#cacty's idiotic thought process

[mythic-weapon]

gentle remwinder that if u sexually abused someone its ok !!!! dont worry u just didnt know then!!! be nice to urself uwuwuuu

[aitarose]

CACTUS JUICE | SOKKA

sokka x reader [fem]

PLOT: Three kids and a flying lemur stranded in the desert with nothing but the bags on their backs, not to mention the boy that’s high on cactus juice.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

A/N: i love boyfriend!sokka but lmao how does suki deal with this?? also this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written, sokka on crack is high quality stuff

MY MASTERLIST

“You look gross.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in annoyance at her boyfriend’s remarks. She, Sokka, and the rest of the Gaang had been trekking through the desert for hours without any clear path ahead.

With Aang and Appa missing, they had no direction or any idea of what surrounded them. Their only objective was to find someone, anyone who knew the way out of the sand filled hills.

“I’m sorry..what was that you just said to me, Sokka?” Y/N raised her eyebrows at the warrior.

He stared at her with wide eyes while he watched his beloved girlfriend wipe beads of sweat off of her forehead. She was covered in sand, they all were—but Y/N was in a bit of a worse condition than everyone else.

Grains of sand fell from her hair with every step she took. Her clothes were stained with a thick layer of dusk. Dirt gathered beneath her fingernails and was smeared across her cheeks.

“Oh nothing, Y/N.” Sokka laughed sheepishly, cowering slightly from the harsh glare the girl was sending his way.

He slung his wrapped arm over her shoulder, pulling her close whilst the dust migrated to his own body. “The dirt really captures your personality, brings out your character.”

Y/N jokingly pushed Sokka away as she heard sparse giggles from Toph and Katara. Even Aang let out a curt laugh at the couples’ playful antics. It had been a really tough day. It was nice to have some sort of positivity after the incident at the library.

As the group of misfit teens carried on, it was becoming apparent that they wouldn’t be able to go all day without any source of water. The sun was beaming directly above the group, tiring them to near exhaustion and dehydration.

Sokka felt that it had become almost unbearable, to the point where he was using Momo as a sun hat to cover both him and Y/N. 

“C’mon guys,” Katara sighed from up ahead. She was trying to keep everyone motivated and optimistic, something she had to do far too often. “We’ve gotta stick together.”

Y/N stifled a laugh as Sokka peeled himself out of their lazy embrace. 

“If I sweat anymore,” he sarcastically replied, “I don’t think sticking together will be a problem.”

The group was beginning to become restless, specifically Sokka. He needed some sort of liquid to calm his nerves.

“Look!” He cried, using Y/N’s finger to point to a tower of cacti. Surprised by the strength of his pull, Y/N fell to the ground, sand filling her entire mouth.

“Some boyfriend you are!” She huffed, spitting the tiny morsels into the air as Sokka made his way to the cacti in a trance. “You could’ve at least helped me up!”

Sokka waved his hand dismissively at the girl, “Not now, my little dirt queen. Sokka needs water.”

Everyone watched as he brought his sword down on the plant, making a clean slice. He held the makeshift cup above his head before he chugged the strange juice, not letting any drop go to waste.

Y/N grimaced at the thought of drinking the pale liquid. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Y/N’s right, Sokka.” Katara said, agreeing with her brother’s girlfriend. “You shouldn’t be drinking from strange plants.” 

Sokka shrugged whilst he split open yet another cacti. “But there’s water inside these plants!”

He looked up at Y/N as he held up a freshly cut cactus for her to drink out of. She smiled sweetly at the boy before pushing his hand away, knocking over the cup in the process.

“No thanks,” she blatantly said to him. Y/N was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to drink out of something that could give her a disease. “It’s all yours.”

“Suit yourself!” Sokka exclaimed, liquid dripping down his chin onto Momo’s head. “It’s very thirst-quenching, though!”

Not even a moment later, Y/N’s face dropped to see Sokka’s eyes wide and dilated. He seemed frozen in place, holding his cactus while he stared into space. 

“Drink cactus juice.” He said, twirling his fingers around the drink. “It’ll quench you. Nothing’s quenchier!”

Y/N stood up, still picking sand out of her teeth. She cautiously made her way over to her boyfriend and placed both hands on his shoulders. 

“Sokka.” She could feel him shaking with anticipation, but anticipation for what? “Are you alright? You don’t look so—”

“IT’S THE QUENCHIEST!” 

Y/N screamed in surprise at Sokka’s outburst. His nose touching hers as he surged forwards offering her another drink. She stood completely still, making uncomfortable eye contact with the water tribe boy.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” Katara’s eyes narrowed as she emptied his drink. 

Sokka completely ignored her, using Y/N’s finger yet again, this time pointing at Toph.

“Who lit Toph on fire?”

“How did we get out here in the middle of the ocean?”

“Why am I dating a sand monster?”

Sokka’s questions were relentless. The cactus juice made his usual nonsense sound even more delirious. He was bouncing off the walls with energy. Constantly relaying between the three girls.

After the first five minutes, Toph was over Sokka’s antics. She continued walking, pretending the boy didn’t exist while Katara made her best attempts to control his outbursts. 

The only girl enjoying the insanity of the situation was Y/N, but then again she was his girlfriend. She enjoyed anything and everything Sokka did.

“Y/N!” Sokka exclaimed excitedly, pulling her along with him as he ran in circles. “I’m making a tornado! Who’s the airbender now, Aang?”

Y/N burst out laughing while she was yanked in each direction. Her hair whipped in her face, dust flying everywhere. She and Sokka looked like two flying lemurs during a hurricane. It was truly a sight to see.

Her feet stumbled over each other as Sokka sprinted in front of the others. He continued screaming absolute nonsense to the clouds, not noticing Y/N struggling to keep up.

“Sokka!” She yelped, tripping over her own footsteps. She was beginning to think she had had enough of her boyfriend’s chaos. “I think we should slow down now!”

The boy whipped his head around to look at her. His gaze intense, not with lust or romance, but with a frenzied craze. 

His abrupt movement shocked Y/N, who was still in motion.

As she went flying forwards, Katara screamed, watching her friend fall down the massive sand hill. Sokka rolled down after her, somersaulting in unison with her tumbles. Toph stood still not knowing what was happening. 

“Sokka!” Y/N shouted between faceplants, “I am so breaking up with you after this!”

The free falling girl came to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Once again sand filled her mouth, but this time that wasn’t it's only hiding place. It was lodged in her ears, her armpits, and her clothing. 

Y/N cradled her neck in pain as she heard muffled footsteps nearing her. She looked up to find Sokka. Her vision flared. Anger being the only emotion on her mind.

“You idiot!” Y/N slapped Sokka’s knees from her seat, feeling satisfied as she watched him crumble to the ground. “I could’ve gotten hurt! I could’ve broken my neck! You could’ve broken your neck! If I fall down on something tall—you don’t jump after me!”

While Y/N scolded Sokka with worry laced in her voice, he moved to hold her tightly. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist and he nestled his face in her neck. 

Y/N’s rant ceased. She maneuvered herself so that they were in a more comfortable position. She sighed contently as Sokka ran his hands up and down her back.

“I’m sorry for getting upset.” She mumbled in his ear. “It wasn’t really your fault.”

Sokka pulled back slightly, a soft smile gracing his face. He pushed the loose strands of hair away from his girl’s forehead, holding her cheeks in his palms. 

Y/N blushed as he surged forward, much like the last time but also much different. Now he was gentle, the rowdy mood long gone, as he pressed a soft kiss to her chapped lips. 

Sokka didn’t need to use his words to apologize, the kiss speaking for him. 

As he slowly let go, Y/N grinned at the boy. She was glad that his insanity had finally passed.

“Let’s get back to Katara and Toph,” he said whilst helping her stand, his hands finding their rightful place in her’s. 

“They need to see that my girlfriend looks even grosser than before.”

With that comment, Sokka received a hard smack on the head.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.���

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[sounddrive]

10 Gifts For A 10 Year Old

This year for @fieldsofvesuvia, I got @sumilong as a giftee! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I had writing it!

“Ilya! I cannot believe you!” Lilinka has her hands on her hips, glaring in exasperation at the teenager before her.

“I know . . .” Ilya rubs his neck, face flushed.

“Today, of all days?!”

“I knooooow . . .”

“Well,” Lilinka sighs, shaking her head, “you have made your bed, my dear.”

“I am going to get Pasha her present!” Ilya replies, confident. “It’s the least I could do! She’s turning ten!”

“Ilya, how in the world have you done this for five years straight?”

“I still, er, got it on time. She loved each and every one!”

“Ilya, the party is in three hours.”

“Pressure makes diamonds, Lilinka!”

“Famous last words, Ilya,” the old woman replies in kind, laughing softly as he marches out to do just that. Lilinka glances up at the ceiling, shaking her head as she mutters to herself.

“I wonder how this year is going to turn out . . .”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

. . . What did ten year olds like, anyway?

Ilya walks around Nevion, trying to see what was in stock in any and all the shops. To make sure Pasha wouldn’t peep at the decorations, Lilinka had Pasha busy at the spa.

Ilya had spent an hour roaming without any luck. He ends up in a cafe with outdoor seating. Seeing his distress as the minutes tick by, one of the servers took pity on him. Ilya can only manage a quiet thank you as they hand him a glass of water, on the house.

The teenager rubs his face, regretting for the umpteenth time for his procrastination. How did he manage to do this five years in a row, indeed! He downs the cup and returns the glass to one of the servers, thanking them.

Before he could point his shoes in another direction, he spots a wheeled cart not too far from the cafe. A starburst goes off above his head. He immediately rushes over, barely able to correct himself from tripping over his feet in the process.

O*O*O

The sign above the cart reads Oddly Shayped Plants and Planters. The signage was promising, so Ilya went to take a gander at the wares.

It turns out that the owner of the cart was freshly out of the spa. They were clean shaven and, in their words, felt that their spirit was cleansed too.

“So, what can I do for you young man?” they ask, looking at Ilya with a pleasant demeanor.

“I’m, uh, browsing for the moment,” Ilya explains, rubbing the side of his neck “I’m not exactly sure what—”

Before he could continue and explain himself, the salesperson claps a hearty hand over his shoulder. Ilya is more or less directed to a particular ware. The auburn haired teenager wonders for a few moments why it was hidden. That is, until the salesperson pulls the light fabric cover away.

Given that the salesperson swore up and down they found it in the wild like this, Ilya found himself to be impressed. The teenager was sure it was a cactus. The sight of it however knocks the wind out of his lungs. The cactus itself has an unfortunate limpness of shape and, presumably, of function. The very thought sends Ilya into a red-faced and barely-suppressed bout of teary laughter for five straight minutes.

Once the older Devorak siblings got himself together, he thanks them, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

“You see,” he explains, “my sister is turning ten years old, and she is er, quite fond of cats. Are any of these planters feline-shaped, my good fellow?”

“Oh! I think these fit the ticket,” the salesperson leads Ilya back to two specific crates.

Ilya peers into these crates, eyebrows shooting up in delight at what he’s seeing. The planters themselves were in the shape of cats. However, the little cacti act as a tall, spindly tail per kitty-shaped planter.

