#At least not outside the family (he barely even opens up to them and they're his brothers)

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

me: i'd like a little chaggie angst in my life.

me: nothing major. no blood or screaming or anything like that.

me: maybe something that could slot into canon without much trouble? something quiet. something sad. a small gut punch, is what im after

my brain: On in boss! Give me a sec.

my brain: .....

my brain: Okay how about this- Charlie was so hyped and determined to have Vaggie come with for the heaven trip not just bc they're partners, but also because- Charlie was gonna propose.

me: .... why would she propose? and in heaven? aside from it just being a nicer less gory place in general, i mean

my brain: Well Charlie was super excited about the trip, right? She thought there was a good chance they'd win their case, confirm Angel Dust's path to redemption, show their hotel could work, and prove the exterminations aren't needed and should stop. That's HUGE! That's her and Vaggie's current life goal getting checked off- and if they can stick together through making a hotel for redeeming sinners work, then marriage is kinda just yelling that for everyone to hear.

me: wouldn't charlie be freaked out by marriage tho. her parents are separated, and her family fell apart for while afterwards. she's only just started picking up the pieces with vaggie

my brain: EXACTLY!!! Vaggie got her talking with her dad, talking with him got him kinda onboard with the save sinners plan- the plan Charlie is trying to make her mom proud with! So her mom and dad aren't together, but they're least on the same page now! As far as Charlie knows anyway. Meaning them being married had REASONS behind it, reasons that haven't gone away even after they separated- so it's not like them being married to each other was for nothing or a mistake. It was good! It can still end good! And having Vaggie in her life is what helped all of that happen in the first place. Soooooo....

me: marry that girl?

my brain: Charlie was expecting her and Vaggie to get a great win up in heaven, together, as partners. What better time and place to say how much she wants to keep doing that with her?

me: hmm

my brain: Plus if Angel Dust got the green light for an eventual move to heaven, having the wedding before then would be kinda important if they wanted to be SURE he could be there for it. And Charlie would DEFINITELY want Angel there for it.

me: true, true.... so, what are we picturing here tho? how does all this... become a thing i can feel sad over?

my brain: Well first, imagine Charlie planning it. Being exited for it.

me: oh she'd be so very excited

my brain: Imagine her the entire time they're headed to and are up in heaven, checking her pocket whenever no one's looking, triple checking on the ring, grinning to herself- physically straining under the urge to just blurt everything out to Vaggie like she usually does BUT wanting SO MUCH for this to be a special surprise for Vaggie!

my brain: She goes on the heaven tour while Vaggie stays behind, and Charlie's a little relieved to get a break from the constant urge to get down on one knee whenever she looks over at her girlfriend- she spends the whole tour of heaven gushing about Vaggie, barely taking in the sights- maybe even lets slip, to her HORROR, what she's planning to ask (a beaming Emily SWEARS not to say a word)

Getting back to their room Charlie has to spend ten minutes pacing outside, muttering to herself and checking the ring and REMINDING herself NOT to just pull it out the moment she walks in and sees Vaggie again after a whole two hours apart- She goes in, buzzing with pent up marriage proposal energy, not sure she WON'T just say it all right then and there, and...

Vaggie's curled up on the bed, asleep, luggage open next to her and one of Charlie's spare shirts tucked around her like a blanket, a small stressed frown on her face as she naps.

Charlie melts. She takes a slow deep breath, lets out a long happy sigh, and tip toes quietly over. She does get down on one knee- to be on a level with Vaggie so she can smile at her and stroke her hair and smooch that pinchy frowny face, chuckling softly about how Vaggie never stops worrying about things, even in her sleep. At least Vaggie IS sleeping now. She hadn't gotten much of it, leading up to the trip here.

The ring is pulled out of Charlie's coat and slipped into pants pocket instead so Charlie can safely drape the coat itself over Vaggie, who's curled up as if Heaven's perfect temperature feels a bit chilly- and Charlie moves the luggage to make room on the the bed so she can snuggle in behind Vaggie, arms wrapped around her, maybe not able to resist playing with her girlfriend's left hand a little before dozing off herself.

Imagine Vaggie had been working up the courage to tell Charlie the truth when Charlie came back.... but she wakes up already safe in Charlie's hug, and it's- it'd be one thing to face Charlie across the room and see her turn away- it'd be another to FEEL her let go. Or to be the one who breaks the hold, maybe for the last time

So Vaggie doesn't tell Charlie.

And the trial goes, the way it goes, and Charlie- never tells Vaggie what she wanted to say either.

Instead of asking a question, Charlie gets answer, and they both find themselves on their knees in heaven- but for all the wrong reasons.

Then its bad. Charlie's up in their room alone with Razzle and Dazzle- and the RING- and she keeps trying to put it away or even chuck it out the window... but it always ends up tucked in her fist. Slipped safely back in her pocket.

In Cannibal Town, at Rosie's, when asked if she loves Vaggie, Charlie stumbles over her answer- not because she doesn't love her or doubt it, but.

She almost blurts out, at the worst moment- yes she loves Vaggie. She was even going to ask her to....

Everything all flies out the window back at the hotel gates.

They've got a fighting chance against heaven, hungry cannibals to arm with angelic steel, friends who chose to stay and FIGHT for their home and each other instead of running for cover- it's not what Charlie wanted but she'll damn well take it and she means to KEEP IT- there's no time to think about what the actual battle will be like or what (or if anything) comes after.

Charlie doesn't remember the ring again until days after the After.

At night in bed, after a long day doing more minor endless finishing touches to the new hotel (with Vaggie) and an evening writing out thank yous to everyone who helped hoping none of the overlords suddenly think of an extra cost to that help, rewording until her hand ached (and Vaggie took it gently and tugged her away with a "we'll finish them tomorrow, sweetie")

Charlie wakes up at night, in bed with Vaggie, and lays there staring up at the dark ceiling, frozen in panic- until she not frozen anymore but slipping out of bed and into carpeted middle of the room, hooves muffled as she paces, picking up KeeKee on the way and petting her frantically as she tries to THINK-

The ring, the fucking RING.

She doesn't know where the ring went.

Where she put it- still in her pocket when she was changing into her dress for the battle? Which pocket- pants or coat? Where had she put those- no one had bothered much with stuff like laundry when there were fortifications to be made! Not with Vaggie running daily drills on how to fight exorcists, not with Charlie scrambling to learn how to fight after a life of not ever wanting or needing to, but heaven had done those things to Vaggie, had hurt her, and wanted to do worse to their friends and Charlie would be DAMNED if-

had Charlie's one random set of clothes survived the blasts from the battle? Had they been sitting in the rubble somewhere? The ring- the ring should have made it- it'd been made to LAST after all-

Had someone else found it? She would've heard if anyone from the hotel had picked up a fancy ring though- a random cannibal or sinner maybe?

Or...

... maybe it was just lost. Just, gone.

Fallen in some crevasse or crack into some deeper part of hell, if it hadn't been melted and shattered with all the holy and unholy power being thrown around.

She knows exactly what that would look like, after all those times spent checking the ring, staring at it and trying to picture Vaggie wearing it without squeeing too loud. It would've looked good on her- but that daydream is gone too, and Charlie just sees the ruins of it.

Black obsidian band broken, gold edging melted, inner inscription burned away. The paired musical notes articulated with fermata like little rising suns above them (the pause, to be held as long as they wanted it to be) bracketed and bracketing the blood red, small, heart-shaped diamond....

All of it now probably just one dulled chip of rock lying somewhere no one will ever see.

Charlie, standing in the middle of her and Vaggie's new bedroom, staring at Vaggie asleep in their bed- her exhausted girlfriend planted face-fist into a pillow, silver gray angel wings flopped awkwardly over the covers and spreading out so long and slack (relaxed) they droop over mattress on either side, flight feathers brushing the floor.

The scars are still there too. Also silvery pale in the dim glow of hell outside the windows.

But when Charlie finally releases KeeKee and slips over to adjust Vaggie's pillow (she'd get a cricked neck otherwise) she has to stop and kneel down on the floor for a bit (down on one knee again too) and stare.

Vaggie's smiling in her sleep. Her eyepatch is off for the night, thin slit of black nothing peeking out under the lashes of that eye, and Charlie can see the fresh scars on her left arm from fighting off Lute.

Charlie, picking up Vaggie's left hand playing with it again, like she had up in heaven. Pressing a small kiss to the stab wound in it's palm.

It would've been nice to put on ring on that hand instead.

But Charlie finds herself smiling anyway, softly, as she squeezes into the thin strip of space between Vaggie and the edge of her side of the bed. She snuggles in close, Charlie's cheek on Vaggie's scarred hand and her arms wrapping tight around her own small piece of something way better than heaven.

Vaggie's wing stirring and drawing in, folding over Charlie like an extra blanket and a dreamy hug, not even having to be awake to want her closer.

"Next time," Charlie whispering as she falls asleep looking at her partner- her partner in every way that matters. "'m gonna wait for you to ask... 's your turn to worry about stupid rings, and, stuff...."

On the carpet in the middle of the room, KeeKee licks a paw. Stops. Coughs. Spits something out- something that chimes metallically as it bounces and rolls off the edge of the carpet an onto the floor-

KeeKee sniffs the thing curiously. Bats at it with one paw, pushing it under a dresser drawer. Then, bored, licks said paw and saunters off.

Vaggie's startled wings will fling herself backwards so hard and fast into the bedroom wall she'll end up giving herself a concussion, later, when she finds the ring.

it's her turn to worry about it, after all

XD

[acesw]

The Grecos, Schneider, and her Religious Trauma

One of the characters I really find interesting is Schneider. There are strong signs that she has religious trauma, which ties really well with the neglect she's experienced growing up and the way this trauma reflects her behaviors and words.

The Grecos are known to be really religious, and they're quite devout to Christianity as a means of life. It does not mean that they wouldn't do things to ensure that they're able to at least eat. Living in Chicago of all places is already one struggle enough, making sure they get by despite having bad relationships with gangs adds so much.

Prior to moving, they were more devoted to God as coming from a community in Sicily. They moved because of how bad the poverty situation had been (the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s), hoping to seek a better life in America. Of all places though, they moved to Chicago, where there were crimes and gangs all about. This resulted to the Grecos having to pull strings to keep their head up the water, and they still practice Christianity as a means to maintain morale.

