#but just.. i dunno. would like to feel less like trash if possible please :')

[the-kipsabian]

kinda high key need someone to convince me im not stupid or a burden tbh

[classificationhell]

First, I hope you are feeling better and I hope your sister is recovering well. Your blog and stories are something I didn’t know I needed in my life, but gives me such a serotonin boost when I see anything posted!

I was wondering how our favorite caregivers would react to a little one with separation anxiety/severe abandonment issues. I can kinda see Mourningstar getting basically a baby sling and being pleased with this development, but the others I’m curious on.

Thank you and I'm glad my blog and stories are helping you feel good ^^ Everything is doing alright ish at least my body decided to stop hating me after shark week was over. My sinuses are my only issue as the weather's changing lol

I dunno what you mean by favorite but I'll assume you mean the ones I'm writing for lol so Alastor, Vox, Mourningstar, Lucifer, and Fizzmodeus.

Alastor is more than happy to take you with him most days, but there are some times when it's best to leave you at home, not that he doubts his capabilities at dispatching anyone before they get too close, more like he doesn't want to taint your innocence by bringing you to a slaughter. He isn't hesitant to kill in front of you should the need arise, but he's covering your eyes and tossing the body away with a tentacle. So you only hear whatever they'd been saying and a squelch before their gone. Papa tells you not to worry about it that he just dealt with the issue before continuing your stroll. Alastor might even take you to an Overlord meeting being one of the few to know Carmine as a Caregiver, not that she told him, he's just the more talented faker. Between her, Rosie, his tentative friend Zestial (who he knows isn't a Caregiver, but doesn't condone harming Littles despite his proclivity for violence he's a classy gemtleman with a set moral code even if that code is very skewed), and of course he, himself, you would be well protected should the need arise and they already are aware of your existence so a formal introduction wouldn't change things.

However, for when he needs to do things, he's going to have to leave you with "Uncle Husker" or Charlie.

Vox doesn't mind it. It's not like he's going out and getting his own hands dirty. Besides, as the new face of a majority of his marketable brand, it's good to be seen together as much as possible. He'll even take you to meetings with new talent, besides if they don't like you or treat you as beneath them because you're a Little well he knows they're absolute trash and will send them Valentino's way of not just kick them out of the V's tower all together. Oh, and I'd anyone dared hurt you. Well, there's worse things than even being a porn star in hell. Ultimately Vox will enable this type of behavior because it increases your reliance on him (which he's always worried about because while he is a Caregiver, Reader is an Omega in these works, and he can't have the kind of bond an Alpha could have with them no matter how hard he tries because he is just a Beta.)

Mourningstar would go for the babysling, but if that still wasn't enough for you, then prepare yourself to be cuddled by an army of the same man.

He's jealous of himself if you show too much attention to the clones. He has to be the main one you're cuddling when in a cuddle pile. His clones are more or less extensions of himself so they're all obsessed with you too.

Lucifer would be more concerned about the origins of such behavior, buuuuut it is a bit nice in a way. He'd offer to take them to therapy or talk about it but is more than fine if they just need him to such a degree.

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus don't mind extra cuddles or reassurances, but they want you to be in a good mental space. They're actively looking for help and they'll even go with you to therapy if that helps!

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 8*

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

I know, I wait almost 4 days and now you gotta go through this bullshit. I can already hear your cries of anguish and suffering.

I love it so much. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

That being said I promise regular chapters for the rest of the week! Okay I don't promise but I promise to do my best.

Note: Alright it's a fanfic people, alternate universes and all that. So you know what we're saying that all the Carisi sisters are younger, and Sonny was the big bro. Kay? I can't deal with all the continuity stuff.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

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

Sonny was watching TV with Amanda when his phone went off. He paused the movie and answered the phone:

“Barba it’s kinda late--”

“What's wrong with your cousin?” he flatly said.

“Excuse me?” Sonny asked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question, Carisi,” Barba insisted.

“Well it's a loaded question, Barba.” Sonny replied.

“Okay then just answer me this,” Barba sighed. “Why did I come back to my apartment to find her halfway through my once full bottle of vodka and pouting on the couch. Oh, after she had gone through all of my things of course,”

“Aw shit,” Sonny muttered under his breath. “That's kind of on me, Barba,”

“One second babe,” He muttered to Amanda, while he got up and went into his kitchen.

“Babe?” Barba asked.

“It’s just Rollins,” Sonny dismissed it.

“So you have feelings for me, but you’re fucking Rollins?” He asked in a snarky tone.

“What, are you jealous or somethin’ Barba?” Sonny smirked.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Why is it on you?” He changed the subject.

“I should have never filled her head with doubts and suspicions and then sent her back to your place; when I should have known that you would keep a full bar in your apartment,” Sonny sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Well of course I would keep a stocked bar in my apartment Sonny, I entertain people and I'm a grown man,” Rafael scoffed.

“Yeah, again it's on me,” Sonny repeated.

“Okay so what is wrong with your cousin?” Rafael asked.

“I think that pretty much answers it, don't you think?” Sonny asked in a “duh” tone.

“... I see,” Rafael glanced at his bedroom door wearily.

“Where is she now? Did you send her away? Please tell me you didn't send her away,” Sonny begged.

“No I didn't send her away, she's sleeping it off in my bedroom,” He got up and walked to his bedroom door. “I didn't want to just kick her out because she was upset. I'm not that big of a dick,” He whispered as he watched you sleep. You looked so calm and peaceful, that’s the girl he remembered.

“ You know, this should probably be better explained in person,” Sonny walked back into his living room where Amanda glanced over at him. He motioned for her to get her stuff together.

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah okay, not like I have anything else to do,'' he rolled his eyes as he shut his bedroom door and walked back to his living room.

--------------.

Sonny showed up to Rafael's apartment with a loaded head and a semi heavy conscience. He knocked on the door and Rafael let him inside.

“Okay so what kind of long story is this,” Rafael asked while he poured himself a glass of scotch. He noticed Sonny giving him a weird look.

“What? It's not like she's in here now,” he rolled his eyes.

“True,” He nodded. “Do you have beer?”

“Yes, dark or light?” Rafael made a disgusted face while he asked. He couldn't stand the taste of beer but he always had it on him just in case he had barbarians over such as Sonny.

“Shiner Bock, if you have it,” Sonny requested. Rafael nodded as he went into his ‘party fridge’ and handed him one before sitting on the couch across from him.

“Alright so where do I start?” Sonny thought out loud.

“Well I guess first of all I wanted to say I don’t wanna say I told you so, but this is exactly why I didn't want you and Y/N to get involved in the first place. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you. It’s because I know that you tend to keep relationships with guys and girls chill and casual, but Y/N is a special case and special to me,”

“Yeah.. I wish you had expressed that before,” Rafael groaned.

Well what was I supposed to say in front of her, Barba? ‘Oh hey by the way, you probably shouldn't get involved with my trainwreck of a cousin? Sonny asked defensively.

“Maybe? I don’t know…” Rafael sighed as he put his head in his hands.

“Look, Rafael,” Sonny put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like she’s some kinda degenerate junkie,”

“Oh well, that’s great--” He started to roll his eyes.

“I’m serious Rafael!” He pounded the table.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry Sonny,” He finally used his first name, trying to be as soft with him as possible. He could see how much you meant to him, and it was really endearing. “Go ahead,”

“Alright,” Sonny sighed, ready to tell your life story. You would probably kill him later for it, but there was no hiding your...issues now, he might as well get the whole context.

“Well, first of all-- her dad died before she was born, overdose,” He began. “Then she was stuck with her junkie mother, my auntie. Who by the way at this point, nobody had heard from in years,” He took a sip of beer.

“So anyways,” He began again. “One day, she showed up at my mom’s doorstep with Y/N, and told her that she can’t take care of Y/N, or that she didn’t want to,” He sighed. “She was three years old by then, I don’t even wanna think about what happened before then,”

“Jesus…” Rafael muttered.

“I was eight years old at the time, my sisters were even younger. My mom and dad had enough on their plate with just us. So, I kinda took her under my wing,” He went on.

“We became so close, she wanted to go by “Sunny” just so she could be like me. I told her it would be confusing for the two of us, so I called her Sunshine, Sunny for short. That way if I’m calling her sunny, then obviously it’s not myself,” He chuckled. To this day, he still called you Sunshine.

“But as she grew up, she just...kinda had a rough go. She didn’t really interact with kids her own age, she was really defensive and untrusting with anybody but me. Not even my parents. And then we got the call that her mother died, and it ripped me up inside to see her body at the funeral. It was so fucked up, she was so fucked up. That’s why I-- I think something really bad happened to her when she was with her mother, Rafael. Like-- really, bad.

“Fuck..." Rafael muttered while glancing at his bedroom door. He didn't want to imagine what you had been through at such a young age. He wanted to run in his room right now and just hold you, but he kept his composure.

“So then I went off to college when she was ten years old, just about to start junior high. She begged me to stay, but I told her she had a good family and that my parents and sisters loved her as much as I did, and to stay out of trouble. But...kids are cruel. They made her harder, and harder. Without me there to be her-- I dunno, her guiding light or her-- protector, she just kinda fell into a bad crowd by the time high school rolled around,” He sighed while taking another swig of beer.

“...Right,” Rafael nodded.

“So when i came home from school my mom told me she was going to kick Sunny out. I asked her why, and she went on and on about how she had gotten in with these local girls who were like, I dunno some kinda girl gang, and they’d knock over liquor stores and then get drunk and stoned. She said she was never around anyway, unless it was to steal money out of her purse; And she just didn’t wanna deal with her anymore,”

“...But she was only fifteen at the time,” Rafael was stunned.

“Yeah, and that’s what I told her!” Sonny exclaimed. “Look Barba my mom is the salt of the earth, but like I said she had a lot on her plate and my dad wasn’t around a lot-- and she had three other daughters to watch out for,”

“Three of her OWN daughters,” Rafael clarified with a judgmental tone.

“HEY,” Sonny warned. “I know how it sounds. And maybe-- maybe you’re right, maybe that’s why she washed her hands clean of Sunny. Because she was just a by-product of her fucked up sister. But I-- I’m not gonna condemn her for it. And you sure as hell don’t get to judge her,”

“You’re right,” Rafael nodded while sipping his scotch.

“So I took Sunny in,” Sonny finished his beer as he wrapped up his story. “I took her in while I went through the police academy. I made sure she got sober, quit hangin’ out with those girls, I got her to do well in school, hell I got her to graduate high school!”

“And…?” Rafael pressed.

“...And when I started bouncing around precincts, she was finally a productive member of society so she started living on her own. She had a few jobs, but never really going anywhere. So once I got placed here in SVU and started making better money, I started helping her out with rent and her car, as long as she promised to start going to community college. Which she agreed to because she really does wanna make something of herself,” He half smiled thinking about how far you had come and how proud he was to call you his cousin now. You were so full of life with dreams and ambitions he never saw in you as a scared little kid.

“Okay so-- how does all of this lead to what happened tonight?” Rafael leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Because she’s still an addict, Barba!” Sonny tried not to yell, but didn’t understand why Rafael was still so flippant about you.

“Just because she got her life together-- I got her life together, doesn’t mean that she just got ‘better’. She’s on a daily see-saw of sobriety. I do weekly ‘drop ins’ just to check on her. It’s gotten a lot better as time goes on, and the less and less I worry about her, but--” He took a breath and looked at the floor.

“....Deep down she’s still that little girl with all of her walls and her distrust. She doesn’t have friends, I really don’t think she’s ever had a stable ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend,’ I mean she-- she doesn’t, talk to people,” He paused before looking up and into Rafael’s eyes.

“...Which is why it has been yankin' my chain tryin’ to figure out just why in God’s name she was so-- open, to you,” He finally admitted. “She’s never been that close to anybody else but me, not in her entire life,”

“Wait,” Rafael put a finger up. “So...you haven’t actually been jealous of Y/N this whole time, you’ve been jealous of me?” He half laughed.

“I mean, it’s a little of both,” He shrugged with a small smile, able to joke about his feelings now. “But I meant what I said when I first got here, I know the main thing that Y/N needs in her life right now is stability. And you-- you are not stable, in the least,”

“Oh I’m the unstable one?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Relationship wise, yeah,” Sonny pointed out.

“....Fair point,” Rafael nodded as he finished off his scotch. He knew the longest relationship he had ever had was with the cute barista he saw every morning who knew how to make his coffee just right. And that relationship only took him five minutes a day to maintain.

“So…” Sonny knocked Rafael from his thoughts.

“So...what?” Rafael quirked an eyebrow.

“So, I think that--” Sonny took a deep breath, knowing you might hate him for this. But it was for the best, and it needed to be said.

“I think that if you care anything about her, or me for that matter, that you let me take her home, and forget about this whole weekend,”

“....I mean…” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to let you go. Well, he didn't want to let go of the girl he had met at Forlini's. The girl who made him laugh, who he could be his true self around, the girl he might---

“Look the bottom line here Barba is that Y/N is-- a lot of work. I should know, I’ve been taking care of her for 19 years. But I don’t mind it, because I love her more than anything else in this world. Well, her and the rest of my family. But still-- I love her,” Sonny now stood up.

“And I get that you like her, but she--- she has gotten way too serious about you way too fast, and way too hard. And this?” He gestured around the room, referring to the whole night. “This ain’t even the tip of the iceberg with her, if she’s really fallen off the wagon,”

“...God dammit,” Rafael stood up and began to pace in his living room. He thought about every single second he had spent with you since he met you; you had never seemed so...broken, as Sonny was describing you.

“What I’m saying is, unless you’re ready to-- ‘deal’ with her, and everything that comes with that, please for the love of God, just walk away now,” Sonny pleaded.

“Because she won’t listen to me if I tell her to stay away from you. And if things get too ‘real’ for you, you’re just gonna freak out or-- or get bored, and throw her away. Her self worth will drop to shit. And if that happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get her back from that,”

“I would never just throw her away, Carisi,” Rafael rolled his eyes.

“You can’t say that, Barba,” Sonny debated.

“And why the hell not?” Rafael narrowed his eyes.

“Because you’ve never NOT just ‘thrown away’ someone,” He chuckled. “That front door might as well be a garbage chute,”

“You son of a--” Rafael started to yell at him but Sonny cut him off.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Barba. Look me in the eyes and tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’ll leave here and let you deal with her the way you want to,” Sonny looked at him pensively. Rafael looked at him for several seconds, then softened his glare into a sad concession.

“....Take her,” He muttered softly while looking at the ground.

“Thank you,” Sonny mumbled softly as he turned to go retrieve your passed out self from the bedroom. However, he was instead met with the most unsettling sight:

You were standing in the doorway of the room, glaring at the two of them.

“...H-Hey, Sunshine--” Sonny tried to appease you with an awkward smile.

“Don’t,” You growled, stomping into the living room and began packing your bag.

“Y/N, what are you--” Rafael went to put a hand on your bag but you snatched it away before you shot fire out of your eyes into his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand what you just said?” You barked at him with tears in your eyes. “Because I’m pretty damn sure I heard ‘take her’. You know like I’m some sort of defective Amazon package,”

“That’s not what I meant---” He softly spoke, the guilt of his words being heard by you was quickly eating him alive.

“No I know what you meant, Rafael,” You zipped your duffel shut angrily.

“I heard the whole god damn spiel. Which, by the way, thank you so much for detailing my entire little sob story, cousin,” You glared at Sonny as you started walking towards the front door, shoulder checking him.

“But neither of you have to worry about anything anymore, okay? You’re released from your ‘duties’. This trainwreck is leaving the station, so you can relax,” You looked at the both of them with pain in your eyes, tears cracking your words.

“Sunshine--” Sonny started after you.

“DON’T,” You glared at him while putting a finger up. “Don’t ever call me that again,”

“At least let me drive you home--”

“No,” You shook your head. “And you know what, cuz? I didn’t realize I was such a financial burden, so you know what? Cut me off. Because I’d rather be homeless again than take any more money from you,”

“What did I do?!” Sonny was now angry. “All I did was come over and try to protect you, that’s it!”

“I don’t need your protection!” You screamed. “This whole time...this whole time, I thought you were proud of me. That you trusted me,”

“I do trust you--”

“You don’t!” You stomped your foot while tears streamed down your face. “Y-You think that if . one single thing like a boy not liking me is gonna set me off, like I’m some kind of bomb you’ve kept from detonating for years. My life is not your responsibility anymore, Sonny! I don’t think it ever was!”

“Well who’s else was it gonna be?!”

“NOBODY’S!!!!” You finally dropped your duffel bag and kicked the wall, leaning your head against it. You were strangely quiet for a long pause before you spoke again in an eerily calm voice.

“...Do you know why my mother “dropped me off’ with your mother?”

“Because she couldn’t take care of you--”

“No I heard what you said,” You sniffled with a sad smile. “Because she didn’t want to,”

“Sunshine--”

“But leaving me with your mother, was her plan b,” You cut him off, still looking at the floor.

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked cautiously while looking at Rafael who had a terrified look in his eyes.

“She didn’t want to ‘burden’ her sister with me, but she had to when I wouldn’t die,”

“...W-What?” Rafael almost choked on the words in disbelief.

“She tried to smother me with a pillow, but I wouldn’t die. I kept screaming and crying, and I guess it touched her strand of humanity, so she stopped,” You rolled your eyes with the same sad smile.

