#despite the darker and more fucked up setting... Jason's actually doing pretty well for himself in Thedas

[azol-otl]

Jason wakes up with a sense of vertigo that is unfortunately familiar. His stomach is down in his ass, and his legs are both weightless and shackled to the sky like a dwarven nightmare come true. Everything is both too much on his skin, ears, brain but his head is full of cotton.

He knows that if he opens his eyes the land will be the ugliest shade of sickly green he's seen in his life. The air will be filled with nasty smoke that does nothing to hide how oily everything looks.

Jason hates the fucking fade.

Couldn't the Maker or the Creators or even the fucking Stone have it so that he could sleep soundly without all this nonsense? Sometimes it was easy to just play asleep, to keep his eyes shut and ignore the screams, or even worse the laughter that liked to haunt his dreams.

"Hey! Wake up jackass, I have shit to tell you!"

But most times it wasn't possible.

Jason cracks open an eye and there he is, just as expected.

Short and thin with coltish limbs, curly black hair cut short once he realized that no amount of growth would hide those ears. Baggy robes swamping his form, there never was anything made for an elf in the Gallows despite the alienage in Kirkwall. Why bother with accommodating that chunk of the populace when there wasn't a facet of the city steeped in corruption both self righteous and not.

The kid was vlbarefaced with gleaming eyes glowing with mirth. Barefaced except for that fucking sunburst on his forehead.

Jason Todd, age fifteen, right after the templars cut his connection with himself. Before he was able to somehow fix it, somehow. Left behind as the Joker beat him to death in the fade and the templars burned the life out of his eyes. Permanently in that state, left behind for all time.

At least, that's one possibility. Could always just be a spirit in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could even be a demon playing the long con, which if Jason gets got by that cliche then he deserves to die.

Jason closes his eyes, because he's an asshole like that, but of course the Kid doesn't take that standing.

"Hey! I saw that! Don't pretend to be asleep you fucker!" he yells, his stomping over to Jason and poking his shoulder. Just to be petty, Jason lets out an obnoxious and incredibly realistic snore.

"Maker I fucking swear," comes the squeaky indignation. It's been like eight years can't he just go through puberty already, Jason did and he wasn't even in the driver's seat the entire time.

The Kid tries to poke Jason's face, forgetting rule one, and Jason's hand snaps out to grab it.

Of course the kid looks smug instead of scared, reckless dumbass that he is. Jason should teach the Kid a lesson...but he's fucking tired. Lavellan brought him to the fuckin Fallow Mire, and all he wants to do is sleep like the dead should. None of this resurrection crap he and his now burnt to ashes brothers have to deal with.

"What do you want Kid?" he asks tired.

The Kid just parrots his question back at him with an aggravating tone. Once again Jason is taken by the thought that if this isn't his past self burned into the Fade, that whoever's using his face is doing a really good job at capturing how irritating he is as a person.

"You know, you're shacking up with a lot of freaks these days," the Kid says instead of admitting he's gotten bored haunting Bruce's dreams and was lonely.

Jason shrugs. He's always shacking up with freaks and weirdoes (Talia, Rose, Roy, Artemis among others), but the Inquisition isn't the kind of freaks he's usually with.

"There's a hole in the sky," Jason says casually, like he's talking to a child about the obvious.

The Kid throws a middle finger at him but accepts it at face value. Can't take apart Jason's baffling choice of joining the church brigade if there's a chance the sky is gonna fall apart.

"Plus, it's not like they're much weirder than Ra's and Talia."

The look the Kid gives him isn't comforting in the slightest.

"Fuck," Jason says softly but with feeling.

"Fuck" he repeats.

Who the fuck is as weird as Ra's here— Solas.

"Please tell me the freak you saw is Cole," Jason asks just short of begging. Because Cole is fucking weird, weird like the Kid is except more awkward about it. That, and everyone already knows Cole is a freak and exactly what kind.

"You mean that weirdo blonde? I mean he's absolutely in the top three but—"

"What do you mean top three? Who the hell is beating out 'amnesiac ex-serial killer spirit who thought he was some mage kid's ghost'?" Jason asks in despair.

The Kid looks at him, and he goes from uncomfortable at Jason's description of Cole (which is accurate! He dug up the records on his own, not that he had to considering Cole just told him. Right before the guy traumatized himself by looking at Jason's memories of the Joker and his failed Harrowing, to mad at the parallels between Cole and himself (probably) before ripping the bandaid of.

"Well there's the egghead who feels like Ra's...well more like Ra's is trying to make himself feel like that guy," the Kid starts off like that sentence isn't all kinds of worrying.

"What does that even mean?" Jason asks, but the Kid plows on, like he has to tell Jason what's on his mind before it's gone, similar to Cole when he's being creepy.

"But that one lady, the super templar—"

"The Seeker?"

"—why does she feel like us?"

