#anyways word dump they are gay you’re welcome

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Ok ok I’m posting it I’m posting the gay r obotsr me me when red & blue characters moment also this video is the entire song so like yk for idk 4 minutes worth of this crap

Also I made this like 2 months ago and I think I was having an insanity moment so that’s why it’s very lazily made like yk when you have insane ideas but nothing but animating it gets your point across??? Yeah

(song is Air Catcher by Twenty One Pilots)

Also explaining the story below:

After Eight wakes up from his void trauma induced coma, he catches up with his local group. They all welcome him overwhelmingly but one stands out from the other two, Early Warning. He had great interest in the ordeals Eight faced. A bit too much that it led to some serious fuck ups later on.

They begin to chat a lot more one on one and loved to share their newest innovations with each other. Eight greatly valued any support he could get to fix himself and vice versa with Warning, being that he’s actively sinking into a sinkhole unfortunately. They grew very close. So close that Eight eventually confessed to feeling… more. Eight asked Warning to help him, to help reverse the damage his ancients had caused him. He was incredibly serious asking this because the last time he put great trust in someone, he nearly died. Warning accepts the offer and this is actually the first time he visits his can.

Well… Warning was still very invested in the void related issues Eight faced because he was on the cusp of abandoning The Great Problem. When he went into his conflux to repair the majorly damaged components, he snooped around and read some neurons. Because Eight sustained heavy damage to his conflux, the sudden reading of these damaged neurons caused him to seize up for a moment and he was PISSED. Eight, at the time, was still heavily into his lizard research and thus released his specimens into his structure regardless if they were to cause damage to himself. Think like an immune response. The lizards would find Warning on his way out trying to escape and maul him to death, destroying this travel puppet.

(Not pictured but after the decommission of this travel puppet, Warning wakes back up in his own structure and just… lies there. He felt horrible.)

And so, Eight enters another period of isolation. He would block any private communications from everyone. He cut off all contacts with Warning but remained part of the local group broadcasts. He would talk very little, if at all. Many cycles would pass and many overseers were lost to Eight’s unrelenting anger. Despite his toxic emotions, he kept the eyes of the overseers. There was something he couldn’t let go of, something he didn’t want to let go of. Something about Warning reminded him of the golden era, when the ancients were still around, when he could still exchange banter with his engineers. There was something more to it that he refused to acknowledge.

Time dragged on and on and he grew to be more and more guilty. He sustained this anger from a certain someone, an unfortunate fingerprint left behind, but despite that he was incredibly emotional about it all. He couldn’t bring himself to prolong the pain much longer. Eventually one of his overseers would visit Warning’s can; he’d apologize almost face to face. He knew what he did, he knew the consequences, he knew as well that Warning’s travel puppets aren’t nearly as durable. He missed their chats and the time they spent together because without it, it’d remind him of that crushing pain he felt knowing his engineers would soon be gone. He hates being alone.

And finally, things might just turn out okay. Warning, although not pictured, accepts his apology. He’d tell him it was his mistake, that he’s older and he should’ve known better. Things might actually become better.

—-

Respecting Eight’s wishes, they are very reserved about their relationship. Eight feels that he’s being too vulnerable to let anyone else know how he feels, although occasionally Warning will publicly jab at him to get a response.

[anonbeadraws]

So I caved and with @spacespectres help made an avatarsona! With a big chunky statement to go with it!    (Trigger warnings for homophobia/transphobia, conversion therapy, death and parental abuse. Everyone gets just desserts though.)

‘I’m, actually not sure why I’m here. You can’t help me, my son is gone and the police arn't saying it but - I’m sorry, my ears are- It’s like- You know those alarms, the ones that are made to disperse kids at shopping centres, keep them from causing trouble- not that i think they work. you see more of them these days, scruffy and dirty, what their parents doing, i don’t-  Anyway, it’s like that noise, that high buzz. it’s meant to be that, as you get older, your brain tunes it out, adults aren’t meant to hear it anymore, just keep on shopping without hoodlums hanging about outside smoking and throwing shit at the elderly.   I don’t miss that, Ben’s smoking, i’ll say that. That’s awful to say, i bet you’re thinking, god how terrible, her child’s missing and she’s moaning about a few nicotine stains on the ceiling.

I know theres plenty that would call me a terrible mother anyway, i know the neighbours didn’t agree with my decision, the decision of a single mother, who struggled enough just to keep her child fed and watered and out of trouble, to then struggle to keep him from wearing my lipstick when i was out of the house-!   I have no problem with the gays. I want to say that, have that clear. I just know, what he was doing, that wasn’t my Ben, that wasn’t my son and, the Helping House was what he needed.   I’m his mum, i know what he needed, don’t care what his dad says. he wasn’t here, he wasn’t here to raise Ben, so he doesn’t-

The pamphlet was so nice, so professional and i checked it out online, all 5 stars, apart from the odd protester sticking his oar in, and it was- reassuring to know he’d be looked after, helped! Get what he needed. And he was fine when i left him there, with his old school backpack with all his bits in, the Helping staff there to welcome him. Reminded me a little of when he started primary school, he looked so small, all big eyes…  They promised it’d be a couple of weeks, maybe a month, and then he could come home, all better.

  I got to visit every weekend, which was nice! Sometimes brought him biscuits, can't beat home made, chatted a little. He still had that, that look from when i left, like he was little again, when i could tell he didn’t really want to leave me at the gates, he didn’t want to go in all alone, couldn’t we just go home instead mum?  But i was strong. For him. I resisted.

I think, it was when that look started to go, that little boy look, replaced with something, i don’t really want to think about even now, that i really noticed the other patients. One in particular. He looked different from the others. Props to the Helping House, they keep, kept the kids tidy. it was actually lovely, real treat to see Ben all combed and neat, not smelling like his trash dump of a room. And not a whiff of smoke! i’d honestly not have been surprised if he’d snuck in some ciggies in but if he had, they must have confiscated em quick.    No fags in the Helping House! I mean-! oh you know, what i mean!

But this one,.. they all dressed in clothes from home, apparently they worked out its better for the process, this one was a mess. Half shaved hair, no knees in the jeans and honestly, sunglasses indoors? who did He think he was!? Mick Jagger?  He just slouched in the corner of the visiting room, looking out into the gardens, like he belonged there in that clean good place.  They were nice gardens, well looked after, like the kids. I remember it was coming up summer, lots of lovely flowers. lots of happy bees.

Anyway, i did Not like how Ben looked over at, him, while we had our cups of tea. it was this, gooey soft look i’d never seen on him. later i remembered it. it was how his dad looked when we started courting. That cloying honey sweet love that turned sickly and choking far too quick. God, that look, on my boys face? You bet I had words with the staff before i went. I did not bring my boy here to get help and it be ruined by some hooligan with warped intentions. I made sure they understood. They didn't seem to know what i meant by the Sunglasses kid but it’s a big facility, probably get a lot of patients. Their success rate was incredible really, always seemed to be spaces open. Whatever they did, didn’t do a lot though. Cause i kept seeing him, every time i visited. And he drew a crowd.       At first it was the ones who didn’t have family to come, poor dears. They’d be sat, close as they could to him. They had rules about touching in the Helping House, and rightly so, helps with, the temptation, but they’d sit there, close as they could to him, just listening, sun on their faces from the big glass window.  Now that i’m thinking about it, I don’t think i remember ‘em blinking?    Anyway, Could never hear what was said, what venom that creeper was pouring into their ears, whenever i tried to hear him over the other visitors, it just came over as a low buzz. Well, whatever it was, those kids were hooked.  I didn't like it. And the next weekend, there more of ‘em! You’d have kids that’d be crying one week that their family hadn't come, who didn't give two shits the next, pardon my french. They’d be sat in the corner, happy sappy faces, listening to whatever nonsense that kid was murmuring to his little flock. They didn’t touch, not then, but it was a close thing, i remember being so shocked that nothing was being done about it. It was obviously a problem. that weirdo was the problem.

But my boy didn’t stray. He might’ve looked over at that hive of idiots who worked against what these good people were trying to do for them, with that… look. But he stayed and drank his tea with me like he should. He looked tired, but i knew that’s cause he was working hard, getting better.  i got the reports.

But the last couple of visits, i come in and it’s just my boy in the visitors room.   The rest were outside in the garden, in the flowers. All those kids, twenty or so of em, tangled in each other, touching and so close. I don’t think they were, Doing things but, it was against regulation for sure,  and I stood up, to go do something, anything, even just yell at them to stop it, ask what they thought they were doing!? That’s when the Buzzing started. For a second i thought it was just a bee come in from the garden, poor little bumble trapped indoors but it was in my ears, in my head. It was nothing i’d ever felt before and I’ve had Tinitus and that’s a nasty bugger but it was more than that.

Been to the doctors since. Apparently they can’t work it out, whats causing it. All they can say was it wasn’t Tinitus.

I think it was, Sunglasses looking at me. I remember when i got up, to tell ‘em off, i remember light in the corner of my eye, like a reflection off glass. I think he turned, he knew i was going to stop em and he-

Last sunday was the last time, the last visit. Had a big tin of biscuits, gingerbread, Ben’s favourite, had some nice news about his cousin getting into uni, first in the family! Always had hopes Ben would be the second, but-  Ben wasn’t waiting for me. He was outside. With Them.

Him.

There he was, holding the hand of that freak and the staff were just stood round like numpty’s doing nothing! Dumb faces and vacant as their patients were outside rolling about in the sun like it was the 60’s! And smoking! I thought, they must’ve found a stash cause i could see the smoke, swirling dark against the sky, dark against their smiling, stupid faces.

I was furious. i was, so angry.

I think thats why i did it. I was so angry that i couldn’t think of anything else to do but grab that sunglasses wearing freak who was corrupting my boy, who was holding his hand and steering him wrong and undoing all my work and love, and shake my anger out of him. I was yelling all that, yelling at him. I remember he was light, not as heavy as he should be, not for a kid his age and that he didn’t flinch. And he spoke to me, in that low drone that I thought had been just distance and space distorting his voice, but was just him, god it was just him.

I cant remember exactly what he said, something about love, real love, some hippy nonsense. No, i remember one thing. The little shit asked if i thought i was ‘my child’s real Family.” ‘Of course, i said, ‘i’m his mother’ Then he smiled, like i was wrong and i hated him. And I could see myself, in that dark reflection, in those stupid shades and i couldn’t stand it.   I wish i hadn’t, done what i did. i just didn’t want to see myself in that black mirror anymore, all twisted and hateful.   Turns out it was far nicer than what was behind them.

I let go, dropped it, that thing in ripped jeans and stripes and it fell into the flowers. There were so many happy bees. Thats when i heard the other kids. They had it’s voice, shared it’s voice, that drone. That buzz. i didn’t dare look at them. My ears, started up again, like before but, that sound, their sound, it made it louder and i honestly thought my head might explode and I turn to Ben, my boy, who had dropped to his knees in front of that thing, holding it’s hand and for a second, I thought he was smoking again, dark wisps coming from his downturned face and, I just, my fear turned to anger, for just a second, that he would do that here and now.

But I begged him to come away, to leave it alone, to get better, to just be my little boy again, to come home with mummy. Then he looked up, my Ben, and his face-   it wasn’t smoke, it had never been smoke. it was the same as whatever had been bumbling around in the creature that still lay in the flowers but Ben smiled all the same. I, feel crazy, crazy saying it but- as the bees poured out of my little boy’s smiling mouth in that choking swarm, their buzzing droning out his words, my boys last-

My name is Sarah

i’d never seen him happier.

Apparently I fainted. Never fainted in my life, i’ll tell you, too tough for that sort of thing, but i must’ve. Police think it’s what saved me. I like to think otherwise.   Officially, what happened was that the patients turned on the staff, killed em and left. Simple, explainable. Some sicko’s like to use what happened as an argument against conversion therapy, old hippy dykes that don’t have enough to picket over, idiots.  They didn’t see the bodies, they didn’t see what those ‘helpless victims’ did- They dragged them outside after they killed em, into the sun, into the flowers. I remember waking up once, amongst all the dead. Happy bees, dipping their beaks into the blood of the doctors. Plenty of sugar in blood, I read.

Ben was all i had left, my only family. I don’t have no one left. You don’t get many visitor when the papers insist you made your kid a killer. Don’t even get phone calls from Dave anymore, but i call that blessing. He was barely Ben’s dad anyway. I’ve gotten used to the quiet. i go to work, i come home, watch a bit of telly. the buzz from the old tv only scares me a little. I know i did my best for him. i believe that, after everything. I wouldn’t be here though, if, there wasn’t, something else.

 I had a visitor the yesterday. Wasn’t expecting it, thought it was a missionary, Jehovah’s or something. Was ready to tell them to piss off, i tell you. It was a girl. Said she was my daughter. she looked like my Ben, same smile, same funny little knees he used to scrape up, ones i used to kiss better. It wasn’t Ben. My Ben had eyes. My daughters words buzzed, like there was something in her throat. Perhaps the same things that crawled where her eyes would be, round and yellow and bumbling, i thought, and my head starting hurting again. She only stayed at the door, didn’t come in. She said she just wanted to say hello.

She said she’ll visit again.

That she’ll bring her family.

i don’t think she means me anymore.’ The magnus archives belongs to Rusty Quill, the above belongs to me!

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply. 

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started." 

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on. 

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

-

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them. 

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out." 

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

[halinski]

Day 5 of @sterekweek-2020 and @acesterek week! Loved this one bc I've always been DYING to include Shakespeare in my fic(let)s!! Haha

-

-

-

"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs," Stiles says, seeing as he steps up to the LGBTQ Club's club room just in time to catch Derek's sigh. Let it be recorded that he's a dramatic bitch. In his defense, this is Derek fucking Hale standing in front of his clubhouse, seeming deliberating if he should enter. Hopefully.

Hope is a dangerous thing but oh, how Stiles loves the thrill.

Derek only seems to stiffen when he turns to look at Stiles, all doe-eyed.

"I- uh… what?" The older boy stammers and Stiles feels the heat rise to his cheeks. Sometimes he forgets not everyone is a drama and history geek. And even if they are, people don't usually go about spouting Shakespeare quotes. Stiles' friends are used to it but Derek is, regrettably, a jock. Then again, jocks have their own profitable sides.

Stiles shakes it all off with a wave of his hand.

"Nevermind me! This is just a thing I do. Classic Stiles. That's me. Stiles," he blurts out and thrusts his hand towards Derek, which he instantly regrets because since when do jocks shake hands?

He marches on, turning to the door and stepping through. Stiles lifts his arms.

"Welcome to my kingdom! Well, it's not my kingdom, unfortunately. I wish I could be king, even if it were just over a room for a limited amount of time but what I mean to say, this is the LGBTQ+ Club Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4:15 till we get kicked out and I am the president of the club, so here we are." He's halfway into the room when he notices Derek has only taken two steps in and then stopped.

"Unless you're not here for that, which is totally cool too," he quickly adds. It's a lie, but hey, he doesn't want to scare the boy off.

"No." Derek says, cautiously taking another step forward but still looking wildly out of place and uncomfortable. "I mean, yes, I am here for that… not something else."

Poor guy almost looks like he's about to faint and Stiles wishes he could do something to make him feel more at ease.

"I'm uh, Derek Hale," he says and Stiles almost lets out a snort.

"Yeah, I know… you are the school's superstar after all, everyone kinda knows your name. Must be super weird, huh? But dude, seriously, everyone here is super chill so don't worry about it. No one's going to call you out or force you to do anything." Stiles smiles as he dumps his backpack on the desk next to the couch and starts pulling out some of his newest gatherings, new stickers mostly, and the usual pins and flags.

"Feel free to look around and basically do whatever you want, if you want. I'm always here early but not many other people are, so you've got about another 10-ish to 20 minutes before people start filing in if you just want the space to yourself," Stiles continues. He chances a glance over at Derek and notices him still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Leaning back on the desk, Stiles braces his arms behind him.

"Sorry, I know I talk a lot. Everyone complains about it. But on the plus side, I can answer any and all questions you might have. Nothing is off limits, I promise you, so I'm here at your disposal."

Derek's eyes bore into his and suddenly Stiles questions every single decision he has made in his life ever. A sharp pain in his lips draws his attention to his nervous lip biting. Embarrassing.

"Do you know all of Shakespeare's stuff by heart?" Derek then asks, slowly sauntering closer.

Stiles opens his mouth but his brain is slow to process the quite personal question which has nothing to do with queerness whatsoever. Or well..

"Okay, fair. Shakespeare's pretty gay. Very gay actually, even though they won't teach you that in class, no siree. But anyway, no, I don't know everything. I'd need like a superbrain for that. Wish I could though, that'd be pretty awesome."

"Shakespeare's gay?" Derek asks and if Stiles isn't mistaken there's a smile slowly showing on his face, next to the perpetual look of astonishment.

"Oh, yeah, dude. Like, super gay. You must have heard by now that there's so many dick jokes in his texts. Like, in the plays, oh man. I have most of those memorized, by the way. And I can assure you that those dick references are not all just about pleasuring the ladies," Stiles replies. He's kind of tripping over here. Hello, he's talking to Derek Hale about dick jokes, and yeah, his hopes are way across and over the rainbow by now.

"Maybe that's why I try so hard to rise to his image, I wanna be the best bi can be." He can't help it. It's always a relieving rush to advertise his queerness. Thankfully, Derek's looking more and more relaxed and not like he's going to flee any second.

"That's the middle pin there, right?" Derek gestures to Stiles' backpack, which proudly sports multiple flags and queer quotes and images. One of the biggest one of course, is the big flag.

He beams back at Derek. "Yup, that's the one. That's me."

It's hard to resist asking the beautiful raven-haired boy if he has any interest in the same sex, too, but Stiles manages to keep his mouth shut. This is going too well for him to wreck. He wants Derek to come back, after all.

The butterflies do run rampant all throughout him, from his toes and all the way up to his fingertips and nose, when Derek directs that crooked smile of his at him.

"What about the other big one next to it?" Derek continues, glancing back to the backpack.

This is where Stiles hesitates just for a second but calms his panicking heart with iron-willed resolve.

"That's the ace flag. Asexual pride, that is." He feels ready to vibrate out of his skin, waiting for Derek's reaction. He's never been this scared of a rejection or attack, but then again, he hasn't crushed on someone this hard since Lydia in 3rd grade which basically just ended up being admiration and wonderful friendship.

"I think I read about that," Derek says thoughtfully, eyes still glued to the backpack.

Might they have that in common? Stiles' heart beats so loud he's sure Derek can hear it.

"So, maybe not as big of a fan of dick jokes as Shakespeare?" Derek then says casually, in that uber cool way of his, backpack hanging over one shoulder and hands in his pockets. It's the last thing Stiles expects, and he blinks- before bursting out with a laugh.

"Okay fine, you got me there," Stiles says with a remaining chuckle.

Derek grins at him.

Stiles totally does not melt. He doesn't. Nope. No sir.

"You're robbing me of my dreams here, Hale," Stiles quips. "What, are you coming for my position as president here next?"

"Well… you are only a freshman, right? Which is both kind of curious and terrifying…"

"Oh, I will fight you for the position. You can take my word for it," Stiles warns.

This is the end of the world, folks. You heard it here first. Stiles is bantering with Derek Hale. Reality is about to shift and collapse…

"I guess for now I'll just- I think I'll stay for today's meeting," Derek says, with a slight nervous shift in his posture, but an oh so adorable smile.

"Awesome, dude," is the best thing Stiles can say without making a total and utter fool of himself.

Reality might just be exploding and expanding I to a whole new world.

[macademmia]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Janus/Patton, Moceit

Summary: Janus Dean did not mean to start dating Patton Hart for political gain, and he definitely did not mean to fall in love with him. 

(Or the fake dating high school AU that nobody asked for but everyone needed.)

Based on this prompt by the incredible @kawaiikat54

Warnings: cursing, homophobia(nothing violent) 

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Everybody loves Patton Hart. He’s one of those rare popular kids who got their popularity by being a great person. Patton knows everyone’s first and last name and he’s in almost every club. He’s every teacher’s favorite student and every girl’s crush. He never curses and is nice to everyone. He’ll help you with your homework and listen to your problems. He gives hugs like it's nothing. Patton Hart thinks life is a fairy tale. 

Jason Dean absolutely despises Patton Hart. Everything in Patton’s life is perfect and everything he can get everything he’s ever wanted just by showing up. Janus has to fight for what he wants every step of the way. Janus is not trusted easily like Patton. Janus has a resting bitch face, whereas Patton’s face naturally falls into a smile. Janus is the night of Patton's day. 

For most of high school, Janus has been fine ignoring Patton. They never got in each other’s way, and Janus and his friend Ethan bonded over laughing at him. Janus stayed in his lane and Patton stayed in his that’s our it’s always been. 

Today everything changed. Today Patton Hart entered the race for student body president. Janus has spent the past month campaigning and building up goodwill, but it’s all pointless. Voters will take one look at the name Patton Hart and check the box next to his name. Patton doesn’t even have to captain. Just like always, Patton wins just by showing up. 

It’s infuriating, and it means that Janus will have to fight dirty. 

When the bell for lunch rings, Janus exits through the backdoor of the courtyard. It’s empty like it always is. 

Across the courtyard, his friend Ethan is leaning against the hard brick wall with a cigarette in one hand, and a flask in the other.

“‘Sup Janus.” 

“Hello, Ethan, did you hear the news?”

“That Hart’s running for president? Yeah.”

“What do you think we should do about it?” 

“Probably something he wouldn’t like,” Ethan says, and Janus laughs.

“What did you have in mind? Stage a scandal? Hack his email? Push him down a flight of stairs?” Janus was pretty partial to the last one. 

“Fun, but no. To win this race you’re going to have to go big or go home.”

That doesn’t sound good, especially coming from Ethan. 

“What do you mean, go big or go home?” 

“You need to pretend to date Patton Hart.” 

Janus laughed, “Absolutely not.” 

Ethan growled at him, “Did I fucking stutter Dean?”

Janus glared at him, “Did I? I’m not doing that.”

Ethan did not back down, “Take a second to think about it before you get all your feather ruffled. If you pretend to date Patton, you will get everything. You will find out what’s under his everything is a perfect persona. You’ll have a confession that he’s gay. If you do it you’re practically guaranteed to win the race.”

Janus pauses, “You have a point. I’ll think about it. You happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a week and Janus has thought of a way to talk to Patton, let alone ask him out. Hell, despite what Ethan says, he doesn’t even know if Patton is gay, bi, or pan at all. 

Despite the fact that if he is in fact, not straight, Patton is closeted, Ethan has been texting him more and more every day, and at this point, Janus might just flat out ask Patton out just to get him to shut up. 

As if on cue, Janus’ phone buzzes with a text. He doesn’t have to check who it is. He groans and shuts his phone off. History class is about to begin anyways. 

In the time that he’s read the text and dumped his phone into his bag, Patton Hart has somehow managed to sneak up on him. 

“Everything ok?” Patton asks, and there’s genuine concern in his voice. It drives Janus crazy. Through his glasses, Janus can see the concern and care in his big brown eyes, and it’s so powerful that he almost has to take a step back. 

Janus looks away from Patton, “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” 

Patton just shrugs, “You just seemed stressed.” 

“Oh well, thank you for your concern but I have everything under control,” Janus says, and why is it so hard for him to talk to Patton. Each word sounds awkward and unsure and it’s a complete 180 from the smooth and suave tone he usually uses.

Before the conversation can get any more awkward, the bell rings. 

“Glad to hear it,” Patton says. 

Janus just nodded and walked inside the classroom. 

Within the next few minutes, kids start filing in and sitting in their usual spots. Patton is sitting in the front predictably and Janus is watching him from the third row.  

Once all the students have filed into the dilapidated classroom their teacher, Mr. Rivers walks up to the front of the class. 

“All right everybody!” He says. “So today I thought we could switch things up a bit, and instead of me teaching you something like we normally do, you could teach your classmates and me something?” 

The class stares at him blankly, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t seem to notice their lack of a reaction. 

“So I decided that you all, with the help of a partner, will present on a series of influential people throughout history who all share one trait in common. It’s opened ended, so the thing all your people have in common can be creative! Hopefully y’all can have fun with this! Today you are going to have all of this class period to talk with your partner and get started, the project will be due next week. Any questions?” 

Only one girl raises her hand, and Mr. Rivers calls on her enthusiastically, “Can we choose our Partners?” She says. 

“Nope! I’m going to be picking partners for you all, it’s great to work with new people.” He replies cheerfully. 

A low groan rumbles through the classroom, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t comment on it.

“Alright so first up is Will Solace and Nico De Angelo.” 

The teacher keeps on listening names until finally Janus’ name was called,

“...and finally we have Patton Hart and Janus Hart.”

Well, that was one way to get the plan going. At least he’d have something to report to Ethan. 

Janus was not ready when Patton came bounding towards his Desk, with brown curls bouncing in time with his steps.

Janus was pretty sure he could stare at Patton and still not have counted every one of his freckles, the kid had so many. 

“Hey, Janus!” Patton was at his desk.