That memory was forever imprinted in your brain. The terror of being woken up in blackness, unable to breathe. The smell of the cigarette smoke covered pillow being shoved into your throat and nostrils. Your mother crying and telling you it would be over soon, just to let go. And finally her sad, pathetic whimpers and sobs when she finally lifted the pillow from you, disappointed in herself that she couldn’t do one good thing in her life. That now she was going to have to pass you, her problem, onto her sister.

“Y/N, baby girl--” Sonny stepped towards you again.

“I wasn’t supposed to be raised by anybody, Sonny. I’m not even supposed to be alive!” You stomped your foot again while tears continued to flow.

“That’s not true!” He ran over and grabbed you in a hug. “You are not a burden,”

“Really?” You laughed sarcastically into his shoulder as you pushed him away from the hug. “You just said your mom didn’t even want to deal with me. Nobody did,”

“I did!” He argued. “I do,”

“Yeah well, maybe I’m my mother’s daughter. I don’t wanna be your burden,” You picked up the duffel and opened the door.

“Okay well you have no choice in that so you’re gonna have to let that go,” Sonny grabbed your hand before you could walk away.

“Fine,” You finally conceded with a blank expression.

“Guess I’ll just have to let a lot of things go, won’t I?” Your voice cracked as you looked at Rafael one more time with the saddest eyes.

He stared back at you with a stone cold face. He wanted so badly just to go and hold you in his arms, telling you how you didn’t deserve any of what happened to you, and that you deserved everything good and all the love in the world. But Sonny’s pleas were still in his head.

He didn’t know if he wanted the responsibility of your entire self worth and happiness, let alone your sobriety on his shoulders. He didn’t even like to get close to clients with that many issues, the pressure was too much. So instead he just stood there, trying not to show how much this was killing him, sending you away like this.

“Come on Sunshine, just-- let’s go, okay?” Sonny pleaded with you softly, pulling at your hand. You didn’t answer, you just nodded and started walking down the hallway towards the elevator, leaving Sonny at the door.

“...Thank you, Barba,” He mumbled softly, nodding at Rafael. Rafael barely nodded back before Sonny closed the door.

As soon as it was closed, Rafael dropped on his knees and began to cry. He didn’t know why exactly, was he crying because he felt horrible for all the shit you had gone through? Was he angry at himself for not being able to get over his own bullshit to actually open up and care about someone for more than a week? Was he really that big of a hypocrite, showing empathy to clients all the time but shutting out the one person he felt he might-- he couldn’t even think it. He wouldn’t let himself think it. He just composed himself and poured another scotch while turning on the TV, trying to forget what just happened.

His NETFLIX menu popped up; it asked him if he wanted to continue watching Bojack Horseman. He closed his eyes and muttered obscenities in spanish while memories of the night before flooded his brain, making him cry angry tears once more. He finally decided just to go to bed, maybe his brain would release him from torture if he could turn it off.

He wasn’t sure he could ever turn it off now.

[spaceygoobert]

Penny for some thoughts about the clusterfuck that is Solar Opposites s2 (Contains spoilers)

Now that I am no longer drunk out of my mind and watched s2 four more times just to be sure I didn’t miss anything while I was crossfaded. it’s time to talk about it

Ep1 was great. It had more lore for shlorpians with a different perspective and i find it interesting that Korvo didn’t even know there were rich shlorpians. They also lived on floating platforms in the sky, like rich people lived in the clouds and working shlorpians lived on the ground, literally separating the two types of classes

The rich shlorpians said they wanted the pupa so they could get back to being rich, which means they don’t know that they will die, either way, they been jebaited

Did not expect shlorpians to be religious... kinda. but i’m not complaining.

The jokes hit hard and everything was kinda fast. The funniest thing about the season was a wacky plots 

I like how different Terry and Korvo are when dealing with negative emotions 

Terry becomes passive aggressive when dealing with negative emotions. specifically with anger. 

When Korvo basically changes everything about Terry in the Lake House episode, the only thing he doesn’t change is how Terry deals with negative emotions. Imagine not being understood and then becoming a goth because no one understands you, not even your partner, who is essentially the same person as you now. And it’s great.

I love violent goth Terry.

kinda shows how repressed he is to the point of “breaking”

Korvo becomes petty when dealing with negatives emotions too, but instead of anger, it’s sadness or when he’s hurt emotionally

S2ep2 reminds me of s1ep3, they both have something to do with parties and Korvo not being included and because he’s petty af he makes a complicated plan. the plot for the episode was just as mind-fucking as s1.

When Korvo’s sad/hurt, instead of talking about it, he makes a whole ass bill to ban Terry from having to hang out with his human friends because he spends too much time with them and not enough time with him. It isn’t until the shit hits the fan that he finally fesses up, which I find to be perfect. AND it ends with a uwu kiss. 

I find it odd and genius that Terry isn’t how you expect him to be. He looks like he wears his heart on his sleeves, yet he’s the one who shows less emotion than Korvo. Plus he doesn’t know how to express bad emotions and does the whole pretending that everything is fine thing

Could be due to being a laid-back person. By being laid-back, it means not worrying or at least showing it (which btw, if you express emotions, it means you care) 

Maybe someone hurt him enough for him to be passive aggressive OR it could be Shlorp, who the fuck knows

it begs the question, if he represses the bad feelings, what else does he repress?

Korvo LOOKS like he wouldn’t be the type to express emotions, yet he’s the one who is able to show sadness and anger— or a better way to explain, he doesn’t hold back on his emotions. He’s more open of the two adult aliens

AND THEY COME FROM THE SAME PLACE.

When Korvo insults Terry, he gets angry

When Terry insults Korvo, he gets sad and cries.

Korvo and Terry do things to cancel each other out. It’s cute.

Like when Korvo bans dinner parties and Terry still goes to them using sci-fi stuff to do it.

or when korvo goes to live with the other aliens and Terry trashes the house to get rid of his presence. Then mentions that Korvo’s dead

They bond over making fun of humans.

I’d expect this from Korvo, but Terry also makes fun of them too, despite wanting to be liked by them. Dunno, maybe Korvo rubbed off on him.

Korvo and Terry strive to get people to like them.

Korvo with the new aliens

Terry with humans

The way they do it is different. Terry acts like himself with humans, Korvo tries to act like himself but he lies to fit in

The wall, my god, the wall was amazing. The episode that focuses on the wall doesn’t take place inside the wall.

I never thought i’d feel for The Duke, though i expected he and Cherie would have some kind of relationship going on

The music, my god so good

Also the trope with the hero who unknowingly saves the villain.

Forest City, (Wood City?) I don’t remember what they called it

The plot for that was so ridiculous; they lose their car in the forest so they use a device to build a city so they could rent a car to find their car, but they end up getting lost in the city.

The fact that Terry took somewhat studied “pathfinding to prepare for life on dangerous aliens world”

I died when Korvo said he wanted to be a gangster, then he never actually becomes one and keeps getting chased by wolves. In the end, he was just a guy in a business suit

Jesse becomes a bad bitch like I knew she would

I can’t believe all four of the characters lost sight of their goal within a few days probably.

Also yumyulack jr

and the ref to wolf of wall street. Wait, is that why wolves were chasing Korvo because he was attempting to be a gangster? WHAT IS THE RELATION, besides being in a fucking forest?

Prostitute Terry and his tiddies

Korvo and Terry actually like being in each other's company

Red Goobler

My eyes were burned out of my skull, you know what i’m talkin about, the “sleeping through the alarm” scene, which got me second guessing myself that maybe it might be an alarm but it turns out they’re fucking. and there’s a wet condom on the ceiling.

the possibility of Korvo being pregnant? For s3? Impossible but still, it would be funny, then it turns out he’s not pregnant, it’s another red goobler, but he can’t tell if it’s from stress or the fucking

Terry is trying his best

I hope they don’t make terry into an idiot. Like in s1, he was dumb but not an idiot.

also terry admitting he’s too insecure to form his own opinions and Korvo liking the fact that he doesn’t have a firm belief

I am happy for that basic rat chick

Also if Korvo’s a bottom, and assuming Terry is one too, they don’t fuck because they’re both busy being bottoms?

After one night of implied sex, Korvo wanted to marry the red goobler. was the implied sex that good?

The apple pencil pro was just weird

Now that the solar opposites are dead, but not really, what now?

Can we talk about how they all went to fulfill each other’s goals more than their own. It’s sweet.

Lets not talk about Terry wanting to eat out Ms. Frankie, but Korvo does it instead, and he keeps going at it

Korvo likes eating out confirmed?

There was a lot of sexual stuff in this show. I dig it.

Also Terry being the first to die in the last episode, I dunno if I could see him killing his family. I mean I know he would but everyone else had some kind of contraption, except Korvo, who used magic instead, which is funny because he’s the most scientific one there, unless he uses science in it then it would make sense.

Mini Korvos look cute but I know they’re all little shits

i kinda wanna know more about Yumyulack’s past as a bounty hunter, like what did they do as a curriculum, was there even a course on bounty hunting? did Yumyulack only say that to sound cool? who knows! I hope s3 has Korvo and Jesse plots because I see them to be the most alike.

Dunno why, but all the solar’s head exploding was aesthetically pleasing and when they all get rebirthed again with their heads popping out of the tree, reminds me of the tree from pocahontas

This season had a bunch of sci-fi stuff and I love it. I hope there’s more sci-fi stuff in the future.

Also Korvo and Terry are both fucking idiots and I live for it.

[oh-theatre]

The Little Things

remeber when I said “anyone in the mood for Logicality” yes well here is your trash of a writing enjoy!! I’m lomve them

This is unedited because I wrote it and said ok have some trash so please excuse it

“Patton it’s windy, surely you can’t be serious” Logan chides, trying his hardest not to let the chill weather affect him. He stuffs his already gloves hands further into his coat allowing his face to huddle into the scarf Patton had delicately placed around his neck.

“Please? I haven’t gone on the swings in forever” he bounces. He wore his pastel blue coat, his tan pom pom gloves and a simple gray cap. He had a scarf but of course as he noticed the nose on Logan growing redder by the second he wasted no time placing it around him. Not without a gentle kiss of course.

“Alright, but do be careful” Logan sighed, sitting down on the bench that faced the swings. Patrons feet stopped crunching the autumn leaves below him as he turned back to his partner. “Yes?”

“Won’t you come with me Lo?” He asked, outstreching what was no doubt a cozy hand that Logan would hold in an instant.

“I-I suppose?” He stood brushing himself off taking Pattons hand. They walked towards the swings sitting on either side. Logan held to the chain sides watching Patton do the same. He wasn’t going to swing much but he would sit and watch as Patton took off. Giggling at the first sign of his stomach responding with butterflies.

“Mmph” he stopped abruptly, landing his feet onto the chipped pieces of soft wood. “Here” he said, Logan looked to where Patton had his hand held out, a small ring was sitting ever so gentle in the palm of his hand. He had seen Patton wear it many times. His boyfriend wore two rings at all times, this one that was simply. A silver ring, with small patterned designs and the words “Hold me tight” engraved in the middle. The second was a golden ring, much thinner than the first, it had one jewel. It wasn’t too much or over done. The engraving simply said “Finding love, rather keeping it”.

“What’s this for?” He questioned.

“Put it on! And then we have to match our speeds and then right once we are aligned I’ll take your hand and we can swing together!” He exclaimed.

“What’s the ring for?” Logan asked again. Patton simply shrugged swinging his feet.

“I dunno, I think it would be nice.” He admitted. Logan admired this, it wasn’t some in depth response, some puzzle. Patton had a thought and he wished to execute it. Logan took the ring and allowed his hand to be exposed to the cold for only a moment while he placed the accessory on. “I now prounouce us married!” He declared

“Ah yes, and what a beautiful ceremony we had” Logan replied. Patton kicked him softly from his end watching the swings trajectory become unnatural as it sung side to side. “Is a divorce possible?”

“Not until we’ve had our honeymoon! I gotta milk you for all your worth” Patton beamed, his own face becoming redder.

“Oh how could I forget my fortune of..” he searched his pockets pulling out the items that were left. “Seventeen dollars, a bus pass and scrunched up note that says ‘out of cereal’” Logan identified

“Exactly! And I’m taking the kids!” He joked

“Not Piko and Maureen!” Logan argued. Piko, their orange cat and Maureen, their shiba inu popped into his head. “You can have Roman and Virgil however”

“Lo!” Patton sniggered. “This marriage sure is hard” he pouted

“Yes I much preferred a simple relationship” he leaned over placing a careful kiss to Pattons cheek, the warmth sending a fuzzy feeling down Pattons body. “Now about the swinging?”

And they set off. Patton had no trouble getting into the air and into a steady time but Logan catching up to him was the problem. They laughed as they reached opposite ends, or barely missed eachother finally getting into the same rhythm Patton took Logan’s hand still reeling from their fiasco and they swung. It was childish sure, perhaps dangerous in this weather, but it was...fun.

It was fun to watch Logan reach the highest point and cheer, it was fun to swing holding hands watching as they desperately tried to keep the same, it was fun to do this together.

Finally after many trials they jumped off laughing.

“Your ring” Logan barely managed through his grin. He offered the piece of jewelry but Patton shook his head.

“Keep it!” He said taking Logan’s free hand. “I don’t want a divorce anymore” he whispered leaning his head onto Logan’s shoulder. Logan places a gentle kiss atop his forehead, a shy smile to himself as he fiddled with the ring inside his glove.

“I love you” he said, Patton gave him a lazy thumbs up receiving a giggle from both.

“And I love food” Patton nodded, he looked up connecting their lips. “Help me get some?” Patton gave his best eyes, hoping that his begging was not missed.

“Anything for you” Logan has no problems with the lack of response, he knew Patton. Everything they just did was a sign of love. The ring, the kisses, the hands, the shoulder. Even more he knew his partner, those words were hard for him. They always had been and it’s not like he hadn’t said them to Logan before. But it was something to cherish not to constantly repeat with Patton. He had the liberty to say it as much as he wanted and was happy to do so. Patton had the liberty to say it or not. It didn’t make the sentiment any less true.

As they sat down at a nearby restaurant, ordered the food they waited. Logan rambled on and Patton listened intently whilst scribing soemthing. He passed the note to Logan who read it with ease.

I love you too

It was the little things. It was the breakfast in bed as they watched tv together, it was the taking Logan’s hand silently as they walked, it was kisses at sporadic moments with a blushed smile. The words meant everything and nothing, and so did his actions.

It was the little things.

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Akaashi sickfic where he’s rlly nauseous and there’s a lot of build up. He’s trying to keep it down as long as possibly but eventually loses its

> Maybe Akashi and Bokuto are at an amusement park and Keiji throws up there? You can choose why he does.

Glowing yellow reflected off the various metal surfaces at the amusement park, their bright shine blinding those without adequate eye protection. Keiji and Koutarou both fell into the unfortunate group with melting eyes, the former squinting while the latter looked ahead without twinge.

"What should we ride first?" Koutarou wondered outloud, his eyes shimmering with glee.

Keiji thought to himself for a moment, deciding which ride would be the best on his nervous stomach. A feeling akin to anxiety nestled deep into Keiji's core, it's root remained unknown. There were no triggers present, the crowd was light and and calm, the high tempo music providing the perfect upbeat atmosphere. Additonally, Keiji was not one to be afraid of roller coasters.

So why did his stomach flip every time he thought of riding one?

"Maybe the carousel," Keiji offered quietly, subconciously gravitating closer to Koutarou.

"Sounds good to me!" Koutarou grabbed Keiji's wrist and practically dragged him closer to their day of immature fun.

---

--

-

A cold breeze fluttered the area as the sun set over the horizon, gentle pink and orange hues blanketing the atmosphere of the park. Abandonded litter skittered the asphalt, the walkways significantly less crowded as guardians carried their sleeping kids out of the park. Keiji couldn't help but feel envious for those kids, their arms stretched lazily towards the grounds as they struggled to keep their eyes open.

Truth be told, Keiji felt drained. The awful feeling in his stomach had remained promiment, if not more so after a small greasy lunch. But he was almost done. He had made it through the day and Koutarou seemed to still be in high cheers.

"Akaashi!" Koutarou dragged out the 'a' in Keiji's surname, "can we please ride the ferris wheel?"

Keiji frowned, his right hand instinctively traveling towards his stomach.

"You said the last ride would be the last one. I'm tired and ready to go home."

"I only said that cause I wanted to get you to ride it! Plus," his voice got softer, "I really want to see the sunset from that high with you."

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Keiji turned towards the direction of the attraction. Koutarou's excitement was contagious, an aura of happiness radiated off his body as though he was the sun. Keiji liked being around him for this reason. Fueling the happiness was one of the most rewarding activities in the world-- and Keiji would do anything for the familiar splash of yellow to infect his grey world.

"Let's go," Keiji conceded softly, walking towards the queue enterance.

Koutarou smiled widely to himself before reclaiming his spot at Keiji's side. The latter bit back a frown. Anxiety gnawed away at their midsection, with more strength and warning than normal. Going on this last ride was a bad idea. But who could say no to the charming team captain?

Well, a lot of people- predominantly Keiji- but something about being away from their responsibilities made him want to shrug off his sensible side for a day. Take a walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Or maybe Koutarou's sheer volume of dumbass-ery was finally rubbing off on him.

No matter the cause, here the two sat. Across each other in a plastic car, still warm from the previous passengers, slowly rising into the daunting evening.