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Won’t You Stay A While? - fic

Characters: Ric Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake Summary: Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. A/N: I kind of imagine Damian puked in the bathroom. Tim and Damian don’t speak on the way home, but him, Cass and Jason kind of become helicopter parents to him, especially after Tim tells Jason and Cass what Ric’s last words to them were. Inspired by ‘Hold Me While You Wait’ by Lewis Capaldi. Very Damian and amnesiac Dick song, it hurts my heart a lot.

~~

The bar’s bell chimed as the door opened, followed by: “Yo, Ric!”

Ric reluctantly took his eyes off Bea, looking towards the man at the door. A regular, who Ric often found himself playing barside therapist for.

“Hey, Lenny.”

“Your cab out front?”

“Know another cabbie who frequents this bar?”

Lenny snorted a raspy laugh. “Well, there’s a kid sittin’ on the hood. Told him to beat it, and he told me to shove it up my ass. Then he settled in like he owned the car himself. So, you may have a problem on your hands.”

Ric sighed. “Great. Did he say who he was?”

“I didn’t ask, and he wasn’t very forthcoming with the conversation.” Lenny shrugged. He clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder as he passed, making a bee-line for the bathroom. “Looked like one of the local street rats, but I sensed a lil’ Gotham accent there, so good luck with that headache.”

A local gang member, even better. Ric groaned and pushed back from the bar, giving Bea a wave and already defeated smile as he backed towards the door.

He shoved at the door with his back and zipped up his jacket as he spun towards the road. The kid was easy to spot, all dark clothes against the bright yellow of the cab. His knees were curled to his chest, and the hood up over his head, shadowing his face.

“Hey, kid!”

The boy looked up, and Ric froze midstep.

Aw hell.

He’d have preferred the gang member.

Instead, it was the Wayne kid. Damian. One of the ones there when he woke up from his coma. One of the ones he couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“Damian?” He murmured as he approached, both to call the kid and ask himself if that was truly his name. Damian just stared at him, dark, near unnatural circles under his eyes, face set in a fierce frown. “What are you doing here?”

And he remembered the kid being haughty and confident. Snotty, practically. But here…here, he looked lost, exhausted. Sick, almost.

“I…” Damian murmured. He looked past Ric and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“Does Wayne know you’re here?”

“No.” Damian said shortly. “And if he does, he doesn’t care.”

Ric didn’t know what that meant. Sensed it was a can of worms that he did not want to open.

“…Is there someone I can call to come get you? Take you home?”

Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

Ric found himself closing his eyes and sighing. From his brief time with the Wayne family since waking up, he remembered this kid was…weird. Distant. Difficult.

“…Well, then, are you hungry?” Ric asked. “Maybe some food’ll make you feel better.”

“What makes you think I feel bad?”

“Come on.” Ric scoffed. “Came all the way down to Bludhaven to sit on some guy’s cab because you’re having a fantastic day?”

Damian smirked a little at the sarcasm.

“Listen. I know a cool little café down the street. Great gelato milkshakes.” Ric tried. Damian wouldn’t make eye contact. Just remained curled up on himself. Ric huffed and grabbed Damian’s wrist, unwinding it and giving it a gentle pull. “You just gotta try it. Cheer you right up.”

To Ric’s surprise, Damian slid off the car easily, and immediately fell into step with him down the sidewalk. Ric found himself smiling as he led the way.

As they walked, despite his attitude on the car, he found Damian continually sneaking peaks at him, but then shyly looking away if he thought Ric was looking back.

“The scar’s pretty ugly, huh?” Ric asked.

“I have worse.” Damian countered. Then quieter, “You helped sew a few up, actually.”

“Gross.” Ric stuck his tongue out dramatically. “Where’d you get them?”

“On the streets.” Damian answered slyly, like Ric was supposed to understand what that meant. He held his hand out. “Though this one on my thumb was from when you were trying to teach me how to make apple dumplings. You forgot to tell me how to hold the fruit when I was cutting it, and I almost sliced my thumb off. Alfred banned you from the kitchen then.”

“…Huh.” Ric thought out loud. His stomach swirled in discomfort. Something that, if he thought about it, felt a little bit like jealousy. Maybe. He pointed up the street, to the café’s sign. “Sounds equal parts hilarious and almost traumatizing.”

Damian openly stared at him now. Then sighed and looked at his feet. “…Yeah.”

At the café, a waitress waved at them to pick a booth themselves, and that she’d be with them in a moment. Ric veered towards a nearby table and Damian followed, sitting across from him silently.

“…So…” Ric hummed, bouncing his fingers off each other. “What’d you say you came down here for again?”

“I didn’t.” Damian replied simply. He didn’t offer anything else.

“Then…what brings you to town?” Ric asked. “I mean…gotta be something.”

Damian said nothing. Seemed to just sink further into his black hoodie.

“You and your dad fight?”

Nothing.

“…You and the old butler guy fight?”

Damian just blinked at his fork.

“Something to do with your…you know, night life?”

Damian just stared at the table.

“Look, dammit…!” Ric suddenly slammed a fist on the table. Damian jumped, and the waitress who had yet to serve them looked up from the cash register. Ric pursed his lips and leaned forward to whisper. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here, okay? Can’t you give me anything? I mean, you know I don’t want to…”

Ric didn’t finish the thought. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your family.

