#extra ill. and barely talking to people for the same reason. so it's very easy to get stuck in my head where i am only thinking of myself

[robininthelabyrinth]

Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

-

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he’d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

-

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

-

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

-

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

-

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

-

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

[zegumi]

Ushijima Wakatoshi SFW alphabet

alphabet template here

fluff I sfw I gn reader I hcs

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

at first he's quite hesitant on showing affection, wondering if you're comfortable with him being that close to you. he starts off easy: holding hands, letting you rest on him... etc.

once he feels more comfortable with you, he starts placing his head in your lap and giving you little kisses here and there

his favourite forms of affection are: forehead/cheek kisses, back hugs, holding pinkies, and resting his head on your shoulder

when you’re not around he shows affection by talking to you to his closer teammates but subtly, he brings up your name once in a while and a teammate will tease "ooo somebody's in looove" and he starts blushing profusely, asking if they can go back to practice, but the thought of you never leaves

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

being best friends with ushijima seems very rare, he's pretty selective with letting people close enough to earn that title

with you it was unexpected, you weren't afraid or cautious of his stoic upfront. you sat next to him in class and tried to make conversation with him, making sure to include him in conversations and asking how he's doing once in a while. he lets his guard down a little and you guys get even closer, he even invites you over to help with some schoolwork and suddenly you guys are spending more time together outside of school

he's kind of hesitant to call you a best friend, but when he sees that you’re okay calling him yours, he adopts the same title

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

yes yes yes and yes

he is always behind you, resting your head on top of his. if not he'll be facing upwards, lying on his back, your head will be resting on his shoulder and he'll have his arm wrapped around your waist.

he's definitely 99% always the big spoon

but on the rare occasion he wants to be the little spoon, he has both his arms wrapped around your waist, with his head on your chest, your hand running through his hair while your legs are intertwined absolute bliss

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

hell yeah

he's a sucker for the domestic life, waking up with you in your sub-urban house, a train ride away from the city. making cakes with you in your green painted kitchen which took you way longer than it needed to bc you kept messing around

he can cook, oh my, he buys some cookbooks and you guys spend some time with each other

I feel like he wants kids, some mini him and you running around, if not he'll adopt some

him teaching his kids to play volleyball in the backyard, him brushing their teeth and reading them bedtime stories and them giving them a little kiss goodnight cuteness overload

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

definitely depends on the reason why you're breaking up, but in this scenario, let's say he hasn't been home enough and you guys feel like you're not with each other enough pain

he really dreads having to break up with you, but he knows you deserve more than someone who is barely home. he's not harsh about it, he sits you down at a time when you guys are both free and explains why, "maybe the time isn't right, right now"

even though he broke it off, he still thinks about it quite a lot, he really hopes that you guys will find your way back to each other one day even if he knows that it won't be possible bc right now you're happier with someone else :( i love angst

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

his volleyball career kinda gets in the way of him wanting to commit to you, but he wants to show you that you mean the world to him, so i think he proposes in his mid-late twenties

his proposal isn't really that over the top, but he takes you out first for a fancy dinner with the excuse 'can't i treat you once in a while'. it's quite dark outside and you guys are looking over the city, you turn around to ask him something and you see him down one knee lovely

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he is very gentle... probably bc of his strict upbringing, but he makes sure not to hurt you in any way

he becomes so much more gentle with his words, careful of saying the wrong words because he can't stand the thought of losing you

physically, he tries to make sure not to accidentally knock into you bc this man is so big and if you get ill ushijima is doing anything in his power to get you better, he tries not to get sick in the process, but having you care for him doesn't seem like the worst idea

emotionally, he tries to support you, but he's not the greatest at dealing with emotions, but when supporting you he tries comforting you rather than trying to solve your problems

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

at the beginning of the relationship, i think his hugs are kind of stiff-ish, but once you guys get more comfortable he goes all in

he's such a good hugger. he doesn't do half-hugs, it's all of it or nothing, he engulfs you with his strong arms a little bit too tight but who needs air

if he feels extra clingy back hugs. he loves the feeling of having your figure pressing against his, sometimes his hands grip onto your waist and he'll sway you back and forth while humming to his favourite song

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

as I've mentioned before, you're the first one to say ily in the relationship, but he says it back straight after

i like to think this happens about 5/6 months into the relationship, just when you guys start getting really comfortable around each other

as for using the L-word, he doesn't really say it that often, he believes when something is overused it isn't as special. he only uses it when it needs to be said

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he doesn't really get jealous easily bc he's kind of oblivious or chooses not to pay attention to it

but when he catches on to whatever's going on, his eyebrows furrow and he'll just give the stare, he'll come near you and put an arm around your waist and slyly try to join the conversation

he knows what he's doing and so does everyone else

the person you're talking to gets a bit intimidated and tries to end the conversation as quickly as possible

you'll try to tease him for his jealously and he'd just change the subject and starts blushing a little, if you try to bring it up later he'd be like 'huh what was that sorry i don't remember'

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I'm not good with this type of stuff ahh

he's actually pretty good at kissing. he likes soft kisses and little pecks on the shoulder and forehead.

