#But we've already seen that thing spark

[writing-is-hard-af]

The way that it's been reaffirmed that Eddie will always have a place at the 118 and the fact that the job Eddie has in El Paso isn't one that exclusively ties him to that place. The way he's been made to only have roots in the house and with Chris. The way it's affirmed that he can of course come back but that Buck pushes him to stay for Chris. Just. the way everything in LA is permanent and everything in El Paso could return to LA.

[sashiavi]

no thoughts head empty just riding kaveh's face 😔😔😔 he'd definitely whimper and moan, acting like it's his last meal<3 thrusting his hips in the air to try and get some sort of relief, and ends up cumming untouched<3<3 oh the things I'd do to him

(I'm supposed to be productive rn)

(but kaveh<3<3<3)

Kaveh x Reader - Riding Kaveh's Face Haikaveh x Reader Mentioned

Some Kaveh food ♡

I'm slowly working through a few requests and my own little projects hehe~ thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Ilysm Kai Ty for sneaking into my ask box hehe~ 💕

Warnings : 18+ Smut | afab reader | face sitting/riding | jealous Kaveh | spit | squirting | not beta read | ʷᶜ ¹.⁷ᵏ

“Kaveh.. I don't want to hurt you..” Was the first thing that tumbled from your pretty lips, a kiss of nervousness lingering on the edge of your words. The words he should have seen coming, like an overused opening line to a spicy scene in one of his romance novels, written by some lazy author.. Maybe to you, your concerns were valid, more than reasonable, even, it’s not everyday that he has you on him like this. Any ounce of rationality quickly scatters from him when Kaveh meets your eyes. 

Nervous face looking down at him between your legs, eyes already a little bleary, lips tucked into a nervous pout. What a sight. Pretty tits drooping with gravity, framing your abdomen and tummy so well. One hand planted on his chest, the other being nervously nibbled at, tips of your fingers, lips biting into your nails. Kaveh huffs, a puff of a sigh tickling your skin. He had you kneeling on your knees, soft squishable thighs grazing against his ears, skin warm on his cheeks, sucking the metallic cool from the dangling jewelry he always adorned. His hands snake over the back of your thighs squeezing, groping, making an attempt to pull you down.

“K-Kaveh-!” Your squeals make his brain spark. The subtle fight and pull of your hips, his own hands trying to gently combat your squirms, all but makes him more eager- desperate even, for you, for your smell, your taste, to hear those soft whimpers he knows will spill from your lips. Archons, he wants to stuff his face full, dig his nose into your little clit, tongue your pussy with kisses and licks. 

“S’ okay- Can take it, honest..” He cranes his neck, chin tilting up, lips managing a soft, wet kiss against your mound, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. 

“We've never..” You trail off, looking anywhere but him. It was true, they hadn't ever done something like this, not together at least, but the memory- memories even, of your pretty pussy being tongue fucked by Alhaitham all those times before. Riding on his face, squealing, whimpering, crying. Tugging at the man's silky grey hair, pleading with him, all while knowing he wouldn't stop, grip too tight on your thighs and ass. Gods, Alhaitham, ever the dominant, putting both of you in your places, fucking you too stupid to even lay a finger on one another- one always twitching and out of commission for the rest of the night while he tortured the other with utmost pleasure.

Kaveh's cock flexes in his pants, tip rubbing against the taught material, nearly cracking out his own whimper. This was one of those rare chances, he had to get his own hands on you.

“You ride 'Haitham's face..” Kaveh can't help but whine, his lips visibly pout, head turning, pointed nose nuzzling into the soft fat of your thigh. He resists the urge to kiss, to sink his teeth in, nibble, and leave his own marks on your skin. Gods, he wants you to use him, ride his tongue and choke him with your pussy.

“H-He..” Your voice cracks, laced in something sinful, nervous from heat and embarrassment already taking over your body. The pause is tense, ringing in Kaveh's ears. "He can.. handle it, he's-" Kaveh cuts you off.

“Why can't I handle it? Wanna make you feel good..” He tries again, breathing warm on your core, aiming kisses on your inner thighs, the subtle swell of your tummy and that pretty patch of skin that leads down to your pussy. Just a little lick, a little kiss and he's sure you'd agree.

“He's just.. hnn.. Stronger than you- Ahn~!” Kaveh stops you again, forcing a startled moan from your lips with a harsh nip to your sensitive inner thigh, followed with a slicing glare from his sharp, crimson eyes. He had no right to be jealous- you were his as much as Ahaitham was, the same for the latter and yourself (and every other way, betrothed to each other equally) and yet, that achy feeling sears down his throat. Alhaitham with his high praise, thick biceps and stupid pretty face- Kaveh was pretty too! Stronger? Kaveh can show you stronger. Show you how he can make you feel good. Show you he can take on and bully your pretty pussy with his tongue. Show you he can take all of you. 

It starts with a fat lick of his tongue, a thick stripe up your cunt, right over that puffy untouched clit of yours. His chin tilted up to reach you, breath already hot and laboured, fanning over your core, he nearly growls when your hips make an attempt to snip away from him. He reels you in, grip on your hips a little firmer, landing wet hot smooches and kisses on all your most sensitive bits. That look on your face makes his cock twitch, embarrassed, guilty even, chin wobbling with the shaky breath you manage.

“Ahn~ K-Kaveh m’ sorry-” Apologies be damned, you'd started something, a fire in his gut to prove himself, to lap at you like a dog in heat. Gods, his neck already stung, ached with the strain of chasing you, chasing that pretty, drooly cunt- His fingers tighten, squishing the fat of your thighs under them. He feels your muscles tense and ripple, trying their best to keep you upright against his pull. Gods, he wanted you, wanted more, wanted you to sit, hump at his tongue, let him suckle and spit and make a mess.

“Ka-veh-” You start, heat and arousal dripping from your voice, winded and breathless. You squirm again, fingers threading through his hair, gently tugging him back down to the cushioned pillow below. “Haitham’ will be home soon, we- Ah~ Kavehhh!” You're cut off with a squeal. Knocked hard under your knees by a pair of hands, forced to drop down on Kaveh's face. His eyes roll, arms snaking around your ass and lower back, pinning you to himself with a rough hug. No escape now, you were all his. His gorgeous girl and her pretty drooly cunt.

Archons.. Fuck this was what he needed, what he craved. Squishy pussy smushed up on his lips, his pointed nose digging into your tender clit, tongue already fucking into the soft squeeze of your hole. He forces your hips to rock, guiding them with his hands, fingers squished into the fat of your ass and thighs. Gods, he wanted to cry, sob into your pussy and praise it over and over.

He can't help but crane his own hips, feeling the hot burning tension of his pants, the seam and fly digging into his weeping cock. He moans himself, tongue flicking and fluttering against your cunt, forcing his voice to stutter and staccato. You were no better off, soft mewls and whimpers tumbling from your lips when he mouths hot kisses and hard suckles on your clit, warm and wet and sticky. 

The fingers in his hair tighten, tugging on the strands oh so deliciously, coaxing him on and on. To keep tongue fucking your cunt, grinding his nose on your clit, squishing your soft thighs with his fingernails. The weight of you felt right on his face, grounding and stern, forcing him into submission - Even if unintentional.

“Kaveh~ KavehKaveh..” you repeat his name like a mantra, voice raising up and up in octave, choked up and wobbly. Your fingers squeeze again, hips wriggling, thighs twitching with a strain. Your breathing elevates, moans oh so breathy. He could tell you were close, little hole squeezing up on his tongue, thighs squishing his head, pretty voice squealing.

“Cummin- cumming, cummingcumminggg~” Archons you were so cute. Thighs flexing, squishing his face as you let go, selfishly riding his face, grinding your wet cunt all over his tongue. Your pussy pulses with your release, forcing another hearty moan out of Kaveh, kissing and lapping at you to guide you through. 

Gods he needed more.

Kaveh gives you no time to cool down, two long, pretty fingers plunging into your quivering hole, poking against the spongey little spot inside of you. You cry, telling him to slow down, “s’ too much!” And yet you keen into him, now gripping the headboard for dear life, moaning into your arms. Kaveh wraps his lips against your sensitive clit, suckling, lapping, spitting all over, taking the little bud in and abusing it. Kaveh rocks his own hips, finding a soft friction against the seam of his trousers, rubbing against his leaky cock head just enough. 

Gods, he was in heaven. His girl, his pretty girl and her cute cunt, humping his face and fucking back on his fingers, taking and taking all he had to give. Fuck it was wet, so gushy and sticky, soft, yummy squelches from your twitchy hole, wet smooches and sucks from his lips. His eyes roll under his eyelids, peeking up to see that face of yours, eyes bleary, lips parted with huffed breaths. He fucks his fingers in faster, harder, nearly biting into your clit with his teeth to see all those gorgeous reactions of yours.

“Ka.. Kaveh- can't.. gonna-! Gotta stop or- s’ too much! Anh~ ahh ah~!” You babble and cry, he nearly joins you, breathing laboured on your cunt, hips snapping up into nothing, following that brutal pace he had fucking into your cunt. That's it, that's it, thaaats it. Let him treat you, use him, use his face, fuck and hump on him, let him choke and squirm.

“Kaveh!” Is all the warning he gets from you before you gush - cumming hard with a choked sob, squirting in his mouth, down his chin, making a hot sticky mess all on his face. He humps the air, creaming hard in his pants, nearly untouched, hot ropes being wasted in his trousers. He blubbers, an attempt at praise being muffled away by the sweet rocking of your hips, riding out your orgasm on his tongue. Kaveh feels the tight squeeze of your cunt on his fingers, he gently presses into your cunt, slowly coaxing you down, soft and tender. He kisses your thighs tenderly, peppering his lips all around your lower half, palms rubbing over your bare skin.

You manage to lift yourself off of him a smidge, face beat red, looking anywhere but him. Kaveh can't help but stare, a goofy grin slowly edging itself on his face, eyes full, love hearts dancing in his vision. 

“Having fun without me?” A voice calls. Kaveh can just imagine the stern raise of an eyebrow, the annoyed arms crossed over a chest. You squeak, and Kaveh sighs blissfully. 

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Hi there >v> you k n o w I have to throw Haitham in I can't not it's illegal - I know cause I wrote the law.

I hope you enjoyedddd~ I haven't written for Kaveh in a while </3 I missed my boy

Thank You For Reading ♡

[santoelle]

Consuming writing tips and advice

When you scroll through #writing advice all day and take in as many tips as possible, you're losing potential as an author. If you're easily influenced without knowing how to apply it, then you're at a loss. How so?

1. You're in the wrong genre

Most people wouldn't have this problem, yet a few percentage, including me, will find advices not fitting. Even if it's not genre itself, some advices don't fit certain scenarios

How to show emotions!

Except, your character shouldn't. He's a soldier born and bred to face the dying woman on her knees, begging for her life, and to slay her from this miserable world the two of you live in.

Your theme isn't deep enough

Except, it's not supposed to be. You're writing domestic drama where it deals with the struggles in a marriage life in an apocalyptic world. You're writing a novella about a woman's inability to clean her garden. Some stories are stories meant to entertain to a certain point and it never has to be deep. And if it is shallow, then how you execute it can always bring it to its uniqueness.

2. You throw it to everything

Avoid using said, show don't tell, words to use instead of walk, etc. With this, you limit yourself to the constraints of unable to do anything but else.

"I don't know," he says, because it's the only thing he can do.

He looks at me like we've lost the spark in our love. I know now, I lost him.

He walked to the door, pretending not to see the danger behind.

There's going to be moments where you need synonyms, alternatives, methods, characterization, and others. Though, you take it to heart that you can't bring the basics back to the sea of new things. It's variation. The reason why you shouldn't use this certain word because there's an abundance of it. Once you drown it out in chuckles, whispers, cried, it simply becomes said.

3. The first rule—break the rules

These tips are made from people breaking the standards. That or there's a lack of something. When you take tips to face value without finding ways to make it yours, then you haven't used it to its full potential. Character arcs and development don't all go through the same path; humans don't heal or change the same path.

Once you understand the actual reasoning for a tip, then you can find a way to rework it to make it work with your writing style and your book.

Now that you've seen this advice, telling you how to consume tips and pieces of advice, what are you going to do? You're not going to take it to heart. You find yourself completely satisfied with how you write as of now? Good. Satisfaction is key to keep writing. You use advice to grow and relearn things you already know. This is another step in the infinite learning of writing.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Sluttiest Squirrel Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie brings home a surprise. Insert Evil Woman eyeroll. Contains: An introduction, a taste of one's own medicine, a merry chase, an idiot getting a little too… excited? It's a wild one, dudes. 😉 Words: 1k

"If I brought home a pet, would you be mad?"

You close your eyes, let your head fall back against the couch cushion, and let out a long sigh. You fumble for your bookmark, place it between the pages, and throw the book toward the coffee table before lifting your head to look at Eddie.

He's standing in the doorway, hands behind his back. Which means he's already brought it home. Whatever it is, it's already in your house. He's going to be heartbroken when you tell him it has to go.

"His name is Roscoe," he says, taking a step closer. "He'd be very quiet. He wouldn't eat much. And I'd feed him and clean up after him and all."

"Eddie," you whine.

He grips whatever's behind his back tighter and comes to sit next to you on the couch. You hear a scratch against his leather jacket. Great. It has claws.

"Will you at least meet him before you make me throw him back out in the cold?" he pleads, his eyes in full puppy mode.

There's also a spark of mischief in there. Your eyes narrow, but before you can speak, he whips his hand out from behind his back to reveal…

A squirrel puppet. A squirrel finger puppet, to be exact. There are four sets of plastic claws and a head, on each of Eddie's fingers. He brings two fingers together to make it look like the squirrel is holding its hands together and begging.

It's the ugliest freaking thing you've ever seen.

"Can we keep him?" Eddie whispers.

"Can I keep him and get rid of you?" you ask.

Eddie shrieks indignantly and cradles the plastic monstrosity to his chest.

"Roscoe is my best friend! We've been inseparable since I bought him in the gas station fifteen minutes ago! You can't tear us apart after all this time!"

"Oh my God," you groan, leaning back on the couch and looking at the ceiling in annoyance.

You feel claws on your boob.

You look down to confirm. Yup. Eddie Munson has used all four of those horrendous little plastic claws to grab your boob.

You feel your eyes flash at him, and are pleased to see fear in his. He withdraws the gross little puppet and puts his toy-covered hand in his lap, covering it with his other.

"Roscoe apologizes for his impulsive actions, and promises that it will never happen again," he says seriously.

And then he makes the squirrel nod in agreement.

"Can I hold him?" you ask.

Eddie narrows his eyes.

"If he's gonna be living here, I need to get to know him," you smile.

Eddie stares at you suspiciously for a moment, and then offers you his hand. You pull each piece of the ugly little squirrel off of his hand and put it on yours. You wiggle your fingers, getting a feel for him. Eddie looks on with amusement.

That's enough of that.

"What's that, Roscoe?" you ask, bringing him to your ear. You nod your head like you're listening to him. Eddie's brow furrows. You grin and turn to Eddie.

"Roscoe says he wants to play with your nuts."

"No," Eddie says firmly.

Roscoe, aka the plastic rodent on your hand, goes for Eddie's crotch. He jumps off of the couch with impressive agility, for a person as clumsy as he usually is, and backs away. You rise and follow, holding the puppet out in front of you and making its little claws click together.

"Stop," Eddie says, holding his hands out in front of him. Like that's going to stop you.

"The squirrel wants what the squirrel wants, Eddie," you grin, still advancing.

"You're not funny," he warns, his voice wavering as he backs through the kitchen.

"There's nothing funny about denying a hungry squirrel a nice fat sack of nuts."

Eddie turns and flees, scampering toward the bedroom. He loses several precious seconds by tripping over nothing, and you catch up to him before he can slam the door. He decides that his best defense is to go down on the bed face-first with his legs clamped tight.

You wait until the mattress stops bouncing to make your move.

You sit next to him and start at his heel, letting Roscoe skitter up his leg like a real squirrel would. Eddie shivers. When Roscoe reaches his butt, Eddie tenses and squeezes his legs and cheeks together.

Roscoe is left with no choice but to attack. Five pieces of plastic go wild, stabbing and pinching at Eddie's ass through the denim of his jeans. He squeals and starts to flail, like he's actually being attacked by something other than a plastic puppet operated by you.

Which, of course, means that his legs are no longer locked together.