The movement, though far slower than the previous attractions, affected Keiji in an overpowering way. Perhaps it wasn't the movement at all. Maybe his luck had simply run out, leaving him white knuckling the edge of his seat and practically glaring ahead.

"Are you mad that I made you come on to this last ride?" Koutarou asked, guilt seeping into his tone.

Keiji shook his head.

"I don't..." Should Keiji be honest with his upperclassmen? Lying wouldn't get him far in this situation... But maybe he could will out for a few more minutes.

His stomach turned

Scratch that. There was no willing this out, "I haven't really been feeling that good today."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me? I mean- you did look kinda constipated all day but you usually have that stoic expression so I didn't think much of it. No offense. Well I just said that you look constipated all the time there's not really a way to not take offense to that but I didn't mean it in a bad way, you pull it off. Well that sounded weird, but I meant that in a totally normal way, in a 'you always look good' way not a 'I like it when you look constipated way'; because that would be weird wouldn't it? Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much I think. It's like. Woah. I've been holding this in my brain without even realizing it and boom it's all coming out at once. Did you know that competive art used to be in the olympics? What did they do? Isn't art relative based off perception? How could they judge what someone elses mind created? That's why I like volleyball. It's set in stone. I'm gonna be in the olympics, you know that? I dunno when but it will happen. And everyone will look on their screens and see how awesome I am and you'll be in the stands because you don't want to continue your carreer for SOME reason. But that's besides the point. Hey, are you listening?"

Keiji had his eyes closed. The nausea was becoming overwhelming. There was too much happening at once.

The smell of food, perfume and trash.

The jerking movement of the cart.

The incessant rambling of the person seated across from him.

Everything surrounding Keiji took on microscopic form and roiled ruthelessly inside his gut. His shoulders occasionally lurched with queasy hiccups- threatening to send everything overboard.

Why now?

Of all places why did Keiji's stomach chose to revolt at the very top of a ferris wheel, the setting sun casting a blindingly painful glare into his eyes.

Did he have a migraine? Maybe. He couldn't tell at this point. Keiji couldn't keep into account everything going wrong in his body at this point. The only thing he was concerned about was finding a way to leave this ride with as little mess as possible.

"Do you have a bag, Bokuto-san."

"A bug?"

"A bag."

"A rag?"

"A. Bag."

"A hag?"

Keiji muttered curses under his breath at the futility of trying to properly communicate with Koutarou.

"This is time sensitive," he took a deep breath, swallowing a bubble of air traveling up his throat, "I don't believe I'm going to make it off this ride without being sick. So I ask you once more. Do you have a B-A-G."

Koutarou's eyes widened as he began patting his shorts in search of a valid recepticle. There was a fish net (who knows why) but that wouldn't work for obvious reasons. The only other thing which came to mind to be of use was the suveneer sinsola hat he had purchased earlier in the day to protect his neck.

Hastily, he pulled the hat off his head- having a bit of struggle with the strings and his ears, but handing it to Keiji top-down in record time.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Keji squinted his eyes at Koutarou.

"It's that or your lap."

"I'm not going to-"

Get sick in a hat- is what he was planning on saying. But the first gag took over his body before he had a chance to vocalize the rest of his sentence.

"Not going to... what?" Koutarou smirked, finding humor in the situation.

Keiji hiccuped over the hat, averting his eyes from Koutarou and clenching his jaw in embarrassment and annoyance.

Just as their cart jerked to a top at the peak of the ride, Keiji's stomach squeezed. It was a sensation stronger than the tugs he had felt throughout the day. This time, a hot sense of urgency burned the back of his mouth and gripped his esophogus.

Coughing, his body instinctually tried to dislodge the psycological ball in his throat. In response, his stomach contents finally pushed it's way up and out of his mouth in one large wave.

A strange sense of relief came with the awful act- as if the tension which had been slowly building up finally broke. He closed his eyes and allowed the conflicting feeling to overcome him.

Spitting residue acidic spit from his mouth, Keiji leaned back against the seat rest. Drying tears cooled around his eyes, which felt achingly tired. His thighs felt warm where he allowed hat to rest, lacking the energy to lift it fully up.

He barely registered the warm body sitting next to him, let alone the hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"You okay now?" Koutarou asked gently, his breathy voice warming Keiji's ear.

"Mn-mn," Keiji slowly shook his head no, his eyes remaining shut and face tilted toward the sky.

"And you call ME reckless and stupid, how the turn tables twisted. Why didn't you say anything? Or like, I dunno, stayed home? I would've understood... Maybe."

"Please just be quiet," Keiji mumbled, "and keep rubbing my shoulder... It feels nice."

"I'll rub it until we get you in bed," Koutarou assured, adding his right hand to Keiji's right shoulder.

"Mm, thanks."

Keiji paused.

"And sorry about the hat."

[julilihatfun]

In case you're still looking for prompts: I've always been a sucker for appendicitis. It starts out so basic and simple that you just ignore it, but then it rapidly warps into something possible life-threatening. So, Geralt and Jaskier on the road, and then Jaskier gets appendicitis. Also, thank you so much for writing these nice stories

Thank you so much for this prompt - it was really interesting to write, because appendicitis was so much more dangerous back then, but I did some research and I hope, that this came out somewhat realistic. :D

___________________________________

“Okay ow.”, Jaskier says when he bends down to pick up some of the coins thrown at them. “Fuck.”

“What?”, Geralt snaps, bent down beside him.

And Jaskier shrugs and frowns as he straightens back up, leaving Geralt to do the rest of the work. “Dunno. Muscle cramp or something?”

The Witcher has the audacity to snort. “From all the hard work?”

Jaskier gasps, still only watching Geralt crawl around the pubs floor, not wanting to risk another spike of pain. Instead, he dramatically flails his arms with an indignant ‘HEY!’. He hears Geralt snort again.

“I’ll have you know that me and my many muscles work very hard!”, he then snaps, waving his arms around some more – for extra credibility and theatrics (and he does not care the least that Geralt does not even see the show he puts on because he is too busy roaming the ground for coins; Jaskier is an artist and he lives and breathes the drama!).

“I don’t see you and your many muscles working at all at the moment.”, Geralt huffs.

Jaskier pouts. “Well, we’re resting!”

Geralt rolls his eyes, puts the last couple of coins into his bag and finally stands. “Come on, we need to leave.”

“Alright Mr. Serious.”, Jaskier japes. “Right when you think they’re starting to loosen up…”

“Jaskier!”

“Fine! Fine.” Jaskier throws his lute around his shoulders, wincing to himself when his stomach twinges in pain again. “I’m coming!”

“You know, we could try to rest properly for once.”, Jaskier says as he watches Geralt strap his bags to Roach. “Maybe you would be less grumpy then?”

Geralt grunts. “I’m rested.”

“Well I’m still terribly exhausted!”, Jaskier complains and only when he has announced this, he notices that god – it’s so true. He actually is bone tired.

“You can stay here. Rest properly.”

Jaskier gasps in mock hurt. “And miss out on our newest adventure? Impossible!”, he says. “Besides, I can’t leave you alone. You would miss me terribly!”

“Yeah. Terribly.” Geralts voice is dust-dry with sarcasm, but Jaskier acts like he does not notice that. “AHA. I knew it! You do like me.”

Geralt only rolls his eyes and saddles Roach, swinging himself onto her back with grace. “Shut up and get going.”

Jaskier grins at Geralts back and runs to catch up with his Witcher and Roach. The few steps leave him abnormally winded and his stomach starts to hurt again.

Only this time, the pain does not go away.

Powering through it is easy at first. He’s had far worse before. But it is kind of annoying and Jaskier decides that he has the right to complain. A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved after all.

“Geralt, my tummy hurts.”, he announces.

The Witcher throws a look over his shoulder that does not show any of the concern that Jaskier would like to receive. “You did have a big dinner.”

“Are you belittling me?”

“Jaskier, please just walk. We will set up camp in an hour or two anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah…”, Jaskier mutters, getting back to strumming his lute. He is not really in the mood to sing, but he thinks that he might have overstrained Geralt’s nerves.

And when they finally arrive at a clearing by the river they have been following, Geralt stopping Roach and telling Jaskier to get settled, the bard feels more than just mild discomfort.

When Geralt orders him to grab firewood, his movements are sluggish and uncoordinated.

“The fuck’s wrong with you, bard?”, Geralt growls, clearly on edge.

Jaskier grimaces in displeasure. “Stomach.”, he groans. “Got worse.”

“Worse how?”, Geralt frowns. Jaskier shrugs. “Just hurts.”

The Witcher watches him for a moment. “Maybe you’re just hungry?”, he guesses and Jaskier snorts.

“What, despite my big dinner?”, he snaps, sitting down on a tree stump and curling in on himself. “And if you mention food again, you’re in for a lot of trouble.”

“Can’t be so bad if you’re still able to poke fun at me.”, Geralt decides, but kneels down in front of Jaskier anyways, pressing his palm to the bards neck. “Hm. You are a bit warm.”

“Burning.”, Jaskier laments. “Horribly sick and in need of weeks’ worth of rest!”

Geralt snorts and hands him his waterskin. “Just lie down, drink this and then sleep. You’ll be fine.”

“Right.”, Jaskier agrees, downing every last drop of water greedily, before flopping down without even bothering to lay out his sleeping mat and closing his eyes with a groan.

Geralt huffs fondly and throws a blanket over the bards shivering body, tucking the edges in carefully before getting started on the fire.

He won’t worry just yet. It most likely is some sort of stomach bug and Jaskier will probably be over the worst come morning.

Geralt decides that it is time to worry when Jaskier gasps awake in the middle of the night. At first, the Witcher guesses that this is due to a nightmare – something the bard struggles with quite a lot – but he springs to his feet when Jaskier lets out a howl of pain.

“Jaskier!”, Geralt says, crouching down by the bards head. And even without actually touching Jaskier, he can feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“Geralt.”, Jaskier whimpers, clutching his stomach with both hands in clear desperation. “Please.”

“Alright, you need to breathe.”, he instructs, for a lack of better advise.

And when he has got Jaskier calmed down a bit, he stands to walk over to his bag, ignoring Roaches questioning stare – the horse hates being awoken at night – and fishes in there for a small glass vial.

Then, Geralt kneels back down by Jaskiers side, helping the bard sit. Jaskier is trembling and moaning and the hand that Geralt has on his back is immediately damp with the bards sweat. “Well try this, it’s safe for humans and should ease the pain.”, he says, holding out the vial filled with lilac liquid.

Jaskiers hands shake so much, that Geralt has to assist him, but its pointless anyways in the end, because he can only hold it down for a mere minute before bringing everything back up.

“Right.”, Geralt says, aiming for evenly, after the retching has passed, having to support nearly all of Jaskiers weight. The bard’s breath it still hitching in silent sobs of pain and Geralt is really starting to worry now. “We won’t try that again, then.”

Jaskier shudders, hands still clawing at his stomach. Geralt has seen Jaskier have stomach ailments before, but it has never been like this. And he does not know what to do.

The Witcher takes one of Jaskiers hand in his in an attempt to comfort him, and Jaskiers grabs on for dear life. They sit like that for a while and right when Geralt hopes that things might start looking up now, Jaskiers breathing grows ragged and he whimpers, thrashing around in Geralts hold in a desperate effort to escape the pain.

“Help.”, Jaskier pleads, when this does not work, delirious with pain. “Geralt, please.”

“I… I don’t know how.”, Geralt breathes, gripping Jaskiers hand tightly. “But we will find someone that does.”, he says. “I promise, Jask. Just sit tight.”

Problem is: when Geralt heaves Jaskier onto Roach and tries to get the fuck to a nearby town as fast as possible, the jostling makes the bard scream in pain and Geralt definitely cannot deal with that.

So he gets Jaskier down and then watches him throw up again, while Jaskier sobs and moans and pleads for Geralt to do something, anything, to make this go away.

And all Geralt can do is hold him and mutter empty reassurances, while he grows more and more desperate himself.

Morning comes and Jaskier somehow gets even worse; Geralt wishes for a miracle then.

“Side sickness.”, someone says behind him, and Geralt is not the slightest bit surprised when he sees Yennefer standing there – weirder things have happened.

“Hm?”

“Your bard.” Yennefer nods towards Jaskier, who is still half propped-up against Geralts torso, face grey and sweaty, whimpering in pain. “Has side sickness.”

She eyes Geralt questioningly then. “Is that why you called for me?”

“I… guess so?”, Geralt says, despite not really recalling having called her at all.

She looks torn, suddenly. “Well, I can’t help you, Geralt. There is no cure.”, she says.

“There has to be something.”, Geralt growls.

Yennefer shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Yen!”, Geralt snaps, instinctively tightening his hold on Jaskier, making the bard gasp.

There is heavy silence for a moment. Then, the sorceress kneels down next to Geralt and Jaskier, putting her hand on the bards right side.

Geralt watches her questioningly as she puts her other hand on Jaskiers cheek, catching his attention.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry but I will have to press down now.”, she says, gentler than Geralt has ever heard her speak to the bard before.

“Ngggh- n- noo…”, Jaskier moans weakly, trying to bat her hand away.

He trashes in Geralts hold a second later, when Yennefer actually does press down, whimpering.

When Yennefer lets go not long after, he screams out in pain, hands automatically moving to his side while he curls in on himself.

“Yen!”, Geralt roars, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“Definitely side sickness, then.”, the sorceress says, looking troubled.

Geralt grips his bards’ shoulder as the smaller man still experiences the aftershocks of intense pain and looks at Yennefer pleadingly. “Please do something.”

She takes a deep breath, watching Jaskier whimper and tremble, and lets it out in a sigh. “I… There is something I once read, but it’s-“

“Do it!”

“Geralt! It’s highly experimental.”

But as she watches Geralt fret over the bard, eyes heavy with worry and desperation, she thinks that she might favours the risk of having more blood on her hands over having to watch Geralt’s little friend die without having even tried.

“Fine. He has to lie on his back.”, she instructs Geralt as she stands up to hold the blade of the sharpest knife she carries with her into the flames of the dying fire.

Behind her, she hears Jaskier crying out again over Geralt’s hysteric attempt at reassuring him and when she turns around again, Jaskier is flat on his back, his head propped up on Geralt’s lap.

“What- What are you doing?!”, Geralt asks in horror as she moves up Jaskiers sweat-soaked shirt and draws an even line on his lover abdomen with a piece of burned wood.

“I have to…”, she hesitates as Jaskiers fever-bright eyes settle on her. “… cut it out.”

Geralt’s eyes widen slightly, mouth already opening in protest, but Yennefer interrupts him. “Jaskier, I will put you to sleep for this.”

She expects the bard to protest as well, but he just releases a shuddering breath. “Jus’ make it stop.”, he whispers weakly. “Please.”

Geralt finds Jaskiers hand again, looking deep into Jaskiers eyes. “You’ll be fine.”, he promises emptily. “It’ll be okay.”

Jaskier lets out a hollow, pained laugh. “Get… it… out… ‘lready.”, he whimpers, feels Yennefer’s hand over his eyes and then… nothing.

When he comes to, his first sensation is lingering pain in his stomach, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was before.

He cracks his eyes open hesitantly, the previous events slowly starting to filter back in. The first thing he sees is Geralts head, looming over him.

Jaskier flinches back slightly, groaning when there is a sharp pain in his side.

“Easy.”, Geralt soothes, gently and caring (and Jaskier is SO confused right now) and straightens the blanket that the bard is wrapped into before handing Jaskier his waterskin again. “Drink something.”

Geralt props him up carefully and Jaskier takes a few sips, leaning heavily against Geralt.

“Soooo… what happened?”, Jaskier asks casually, while he rubs his sore stomach absentmindedly.

Geralt sighs. “Something in your stomach was… terribly infected. Very painful and even more dangerous. Yennefer got it out and that helped… you’ve been asleep the past two days. We got really lucky, Jask.”

“Wow.”, Jaskier breathes.

“Yeah…”

“Some proper rest at last, and I’m not even conscious for it.”

Geralt snorts, slapping him on the shoulder lightly.

“You know, I always knew.”, Jaskier says tiredly, dreamily.

“Knew that your own body would decide to turn against you?”

“That you liiiike me.”, Jaskier sing-songs happily, snuggling into Geralts chest even though the motion hurts quite a bit.

Geralt groans in frustration, but out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier can see him smiling fondly, before he falls asleep again.

[sepublic]

Sense and Insensitivity!

           Aaah, I swear this episode helped fix a crippling absence in my heart that I’ve been missing out on! I’ve got a fever, and the only cure is… MORE OWL HOUSE!!!

           I feel like this entire episode is a rather meta joke about the writing process, especially with the whole bit about publishers and how they’re forced to do crunch-time; Pretty sure that’s a real thing, and if so, I applaud Dana and the crew for making sure to remind viewers! And also, Luz, SAME… I, too, understand the pain of being a writer!

           There’s not much else to say about Piniet, but I like his design, premise, and voice! He’s pretty neat, and his ability to read entire books within seconds is… It’s much too powerful! I must have this power… Not gonna lie, I didn’t expect HIM to be the true mastermind behind it all (rather, just a lackey for John de Plume) but I guess it makes sense! I thought Plume was kind of an annoying narcissist, but after seeing what he’s going through I guess I can’t blame him for desperately drinking up any love and support he can get!

