#cannot wait for april

[drunkspacearchivist]

okay now that we’re on hiatus let’s talk about the parallels between the season one mag crew (and beyond) and the season one magp crew

If we take out Lena and Collin (and we’ll get back to them, I swear), we’ve got a gender flipped one for one version of the original Archive crew. I’ve seen a lot of comparisons between Sam and Jon, and also Collin and Jon, but I don’t think either of these are necessarily meant to be narrative parallels.

Let’s remember what the Archives crew was like in season one. Setting aside everything they become, everything that happens to them, remember what they were like at the beginning.

Jon was trying to seem as professional and official as possible. No one (save for Martin) actually looked at him as the boss of the situation, but he really wanted to be. He was trying to project confidence and control, tied to the Institute for an unclear purpose. Season one Jon wasn’t paranoid, wasn’t focused on the greater mystery, but wanted to be very good at his job. It was only at the end of the season that he started to realize that the job he wanted to succeed at wasn’t what he thought at all. That’s the position we left /Gwen/ in over the hiatus. I think that Gwen is meant to be the Jon stand-in, as much as any of them are supposed to be stand-ins for the old crew, and I think we can probably follow a lot of his character growth to make theories tied to where Gwen will end up: pursuing the power until it changes her irrevocably.

My biggest stretch out of the four is tying Celia to Martin, but hear me out. We don’t know much about either of them in the first season, and we still don’t know a lot about Celia. But the little we’ve seen shows that she’s a relatively sweet person, generally rolling with the horrors, and knows more than she lets on. We know that Martin had the potential to belong to the Web, but ended up towards the Lonely instead. I think we’ll see kind of what we could have had with Web!Martin.

Then, of course, we’re down to Sam and Alice. I’ve predicted that they would be our Tim and Sasha since the first episode, but it honestly hurts how much they’re living up to it. Sam, ignoring logic and reason to pursue the greater mystery like how Sasha followed Michael, how Sasha approached the thing in Artifact storage. Alice, who knows more than she lets on, barely hiding her anger and hurt under flirty jokes and jabs at her friends, and so close to her brother. The way that Tim loved Sasha, really loved Sasha, but she didn’t love him in the same way, the way that Sasha changed and Tim didn’t notice until it was too late, the way that Sam has changed and Alice hadn’t noticed until Sam had already left her behind.

Finally getting back to the two I put aside, it’s easy to draw comparisons to Lena and Elias, but they’re also very different. Sure, they’re both creepy bosses with secret power, but I don’t think people acknowledge how… incompetent Lena is? Sure she’s creepy, and vague, and everything she says feels like a thinly veiled threat, but she also is easily blackmailed by Gwen, and failed to kill the only person we’ve heard her attempt to kill. (And yet, Elias made a copy of the tunnel key for Jon, pretended not to believe the worms to suit his own needs. Is it a long con? Or is Lena like the fears, something familiar and yet undefined?)

Now, here’s my biggest thing. A lot of people have compared Colin to Season 2 Jon, but again, I think they’re forgetting what it was like to hear Season 2 for the first time. Jon didn’t know what was going on. He was lost, scared, and confused. He’d started to figure out the evil was real but his hatred was misplaced. Colin recognizes there’s a mystery, and he also seems to have a firmer grasp on the source of the issues. He’s not paranoid, per se, because he’s /right/. The computers are listening, and there probably is something more going on. He’s angry, and scared, but not because he doesn’t know the threat. He’s angry and scared because he does know what’s causing this, but he’s alone in it. His anger and exhaustion are driven by a need for this all to be over, one way or another. He seems to know that there is something evil here, and he doesn’t want to be a part of it. He wants to end it. Collin isn’t Jon. Collin is Melanie.