Roscoe dives between them, and Eddie makes an inhuman sound that you've never heard before. You wiggle your hand with its squirrel appendages as much as you can, out of sight and trapped in the space between Eddie's thighs. He bucks and writhes and tries to escape your torture, and you cackle at how the tables have turned.

And then, you feel something wet.

Did he just…?

"Did you just cum from being attacked by a plastic squirrel puppet?!" you shout, giving a mighty tug to free your hand. All you have left are two little clawed squirrel hands; the other three pieces are underneath Eddie. In his mess.

"Sometimes it's just nice to be wanted," he sighs.

You take off the remaining claws and smack his ass.

He moans and wiggles his hips. You crawl over and lie beside him, propping up on your elbow.

"No more pets."

"Kay," he mumbles, grabbing a pillow and pulling it under his head. He nuzzles his cheek into it. His mop of hair covers everything but his nose.

"Especially if you're going to cheat on me with them," you smirk, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Don't be jealous of what Roscoe and I have," he grins. "He tried to make a move on you first, remember? And you cruelly rejected him?"

"Of course you had to pick the sluttiest squirrel in town," you tease.

"Let's turn that into a children's book," he chuckles.

ROSCOE! ATTACK!

(I don't remember what I was looking for when I spotted this, but I know I stopped searching and started writing immediately. 🤣)

[thezombieprostitute]

Royal Pain

Summary: You talked back to Ransom and now you're getting married to him!

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Bad parents, Fat shaming, Insecure reader. Please let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Reader is plus sized, female. No other physical descriptors used.

"You've done so well!" you're father beams.

"I... I have?" You'd been expecting a lecture on your bad manners. A reminder that you are supposed to take insults from those of a higher standing with a show of grace.

"Normally I'd consider your actions disgraceful," he admits. "But because of Duke Drysdale's response, and Prince Rogers' rebuke of said response, Dutchess Drysdale has offered us a marriage with her son as an apology!"

Your jaw drops.

"Close your mouth before you draw flies, my dear."

You shake your head to clear your shock. "I'm...to be married. To Duke Drysdale?"

"Yes! And our family will rise in the ranks as a result."

"But he's awful!" you argue. "Ransom publicly humiliated me. He's clearly not going to want this marriage, either."

"Oh nonsense," your father dismisses. "He'll settle into just like you will. Just like your mother and I. Just like his parents. It's how things are done. Now, we've got a week to prepare for the initial courting. Make sure you don't embarrass the family name by sulking about it."

"Yes, father."

"You have got to be shitting me!" Ransom shouts at his mother.

"You made a scene at the King's gala!" Linda objected.

"How was it a scene? It was just banter?!"

"You insulted a woman from a good family and stormed off when she hit back! Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was?! The Prince had to pull you aside! At a public setting!"

"And how is forcing a marriage between us going to help anyone?!"

"It's an apology to her family by bringing them up a level in the social standings. They've already agreed to it on her behalf "

"This is bullshit!"

"I thought it's what you wanted! You wouldn't stop talking about her so I figured she was of interest to you. I'd never heard you talk about anyone as much as you did her!"

"She's going to be an embarrassment! Have you seen her?"

"It's that kind of thinking that got you into this!" Linda yells, exasperation in every word. "It's time you learn that actions have consequences."

"Like you've ever had to deal with consequences," Ransom snorts.

"I've had to deal with your consequences for far too long! How do you think you've been able to get away with half the shit you do?"

Ransom crosses his arms and huffs

"This might be the best thing that could ever happen to you," Linda surmised. "You have your first courting in about a week and you will be on your best behavior and you will not embarrass this family again!"

Ransom sneers and storms out.

The restaurant is much more high class than you like. You're already going to be on edge about your weight because Ransom will be there, you don't need others commenting on your eating habits as well. Sure you stood up to Ransom but you'd had exhaustion and a bit of alcohol to help with that. And a certainty that you'd never have to be around him again. So much for that.

Rather than picking you up from your home, Ransom had agreed to meet you at the restaurant. Your father wanted to protest but you countered it would be easier on all parties for Ransom to have some wins. You're an adult, you can drive yourself.

Besides, it might help sell the the relationship as real. Linda Drysdale was one of the few women to not marry for a title. She fought hard for her father, the late Duke Harlan Thrombey, to pass his title to her instead of one of her brothers. So showing up to the date in your own car might spark some rumors about Linda approving of you. Or that Ransom has some serious mommy issues. Either way, you get a small win.

An arm wraps around yours as you approach the front entrance, startling you.

"Oh, did I scare you, sweetheart?" Ransom asked sarcastically. "That's bad for our image."

"And clearly so are bad manners," you rebut, plastering a fake smile on so no one could see your distaste. "Otherwise there's no way the Dutchess would approve of this union."

Ransom huffs, "yeah, she said something about consequences. I don't know. I wasn't really listening."

"You don't listen to others, yet you expect others to listen to you. Such a jackass." You keep your tone and body language playful only for the sake of the public watching you.

"What was that? I wasn't listening," he smirks.

"Oh, don't be afraid to ask for help remembering how to use silverware. I know your manners are rusty."

"I may be rude but I'm not an idiot," he growls through his own fake smile.

"Then how did you end up with me instead of one of those pretty girls hanging on your arm at the gala?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

His retort is interrupted by the hostess. She smiles politely but you can see the judgement in her eyes. You're not good enough for him. Well, you don't look good enough for him. She does, so she's clearly better than you.

She leads you to a table that will afford you some privacy. Ransom holds the chair out for you, surprising you.

"Oh, thank you," you smile sincerely for the first time all night.

"Have to put on a good show," he grouses. "Can't have anyone doubting my manners."

"Still, thank you, Ransom."

It could just be the lighting, but you swear you see him blush a little. He takes his seat and opts to hide behind the menu. You take that as a sign he's not up for talking and opt to look over the menu for yourself.

You ask him, "just to make sure, will I also be paying for my own dinner?"

His jaw drops, "why the hell would you do that?"

"I'm just double checking," you retort. "Don't want to be embarrassed by accidentally dining and ditching."

"This is supposed to be a date," he growls.

"One I had to drive myself to," you shrug. "Didn't know if we were going halfsies on anything else."

Your argument is cut off by the waiter arriving. After they take your orders you breathe deep and face your "fiance".

"So---" You stop as Ransom rolls his eyes.

"Do we have to do this? Neither of us wants this, so why are we going along with it?"

"For the same reason we do anything we don't want to: our parents," you shrug.

He huffs at that. "Fair enough. If yours are anything like mine, we're stuck together."

"Yup."

An uncomfortable silence falls over you both, the only interruption in the form of your drinks arriving.

When the server steps away you ask, "when did you start hating me?"

"I didn't hate you until I was told I'd have to marry you. Before that I was simply looking for an easy target. You caught my eye "

"So you were checking me out," you smirk.

His jaw tightens, "that's not what happened."

"No, but considering the press, and how everyone knows about our fight, we have to come up with something. Saying I caught your eye is a good start. Just leave out the part where you felt immediate revulsion at the sight of me "

"If we have to have a story we can go the bullshit route of 'pulling your pigtails' because I didn't know how to express my interest," he sighs in annoyance.

"Good call," you nod. "People will eat that up."

For a second Ransom gives you a confused look before reverting back to his usual haughty facial expression. "Yeah, well, it's a pretty common one."

"Still..." you're met with an icy silence. "Alright, slight change in topic?"

"Do you always talk so much?"

"Only when there's a lot to talk about."

"What is there to say?" he whispers angrily. "We're set up to continue the tradition of unhappy marriages. What do we need to discuss that can't be handled by a public relations agent?"

"Just because the marriage is unhappy doesn't mean we have to be miserable," you shoot back, eyes hard. "We can negotiate some things between us regarding the living situation."

Ransom leans forward. To an outside observer it might look like he's getting a closer look at your eyes. But you can see the hate in his glare. "Separate rooms for when you're on your period or when you finally get pregnant. That way I don't have to deal with your hormonal bullshit."

"I can agree to that," you hit back with a smile. "Though I propose we hold off on an heir. That way we don't have to touch each other."

"You'll never get them to agree to that."

"Prince Rogers will soon be engaged, yes?" Ransom nods in confirmation. "Well if his wife gets knocked up right away, we wouldn't want to look like we're competing by having our own so soon, right? And if she doesn't, well we wouldn't want to be rude and draw attention to her fertility issues, would we?"

Ransom raises an eyebrow. "That's not bad. The problem is, I need sex."

"So get a mistress. Or a side piece."

"If I didn't have to keep my image clean, I would," he says through gritted teeth. "One blip of infidelity gets to my mother, I lose everything."

"Then hire someone?" you suggest. "They get paid to keep quiet, right?"

"I've tried that. Linda keeps too close an eye on the finances."

"Well then I'll guess you'll have to invest in lotion," you roll your eyes. He gives you a mean look and you scoff, "I'm not going to sleep with someone who thinks I look hideous."

Ransom rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I never said that."

"So commenting on my size was just, what? Complimenting my resourcefulness in finding a designer who caters to plus size women?"

"I didn't..." Ransom scowls, biting his lower lip.

"And your lack of surprise at my relationship status? Was that simply congratulating me on avoiding an unhappy marriage for as long as I did?"

"It wasn't..." Ransom shakes his head.

"Because those ladies you were with certainly seemed to take it the same way I did. Maybe you should learn to communicate more clearly."

Ransom nearly slams his hand on the table, his teeth grinding in frustration, but you don't back away. You meet his rage fueled stare with your own. He's not the first person to look down on you, treat you as lesser, simply because of your figure. You won't bow down him just because he's your future husband.

The contest of wills is interrupted by your food being brought out. You smile and politely thank the server. Even Ransom gives a small nod, grateful for the break in tension.

"It seems like something we can agree on is that we each have a room for ourselves," you start. "A room where we can go and not be bothered by the other." Ransom nods, avoiding looking at you. "Do you know anything about our living situation after the wedding?"

"A smaller manor on my family's property," he states between bites. "Hasn't been used in some time so Linda's got crews looking it over for cleaning and upgrades."

"I'm going to guess we don't get a say in how the place looks?" You focus your gaze on your food. If he won't look at you, you won't look at him.

"I'll see about making sure we can add whatever furniture or decorations we want. But walls, flooring, whatever, that'll be all her."

"That's a relief," you nod. "Can we get a tour before the wedding?"

"I'm sure it can be arranged after it's cleaned up."

"Thank you for that," you nod.

Ransom lets out a heavy sigh, and you break your gaze away from your plate just in time to see traces of that same confused expression from earlier.

Tagging: @alicedopey ; @delicatebarness ; @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @irishhappiness ; @kmc1989; @lokislady82 ; @peaches1958 ; @ronearoundblindly; @theinheriteddutchess; @thiquefunlover63

[lets-try-some-writing]

https://www.tumblr.com/lets-try-some-writing/768522286265417728/have-you-seen-the-humans-are-space-cats-tag-i

Just saw this post; how many times do you think a human snuck aboard a cybertronian ship simply because they diddnt have anything to lose on earth or just wanted to start a new life.

How would the cybertronians react to their stowaway?

You know what? I love this prompt so take a lil fic thing to go with it. Partially inspired by @nova--spark's Earth101 writing.

Human Stowaway

Report from: OSCD (Organic Study and Comprehension Division) - Expeditionary crew of The Illuminator.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

During out last scientific expedition to the planet Earth, we followed proper procedure and the tests we ran went as they were meant to. However, it was only once we were already en-route to Cybertron that we discovered a little... souvenir from our planetary assessment.

An organic, a human specimen that calls itself Mah-Ark Hah-Rt, snuck aboard our vessel. We were aware of the phenomenon of humans abandoning their world in favor of sneaking onto Cybertronian vessels. But we did not anticipate a human deciding to take up residence on our ship. We are just a science vessel after all, and more often than not, reports of human stowaways come from private ships and small visiting groups of younglings attending tours of Earth for educational purposes. Those humans are usually returned or taken in by the vessels they board. But in both cases, there are certain contingencies already in place for such an event.

We do not have any such contingencies. And so as soon as we discovered Mah-Ark, we opted to take care of it until we arrived on Cybertron and could send it to Captain Bumblebee, the designated liaison to Earth. With all that said, our interactions with Mah-Ark have been interesting to say the least.

Scans and close assessments using our knowledge of humanity have indicated Mah-Ark is a human male. It, (or as Mah-Ark prefers to be addressed) he appears to not be much older than two stellar cycles of age, nineteen by Earth solar standards. Despite our studies of human languages, communication has been difficult. Mah-Ark speaks only a little of Earth's major language of trade and instead primarily speaks the Earth dialect of 'Russian'. We have no idea what he is saying most of the time, but we've learned to largely read him.

So far, we've managed to figure out why he's here based on a few scattered 'memes', various pop culture references, and through having him draw things. He used quite a few English curses along with the name of several planetary leaders on his homeworld, so we assume he has been dissatisfied and tried to escape elsewhere. He also drew a rather devastating scene of several human shaped figures being hit by a vehicle, so we've come to believe he may be without a clan to lean on. With that in mind, his abandonment of his planet makes more sense.

After we pulled Mah-Ark out of the vent he was hiding in, we discovered quite quickly that humans have needs that must be met. After his internals made very concerning sounds and he proceeded to pull out a can of mushed... stuff, we concluded that we needed to get supplies. Mah-Ark needed to fuel first and foremost, and we lacked the necessary resources. Mah-Ark brought enough supplies to fuel himself for roughly an Earth week, but we had to take a detour to try and find alternative fuel for his organic frame. We would have returned to Earth, but by that point the effort would have been wasted due to travel constraints. In the end, we took a path past a techno-organic world where we used some excess funding to purchase an array of fuels.

The techno-organics inhabiting the world were kind enough to offer suggestions, but presenting the fuel to Mah-Ark was informative and annoying in equal measure. Mah-Ark was unable to use his mouth bones to pierce the thick shell of many of the nuts we purchased, and even when broken, he was still incapable of digesting many. The few that we concluded were soft enough to be consumed did not often appeal to him. He purged them from his systems soon after or otherwise was unable to keep them in his frame. We attempted to offer fruits from the techno-organics as well as a few of their other organic crops, but most were rejected by our stowaway. We checked everything and confirmed it to be close enough to Earth plant life to be consumed safely, but Mah-Ark had opinions and flat out refused a great deal of it.

Analysis of human customs, specifically 'Russia' and its surrounding territory revealed a more meat and carbohydrate based diet. Once we discovered this, we made another detour to a similar planet and spoke to the organics there for guidance. With their aid, and after confirming Mah-Ark would be safe to wander, we had our human properly outfitted for long term space travel and gathered supplies suitable for him. He greatly enjoys meats rich in fats along with various baked goods. The organics we took him to found him quite endearing and supplied us with enough to make it to Cybertron and longer, just in case. We considered purchasing H2O, but thankfully, as a science vessel, we have machinery to gather 'water' and produce it for Mah-Ark.

With his fueling and hydration concerns addressed, housing Mah-Ark was a whole other affair. Humans are complicated creatures. The mutterings from other crews with humans make it seem as though their humans are totally comfortable anywhere. While this is partially true, Mah-Ark did not enjoy many of the places we put him. The vents were too dark for his liking and we often found him crying when left alone there for long. The loss of water from his system was concerning, so we moved him to other various alcoves. He was not found of high places for fear of falling while in recharge (we were unaware humans moved so much while recharging). He disliked the space beneath the command console where there was a heater. He muttered something about 'boiling' and we quickly got the picture after assessing his liquid loss.

Even when we found a place in our Captain's quarters for Mah-Ark to reside, the human was not happy being so far from the crew. Humans are also social creatures, and thus we devised a system to keep Mah-Ark from losing too many fluids to stress. Every time Mah-Ark had to recharge, he warned us with a 'yawn' and one of the crew would hold him in their arms. Or if the crew was also set to recharge, one of us (usually decided by a randomizer), would take him to berth with them. Each of us created a small makeshift location near our berths for Mah-Ark. He liked being able to see us.

We also found that soft things were greatly appreciated by our resident human. Mah-Ark hoards things that are soft, and so we ended up shredding one of our emergency thermoplastic sheets for him to use as bedding. He seemed to appreciate it, especially once one of the crew carefully fluffed up the torn substance into a nesting material. Mah-Ark was surprisingly resourceful and wove the provided material into a surprisingly solid berth in each of the crew's quarters. Since his various berths have been created, Mah-Ark has been noted being exceptionally cheerful, at least based on body language and the abundance of 'laughter'. It was a bit difficult to adjust to Mah-Ark's frequent need to recharge, but we have learned to adjust.