when he's rough or needy, he gets really handsy like hands cupping your cheeks, in your hair, hands pulling your waist in - just very intimate

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

lazy mornings bc who likes being productive all the time

he likes sleeping in on days he has nothing to do, so he’ll be behind you hugging your waist and his head resting on your back, you try to stand up so you can get breakfast done but he pulls you back and says 'come on, just a little more', you know that means another hour but you still get sucked back into his warm embrace

you end up falling asleep and wake up with noises coming from the kitchen. you walk in on him wearing just an apron and his pajama pants, dancing to the radio while making pancakes for breakfast

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

again lazy evening edition bc why not

he comes home early that day, brings home your favourite snacks and asks if you want to watch a movie with him

he grabs a few blankets from your room and you guys decide to watch 13 going on 30 one of my comfort movies

halfway through the movie, he places his head on your laps asking for you to play with his hair, he lies down and you throw some popcorn and skittles in his mouth every few minutes, you tried pouring water but he started choking and spat water all over your shirt

it gets pretty late and cold so he changes you into his hoodie and carries you over to the bedroom. you guys fall asleep to the hums of the city below

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he's a very reserved person, and i think it's just the way he was raised, talking about feelings wasn't normal in his home growing up

i think with you it takes him some time to open up, he reveals a few things about him and his childhood here and there but nothing major

he doesn't talk about how he feels enough, so it kinda relies on you being able to notice a change in his behaviour which might I say seems extremely hard

i think if you start being more open to him, then he follows on

he gets more comfortable with his emotions around you first and then starts being more open to his team - just give him some time he gets there

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

oh he's so patient, so patient

it takes a LOT to anger him, i don't think you ever have or ever will see this man angry, tbh i don't think you would want to

if you ever lash out at him, he'd sit down and understand where you're coming from, he'd try to calm you down and give you a second to let it all out

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers everything, literally everything

you mentioned that you liked mangos yesterday, and boom you've got a lifetime supply in your kitchen /s

he keeps a little note in his notes app just making sure he doesn't forget anything, he has your favourite orders, skin/hair care products you use, and little stuff like your favourite show in there

he does this bc he loves how your eyes beam after realising he remembers the little details

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

this one hc is why this took so long, so I decided not to do bc my brain isn’t responding

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

ushijima isn't the overprotective type although he is protective

he doesn't care what you wear or how you present yourself, as long as you’re comfortable, you will have his full support

if he sees someone making you uncomfortable, he is always quick to jump in and say "you're making them uncomfortable can you please excuse yourself". if he sees a situation is making you feel uneasy he will take you and leave, to calm you down or to clear your mind, which ever one is the best choice in that moment

he doesn't feel the need to be protected, he believes that hes strong enough for the both of you sometimes he needs a little help so pls do step in

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

such a big try hard, he puts so much effort into dates, anniversaries, and even mundane everyday activities.

even far into your relationship he still pulls up at your door with a suit and a flower bouquet which he seems to never forget

he always wants everything to be perfect so you'll never forget

he enjoys surprising you with little gifts to remind you that he still cares. he seems like the type to buy you a promise ring, and oh my is it beautiful

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

this is hard bc in my eyes this man can't do any wrong, but its probably how he can't express his emotions very well

everyone gets in a bad mood once in a while, but for ushijima its different, the stress of volleyball gets to him and he just ends up shutting everyone out, including you. he was never taught how to properly talk abt how he feels so he just holds it in with never intending to let it out

if you try to ask him whats wrong then he just grunts and shrugs it off

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he isn’t insecure for how he looks physically, he works out and maintains a healthy lifestyle, and he was blessed with that beautiful face of his *chefs' kiss

he's always hygienic (bare minimum), he cuts his hair regularly, keeps his hands nice and clean, with his nails well-trimmed

he likes to keep his appearance up and always looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine but so effortlessly

bonus: he smells so good, he wears expensive cologne and zooweemama its so tasty, you'll hug him and never want to let go just because

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

he wouldn't necessarily feel incomplete with out you, he'd feel a bit empty

he forgets how much he misses you when he goes abroad for matches and he can't see you for a week straight. he makes sure to send videos and voice notes rather than texts so you can send some back. he video calls everyday, no matter the time difference just so he can see you in real time

if you guys take a break in the relationship, he finds his self drifting back into his stoic shell. he tries his best not to bc he knows how much he loves the person you've helped him become

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

doesn't know how to flirt hehe

he tries to use a smooth pick up line once in a while but they all end up with him in a flustered mess before he can even finish a sentence, i think we should leave the flirting to you

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

liars/dishonest people

he can't stand it when somebody lies to him, its agitating when someone he cares for feels the need to lie to him, it makes him feel like they don't trust him enough

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

he's a quite a light sleeper and wakes up pretty easily. he also looks dead when he sleeps, for example most days he sleeps pretty early bc he's worn out and you come into the bedroom and see him lying down on his back, his chest isn't even moving like it should be, but you'll get into bed with him and his first instinct is to wrap his arms around you and give you a kiss

i think he sleep talks, omg just imagine ushijima whispering about the weirdest things in his dreams. you recorded him once and showed him when he woke up and he got a bit embarrassed and started laughing

here's the hcs for mornings with ushi

this took me so long omg >o< I really hope I portrayed his character well bc he’s such a lovely person

make sure to take care of yourselves :)

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

requests are open

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part One

The beginning of the end is this: Ahsoka removes Rex’s chip and finds her masters, starts to run, and loses her life before they make it to safety.