“Hi, Patton.” 

“So what do you wanna do? I know a lot of the other kids are doing soldiers from the same wars and stuff so we could do that if you’d like” 

“Well,” Janus mock whispers, “I was thinking we could spice things up a little bit, maybe do some queer people throughout history, freak the class out about it.” Janus was acting nonchalant but on the inside he was nervous; Patton’s reaction could change this entire election. 

Patton’s face seemed to light up even more if that was even possible. “That sounds awesome! There are so many people throughout history and no one even knows about it! Like did you know historians think Abraham Lincoln might have been gay? Or Eleanor Roosevelt, they found letters from her to a female lover or Alan Turing, he was essential in the liberation of Europe from Nazi Germany, and he was gay!” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, “Wow Patton you sure do know a lot.” 

Patton freezes and then rushes to defend himself, “Oh yeah I just wanted to support my LGBTQ friends by learning about their history! I just want to be a good ally.” Patton smiles but Janus can tell he’s nervous.

Yep, Janus thinks, totally just an ally. 

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Two weird things happen next week. Janus and Patton get an A on their assignment and Patton start sitting at Janus’ table. Janus has no clue why; Patton could sit at any table in the entire cafeteria and be welcomed as an honored guest. The first week Patton sits at Janus’ table, Janus doesn’t talk to all. He has his recorder on sure, but he’s too confused to respond. 

Patton talks about everything. He talks about frogs and theater and the stars. He talks about his family and his favorite colors. 

It should drive Janus crazy, but it doesn’t. 

Listening to Patton talk becomes one of the best parts of his day. 

When Janus finally starts throwing in a sarcastic comment here and there, Patton’s smile could outshine the sun. 

Janus ignores the fact that his heart speeds up more than it should when he’s around Patton.

With every recording he sends to Ethan, his guilt grows and grows. Janus doesn’t know how to handle the guilt, and he definitely doesn’t know how to deal with how he feels about Patton.

He can’t stop thinking about Patton, even when they’re not at lunch together. He can’t stop thinking about the way Patton’s eyebrows crinkle together when he laughs or how he gives Janus his full attention when he talks. He doesn’t want to think about the swell of anger in his gut every time someone so much as looks bad in Patton’s direction. 

Today though, today something is wrong with Patton. 

He won’t make eye contact with Janus, and he’s hunched in on himself. His smile is absent, and he won’t stop twisting his fingers. 

This isn’t how Patton’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be joyful and happy. But that’s not right, is it? Janus has always thought of Patton as a positivity god, above it all. Now, as Patton fidgets in front of him, Janus is reminded of how undeniably human Patton is. 

Patton’s voice is so low that Janus isn’t sure if I heard you, “Do I bother you?” 

Janus blinks. He never thought someone like Patton would ask him questions like that. 

“Of course not,” Janus says, and it’s the truth. He loves being around Patton. He loves hearing him talk, he loves the fact that he’s three inches taller than Patton, he loves how Patton makes him feel better about himself when Patton is around. Janus wants to find whoever made Patton believe that he was a bother and give them a black eye. Or two. 

Patton still remains hunched in on himself, “It’s ok Janus, I know you’re just being sarcastic.” 

“Patton,” Janus says, “Look at me,” He waits until Patton reluctantly meets his gaze, “You’re not a bother, in fact, sitting here with you at lunch is the highlight of my day.” 

Patton lets out a surprised o with his mouth, and Janus isn’t sure whether or not he wants to wrap Patton in a thousand blankets or hunt down everyone who ever hurt him. 

Patton is making Janus soft, but he can’t find himself to care. 

Next Tuesday, Patton comes up to his table like he’s about to go to war. His shoulders are tensed and his eyebrows are furrowed. His backpack straps are pulled as tight as possible and he’s marching towards Janus’ table. 

“I’m gay. And I wanted to tell you because you’re the first person in my life who doesn’t care about who I am or what I can do for you and I really hope that’s okay” Patton says, and he’s shaking a little. 

Janus is struck by how brave Patton is. Janus has never had the guts to come out, not like this, and here Patton is, exposing himself completely. Janus can see the fear in his eyes, but Patton doesn’t let it stop him. 

“I knew you weren’t just an ally.” 

Patton twirls the bracelet on his left wrist, “Am I really that obvious?” 

Janus shakes his head, “Nah, it just takes one to one.” Janus watches as the confusion on Patton’s eyes morphs into realization. 

“Oh,” Patton says. 

“Yeah” Janus replies. 

Patton smiles at him and starts talking about frogs. 

Janus’ phone feels heavier with the recording of Patton coming out. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Janus sends the recording of Patton’s coming he should feel good. He did it, that tape is enough to ruin Patton’s popularity for the rest of high school. He won. 

But he doesn’t feel good. In fact, he’s never felt worse. He’s going to get everything he ever wanted and he hates it. 

He can’t keep doing this to Patton, he can’t keep pretending to be the friend Patton so desperately needs when his moral compass is practically pointed towards Antarctica. 

He can’t take back the damage he did to Patton, but maybe he can stop pushing the knife deeper. 

He picks up his phone and texts Ethan.

Janus Dean, 7:30 pm: we’re done, I’m not going to pretend to date Patton anymore, I’m not going to send you recordings anymore. 

Ethan doesn’t even bother texting him back, He just calls Janus a few seconds after he receives the text. 

Janus picks up his phone and takes a deep breath. He has a feeling he’ll need it. 

“What the fuck Dean?” 

“Hello to you too Ethan,” Janus says, hoping the sarcasm will hide the panic.

“Don’t you fucking dare ‘Hello Ethan’ me.” Ethan snarls, “A deal is a deal, you can’t just pull out like this.” 

“Why do you care anyway? You’re not running for student body president, I am!” 

“Aw, you’re cute Dean.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.” Janus snaps.

“You think I give a shit about your little election? Are you crazy? I could care less, no this was all about Patton.” 

“What do you have against him?” 

A manic laughed echoed through the phone, “I want to see that dumb smile fall right off his moronic face.” 

“That’s it? You’re going to ruin his life because you’re feeling petty?” Janus knows Ethan isn’t the most ethical person out there but this is low even for him. 

Ethan doesn’t seem to care, “Now you’re getting it, JDelightful.” 

Fuck, He underestimated how crazy Ethan could be. 

Janus could hear Ethan smiling through the phone, “You’re going to regret saying no to me.” He said, and with that, the line went dead.  

It was all over. Patton, the one person who ever cared about Janus was going to leave. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

However, he did still have a few hours left. And he had nothing else to lose.

Janus Dean,  7:41 pm: Can we hang out? 

Patton Hart, 7:41 pm: Sure! When and where? 

Janus Dean, 7:42 pm: I know this awesome hidden park we could check out, I can pick you up, I’ll be there in 10. 

Patton Hart, 7:42 pm: awesome!!! :D

Janus was going to lose Patton. There was no use of denying it. 

That wasn’t going to stop him from taking every second he could get and treasuring it forever.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patton is sitting on the front steps of his house when Janus’ blank car swings around the block. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Janus deadpans

“Hello to you too snake boy,” Patton says, matching Janus’ monotone. 

“Snake boy? Really? Is that the best you could come up with Golden Boy.” 

“Takes one to know one Janus,” Patton says. Is he talking about what Janus said when Patton comes out? Janus hopes he’s not blushing. 

“Touché, Patton,” Janus says, and Patton grins at him. Janus can’t stop staring at his lips.

Stop looking at him like that, you’re never going to be his anything. 

Janus ignores his inner monologue. 

Patton shuffles his playlist and Don’t Stop Believing comes on. 

“Oh my god Patton, you are such a dad.” Janus groans, but Patton pretends not to hear him 

“Don’t stop believing,” Patton sings, “Hold on to that feeling” Patton belts the last song and it’s so terrible, but it’s so Patton and Janus falls just a little bit harder. 

Patton is giving him the look, the do what I say or I’ll be sad look. Janus sighs.

“Hold on to that feeling.” Janus sings, and Patton lets out a whoop, and Janus starts signing louder, “Street light people, waiting just to find emotion.” 

“Living just to find emotion!” Patton shouts, and Janus belts right along with him. 

Another song comes on, and then another, and suddenly Patton and Janus have screamed themselves hoarse singing 80s songs.

By the time they’ve gone through six songs, the sky is falling down, and Patton’s windshield wipers are swiping in overtime. 

When they pull up to the park, it’s pouring. There are no cars in the parking lot and Janus can barely see five feet in front of him. 

Patton frowns, “Aw man, it’s raining. I guess we’ll just have to come back later.” 

Janus freezes. There is no later. It is literally now or never.

“No,” Janus says.

“No?” Patton says in surprise. 

“It’s just water, it can’t stop us from having fun,” Janus says. This is it. If Patton says no Janus doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

“Okay,” Patton says, giving Janus a mischievous smile. 

Janus unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the safety of the car in the pouring rain. Within the first three seconds of being outside, Janus is drenched from head to toe. He doesn’t notice. 

“Hey,” Patton says. Just like Janus, Patton is soaked. His cardigan is leaking, and his glasses are foggy. His curls have fallen flat and raindrops hang on his bangs. 

“Hi,” Janus replies, and this is so absurd. He’s standing outside alone with Patton Hart in an abandoned park in the rain, just before his life is about to fall apart. 

Janus wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Dance with me,” Janus hears himself saying. 

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” 

Janus walks over to Patton and says, “Ok so first I’m gonna put my arms around your shoulders like this,” Slowly, in case Patton wants to pull away Janus puts his arms on top of Patton’s shoulders. 

“What’s next?” Patton asks. 

“Put your arms on my waist,” Janus says. He can feel Patton hesitate and then tentatively wrap his arms around his middle. The feeling of Patton’s skin on his is electrifying. 

Patton smiles, “Now what?” 

“Now we just move,” Janus says simply and he follows Patton’s movements. For a beginner, Patton is a surprisingly good dancer.

The two dance under the stars to the melody of the rain. 

Neither of them says anything, but Patton’s face is so close to his and his lips are even closer. 

It takes all the willpower Janus has to not kiss Patton then and there. 

“Hey, Patton?”

“Yeah, Janus?” 

The butterflies in Janus’ stomach are more like raging pigeons. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but, I think now is the right time,” Janus takes a deep breath and Patton gives him an encouraging look. 

“I like you. I really like you, Patton. I’ve liked you ever since you sat down at my table and started to talk about frogs. I thought it was just a friend thing, but it’s not. Because the truth is Patton, I want to be with you, all the time. I want to kiss you and I want to call you my boyfriend.” Patton is silent.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I totally get it. I’ll leave you alone. I won’t push it, I promise. I don’t want it to be weird I just want you to be ha-“ 

Janus is cut off by Patton grabbing his collar, and pulling him down to his level for a kiss. 

Patton is kissing him. Patton is Kissing Him. Holy shit. This is better than anything Janus could have imagined. Patton’s lips are soft against his chapped ones. They’re warm despite the pouring rain. Patton wraps his arms around Janus’s neck to keep himself steady, and Janus brushes Patton’s bangs away from his eyes. 

When Patton finally pulls away, there’s fire in his eyes. 

“You absolute idiot,” Patton says, taking a second to breathe, “how could you think, even for a second, that I wouldn’t like you.”

Janus laughs and doesn’t stop looking at Patton, “I guess I’m just dumber than I thought.”

Patton nods vigorously in agreement, “understatement of the century, snake boy.”

Patton goes in for another kiss, and Janus doesn’t want this night to ever end.

Fuck Ethan.

Fuck the election.

Fuck other people.

Janus just wants to stay with Patton forever.

When he gets back from his date with Patton, Janus is so happy, all he wants to do is jump and scream with joy. He’s never felt more himself around another person. He feels so alive when he’s with Patton that he never wants to stop. 

He drops his bag down on the floor of his bedroom and jumps on his bed. He’s smiling so hard it hurts but he doesn’t want to stop. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t used those muscles in years. 

He grabs his phone, pops his earbuds in, and shuffles the playlist Patton made for him. He’ll never get over the small act of Patton making a playlist for him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over Patton. He loves the way Patton lights up when he talks about frogs. He adores how Patton keeps smiling day after day, he’s stronger than anyone will ever know. He loves the way Patton shoves his glasses up his nose when he’s nervous. He loves how when he talks Patton just listens and Janus somehow knows that Patton understands. He loves how good Patton is. He loves how he tastes like cinnamon and rainy days.  Being with Patton is like seeing this sun after years of being stuck underground, Janus will never get sick of his light. 

After he finds the playlist he lays down and closes his eyes, and just listens to the music. He breathes in and out and it’s almost like Patton is right there next to him. 

About 15 minutes later Janus’ phone buzzes, and he grabs it excitedly, hoping Patton is sending him a goodnight text. 

His mood plummets when he sees who really texted him. Ethan. This can’t be good. Time has run out. 

When the messages app opens there are two unread messages. 

The first one is a link to an Instagram post made by Ethan. The second one reads “You can’t get rid of me that easy.” 

When Janus clicked on the post, it was a list of screenshots. Texts between Ethan and Janus. Texts between Patton and Janus. Janus’ audio recordings. And they spilled everything 

The whole school knew that Janus had got together Patton for political power. The whole school knew that Janus had tricked Patton. The whole school knew that Patton fell for it. 

Fuck, the whole school knew Patton was gay. Janus let Patton get outed. Patton, who shared his secret with Janus, was now left to vultures known as teenagers. Patton, who was still figuring himself out, was forced out of the closet in the worst possible way. Patton who thought someone finally loved him for who he was and not what he could do, was just publicly used for political gain

He would never get to choose how to say it. He would never get to hug his friends when he invited them to their favorite diner and told them over milkshakes about who he was. He’ll never get to slowly start to wear rainbow pins on his pack packs. He would never get to walk into a GSA and see the happy surprise on everyone’s faces. He would never get to be ready. 

And it was all Janus’ fault. 

He has to call Patton, and he has to do it now. 

When he dials Patton’s number it rings out. He dials again, the same thing. Again and again. Every time Patton doesn’t pick up Janus breaks more and more. 

“Fuck!” He shouts, and his voice cracks. He can feel the tears start to come and his throat start to close up. He ruined the one good thing in his life. He should have seen this coming. His happiness was never meant to last.

His only consolation is that tomorrow is a Saturday, so he doesn’t have to put on a brave face so anyone. He won’t have to face Ethan in the halls. He won’t have to see the disgust and disappointment in Patton’s face. 

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

————————————————

Janus spends the entire weekend locked in his room. He doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed. The loss of Patton is crushing him so hard he can barely breathe. He deletes his Instagram, and turns off messaging notifications. He listens to Patton’s playlist over and over and over again, just to feel like he’s with Patton again. It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t know how he can face school on Monday. He knows he won’t get in any trouble, the student body is so homophobic that they’d probably congratulate him. The school administrators will call it an out of school affair and turn their heads the other way. Janus might as well start saying he’s student body president now. 

No, what he can’t handle is seeing Patton in the hallways, robbed of his beautiful smile. Seeing Patton avoid his gaze and stop waving to people in the halls. Watching all the terrible people at Sanders high go in for the kill. He can’t watch, knowing it’s all his fault.

The worst part is he will be congratulated for doing this. He will get his dream. Students will be proud of him, teachers will pretend they didn���t say anything, Ethan won’t get suspended. Patton could fall apart and no one would notice. 

The world isn’t fair, Janus always knew Patton would have to learn that. He didn’t want Patton to learn it like this. 

No one should. 

——————

When Janus’ first alarm goes off on Monday morning he shuts it off instantly. The last thing he wants to do is get up. He does the same thing with the second one. He could fake a sick day, right? When the third alarm rolls around, he counts to three and forces himself to get up. No matter how bad he’s feeling, he cannot show weakness. Not now, and not ever. 

He rolls out of bed and puts on clothes robotically. He’s barely aware of what he’s wearing, but it’s fine. Everything is fine. 

He laces up his docs and throws his books in his backpack. He unplugs his phone then brushes his teeth. He grabs his bag and then heads downstairs. 

He pours himself a mug of scalding black coffee. He downs it steaming hot. He likes the way the bitter liquid burns as it goes down his throat. Never let it be said that he couldn’t be edgy. He doesn’t have anything else for breakfast, and he can hear Patton chiding him in his head. 

Janus shakes his head, puts his mug in the sink, and heads out the door. 

When he gets to his car he pauses. He means to turn the key to ignite it. All he can think about is Friday night when Patton and Janus ran back to Janus’ car in the pouring pain and held hands while Janus drove him home. Patton kissed him goodbye. 

Suddenly, Janus’ lips feel cold. 

He takes a deep breath and turns the key. He can’t think about that. Not anymore. He has to stay strong because if he starts to cry, he’s not sure he’ll ever stop. 

When he gets to school he parks his car in his spot. He keeps telling himself the same thing: Don't let anyone know you’re bothered, especially not Ethan.

He hesitates for a few seconds before walking in the school building. He will not let his fear control him. He can do this. He owes it to Patton. 

In the halls, he can hear the students whispering about him. He hears his name and Patton’s name and he hears the word, queer. The students whisper the word gay like it’s a dirty secret they shouldn’t know. It makes Janus’ blood boil but he has to keep walking. 

He keeps looking for Patton in the halls, but he can’t find him anywhere. Patton always gets to school early to say hi to everyone. He’s at school every morning at 7:50 by his locker. Why isn’t he there?

Because you used him for selfish reasons and let him get outed, idiot, he thinks.

For the rest of the day, Janus’ classes go in one ear and out the other. It’s a Monday so he doesn’t have any classes with Patton, but he still can’t pay attention. He can feel the states of other students during class and it is unbearable. Patton made school enjoyable and now that he’s gone it’s a nightmare. 

During lunch, his food tastes like cardboard and he sits alone. He doesn’t know where Patton is but he’s not at their-his table. He forces the sandwich down and opts to hide in the library for the rest of lunch. 

At the end of the day Janus instinctively starts walking to his car in the parking lot. It’s in the fifth row. When he gets to the third bow he stops walking. Patton’s car is in the third row. He can deny it all he wants but Janus knows that if he doesn’t talk to Patton now he never will. 

He can’t let Patton go, not now, not ever. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Patton sees him, Janus can already tell he's been crying. His eyes are red and puffy and he won’t stop rubbing at him.

He’s about to get in his car when Janus shouts, “Patton wait!” 

Patton whips around, and when his eyes meet Janus’, Janus resists the urge to take a step back. The pain in Patton’s brown eyes is overwhelming. 

“What do you want, Janus?” Patton snaps. His voice is hard and cold, so unlike the typical warmth, Patton brings to every conversation. 

Janus avoids Patton’s eyes, “I wanted to apologize, I never meant to hurt you and,” Janus looks for the right words, but nothing seems to work, “I’m so so sorry.” 

“You dated me to help you win an election, Janus, how did you not mean to hurt me? The whole idea was to hurt me!” Patton says. He’s shaking. 

Janus can’t think of anything to say, so Patton just keeps going.

“I finally thought I found someone who wanted me for who I am! No! Everyone just wants me for what I can give them, popularity, friendship, support, and I thought you were different! I opened myself up to you and you spilled my secrets to the world!” 

Janus closes his eyes. “Patton…” He whispers, and he reaches out for Patton’s hand. 

Patton jerks back violently as if he has just been burned. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Patton’s fists are clenched at his side and Janus wonders if he’s going to start swinging them. 

He’d deserve it, but Janus just won’t stop pushing. He loves Patton too much to let go. 

“Patton please.” Janus says. He has never been a beggar but he is willing to fall down at Patton’s feet just to see that warm smile directed at him one more time. He would walk through hell and hack just to make Patton happy again. 

“You know what Janus? I could forgive the whole, I played with your emotions to win a dumb high school election thing.” Patton says, “I could forgive how I gave you my heart and you crushed it beneath your heel. But you didn’t just leave it at that. No, you had to publicly humiliate me. You let your friend Ethan out me. I don’t care if it was for an election, you don’t just get to do that Janus!” Patton is screaming at him now, “You don’t get to decide that. I’m supposed to be the one who decides where, and when, and who knows, and how I get to say it, that’s supposed to be my thing! And you took that away from me.” 

Patton’s explosive anger is hardening into something cooler, harder, and more dangerous. 

“So would you please just get the fuck away from me!” 

That’s when it really hits Janus how badly he fucked up. Patton never curses. Patton doesn’t even say darn. If Patton was angry enough to use a curse word, the world should be terrified. It’s more unlikely for Patton to curse than for him to hit someone 

Janus wishes Patton had hit him, because it would hurt so much less. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later Janus, Patton, and the entire school are in the auditorium waiting to hear the election results. All of Janus' months of work have led up to this moment. The name on the slip of paper the principal is holding will tell him if it was all for nothing.

Students are chattering to each other but Janus tunes it all out, because for the first time in two weeks, Patton is sitting next to him. 

Granted, it’s not by choice, the two candidates have to sit together in the first row, but Janus will take anything he can get. 

“Alright everybody, Settle down, settle down.” The principal's deep voice echoes through the auditorium. When he’s satisfied with the noise level, he continues, “Both of our candidates have worked tirelessly these past months to present themselves as student body presidents worthy of you, and happy to say that both of them have done a phenomenal job. However, there can only be one winner of this race so without further ado, your new student body president is,” He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“Janus Dean.” 

Janus waits for the rush. He waits for the happy feeling to inundate him. He has won, everything in these past few months has been worth it. He beat Patton. He showed up Ethan. He showed this entire school that he is worth something, and that he will be someone. 

So why doesn’t he feel good? 

Janus puts on a smile, grabs the piece of paper with his victory speech written, and walks towards the podium.

When he gets there the lights are blinding, but he knows the entire student body is staring back at him. The only person Janus can see is Patton. Patton looks sad. Defeated. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Janus picks up his speech to read. He’s supposed to talk about the support of the students, the support of the staff, how much this victory means to him, and how he promises to do his very best to fulfill their needs. He can’t start talking though. This isn’t right. 

Then it finally hits him. 

The thing he wants more than anything isn’t to win this dumb race, the thing he wants more than anything in the world is Patton. He wants to see Patton’s smile every morning. He wants to hear Patton call Janus his boyfriend. He wants to see Patton happy. He wants to have so many firsts with Patton. He wants to be able to kiss Patton whenever he wants. He wants to hold hands with Patton and call him obnoxious pet names. 

He puts his speech down.

“Hey everyone.” He says, “First of all, I would like to thank everyone for their vote. It means the world to me that you would put that kind of trust in me.” Janus pauses, and stares Patton dead in the eyes, “However I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline the position.” 

Whispers explode throughout the auditorium and the teachers are frozen in shock. 

“I thought standing up here was the thing I wanted more than anything, but I was wrong. See, a few months ago, I was assigned to work on a history project with this guy. At the time I really hated him, he was so perfect. He was so good. Then he decided to run against me in this race and suddenly he became a problem I had to solve. Me and one of my friends decided it would be fun for me to pretend to date him, and then leak some of his secrets, showing everyone that he isn’t as perfect as he looked. It was the perfect plan. Or so I thought. I started spending more time with this guy, I tried so hard to hate him, but it was impossible. That’s how good he is. We became fast friends, and he made me better. I loved being around him, it was like waking up to a bright summer day. Loving him snuck him on me, but soon it was like breathing. I couldn’t keep collecting information on him, and so I told my friend it was over. Wrong move.” Janus took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop looking at Patton.

“He outed this guy to our entire school. I don’t know how many of you are part of the queer community, but being out is one of the worst things in the world. Everyone says it’s like ripping a bandaid off. It’s more than that. Being outed when you’re not ready is like someone stabbing a healing wound. It is so fucked up, and one of the worst things I could’ve let happen. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” 

Patton is shaking; Janus keeps going.

“Even worse, I heard what people were saying in the halls. I heard the slurs and the whispers and the hate, and I kept walking. I thought it would be better to keep my head down and stay in my lane, so I wouldn’t get hurt. But the truth is if we don’t demand respect, it is going to get taken from us. LGBTQ+ teenagers face a suicide rate five times that of our straight peers. We are two times as likely to be bullied for being who we are, and it really shows. This applies to everyone including myself: Do better. I should have said something.” 

“Your new student body president, Patton Hart, is overqualified for the job. He is caring and honest. He sees the best in everyone, including screw-ups like me. He’s hardworking and selfless. He’ll sit with you at lunch even if he doesn’t know you. He’ll compliment your clothes and help you with your homework. He has done all of these things even when he wasn’t your president. He is the heart of this school, and no one fits the role better than him.” 

Janus turns back to Patton and gives him a small smile, “Patton, I am so sorry. For everything. I know this doesn’t make up for anything that I’ve put you through, but you deserve the world.” 

Janus turns back to the audience, “Thank you for your time.” 

Everything is silent. And then everyone flies out of their seats, and the sound is deafening.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus doesn’t see Patton for the rest of the day. It’s a Monday which means they don’t share any classes together. Janus doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even know if Patton wants to see him. He feels a little lighter, he isn’t drowning in the guilt anymore. It isn’t gone but it isn’t suffocating him anymore. Even if Patton never talks to him again, Janus will always know he did one good thing in his life, even if it’s infinitesimal compared to all the bad. 