By the time we had all of this figured out, Mah-Ark had been with us for almost two Earth weeks. Around the third Earth week, Mah-Ark expressed a severe amount of restlessness. Observation led us to believe he lacked enrichment. And it was through our attempts to handle his needs that we discovered just why other crews enjoy having humans around.

Mah-Ark brought various devices that were rendered useless in deep space, and so we devised a few new things for him to watch media on. Most of it was in Cybertronian, but Mah-Ark began to learn through watching out media. Before we knew it, Mah-Ark was making noises akin to glyphs. It was incredibly slurred and almost indecipherable due to his organic biology, but he learned some of the easiest terms and we soon found ourselves watching him speak like a sparkling. He learned to point out energon, various parts of the frame, and several important parts around the ship. Once we confirmed he was able to comprehend pieces of our language, we began to guide him.

Humans are quick learners.

After almost two Earth months with us, Mah-Ark spoke enough broken base Cybertronian to be understood. We learned that he enjoyed engineering, specifically working with heavy machinery. Our resident medic took the chance to see if it was possible to train a human in a useful Cybertronian skill, and to our surprise, Mah-Ark learned and became a very useful tool to scan to for micro fissures and other small issues in our frames. Mah-Ark, so long as he was properly guarded in armor and body suites, was quickly able to figure out where small errors were located and even begin helping to weld and stitch things into place.

He has made a useful medical aid indeed. Additionally, he learned to help maintain our ship and, after a few close calls with pipes, became proficient in assessing the internal wiring of the command console. His small size has made him beyond useful in many regards.

Aside from his useful application, Mah-Ark has... endeared himself to us. He has interesting insights and takes such joy in things we know to be commonplace. His short life means he had seen next to nothing of what we have. It brightens our cycles to show him all that we have discovered and learned and watch him awe over it. In turn, he tells us of his life on his homeworld, at least as much as he can. His existence is simple, but his descriptions and illustrations of his life have made him more than interesting. He's a companion. He is, despite being so much smaller and far more fragile than us, a thoughtful member of our crew.

Every day he learns more and speaks more of our language, albeit a version we have dumbed down for his benefit. He has even begun trying to create various tools to travel around the ship faster, in order to match the speed of the rest of us of course. He loves to watch and ask question. He enjoys being held in our servos. He is... more than a pet. He is a friend.

In light of all of this, the crew of the Illuminator would like to make a formal request to keep Mah-Ark Hah-Rt as part of our team. We would also like to request permission to correspond with other vessels with human crew members to learn of their ways and possibly get Mah-Ark a few of his own kind to associate with. We lack information on medical care for humans along with various other niche subject matters regarding his care. It would be amazing to have access to further resources, or even a call with Captain Bumblebee or others who are familiar with Earth.

We care for our human. No matter how small he is or how short his time with us will be. No matter how complicated it is to learn of his needs. We want to keep him. The crew of the Illuminator make this request fully acknowledging the difficulties ahead, but this stowaway is ours, and we intend to keep him if possible.

[goodlucktai]

hold the world to its best (1/?)

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC, raph & leo title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au

for @soldrawss who wanted the deaged gio arc we've discussed to death in the group chat to finally become canon in some way shape or form 🩶

(next)

x

It takes all of six minutes for a family outing to the Hidden City to go completely off the rails. Raph would be mortified, except that’s not even breaking their record.

He has no idea how Gio got there as quickly as he did. One minute he’s sandwiched between Mikey and April at a stall selling little whimsical glass figurines that moved and changed color, fully prepared to fork over an absurd amount of money for the sizeable stack of them they had picked out so far, and the next he was on the other side of the market, shoving his way between Donnie and the witch that had snuck up behind him.

Raph was already in damage control mode, but now it swiftly shifts gears from the more harmless ‘convince Gio not to spend a cool two hundred dollars at the drop of a hat just because Mikey and April got suckered by some kitschy souvenirs’ and moves into the more immediately imperative ‘stop Gio from breaking someone’s arm for the crime of approaching Donnie with a look on their face that Gio didn’t like.’ 

It’s a task in and of itself to carve through the crowd without bulldozing over the yokai just trying to do their evening shopping. Raph tries to be mindful of his size on a good day, but he has a bad feeling. It doesn’t take much for anxiety to stir in the back of his mind. Every foot between himself and his brothers feels like a mile. 

Whatever happened in Witch Town three years ago, Raph is beginning to think April and Donnie only gave the rest of them the spark notes version, or else why would the witches still be nursing a grudge?

“Hey,” Leo’s voice pipes up at his elbow. Raph looks down into a smiling striped face as Leo hefts the bags of food he’d collected from Hueso’s victoriously. “Got dinner. Where’s the fire?”

“Twelve o’clock,” Raph replies, and decides he’s had enough mincing around. “Hitch a ride, kid.”

Leo whistles low, clearly impressed by the amount of trouble their siblings must have caused to warrant the urgency, but doesn’t hesitate to hop up on Raph’s shell, maneuvering around the spikes with the ease of a lifetime of practice. His leg has healed to the point that he no longer carries the foldable neon blue crutch on outings, but Raph gives him an extra breath to settle anyway. Then he straightens his shoulders and stands up tall and the crowd parts for him like water around a stone. 

The witch is hissing between her teeth, the mane of fur framing her face bristling with resentment, needle-point fangs poking out from beneath her top lip. Gio is meeting her glare with one of his own, the soft expression he’d been wearing not even a full minute ago, watching April ooh and ahh over a tiny crystal shark swimming in midair, a thing of the past. Donnie looks offended and he’s already running his mouth over Gio’s shoulder, because he’s never met a fire he wouldn’t throw gasoline on. 

The next few seconds seem to stretch into hours and also shrink into an instant. The witch lifts her hand and blows something out of her open palm that glitters in the lantern light like broken glass. It hits Gio’s face with the force of a slap and Donnie’s startled yelp is audible to Raph’s ears over every other sound on the street and a thick plume of smoke obscures all three of them. 

Leo’s weight disappears from Raph’s back. When the smoke has cleared and Raph has shoved himself the rest of the way there, Leo has the witch pinned against a storefront wall with his sword to her throat. She is very carefully not moving an inch. Donnie is digging frantically through a pile of loose clothes on the ground. Gio is nowhere to be seen at a glance. 

Raph’s immediate thought is one he’s not proud of later, but in the moment he thinks if Gio’s gone I’ll let Leo kill her. 

“What did you do to my brother?” Leo says with a smile that cuts as easily as any one of his blades ever did. “In ten words or less. Don’t waste my time.” When she only stares at him, quivering like a mouse under the cold, calculative eyes of a bird, he adds pointedly, “My arm’s getting tired.”

“Okay!” she blurts. With a pang, Raph realizes she can’t be that much older than Mikey. “Okay okay! It’s not permanent, it doesn’t even hurt, I’m not allowed to use spells that harm until I pass my A-Levels! I just wanted to ruin his day!”

“What’s going on?” Mikey says, brow furrowed as he and April join them. “Is that Georgie’s scarf?” 

“OKAY NOBODY PANIC,” Donnie interjects in a significantly panicked tone of voice, the scarf in question clutched in his hands. “We’ve found ourselves in a situation that I am very much not equipped to handle, so I am tapping out and tagging Raphael in. That’s your cue, brother dearest.” 

What Donnie could possibly be under-qualified for that Raph isn’t, he has no idea. And he has no idea what he’s going to see when he steps over to Donnie and looks down at what Donnie is hovering uncertainly in front of, what his bulky battle shell has blocked from their siblings’ collective view. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Raph says without thinking. 

“Raphael!” Donnie hisses. “I’m implementing a swear jar and you’ll be receiving my Venmo request imminently.” 

“How the turntables,” Mikey mumbles behind them, kept from crowding close to look by April’s arm thrown out in front of him. Just in case it’s something bad. Something he can’t unsee. 

“Is he okay?” Leo calls over. There’s a thread of tension in his voice that only the people who love him would be able to hear. “Someone tell me if I need to add to my Hidden City arrest record.” 

The witch’s eyes widen, and she looks like she’s about to risk wriggling her way to freedom, sharp sword against her neck be damned. 

“He’s okaaaay,” Donnie says in a not-reassuring way, tone lilting uncertainly at the end. Leo’s body language rockets past worried and straight into alarmed. 

“Stop,” Raph says, putting firmness in his voice but not raising it, hyper-aware of Gio’s eyes tracking his every move. “He’s fine, Leo. We’ll call Barry and get him sorted out. But I think it would make you feel better to come see for yourself, so get your new friend’s contact info and cut her loose.”

Leo scoffs, but sheaths his sword over his shoulder. “Gimme that,” he says without an ounce of charm, pointing at one of the bangles on the witch’s wrist. 

Her yellow fur is sticking straight out at this point, but she works the bangle off and all but shoves it at Leo without a word. Leo doesn’t bother explaining why he wants it, what purpose it will serve. Raph knows that Mikey, an earnest student of mystic arts ever since his arms healed from the invasion, would be able to track the owner of a personal item through hell itself and out the other side. 

The witch doesn’t know that, and doesn’t ask questions. She lingers one second, then two—then, when it’s clear Leo isn’t playing a trick on her, takes off at a dead sprint and disappears into the marketplace crowd. A few yokai have lingered to watch the show, but for the most part business has carried on as usual. Raph loves and hates the Hidden City in equal measure for its quasi-lawlessness and customary chaos. 

Mikey is all but climbing over April at this point, and she has both her arms looped around his middle to bodily haul him back, since no one’s given her the clear to let him go yet. Leo joins the cluster of his big brothers and, to his eternal credit, the state of their eldest sibling only stuns him into stillness for a moment.

Then he smiles the way he’s only ever smiled at Michelangelo and folds his legs underneath himself and says, in a voice so unlike the one he spoke to the witch with that he might as well be a different person, “Hey, you. Do you know who I am?”

A tiny spotted turtle with Hamato Yoshi’s brown eyes looks up at them, absolutely swimming in Giorgio’s dark clothes and gear, the compound crossbow on the ground beside him laughably big in comparison. The bead art ladybug keychain clipped to the bow stock is the only thing that makes sense for this tiny baby to have near his person. He can’t be older than four.

The baby turtle looks surprised that Leo is talking to him. He scoots his arms and legs a little closer to himself, hands curled into fists that he hides in the folds of the coat Gio had let Splinter tuck him into two hours ago. 

Eventually, very carefully, he shakes his head. It must come as a blow. Gio spoils all of his siblings recklessly but he dotes on Leo most of all. 

“Aw, that’s okay,” Raph interjects, talking to them both but looking at Gio. He’s keenly aware of how much bigger he is than this pint-sized version of his only older brother, practically towering over him, and he’s quick to crouch next to the twins. He’s still in damage control mode, even if now it’s taking a tone that reminds him vividly of his childhood of being the de facto babysitter and the one responsible for breaking up screeching fights over the Wii remote and soothing hurt feelings. “Do you see how we’re all turtles like you?” he asks. 

Gio’s nod comes slightly quicker this time. He doesn’t uncoil from his tight little ball, but he doesn’t seem overly fearful. He just watches them with huge dark eyes, absorbing everything. 

“Well, his job is to make sure little turtles aren’t hurt after big falls,” Raph says, patting Leo’s carapace. “Does anything hurt anywhere? Do you feel an ouch?” 

Gio’s face is round and soft and young, with spots he hasn’t grown into yet that crowd for space on his cheeks and forehead—so to see him wearing that serious expression they’re all so familiar with at this young age will be both funny and cute just as soon as Raph is capable of finding anything funny or cute about the situation. 

Mikey, who finally breaches containment and lifts himself over Donnie’s shoulders to see, has no such compunctions and coos audibly. 

“He’s so precious!” 

“Michael,” Donnie says at length. 

“What, are you going to tell me he’s not?”

“Of course not. I’m a man of science, and it’s an indisputable scientific fact that baby turtles are adorable. But it’s not the time or place for selfies so put your phone away.”

Mikey scoffs, but slides his phone back into his pocket. Raph is about to lose what little is left of his cool. While the peanut gallery is sniping back and forth, Leo has inched closer, and Gio is agreeably allowing him to check him over. Aside from a tender spot on his knee that will bruise tomorrow, presumably from his rough landing, he’s perfectly fine. 

Leo still puts an unnecessary Barbie bandaid on the sore knee with a silly amount of fanfare, and then pokes Gio on his spotted cheek playfully, and earns himself a tentative, inching smile. 

They’re holding up traffic, but Donnie and Mikey turned and stared down the one person who dared clear their throat at the inconvenient turtle roadblock until that person got uncomfortable and silently walked around them, and no one else bothered them after that. But Raph still wants to get home sooner rather than later. He feels vulnerable, like his heart or a lung is on display out in the open, where anyone with cruel intentions might step on it or steal it away. 

So he mentions dinner, as if he’s thinking out loud. Leo looks guiltily over his shoulder at where the Run of the Mill takeout is probably laying in a heap on the street, but Mikey is quick to jump in.

“Oh, Georgie, let me make your favorite! Whatever you like to eat! And you can help me cook, how ‘bout that? I bet you’re a good helper!”

“That does sound fun,” Raph says. “What do you say, buddy? Does that sound good?”

Gio nods, the fastest response they’ve gotten yet. Then he surprises the hell out of Raph by lifting his arms, the universal sign of a child that wants to be picked up. It’s not a big, enthusiastic want, it’s more hopeful than anything—two little hands that still know how to reach out, that haven’t been taught otherwise yet. 

It bothers Raph that Gio is so comfortable with strangers. That he hasn’t cried or fussed even though he clearly doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing here. That he tucks himself into a quiet little ball and just lets things happen, like that’s what he’s used to doing, and there’s no point trying to raise his voice to be heard. 

But Raph had a seventeen year streak of being the oldest brother, and he’ll always be the biggest, so it’s muscle memory to scoop the baby turtle into his arms. The tiny curve of Gio’s black, white-spotted shell is a perfect fit in the crook of his arm. 

The faded friendship bracelet that Raph has never once seen Gio without is comically big on his thin wrist and in danger of falling off at any second. Raph carefully removes the bracelet and pockets it for safekeeping, and Mikey passes over the prized ladybug keychain for Gio to hang onto instead. Donnie and April have Gio’s clothes and gear and bow bundled haphazardly in their arms. Leo is holding a sword down by his side, standing close enough to Raph that Gio probably can’t even see it.

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” Leo asks Gio in a sneaky tone that has, historically, always rallied other turtles into running headlong into mischief and trouble with him. 

Sure enough, Gio nods again, maybe even eagerly this time. 

“Close your eyes,” Leo says. 

Gio obeys, even pressing his little hands over them, ladybug and all. The ground at Raph’s feet glows blue, a disk that spreads wide enough to encompass all six of them. When Gio opens his eyes again, they’ll be home. 

[taniahylian]

Ms. Grace: a Foundation spy

Okay, buckle up because this is a wild theory, which was sparked by just a single word, but it's backed up by a lot of facts, so let's dive into it, shall we?

First of, left's look at the description of an event that will become available next patch: Phototaxis in study.

You see it, don't you? Now, let's first remember that we, as the player, see everything through Vertin's eyes. As such, if someone named "Moth" sent intel to us, they're likely affiliated with the Foundation in one way or another.

Moth is likely a codename, however, and not the character's actual name. Why? Because we have already seen a character associated with moths, and her name is Ms. Grace, and she's a spy.

Quite a lot of moths in her design, right? Seems rather intentional. Not to mention that, when she's disguised as Kayla, the only difference between them, aside from the eye color, is that Grace has a moth pattern on her bandana.

Not to mention that, when Vertin encounters Grace for the first time, an odd detail is mentioned; a white moth landing on the flowers Grace was holding.

Okay, so we've stablished that Grace is heavily associated with moths, but how do we know she's a Foundation spy that infiltrated Manus Vindictae? Very simple; a trail found in this event.

First we see this report from Andreas Sylvester who, if you remember, is a low-ranking Zeno soldier that was left behind at the abandoned Texas facility. As such, he is unlikely to be privy to classified information and, although he does in fact seem to know that Grace is a spy, he came to the rather logical conclusion that she's a Manus Vindictae spy that was sent to report to them about Zeno's activity in Texas. However, Constantine's response is very suspicious.

She recommends him to not interfere with Ms. Grace's work, likely because she knows Grace is actually a Foundation spy, carrying out her orders, rather than an actual Manus member.