(She is the chink in all their armors.)

The beginning of the end is this: Anakin does not Fall, is there as his children are born, and sobs himself to pieces as his wife still dies for reasons none can find.

(Darkness would not have saved her, and the Light was already shattered.)

The beginning of the end is this: Obi-Wan mends his relationship with Anakin just in time to stay behind and guard the escape of what is left of his family.

(Obi-Wan would never have forgiven himself if he hadn’t, and Anakin will never forgive his Master’s memory for sacrificing himself.)

The beginning of the end is this: Their path to safety passes through Malachor.

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

The house is small and dusty, but empty and uninfested.

Anakin is used to worse. Rex is used to worse. The twins can barely see six inches beyond their faces, and do not know any better.

“Do you think they take Republic credits?” Rex asks. They still don’t know what planet they’re even on.

Anakin shrugs. There’s no life to him, even with his daughter in his arms, and his son at his side.

“I’ll pawn a blaster if I have to,” Rex decides. He wraps the bottom half of his face in a scarf, and prays that the blond hair and civilian clothing are enough that nobody will look too close for the eyes of a clone.

Anakin shrugs again. They need food for the newborns, who can’t survive on packed rations and hunted game. There’s only so much formula on the ship they took, and it won’t last the week.

(He is not the only person to lose everything in the last three days, but Rex is more practiced at compartmentalizing.)

(There’s more to it, from the Force letting Anakin feel the deaths of those he loves to the extremely personal betrayal that was Chancellor Palpatine’s reveal as a Sith, but when it comes down to the basics, he knows this: Anakin is broken now, and Rex can hold his own widening fissures together a little longer.)

“I’ll be back soon,” Rex promises, and lets the slow blink and half a nod be his general’s response.

The village isn’t very large. It’s not wealthy, but it seems largely untouched by the war. Nobody looks at him for more than a moment, and he thanks the tweaking of his genetic line for the hair that lets him hide just a little more. There aren’t any rumors catching his ear; he only parses about half of what’s being said. They’re in Mando space, and the words flying about are largely Basic and Mando’a, in a dialect he only mostly understands, and sprinkled with what he thinks is Huttese and Bocce. Still, nobody’s passing hushed gossip about the Jedi turning traitor, or the Republic becoming an Empire. Nobody mentions the Separatists or the war.

Rex feels a mix of rising anxiety and loosening fear. People won’t be looking for them yet, not here, but something is wrong for there to be so little hint of the wider conflict. He’s no scout, but he didn’t make Captain--or Commander, for that it lasted only the length of that final, ill-fated battle on Mandalore--by being as unobservant as a fresh cadet.

He finds himself standing in a store specializing in childcare supplies, staring at a shelf of some twenty different kinds of formula.

“You need some help, stranger?”

He glances at the woman out of the corner of his eye, notes down the degree of danger--minimal, even if he’s not in his armor--and decides it’s not too much information. “My friend, his wife died in childbirth, just a day ago. The children need to eat, but...”

Her face turns into a grimace of sympathy. “You don’t know what’s best. Did the midwife not suggest anything?”

A midwife. They really are in the middle of nowhere. “The birth was... they only had a med droid. No professionals.”

He doesn’t elaborate, hopes she’ll just drop it, and she does. She turns to the shelves, eyes them for a long moment, and then picks out three different boxes.

“Here, try these and see which one the baby likes best. They’re what I’d suggest for newborns. Should be easy to make with some hot water. I’m guessing you have bottles already--”

“No,” Rex says, and then scrambles to explain in a way that doesn’t make it clear just how unprepared they all are. “Not enough. It was twins, and nobody expected it.”

“Did she not--”

“Please don’t,” Rex says, desperate already. “It’s been a long few days, and it’s not my story to tell.”

She nods, a tad too slow, but he hopes it’s just concern.

Bottles and pacifiers, diapers and towels, just enough to tide them by with the excuse of buying for the unexpected extra child instead of the truth of having gone on the run the second the twins had been born.

Rex sees the face the woman makes when he goes to pay. His heart sinks.

“I’m... we don’t usually take Republic credits here, you understand,” she says slowly. “But you’re in a bad spot, and I don’t want the babes to suffer. See about visiting the exchange office soon, though.”

He could almost cry. He doesn’t. It’s a near thing.

“Thank you,” he says instead, as emphatically as he can. “Thank you so much.”

She smiles faintly, tightly, uncomfortably. “If I could make one more suggestion?”

He nods.

“There’s... there’s a nurse that runs a clinic down the way,” she says slowly. “She can look over the children, for one thing, but she can also... well, there’s a medication we can sell, to single fathers and the like, but only with a prescription...”

He blinks at her, uncomprehending.