Around 6:30 that night Janus’ phone buzzes.

When he checks his phone, he has one text from Patton, and Janus forgets how to breathe.

Patton Hart, 6:31 pm: did you mean what you said. 

Janus Lyre, 6:32 pm: every word.

Patton Hart, 6:32 pm: meet me by our park.

“Yes!” Janus cheers. Patton wants to see him. Janus is going to go see Patton. Janus is going to see Patton! 

Every step he takes to his car feels like he’s walking on air. When he get into his car he plays the playlist Patton made for the first time in weeks.

The speed limit on the roads is 30, but if Janus goes at 35 no one has to know. 

When he gets to the bench he and Patton have hung out at, Patton is already there. 

He’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and the blue flannel Janus gave him for his birthday. Janus knows that’s intentional, and the urge to pull Patton into a kiss is so hard to resist. He could do it, there are no people around to get in their way.

“Hey snake boy,” Patton says.

“Hey, golden boy,” Janus says, and oh how he missed this. Patton and his messy hair are inches away from him. 

“Can I…” Patton trails off, but he’s looking at Janus’ lips.

“Always.” 

Patton and Janus crash into each other. Patton is kissing him and his lips are warm. He tastes like cinnamon. Janus wraps his arms around Patton’s shoulders and pulls him closer, this feels so right. Janus never wants to stop kissing Patton. He wants it to be his job, Janus Dean, professional kisser of Patton Hart. It has a nice ring to it.

“That was one heck of a speech Jan,” Patton says.

Janus smirks, “Only the best for our student body president.” 

Patton giggles but then becomes more serious, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Only doing what’s right.”

“Still” 

“You’re right Pat I did have an ulterior motive.” 

“Oh?” Patton raises his eyebrows. 

“I’ve always loved the sound of first lady,” Janus says seriously. 

Patton pulls him in for another kiss, and Janus wonders if he’s dreaming. 

“I love you.” Patton says, and his hair is frazzled and he’ out of breath but Janus is struck by just how beautiful Patton is. 

“I love you too.” 

Life isn’t a fairytale, Janus knows that, but this feels like his happy ever after.

a/n: thanks for reading!!!! yes, the scene where Patton yells at Janus is inspired by Love, Simon, and yes, you read that right, Solangelo did get a cameo

taglist(let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@kawaiikat54 @foreverfangirlalways @five-falseh00ds-ph0nated @kiribakuandcats 

[kissjane]

ANYBODY I KNOW? / Short fic

#39 from this prompt list.

Again, I’m struggling with these last few prompts. I think it might have something to do with my mental state right now. So once again, I’m not too sure about this one, but at least it’s finished. Sorry I couldn’t do better.

Having a bad day and the other noticing

Florenzi really wasn’t doing well today. He was only half present on a good day, anyway, but today it was really bad. The teacher had called on him numerous times already, only to get a vague mumble in response, and David could tell Frau Liebherz was about to lose her shit and Florenzi about to get in serious trouble.

He wondered why he even cared. It wasn’t like he and Matteo were even friends. Leonie had warned him about the guy – he’s lazy, and a stoner, and can’t be trusted, had been her words. Sara hadn’t seemed to think quite as badly about him, but what David had seen in class seemed to fit in pretty well with Leonie’s assessment.

Still, though, David felt bad for the guy. His blue eyes looked a bit dull most of the time, but today, they were puffy and red-rimmed. David didn’t think Matteo could have smoked enough to get that effect during the five minutes he had left the classroom earlier to “use the bathroom”, so there must be something else bothering the guy.

Secretly, David sided with Sara on one part of the latter’s opinion on Matteo, and that was that he was cute. He had seen guys that were objectively a lot more handsome, but somehow Matteo made messy blond hair, pale skin, oversized pants, woollen sweaters that looked like he’d raided his grandfather’s closet, and eyes blue as the sky work.

“Matteo Florenzi!,” Frau Liebherz called, and both Matteo and David startled out of their daydreams. “I have had enough! You haven’t heard a word I said all class! You’re expelled from this class, go see the headmistress about what to do.”

“Ask her to repeat the difference between the thyroid and the parathyroid gland,” David hissed at Matteo, who didn’t make a move, visibly upsetting Frau Liebherz even more.

“Uhm…”, Matteo mumbled, hesitating. “No, uh, I was just wondering, Frau Liebherz, if you could maybe, uh, explain the difference between the, ummm, thyroid and the…”

“Parathyroid,” David whispered as loud as he dared.

“And the parathyroid gland.”

Frau Liebherz looked annoyed, but started delving into the differences between the two again, and before she was ready with her explanation, the bell rang.

David had packed his stuff together in a matter of seconds, and by the time he was out of the door, he noticed how Matteo still sat on his chair, slumped over his desk, alone in the empty class.

He owed Matteo nothing.

But he couldn’t leave him sitting like that, obviously in distress.

“Matteo? Are you okay?”

Matteo barely reacted.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Thanks for earlier.”

“Uh, you’re welcome. Are you sure you’re okay though? I could go get somebody…”

“I’m fine,” Matteo snapped. David huffed. Help a guy out and get treated like shit. Should teach him to believe Leonie in the future. He wanted to walk off, when Matteo turned away his head sharply, but not before David caught on to the tears welling up in the other boy’s eyes.

And that was enough for him to crouch down next to Matteo, and tentatively put a hand on his arm in a futile gesture of consolation. Matteo jerked under the touch at first, but then he relaxed and sniffled.

“Hey…” David felt inadequate. “Want to go out somewhere with me? Take a walk by the river? We don’t have to talk or anything.”

Matteo looked up at that.

“Don’t – don’t you have a class?”

David shrugged.

“I can skip it.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Matteo fixing his big blue eyes on David, and staying quiet for a few long minutes, before suddenly saying “Let’s go, then,” and moving so fast David had to jog to catch up.

They walked, and David wanted to ask what is going on, but Matteo seemed not in the mood to talk.

But then, to David’s surprise, the other boy spoke up.

“Why did you come here with me? Why did you help me out with Frau Liebherz? We’re not friends, we haven’t even talked before today.”

Damn. David had hoped not to get into that. He shrugged again, non-committaly.

“I don’t know… You looked like shit. I just figured you could use somebody today.”

Matteo’s face hardened, and David was quick to continue.

“Listen, sorry, I don’t mean anything bad. We don’t have to become best friends or anything, we don’t even have to talk about whatever it is, I just – well. I wanted to help if I could. I mean –”, he faltered when Matteo glared at him. “Yeah, uh, sorry. Never mind. I’ll just go back.”

“No, uh –”

Matteo grabbed David’s hand, and David stood still. His eyes went to where their skin touched, and when he looked up, he was sure his cheeks were burning. However, Matteo seemed a bit breathless himself, and he quickly let go of David. David felt the loss immediately.

“Sorry, I – you, you don’t have to go, I mean.”

Matteo sounded a bit hesitant, and David felt the nerves emanating from the boy.

“Okay, let’s sit down then.” He found a bench and did as he suggested, looking expectantly up at Matteo, until the latter gingerly sat down next to him.

“We don’t have to talk,” David said after they had sat in silence for a while, “but if you want to, I’m listening.”

Matteo seemed to debate whether to say something or not, and David just looked around, not wanting to pressure the other boy.

Suddenly Matteo blurted out, “I’m gay.”

It came so out of the blue, that David was unsure he understood correctly. He whipped his head towards Matteo, who was watching him minutely.

“Okay,” David simply replied, and he noticed how Matteo’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Yeah. I mean, it seems like it should be the least of my worries right now, with my dad fucking off to Italy with his mistress, and my mom in the hospital, and me having to go live with some strangers in a flat share, and failing Biology badly, and Spanish too if I’m honest, but –”, he took a deep breath, and David’s head reeled with all the info dumped on him, “somehow being gay feels like the thing that’s on my mind most. I’m afraid to tell my friends, and I have… this… crush…”

His voice faltered, and an adorable shade a pink crept on his cheeks. He turned his eyes away from David.

David didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry about your parents, and having to live on your own. And I don’t take Spanish, but I can help with Biology if you want. And as to the other thing… I think your friends would be cool with it. And if they aren’t… Well… I am kinda into a boy too.”

Matteo’s eyes flew up again, staring at David.

“You are?”

David nodded, noticing Matteo sounded a bit overwhelmed, and not trusting himself to speak right now.

They didn’t move for a long beat, and then Matteo whispered, “Is it… somebody I know?”

David nodded again, fascinated by Matteo’s blue eyes, staring into them.

“And you?”, he breathed out. “Anybody I know?”

“Yeah,” Matteo murmured.

If David had been watching him just a bit less intensely, he wouldn’t have noticed Matteo’s eyes dropping very briefly to David’s lips, and his pupils dilating slightly. As it was, though, he didn’t miss any of Matteo’s actions, and they set loose a horde of elephants in his chest.

“Who?”, he asked, bluntly, needing to know for certain.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me too,” Matteo said, and when David agreed, he started counting. “On three. One, two, three –”

“You,” they said simultaneously, confidently, strongly, looking each other in the eye.

David saw his own wide smile mirrored on Matteo’s face, and then, slowly, they leaned towards each other until their mouths found each other.

When they finally let go, Matteo grinned.

“Best day ever,” he said into David’s skin, and David couldn’t agree more.

[neomikey]

Contributing to the #RyukoPrompts this month (albeit belatedly), Final Fantasy 14 with my wife and sister-in-law has been helping us to get through the lockdown!  After all our time spent running through Eorzea, original adventures inspired by our time playing came to mind...and I thought to write one out.

Enjoy~!  :)

The following story’s canon is questionable,

both with the in-game lore and how the characters are presented.

Viewer discretion is advised, void where prohibited,

see store for details, careful of wet floor.

~

Hear...

Her voice was calm and crystalline.

Hear.... Feel....

The air was warm.

Hear.... Feel....  Listen....

There was great weight to her tone and a quiet urgency.

I am Hydaelyn. I know all...see all...I have seen you...and you are needed.

You will be required for a great task.  One of which you must not fail, for to do so would bring great ruin.

The task which you have been given is monumental – you will help to stop a primal where no one else can.

My words...keep them.  Remember them. Heed them.

You must not forget, Muto. You must not forget.

~

Muto blearily opened his eyes.  Outside the world was waking.  Light was coming in through the window, still orange as the sun started its journey above the horizon.  Birds were already in song, announcing to the world that they had survived the dark night.  Windows were beginning to light as the people of Gridania awoke.

As he lied in bed, something urgently tugged at Muto's mind.  Something desperate. Something important.  His eyes shot open.

He was out of toilet tissue.

This was the fourth attempt that Hydaelyn had made to spur the Hrothgar toward his quest.

Stumbling out of bed in his boxers, he rushed for the door and threw it open. Rushing across the small house, he passed by another white-furred Hrothgar and a tired-looking Lalafell who were sitting at a table with mugs.  On the side of the beastman's in large block lettering had originally been “#One Brother,” but the number had been messily scratched out and replaced by “#1st”.  It was a gift Muto had made while still learning to read and write Eorzean.  The Lalafell, meanwhile, had a tankard large enough for a Roegadyn filled to the brim with coffee.

“Just one morning,” Lalinu sighed, “I would like for him to be decent when he comes out of there.”

“Muto is not naked,” Tahro observed.

“A marked improvement,” the Lalafell admitted.

The door to the back was flung open and Muto rushed out.  A minute later, he rushed back and stood before them, eyes wide with excitement.  “No more emergency!” he announced.

“...I'm sorry?” Lalinu asked.  “Wait, no, forget I—”

“Muto thought there was no more toilet tissue, but Muto was wrong!”

“You were wrong about something.”  She went to have a drink of coffee.  “How about that.”

“Tahro buy,” Tahro informed him.  “Tahro also fill up larder.  Get groceries. Get good deals.”

“While somebody was out playing adventurer.”

“Muto is real adventurer....” Muto insisted.

“If you got sustainably paid, you could be considered a 'professional' adventurer.  Just like how I'm supposed to be a 'professional' accountant.”  She had another drink of coffee.  “Though I currently lack the dignity that comes with such a position.”

“Muto think Lalinu is great!”  He grinned brightly, hoping the smile would affect her mood.  It remained as dark as her coffee.

“Muto need a good job,” Tahro informed him.  “Get good money.  Money not lasting.”

“He's right.  It's not.”  Lalinu swiveled in her chair, then hopped off. She walked across the kitchen to where her desk was set up, which was a little lower than the Hrothgars' knees.  She sifted through the stacks of papers, brought up one, then put on her glasses.  “After your last trip to...hold on....”  She squinted and leaned in, then removed her glasses and sighed.  “I can't even pronounce half these names....  Anyways, your exploits are currently not economically self-sustaining, even cutting back on everything – including feeding that beast in the barn – and your queen's 'adventuring grant' won't last forever.”

“Muto need to do more,” Tahro gently informed Muto.  “Cannot keep doing light duties.”

“Grand company have nothing but light duties for Muto!” Muto protested.  “So many adventurers in Eorzea!  So many legends!” He put a hand to his chest.  “But Muto is legend in heart.”

“We know how great you think you are,” Lalinu said after another drink of coffee, “but until you make that a reality, you're under a ticking clock.”

Muto looked above himself.  “...where is clock?”

Lalinu gave a throaty sigh of frustration, but Tahro spoke up in her stead. “Lalinu mean...get big job...or no more adventuring.”

It looked for a moment like someone had slapped Muto, as his expression went from shock to heart-rending sadness.  His ears drooped, his tail went limp, and he looked like he was about to cry.  However, the moment was brief, as moments later, his ears went back up, he brought his fists near his chest, and he bore a determined expression.

“Muto get help!”

~

The world was warm and comfortable.  She was a ball.  A warm, fluffy, pink ball.  All was well in the world.

And then she woke up.

“Miyu...!”

“Mm....”

“Miyu, hey...!”

“Nuhhhh....”

“Come on, it's time to get up.”

“Nuhhhhh...!”

“Don't 'nuhhhh' me.  You asked me to get you up.”

A pink tail emerged from the blanket ball and began to angrily swish.  “That was before it was morning....”

“I even let you sleep in a little,” Ryuko said, poking Miyu through her hammock.

The blanket ball tightened.  “Then you can let me sleep in more.”

“If you sleep in more, you're going to miss all the good jobs.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmhh.” The blanket ball loosened and Miyu's head poked out.  Her hair was skewed to one side and only one eye was open.  “You know how unfair this is.”

Ryuko stood before her already clad in her dragoon armor, leaning on her spear.  “Oh, I know, but Eorzea isn't gonna help itself.”

“Why not?”  Miyu tucked herself back into the blanket ball.  “Seriously.  People treat us like their servants sometimes.  Like...picking mushrooms a little outside the city's walls.  'I'll give you 50 gil to get ten for me!' Get them yourself! Seriously, the creatures outside are not bad if you don't bother them.  We have other things to worry about, we're not here to do your chores for you.”

She heard the Au Ra's boots walking away.  “Technically speaking, that's exactly what we're here to do – do whatever people pay us to.”

“Well, some of us have standards....”

Ryuko's boots came back.  “Are you getting up?”

“In a moment....”

There was a pause. “Moment's up!”

The carbuncle was dropped into the hammock and immediately starting rooting through the blanket to find an opening, while Miyu's limbs flailed.  “Ack! Twitchums!  No! Stop!  Off!” His nose found Miyu's face, then eagerly started licking. “TWITCHUMS!!”

The hammock twisted from all the activity, dumping Miyu and Twitchums on the floor, followed by the blanket, which fell and draped over half of Miyu's face.  Ryuko did her best to hide her amusement.  “Glad you're up!”

“That was meeeeaaan...!” Miyu whined, pushing Twitchums away.  He was trying to jump up on her chest to lick her face, both because he loved her and because it was time for breakfast.  He was a bright, shining topaz color, indicating how thrilled he was to see the Miqo'te.

“You asked me to get you up,” said Ryuko as she turned and headed for the door.

“I'm asking you for less next time...” grumbled Miyu.  She stroked Twitchums's head, making his tails twitch in delight.

“Go and get ready soon!”  Ryuko waved from the door.  “I'm sure you're gonna get a great job today!”

~

“It's Declan,” he said, flashing a bright, sly smile, “but you can call me 'Dec.'”

The Viera lady looked to the Miqo'te less than enthused.

“Y'know, I'm kinda big around these parts,” Declan went on.  “I took out some primals singlehandedly, you know.  Like Titan?  Yeah, that was me.  I even took his crystal, just because I felt like it.  I sold it for a million gil, even though I didn't need the money.  Did I mention I was rich?”  He flashed the Viera a bright smile again, who returned a flat stare.

“Declan,” said someone behind him.

“Not now,” he said, waving the person away.  “Okay, okay,” he went on to the Viera, “I've got a secret...but you've gotta promise not to tell anyone.”

She just stared.

“I...am actually one of the original Warriors of Light.  I know!  I know, but it's true!  I was there when Bahamut broke out.  I was actually right by Louisoix's side.  I told everyone, 'Get out of here and I'll protect you!'  I was gonna save everyone, but Louisoix decided to hog the glory.  He totally stole my idea.”

“Declan.”

“Not now.”  He leaned against the wall, still eyeing the Viera.  “So, I wouldn't call myself a 'legendary hero,' but some people do.  I just was trying to do what was right, y'know?  However, I'd love to have lunch with ya.  I know this lovely place near the Steps of Nald.  My treat! You like Lalafell cooking?”

The lady sighed. “I'm gay.”  Then she walked off.

“All right!  All right, that's fine!  Hey, you do you!  Just making polite conversation!”  She wasn't stopping.  Declan sighed, his ears lowering a bit, then looked to a nearby man in a hooded white robe with glasses.  “What do you think, Bo?  You wanna try?”

“No, Declan...” he wearily sighed.  

“Awww, you're no fun....”  Bo hadn't been “fun” ever since he had become a white mage and swore a vow of celibacy.  Declan ran his fingers through his hair, then turned to face the young, dark-skinned man.  He had a metal-clad grimoire hanging from his belt and waiting with his arms crossed.  “Yeah?”

“About time.”

“I was doing important business, thank you.”

Enzo took a hardboiled egg out of his pocket and bit into it through the shell. “Does Kijhon'a know about this 'business?'”

“Hey, I was just being friendly is all!  Just making a lady feel welcome!”

“Sure, whatever.” Enzo tilted his head.  “I've got a lead on a job.  A big one, and I could use your help.”

“Ehh?”  Declan arched a brow.  “Well...maybe.  Maybe.  What's it paying?”

Enzo inwardly cringed.  He knew this might be where things fell apart. “Technically, it doesn't.”

“Not interested,” Declan immediately responded.

“It's a Garlean facility,” Enzo went on.  “It's currently lightly guarded.  I've got a lead on—”

“Ehh....” Declan gave a dismissive wave, then walked off.

“You can have a share of whatever we find inside!” Enzo called after him.  Declan turned a corner, then was gone.  Enzo's ears flattened, while his hand went to the ring on his necklace and rubbed it while in thought.  As much of a blowhard as Declan was, he did have considerable skill, which was exactly what Enzo needed right then.

Enzo popped the rest of the egg into his mouth.  If Declan was out, what other options did Enzo have?  His sister, sure, but he could guarantee she would say “no” straight-out.  This wasn't something that he could entrust to just anyone at the grand company either, as secrecy and decorum would be needed, and the grand companies documented everything.

“Hmm....”

There was an idea.  Not the best one, but it would work...enough.

~

Miyu waded through the crowds.  She was running a little behind, both because she had been tired, plus Twitchums had decided to take his time with “doing his business.”  What made this situation all the worse is that it was Tuesday, meaning that all the week's fresh jobs were just posted. Miyu mused that maybe this week, people were still recovering from the last one and weren't likely to be out there this early.

Seeing the grand company's building, her heart sank.  She was definitely wrong.

A large crowd of adventurers clustered in front of the building.  Some were crowding around the posting boards, while others were waiting in line to talk with representatives.  It was always surprising to her how most of the larger races hardly ever stepped on the smaller ones, particularly the Lalafell.  If she were a giant, she could see herself being lost in her own world, but then again, it was likely taught to them from a young age to be mindful of the small ones.

Getting to the board, she likely wouldn't find too many good postings left. Her best bet would be to wait in line with everyone and to see what someone of her rank could get.  Given her record of...nothing big or impressive...it likely wouldn't be much.  But she had been consistent, at least!

Speaking of which....

Someone who was determined to be an adventurer, even if he just got duties picking mushrooms, was a Hrothgar she was always happy to see.  Regular as ever, she always saw him in line at this time.  While waiting, he was looking to the large postings, reading them and slowly sounding out the words to himself as he did.

“Muto!” Miyu called, jumped, and waved.  Despite her best efforts, it was all for naught.  His full concentration was on trying to sound out “tyrannic coeurl.”

Miyu knit her brows, then knelt down and gave Twitchums a stroke from head to tail.  “Eee!” squeaked the carbuncle.

“Where's Muto?” she asked. Twitchums's tails went up.  “Wheeeeere's Muto?” The carbuncle eagerly looked about, his nose snuffling at a surprising speed.  His tails flicked about wildly as he concentrated, seeking out his quarry, until his eyes locked on the Hrothgar. “There he is!”

Twitchums shot off like a bullet.  He nearly collided with a Lalafell as he went past, snaked through the crowd, and the next thing Muto knew, there was a carbuncle who was so happy it was bordering on gold pawing at his leg.  It took Muto a moment to realize he knew this carbuncle, then broke into a wide smile.

“Oh!! Is Twitchums!!”  He bent down and scooped up Twitchums, who eagerly went to wash Muto's face.  “Are here alone?  Is not good to be alone!  ...wait, is Twitchums here to be adventurer?!” The Hrothgar became incredibly excited.  “Oh!! Muto teach you everything!!”

“Mutooooo!!”

The carbuncle's ears flicked, then wriggled out of Muto's grip and ran back towards Miyu.  The Hrothgar followed his path, then brightened up.

“Is Miyu!! Hello!!”

“Muto!” Miyu called over the din of the crowd.  “Wanna adventure together?”

“Miyu and Muto be party?”

“Yeah!”  She nodded.  “Let's party up!”

“Join Muto!!”

The crowd was thick and unmoving, and prodding a couple Hyur's in fur-trimmed armor to ask to get by only got Miyu dirty looks.  She then eyed a nearby street lamp, shimmied up it, then – at Muto's encouragement – leapt straight for him.  He caught Miyu, and after a bit of shuffling, she crouched perched on his shoulders while holding onto his horn for support.  She could feel the glares of the Hyurs who initially spurned her, and simply playfully swished her tail back and forth at them.

“Next.”

“Hello!” Muto greeted the Elezen representative.

She blinked in surprise at seeing the Miqo'te perched on top of the Hrothgar, but neither of the pair paid it any mind.

“Badges, please.”

Muto passed hers down to Muto, then he placed them onto the counter, smiling brightly to her, hoping his smile could at least pass on to this person.  As it turned out, working customer service did not make the Elezen feel like smiling.

“Okay, two one-stars.  Are you working together?”

“Muto and Miyu make best team!” Muto affirmed.

“Uh huh.  All right, we have plenty of one-star jobs.  If you're interested in working locally, there's a farmer who has had some kobolds spotted near her farm.  It looks like she'd love to have some able-bodied adventurers on hand to scare them off...or permanently deal with them if it comes down to it.  Until they make a move, though, she would love to have some help harvesting her crops.  That will be 200 gil and 50 points towards your next rank.  Sound good?”

Muto perked up, happy to have work at all, completely forgetting what Tahro and Lalinu had said earlier.  “Muto think sounds g—”

“Wait...wait, wait, hold on.” Miyu's tail began to angrily swish.  “You're dealing with two one-stars...and you're giving us farm duty? That should be a zero-star job!  We qualify for at least a two-star.”

The Elezen gave a weary sigh, and in her best customer service voice, she repeated what she had many times before.  “The stars in your rank do not accumulate when doing jobs together.  You can only do jobs at your current rank or below, except in special exceptions.  Those exceptions are when requested specifically by a higher-ranking adventurer or in times of great peril.  Is there a third member to your party who is above you in rank?”  She paused only long enough to see the tell-tale facial expressions that said “no.”  “Then in that case, you'll have to take one of the one- or zero-star jobs, and at the moment, this farm job is the best one I have to offer you. Tuesday jobs are first-come, first-serve.”

“Muto think that sounds gr—”

“Come on!” Miyu pleaded, leaning further down and out, yet somehow keeping her balance.  “Do you know how long we've been working?  How much we've been trying and trying to rank up?  We've been grinding for who knows how long!  Week after week doing these one- and zero-stars, just wanting a chance at a two star!  Just a chance to make an impression, to show how truly amazing we are!  Haven't you ever wanted just a chance?  And here you are, the only person able to give us – us great adventurers with greater promise – that chance we need.  You are the gatekeeper and we are horses, only wanting to get through the doors, wanting to gallop on our way through to the beflowered fields promised to us.  We want to truly spread our wings in the skies of—”

“If I give you a two-star, will you stop the monologue?”