We then have Schneider. The youngest and most neglected child of the Grecos. She was barely fed and paid attention to among her 11 older sisters. The Narrator also notes that she was even neglected from the start, as she turned a year old before her father realized she wasn't baptized.

Now, there are two main instances that showcase Schneider's religious trauma peeking through are the traces "From One Castle to Another" and "Long Night Trip". Both of which are very much talking about Schneider's past. There are parts of the dialogue that stick out to me.

-From One Castle to Another

"It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist. But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself."

"The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long-handed umbrellas. [...] But you can't find Schneider. [...] It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, 'The Lord be with you.' " " 'And also with you.' Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last."

-Long Night Trip

The Narrator talks about Schneider's slow descent into losing her faith in these conversations. She used to pray and hope that God would fix things and give an answer for her and her family's suffering. And all that happened was that it got worse.

It only ever makes Schneider question and doubt, and eventually she stops believing in God. But everyone around her, her family in particular, still maintains their strong belief that he'd guide them out of struggle. Meanwhile, she take things into her own hands for that matter.

And again, everyone would resort to praying, praying, and praying. Yet Schneider wouldn't dare try. Because if he listened to her this one time then they heard all the other times and never cared to help. That rubs salt in the wound.

So with this, we see how Schneider creates her newfound identity. She starts frequenting underground markets and doing certain odd jobs. She is able to make amends with other gang leaders and grow her own strong faction in Chicago.

All so she makes enough money for the rest of her family to eat and thrive. It showcases her sense of selflessness, her full care for her family despite how they treated her. She cares for them more than anything, because even with barely receiving love, they're the ones that raised her. Schneider actively does it all to prove that she can give.

Even in the main story there are those hints of that trauma seeping through. Throughout the game she refers to her bosses as "My Lord", a name that's usually reserved for God.

In the 'Green Oranges' segment of chapter 2, we see that Schneider's younger self describes America as a new world. A place of wonders, where blessings will be given and all sins will be forgiven. There, "God loves the world". Because back in Sicily, she believes that God does not love her and her family here. This ties back to the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s, where again, the poverty situation had been so bad. Not to mention the overpopulation and the natural disasters that came with it.

Meanwhile, her adult self is heavily injured from the gunshot wounds and Vertin stops shooting her. She expresses her frustration of being unable to die fast, which then turns to this: "Or did God finally forgive me...He allowed me...to stay alive!!"

"God would never make or guide one to that first action," Schneider thinks, because only she alone did it. She decided to step in, with no guidance of the God she once loved. The God that never forgave her.

The entirety of chapter 1 and 2 shows that her trauma runs really deep. The youngest and most neglected child turns into the most diligent and faithless Greco. She expresses her clear disdain for God, and does everything in her own power to do what "he never did for her and her family."

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

How does God and Lucifer’s siblings view the sins? Are his siblings jealous they have been replaced or are some of them glad that Lucifer has found others who he can be a family with?

Also, do Asmodeus and Lucifer ever indulge in bird like behavior together?

God is very pleased Lucifer has them, He intended for it and a lot of the needless cruelty of the fall was to ensure Lucifer was found, endeared and open(desperate enough) to accept the help of the demons princes.

A full power emotionally destabilized Archangel wasn't going to be quick to make friends in hell. And Yes, I am very much looking forward to unpacking God's 'Ends justify the Means' mentality and 'Father knows best' approach to making decisions that affect other people without their say.

He likes them if only cause He's less guilty for losing Lucifer's original family if he ends up with another one.

However they as individuals are very foreign, while nothing is like Him, He has an understanding of creatures that strive for His perfection. He does not know what to do with those that have no interest in His order. Especially those created outside His will.

He skittish around Fat Nuggets as He is the Sins its very amusing

He's immune to Fear of Unknown by nature of being All knowing, they aren't Other to Him - He's perfectly aware they are complex people with depth and value. Which has unlocked some other, far stranger emotional response that like a morbid intrigue.

The sins and archangels' dynamics do have some posts here and here but im always up for an excuse for a proper mindset deep dive!

Because of implicit and explicit bias his brothers think of hellborn demons as lesser, Heaven is just like that, not necessarily bad just insignificant in the wake of God's Will and Order.

They see them as pets Luci is using to fill the void they left behind, the best he can do, while they're not necessarily upset at the situation by itself...

They are absolutely affronted at Lucifer being closer and more comfortable with the sins than he is or really ever was with them.

All he does is complain about the sins and how he has to manage them! (context) They were under the impression he barely tolerated them what do you mean he finds the demons' company preferable and there's a undercurrent of unbreakable trust and unconditional love in all that taunting and banter.

His siblings aren't jealous of being replaced however they are extremely jealous of being superseded.

They also... see the sins as bringing out Lucifer's 'worst traits', (mainly, Pride) because Christianity Heaven runs on shame and repression so nothing's more terrifying to them than someone being unapologetic in themselves

It's like, the worst parts of Catholic guilt and Protestant evangelical beliefs mixed together.

He has to miserable in hell in every way because if he was even the least bit happy away from the church Heaven that would have to mean something was wrong with him... or it. They don't want to see their brother like that but they're unwilling to compromise their worldview either, for who are they without God? Who is God if He's wrong?

Lucifer is cringe(and damned) but he is free etc etc

I'm so glad that near decade I spent studying Christian dogma and culture is coming in useful, there's so much texture and potential in this family dynamic

Yes, YES!!! I have waited my whole life for someone to ask about this, Bird solidarity!! Asmodeus unfortunately doesn't have a beak (it's different from claws or fingers and not even other angels can replicate it, fuck he misses his Dad) but still mutual preenings!! Billing!! Nestling!! Headbutting!! Wing tucking!! Someone who gets it!

I think Lucifer feels way more fondness for the Ars Goetia than he has any right to just cause a lot of them are birds.

Yeah they're pompous arrogant pricks but, those are endearing quirks to him if it's birds (okay he sees these as basically pets)

Paimon is still around despite his everything because he has a beak and is one of the few Goetia to truly prioritize ass kissing over dignity or prestige and will groom him without acting like it's weird.

[moonmeg]

Layout for next comic done, head empty only Breeil scenario once again - this time not in comic form!

TW// body insecurity (negativity), implied eating disorder

"Bree, what's the matter?"

"Look at me!", she freed herself from his arms, "Look at my chest, my arms, my legs, my stomach! How can ye think I'm pretty when I'm not as thin as I used to be?! How can ye love me when I look like this?!"

Neil stared at her. He didn't understand what she meant, where this was coming from. He never gave her reason to doubt his adoration for her - so he thought at least. Breena kept avoiding his eyes and quickly turned her back to him, hiding herself and her body from the man she loved. The thought that he will leave her now that her body is so different tortured her. She didn't want him to leave. Neil was the best thing to happen to her...

"Bree, you are beautiful to me. And I mean that wi' all my heart. A few additional pounds willna change that. Especially not because that's more than natural in yer circumstances."

"My circumstances?", she turned her head in his direction slightly.

"Aye, yer pregnancy. Ye're growing a person inside o' ya, love. Of course yer body is changing."

He slowly closed the gap between them and gently brushed a red curl out of her face. He examined her face and noticed her quivering lip and her still avoiding eyes becoming glassy. It's rare he saw his wife so upset and vulnerable. He knew a pregnancy had its impact on the becoming mother's emotionality but something told him there was more to Breena's feelings.

"I'm just wondering, where ye get the idea from that I only love ye when ye're thin? Did I make ye feel like that?", he traced his thumb down her cheek. His voice calm and soft.

"It's not you."

...

"Was it them?"

She closed her eyes and the longer she thought about "them" the more her brows furrowed above her red-brown lashes. "Them" referred to the people that Breena was raised by. She didn't think they were worth the title of "parents". Parents are loving, they're caring and they'd never cause their child to run away from home with 16 because it's become unbearable to live with them. To Breena those two people she had to live with were but merely her creators. That was also what she referred to them as whenever they still influenced her life... like now.

"Titan...", Neil sighed, knowing that he found the reason behind his wife's behavior. Breena's creators barely were a topic in their conversations or a part of their life but whenever they did come up, it was never in good context. "What did they tell you?"

She glanced at her husband. It wasn't long but Neil was happy she had met his eyes finally even if just for a second. It meant she was willing to open up about it to him and she was building up strength to reopen a part from that chapter of her life that she actually long had closed and desperately wanted to seal and lock away. It was hard for her. He knew that.

Caressing his palms over her arms until he reached her hands and curling his fingers around them, he let her take her time. His thumb carefully ran across her knuckles - back and forth. It was his way of reassuring her. He's here. He's listening. She has all his attention. She's not alone.

Breena squeezed his hand as she took a breath. She hated that she troubled him with her problems of the past. She learned to keep her frustration to herself and in fear of bothering people dear to her never let them out. Communication never worked in her home, why should it work outside of it? Of course, Breena never would've bothered her friends nor is she bothering Neil or her newly found family-in-law with her feelings. But unfortunately old habits break hard.

"Ever since I was a lass, no older than 6, I was told that my appearance is the most important thing I have to offer. If I'm not pretty and a certain weight, I dinna deserve affection or... love. Nobody wants me if I'm not thin. Nobody would think me worthy. If I'm not in the image of my creators, I'll be lonely til my last days. So I...", she paused, taking a shaky breath, "...I always tried to fit in that expectation. Whenever I didna fit it, I was called worthless, ugly and denied food. Whenever I did fit, I was praised... at least one thing I did right."

"Oh, mo gaol...", Neil whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He squeezes her trembling hand tightly. That was the reason behind her eating habits, he finally figured. She barely ate, only small portions if any at all, and his mother and himself were always trying to get her to eat more but without much success. With the pregnancy she had started eating more at last but she always felt bad afterwards and apologized for eating so much and would deny herself food "to make up for it". He had theorized there was a reason to it but he never wanted to push her to talk about it.

"They're so wrong.", he cupped her face and leaned his forehead on hers, "Ye're worthy of love no matter what yer body looks like and no matter what ye weigh. I love you regardless. I always will."

"Ye will?", she hicced.