“It induces lactation in those who otherwise wouldn’t,” she says, and bares her teeth in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Not the most popular option, but it’s technically on the table for anyone with breast tissue, and breast milk is usually healthier overall for babies than formula, for most species. Um, it’s popular with adoptive mothers, wet nurses, same-sex couples, single fathers in a situation like your friend’s... tell me if I should stop talking.”

“No, no, I think that he’d actually appreciate that,” Rex hurries to assure her. “I can at least bring it up, and we’ll need to have regular medical attention for the twins anyway, so I need the address, don’t I?”

Her smile brightens into something a little more real, and she scribbles something down on some flimsi. “Here, just give this to your friend. Come here and ask for Teskarim if you have questions; that’s me.”

He commits the name in memory, dips his head in a nod of thanks, and makes his way for the door.

The trip back to the house is, by and large, uneventful. There are still no rumors. There are still no chip-loyal brothers. There are still no bounty posters, or--

His eyes dart back to the bounty board, just for a second. There’s a face on there that shouldn’t be. He doesn’t linger; it’s bad form, suspicious. Instead, he heads for the newsstand a few stalls down, pauses just long enough to get the date, and strikes out for the little house and their ship without changing his stride. Externally, he looks entirely normal.

His mind is in a daze.

3,594 ATC

The year is 3,594.

He hasn’t been born yet.

He does the math.

His General hasn’t been born yet.

Sith Hells, High General Kenobi hasn’t been born yet.

Rex is...

He has to talk to Anakin.

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (2/2 )You're more to me, we're everything

PART 1 HERE

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on JATP and have to work together. Will they be able to recover more than their friendship?

If Charlie knew anything in life, it was that he had to take things carefully. Especially with such strong feelings involved. In general, when you like someone, the least you want is for that person to see you as a friend, but particularly for them, recovering their friendship bond was the most important step.

“You were so cute!” Tori and Owen are looking at photos of the guitarist's childhood on his phone. A photo of little Charlie in a suit grinning from ear to ear while holding a girl as if he is spinning her around shows up.

That memory is one of his favorites. He was always a very loved boy with many friends, but in the case of girls he was not the most popular. His best friend on the other hand was, at least for him, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and boys were always around her. He knew he needed to find a partner for the dance so that she wouldn't feel guilty or he wouldn't feel humiliated by not having someone to go with.

However, he was rejected, quite a few times. He didn’t want to say anything about the dance to his best friend that week because he knew that she would stay home with him without hesitation. But that day half an hour before, he arrived in a suit and flowers for her, so at least he could have a picture of such an important moment with the person he loves the most, and he was the one surprised.

“It was about time Char, we have to take about 30 pictures before we go. Mom bought you a tie so we can match." She is up and down looking for one of her shoes, not even turning to see her friend who doesn’t know if he understood correctly.

At that moment she finally turns to see him and runs for a hug, Charlie barely had time to raise his arm with the flowers.

“You look so handsome, and the flowers are perfect. Best partner ever, I love you so much C! I’ll be ready in a second.”

She had planned to go with him from the beginning, and thought it was an implicit pact. That realization made Charlie's heart beat a lot faster that day. No matter how many people invited her, she wanted to go with him. He spent the night with his favorite person dancing and singing, feeling grateful for her, this light who always chooses him of all people.

“I looked pretty good in those clothes.” Y/N says as she and Madison sit at the table.

“You always look amazing, but yeah that night was special.” It's also the night that he realized that he was feeling more than friendship for his best friend, but this is not the time to talk about it.

He decides to continue preparing his waffles, than even though it already has like 5 ingredients, it seems something is missing.

Y/N blushes a little and smiles. “Here, handsome.” She hands him a can of pringles that she grabbed from the cafeteria when she saw him making eggo’s.

“Perfect, Y/N Y/L teaching everyone why she's my soulmate.” Everyone at the table begins to complain about what they qualify as the most disgusting thing they have ever seen, while the former couple smiles happily as they secretly link their legs under the table and continue their breakfast.

Little details like that one, or as removing all the products that she would take with milk from her hands because she seems to forget every morning that she is allergic can make a difference.

“You are 22 years old and you are still as careless as when we were children, I do not understand how you have survived these 4 years."

“You were always the one who cared about it and kept me safe, I guess unconsciously having you close my brain says, ‘no worries, Char will take care of it.’ So I’m sorry, I'll be more careful.”

A seriously ill 10-year Y/N on the way to the hospital invaded Charlie's mind, whom quickly shook off the bad memory.

“It’s all good, bright star.”

“What did you say?” Madison asks.

“Bright star. I know Kenny calls her ‘golden star’, but he’s the copycat. I've been calling her like that all my life.”

Y/N just smiles, enjoying the moment. She had not heard those words from his lips for years, and honestly Kenny also calling her a star even If it was sweet, made her remember Charles practically every day, and that didn’t help at all to get over the guitarist.

“You are my brightest burning star.” Madison replies, looking at Charlie with amusement in her eyes.

At that moment the actor understands what is going through his co-star's head and panics.

“So this queen is the one who has you so inspired, I should have realized it before.”