It was perfect!

“Would it be, er, possible to take the whole lot?” Ilya asks, noting that there were indeed ten of them. Ten kitty-shaped planters for his ten year old, feline-loving sister. It couldn’t be more poetic!

When the salesperson told him of the price, the teenager almost collapsed from a heart attack. Ilya desperately digs into his pockets, finding he was severely lacking in the coinage the seller accepted.

“Ah, er—” Ilya wracks his brain for ideas. “Is there anyway you’d, uh, be up for a trade of some sort? Within reason!” There had to be something the vendor could want . . .

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

To say the least, this wasn’t going to be easy. Ilya offered his services in helping to take care of the cart, only to realize time was seriously against him. This left trading . . . hence why Ilya was at this friend’s house.

“Ilya, are you serious?”

“Misha, please—!”

"Why in the world did you promise this stranger my mother's pelmeni?"

Ilya quickly explains the bind he is in, getting an exasperated look from his friend.

". . . my god you idiot. Why did you do this again?" Misha sighs.

“Misha, my friend—”

“Oh here we go . . .” He sets down his woodwork, looking at Ilya.

“—for the sake of my beloved sister,” Ilya is ready to throw himself at Misha’s feet in order to get further with this, “can you please convince your delightful mother to make it? I’ll compensate by helping you haul in the next order of wood for a week!”

“The next three orders and we’ll call it even.”

“Done!” Ilya declares in turn. The two immediately sign a little contract, so Ilya wouldn’t forget.

Nothing else could go wrong, right?

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The two of them had to run over to Yeva’s house. Her family had recently come into a good amount of lamb, of which they needed for the pelmeni.

“. . . are you serious?” Yeva stares at the two before her, hands on her hips.

“Ask him Yev; I’m just here for the show,” Misha grins devilishly. Ilya looks over to him with an expression of devastated betrayal.

“Misha!”

“Ilya,” Misha replies in kind, a smarmy smile on his face.

Yeva pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling heavily. “Ilya, you owe me big if you need that much.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Help me clean out the stables for two weeks—”

“Hey he owes me too; we should coordinate dates and times,” Misha pipes up.

“Ah, so that’s how you got into this mess,” Yeva nods, laughing.

“Some friends you are,” Ilya dramatically falls over, being caught by Misha. “Leaving me wounded!”

“Oh shut up, man,” Yeva throws a nearby rag at him. “C’mon, or else your little sister will disown you!”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Fifteen minutes after the party started . . .

“Should this just about do it? I also told the barkeep to get you a flagon of ale,” Ilya rambles, handing the plate of pelmeni to the cactus seller. “Now, uh, about those planters?”

“Well, let me taste this first,” the cactus seller grumps. “Then I’ll see about it . . .”

Lucky for Ilya, Misha’s pelmeni was just the ticket for the vendor. The auburn-haired teen fumbled in getting the key from the other to grab the kitten planters.

“You don’t have any wrapping paper, do you?”

“I ran out yesterday. Sorry kid.”

. . . DAMN IT.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Ilya had barely hidden the cacti in his closet when Pasha trots into his doorway.

“Ilya! Hurry up!” she huffs. “It’s almost time for the presents and you were super late to greet the guests!”

“I’ll be out there soon, Pasha!” Ilya dips down to kiss her forehead. “I just need to finish up a few more things.”

Pasha giggles upon receiving the affectionate peck. Sufficiently placated, she turns around to rejoin the party. As she does, Mazelinka and Lilinka come down the hallway. Maz knocks on the door frame as Ilya carefully pulls out the ten planters.

“You haven’t wrapped them!” Lilinka exclaims.

“AH!” Ilya jumps, whipping around to face his grandmothers. “Oh! Lilinka! Maz! I will very promptly, I just, uhhhh . . .”

“No wrapping to be found, eh Illyushka?” Mazelinka chuckles, giving him a grin.

“Not . . . exactly?” He quickly explains that Sasha, one of the guests arriving to the party, was going to provide it what they had leftover for him.

“What do you owe them?” Lilinka exhales, deadpan.

“ . . . some soup?”

“Soup?” Lilinka grimaces. “Ilya, with you cooking you may as well poison the child!”

“L i l i n k a . . .”

“Boy, I’ll help you later,” Mazelinka places a soothing hand on Lilinka’s shoulder. She looks down the hall, seeing a teenager about Ilya’s age coming down with a roll of wrapping paper.

“I think that’s your savior,” Mazelinka laughs, moving aside to let Ilya’s friend in.

“Ah, Sasha—”

“ILYA DEVORAK THIS IS THE LAST TIME I AM HELPING YOU LAST MINUTE! I WAS ALREADY HALFWAY HERE AND YOU HAD THE GALL TO—!”

Mazelinka and Lilinka quickly shut the door behind them, returning to the party.

Another fifteen minutes later, Ilya and Sasha finally join the festivities. They were right on time for the gift exchanges.

Ilya was to go last, because he was late and it’d be rude to cut in front of everyone else’s lovely gifts.

As each present was opened, oohed and ahhed over, Ilya’s anxiety only grew.

“Do you think she’ll like them?” Ilya murmurs quietly to Sasha. “What if she hurts herself on the needles!”

“She’ll be fine!” Sasha hushes, soon the bearer of the brunt of Ilya clinging onto them as Pasha carefully opens the first planter.

There was extra wrapping carefully placed over the cacti, so the first to be revealed were the ceramic kitty planters. Ilya only started breathing again once his little sister squealed in delight, soon quickly unwrapping the rest of the lot from Ilya.

Sasha playfully punches Ilya in the shoulder, laughing with the others as Pasha rushes over to hug her brother. Ilya returns the gesture with gusto, swinging her around in her arms before returning her to the head of the table, soon rushing to help the grandmothers get food out to everyone.

That night, ten little cactus planters were lined up in Pasha’s windowsill. Just like the person they were gifted to, the planters share a cat-like smile, eyes full of mischief energy.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

amy :') could you write about reddie's first kiss under the stars?

summary: Eddie comforts Richie after the arcade. words: 1,673a/n: I am so sorry Di…your prompt just…fit :(

read on AO3

* * * * * 

Richie frantically wiped at his eyes as he sat on the park bench next to the Paul Bunyan statue. He felt like such an idiot, which made sense since Richie was a complete and utter joke. All he wanted to do was play a game in the arcade with a boy, and suddenly he had become the town fag.

He shook his head at the term and let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t that it wasn’t true, he just wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet…maybe not ever. It was his secret, and soon it would be spread around the town like wildfire. Just as that thought entered his brain, another sob broke out of his lips and he rubbed at his wet eyes, sitting his glasses to the side of him so they didn’t go missing.

Oh god. What would Eddie think when he found out? Would he still want to be his friend, or would he shut him out because of the mere thought of contracting a disease?

“Rich?” The voice of the very person in his thoughts cut through Richie’s inner monologue and he looked up, Eddie being nothing but a blurry image in front of him. “Hey, are you okay?”

Quickly, Richie rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and pushed his glasses back onto his nose so he could see Eddie properly. His best friend had a concerned look on his face, watching Richie as though he was afraid the other boy would run away. “Heya, Eds.”

Eddie’s concerned look turned into one of annoyance and he crossed his arms, “Seriously, Rich? Here I was trying to be nice. What have I told you about calling me that?”

“You love it really, Spaghetti, don’t lie,” Richie laughed, reaching up to pinch Eddie’s cheeks playfully, earning him a smack. “You’re breaking my heart, Eds!”

Richie all but expected Eddie to give him another playful smack, or something, but instead Eddie just stared at him, blinking. “Richie why were you crying?” He asked. “And don’t…don’t make up some stupid joke because I heard you, I saw you. You were crying.”

“You’re very observant, Eds,” Richie laughed, but there was no humour in his voice. “It’s really nothing, honestly. I just had a rather shitty encounter with Bowers, that’s all.”

Eddie’s frown deepened and he moved to take a seat next to Richie, so close that his bare thigh was pressed up against Richie’s jean-clad ones. His heart skipped a beat. Fucking Eddie Kaspbrak and his ability to turn Richie into nothing but mush. “Richie, you know you can tell me anything right?” He said quietly, playing with his fingers.

A very small smile worked its way onto Richie’s lips and he stood up, making Eddie jolt, “C’mon Kaspbrak. Let’s go to the clubhouse yeah? Don’t really like being so exposed out here.” He started walking away, smiling a little wider as Eddie rushed to his side, walking side by side all the way to the clubhouse.

Luckily, none of the other losers were there and Richie made a beeline for the hammock before Eddie could, laughing at the expression on his best friends face. “Richie you always sit in the hammock! Let me have a turn!”

“Since when has me sitting on the hammock ever stopped you before?” Richie asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. Eddie rose to the bait and kicked off his shoes, jumping onto the hammock and shoving Richie so he could get comfortable. “See?”

“Ugh, you’re such an asshole,” Eddie rolled his eyes, but settled back on the hammock anyway, letting it swing from side to side. They fell into a comfortable silence, something that was uncommon between the two boys, but not unwelcome. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you or am I going to have to guess?”

The smile left Richie’s lips as soon as Eddie brought up the whole reason they were here. He looked down and started to pick at a stray thread on the hammock, wondering where on earth he could start. He was fourteen and absolutely terrified that he was about to lose his best friend. However, he had to tell someone and out of all of the losers, he trusted Eddie the most. He always did.

Eddie was still staring at him, patiently waiting for Richie to speak. It was all so strange, as Eddie was always bantering with Richie, teasing him back just as much as Richie teased him. The silence was not like him at all. He swallowed and looked at the ceiling. “I- I was at the arcade and I was playing Street Fighter with this guy…Elliot. Turns out he was Bowers cousin and when- when I asked if he wanted to play again, Bowers called me a fag and practically screamed in my face. Real…real fun stuff.” He chanced a look at Eddie, who was still staring at him, waiting for him to continue. So he did. “The thing is Eds…Bowers he…he’s not wrong.”

That seemed to catch Eddie’s attention and he shifted in the hammock, “You…you like boys?” He asked, his voice quiet. “How…how long?”

Richie ran his hands through his curls, “It’s…it’s all very new but I- I think i’ve always known? I’ve always been attracted to guys more than girls. I- fuck…please don’t hate me, Eds.”

“Why would I hate you?” Eddie asked, confusion and hurt in his voice. He reached forward and linked their pinkies together, something that they did when they were comforting one another, something that always made Richie blush like crazy. “I’m…I’m really glad you told me.”

A breath of relief left Richie’s lips at that and he closed his eyes, feeling as though he was about to start crying again, but this time, of happiness. “Eds you, you have no idea what that means to me.” Eddie went silent again and Richie frowned, leaning a little closer to his friend. “Eds?”

“I’m…me too,” Eddie stammered out, looking up at Richie, fear in his eyes. “I mean…I like boys too.”

Out of all the things that Richie thought Eddie was going to say, that was not it. His jaw dropped and he stared at Eddie like a fish out of water, before his mouth caught up with his brain, “You- you like boys too?” He asked.