By the look on Damian’s face, he probably didn’t need to anyway.

Damian just watched him. In his flinch at Ric’s outburst, his hood had fallen from his head. Those circles under his eyes looked so much darker in the open sunlight. His skin so much paler. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in ages, or eaten. And those scars he’d mentioned, Ric could see a few poking out of the neck of the hoodie.

He did not look well.

“I thought…” Damian breathed, then blinked and shook his head, seemingly berating himself.

“You thought what?” Ric asked. Damian shook his head again, leaning back in the booth and looking out the window. “You thought what, Damian?”

Damian kept his mouth shut, though seemed to suddenly be blinking heavily.

“Look if you don’t tell me what’s going on, or why you’re here, I…” Ric sighed, leaned back himself. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Damian closed his eyes at that.

And he remained silent, even when the waitress finally came over. She seemed cautious, and Ric supposed he didn’t blame her, not after he punched the table for no reason. He gave her his best smile anyway, ordering gelato milkshakes for the both of them. She wrote the order on her pad, sparing Damian a glance before spinning away.

Ric was still watching her walk away when he heard a quiet: “…I thought you would remember.”

He looked back at Damian. He’d opened his eyes now, and they were misty, ready to overflow.

“What?”

“It’s been weeks since you woke up. I know Father was pushy and you ran from that. I get it. I get that.” Damian tried. His voice was shaking, and he was trying so hard to control it. “But I thought enough time had passed.”

There was the sound of a buzz, and Damian shifted, pulling out a cell phone. He glanced at the message, but scoffed and placed the phone face down on the table between them.

“…I thought if I came here, if you saw me, I could help you trigger a memory or something. Anything.” Damian breathed. The tears overflowed instantly. “But I’m not enough. I’m not good enough. Again.”

“Damian-”

“After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t do this one single fucking thing for you!” Damian shrieked. The waitress looked up again from the counter. Other customers glanced up too. “I can’t…”

Damian fell into a coughing fit, he was crying so hard.

“…You were the only one who ever cared about me, and I can’t bring you back.” Damian cried. “I can’t bring Dick Grayson back and I don’t…I don’t know if that means you never actually cared about me in the first place or if I’m just more worthless than I thought.”

Ric glanced at the others in the café, everyone blatantly staring now.

“Damian, look…” But Damian was already shaking his head.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was scooting out of the booth. “Forget it.”

“No, you’re okay, it’s-”

But Damian was already running across the restaurant towards the bathroom. The slam and lock of the bathroom door echoed through the silent dining room, and Ric looked out the window, instead at all the patrons now silently judging him.

After a moment, Ric sighed, and reached across the table for Damian’s forgotten phone. He clicked the screen on, and read the message that had been left.

From someone named Todd, reading: Where the fuck are you kid????

Ric waited a moment, to see if that name rang a bell. When it didn’t, he sighed and press the call button.

~~

Damian came out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later, and found the booth he’d been sitting in empty.

Not surprising, he thought. He wouldn’t want to stick around and wait for himself either.

But then the waitress appeared next to him, holding out a Styrofoam cup. “Your friend is outside.” She whispered sweetly. “He had me put your drink in the fridge for you for whenever you’re ready.”

Damian nodded his thanks and took the cup. The woman smiled and pointed towards the window, where Ric could be seen sitting on the curb outside. Damian swallowed the lump in his throat and moved towards the door.

He sat down next to Ric silently, staring intensely at the straw poking out of the cup. Ric was bent between his knees, fiddling with the shoestrings on his boots.

“I wasn’t lying – their shakes are the best in town. Even a boring flavor like vanilla.” Ric hummed almost jovially. Damian nodded, absently rocking the cup back and forth, feeling the weight of it shift between his fingers, the chill escaping into his fingers.

After another moment, Ric sat back up and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Damian, then shifted, digging in his pocket, and pulling out the cell phone.

“You left this on the table.” Ric said. “I…I called that Todd guy, who texted you.”

Damian pursed his lips as he took the phone back. “What did he say?”

“Well, he didn’t sound thrilled to hear me. Or to hear this is where you were.” Ric answered with a wince. He glanced at his watch. “He should be here in about an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Damian responded monotonously. “You can go, if you want. No need to be late for your next shift on my account.”

“I don’t work today.” Ric countered just as blandly. “Also – I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You already did once. What’s once more?” Damian drawled bitterly. Ric didn’t respond to it, knowing Damian meant the amnesia. His decision to leave Gotham and cut Bruce Wayne and his associates out of his life. For exactly what he didn’t say inside the café. But to his surprise, Damian frowned almost instantly. “I’m…I’m sorry. That was rude. I know…none of this is your fault.”

“…I’m sorry your brother’s gone, Damian.” Ric looked to the sky. “I’m sorry I can’t…be who you need me to be.”

“No one ever is.” Damian exhaled. He finally shoved the straw in his mouth. “Not even Dick Grayson was, in some ways. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

The statement left a bad taste in Ric’s mouth. “Regardless – I’m not leaving you here by yourself. You’re what, ten?”