“She’s always my inspiration, period.” Y/N starts to laugh while blushing, and Madison’s attention falls completely on her.

“And I guess ‘Bright’ is a coincidence? And rise through the night, you and I, We will fight to shine together...Bright forever.” The songwriter wants to disappear at that precise moment while everyone turns to see her as if she had a third eye on her forehead.

“But you wrote bright long before you even knew Charlie was part of the proyect.” Owen adds, smirking.

“If you are asking me if I draw inspiration from the people I love, to write... the answer is yes. And yes, of course I love him.” How is it possible for the guitarist to slow things down when she says things like that in front of everyone? All he wants right now is to kiss her. This discovery means that despite the time she still had him in mind, the song cannot have been written for long. Hope is flooding his body.

“Ok but they inspiring each other is the sweetest thing in the world, goals right there.” Tori adds excited, her friends blushing.

All those teasing moments helped them to be more transparent with their feelings, hugging, touching, and basically staying close each time they finished their work obligations, almost as if they were afraid that the other would disappear or as if they were trying to make up for lost time.

“We need a lot more energy, especially from Charlie. Luke lives for music, nothing can give him more joy than being on stage."

"They have been working for 17 hours straight and at least 15 attempts with this musical." Paul tries to reason with Kenny mid-recording of Now or Never, which still does not come out as the director was expecting.

“What was in the recording studio that is not here now? I thought they would show an even greater energy than there after they stepped on stage."

They both turn to each other, as if the light had been turned on at the same time, and Paul takes his phone.

A few minutes later Y/N walks on set, Sunset Curve smiles upon seeing her.

“I wanted to make sure that we are fulfilling the vision of our beloved songwriter. Let's not disappoint her, okay? Let's try it one more time." Kenny shouts before starting to record again.

Instantly the energy is seen a thousand times higher, Charlie more radiant than ever, while Y/N replicates his energy behind the cameras, flooding him with sass and attitude. The young singer also motivates her now friends and unknowingly gave Sunset Curve that extra thing they needed to finally achieve the perfect performance. Kenny and Paul doing a fist bump behind the screens.

Soon their chemistry and energy turned into open conversation. The way they made everyone on set cry the first time they practiced Unsaid Emily or how connected and dreamy they were while dancing to Perfect Harmony when Madison wasn't on set.

But they still weren’t together, at least officialy.

If Charlie was honest, the fear of throwing himself all over and losing her again terrified him. The industry they love so much and decided to work in doesn't let having a relationship be easy, and if things go wrong again, they don't know if it might be possible to fix it again. It was basically a leap of faith.

Nonetheless, he knows he's willing, but what about her?

That morning he enters the set overwhelmed with his situation when he sees an even more overwhelmed Y/N walk by without even turning around, almost running to the recording studio.

“I advise you to give her some space for a few hours. Let's say she’s going to have a pretty difficult day."

"Why? What happened?" Jeremy asks as he and Owen stand next to the director.

“She got a call from the people at Netflix, they have already approved almost all the music except ‘Stand Tall’, the closing song, and her favorite. They will come in an hour to hear her presentation and convince them that it is good enough."

At that moment Charlie has an idea. There is no way that he will leave her alone, if he has the opportunity to help her he will do it and he’ll drag along all the people he needs to achieve it.

"Kenny, do you happen to have the music sheets for the song?"

“Don’t tell me-” Owen tries to ask but Charlie interrumpts him.

“Yes, let’s get to work boys.”

An hour later Y/N is freaking out, and she can't help but wish Charlie was around. Of all the days he could choose to disappear, he chose today.

She walks towards the auditorium, where to her surprise way more people than she expected are present, including most of the cast. But there is no sign of her lover boy anywhere.

Now or never. She takes a deep breath and start playing the keyboard. Her voice is the only thing that accompanies the keys. Everything is going as planned, but she can't help but feel distracted, nervous, and overwhelmed.

She is about to give up this fight internally when a drum before the second verse gives her the strength to continue singing, Owen smiles and winks at her to give her some peace of mind, and just a few seconds later Jeremy begins to accompany them with the bass. She knows whose idea it is and she just waits for him to come out from wherever he is hidden.

"I’m going out of my mind, Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall." His voice finishes waking her up and she accompanies him in the chorus, their chemistry electrifying everyone until every single person is standing, the cast supporting, dancing and clapping while the couple continues to focus on each other, separating out of obligation every so often but taking the opportunity to sing along with Jeremy and Owen who were doing an amazing job too, impacting with their solos.

The song ends and the boys disappear while Y/N talks to the people who came to evaluate her work, who finally approve the last song on the soundtrack that she has been working on for so long and to which she put all her soul.

The very second people outside the cast leave, Y/N looks for who has always been the boy of her life, the one who has proven that even though the years go by, they only need a few seconds to be themselves again, to be everything again. And as soon as she finds him hanging around only with the other 3 members of JATP she runs and jumps on him, entwining her legs at his hips and hugging him from the neck with all her strength, he immediately secures her by putting his arms around her waist.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The band starts screaming “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” hoping that one of the two will already dare to take the next step, and Y/N stamps her lips against Charlie's, who reacts almost automatically and kisses her back hard, deciding quickly this is the happiest moment of his life. He finally got the girl, or with what just happened, her fierce girl got him.