Eddie slowly nodded his head, his breathing slow and shaky, “I’ve never…never saw the appeal in a woman but…but when I see guys in magazines my stomach does this weird flippy thing and I just…yeah.”

They both sat there, in the hammock in their clubhouse, staring at each other as though the whole world had shifted. Richie still had so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Eddie that he had a crush on him, but he was also still scared. Eddie might have liked boys too, but that didn’t mean he liked Richie. He had to take things one step at a time.

Eventually, it started to get dark and a little chilly outside. Eddie was the first to move, rolling out of the hammock, and in the process, knocked Richie’s glasses off with his foot. At the action, Eddie snorted and fumbled for his glasses in the dark, too lazy to reach for the light that Ben had installed. “Here, sorry.”

Richie flushed as Eddie pushed his glasses back up his nose and his fingers brushed over his cheek. “Thanks, Eds,” he breathed. Their faces were inches away from each other and the air had suddenly changed…a weird feeling surrounding the two boys.

“Richie…don’t call me that,” Eddie breathed before he surged forward quickly, pressing their lips together in a soft, innocent kiss. They were directly under the hatch, the stars and the moonlight shining down onto them. As quickly as it began, Eddie pulled away, his cheeks flushed. “Rich-”

Before Eddie could continue talking, Richie closed the distance again, kissing Eddie back with a little more pressure this time, but still keeping it soft and sweet. When he pulled back, the two of them were smiling. “I’m a lucky man, I just had my first kiss under the stars.”

“Shut the fuck up you dork.”

* * * * *

Once they had gotten over the shock that they had actually kissed, Richie helped Eddie out of the clubhouse and they started the trek home. It was dark, and almost everyone would have gone to bed at this point, so Richie thought it safe to take Eddie’s hand in his, lacing their fingers.

They didn’t speak much on the way home, simply enjoying each others presence as they walked. However the closer they got to Eddie’s house, the more tense he became. Richie was starting to get a little worried, and it only became heightened when Eddie froze at the top of his street. “Rich…”

“Eds?” Richie asked, turning to face him, tilting his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“I- earlier…when I found you crying in the park.” Eddie swallowed thickly. “I- I was coming to tell you something really important and…and it’s been eating away at me all afternoon. Even more so since…since we kissed.” Tears were in Eddie’s eyes now, and it was making Richie more and more worried.

He reached forward and took Eddie’s other hand in his, squeezing them to let him know it was okay, that he could tell Richie anything, anything at all. “Eds, you can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“I’m moving,” Eddie blurted out and Richie felt his stomach drop right onto the floor at his feet, his cheeks going pale white. “I’m moving, Richie.”

“Wh-When?” Richie stammered out, his hands shaking like a leaf as he squeezed Eddie’s harder, not wanting to let him go. Not now, not ever. “Eds, when do you move?”

Eddie was quiet, and a stray tear ran down his cheek as he looked up into Richie’s eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

* * * * * 

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[therosettewolf]

Stretch (HLITF)

Here's a little something I wrote for Her Love In the Force,  because it's one of my favorite voltage games and it deserves more love.  My humor is a little hit or miss but hopefully, someone finds it funny.  (But honestly, I’d be ecstatic if anyone would just read it all)

Rated M for mature language,  and adult themes. Not a smut,  although I think it would make a pretty good segway for one. Maybe in the future? I apologize for grammar and any errors pertaining to it. I love commas, so there's that too.

Just a short story, in which the mc (You) from Her Love In the Force, relentlessly teases her instructors.  

                                                           “So how did it go?”

As you leaned bonelessly against the doorframe of the instructor’s room, barely managing to remain upright in your ridiculously high heels,  you hoped with every fiber of your being that Kaga would be the one to answer that question.  

Because one,  you most certainly did not want to recount your mishap of accidentally flashing the criminal’s your panties, because that definitely happened and it had been downright embarrassing. Even if it did somehow result in their arrest …

And two, you were certain that if Kaga explained the situation himself, he would definitely be too lazy to do so in full detail. Which was perfect, because there was a plenty of it that you did not want to recall.

“She wouldn't know seduction if it got up and bit her on the ass!”

See, this was exactly what you meant. Swift. Succinct. With an absolute zero amount of context.

“I wasn't aware seduction could do that sir, and I think I did quite alright,” You took a rickety step into the room, doing everything you possibly could to maintain decency in the mini dress you were wearing, as you sent your instructor a sidelong glance.

“Don't get smart with me servant!“ Kaga spat as he seated himself at his desk, shoving a few documents to the side so he could prop his feet on top of it. Ishigami, who was seated just a few feet away from him, scowled at his lax posture. And Kaga upon seeing the vexation that surfaced on the bespectacled man’s face merely smirked in response,  turning to Ayumu who was furiously typing away at his computer. “Somehow despite all odds, those dimwitted miscreants still managed to fall for this,” He gestured lazily in your direction, “Sorry excuse of a honey trap.”

It was a tenacious battle to not roll your eyes. 

“Ah,  is that so?” Ayumu smirked, eyes alight in utter bemusement as he soaked up your troubled expression. “I wonder why.”   

You bristled at his words. You may not have been the most tactful thing when it came to missions requiring you to use a bit of seduction. But you sure as hell did a great job of it today.

 Okay... maybe not so great... It wasn’t like you had meant to flash the perps your underwear it just happened, and for some reason or another, they just happened to find it very seductive. You thought it was perhaps wise to keep that minor detail to yourself,  so instead of answering outright, you let out a dry rather tremulous laugh. “Aha, I wonder too.”

You didn’t, and you hoped no one else did.

“Well, it somehow worked out in the end, so well done___.” Soma offered you what you surmised may have been words of encouragement, but you weren’t really sure how to take them. Either way, they offered you some way to end the discussion so you were grateful.

“Uh, thanks, sir.” You managed through your embarrassment. A familiar feeling of heat burgeoning across your cheeks, as you tugged restlessly at the bottom of your dress––wanting to ensure it didn’t ride up over your thighs again––as it was prone to do. You really wanted nothing more than to change, finish up your reports, and curl up in bed with your ugly cat. But for some unspoken reason, instructor Kaga had yet to dismiss you.

“___ is actually quite the skilled seductress if you think about it. “ Kurosawa,  who you had no recollection of ever entering the room remarked thoughtfully. Stepping beside you and cupping his chin like he had just discovered something profound. His movements reminded you of something right out of a detective cartoon: over exaggerated, corny, and comical and you had to fight the smile curling at your lip.

“This isn't the first time you’ve successfully seduced someone,  ___.” He whispered lowly into your ear, and you shivered. Not because you found him doing so unpleasant, but because you hadn’t realized just how close he was to you.  So close in fact, that you could smell his spicy cologne and the slightly metallic scent of whatever he used to process his photos. You didn’t hate it.

“What do you mean Kuro?” You whispered back, thoughtlessly placing a hand on one of his well-muscled arms. You didn’t expect him to freeze up the way he did, a slightly stunned expression on his face before he quickly replaced it with one of his usual cheery grins. He hadn’t expected you to move closer to him on your own volition, and with a barely discernable flush to his cheeks, he replied. “Well you see, you’ve already seduced everyone he––”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence, promptly cut off by a dry erase marker hitting him square between his eyes.

“Kurosawa any closer, and that would be considered sexual harassment.” Goto admonished, scowling at the ebullient photographer from across the room.

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Soma chuckled, emptying a bottle of water onto one of the many precious cacti that adorned his side of the desk.

“Speak for yourself.” Kaga groaned, “The only thing good about her is that soft body.”

You frowned. How very not sweet of him. If you weren’t itching to leave earlier, you sure were now. You weren’t sure you liked the direction this conversation was moving in.

“Aw, that’s not true Hyogo. She also has a great personality.” Kurosawa trilled, rubbing the marker shaped indentation now visible on his forehead.

“Well, she does look quite lovely in that dress. Fills it out in all the right places. Don’t you think so too Hideki?” Soma smiled wryly, eyes that matched the ash color of his hair boring into your own with tangible perceptiveness. You transiently wondered what even compelled him to ask your stringent instructor such a thing, but understood completely when you saw the amused expression on his face. He wanted to see your reaction. He was like Ayumu in that aspect, both just loved to see you sputter like a blithering idiot.

The assholes.

“Don’t you all have more important things to do.” The heretofore silent instructor finally spoke, cutting the air between you with the sharpness of knife as he looked up from the mountain of papers on his desk. He looked surly and annoyed and you felt bad that you were even the reason he was being disrupted.

“Sorry Instructor Ishi–”

“Of course he thinks you look good ___. Ishigami may be a cyborg, but the man isn’t blind.” Kurosawa assured, slinging an arm over your shoulder, and nearly knocking you off your unstable feet.  You girded yourself for the lecture you and everyone else was surely about to receive. Ruminating the amount of pudding it would take to pacify the bespectacled man. But the moments that followed were filled with unexpected silence, and when you finally looked up you saw it.  A faint reddening hue that burgeoned across each of his ears.

Ishigami was embarrassed, and you were gobsmacked to see it.

“Well aren't we a popular one?” Ayumu’s lips curled into a cynical grin,  the technicolor light of his laptop screen reflecting off his glasses. You could see indecipherable coding in them, as shrewd topaz eyes soaked up your discombobulated expression. “Seems like the little red dress I provided is a hit.” He sounded almost proud of himself, as his gaze took a meandering plummet down your scantily clad physique.

You narrowed your eyes at him through thick mascara-coated lashes “Do not get me started on this abomination of a dress, Ayumu.”

After all, it was the very reason your mission had ended in such embarrassment. The dress was so damn short and tight, you couldn’t even bend down without flashing your undergarments. Not only that, but the bustier top held by two measly little strings exposed way too much cleavage––more than you were frankly willing to show. In all honesty, you wanted to take the damned thing off since the moment you put it on. 

“May I be dismissed, sir?” You twisted away from Ayumu to direct that question at Kaga.

“I still need those reports.” He replied,  not even bothering to look up as he said that. You wondered what he was doing behind the large stacks of paper that covered him from this angle––because you knew it was for sure not the reports he was currently asking you to do.

“Okay. Well, I'll write them, as soon I change.”

“I need them now.”

Oh,  he was so full of shit…  wasn't he the one always turning in reports late?  Now, all of a sudden he wanted to be punctual with them?  Tired, drained,  and not at all in the mood to be acquiescent, you fired back. “Oh, you need them now? If you don’t mind me asking sir, why the sudden rush?  “

“Because four-eyes over here asked for them.”

Ishigami scoffed in response, narrowing his eyes at the ballsy lieutenant and you rolled yours, wanting nothing more than to lug the nearest pen at his head. How such an attractive man could be such monumental pain in your ass was beside you.

“Fucking fine! I'll do them. “ You hissed acerbically,  kicking off your heels and throwing them in one of the unoccupied corners of the room.  