Now, do I think all of these characters are meant to be foils? No. Do I think we’re supposed to make predictions based on the past? Not really. But I think the parallels are where it’s really going to hit hard in the future

[magictavern]

i am perpetually teetering on the edge of imploding, etc etc

[craacked-splatters]

I am once again dropping some sloppy fanfic fanart scribbles but this time for @pezhead 's 2012 tmnt/rottmnt crossover au

If u haven't read it yet I would recommend doing so

It takes place directly after the power inside her and some time after the rottmnt movie and u can read it right here!

[ahappydnp]

can't wait to see how we finish out this year

[amppy]

junhan !!! ☆

[dragon-spaghetti]

"In that spirit, might I suggest a science mystic team up?!"

"Now you're talking!"

(Please click for better quality & massive thanks to @livewire11211 for trading w me!!)

[waterghostype]

MY MOST BELOVED HELLOOOOO I LOVE YOU JORDS RAYGAHGAHGAHGHAHAGHAG AJORDOOAOBSAIBAJORDANNAAAA

[knifebaby3000]

“oxbow”, 29 may 2023

[charles-leclerc-official]

Charles in his The Tortured Poets Department era

[sexynetra]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Surprise bitch I’m alive (and making my editor work on this chapter under duress)

~~~~~~

Anetra slammed her sketchbook closed and whipped around in her seat to look at Marcia again. “Do you really think that’s helpful right now?” she asked coldly. “Like, I’m asking you for help so I don’t show my ass in this show and you’re here telling me I’m shit at it before it even starts. What the fuck is your problem?”

Marcia started. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think.”

“You never do.”

[campbyler]

“answer my ask” ok but some of y’all guessed the plot after chapter 1 and we are having fun seeing everyone else trying to sleuth. let us be chaotic 😇

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 1

>>Tie-breaker winner: FABRIC

>> Readers select a potentially abandoned cave with foot-branded boxes in it.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

As April looks around the cave, she notices that the walls are made of familiar dark grey stone. Wherever they were portaled to, they’re at least within the borders of April’s kingdom.

However, that is a small comfort given their current predicament. 

Lining the stone walls are unlit torches, with some cobwebs wrapped between the wood and the rusty metal mounts. Blackened ash mars the stone above the torches, but it’s flaking off, leaving crackled patterns behind. 

As April’s eyes drift downward, she notices several wooden boxes littered along the sides, all bearing a red footmark. She furrows her brow—she doesn’t recognize that symbol. Does this symbol belong to the group that ambushed her convoy and attempted to kidnap her?

April turns her head, and she notices that the cavern continues to tunnel deeper into the earth, the path downward shrouded in unnerving darkness. The air coming up from the deep tastes almost stale; if this cave was used as a base for this mysterious group, it seems to be abandoned.

“Wherever we are, I don’t think we should stay.” The yokai guard informs as he helps April off her feet. “While this wasn’t their target destination, the two grunts appeared to know where they were. The longer we stay here, the more likely the rest of their group is to find us.”

The yokai guard tugs April toward the entrance of the cave, but April tugs her wrists out of his grip. “Wait!”

The purple-clad turtle turns to face her. “We don’t have time, Your Highness. Your safety is my highest priority, and I cannot guarantee it here.”

April gestures toward the boxes. “But there might be supplies! Something we can take so we’re not completely screwed trying to get back home.”

Well, her home, her true home. Not his. 

“You raise a good point. Alright.” The guard reaches for something behind his back, and in a flash of purple light a metallic pole appears seemingly out of thin air. “I’ll make quick work of the boxes so we don’t linger here longer than necessary.”

However, April’s staring in awe at the staff. “Wait a second, what is that? And where did it come from?”

The turtle pauses, looking at the staff in his hands. “It’s my titanium bō staff! A feat of scientific innovation, and my preferred weapon of choice. And it was just hidden within my armor, as it's collapsible.” The guard places one of his hands on the end of the staff and pushes, and in a flash of purple light the staff condenses back down into a thick, hand-sized cylinder in the palm of his other hand.