“Thirteen.”

“Close enough.” Ric shrugged. “I’m waiting here with you until your ride gets here. And that’s final.”

“Whatever you say.” Damian shrugged. He slurped on his straw, and hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, this is good.”

“Told you.”

Damian didn’t answer that. Took a few more sips of the drink. Smacked his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry I came here.”

A car was passing right as he said it, and Ric almost missed it. He had a feeling that was the point. He looked down at him, and once again, Damian wouldn’t meet his eye.

“…I’m not.” He decided. Without warning, he threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I don’t know what our relationship was before but…it was nice to meet you. Again. Officially. You seem like a pretty cool kid.”

Damian immediately stiffened in the hold, but didn’t pull away, and he struck Ric as one to do so if he wished to.

“…Is this okay?”

Damian thought a moment, and then just as suddenly – he relaxed into the hold, and even leaned his head on Ric’s shoulder.

“…Yeah.” Damian’s voice was already trembling. After a second, Ric saw a tear drip onto the lid of the milkshake. “This is fine.”

“Okay. Just tell me if it’s not.” Ric murmured, running his arm along Damian’s shoulder. After a moment, in an attempt to give Damian a semblance of privacy, he gently lifted his hood back over his head. The boy gasped a sob in the mockery of a thanks.

“…I miss you.” Damian wailed after a moment. Softly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it, let alone think it. “I miss you so much.”

All Ric could say was, “I know.” And “I’m sorry, kid.”

Damian said nothing else for the rest of the hour they waited, so Ric didn’t either. Just watched the cars as they drove by, waiting for anyone who looked like the contact picture that popped up when he called the one named Todd. Rubbed Damian’s shoulder every so often to offer some comfort.

Damian just tried to calm down enough to drink his milkshake.

Eventually, a car pulled up on the other side of the street, and a teenager who couldn’t have been much older than Damian got out. It wasn’t Todd for sure, but Damian sat up at the sight of him anyway. As the teen crossed the street towards him, he seemed to be hit with a wave of relief.

“There you are.” The teenager breathed as Damian stood.

“Why’d he send you?” Damian snapped, but there didn’t appear to be any malice behind it. He also didn’t seem that annoyed when the other wrapped him in a quick hug.

“Because it was literally taking the rest of them – Goliath and Titus included – to stop Bruce from coming down here himself to get you and check on…” The boy trailed off and glanced at Ric, still sitting on the curb. “…Thanks for watching out for him, Mr. Grayson.”

“My pleasure. Kind of.” He gave an awkward smile. “…Did I know you?”

The boy looked sad, and Ric frowned at the look. He was so, so tired of that look.

“You did.” But that’s all he offered. “Name’s Tim.”

“Tim.” Ric repeated. It didn’t register. “You’re not the one I called.”

“No, Jason’s our older brother.” Tim gave as an explanation. He paused for a moment and glanced at Damian. “You have him in your phone as Todd, right?”

Damian nodded.

“Right, yeah. He was…busy. So I came instead.” Tim tried. “Do you want picture proof that I’m not here kidnapping him or something…?”

“No, no. I have a feeling Damian wouldn’t be standing here if you were.” Ric stood himself, shoved his hands in his pockets. “So…I guess we’re good.”

“Guess so. Thanks again.” Tim instantly whirled Damian around towards the car. “Take care, Mr. Grayson. And I know Bruce always said it to you before but…if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Ric nodded silently, and gave Damian a quick wave. Damian didn’t return it. In fact, since Tim arrived, Damian had not even looked at him.

When they were just hitting the yellow line separating the lanes, Ric called, “Damian?”

Damian glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and red.

“You’re not worthless. So don’t let anyone make you think you are, okay? Not even me.” He smiled softly. “And get some sleep or something.”

Both Ric and Tim waited for Damian to give a response, but when he didn’t, Tim just turned him back towards the car, a far too fancy looking thing. As they reached the other side of the street, Ric listened as Tim carefully whispered, “Are you okay…?”

Damian shook his head. Tried to rub nonchalantly at his eyes.

Ric turned and started walking back to the bar before they even got in the car.

[velvetinewitch]

wips list

this functions as a key to all of my wips, including ones i don’t actively write but still work on occasionally. in case you didn’t know, all of my wips include: poc, LGBT+ characters, disabled and non-neurotypical characters, found families, usually fantasy elements because i love magic, and often a little romance (which is usually accompanied by found families or tragedy, but for my romance-repulsed friends, there are still stories with no romance!)

key: *: heavily connected stories >: stories taking place after the events of Faye and Fate (a very distant future)

Closest to Complete (in order... ish)

Painted Cards: a group of teenagers end up criminals after a magical goddess chooses them for greatness. instead of embarking on some epic adventure, they decide to save the world another way: through kindness and coffee. a story about a found family made up of unintentional criminals with trauma that they’ll learn to cope with. mostly written for myself, but also written for the people in my life who needed to see characters like them have a happy ending. a very hopeful, fantasy slice-of-life story.