           That scene with the cubes though… Pretty freaky stuff, honestly. Legit thought a dude died when Piniet stepped on him, but apparently not- Still, we never see them revert back to normal, and with Piniet conducting business as he usually does after this, YIKES. Also, love the chaotic energy of Not-Dana in this episode, I didn’t really see her coming into play here but it makes so much sense! Also, this episode can be seen almost as a metaphor for what happened in real life, perhaps- Piniet/Disney wanted to pull more writing from King/Alex Hirsch, who didn’t want to dedicate the rest of his life to Ruler’s Reach/Gravity Falls! Then Dana/Not Dana comes in, dazzles Piniet/Disney with her story/The Owl House, and King/Alex Hirsch is free to do as he pleases (in this case, becoming a VA) while poor Not/Dana has no clue what’s in store for her!

           Subtle, Dana. I like it.

           And Luz and King’s friendship! I love episodes that delve more into King and his insecurities, and I’d DIE for these two goobers! I love that while King and Eda are definitely partners-in-crime, there’s a certain silliness to Luz and King’s friendship that is unique to their relationship! Not to discount Eda and her bond with King of course… More on Eda later, naturally!

           Typewriter was a hilarious character, and I love how Luz still wants to show unconditional support for King after he’s famous! It just shows how kind-hearted and empathetic she is… She knows what it’s like to be lonely and not taken seriously and she doesn’t want to take away the gratification from King! Likewise, I love how the show acknowledges that King may just be a tad-bit jealous of Luz and Eda, or at least he recognizes that they ‘have’ what he doesn’t… To King, his two friends seem self-assured and confident, like they’re living their own dream while he doesn’t! I can see why King acts selfish at times, he justifies it to himself because he thinks that Eda and Luz are already having it so good… Surely it can’t hurt to indulge himself once in a while, right?

           But at the same time, King is not truly selfish. Once he realizes he’s messed up, he’ll go back on his mistakes to make amends, ASAP, throwing away whatever he’s gained for that precious friendship! Maybe the REAL power was the friends we made along the way…? Regardless, it’s clear that Eda and Luz, the latter especially, take his insecurities and thoughts a lot more seriously than anyone else, and I think that’s what’s so important to King! The fact that they listen to him, they humor him… And it’s because part of what makes them so well-off is King’s own presence! I just LOVE this trio you guys!

           Also, imagine Boscha’s perspective of Luz and King after everything. I swear, these two –and Eda- are such utter weirdos and cryptids to everyone they come across, it’s amazing! I’m also low-key wondering who made King that scarf… I might want to check later. Not-Saria, planning to trash on that book if it fails you… I know how you feel. And beware King, “There’s more to life than shipping” is fighting words! They’re not FALSE, but still, it’s like that meme about how they hated him because he told them the truth! Like I said, this episode was hilariously meta and close to home, and you get the feeling that Dana is one of us- A fan that’s obsessed over things in the past and suffered laboriously through the pain of writing!

           But… EDA AND LILITH! OH, how I’ve waited for this! I knew it, I knew it was coming, that delicious sibling interaction and team-up, and oh it feels SO good!

           I’m glad to see that Once Upon a Swap hasn’t changed how Lilith feels! It’s pretty ingenius how her strategy for capturing Eda is just ‘procrastinate as long as possible’ and she manages to justify it! Of course, Belos probably won’t tolerate this strategy for long after a while…

           Speaking of Belos- He needs the Bloom of Eternal Youth?!? Is it for some other purpose, or is the dude himself aging? Who knows HOW old he’s been, or how long his rule has lasted- For all we know he’s been the original creator of the Coven System himself! There are even some theories that he was the Boiling Isles Titan, or lived long enough to interact with it! Given how the Bloom was fake from the very beginning, has he been relying on ways to extend his youth throughout the years, or is the first time his years have caught up to him?

          Does he want Eda, partially to mend this? What if the curse was cast by Belos on Eda, to drain her of her youth in a parasitic exchange? The show itself has more or less confirmed that Eda is getting older because of the curse! WHAT IF Belos killed the Titan, because he acted as a parasite by draining its life-force to keep himself alive- He DOES have an insectoid motif, and I guess you could connect insects to creatures like Mosquitoes and Fleas…

          Anyhow, I’m glad to see that Eda will also go out of her way for Lilith, too! The mixed-feelings, aggravation, and genuine love between the two is so amazing… I love how the two are acknowledging that the other means well, and has their own reasons for what they’re doing! And I love how the show has confirmed it- That Lilith DOES want Eda to join the Emperor’s Coven, she just wants her to do it on her own terms, with her own agency! I love this complicated relationship between these two sisters, where they loudly proclaim that they’d sell one another to Satan for a corn chip, but then would move the stars for the other when no one else is looking!

          Obviously the trailer spoiled us, but it was obvious from the get-go that Ratman Witch dude was a fake and it was a trap! Love how they play with the twist by just… Having Eda and Lilith not bat an eye! After all, this is some one-off goon without a name, VS the two most powerful Witches in the Boiling Isles (sans Belos, possibly)! I’d say I wish we got to see the two fight together, but let’s be real- There wasn’t even a fight to begin with. They likely combined a single spell together and ended it within seconds… And on a side-note, I like how Eda confirms that she and Lilith got into trouble together in the past, too! Hence ‘There she is!’ in Covention.

          As for some smaller thoughts;

          I find it funny, but not surprising, that Mattholomule has been relegated to physical labor in Piniet’s publishing company! Isn’t that child labor? We know Luz is fourteen, and he’s around her age, if not younger- Especially how Luz notes how light he is, and how Matt’s similar height to Gus indicates he’s about the kid’s age. I dunno, I don’t know Boiling Isles rules on child labor, if they even have any, and even if they did I doubt Piniet cares! I wonder how Not-Dana will get herself out of THIS conundrum with him… Not that I doubt she will of course! She’s got that chaotic energy and hasn’t survived this long for nothing!

          And I love Luz, being all weird as she is, having to use her teeth to tear up the contract instead of her hands like anyone else would! I can’t quite understand her mind, but it’s part of what makes her such a favorite to me! At least a contract isn’t some organ from a monster you just came across… And clever of her to use the Light glyph for the book! I love King’s realization of a missed pun, and the unstoppable teamwork of him and Luz!

          Given how King has already messed up a few times by being selfish, I have to suspect this will come into play in Really Small Problems, with King feeling like he’s begun to drive Luz away with his vanity and becoming desperate to rekindle their friendship! But as we all know, there’s nothing he needs to prove- Luz cares for him and vice-versa! And ironically, King indulging in ‘Mysterioso’s’ product is also him being selfish, but in general… I like how the show recognizes his crippling insecurity beneath it all, his feelings are valid and not unfounded. Even without the possibility of him having been an ACTUAL King of demons, the show still makes a compelling motive and reason for what he does!

          Speaking of a potential backstory… It’s worth noting that King claims his name is actually a rank- So what was his real name, then? Does he even remember?Likewise, he mentions that becoming a famous author will help him in his reclamation of power…

          All-in-all, this was a good, solid episode! It’s clearly a very relationship-driven episode, which as someone who enjoys the relationships between characters in this show- That’s amazing! It really establishes how characters truly feel about one another, while subtly setting the stage for something else… I love it!

           Up-next is Adventures in the Elements, a totally-new episode that I have NEVER seen, and I will DEFINITELY discuss my new thoughts about it when it officially airs!

[hot-takes-and-random-things]

S13 E6 “Tombstone” thanks to @kitkatwinchester for the second early-morning episode this reacts was brought to you by slightly less time-appropriate breakfast cereal, minor depression over how many victims have been dying lately, and a warning that I will be angry by the end of this episode Oooohhh a cemetery at night, always a good place to go hunting🙄

Hiii Cas, NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN NOW HUG THEY’RE HUGGING I’M SO HAPPY Cas: I was in the Empty. Sam: What was it like. me: Oh I dunno, E M P T Y ? ? ? This dialogue is awkward. Jack is meeting Cas for the first time, but he’s talking like they’ve met before. I am underwhelmed by that hug. This is awkward.  They have 0 chemistry at this point. He’s so excited omg!!!! 😂 “Team Free Will 2.0″ 😂😂😂 (please note I had kitkatwinchester screaming over my phone for that line) I totally forgot Dean is a wild west enthusiast. How could I possibly forget. Uh oh. Uh oh. uh oh uh oh uh oh, not good not good, nonono get back in your car police dude NO! CHUCK DAMN IT NOT AGAIN. Cas: He’s an angry sleeper. 😂😂😂 Why are they driving down the middle of the road? You’re Not Supposed To Do That. That. No. That hat does not go with Cas’ outfit. Dean now is not the time for cosplay. Dean doesn’t even sound like he’s from Texas. Why would anyone assume he’s a Texas Ranger? Okay, that’s not fair of me to say, he could be from another state and be a Ranger. Sam: We’re in a graveyard. Put that away. me: *splorfle* That’s victim blaming. I don’t like this guy. DUDE! Not cool. This is her dream. Do not ask her to “not mess this up” just for you, you dick. NO! Jack...... I know you didn’t mean to, but you really need to be more careful.  Poor security guard. Look, okay, I get it. Jack didn’t mean to kill him. But he still killed someone. The deputy DID NOT have it coming, you piece of trash! DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER A BITCH! You say you’re going to protect her, but you call her a bitch? ABUSIVE GHOUL OMG Cas YOU’RE SOUNDING LIKE KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE IS INEVITABLE HAHA! THE GHOUL IS DEAD! The sexist, abusive ghoul is dead. Well, I guess it’s okay since Jack feels guilty over killing the guard🙄 Um, but, Jack that is not how we deal with things. You can’t run away. You have to try to make up for what you did.

[pixelatedrose]

Soulbound Part Seven

First | Previous | Part 7 | Next

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Word Count: 2,788

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, background Remile

Warnings: Uncensored swearing, nightmares, mention of implied self harm (skip from “It had been another nightmare” to the end of the paragraph.), slight self deprecation, if I missed anything at all please please tell me, and if there’s anything you’d like me to tag, don’t hesitate to ask!

Summary:

Roman Prince and Logan Rose are soulmates. They’re platonic soulmates though. They both have the same Soul mark to prove it. But they both have one other soul mark, binding them to one other person. And when they find Patton Miles, it just so happens that they’re both his soulmate. Logan being his Soulbound Soulmate, and Roman being a platonic soulmate. But something feels missing. And it feels filled, shockingly so, when they meet a certain someone a year and a half after they found each other.

Chapter 7

  Logan Rose woke up with a bit of a start. He glanced around his room wildly, everything appearing fuzzy without his glasses. He calmed himself down before pulling the cord on his bedside lamp and examining his arm.

  It was bare and pale as always, save for his tattoo that depicted Patton's name.

  Despite everything, Logan let out a shaky breath. He knew it was illogical. And that only bothered him more.

  It's just a dream, Logan. Nothing is wrong. Logan picked up a book on the ground in spite of himself and began reading. However he found- as he always did- that he was unable to read much further than a few pages.

  "It's just a dream...It was nothing but amalgamated memories and images…It wasn't...It can't have been…" Logan took another deep breath to steady himself.

  And once again resorted to the only method that ever seemed to work.

  He flipped open a small journal and began writing down his dream with as much detail as possible.

  It had been another nightmare. He had been sobbing on the floor of a foreign room before dragging himself over to an all too familiar box under the bed where he fished out a pencil sharpener blade and had-

  Logan paused for a moment in his writing. He always hated writing about his nightmares. It was necessary for him to fall back asleep, but it was so hard sometimes.

  Every once in a while Logan Rose had acutely vivid dreams about ordinarily mundane things that didn't seem to make sense. 

  Seeing people he'd never seen before at a birthday party he'd never attended. 

  A dark room that slowly got edgier as time wore on filled with a multitude of different events. Most of them less than savory and quite traumatic. 

  A kid, taller than Logan, pushing him to the ground and pulling him back up by his hair only to have someone else spit in his face.

  These dreams made no sense to Logan. Dreams were supposed to be concoctions of memories, images, ideas, and emotions. Logan's brain should not be able to create such a vivid image of a house he'd never seen before. And yet Logan would have remembered if he'd ever seen the odd house with the strange yellow door that his mind so often brought up.

  Logan finished writing down his nightmare in his dream journal and set it down once again, rubbing his tired eyes. He glanced over at one of his many bookcases, sighing at the vast amount of dream journals he had filled up over the years.

  He had started cataloging his dreams back in fourth grade when his mother had suggested that writing about his dreams would help him remember them and even sleep better. So now Logan had nearly 6 years worth of journals filled to the brim with dream after dream after dream. Even if he could never remember what he had dreamed that night, he always wrote down that he was unable to recall any details.

  Logan lay himself back down to sleep as he quietly pondered his vivid dreams and what they could possibly mean, if anything at all.

  That's absolutely ludicrous. Dreams don't mean anything. They're just dreams. As he drifted off once again, Logan found himself with a ghost of doubt cast across his mind.

  Just dreams…

  Logan Rose fell asleep, his mind conjuring up recipes that called for memories, images, sounds, ideas, and emotions.

~~•~~

  Roman woke up to his alarm which he lazily slapped, sending it snoozing. Five minutes later it started yelling again, and this time Roman reluctantly rolled himself out of bed. Quite literally in fact. He had found it always helped him wake up.

  He hit the floor dramatically and lay down on the floor for a few minutes staring at his ceiling.

  Roman suddenly was struck by a brilliant idea and he sat up straight and got ready for the day as quick as possible.

  "Heya Ro-Bro! Sleep like a corpse?" Remus asked as Roman came down the stairs.

  "Why would you phrase it like that? Like actually why??"

  "Because it's interesting and you're boring so i have to be interesting for the both of us!!"

  Roman watched his twin brother sprinkle poptart crumbs into the omelet he was cooking and grimaced. "Well you sure do a good job of that one…"

  "Hey, Ro, have you seen the dandelions?"

  Roman paused for a brief moment. "Why the fuck are you eating dandelions?"

  "You absolute shitheaded moron it's for Brigit."

  Roman flushed. "Oh." He had been thinking of Virgil again and his head was still mushy from sleep. "In the fridge…"

  Remus turned and pulled out a small bag of dandelions before hopping over to a glass tank which contained a small tortoise. "Roman's an idiot, isn't he Brigit? Isn't he?" Remus cooed at his tortoise, dropping three of the four flowers in along with a small pile of lettuce before looking at the fourth flower and asking out loud. "Hey, dandelions are edible, right??"

  And before Roman had time to violently judge his brother, Remus shoved the entire fucking flower in his mouth like the absolute heathen he was.

  "Hey, not too bad." Roman's trash-man of a brother said, walking over to his slowly burning food.

  "I swear to god I don't know how we're related…" Roman muttered, returning his mind to a much more savory person.

~~•~~

  Roman got to school and met up with his friends. He debated skipping a few steps in his plan and looking for him right then, but decided against it. He didn't want to come off seeming like a creep.

  So he waited until his third period rolled around and felt his eyes light up as they fell to the emo boy scrunched up in the back corner of the classroom. Something was definitely brighter about Virgil today. Maybe it was the new hoodie he was wearing or the fresh makeup on his face, or perhaps it was the way he looked rested or the fact that he was nodding along to his music and silently mouthing the words, but Roman was unreasonably happy to see Virgil in a good mood.

  “Good morning, Hot Topic! You’re looking splendid today!” Roman bubbled, winking at the mass of emo that sat at the table.

  Virgil snorted and looked up at him. “Aw, you think I’m hot!”

  “On the contrary! I was talking to my reflection!”

  “Ah, that makes more sense. I put too much faith in you to think you’d ever stop being self-absorbed!”

  “Hey! You’ve only known me for what, two days?”

  Virgil shifted in his seat, having taken out his earbuds already. “I tend to be a pretty good judge of character.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  Roman took his chance to strike. “Well I bet you wouldn’t be able to judge my friend’s characters off of one glance!” Roman smiled at Virgil, missing the way the other’s shoulders relaxed when he spoke. “Want to join me with my friends at lunch?”

  Roman patiently awaited the inevitable decline. It was part of his plan. He would laugh it off and be charming as ever and continue to pester him until he-

  “Sure.” Virgil said casually, a hint of a smile on his face. 

  What.

  “You seem like a cool guy, I guess. Should I meet you by the cafeteria?”

  Roman’s head was a jumbled mess and where he had been planning on being charming, he had fallen end over end down the stairs of grace and was drowning in his own pool of poor planning.

  “Uh, uhm, n-no I’ll just meet you outside your class!” Roman had just barely been able to save the end of that sentence. He had not expected the emo boy to accept his offer so quickly. He thought the boy was shy and reserved, didn’t like talking to people. Curiosity to know what made the emo boy trust him overtook Roman. “Would it be terribly rude of me to ask why you’d want to come and eat with a bunch of people you hardly know?”

  Virgil shrugged. “I dunno. I just kinda…” He turned and pulled up his hood. “Feel like I can trust you. I also don’t really have anyone else, so I mean I don’t have many options.” he lowered his voice to the point where Roman wouldn’t have been able to hear the emo. “And if I at least look like I have friends maybe people will leave me alone this time around…”

  It worked and Roman hadn’t heard his breathless whisper. “Oh! Well I’m touched! In fact I think-”

  Ding!! Ding!! Ding!!

  Damn that bell.

  Class began and Roman didn’t get the chance to mention that he and Patton shared a class. A minor detail, but he was irrationally disappointed that he couldn’t keep talking to his newfound...Friend.