April’s eyes sparkle for several seconds, but then she blinks and tilts her head. “Wait, why were you using a sword? And why didn’t you use it against my kidnappers.”

“My b—Prince Raphael asked that I use a katana. He said it would be symbolic if our weapons matched your guards, something about showing respect and camaraderie.” The guard shrugs as if the reasoning is trivial and something he doesn’t quite agree with. “As for why I didn’t pull my beloved staff out earlier, I wasn’t confident that I had enough time to pull it out and use it to protect you. Using the lowly dagger to dispose of our enemy was logically the best option.”

Well, April certainly can’t argue with that. The kidnapper had a knife on her neck, so every second counted in saving her life. 

“That makes sense, but–” she gestures to the staff “–how can that cut open a box?”

“Ohohoho! Excellent question, Your Highness.” The staff extends outward and the guard fiddles with something in the center of the staff. “As I mentioned previously, this staff is a feat of scientific innovation, and there are a few tools packed into it.”

April has to hold back a gasp as the yokai guard presses a button and a small saw flicks out at the top end of the staff. Then the teeth of the blade start moving.

“Tada! A motorized saw, powered by my ninpō.” He places a hand on his puffed-out chest. “Impressed?”

April looks at the guard. This is probably the first time he’s appeared, well, happy, in front of her. He’s not scowling, or giving her dirty looks. And while he’s doing his very best to hide it, she can see a hopeful look in his eyes that she approves and admires his scientific accomplishments.

Does he not get enough praise back home or something?

Still, she indulges him. “Oh, it’s amazing! Ah–” April fiddles with her fingers “–I don’t think I ever learned your name.”

“It’s Donatello, future co-captain of the Royal Guard, Your Highness.” 

“Thanks! Well, Sir Donatello, how about you demonstrate how your saw can annihilate the boxes?” April asks, a smile dimpling her cheeks and a glint in her eye.

“With pleasure.” 

The saw makes quick work of the tops of all the wooden boxes, allowing April to riffle through the stored goods. As April searches through the first box, her eyes land on one particular item and she dives for it. 

“Sweet! A pair of pants!” She holds up the pair of black pants like a trophy. “This will make our journey much easier.”

Without hesitation, April manages to slip the pants underneath her dress, though it takes a bit of effort to get the pants on with the ruffles of her foofy dress getting in the way. 

Though her stupid dress will not be a problem for much longer. 

Once the pants are on, she turns to Donatello who’s cutting through the last box. “Sir Donatello. Do you mind cutting off the skirt portion of my dress?”

The guard immediately stops his saw and seems to choke on air. “I-I beg your pardon, Princess?”

“Can you cut the skirt portion of my dress?” April motions to the annoying garb. “It’s only gonna get in the way.”

Donatello looks mortified. “I don’t think that would be wise. You’ve already been separated from the convoy, and I am positive that your King would not be pleased if I returned you in such a poor state.”

“I really don’t care what my father thinks,” April shrugs, “Besides, I’ll just say it was my idea, or that the dress got ripped on a tree stump or something. You won’t take the blame.”

The turtle yokai hesitates, but eventually walks over and takes a small knife out of his staff. “If that’s what you wish, Princess.”

He makes quick work of the annoying skirt, cutting around her mid-thigh and turning the dress into something that reminds April of a summer chemise. He then cuts a ribbon from the discarded fabric and uses it as a makeshift ribbon, tying it around her waist so that the remaining portion of her dress is secure.

“There, how’s that, Princess?” He asks as he slots the small knife back into his staff.

“Oh, this is much better.” April stretches her legs, the first time she’s been able to do so this entire journey. “I hated that stupid dress.”

The guard pauses, tapping his bō staff before looking at her quizzically. “You… don’t like your clothing?”

April considers whether she should be telling the guard of her woes, but then shrugs. What’s he going to do, snitch on her?

“No. It’s… it’s what my father wanted me to wear when I met with Prince Raphael and the Lords and Ladies of your kingdom.” April shrugs. “Didn’t have much say in the matter.”

Donatello hums and nods. “I see.”

There is a pause, not quite awkward, but not quite comfortable.