"Aye. I asked ye to marry me because I dinna want to live a life wi'out ye. Bree, ye are so much more than yer looks. I'm sorry yer creators told you such terrible lies and treated ye so horribly. I only wish we had met sooner so that I could've proven them wrong and given you the love and affection that ye deserve earlier."

Breena sniffed as his thumbs caught her tears. She buried her face in his palm and gave her emotions uncontrolled freedom. Sobbing she threw herself onto her husband's chest, clenching his shirt. Instinctively, Neil wrapped his arms around her back, securing her in that position.

"Neil, I-"

"Shh. There's nothing more for you to say.", he turned his face to press a kiss to her temple. He held her for a while, let her cry, comforted her by brushing through her curls. "I can only imagine how difficult it must've been for ye and how difficult it still is but... if I may, and if ye want to, I will do everything in my power to help ye heal. I'm here."

She pulled away from his chest to look at him. Cracking a smile she was the one to cup his face now. "I am so lucky and thankful to have ye."

"Aye.", he smiled back adoringly, "And I'm afraid ye're stuck wi' me 'until death do us part'."

Breena chuckled at him quoting their vows. She brushed a brown lock behind his ear before she met his golden eyes once again, gazing at her as if she was a deity and the only thing he cared about. She never knew what love really felt like but when Neil was with her, looking at her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, kissing her and smiling at her, she was sure to have found it. And she was willing to allow him to help her actually heal and actually, at last, close the chapter of her past.

"I can live wi' that."

[kaedeharakaori]

𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 || 𝘍. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 (Masterlist)

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

SEASON ONE: We only see each other at weddings and funerals

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

New York, 2019.

In the streets of New York, an empty mansion was located, owned by eccentric billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, who was now pronounced dead.

The beautiful mansion that was once lively with the eight children running around, that mansion was now cold and empty, it stood still in time.

One other thing that stood still in time that was not the mansion, hidden somewhere deep in the depths of its halls, was the preserved sixteen-year-old body of their sibling, Number Eight, Mikayla Hargreeves.

Poor little Mika was locked in one of the panic rooms, deep in the mansion's gated halls as soon as she was brought back home, unconscious from her first mission in a long time. Mika went from greiving the loss of her Number Five, to insisting that she was ready to go on a mission after three long years, to returning home, barely even awake and breathing.

None of her remaining siblings could remember what happened to the little Siren of the family, it was a mystery that the others are not ready to uncover.

-

The woman that played in the darkened concert hall was now on her way to the mansion that belonged to her father. Number Seven, Vanya Hargreeves, was in a taxi on her way to what once was 'The Umbrella Academy'.

As she sadly looked out of the taxi window, raindrops softly brushing the glass that was protecting her from the rain, she was thinking countless of thoughts that were messing up her emotions.

Vanya was in deep thought until the taxi driver knocked on the small window separating them, "Miss? We're here."

Vanya got out of the taxi, looking up with saddened eyes, there it was, standing tall and proud in front of her was the mansion that used to be her home. Opening the doors to the lobby, she walked around, entering the common room, "Hey, mom."

"Mom?" Vanya called out again to her mother who was sitting in a chair, staring deep into an empty space.

"Vanya?" Another voice called out, walking down the stairs, "You're actually here."

Vanya turned around to reveal her other sister, Number Three, the famous Allison Hargreeves.

"Hey, Allison." "Hey, sis." The two greeted each other, Allison pulling Vanya into a much needed hug.

"Ah. What is she doing here?" A male voice was now in the picture, walking out of the common room. "You don't belong here. Not after what you did." Number Two, Diego Hargreeves, scoffing as he went past his sisters.

"You're seriously gonna do this today?" Allison asked Diego as the man simply ignored her and went upstairs. "Way to dress for the occasion by the way." She continued.

"At least I'm wearing black." Diego responded, disappearing into the halls of the mansion.

"You know what? I–– Maybe he's right." Vanya spoke softly looking at Allison, "–And I shouldn't––."

"Forget about him." Allison cut her off and smiled a bit, "I'm glad you're here."

-

Upstairs in Sir Reginald's bedroom, stood tall beside the bed, rummaging through the stuff scattered in the room was Number One, Luther Hargreeves.

Diego was outside, walking the halls, then walking into their father's room, finding Luther looking out the window.

"I can save you some time." Diego called out to Luther as he leaned on the door frame. "They're all locked." He motioned to the windows.

"No forced entry, no sign of struggle. Nothing out of the ordinary." He lists them down as he enters the room towards Luther.

"Oh, you got big, Luther. What's the secret, huh?" He taunts his brother, "Protein shakes? Low carbs?"

"What do you want?" Spoke Luther.

Diego pulls something out of his pocket, a piece of paper, and hands it to Luther. "The autopsy report."

As Luther was about to take the file from Diego, "Ah." Diego teased one last time and raised the paper just as Luther was about to grab it.

"Before you take this, how's Mika? Have you seen her? Is she even alive?" He asked, his mood changing slightly.

"Dad never allowed me near the halls where she was locked in." Luther replied.

"Well, Dad's dead now, ain't he? What's stopping you from finding her?"

"Just hand me the autopsy report, Diego. And you have this, why?" Luther finally grabs the paper and opens it.

"Well, that's because I... broke into the coroner's office." Diego turned around, sat in a random chair, crossed his arms, and smirked. "And surprise, surprise, Dad's death was... normal. Just a boring, old heart failure." He finished.

"Yeah, so?" Luther retorted.

"So, why're you in here, checkin' all the windows?" Diego asked, deep in his mind, he was suspicious of his brother.

"Were you the first one on the scene?" Pushed Luther. "Pogo found him." Diego replied calmly.

"Yeah, I talked to Pogo. He said he couldn't find Dad's monocle nor the keys to the gated hall." Luther told Diego as he asked, "and your point being?"

"Can you think of a single time you saw Dad and he wasn't wearing that monocle? No. Which means someone took it." Luther pushed. "Which means there's a chance he wasn't alone when he died."

"There is no mystery here. Nothing to avenge. Nothing to solve, nothing like that." Diego replied, slightly annoyed. "Its just a sad old man who kicked it in a big, empty house."

"Just like he deserved." Diego ended the conversation, got up from the chair and started walking out of the room.

"You should leave." Luther whispered.

"Whatever you say, brother. I'm off to find Mika." Diego spoke as he turned the corner on his way to find their sister.

End

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

Hello dear readers

The next chapter will dive

into the depths of what happened

to our dear Mika Hargreeves

What do you think

went on in that mission?

[master-of-the-railway]

How was Edward infected in the Beasts of Sodor au? (Sorry, I'm gonna be annoying you with these)

NO NEED FOR APOLOGIES!!! I love getting asks from you, you're one of my favorite folks on ttteblr. Got a little narrative with this one and it's a bit long so I'm gonna put it under a cut

Good ol' Eddy, the reliable old steam engine, grandpa of Sodor as he's known. He was very nervous upon hearing about the transformations, less for himself and more for those around him. He had built a very close bond with Bill, Ben, Marion, even Timothy. They're family to him, and his driver even more so. He loves his fireman too yes, but his driver is practically his grandson because he played a fatherly role towards his driver's dad, who was once also Edward's driver. Of course, he didn't believe that his friends would ever willingly hurt anyone he cared about, and it wasn't that he doubted them either. He was afraid of what might happen when they couldn't control themselves. He had spoken with Gordon and received confirmation that the process did indeed hurt, how Thomas had gotten through it without screaming his smokebox off was beyond anyone, and poor old Edward shuddered at the thought of his other engine loved ones going through that same pain. It was bad enough that his loved ones in Tidmouth were going through it. "Nobody's died." James would try to reassure him, appearing at Edward's line with a shining coat of fur not long after he himself had been transformed, "We've gone a bit mad at times but...nobody's been badly hurt so far. Human or machine." And it helped, but only a little. Edward was still afraid, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad would happen. And it wasn't the big engines that got him. It was a little one. It was Thomas.

Thomas and come to spend the night with Edward and Philip, having grown too tired to make the trek back up to Tidmouth and perfectly comfortable curling up outside of the shed in a little patch he made himself. Out of all of the engines at that point, Thomas had been the least prone to get aggressive and feral, he was usually just the curious kind of feral. Philip had finally fallen asleep himself and Edward slowly started to drift off when he heard some sort of rustling, and through his barely open eyes he could see Thomas getting up. He tried to talk to the tanker, but he got no reply save for a low grumble, which Edward tried to put off as simply Thomas being too tired to talk properly. It wasn't until Thomas inched closer and the growling became louder that Edward fully opened his eyes and realized that the little engine was...stalking him. Like a big cat. Like some kind of hungry beast. The growling was louder and accompanied by some nearly silent chuffing, but Edward's fire wasn't stoked, he couldn't go anywhere. It was frankly terrifying, he could tell Thomas wasn't in control, and he braced himself for hurt when Thomas lunged at him, he felt claws and a set of sharp teeth puncturing his funnel. He tried not to scream. Screaming would make it worse. He didn't want to further upset a feral engine; never mind the fact his fate was already sealed from the moment Thomas' claws sunk into his sides. Thomas wasn't deterred until his driver rushed out to the shed with a lamp, shouting and shooing his engine off of Edward.

Thomas flinched and leapt off at his driver's voice. And it almost seemed like he was prepared to pounce at the human instead, until Edward shouted his name. Called him down. Told him to stop. And Thomas listened. That was when he snapped out of it. By god was he in tears. He was inconsolable. Nothing that any of the humans or Edward said could ease his sorrow. He had hurt Edward, he had infected Edward, the engine who had eased him into life on Sodor and guided him until Gordon had come around to accept him. It was Thomas who had hurt the old steamer. Edward felt just as guilty, he didn't want to see the little engine cry. He didn't want him to suffer because of something he couldn't control. "Thomas, it's alright. Look at the bright side...we'll match again. Remember how excited you were when you were painted blue because you matched me and Gordon? ...Thomas, don't cry, look at me...we'll all match again, isn't that nice?"

[annmarcus63]

An ugly, translucent shape opened at the gates of Kaer Morhen. A portal. Mercenaries and a mage, the firefucker.  The witchers defend their home and their cub, but they're too many. Ciri gets badly wounded and Rince is about to drag her through the portal, away from her home, away from her family. Geralt feels terror, they can't take her. The wizards fight with all their might, eliminating them one by one in a matter of second. A defeated Rince mocks them and before fleeing, he reaches into the portal to pull out a person who instantly falls to the ground. 