  Roman thought. Friend? Am I not jumping the gun by considering us friends this early on? What would Virgil think? Would he be okay with it? Would he be disgusted? Roman’s mind filled with the image of Roman calling the boy his friend and Virgil smiling widely, happy to be his friend. Roman let himself smile too.

  The period ended and Roman said his farewells to Virgil. Roman pulled out his phone between classes and brought up the group chat.

  Hey I’m bringing a friend of mine to come and sit with us at lunch kk

  It was just a few moments before his phone buzzed quietly in his hands.

  Pat-man: OOOooooOOOooOOoo~~!!

  Pat-man: A *friend* you say? *nudge nudge wink wink*

  Each of his texts were signed with a series of emojis, ranging from hearts to faces.

  Roman typed out a text, leaning against the wall outside his classroom.

  Yes Padre, a FRIEND

  Nothing more than that! I swear you rwad into things way to much

  His Phone buzzed again and Roman looked at the new text.

  Pocket-protector: First off, you misspelled 'Read' and second, you used the wrong 'Too'. Third, if you're speaking of the boy you have gone on about for the past two days, then-

  The bell rang and Roman silently thanked it for saving him the time to read Logan's perfectly composed letter of a text filled with perfect grammar.

  The hours ebbed by anguishingly slow, it seemed the more he wanted to see the pale boy the more the weights the universe attached to time's ankles.

  Finally- finally- the hour struck three minutes till the bell and Roman silently excused himself knowing that the abandoned hall pass in his pocket that would free him of suspicion.

  He got to Virgil’s classroom just in time for the bell to ring and for Roman to quickly lean himself up against the lockers casually.

  Virgil walked out and seemed almost surprised to see Roman standing there before a ghost of a smile adorned his pale face.

  “Honestly, you don’t have to skip out of class early just to wait for me.” Virgil said as he walked up to the taller boy.

  “I know, but it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to leave my new friend wandering through the halls with no guide!” Roman smiled and the pair started walking towards the cafeteria.

  “And so that would make you my knight in shining armor?” Virgil teased.

  “No, I like to think of myself as more of a prince.”

  Virgil snorted back his laughter. “But I thought they gave princes education! They’re doing a miserable job rearing you.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, Jerky Mcjerk-face.”

  “Ouch! Is that the best comeback you have for me, Princey?” Before, Virgil had called Roman by the theatrical nickname in a friendly manner, now his tone was mocking him, a soundless giggle twinkling in his blue eyes.

  Roman hrumphed and crossed his arms. “Sometimes I’m not entirely on point with my words! I’m human! Even someone as flawless as me can make mistakes!”

  Virgil barked out a short laugh. “Ha!! Flawless! I should bring you up on charges for false advertising!”

  “Then maybe I should do the same with you, Surly-Temple! You’re not as shy as you seem, are you?”

  “Who ever said I was shy? I just don’t like people.”

  “Oh…” Roman internally cursed at his lack of words. He had jumped to conclusions. It was a simple mistake, but it reminded Roman of another thing he should try and fix. He shook it off easily. “Well in that case I’m sure you’ll have no problem introducing yourself to my friends!” He led Virgil through the thick of the now bustling and ever so loud cafeteria to a table in the back near one of the backdoors leading outside. It was a small circular table, like all the others in the room, perfect for a friend group to claim and have no one else intrude.

  Patton and Logan were already sitting down and chatting about what sounded like the emotional and psychological repercussions of being torn from your dimension and being thrown into another. A very fascinating topic to say the least.

  “Hey, Padre! Pocket protector!” Roman announced as they neared the table. Roman noticed out of the corner of his eye Virgil throwing up his hood. “I must introduce to you all, a one Virgil Sanders!” Roman theatrically bowed and gestured toward the purple haired boy next to him.

  Patton stood up immediately and flounced over to the boy. “Hi!! My name’s Patton, but you can just call me Dad!!” He said with a wink as he held out his hand for Virgil to shake. Virgil seemed to relax as he took the sorter boy’s hand in his.

  “Virgil. It’s nice to meet you, Patton.” He smiled lightly.

  Logan had stood as well, letting Virgil come to him. “Logan Rose. A pleasure.” He said politely, extending his own hand. Vigil accepted it and the group started to settle in.

  “You know, Virgil, I think I have the same second period as you!” Patton slipped in as they started taking their seats.

  Virgil seemed to think for a brief second. “Oh, I guess so. I guess nice to re-meet you, then.” He slowly took off his hood and faced Patton who was seated across from him. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you, I tend to not pay attention to stuff like that.”

  “It’s fine! I think it’s great we have a class together! It means less boring moments in the day!”

  Logan was staring at Virgil and he started speaking. “You know, You look familiar to me as well...Do we not share a fifth class together? Ap English in Mr. Evan’s class, if I am correct?”

  Virgil blinked. “Uh...Yeah...So I guess I have a class with each of you then...What are the odds?” Virgil gave a small laugh.

  “Infinitesimal.” Logan replied before biting into his sandwich.

  “Oh speaking of which, do you remember what was taught yesterday? I was trying to do my homework and sort of forgot what he’d said…”

  “I remember absolutely nothing but I do remember he was wearing a pink shirt with a green belt and was disgusted, I mean I may not be one for fashion, but even I know that was a horrific choice.”

  The table erupted into several different kinds of laughter. A loud booming one from Patton, a softer but clear one provided by Roman, and a light chuckle emitted by Virgil.

  Lunch wore on and It seemed like Virgil really connected with everyone.

  He was in a brighter mood for the rest of the day as he walked off with Logan, discussing fan theories about doctor who and Sherlock, and then happier still when he met up with Roman in the theater and got to have his older brother teach him for what seemed like the first actual time.

  And as Virgil bid his farewells, Roman called out to him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Virge!!” He yelled across the courtyard, waving happily at his new friend.

  “Cya!!” Virgil called back, feeling happy and warm inside.

  Virgil had never even had friends before, and for some reason, having only just met them a few hours ago, felt like these friends were ones that were going to last. He felt so right when he was with them. It felt so right when he would hear Logan talking about one subject or another, or when Patton made a dad joke or pun, or when Roman did something charmingly stupid or funny. It felt right being with them.

  And for someone who’s never felt right in their life, Virgil felt as though it was all too much to actually be real.

  But for once, He didn't worry about that.

Author’s note:

Oh wow! Would you look at that! I’m way early!! I legit thought I wasn’t going to get this done in time because I stopped writing for like two days cause one: I wanted to write a special valentines day mini fic (Link here!) and then two: I was away from my computer and had very tiny motivation. Anyway I hope you guys appreciate my earliness, and note that this probably won’t happen too often. Stay fresh and minty my lovelies!!

Tag list

@anxietea-and-insanitea @ghostboi-bambi @scrunchiescrunchie @badluckkaren @ambrechandra @nadja-chamack16 @athenashipsthings @slitherynchiken @crooked-harmony-student @icequeenoriginal @just-a-hufflepuff @nerd-in-space @sammys-ghostz @nutsanddults @misterteaz @sanderssidesweirdo @dragonheart905 @hitmewiththatfanart33 @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute

[misterewrites]

Annabeth and the First Date

Hello everyone! E here hoping you are all staying safe and sound among these trying times. Remember to take care of yourself and others. 

I’m back with a collab! WOO! My good friend @hains-mae and I have teamed up to bring you some good times and what better way to celebrate the very conflicted feelings I have about Percy Jackson being made by Disney (Looks at the Artemis Fowl Trash fire) then by writing about it!

So we kinda just threw whatever at the AU wall to see what we wanted to do and we both settled on this college style au. It’s not completely fleshed out but the idea I have is everyone are still demigods and they still get trained but they don’t really go on quests or fight monsters until they’re 18 years old because the monsters get more of a challenge and street cred than just killing children. Yeah we just wanted to do a college style au.

So this story is Annabeth’s first date. She’s 17, in college and doesn’t know Percy but they both know Grover. I like to think that Camp Halfblood is still a thing and she’s been training since she was a child like canon but in that one year in between coming of age and not being a target, a lot of demigods go to school as a last taste of normalcy and maybe to get motivation not to die. 

Yeah we just went for it.

So Percy and Annabeth of 17 and they don’t know each other. They haven’t done their first quest.

so enjoy! stay safe, social distance, masks! not optional and I’ll see you soon with the next one. Have a great week everyone!

17 year old Annabeth Chase was not happy with her most recent life choice.

She would’ve scolded herself for using less than stellar vocabulary but between being seated alone amid a sea of smiling, joyful couples and her date now officially 30 minutes late with no word of his arrival, she was not in a great mood.

“Go on a date they said” She mockingly murmured under her breath “It’ll be fun they said. You need to get your head out of a book, it’s not healthy.”

Annabeth scoffed: How was reading a book not fun? Her mother, Athena, prided herself on knowledge. Knowledge was the single most important foundation in life and with knowledge all things were possible.

She grimaced as she blew a strand of her curly blonde hair out of her face, disliking the increasing embarrassment she felt about being stood up.

Her mistake was putting too much faith in the Aphrodite dorm rooms. The self proclaimed matchmakers had been hounding her relentlessly since the first week of college and while she had done a fantastic job avoiding their interest (if she says so herself), eventually they set their efforts upon her single life.

“Shouldn’t have caved” Annabeth frowned as she rubbed her arm awkwardly.

She could’ve outlasted them. The librarian already banned the lot of them from the library and Annabeth knew plenty of secluded spots where no one could find her for hours. Admittedly, though, it was getting more difficult when they began ambushing her in pairs: Outside her dorm, outside her classes, in the cafe where she loved to study. For people who never once did their homework or cared about things outside love, they were surprisingly vicious.

One date. That’s the agreement she negotiated with them though she could tell behind their wide smiles they were planning on multiple suitors in case this one did not work out.

“I didn’t even want to go on this stupid date.”

Annabeth sighed, unable to hide the disappointment.

Despite her better judgment, she actually was looking forward to this date. Maybe it was the idea of finding someone to talk physics or classic Greek to. To have intellectual debates and spend time with.

To not be lonely anymore.

She placed her head glumly in her hand.

She even dressed up for the occasion.

Annabeth was the definition of practical. Her usual attire consisted of shirt, shorts, jacket if it was cold and hair tied up in a messy ponytail tucked under her Yankee’s hat (go Yanks!). She wasn’t at school to impress anyone. She was there to learn and fight off the occasional monster.

She knew that was the real reason she felt foolish: She bought into this. Like everything she had ever done in her life, Annabeth threw herself completely and utterly into the challenge of a first date.

Her normally messy, unkempt blonde hair was tastefully curled and pulled back into an elegant (But still practical) ponytail. She wore a long black dress that shimmered every time she moved with a matching shawl and black simple flats. She had even swallowed her pride and asked Silena (the only Aphrodite child she ever trusted) to help her with her make up.

“I should just go….”

“Annabeth?”

Annabeth blinked, completely caught off guard and mortified someone recognized her in this fancy restaurant until she noticed the familiar brown curls under a tacky beanie.

“Grover!” Annabeth beamed happily, giving her satyr friend a quick side hug “It’s good to see you!”

Grover Underwood was an old friend of Annabeth. They had met when he was sent to bring her to Camp Halfblood safely and they had been close friends ever since. Though between Grover’s job of disguising himself as a human and bringing demigods back safely and Annabeth starting college, the two hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“What are you doing here?”

Grover scratched his goatee nervously “Working, you know.”

Annabeth gave knowing nod and raised eyebrow as she scanned the room.

“The cook” Grover’s voice dropped to a whisper as he hunched closer “I’m certain he’s a demigod. I’m here to keep an eye on him.”

Grover stood to full height once again and smiled “So what are you doing here?”

Annabeth fidgeted under his gaze “I...well...I decided to take a break from my studies.”

Grover looked unconvinced “In a fancy restaurant in an equally fancy dress?”

Her cheeks burned brightly “Grover, don’t you have work to do?”

Grover’s nearly popped out of his head, his legs thrashing so wildly about Annabeth was scared he was about to take off in a scamper “OH YOU’RE RIGHT! Umm, can I take your order miss?”

Annabeth finally noticed his well dressed attire: A nice collared shirt (With the collar anxiously chewed upon) black slacks and loafers with a little notepad and pencil at the ready.

“Oh.” she muttered as it clicked into place “OH! Y-yes. I would like to order the burger and some water please.”

Grover scrawled his friend’s order and bolted for the kitchen, moving with an unusual but panicked grace.

Annabeth chuckled to herself before the loneliness fell upon her once more.

“I might as well enjoy myself so this night isn’t a complete failure.”

20 minutes later

“Umm, excuse me? Is this seat taken?”

Annabeth scrawled furiously upon her napkin, mumbling under her breath about the possibilities of X.

“….Hello?”

“If I carry over 47 and I...”

“Look, I’m not going to stand all night and talk to air.”

The table shook unexpectedly and knocked the studious girl out of her brainstorm.

Annabeth blinked “Wait, are you talking to….me?”

Annabeth could feel her cheeks turn a bright pink as she caught sight of the person in front of her.

He was roughly her age with long dishevel jet black hair swept to one side as if he just gotten back from a walk on the beach. His eyes were shimmering green, the kind of green only the ocean could muster. His smile was mischievous yet playful, one you would often find on a troublemaker. He wore a dark blue collared shirt that was freshly pressed and a rather cute tie with seashells. His hands were stuffed anxiously into his black dress pants as he waited for an invitation to sit.

“I...” Annabeth began.

“Are you Annabeth?” The stranger asked quietly, glancing to one side uncomfortably.

“Yes” she answered slowly “Yes! Did...”

“Grover” The strange answered simply “he called me over. Said he you might want some company.”

“Grover?” Annabeth tilted her quizzically before realization hit her “Grover!”

She whirled around to find her furry friend spying through the kitchen porthole.

Grover let out a frighten bleat before ducking out of sight.

Percy. That’s who was in front of her. Grover had called Percy.

Annabeth knew about Percy for a few years now though she never met him officially. He was another demigod Grover brought to Camp Halfblood and one the young satyr was determined to have her meet.

Annabeth managed to dodge meeting the mysterious Percy Jackson through her busy schedule but it seems Grover had finally gotten his way.

“Percy, right? Grover’s talked about you alot”

But never mentioned how cute he is.

Percy scratched the back of his neck “Yeah that’s me. I live close by and Grover said you were feeling down so...”

Annabeth rolled her eyes “He figured he send you to cheer me up?”

Percy shrugged “I’m pretty sure he just wanted us on a date. I can try to cheer you up. No promises though”

Despite herself, Annabeth giggled “At least you’ll try right?”

Percy gave a goofy grin “For pretty girl like you, why not?”

Annabeth’s blush worsened “Well take a seat and let’s see I can bore you away. I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Nice try Wisegirl but I’ll have you know nothing is more boring than sitting in a class for an hour with no idea what’s going on and no escape.”

“I’ve never had that problem” Annabeth beamed proudly.

Percy playfully waved her off “Yeah yeah, you’re super smart. So you’re gonna be my tutor?”

“Whoa whoa whoa” Annabeth grinned impishly “I never agreed to that.”

“You said you never had a problem in class, I have the attention of goldfish. Sounds like you need to tutor me.”

“So you have seaweed for brains?”

Percy grimaced “It’s the tie, huh?”

Annabeth nodded, trying to stifle a laugh “Really gives it away Seaweed brain.”

“It’s my mom! Thought it be cute or something” Percy groaned unhappily.

“I like it. It is cute in a geeky sort of way. Marine biologist?”

Percy gave her a confused stare.

“Your major.” Annabeth clarified.

“Oh” Percy grinned sheepishly “Nah, way too easy.”

“Too easy because you’re smart or….?”

“I am not smart.”

“I dunno. Obtuse maybe.”

Percy shook his head “No idea what that means.”

Annabeth snorted cutely,covering her face in embarrassment before staring daggers at Percy. Percy put up his hands innocently.

“Everything going well?”

Grover appeared, a well cooked and delicious burger in one hand and a fresh out of the oven blue pizza in the other.  

Annabeth opened her mouth but Grover cut her off “Customer’s choice.”

Annabeth just nodded as Grover set down their plates.

“So” Grover began nervously “Not going to kill me?”

Percy gave a noncommittal shrug while Annabeth answered “Jury’s still out.”

“Oh, I hear someone calling me. Coming!” And as quickly as he came, Grover vanished.

Annabeth eyed the strangely bluish hue of the pizza Percy was digging into, unsure what to make of the odd choice.

“I like blue” Percy answered bluntly “Sue me.”

“I guess I’ve seen stranger.”

“Ha ha wisegirl. Just for that, we’re getting ice cream after.”

Annabeth smiled softly at the idea.

“That would be the worst seaweed brain. The absolute worst.”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

To the Tulula Anon (Part 2)

Alas, Tumblr only allows you to put so many screenshots into a single text post. Curse the Tumblr gods for daring to try and limit my power, I shall not stand for this! Nah, I totally will. Let us continue. 

