was spinning around. “I’ll make this easy for you Mr. Job-Stealer,” Sherlock said. “Doctor,” Watson said through gritted teeth. “Doctor Watson.”    “She did kill herself doctor Job-Stealer, I’m sure you’ve come to that conclusion, I’m sure you all have--I’d honestly be worried if you didn’t,” he started rambling, and Watson scowled as he went back to the iPad, only half listening as the man continued. “As you can see this room is what one might call the dictionary’s definition of a depressed woman’s home. The curtain’s drawn--no natural light, a dying plant that must have only recently stopped getting regular water, the mess around the corners, like she only had the energy to clean up the center--” Watson frowned as he realized another connection. All the suicide victims had been taking the same antidepressents, prescribed by different doctors, but, they were all getting their prescriptions from the same pharmacy down the street. “--and there’s the disaster of a kitchen, I’m sure the fridge was emptier than heaven, and--” Watson was so busy double checking his findings that he didn’t notice Sherlock slowly coming back over with his head cocked and a curious expression on his sharp face. “--there’s the matter of the slipper, I’m sure of course you found the pills in the bathroom, you can see the scuff marks from where she dragged her feet as she got… closer to the… couch as the drugs kicked… in--Doctor what are you so interested in?” Watson’s head snapped up and he blinked out of his thoughts. “Ah--” he said, but Sherlock stole the iPad, scrolling through the page and flipping through the other’s Watson had been looking at as his eyes widened, and then he looked up at Watson. “You--” Sherlock started, “Are the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, please explain and tell the cops to catch up,” he said, and then he was gone. Watson blinked, his brain reeling as he tried to comprehend exactly what just happened. “The fuck was that?” Montez asked, and Watson fumbled to come up with a response. “I--uhm--I don’t--” he managed. Thankfully the detective didn’t seem to be actually paying him any attention, instead leaning out the doorway of the apartment to yell something at Sherlock. When that didn’t get her anywhere she turned back to Watson. “Where is he going?” she asked, and Watson just flipped the iPad around to show the pharmacy’s address.