"This one sang beautifully, witcher. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found Princess Cirilla. And her blood" the mage's face twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at his blood covered dagger. Blood holds power, especially Ciri’s. But before Rince can escape, Lambert appears out of nowhere, taking him by surprise to cut off his head instantly. 

On the ground there's a shaking figure. 

A pair of frightened eyes looks around. Jaskier. Geralt had not seen the bard for years, he tried not to think about him either. But Ciri is wounded, bleeding and whimpering for Geralt because it hurts too much. The witchers carry the princess inside without looking back, to the shaking man on the ground. Geralt and Eskel heals Ciri as much as they can. She's going to be alright.  

Later, he sees Vesemir, through Ciri's bedroom window, approaching a shrunken figure at the stables and after a few breaths said figure following the aged witcher inside the fortress. 

Jaskier is there the next morning, sitting in the dining hall, shoeless and wearing simple clothes that are too big for him. But he doesn't want to see him, he can't, Ciri almost died because Jaskier was the one who gave the information to Rince. With a shrinking heart, Geralt turns away to find something to occupy his mind while Ciri recovers. 

-

Guilt is eating Jaskier up, even the pain cannot compensate for his heavy conscience. He hides his hands in a pair of thick gloves that rub against his burned skin, but it is worse to have them exposed. He had never been to Kaer Morhen before, but he had never imagined it would be like this. He never imagined he would be an outsider, a traitor. 

He finds a pretty good room, it's small and only has a hole in the wall, so it's not so cold. The wolves are uneasy, uncomfortable with his presence and he totally understands it. Geralt has barely given him a glance. Eskel is kind, he smiles at him whenever they run into each other and even gives him a pair of boots and a cloak.

The day after his arrival he spends the day working on the stables, cleaning and feeding the horses, it's not an easy task due to his damaged hands but he can manage. In the afternoon, Jaskier goes inside and sits down in front of the fire in the hall to warm his freezing bones. Not too close, of course. 

Geralt and Lambert enter speaking in hushed voices, Jaskier makes himself as small as possible so as not to attract attention. He's the prey. They are talking about Ciri, she is apparently well and that is reassuring. And suddenly...

"Shh, It's not safe to talk here." It takes him a few seconds to register what Lamber said.  Jaskier looks up to find two pairs of yellow eyes, predator's eyes, looking down at him with weariness. Something breaks inside him, something essential, it could be his core, his heart at the very least. In a hurried move he stands and leaves the room to find another place to get warm. 

At night the pain is too much to bear. He can't sleep and he's so damn tired so he cries for a while until he decides he’s had enough. He leaves his room barefoot so as not to alert the witchers and a single oil lantern to light the dark corridors of the keep. He wanders around for a while until he finds the lab, surely there must be something here to help ease his pain? he sniffs every jar and bottle whose contents seem familiar when a voice calls "If you smell that one you'll die" Jaskier yelps, turning around. 

Vesemir is at the door 

"I...I...I wasn't doing anything wrong, and maybe that's not the smartest thing to say. I'm sorry, I’ll just...go" 

"...what do you need?" 

"Something for the pain" The witcher approaches a cabinet 

"What kind of pain?" 

Jaskier is biting his lips to decide whether to tell the truth or... "Bard" Vesemir scolds him. 

"...burns" Vesemir stops to turn to look at him, his heavy eyes landing on the gloves on his hands. The witcher resumes his search and in a couple of minutes spent in silence he hands Jaskier a vial full of white stuff.  

"Thank you" Jaskier smiles sincerely. 

"Put shoes on or you'll lose your feet too" 

He cries all the way back to his room. 

The salve helped a little, but he still couldn't sleep. He's so tired and he doesn't want to be here anymore. He wonders if the snow is thick enough to kill him if he leaves in the night. 

It's hard to peel potatoes and Eskel notices upon entering the kitchen. "Are you ok?" says signaling the odd way in which he's holding the knife. Jaskier smiles at Eskel with a nod, afraid that if he speaks he won't be able to stop. The witcher is handsome even with the scar that splits his face. He has a quiet air about him that makes the bard sure that if they had met in different situations they’d surely be good friends. 

"You should go to the springs, the one in the middle will help you heal. Just don't go to the one on the right or you'll be burned alive" Jaskier flinches "Thank you, Eskel. I'll be sure to save you an extra portion of broth." the witcher laughs and pats the bard's shoulder before leaving. Jaskier wants to ask about Ciri but knows he has no right. 

-

Geralt is watching over his cub when he hears a door opening outside followed by unsure steps. Jaskier. He still hasn't decided if having the bard here is a good idea, he doesn't trust him, not quite. Eskel says he is too hard on him, also says he's injured to some extent. Geralt makes sure that Ciri is completely asleep before he follows the bard. He's in the springs. It is too late at night for another witcher to be there too, so Geralt decides that this may be the perfect opportunity to finally talk to him. To question him about his betrayal, even if it pains Geralt to know the answer. But he stands frozen in the entrance, Jaskier's back is turned to him, naked.  Hand marks decorate the bard's back, ugly burns across his arms that have not fully healed. 

Something breaks in Geralt and he is overcome by an unbearable grief and anger towards himself, towards Rince. The witcher watches as Jaskier removes one of the gloves. How had he not noticed the gloves? To reveal a completely burned hand, missing pieces of flesh and blackened areas beyond repair. The bard is weeping quietly, even the touch of the air causes him immense pain. Geralt gulps, wishing he could rewind the time, lift Jaskier off the ground and ask him if he was all right. He wants to turn back time to never shout those cruel words at him on the mountain.  

[astarlightmonbebe]

the shenanigans in wedding impossible are fun and all, but impossible to truly enjoy because i cannot forget the high stakes behind them. it was bad enough when the premise was simply a contract marriage to cover up one man's secret, but now we have 'let me seduce my brother's fiance-soon-to-be-wife' thrown into a mix. jihan's actions are harmless on the surface, sinister beneath it. for all he says he cares about his brother, ajeong is right when she says he's not a very good brother (i mean, you could argue the same for dohan, which i will get into in a minute), because what brother makes a move on his brother's woman? it doesn't matter if there's no feelings yet, or if the marriage is fake - they've barely begun and they're already getting caught. and jihan and ajeong getting caught leads to dohan and ajeong getting caught out too, and so it always comes back to dohan's secret, his reason for trying to escape. i think starting off the drama we already know that dohan ultimately won't be able to keep his sexuality a secret, that it will somehow be forced out into the open, but with each episode, the stakes surrounding that reveal get higher and higher. the higher it gets, the more the fall hurts. the higher the walls, the more violently they crumble.

and, objectively, none of the characters are entirely without blame or flaws in the situation. dohan asking ajeong to marry him without consideration of the cost it could have on her (he's asking her to move to ny, lie to her family and his, possibly stall her career or risk losing it entirely, etc). ajeong lying about her career to dohan and acting as if she's rich and all that. for close friends, they are sometimes careless with one another, but we can also see them remedying that, rebuilding the gaps, such as when ajeong sincerely accepts his offer, and dohan calling her to check in. jihan's a much more volatile character. his character can be understandable when you think that he wants dohan to have happiness because he somehow thinks of himself as responsible for their mom dying, but what's the point in fighting for something for dohan that dohan doesn't even want? dohan has made it clear he doesn't want the company, but jihan has it set on him inheriting it, on marrying him off. he's not much different from their grandfather in that respect, although at least their grandfather agreed to let dohan marry ajeong instead of trying to break them apart like jihan's doing now. jihan's pushy and overbearing; dohan, in contrast, is perhaps too laidback. he doesn't seem to understand jihan's ambition or his struggles in the power balance, and he also left his brother alone with the wolves for five years. it's hard to really analyze the brother's that much, because we don't get that many scenes of just the two of them and have barely any backstory on how their relationship was like growing up (did dohan look out for jihan? what does he know that jihan doesn't, and vice versa? how was dohan's position in the family (we understand jihan is bottom rung)? etc).

still, when it gets down to the bone, the biggest blowback is on dohan, because he'll end up losing the one thing he wanted to protect. ajeong entered the game as an outsider, and she'll leave like one (or eventually be welcomed back into the family as jihan's wife at this point), although there will probably be considerable affect possibly on her career or public image as an actress. jihan could lose a lot, more so in standing, which he cares about, and public image as well. dohan gets outed to his family, and probably the greater public depending on how much comes to light (that reporter seems like he'll be an issue). so really, jihan and ajeong are playing a game and forgetting dohan is in the middle. and that's going to be a problem.

[peterbythewayi]

Being human

What if the team of guys on a mission had a sixth person - a female Marine from intelligence?

Part II

Santiago pulled out onto a steep road that stretched almost to the edge of a cliff. This jolt caused Anna, who had fallen asleep in the back seat, to fall with her head on Benny's sleeping shoulder. He didn’t even wake up and in response lowered his head down, resting his shaved cheek on the top of the girl’s head. Noticing this in the rearview mirror, Garcia could not help but smile and whistle quietly, attracting the attention of the other guys to their sleeping partners.

“Our little Benny has grown up,” Frankie chuckled quietly, to which Santiago replied:

"He had grown up even when you first offered him bourbon."

Frankie rolled his eyes, but his friend did not see it because of the sunglasses he was wearing. In any case, the conversation did not stick together and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

As the car entered Brazil, William turned back and gently shook his brother's knee, trying to wake them both up.

“Hey, wake up, we’ll be there soon,” he said, but, seeing that it wasn’t working, he slapped Benny on the thigh, “Benny!”

Benny barely opened his eyes and, not yet fully awake, looked around; Thick foliage of trees flashed outside the window. Only when he turned back he saw that from his movement Anna, lying on his shoulder, had rolled onto his chest. Gently waking her up, Benny stretched his stiff neck and arms while his brother tried hard not to stare at him (which was a bad thing, since he noticed).

Having parked (so to speak, since they were staying in the jungle), Santiago began handing out radios and weapons to the team. Anna silently checked the pistol's magazine and put it in the holster on her hip, after which, looking up at the man and catching the faint worry in his eyes, she smiled encouragingly.