Actually, the image of MC and Tonks talking to Tulip in followup alongside Merula doing the same thing with Diego kind of reminds me of that incorrect quote that I see a lot sometimes, where one person recounts the kiss and everyone freaks out with excitement, and the other person’s group is just like “Tongue? Cool.” I dunno if anyone’s seen that but it makes me crack up. MC and Tonks being exasperated with Tulip’s wonderful inability to quit Merula is giving me life. Really, that could apply to anyone we ship with Merula as she is a literal trash bag, an actual rubbish bin. Liz spotted it before any of us, she knows how true it is. Diego seeming like such a romantic but actually giving the worst possible advice to Merula even though he thinks it’s genuine wisdom? That also has added years onto my lifespan.

Part of me can imagine Tulip keeping this close to her chest, but part of me feels like she wouldn’t be able to stop herself, that she would just need to talk to someone about it. Either way, Year 5 is late enough that everyone can probably tell how Tulip feels, and that there’s something brewing there. I mean, it’s like you said. She always defends Merula and mentions her good qualities whenever anyone else criticises her. Couple that with her attempts to involve Merula in the investigation and offer alliances, usually without running it by MC first. Then again, Year 5 in particular was also the time period that Merula was not only in alliance with MC and the others, she was basically acting like a friend to them. So it probably would be far less of a shock to everyone involved. As far as who would win the bet, I’d imagine Tonks would be able to provide input about Tulip, Diego would provide for Merula. MC may or may not know either of them as well as Tonks and Diego, but they’re the only one who knows them both rather well. Plus, you know, they have the plot armor. So they would win.

You know, it’s quite silly because it’s such an obvious lie, the “I didn’t mean to kiss you” bit, and anyone with common sense would know that of course Merula is trying to cover her bases, certainly someone as smart as Tulip. But that wouldn’t stop Merula from trying, from aggressively insisting that her version of events is the truth. It’s actually quite comical, like those animes where the character blurts out their dark secret and then loudly clarifies that “No one heard that.” And when no one responds, they shout it more threateningly so everyone else gets the memo and responds with agreement that they didn’t. I can just picture Merula doing that. I feel like Tulip would just find it hilarious/adorable and wouldn’t even know what to say.

Side note: Please, oh please, never apologize for the lovely content that you send me! It always cheers me up to see messages from you!

[kmclaude]

An AU thought, unfinished: Annemarie as a nun. Not a sexy nun, but someone found out about the whole “preggers with her brother’s baby and sent to a convent as punishment” type nun, who may or may not wind up teaching a bunch on unruly kids and has her fellow sisters breathing down her neck to make sure she doesn’t sin again. But hey, guess who’s the priest/confessor for the order? And considering nuns “have” to obey Fr. Tiefer’s authority…! Not smutty but it’s all I’ve got 🤷🏼‍♀️

oh how decadent! oops my hand slipped!!!

Émile is probably the one who gets mad when he finds out she’s pregnant and who’s kid it is because sure he’s white trash and has been bending his daughter over for years but he draws the line somewhere (and part of it is because he knows Emilein is a freak, he knows he wouldn’t want her so it’s obvious she’s the whole reason for being knocked up – and she’s been using the stupid baby in her fat gut as a shield to mouth off to him and run the joint – why not punish her? Besides, no one in that family can afford another mouth to feed…)

So he pulls Emilein aside, says, “hey, you’re good with that priest, yeah?” and Emilein shrugs, says, “maybe I am,” and braces for a nasty shot about how of course he is, he loves being on his knees, but it never comes, just, “so he knows about like…them wayward girl schools, yeah?” and Emilein plays dumb until his daddy plays his hand: send Annemarie off to a convent or wayward school or hell an asylum – she wants to use a baby to get her way, well then she can get out of the way. Forever.

Emilein, for once, is more than happy to help his daddy out.

He talks to the priest, Fr. Michaud, who has offered him chance and again ways out, one in particular though it would mean the priesthood, and reveals his sister is pregnant (not that it was terribly secret: the whole town was waiting for the day she slipped up at this point) and she is…troubled. And is there a place. The Church. Anything.

Of course Fr. Michaud hesitates because yes there is one nearby but it’s practically an asylum, run by an order on their grounds – cloistered – “And, to be frank, we all know your sister is…not exactly saving herself for anyone…but unless she’s a-a maniac it would be almost cruel–”

And Emilein puts his hand lightly on Fr. Michaud’s, smiles in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes, and says, “You know how she hasn’t named the father? You’d think someone like her’d be going up and down the street, demanding a wedding or at least support, wouldn’t you? But she ain’t. ‘Cause she can’t. Now, remember the first time we actually talked, you an’ me, an’ I told you I’d suck your cock in a heartbeat ‘cause that’s usually how things went with me an’ older men an’ not always by force?”

“Difficult to forget,” says Fr. Michaud, neglecting to mention that most fourteen year olds don’t say that.

“So we both agree I’m…funny.”

“What are you getting at, Emilein?”

“I’m sayin’, the reason she ain’t beatin’ down no po’ bastard’s door to help with her own bastard is ‘cause she doesn’t want anyone to know that the daddy’s her own brother.”

Michaud goes pale and Emilein isn’t smiling any more.

“We both know she don’t interest me much. So, Father, please: help me.”

–

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps him, and Annemarie is sent away to have her child (and then work off the debt she’ll have accrued – after all, not like her father and brother can afford to pay.)

Her choice is very simple: go as willingly as she can pretend and nobody has to know about who the father is or fight and Emilein tells (with Fr. Michaud as a witness – Émile, of course, is more than willing to rat her out but really, every other word from his mouth is a lie.)

And life is peaceful – until Émile decides he can fully boss around his son like he did his daughter in a house he doesn’t own.

Emilein is having none of it but Emilein is terribly small and Émile has friends too, friends just as nasty as Annemarie’s boyfriends, and Émile ties him to a bed and starves him and lets all sorts of men use him for days and brags about the money he’s made from him – “shit, cher, we should’ve been whorin’ you out years ago! Guess yer cunt sister was just too jealous to share.”

He lets him go, eventually, after a week that feels like forever and Emilein runs to Fr. Michaud, banging on the church door, and when Fr. Michaud answers his request is much the same as it was before: “please, help me.”

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps Emilein Tiefer and gets him connected to the seminary.

–

At twenty-five and with the title of ‘Father’ himself, Tiefer is assigned to a convent in Fuckoff Nowhere, Louisiana to be the priest and confessor on the grounds. Segregated from the opposite sex and the real world for so long only to be thrown headfirst into the wide world, some were realizing, was not the greatest idea: so, the younger were sent off to serve their religious siblings first, particularly their sisters.

The Mother Superior is kind when she greets him on his arrival, a stark contrast to all the rumors of the convent here: it was a convent, yes, that made its daily bread with something of a home for wayward girls – part home, part school (for the younger ones whose unfortunate choices and circumstances left them behind their peers as well as their children, for those who had or expected them), part workhouse so the former two could survive – but for years its nickname had been the asylum because, regardless of how long one worked, much like the TB asylums, the only way out was in a casket.

Which is where, Tiefer always figured, his sister was at this point. 

Until, during a tour of the small school on the grounds (as the children would be needing sacraments as well) he sees one of the nuns with the children – though she’s not a nun, not exactly, as she only wears a veil and simple dress and the bangs of her blonde hair peak out and frame her face – and she, in turn, sees him and freezes.

“Mother Superior,” he asks, voice steady as possible, once they’ve passed, once he’s calmed down, “who was that woman?”

“With the children? That’s Sister Anne, one of our success stories – quite a tough one too. She came here, pregnant, no idea who the father was and ready to dare I say fight every one of us sisters who came near. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and eventually He brought her ‘round. She should be taking her vows in a few years.”

“Ah. Do many of your girls usually wind up joinin’ the order?”

The mother superior sighs, sort of pointed in a way that hints that the topic is better put to rest. “Unfortunately, it’s not always part of God’s plan,” she says and then adds, “You sound a lot like she does – how far down South did you come?”

“Very.”

“Hm. She also.”

–

“Sister Anne. A word?”

After all the introductions and required niceties are made, Tiefer doubles back to the classroom of children, led by the novitiate.

“Of course, Father,” she says, the shock from earlier long gone from her face, a little more lined than he’d remembered it, her eyes a little less bright.

“In private?”

He lets her lead the way to a small, unused classroom and locks the door behind them.

“Well. Never thought I’d see you here, Sister.”

She scoffs, the plain novitiate from earlier twisting, like a monster under flesh, into his sister, the way he knew her, cocky attitude and all. “Why not? You put me here.”

“You know what I mean. ‘Sides, he put you here.”

“You helped.”

“Just told the truth is all. You want me to tell the truth again?”

“Can’t send me away again, sugar. Anyway, I’m a changed woman. The success story of these sisters.”

“Ain’t you special, huh?”

“Had to be. Play along or die like the rest.” She looks him over, sixteen years on his twenty-five, sizing him up. “You obviously understand, don’tcha Emi?”

“Father, now, actually.”

“Father, right, Father, now, huh? So Father – what was it? Not enough dicks to suck back home, you had to join the biggest boy’s club around? Or you just get sick of Daddy – bet he was a real sonuvabitch once he didn’t have me ‘round to take his shit out on.”

He cuts her off: “Annemarie. You like it here?”

“You like it where you are?”

He doesn’t answer, simply pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. He watches her reach out, then freeze.

“I’ll share if you tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ playin’ nunnery.”

“I told you. Play along or die. Same as you.”

“You don’t know shit about me or what I been through.”

“An’ you know ‘bout me?”

Tiefer shrugs, lights up. Refuses her one.

“I heard the girls who come here only leave one way.”

“Do I look like I left?”

“Mm.” He offers her a cigarette and a light. Her fingers brush his. He tries not to grab her wrist and crush it. “So this is better? Bein’ a mother to a slew of bastards an’ prayin’ to God who put you here?”

“I dunno, Emi–”

“Do not–”

“Father Emi, you tell me: would you like being worked like a dog to pay off your own existence your fuckin’ family sold off, gettin’ beat ‘cause no one gives a damn about you, and not knowin’ if the priest they brought in to hear confessions this ‘round would rather you suck him off than say you’re sorry. I’m fuckin’ forty-one years old: I wanted something close to freedom, even if it’s from behind a wall an’ veil. ”

Tiefer makes a sound like mock pity. “Sounds like every damn day of my childhood, Annemarie. In fact,” – he grabs her by the jaw, pulls her close, tugs the cigarette from her lips and puts it out against the back of her neck, hidden by her veil – “looks to me like you’re getting off easy, little miss success story.”

“Em–”

“That’s Father to you, now.  An’ come to think of it, I’m sure Mother Superior would love to hear what you really did.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would they put you back in the work house? Or just turn you loose on the streets like a dog. Where you gonna go, Sister? Y’all take vows of poverty last I heard – gonna finally be a real whore and suck dick in the gutter?”

“Please…”

“Please what, pity you?”

Tiefer lets her go, takes a drag from his own cigarette, blocking the door. He grins, more a snarl than anything else. 

“Oh Annemarie… You’re right: I wouldn’t dare as long as you don’t give me a reason to. I’m your superior now…let’s start treatin’ me as such, hm?”

He unlocks the door. “An’ Sister Anne? If you thought those other priests who put your ol’ ass on your knees were bad, you’re gonna really regret all your earlier sins against me.”

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 10--Thinning of the Veil

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo tries to plan next steps concerning Saïx... as well as Demyx.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He woke slowly.

His legs ached, and he was desperate to pee. He found himself glad he'd decided to sober himself; otherwise, he knew he'd have a hideous hangover. He was horridly dehydrated. He went to the bathroom, washed his face. He had awful bedhead. His first night with his supposed soulmate hadn't exactly been romantic.

He knew he had to deal with the fact of Saïx--and Kairi?--at some point. He crossed over to the kitchen, still littered with alcohol and mixer bottles. He drank a few glasses of water. Lea was snoring on the couch. Ienzo saw Demyx, a pale shade of green, cross over to the bathroom, and heard him retch. Ienzo sighed. At least he could do this much. He got him a glass of water and knocked at the door. "Occupied," he said wearily.

"I've got something for you. Let me in."

"You don't need to see this."

"I can help."

After a moment, Ienzo heard the toilet flush, and the door cracked open. Demyx sat on the floor, holding his head with one hand.

"I can fix your hangover," he added more quietly. "You'll just get sick again, is all."

"You're not bullshitting me?"

He shook his head. "Give me your hand."

Demyx did; his was clammy. Ienzo gently pulled the hangover from him with his magic. He vomited once more, then looked up in confusion. "Holy fuck," he said.

"Better?"

"...Much. God, Ienzo, if you sold that you'd make a fortune." He shut the toilet lid and flushed.

"Were I not a fugitive, I would." He smiled a little.

"...Thanks." Demyx stood. "Hey… that's my shirt."

"Do you mind? I felt rather sweaty."

"No. It… it's nice." He sighed. "Kinda wish the first night you stayed over was better."

"...Well. We can fix that."

He nodded once, a blush coloring his face. "Let me get cleaned up. We should go out for breakfast."

Ienzo did. He felt loath to put his dirty clothes back on, but he had to. Once they were ready, they set out into the perpetual twilight. Demyx squeezed his hand. “So I have to ask,” he said in a low voice. “What do you remember from last night?”

Demyx frowned. “Well… honestly? It’s all kind of… hazy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ienzo sighed. “I believe… I saw an old adversary of mine.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You’re sure you weren’t just trashed?”

“Relatively sure, yes. He’s hard to miss.” He described Saïx briefly.

Demyx shook his head. “What if it was just someone with blue hair? Isn’t my magic… shielding yours, or whatever? Isn’t that the point?”

“Doesn’t stop him from tracking the old-fashioned way.”

Demyx took both of his hands and squeezed them. “There’s no point torturing yourself unless you know for sure.”

He had a point. Ienzo still intended on telling Aeleus when he got home.

They grabbed breakfast in a small cafe near Demyx’s apartment. Like Riku had, Ienzo cast a small muffling spell. “Where did you meet Sora and Kairi?”

Demyx blinked. “They’re Islanders too. Were always attached to Riku at the hip. I dunno.”

“Kairi claims she knows me.”

“Do you think you have?”

“I have these strange… partial memories, which may just be corroboration,” he said. “But if they’re magic… Do you know what’s special about them?”

“Not… really. Honestly, Ienzo, we don’t talk all magic, all the time.” A wry laugh.

Oh to have that kind of life. “I suppose that is fair.”

Demyx reached over the small table to take his hand. “Why don’t we just enjoy our date?”

Ienzo sighed. “Yes. You are right.”

---

When Ienzo got home, he braced himself for the third degree; but to his shock, the house was empty. The wards were still intact, and there was no sign of a break in. Was Even simply following his advice?

There was a note on the fridge. No need to worry. Back soon. -E

Ienzo showered, shedding the final remnants of last night. He felt considerably less safe without Demyx. He finished the last remaining bits of his coursework and started his own personal study, one ear at the door, his dagger nearby. Has he always been this paranoid, and simply never noticed?

After a while, he heard the front door open, and braced for attack before he sensed Even. He headed down and saw him carrying in groceries. “So you made it back, then,” he said dryly.

“I would’ve come home--but--well.” He took a breath and explained.

Even’s eyes bulged, finally giving Ienzo the reaction he was looking for. He almost dropped his bags. “You’re sure?”

“Nearly positive.”

He put his head in his hands. “We haven’t had any confirmed sightings, but I’ll be sure to tell Aeleus--in the meantime, you should probably stay here. Else…” He shuddered. “We could always call the boy if we need him.”

“You just sound so pleased.”

“I know that’s his purpose, but at the same time…” He looked back towards Ienzo.

“Something you don’t have control over.” Ienzo chuckled a little. “Right. Though there is one more thing I had questions about.”

Even began to unload the groceries. “And that is?”

“Do you know of any Islander named Kairi?”

Even turned. “...You’ve no memory?”

“I truly don’t.”

“I’m not surprised… it was shortly after the death of your dear parents, so your memory may be compromised, as it were.” He put a hand to his brow. “She was their princess. Are you truly forgetting all of the history I taught you? Why even bother?”

Ienzo rolled his eyes.

“We’d gone there to introduce Ansem as the new king. You were fast friends, if I recall correctly.”

“...Were we…” He muttered. “Are her parents still alive?”

“They fled shortly before the fall. Critical resistance contacts. They hoped to… rebuild, and repatriate.” A sigh. “Didn’t we all.”

Ienzo made a note to himself to look into their line. “Seems magic is much less rare than I was led to believe. We flock together like birds, don’t we?”

“Yes, yes,” Even said absently.

“Might be worth getting to know her then… again.” Ienzo picked up one of the apples that had just been bought.

“Did you enjoy your time gallivanting about?”

“Before I saw him… I did,” Ienzo admitted. “Strange dichotomy, between this “normal” life and everything else. I… you don’t think he knows about me?”

“I… cannot be sure,” Even said. “But we must be vigilant.”

“Are we ever not?” Ienzo looked at his reflection in the wax of the apple. “Were you able to find the goat? I have a lovely recipe.”

---

Ienzo could not stop thinking about Saїx. As he moved through the days… past midterms, past dates with Demyx… he still kept looking out for that shaggy head of blue hair. But Ienzo did not see or sense him again, even past the full moon. How could he possibly relax?

Demyx helped. It was lighthearted, even effortless , to be with him, and knowing his magic was at least partially blocked gave him a modicum of comfort he’d never quite had. They did spend quite a lot of time in his room whenever they could be alone, simply cuddling or kissing or something more.