The guard clears his throat. “Well, I think we should search the boxes and get a move on. We’ve stayed here long enough as it is.”

Together they ransack the abandoned goods, grabbing any supplies they thought might be useful. Sir Donatello ends up carrying most of the equipment while April takes a sheathed serrated dagger and slips it behind the makeshift ribbon on her waist. 

“Are you ready to go, Princess?” Sir Donatello asks, holding out a hand toward her.

April nods. “As ready as I will ever be.” 

Together they leave the depths of the cave, only stopping at the mouth to take in their surroundings. 

“I’m afraid I am not too familiar with your territory.” The yokai guard states as he looks around. “Do you have an idea of which way we should go?”

April bites her lip. They’re up high on one of the mountains, though she thinks she can see the path that winds through the terrain in the distance. It will take more than a day to get there, assuming they don’t get lost or sidetracked.

But how are they going to get there?

April looks immediately in front of her. To her right, she spots a rough dirt path with some weeds and plants starting to grow back along the path’s edge. To her left, she sees a more treacherous terrain, with stones and fallen branches littering the forest floor.

April decides… >> To take the dirt path.

[zinebash]

news & notes! 🤠

cowboy bash approaches.... "april-ish" date has now become a solid may 1st-31st 2024! nearly 2 months til it starts and a whole month of Happening, which is both plenty of time and (if youre on the same timefuck brain wavelength as me) way sooner than you think

prompt lists coming soon! if you have suggestions, please drop them below or in an ask! once again we'll have two lists, one for style/medium of zine, the other for theme/subject. we're interpreting "cowboys" in the broadest possible way, though your prompt suggestions don't have to; they can be about working livestock or spaghetti westerns or country music, whatever gets you excited

new for this event: sharing your other work if any of you have old cowboy-ish zines of any size, please submit a post about them (or a link to an existing post for reblogging)! they won't be part of the gallery/prints/download collection for the event, but we'd love to reblog them and share the cowboy zine love. additionally, if you're a zinebash alumni (ie, you've participated in a previous event) and have any other non-zine cowboy art or writing, you are also welcome to send those posts to us.

also new for this event: limits and cost, sorry :( to make things a little easier for myself, this time around there's going to be a limit on how many print copies I make available. but you all get to decide which method of limiting you prefer

if we go with the first option, i'll continue printing them myself at home. cost will be upped slightly (probably $2-3 instead of $1 depending on number of zines) if we go with the second option, i'll have them printed elsewhere which means we can do color! but it also means they'll be a little more pricey (around $5 for 10 color zines) the cost increase is still just covering the expense of printing them -- with the second option I'll know exactly how much it is and price accordingly; the first is a rough estimate but if anything I'll round down

as before the downloadables will stay up for a year and the gallery will stay up forever/until tumblr dies 👍

thanks in advance for your input! i can't wait to see what y'all make for the next event

[violet-phoenix-nebula]

These song names are fucking sending me

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

So Long, London (track 5)

But Daddy I Love Him

Fresh Out The Slammer

Guilty as Sin?

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

The Smallest Man Who Ever Loved

Jake Gyllenhaal witch hunt: ✅️

John Mayer witch hunt: ✅️

Joe Alwyn witch hunt: Coming April 19

[goldeneyedgirl]

12 kisses: march: scars, anathema.

Wow, it's been a hot minute since I posted anything. I'm kind of back? I've finished a semester successfully, just waiting for grades and information on next semester (I'm lowkey excited about my ofic that I'm writing for school), and just dealing with more health stuff plus I live surrounded by varying levels of Other People's Nonsense that I am involved in dealing with for an unknown reason.

But I'm back to writing fic, and thought I'd upload some stuff that's been marinating since February. First up, catching up on the 12kisses meme with something from Anathema. This looked different in my head but it's cute and it's building up Jasper's Anathema backstory, so I'm happy.