“Yes.”

A paper was shoved towards Muto.

“Next,” she called, looking past the pair.

Muto and Miyu made their way out, looking over the assignment.

“M-mee...” Muto sounded out.  “...meerk...meer-ka-haynt....”

Finally hopping off his shoulders, Miyu leaned into Muto and dragged her finger along the page.  “Merchant seeking protection along road from Gridania to Ul'dah.  See, says here they're departing tonight and are looking for at least two guards.  Well...with you, me, Twitchums, and maybe some friends, I'd say we have this one in the bag!”

A fairy flew by, making tinkling noises and illuminating the page before flying off.

“Muto did not bring bag....” said Muto bashfully, suddenly worried about his bag-less status.

“No, it's...ahh, nevermind.”  Miyu had tried explaining metaphors before, including cracking the joke “I never metaphor I didn't like!”  In response, Muto had given the smile that said he had no idea what Miyu was saying, but he was very happy that she was enjoying herself.  “Either way, we have an actual two-star! Sheesh, trying to give us farm duty, pff, go eat a chode, we're adventurers, not bloody farmers.”

“Muto sometimes get bloody when doing farm work!  Weeds are spiky....”

“That's why you wear gloves, Muto.”

“Muto strong.  What does not kill Muto make three mistakes – not kill Muto, make Muto stronger, make Muto angry!”  He grinned, showing off his teeth, then punched into his palm.  “Muto kill and eat, just to show how tough Muto is! Weeds taste bad, though.  And make tongue bleed.  But Muto show them.”

“Muto, please don't say not killing you is a mistake.”  Miyu rubbed at his arm. “The world would be less without you in it.”

“Oh, Muto not leaving!”  He flexed hard and showed off his bicep.  “Muto too strong for that!  Plus Muto have Miyu!”

“And Enzo?” said another voice.

“Enzo?” Both Muto and Miyu looked over.  The Hrothgar immediately reacted upon seeing the dark-skinned Miqo'te.  “Oh!! Muto have Enzo today!!”

Enzo was leaning against a nearby building with his fairy Eos fluttering near his shoulder.  “Meowdy.”  His cool demeanor was quickly replaced by mild panic as the ground shook and a shadow overtook him. The next moment, he found his feet off the ground and himself in Muto's tight embrace.  “Hrrk!!”

“Enzo, hey!” Miyu greeted him.  “You already go through the line?”

“Hhhhhh...!”

“Muto, let go.”

Muto did.  Enzo took a moment to get air back into his lungs and straightened out his coat.  “Good to see you guys too.  Bit...less tight next time, hey, Muto?”

“Muto sorry.” He grinned brightly, showing off his fangs.  “Just happy to see Enzo!”

“Always mutual.” He flicked an ear, then took a boiled egg out of his pocket.  “Egg?”

“Okay!”  Muto took it and shoved it into his pocket.  “Have later.”

Enzo brought out another.  “You?”

Miyu lowered an ear.  “I'm...fine, thanks.”

Enzo shrugged, then bit into the shell.  “To answer your question, no, I haven't gone through the line.  I don't need to.  Came here to get some help, actually....”

Miyu squinted, suddenly very suspicious.  “You didn't 'need' to go through the line?  What, did you get a job elsewhere?”

“More or less.” He quirked a brow.  “You two interested?”

Muto looked down at the paper in his hands.  His ears went back slightly as he concentrated, trying to decide.

“Well, first off, what kind of job are we looking at here?” asked Miyu.  “This have a ranking?”

“It's...an independent venture.”

That term – sometimes called an IV – was always a bit scary.  Adventurers may come upon a task that needed doing, and instead of going through the paperwork of posting a job and seeking additional adventurers in an officially sanctioned job, they sought to resolve the problems themselves.  Once the IV had finished, it was documented, submitted, and appropriate ranking points were assigned.

While in the past, adventurers had said certain troublesome events were “IVs” to give themselves an excuse, the grand companies quickly put harsh restrictions and punishments into place.  Extremely foolhardy ventures – such as trying to assassinate a foreign dignitary and potentially starting a war – were punished so severely that getting put to death was an option.  Retroactively saying something was an IV as an excuse for causing trouble or damage was severely punished, with it not uncommon to to lose one's adventuring license entirely, or at least a few ranks.  The same punishment went with falsified IVs.

IVs were always a gamble, though.  While the grand companies could at least guarantee payment and ranking points, there was no such guarantee in an IV.  Even if adventurers barely made it out by the skin of their teeth, if they accomplished little or had nothing to show for their time, they would likely get little in regards to advancing their rank.  However, the benefit was that IVs were not limited by rank or the number of adventurers allowed to join, meaning a great amount of money and advancement could be open to anyone.

“Go on...” Miyu said slowly.

“Not just yet. This's a hot job, big reward, and shouldn't be too tough, but I first need to know if you want to join me.”

“Sounds too good to be true.  Where'd you get this?”

“Long story.”

“Shorten it.”

“I've got sources.  Good and reliable ones.”  He reached into his pocket, dug around, then made a face.  He pulled out a white rat, which looked at him with wide, curious eyes, then handed it to Miyu.  “Hold this, would ya?”

“Wh—?”

He then pulled out a rolled-up communique.  “A little chocobo told me about a nearly abandoned facility that's ripe for picking through.”

“'Nearly' abandoned?”  The rat scampered to Miyu's shoulder.

“A couple leftover guards, they're basically just babysitting the place now. Easy pickings.  And you don't have to worry, they're not 'good guys' by any stretch.”

“Mmmmm...”

Enzo motioned with his chin at Muto's paper.  “What rank's that mission?”

“Oh!” Muto held out the paper proudly.  “Is two-star! Miyu is best ne-go-shee-ater!”

Enzo got a lopsided smile, proud of their accomplishment.  “Well look at you!  You're moving up!”

The rat climbed up to Miyu's head, where Eos flitted near to investigate. “We're looking at 700 points for this job.”  Miyu then snorted derisively.  “She was trying to give us something with 50, can you believe that?”

“Yeah.” Enzo shrugged.  “It's kinda unfair to us lowbies like that.”  He took a moment to look between them with a twinkle in his eye. “...but what would you two say to a four-star?”

“...I'm sorry?”

“IS FOUR-STAR?!”

“Shhhh!!” Enzo and Miyu hissed at Muto.

Muto clapped his hands over his mouth, while Miyu recomposed herself. “Okay, this is definitely sounding too good to be true.  How is it a four-star?”

He moved the hand holding the communique, showing the emblem stamped beneath.  “It's Garlean, but don't let that scare you.”

“Don't let that scare me?!  Just the Garlean empire, nothing threatening....” Her sarcasm was interrupted as another thought came to her.  “And what's the pay?”

“A third of whatever we find over there.”

“And what should we expect to find?”

“That's all a bit—”

The unseen hand of Hydaelyn nudged Muto's memory.

Muto gasped and clapped a hand heavily on Miyu's shoulder.  “Oh!! Muto remember!!  Tahro say to get big job!  Or Muto have to stop adventuring!” He shook Miyu, making her head bounce about and dislodged the rat. “Is Muto's big chance!  Show Tahro!  Show Lalinu!  Show queen!  Show the world!”

“M-Muto....”

“Muto help Enzo!”

“But what about our job tonight?”

“Muto know math!” He was excited to share his academics.  “Four is bigger than two!”

“He has a point,” Enzo chimed in.

Miyu looked between the two.  They were both looking at her with wide, expectant faces.  She gave a heavy sigh, then poked a finger into Enzo's chest.  “All right...but we're trusting you!  If this IV is a bust, you're going to be the one to pay the gil, all right?”

“Sure, yeah, that's fine!  Let's say...500 gil if things don't pan out?”

Miyu squinted.  Her shrewdness was kicking in.  She knew she could negotiate for something a great deal higher, but Enzo was a friend...and she was curious exactly what they would find in this Garlean place anyways.

“Deal.”

“And you, Muto?”

“Huh?”  His attention had gone to Eos, hovering above Enzo's head.

“Is 500 gil acceptable?”

“Okay!  Umm....” He held up the paper with the two-star adventure.  “Should Muto share?”

“Oh, that?” Enzo shrugged.  “Yeah, just pass it along to someone else.”  He turned to Miyu.  “So...out in eastern Thanalan, there's this Garlean lab....”

While Enzo explained the job, Muto looked down at the two-star adventure, then to the crowd.  He saw a frustrated Au Ra wandering away from the company building.  It was the telltale sign of a poor adventure...and Muto had the solution.  He wandered away, while Enzo continued his explanation.

~

Its breath was thick, and stank of blood and meat.  Its lip were curled back in a permanent snarl,  showing every single dagger-like tooth, while ichor-like saliva dripped from between them.  Its teeth were literally the subject of horror stories, capable of piercing flesh and bone easily.  Its jaws were powerful enough to crunch all manner of alloyed metal, whether it was armor or the side of an airship. Each claw was like a curved saber, able to rend its prey to pieces with a single swipe.  Its muscles were beyond natural, fueled purely by aether and pure menace.  Its kind had killed countless and would kill countless more.  “Nightmare” was not enough of a description for the beast.  To be seen by one was to already be counted as dead.

“Smoo-thie!”

It was an odd stroke of fate that a behemoth had ended up in the care of Muto.  It was a hassle to care for, but nobody wanted to take it for domestic purposes, Muto refused to give it to those who intended it for battle, and him and Tahro seemed to be the only ones to whom Smoothie seemed to listen.

Pupil-less eyes swiveled onto Muto as he approached, carrying a fresh pig carcass behind him.  Smoothie growled, and even in the warm climate, a cloud of breath could be seen.

“Muto got you nummies!”

He tossed the pig over the top of the cage, where it slipped through the bars before falling.  Smoothie caught it in its jaws, and bit down, causing a small spray of blood against the side of its enclosure.  Muto leaned against the outside of the stall, his tail swishing back and forth contentedly as he watched the behemoth feed.

“Are hungry, neh?  No worries!  Muto off to do big job!  Can get even bigger pig next time!”  He reached through a patted one of the behemoth's horns.  “But am sorry, is in Thanalanalan.  Smoothie is too big to go on airship!”

There was a loud crack of bone and spray of viscera.

“Awww, don't be sad!  Muto is sorry, but will definitely try to take Smoothie on next big mission!  Will try to get one in Gridania!  Muto knows Smoothie likes hunting for deer!”

Smoothie shook its head, flicking droplets of blood across Muto's armor.

“There you go! Now you behave!  Muto loves you!”  He kissed his fingers, then put them to Smoothie's horn, before absently wiping away the blood.

He walked to the neighboring stall where his chocobo was caged.  For some reason, it was always wide-eyed and nervous.

“Hello, Legbird! Time for adventure!”

~

The desert sun was high, but it barely reached them.

The storm had been sudden and filled with rage.  The world was roaring.  Wind violently whipped the sand about, shoving them about as their chocobos struggled onward.  Enzo led the pack, all while keeping his grimoire open, its pages emitting a barely visible light.

Each of them wore caps that had been customized to fit over their cat ears, while goggles protected their eyes and scarves covered their lower faces. The chocobos had been given similar head protection, with glass shielding over their eyes and an insulated covering that went over their beaks.

Enzo held up a hand to halt.  With one hand holding the grimoire open, the other reached into his pocket, then withdrew a scope.  He scanned in the distance, tapped a switch a few times, then grinned to himself.

Turning to the others, he gave a thumbs-up and enthusiastic nod.

~

“You'd think there would've been something in the weather report.”

“What?”

“I said, you'd think there would have been something in the weather report!”

The other man gave a helpless shrug.  He only heard half of what was said, but agreed with the sentiment.  Things had been miserable ever since the main arm of the Garlean empire had pulled out.  Insurgent forces had set up a fantastic base there in Thanalan, which was to be a hub of operations.  However, due to a lack of resources – both material and personnel – and with the staff already there, it instead became a self-sufficient laboratory.

It was a risk having a lightly guarded Garlean base so close to Ul'dah, but it was a calculated risk.  They were able to glean bits of intel regarding Ul'dah to occasionally send back to Garlemald, while the handful of scientists continued their research.

All the while, they held onto hope that the Garlean empire would make a push into central Eorzean lands once again, they would have a seat of power in Thanalan already ready for them, and everyone there could finally return to their lives in Garlemald.

Admittedly, life hadn't been too bad.  It could be boring, even.  The guards took shifts in their camouflaged watch box, nestled under an outcrop of rock that disguised the entrance and gave them shade.  Cooled air piped in from the main facility made even the hottest days pleasant. All the while, the scientists continued working on...whatever it was they did.  Something about crystals...of course.  It was always crystals.

This sandstorm had rattled the guards, though, because their schedules depended upon sandstorms.  Every time there was to be one, a cart would either leave or return with supplies hours before a storm hit, which would then hide the tracks leading to the base.  Sure, someone could follow the cart, but they had had training and tools to help them detect when they were being followed or spied upon.  This system had been working for them for years.  However, the sandstorm predictions had been inaccurate before.  This one, though, was particularly harsh.

One of the guards squinted out through his view port, then turned to his comrade.  “I thought I saw movement!” he shouted over the rush of the storm.

“There's a lot of movement!”  The man smiled.  “It's the sand!”

He just got a flat glare in response.

A Miqo'te stumbled through the sand to the shelter of the overhanging rock.  It wasn't much, but it was at least some kind of shelter.  Her face was bare and grimacing, and she held her hands over her ears to prevent sand from getting in.  She drew close against the wall and tightly pulled her knees to her chest with her eyes closed.

The two guards looked to each other.  This was a problem.  They could wait out the storm and hope she left once it had passed.  However, if she stayed there long enough, she might take notice of the disguised doors.  They had done what they could to keep up maintenance, but years with only what scant supplies they could get from Ul'dah without raising suspicion had left some telltale chipping, uneven edges, and a silhouette if you knew what to look for.

The guards pantomimed to each other about what to do.  One was silently saying they should kill her, while the other one was pleading to leave her alone.  Their silent argument was becoming more heated, until they heard her speaking.

“Please...! Please help...!”

Their hands froze mid-conversation.

Was she talking to them or praying?

A large stone punched through the wall of the watch box, hitting the one guard in the face, rocking his head back and into the wall, where he slid to the floor.

“Witch, you're about to—!”

The remaining guard took up his rifle, wrenched open the door, and ran into a wall of armor and muscle.  Muto picked him up by the face, slammed his head into the rock wall, then let him fall.

Twitchums was low the ground, wearing his own pair of custom goggles.  Flecks of energy came off him, fresh from manipulating the earth.  Miyu walked over and eagerly petted him.  “Good boy...!”  He eagerly twitched his tails, then sneezed, sending out sparks.

Within moments, the sandstorm was gone, revealing Enzo in the midst of it.  He brought up the grimoire, blew off the remaining sand, then clapped it shut. “That's always a fun spell...!”

He opened a pouch, allowing Eos to fly out and perch on his shoulder.  Muto, meanwhile, raised up the goggles and lowered his scarf, then looked to the body at his feet.  “Muto hit harder than meant to....”

“They're bad guys,” Miyu said, doing her best to empty out all the sand that had collected in her robes.  “It's okay.”

“Should Muto kill?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” said Enzo disinterestedly.

“No!” Miyu shot him a glare, then looked up to Muto.  “Only kill if you have to.”

Enzo sighed, looking up.  “You know they're gonna wake up eventually....”

“Yeah, but we don't have to be murderers!  We're better than that!”

“And what would you suggest?”

Miyu thought a moment, then snapped her fingers.  Not even a minute later, thanks to Twitchums manipulating the sand, the two unconscious guards were buried up to their necks in the sand, and thanks to a magic marker, each one bore three whisker marks on their cheeks.

“Perfect!”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Miyu handed the marker back to Enzo, who put it back in his pocket.  Enzo procured an egg from his pocket, did his best to dust off the sand, then bit into it.  “So inside, there'll likely be a small leftover contingent of guards, but they're not on active duty, so we hit them hard...and after that'll just be the scientists.  We should be able to deal with them.”

“'Deal' how?” asked Miyu, squinting at Enzo.

“Just trust me.”

“No killing.”

“Trust me.”

“Muto trust!” offered Muto.

“Muto trusts me,” repeated Enzo.

“Mmmmm....” Miyu stayed squinting for a long moment, pointed to her eyes, then pointed to Enzo.

“Oh, stop that,” he said, carelessly waving her away and stepping past.  “I'm not a monster.”

“Muto is not monster either!”  He seemed eager to share that bit of information. “Am beast.  Is like monster, but with better manners.”

Going inside the wrecked watch box, Enzo found a keypad.  He unrolled the communique, then tapped in the code.

“Anything complicated?” asked Miyu.

“Just an alphanumeric code,” shrugged Enzo.  “It's literally 'G1234.'”

Hitting the final key, there was a heavy “ch-chunk” from the outside wall, a hiss, then the rock face slowly slid open, revealing the way inside. The interior was a mix of rock and metal with bright lights evenly spaced along the ceiling, with occasional signs marking the way to various areas.

“You take point, Muto,” instructed Enzo.

“Huh?”

“You stay in the front and protect us,” Miyu clarified.

“Okay!”

Muto unsheathed his axe, Miyu and Enzo opened their grimoires, and slowly they started down the hall.  They froze as they heard approaching footsteps.

“Nar,” came a sleepy grumble, “I swear, if you're coming in to use the can again—”

She emerged from a side door, where her eyes met Muto's.

Muto smiled.

The lady pulled her head back just in time to avoid the axe swinging down.  Se turned and started to run towards a security alcove.  Muto grabbed a hand axe from his belt and lobbed it at the retreating woman's head.  The axe whirled end over end, before it impacted into her head...with the handle.  She stumbled, which was further exacerbated by rising stones.  Twitchums was at Miyu's feet, hunched down, glowing, and growling.

The guard recovered just in time to see a charging Muto bearing down on her, and the last thing she saw was a fist the size of her head flying right at her face.  She was knocked back into a rack where a number of cards were hung, knocking them all to the floor, then fell to the floor herself.

There was a door next to the rack.  The large squad of guards within and the three adventurers saw each other.

“Uhh....” said everyone.

The guards grabbed their rifles and Muto slammed the metal door.  He pressed himself hard against it, while feeling the guards behind it hammering on and slamming into the door.

“Muto cannot hold forever!”  There was the sound of gunfire and divots appearing on the door.  “Muto does not want to get shot!”

Enzo's eyes went to the pile of cards on the floor.  “Help him with the door!” he ordered Miyu.

“Twitchums, go!” Her command sounded in the carbuncle's mind.  Twitchums turned red, a chunk of the bare rock wall came loose, then flew forward to help pin the door in place.

Sifting through the keycards, Enzo found the one he was looking for, slotted it into a nearby console, and his fingers danced across the keys.

Deet. Click-ck.

“There. You two can stop.”  He looked flatly to Miyu.  “And without killing.”

“Thank you,” she chirped.  Twitchums went from red to a light topaz, twitching his tails gleefully.

Enzo rolled his eyes, then began sifting through the pile of cards.  “You know, trying not to kill anyone is going to make going through here that much harder.  We're here to finish a mission, not make friends with literal villains.” He turned his mouth.  “...and how many bloody duplicate cards are there?!”

“Muto wouldn't mind making friends....”  He crouched near the unconscious lady. “Should Muto take her back?”  He started contemplating if it would be easy to add a new friend to the loot they would be taking back.

“Don't,” Enzo said, distractedly, “she probably has diseases.  There!” He was finding card after card with A, B, and D, but only then did he find C.

There was a lot of yelling behind the locked door.  Muto looked to it, then pointed his thumb to it.  “Should Muto open door and quiet them?”

Enzo groaned and started off.  “Come on,” coaxed Miyu, gently taking his wrist and leading him on.

~

As they walked the halls, it was rather obvious the place was unfinished.  Garlemald had sent what supplies they could, but when the supply route had been disrupted, those who were left there made due with what they could. The base had seemingly been integrated into a cave system, and many walls had been left exposed to the rock surfaces beneath.  A surprising number of halls ended up going to dead ends.

It helped with navigation, as construction had prioritized lighting in areas where people worked or traveled.  There were occasional maps posted, though most had been minorly vandalized, both because many of the places on there had never been built, the staff did get bored, and it wasn't like any Garlean officials were there to stop them.

“We're aiming to go...here.”  Enzo pointed to a large circular room.  “This's where their main project should be.”

“Wait, there's a project?” Miyu guffawed.

“Well, yeah.” Enzo raised an eyebrow.  “What, you thought it was just a no-name lab we were going to loot?  Take some cool science equipment, take the Garlean empire down a beg?”

“You didn't specify!”

“You didn't ask.”  Miyu made a strangled noise of frustration, with her tail shooting up behind her in annoyance, while Enzo went on unabated.  “It's a little bit of navigating, as you can see, but that shouldn't be too bad.  Thanks to my friends—”  He fanned out the key cards.  “—it'll be a straight shot through.   Here, though...we'll be passing by the main lab.  We'll likely be dealing with quite a few scientists then.”

“Muto need to deal with?”  He looked between Enzo and Miyu, unsure how he should define “deal with.”

“I've got this,” Enzo said coolly before confidently walking on.  Miyu squinted judgmentally from behind him while Muto looked about wide-eyed.  He'd never been in a secret base before!

Eventually, there was noise ahead.  Enzo looked around the corner, then sighed in frustration.  There were so many more down there than he had anticipated.

“The scientists?” asked Miyu.

“The scientists,” confirmed Enzo.  Miyu crossed her arms in thought, followed by Muto doing the same, imitating her.

“It would be a bad idea if we were to go in with weapons swinging,” Enzo sighed. “They could trigger an alarm or could fight back.  I'm sure there's plenty of Garlean fighting tactics in their heads....”

“Muto fight them all?” offered the Hrothgar.  “Muto is best at fighting!”

“No,” Enzo and Miyu said at the same time.

They stood there together in silence, thinking on how best to proceed.  As they did, Enzo noted Eos floating past his vision.

“Hmmm....”

Miyu was looking down at her feet and saw Twitchums staring up inquisitively at her.

“Hmmm....”

Muto looked between his companions, confused.

“Hmmm?”

~

It was an average day for the Garlean scientists.  They had several crystals hooked up to various electrodes, screens with graphs, and nearly incalculable amounts of data pouring through their system.  It was entirely normal.  Almost boring.

“WHY IS THAT IN HERE?!”

And then there was a fairy riding a carbuncle through the lab.

Twitchums burst through the door, running as hard as he could, while Eos did her best to steer him.  They specifically darted between and near people's legs, leaving a trail of chaos.  Under chairs, over tables, through carefully calibrated equipment.  One scientist went to bar their way, but Twitchums jumped on his face, then springboarded over a handful of others behind him.

Twitchums was having the time of his life.

Eos looked bored.

While the scientists had been going about their business in labs and walking in the halls, they were now clustering together, trying to capture this wild animal.  People were crowding into the lab, aiming to block the doors or to help catch the carbuncle.

Eos piloted Twitchums for the door, and with a kick of her heels, urged him to ride as hard as he could.

“Ready?” someone asked.  They had a labcoat spread out, ready to use as a makeshift net.  Twitchums and Eos drew closer, and they weren't stopping.

“Now!”

There was a fierce roar behind them.  They stumbled and turned back to see a Hrothgar towering over them, fangs bared, eyes fierce, and axe in hand. Twitchums jumped over the startled scientists onto Muto's shoulder. Looking to the crowd of people, he twitched his tails in satisfaction.

Deet.

The fire shutters slammed down across all windows and doors, trapping all the scientists within the lab.

Enzo shoved the keycard in his pocket, withdrew another hardboiled egg, then popped it entirely in his mouth.  “Tha' wash ee-ee....”

“Twitchums, you were so good!” Miyu cooed, walking over to him perched atop Muto's shoulder.  Eos took flight, dutifully resuming her place by Enzo's side.  Twitchums hopped down from Muto's shoulder to Miyu's awaiting arms, then eagerly licked her face.  Enzo, meanwhile, nodded to Eos and she nodded back.

After that, it was no problem continuing through the facility.  Behind the fire shutters, the trio could hear the trapped scientists banging and shouting.  Twitchums walked alongside Miyu with a proud step, satisfied with the chaos he had caused, while Eos hovered along stoically.  Muto followed along, though occasionally stopping and pressing his ear against one of the shutters.

At one point, he pulled back his fist, about to bang back, but Miyu caught his arm and lead him on.  “Leave them alone for now,” she gently goaded.

Cables and general wiring grew more and more condensed as they continued along the hall. Enzo's pace picked up as they grew closer.

“You never told us about what we're specifically trying to find....”

“It's condensed aether,” Enzo casually said.  “Pooled and experimented on. Basically, a certain crystal.  All I want from here is that, and literally everything else here can be yours.”

“Ohhhhh...!” Muto's eyes were wide.  “Muto get secret base...!”