Ienzo started taking birth control pills, acquired with ease through the student health center. His transition had been magical, not medical, and fertility spells for or against children were frightfully complicated. He knew that final step would probably come soon, and he figured best to be cautious.

How odd.

Ienzo knew he did love him, involuntarily, but still deeply. The more they were together, the more he seemed to notice about him, especially if they spent time with Demyx’s friends; he was unconsciously charming, but on the other hand the real appeal was there. He was sharp, observant, though he often feigned the opposite. They would talk for hours about every little passing thought in their minds; Demyx humored his ramblings about this or that book he’d read, or the theories he had about his own magic. Similarly, hearing Demyx talk so technically about his own music served as a turn-on.

“It’s been easier, since we met,” Demyx admitted, strumming his sitar lightly. “To… make things. I feel like I’ve been missing something, and that hole is just… gone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I know it’s just because… I’m supposed to want to be around you. But at the same time… it’s such a relief.”

“I agree,” Ienzo said quietly. “I feel I can’t let my guard down around anyone else.”

Demyx set his sitar aside and lay back. The string lights around the room made everything rosier. “So this resistance… what happens?”

“The next meeting is apparently soon,” Ienzo admitted, “Around Samhain… the thinning of the veils between worlds.” He looked at his palms; he could feel the magic gradually increasing the closer they got. “The boost in power makes the vulnerability we get by joining worth it. ...So I’ve heard. The longer I live a “normal” life, the less I feel I know.” He sighed. “But at least something can be done. I think. I hope.” He exhaled. The air was getting cooler, the more it edged into fall. He lay back with Demyx and felt him draw his arms around him. “Sometimes I feel like there’s no real future for us. All the while darkness encroaches and we… wait.”

Demyx pressed a kiss against his brow. “I know. Believe me. But… I believe in us. In you.”

“How I wish I could’ve just met you on the street.”

“Well. The alternative other than this is… never meeting at all, and I can’t handle that, either.” He chuckled a little. “I’m just… glad it was you.”

“...I’m glad too.” He leaned in to kiss him. Demyx pulled a hand through his hair and brought him closer; Ienzo rolled his hips so he was lying partially on him. Demyx’s hand slid down his back, over the curve of his ass, bringing with it goosebumps and making him shudder. Ienzo had gotten used to this all too quickly. He let his own hand trace the planes of Demyx’s chest, and heard him gasp softly. Ienzo worked off his shirt and kept touching him, loving the way it made him feel grounded. Warmth rushed to his face.

Demyx undid the buttons of Ienzo’s shirt, sliding it off, and pressed his lips against his throat, nipping softly. Ienzo felt a hand ease between his legs and reached to undo the buttons of his slacks. Still awkward, to undress, but Demyx helped him, kissing his chest, his stomach, and down farther, making him moan. He was eased back down onto the bed. Demyx took off his own pants and returned to him, drawing Ienzo’s mouth back to his.

Demyx drew his hand against Ienzo’s thigh, the soft and sensitive skin there, before so tentatively stroking at his clit. Ienzo shivered. At least it was easier to touch Demyx too now, so he did, taking his dick into his hand and working at the tip. Demyx made a small noise. Ienzo loved the way his breath changed. It should not be this easy to be so vulnerable in front of someone else.

Demyx moved a little quicker, rolling it against his fingertips, and slid one of his fingers inside of Ienzo. This used to be enough; and Ienzo knew he could get off if this continued. But he wondered… “Hey,” he said softly. “Do you think--?”

Demyx cocked his head. “What?”

“I want to… try going farther.”

He gasped. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Um… I… yeah, no, totally.” He laughed a little. “Let me get a condom.” Ienzo watched him cross over to his dresser and open a drawer.

This was so… odd. Ienzo could feel the blush in his own face.

“If I’d known, I would’ve… I don’t know, bought wine, or something.” Demyx chuckled again; Ienzo realized he was nervous.

“No need to be anxious,” he said softly, reaching for his hand.

“I can’t help it.” Demyx bit his lip. He knelt down next to Ienzo, stroking the uneven edges of the package. “Listen… just tell me, if…”

“I know.” Ienzo took Demyx’s dick back into his hand, helping him get hard again. Still, his hands were shaking when he helped him put the condom on.

“I’m surprised you don’t have magical birth control or something.” Demyx eased back on top of him, teased his thighs open.

“It is all very complicated, and requires ingredients that aren’t exactly available in a store.” His heart was racing.

Demyx’s flush worsened; Ienzo touched his cheek. He propped himself up with an elbow. Ienzo felt a finger slide into him, then another, an unexpected prickle of pain giving him pause for a moment, but the way Demyx kissed him helped warm it away. Ienzo wrapped a leg around his hips, to help give him a better angle, and a moment later the tip of it pressed against his opening. “You’re okay?” Demyx asked.

“I think so.”

Demyx eased into him a little more; Ienzo couldn’t help the flinch. It wasn’t agonizing , but it wasn’t comfortable, either. “You sure?”

He’d just have to bear it for a moment. “Yes.”

More pressure, and a bit more tense pain. “It looks like that hurts.”

“It doesn’t.” Ienzo felt his hips against him; that must’ve been all of it. Still, the feel of it was not encouraging; how did people fake orgasms? He could barely keep the grimace off his face. “I’m… fine.”

Demyx exhaled. “Why don’t we do something that feels better for you?”

“How else do I get… used to things?” he asked.

“Lube would probably help.” Demyx pulled out of him. “I can get some for next time, okay?” His expression had become somewhat unreadable; Ienzo felt betrayed by his own body, moreso than usual.

“I’m sorry.”

Demyx kissed him once. “It’s not your fault. Believe me, the first time someone went inside me was a real shitshow.” He offered a tentative smile. He threw away the condom.

Ienzo was shaken into honesty. “I just thought it would be easier,” he mumbled. “After all… it’s all well and good when you touch me, but…”

“We can try again,” Demyx said.

“Aren’t you disappointed?”

Ienzo could see he was deciding whether or not to lie. “Well--a little,” he admitted. “I mean, I thought--”

“It would be the best sex of your life?”

He lay down next to him. “I wouldn’t say best , but--”

“At least you’d finish.” Ienzo bit his lip; his humiliation felt complete, and while he wasn’t aching , exactly, things did feel odd between his legs.

“Hey,” Demyx said softly. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve… fingered you more, or…”

“Lube. As you said.” He tried to smile.

“Do you want me to… touch you, or?”

Ienzo shook his head. “Feels like the moment has passed, no?”

A sigh. “Yeah. Let’s just… cuddle a while.”

[artificialqueens]

colour me blue, chapter three (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 2629

But now, Vanessa gets to be part of it, too. She gets to show Brooke her favourite places to eat, her favourite places to go. She can introduce Brooke to her own friends that she’s beginning to reconnect with, bring her to work and get her the friends and family MAC discount because Brooke’s always complaining about the amount of makeup she has to buy for ballet.

She can take Brooke on a date.

That is, if Brooke wants to.

AN: If you’ve made it to this chapter, the epilogue, thank you. This story was a rollercoaster to write, and I am so grateful for all the sweet comments and feedback on it. I dunno if I would delve into subject matter like this one again, but it’s definitely pushed me to follow through on stories and become a stronger writer in the process. Special thanks to barbie and writ for being wonderful cheerleaders with this story, I love you both <33

“Three life sentences later and I’m free!” Vanessa throws her arms up in the air, nearly losing control of the walker that she’s started to need less and less every day.

“Mija, keep your voice down. Everyone in the lobby’s looking over at us.” Vanessa’s mother swats at her arm as they walk out the front doors of the hospital, ones that she’s not going to have to see for a long, long time.

Well, until her next appointment with her cardiologist. But still.

“I can’t. This is some Shawshank Redemption level shit. I’m finally outta here.” Vanessa ducks out of the way when her mom tries to swat at her shoulder again, nearly ramming into Brooke on her other side, who’s trying hard to keep from laughing.

Brooke can’t help it, though, a little giggle escaping from her lips, and Vanessa can’t help but wink back because she’s happy, so happy.

She’s made it through the months of rehab after her transplant, the endless therapy to gain her strength back. Learning to walk again, getting her voice back and stronger than before, being able to do things by herself the way she should be.

Vanessa feels powerful.

Sure, she’s still going to have appointments that she needs to go to, more check ups and physiotherapy to make her body even stronger, but it doesn’t matter. Because finally, finally, she’s going to have more to life than a hospital room.

Vanessa already has, in a way, with Brooke around. Dropping by the rehab unit after her ballet training, telling Vanessa all about how she’s been building her own strength back up, too. Bringing in different snacks each time for the two of them to try together while they binge watch more trash TV. Cheering Vanessa on as she practices walking in physio, as she’s able to do more and more every single day.

But now, Vanessa gets to be part of it, too. She gets to show Brooke her favourite places to eat, her favourite places to go. She can introduce Brooke to her own friends that she’s beginning to reconnect with, bring her to work and get her the friends and family MAC discount because Brooke’s always complaining about the amount of makeup she has to buy for ballet.

She can take Brooke on a date.

That is, if Brooke wants to.

They drop Vanessa’s mom at her house - technically Vanessa’s house too, after she’d had to move back in a couple of months before being admitted to hospital. When she hadn’t been able to clean her apartment anymore, make herself dinner, because she’d become weak and tired before finishing either. When her heart couldn’t take the strain of simple household tasks any longer.

In rehab, she’d practiced cooking again with her occupational therapist, practiced getting dressed on her own. Practiced all the little things that someone should be able to do on their own, abilities that had slipped from Vanessa’s grasp as she had become weaker and weaker. But now? Vanessa’s stronger. She has to take it slow, yes, but she’s getting there. She can do things on her own again.

The prospect of independence makes Vanessa feel limitless. She doesn’t need others to do simple tasks for her anymore. She can take care of herself, hell, she’s been cleared to go back to work. She’s not reliant on anyone anymore, which means that she can move back out again soon, too.

Not that she’s been at her mom’s house in months, what with being in hospital and all. She just doesn’t want to stay, to stagnate.

Brooke looks at Vanessa from the driver’s seat after they drop the hospital bags with Vanessa’s belongings in them in the front entrance. It’s been months since Vanessa’s gotten her heart, months of her getting stronger and stronger and more independent, but Brooke still looks at her with a dusting of awe on her features. Like she can’t quite believe that she’s looking at her, that she’s there.

Brooke’s gazes are always filled with emotions that Vanessa can’t quite decipher, but ones that are enough to make the heat rise to her cheeks, have her heart (her new heart) turn over in her chest. Because there’s so many unsaid things between them, so much that they haven’t talked about because they haven’t had the chance to, but now that Vanessa’s out of the hospital?

They’re going to have the chance, and the time. Endless time, time that had felt like it was being snatched away while Vanessa was in the hospital.

But not anymore.

“So, where do you want to go?”

Brooke’s question makes Vanessa pause. Sure, Brooke’s asking about options for lunch. But the question feels so much deeper, like it could be about everything in Vanessa’s life.

Where is she going to go? What is she going to do?

The possibilities feel endless. She’s going to go back to work because she misses it, being able to put people together with a handful of products. Maybe she’ll start working out again once she gets cleared to do so from her doctor. Maybe she can watch Brooke dance, maybe Brooke can teach her some dance steps herself.

Vanessa’s life isn’t restricted anymore. She can make her own decisions, have the chance to try out different things.

But for now, for the first choice she’s going to make with her newfound freedom?

“Let’s get some Chipotle.”

“Can I look yet?”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Vanessa twirls in place before flopping back on the mattress in front of Brooke, dropping the makeup products in her hands into the bed. “I ain’t done. You still need glitter.”

“Glitter?”

“Yes, glitter. This ain’t gonna be a boring look. Now stay still.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow but acquiesces, letting Vanessa dust her cheek lightly with her finger. Vanessa can feel the familiar routine of doing makeup settle into her bones, make everything feel like it should, the way it used to.

Vanessa’s had a couple of shifts back at work - not too long, only half days to start - but they’ve gone well. She’s able to restock the shelves, do makeup on clients, stay on her feet for hours at a time. Each step she’s able to take feels like she’s dreaming, like she shouldn’t be able to.

But Vanessa is. She finally is.

Brooke had picked her up from work today since she’d had the day off, intent on spending the evening eating comfort food and watching TLC. But then Brooke had seen the coloured liner on Vanessa’s lids, the dark lipstick and she’d brought up the question that she’d asked months and months ago, back when they were both still sharing a hospital room.

You’d said you’d do my makeup one day, remember?

And so Vanessa’s gotten Brooke sitting ever so still on her bed, mapping out her face like a canvas with contour and highlight and cut creases. She feels like she’s on a roll, like she never wants to stop, not when Brooke is her favourite new client. The most beautiful client she’s ever seen, one who still gives Vanessa soft little butterflies in her chest even after months and months of knowing her.

Vanessa brushes some excess setting powder off of Brooke’s cheeks, removes the clips in Brooke’s hair that have been holding her locks out of the way. She can’t help the little noise of excitement that she lets out, poking Brooke’s shoulder until she turns around and faces the mirror.

“Done.”

Brooke opens her eyes and looks in the mirror, and the gasp that leaves her mouth makes Vanessa want to dance around.

“Holy shit, Ness. You’ve made me look good.” Brooke’s turning her face slightly, looking at it from all angles. “How did you give me cheekbones?”

“You’ve always had cheekbones. Real easy to make you look good when the source material is already so beautiful.”

It’s true. Vanessa’s seen Brooke in all sorts of states. In the hospital, makeup free, hair mussed. In her stage makeup, looking like a doll in pointe shoes. Sleepy when she wakes up from a nap, makeup smudged on her face no matter how many times Vanessa tells her to take it off before she passes out. Somehow always perfect.

But Brooke’s cheeks flush crimson at her words just the same, her eyes ducking down. It’s still thrilling somehow, the fact that she’s known Brooke for what feels like ages yet some things still feel so new, so unexplored. Mostly because life had kept them from getting the chance to do so - the hospital stays, the near death moments that took a little bit more precedence over getting to flirt with Brooke the way she wanted to.

But not anymore. And Vanessa’s going to take it.

“Shut up.” Brooke’s cheeks are still pink but Vanessa can see the pleased look in her eyes, the way she keeps glancing up at her reflection.

“Prettier than every single one of those models in the MAC makeup ads.” Vanessa leans on Brooke’s shoulder - not because she’s tired or needs to rest, but because it’s nice. Comfortable.

“Liar.” Brooke’s smile is soft when Vanessa lifts her head back up, and Vanessa realizes how close they’re actually sitting.

Vanessa gives her a cheeky grin back, one that makes Brooke’s smile grow. Vanessa loves the sight. “Never lied in my whole life, Miss B.”

“You lied to your nurse that one time when you hid a bag of potato chips as a snack in your bedsheets.”

Vanessa sticks out her tongue at Brooke, making her crack up. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Vanessa notices how long Brooke’s eyelashes are when they settle into a silence, when Brooke grabs her hands and starts to draw patterns all over her palms.

“I remember when I’d hold onto your hand when sitting in your room in the ICU, months ago. You wouldn’t squeeze back, asleep and all that. But your hands were still warm. Your pulse was beating by your wrist.” Brooke’s voice is soft and she doesn’t look up, continues tracing along Vanessa’s lifeline, her heartline. “It made me believe that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. If your body was still fighting that hard to keep going.”

“Can’t keep me down for nothing.” Vanessa puts a finger under Brooke’s chin, lifts her face up to look at her. She can still see the residual haze behind her eyes, made up of the weeks and weeks of uncertainty that they’d both gone through, so close to having everything go wrong, despite the fact that it’s been months since then. Months of Vanessa healing more and more.

The fear is still there.

“I’m still here. And I ain’t going anywhere. Not now, not when I have you.” Vanessa pauses after the words leave her, because-

Does she have Brooke?

Conceptually, Vanessa knows that she does. She knows that Brooke’s become her best friend and favourite person to talk to and spend time with and she never ever wants to lose her, but-

But then Brooke kisses her, grabs her face with both of her hands and her lips are soft, so soft and Vanessa can’t help but gasp when they break the kiss, when Brooke’s forehead is against hers and they’re both trembling slightly.

Vanessa looks up, her lips parting unintentionally and Brooke’s eyes are as wide as hers, her chest rising and falling and she looks like she’s about to apologize, pull back, and Vanessa can’t help but close the distance between them once more.

Kissing Brooke feels like the first time Vanessa had gotten to walk without a walker again. An action so new, so novel, one that makes her pulse race and her head spin, but also one that feels familiar. Like home. Like this is what they’re meant to be doing, what they both deserve. Brooke tightens her arms around her waist, pulls her closer and Vanessa’s never felt like she’s fit anywhere better than within Brooke’s embrace.

Vanessa pulls back and Brooke’s face is lit up brighter than the sun and the little laugh that leaves her is one that feels like a bit of release, one that they’ve both needed for so long. Vanessa almost doesn’t want to let go of Brooke, move farther back from her ever again, because it feels right. Safe. Like home.

Brooke’s her home.

Not the hospital, not her mom’s house. But rather her home is a person, someone who’s taken over her heart despite her objections, who’s been through so much with her.

Vanessa never wants to let her go.

“I wanted to do that for so long.” Brooke whispers the words, as if speaking any louder will break the spell and shatter whatever is keeping them in each other’s grasp.

Vanessa presses a little kiss to the corner of Brooke’s mouth because she can’t help it, can’t keep herself back. “Why didn’t you?”