Asks will be answered, chapters will be finished,but today I'm just doing warmups and fic housekeeping.

12 kisses: march: scars, anathema

[ scars ] a gentle kiss on the partner’s scars

I’m frozen solid by the time we make it home, shivering under three layers of soaked clothing - I’m not entirely sure my puffer jacket is ever going to recover from this. It’s less ‘puff’ and more ‘soggy’ now.

“We need to get you warm and dry,” Jasper said, sounding stressed, as I fumbled with the house keys, my fingers numb. He’d been worried since he bundled me into the car; he was so protective of me. I might have been miserably cold, but there was no way I’d get sick from twenty minutes cold. But Jasper preferred to err on the side of caution - my human half - rather than risk me getting so much as a paper cut.

It was pretty cute, honestly.

“First stop, the shower.” I flipped on the lights as we went in; the entire house was dark. Freddie and Dulcie were at the conference in Seattle all weekend, and it had taken a lot of effort to convince them to let me stay home alone rather than going with them, or staying with the Clearwaters (not that I was on entirely good terms with the Clearwater since Jasper showed up. Sue was positively distant with me lately.) But I definitely needed to convince Dulcie or Freddie to let me get a cat - especially for nights when I was on my own. Not that it happened all that often. Hell, Dulcie had even offered to let me stay at her place, but I was happier here - especially since Jasper had upgraded my laptop and fixed the wifi.

Half-tripping up the stairs - my toes were numb in my boots with cold, I found the apartment was slightly more welcoming since I’d accidentally left the living room lamp on. My clothes were leaving a trail of water behind me, and my hands were shaking as I pulled out dry clothes and a towel, leaving a set for Jasper to dry off.

“Shower, Alice,” Jasper said firmly. “You’re freezing.”

“At least dry off your clothes,” I said, clenching my teeth to stop them chattering. “Use the dryer.” I could see him on the fence about that idea. “I can’t warm up and them get cold again from your wet clothing.”

“Go shower,” he said, and I knew I’d won as he gently pushed me towards the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, I was toasty warm in a giant sweater, leggings, and the socks that Dulcie had knitted me for Christmas. My hair was ridiculously frizzy and I had tried to pin it down the best I could, but it still looked childish.

I dumped my clothes in the hamper to be dealt with in the morning before I wandered back through the apartment and out onto the landing where Jasper was drying his clothing. Our ‘laundry’ was in a closet on the landing because we had nowhere else to put it until someone (most likely Dulcie) cleared out the second floor so we could use it again.

Jasper was standing there in his jeans, checking his phone as his sweatshirt dried, and I was fully intending on just enjoying the view - he was staunchly old-fashioned towards me, but I had quickly worked out it was a defence mechanism. It was easier for him to fall back into the vague social expectations of his human life right now because everything was overwhelming. I’d cheerfully bullied him into doing things like holding my hand, and curling up on my bed with me to watch a movie, but both of those things were done fully clothed and there was still a very respectful distance between us.

That is to say, I had never seen him shirtless. And I had wanted to mentally imprint the imagine on my brain for the foreseeable future (I was very doubtful that being defiled on a gurney downstairs was going to be come to pass before I turned thirty), except…

The scars.

I knew he hand them; there were some on his arms and hands that I’d see, a couple of shallow ones on his face. He’d told me about life in the south and everything that happened with Maria and Peter, but I’d always felt that he was holding something back.

Now I had proof. The scars on his back overlapped; they looked like claws had dug into his shoulder blade and travelled down to his opposite hip. There were nicks in the skin and bite marks and smaller scratches.

And when he put his phone back in his pocket, all the muscles and skin pulled tightly against the scar tissue; I inhaled sharply. I know bodies. I know how they fit together, how they move. Human bodies aren’t even the same as vampire bodies; I know that. The venom does horrific things to the tissue and the muscle and the ligaments and the joints… But all I could think of was how every time Jasper moved, the scar tissue would try to stop him.