Also, if Ms. Grace is a spy, that would explain why she was using transformation rituals; she needed to change her appearence into someone the Manus would have no knowledge of (since she's likely a high-ranking Investigator, the Manus probably already knew her original appearence), so she picked a random country girl (Kayla) to change into her, and ended up accidentally trapping her in a mirror in the process... or perhaps it wasn't accidental at all; after all, it'd be very bad if the Manus ever met the real Kayla.

Let's also not forget that, according to Vertin, the Foundation teaches this particular transformation array to their SPDM students, which furthers the connection even more.

There's also what happens at the end of Anjo Nala's trailer. If you need a refresher, after the Manus members give Anjo order after order, she snaps and kills them... but here's the thing: Anjo physically can't disobey the commands given to her by the seal, and she also can't even touch her master, much less harm them. So how could she kill the Manus members? ... Unless she was ordered to.

And who was holding Anjo's seal during that scene?

Ms. Grace, of course. She's also the one who says the final line in the trailer, in the format of some sort of report: "Towards the end of 1990, the succubus left for Sao Paulo". And we know for a fact that, indeed, Anjo followed their orders and ended up going to Sao Paulo.

So, Ms. Grace isn't dead; she's the only survivor of that massacre and, if my theory is correct, she's also the orchestrator. She used Kimberly to kill these high-ranking manus, while at the same time not blowing her cover, and making Kimberly seem unstable/unreliable, so the Manus would probably want to get rid of the seal. Quite a smart move, if you ask me.

But what do you think? Too crazy? Honestly I can't wait for the big reveal that Grace was working for the Foundation all along, if it happens at any point in the future.

[sometimesoliloquy]

"Now, finally, she is able to see who he is and what he's capable of. It's devastating"

I need to rewatch the episode before I think I can write any more about it in detail. But I thought it would be interesting to briefly revisit the "notorious" quote in the wake of finally seeing what actually happened.

And oh man, Devastating is the right word. I'm absolutely devastated for Nick. Fully crushed.

Yes, we see who he is--a desperate man, desperately in love and in over his head. A (likely abused) abandoned boy who grew into a young man so desperate to save what was left of his crumbling family that he got roped into an extremist cult, turning the tide of his life. And now again, finding himself in the impossible position of ensuring the well-being of not one but two families, when these things are often at odds. Having had to do things to protect his family that weigh on his soul like an anchor. Backed into a corner by another terrifying, abusive father figure. So in a word, human. Flawed. Trying.

What he's capable of? (clearly not lying well but we already knew that) Making mistakes I guess? Making another impossible choice for survival when forced between a rock and a hard place, albeit a selfish one, but with a reasoning June can certainly understand. He was choosing his family--not the forced/false one he believes will be fine and that he's no good for--but the one he can't live without, that he longs for everyday: June and Nichole. He finally made the first selfish decision we've ever seen--to be with the woman he loves, with his real family. He made the choice, finally, to truly ask her to run away with him, not "I wish", not "I should have", not a fantasy. To really do it. Because he knows she loves him. And now he's about to lose the only good thing in his life. Because she doesn't know the full context. She sees an affable commander bragging about his son-in-law's loyalty to Gilead and she doesn't know this unhinged villain threatened Nick with the wall. Will she even give him a chance to explain? Will he even try to defend himself? The kicked puppy dog look in his eyes at the end was just heartbreaking. That said it all. If he does lose June what's left for him? Go "full Gilead"? Kill himself? Try and make one final sacrifice of himself to prove to June where his loyalty truly lies?

Not gonna lie, fam, this is dark. I hope there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Can you see it? I think I maybe do, right there? Just a tiny spark? (squinting)🖤🖤

[amazingmsme]

A Gift For Gabbers

AN: Damn it feels good to be back! Been writing a lot of different things & had this one on the back burner for a while. Of course it’s an epic fic, what did you expect? It’s another oc fic, but this time it’s about Leander, & I had a blast fleshing out his personality! Still might be a while before I get around to sifting through my askbox, but I do see them. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy!

Leander had always been fairly talkative, especially as a child. He would speak at inappropriate times and get scolded, or harshly shushed. It had made him feel guilty just for being friendly, and he would try his best to keep his mouth shut until he felt it was okay to talk again.

Growing up in a war certainly didn't help. He was young and lively, blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter what his comrades seemed to be doing. He remained oblivious to their annoyance, for the most part. If he hears a particularly heavy sigh, or if they say something, he'll reign himself in. The last thing he wants is to be annoying, but he fears that he comes across that way, more often than not.

He knows he's not the sharpest sword around, but he's a lot smarter than they give him credit for. He just has a hard time focusing, jumping around from thought to thought, and why wouldn't he talk to his friends? When people look at him, they just see a big dumb jock; someone who's only good for fighting and hard labor. He supposed they were right, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a personality.

Leander is just an open, loving guy and he enjoys sharing his passions with those around him. Even if they don't particularly care.

"You ever wonder what might be swimming under the ship?" he wondered aloud, helping Perimedes and Elpenor tie up the sails before a coming storm.

"Nope."

"Not really."

"I think about it every time I look out at the water. I mean, the ocean's just so huge! Who knows what all is out there!" he rambled on, staring at the horizon in awe. Perimedes snapped to get his attention.

"Less chatting, more working. Hand me the rope," he demanded. Leander did as he was told, but continued speaking.

"Sorry, here you go. But we've already seen so many amazing things, just think of what's lurking just out of sight! Dolphins, whales, sharks, sword fish, flying fish-" he listed off, unaware of his friend's growing annoyance. Elpenor was zoning out, or else he would've tried to stop Perimedes from what he was about to say.

"For the love of the Gods, will you just shut! The fuck! Up!" he yelled, cutting him off. Leander froze, snapping his mouth shut as his eyes grew wide with fear. Perimedes yanked the rope hard, fastening the first sail in place. "I swear, you don't know how damn annoying you can be."

"Okay, that's enough!" Elpenor scolded, shocked by the sudden outburst. He looked over to Leander, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but the damage had been done. He looked absolutely crushed.

"O-oh. Yeah, I-I didn't know it bothered you so bad. I'll... I'll just be quiet," he mumbled, staring at the ground as his eyes filled with tears.

Perimedes finally looked at him, wincing when he saw the deflated look on his face. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he apologized, reaching out to touch his shoulder, only for Leander to flinch away. He never did that...

Perimedes was already feeling guilty, but Elpenor's judging glare made him feel worse.

He tried to lighten the mood, to spark conversation, but Leander didn't take the bait. His words cut deep, and it would take more than a shallow apology to mend the wound. So, they worked in silence.

By the time they fastened the last sail, the first raindrops began to hit the deck. The pair ran below deck while Leander lingered behind. Elpenor turned around when he noticed he wasn't with them.

"What are you doing? Come inside!" he yelled as the wind picked up, the sparse raindrops beginning to fall faster.

"I'm just gathering the loose barrels. Don't want anything going overboard," he brushed off the concern. Elpenor hated leaving him like this, but he doubted he would accept his help.

He ran into Eurylochus in the hall, frantically explaining what happened and how Leander was still up  on the deck.

"I'll talk to him. Just go to your bunk to wait out the storm," he ordered. Elpenor nodded, walking down the hall without another word.

When Eurylochus made it to the deck, he saw Leander carrying a barrel over one shoulder and a box under the other arm, stacking and tying them against the far wall. His hair was wet and matted to his face, his clothes already soaked through and clinging to his body. He was panting, though it was hard to tell if it was from frustration or exertion.

"Let me give you a hand with that." His voice startled him, but he settled once he saw who it was.

"Oh, hey Eurylochus," his demeanor was quiet, almost snuffed. It felt... unnatural. He watched him from the corner of his eye as he helped fasten the last of their equipment. He barely spoke a word the entire time. And while he would normally welcome the silence, he knew what had caused it.

Once they were done, he placed a comforting hand on Leander's shoulder.

"That's the last of it. Why don't we go back inside?"

"Sure. That sounds nice."

~~~

Asterios was watching the storm roll in through the porthole window when the door slammed open.

"Well don't you look... soggy," he deadpanned, looking Leander up and down. His teasing smirk faltered when he saw the look on his friend's face. "Leander? What's wrong?"

Those words were the straw that broke the camel's back. Leander sniffled, wiping his eyes before collapsing in his friend's arms. "What the hell happened, are you okay?" Asterios questioned, patting his back comfortingly, but the movement was still a bit stiff and awkward.

"Am I r-really that a-annoying?" he stuttered, choking back tears. Asterios felt a fire light inside him; whoever has said that was going to pay.

"What? Of course not, big guy. Who the fuck said that?" he questioned, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

"Don't be mad at him, he was just being honest," Leander defended. Asterios pulled away, leveling him with a stern yet caring look.

"Bullshit. Now who was it?" he asked, despite knowing the answer.

"Per-"

That was all he needed to hear before storming out.

Perimedes was lying face down on the bed, hiding his face in the pillows. Elpenor sat next to him with his knees tucked to his chest, looking rather guilty.

Asterios barged in, startling them both. "I hope you're fucking proud of yourself, dick," he hissed, dragging Perimedes up by the shirt. "You like making grown men cry or something?" he questioned, jerking him around.

"Shit, I made him cry?" Perimedes asked, genuine remorse knitting his brows together. Asterios glared at him long and hard before letting go.

"Yeah, well, he's a sensitive guy, and you're an asshole," Asterios said, backing off slightly once he realized how sorry he truly felt. "Just... go make it right," he added before seeing himself out.

When he got back to their room, he found Leander in his bed, wrapped under the blankets.

"Hey bud, how ya feelin'?" he asked, sitting on the foot of the bed. Leander shrugged.

"Fine. Why'd you leave?"

"Just had to go teach your little problem a lesson," Asterios said with a smirk. Leander sat up, staring at him skeptically.

"Oh Gods, you didn't punch him, did you?"

"No, I didn't punch him. But I should've." That made Leander chuckle.

"Thanks," he sighed, leaning his head against his friend's shoulder. They stayed like that for awhile, and Asterios rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. Leander hummed and leaned into the touch.

They both jumped when someone knocked at the door.

Asterios stood and answered the door, frowning when he saw who it was. "Oh. What the hell do you want?"

"To apologize," Perimedes answered shyly. Asterios softened, glancing over his shoulder. Leander nodded in approval, and he stepped aside to let them in before slipping out the door to provide privacy.

Perimedes and Elpenor sat down on either side, sandwiching Leander in between them.

"Are you okay?" Perimedes broke the tense silence. Leander scoffed.

"I guess," he answered curtly. They both frowned at the lackluster response.

"Well that wasn't very reassuring," Elpenor said, smiling when he saw a hint of a smile grace Leander's features.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, but he didn't even sound convincing to himself. Perimedes sighed and threw an arm around his shoulder. 

"Look, I'm real sorry about what I said back there. I just- I was annoyed, and I lost my temper. So... I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling genuine remorse as he looked at his friend.

Leander smiled and leaned into the touch, wrapping his arms around each of them. "Thanks, I forgive you. But I'll try to keep quiet, I promise," he assured, yet there was an underlying sadness to his words that he couldn't shake.

"You don't have to do that," Perimedes argued softly, guilt gnawing away at his chest at his words.

"Yeah, we love listening to you!" Elpenor chimed in. Leander pulled away, staring at them skeptically.

"Really? 'Cause it seems like you don't..." he trailed off, curling in on himself as he tucked one knee against his chest, wrapping his arms around it.

"We do! It's just... you kinda tend to ramble on, and it can get a little boring," he said before he could think better of it.

Leander gasped, staring between the two. "So what I'm basically hearing is that I'm annoying, and boring, so I should just shut up," he snapped defensively, shocking them both.

"What the hell?"

"That's not what I said!"

"It's what you meant," he stood firm in his stance, arms crossed over his expansive chest. Perimedes sighed.

"I already said I'm sorry! What else do you want from me?" he pleaded, and Leander shrugged.

He truly didn't know what it was that he wanted from Perimedes, but he did know that he wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet. His words had cut deep, and the scars had already settled. The apology was a nice sentiment, but at this point, it might as well be like putting bandages on a stab wound; it could only help so much.

"I dunno. But I really wish you'd just leave me alone right now," he muttered, and Perimedes couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Okay, you're spending too much time with Asterios. It's making you all broody, and I don't like it," he decided. Leander snorted in amusement.

"You don't like a lot of things," he quipped sarcastically, making Elpenor stifle a giggle.

"Okay, that's it! We're not leaving until you have a smile on your face," he boldly claimed.

Leander raised his brows in shock. "Better get comfortable then," he challenged. Perimedes growled and grabbed his hair, flopping back onto the bed in frustration. He glared up at him mockingly.

"Since when did you get so stubborn?" he questioned, sitting back up.

"Since you hurt my feelings."

Leander tensed up as soon as he realized what he just admitted. Perimedes deflated at his words, and Elpenor winced. Apparently, they still needed to work things out.

"C'mon, I said I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything back there!" When Leander didn't answer, he rested his head on his shoulder, laying a hand on his knee.

"You mean that? You're not just saying it to make me feel better?" he questioned, looking between them with wide, sad eyes.

"I don't tend to sugar coat things," he smirked, patting his friend's leg with a friendly squeeze to the knee.

Leander instinctively jerked away, his lips twitching upwards in a shy grin. He had just barely held back a giggle, and he tried to casually hide his smile behind a hand. Elpenor and Perimedes shared a knowing look behind his back, and he repeated the motion, earning a startled gasp and flinch.

"I think I know how to cheer you up now..." Perimedes said, and despite his words, Leander couldn't help but see it as a threat. He leaned away as far as he could, bumping straight into Elpenor.

"Do tell," he taunted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders so he couldn't escape.

"Guys, you don't have to do this," he tried to reason, but a nervous, giddy smile was already playing at the corner of his lips. It wouldn't be the first time he fell victim to one of their attacks. And he'd watch them go after the others often enough to recognize the warning signs. He knew he was trapped.

"Oh, but we do! We gotta make sure you're not upset anymore," Perimedes insisted.

"I-I'm not!"

"You don't sound so sure."

When he opened his mouth to speak, Perimedes began to squeeze his knee, latching onto his other leg for added effect.

"Wahait!" he barked out a laugh, wrestling the offending hands away.

"And what am I waiting for, exactly?" he asked, arching a brow quizzically.

"Um..." For once, Leander's mind came up blank.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Perimedes taunted, going right back to squeezing his knees.

He caved immediately, curling in on himself as he fell victim to bright laughter.

"G-guys, c'mohohon! Behe nihihice!" Leander whined, falling back on the bed in a fit of giggles. For all his protesting, he wasn't trying very hard to protect himself; merely wrapping his arms around his belly as his legs scrambled across the mattress.

"But this is us being nice!" Elpenor taunted, scribbling his fingers between each rib. Leander shrieked and tried to crawl away, only for Perimedes to drag him back by the ankles.

Leander was lying on his stomach, hiding his face in a nearby pillow as he laughed his worries away. Perimedes straddled his legs while Elpenor struggled to pin his arms overhead.

He realized he could probably escape if he really tried, it's not like either one of them were very strong. But... that would be pretty rude, wouldn't it? After all, they were just trying to cheer him up! He's done the same on more than one occasion, so he supposed it was only fair.  Besides, he never turned down a good laugh.

"Yeah! If I wanted to be mean, I'd do this!" he demonstrated by shoving his hands inside his sandals, scribbling against his trapped soles.

"NOHOHO! Gehehet out!" he shrieked, kicking frantically, but all his struggling was useless.

"Aw, what's the matter big guy? Too ticklish here?" Perimedes taunted, lacing his fingers between each toe, making him snort loudly.

"YEHEHES, OHOKAHAHAY?" he admitted through hysterics, and his tormentors couldn't help but to laugh along.

"Is that so? Good to know," he purred, scratching his blunt nails against his arches.

Elpenor added, "Uh oh, you shouldn't have said that. I mean, I can be trusted, but Perry, not so much."

"Oh shut up! Unless you wanna be next!" Perimedes growled, pointing at him threateningly.

"See what I mean?" he asked, pinching up his ribs towards his armpits.

"You're bohohoth hohorrible!" he whined,

"Oh yeah? Who's the worst?" he teased, flashing a proud, cheeky grin.

"Rihihight now? You," Leander managed to huff, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw him off.

"Wow, you hear that Elpenor? He says you suck at this," he goaded, snickering to himself when he heard Elpenor's gasp.

"Excuse me?"

"Nonono I never said that!" he tried to back track, but there was no reasoning with these two. He yanked on his arms, but it was mostly for show as a giddy smile twitched at his lips.

"Eh, it was implied," he shrugged, siding with his partner in crime. He finally reached his destination, swirling a single finger around his exposed pit. Leander jerked away with a bark of laughter, straining to look away as a blush dusted his cheeks.

"Elpenor, plehease! Ihi'm sohohorry!" he whined, arching his back and twisting from side to side.

"Oh so you did mean it!" Elpenor accused, drilling his thumbs in the center of his pits without warning.

"THAHAT'S NOHOHOT WHAT I MEHEANT!" he cackled, muscles straining to yank himself free.

"It's not? Maybe think before you speak," he teased, wrestling his arms back above his head.

"Hehehey!" he whined through boisterous laughter.

"Hay's for horses!" Elpenor shot back, giggling at his own joke as Perimedes reached back to give him a high five.

"Thahat's nohohot even funny!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you laughing?" Perimedes asked, cocking his head to the side innocently.

"You KNOHOW why!" Leander argued, and he would roll his eyes if he could, but he was a little busy at the moment.

"Really? I don't think so. Elpenor?"

"Beats me. Why are you laughing, Leander?" he played along, darting back down to his ribs to keep him guessing.

"Fuhuhuck ohohohoff!" he sassed, sealing his fate.

"What did you just say?" Perimedes growled, pausing his attack to turn and glare at him.

Leander realized his mistake and began to backpedal, "N-nothing!"

"No, I swear it sounded like you told us to fuck off!"

"That's what I heard," Elpenor chimed in helpfully.

"Just shuhut up ahahalready!"

"Oh you're not in any position to make demands," Perimedes snarked, turning around to face him before clawing at his knees. He kneaded up the side of his thigh towards his hip, slipping his other hand underneath him to attack the side pressed against the bed. Leander snorted and shook his head, trying in vein to curl in on himself.

"Ihi'm sorry! I'M SOHOHORRYYYYY!" he screamed when he found a particularly bad spot where his thigh and hip met.

Perimedes backed off to give him a breather, and Elpenor did the same. Leander laid there gasping for breath, a dazed, giddy smile plastered on his face.

"You promise?"

"By thehe Gods, yes! I promise!" he huffed, rolling his eyes fondly.

"Good. You feel better now? You don't hate us or anything?" he asked, his tone more sincere. Leander blushed and avoided eye contact.

"I could never hate you guys... But yeah. If you need an answer, we're cool," he admitted, unable to stop the way his lips twitched upwards in a smirk.

"Glad you had fun, big guy," Elpenor grinned, reaching over to ruffle his hair before his hand was smacked away.

"What? I-I never said that!" he stammered, cheeks flushing red.

"You didn't have to," Perimedes teased, but there was a touch of tenderness to his words. "You made it pretty obvious," he added with a wink, laughing at the way Leander's gawked at him.

"You can leave now," Leander hinted not so subtly, unable to come up with a witty retort.

"I don't hear you denying it," he goaded further, helping when Leander pounced on him, attacking him with a nearby pillow.

"Because arguing with you is like arguing with a brick wall!" he quipped, hitting him over the head with it. Perimedes giggled as he weakly fought back, shielding himself from the cushioned blows.

"Whatever you say," he purred, and Leander rolled his eyes before smothering the pillow over his face.

"Don't think you're off the hook either," he warned, shooting Elpenor a warning look.

"I would never," he smirked, holding his hands up in surrender.

Leander snorted in amusement and let Perimedes go, but not before thoroughly messing up his hair.

"You two are insufferable."