*Faye and Fate: almost everything i write is exposition or a result of this 5 book series. Aralion Faye resets the timeline so often it all just blurs together. with each new on she creates, she watches the ones she loves die over and over again, as if it’s all a video game culminating up to that game over screen. things always start out so innocently, too; her memories never return until later, so for a while, she enjoys attending a magic school, falling in love, playing pranks, befriending her peers. by the end of the year, the world comes back to remind her that her happy ending is unachievable. between traitors, corruption, fires, and cliffs... this time has to be different. this time she’ll save everyone she loves. is overall a story about heroes of all types. love this series so much abhddvk. magic is based on skills/interests: art, writing, engineering, astronomy, directing, zoology, architecture, makeup art, etc

*Mortals Versus Morals: (this isn’t actually the title but it makes me laugh so it’s being used as the placeholder) Glen is 17, rich, sheltered, and possibly the most lawful good person ever. plot twist- there’s a prophecy predicting his (as well as 6 others’) involvement in the end of the world, and they aren’t on the good side. Glen struggles to balance saving the world from villains while trying not to become a villain himself. includes: road trips and bonding, scenes like the one where the aro-ace friend gets seduced by a nine-tailed fox who runs a Burger King, everyone educating Glen on cultures and respecting pronouns :) as well as the occasional choking angst that comes with a bunch of almost adults getting dragged into the business of gods. did i mention there are gods? there are gods. i do kill a love interest of a protag but then give them TWO romantic partners because i’m not a coward (i feel like the characters who lose a love interest end up in a poly relationship most often in my stories... as a sort of apology to them lmao). also Utah? basically stops existing at some point. magic is based off a deity someone worships, with worship comes borrowed magic. the characters themselves are basically just omnists? 

Beneath Our Skin: Sam and Ana don’t know each other. it’s by chance that they’re separated from their class during a field trip, and end of wandering straight into a portal to another world, one with magic. while searching for a way home, they accidentally make their own- in the meantime, they’re gonna find a magician who can give Sam a shapeshifting spell because Sam would really like to transition, even if it’s through magical means, please. written for me and my fake-brother, so lots of being platonically domestic and also sarcastic... this is in a really poetic writing style too.

House of Crabs: this is not the name it just makes me giggle so placeholder time! contemporary, no romance or fantasy or anything (although like one crime is committed but life is life that). here’s the old summary: Siera lives in the mansion of thirty year old Janelle, a woman who has the tendency to take in stray children, granting them shelter despite their tragic backstories or strange personalities. When one of the outcasts, Roy, is confronted by his biological brother, Roy is absolutely horrified by the concept of being dragged back to his transphobic family. The outcasts are dead set on protecting him, even if it requires breaking laws. But Roy's brother doesn't seem that content on harming Roy or bringing him home against his will. Instead, the boy seems more interested in coming out of the closet, hoping that his little brother and his new family can help him learn how to be his true flamboyant self. 

>Obligatory Superhero Stories (3 stories):  ----Lei is supposedly a civilian, until she arrests the man who ruined her life and accidentally ends up adopting his daughter, Hera. Hera coerces her into adopting her classmate Jason. the two get kidnapped. Lei gets annoyed by how useless she is in saving them, and becomes the first non-mutant superhero. in the meanwhile, the US Secretary of Powers, Victoria, is forced to monitor her progress for a court case deciding whether this is legal, and accidentally falls in love. Hera fucks with journalists and enjoys being politically smarter, Jason attempts to create a ground-breaking technology and blows up hundreds of phones, and Victoria never sleeps. literally. her superpower is just,,, no sleeping. ----Vessa becomes a superhero by accident. it involves art galleries, snow, and unlicensed doctors. now, she operates under an alias, the hero Froze (very creative, yes), alongside her trusted sidekicks. unbeknownst to Vessa, she has a history with the villain she’s fighting, and their teams may be more entangled outside of their aliases than first believed. basically, an enemies to family (and some lovers) story, involving a lot of morally grey shenanigans thanks to a corrupt society. ----there’s a villain on the lose, know as Heart-twist, with the ability to take someone’s darker emotions and intensify them. in reality, Sora is just a teenage girl, with four dear and near friends. it’s been a year since her sister’s boyfriend, a hero, prioritized glorious battle over rescue, and her sister died alone and afraid. Sora is just waiting to make him fall in love with her, so she can repay the favor.

>Paint Me a Picture: dystopian future! roughly 78% of the population is monochromatic, and can only see in shades of grey. it seems petty in plain sight, but jealousy has left the other 22% segregated, separated by a boundary and sinking in poverty. Pristaline is apart of the majority, privileged without even realizing it- her biggest concern is making herself a future in law. a car accident leaves her in a recover home near the boundary, where she accidentally meets Jackson, a color-seeing boy, who calls her eyes ‘blue.’ the encounter sparks a revolution. this is a sadder story- it ends with a girl, watercolor swatches, and a grave.