Kaga leveled a glare at you, his handsome face tense with disapproval as the other instructors looked on in shock. “What was that aide? “

“Alliteration.” You spat, pulling up a chair and earning yourself a few bemused chuckles from Kurosawa,  Soma,  and even Ishigami.  Kaga harrumphed, but let you get away with your little slip of malediction,  as you squeezed yourself tightly between him and Ayumu,  just to make an extra nuisance of yourself.

With a sigh, you turned to the paper placed in front of you, snatching a pin from one of the jars on the desk, and began summarizing the events that occurred earlier that day. You were just about finished with your second report when your pen slid out of your hand, rolling off the scarred wood of the desk, and underneath a nearby filing cabinet.

“Shit!” You cursed under your breath, reaching out to snatch another pen from the jar...when a sudden idea hit you. You were still feeling a little vindictive from the instructors earlier teasing, and as a juvenile, as it sounded the idea of revenge was far too good to pass up. So you extricated yourself from the chair, making sure to be as boisterous as possible as you scampered past the other instructors and stopped in front of the filing cabinet you had watched your pen roll under.

Making a big show of doing so, you dropped down to your knees, raising your hips off the ground, forcing your backside high the air, as you plastered your face to the floor and reached into the darkness for your pen.

“What are you doing __?” Goto was the first to inquire, concern bleeding into his voice, and shock etching itself in his attractive features as he got a lovely view of your backside. He had to clear his throat before speaking again, “Are you okay?”

His sudden spark of concern had captured the attention of all the other instructors, whose eyes swiftly locked on to your prone form.

“I’m fine.” You barely managed to stop the smile that threatened to curl your lips, as you reached under the cabinet, and purposely shoved the pen away from you. “Just trying to grab my pen.”

The curiosity on Kaga’s face quickly turned into one of annoyance as he leaned over the table to glare at you. “ Just, grab a new one.” He hissed, but his words didn’t quite carry the usual amount of acerbity that they normally did, and that was probably because he quite liked the view you were providing him.

“I can’t.” You hissed back, groaning with the effort of trying to reach for something that wasn’t there. “You see, it’s my favorite pen.”

“Ah, and what does this pen look like?” Ayumu ever the most clever smiled, pale strands of hair falling into his face, as he rested a cheek against a clenched fist, and stared you down.

You stilled, heart battering itself against your ribcage at the prospect of already being caught, but you kept moving–– hoping against all odds you were able to fool his dexterous eyes. “Silver, with an intricate floral design on the cap, it has blue ink.”

“Funny, I don’t recall seeing a pen like that in here,” Soma remarked pensively.

“Well, I’ll show it to you once I get it.” You answered, letting out a frustrated little moan. “I almost got it that time.”

The whole atmosphere of the room changed at that moment, various sets of colored eyes glued to your form. Every movement you made had your dress riding up along your thighs, and you could hear a collective gasp each time it did so. It didn’t take long for your little black thong to be on full display–– all sets of eyes but your own widening into saucers. As they got an up close and personal view of your nice round ass. The late exercising you did at night was clearly paying off.

“Uh, how about I buy you a new one.” Kurosawa suddenly shouted, cheeks scarlet, and voice cracking as he marched over to where you were standing. You knew not to let your guard down, however, for as much as Kurosawa loved to feign ineptitude. You were well aware that he was just as clever as Ayumu, if not more so, and you did not want to chance him seeing through your guise.

“No that’s okay, this one is special to me. My grandmother got it for me as a present for when I got into this academy.” You spoke softly as if recanting some kind of lachrymose tale. You tried to ham it up a bit by reaching even further underneath the cabinet, wiggling your hips whilst doing so.

You heard a few groans with that one.

“I’ll get it for you.” Ishigami offered, getting up so fast he jostled his desk, but you were quick if not reluctant to turn him down.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.” You murmured with quasi-reticence, offering him a small grateful smile in return. You almost felt bad when you saw him rear back, like some sort of frightened animal, face awash with a ruddy tint. You had never seen the man so undone, and the guilt of it all had you wondering if you should put a stop to your antics. But then you remembered just how often you ended up being the brunt of the instructors jokes, and you weren’t sure you were ready to throw in the towel just yet. So instead you fortified your resolve, settling yourself upright on your knees, and turning towards your fair-haired instructor.

“Ayumu.”

“What?” He tried not to make eye contact with you, a brooding blush dusting his cheeks, and a mulish set to his jaw.

You couldn’t help the feline-like grin that you felt stretching across your face, “Can I borrow your flashlight?”

“S-sure.”

Wow, this was different. You were surprised to see him so... docile. He handed you the flashlight from his belt, and you went right back to doing what you were doing before. Teasing them relentlessly by reaching for a pen, that you were never going to be able to reach. It was against the far end of the wall now-–physically impossible for anyone to get. But they didn’t need to know that.

“Hey little bird,” The chief greeted, having chosen that very moment to walk in.  “Have you seen  the documents for the last––” He meandered, words slowing, “Kidnapping case?”

The softness in which his last words were dropped made you wonder if chief Namba had stopped breathing at that moment, his favorite oral fixation lost on the carpet beside your hand. You picked the cigarette up quickly, not wanting the flame to catch on anything, before handing it to your flabbergasted chief. “It's in the second to last drawer on your left chief. Green filing cabinet. “You smiled amiably, dusting off your clothes and walking back over to the equally stunned instructors. You were starting to think it was a pretty good time to stop this charade.

“May I be excused Instructor Kaga?” You asked one last time, gaze flickering across the room to quickly soak in the damage you had just dealt.

You noticed that the monstrous stack of papers, that had once been neatly stacked on the desk next to Kaga was now haphazardly strewn across his lap. And as you turned towards the other instructor, hoping to get a feel of the varying emotions that flitted across their faces, you had to force yourself not to laugh. Not one of them maintained eye contact with you, and each had their legs crossed in a very uncomfortable looking way.

it was absolutely everything you could have hoped for.

“Yeah,” Kaga sighed after a tense moment of silence, “Get the hell out of here____” He spat your last name out like some kind of curse, exhaustion bleeding into his handsome feature as he warded you off with a hand.

You didn’t need him to tell you twice, you lunged for your heels in the corner of the room, and bolted out the door.

“You do realize she didn’t finish the reports?” Ayumu barely managed a tired snicker at the expense of his friend.

“Shit, ” Kaga hissed, but the word lacked the ire that usually accompanied it.

“That little bird has a very nice ass,” Namba mumbled thoughtfully, taking a long slow drag from his cigarette, but although his words weren't directed to anyone but himself. There was a hum of agreement as each instructor leaned back in their chair, exhausted. 

You were definitely in for some form of punishment later.

@fantasygamer @itachan20

Stretch part 2:

Kaga 

[shiro-the-tired-writer]

Part 1.5: Yuu's relationships with the boy so far

(This'll be pretty long)

Grim, Ace and Deuce:

Grim started out as an annoying little brother but she grew into the big sister role. When it comes to making plans when it's only the two of them, the brain cell gets lost till Yuu finds it.

The two will actively attack anyone who comes after their food.

"I've only had Grim for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him. I would kill everyone on campus and then myself."

Yuu thought Ace was an ass at first and nearly threw hands with him in the start, but after fighting the mine's ink monster and getting the crystals they needed, they become good friends.

She sasses Riddle to defend him and Deuce after the chestnut tart somehow backfired.

To Yuu, Deuce is a precious bean that must be protected at all costs. If Ace didn't punch Riddle before his overblot, she would have.

"Hey! Those are my idiots!"

Trey:

(The chant)

Team Mom and that opinion stands to this day, especially after he helps make the chestnut tart.

Yuu has called him mom on at least one occasion and even got Cater, Ace, Deuce, Grim and Riddle to the 50% Off "Team Mom" chant.

She goes apeshit when he gets hurt during Book 2 and needs to be held back when chasing Ruggie.

"Team Mom!"

Cater:

Her immediate thoughts were "Oh God there's more of him?!"

She tried biting him when he was made to escort the Brain Cell Quartet out of Heartsbyul, but after the overblot they get to know each other better.

Yuu always asks him to show her all the magicam filters so they both get a good laugh.

Riddle:

Yuu almost punched him in the face, but always had random uneasy feelings of dread when his blot accumulated.

After hearing his past from Trey she felt bad for him but was still really pissed at him. But when she sees his memories that cause it, she gives him a tender hug despite all the possible burns and cuts she got from his stray attacks.

Yuu tries hanging out out with but if he brings up studying together, she tries running away.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!"

Jack:

She thinks he was intimidating at first but now sees him as a big plush wolf who likes Cacti.

Yuu's always trying to get piggyback rides from him but he usually says no, but on the upside they look badass when it happens. Asked him to chuck her at both Overblot Leona and Azul for various reasons.

"Jack! I need you to toss me onto the overblot!"

Malleus/Tsunotarou:

Yuu grabbed a stick when he first appeared thinking he was a ghost, but calmed down after he explained why he was a Ramshackle.

She has no knowledge on how Fae work so she freaked out internally after telling him her name, though when he said she could think of a name for him she tried for hours to think of a good nickname. Then realized how stupid she was for overthinking it, because Grim came up with the nickname and Malleus liked it.

Her friendship with him gets solidified after he gave the gargoyle talk with her during the events with Octavinelle.

"TSUNOTAROU YOU FREAKING GENIUS!"

Ruggie:

Yuu still thinks he's a little shit, but he's more than made up for it and she still gets her revenge on him for Trey with small pranks like stealing the ink in his pen.

They are both donut fiends and proud, she'll usually go with him to buy more if Ramshackle's supply is running low.

"I can appreciate a fellow donut lover, but I'm still not giving back your ink."

Leona:

She was scared of him back when they first met in the garden but when the investigation started and she felt the blot accumulating again (even if she didn't know), Yuu full on sassed and challenged him whenever he tried getting her to back down.

When his overblot happened and he'd been weakened enough, she had Jack throw her towards him and she punched him in the face. Her first drying up and the skin cracking and bleeding in the process but that was a small price to pay.

When she looked at his past and he got back to his senses, she hit him again with her injured hand and put herself in more pain.

But they grew an actual friendship even if he won't admit it.

"I might be a herbivore, but I'm the herbivore that punched your face."

Jade & Floyd:

Yuu was surprised when Floyd spun her around and gave her the nickname "Shrimpy", being more than thankful to Jade for making him let go.

During the Octavinelle events she was pretty pissed at both of them but when the fight came it was the twins that threw her at an Overblotted Azul, sure she got her forehead cut on one of his attacks but she gave him a hug.

When they helped during Scarabia she was overjoyed to see them but wasn't privy to their methods.

Azul:

She didn't like him for obvious reasons at first, but understood why he didn't wanna be seen as weak anymore by using his unique magic.

After seeing his past she kept hugging him despite Ruggie and Deuce saying she probably had a concussion. And gushing over how cute Azul was as a little kid, she didn't then didn't understand how anyone could bully him.

Needless to say, Yuu will help out at the lounge if she's asked and she'll continue to run from him to not sign his NDA about his childhood photos.

She was afraid that Jamil actually got Azul with snake whisper and practically sighed in relief when he showed he was okay but was deeply disturbed at Floyd's extremely deep voice.