“We are in Lorea's backyard,” he said finally, after which they scattered in different directions for reconnaissance.

“Why did he choose the fucking jungle?” the guys hear the angry hiss of Anna, who had to take the most difficult path - through the swamps. And it seemed like she had already stepped on something, since she was so angry.

“There are impenetrable forests here,” William’s voice sounds from the earphone. “It’s unlikely that anyone would think of looking for him here.”

“Or, no one just wants to die,” Benny comments on his brother’s assumption, to which he just sighs.

“Stop clogging up the broadcast,” Santiago says dissatisfiedly, so that Kushing and the Millers calm down. They really fell silent, silently stomping towards their positions.

"So, what's this guy got against banks?" William suddenly asked, “At least a safe.”

“The house is a safe,” Garcia answered him.

Anna found this strange. The phrase “the house is a safe” was firmly stuck in her head as she crept up to the house.

“I’m at the gate,” Benny’s voice came through the earpiece. “This looks like everything was done about 82% right. The got all the toys out here, but these cameras aren't even almed at the weakest breach point."

"Your girlfriend's making her normal money drop?"

And here comes Tom.

“Yeah,” replied Santiago, “She's prepeared to record the inside of the house.”

Frankie walked to the back of the house and cursed, then spoke hastily:

"Pope. Pope, I have kids over here,” his voice trembled when he heard children’s laughter, “Does he have kids living in here with him?”

Unstuck from the binoculars, Santiago exchanged glances with a perplexed Tom.

“ 'Cause that's gonna make things a whole lot more complicated and is not what I signed up for,” Frankie said, without waiting for an answer from the Pope.

"The family is not a problem. They're the answer,” Santiago finally says.

"Why?"

"Church. Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday he sends three guards to the 6.00 a.m. service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team, along with his family, into town for mass. That leaves him and three people guards in that house, and that's our window."

“Devout drug dealer,” Anna almost snorted, clutching the gun tighter in her hands.

"Why would he do that?" - asked William.

“Worried about someone taking his kids,” Santiago answered quite logically, “and he never leaves his money. Also, I don't think he believes that anyone actually has the balls to come out here and rob him.”

“It's probably 'cause it's a stupid idea,” William said again and Anna could not help but agree with him.

Garcia cast a quick glance towards Tom, who barely twitched the corner of his lips and chuckled. In some ways he was right.

"Pope, I got your girlfriend coming up right now,” Benny’s voice reached the team, “Holy shit, she’s a beautiful, man.”

“No worse than Kushing,” he almost blurted out, but he shut up in time.

“I fucking knew it,” Tom blurted out, shaking his head.

“Fuck off,” Santiago waved his friend aside.

A quiet girlish laugh was heard in the headphones.

William thanked the heavens for his ability to ignore everything and focus on work. And now he ignored the senseless squabble of his partners and made his way to the house.

"God damn... - he whispered as he exhaled, stopping in front of a fence with holes, from where he could see Lorea standing over several hostages. Miller caught his breath and groped for the walkie-talkie, saying quietly: “I got an execution about to go down over here.”

"Are you at the tennis courts?" - Garcia immediately asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, that's his spot."

William didn't answer. He silently watched as Lorea, taking a gun, began to kill them one by one. Lifeless bodies fell to the ground as Lorea moved on to the next one. Miller closed his eyes, unable to see it.

"Why does she need this?" - Anna finally asked the question that was tormenting her.

"She hopes I can get her little brother out of jail,” Santiago shrugged.

"Did you put him in jail?" - Benny asked with a barely audible grin.

"Not real."

“I'm guessing that's putting her at some risk,” the younger Miller either asked or affirmed.

“Man, I almost forgot why I go out of this business,” Frankie snorted and, hitting his head on a branch in the semi-darkness, quietly hissed: “Shit gets so dark so quick.”

The broadcast went quiet and Anna even got a little bored, looking around Lorea’s huge house, but Benny’s tense voice made her wary:

"Oh, shit, we got ground sensors here, boys."

"Did you hit one? - Santiago.

Benny looked at the flashing red sensor and barely breathed.

"I don't know, I'm not sure."

“Benny, I got two guys on motorbikes coming your way,” Frankie whispered.

Benny held his breath, lowering himself down into the bushes so that he would be less noticeable.

“Hold tight, Benny. I’m trying to get out there and cover you,” William said and quickly walked towards his brother. He stood between two trees growing on the edge of the road and hid, tightly clutching the gun.

“A stock boy job at Walmart's starting to look pretty good right now, boys,” Miller Jr. hemmed, looking at the motorcyclists who stopped a few meters from him.

After hesitating for a couple of minutes, they moved away from the trees, to which Ben breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm clear. They are coming back to you."

“Let's get the fuck outta here,” William suggested following the example of the motorcyclists, and everyone more than agreed with him.

[raxistaicho]

I feel bad that I can't like Dimitri or the Azure routes very much compared to the rest of the fandom. But something about the Azure routes feels off to me.

With the other lords, everything they do somehow at least minimally gets addressed in terms of how they affect certain characters and give them at least the bare minimal involvement or agency. Edelgard's war and systemic changes affect the independence of Brigid as well as what will happen to the positions of those of noble standing like Ferdinand or Linhardt, and they're brought up rather often in supports and in the main story how they affect them outside of how they affect Edelgard. All the choices Rhea and Seteth and the choices they made regarding the church affect the characters in every house and gets discussed at length every route. Claude's entire thing is about how his mere appearance affects things in Leicester, like Lorenz's position in the future of the Alliance Roundtable, how the conflicts between their families affected others like Ignatz and Raphael, and how his hopes of reform and opening Fódlan up to the world and changing things in Almyra will affect everyone. Byleth's endings affect them as well as the entire continent. Everything that happens regarding Byleth and the lords choices circles outward.

However, in the Azure routes, everything has to circle back around to Dimitri somehow in a way that's uncomfortable. Tragedy of Duscur and the racism towards the people of Duscar? It's about Dimitri more than it is about Dedue. Glenn's death during the Tragedy? Only really focuses on how Felix and Ingrid feel about it in their shared support. Any other mention focuses more on Dimitri's feelings about it. Rodrigue dies midway through post war? It's about Dimitri's feelings. Edelgard's mother and how she's connected to everything? Only really matters when Dimitri is involved. Anything regarding Byleth is more about Dimitri on these routes, especially their paired ending. Everything important circles inwards towards Dimitri, and not only is it predictable and boring, it's downright suffocating.

This is why I prefer CR/SB and VW/VW, even with their flaws. While yes, Edelgard and Claude are the main focus of these routes, their actions and the actions of those around them keep circling in a loop that builds onto each other, even if just a little. And while AM/AG might be the better written routes, they bring everything important back to ONE character and ONLY one character like the heavy side of a balance scale.

This, so so much. It's downright bizarre how much everything in Fodlan has to be all about Dimitri's personal tragedy in Azure Moon, even to the point of just scrubbing everything that was going on in White Clouds that didn't have to do with him and shoving Rhea, Sothis, the Agarthans, and even Byleth off to the side.

I've made this comparison before, but it'd be like if, when Tolkein was writing The Lord of the Rings, everything from The Two Towers onward exclusively followed what Aragorn was doing and we only happened to catch back up with Gandalf and the Hobbits when he happened to encounter them.

And frankly, I'd argue these traits you pointed out make Azure Moon poorly written, however well the pathos lands for some people.

[this-is-krikkit]

Headcanon Asks??? Yes please & thank you because I love your HC so much!

☾ - Sleep headcanon for Hange

✿ - Sex headcanon for Levi

Love you lots Sunshine ☀️🫶

hey Vabe, thank you for sending this in. love you too ♥️

happy birthday again!! hope you've had a great one, lots of fun and an amazing time with your family 😁🤗

i turned these into lil drabbles for funsies hehe (it's levihan. i'm trash. enjoy!)

headcanon asks

☾ - Sleep headcanon for Hange

Hange's a quiet and deep sleeper... once they fall asleep. they're not an insomniac per say; they feel the need to rest in the weight of their eyelids as the night progresses and it gets harder and harder to blink the tiredness away in their lab. they actively fight against the urge to let their head lie over their crossed arms on their desk for even just one minute, by pinching their own skin and hitting their own head and mumbling songs to themself. that's the trick, Levi soon figures out, you gotta get Hange to stop fucking moving, gotta get their legs to stop kicking at the covers, their mouth to stop rambling about unfinished projects and experiment ideas, their thoughts to stop spinning in their full and Titan-obsessed head. it rarely happens, especially with witnesses around -because anyone being in the room is stimulation enough to keep even their most tired brain cells up and running. in fact, the first time Levi sees it in person, is when he fell asleep himself as they were talking the night away after an expedition. recurring nightmares with cruel awfully realistic twists make sure he jolts awake a couple of hours later, and there on the pillow is a sight to behold: Hange Zoë, with their eyes closed and their breathing slowed down, their normally animated face expressionless and their hands still and not moving around to support yet another insane theory they're explaining to whoever -Levi, always Levi- will listen. he smiles at the odd quietness to that scene, the unexpected calm in the storm that Hange always is in his life and the unexpected peacefulness in this instant compared to the week they've just had, planning for and going on this mission outside the Walls. but then their silence and unmoving features remind him of the most frightening details of the dream he's just woken up from, and before he can stop himself, he's shaking their shoulder until they open groggy eyes to stare up at him in question. "oi, you're taking all the damn space here. either move or i'll move you," he says. and before they can even process his words, he picks their upper body up and lies right under it, assuring his large shoulders don't threaten to fall off his small military-issued mattress anymore. he tries to ignore how their surprised but delighted giggle, and how they immediately settle more comfortably against him -like cuddling with him is the most natural thing in the world to them- sets something alight in his chest and soothes his troubled mind back into a rest-sensible state. (all that before Hange yawns themself fully awake and start whispering ridiculous, nonsensical questions, and Levi deeply regrets waking them up.)

.