*Run From Wolves: Elayna is unfortunate enough to be a magic-born in the one kingdom that still prosecutes female magic-borns (to which she says, fuck their religion for saying women shouldn’t have magic). when she and her half-brother Shage are discovered, instead of being executed, Elayna is offered a position beside her brother in the kingdoms prestigious Goddess Guard. the offer comes with a price: they must swear allegiance to the king, and can do him no harm. luckily, a pretty spy from a neighboring kingdom offers Elayna a loophole. includes spirit animals, political intrigue, lesbians, murdering an asshole king, and a secret mystery involving immortality and wolves.

*Twin Kingdoms: there’s an island floating in the sky- two, now, split in half down the center. Melony and Serena have known about the conflict between their kingdoms, but they never really realized it’s intensity until Melony’s older brother close friend betrayed her and seized the throne for himself, pitting her kingdom against Serena’s and searching for war. Melony and Serena are able to escape together, living in disguise and biding their time before they can retake what belongs to them. has a really fun character who’s a villain (she’s the traitor brother’s little sister), gets stuck with an injury, is healed by a girl in an enemy village, and struggles to reaffirm her beliefs while vaguely falling in love. sighhhhhh i miss this series

*Where Shadows Bloom: written during the time of my life where i loved badass assassins becoming queens or princess... despite the trope being looked down upon, i hold this dear to my heart. basically, there’s a period of turmoil throughout the entire planet. on one end of the world, the queen is assassinated by a girl aiming to use her throne to destroy her noble parents, an underground group seeks to end slavery through magical battles and underhanded deals, and an orphan boy is made king. on the other side of the world, a second world war rages, pitting the Gold Alliance (good guys) against the Silver Alliance (bad guys). a princess goes undercover, venturing into a captured kingdom to spy on opposing forces. she’s taken in by an engineer/pilot who helps her stay in disguise as she uncovers the nefarious plot that involves the prosecution of an entire people. it all ties in together.

*Fateless: i really can’t get enough of magic and princesses, huh. ever wonder what Arthurian mythology would be like if it was in my world? Raine’s family has known tragedy after tragedy, from the death of her uncle, then aunt, her brother, and finally, her parents. fate has left her alive to inherit their throne when she comes of age. still, even she is cursed, wearing a ring that burns her with the pain of her people. she doesn’t wince anymore, not even when she watches another witch burn at the stake, and feels the flames crawl up her body, phantom but so, so real. when her kingdom falls, Raine and her most trusted knights are forced to flee into the woods. there, they find a tavern alongside a their road, run by a mysterious woman named Lancelin. there’s something familiar about the woman, something from Raine’s past, and something strange about the way that each of her customers leaves with healed minds and bodies. secretly-enemies to secretly-lovers! as common with me...

[gloomiedyke]

Of Course

On Ao3 Here

Summary:  Virgil’s only ever really had one answer when it came to the others.

Pairings:  LAMP/CALM, either romantic or platonic, whichever you prefer

Word Count:  2,306

Warnings:  None, I don’t think.  Fluff.

-

Virgil lived in grey.

He didn’t mean to sound so dramatic or emo about it (despite what Creativity might say).  It wasn’t some huge, momentous statement or anything.  It was just a fact of his life- if he could really even be called “living”, being a part of another person.

Whatever, the point was:  Virgil not-quite-lived in grey.  It was just how it was- anxiety was neutral, capable of being equally good or bad, helpful or hindering, life-saving or life-ruining.  It all depended on the person, and their mind, and their life.  How they were coded to be, and how they chose to be.

Thomas was a good person.  He was kind, positive, sensitive, understanding.  But at his core, Thomas was emotional, really emotional.  And emotion could swing either way, especially when it was strong.  So Virgil lived in greys, sometimes swinging hard enough to hit ‘bad’ or ‘good’, mostly just providing a subtle guidance and only kicking in with any strength during emergencies.

Until, that is, Thomas hit puberty.

Fucking thanks, hormones.

--

By the time things had calmed down the other Sides were set in their opinions of him.  (And, unfortunately, Thomas himself had become aware of him, and Virgil didn’t know how to feel about that).  Of course Morality was as kind as ever, but Virgil knew he made the mock father figure just a little too uncomfortable.  Logic was mostly unbiased, so it was possible he was just indifferent, which Virgil didn’t mind all that much, even if he got so painfully lonely sometimes.  And Princey… well.  The Prince had never much liked Anxiety; when they were young he’d felt that Virgil’s attempts to keep Thomas from death got in the way of his dream chasing.  As they got older, and Virgil’s fears and control over Thomas grew, Roman only believed it all the more.

Virgil figured that was just the way things were.  They’d never been all that close, and he didn’t need to be liked (Thomas’ fear of rejection gave away the lie here, but he didn’t need to acknowledge that).  It didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t change, so he might as well get used to it.

--

He hadn’t expected to care about them quite so much, though.

--

Anxiety had always cared about the others, of course- he was both the survival instinct and the protective instinct, after all.  But then Thomas started making the videos, and they were all forced to spend time together and actually talk to each other, beyond just insults (though there were a lot of those, too).  And, more quickly than he’d thought, he’d gotten to know the others on a more personal level.