"You're never doing that again."

How I believe my Yuu would act in Twisted Wonderland

Prologue

Yuu: Nn... wait- WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!

She would be extremely confused and a bit annoyed with Grim and Crowley, not to mention Ace.

But soon the braincell trio become her idiots and they all share a single braincell between the four of them.

Heartsbyul

Yuu: Your rules are freaking stupid!

She would sass Riddle, hands down after he throws the Tart away. Anything else she's trying to not die via Leona's intimidation/how hot he is, and trying to keep everyone on track.

(For real it should be illegal to be that hot)

Hugs Riddle after he's brought back to his senses.

Savannaclaw

Yuu: Someone is gonna get punched

Yuu would be all for the investigation, but then hard-core about it after Trey gets injured, because no one hurts Team Mom. She could and would sass every Savannaclaw member except Jack because he's baby.

When Malleus appears she's both grabbing a stick for self defense and then mesmerized by his voice and appearance.

Also punch Overblot Leona, possible injuries be damned, this girl is Sun Wukong's impulsiveness on steroids.

Octavinelle

Yuu: What did I agree to?

She actually studied, since she's based me she'd be pretty good at memorization especially with history. Is scared of Floyd because he's scary and she is a smol like Riddle, Epel and Ortho. Is doing all she can to not curse out Azul when talking about the contract to save everyone.

Would absolutely try hugging Azul when he's overblotted.

Scarabia

Yuu: I never claimed to be a smart prefect

Would be very annoyed at Crowley then thinking way too hard on the how and why ghosts can have babies.

Initially when meeting Jamil in the chapter she would try to help with everything, you would have to hold back this girl from trying to repay you, also food is her love language. Jamil gave her food so now he's stuck with her, but she starts getting uneasy after getting snake whispered a couple times and locked in the guest room.

Has his head on her lap and smiles when he wakes up after overblotting, then proceeds to karate chop his head lightly for being stupid.

(Part 2 forthcoming)

[shaevira]

Au Prompt: I take my grades very seriously and you’re the lazy asshole who asks a ton of off-topic questions to distract the professor and I might be a foot shorter than you but I swear to god I’ll fight you AU

WC: 2.8k

Freezerburn + Cheeky Blake Belladonna.

“So what you’re saying is the cacti juice in Vacuo proved to be valuable in poisoning the rebels just because it made them like super drunk? And so they had like some crazy hallucinations, right?” Yang Xiao Long sounded like an incompetent idiot.

Everyone knows that the Cacti Juice provided medicinal values, but if overdosed, it could lead for severe grand mal seizures to which the rebels of Vacuo thought their teammates had been possessed by the spirits of the Kingdom - which had led the rebels to attack their own in fear of the spirits possessing them too.

Wait a second! This wasn’t even the topic. They were supposed to be talking about the Great Menagerie migration that happened 100 years ago to escape the aftermath of the Mistralian civil war that had occured due to disrest within the capital.

Weiss glared at the back of the blonde’s head who had asked such a stupid question. Weiss had been stuck in this class with this bimbo of a blonde who would constantly interrupt the lessons with asinine questions that usually led them into an hour long discussion of something that was completely off the rails of what they had be originally discussing.

Why was she doing this now? It was 3 weeks away from finals! Weiss knew better than to question ‘why?’ when Yang Xiao Long had been doing these shenanigans all semester. It had taken Weiss nearly all semester to finally lose her cool.

She was a patient girl.

Some days she was alright with the girl’s stupidity who asked stupid questions like “What if Mountain Glenn was the true home base for the mole people?” To which Weiss rolled her eyes and shoved her face into her arms. She would get through this, she told herself...and gotten through it, she had. Almost every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she had gotten through it.

Weiss didn’t know how the professor didn’t see through all her bullshit. Maybe he was the one in need of a lesson...then again, Professor Port, their World History professor was a very senile man. How he wasn’t dead from just how old he was was already a mystery to Weiss.

How Yang Xiao Long managed to get into college was another mystery in itself.

But this?

Finals week just around the corner? Weiss had enough.

Weiss was already a perfect, grade A student on the dean's list and she wanted to keep it that way. She wondered how the busty blonde compared to her perfect grades, probably not very well if she had to act like that.

The off-topic conversation drolled on. It didn’t matter if Weiss tried to steer the professor back on topic. As Yang would consistently steer them off-topic, and would passive aggressively wink and grin at Weiss, fully aware of what she was doing to Weiss and the rest of the class.

This had slowly begun to anger Weiss, which added onto what everything else Yang had been doing. She wondered if everyone else was just as done with her as she was.

Weiss would put an end to this. Today.

Even if it meant fighting the big blonde brute.

Yang might’ve been built like an mma fighter and an amazonian mixed into one, but a basketball and a soccer player like her probably had no clue how to fight, right?

Weiss huffed, it didn’t matter.

She would confront her. She needed to be ready for the final. If this asshole, and the rest of the class didn’t care about their grades at least she did. She would get her way.

//

Class had let out, and Weiss stalked her rather large prey who seemed to be blissfully unaware of Weiss’s presence and they walked across campus to their cars.

Before Weiss actually let Yang get in and drive off in her car, she stood behind it.

Yang rolled down the window and looked out. “Uh, hey. I think you need to move - I want to go home and you standing in the way of my car doesn’t really help my process of going home.” she snidely commented.

“Yang Xiao -whatever the fuck your name is, I need to have a word with you.” Weiss stated astutely, hands on hips and with a glare that could cut brick.

Yang cut the ignition, and exited her car with a sporting glare of her own. “You got a problem pipsqueak?” she hovered over Weiss menacingly. “Wait a second, you’re that chick from our World History class.” her demeanor changed, a mischievous aura now filled Yang and she crossed her arms and smirked.

Weiss glared. “Excuse me?! My name is Weiss Schnee, and I will be respected!”

Yang laughed in her face. “Right, of course.” sarcasm oozed out of her.

“What is your problem?” Weiss stepped closer looking up at her, hands on her hips and a menacing finger in Yang’s face.

Yang didn’t flinch, and kept her stance. “What’s my problem? Nothing, pipsqueak. You’re the one standing behind my car, in case you didn’t notice.” she motioned over her shoulder.

“No! That’s not what I meant! Why are you such a...insufferable incompetent ignoramus?” Weiss stomped her foot, now clenching her fists and making a scene. Luckily there weren’t many people around the parking lots.

Yang merely stared, seemingly dumbfounded. “Eh?” she tilted her head, not really understanding what Weiss was getting at.

Weiss rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Why. Are. You. SUCH A LAZY ASSHOLE?” she stated bluntly, but with a little more anger in her voice.

“I’m lost, recap?” Yang raised an eyebrow, unphased by the girl having a temper tantrum in her presence.

“I swear, I will fight you…” mumbled Weiss. Weiss was ready to square up. How could someone this dumb make it into college? Weiss remembered through her rage. Scholarships.

She internally groaned.

Through all the ruckus, Weiss had failed to notice someone approach them.

“Yang, what is it with you and the ladies? Is this another one of your failed date attempts?” A black hair girl approached, Weiss turned and recognized the woman to be Blake Belladonna. She was in another of Weiss’s class and luckily she wasn’t as big of a nuisance as Yang was. But how were those two friends?

And did she say ‘failed date attempts?’

Yang eyes widened as did Weiss’s who looked a little astonished.

“W-what?! No!” Yang stepped back from Weiss and made an X motion with her arms.

Blake stepped up to Yang and wrapped her arm around Yang’s shoulder. “Are you sure? This girl is definitely your type.” Blake eyed Weiss up and down. “Feisty. Smart. Pretty. You know I heard her yelling at you from like the Chem building, right?” Blake patted Yang’s shoulder.

Blake was a lot more cheeky then one would presume.

“Blake, I fucking hate you.” Yang glared at Blake, removing her hand from her shoulder. She looked back at Weiss. “Uhh, whatever it was I did...uhm, sorry? Hah...I won’t..do it again?” Yang look a little confused, and well, embarrassed.

Weiss too, looked a little bewildered.

Just exactly what was this about?

Yang fled back to her car, hiding her face as best as she could. Weiss finally moved out of the way with another word while Blake and Weiss watched Yang peel out of the parking lot in a hurry.

“You know she only acts up in your class, right?” Blake crossed her arms, as her eyes followed Yang’s car. “She can be an asshole, but not intentionally. It’s funny too, because I’m pretty sure she would let you beat her up and I know you wanted to.” Blake chuckled.

Weiss turned to Blake and scoffed. “That doesn’t fix the problem that she’s ruining that class! Finals are in THREE weeks, and she has NOT ONCE in the entire semester asked a relevant question.”

“She wants your attention, sweetie.” Blake bluntly stated, her head turned towards Weiss. “She knows how smart you are; but she’s pretty dumb when it comes to everything else. She doesn’t know how to really get your attention without being fucking stupid about it. I’m surprised nobody else has tried to go after her in your class.” Blake paused once more, “Trust me, I’ve seen her try and fail many many times.”

“That makes no sense!” Weiss flailed her arms.

“Yeah, love makes no sense either.” Blake turned and walked away.

Leaving a very confused Weiss in the parking lot.

///

Monday’s class came and Weiss scanned her World History class for Yang. No show. This was odd as Yang had usually never missed class. Surprisingly, without Yang, the class went smoothly and efficiently. Yet, the sudden quietness and lack of commotion had filled Weiss with a sense of unease.

No matter, she thought. She would ace these finals, like she had aced every other class and every other midterm.   

Wednesday class rolled around and again, Yang was nowhere to be seen. Another quiet, and disruption-free class. Weiss was filled with a small anger. Was Yang avoiding her? After what happened on Friday? Was it that really big of a deal?

Besides, didn’t Yang need to learn the material for the upcoming final? How would she learn if she wasn’t in class? What did that imbecile think she was doing?

Weiss’s had been filled with so many questions that Wednesday that were completely unrelated to World History, in fact...she had been thinking solely about Yang. She tried her damned hardest to concentrate, but with the lack of noise and the whole counter-arguments between the class made it hard to do so.

Did Yang actually help Weiss stay interested in the class?

Friday rolled around and once more, Yang was not there. Weiss was able to concentrate this time, but only a little as she had made a plan to leave class early to catch Blake Belladonna as interrogate her.

Five minutes before class let out, Weiss casually walked out the door and waited patiently in the parking lot.

Minutes passed and she spotted the amber-eyed girl casually making her way to her car.

Weiss walked up to her like prey stalking it’s kill. She nearly scared the cat-like girl half to death as Weiss had managed to make her way behind her and touch her on the shoulder. Coming out from her ninja like reaction stance to the scare, Blake turned to to Weiss. “W-weiss?! What the hell? Don’t sneak up on a person like that!”

“Blake Belladonna! Where is Yang Xiao Long?!” Weiss abruptly asked.

“Well, hello to you too. Uhh...Yang is resting?” Blake said.

“Why would she be resting, doesn’t she know she should be studying and coming to class? That idiot won’t pass finals if she doesn’t come!” Weiss lectured.