“Probably...not,” Miyu corrected.  “Ul'dah is more than likely to come down hard on this place.  This is in their jurisdiction and is a matter of national security, so they'll likely have their army take it over and conduct a thorough investigation.”  She quirked a smile.  “However, before they get here, there's nothing saying that if it's not nailed down, you can't take it...!”

“It's mostly rivets here anyways...” Enzo observed.

“Muto get so much stuff...!”

The hallway wound around, until they arrived at a heavy industrial door with a console to the side.  Above the door in large, block letters was “INCUBATION CHAMBER.”

“In...in...innnnkoooo....”

“What...form is your aether?” Miyu asked hesitantly.

Enzo slid the D card through the console, his fingers danced across the keys, and the door hissed open, followed by two more doors.

The chamber within was enormous.  It was a large concrete dome.  The floor of the chamber was almost entirely sand, with raised platforms going around the perimeter and a walkway leading straight into the middle.

“There we are....” Enzo said, smiling to himself, confidently walking in and starting down the central walkway.

“Enzo, what's going on?” Miyu demanded.

“Just here for the aether is all.”

At the end of the walkway in the center of the chamber was something organic.  As they drew closer, they found it was...a creature.  It was short, fat, large, and fleshy.  It was reminiscent of a large brown toad, in that it's head seemed to take up most of its body.  In fact, the party wasn't sure where its arms and legs were.  It had brown skin, four deformed horns that wound about in random directions, and large bulbous eyes that stared in different directions.  It looked incredibly dumb.

“Hack!” it noised.

“What...is that?”

“Hack!”

“A massive repository of experimental aether,” Enzo said matter-of-factly. “Drawing upon the streams deep within the planet, they twisted and gave the energy form, and it's what you see here.”

“They created a creature?” Miyu leaned over, trying not to step on the sand.

“In a sense.”

“Hack!”

Twitchums leaned in and sniffed eagerly at the thing, nose to nose.  One eye briefly looked to the carbuncle, then back to staring at nothing in particular.

“Wait....” Miyu squinted at him.  “You want us to take this thing with us?  It's huge!  And, y'know, alive!”

“Oh, that won't be a problem.”  Enzo motioned to the creature.  “Muto, please kill it.”

“Okay!” Muto eagerly agreed.

“What?!” Miyu protested.  “No, don't!”

“Okay!” Muto eagerly agreed.

Enzo sighed, then turned to Miyu.  “I can tell you for a fact it's in pain.  It's not sentient, it's not a person, it's a thing that would be best for everyone if we were to end it here.”

“How do you know—?”

“You'll do no such thing!” came a voice over the speaker system.

The three immediately readied their weapons and looked around.

“Up here...up here...!”

“Oh!” Muto eagerly pointed to an observation room high up with large windows.  Inside was a tall Roegadyn lady in a lab coat speaking into a wall-mounted microphone.  Muto happily waved to her.

“What you're doing here is wrong,” Enzo shouted at her.

“Who are you to decide what is right and wrong?” the lady snarled.  “We gave PP0 life only technically speaking.  It has no idea what it is, nor does it care.  It knows nothing, feels nothing, except what we tell it to.  Sentient thought is beyond us to create anyways...which works out well for you bleeding heart types, doesn't it.”

“PP0?” Miyu asked Enzo.

“Oh...wait, you don't even know what it is?!”

“Not...exactly,” Miyu responded.

“Well!” The scientist paused, then hit a few keys on the nearby console. The multiple doors at the entrance slammed shut.  “In that case, I need to tell you! It's really exciting!  We haven't had visitors in years, so this is actually pretty nice to get to see somebody new for once!”

Enzo glared flatly at the Roegadyn, then sighed to himself.  He gestured for Miyu and Muto to come with him, then hopped off walkway to the sand and started towards a door at the opposite end of the room, presumably which led up to the Roegadyn.

“See, we were kinda stuck here, since Garlemald kinda got cut off from us, and we're all, 'What do we do?'  But then we found that with our set-up, we could hypothetically infuse aether energy from our reactor into something! Wasn't tough at all! So at that point, it's like, 'What can't we do, y'know?' Well...I mean, not much, we're all stuck here, but then, then we get this super cool idea, right? And we sent out a secret communique back to the empire asking for this one thing, and we didn't think they were going to, but they did!”

They got to the walkway in front of the door, then Enzo swiped a cardkey through the console.  He blinked when the display came up with the error “INCORRECT CLEARANCE.”  Confused, he tried again.  That was supposed to be the maximum clearance card.

“Things...okay?” Miyu asked.

Enzo just furrowed his brow and tried another card.  INCORRECT CLEARANCE.

“I mean, it took awhile, but they delivered it, and we were super excited!  A scale from Bahamut!  Like, who'd have thought, right? But, I mean, doing genetic stuff with Bahamut isn't anything new, but now we get to!”

Miyu's eyes went wide.  “Wait...Bahamut?!”

While Muto didn't entirely understand everything going on, he understood at least that. “Uh oh....”

INCORRECT CLEARANCE.

“So we have some cloning technology, which was kinda-sorta based off the Allagan process, and, c'mon, that stuff is ancient, and we only kinda-sorta understand it, but we were able to modify it and use the modified aether to infuse into Personal Project 0 – or PP0 – and that's where its nickname came from – and I know it's not the best acronym, but Garlemald isn't exactly here watching over our shoulders for the best naming conventions – but I guess he also has those giant peepers – but anyways—”

A small pile was forming at Enzo's feet.  There were a few suspiciously large money pouches, three full-sized books, a collapsible staff, a surprising number of keys, a melon, three cartons of boiled eggs, a light back-up robe, a few squirming malboro hatchlings, several keycards, a unicolt figurine, a wind-up soldier, and a few flowers with attached tags labeled “Corpse.”

“WHERE'S THE BLOODY KEY?!” he snarled.

~

The guards continued banging on the door of their barracks, hollering for help, shouting threats, and making noises of utter frustration.

In front of the door was the pile of keycards.  Towards the bottom was a key labeled “E.”

~

“—but anyways, it was nice to have visitors, but it's kiiiiiinda our policy that intruders aren't allowed to leave, or at least leave alive, and PP0 has never had proper combat testing, so this is probably where you're going to die. I'm sorry, but not really, but also am.”

She tapped a few keys and the entire room began to hum.  Moments later, the sand began to bubble.  Large amounts of air were getting pumped in beneath the sand, causing it to go from being a settled, solid mass to a liquid. Muto had been standing in the stand, quickly began sinking, then jumped up to the walkway.

His axe was immediately readied.  “No worries!” he said with an eager swish of his tail.  “Miyu and Enzo are safe!  Muto protect you all!”

What they thought had been a whole creature ended up being only its head.  It began to raise, attached to a long neck.  Massive claws burst through the sand, struggling to raise up its large body in full.  The tips of the wings were visible next, with one wing much smaller than the other. Thick cables emerged from the sand as well, plugged into the creature's arms and back.  The dragon's proportions were all wrong, with some muscles incredibly large, while others were noticeably underdeveloped.  Once it had climbed to the top and its body was fully visible, the sand stopped bubbling.  The artificial dragon stood nearly as tall as the dome.

The three stood there wide-eyed, ears lowered, and with bushed tails jetting out from behind them.  Twitchums had gone from growling and being a deep red to whimpering and turning white.

“Muto...maybe not able to protect...from that.”

Without the body moving, the head spun around on its neck to look down at the adventurers.  Its body then slowly lumbered around to face them. Energy flowed through the cables and its bulbous eyes went red.

“Behold!” the scientist bellowed into her microphone.  “PEEPO!!”

“HAAAAAAAHCK!!!” it roared, then blinked an eye.

“Mew...!” mewed Miyu.

“This could get messy, so if you'll excuse me.”  A fire shutter slammed in front of the large window.  A few cameras positioned around the room blinked to life.  “Make sure to have good deaths.   This is all getting recorded for our records! PEEPO, KILL!”

“MOVE!!”

Peepo's neck glowed before letting forth a jet of flame.  The group scattered, feeling the white-hot heat on their backs.  The wall where the flames had hit had partially melted the metal and crystallized the scattered sand.

“I can't believe we're about to get killed by something so stupid-looking!” Miyu yelled in aggravation.

“If you had just let Muto kill it, we wouldn't be here!” Enzo snapped.

“Whatever Muto did, Muto sorryyyyyy!” Muto wailed.

They were running across the sand for the exit door.  The exit may have been blocked by several locked doors, but with Enzo's keycards, they could at least escape.

Muto gasped.  “DOWN, NOW!!” He palmed the backs of Miyu and Enzo's heads, then fell forward, making them faceplant into the sand.  Peepo's tail whooshed just over them, then impacted heavily into the wall.  Enzo rubbed the sand out of his eyes, then his ears went limp.  The console in the wall near the door had been destroyed.

“It's him or us right now,” Miyu sighed defeatedly.  She looked back up to Peepo and whined to herself.  She always hated fighting dragons.  Twitchums pressed himself up against Miyu's side, both for comfort and seeking instruction.

“Muto choose us!”

Muto got to his feet, axe in hand, then charged Peepo.

“Muto, wait!” Miyu looked agog to the Hrothgar, then to Enzo.  “Does he seriously think he can beat that thing?!”

“Maybe....” Enzo took in the room.  “...but more importantly, he's keeping its attention off us.”

“HRAAAAAAA!!”

Muto rolled out of the way as Peepo went to smash down with its claws.  Muto swung down, his axe biting in deeply in the back of Peepo's hand.  In return, the artificial dragon's neck glowed again, then spewed down fire at Muto. The Hrothgar knew the creature had limited mobility when using its breath weapon and darted for Peepo's legs.  The stream of fire followed him, until it started to cook Peepo's feet.  Being right by the artifical dragon's backside, Muto swung back and took a couple hacks at Peepo's tail.  In response, the dragon went to heavily sit down, aiming to crush Muto.

Sand was tossed up and hung in the air briefly.  Silence had descended upon the cavern...until a fierce battle cry pierced the din and Peepo bucked. Muto had climbed several cables and was hacking at its back.

Enzo stood with Miyu, Twitchums, and Eos against the wall watching the fight ensue.

“Kinda impressive...” he mused.

“That's what you're thinking during all this?!” Miyu snapped.

Peepo flapped its mismatched wings desperately, trying to dislodge the attacker.  It craned its neck to see and possibly bite Muto, but couldn't quite reach.  It finally settled with launching itself back and slamming its back into the wall of the dome.  The room shook violently, with dust falling from the ceiling.

“Muto!”  Enzo called.  “Are you alive still?”

Peepo did not seem in distress anymore, and was repositioning itself to try and get a better view of what happened to Muto.

“Enzo, Muto hurt!” the Hrothgar called.  “Muto...really hurt!”

“Go.”  Eos flew.

The Hrothgar was lying in the sand, with his leg badly damaged.  His axe was just out of reach and he looked terrified.  Peepo, meanwhile, was waiting for the dust and sand in the air to settle, trying to spy Muto.

Eos found Muto, then flew in front of his face.

“Mmm?”

Eos slapped Muto across the face.  It was a tiny fairy, but she hit hard.

“Ow!”  He rubbed his face.  “Was mean!”

“Are you still hurt bad?” called Enzo.

“Huh?”  He looked down.  Any blood and damage to his leg was now gone.  Eos had channeled her healing energy when she had made contact.  “Ohhhh....”

“Keep fighting him!” Enzo called.

“Okay!”

“And don't die!” Miyu added.

“Okay!”

He grabbed his axe and rolled out of the way as another jet of flame scorched the sands.

“Its aethereal energy is too complex to hold steady on its own,” Enzo said, rubbing his chin.  “So the cables—”

“Attack the cables?” Miyu interrupted.

“Go for the connection ports.”

As Muto and Peepo battled, they could see that when it had rammed itself against the wall, several ports had been damaged and cables had fallen away. They briefly spewed aethereal mist before the emergency shut-offs initiated.  While the cables had been heavily insulated to keep in the aether, the ends were less so to allow for flexibility and movement.

“Get 'im, Twitchums!”

The carbuncle, while still scared, was bolstered by Miyu's command.  It gave a fearsome squeak before launching itself forward.  Sand began to gather in the air, hovering next to him, and coalescing into crude spears.

Muto was flung across the room and hit the wall hard enough to leave a crater in the concrete before falling to the sand.  He lied there groaning, bones shattered, life leaving him.

Eos flew over and kicked him.

Healed, Muto grabbed up his axe and charged again at Peepo.

Twitchums drew upon Peepo.  It was so, so much bigger than expected.  Miyu's voice directing him in his mind steeled his courage and pushed him on. With the artificial dragon's attention on Muto, Twitchums had a clear shot along Peepo's arm.  The sand spears launched forward.  Several missed, impaling into Peepo's arm, but a few hit home.  Cables came lose, briefly spewing aethereal mist, before stopping.

Peepo's head swiveled to look to Twitchums before a thrown hand axe hit it in the face.

“NO!” Muto scolded.  “Fight Muto!”

“HAAAAAAAHCK!!”

“Stop! STOP!!” pleaded the voice over the speaker system.  “You don't know what you're doing!”

“We're winning,” Enzo observed with a smirk.

“No, you don't understand!” The Roegadyn was in a panic.  “This is years' worth of research and experimentation! You'll destroy everything! And if you—”

Muto was airborne and Peepo plunged its hand at him.  The Hrothgar just barely missed it.  The artificial dragon's sword-like claws thrusted deeply into the concrete dome.  Unsure if it had grabbed him, Peepo squeezed, then yanked back, ripping out a huge boulder of concrete and wiring. The room's speakers went immediately silent, all camera lights dimmed, and the lights about the room began to flicker.

“Hit it faster!” Enzo instructed.  “Burn it down!”

Twitchum heard Miyu's command in its mind, and gave a mighty squeak.  Sandstone spears materialized and flew in violent waves at Peepo's back.  The creature's attention was divided between what was happening behind it and the very loud and angry Hrothgar.  Peepo's actions were also becoming more and more sluggish, as less aether was pumped into it.

A jet of flame followed Muto as he charged directly for Peepo.  He was barely staying ahead of it.

“Muto also have flame!” Muto roared.  “Flame is inside!”

Cable after cable was severed from Peepo's back.

“Flame is Muto!”

He jumped.

“Flame is friends!”

The final cable was severed.

“Flame is hotter than dragon's!”

His axe went straight into Peepo's chest.  The artificial dragon stood there stunned and wobbling as the last of its aether had dissipated. Muto's axe was lodged deeply in Peepo and refused to come out.  Muto took the opportunity to push his feet off the creature's chest, pivot off his axe handle, and launch himself upwards.  He reared back his fist and uppercutted Peepo in the chin.

The artificial dragon dissipated into aethereal mist.  A moment later, Muto's axe hit the sand, followed by Muto, landing in a crouch.  He stood to his full height, thumped his chest, then gave a bestial roar of victory.

“MUTO!!” he announced.  “WIN!!”

As the echo died down, Enzo muttered, “It was technically Twitchums who killed the thing....”

“Shhh,” Miyu whispered back.  “Let him have this....”

Enzo's attention went to the aethereal mist.  He squinted, waiting for it to start...and there it was.  It all began to come together to form a crystal.

...and then the lights went out.

“Ehh?”  Miyu looked around.  “Twitchums!  Light!”

The carbuncle's forehead gem lit up.  It was in the middle of the room, looking around confusedly.

“Everyone okay?”

“Muto is fine!” announced Muto, somewhere in the darkness.  “Muto and friends have great victory!  Oh!!  So many stars!!  Muto and friends level up for sure!”

The dome lit up in red.

Enzo was crouched in the middle, holding a crystal.  Miyu was against the back wall. Muto was on his hands and knees, looking in the sand for a trophy from the fight.

“That...can't be good,” muttered Enzo before shoving the crystal into his pocket. Miyu found herself wondering exactly how he had so much space in that pocket.

“AETHEREAL OVERLOAD,” came an announcement outside the room.  “UNABLE TO CONTAIN.  200 SECONDS UNTIL MELTDOWN.”

Something that many of the base's workers had feared was that many basic safety features had never been implemented into the base's hasty construction.  For example, there was the matter of being unable to access overrides for locked doors and fire shutters from within the affected rooms. Another big issue was that of the base's power.  Since the aether was not being pumped into the PP0 project anymore, it was instead getting pumped in massive quantities back into the reactor.  It couldn't handle it...and there was no way to either stop the flow of aether or shut down the reactor.

“Uhhhhhh....”

The exit doors made a noise, then despite being damaged, partially opened.  It was big enough for all of them to get through, if barely.  At least it had been built in the emergency systems that in the event of a catastrophic failure, everything would be automatically opened.

“GO GO GO GO!!” shrieked Enzo, making a mad dash for the exit.

All of them ran across the sand, kicking up clouds behind them.  Enzo, Miyu, Eos, and Twitchums had no problem getting through the gap.  Muto threw his axe through first, then went to squeeze past...and became stuck.  He struggled, but barely budged.  Instead of fear, he looked confused.

“Is Muto getting fat?”

Enzo had been running ahead, but stopped to run back.  He and Miyu grabbed Muto's wrist, and pulling together, got him dislodged.

“120...119...118,” counted the speakers.

Down the halls they ran, with Miyu glaring at Enzo.  “You have so much explaining to do,” she demanded.

“I didn't know this would happen!” Enzo insisted.  “In case you haven't noticed, I'm also fleeing for my life!”

“You're paying us double!” Miyu snapped.  “If I die, it'll be triple!”

“Oh!!” Muto had a revelation.  “Loot!!”

“Please, Muto, now is not the time for—”

He skidded to a halt in front of a computer console.

“No, leave it alo—!”

He grabbed the sides, groaned, and pulled.  Nothing happened...then with a terrible shriek of protest, the metal ripped from the wall.  He held the console over his head and started running again.  “Okay, Muto good!”

“70...69...68....”

Down the halls they ran.  Emergency lights pointed the proper directions to the exit. They passed the labs, which were now empty, as the shutters had retracted and the scientists had escaped.  A few tried to remain behind to rescue their data, but others had pulled them along, telling them their lives were worth more.

The halls wound round, until they could see daylight ahead, blocked partially by the last remnants of fleeing scientists.  “There!  There!” Miyu eagerly pointed forward.  “We're gonna make it!”

“15...14...13....”

“It's them!!”

Some scientists stopped, considering trying to fight them off in revenge for ruining all their research.  However, the prospect of remaining in an exploding base urged them to quickly leave.

Catching up with the scientists, the crowd fanned out into the Thanalan desert.

“4.”

People were running as hard as they could.

“3.”

They couldn't put enough space between themselves and the base.

“2.”

There was no shelter.

“1.”

Sand dunes were the best they could find.

“MELTDOWN COMMENCING.”

There were screams. Some dove for the ground and covered their heads.  This would be huge.

...

And then nothing happened.

What was to be anxiety and fear for their lives turned into confusion, then frustration.  There wasn't going to be an explosion.  The countdown system had been implemented, but must have been faulty.  There was no danger.  And it was a bit too perfect for there to have been a countdown with a round number like 200 seconds.  Everyone was safe.

And then all attention drew focused on the small party of adventurers in the middle of all of them.  Muto was still holding the ripped-out computer console above his head.  Then there came the noise of several rifles cocking.

Miyu nervously laughed, “Eh heh...!” then raised her hands.

Enzo, meanwhile, squinted at everyone.  A dark expression came over his features.

Miyu elbowed him, then hissed, “Do you wanna die today?  Put them up...!”

“No....”

“Muto's hands are up!” declared Muto cheerfully, still not putting down the console.

“Do you have any idea...” said a guard approaching them, gun pointed at them, “...what you have done?”  His cheeks still had the drawn-on whiskers.

“To be fair,” Miyu squeaked, “we were kinda hired to?  I-it was nothing personal?”

“Ready!”

Rifles were raised, safeties were removed.

SHOOM!!

A mushroom of fire erupted from the base, shooting debris and sand into the day sky, blocking out the sun.  A visible shockwave went out, kicking up sand and knocking a number of people over.  There was a climbing roar, which was then followed by an explosion of blue flame that erupted from the base's entrance.

Chaos had taken control of the crowd once again, before everyone had calmed once again.

“Wait...where—?”

“Buh-bye!”  Muto was up on his chocobo, alongside the others on theirs.  The console had been awkwardly shoved into the chocobo's pouch.

Enzo looked over the group and gave a smirk.  Not saying another word, he put on his goggles, pulled the reins, and headed off into the desert.

“You can fake your own deaths here if you want!” Miyu said with a wave.  “Start new lives!”

“Wait!!”

They didn't stop.  The chocobos were running.  Moments later, Enzo began the spell to again create a sandstorm.  Their tracks would be covered and hopefully, they would never see anyone from the base ever again.

Silence descended over the base's staff.

“I forgot my Triple Triad deck in there...” lamented a guard.

~

Standing in Ul'dah at the airship station, they gathered around their pilfered crystal.  The sky was darkening, as the sun was just disappearing behind the horizon.

“So in the end...it wasn't anything special,” lamented Enzo.

“It's just a normal fire crystal?!” groaned Miyu.

“Ehhhhh...yee-eahhhhhhh....”

“Anything special about it?” she demanded.

“I mean...it might have a bit more of aethereal concentration?” shrugged Enzo.  He passed over his scope.  “But if you look at the aethereal mapping on it, there's literally nothing out of the ordinary.  You could find this in anything.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he grumbled in aggravation, “but despite them altering the aether they were pumping into...that thing...it ended up having absolutely no effect on the crystal it left behind.”  He wiped his face frustratedly, then pushed the crystal away.  “Honestly, you two can keep it and turn it into the grand company, have more 'proof' of this whole misadventure.  Put it right beside that console Muto grabbed.”

“Thank you, Enzo,” Miyu said quietly.  “But you really don't have to.”

“I'm going to,” he insisted, “and I'm going to pay you too. Just as agreed.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Though...that might take a bit.  All my money was kinda left in the base....”

“Take whatever time you need, all right?”  Miyu gave a consoling smile.  “I'm sorry this all happened like it did, but we...made some kind of difference, right?  And this should get us some advancement, at least!  I mean, once we document it all.  Right, Muto?”

They both looked up to the Hrothgar, who was standing with the biggest smile on his face.

“Why're you so happy?” asked Enzo.

“Muto go on adventure with bestest friends!” declared Muto, barely able to contain his glee.  “Muto and friends fight bad guys!  Muto and friends defeat dragon! Muto and friends—”  He made an enthusiastic explosion noise. “—blow up secret base! Muto and friends real adventurers!  Real heroes!”

Enzo, despite his disappointment, smiled.  “Well...I'm glad you guys had such a great time.  Sorry you missed out on your other mission.”

“Is okay!” Muto said with a bright smile.  “Muto helped Au Ra!  Muto help community!  Oh!” He remembered something incredibly important.  “Muto now can have egg!”  The hard-boiled egg Enzo gave him hours ago had been sitting in his pocket the entire adventure...and was likely destroyed, but that didn't stop Muto's enthusiasm.  He reached in, then looked confused.  Grabbing a hold, he pulled out a wadded piece of paper.

~

While Enzo explained the job, Muto looked down at the two-star adventure.  If they were doing something else, then it would be a waste to hold onto it.  He saw a frustrated Au Ra wandering away from the building.  It was the telltale sign of a poor adventure...and Muto had the solution.  He wandered away, while Enzo continued his explanation.

“Are okay?” asked Muto.

“Ehhhh....”  She shrugged.  “My fifth week in a row with a zero-star.”

“What is rank?”

“I'm almost to my first level,” she shrugged, “which kinda is awful, because I was doing adventuring for years before. Just...it never got documented and there's such a backlog with level appeals.”

“Oh!”  Muto held out the paper with the two-star adventure. “Muto have solution!  Au Ra friend can have adventure!  Is two-star!”

She blinked, taken aback.  “Wait...really?”

“Uh huh!”

“You're sure?”

“Uh huh!”

“Because I know how hard it can be to get these kinds of missions if you're not leveled up...a-and if you don't want to, you really don't have to, it's okay!  I mean, of course I want the mission, but it's fine if you'd rather not—”

“Muto!” called Miyu.  “We're leaving!”

“Oh!!  Coming!!”  He absently shoved the mission in his pocket, then ran after the others, leaving a confused Au Ra behind.

“Umm....”

~

“Muto...have mission.”

“I'm sorry?” asked Miyu.

“Muto still have mission.”

“You what?”

“Muto still have two-star mission.”

“You what?”

“Muto not mean to!”  He held out the paper, crumpled up, covered in smashed hard-boiled egg and eggshell shards.  “Was accident!”

“That's—!”

“Muto screw up again?!”  He looked absolutely terrified.

“No, no!” soothed Miyu.  “It's okay!  Just—”

“Where is the mission again?” asked Enzo.

“Ummmm!!”  He opened the paper and did his best to read. “Um...um—”

“Gridania!” cut in Miyu.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so?”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah, sure!  Wh—?”