Patton was as loving as Virgil had always thought- not to mention funnier.  Logan was smart, full of a wonder over new things, and so much kinder than he realized.  And Roman…

Roman was everything Anxiety wasn’t.

Brave.  Strong.  Charming.  The Prince never let anything as trivial as anxiety stop him, never let his own fears get in the way of creation.  But, beyond even that-

Roman had absolutely no trouble talking to the others, being friends with them.  He didn’t stutter, didn’t avoid eye contact, didn’t shake when faced with something as utterly stupid as conversation.  Roman didn’t feel the need to hide to avoid a panic attack.  He could be better, be good enough and bright enough, and Virgil couldn’t help but resent him for that.

--

And even if they couldn’t love him, he couldn’t help but-

--

“Hiya, kiddo!”  Morality chirped at him from in front of the oven, glasses sitting crooked above a blinding smile.

Virgil nodded slightly, sliding past him towards the coffee pot.  “Hey, Mo.”

“I was just making some cookies!  I know it’s a little late, but,”  Patton winked at him, leaning close in a cartoonishly conspiring way, “I think we deserve to live a little dangerous, huh?”

He shrugged in response, but he couldn’t help a small smile.  The “Dad” Side tended to do that to people.  Patton had to be where all that goodness Thomas exuded came from, Anxiety was sure.  His levels of sweetness could cause cavities, and Virgil was damn sure it didn’t come from him.

When he turned back around, coffee in hand, he paused.  The other Side was standing, still, in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on the oven.  This in and of itself was not unusual; Patton always got excited when baking, and liked to watch the cookies turn golden as they found their shape.  But something was different, here.  There was no smile, no giddy gleam in his hazel eyes, no barely suppressed bouncing or cheerful humming.  Patton didn’t even seem to be seeing the oven, eyes gone distant and uncharacteristically quiet.  Virgil had never seen him so… muted.

“... Hey.”

The other jerked slightly at Virgil’s rasp, before smiling big at him.  “Yeah, kiddo?  Did you need something?  Are you okay?”

“Uh, I’m good.  Are… you… ?”  Virgil asked, hesitant.  He wasn’t any good at this, at talking to people.  Sure, he could trade quips with Princey, and listen to Logic ramble every once in a while, but when it came to actual conversation he just got too nervous too quickly.

“I’m great!  With cookies on the way, how could anyone feel crummy?”

Virgil snorted at the pun, biting down on his smile.  “Nice.”

Patton’s grin turned more genuine (though it was hard to tell, which scared him a little- Patton shouldn’t be this good at pretending, at hiding whatever he was hiding.  It was Patton).

“Wanna hear some more cookie jokes?  Some of ‘em are pretty sweet!”

Morality giggled at his own pun, hands clasping together and joy melting into something almost entirely real.

And, really, what could Virgil say, in the face of that?

On a quiet sigh of relief, he murmured, “Of course.”

Patton didn’t seem to question how out of character he was acting, thankfully.

--

Virgil winced at each clack.  He never would have said anyone could type passive aggressively, but Logic had apparently figured it out.  The self-proclaimed “unbiased” Side was working determinedly on his laptop, which he’d set up at the breakfast bar that morning and seemingly hadn’t moved from since.

Anxiety considered him quietly from the table, watching sidelong without turning his face from his phone.  Logan’s stiff, tense shoulders and slightly hunched posture practically radiated his irritation, and each just-slightly-too-forceful clack on the keyboard only seemed to wind him even tighter.

Without a word, Virgil calmly stood and moved to the stove.  Logic twitched, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him at all, until the darker trait set a gently steaming cup of green tea at his side.  

This seemed to finally jerk the overworked Side’s attention from whatever document he was working on- wide eyes, the exact same shade as Thomas’ because Logan was Logic and thus unchanged by fancies of the mindspace, stared blankly at Anxiety for a moment before roving slowly to the cup by his elbow.

Virgil turned away without waiting for a response, palms gone clammy at his own ridiculous actions (why would you do that you probably made it wrong he probably thinks you’re weird you should just mind your own business fuck) and wanting nothing more than to hide in his room for a while.

“Thank you, Anxiety.”

So softly he doubted the other could hear, and without turning back:  “Of course.”

--

When Roman found him in the living room, one of the rare times Anxiety was hanging out in there (sometime he just needed to get out of his room, and the voices it loosed on him all night), he knew it was going to be one of those days.  One of those conversations.

Virgil tensed slightly, and when Roman snapped “Jason Toddler”  In greeting, he was sure.  The darker Side steeled himself.

“‘Sup, Princey.  What’s with the hair, get in a fight with your pillow this morning?”

Just like he’d expected, Roman turned sharply on Virgil, who stood automatically, hiding his shaking hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Really, Obnoxious Fumes?  ‘Cause I don’t think anyone who looks like they fell out of a cybergoth’s fantasy has the right - or fashion sense enough - to be making comments.”  The Prince snapped, face darker than Virgil’s comment had warranted, and the embodiment of anxiety braced himself.  He knew Roman needed this, needed to lash out somehow, and that it couldn’t be at Patton, who'd be heartbroken, or Logan who’d take it too personally.