Brooke shoots her a look. “Why do you think?”

“What, that little hospital stay?” Vanessa waves a hand airily, holds back a laugh when Brooke raises an eyebrow. It’s not joking material yet, not really. But almost.

“I don’t think your old dinky little heart would have survived a kiss from me, do you?” Brooke snickers and Vanessa feels her own mouth drop open.

“As if.” She shoves Brooke’s shoulder but can’t help but giggle too, join in Brooke’s laughter.

“Imagine if I’d kissed you and your heart rate monitor sped up and started beeping faster. That would have been hysterical.” Brooke looks smug, too smug, and Vanessa groans at the thought.

“God, don’t even start. That would have been embarrassing.” Vanessa shudders, then pauses. Because sure, back then, Vanessa would have cared, but…

“Feel it now.” Vanessa grabs Brooke’s hand from where it’s resting on her waist, presses it on her chest.

Above her heart. Her new, working heart that’s beating strong, so strong, pumping blood and oxygen around her body and keeping her alive. Letting her kiss Brooke.

Brooke’s hand is warm under hers, pressing to the side of her breastbone and her lips part, her eyes widening. “It’s fast.”

“All you, baby.”

Now that they’re both out in the open with what they’ve been holding back (Brooke’s kissed her, kissed her), the words feel natural rolling off of Vanessa’s tongue. Like she’s been keeping so many things back from Brooke for her own good but now she can tell her, have her know that she cares.

Vanessa drops her head against Brooke, their hands still pressing above her heart and it feels so right, so perfect. As if today hadn’t been their first kiss but more like their hundredth, as if they’ve been like this forever. She fists her hands in Brooke’s shirt, relishing in how close she is, how she can almost feel Brooke’s breathing.

“I’m glad we’re here now.” Brooke lifts her head up before leaning in to kiss her again but Vanessa pauses, pushes her back slightly.

“Hold up. I know it’s liquid lipstick, but you’re gonna make it smudge. That took real effort.”

Brooke snorts. “Don’t care.”

Vanessa can’t even protest when Brooke leans in again, because the heart beating fast in her chest may not be hers, but it’s strong. It’s showing her that she’s alive, how lucky she is, and how Brooke has captured it and made it hers, one hundred percent. Something Vanessa doesn’t want to change for the world.

Vanessa won’t have to, not when Brooke’s holding her this tight, this close. Not after they’ve both made it through the worst of the worst to get here, coming out the other side with two beating hearts that are in sync, the way they’ll always stay.

[haberdashing]

This Place Is Not My Home

TMA fic. After a very long day, Elias returns to his living space... which he doesn’t recognize at all. Luckily, he has a few companions by his side to help him figure things out.

Follow-up to A Rude Awakening and The Blind Meeting The Blind.

on AO3

Elias knew every square inch of his flat, which would probably be more impressive if the place wasn’t so damn tiny.

Objectively speaking, it wasn’t much to write home about, he knew. The space was cramped, the wallpaper was peeling, the hot water supply was iffy at best, it was freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer no matter how he configured the thermostat, and there was always the lingering scent of mildew and weed (he was trying to cut down on his use of the latter--mostly because it was an expensive habit, partly because he was afraid the smell would catch on his work clothes and James would notice and he’d get in trouble for it--but, well, old habits die hard)...

It was a shitty flat, sure. But it was his shitty flat. Elias didn’t share it with anyone, didn’t have to leech off his trust fund or beg his father for help just to pay the rent. It was a space all his own, one he had earned the right to reside in, one that he worked to maintain as best he could, one where he could relax and unwind after a long day of work without any fear of interruption.

Or, at least, that was how things had been back in 1996. Which felt like it had been only hours ago, but had in fact been all of twenty-three years in the past now.

He still had a flat of his own in 2019, but it wasn’t the same one. It was more centrally-located, for one, compared to his old place, which had always required a lengthy Tube ride to get to work at the Institute. It was on the top floor of a skyscraper, with what was apparently a spectacular view of downtown London, not that Elias himself would ever get to appreciate it.

And it was utterly foreign to him.

It smelled like old books and cleaning supplies, it was actually a reasonable enough temperature inside (slightly warm for Elias’ tastes, but then, he always did tend to be on the warm side), and Elias was pretty sure that a single room in the place could easily contain his entire flat from 1996 with room to spare.

At least he wasn’t there alone when he arrived. Jon and Martin had gone off to do... something with the rest of the night (Elias’ money was on them snogging, or possibly doing more than snogging, though he couldn’t say for sure), but Basira, Daisy, and, to his surprise, even Melanie had agreed to accompany him as he entered what had apparently been “his” living space for years now for the first time.

Admittedly, it became immediately apparent that at least one of them had an ulterior motive for volunteering to help Elias.

“What can I break in here?”

Elias instinctively turned towards Melanie, though he knew well enough that she couldn’t see the gesture any more than he could see the expression on her face. “Wow, rude.”

“I mean, I’ve been dreaming for a while now of going to Elias- er, going to Jonah Magnus’ home and trashing the place. And now he’s dead and everything, and this place practically smells like money... c’mon, let me have this. It’s not even your stuff.”

“It literally is my stuff though. I mean, I might not have picked it out, but legally speaking-”

“Right, because you all are so big on following the law, aren’t you?”

Elias wasn’t sure what exactly Melanie was referencing there, but he could definitely feel an uncomfortable tension settle over the room just the same.

“Just let me break something.”

“Nobody’s breaking anything in my flat.” Elias paused, considering what monstrosities might well be waiting inside, especially given what he now knew about Jonah Magnus’ proclivities. “At least not without getting my permission first.”

“You’re no fun.”

Elias probably would have rolled his eyes at that, if he had them. As it was, he let out an exaggerated sigh and trudged further inside.

It took less than a minute before Elias heard the clang of metal striking marble.

“Elias, can I-”

Elias’ shoulders tensed up a little as he prepared for the inevitable question from Melanie, but her speech stopped suddenly, and when it restarted it was softer and shakier.

“I’m sorry, that just- it sounds wrong, to me, I promised myself I’d never ask Elias for anything again, and I know you’re not the same Elias Bouchard but it’s still weird somehow-”

Elias scratched the back of his head nervously. “You could call me Eli, if that’d help. Some of my old school mates used to call me that. ‘s no skin off my back.”

Admittedly, he hadn’t been called that since he was a teenager, which felt like ages ago, and the wrinkles that were starting to cover his skin were proof that it was even longer ago than it felt...

...but Elias remembered those days fondly, remembered how his father would protest because “We named you Elias because we wanted you to be called Elias!” and how that only made him cling to the nickname more fervently in a fit of teenage rebellion, and it felt right, somehow.

Plus, whatever steps he could take to avoid being confused for Jonah Magnus again, Elias would gladly take in a heartbeat.

“Alright then. Sure. Eli, can I break this?”

“You’re gonna have to tell me what ‘this’ is first.”

“Metal statue of a person wearing robes, it’s got eyes and a smile but no nose, which is surprisingly creepy-”

“First off, what’s your plan for breaking a statue made of metal?”

The long hesitation before Melanie’s response was practically an answer in and of itself.

“I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“Aaaand that’s a no from me.”

Melanie let out a huffy sigh.

“Try again?” Elias said in a more encouraging tone.

“Speaking of creepy, get a load of that painting.”

Elias jumped a little at the sound of Daisy’s voice; he’d been so focused on talking to Melanie and making sure she only destroyed things that deserved it that he’d half-forgotten that Daisy and Basira were there as well. The two of them could be surprisingly quiet when they wanted to be, apparently.

“What painting?” Elias asked.

“It’s hanging in the middle of the hallway, old guy wearing fancy Victorian-looking clothes. Dunno who it is, but I don’t like the look in his eyes.”

Daisy and Basira took a few steps closer to the painting in question.

“I think...” Basira let out a soft gasp. “I know who that is. God.”

“Who is it?”

“Jonah Magnus. The original. I read up on the history of the Institute back when I first joined, I remember that face. The smirk’s familiar enough too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He put a painting of himself in his front hallway? Seriously?”

“Apparently. Not terribly subtle, was he?”

Melanie cleared her throat loudly. “Can I?”

Elias let out a shaky laugh as he replied, “Please.”

The painting was taken off the wall, in a way that sounded like it might have scraped against the paint on the way down, but the state of the paint on the walls of his flat was the least of Elias’ concerns right about now. It got handed to Melanie, who wasted no time in attacking it; the sound of a knife stabbing canvas was a peculiar one, but after a few solid stabs she went from stabbing to ripping, the noise indistinct enough that Elias wasn’t sure if she was still using the knife or was tearing the painting apart with her bare hands.

After a minute or two of tearing, small pieces of what had once been a painting landing on the floor with soft thumps periodically, Melanie wiped her hands on her pants and said, “God, that felt good.”

After a brief pause, she added, “Thanks, I guess. I take back that time I got Tim to call you Elias Douchard-”

“Never heard that one before.” Elias said in the driest tone he could muster.

“-and then he posted it on Twitter dozens of times over--he was so proud of himself, too, even though it wasn’t even his idea--think he got a couple hundred retweets out of it, more than I expected really...”

Elias knew he was going to respond with a question, because how could he not after an apology/confession like that thrust upon him without warning, and two possibilities for what that question might be stood out to him.

This was the first time he’d heard the name Tim--from Melanie, from anyone in 2019--and Elias was naturally curious as to who that might be... but whoever Tim was, he clearly wasn’t a part of their little gang anymore, though it sounded as though he once had been, and regardless of the specifics of how exactly this Tim was forced out of the picture, it was almost certainly an unpleasant story that would bring down the mood right when things were finally starting to get a little less somber.

So instead, Elias went for the safe option.

“What’s Twitter?”

Basira let out a soft snort, and Daisy said, “Oh, you sweet summer child...”

“It’s a website--social media thing, the gimmick is you can only write so much--but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?” Elias asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“...I’m sorry, I guess? I mean, that’s on the Internet forever now. That’s your- your Internet legacy.”

“If a childish pun being part of my ‘Internet legacy’ is the biggest problem I have to face from all of this, I’ll be damn lucky.”

“Fair point.”

They made their way through the hallway and into another room--The living room? Family room? God, Elias didn’t even know the layout of the place well enough to tell--before Basira spoke up.

“Giant eye tapestry on the couch... he really wasn’t subtle, was he? Or maybe he just thought he was being clever...”

“Go for it.” Elias said, a wry smile on his face.

“I- I wasn’t actually-” Basira laughed a little there. Had he heard her laugh before? If so, he couldn’t remember. It had a nice ring to it. “I was just making a comment, but you know what, sure, I’ll destroy it for you.”

“Good. Probably not in the best taste to have eye stuff all over when, well, you’ve got none.”

Elias had meant the comment to be a light-hearted one, but an awkward silence fell over the room. (He still didn’t know which of the group had done the actual eye-gouging bit--and rather preferred it that way, to be honest--but it belatedly occurred to him that it might be a sore point for more than just him, especially since Melanie’d gone through much the same thing.)

The sound he heard from Basira after she grabbed the tapestry off the couch was a much smaller one than he’d expected, a far cry from the grand spectacle of stabbing and ripping that Melanie had performed, and Elias wasn’t even sure what the sound was until he smelled smoke and heard a series of crackling sounds. A lighter opening and flicking on, then, and fire beginning to consume the fabric. She was burning it, then. Sensible enough, he supposed, though...

“Don’t go burning this whole place down, you hear me?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“If you do, you’ll have to replace everything in it for me, you know. Even the spooky shit.” Elias paused briefly, more for effect than to actually consider his next words. “Especially the spooky shit.”

“And bankrupt myself halfway through?” Basira snorted. “Nice try, rich guy.”

Elias let out a hollow laugh, but he couldn’t bring himself to continue their banter further. Basira probably didn’t know it--aside from the general outline of things, he hadn’t gotten that into his life story with them, probably knew more about each of them than they did about the real him--but it wasn’t the first time he’d had his wealth thrown at him as an insult, and maybe it was a stupid thing to be sensitive about, being mocked for being a trust fund kid, but he was sensitive about it just the same.

After a brief pause, probably the others taking the time to realize that Elias wasn’t planning on speaking up anymore, they went back to trudging through the flat, Basira and Daisy giving an ongoing commentary on what was to be found in there. Elias had had his fair share of money before, but it sounded like Jonah Magnus went above and beyond even the usual shows of wealth he was used to. Everything was luxurious and bespoke and impeccably-made. The sight was probably breath-taking, though Elias wouldn’t know, and those who did were hardly in the mood for admiration.

Meanwhile, Elias had grown used to towels filled with holes around his place, partly because replacing them all would make finances difficult for a bit without dipping into his father’s money one way or another, partly because he was just too lazy to bother with hunting down replacement towels in his free time outside of work.

This was... going to be a bit of an adjustment.

“Mantle’s got some big-eyed Russian nesting dolls-”

“Matryoshka.” Basira muttered.

Elias could hear the grin on Daisy’s face as she repeated, “Yeah, like I said, Russian nesting dolls. Don’t like them one bit, something about their expression... Unlike some people-” And here Elias was sure Daisy was staring at and/or gesturing towards Melanie, not that she’d know any better than he did. “-I didn’t come here to break things, but destroying those would probably put me a little more at ease.”

“Sure, why not.” Elias said, a slight sigh in his voice as he wondered how much of a mess the flat--his flat--was going to be by the time the others were done breaking things in it.

Part of Elias was curious to see how exactly Daisy would go about demolishing the nesting dolls that made her so uneasy. Would she go Melanie’s route, stabbing and smashing them until they were unrecognizable? Or something subtler, like Basira’s flames, quiet but still sure in their destruction?

Elias jumped when he heard the gunshot, flinching as the dolls shattered to pieces. He instinctively threw his hands up in front of his face protectively, only lowering them slowly when he heard Daisy softly laughing.

“I- I thought you knew-” she stammered out between laughs.

“That you had a gun? No, I didn’t! Why do you have a gun, anyway?”

Daisy didn’t respond, but as her laughs quieted somewhat Basira joined in with her own, and Elias began to slump down, feeling that somehow he was the one who crossed a line here...

...until Melanie spoke up to defend him when he himself felt too awkward to speak.

“It’s not really that funny, you guys. And it’s a valid question, you know, if you’re- him.”

That emboldened Elias enough for him to speak for himself again. “New rule: no using guns in my house. Didn’t think I needed to specify that, but apparently I do.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“And why do you have a gun?”

“It’s... it’s complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated with you lot, isn’t it?”

“Like you’re one to talk.” Basira muttered, and Elias could feel his face heating up; rather than respond, though, he just walked onward, forcibly changing the subject as yet more of Jonah Magnus’ household arrangement was uncovered.

They stopped asking to break things, after that, though Elias offered things up for destruction once or twice when they sounded particularly offensive. He realized, as the conversation moved forward, that he hadn’t been the one who had crossed a line there after all, and that they’d probably realized as much as well. Things were calmer, then, a mood of inquisitive exploration rather than righteous destruction.

As Elias walked from room to room of what was now his flat, learning more about what was in it, how perfectly coordinated it all was, how much wealth had clearly been poured into making it just right... it didn’t feel like the space he was exploring was his own. Description after description of the tasteful and mildly eccentric conversation pieces to be found on a number of surfaces there seemed familiar, but not as things Elias himself would have chosen. It felt uncomfortably like this was all his father’s stuff, that perhaps his father had died (had his father died? Elias still didn’t know either way) and he had inherited his old living space. It was an easier scenario to wrap his head around than the reality of things, but not one that really made him feel any better about it all.

Elias would make it his own space eventually, sure, but that would take time, time and effort, and Elias felt like he had used up enough of both already by just getting himself through the day more or less intact.

For now, though, he dragged his hands along the row of suits (”Does this man own a single pair of sweatpants? I know I sure did--what’d he do with them all, bag them all up and give the lot to Oxfam?”), and when Basira noted dryly that he was getting blood on them, he didn’t hesitate in his response.

“Good. That’s a quality aesthetic right there. Imagine me going into a room of businessmen with my fancy bloodstained suit. What are they going to do, point it out, ask where the blood came from?”

He got a few laughs from that, and an appreciative murmur of “Hell of a power move” from Melanie, so that felt like a success, at least. Bloodstains weren’t the kind of mark he really wanted to leave on this place, but it was something, at least. It was... it was a start.

Eventually, the whole of the flat--which was huge, a much bigger space than Elias needed or even really wanted--had been fully explored, and after a bit of awkward discussion, Basira, Daisy, and Melanie left him on his own. It had been a long day, and Elias didn’t hesitate to head to his bed.

The mattress was almost obscenely soft, a far cry from the uncomfortable solid block of a mattress Elias was used to, and it had an imprint in it that fit Elias’ shape perfectly, if he slept on his back. Which he didn’t. Elias was strictly a side sleeper, though he switched which side he slept on periodically, often tossing and turning and switching between the two in the middle of the night.

Elias curled onto his right side and clung to those too-soft sheets and thought about what now was and what had been.

For all the wealth contained within the space that Jonah Magnus had curated as his own over the years, Elias would have gladly traded it all to be back in his shitty, cheap, cramped, falling-apart flat from 1996, to be somewhere that was truly his once more.

He’d never thought he’d wax nostalgic over that flat, had figured he’d be glad to be rid of it once he could get something better, but... well...

Life wasn’t always that simple, was it?