He shoved the fire crystal towards Miyu, who took it confusedly. Enzo's grimoire was thrown open.  He channeled his magic, then uttered the words, “Oovoo javer!”

Space folded around Miyu and Muto, and not even a moment later, Enzo was there on his own at the table.

They were only a little late.  Not even twenty minutes later, the two adventurers were on the merchant's carriage with Muto blowing a melody into a bone flute, serenading his companions and the darkening sky.  The mission was only beginning.

~

It was utterly still and dark.  There wasn't a single noise in the house.  It wasn't because it was abandoned, but because he chose for his footsteps to be silent.

A light source was approaching, illuminating the neighboring room. Instead of trying to hide from it, Enzo waited and crossed his arms confidently.

A young dark-skinned lady entered the room holding a lit lantern. She saw Enzo, then deeply frowned.

“Thanks for letting me know you're home...” grumbled Emory. “Where were you?”

“Oh, out,” Enzo shrugged.  “Nothing big.”

Emory scowled at him.  “I know that look.  What did you do?”  She sighed with frustration.  “Who did you kill?”

He put up his hands, palms out.  “Nobody this time!”

“Don't you lie to me!  How many was it?”

“Seriously, Em, it's not actually not a lie!”  He gave a wide grin.  His teeth were pointier than they had been earlier.  “You should tell your brother what a good boy he's been!”

“Oh, shove it...” she grumbled.  “What did you do?”

“Wanna see something amazing?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

He reached into his pocket, where he had a small portal to the Void, and withdrew a crystal, then set it on the nearby table.  It glowed a dull red and was lined with veins.  Emory looked at it, and moments later, recoiled.  The shadows cast behind her from the lantern twisted for a moment before resuming that of a normal lady.

“What did you do, Enzo?” she snapped.  “What is this?!”

“Aether!”  His grin widened.  “Can't you tell?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about!” she snarled.

“Oh, come on, Em!”  He nudged the crystal, making it spin in place.  “Just a little crystallized aether!”

He noted the shadows behind her were growing and darkening.  Spiky protrusions were twisting and forming in the dark.

“Fine, fine,” he lamented.  He flicked the crystal to spin it the opposite way.  “So I have to say the people of this plane can be absolutely brilliant and incredibly stupid.  They had no idea what they had.  They were taking aether from the planet and corrupting it.  Corrupted aether is nothing new, sure, but the way they were doing it was...certainly unique.  They absolutely ruined it, depriving it of being aspected, while maintaining the energy and refusing to adapt to any other aspect.  And then they channeled it through a remnant of Bahamut, who was able to amplify it so much more than I thought possible.  Even with just one of his scales.”

“How'd you get it?”

“Ohhhh, you know....”  His tail flicked playfully.

“Do not make me ask again.”  Emory glared.  “Or I will make you tell me.”

“My friends just helped me get into a Garlean base is all!”

“We don't have 'friends,'” she stated flatly.

“I like to think Miyu and Muto are.”  He received a withering glare from Emory.  “Oh, come on, I don't consider them as equals! They're just useful!  Entertaining too.”

He picked up the crystal and turned it about, so that both he and Emory could get a better look at it.

“Anyways, I don't entirely understand everything those mortals did to the crystal, but long story short, they basically created something that is outside the six elements.  And I'm not even talking about unaspected aether.  I'm talking about technically a seventh element....”  His smirk grew wider.  “...which should provide for some interesting possibilities.”

“Do whatever you want with it,” grumbled Emory.  “Just keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh, this thing?”  He held it out just a hair more.

Emory glowered at him, then turned and left in a huff, leaving the room.  It was pitch-black in the room once again...save for a glowing pair of red eyes.

~

Thanalan Desert.

“I have a suspicion...” murmured the gentleman to himself.

“What kind of suspicion?” asked an eager Miqo'te.

“I believe....”  Hildibrand suddenly gave a wide sweep with his arm.  “...that there was an explosion.”

The two of them were standing at the bottom of a crater, surrounded by debris.

“And where there are explosions, there are crimes.”

“What about Bahamut?”

A finger was thrust into the sky.  “He is the greatest criminal of them all!”

Some of the debris moved.  The finger was lowered and pointed to it.

“A clue!” both of them said together.

A hand eventually came forth from under the rubble, followed by a ragged sleeve.

“Nashu!”

“Yes, sir!”

“We must assist!”

They crouched next to the hand and pulled away concrete, stones, and all manner of debris.  A Roegadyn lady in a torn white lab coat lied underneath.

“Who...?” she croaked.  “What...?”

“My lady, you have stumbled into the authorities!”

“We have authority?” asked Nashu.

“Absolutely!  All of Eorzea is ours to patrol and to bring justice to!  And you, my lady!”  He dramatically pointed down to the scientist.

She just stared blankly at him.

He knelt next to her, then reached for her hand.  “...are most obviously the victim of a terrible, terrible crime. Pray, tell me...who did this to you?”

The Roegadyn looked at him blankly as her thoughts started to come together.  What were the names the Hrothgar said?

“Muto,” she finally managed.  “Muto, Miyu, and Enzo.”

Click!

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU 

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown.  “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not. 

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted. 

  “Are you pissed at me?” 

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water. 

“What?” He sputtered. 

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.” 

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room. 

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.” 

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.” 

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled. 

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited. 

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult. 

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean. 

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted. 

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing. 

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway. 

“Yes?” Cas responded. 

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.” 

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.” 

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them. 

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie. 

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally. 

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom. 

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone. 

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway. 

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow. 

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead. 

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature. 

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text. 

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right? 

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing. 

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound. 

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?” 

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber. 

“No,” Dean sighed. 

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch. 

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?” 

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms. 

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said. 

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded. 

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed. 

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas. 

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.” 

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.” 

“What did he want?” 

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.” 

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be. 

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.” 

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?” 

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off. 

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.” 

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.” 

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.” 

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess. 

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.” 

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?” 

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer. 

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.” 

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.” 

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?” 

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?” 

“I do.” 

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.” 

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified. 

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.” 

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.” 

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.” 

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked. 

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

 Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

-------------

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

[marisaaa]

day 1 prompt: "Do you trust me?"

Once you turn eighteen and you find yourself in the presence of your soulmate, you know. Your soul connections are close enough to activate and they say it overrides all your senses. It’s just you. And them.

Aaron knows as soon as Robert steps into the common room, and he knows he feels it too. 

have i known you twenty seconds, or twenty years? (AO3 link)

“I’m Adam. Barton.” A smiley boy stands up from where he was sat outside the headmaster’s office, “We’re going to be in the same mechanics class but right now, I’m your mentor.”

He reached his hand out to shake Aaron’s who took it timidly.

“Aaron.” He introduced himself, “Dingle.”

Adam smiled, letting go of Aaron’s hand and pointing up at the massive school sign painted on the arch of the hallway. “Welcome to All Hallows.”

Aaron had recently moved to live with his Mum in Leeds, requiring a school transfer… in the middle of his A levels. Luckily, this new school had the right subjects and really, anything would do if it meant getting away from his Dad.

Adam joyously waffled on about the school, clubs, competitions as he led Aaron around. The college was connected to a lower school, so the tour was a lot longer than Aaron had expected but he didn’t mind, Adam seemed to be in his element.

They got to a glass cabinet in the main school reception and stopped. Aaron watched as Adam smiled, looking over the many trophies the school held.

A few seconds passed. “Lots of trophies.” Aaron pointed out dumbly, making Adam chuckle.

“Yeah, loads.” He replied. Looking around to check no one was watching, Adam pulled open the glass door and pulling a photo frame out.

He pointed to one of the boys in the frame. They looked only a bit younger than themselves. “That’s Pete. He’s my brother/cousin.” Adam explained.

Aaron didn’t even want to ask. He just kept looking at the frame with feigned interest.

Adam continued, “Last year, they played for the under 16s international lacrosse championship.”

He seemed to be amazed by the information, so Aaron pretended to look impressed, as if he knew what lacrosse was.

“That’s good?” he questioned nervously.

Adam scoffed, “Good? That’s awesome, mate. International! They didn’t just play, they came second. That’s mint.”

Aaron nodded. “Are they our age?”

Adam shook his head in response, “Just left, actually. Pete and a few other teammates got a lacrosse scholarship and moved to the US.” He thought carefully, scanning the photo, “Wait no, Robert’s still here.”

He pointed to one of the boys, looking small on the photo. He had dusty blonde hair and wide, white smile. He knelt on one knee, holding his helmet and his lacrosse stick stood next to him.

Adam spoke in a whisper, “Snapped a tendon, last game of the internationals. He carried on playing though. People say he’s the reason the team didn’t win.”

Aaron chuckled but Adam looked him dead in the eye, serious.

“You can’t be serious.”

Adam nodded. “He was so embarrassed, didn’t turn up to school for the rest of the year.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes, “That couldn’t be for a small thing like the snapped tendon, possibly.”

Adam seemed to consider that, shrugging his shoulder and putting the photo back in the cabinet. “You can be the one to ask him, if anyone mentions it infront of him, let me tell you, you do not want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Why? is he violent?” Aaron questioned, suddenly concerned for his safety.

Adam laughed, “No, not violent. He’s just, creative – with his words. Him and his girlfriend both. You see, her dad was the lacrosse coach – until he retired this year. Of course, Robert and Chrissie would get together, its cliché, right?”

Aaron nodded in understanding, watching as Adam closed the class door carefully, just in time for a member of staff to walk around the corner, not noticing a thing. He shot Adam a knowing glance, a small smirk on his lips.

“But anyway,” Adam continued to gossip as they walked further down the corridor, “They’ve been together, what? Three years now? Well, since Robert became captain of the team. Everyone knows Chrissie’s cheating on him, she hasn’t dumped him probably because she doesn’t want to cause a rift between her dad and his ‘star player’. But now he’s retired, everyone’s just waiting for them to break.”

Aaron listened intently, impressed with how much gossip he’s already been let in on. Although something tells him it’s common knowledge.

They turned a corner and through two double doors into a bustle of people. There were around twelve tables, completely full of teenagers.

THE COMMONROOM read the sign hanging from the ceiling, accompanied by some quote that Aaron hadn’t heard before.

Someone called from the left of the room, waving their hand over to where Adam and Aaron were stood by the doors.

Adam replied with a wave, then beckoned Aaron to follow him to where a group of people were sat both on chairs and on the table.

He was introduced to a whole load of people – boys and girls – who’s names he could barely remember already. One of them, Billy he thinks was clearly the main one of the group and Aaron watched from where he was sat on a chair as everyone crowded round and watched this Billy play something on his phone.

Mid-laugh at something funny Adam had commented, Aaron’s heart rate sped up drastically in his chest. It’s almost like something had been rewired in his body, like something sudden clicked. A piece fit to complete his puzzle.

The noise of the common room drowned out as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting someone else’s across the room by the door, zoning in on him and him only.

A green eyed, freckled, dusty blonde-haired boy was staring back at him with his own shocked expression on his face. It was like all his nerves multiplied and he could feel every emotion under the sun, completely overwhelming him in… feeling.

The moment was interrupted, and their eye contact broke as a brunette girl tapped on the blonde boy’s shoulder, their surroundings suddenly becoming known again.

Aaron cleared his throat and turned his head back to the table, catching Adam’s watchful eye.

“You alright, mate?” Adam asked, hopping of the table and onto a chair next to him. “Your cheeks, they’re pink.”

“Nerves.” Aaron lied quickly but then gestured over to where the boy was, now in what looked like an unhappy conversation with the brunette girl, “Who’s that, over there?”

Adam’s eyes quickly found him and then flicked back to Aaron’s. “That’s Robert Sugden – the guy on the lacrosse team I showed you.”

Aaron’s heart stuttered, his eyes widening in realisation. Oh. Shit.

“And that’s Chrissie White with him.” Adam continued, gesturing to where they were sitting, “Doesn’t look like a thrilling conversation, though.”

Robert’s forehead was creased, and he ran a hand through his hair frustratedly as Chrissie turned abruptly and stormed off. Robert looked up and his eyes locked on Aaron’s who immediately shied away from the contact, only to look back up to see Robert walking away.

He didn’t know why or even remember standing up but soon enough, he was following Robert out of the common room and into a hallway he hadn’t even realised was there.

As he stepped into the hallway, he noticed the significant lack of light considering the time of say and the odd chill coming from the tall windows. He looked down both sides of the corridor, but it was empty. He was about to call out Robert’s name, but it felt wrong, considering they hadn’t met properly yet.

He took a step down the left side of the corridor – the side that seemed less daunting and searched for any other staircases he could’ve taken.

As he took a few more steps, the sleeve of the coat on his arm was pulled and he fell sideways into a small cupboard about the size of a box bedroom, containing shelves and shelves of outdoor equipment.

Before he could even register everything in the room, the door slammed shut and a light was turned on, blinding Aaron for a few seconds before his eyes focused on the person in front of him.

He looked… almost angry but hurt and confused at the same time. They stood in silence, just staring at each other for a few seconds before Robert opened his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry,” he nervously scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t usually do this.”

Aaron almost laughed. That was the last thing he’d expected him to say. He kept a straight face, trying to be angry about the whole thing.

“What pull random people into…” he looked around, “equipment storage?”

Robert sighed, “You’re not- you’re not a random person though, are you?”

Aaron tried not to notice the way Robert’s eyes dipped to his lips as he spoke. He shook his head.

“I feel like… I feel like I know you.” Robert spoke quietly, as if he was trying to work something out in his head, “How have I never noticed you before?”

Aaron gulped, the other boy’s voice making something stir inside of him. “I just moved here, from York. Today’s my first day. My name’s Aaron.”

Robert’s mouth opened in realisation and he huffed a laugh. “Well, Aaron. A hell of a first day, huh?”

“Well, I’ve had worse.” Aaron answered, trying to be funny.

A small smile formed on Robert’s lips and he made eye contact with Aaron again under the dim light of the cupboard. Aaron’s eyes flickered to his lips and then back up to Robert’s eyes which quickly darted down as he took a step back.

“I’m not gay.” Robert declared, refusing to look at him.

Aaron felt something drop in his chest. He’d heard of these cases. Your soulmate but in the form of your friend. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. That this beautiful person, someone he was, indeed, very attracted to, is only bonded to him because they’re friends.

“Oh.” Aaron looked down at his feet and bit his lip.

“But I’m not straight, either.”

Aaron looked up quickly at that and Robert stepped closer again. Their faces were so close now, they were practically breathing the same breaths. He cleared his throat before Robert spoke again.

“Infact, right now.” He whispered, “I don’t know how I ever thought I was.”

Aaron took a quick gasp of air before Robert dipped his head and gently pressed their lips together.

It was like fireworks, Aaron would say. The moment the fireworks start and all you can do is stare in awe at how wonderful and beautiful they are. Fireworks, right now, everywhere. The feeling was ten times it was when they first locked eyes in the common room.

The kiss got deeper and more passionate, Robert pushing Aaron up against on of the shelves and Aaron’s hand gliding through the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

Robert let out a small moan before pulling away, the firework subsiding but still very much there. His eyes fluttered open and his lips were parted as he drew in quick breaths.

Aaron was speechless. He’d never felt anything near this before. He could feel as Robert’s heart was beating, the same fast pace as his own and they grinned at each other, both knowing exactly how the other was feeling through their bond.

Robert pressed himself against Aaron again and started mouthing at his neck, making Aaron lean his head back against the shelf.

“I have a girlfriend.” Robert murmured between kisses, but he carried on anyway.

“She’s cheating on you.” Aaron panted, but silently cursed himself, not wanting the be the one to ruin what was going on right now.

Robert stopped and raised his head to align his eyes with Aaron’s. They seemed to scan his face. Aaron suddenly felt under pressure. “I’m sorry- Adam said- he said everyone knew, and your conversation earlier didn’t seem great I-“

“I wanted to wait until she was eighteen.” Robert interrupted ,his eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “ Just to see if she was 'the one', you know?”

He nodded.

“But she’s not. And I’m…” he started to smile, “So goddamn happy about that.”

Aaron let out a sigh of relief before hastily pulling Robert’s face back down to his own, kissing him once more.  

They carried on for what seemed like barely any time but must’ve been long enough for the bell to ring, signalling the next period.

They broke apart, the feeling of each other lingering on their lips.

“I have a lesson.” Aaron whispered, slowly opening his eyes to watch Robert do the same.

“Skip it.” Robert answered quickly, pushing his arms off the shelves where they were resting behind Aaron’s head.

Aaron rolled his eyes, “What? Skip my first ever lesson?”

“Don’t know you to know you’re missing, do they?” Robert said with a wink, his eyes unsubtly lingering on Aaron’s lips.

Aaron let out a small chuckle as Robert put his hand out, as if to ask Aaron to take it.

“Come on, there’s somewhere we can go instead.” Robert looked down at Aaron’s hand and reached his outstretched one towards it.

He narrowed his eyes, “What? So you can kidnap me and hide me in a cupboard again.”

Robert rolled his eyes but looked pleading. “I won’t, I promise.”

Aaron nodded his head slowly, a smile spreading across his face.

“Do you trust me?”

Aaron didn’t know why. He didn’t know how. But he did. With every fibre of his being.

He took his hand and it took his breath away with it, the fireworks making a comeback.

Robert pulled him out of the cupboard and down some stairs that Aaron hadn’t even noticed on his way there. Soon enough, they were outside and running across the field into a wood. Robert lead him through the wood and out into a clearing where a small barn stood,

He slowed to a walk, still holding onto Aaron’s hand, laughing as he swung it back and forth. Aaron could feel his eyes glowing with adoration as he watched the cold pink his cheeks and the wind blow lightly through his hair.

When they reached the barn, Robert pulled the door open, unveiling a room full of haystacks and wooden beams.

Aaron stepped inside and looked around as Robert shut the door behind them.

“Yep, exactly how I envisioned meeting my soulmate.” Aaron joked, “First he locks me in a smelly cupboard and then he takes me to an even smellier barn. Romantic”

Robert sighed but took small steps towards Aaron, eventually pushing him back and down onto a haystack. “You’re too traditional, Aaron.”

Aaron was not expecting his heart to flutter at the sound of his name on Robert’s lips and he could tell by the way Robert smirked, that he felt it too.

He started to lean down pushing Aaron gently on his shoulders so he was laying fulling on his back and Robert leaning over him, his arms bracketing his head.

“Now.” He whispered, leaning his face down to Aaron’s, “Where were we?”

And again. Fireworks.

[violetwolfraven]

Look, I don't have any specific prompt but can you write anything about the superpowers au?

Epic. I’ve got an idea I’ve been sitting on for a while that I was gonna write anyway but anyway I hope you ship jomike. Also that you’re okay with one in the rebellion version of the au cause that’s what the idea is.

Get ready for A N G S T.

Tw: injuries, non-graphic physical abuse, and kind of a bit of internalized homophobia.

...

Logically, Jojo knew that there was no one coming for him. Albert couldn’t afford to risk anyone else, and besides, they didn’t even know where this prison was to send someone. And if by some chance what was left of the gang could find this place, there was the fact that Jojo wasn’t even that powerful. He was just a flora, and not a leader. He’d known the risk when he went on that mission.

So, logically, Jojo knew no one was coming. No one could.

But as things got worse and worse from the second he got there, as the guards gave out beatings for nothing, for no reason, and left kids barely breathing left and right, Jojo kept hoping they would, anyway.

He thought he saw Jack once, across the cafeteria, but there was no way to know for sure.

Another time, he thought he heard Crutchie’s voice from that little jail cell they put him in before they brought him here, but when he called out, no one responded.

He though he’d passed a cell once that contained a boy with a shock of golden hair like Race’s, but he didn’t know if it was just his imagination.

Jojo didn’t know what was his imagination anymore. This place, a haze of pain and fear, had a way of messing with you. A part of him was still hoping it was all just a bad dream, but another part of him said that if he could wake up from this, he would have a long time ago.

But this place was messing with his head. He already didn’t know how long he’d been there, so he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Jojo had never felt pain before to recall it in dreams or memories.

“Hey, Jo, are you feelin’ up to tryin?’”

That was only one part of this nightmare that he really hoped was real.

Jojo hadn’t known Mike well before everything started going wrong. He’d known him enough to say hello, known that Mike was a twin, that he was the same age as Jojo, and what his powers were, but they hadn’t been friends. Barely even acquaintances, really.

Then Manhattan split up, and Jojo went with Albert, Mike went with Finch, and honestly, he’d barely even thought about the fact that he would probably never see him again, unless Albert or Finch actually succeeded in finding Jack, Crutchie, and Race.

Then Albert had taken Jojo, among others, on a hit, trying to take out the Delanceys.

Jojo was supposed to grow stinging nettles over the back door to prevent those assholes from escaping. He’d been halfway done with it, but Wiesel had gotten a cloth full of chloroform over his mouth and nose before he could react, and then Jojo was in a tiny jail cell with nothing for him to grow anything out of.

From there, they’d knocked him out again to transport him to the prison codenamed: the Refuge, and the next thing Jojo knew, he was being tossed into a cell with one of the Guzman twins.

“Well, well, well. Jojo de la Guerra. Great to see ya! Welcome to hell.”

Jojo had hidden how freaked out that made him enough to clarify that this was Mike, and oddly, he didn’t seem all that different from how Jojo remembered him. He seemed... fine. Sarcastic and funny. Which was weird because by all accounts, these prisons were basically hell.

He’d found out later that night that the Refuge really was hell, when the guards decided to welcome him by dragging him out of the cell to a room down the hall, yanking his shirt off, and taking an old belt to his back.

Jojo had tried not to scream, but he’d only been able to manage it for so long. And when the guards finally had enough, got his shirt back on him, and dumped him back in the cell, he was bleeding heavily and only half-conscious.

He’d flinched when someone gently touched his arm, and tried to get away, but instead, the hands pulled him closer, gentle as possible while still overpowering Jojo’s incoherent struggling.

Jojo had stopped struggling when he realized that the arms wrapped around him were staying gentle, that there was no more pain coming, but he’d still been dazed and confused.

“Mike?”

Mike hadn’t responded, and Jojo had felt the vibrations against his chest before he heard it; Mike singing quietly, his hands stinging less and less against Jojo’s back.

“I can’t heal ya,” he’d said when he was done, “I haven’t figured out a combination for that yet. But this’ll take away the pain. For a little while, at least.”

“How are you doin’ that?” Jojo had asked, “You said you’ve been here a month.”

The powered people in the Refuge were given only the bare minimum of food, because though power-dampeners couldn’t completely take away anyone’s abilities, powers took energy and you couldn’t summon enough energy to use them with the dampener already interfering if you were half-starved.

At least, that was the theory, which evidently wasn’t completely true with how Mike was using his powers like normal, like nothing was wrong.

“I have. And I can’t do everythin’ in here, but... I guess some of us just know how to run on empty.”

He’d used water and soap from their sink and a ripped-up sheet they didn’t need to clean and bandage Jojo’s back, and the pain had stayed away until the next morning.

They’d fallen into a routine, patching each other up when they got hurt, talking about whatever came to mind during long days with nothing to do, sitting together at meals, and...

And little by little, Jojo started to realize that he was feeling things for Mike he’d never felt before, in a fluttering warmth when he smiled, a dull, throbbing hurt when he started to be able to tell how many of those smiles were faked, a fear deep in his bones when guards dragged the other boy out of the cell.

Or... maybe he had felt this before. Or something like it. He’d felt these things in a different way for every one of his close friends, and...

And he’d felt it to an extent for Race, once upon a time, when they were maybe 13. Then again, for Elmer for only about a month, when they were 15.

It had been a lot less intense, when he felt it for them, but it was definitely this, or something like it.

But Jojo had buried those feelings, never let himself think about them, forced himself to focus on developing his powers, instead. He’d decided he wasn’t going to feel that way, waited the feelings out and never made a move, because if there was one thing people hated more than a person with powers, it was a gay person with powers.

Jojo didn’t have anything else to focus on here, unless he wanted to focus on his own pain (he didn’t) so he was forced to feel every slight shift in his emotions as he fell in love with Mike.

He was falling. Slowly, but surely, he was falling.

And it wasn’t scary, like he was expecting.

Well, it was. But it was a million other things, too, most of them good.

But of course, falling in love in the Refuge was full of complications, and as they switched to sharing a bed on cold nights, (Jojo guessed at least a couple months must have passed if it was getting this cold. That, or the Refuge was farther north than they’d thought.) a few nights, it got so cold that Mike had to sing them some warmth.

They’d gotten lucky that nobody had noticed all the times when Mike took away Jojo’s pain, or his own, if he could manage a song after a beating, and that they hadn’t seen the first few nights he sang them some warmth.

They couldn’t stay lucky forever.

The next time Mike sang to keep them warm, the guards came in and dragged him away not five minutes later.

He was still breathing when they brought him back, but only barely, and Jojo had never felt this kind of fear before.

Mike had more bruises than Jojo could count, belt scars on his back, at least four broken ribs, and blood running down his face from a nose that was probably broken.

He was crying. No matter how bad things got, he never cried.