Virgil had always made a good scapegoat.

It was another ten minutes of increasingly cutting quips before they got loud enough that Logan heard them and harsh enough that Patton felt them through Thomas.

“Stop!”  Their heart yelled, silencing both of them (though anxiety had calmed as soon as the other entered the room- he couldn’t handle the thought of catching Patton in the cross-fire).

Roman finally stepped away, and already he could see something loosened in the others frame, as strange as it seemed.  Patton glared them down, and Logan shot them a disapproving glance before returning to his room to read or finish whatever they’d distracted him from.

“Thanks for the pointless argument,”  Roman snarled, heavy with sarcasm and laced with a hidden, desperate kind of honesty.

“Of course, Princey.  Any time.”

--

Virgil never thought himself capable of leaving them, leaving Thomas, but he’s always been a selfish creature (he’s better off without me they’ll be so much happier what do I even give them what can I offer without hurting them fucking buck up they’ll be happier this way just leave).

Still, he hates himself a little more after, and he’s not sure if it’s for leaving or for waiting so long to do it.

--

And then they come for him.

--

They learn his name. (My name is Virgil- there, it’s like a band-aid, just rip it off-)

--

They don’t leave.  He still doesn’t know what to do with that.

--

“Kiddo?”

Virgil’s gaze flicks up from his phone, instantly aware of how pale and tired Patton looks, freckles stark against his usually pink-flushed cheeks.  “Yeah, Pat?”

The other grins at him, still too good at lying for Virgil to be at all comfortable with.  “I don’t want to bother you, and it’s nothing at all important really, I just wanted to ask- if you’re not busy, y’know, if you might-”

“What do you need, Patton?”  Their heart’s smile falters a little at his quiet rasp, but he tries again.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you’d like to watch some cartoons with your ol’ fun-loving father figure friendo.  If you’re not busy.”

And Virgil’s still learning how to let himself be so openly gentle, but Patton’s never been all that hard for him to reach for, and really, what else could he say?

“Of course.”

--

He glances up at Logan’s arrival, and can’t help a small smile.  The other Side carries an Agatha Christie book in one hand, coffee mug in the other, and he actually bumps into the door jam on his way in, eyes glued to the pages.

“Hey, Logan.”

His head jerks up at Virgil’s voice, and he offers a small nod, something warming in his face.  Virgil doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that reaction, can’t stop his smile or the shaking in his hands.

“Hello, Virgil.  How are you?”

“Good,” he murmurs, ducking slightly to see the cover of Logan’s book as the other sits at the counter beside him.  “What’s the latest research topic?”

The Sides eyes light up, and he straightens, hands darting up to gesture as he flies into a ramble about something to do with the stars.  Virgil watches quietly, sipping at his coffee, and humming at the right moments to show his attention.  Logan has a problem with being heard- he gets defensive if he feels like the person he’s speaking to doesn’t care about what he has to say, and he’ll stop talking altogether.

After an hour or so, Logic’s words peter out, and he adjusts his glasses self-consciously.  “Thank you for asking. I… hm, yes, thank you.”

Virgil’s lips quirk at Logan’s awkward cough, and he stands to refill their mugs.  “Of course.”

--

“Hello, Cloud Gloom.”  Roman’s grand pronunciation seems strangely subdued, though it isn’t super obvious.

“‘Sup, Roman.”  Virgil watches him steadily, still and calm (he’s still getting used to not tensing up when the other walks in).  Roman holds up well enough for a few seconds, and then starts to squirm under his gaze.

“So, what are you angsting about in this little corner of the mindscape?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow and casts a pointed look around the common room he’s currently occupying.  Roman shifts uncomfortably before throwing his body into motion again, all grand gestures and determination.  “Well, no need to be shy, Welcome to the Purple Parade.”

Virgil tilts his head slightly, dropping his gaze back to his phone.  “C’mere.”

Roman stutters to a halt.  “What?”

“Come here.”  The darker trait nods to the couch next to him, glancing up only briefly.

Roman hesitates, seems to consider fleeing, but eventually moves to perch beside him.  Virgil holds still for a minute, letting the other relax, before shifting over to rest his weight against the royal.  The other stiffens in shock at the contact, but Virgil ignores it, queuing up a buzzfeed video he knows Roman will like and settling in, weight firmly holding the other Side in place.

Gradually, he relaxes, and the darker trait elects not to mention it.  Just pulls up another video, resolved to pretend this isn’t happening if it’ll make the both of them less awkward.

Of course, Roman never does what’s expected of him.

“... Virgil?”

“Yeah, Princey?”

“... Thanks.”

And, really, Virgil has only ever had one response when it comes to these three.

“Of course.”

Soundtrack:

Billy Raffoul

James Bay

Amber Run

(playlist "Of Course" is on Spotify, under the profile "RainyJames")