Hours later both are in Y/N's apartment curled up on a sofa, enjoying being together again.

“Yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.”

Charlie chuckles at her random declaration. “What was that?”

“I’m practicing, and I wanted to say it aloud. I’m just so happy right now.”

His heart melts, she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His brightest burning star.

His girlfriend doesn't give him time to reply, devouring his lips again. After all, she has four years to recover, and as always, he is more than willing to help her.

Thank you so much for reading!

NEXT PART HERE

Tag list:

@siennanoelle01

@reblogserpent

@kiss-themoongoodbye

@writerinlearning

@rachelle3musicals

[rejectofsociety]

We’ll Get Old If We’re Lucky

Summary:

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

•••

After Peter comes home with a bullet in his side, he and Michelle discuss growing old, and if they’ll be lucky enough to get there.

Word Count: 2.2k  

Warnings: Cursing, Discussions of Death, a rant disguised as a fic

Read here on Ao3

༺✦✮✦༻

Peter stumbles home at around midnight, quickly being greet by his wife, then scolded by her for bleeding out on her carpet. Michelle then leads him to the bathroom were he collapses onto the tile, rips off his mask, and vomits all over the floor. With a sigh, she cleans him up, cleans up the vomit, kisses the side of his neck, then leans him against the bathtub. He apologizes a few times and she waves him off, then grabs the first aid kit and asks:

“Where should I start?”

“Ummm…” Peter hesitates, “probably here—“ he points to his side which is steadily oozing blood “—I uh… mighta got shot.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and grabs a rag, “I should really just take you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no, no,” Peter says quickly, then winces as a pain shoots up his side, “no, Em. Just… just pull the bullet out, stitch it up— my self-healing factor can do the rest.”

She chews her lip for a moment then nods, “okay, fine. Lay down.”

“Thank you,” Peter replies gratefully then plants a light kiss on her cheek.

She presses the spider symbol on his suit and delicately helps him slide his arms out of the sleeves, then lets the suit fall to his waist. Then, Peter gingerly lays on his back with some assistance from Michelle. She presses a rag to the wound and leans her weight on it, quickly feeling his warm and sticky blood seeping through. Peter props himself up with an elbow to watch her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Peter guiltily mumbles, seeing her grimace.

“It’s fine,” she grunts.

He shifts his weight, frowning slightly at her stiff reply. She doesn’t notice.

After a few minutes of silence, with the only sound being Peter’s occasional grunt or whimper of pain, the bleeding finally slows to a stop. Michelle stands up and washes her hands thoroughly, her sleeves now rolled up past her elbows. Then, she cleans Peter’s wound with hot water and a bit of soap and places a pair of tweezers in boiling water. The entire time her breathing is shuddering and uneven, and her hands shake anxiously.

Of course Peter notices, and while they wait for the tweezers to cool off, he wraps one arm around her and holds her close. She lays her head on his chest and mutters to him:

“I just want you to be okay. I don’t want you to hurt.”

To which he whispers back: “it’s okay, Em. I’m okay.”

Even with the tweezers ready, he holds her a while longer to ease her nerves. She calms slowly, eventually pulling herself together for Peter’s sake. Michelle ties back her hair into a sloppy ponytail to keep it out of her face then grabs the tweezers and sits on her knees at Peter’s side, hunched over the gunshot wound.

“MJ, I just realized something,” he says, before Michelle can even locate the bullet.

“Let me pull this thing out of you, then you can tell me,” she suggests, “I need to focus.”

“That’s fair,” he hums, “don’t mess up.”

“Babe, please.”

“Sorry.”

She smiles lopsidedly, still not taking her eyes off the wound. Peter let out a small sigh, admiring her sharp focus and attentive expression.

“I can see the bullet, it’s not deep,” Michelle observes after a minute.

“Okay,” he speaks calmly, “then you’re going to-“

He cuts himself off as she visibly shudders. Peter frowns then realizes that the reality of pulling a bloody bullet out of her husband has just sunk in.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “you’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that?” She hisses disbelievingly.

“I’ve done it two or three times,” he shrugs, “and if I can do it-“

“Who’ve you pulled a bullet out of?”

“Cindy once and myself two times— yeah, so three times.”

Michelle sits back on her heels and rubs her face with a heavy sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you about to sneeze?” Peter asks.

“No, dumbass,” she snaps, “I’m stressed out and trying to stop my brain from falling out of my face.”

“Oh,” he swallows thickly, tasting blood and vomit, “I’m sorry, the blood loss is getting to me.”

Michelle brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and huffs, “alright, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter cries frantically as he lunges forward and grabs her hand.

Pain ignites his entire body and he freezes, eyes squeezed shut and expression twisted in agony. He squeezes her hand tightly and it’s almost painful, but she doesn’t pull away. She watches him with wide, worried eyes as she gently strokes the back of his hand, as if she can single-handedly ease away the pain.

“No hospitals,” Peter finally croaks out, his voice weak, “please.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and hesitantly nods, “okay… fine. No hospitals.”