“Shh,” Jojo had said, “It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”

Jojo had managed to get him up on the bed, but that was about all he could do.

Mike always smiled at him after this happened, to let him know that he wasn’t okay, but he would recover. And no matter how much Jojo hated how he felt the need to smile when he wasn’t feeling it, it was worse now that he wasn’t smiling, because that meant he was hurt so badly that he couldn’t care.

“Mike, you need to sing. Please, Mike. You need to sing the pain away.”

They’d beaten him so badly that he couldn’t sing. That was the problem. He was in so much pain that all he could do was sob.

And Jojo was helpless to do anything to take away that pain.

Jojo really hated being helpless.

He’d used their makeshift bandages to clean and treat the other boy’s wounds as best he could, but Mike was still in so much pain the next morning that he couldn’t even sit up.

For days afterwards, he wouldn’t or couldn’t talk, and he definitely didn’t sing, so Jojo had to fill the silence.

He’d talked about random things, when he could think of something to talk about, or sang, if he could remember lyrics to a song. And it was by no means like it had been when Mike would talk back, but at least after the first couple days, Jojo could tell he was listening.

It didn’t start to get better until a long time later.

Jojo had been singing to fill the silence, just some song he remembered that happened to be a duet in the real version.

“I remember what you wore on the first day, you came into my life and I thought, hey, you know, this could be something. Cause everything you do and words you say, you know that it all takes my breath away and now I'm left with nothing.

And maybe it’s true—“

He’d been shocked enough that he had to force himself to keep singing when Mike joined in from across the cell, singing the harmony part.

“—that I can't live without you, and maybe two is better than one. But there's so much time, to figure out the rest of my life, and you've already got me coming undone. And I'm thinking two is better than one.”

They’d sang that song together, and Mike wasn’t using his powers; just his regular singing voice, but it was more than he’d spoken in weeks, so Jojo let him go silent again afterwards.

It was trial and error after that. Sometimes, Mike would join in on duets and sometimes he wouldn’t. He still never used his powers and barely spoke, but his voice came back little by little.

It was warm enough that they didn’t have to share a bed anymore, though did, sometimes, anyway, by the time Mike asked the crutial question.

“How would you feel about getting out of here?”

They’d concocted a plan, Jojo giving Mike some of his food leading up to enacting it, so he could finally manage a big use of his powers.

Using his powers for the first time since the guards tried to beat them out of him, Mike sang a blow of power strong enough to put a crack in the back wall of their cell.

From there, they switched to getting Jojo’s strength up, and he started on growing the strong roots of an oak tree through the crack, lengthening it and punching through to the other side.

Tonight, if Jojo could make his tree grow suddenly and quickly, it would rip the wall apart.

“I can try,” he said, offering Mike a smile.

The other boy stood back as Jojo focused, feeling the fibers of the tree and all his messed-up emotions that, in theory, made him stronger.

The crack widened suddenly with a loud crumbling noise, and alarms started blaring.

“Not to put pressure on ya, Jo, but now would be a good time!”

“I’m tryin’!” Jojo exclaimed, “Come on!”

He wasn’t strong enough. He was half-starved and the dampener was weakening him and no matter how many messed-up emotions the Refuge made him feel, it wasn’t enough.

“Jojo,” Mike said, halfway panicked, “I’m really sorry if I’s been readin’ your signals wrong, but...”

Jojo was already calling on love and protectiveness as well as fear and pain.

The wall exploded.

Because Mike had grabbed Jojo’s face, pulled him close, and kissed him.

It was desperate and scared, but good and deep, too and it made Jojo feel like he was flying, like even hell could have a little heaven in it if he tried hard enough.

Then Mike pulled away, his face still scared as he looked over his shoulder and saw that Jojo had grown a full-grown oak tree in the space where the wall used to be, the trunk thick enough to support the ceiling and the leaves visibly green even against the red lights flashing with the alarm.

The alarm.

They needed to get out.

The Refuge was clearly in the middle of nowhere, with a couple hundred feet between them and a thick treeline. If they could get there, Jojo would be in his element. He wouldn’t need to create new plants, just use existing ones to his advantage. He was feeling strong enough to do that.

“Come on!” Jojo exclaimed, grabbing Mike’s hand and rushing for the opening between the tree and the wall on one side.

He’d never grown one that big before.

The difference as they left the actual cell was noticeable. Jojo could feel when the dampener was no longer messing with him.

Mike held him back for a second in the space between their cell and the outside world, singing a combination Jojo didn’t recognize.

“It’s a shield,” he explained urgently, “I ain’t at full strength, so I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but—“

“You used your powers.”

It was the first time in... Jojo didn’t even know how long. Days? Weeks? He’d thrown up out of panic after using them to crack the wall in the first place and hadn’t used his powers again since.

Mike nodded, “We’d never make it if I didn’t. We still need to run like hell.”

He wasn’t at full strength. The shield might fail under gunfire. It might only last a few seconds. Even if it didn’t, they’d have to be quick to put enough distance between them and the Refuge to stay free.

Jojo squeezed Mike’s hand as he heard guards shouting in the hallways, “Ready?”

“Set.”

“Go!” They shouted together, then took off running, not dropping hands as they hauled ass towards the tree line.

The shield held up most of the way, and Jojo felt a bullet nick his arm, but he didn’t let himself care as he kept running. He just ran faster.

They barely made it, and they had to slow down due to the complete darkness of night but still keep moving so the guards wouldn’t catch them, but Jojo could finally breathe.

He was surrounded by plants, holding hands with the boy he loved and knowing that he was finally waking himself up from a long nightmare.

No one was coming to rescue them, but that was alright.

They could survive long enough to get back to the waking world of New York.

Growing stinging nettles behind them to make pursuit a little more interesting wasn’t even that hard.

...

((Btw I didn’t state it super clearly, but Mike’s power is that he can make basically anything happen with his voice. It’s just a matter of finding the right combination of notes.))

[gay-space-drama]

Rules and Information

Hi there, and welcome to Gay-Space-Drama, a blog dedicated to the original Katamese species created by our amazing Mod Oreo! Here’s some basic information you’ll need to know, as well as some simple rules to keep this blog friendly and fun! This blog is run by five mods:

Mod Indie: @indie-blue

Mod Wavi: @starlightpotato

Mod Oreo: @theoreohaslayers

Mod Bee: @s-n-a-k-e

Mod Tiny: @tiny-shadows​

Mod Crohns: @google-crohns

Our rules:

1. This blog is simply for us mods to have a place to dump about all of our ocs, and, most importantly, have fun! Therefore, we’re asking everyone to keep negativity away from this blog.

2. The Katamese are an open species, so you’re more then welcome to create your own OCs! Information about the species will be revealed over time, but we’d love to see your creations! If you do make a Kataman OC, make sure we see it by either submitting it to the blog or tagging it with #Katamese or #Katamese Species 3. No sexualization, fetishization, p*doph*lia, *nc*st, and/or any other NSFW content of the OCs on this blog or the species in general unless granted permisson otherwise by a mod later. While we will have OCs in relationships on here and we love seeing what people can do with this species, we want to keep this blog and species PG/PG 13. 4. Please use proper character and mod pronouns, as we respect all genders and pronouns on this blog. If you aren’t sure on a character’s gender/pronouns, don’t hesitate to ask!

5. Along with 4, or if you forgot to read the blog title, we respect all different sexual and romantic orientations as well (P*d*ph*l*a, which is not a sexuality, is not included). If you don’t enjoy this fact and voice your opinion about it on this blog, a mod will likely draw the subject of your complaint out of spite. If you’d rather this not happen, consider not following a blog about gays in space. 6. If you have a question about the species, please, ask us! We’d love to let you know anything (within reason) that you need to know, and we’d rather you ask us about it instead of making assumptions. Most of the Mod Squad here knows quite a bit, but with Mod Oreo being the creator of the species, their word is law. Anyways, thank you all for following us and showing your support! We really appreciate it, and it means a lot to us that you all enjoy our content!

[lesbyers]

Leaves And Lavender

{1} {2}

Chapter 3

Robin’s Advice

(btw if y’all are confused abt the timing this is after s3 but Hopper’s alive and the Byers haven’t moved because uuuhhh fuk u)

It was a the next day and Jane was in Science class with Lucas and Dustin, she was thankful to be with them. They were the type of special friends that never failed to make you smile, even so Jane’s mind was still filled with the sinking feeling of guilt but her thoughts were interrupted suddenly by Lucas nudging her with his elbow.

“Hey El, Dustin thinks that Sally Benson will say no if I ask her out bu-”

“She’s way out of your league dude!’

“No she’s not!”

“Dude seriously it’s Sally Benso-”

“What about Max?” Jane asked frowning.

“Oh we-“ Lucas began nonchalantly, Dustin cut him off a shit-eating grin on his face

“She dumped him!” 

“She didn’t dump me!”

“She totally did!”

Before the arguing continued Jane cut them off.

“She dumped you?” she asked

“Yeah she randomly called me and dumped me on the phone last night. Erica wouldn’t stop laughing at me” Lucas said casually, rolling his eyes

“Aren’t you sad? Mike was sad.” Jane asked

“Nah she’ll take me back soon anyway, she always does. Plus if I go on a date with Sally she’ll totally be jealous!”

“I don’t know man, maybe she dumped you for real this time”

“Whatever you can’t judge me, you’ve never had a girlfriend before Suzie”

Jane stopped listening, she didn’t understand what she was feeling, she felt kind of happy hearing what Lucas had said and that made her feel guilty, she thought of Max, Max was her best friend so why did it feel different compared to Mike or Lucas? It was confusing, so so confusing. Jane felt her mind get hazy again and then it was back, the sinking feeling. She decided she had no other choice but to try and figure out what she was feeling otherwise she became was afraid that she might go completely insane.

“Hey Dustin. What do you when you don’t know something?” she asked nervously, her gaze averted. “Like something you don’t hear at school.” she bit her lip hoping he wouldn’t think she was acting weird

“You mean like advice?”

“Yeah, advice...”

“Oh I usually just ask Steve or something” Dustin didn’t seem to recognise Jane’s distress, if he did he wasn’t showing it, she was grateful for it. Her stomach was twisting in knots and her mind was hazy.

“Where is Steve?” she asked 

“Uh he’s usually at the movie rental store” Dustin replied

“Yeah he only works there ‘cause he loooovess Robin!” Lucas teased in a sing-song voice.

Jane began debating the possibility of asking for advice, could she really talk about it? She didn’t really even know what it was? Either way Jane knew she couldn’t ask Joyce or Hop, she didn’t know how they’d feel after what Will had told her. Steve was her best bet, she didn’t know him well So he couldn’t hate her and he was older so he must know more, that’s what’s Hop had told her. She decided she would talk him after school.

The rest of the school day dragged on, Jane anxiously biting at her nails through classes, trying her best not to seem too anxious during lunch. Finally the final bell went and she flew out of her classroom and clumsily hopped onto her bicycle.

“El!” Will panted bursting threw the school doors.

‘Shit’. Jane had planned on leaving without Will noticing.

“Hi” Jane said flatly

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Will breathed

“Oh uhh.. I’m going to uuhhh” Jane fumbled for a believable excuse

“I’m meeting Max at th-the arcade” Jane spluttered

“Oh oka-“ Will started

“Bye see you at home!” Jane cut him off quickly pedalling away

She clumsily road her bicycle to the Video Rental Store. She had only learnt how to use a bike without crashing it about a week ago with Will, she wondered if he bought her excuse, she definitely wouldn’t have but god she hoped he did.

Jane dismounted her bicycle, staring at the entrance to the store, realizing she hadn’t really thought this through, what the hell was she supposed to say “I thought about kissing a girl, is that wrong?” “I never liked my boyfriend when we were together, am I broken?” She was terrified of the answer she might get but she realised she was even more afraid of not knowing.

As Jane entered she was made uncomfortably aware that the store was empty.

“Hi how can I help you” Robin said flatly, not looking up from the book in her hand

“Um” Jane began, clearing her throat, “Is-is Steve here?”

Robin looked up, “Oh you’re that weird girl from the mall right? Jane?”

There was a heavy silence as Jane quietly nodded

“Oh uh and Steve isn’t in today, I can pass on a message if you want I guess?”

Jane felt her heart drop and her cheeks flush red.

“Uh- no- I- It’s okay!” Jane spluttered

“Hey, hey are you okay?” Robin asked noticing the tears forming in her eyes

“I-I-uh“ Jane began, her words were cut off by the small sob that came from her mouth.

“Ok, uh I’ll um lock up early and you can tell me what’s going on okay?” Robin said quickly, noticing her distress

Jane nodded her head stiffly, staring at the floor.

Robin locked up and flipped the door sign around so that it read “Sorry! We’re Closed.”

She hopped up onto the counter near the cash register and patted the spot next to her.

“Jump up kid”

Jane crawled onto the counter, sitting across from Robin, she stared at her shoes and for a few awkward seconds they both sat in complete silence.

Robin cleared her throat

“Uh, what-what’s been bothering you?” She asked calmly

“I feel..wrong...”

“Wrong?”

“Like, I- I shouldn’t be...like me” Jane flinched at how stiff her words sounded

“Okay..” “how did that start?”

“My boyfriend, he used to be my boyfriend I, I didn’t like him, I don’t know why I-”

The tears welled up in Jane’s eyes again.

“I dumped him and he- we’re friends but I should like him and I don’t I like, I like someone else, I shouldn’t like them and I- it’s wrong” Jane breathed out deeply and steadied her breath. She stared at her shoes, cringing at how none of her words sounded like they made any sense

“I’m sorry” she breathed

Robin put her hand on Jane’s shoulder,

“It’s okay, I get it.” She said softly

At those words Jane’s head shot up, what did she mean she got it?

“Is, is the person you like, a girl?” Robin asked carefully

Jane nodded her head quickly, a look of shock on her face.

“Well Jane, I think you’re like me then.” Robin said as a smile crept onto her face

Jane laughed nervously, the thought of someone feeling the same way as her never occurred to her, she’d never really been able to share any common life experience with anyone before.

“Like you? It’s normal?”

“Yeah, I thought I was weird too, I was around your age when I first felt it too.”

“All my friends were getting crushes but all I wanted was to hang out with my best friend, Tammy Thompson was her name, she- she was so pretty and I just wanted to be around her all the time but all she wanted to do was talk to boys. I felt so alone and wrong and I just wished I had someone who helped me back then.” Robin had such a kind look on her face, something about her made Jane feel safe, like Hopper did, but different

“Her name’s Max...” Jane spoke quietly

“The redhead girl that Dustin used to like?”

“Yeah..”

“She seems nice” Robin said with a smile on her face

“So, it’s not wrong if I like girls...and not boys?”

“Some people will think it is because they don’t understand, but it’s normal, people like us are called lesbians.”

“Lesbians?”

“Yeah”

“So I’m lesbians?”

Robin laughed “No Jane, a lesbian”

“Oh..I’m a lesbian..”

“Yeah, liking the same gender means you’re gay. Boys who like boys are also gay and girls who like girls are called lesbians” Robin explained

“Oh, okay” Jane answered

There was a pause, Jane remembered something Will had told her about after one of the kids at school yelled at him.

“What’s a fag?”

Robin’s smile faded and she sighed “That’s a mean way of saying someone’s gay.”

“Oh...”

“If someone calls you that come and talk to me okay? If you ever feel sad about um, this stuff you can always come here and ask for me okay? Not everyone is nice about that stuff Jane” Robin tried her best to sound as welcoming as possible, she knew what it was like to feel alone and she hoped Jane didn’t have to feel like she did when she was her age.

“Thank you, Robin.” Jane smiled softly

“Call me El” she added.

“Okay El” Robin paused “You wanna go get ice-cream with me?” She asked

Jane’s face lit up “Yeah”.

Things were going to be okay.

[pilot-boi]

Shouting In Cafes: Chapter Two

Downsides Of Revenge

If possible, second impressions go even worse. And this time, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being hungover. As much as he wished he was.

AO3 LINK

Neptune laid in bed, phone on his chest, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His hangover had finally worn off and he was starting to regret everything. Why had he initiated anything? He should’ve just acted passively annoyed and let the guy - Sun right? - figure out how much of a dick he was being by himself.

Why the hell did he tell him he had nice pecs?

He wasn’t in his right mind when he was hungover. That was apparent.

So, now he was debating whether he should actually call this girl and get one last blow in. It was a shady move. Using a girl for petty revenge. Was he really that kind of guy? What had Sun really done to him?

Neptune considered opening the bottle of replacement-wine he’d just bought.

No. Stop. He needed to stop. He wasn’t using a girl to get back at a guy he met once who kind of pissed him off. He needed to sleep. He needed to get his shit together.

He’d take care of it in the morning.

“Well, hello, sunshine.” Jaune greeted a drowsy, rumpled Neptune with a broom in his hand and a flower from one of his sisters stuck awkwardly into his blonde curls.

Morning light streamed through the windows of the empty coffee shop, the smell of fresh coffee and Jaune’s careful sweeps across the tile floor the only indication that the building was open. Neptune checked his watch. 7:05 AM. They didn’t get customers until around nine. They had some time to kill.

Neptune rubbed at the bags under his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Do I look that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.” He shoved his card into the slot to clock in with a little more force than needed.

“Not enough sleep?”

“I went to bed at like nine but kept waking up in the middle of the night.”

“Nightmares?”

“Stress dreams, more like.”

“Are you still trying to be mad about that guy?”

“I’m not trying! And no. I don’t know.”

“Did you get your revenge?”

“I’m not going to sleep with somebody’s girlfriend out of spite. Even if she’s dating a douche. She seemed pretty nasty herself.”

“Hm. She did give you her number while she was on a date, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you even know her name?”

“No.”

“Well then, that settles that!” Jaune plucked the flower from his hair and tucked it behind Neptune’s ear, poking his friend in the eye in the process. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll never see either of them again, anyway.”

Jaune’s soft smiles were one of the only things that could warm Neptune’s heart. He tried not to show any emotion other than general annoyance whenever he could, but Jaune never failed to see right through him. He appreciated that sometimes.

But right now, Neptune couldn’t tell if he wanted to be annoyed by Jaune’s optimism or not. He settled on giving him a soft smile. He tried harder than most people he knew. “Thanks, Jaune.”

“No problem. You’re on register today.”

“God dammit, Jaune.”

The day was slow. Slower than usual. By three in the afternoon, they had only had five customers. Neptune caught himself falling asleep a couple times while standing up, which could not be healthy. Had he done his homework? God, he didn’t remember. All he remembered doing last night was staring at his phone and contemplating whether he wanted to be an asshole or not.

No homework then. He could do it before class. After work. How much longer did he have?

The door opened. Shoes smacked against the floor.

“Welcome to The Daily Grind. What can I get for you to-”

It was the dickhead. And his girlfriend. Again.

Neptune took a breath. Cleared his throat. “Welcome to The Daily Grind. What can I get for you today?”

The guy- Sun? -hunched his bare shoulders up to his ears. He was wearing one of those tank tops that had nearly the entire side of them cut out of them so you got a healthy dose of chest no matter what angle you were looking on from. They were nice shoulders. He didn’t deserve nice shoulders.

Thankfully, his expression took away from his body. Cocky and whimsical and snarky, like he knew everything you didn’t. “What? Not hungover today? No sleazy remarks?”

God, he commented on how nice his pecs were yesterday, didn’t he? No. God, no, of God why. Why would he let him have the upper hand like that? Bad move, bad move. Wine did bad things to him. Never again. Or at least he’d settle for never that much.

Embarrassment flooded to his cheeks and he tried to choke it back down. “Could I please take your order.”

Sun forced his palms against the table, winking and flashing a toothy grin. “What? No guts now that you don’t have some booze in you?”

“I’m working. Please keep your voice down.” Neptune let himself wonder if Sun could ever be quieter than a jackhammer.

“You were working yesterday, too! But that didn’t stop you from saying that my pecs were nice!”

Neptune leaned forward. “I like complimenting a handsome man when I see one, but no matter how nice your body is, your personality reeks of frat boy and beer.”

Sun’s date appeared beside him, grinning at Neptune from ear to ear. Sun’s face melted into pouted lips and a worried brow, like Neptune had actually offended him. Neptune felt victorious for a moment, before more heat rose to his face.

He was at work. All three of their other customers were staring at him.

Neptune coughed and picked up some cups and a sharpie, staring straight at the plastic. “What will your orders be today?”

“Grande white mocha and a plain cappuccino,” Sun said.

“Right.”

There was a silent exchange of a credit card and a receipt. Neptune’s blush was finally fading away. Just as Sun and his date were walking away, Sun turned back around and asked, “Are you gay?”

Neptune tensed, mouth slack in shock. Finally he managed to stutter out, “Your order is almost ready, Sun.”

They stared at each other for a moment more before Sun spun on his heel and walked away.

“He asked me if I was gay,” Neptune said in a hushed voice, fingers pressed to his temples, head bowed to the floor. “Is this real life? Did someone just ask their fucking barista if they were gay?!”

“Were you acting gay?” Jaune asked.

“Jaune!” Neptune hissed, sounding scandalized.

“It’s a genuine question.”

“I said I liked complimenting handsome men. I kind of implied that he was a handsome man.”

“That’s pretty gay.”

“That’s not the point!” Neptune nearly yelled before gathering himself. “You don’t ask your barista if they’re gay! What?! No! You don’t do that. Who the hell does that? This guy, apparently!”

“Neptune.”

“I’m sorry, dude, but honestly what the fuck. I can’t believe this. Who acts like this?”

“Neptune, I understand, but calm down. Take a breath.”

“I have to retaliate.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m texting his girlfriend.”

“No, you’re not.”

Neptune pulled out his phone. “Then tell me what I’m doing right now.”

“Oh my god.”

He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the crumpled straw wrapper, plugging in each digit into his phone. He thumbed the text icon and typed out a message.

Ocean Man: Hey this is the barista at the daily grind. I never caught your name.

“Sent it,” Neptune said and waggled the phone in front of Jaune’s face.

“I can’t believe you,” Jaune sighed.

“I’m probably going to regret this later.”

“You definitely are.”

They both watched as Sun’s date sipped her coffee, set it down, and looked at her phone. Sun was too engrossed in his own storytelling to notice the smile that pulled on her lips or how fast her thumbs typed on the keyboard.

A few seconds later, Neptune’s phone buzzed. Neptune puffed out a sigh. Guess he was doing this.

No Contact: Aria. And you?

Ocean Man: Neptune vasilias. Nice to meet you aria. Quick question. Why are you going out on a date with that guy? You dont seem to like him.

No Contact: He’s hot and he asked me out. Quickly finding that his personality sucks. You’re cuter. Wanna hang?

Neptune gave his phone a sour expression. No matter if the guy was a dick, you should at least finish the date before setting up a new one with someone else.

Jaune read over his shoulder. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

Neptune looked up and across the cafe to find Aria looking over her shoulder, smiling, and waving at him. No.

And Sun was glaring straight at him. No.

Was this what he wanted?

Sun stood up, nearly knocking his chair over backwards as he stomped back to the bar.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaune asked, echoing his thoughts.

“What do you want exactly?” Sun questioned, pushing a finger into the middle of Neptune’s chest. “To piss me off? Is that why you’re flirting with my date in front of me?”

“Look. You might be an ass but she’s the one who gave me her number while you two were here yesterday. You might want to find someone who actually likes you.”

Neptune could hear Aria squeak in outrage from the other side of the cafe.

“Fine! But that doesn’t explain why you actually texted her!”

“I think I wanted to make you mad.”

“What the hell!”

“You asked me, your barista that you don’t know the name of, if I was gay!”

“You were acting pretty gay!” Sun exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

“So what?!”

“I dunno! But you obviously aren’t because you’re flirting with my date!”

“Why do you still care? She doesn’t like you!”

Jaune stepped to the side of Neptune. “Dude, you might wanna stop.”

Neptune didn’t stop. “I’m not having the best time right now! I got dumped two days ago, got painfully drunk and hungover and have had to deal with you repeatedly!”

“Neptune,” Jaune warned.

“You’re just a shitty frat boy! Why the hell are you in a tiny coffee house on a date at three in the afternoon?”

“I get free coffee here!” Sun yelled. Not that it made a difference, his only volume setting was yelling.

“No, you don’t, you id-”

“My mom owns this place!”

Neptune went quiet. He stared at the fury burning in Sun’s eyes, white teeth bared, flimsy tank top threatening to fall off.

For once, he had no words. Well almost no words. Thank you Mama Vasilias, for your words of wisdom for these troubling times. Words that had helped him through many hardships before. Words straight from the old country.

“Merda,” Neptune muttered, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Something Stronger

Jonathan Pine x Reader. Eventual smut.

Last night.

This was your last night, and your last chance. It was now or never.

You paused at the door to your hotel room, hand on the antique-style key below the brass knob. One of things you loved about this hotel was the old-fashioned touches. The brass fittings. The high ceilings. The traditional high tea served mid afternoon.

And the attentive staff.

A translator for films and video games, you were habitually a night owl and your hours seemed to marry up well with those of the Night Manager on staff, Jonathan Pine.