~~~

Things hadn't changed much, but Leander did make an effort to talk less. If he noticed interest waning in the topic, he'd either change the subject or trail off into silence.

He tried not to let it bother him. He'd brush off the annoyed sighs he'd get in response to his enthusiasm, downplaying his own enjoyment to match theirs. Thankfully, no one really seemed to notice, or so he thought.

Polites noticed how he wasn't as talkative as he usually was and had brought it up to Eurylochus one day. He explained what had happened a few weeks prior, but assured him that Leander was fine now.

"Is he though?" Polites questioned, arching a brow skeptically.

"What do you mean?" Eurylochus asked, unsure where his friend was going with this.

He shrugged. "He just... seems a little sad when he thinks no one cares what he has to say."

"You don't think he's just tired, like the rest of us?"

"No offense, but you're not exactly in tune with people's emotions."

"Fair point."

And that had been that. A short conversation out of concern before the topic was dropped, but it lingered in the back of each of their minds.

Now they sat side by side, rowing in time with the men around them. They had a strong tailwind carrying them, and only a handful of them needed to row. The rest of the crew worked above deck or milled about the living quarters.

Leander sat on the row in front of them next to Asterios, with Perimedes and Elpenor across the aisle. The blond was on another one of his tangents, going on about his favorite kinds of trees.

"And we had this huge mulberry tree in our front yard, and every summer my sisters and I would spend hours sitting in the branches eating berries, and still pick plenty for jams and pies. But my favorite tree," Leander continued rambling on about an old maple tree atop a hill on the outskirts of town, oblivious to his audience's dwindling attention. That is, until he heard a stifled yawn from behind him.

He cringed at the sound, but hoped no one noticed.

"But what about you guys? Anyone else got a favorite tree?" he asked, trying to pass the conversation on to someone else.

"I know the captain does," Eurylochus joked softly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his friend wasn't there listening. Polites and Eurylochus bumped shoulders, chuckling to themselves.

"Oh lay off him, I think it's romantic," he defended. "I hope I can find someone who makes me feel like that. I didn't have very much luck with the ladies back home, believe it or not," he started on a new tangent, only to hear a heavy sigh.

That was definitely Eurylochus, he knew that sound all too well. He curled in on himself ever so slightly, shoulders hunched.

"But you don't wanna hear about that!" he chirped, forcing a cheerful tone. Asterios cast a worried glance his way, but didn't say anything.

"I do!" Polites reassured, shooting a pointed look at Eurylochus. He rolled his eyes, but stopped when he noticed their friend's shift in demeanor.

Great, now he felt bad.

"Nah, it's okay, I know I'm being boring," he admitted with a shy chuckle.

"No you're not!" Polites gasped, nudging Eurylochus for back up.

"Yeah, what makes you say that?"

Leander scoffed, leaning back as he rowed to stare at him upside down. "For starters, I heard you yawning," he stated bluntly, smirking at the way his jaw dropped in shock.

"I didn't-"

"It's okay, I get it. I know I talk too much, but hey! I'm workin' on it!" he spoke casually, but his movements were faster- more jerky, and Asterios struggled to keep up with the new pace. Elpenor and Perimedes adverted their gaze, sharing a nervous look. They knew what it was like to be on Leander's bad side, and they weren't keen on repeating that mistake.

"You don't talk too much," Polites said, a frown etching his features.

"Whatever you say," Leander sighed, figuring it was better to drop the subject than argue. Polites watched him from behind, brows furrowed. He looked to Eurylochus for help, subtly nodding towards their friend.

He mouthed the words, "do something," and was met with a bewildered look.

"Like what?" he silently asked. Polites shrugged, at a loss for ideas. Eurylochus noticed Elpenor waving frantically across the aisle, trying to get their attention. He nudged Polites and pointed, prompting him to look.

Once he had their attention, he pointed at Leander and wiggled his fingers, sporting a mischievous smirk.

"No," Eurylochus shook his head. Even silent, he tried to seem stern.  Elpenor and Polites both nodded emthusiastically. He caved, throwing his head back in defeat.

Polites cleared his throat and spoke, "Lee?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry if we made you think that."

Leander sighed. "It's fine."

Which clearly meant it wasn't.

"... Are you mad?"

From where Asterios sat, he could see his nostrils flare at the question.

"No, but if you keep asking I will be," he mouthed off, earning a quick chuckle from Perimedes and Asterios. His lips twitched in a proud, but fleeting smirk.

"Come on, don't be like that," Polites whined.

"Like what? You're the one dragging this out," he noted. Polites scoffed in disbelief, and Eurylochus didn't need any more convincing.

Leander yelped when he was grabbed from behind, strong arms hooking themselves under his, pulling him backwards until he was halfway between the seats. 

"Look, we're sorry if we don't always pay attention to your stories, but you do tend to ramble on about pretty boring things," he began, startling just about everyone with his blunt words.

"Dude!" Asterios hissed, whipping around to glare daggers.

"Eurylochus!" Polites yelled in shock, watching the way their friend deflated at his words, adverting his gaze. He had practically confirmed all of his fears and anxieties...

"Gee, thanks. You have such a way with words," he muttered sarcastically. Eurylochus rolled his eyes and shook him in his hold, just to grab his attention.

"But, you're our friend, and we enjoy your company, and that's what matters. You're always so passionate about what you're saying, and we enjoy seeing you happy. It shouldn't really matter that we don't know what the hell you're talking about half the time," he finished with a light tease, but barely got half a smile in return. From his position, it was hard to cross his arms, but Leander managed.

A little more blunt than he intended, but he hoped Leander knew what he was trying to say.

He stared up at him from his lap, unimpressed.

"So what I'm hearing-"

Oh no...

"Is that no one listens to me because I'm b-boring, but that shouldn't matter because I'm a happy guy?" he reiterated, voice cracking from held back emotions.

The situation was spiraling out of control, and fast. Polites watched on in shock as Eurylochus scrambled to correct himself.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong," he tried to explain, but Leander was done with the conversation and struggled to free himself. From his position, he could only wave his arms uselessly and squirm in his seat, so he didn't get very far. He continued, "You know I'm bad with words-"

"Even worse with feelings!"

"Thank you, Polites," he huffed in annoyance, but was unable to keep his smirk at bay. "But yeah, I'm not great with either. I guess what I'm trying to say is, no matter what you talk about, or how many tangents you go on, we're still gonna be your friend, and we do enjoy listening to you. There, was that better?" he clarified, waiting for his response with baited breath.

"A little," Leander conceited with a shrug, not entirely ready to drop the petty act just yet.

"Only a little?" Eurylochus asked, arching a brow.

"Yeah..." he answered, looking him up and down skeptically. He caught sight of Polites lurking closer, sporting a mischievous grin, and he began to struggle.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you!"

"Really? Well we're on a boat, so good luck with that," he deadpanned, reaching down to pinch his sides.

"Hehey wait aha second!"

"Yeah, don't get started without me!" Polites cheered and began scribbling across his belly. Leander barked out a laugh, scrambling to protect himself from the double attack. He nearly succeeded before Eurylochus adjusted his hold, trapping him in a hug from behind.

"Nohoho don't!" he whined, legs scrambling against the floor.

"Don't what, buddy?" Polites asked innocently, shifting his attention to his flailing legs. He latched onto his knees, drawing out frantic cackles interlaced with a few snorts.

"Tickle mehehe!" he answered; naive and all too trusting. Whatever, Polites knew what he meant.

He knew he was just answering the question; he wasn't thinking straight, he couldn't think straight. Maybe it was mean to take advantage of that. But it was the oldest trick in the book, so if he didn't see that coming, it was his own fault, really.

So yes, Polites knew exactly what he meant. But that didn't mean he had to act like it.

"If you insist!"

"Whahat? WAIT NOHOHO!" he realized his mistake a moment too late, throwing his head back in defeat as deep chuckles rumbled inside his chest.  "Y-you trihihicked mehe!"

"You say that like it was hard," Polites taunted, scribbling behind his knees.

"Hey whahat's thahahat supposed to meHEHEAN!" Leander shrieked and scrambled to escape as ticklish jolts shot through legs, worse than any Charlie horse. He accidentally kicked Asterios in the back, shoving him forward.

"Ow! Y'know, if you guys are gonna do that, can you at least hold him down?" he requested, scooting further away to avoid any more flailing limbs.

"Traitor!" Leander gasped, this time purposefully kicking him between the shoulders, shoving him off the seat.

He whipped around to glare at him, growling, "Okay," as he wrestled his legs down to the bench.

"Thanks!" Polites flashed a grin before attacking his trapped knees.

"Yeah yeah," Asterios brushed him off, looking away to hide the fond smile on his face.

"Guhuhuys! Thihihis ihisn't fahahair!" he whined, trying to twist and squirm away.

"Life's not fair," Eurylochus teased, pinching down his ribcage. Leander arched away from the touch with a giggly scream, falling in the space between benches.

"Seriously?" Leander cried out in frustration, squirming as his friends laughed at his plight.

Eurylochus chuckled and patted his shoulder, "What'd I tell you?"

"This is your fault you know," he grumbled playfully, using his new position to his advantage and squeezing along his thighs. Eurylochus screamed and pulled his legs up out of reach, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Oh shut up."

"Aw, what's wrong? Can't take what you dish out?" he taunted smugly.

"Can you?" he challenged, snatching both his wrists in one hand and raising them above his head.

"Wait ihit's just ahaha joke!" he begged through helpless giggles, tugging weakly on his arms.

With his other hand, Eurylochus wiggled his fingers threateningly, closing in with each passing second until he reached his target. Leander giggled with anticipation, shaking his head frantically despite the giddy smile on his face. He practically screamed when Eurylochus dug under his arm, blunt nails scratching against sensitive skin.

"Please what? For someone so talkative, you sure are having a hard time using your words," he taunted with an evil chuckle.

"Well geeheehee, I wonder whyyYYYY!" Leander scoffed indignantly, shrieking when Polites started pinching down his calves.

"Aw, you're ticklish here? How funny!"

"Shut uhuhup! Don't behehe mehehean!" he whined, kicking weakly as his hands crawled higher to scratch the back of his knees.

"I'm noooot!" Polites taunted, feigning innocence. "If I was mean, I'd do this!"

Leander didn't even have time to guess what he was about to do before he felt hands latch onto his knees, squeezing relentlessly. Deep, bellowing laughter escaped from his chest, legs kicking the air uselessly as he struggled to free himself from between the seats. As soon as he freed himself, Eurylochus snatched him once more.

“GAHAHAH! Lehet gohoho!” he shrieked, scrambling to slap his hands away, only for Eurylochus to snatch his arm once more.

“So knees are a good spot? Noted,” Eurylochus hummed in observation, nodding sagely despite his teasing grin.

“NO! It’s bad! It’s sohoho bad!” he let out a giggly whine, head thrown back in mirth.

“Same difference,” Polites said, giggling when he heard Asterios mutter, “What the fuck, no it’s not.”

“Sure it is! It’s just bad for him and good for us!” he clarified, playful giggle taking on a slight menacing edge.

“You’re evil,” Asterios deadpanned before going back to work, one of the only few left rowing, even if Elpenor and Perimedes were doing a half-assed job while they watched.

“Coming from you that means a lot,” he quipped. Asterios sputtered in shock, whipping around to glare at him for a split second before turning back around, elbowing him as he pulled the oar back.

“Ow! It was a compliment!”

“Mine wasn’t,” Asterios taunted, tilting his head ever so slightly, just enough for Polites to see the tug of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Hey! Do I have to get you next?” he threatened, noting the way Asterios bristled at his words.

“Hell no, just keep doin’ what you’re doin’,” he brushed him off, excusing himself from the conversation.

“Whahahat? Nohoho! C’mohon guys, hehehelp me out!” he begged, expecting at least one of them to come to his aid.

Nothing.

“Plehehease?”

“Sorry, you’re on your own,” Perimedes said, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.

Leander gasped in shock, nearly choking on the laughter caught in his throat. There was only one option left.

"HEHEHELP! THEY'RE KIHIHILLING MEHEHE!" he called out desperately, seeing as no one down there was keen on saving him.

"Oh don't be so dramatic!" Polites taunted as he scribbled behind his knees.

Eurylochus barked out a laugh of amusement, cupping one hand around his mouth to shout back, "NO WE'RE NOT!"

Asterios, Elpenor, and Perimedes couldn't help but chuckle along, too amused to save him from his plight.

Eurylochus shifted his hold to more of a hug, taking the opportunity to dig into his sides. Leander doubled over as best he could, deep, rumbling belly laughs filled the air, reaching the upper deck.

At first, Odysseus was happy to ignore the sound, having grown used to the crew's antics by now, and besides, they could fend for themselves.

But then he heard the poor soul beg for help…

The group below deck was far too preoccupied to notice the footsteps walking down the stairs, nor the fact that their captain now stood in the doorway. He watched on with an amused smirk, shaking his head fondly.

Finally, he cleared his throat, announcing his presence, but only Perimedes seemed to notice, trying his best to tip them off to his presence.