He suspires in relief and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, “thank you, baby.”

She pauses, looking down at the bullet wound then asks: “now, tell me what to do.”

He smiles at her then begins relaying one step after another to her, being as detailed as he can and answering the few questions that she has. She works cautiously and gingerly, pausing when he hisses in pain and waiting for his permission to continue.

When Michelle finally does extract the bullet, coated in crimson and glimmering in the bright bathroom lights, she forces herself not to gag and drops it onto the bloody rag she used to clean Peter’s wound.

“Great job, baby,” Peter praises with a wobbly smile, “told you you’d be alright.”

“I’m never doing that again,” Michelle shudders, “next time we call Cindy or Gwen or anyone.”

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

Michelle briefly glances up at him, “yeah, you’re absolutely right.”

“Like, if you die young it’s like… ‘oh they had so much life left in them’ and when you’re old, now you’re— not my words— ugly and helplessly whatever. And no one wants to be that, y’know?” He rambled, “and then there’s the other stuff that comes with being old, like potential illness, aches and pains— all that. But then if you die young, it’s- like- extra devastating or something because it’s normally really unexpected and sometimes— not always, but sometimes— you’re still in really good health and… and I don’t know.”

“There’s no balance,” Michelle finishes for him, “it’s never a good time to die. But if you live quote unquote ‘too long,’ then it’s not a good time to be alive.”

“Exactly. Or at least, that’s how it’s portrayed,” he flinches as the needle jabs him a little too harshly.

“Sorry,” Michelle mumbles.

“It’s okay,” he sighs. Then he goes quiet for a few moments, and when he does talk again, his voice is soft: “I… MJ, I don’t expect myself to live very long.”

He doesn’t say it sadly. It’s matter-of-fact, like a statement that he’s all too sure of. But even if his tone is calm, his words hit Michelle in the chest like a knife and she instantly finds herself swallowing back tears.

“Peter, don’t say that,” she urges.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” he says unapologetically, “I mean… it’s not like I want to die young I just feel like I will. And maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t understand this- this stigma around getting really fucking old. Like, I hope I get so old I can barely walk.”

Michelle hesitates, “… I hope you do too. I just… I really wanna get old with you.”

He nods, “I do, too.”

“Also, I feel like when you get old, there’s less pressure to look good, y’know?” Michelle begins to think, “like, once you reach a certain point, people kinda except that you’re never gonna look as good as you did when you were twenty or whatever. No one really cares to— or wants to— try getting you to dress in something super flattering or skimpy or pressure you into wearing a lot of make up. You can just wear weird grandma clothes and never touch mascara again if you don’t want to. Y’know?”

“To an extent,” Peter replies, “but I am— obviously— male, and the same standards don’t apply to me.”

She chuckles, “that’s my husband.”

“Yes I am,” he grins, “but I kinda get what you’re saying. I mean, the more physically fit a man is, the more and ‘masculine’ they are, the more acceptable they are by society’s standards. Being old, no one cares and you can just be all shriveled up and… floppy.”

Michelle stops what she’s doing to laugh and Peter lets out a short laugh, before gasping at the pain. Michelle pauses and looks at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

He chews on his cheek and nods slightly, “yep. I’m great.”

She sighs and continues, “similar thing goes for women. When you’re really old it doesn’t matter if you have a nice ass or boobs or whatever. Everything can just sag.”

He smiles, “being old sounds fucking awesome. Fuck society, honest. We’ll be lucky to get gross and old.”

She beams at him then leans forward and kisses his forehead, “yes, we will.”

Then, she ties off the stitches and cuts the thread and wraps a bandage around his torso. He thanks her then kisses her sweetly and thanks her again. She helps him stand up and lets his spider suit fall to the ground, then she tosses it in the bathtub— she’ll clean it later. Then she helps him limp to bed where he gingerly dresses himself in a pair of sweatpants with his wife’s assistance then finds himself in too much pain to try putting a shirt on.

They lay together that night, Michelle reading a book— Chaos Walking Book Three: Monsters of Men— trying to keep her mind away from the place it’s tempted to travel: Peter’s inevitable death. Although, a book about war and death isn’t exactly helpful. Especially not as she reads the sorrows of a “Spackle.”

“I should not be alone…. My one in particular should be here with me…. But my one in particular is not here. Because my one in particular was killed…. brought down by a heavy blade. I way dragged away…. Hated them for not letting me die there and then, when my grief was not quite enough to kill me on its own…”

“Peter, what happens if you die young?” Michelle asks suddenly, snapping the book shut.

Peter looks up from his own book and looks at the one in her hands, “you just lost your page,” he says.

“Please answer the question,” she begs, her voice now wavering.

Peter draws in a deep breath, his gaze trailing away from her as he speaks slowly, “I guess… I guess I’ll be grateful for the years I did have.”

“I mean what happens to me?” She almost demands it, but the distress in her voice is clear and forces Peter to meet her gaze again.

He’s quiet for a few beats, listening to the anxious rhythm of Michelle’s heart and her uneven, nervous breaths. Michelle watches him, hiding her impatience as she’s eager for a response.