Jasper turned around when he heard me, his eyes wide. And I got even more of an eyeful. The damage on his chest and stomach were… different to his back. Not better or worse, just different. At one point, it look like he had been torn open from clavicle down to his stomach. Scratches, gouges, bites littered his body and all I could do was stare.

It wasn’t like anything I had ever faced downstairs. Even the bear attacks or falls weren’t like this. Because no human had to go on living with the remains of those fates. Jasper did.

“Alice, I…” he began and I shook my head, already moving.

“Oh Jasper,” I managed, before I flung my arms around him. His skin was cold against my face, but it was reassuring - I had become used to the fact that he was always going to be cold, or room-temperature at best. It was comforting and familiar now.

He stood rigidly in my grasp for a moment, before I felt his hand rest gently on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for you to see this,” he said so kindly I wanted to cry. “I just wanted to dry my clothing before you came out, I’m sorry.”

I frowned at him. There was a horrific scar where his neck joined his shoulder, and I could see the teeth marks at the edges. “Why are you sorry?”

“It’s not an easy sight,” Jasper said, and he looked away from me. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to ever have to deal with.”

Well. Apparently I grossly overestimated gurney-defilement at age thirty; Jasper had planned on it being never.

A million things raced through my head when he said that. Jokes about wedding nights, frustration that he thought I was too delicate to deal with reality, the insistence that it didn’t matter because it did, to him. He was apart of a family without blemish - some shadows from the scars that changed them but nothing even remotely close to what Jasper bore. Maybe it had been the Cullens that had taught Jasper to hide them, to cover them up, and I felt frustration rise up in me.

“I cannot stand the idea of you hurting,” I blurted out, my fingers twisting through the belt loops in his jeans. “Do they hurt now?”

He watched me, frowning, for a second. “No, they haven’t hurt in a very long time,” he said, and I felt the ghost of confusion drift over my skin. “They’re just there, they won’t ever fade.”

“But your back, I could see the muscles pulling,” I said. The idea that Carlisle, a surgeon, hadn’t done anything about Jasper’s scarring was stressing me out. I’d cut more than one scar through on the bodies downstairs, so that they could lay flat and look comfortable.

“I can feel some of them, but they don’t hurt or restrict me. Vampire skin doesn’t work that way,” Jasper said soothingly. “It simply moves with me. If there was resistance, they’d tear.”

A shudder that ran through me as I curled closer to him. “I don’t like that,” I said honestly. I’d see torn, cracked vampire flesh once, a couple of years ago when a nomad needed to be disposed of. It didn’t look real.

“We treated our wounds to make sure we didn’t lose movement, Alice.” His voice is kind and patient, and I hate that he’s comforting me. “It would be a death sentence otherwise.”

“How did they happen?” I asked, absently tracing one on his arm. “What animal did these?”

Jasper sighed; it was the kind of sigh that came from so much time and misery. “Newborns. Maria. Battles. No animals, just monsters,” he sounded tired. “I’m sorry Alice, I didn’t want you to have to see this side of us. Of me.”

I shook my head. “Sit. I want to know,” I said. Sinking to the floor, I immediately sat in his lap, curled against him. “You should have told me before.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Jasper replies smartly, grabbing my hand and stretching out my arm, to push up my sweater sleeve. Three scars along the arm that I never really thought about; they were smooth against the rest of my skin.

“That’s easy,” I said. “That one, when I broke my arm as a kid - bone tore straight through the skin, I screamed like I was on fire. Jeanie nearly had a heart attack when she found me. I only needed three weeks in a cast.

“That one was a dog bite. Mrs O’Brian, who owned the camping store before the Newtons moved to town, had this retriever. I’d never met a retriever that wasn’t super friendly. He just sunk his teeth into me and shook. I thought Freddie was going to kill the dog and Mrs O’Brian.” I shrugged. “And the last one - was getting ready to work on a body downstairs, and I had a vision when I picked up the scalpel. I fainted and stabbed myself pretty badly. Sue had to give me a bunch of stitches.”