"Really guys?" They both jumped at the sound of his voice. Eurylochus dropped Leander in shock, and he fell to the floor, still trapped between the benches. Polites didn't seem to care about that, taking the opportunity to scribble over his belly. "I expect this sort of thing from Elpenor and Perimedes-"

"Hey!"

"We're right here!"

"But I thought you were more mature than that," he teased, yanking on the back of Eurylochus's shirt as he walked by.

Eurylochus shrugged, flashing a smug smirk. "Morale was low."

"Uh huh." Odysseus didn't believe him for a second.

"He totally needed this!" Polites added, reaching over to tweak his side, earning a giggly yelp as he flinched away.

"Lihihiars! They're harahahahassing mehehe!" Leander spoke up, sporting a wide, dopey grin as he tried to squirm away, scrambling to pull himself upright in the tight space.

"Nu uh, we're just cheering him up! Right Asterios?" Polites argued, calling for back up. Asterios glared at him from the corner of his eye when he was suddenly dragged into the discussion, wings pressed flat against his head in annoyance.

"Why d'you gotta drag me into this?"

"'Cause you know we're right!"

Odysseus chuckled, looking to Elpenor and Perimedes for guidance. "So who's really telling the truth?"

The pair shared a look before Elpenor answered with an innocent smile, "Eurylochus and Polites had nothing but good intentions."

"That's bullshit, Captain!" Leander gasped in shock.

"I dunno, I trust my first mate to know what he's doing. If he says morale was low..." Odysseus trailed off, clicking his tongue. "Then maybe you deserved it."

"Whahahat?" he cried out in disbelief. "Noho I dohohon't!"

Polites and Eurylochus barely held back their own amused laughter as their captain came to their defense.

"Don't you always say laughter is the best medicine?" Odysseus asked, feigning innocence with a sly chuckle.

"Y-yeah, but nohot for mehe!" he whined, finally managing to crawl to the main isle and sit upright, heaving for breath. He shrieked and tucked his legs close to his chest when Polites tried to swipe his ankles.

"Okay, hypocrite," Perimedes taunted, having heard that justification used on him.

He rolled his eyes, breaking under the light interrogation. "Okay, fine, so maybe I was being a little difficult-"

"Oh only a little?" Polites taunted, giggling as he dodged a playful kick.

"You know, I was debating whether or not to get revenge, but you just made that decision for me," Leander teased right back.

"Nooo wait," Polites whined, staring up at him with his best puppy eyes as he leaned against his shoulder. Leander scoffed in amusement, but didn't shove him off.

"Nope, too late, you can't stop it," he rambled, ignoring the indignant sounds of protests from his friends.

"Uh oh, looks like you better sleep with one eye open tonight," Odysseus can't help but chime in, earning an eye roll from Eurylochus and a betrayed glare from Polites.

"Very funny, Captain."

"It was, wasn't it?" he mocked, flashing a smug grin. "But if I leave, can I trust you to get back to work? I'd prefer if the ship were actually moving," he said pointedly, nodding to the abandoned oars.

The men sheepishly picked them back up and began rowing once more.

"That's more like it. You can torture each other on your own time," he teased, cackling at the way they yelled at him as he trotted away.

"He's one to talk," Asterios mumbled once he was out of earshot. Leander shook his head and chuckled as he took his seat.

"Yeah, I wonder where these two get it from," he said, pointing a thumb behind his back where Eurylochus and Polites sat.

"Hey, I'll have you know I actually taught him a thing or two," Polites spoke up rather smugly. Eurylochus looked at him from the side, arching a brow skeptically. "Don't act shocked!"

Eyrylochus smirked, looking straight ahead and shrugged, "Didn't say anything."

"I know that look."

They bickered back and forth, all the while Leander listened in with a fond smile.

Yeah, they liked him, even if he did tend to ramble. And damn it if he didn’t like them back, as annoying as they were.

[lavender-vixen]

you are literally whipping up this requests omg?? your writing is so good<3

if u don’t mindd could you do patrick with like a super goody two-shoes girly girl reader? its such a cliche ew but i love fics like those

have a good day btw !!

of course!

the bonfire crackled and popped, sending warm orange sparks into the cool summer night air. the quarry was alive with the sound of music blasting from a battered boombox...some loud rock anthem that the crowd of seniors was nodding along to. patrick hockstetter was close to the bonfire, naturally, lounging against a boulder with you perched delicately on his lap. the air was thick with cigarette smoke, cheap beer, and the faint, earthly scent of marijuana.

you didn't quite fit with that scene, and it was the first thing anyone noticed. while the girls around the fire wore ripped band tees, leather skirts, and heavy eyeliner, you were a picture of sweet innocence.

patrick's friends—henry, vic, belch—had all exchanged more than a few confused looks when he'd first brought you around. you were the polar opposite of patrick's type: soft-spoken, pastel-loving, the kind of girl who volunteered at bake sales and always remembered to say "please" and "thank you."

but patrick? he was obsessed with you. it turned him on that you were so innocent.

"she's so sweet it makes my teeth hurt," vic had muttered once, watching you offer patrick a carefully packed lunchbox you'd made for him. "why does she even like you?"

"shut up, jealousy," patrick had said, grinning.

tonight, though, you were fitting in better than usual. you had your arms wrapped loosely around patrick's neck, sitting sideways on his lap with your head tucked under his chin. your baby-pink sundress and delicate sandals stood out against the sea of black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but you didn't feel like an outsider. when rush's "tom sawyer" came on—a grittier, more electric track than anything on your madonna and blondie cassette tapes—you perked up and softly started singing along.

patrick tilted his head, a slight grin on his pouty lips. "look at that. she's learning satanic rock music," he mocked, giving you a bounce on his knee. "bad girl."

"shut up," you said, blushing but smiling back. "i don't mind this one."

henry raised an eyebrow from across the bonfire, watching patrick like he'd sprouted a second head. "man, this is so twisted," he said to belch, but there was no real venom in it. he just couldn't wrap his head around the relationship. he'd never seen patrick so...gentle.

patrick tightened his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer and firmer against him. you giggled, pressing your temple against his jaw.

as the night wore on and the group started to thin out, with some kids leaving and others disappearing into the woods to drink or smoke, patrick leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"wanna join us? we've got plenty," henry called to you two, following the others into the woods.

you knew he meant pot, and you knew your parents would kill you if you came home reeking of it. you'd never tried marijuana before, but you knew patrick and his friends were well-practiced. still, you were too embarrassed to tell him no and sound lame in front of his friends.

he read the look of fear and reluctance off your face like a book. he always did. "how about we go swimming instead?"

you blinked up at him, your expression immediately wary. "patrick, no, we're not supposed to swim in here after dark. it's not safe."

he gave you a wolfish grin, the one that always made your stomach flip. "that's the point, baby. c'mon. it's just us now."

your face turned a shade of pink, but luckily he couldn't see it in the dark. "i...i didn't bring a swimsuit."

"so? take your clothes off."

your face flushed even more as you gasped, horrified. "no! no way."

he stood, effortlessly lifting you off his lap and setting you down on the ground. "c'mon," he repeated, already tugging at the hem of his shirt. "no one's gonna see. they're all getting stoned."

you hesitated, biting your lip, but the way he looked at you...like you were the only thing in the world worth his attention...made it impossible to say no.

"fine, just this once," you mumbled, glancing around nervously before kicking off your sandals. "but i'm keeping my bra and panties on."

patrick's grin turned downright predatory. "sure."

"but you have to, um, stand in front of me while i change. and hold something up. like a...shield."

patrick stared at you for a moment, then barked out a laugh. "a shield?" his grin was teasing, sharp as ever, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "baby, we're the only ones here. nobody's looking."

"i don't care," you said quickly, crossing your arms. "it's either that or i'm keeping this dress on."

he sighed, shaking his head but clearly entertained. "alright, alright. god, you're such a princess," he grabbed his black t-shirt off the ground and held it up in front of you like a curtain, standing in his boxer shorts.

"don't peek," you warned, pointing a finger at him as you slipped behind the makeshift screen.

patrick smirked but stayed put, one hand holding the shirt steady and the other resting casually on his hip. "really? getting all shy when i've seen plenty already."

your cheeks burned as you fumbled with the straps of your sundress, trying to shimmy out of it as quickly as possible. "this is so different," you muttered. "and don't say stuff like that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, even though you couldn't see him. "it's true. the gang knows."

"you told them we..." you stopped yourself, the blush crawling up your neck. "still...just don't peek."

"whatever," he said, though the grin in his voice told you how much he was enjoying this. "hurry up. i don't have all damn night."

when you finally stepped out from the shirt, now clad in just your bra and underwear, you clutched your dress nervously against your chest. patrick lowered the shirt and looked at you, his smirk widening as his eyes swept over you hungrily.

"hot," he said loudly, tossing the shirt aside. you noticed a few guys by the bonfire turn around to stare at the two of you, squinting to see beyond the shadows.

"oh my god, stop it," you huffed, covering yourself once again with the dress. "i hate you."

he reached out to tug you closer, yanking the dress away and throwing it to join his shirt and jeans on the ground. you felt his fingers go to unhook your bra, and you grabbed his biceps, trying to push his arms away.

"patrick! stop!" you shriek, drawing more attention from the stragglers by the bonfire.

patrick howled with laughter again. your voices carried across the quarry. you saw heads turn.

patrick's hands still tried to tug at your bra strap. "c'mon baby," he teased between laughs, "give 'em a show."

"patrick, please!" you begged, genuine panic setting in. "people are looking!"

"so? let 'em," he said, his smirk wicked as he finally relented, letting his hands drop to his sides. his bedroom eyes sparkled with amusement. "they know you're mine, anyway."

you glared up at him, face burning. "you're the devil," you muttered, clutching your arms over your wonder bra as you glanced nervously at the bonfire.

patrick didn't care. he never cared. he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours and tugging you toward the edge of the water.

the water shimmered under the moonlight, dark and inviting. you hesitated at the edge, the smooth rock beneath your feet still warm from the day's sun. "patrick, it's freezing," you whispered, your voice trembling...not entirely from the chill in the air. "and i just washed my hair. i don't want to get it wet, okay?"

"i'll warm you up," he said, stepping closer until his chest brushed against your back. His hands found your waist, firm but teasing, his thumbs brushing over your bare skin.

"what if there are sharks in here?" you murmured.

"there aren't," he said with a laugh, leaning down so his lips were just a breath away from yours. "haven't you ever swam here before?"

"no." your heart pounded as he pulled you closer, his body seeping into yours even as the cool night air sent a shiver down your spine.

"wait a minute, what the hell is that?" he asked, pointing to spot a little further out in the dark waters.

"what?" you asked, fear evident in your voice. you craned your neck to see better. "what, patrick?"

"that, right there," he said, turning your chin and pointing at the dark water. "holy shit." before you could respond, he swept you off your feet like you weighed nothing, lifting you into his arms.

you clutched his shoulders tightly. "what? what is it? oh my god, what?"

"i swear...it looks just like..."

"like what?!"

"my girlfriend!" he shouted, tossing you off him and into the water with a loud splash.

"patrick!" you gasped, coming up for air, coughing, hearing his wicked laughter close by. then he jumped in after you, soaking you again with the splash.

the cold water hit you, making you squeal and squirm as he swam up next to you. "it's freezing!"

"you'll get used to it," he said, splashing you on purpose.

you sputtered and glared at him. "you're such a child!"

he laughed and waded closer. you splashed him back, water catching the moonlight as it sprayed across his face.

his hands found your waist again, pulling you against him. the contrast of his warm skin and the cold water sent shivers through you, but his hold was steady, grounding.

"patrick..." you murmured, your voice trailing off as he leaned in, his breath warm on your damp skin.

"hm?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

your words caught in your throat as his hands slid lower to your hips. the water lapped around you, cool and weightless, his lips making contact on your cheek and trailing down your jawline, leaving a scorching path in their wake.

time blurred as the two of you lingered in the quarry, patrick alternating between teasing you mercilessly and pressing heated kisses to your lips or along your neck. but eventually, the chill of the water started to set in, and he helped you back toward the edge.

“c’mon,” he said, his hands steadying you as you climbed out onto the rocks. “let’s get you dried off. don't want your parents to throw a bitch-fit when i drop you off."

you shivered as the cool night air hit your damp skin, your white bra and underwear clinging to you uncomfortably. the fabric was soaked, practically see-through, and it wasn’t until you caught patrick’s smirk that you realized why he was looking at you like that.

“patrick!” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. “stop staring." you grabbed your once-perfect hair, wringing out water, feeling soggy and grimy from the quarry water. "i look disgusting."

"i'm literally experiencing evidence otherwise," he said, unabashed.

before you could snap back, you heard laughter and voices ahead of you. whipping your head up, you saw henry, vic, and belch stumbling back from the woods, clearly buzzed. your heart dropped.

"holy shit," henry said, stopping dead in his tracks. he tilted his head, squinting as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "did you two go for a swim?"

vic barked out a laugh. "jesus, look at little miss prep! you dragged her into the water, didn't you, hockstetter?"

you flushed bright red, hugging yourself tighter in a desperate attempt to cover the wet, clinging fabric. "oh my god," you muttered, turning to patrick.

patrick looked completely unbothered. if anything, he looked pleased, his smirk only widening as he reached down to pick up his discarded molly hatchet band shirt. "relax," he drawled, holding it out to you. "here. put it on."

the shirt was huge on you, the fabric hung loosely over your frame and falling to mid-thigh. you clutched at the hem, trying to make yourself as small as possible under the gangs' eyes.

"hockstetter got you wet, huh?" henry asked you suggestively, earning a few laughs and nudges from vic and belch as they walked off to the bonfire again.

patrick's hand tightened on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin, though he did nothing to quell his friends' teasing. "ignore 'em," he said with an amused chuckle, raking a hand through his dark hair. "they'll be fantasizing about you later, guaranteed."

"gross, i don't want that," you protest, locating your sandals and sliding them back on.

"yeah, but don't worry. that's all they get." the smack of his hand against the back of your still-soaked underwear through the long t-shirt echoed, making you freeze in humiliation. "you're mine."

[messedupfan]

Chapter 25

Summary: Persistent as ever, Jean and Anna recruit Jean's mother to help with their cause. Which sparks an important conversation between Wanda and Y/n.

A/n: Helloooo! I know I'm slow with posting lately. Work has been CRAZY. Hopefully I'll get in a better rhythm soon. Especially with the hell that is coming upon us these next four years. We'll need each other to get through! Have a good day and enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

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

You are folding laundry for you and Rachel when your phone goes off in your pocket. You pause for a moment and pull your phone out to see that it's Jean's mom calling you. It's not unusual for her to call but it's not as common as it used to be. 

“Hey Mrs. Grey, how's it going?” You say cheerfully. 

Mrs. Grey makes a disapproving sound. “Y/n I've told you many times since the divorce, you can still call me mom.” 

You laugh at her slight upset over the misuse of her formal name. “How are you doing, Mom?” You ask as you lean your head to the side to hold your phone between your head and shoulder. 

“That's better,” she cheers. You hear some rustling around on her end. “I am doing well. I just came back to town to check on the house. The last tenants just moved out and I came to assess damages before I hire the cleaning crew and repair guy.” 

“Oh, do you need a lot of repairs done? You know that I'm always happy to help,” you offer while you resume folding.

“No, no, dear. I couldn't ask you to do that for us,” she says and now you're more confused. 

“Oh, I just figured that's why you're calling,” you say as you set the newly folded shirt on a stack of others. 

“No dear, I was calling to ask you to lunch. Are you busy this afternoon?” She says happily. You look at your watch and consider your options. You're not certain you want to be spending time alone with your former mother-in-law. But there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

“I would love to meet with you. Where did you make reservations?” You ask, knowing that she most likely already made reservations. She laughs and mentions that you know her too well. “I will see you at one,” you promise and say your goodbyes. While you finish folding and start getting ready you run through the scenarios of how the lunch is going to go. 

As you arrive at the restaurant, your stomach begins to turn. It's a nice place. The last time you went to a nice place with one of Jean's parents, it was with her father asking you to convince Jean to not go through with the divorce. Since then you haven't been asked to dinner or lunch with either of them. 

Mrs. Grey greets you with a hug as you arrive at the table. She gives you a kiss on each cheek and she squeezes your arms as she looks at you. “You look great, I love what you've done with your hair. It's nice to see it cleaned up and natural like that.” 

You smile at the compliment. She has seen you with many different hairstyles over the years. She has almost never had anything nice to say about your hair until now. Your hair was growing out uneven because of the mullet so you had to cut it short in order for it to grow out properly. “Yeah, well, it wasn't working for me for a bit there. You look wonderful! How are things with you and Mr. Grey? I hear the two of you have been doing a lot of traveling.” 