“Whoa, whoa...calm down pi- I mean Weiss. Well, she slept in on Monday because of some Sunday volunteer event. Then, on Tuesday they had a soccer skirmish, and she tore her ACL and got into surgery pretty fast. She’s out now, so she’s been resting in her dorm.”

Weiss stepped back, a little shocked. She didn’t know Yang volunteered, was Yang actually a good, not lazy person? Wait, she tore something? Her ACL? How little did Weiss know about sports, she wasn’t very sports influenced but if Yang had tore something that required surgery it must’ve been serious. She wondered if it affected Yang’s scholarships here. If she had any.

Weiss didn’t like how she thought about the blonde idiot so often. Or how she slowly started to care about the arrogant asshole who had ruined her whole semester with dumb questions that Weiss would constantly have to correct, or argue about with her and try to steer them all back on topic.

“Oh...do you mind taking me to her?” Weiss now politely asked Blake.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure I guess?”

//

Weiss barged into Yang’s single roomed dormitory. “YANG XIAO LONG!”

Yang flailed popcorn into the air as she turned her upper body around to see a very fiesty short ivory-haired girl invading her home. “Shit. How’d you get in here?!”

Blake waved from the door, stepped out of the room and closed the door leaving Weiss and Yang alone in the room.

“Fucking Blake…” Yang muttered to herself laying her head back on the couch.

“Yang, why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself?!” Weiss stared at her, with her arms crossed. She tapped her foot impatiently.

“Can’t I relax? I just got home from PT.” Yang groaned.

“How are you supposed to recover and study if you’re out going to PT?!” Weiss sneered.

“Wait, seriously? PT means Physical Therapy. Y’know, to fix help my leg or at least get it moving better.” Yang tilted her head, questioningly.

Weiss stood there, now she was dumbfounded. There was apparently a whole other world that Weiss did not know about.

Weiss looked around the room and pulled up a chair near the couch, which Yang had taken up for very obvious reasons.

“What do you want, anyways?” Yang tried to sit herself up a little straighter as she adjusted her leg. Before Weiss could speak, Yang began once more. “Look, if you’re here about class and whatever and me talking a lot. Yeah, I know what I’ve said and I know what I’m doing. I’m a genuine asshole, there I said it. I’m making an B+ in the class, so the only reason I do it is because I’m bored and there’s a really pretty lady who likes to argue with me about it.” Yang looked at Weiss straight-faced. “If it weren’t for these pain meds, I would totally not be so calm about this.” Yang added.

Weiss sat there with a shocked look about her. “What Blake said was true? You like...like me or something?” Weiss slowly chunked the idea out there. The whole idea that the someone would disrupt a class solely to get the attention of ONE person seemed completely idiotic. Yet, Weiss couldn’t help but find bits and pieces of it endearing.

“Yeah, I do.” Yang sighed.

A silence filled the air.

“Couldn’t you have just told me like a normal human being?!” Weiss scolded her with a frown.

Yang grinned back, she liked the feistiness of Weiss. “No, what fun would that be?!”

Weiss groaned, “Yang Xiao Long if you weren’t in some sort of cast contraption I would be beating you up!” she stared at Yang, who was still widely grinning at her.

“I’d like to see you try shortstuff.” Yang teased.

Weiss stood up over Yang menacingly. “J-just hurry up and get better okay?! So you can come back to class and you can learn what’s needed on finals and no more stupid questions, okay?!”

Yang returned to a straight-face, then to a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back on Monday. Wait, does this mean I have your attention now because if I don’t...well, I’ve always wondered what the Atlesian military was doing all the way in Vale, wasn’t it to like...take their stuff or something and then like sell it? That’s was the topic last week, right?” Yang put on a fake dumb voice, one she had usually used in class to sound like a top notch dumbass who knew completely what they were doing.

Weiss’s eyes narrowed, knowing what Yang was saying was utter nonsense. “I swear, if you do that, I’ll…” Weiss reared her fist back and faked as if she was going to punch Yang in the nose, but instead flicked her on the nose.

“Ow! That’s rude.” Yang, with quick speed returned the flick movement.

Weiss grabbed her nose and glared.

“You’re cute when you try hard and threaten me.” Yang smirked.

Weiss blushed. “You’re totally insufferable!” she began to leave the room, not wanting to be embarrassed or angered anymore by the big dumb brute.

Yang grabbed onto her arm before she left. “What, no goodbye?”

“I’ll see you Monday, won’t I?” Weiss turned and looked at her.

“Honestly, I was hoping you’d stick around for a bit longer - maybe help me with some of the things I missed.” Yang had a sincere look about her.

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Only if you tell me about this ACL and how you broke it.”

“I tore it.”

“Oh, right.” Weiss awkwardly smirked.

Yang chuckled.

“Looks like we have a lot of things to learn from each other.” Yang mentioned. “So, we have a deal then?”

“Fine, just no more dumb questions like I said too, alright?”

“Anything for a pipsqueak!”

Weiss groaned.

[talonsaga-trash]

Kain: You Fought, You Lost

Summary: The Night of Fang and Fire took a toll on everyone, and Kain knew what he was signing up for when he stood (not for the order, never for the order, but those were his friend marching into battle). If he could take it all back then he would in a heartbeat, but it’s too late. The damage is done. He can’t go back. (In the same Universe as Out of My Depth, which is somewhere in my blog under the Legion tag) Words: So many. Too many. This was supposed to be a 500 word drabble. What the hell. Disclaimer: I’m not Julie Kagawa or HarlequinTeen or else I would have a nicer laptop and would be able to afford to buy a new scanner. So anything relating to Talon isn’t mine, I don’t profit, it’s very sad. I’m not a medic either. Don’t trust anything I say. I just have a laptop and determination. A/N: So... I kinda empathize with Kain despite him trying to beat up Garret, because if I were in his situation then I would be doing the exact same thing. And what do I do to characters I empathize with? I make them SUFFER. Sorry Kain. This was written entirely in his perspective so there are some less than nice thoughts towards Garret and Ember, but it’s not focused on that, so don’t worry. Mandatory Begging for comments/reviews: Plz help I live for validation.

He woke up to pain and confusion, red-hot pokers in his eyes and his throat stuffed with cotton seeds. Kain took a sharp breath in and flexed his claws— fingers. He was in his human form, lying on his back on the hard ground, the only comfort being a lumpy pillow and blanket pulled up to his shoulders. What had happened? Why wasn’t he in bed? Why couldn’t he see?

“N— Nadine?” He rasped, a thirst making itself known to him at his words. Where was that human? Maybe she had answers as to what happened, why he was on the ground and why his face hurt and he couldn’t see. What was the last thing he remembered?

Cobalt-Riley had called the underground together. Remy had told him about the St. George soldier that was walking in their midst. Some crazy chick had talked about talking to the genocidal asshats and then Cobalt-Riley threw him into a barn. Nadine had reprimanded him and then sent him off to his room, then Cobalt-Riley gathered them, and then… and then…

St. George. Kain had helped St. George, he had fought and it had been terrifying and the smell of blood was overwhelming and the dragons— they weren’t dragons. They couldn’t be dragons— had attacked them all without any mercy, and by the time Cobalt-Riley had called for a retreat a not-dragon had torn into his eyes and there was blood everywhere and he had to wait for hours before Wesley had been able to see him, and he said that—

“Wes!” Kain’s voice rose to a thready scream and he sat up, only making a headache from the pits of hell radiate everywhere and a pain travel up his flank. He couldn’t see. Everything was so dark, he couldn’t see, he knew that it had been bad, but he still strained his eyes for anything to pick up. There was nothing. He couldn’t see anything.

“Wes!” He screamed a bit louder. The noise hurt, moving hurt, but he tried to sit up anyways and strained his voice. “Please—”

“Kain…” There was a groggy voice and Kain snapped towards it. He knew that voice, but not by name. It was a dragon, though. That helped the panic rising in his chest with every heartbeat that passed in darkness. “You need to keep your voice down or else I’ll drop kick you out of this post office.”

“I—I— Where’s Wes? Or another medic? I need to— owww…” Kain dropped back onto the ground and clutched his head, feeling tight bandages around his eyes. Maybe that was all that was causing the darkness. Maybe if he took them off then he’d be able to see again. He needed to find Wes, he could tell him what had happened.

“He was with Sage last time I checked,” The voice said. Then sighed. “You stay quiet, I’ll go get him. But I swear if you wake up Atlas he will crawl over to your bed and punch you. And then I will. Shut up.”

The was a shuffle and creak of floorboards as the girl left. Kain felt over his face again, the bandages covering his eyes and stitches spanning over his cheek from where a dragon had latched on and tore at his face until it felt more blood than skin. They were like vultures, coming down on him and leaving him defenseless to try and fight them off. He had been relieved when a soldier— St. George, they had killed Isaac, they killed his best friend— had shot the thing off of him. He had been more relieved when Cobalt-Riley had told them to fall back and someone had realized that he couldn’t see through all of the blood.

What if he never saw again?

“Kain.” The thick British accent alerted him to Wes’ presence. “Get something to eat, Mason. Something other than Cheez-its. Bloody hell, Kain… you’ve bled through your bandages.”

“What’s wrong with me? Why can’t… you didn’t…” His hand trembled and Wes let out a long sigh, slowly getting him upright despite how much worse it made the headache. “You couldn’t… You can’t. That—”

“I explained what I was going to do before I put you under, Kain,” Wes muttered. “I tried to save as much of your right eye as possible, but your left—”

“No.”

“It had to come out, Kain. It had completely ruptured, there wasn’t any saving it.”

“No.”

“You’re right eye might still be functional, I did everything—”

“No!”

His eye had been removed. The darkness wasn’t just from the bandages.

He was blind.

**** **** **** ****

Cobalt-Riley decided to move them back to the Order Chapterhouse, a choice that Kain strongly disagreed with. He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the soldiers that had hunted him like a dog for three years. But Wes agreed. He said that they had better medical equipment, and that could mean the difference between life and death for Nettle and Sage. And the idea of either of them dying was even worse.

“Kain, we’re leaving now. I want to get you there fast, so you’re on on this trip,” Wes’ voice told him. “I’m going to help you up, okay?” A hand took his own and Wes got him on his feet, which made the headache worsen and a feeling of vertigo nearly cause him to fall over. The only thing that kept him upright was Wes’ hands on his shoulders. He slowly led him outside, telling him when to step down. Kain strained his eyes— eye— to see anything through the bandages, but the light didn’t change.

But it could change. He clung to that, Wes had shined a flashlight in his eye and he could definitely see the difference of light or dark. But at the moment, with someone having to guide his every step and him practically clinging to the guidance, if felt like a bitter condolence.

“You’re in the passenger’s seat,” Wes told him. He heard the car door open and a moment later Wes’ hand was on his back to help him into the car. “The moment we get Sage into a room and set things up I’ll ask the St. George medic if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Kain let out a snort. “They’re going to help us? What type of backwards world did I step into?” There was a slam of the closing door and for a moment he couldn’t hear Wes, which sent a jolt of fear through him. Wes had been the person to tell him where everything was for the past few days, and losing track of him in an unfamiliar area was more scary than he wanted to admit. But less than five seconds letter the driver’s side door opened and Kain’s chest relaxed.