When you couldn’t sleep, you threw on jeans and a loose jumper and sat in the spacious, plush lounge off the reception area, curling up on the huge chesterfield sofas with your laptop and headphones.

You’d first noticed him clearing up after a particularly amorous couple, after midnight last week. His movements were precise and grateful, his lean form outfitted perfectly in the suit - bespoke perhaps, with his height.

“I’m surprised they took a break to drink the coffee,” you observed as he stacked saucers on a silver tray.

His low chuckle told you he’d heard, and he glanced over. Your eyes met, his a clear, ocean blue. His sunkissed-gold hair, neatly combed, curled over his forehead. “Can I bring you anything, madam?”

His voice, a hearty swig of James Bond with a dash of sin, washed over you, curling low in your stomach. You let your gaze rove over his hands as he worked; wide palm, long fingers.

“Tea would be great, thanks.”

He returned five minutes later with another silver platter, holding an ornate porcelain teapot, single cup and saucer. He poured the tea like a pro, not a single drop spilled. “Milk, sugar?”

“Milk and one. Thanks.”

He stirred the steaming liquid in the dainty cup with a tiny silver spoon, setting in on the saucer.

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, madam.”

He ghosted off and you turned to see him back at the reception desk. The lighting in the reception area was low, but he was backlit by the small office behind the welcome desk, the light picking out the gold in his hair, highlighting his angular, handsome features.

He wouldn’t look out of place on a runway, but here he was, hidden away as a Night Manager in a Swiss hotel.

******

You blinked the memory away and turned the key in your door. The hallway yawned ahead of you and you could just see the beginnings of the beautiful staircase complete with huge, winding bannister, cherrywood engraved with vines.

In a moment of madness, you’d slipped on the one nice dress you’d packed, planned for the conference dinner that was cancelled last minute due to an issue with the catering. The baroque fabric fitted you well, the pattern of gold and copper diamonds interweaving. The hem came to your knees and underneath you wore plain black lace.

You’d bought it years ago, and wore it mostly for yourself, now. God knew your loser boyfriend, recently dumped, hadn’t appreciated it.

Maybe the Night Manager would.

Stupid, you thought to yourself, but you pocketed the fancy antique key and made your way down the stairs anyway. You had nothing to lose. After tonight, you’d be an ocean away from the tall man in his beautiful suit. He’d never look at your with those bottomless eyes again, never pour you tea as if you were a Duchess perched on a silk pillow instead of a geeky translator in sweatpants.

You reached the bottom of the staircase and spied him at the desk, talking to someone on the phone. He started to hang up, and you lost your nerve. No. You should run back to the safety of your room and call up your favourite film on your laptop, and go to bed.

As you hesitated, torn, Jonathan lifted his gaze and saw you.

He bobbled the handset of the phone and it was gratifying enough that you took another step down.

“Miss….” He recovered quickly. “Good evening.”

You glanced at the clock hanging above his head. “Hi.” You reached the desk and looked at him over it. His suit was black today, and the white shirt and tie he wore were impeccably neat, as usual. You’d fantasised about unlooping that tie. About unbuttoning that prim shirt and spreading your hands over his bare chest. About hearing his breath hitch as your hands dipped lower, over his taut abdomen and beyond the line of his leather belt.

“What can I do for you?”

He was the picture of professional composure and your heart pounded.

What do you think you’re doing.

Idiot.

He could be married. With children. He could be gay for all you knew.

Whatever his marital status or his sexuality, he was at work and did not have time to be seduced by an amateur like you. What had seemed like an exciting idea in the safety of your room now seemed small, and silly.

“I, er, was meant to be going to a fancy dinner, but it was cancelled,” you blurted out, for the lack of something better to say.

“That’s a shame. I’m sorry. Perhaps… some tea?”

He’d make it perfectly, you knew. “Maybe… something stronger?” Something to quell your embarrassment at thinking you could somehow seduce this man.

“Of course, madam. Take a seat?” He gestured to the area you favoured.

You sat down on your usual chesterfield, awkward as hell. You were all dressed up with nowhere to go, the lounge empty except for you.

What did you think would happen? He’d just jump you and start ripping clothes off everywhere?

The “getting to the sex part” was the part you hadn’t planned. Dumbass.

“For the lady.” Jonathan set down a cocktail in a long, tall glass. It smelled faintly fruity, with a bite. You sipped and the sweetness exploded on your tongue.

“Perfect.”

He inclined his head slightly with a smile. “We have a very talented bartender.”

“It’s my last night here,” you began as he went to move away.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?”

His brow furrowed momentarily. “Of course.”

You sat back, breaking eye contact. The lounge was quiet as a graveyard, you and Jonathan the only people you could see.

“I’m sorry.”

He moved to sit next to you on the Chesterfield, leaving a polite distance between your bodies. “What could you possibly need to be sorry for?”

You rolled your eyes, relaxing a little. “I don’t know. I came down here full of piss and vinegar, thinking ...”

He wet his lips and your gaze followed the lightning-quick appearance of his tongue. “Thinking...what?”

“About you.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you for a moment that stretched. You sipped at your cocktail, expecting him to leave any second,obviously disgusted by what you’d suggested.

He didn’t move.

“And…. If I may ask, what sort of thoughts did you have, madam?” he asked softly, his voice low and intimate.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

prompt: kind of a niche ship but could you write some richie n seth fluff pls? i love your fics!!✨

omg i love this ship. i’ve written them vaguely (richie/seth/stefon threesome fic) but never on their own? so this was a v fun challenge for me. i hope u like it, u’ve inspired me to write more for them!

cw for this being set in IT ch 2 canon, so eddie is like. dead and gone for good, unfortunately, and it is discussed. i picture this fic being set around 2017. i promise this fic isn’t just richie angst, there’s fluff! just gotta get through some sad parts first.

When he moved back to New York City, Richie felt like his 29-year-old self again. He still does sometimes. The NYC comedy scene and the LA one are distinctly different, despite all the NYC expats who move to LA to star in films or do voice acting or settle down and have a few kids. It didn’t feel right to go back, though. LA was all shine and sun, several layers of sky blue paint over decades worth of grime. At least NYC was honest in its grime for the most part. At least New Yorkers were able to joke about their greasy ass pizza and subway rats instead of all trying to be Instagram influencers. 

The real truth was that Richie had friends in NYC. In LA, he had none. And what he needed was friends. 

The funny thing about reconnecting with an old friend is that sometimes, even though it seems like a lot has changed, they’re still the same person, deep down. 

Seth is still a workaholic--the same workaholic who Richie met back when he hosted SNL for the first time. He still stays up til 4 AM sometimes, drinking dark, bitter coffee for the caffeine rather than the taste, darting in and out of cubicles, asking if anything new has cropped up in the past few hours that’s monologue worthy. He still wears those ratty sweatshirts during the day and changes into suits for the evening. He does shave more consistently, Richie will give him that. He still laughs high pitched and loud when a joke really gets him, and he still laughs at his own jokes, even, stumbling through them sometimes with tears welling up in his eyes. He still loves to drink tequila and whiskey and anything really that brings heat to his cheeks and more of that laughter bubbling out of his chest, though he tells Richie he doesn’t drink as much as he used to--he’s far too old for it now, and the hangovers are intense.

(“I do wanna do a day drinking segment with Rihanna, though,” he confides in him once over lunch. They’re eating greasy pizza, and Richie feels like he’s in heaven, because the shit in LA doesn’t even begin to measure up.

“Rihanna? Do you have, like, connections to her or something?”

“No! I wish,” Seth frowns at his slice of pepperoni. “Do you?”

Richie hoots out a laugh. “Dude, you are severely overestimating me if you think I know Rihanna. Good luck on your quest, though.”

“Hey, maybe Rihanna’s got a thing for raunchy comedians who wear the same shirt three days in a row and own like, two pairs of sneakers and refuse to buy new ones. I don’t know her personally, either.”

Richie flicks a piece of mushroom right at Seth’s face. He laughs in that way he does, and Richie’s chest flutters.)

And maybe it’s the fact that Seth is still Seth--still blue-eyed, New Hampshire, toothy grin Seth--that makes Richie fall for him. And he’s not even surprised by it. He thinks he’s always sort of had a piece of his heart reserved for Seth, even when he moved to LA. He was the first one to send him a congratulatory text when the news broke that he got Late Night, and he was always happy to wander around his too-empty LA apartment and shoot the shit with him for hours long phone calls about everything and anything and nothing at all. Seth was the first to welcome Richie with open arms back to NYC. They were the sort of friends that never truly fell apart, even when they went a while without speaking to each other.

It all comes tumbling out eventually, why Richie is back in NYC. Seth never really poses the question, but when Richie calls him one Tuesday night at 3 AM, eyes unfocused and hot with tears and chest heaving with hyperventilating sobs, the answer becomes clear to him. 

He’s still awake, of course, sitting in his office and staring at the writers’ Slack chat when the phone rings. “Are you awake, man? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Richie says into the phone, warbly.

Seth manages to talk him down from it when Richie admits he had a pretty vivid nightmare. He doesn’t judge him for a second or wonder why a 40-year-old man is so shook up by one. He simply talks slow and soft into the phone, telling him it’s okay and grounding him as best as he can. “You can tell me anything, Rich, you know that, right?” His voice is so goddamn sweet Richie wants to sob all over again.

So he tells him everything--well, rather, a condensed version of everything. He tells him he had friends as a kid back in Maine, really close friends, and they met up again after drifting apart, and he tells him that he saw his best friend in the world die right in front of his eyes. He’s careful with his words, but something tells him that even if he did explain all the clown shit, Seth would listen and comfort him all the same, even if he was confused by it. “I feel so bad for dumping this shit on you, dude,” Richie says, fighting back the tears that he’s finally managed to quell. “It’s just--”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Seth assures him, “I can’t fucking imagine. I’m so sorry. I know that sounds really lame, to say I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t really fix anything.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t--no one really knows. I mean, my friends know, they were there, too, but...God, it’s so fucking complicated.” He lays his head back down on his pillow and exhales a shaky sigh, feeling mostly back down to earth. “I guess I just. I picked up my phone and dialed you because I needed to know everything was...you were okay and I wasn’t still in that fucking dream.”

“I get it. You don’t have to worry about that. You know I keep crazy hours anyway.” They manage to get a chuckle out of that. “I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but I’m glad you were with him in his final moments, I’m sure he was very glad to have you there.”

Richie swallows the baseball-sized lump in his throat. “God, I sure fucking hope so. He was…” he stops himself. He hadn’t told the other Losers what he wanted to say about Eddie and how he felt about him, but he was certain they knew. Seth is completely detached from this whole situation, but maybe putting out what he’s been harboring in his chest for so long will take some weight off it. “He was the first person I really fell in love with.”

“Oh, Rich.” Seth’s voice is soft and sad. 

“I know that’s a lot to tell you, and like, I haven’t even really told you, or anyone that I’m gay, but I guess here it is, this is so damn...ungraceful,” he rambles with a shaky little laugh, “But I guess I’m not really graceful anyway.”

“It’s okay. You know it doesn’t bother me at all, right? God, I sound like--every straight dude in the world right now. I’m totally cool with gays!”

“Well, maybe a little,” Richie says, unable to not give him a little shit, and he’s happy to hear Seth laugh on the other end. “But thanks. I’m glad you were the first person I told.”

“Well, when I tell you about the dudes I hooked up with in college, I know you’ll be chill about it, too.” Seth says, then adds, “Oh, guess I just did.”

“You what? Seth middle-name Meyers.”

“It’s Adam.” 

“Not the point. You what?”

“Dude, haven’t I told you like a million times about my crush on James Spader? Do you know how many times I’ve watched Pretty in Pink? Too many times. That’s not even the best Hughes film.”

“I thought that was like--a joke! You always said you wanted to grow your hair out like that!” He’s smiling against the phone, really truly grinning at this whole mutual coming out situation, and he’s so happy to be smiling again.

“Well, yeah, I do, but also, like, he was hot, okay? Him being bald now is the greatest tragedy of my life.” Seth says, laughing even more. 

“You know, I haven’t gone bald yet. I’ve got plenty of hair. It’s unwashed right now, but feel free to run your hands through it. We can roleplay. I’ll be...fuck, what was his name? The Pretty in Pink guy?” Richie hasn’t seen that movie since it came out. 

Seth answers very quickly. “Steff.”

“That’s it! I’ll be Steff, and you can be...Andie! That’s her name.” 

“Steff wasn’t the love interest, though, remember? He was the love interest’s asshole friend.”

Richie hums. “I’m kind of an asshole. Not as pretty of an asshole as Spader, though.”

“I think you’re perfectly pretty.”

“Thanks,” he smiles again. His stomach knots itself up, then un-knots. Seth Meyers, the man who’s all blue eyes, New Hampshire, and salt-and-pepper hair is calling him pretty. What a world.

After he hangs up and manages to catch a few hours of sleep, he’s not surprised when he gets a call from Seth a few days later asking if he wants to grab a drink, and there’s a different tone to his voice. He can’t quite place it, but it almost sounds nervous, like he doesn’t want to screw this up. He doesn’t screw anything up, though, and when they make their way back to Seth’s apartment, pleasantly buzzed, and end up on his couch, lips on lips, Richie isn’t really surprised, either. He smiles into each one.

--

They seem to divide their time in between either apartment, not quite ready to have the “hey, let’s move in together” conversation. It’s only been a few months, and they’re taking their time. Richie’s never let himself take his time before.

Most nights, they’re tangled up in whatever bed they’ve fallen into--tonight, it’s Seth’s, and Richie has managed to get him home at a reasonable time, around midnight, even though the show filmed several hours before. (“The news and the president don’t stop,” Seth has explained to him before, “But God, I wish they would.”) He’s running his fingers through Seth’s hair, which is surprisingly soft once all the product is washed out. Richie never gets tired of touching it. “You’re halfway to Spader, I think.”

“Yeah? I’ll see if makeup and wardrobe approve of me growing it out any longer, or if they’ll force me to cut it.” Seth sounds sleepy, but even in the dark Richie can tell he’s smiling.

“I’d like it,” he says, and presses a kiss to the line of Seth’s jaw. “Isn’t that enough?”

“For me? More than enough.” Seth brings him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and warm, hands wandering and stroking skin, unhurried and sweet. 

When they pull apart, it comes tumbling out, as things seem to do. “I love you.” It’s the first time Richie has said it. He’s known it, without a shadow of a doubt, for a while now. And he thinks Seth knew it, too, even if it went unsaid. He understood that Richie was working up to this sort of thing, to opening himself up and allowing himself to cry and feel and say things like that. Like I love you. And now it’s come out, like it was always bound to, and Richie feels Seth smile against his temple.

“I love you, too.”

“More than James Spader?”

Seth laughs. “Much more.” He pulls him in for another kiss, and they say “I love you” many more times that night, and almost every night afterward.

[howtolistentomusic]

There's a radio sitting atop a pile of boxes. I grab it and hand it over to Carlos. He sets the device on the edge of the container and pushes the power button. We're greeted with a burst of static. He fiddles with the tuner until he stumbles upon "Wicked" by Future. 

"Aw yeah!" he says as he turns the volume way up. "Some real music! Anthony, take notes!"

"I'm insulted by the implication that I don't listen to hip-hop."

"You bump 2Pac between Justin Bieber songs?" David says.

"Hell yeah I do!"

"Guacha!" David says. 

Pronounced as if a stressed "ah" sound is added at the end of the English word watch, guacha is a Spanish verb for "look." Informally, though, it means something more like I approve! It's typically complimentary though it often carries a connotation of surprise that can come off as condescending. Against all odds, David basically said to me, I'm impressed. Welcome to the big boys club.

"2Pac is the greatest rapper of all time," Carlos says.

"Well, I don't know about that."

Don't get me wrong. I genuinely do like 2Pac. I grew up in Southern California, after all. But the GOAT? There's no way. He's a compelling figure for many reasons but too many others can rap circles around him.

"Listen to All Eyez On Me," Carlos says.

"Illmatic is better."

"What the fuck is that?"

It's the classic and hugely influential debut album by Nas, in case you're rooming with Carlos and Patrick Star.

"Life's a bitch and then you die!" Ruben sings.

"That's why we get high! 'Cause you never know when you're gonna go!"

"Damn, Ant!" David says. "Who would have thought?" 

It's unclear whether he recognizes "Life's a Bitch", Illmatic's track three stunner, or if he's simply surprised that I made a weed reference. 

"What else are you bumping?" David asks.

"Wu-Tang. Souls of Mischief. Big L—"

"The Based God?" Carlos says. "He fucking sucks!"

"That's Lil B, dumbass."

Dude doesn't know Big L from Lil B and he's never heard Illmatic. And yet here he is, trying to lecture me about hip-hop. Get the fuck out of here.

"Whatever. You're fucking old," Carlos says.

Touché. But I'm trying to keep up. I'm certainly on the Playboi Carti and Lil Uzi Vert bandwagons. "wokeuplikethis*" and "XO Tour Lif3" are great. I have a hard time understanding the appeal of Migos though.

Carlos grabs some bags from the edge of the container. When he turns to dump them into the proper gaylords, I glance at the radio. It's beckoning like a glowing pickup in a video game. I can't resist. Being cool is overrated anyways.

I tune to Live 105.5. "Good For You" by Selena Gomez is playing. 

"Hell yes!" I say.

My coworkers laugh.

"Of course you would listen to this bullshit!" Carlos says.

Bullshit? Ok, I get it. So it's totally cool to want to fuck Selena Gomez. It's totally cool to mime and graphically detail the sexual acts you'd perform on her if given the chance, as a few of the guys did a while back when a Spring Breakers DVD came through the warehouse. Respecting the art she creates, though? Nah. Too much.

"Wanna show you how proud I am to be yours," I sing. "Leave this dress a mess on the floor!"

Two yeas ago one of my favorite music writers, Katherine St. Asaph, wrote some brilliant work inspired by "Good for You". Her Singles Jukebox blurb, in which she rates the song a 9 out of 10, is a masterpiece. And in a review of Revival for Time Magazine, she vividly wrote that the song "makes looking good for her man sound like searing a part of herself dead." Despite such a convincing case for the song's merits, however, I can't bring myself to like "Good For You" all that much. It's boring and rote and I totally prefer "Hands to Myself". In a place like this, though, I'll fucking take it. After all, remaining myself while simultaneously playing "dude" well enough to avoid ostracization by my coworkers is a balance I struggle with every time I step foot into this warehouse, so it feels really good to fill the room with a piece of my world for once while these fuckers are forced to deal with it.

"I just wanna look good for ya, good for ya," I sing. "Uh huh."

"Alright," Carlos says as the song winds down. "It's over." 

He tunes the radio back to hip-hop just as Anna screams "Break!"

"Fuck," Carlos says as he turns off the device. ***

As usual, I beat the entire crew back to the dock. I hop into the container, turn on the radio and adjust the station.

"Reck a less bee hayve YA ah!" the radio pronounces.

Zayn Malick! Totally over One Direction, rhyming.

"Turn that shit up!" Donald says as the guys finally find their way back to roll-off. "This is my jam!"

"Let's start a boy band, Donald!" I say.

"I'm down!" 

David laughs. Carlos shakes his head.

"I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure," Donald sings. He's not kidding; he genuinely seems to like this song. "Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us, bodies together!"

While I'm thrilled to have a temporary companion in poptimism, I must point out that this song sucks. I wish I could play "Little Black Dress" instead. I wonder what the guys would think of that particular track, which pits a traditional dude's reverence for classic rock against his hatred of boy bands.

"That's your last one," Carlos says as "Pillowtalk" gives way to a commercial. 

He tunes back to the hip-hop station. "Hold On, We're Going Home" is playing and I have to stifle a laugh. Be careful what you wish for, I think to myself.

Carlos can't stand Drake. He's told me as much. He's a fucking pussy were his exact words. Of course, he'd be loath to admit that now, when control of the radio is at stake. I decide to stoke the fire.

"'Cause you're a good girl and you know it!'" I sing.

"Why do you like literally the worst shit?" Carlos says.

"I can change the station if you prefer," I say as I reach for the radio.

"Leave it!" he says.

"Yes, daddy!"

As soon as he turns his back, I tune back to pop. Mass groaning ensues as Shawn Mendes goes on about stitches. Carlos, however, is silent. He's standing still as a statue, staring me down.

***

If the warehouse gave out game balls at the end of each shift, Carlos would have more than the rest of roll-off combined. This is despite the fact that the dude is hardly physically intimidating. Indeed, the contrast between his tough guy persona and his tiny 5"2' frame is a gift that keeps on giving. One time, in an exercise designed to lighten the mood after a slog of a safety meeting, management made the entire staff of the warehouse line up on the floor of the line, single-file, tallest on the right and shortest on the left. There were approximately 30 people in the building and only a single woman was standing to the left of Carlos. It took the roll-off team hours to get all the laughter out of our system.

Carlos isn't particularly funny or clever either. While his insults come fast and furiously, they tend to be the predictable nonsense you would expect from someone that still considers "gay" a burn in the year of our Lord 2017. It's the same sort of mockery I've been dealing with my whole life. The words themselves don't really bother me.

But Carlos will wear you down through sheer attrition. His short fuse, gangbanger ethics and the fact that he values his pride over his job give him a willingness to escalate that's difficult to compete with. I once witnessed him empty an entire can of shaving cream onto the face of poor old man Kenneth. He also once swung a bag of hard toys, with all his might, at Donald after the two got into a heated argument. Then there was the time he was in a bad mood and discreetly coated some furniture with that aerosol "snow" stuff—the kind that people use on their windows as a Christmas decoration—in the hopes that some naive rube would ruin their clothes.

So I'm not sure what Naive Rube was thinking in perpetuating this tug-of-war over a stupid radio. Perhaps I felt like I deserved a fucking break. Roll-off already has a radio, after all. Sure, Anna controls the station. But everyone seems fine enough, usually, with the soul and R&B she prefers.

In any case, I'm not in the mood for Carlos' shit today.

***

I place a box of books at the edge of the container, right in front of Carlos.

"Are you just gong to stand there?" I ask.

"Give back the radio, you fucking pussy!" Carlos says. "Nobody wants to hear this pop shit!"

I know, dumbass. That's why this is so much fun.

"Give it back!" he repeats. He swipes for the radio but I grab it and place it out of his reach.

Carlos slices a bag of clothes with his pocketknife.

"I'm going to fuck you up!" he says. "Stupid little bitch! I'm going to fuck you up!"

"Cool story, bro."

"Are you really not gong to give it back?"

I laugh. Look, this entire thing is petty as fuck but the dude's entitlement really is something else.

"Give it back simply because you told me to? I'll pass but thanks."

"I'm going to give you one last chance," he says.

"Oh noes! Make sure you play some Justin Bieber at my funeral."

Carlos is fucking seething. He pulls the still-as-a-statue move again in an attempt to intimidate but roll-off simply functions around him. Nobody else seems to care much about the radio war and that's fine by me. When Carlos finally realizes that his protest isn't going to work, he grabs the box of books and gets back to business. Apollo for the win!

As an alternative kid with a preference for dark clothing and bulky accessories, the sun has long been the bane of my existence. This is especially true as I age, as one of the ways I temper insecurities about my ever-expanding waistline is by burying myself in layers. Today, however, the sun is an unlikely ally in my ongoing struggle against Carlos. It's 100 degrees out, see, and when it's this hot outside the container becomes almost unbearable, the metal walls stubbornly retaining the heat in a way that feels like you're working in a giant oven.

Pushing donations from inside the container is typically a two-person task but nobody else is up for it today. And the emptier it becomes, the safer I seem to be getting from Carlos' antagonism as I place the radio further and further from his reach. For a glorious hour I have the device all to myself. Ariana Grande! Lady Gaga! Hailee Steinfeld! Rihanna! I'm singing along, dancing like a maniac, and feeling pretty damn good. Then I hear a loud crash. 

I turn around. Carlos is standing at the foot of the container, a crate of dishes in front of him.

I've seen this before. God forbid there's glass around when Carlos is angry because he'll start chucking it, his aim loose enough for probable deniability but accurate enough to make life hell. 

He grabs a plate and throws it my way. It shatters near my feet. 

"Calm the fuck down!" I say. 

"Give me the radio."

"Come and get it.

Carlos hops into the container. Fuck. Here we go.

Of course, he's not grabbing anything without going through me first. It's too damn empty in here. I step towards him to obstruct his path. We meet in the middle of the container. Our faces are inches apart.

One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi. Three, Mississippi. Four, Mississippi. Five, Mississippi. Six—

"Fuck this gay ass music," he finally says. Then he turns and walks away. *** A short time later we finish unloading the container. Two hours remain in the workshift but supervisor Stella tells us that we won't be getting more trucks until tomorrow. She assigns the guys to other tasks in the building while I stay behind on the dock to tidy up.

For good measure, I empty the batteries from the radio and throw them in a bin designated for hazardous materials. Then I smash the radio on the floor, throw the pieces in the electronics gaylord, then pull it inside the warehouse.

Give me my damn game ball.