Mrs. Grey nods and moves to sit, “We've been good. All of our kids are so spread out, it's nice to have a reason to go somewhere. Meet all of our new grandbabies. I just love being a grandma now,” she grins as she lays out the cloth napkin on her lap. You follow as you look around the restaurant, feeling a bit out of place. It was a very nice restaurant. 

“Oh yeah, I had heard that Roger finally had a kid,” you say as you lift up the menu to look at the pricing. 

“Yeah, yeah, he's doing great, very happy to be a father,” she says as she goes through the menu herself. “Don't be shy now, order what you want. It's my treat!” She reminds you in a cherry tone. Something tells you that things might eventually take a turn for the worst and you do not want to leave her with a big bill. You want to be able to leave money to cover your portion of the bill. 

“I appreciate that, Mom,” it feels a little foreign to call her that after all of these years. But if it makes her happy, then that's what you'll do to appease her. 

You proceed to order what you can afford. You ask her about how your former in-laws are. She mentions that they miss having you officially part of the family. That none of them get along with Anna which makes you laugh since none of them actually have to deal with Jean's wife the way that you do. 

You update her on your life, leaving out that you're seeing someone. Especially when she presses for the information. You don't let up because it's not the time to. Besides, you're almost certain if you tell her anything she will tell Jean then she and her wife will be on your case about it. Then Jean will recruit Kate and the information will continue to spread like rapid fire. 

When you're able to drop the subject of your love-life you talk about how proud you are of your daughter. How great she's doing in school. The friends that she has made. How kind she is. How strong she is becoming. 

Elaine watches you go on and on about her first granddaughter. She is impressed by the way you and her daughter have really stepped up and took on your roles as parents for her grandchild. She knows that she was harsh when the news first came out. But it's clear that neither of you hold her poor reactions against her. 

Finally, once you've both finished your meals, you ask her what is really going on. Elaine dabs her lips with her cloth napkin. She sips her wine. She clears her throat and she looks up at you. 

“My daughter wants to expand her family,” she states in a professional tone. She is a very good negotiator. Her entire adult life and career has been about getting her way. But you aren't nervous, not about this. “And I'm asking you to reconsider helping her do that.” 

You nod your head with a growing smirk as you wipe your mouth with your napkin. “She recruited you,” you state with amusement dancing in your eyes. 

“She is my daughter, I would do anything for her. You should know something about that,” she states with her cold stare. 

“Yes, well, my answer is still the same. She can find someone else to grow her family with. It's not going to be me,” you state as firmly as she was speaking to you. 

Elaine sets her checkbook on the table and you know exactly where this is heading. She tried this with you many times before. Had you accepted any of them, Rachel wouldn't have been born, she wouldn't have you in her life, and the divorce would have been an annulment shortly after you had gotten married. 

“Stop, you know that you can't buy me off Mrs. Grey. I won't do it,” you stand firm. You pull out your wallet and leave whatever cash you have on hand but she stops you. 

“What if I can guarantee you have custody?” She says and you scoff. She was not about to start negotiations. “Jean says she won't budge on it but I think I can convince my daughter what a great influence you are as a parent. Certainly better than that so-called wife of hers,” she rolls her eyes. 

You almost want to laugh at the irony of this conversation. “I can't believe you, the woman who tried to pay me to convince her daughter to have an abortion, is now asking me to get her daughter pregnant.”

“Times have changed. She's not getting any younger and she cannot afford to pay for treatment to-” 

“Why don't you pay for it for her then?” You interrupt her. She clamps her mouth shut. Astonished by your abrupt question. You don't typically stand up for yourself in such a way. You are known to walk away to think or remain quiet. But speaking up to her like this, it's unusual. “If I decide to have another child, it will not be with your daughter. I will not have her and everyone else she mentions this to bully me into changing my mind.” You sigh as the upset quickly leaves your body. “Thank you for the meal, I would love for us to stay in touch and meet again under different circumstances. Better circumstances.” 

You walk out of that restaurant and breathe in the fresh air to calm yourself down. You want to call Jean to tell her off but you don't. Instead, you call Wanda and ask if she is available. It had been a couple of weeks since her son's birthday where she admitted that she was having conflicting feelings about you and her. You gave her space the last couple of weeks to see if she would reach out on her own. But you needed her now. 

Luckily, she hears the upset tone in your voice and asks you to come over without question. Next thing you know, you're parking your truck in her garage. You walk into her house and she greets you in the laundry room with a hug. 

She takes your hand and leads you to her room. “My mom is having a book club meeting,” she says softly as the two of you quietly climb the stairs. You look over your shoulder to see her mom surrounded by a group of women her age engrossed in a conversation discussing presumably the book that's in their hands. 

You sit on the edge of Wanda’s bed and look at your hands. You let out a big breath. You have missed being in her presence the last couple of weeks and part of you hates that this is the way that you return to her presence. 

Wanda stands by the door, she has her fingers laced together as she observes you. She has missed having you around. She knows that she is the one who asked for space but she didn't consider that you would actually respect that request. No matter how good this time apart has been for her. It gave her time to reflect and realize that the only red flags you have are the red flags she has. Nothing extreme, nothing she can't handle. She has been meaning to call you and invite you over but she couldn't explain why she needed the space so she waited until she could. She expected the next time she'd see you, you would have that award winning smile of yours. She didn't expect to see you this way. This upset. 

“What happened, Y/n?” She finally asks. You look up at her and blink a couple of times.

“I…” you sigh and lick your lips. “Jean got her mom to ask me to help her have another baby.” You rip the bandaid off not seeing any other way to approach the subject. Wanda gasps as she sits next to you. 

“I thought they moved on from that,” Wanda says as she puts her hand on your back.

You nod, “So did I, but they completely blind sided me. Her mom was willing to pay me off.” 

Wanda shakes her head. “Unbelievable. I cannot believe her. I cannot believe she would do that! After everything that happened the last time she asked you. I cannot believe she would get her mom involved in this to pay you off!” 

You agree, it is insane that they would bring this up again. Let alone bring her mother into this. You cannot believe that it has come to this. You almost want to cave just so that they'd leave you alone about this. You sigh as you reach for Wanda's hand. “Should I give them a baby? I mean, not in the way they wanted but I don't know. Should I just… donate to them. Am I the one that's just being crazy and stubborn?” You ask as you think about the amount of stories you've found online where families have done this sort of thing. That a couple that cannot produce a child on their own approached their ex partner to have another baby together. And they accept with no issues. You're starting to think you were being selfish.

“Y/n, you're not being crazy. You don't want to do that. It's your choice, you have a choice in this and you chose not to do it. That is something they have to respect. The whole thing is completely unfair to you.” Wanda reminds you as she turns your head to face her by pulling your chin. “Yes, had you agreed the first time, it could have been seen as this selfless beautiful thing that you did. But I've watched you tear yourself apart about this. It would have destroyed you to agree to it. You would have regretted it the moment that she announced that she was pregnant. You would have regretted it every week you had to pick up Rachel and pretend that her sibling is not your child too. You would have hated yourself when one day that child found out the truth and felt like you abandoned them. You made the right decision not only for yourself now but for everyone in the future.”

You listen to Wanda as she speaks so strongly about your decision. Defending you against your thoughts of yourself and against the perception of everyone else against you. 

She has a point. This scenario can only be a beautiful one if everyone was in agreement. But you don't want this. That was never in your mind in terms of expanding your family. The thought never occurred to you that they'd one day approach you about helping them with that especially since Anna seemed disinterested in the idea of ever caring for a baby. She would tell people the reason she wanted to adopt was because she could avoid the baby stage. 

Now she wants to ask this huge thing of you because she is insecure of her role in Rachel's life? You could not believe it. 

“You're right,” you say as you hold eye contact with her. You hadn't realized just how much you've missed gazing into those green eyes of hers until now. “I'm sorry to dump this on you. How are you doing? Have you figured out what you needed to?” 

Wanda shakes her head as she scoots closer to you. “This is something serious. I'm glad you came to me with this instead of sitting alone in your apartment or going to Bucky and Steve whose solutions are typically to just let you vent and drink. Which is not helpful because then they just dump you onto me.” You let out a soft huff of a laugh as you nod because it's true. She caresses your cheek with the back of her fingers as she pulls her bottom lip under her teeth with her tongue. Her eyes bounce around, gazing into your eyes, glancing at your lips. “And I have, by the way. Figured out what I needed to, I mean. I've missed you and I think I'm ready to start telling people about us. Not today or tomorrow but… soon.” She says nervously. You break out into a big grin and pull her against you in a celebratory hug. 

“That just made my day, truly,” you say as you continue to hold her close. Wanda starts to push against you by your shoulders to create some space. As you're about to apologize, she keeps you quiet with her lips on yours. It has felt like a lifetime since you've been able to hold her and kiss her. You're not certain when the last time was and you don't care to think about it as you lay on top of her on her bed.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispers as your lips are on her neck and her fingers are working on your jeans. “I don't want us to embarrass my mom in front of her friends.” 

You chuckle at the statement. “You mean you have to be quiet,” you remind her as your hands slip under her shirt. She lets out a soft whisper and you chuckle again. “See?” 

She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Shut up.”

After, you are holding Wanda in your arms as the pair of you settle down. You start to think about the future. Consider when exactly you will be ready to have another baby. It just seems like it's too late. Rachel is in middle school, she is grown up. When the kids are grown you're not supposed to have more, you're supposed to wait to have grandkids. Then you remind yourself that you are still young enough to have kids. In fact, this is how you have them the proper way. Or at least the way that stable adults have families. 

There's also the fact that Wanda might not want to have more kids. She did try to expand her family but it didn't work and instead her family fell apart. You hate that she blames herself for what Vision did to their family. You clench your jaw at the thought and your arm tenses up. Wanda notices and starts to rub your arm softly. 

“What's on your mind?” Wanda asks with eyes closed as she presses her head further into her pillow. 

You hesitate to speak. This isn't the time to ask about the future of your family with her. This is the time to hold her and worship her. To be present with her and not spinning around in your head. You kiss her cheek as you try to calm down and return to the moment with her. She looks so relaxed and comfortable. You don't want to change that. She deserves to be relaxed for a moment. 

“Nothing, it can wait until tomorrow,” you whisper as you loosen your hold on her. 

“Mmm no, we can talk now. If you need,” Wanda fights her sleep as she tries to open her eyes. You shake your head with a smile. 

“Go to sleep, we can talk about it tomorrow,” you repeat yourself as you caress her cheek. Wanda tries to hold onto consciousness a bit longer. It was a little early for bedtime but she was exhausted and perfectly satisfied. Every muscle in her body was asleep after the massage you had given her. As well as the many other things you did to pleasure her.

She doesn't fight you or her body anymore. She falls into a deep sleep and you follow shortly, once you're able to shut off your mind. 

You wake to her alarm and you curse yourself as you remember that you didn't set your phone up to charge. This wasn't meant to happen the way it did. But you only have yourself to blame as you find your dying phone. You quickly set it up to charge while you get ready. You brush your teeth and get dressed in the clothes you wore the day before. Wanda showers and goes through her morning routine. While she does, you head down stairs to make coffee for her and yourself. 

As you're pouring the coffee into the mugs, Wanda is walking down with wet hair and a casual outfit. “No meetings today?” You ask as you slide her mug towards her. She typically dresses up a bit more when she has meetings with her co-workers and/or clients and potential clients. She shakes her head as she lifts her mug to her face and sits on the stool at the counter. You nod and check your watch to gauge how much time you have before going to work. 

“It's Sunday,” Wanda says as she swallows. You look at her like she's crazy until you realize that she is right. It's not Monday quite yet. You start laughing to yourself as you set your coffee down. 

“I'm all messed up from yesterday,” you laugh as you gesture towards your head. “Speaking of which,” you clear your throat and look into your mug. You bite your cheek nervously as you think of the best way to approach the subject. “Have you thought about having more kids?” You ask with your eyes bouncing between Wanda and your mug. 

Wanda sets her mug down and clears her throat. “I think I'm going to need this coffee to kick in before I'm ready to have that conversation.” You nod in agreement and scratch the back of your head with a nervous laugh. She was right, this was not something you talk about first thing in the morning. 

So you ask her how she slept and if she was hungry. Then you make her some breakfast, as you're cooking the aroma wakes her mother so you make enough for all three of you. Then the topic of conversation becomes her mother and the book club. Apparently, the meeting was less about the book and more about gossip as you listen to stories about people you've never met and may never meet in your life. 

Once everyone is done eating, you try to wash the dishes but Ms. Maximoff refuses to allow you to since you made the breakfast. She has Wanda clean them on her own while she traps you in a longer conversation about you and your future. Your girlfriend tries to spare you but her mother is very insistent. You stumble your way through some answers since some of her questions are questions you have yourself. 

She starts to ease up on you and starts to go on and on about her life and gossip from around her neighborhood. The scandals of the elder community. You react as though you care that Marjorie is sleeping with Thom and Chad, which makes you realize there are elders with the name Chad, without either knowing. Or that you sympathize with the 

After a while, Wanda gives you the signal that she is ready to talk. You nod and attempt to end the conversation with her mother. You fail miserably and Wanda has to come to your rescue. 

“Mom, hey, I need to take Y/n from you,” she says as she pulls on you to rise from your seat. 

“Oh but we're having so much fun! I haven't even gone over what David over on the corner house might be up to. Giant garbage bags, every other week. We think it's bodies or-” 

“Mom,” Wanda interrupts. “I’m taking my partner back. Okay?” She pulls you closer to her and Ms. Maximoff laughs. She waves the two of you off and says that she needs to get started on her day anyway. You turn to Wanda with a shrug. 

The two of you walk to her bedroom to privately discuss. Wanda shuts her bedroom door and you walk around her room. Looking at her photos as you usually do. Wanda sits on her bed with her back against the headboard. Her eyes follow your every move as she thinks about your question. She can have more kids. She talked with her gynecologist at her most recent check up just in case this conversation ever did come up. Her doctor said she had never seen such clean results from Wanda. She assured her that she would be fine to have another baby, maybe ever two of she desired.

But did Wanda want to have another baby? Her boys are so close to becoming teenagers. Your daughter is right there as well. Would it be wise for the two of you to have another baby? 

“I don't know how I feel about intentionally trying for a baby at this point in my life.” Wanda starts, grabbing your attention away from the photo of her on her first day of college. “I have two pre-teenage boys who can be a handful at times and are already struggling with the younger siblings they have from their father. I don't know if I want to contribute to their insecurities by having another child,” she expressed her concerns when it comes to her boys.

You nod as you join her on the bed. You sit in front of her just next to her legs. You reach for her hand and she willingly gives you her hand. ��Hey, I'm not even certain I want another kid. I was only asking because I keep saying no to Jean. I don't want you to think I'm saying no to you.” 

Wanda looks at you and tilts her head. “If I'm honest, I didn't consider that. I know that the situation with Jean and what's happening between us are completely separate things. So that didn't cross my mind,” she explains that your worries aren't hers in that regard.

“Well, that's reassuring,” you chuckle softly because you feel a little ridiculous about making that assumption. “I'm open to the idea with you. But I'm fine if you don't want to go through another pregnancy.” 

Wanda pulls your hand closer towards her. She looks at the palm of your hand and traces the lines with her finger tip. She thinks about the art you make with this hand. The pleasures you've brought her with this hand. The tears you've wiped from her face. The food you've made. Then she thinks about you holding her pregnant belly when the weight gets to be too much for her. She thinks about you holding her child in this hand. Butterflies flutter in her stomach at the idea. 

“Let's just… if it happens, we'll talk about it then,” she says softly. “We'll go over our options at that time. But let's not make a thing of it. We don't need to start telling people about us and including that we're trying. We can just,” she shrugs as she drops your hand and places her arms around your shoulders as she leans forward. “Well we haven't even discussed marriage yet but knowing your track record, kids are what come first.” She teases and your eyes widen momentarily to show your shock and amusement of the statement. 

“Of course, with most people they just get a sappy speech and a ring. With me, you get real commitment,” you add jokingly which makes the two of you laugh. You lean closer and kiss her lips. “You're right. We need to be talking about marriage and our commitment to each other before we talk about having kids. I only brought it up because of everything that's going on right now.”

Wanda smirks, “I know honey, that's why I entertained the conversation without shutting you down. It's one of the many topics of conversation we should have before going straight to the marriage of it all. You know? What if we got married and weren't on the same page about this?”