“A world, Kain, where there are two medics and around eighteen major injuries. Most of whom—” The car rumbled to life and Kain jumped, grabbing for his seatbelt until he made contact. “—Are bloody idiots.”

Kain winced. He couldn’t tell if he was referencing Hamsah trying to shit back into human form with a torn wing, Persephone trying to walk and nearly puncturing her lung in the process, or Kain himself trying to stand and find Sage the previous day before subsequently getting lost.

“Try not to fight any soldiers this time,” He said as they started moving. “These guys aren’t as welcoming as our St. George.”

Kain expected a surge of indignance at the way he spoke, or at least anger towards the soldier and his traitor girlfriend. But he felt nothing besides a bit of pain for bringing it up.

He hadn’t felt this way since Isaac died.

He nodded and rested his cheek on his hand, staring at where he knew the window was. He could imagine the desert passing around them, the sandy brown and cacti and tumbleweed that he had seen on his flight. Maybe if he focused enough on imagining, he’d be able to ignore that he wasn’t actually seeing a thing.

**** **** **** ****

He was sharing a room with and Jasper, Persephone, and Hamsah. He knew that it was because of wound intensity so Wes and Riley would be closer to the people who were less stable, but it still felt awkward and he couldn’t help but wish that he was in a room with Mason or Sage. Of course, Sage was unconscious, ribcage and spine broken apart, in the high risk room with Nettle. Mason was in the least risk room.

During the first night, Kain continued to strain his eyes to see anything. He was too afraid to move from his cot in case he got lost in the dark so close to St. George, but staying still felt even worse. In the end he stood and stumbled across the room, bracing his hands against the cold wall and shuffling until he found the door. He just needed to get out of the room. No further. He wouldn’t get lost if he was just outside his room.

The air was cool on the exposed part of his face and provided some relief for the bandages around his head. He closed the door and sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He hated the human body he was confined to, cold and weak and damaged, but if he shifted… that would be bad. For numerous reasons. He was in a St. George chapterhouse. He’d destroy a perfectly comfortable hoodie. He’d tear his stitches and just cause more damage to his face.

He’d still be blind.

Kain growled at himself and rubbed at the bandages, a movement that quickly turned to scratching and then tearing. They came off and the desert air hit him, cool and dry around his irritated eyes.

It was still so dark.

Kain rubbed at his eyelid, feeling something warm and damp come off his fingers. Wes had only taken his bandages off once to flush out his eyes and check for infection, but then he had been dousing them with water so he couldn’t have seen, even if he had still had his eyes. But now there was no denying it. He couldn’t see. He’d never he able to see again.

Kain started to shake, tremors travelling from his hands to his chest until he was a shaking ball curled against the door. He was blind. There was nothing he could do about it. And suddenly the hallway was an endless labyrinth that he couldn’t navigate and the world felt too large to survive in. He didn’t even know if he could make it back to his cot by himself.

“Kain?” A voice to his right made Kain’s head shoot up. “Bloody hell, Kain…” He heard a shuffle and then Wes’ feet walking towards him. Kain curled up further and tried to stop the tremors wracking his body. “Come on. I have a first aid kit in Riley’s room, we can patch this up.”

“Fuck off, Higgins,” Kain tried to growl. It came out a whimper. He heard Wes sit down next to him and considered hitting him until he realized that then he’d be even more alone. Wes had been doing his best to keep them all grounded. But he was the one that took his eye. But there hadn’t been any saving it. His thoughts were just making him shake harder until his teeth were chattering from the movement.

“Do you need me to get Riley?” Wes asked softly. Kain shook his head. “Alright. Need me to leave?”

At that Kain grabbed for Wes’ arm. He couldn’t be left alone, the hallway was too big and he was too small and everything hurt and he needed someone to make the world seem a little more manageable. It didn’t matter if it was Mason or Wes or Nadine or even that crazy dragonell who dragged them all into this. He couldn’t be alone.

Wes sighed beside him and Kain clenched his fists, fearing for a moment that he’d be left alone. A tentative hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him where he sat. And the world felt smaller, somehow.

“Before you go back to bed I need to redo your bandages,” He whispered. Kain nodded and bit his lip to stop the chattering.

“I— I rubbed at my eyes. I know I’m not supposed to,” He whispered.

“Bloody twat.”

Kain shivered and drew his legs closer to his chest. And Wes snorted. A second later he felt either a jacket or a blanket being thrown over his shoulders. It didn’t help much, but it was something to clench in his hands. There was a liquid dripping down his face and he tried to wipe it away before Wes grabbed his wrist. Kain growled.

“The more you touch your face the more I’m going to have to watch out for infection. Don’t do that,” He said. Kain pulled his wrist out of the his grasp and Wes sighed again. “Look, Kain. I’ve never been good with emotions, it’s not my job. But obviously… you need someone who is. And I can try my best if you need me to.”

Kain shook his head, lying blatantly. But Wes didn’t press him to speak or leave. He just sat next to him, offering a silent promise that he wasn’t completely alone. And before he could stop it, his mouth opened up and started to talk on its own accord.

“It’s so dark,” He whispered. “I can’t stand the thought of living like this forever, I felt like if I took the bandages off, then it would be okay again, that I’d be able to see, and— and—” He shuddered. “I can’t.”

There was silence from Wes, whose hand had returned to his shoulder and was rubbing it softly.

“I am sorry,” He finally said. “We— Riley and I should not have let you fight. But we did, and now you’re the one that has to pay the price.” He said. “But you’re strong, Kain. You’ve lived through… a lot. Enough that this isn’t going to trip you up forever.”

“You suck at this.”

“Well, it’s not my job,” Wes said. “But my point is that you can adjust. And you will… and Riley and I will be there to help while you’re at it.” Kain nodded. It didn’t help much. He couldn’t see, he wasn’t going to get better, and that fact still weighed heavily in his mind. But Wes was right. He would adjust. He always did, and this time he had people to help him.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. And he would take anything.

“I need to fix up your eyes before they get infected. You need help up?” He asked. Kain stood and leaned against the wall until the swimming in his head left him and let Wes take his forearm, leading him to a room that was a light grey rather than black. He tried to focus to see any shadows, a vague shape of the room, but there was nothing beyond the solid color.

Wes stayed right beside him the entire time, talking in a low voice. The sound told Kain exactly where he was.

It was something.

[butterflyphil]

Those Four Words

Summary: “You absolute fucking prick.”

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: Swearing (guess it’s a little late for that though whoops I’ll just put that in the tags), food mention

A/N: Inspired by a debate between @botanistlester, @insanityplaysfics, and some anons on Phanfiction Catalogue about whether Dan or Phil would propose. I, um, might have been one of those anons btw (*cough* #TeamEliza *cough*). I hope this serves as an acceptable compromise.

read on ao3

“Hey.”

Dan doesn’t bother to look away from the episode of Steven Universe they’re watching, acknowledging his boyfriend only with a noncommittal sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt. Phil’s using his ‘idea’ voice, and as it’s barely past ten in the morning and Dan was up pacing the lounge until nearly five, he has neither the energy nor the mental capacity to pay attention to anything more complicated than cartoons right now. He pops another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and hopes whatever Phil has to say is brief.

(He gets his wish).

“Marry me?” Phil says in the exact same tone he used last week when he suggested that they go miniature golfing in the middle of a typical London downpour.

Dan chokes, and Phil spends a good five minutes patting his back while he coughs up pieces of Crunchy Nut. When his lungs are finally clear, Dan turns around, glaring.

“You absolute fucking prick,” he says.

“Is that a no?” Phil doesn’t sound concerned.

“You heard me last night, didn’t you?” Dan points an accusatory finger at Phil’s nose. “You heard me practicing my speech and decided to beat me to the punch. You utter shit.”

Phil puts his hands up in defense. “I just wanted a midnight snack. I think that instead of being mad at me, you should focus on how thoughtful I was to leave you some cereal for breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s what I should focus on, is it? Silly me, I thought the fact that you just fucking proposed to me was a slightly bigger deal.” He gets up from his sofa crease, arms crossed, and stomps his way to the bedroom, the voices on the television still going behind him.

Phil follows without missing a beat. “Come on, Dan, we’ve talked about getting married since you were twenty-two. Is it really that big a deal?”

“Yes!” Dan whirls around, nearly bumping his nose into Phil’s in the process. “There is a big goddamn difference between planning to get married and planning to get married.”

Phil tilts his head in confusion.

“Oh fuck off,” Dan says before throwing himself onto the bed dramatically.

“But…this is my room.”

“Fuck off,” Dan repeats, voice muffled by a pillow far too soft and nice-smelling to be his own. He realises with sudden annoyance that it’s Phil’s.

The bed dips, and Dan resists the impulse to scoot over and give Phil more room. He doesn’t deserve more room, Dan thinks. The proposal-thieving bastard.

“Tell me why you’re upset,” Phil says.

Dan groans and rolls onto his back. He meets Phil’s eyes, which still look far too full of affection for someone whose proposal was just rejected. Dan tries to hold onto his anger, but after a moment of tense silence, he ends up grabbing the pillow from behind him and hugging it to his chest. He studies the blue and green pattern as he grumbles, “I wanted to propose.”

“I know,” Phil says gently.

Dan’s anger comes back all at once. “Then why didn’t you just let me do it?”

“Tired of waiting, partially.” Phil shrugs. “But mostly, I was tired of seeing you so stressed about it.”

Dan’s mouth falls open. “What the hell, Phil? How long have you known?”

“Since August…” Phil says, wincing, “…of 2014.”

Dan just stares at him.

“I get hungry when I can’t sleep!” Phil rushes to defend. “And the bed gets cold when you leave, which wakes me up.”

No response.

“I really am sorry.” Phil ducks his head, peeking up through his overgrown fringe in a way that is decidedly not adorable. “I thought by now you would have known that I knew.”

That snaps Dan out of his trance. “Of course I didn’t know you knew,” he says. “Why would I still be practicing my speech if I knew you knew?”

“Oh.” Phil’s eyes widen as if the idea truly hadn’t occurred to him until now. “Er…”

Dan raises an eyebrow.

“Whoops?” Phil finishes lamely.

“Yeah. Whoops.”

“Well it’s not too late!” Phil says. “Just propose to me now.”

“I can’t just propose to you after you’ve already proposed to me. That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?”

Phil’s question sounds so sincere that it gives Dan pause. He struggles to come up with a good reason before giving up with a sigh. “There were supposed to be flowers.”

Phil taps his finger to his lips, considering, before springing up from the bed. He gathers every plant he can find in the bedroom into his arms—two cacti, an aloe vera plant, and something too dead to identify—before plopping onto the floor and placing two on each side of his legs. “What else?”

Dan feels the corner of his mouth tick up involuntarily. “I was going to take you to dinner first.”

“That part’s easy; we just ate cereal. What else?”

“I was going to try to look nice…” he says, running a hand through the messy curls that are currently pushed back from his forehead and haven’t been washed in days. With his other hand, he tugs at the hem of his wrinkled tee.