Jasper’s fingers were cool against my arm as he traced the marks. “Any others?”

“I mean, there’s a burn scar on my stomach from when I leaned over my hair straightener,” I said. “A couple of shaving cuts around my ankles. One on my thigh from when I tripped in the forest. These are just living scars, Jas. Not like yours.”

Jasper nodded but was still focusing on the marks on my arm.

“It.. it wasn’t something we worried about,” he says, quietly. “Newborns were cannon fodder, it didn’t matter what happened to them. If they were too far gone, we’d just destroy them - we didn’t want to waste the resources to heal them up again.

“But I had to be on the frontline for us to win, to stay in control,” he continued. “I was a target; everyone knew that without me, Maria couldn’t control an army that size or hold her territory.

“Maria or… Peter would be the one to put me back together. Peter would try not to make a big deal out of it. But Maria, she’d tell me how bad it was. That I needed to fight smarter, that it didn’t have to be this bad. That I was wasting blood and time.” He shivered and looked up at me. “‘It won’t be worth keeping you around much longer’. That’s what she said to me at the end. As if I wasn't still winning, as if she didn’t have her territory.”

Jasper shook his head. “So I get to walk around like this.” The bitterness and self loathing in his voice was evident, even without the emotions boiling around him. “The Cullens, they made sure I stayed covered up for the first couple of years. Esme and Rose, they have histories with violence, and they needed to feel I was safe…”

I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to wrestle down the flare of anger I feel at the idea Jasper was made to feel like a monster, a dirty secret, because he’d been raised in a war zone.

“You deserve so much better, Alice.” The tenderness in his voice was heartbreaking. “If things were different - if I was stronger - I never would have let myself get close to you. A better version of me, in a perfect world. Someone whole and normal who isn’t like this.”

He buried his face in my hair, his arms firm around me as if he was holding on for dear life. And I am stricken. I am not an idiot, I knew that Jasper struggled. That the human facade and living this way was like wearing ill-fitting clothes for him. That I terrified him in so many ways, but especially how easily I had accepted him and invited him closer.

And his second life had taught him one lesson over and over again; that in the end, he would be alone. Cast out, broken, used up. Nettie and Lucy, Maria, Peter… the lesson had stuck. And a few months together wasn’t enough to erase those decades of misery, of bone-deep fears.

My lips press against the snarl of the scar on his neck, and I felt him shiver underneath my touch. I knew I was turning red - there was something so intimate about the gesture, even though I didn’t intend anything salacious.

“I need you to know I love you as you are,” I said, his face still tucked in my hair. “That this you is my you, and there’s not a single thing I would change about you.”

“To me, you are perfect,” I heard him murmur into my hair. I didn’t know if he was reassuring himself with words I’d told him before or telling that to me, but I didn’t get a chance to clarify; he looked up and tilted my head back, his thumb absently stroking my cheek.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, and there was something so sad yet so fierce in his gaze.

“And I’ve done nothing to deserve someone like you,” I replied. “We’re a perfect match. I adore you.”

Jasper chuckled, and there was a flicker in his eyes for moment as he seemed to lean closer… but whatever was going to be said or happen after that was lost as the dryer let out a thunk, a wheeze, and a chime to let us know that Jasper’s shirt was now dry.

“Time to go inside,” he said, the moment gone as he rose to his feet, helping me up before grabbing his sweatshirt from the dryer.

“I really was enjoying the show,” I said mournfully as he tugged his sweatshirt on. Jasper let out a surprised chuckle, and reached for me again.

“Time and patience, Alice,” he said in a funny way; all-knowing and reassuring but with a new warmth to his words. “All good things arrive eventually.”

I smiled up at him as he took my hand and lead me towards the apartment door.

For him, I would wait forever.

[coconi]

TRC NENDOROIDS WILL BE IN MY HANDS TOMORROW THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🎉🎉🎉