You nod as you agree, “It's exactly why I'm glad we're taking things slow. I would love to whisk you away to Vegas and elope. And I probably would have if we'd have met at a different time in our lives. But we both have a lot to consider outside of ourselves.” 

Wanda's thumb moves back and forth on your neck. “You're a very wise and considerate person, Y/n. What did I ever do to deserve you?” Her eyes are locked on yours as she searches for any kind of malice or false intentions. All she finds is kindness. She cannot fathom what her life would be like had you not made yourself part of it. 

“Have an ex with poor taste in liquor,” you remark on the first conversation you ever had with her. She smiles. 

“I was a mess,” she states as she bites her bottom lip and drops her face shyly. 

You nod in agreement. “You were, and I didn't want to seem like some creep going after vulnerable people by talking to you. By the way, my intentions were pure. That night.” You point between the two of you. “I never had this goal in mind until the night we hung out after my camping trip.” 

She looks back up, a little shocked by this news. Especially since you ended up dating someone else after that night. “Really? So why go after Daisy?” She asks as she looks over your features. Taking in every detail of your face. Your jawline, your smooth skin with a chicken pox scar on your forehead. She loves every detail of you. 

You shrug as you try to remember that time. It was only several months ago. Or was it a year ago by now? It feels like a lifetime ago. “Fear, insecurities, and a long list of other reasons that don't make a lot of sense but at the same time they do. I mean, we're still afraid to be together.” 

Wanda nods as she listens to you explain. You're not wrong there. She was pushing you away for weeks because of how afraid she is to be in love with you. “I'm not anymore. Afraid, I mean. I love you and I only want to be with you. I hope forever but you never know.” 

You chuckle at her last comment and kiss her on the lips. “Yeah, you never know.” She smiles before leaning in for another kiss. You rub the spots on her back where you have your hands placed. You continue to pull her closer and closer as the kiss continues. You love her and you can't wait to tell everyone.

Chapter 26

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[thewertsearch]

You get the Draconian Dignitary on the line. He asks what the hell you've been up to.

Looks like Jack’s still in contact with DD - something which had no reason not to be the case, but is nevertheless a very funny fact.

The guy’s a planet-destroying abomination, but still has mobster lackeys. Weird that that’s happened twice.

He makes sure you're remembering to keep the destructive impulses to a minimum. No more planet exploding or anything like that. You say yeah yeah. He says no point in securing power when there's nothing left to rule.

And DD’s even working to preserve the session! The guy's a bit of an unsung hero here, as we've all seen what Jack did to the troll planets. If he starts blowing up Lands - particularly LOHAC - we're fucked.

I wonder if this is Vriska’s doing, actually. We already know she can influence Carapacians, and she’s already done so to a Dersite Agent specifically.

Lousy stupid dignitary, all keeping your murderous tendencies in check. He's the most terrible guy you almost kind of didn't despise completely.

Jack genuinely cares about DD, doesn't he?

Something about that tiny spark of warmth is really getting to me. It's one thing to be facing a corrupted game character, but Jack's starting to seem like a person - and people tend to be more dangerous villains than NPCs.

lmfao

You attempt to humor the Sovereign Slayer's demands diplomatically. There's a narrow line to walk between obeying the orders of a clear superior and blindly facilitating a perfectly useless genocide. It takes a very savvy breed of psychopath to pull it off.

Ah, so DD knows exactly what he’s doing here.

Honestly, his cold, calculating style might make him more dangerous than Jack. I'm starting to suspect that if he got the Ring, the Players would already be dead, and the session would be on total lockdown.

The Slayer is yapping about some girl. Probably one of the young players who can no longer provide any serious threat to your rule.

Or not, since he apparently thinks the Players are no threat.

Like - really, Droog? The Sburb Players are no threat? The game's protagonists are-

Ah, I'm wasting my breath. The game probably forces Dersite Agents to underestimate the Players, so they don't just assassinate them in their beds.

You say fine, just send the droll after her.

Delegating the one murder you can't commit is a genuinely excellent idea...

There's a moment of radio silence. He says you mean the COURTYARD Droll? He wants to be sure this is the same droll you're talking about.

...which has already been ruined. Even Jack knows that the Deuce is more likely to help Jade than kill her.

[justin-chapmanswers]

AAAA THE SILVER SPOON EXIT IS FANTASTIC!!! You guys always do such a good job with the Exit Interviews. They're super fun videos that also add juuust that little extra amount of characterization that makes them even better to watch.

What inspires you guys to add the little mini-stories in each interview? Do you usually have an idea of what direction you want it to go beforehand, or do specific questions give you inspiration?

Thank you so much!!! Had so much fun working on that one. And looooove the question. Partly cause I'm like "idk if anyone cares that I do this, but it's fun, anyway!"

When writing any Exit Interview (I've been sole-writing or co-writing all from Box's-and-on, but might not for Balloon's?), I always want to be writing with some sort of angle. Sometimes it's a story for the contestant (TK, Cabby #1, Paintbrush, Silver) , sometimes for the interviewer (Box, Clover), sometimes both (Goo). Sometimes it allows us to hit on an angle on a character that we haven't already, sometimes it gives us some time to show off how far a character has come. Sometimes something that affects the whole interview, sometimes something that'll pop up towards the end that we can hint at earlier. But we tend to try for at least a little-something! We like presenting new narratives wherever we can. The tale is never quite done with these pals!

As for how we plan it out, I'll often go into an interview knowing exactly what angle I want to come in with, and how much that angle'll need to weigh on the characters. I knew I wanted to tell a narrative about Paintbrush wrapping up their three-season-journey and expecting a hyper-dramatic interview to express every facet of their emotional experience... only to receive a bunch of nonsense questions that leaves their final wrap-up feeling empty. So I noted to the audience that we'd love silly questions. I knew that for Silver's Exit we were going to explore the anxieties around criticism, so I made sure to write in the question prompt that Silver would love to hear some compliments- so that we could then receive a bunch of complimentary questions for him to appreciate (but not enough to make a deep impact), and inevitably we received some negative too- which I could then use to show how hard one mean comment can hit for the guy.

For Cabby we wanted to prep for her eventual return by sewing in her current troubled state of mind without tying things up to cleanly in a bow. Clover we wanted to flip it around and have her help an interviewer down on his luck. With Bot we needed to let them reflect on what they've been through but also think on some of the elements of their existence that are still feeling complicated. In Yin-Yang's we knew we wanted to make sure we were following through on their tricky feelings regarding their experience Candle, while also demonstrating their growth as a fun lil duo. Etc.

Occasionally I'll need some inspiration, so I'll ask for the questions first and see if that sparks any particular ideas. When we received a bunch of motherly-oriented characters for Tea Kettle I was left to ponder "how would she feel about this?" With Goo's Exit a couple Cheer Factory questions popped up and I started to think about the fun juxtaposition of matching Goo with someone serious who expects Goo to be a legitimate entrepreneur. Since then we've enjoyed leaning into pairing contestants with very different-vibe interviewers when possible.

And the mindset of writing with an angle all stems to working on Inanimate Answers. Not sure how many people have seen that, since the newest ep predates Invitational, but there we had a very very similar format. It's sorta like the unintentional test-run of Exit Interviews, with some personal conflicts for the contestant, and some for Justin. I'd loooove to make more of those, but they were being made at a point in time where I didn't have a non-II full-time job, and II wasn't focused much on episode production. So finding the time has been tough. We did make a mini version for the Inanimate Direct which was fun (although funnily some of my favorite on-camera work I've done for the channel was in that same video but the Patreon-information segment- which no one will ever watch again cause the Patreon no longer exists haha). And I have an old Yin-Yang Inanimate Answers 5 script that would need to be pretty heavily reworked now that season 3 exists for YY, if I were to try at them again. Maybe there's room for IA in the future. Lots to figure out with the channel! But I'm glad we've had Exits to take on the legacy of some bonus viewer-interaction-based-storytelling.

[wanderingblindly]

if you won't tell us anything about future october birds chapters oscar, can you tell us about him and his point of view in the chapters we've already seen

((look at me asking that in a demure and mindful way and not screeching my head off at the thought of more oscar insights))

(October birds)

Oh my goodness I’d literally be so happy to talk about him, I’ve thought so much about what going on in his head um…. So I’ll just pour some random thoughts here, if you don’t have any specific questions.

Their Meeting

Oscar’s willingness to take Lando in looks deeply contradictory to the rest of what we see ((through Lando’s eyes)). Oscar appears well-adjusted, has a strong circle of friends, has a life that he seems to love — what the fuck is he doing?

In my eyes, Oscar knows what he’s doing is atypical by his standards. He knows that it’s riskier than anything he’d normally do, it’s something his friends will raise a brow at. But in the peace of his idyllic life, I think Oscar has periodic pangs of insecurity.

Had he tried enough before committing to what he’d always dreamed of? He went to uni in Melbourne, he’d tried city living, but had it been enough? Could he have made himself happy with his family over there if he’d tried more?

He loves what he has, it’s all he’s ever wanted. But is it boring? Is it a waste of a talent? Is it somehow shameful, living simply when he could’ve achieved more, by some unknown standard?

Those lingering feelings — which don’t bother him much, but sometimes rear their ugly head in the way they do for all 20-somethings — made meeting Lando hit Oscar like a truck.

He was beautiful and alone and clearly so full of a life that Oscar — a man of routine and well-worn fabrics — didn’t know. And the urge to know, that unfamiliar pull in the pit of his stomach, made Oscar step away from what he would’ve normally done (aka, help him on his way and move on).

I don’t want to say that Oscar took Lando in in a fit of “I need to do something new!!!!!! Be someone different!!!!”, but rather highlight that the wonder he saw in Lando and the spark of their initial conversation made him want to invite him. It wasn’t contrived or planned, it was him shirking social expectations and doing something for himself. It was him opening his eyes to the fact that maybe he could want what he has now and do something new.

Their Kiss + Oscar’s Feelings

Oscar’s always been deeply in control of his life — what he has now is what he’s always wanted. He worked to get it, and he’s happy. There are things he wishes were a little different regarding his family, but the things that are in his realm have remained tidy, according to plan.

But he wants Lando.

And he knows that Lando can’t stay; he’s known he’s a tourist from the day he invited him into his home, it’s not a surprise. But his feelings, the want, that’s what surprising.

I don’t think Oscar is used to wanting things that hang outside of his control. And it’s hard for him, trying to rationalize away the feelings he knows he has for Lando. It hurts him, too. Looking at Lando fit into his life so easily, feeling the way he’s helping slowly piece Lando back together, sensing the trust that entails, hurts. Because he wants it, he wants him, and he can’t.

Oscar’s moments of bravery — teasing Lando, asking him to zip his wet suit, inviting him to garden — are less so premeditated attempts at flirting and more so lapses in restraint. At least, that’s how Oscar views them.

To me — the very cool and all knowing author who’s deep in his psyche — the “lapses” are really him slowly coming to terms with the truth: sometimes it’s ok to want things you want have. It’s sometimes good to have things briefly, a fleeting bloom that you know will die by the end of the season, than deprive yourself forever.

Anyways, all that leads to Oscar asking Lando if he can kiss him.

I think Oscar wanted Lando to say no.

I’m not sure if Oscar knows that, but it’s true. He wanted Lando to say no because it would make him leaving easier; if he broke his heart now, his heart that’s already so deeply fond of everything Lando’s shown him, it would hurt less when he leaves him at the airport. If he said no, he wouldn’t have to live forever knowing what Lando’s lips feel like, the taste of his tongue.

Oscar wanted to spare his heart but didn’t have the strength to do it himself, just like Lando.

[thefirstknife]

Bro.....

You know, when they said they'll bring back "one of the most storied locations very briefly" I did think of Saint's grave. Speculated about this with the besties quite a bit as well, that we might go back there for some reason. And now. Yeah.

But my question when I was cooking about this and my question now that Ikora said this remains the same: how? How is that accessible? The grave is in the Infinite Forest. Infinite Forest is on Mercury. Mercury is still in a Darkness anomaly. And the Forest was sealed from the inside. That shit is behind seven proxies.

Obviously we've seen the Infinite Forest gate in the trailer, on Nessus, so I'm assuming the door can be opened from Nessus... somehow? Osiris can probably do it with his cubes or something, but the details of how this will be done and how it will be handled are eating me alive. I'm losing it, but for real this time. I don't have words to describe how much I am compelled.

Anyway, radio message!

Saint-14: Since you found me, I have only doubted who I was once... When Misraaks recounted how his people - their children - feared me... it shook me. Osiris says, that I am Saint-14, my hands raised the wall, I walked with the Pilgrim Guard. How can I be a shadow of the Saint who truly walked this City, when I remember the smells of the streets, and the faces that smile? I met you on Mercury, as I speak to you now. We fought together. I shattered the Vex for centuries, but I lived, where he died. Because we showed the Vex that our fate could not be calculated. Even in simulation, we surprised them, you and I. That, is true. The Conductor claims, I am a man out of time, an approximation of reality. Huh, was I not this already? Hard metal, and brittle memory. Spark, and code, fourteen times over. Only my heart carried through. I know what it means to find myself again. But... The Conductor claims, had Osiris not created the Sundial, had I remained forgotten, Sagira would live still. How could these things be connected? If it is true... I will not take my love from him as well. For it is strong, and he will need it. You would not be afraid. You would know what to do... I am... still trying. But I will find myself again.

He's doing better!!! He's figuring it out!!! I'm assuming now that the main point of conflict for him is the Saint that died. It was never quite clear what happened when we saved Saint; did the timeline diverge at that point or was it always two different timelines? Would the body still be there in the grave if we went there after we saved him? Is there any divergence at all and does it matter?

Because again, the Saint we saved is the same Saint that he's been for most of his life. He clearly remembers meeting us on Mercury which was for him the Dark Age. Before Six Fronts. His story and his legend essentially starts only after meeting us. The Saint that we know exists as he does because we saved his life on Mercury in the Dark Age and gave him the shotgun and he has been trying to live up to this potential ever since. He even quotes it: "I am still trying." He said that in the letter on Perfect Paradox and also when we opened the Forest for him after he was freed. And as I also noted, on week 1, we got a message between Saint and Osiris where they're recalling the exact same memory.

But as I said before, if he has access to any other timeline Saints, there might be differences that the Conductor used to mess with him. I suppose one of those is the Saint that died. And since the shotgun is a paradox, I can't really track it's origin point anywhere. Saint that died had remains of the gun which means that the Saint that died also met us, presumably. But if he'd met us, then he wouldn't have died. Or that's the timeline in which Osiris doesn't make the Sundial and we pick up the shotgun and then with the Sundial we can find the right Saint at the right time and give it to him and then stop him from dying. My brain is dissolving.

Anyway. So. Saint's grave huh. They're killing me with this. I need to think about it for 5 hours or maybe 5 thousand years.

And also the lore page. I assume it's talking about how the Vex Network with its various "denizens" reacted to the Echo.

A fractal cluster of nested realities unfurled like a frond. Two-hundred-and-twenty-odd instances of consciousness reaching in unison. A controlled frenzy of cooperation as the minds within piled Ishtar-branded office furniture to the skies, then lifted one another up to be closer, ones and zeroes stacked perilously, finding swaying purchase with their sensible flats on each other's thin shoulders.

Ishtar scientists!

An irascible trace of a signal sneered at the sincerity of the call but still willed itself to move, reaching up two thin spindles of data in a way that felt somehow familiar.

Asher :) :( T_T

The Great Quiet Thing, the Not-Worm, kept its eyes closed and ignored the call. It was still too soon, it decided. It shivered, the motion forming cascading bubbles of new hypothetical simulations in which it did not shiver. These contradictions soured and burst, scattering nutrients into the network.

What the fuck.

A man in tattered robes, feathers long since worn from his headdress, streaked through the shifting plasmic haze on golden wings, urged on by the tiny starburst at his side. His eyes were furious flame.

Osiris :) And Sagira. :) They're still in the network. Okay! I will just explode.

And of course:

"We need to warn them—" "There's still a chance—" "SAINT—" "Hold on to me—" "I AM OWED THIS—" "Hurry, get Shim—" "There isn't enough of me left—" "TELL ELSIE PRAEDYTH STILL—" "Please, please wait—" "Warn them—" "I have to warn them—"

Welp. We wanted Praedyth to be mentioned. Here he is. I guess I will jump off the cliff now.

Anyway, many thoughts. Genuinely what the fuck is the "Great Quiet Thing" in the Vex Network??? Where is this going. I have so much to think about, brb.