At this, Phil stands, joining Dan on the bed again and stilling Dan’s hands with his own. “You’re beautiful,” Phil says in a voice so sincere it makes Dan’s whole face heat up. “Anything else?”

“Well I was going to give this lengthy speech leading up to it, but apparently you’ve heard it a million times already.”

“I want to hear it again.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

Dan glares.

“Please?”

Dan continues to pout for as long as possible—which ends up being a whopping four seconds—before huffing through his nose and letting the words start tumbling out. “I was going to start by asking if you remembered that time we were Skyping before we even met, and I fell asleep while you were talking, and when I woke up you were still there.”

“I do,” Phil says.

Dan ignores him. “And I was going to tell you how you didn’t know it then—only you probably did because apparently I can’t keep anything from you—but that was the moment I realised I wanted you to be in my life for as long as I lived. And I wasn’t thinking about marrying you or even dating you yet. I just knew that I wanted to be with you, permanently, in any capacity you’d allow.”

“I felt the same way.”

“And how it still took me months to notice I was in love with you, and how I fretted about ruining our friendship for ages before you kissed me out of the blue one day because you knew, of course you knew, and fuck I’m just now realising how stupid I was to think I could plan a proposal for this long without you figuring it out.”

“Not your smartest assumption, no.”

“And even with me spilling my heart out and you over there being a smartass about the whole thing—”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“—I still want to spend every second until the day I die by your side.”

“I’d sort of prefer to go to the toilet alone, if that’s alright.”

The enthusiasm in Dan’s eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a blank stare. “Actually, you know what? I take it all back. I fucking hate you.”

Phil smiles. “I know.”

As though the brain cells that control his emotions finally abandon ship, Dan suddenly bursts into both laughter and tears.

Phil, ever calm and patient in the face of Dan’s hysterics, simply cradles Dan to his chest and lets him cry on his shirt.

“I don’t actually hate you,” Dan says between hiccups. “The opposite of that, actually. Like, the super-duper opposite.”

“I super-duper opposite of hate you too,” says Phil.

When Dan has finally regained some semblance of composure, he feels a thumb reach out and wipe the leftover moisture off his cheeks. He whispers a hoarse “thank you” and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, and they stay that way for longer than either of them can keep track of.

“Hey.” Dan is the first to break the silence. Phil looks down at him, and Dan hides his grin in Phil’s chest. “We’re getting married.”

“Are we?” Phil asks. “You never answered my question.”

“You never answered mine either.”

“You never actually asked.”

Dan huffs, both exasperated and amused. “Will you marry me, then?”

“Hm…” Phil pretends to think about it. “I don’t know…will there be cake?”

Dan releases his hold on Phil’s waist and shoves his arm. “Just say yes, you idiot.”

“Yes,” Phil replies seriously, and then he smirks. “You idiot.”

Dan scoffs even as he grips Phil’s shirt in both hands and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s tender but short-lived, as Dan soon pulls back to say, “I get to plan the wedding.”

“Is that a yes from you as well?”

“I mean it. I didn’t get the proposal I wanted so I get to choose every last detail.”

“Is that a yes?” Phil repeats.

“I want a vegan wedding cake. A black one. And black and white décor. We’re wearing tuxes, not suits. Monochrome dress code for the guests too. I won’t have even a hint of color.”

“Is that a yes?”

Dan narrows his eyes. “I want a divorce.”

“You’ll have to marry me first.”

A slow grin creeps onto Dan’s face.

“Alright.”

[melimoe]

Our bus for the two city tour was leaving at 8:10am. We set the alarm to go off at 7am. This would give us time to go and have breakfast and gather our things before we had to be on the bus. At breakfast I used the crepe station. With cinnamon, sugar and fresh fruit it was a very filling breakfast.

We headed up to the lobby at 8am and there were two buses waiting there. Amber asked on the front bus if it was headed on our tour. She was informed, quite rudely, by a passenger that it was a private tour. I can only imagine that it is different from ours because it was one group that booked it. We asked again on the second bus if it was for us and received the same answer. I was surprised at how rued people could be when answering a simple question. I am glad I wasn’t on either of those buses, I don’t think I would have gotten along with the people on them.

Shortly after the other two buses left another one pulled up. This one had a man in a red Air Canada shirt step out and call for our tour. Our bus for sure. We were obviously the first pick up because there was no one else on the bus. After picking our seats we went from hotel to hotel picking up other people for the tour. In total there was about 30 of us.

Once the tour began we drove across a causeway that connected the island of Cayo Coco to the Cuban mainland. On either side of the causeway the shallow waters are a bird sanctuary. There were thousands of birds in the area, including a few flocks of pink flamingos. While we drove to Ciego de Avila, the capital of the region and the farthest point on the tour, we were given the history of Cuba from our tour guide. He was very engaging and informative.

We stopped along the way at a crocodile farm. Here we had an quick opportunity to feed the crocodiles and hold some of the young, as well as other animals, if we wanted. In exchange for this we would leave a small donation.

We were quickly hustled back on the bus after maybe 10 minutes. Along the way to Ciego de Avila we made another stop at a small hotel. They bring in to tourists by making a Piña colada in “true cuban style”. This means using fresh coconut and pineapple rather then a store bought mix. A Piña colada is better when made fresh. While we enjoyed our drinks a local band entertained us. They played some popular Cuban music. They also pulled some people up on stage to teach them how to do a few steps to a Cuban dance. As the band finished there music and we finished our drinks they were selling CDs of their music. I did not buy one and returned to the bus to finish our journey to Ciego de Avila.

Once we arrived in town we were dropped off at a local house that is also used as a studio and sells artworks. We were able to tour through the front of the house that acts as a shop, as well as through the house itself. This was to provide us with on idea of what the Cuban government provides for it’s people.

The Cuban government provides a house or apartment for each family, as well as a wage and food credit. These are not very much and people find other ways to supplement there incomes. Some have shops to sell things, some get jobs in well paying fields, some work at resorts for tips. Our guide told us this because in some of the cities you may see beggars. He wanted us to be aware that they have a house and a government allowance and we could choose to give to them or not.

After we finished at the art shop we continued down the road to another small shop. Here the people used their front room as a jewellery store. They made statues and jewellery out of old german silver silverware. We were even able to view the production area in the back. The entire family and some friends are involved in the process of making things to sell in the shop. Amber and I both bought a few things. Amber was excited because they would size rings to make them fit her fingers, something she usually has trouble with. While she was in the back the group was leaving. I was unsure how long she would be and how far the group would walk. I walked until I had both the shop and the group insight. This way if they turned a corner I would be able to see.

It didn’t take too long for Amber to have the rings sized and we met with the group as they headed into the town square.

We walked through the town square and at the end of the walk we ended up at another shop. This once sold the more coveted of goods; coffee, rum, and cigars.

I knew this is where I would become weighed down with gifts for people. You are allowed by Canadian customs to bring back 1.4L of alcohol. Bottles of rum conveniently came in 700ml sizes. I brought home one for my brother and his girlfriend. I also brought one home for another friend. But I am holding it hostage for my cheese platter that I made. I also bought cigars for the only smoker I know. I made sure to get a Cohiba, which is the brand that Fidel Castro smoked. I also brought home a bag of coffee to give away.

With heavy bags and a light wallet, we went for lunch. This was done buffet style at a restaurant on the square. Lunch was similar to what we would have at the hotel, fresh grilled meat, some sides, and lots of fresh fruit.

After lunch we had about an hour of free time. Amber and I headed for the bank, I had spent all my cash. It was a quick and painless process to take out money at a teller. I recommend going to the teller, especially in Cuba, so that the ATM doesn’t eat your card. This would make for a very bad trip afterwords. Our tour guide warned us that ATM’s in Cuba still eat a lot of North American cards.

After the bank we walk along a pedestrian street and found a local market. This was interesting because the Cubans have two currencies. They have the Convertible Cuban Peso (CUC) that is par with the American Dollar and is used by tourists. They also have the Cuban Peso (CUP) that is used by the government and the people and is converted at a rate of 25:1. One CUC is equal to 25CUP.

In the market the goods were priced in CUP. I know this because the sandals that I wanted had a tag that said 100 on it. I wanted new sandals because my old flipflops had the strap attached by going through the plastic bottom. This meant they rubbed the bottom of my foot and caused blisters. I wanted a new pair that attached to the sides and didn’t rub. I found a cute pair and was able to buy them for only 4CUC. Cheaper then anything I would find at home.

After wandering around for the rest of our time we went to the area where we were meeting the bus. Now we were headed to Moron (pronounced with two long O sounds, not like an idiot, they were very sure to emphasize that point).

I’m not sure how long the bus ride was because I napped all the way to Moron.

When we arrived in Moron there was a horse and buggy tour waiting for us. We went around town and saw the sights, this didn’t take very long because Moron is a small town. We still had fun, our horse and driver liked to be at the front and would do what he could to pass others. The ride only took about 5 minutes, then we crossed the street and went into a bar to watch a live band.

While we were listening to the band Amber is texting on her phone, which was strange because not really possible in Cuba. Turns out she was writing a note that she then passed to me. It said that I had “resting bitch face” and that I was her entertainment. I guess the others on the tour just thought I was unhappy, and I was, unhappy at being woken up.

After the band finished they were selling their CD for 10CUC. Again I did not buy one. We were then taken out the back of the bar because the courtyard had a few little tables set up with souvenirs for purchase. I bought a small wooden model of Cuba for myself.

Then it was back on the bus to the mangrove lake. Here the water is red because of the mangrove wood and sap that has mixed with the water. We were put on two speed boats and taken across the lake. While you are driving it looks like you are headed towards a wall of trees but there is a small turn that the boat takes into a tunnel in the mangroves. Here you are able to see things closer.

The boat drivers know exactly where to stop to show people saw many natural plants. There was a wild orchid growing on one of the trees. There was snake cacti and termite mounds. There was a rope swing to swing out of the boat and back in. Don’t land it the water, there could be crocodiles waiting for you. I was a really nice drive. After we headed back to the shore to get on the bus and head back to the Hotels.

When we returned to the hotel it was just after 5pm. We had lots of time before our dinner reservations. We went to the room to drop off all the things we bought. Then it was down to the beach to catch the rest of the days sun.

We headed to the Italian restaurant for our 6:45 reservation. The building was nice and clean. It was divided into two restaurants on each side of a courtyard. Then the restaurant was in two sections to make it feel more intimate. The food was good but the portions were small, so if you go order from each page. Amber had a pizza and I had cannelloni with cauliflower.

After dinner we headed to the lobby to use up the remainder of the internet card. That didn’t take very long because we once again played the connect, not connect, re-connect. In the end we each got a few messages out. We sat around the lobby bar until 8:30. We both felt tired because of our long day in town.

We headed back to the room and I was out by 9pm. Couldn’t even stay awake until the nightly entertainment.

via Daily Prompt: Pause

Tale of Two Cities: Ciego de Avila and Moron Our bus for the two city tour was leaving at 8:10am. We set the alarm to go off at 7am.