✿ - Sex headcanon for Levi

okay, so obviously, Levi's a virgin before he gets with Hange, and there are three main reasons for it.

first, sex is gross because it involves sharing sweat and other bodily fluids with another human when he can barely handle having to train in hand to hand combat with other Scouts and has to run to the showers after. second, sex is terrifying, because it involves being vulnerable and open and honest with someone for, from what he understands, at least a couple minutes straight, and that is not something he thinks he'll ever feel comfortable with. third and final, sex is nerve-wracking, because it's the one physical activity he's not sure he'd be Humanity's Best at, and that specific thought is so ridiculous and cringey he wishes he'd never had it (but it's too late once it enters his brain).

but you know what he soon -soon as in, a decade into this crush neither of them dares to act on before that much time, and months after they get together as they take their sweet time to cross that ultimate barrier, i mean- realizes? Levi doesn't mind Hange's sweat so much -Walls know he's gotten used to its smell and feel against his skin when they're so annoyingly touchy all the time- and he's seen them bleed out enough times over the years to think himself impervious to anything else their body could throw his way. it also turns out it's not such a scary prospect, to be his most naked self in front of them, not when they wear their heart on their sleeve every single time they interact and seem to feel no shame about it, not when they seem to drink in every word he speaks -no matter how awkward and crude- and every inch of skin he reveals -no matter how scarred by combat and years of a famished childhood. he can't deny the apprehension he feels all throughout the first touches and tastes though, the fear of being inadequate and not good enough at something everyone else seems to find easy and instinctive. but Hange's breathy reactions and strangled moans and the flow of juices that comes out of them, the hunger in their eyes as they explore his body and the unreal feeling of their own hands and tongue and cunt make him come to terms with the fact that he doesn't always have to be Humanity's anything -not in these moments where he can be Hange's everything instead.

[cursedvibes]

Because I'm terribly predictable: Yuuji and Kenjaku for the character ask/meme thing 👀

well, I'm the one with the predictable faves xD and I'll take any excuse to talk about them hehe

Yuuji

favourite thing about them

His whole character and character arc, honestly, particularly how he slowly becomes disillusioned over the course of the series and qualities that were there in the beginning like his latent suicidality and disregard for his body become more and more extreme the longer he works as a sorcerer. But if we're talking about something specific, I like how at first glance he seems like the typical happy-go-lucky shonen protagonist, but how this is often an act or a way to distract himself from pain. In reality he's quite the loner and tends to isolate himself from people. He'll easily make friends with other or get along with strangers, but he rarely lets people in and see his vulnerable side or opens up about his problems to them.

least favourite thing about them

Nothing really. Although I don't like how distanced he is from the whole Kenjaku being his mother thing. It makes sense for him to act this way, it's a defence mechanism and he's like this with all his extended family, but I wish he was challenged on this more. Or at all.

favourite line

"So long as I can kill him, I'll eat anything."

"I'm you. I wanted to reject you. Convince myself that you were wrong. But that doesn't matter now. I'm going to kill you. Even if you come back as another curse I'll kill you. Change your name. Change your form, I'll kill you again. I don't need to find meaning or a reason. [...] In the grand scheme of things I'm nothing but a cog. But I keep killing curses for as long as I can. That's my role in all this."

brOTP

Mostly Nobara, but I've also been really enjoying seeing him fight next to Maki and I like how their skills compliment each other. They're the only one besides Angel who can seriously hurt Sukuna. I also really like his relationship with Higuruma, the guilt they are struggling with and how they are both supporting each other in their death wish, despite not actually wanting the other to die. Although I don't know if I'd call that a "brOTP".

OTP

Once again, I don't really ship Yuuji with anyone, much less have a ship I'm really invested in (in contrast to you haha). I like him and Junpei when their taste in horror and being kind of outsiders is highlighted and I also like him and Todo in the sense of "bros who sometimes give each other a handjob to let off steam".

nOTP

Mainly GoYuu and SukuIta.

random headcanon

Not really a hc, but I think he started joining sociable clubs and trying to find friends in highschool because he knew his grandpa would die soon and he realized he needed people around him when that happens.

unpopular opinion

He's not a soft, whiny sunshine boy. He's nice, he loves his friends, he believes that almost everyone deserves being saved, but people sometimes tend to really infantilize him, especially in fanfics, so that he's barely recognizable. He already had a death stare in middle school and was notorious for beating up people/bullies. He's not gonna break down and cry because someone is being mean to him.

song i associate with them

Hirasawa Susumu - Royal Road Paradise. It's about a king overlooking his fallen country and wondering why the people around him are burning and suffering. He can't remember anymore what started all this. Especially after the recent chapter it seems very fitting and captures for me the spirit of jjk as a whole.

favourite picture of them

Kenjaku

favourite thing about them

Boy...where to begin. I love that they are a mad scientist, but they don't take themselves too seriously and don't fall into the common trap of being unaware of their own weaknesses. I like that they are at the core actually pretty chill. It's why they were able to stay unnoticed for such a long time (besides the body-hopping of course). Like they don't stand out like someone like Sukuna, Mahito or even Uraume if they don't want to because they just don't make that kind of ruckus. That leads to them being often overlooked or not taken as seriously, even by the protagonists. They also have pretty normal hobbies if we ignore the whole cursed energy manipualtion, merging of people etc. That's what's so great about it. They'll do the most abhorrent shit, but also do such basic things as watching stand-up comedy or reading manga. They have a fucking favourite comedian! And are apparently deep in the manzai lore. It's so ridiculous, I love it. Kenjaku is what keeps this series fresh and unpredictable, they sow chaos wherever they go. Miss them.

least favourite thing about them

Died too early and more importantly didn't get to meet Yuuji again. Don't think there's anything else I don't like...maybe that they died in Geto's body. I would've liked to see them change bodies at least once. Otherwise what's the point of having a bodysnatcher character if they're 99% of the time in the same body (in the story, obviously Kenjaku has swapped bodies many times before, but we barely see any of it).

favourite line

"Tengen, I'm not the same as you. I have *lived* through this thousand year tug-of-war between feuding giant! The capricious alliances of this world of curses!" (line is even better in Japanese, the English doesn't do it justice)

"Even if you have no hope for the present or the future, you can always choose to die whenever you want. You have to take a step forward first. One step closer to your ideal. I loathe people who die without even trying to take that step. Yes, I'm talking to you, Tengen."

brOTP

Uraume. I just love their dynamic so much. They manage to bring the most annoying side out of Kenjaku and Kenjaku is a master at making them lose their cool (literally lol). The bickering is fantastic, I wish we would've gotten more of it. Maybe in the Heian flashback. I like how they like to complain, but then more or less reluctantly help each other out. Like Kenjaku bothering to take Uraume to Sukuna in their fishmobile while still being beaten up from the fight against Yuki.

OTP

Tengen/Kenjaku (my absolute fave at the moment), Takaba/Kenjaku (most wholesome Kenjaku ship honestly) and the recent reveal has renewed my passion for Jin/Kenjaku. Need to know more about the cursed married couple. Mahito/Kenjaku is also great for the cannibalism and vore.

nOTP

SukuKen and GoKen

random headcanon

Not so random, but I think Kenjaku has gotten pregnant before, (almost) every time with not very satisfactory results. That's part of why they decided to take a step back for the Death Painting experiment.

unpopular opinion

Kenjaku isn't cis. Kenjaku isn't drooling over Sukuna's dick or being jealous because he "rejected" them or something. The backshots meme are such a beaten horse that it has gone beyond death and come back to life only to die a miserable death again and again.

song i associate with them

Róisin Murphy - Ramalama (Bang Bang) I think it captures Kenjaku's whimsical spirit fantastic, which contrasts with the kind of disturbing lyrics. I took the fanfic title Stitches Across The Eye from this song.

Miyamura Yuko's cover of Hirasawa Susumu's MOTHER Think the title makes the connection obvious. Could refer both to Kenjaku as a mother and their general perception of motherhood. The incorporation of dreams, connecting to the universe and passage of time make it especially fitting. The "oh mother" chorus is also especially haunting in this version.

favourite picture of them

Because I like seeing Kenjaku happy and the way this matches their expression when talking about the merger curse:

Love the way Kenjaku looks at Takaba even when they are losing their head and the shock and wonder when they realize they let themselves get to close

Gossipy sister-in-law

The way half-naked Kenjaku looks at sweating Tengen here...always makes my mind go places lol one of their best interactions

Could list a million more, Kenjaku's expressions are always gold, but I'll hold myself back

[krispdreemurr]

unburdening

"So you're planning to--what? Just stay here, on the couch? You have a job, and two children who are relying on you, or have you forgotten? I can't support this family on my salary alone--"

"I can find another job, Tori--"

"Do not Tori me, Asgore! You can't just stop working without a word just because you feel guilty that--"

Whatever she says next is cut off as Kris slides back on their headphones, replaced by Cabinet Man at a volume that hurts just a little. Still fighting, then. They'll figure out dinner later, or maybe just give up and dig into the chocolate bars under the bed.

With a sigh, they flop backwards onto their pillow, grabbing their phone off the bed. Idly scrolling through cute animal photos is at least something to do for the moment. There are a lot of dogs being incredibly pettable, and they manage a few minutes of just imagining burying their hands in plush fur.

They barely notice that they're navigating to their texts until they're already open.

They know. If they sent a message, he'd come home, he'd get mom and dad to stop yelling, he'd offer them hugs and get them dinner. He'd smile, almost the way he used to, and promise them it'd be okay. He'd play Smash with them and keep them company for one more night.

And then he'd sneak out early the next morning to get away from the house. Away from mom, from dad. Away from the fights and the oppressive atmosphere that hangs in every room and the building sense of dread.

Away from Kris.

They put the phone down.

In the dim evening light, the ceiling stars glow faintly, still holding some tiny bit of juice after so many years. Kris tilts their head enough to watch them, picking them out amidst the gloom.

They remember, unbidden.

The dark beyond the bunker doors, a dark beyond the sort Kris could understand or name. A colorless dark, an empty dark. And in it, the man had had the sickly light of a dying star, bone white against the nothing.

He had not spoken aloud, and yet they'd talked for a long time. He'd told them so many things. Most of it they still can't make sense of - talking about intersections of present and past, of loops and narratives, of light and dark. About how their fate was written, about how it was anything but, about how there was only one end but a million new starts.

But he had taught them a way to pierce back into the dark, if they ever needed it.

And he had given them something.

It had glowed in their hands, a red so bright it hurt their eyes - no, more than that. A red so bright it had made them duller. A red that was brighter than anything they had seen, brighter than the world.

They could feel it beating, and their own heartbeat fell into time.

The man had told them that they would have to be strong. That they would have to bear things that no child should. And that, when they needed it, the thing would carry that weight for them. It would make them a hero, a savior, a leader. It would make them more.

They knew the cost without having to be told, at least a little.

Even just holding it, they felt less and less like Kris.

But they had taken it, and slipped it into a pocket, and the dark had broken. Outside, among the freshly fallen snow, Asriel had found them. They'd been disoriented and dazed, blinking to readjust to the light.

He'd held them, shaking. "I was so worried, Kris... You've been gone all night, and the doors were locked, and, and I told you not to come here, I told you both..."

They'd known, then, a thrill of fear still colder than the snow around them.

They hadn't gone in alone, but--

"Where's--"

And the look on Asriel's face, the slowly dawning horror, had said enough.

"She was with you," he'd said, and there was something cold in his voice Kris had never heard before.

They blink rapidly, clear their head. Trying to come back to the present. To force the memories aside.

The room is dark, now, the dying stars standing out brighter and brighter. Neil Cicierega is singing about spirals and inevitability, and over his voice, too loud for the cheap headphones to drown out, Kris can hear the harsh edges of an argument.

They sit up.

They open the drawer, and then the little box inside it, the thing they'd hidden when they came home, the thing that they'd tried to ignore as the fights got worse and Asriel avoided them more and more and Noelle stopped answering texts at all, the thing they can still feel beat at night even through layer after layer.

The thing washes the world into shades of red. Brighter, realer. A light that corrodes.

They close their eyes, and they let it swallow them whole.

[choicesmc]

8 for Fiona (+14 for you)

hihi o/ thank you for dropping by!! questions from [this] ask game

14. Do you have ocs on the aro or ace spectrum?

Yes! Rams is asexual and Rin is aromantic!!

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

you have opened up the floodgates. I'll post the rest under the read more because it is long.

Both actually!

Starting with the internal side, when Fiona was 12 he learned about queer people through a church sponsored 'sex-ed' class over the summer in Nigeria. Nigeria is highly hostile to queer people. Needless to say, it was not a very accepting lesson.

It demonized queer people, made them monsters of the community, warned all of them to be careful because if these young children --barely starting their exploration of themselves-- weren't, then they'd get you. And if you were one of Them, then you weren't part of Us.

Being queer was to be a danger.

So what happens when Fiona, already struggling with wanting things outside the 'manly' sphere realizes he also wants other men? What happens to a child that has been taught that anything besides aggressive attraction to women is poisonous.

What happens is that child, Fiona, begins to self-isolate. He doubles down on being straight, doubles down on being a 'man', doubles down on being religious, doubles down on stifling himself for the sake of his community because if he didn't then he would damn them all.

And in the end, he's dying. He can't let anyone know why he's dying. They'd only kill him faster.

Even now years after coming out (it went horribly, worse than a disaster, and, uh, if Fiona could erase it from his life he probably would.) Fiona still struggles. There's the insistent doubt that he's wrong that none of what he is is normal. That he's killing the people around him because he is refusing to kill himself.

On the external side of things, we'll need a little context. So, in Igboland, no one really 'dies'. Igbo naming conventions have an order. The first son of a family is named after their paternal grandfather, the first daughter after their paternal grandmother, the second son after their maternal father and so on. This stems from a traditional belief that children carry the soul of their grandparents. A child is a continuation of a never broken chain of ancestors. So no family member is ever truly gone, they're simply in the next generation —just look.

But that also means his parents have a vested interest to make sure he marries a woman and has children. At least one girl and boy. Why? If he doesn’t then Fiona’s parents would truly die. There would be generation to see them in.

Fiona is an only child (he had a sister but she was stillborn). If they can’t make Fiona have a child then that unbroken chain of family will shatter with him. His parent cannot let that. They cannot raise a man who would murder everyone they love.

Fiona has a poison and they must give him an antidote even if it slaughters they only child they have. (<- note the use of ‘has’ —as if Fiona’s bisexuality and non-conformity is something he can throw away if they just press hard enough)

Right now, Fiona’s parents are trying to socially isolate him. They haven’t spoken to him in any meaningful capacity since his 2nd year at law school.

In summary, Fiona is facing social isolation from his family + internal struggles!

good times 😬

[n3onstarss]

Some self-indulgent Rottmnt! Raph x reader because I'm bored and projecting and had a Moment™ earlier.

Reader is a pale fox, agender and transmasc btw, although not much of it comes up besides species.

'This is gonna be great!' I think to myself as I trek through the dark and damp sewers, purposefully ignoring the small puddles splashing around my boots and holding my bushy tail off the ground. 'I'm going to get to spend the night with my boyfriend, at my boyfriend's house, and meet his family! Shit did i wear the right outfit?' I ask myself as my paws pat down my shirt. 'I mean, it's a plain black turtleneck shirt and my fancy schmancy green jeans, you can't go wrong with that! And i made sure my earrings are the nice matching stud ones too!' My right paw moves once again to feel up long pointed ears, claws catching on the three metal studs on each side, while the other stays wrapped tight around the strap of my plain black duffel bag. 'Yeah, I'll be fine!'

'Did i put all my earrings in? what if one closes up during dinner or something or they're lopsided? did i remember to pack pyjamas that are decent? God please don't tell me I packed two shirts instead of a shirt and pants again. what if my mascara runs? or my eyeliner? fuck did i smudge it on the way down?' I glance over the side of my hand as i keep moving. Luckily i don't see any dark streaks in the pale tan fur. 'Oh okay nevermind. no black streaks, we're all good there at least.'

I barely have time to continue my spiraling train of thought before I reach where I was instructed to go. I pulled out my blocky red phone to shoot Raph a text to let him know I arrived. I couldn't see this supposed door and i didn't wanna just barge in either way.

Me: Hey, I'm outside! 💚

RedRover❤️: Oh okay!! I'll be right there love!

I started rocking back and forth on my heels while i waited the minute or two before the supposed door swung open. There, holding open the hidden, round, cement door stood my beloved partner. light poured out from behind the barrier and surrounded him in a halo of sorts. 'God, why does he always have to look ethereal?'

"Hey Red! you look nice as ever." a warm, fuzzy feeling couldn't be ignored at the compliment. seriously, how does he do this shit??

"Hello, also Red! you look stunning, love." i respond back without skipping a beat, making us both try to hold in peals of laughter at the matching names. It was almost stupid how easily it worked. they were our signature colors either way! What with his red bandana and the red markings in my fur, it wasn't a hard conclusion to come to.

As soon as we both collect ourselves, which takes a minute or two, he steps to the side to let me past. the sudden anxiety hits me worse then it did getting ready or even walking down here. I hold out my hand a little, a nonverbal ask to hold his hand, and he almost immediately scoops it into his larger one.

"Are you sure they'll like me..?" the words come out quiet, almost inaudible to even my ears, but he still catches them.

He squeezes my hand reassuringly. "they'll love you, Red. i just know it."

-----

He, infact, did not 'just know it'.

So far, everyone except the orange one, named Mikey, the spider yokai, Big Mama,.and the human girl, April, has a avoided making direct eye contact or speaking to me as much as they can. maybe it's first time awkwardness, maybe it's jitters, maybe they just don't like me.

The dinner table was just big enough to fit all of us, which was nice, and was laid out with bowls and plates. I'd offered to help set it earlier, but the blue one, Leo, had only shooed me away. tomato soup and grilled cheese was laid out, and now I feel like I dressed too fancy. God i look ridiculous, a blank spot in a sea of color.

Leo and the purple one, his twin Donnie, sat side by side as far away from me as possible, both their fathers and their mother seeming to follow suit. Raph sits to my left, April to my right and Mikey between her and Donnie. The other human, CJ or Casey, sat between Raph and Draxum. This left Big Mama sandwiched between Splinter and Draxum.

"Bone apple teeth!" Mikey calls, making everyone groan or giggle, before grabbing up the soup pot and ladle to pass around. I ultimately decide to try to wait until everyone else has gotten theirs so I'm not rude, but my plan is foiled when Raph notices my tenseness and scoops some into my bowl before reaching over me to pass to April.

Across the table i can see Leo lean towards his twin and whisper something. Both of them whisper heatedly for a few minutes and occasionally break eye contact to glare in my general direction, which only serves to make me want to shrink in on myself.

The urge to shrink in on myself only got stronger as dinner wore on, but luckily Mikey must've picked up on it. He kept up a slow and nice gentle conversation between the table, asking about everyone's day and basic info from me. Eventually everyone became wrapped up in their own seperated convos and left just me and Mikey talking, scooting and leaning back since April sat between us.

"So! what's your favorite color and why?"

"hmm.. green. It's very calming and it matches nicely with my fur, especially darker greens! very nature-y."

"OOOO! that's a good one! mines orange, obviously! it's a very warm, happy color and i love that!"

"Man you're reason is even better!" quiet giggling breaks out between us for a few seconds. "okay, okay! what's your favorite.. hobby?"

"oh definitely painting or baking! yours?"

"hard to choose really, either watching movies or listening to music."

"lame, man!" his words were harsh if his tone wasn't teasing.

as our conversation continued I could faintly make out remarks from the other side of the table over the other conversations. CJ, the other human, and Draxum, the other dad, were talking about school i think. Raph, Big Mama, and April were gossiping and arguing semantics. and the twins were whispering again.

Eventually Leo slammed his hands on the table and stood up. everyone had been done eating for a while now, but the sudden movement drew everyone's attention. The tense atmosphere was back, not as strong as earlier, but still there.

Without a word Leo gathered his and Donnie's dishes and left, presumably to clean up. everyone soon followed suit.

"I can get yours if you want." I offered to no one in particular, but Mikey, Raph and Splinter all took me up on the offer. As i made my way towards the kitchen hushed voices flowed out and immediately halted when I turned the corner. Glares followed me as i made my way to the sink, pointedly ignoring them, and rinsed the dishes quickly, ready to get out of their hair.

Instead, both turtles left and I decided to just finish the dishes to be polite. 'I wanna make a good impression so pleaseeeeee let this help.'

Turns out, the dishes didn't take very long and by the time I was heading back out it'd only been a few minutes.

By the time I was out there, movie night had been set up. Everyone was piled onto the floor to watch a Jupiter Jim movie and passing around a communal popcorn bowl, as Raph had told me earlier when we made the plans. Quickly and quietly i moved to sit next to Raph, snuggling my left side into his as everyone settled. About halfway into the movie Raph got a text and excused himself, as did Leo and Donnie. After a few minutes I decided to get up too, to get some water and refill the communal popcorn bowl, which was now reduced to unpopped kernels that CJ and Mikey kept eating. April snagged and handed me the bowl once i offered and I departed.

There was talking as i walked down the hall towards the kitchen, and i tried my best to ignore it so i wouldn't be rude.

unfortunately, my ears picked up a conversation i wasn't meant to hear.

"oh come on Raph! you brought a canine, a predator, into a house full of prey, and three other predators, and expect nothing bad to happen? what if theyre a villain? or lose it and return to their basic instincts? what then, huh?!"

'what is going on?'

"what? Leo, what do you mean basic instincts?"

"He means, dear Raphaella, returning to a predator mindset. seeing our family as either prey or competition. what do you expect us to do then?"

'oh..?'

"basic instincts dont affact anything, De-"

"Oh really?? explain that to your chirps and churrs and your savage episodes. explain that to Mikey hiding in his shell instinctively when threatened. Explain that to Donnie and I swimming often and our strange diets. WE have basic instincts too Raph, the only reason they don't affect our lives is because we aren't predators!"

'oh. okay.'

I stormed around the corner now, bowl still in hand and tears welling in my eyes. anger burning bright behind them. "You know what? fuck you! I've tried all. night! to prove I'm not some vicious fucking predator and you still accuse me of being one when I'm not even fucking there! I'm!- I'm.." the bowl slipped from my fingers, clanging loudly onto the floor.

horrified looks sat on everybody's faces in varying degrees. Donnie looked shocked I'd been there at all, Raph looked upset and pitying, and Leo.. he looked like i was about to murder him.

a small choked sob escaped me once i realized what I'd done. tears rolled down my face and effectively dragged my makeup with them. they didn't trust me, or love me or even like me. they see me as a monster. because of my stupid species. okay then, sure, fine. that's fine I'm fine everything is fine.

I began speed walking down the hall I'd came from, looking for a escape or place to hide. 'I'm such a fucking coward. running and hiding instead of letting them say anything. God this is pathetic, I'm letting my boyfriend fight my battles for me after i scared the shit out of his family because i just can't handle it. stupid stupid stupid.'

I hadn't realized I'd walked through the back of the silent living room, movie paused on the wall, or passed a frantic Mikey jogging down the hall towards the kitchen while absorbed in my thoughts, nor did I realize the yelling starting again and getting louder. all i could focus on was the "basic instinct" to get the fuck out of there.

Eventually, after a minute or two of twisting halls, I found a bathroom. perfect spot to hide, i guess.

I gently closed and locked the door behind me, not wanting to draw any more negative attention to myself. I flicked on the light, only to decide it was way too bright and turn it off in favor of the dim lamp on the counter.

The bathroom was a light green in color, with black and white checkered floors, which was nice i suppose. it didn't soothe my nerves but it provided a comforting atmosphere in a way. something that told me "its okay, let it all out" in its own little way. The bathtub was covered in a black curtain and looked inviting. I gently shifted the curtain aside as I started to hyperventilate, sitting myself in the tub. The quiet was soothing at first, but eventually it only made the bathroom into an echo chamber, making my thoughts bounce around my head in a quickening spiral.

It felt like an eternity before the knocking started. My sobbing only got worse, and louder in turn, which made the thing, person, call out. I couldn't process what was being said. I wanted to tell it to go away, to leave me in peace, but the words were stuck in my throat. my face was buried into my knees as i tightened my curl into upright fetal position, tears drenching my jeans knees worse then they already were. the knocking stopped as a few voices began talking outside followed by two sets of footsteps padding away. Light flooded the bathroom not long after and I shrunk in on myself further, curling my tail around myself to be as small as I could.

Footsteps echoed around the walls and the curtain was pulled aside as an unconscious growl built in my throat. When the voice started talking, my head snapped up, lips pulled up to bear my fangs and eyes wild. the thing, Orange one, jumped back in fear before backing, terrified, out of the room and closing the door. 'goddamnit this is only proving their point. i am a monster. i am i am i am i am i am.'

the same two words continued to float around my head until frantic, heavy running came down the hall and the door was thrown open again. My fur puffed up and my claws came out even more, only serving to make this feeling worse. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears and i couldn't hear anything else for a moment. Then the door was closed, something soft was sat down somewhere, and the light from the hall left, but the new thing didn't leave. the curtain was again pulled open, but much slower this time. 'I really fucked up and scared someone haven't I.. goddamnit! stupid stupid stupid stupid!'

the curtain finally revealed the figure. Tall and dark green with red patterns and fabric. I knew him, i felt safe with him. my fur didn't lay back, but the growing growl stopped and i could hear something other than my heartbeat again.

"hey hey.. easy there, you're okay, Red, Raph's gotcha.. you're fine.."

gentle hands wiggled under my arms and lifted me from my spot in the tub, holding me like a wet kit, before he stole my spot. I almost began growling again, how dare he steal my spot?, before i was placed slowly in his lap facing him.

A large, gentle hand began to smooth my fur, softly pushing it back down, as another hand cupped my face. His thumb moved to push away tears and smooth fur there too. My thoughts stopped their spiraling as i finally processed everything.

'This is, was, my boyfriend, sitting in his bathtub with me, trying to soothe me from.. whatever that whole ordeal was, and somehow not mad at me..'

As if he could hear the question in my head, he began to speak. "It's not your fault, Red. Nobody's mad at you, I'm not mad at you. And I'm not scared of you either, I can practically see you thinking it, and you've gotta know that I'm not scared of you. I don't think i ever will be scared of you a day in my life. what happened out there wasn't your fault, you're gonna be okay.. it's all gonna be okay.." as if my sobbing rubbed off on him, Raph started to tear up too.

I practically threw myself into his plastron, clinging tightly to him as the, now dry, sobs wracked my body. His hand that had been cupping my face was now gently sitting on the back of my head while that hand that'd been essentially petting me never stopped it's work. Our crying dyed down after what felt like forever, but neither of us dared to move for a while longer.

"a-are you gonna l-leave me?" i asked with a wobbly voice, still on the teetering edge of crying again.

"what? no! of course I'm not leaving you Red!" his voice was almost offended i asked, but somehow pitying too.

"b-but-" i wanted to argue that he should. I'm as dangerous as they claimed, I'll only hurt.

"uh-uh, no buts. I'm not leaving and that's final." i was pulled tighter into his plastron as the petting stopped. "i won't go unless you want me to, and even then I'll always be here for you. capishce?" the hold softened as he leaned back, trying to get a good look at my face.

".. capishce."

comfortable silence fell once again l, just until i could breathe right and stopped shaking, before he spoke again.

"Do you wanna get cleaned up and try again?"

"mm-mm", i hummed while shaking my head no against his chest.

"why not, Red?"

".. they hate me."

"oh Red.. they don't hate you-"

"yes they do! you heard what they said, you saw how- how scared Leo looked when I yelled!"

"they don't hate you Red. They don't. please, trust me. they don't hate you, we can try this again and get it right this time. if it doesn't work out then I won't force it, but i think you all might've just gotten off on the wrong foot."

".. okay"

i slowly worked to separate myself from him as he stood up, helping me up in the process. I squeezed my eyes closed and turned on the light. and when I reopened them holy shit it was bad.

eyeliner and mascara made black tear tracks through pale fur, most of my cheek fluff was laying flat and wet, my nose was running a little and when i glanced at Raph it only made me laugh a little. his plastron had a big wet spot right in the middle of it, complete with mascara smears.

Raph almost immediately brightened at my laughter and began laughing too. "gods we look stupid," i managed to get out between breathes, "so what's the plan, tiger?"

"whatever you wanna do, love. we can go to your place, or stay here or whatever."

"... can I get changed into pyjamas before we try again? please?"

Raph took a minute to jokingly inspect my outfit before agreeing. my knees were itchy from the tear soaked jeans and my shirt felt a lil too tight around my neck right now to be comfortable.

Somehow i hadn't realized the duffel Raph had brought with him and set on the toilet, maybe because he was standing infront of it but whatever. I walked behind him to the bag and got changed in the shower. the shorts and tank top were comfortable, but thank god i brought makeup wipes.

-----

The second meeting was much better, but not a perfect success. Donnie didn't mind me much anymore, but Leo still seemed to hate me a lil. That was fine, I could live with that, It was my fault.

Everyone was settled back in the living room, ready for a different movie. a vote was held and, after a lot of yelling, Piss in Boots; The Last Wish was chosen. Raph and I volunteered to go make new popcorn and dipped within the first 5 minutes.

It was not just popcorn. there were drinks for each person, and pop tarts for Donnie and Mikey, and fruit for Mikey, and applesauce for Leo, and chocolate for the humans, and dry ramen noodles for Splinter and Raph.

"You want anything specific, love?" Raph asked, his back to me as he leaned to reach the top of a cabinet while i dropped into a crouch to gather drinks from the cooler.

"I'm okay! thanks though!" I lied through my teeth, I'd done enough, i would be good anyways. I apparently got caught eyeing the ramen and fruit though.

"mhm.. sure." another ramen packet was added to the pile and another handful of fruit was thrown into the bowl.

the food was hauled back to the living room, and my skills from being a waiter set in. i had 2 drinks in each hand, caught between my fingers in a odd way, and two bowls balanced on each arm, one popcorn and one fruit. somehow nothing fell. I actually got a little applause out of Mikey and a laugh from somewhere in the room.

By the time everyone had their snacks we were, like, 20 mins into the movie. everyone was content and, after delivering the go go squeeze and a pepsi to Leo he even seemed to mellow out a bit. everyone was happy and fine, it would all be okay. especially if Raph would get the stupid mascara off his plastron. (whish he totally failed to do in the bathroom, by the way!) Mikey passed fruit around with the popcorn and, apparently, nobody ate it except Donnie, April and I, everyone else was too focused on the movie or their own snacks.

comfortable and safe, I leaned over to April and asked "psst, what'd we miss?"

"ohh okay! so, basically"..