“I think…” he finally says, “I think that we shouldn’t think about that. Maybe just… focus on the present and take things one step at a time.”

Michelle chokes back a sob and snaps, “but what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Peter cries exasperatedly, “I know that’s not the answer you want, but I have no fucking idea, and y’know what? That scares me, ‘cause I hate the idea of you being alone!” He pauses and heaves a sigh and sinks into his pillows, “I’m sorry, Em,” his voice is softer now, “I really don’t know…. And I really don’t want to think about it.”

Michelle chews on the inside of her cheek silently, wiping away a tear before it can fall. Peter lets out a shaky breath and looks away, unable to meet her broken gaze.

Michelle isn’t sure how long they’re quiet for, but she slowly feels the knots in her stomach unwind and her clenched heart begins to relax as she gazes at her husband. Her shoulders go from tense to slouched as she takes in his big brown eyes and the freckles that litter his cheeks and his chestnut curls that fall over his forehead.

He’s here, she thinks, he’s here now, let’s just focus on that.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek lightly, “we’ll get old if we’re lucky,” she says simply, “for now, we can do what you said: take things one step at a time.”

Peter looks at her and smiles warmly, “I like that plan.”

He holds the back of her neck in the palm of his hand and draws her into a deep, loving kiss. She sinks into his touch, cupping his face with her hand and gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I love you, Em,” Peter mutters to her as he ousts himself from the kiss.

“I know,” she replies, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest, “I love you too.”

[acciocriativity]

The bet || Harry Potter

Pairing: Fred Weasley and George Weasley x Platonic/Reader (Tiny not so tiny George Weasley x Reader)

Summary: You had a normal life at Hogwarts, until the Weasley twins decided they weren't going to leave you alone anymore, and what was the reason? You would give five galleons to anyone who knew the answer.

Word Count: 4,0k

It was still early, I was walking through the corridors towards the Great Hall when two red-haired figures appeared in my sight.

"Hey Y/N!", one of them waved cheerfully at me, I still had no idea which one. "Why do you suddenly look tall today?", the other said with a smile, which made me want to punch him.

"Why are you suddenly more annoying today? It sounds like a serious illness, so excuse me, I don't want to catch this", I walked as fast as I could so they couldn't keep up with me.

I could hear their laughter behind me and the whispering but decided not to pay attention to what was said, that would bring me more calmness.

And why do I basically run away from them? It is very simple.

One day I was just another Ravenclaw student, and the next day I had the attention of the most popular twins at Hogwarts.

They liked to tease me about absolutely everything, no matter if I was just sitting down reading or trying to concentrate in a class, one of them would find a way to annoy me.

I never tried to differentiate which was Fred and which was George, it made no difference, they both seemed equally annoying to me and knowing who is who was not going to guarantee me anything.

"Hey, wait. We have a deal for you", the tallest of them spoke with a grin plastered on his face as he walked up to me in stride.

"And why should I agree? Anything coming from you guys is pretty suspicious", I replied with my eyes screwed tight and crossed my arms.

"Because you can have your quiet time again, we won't tease you anymore as far as possible", the other said with a small smile and I stopped to think for a few seconds.

"Well, that sounds good enough, and what do I have to do? You're going to have to get something out of this, obviously", I still remained in the same position analyzing the two, who seemed to be enjoying themselves more every second.

"You'll have to guess who is who at the end of the day", one of them started and my face dropped at the same moment."Since we're nice, we'll just say it once", the other added.

"What if I don't succeed then? If there's a prank, I'm out."

"There won't be anything out of the ordinary, just an extra dose of us", I took a deep breath just imagining what my life would be like with these two following me around the castle. "So are you going to accept or not?", he raised an eyebrow.

I took a deep breath and looked away, a good opportunity had fallen into my hands but I would have the rest of my peace lost if I didn't win, which would be no small thing but a part of me was just screaming to accept it at once, the competitive part, the part that was going to win this little challenge.

"I accept, it won't be that hard", I replied with a smile, a wave of confidence built up inside me and I really thought it wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Okay then", they just walked past me and kept walking and if I could see my forehead, a big question mark would be hanging there, "Hey? You still have to tell me which is which, it was part of the deal", I said, taking a few steps behind them but they soon stopped and looked at me.

"Oh, you're so confident, do you really need us to tell you who's who?", I clenched my hands tightly to hold back the urge to kill him.

"Of course I don't need to but... HEY!It's not polite to leave a person talking alone", they had the audacity to walk off and wave at me on top of that.

7:30 a.m.

I wasn't going to get any help from them, why did I expect to get any? Obviously they don't want me to win but I will and they will have to swallow that. That's my new goal today, screw the herbology paper.

But now it would be more difficult, few people would know the difference, I would have to ask one of his friends or one of the other Weasleys who studied at Hogwarts.

I wasn't intimate with any of them but I had classes with some, we never spoke but I will change that today.

I just hope they actually tell me something useful, one of the twins could have easily told no one to help me and made everything even more difficult.

8:25 a.m

"Hey Kate, what's up?", I said with a smile just as she was about to pass me down the hall, it was really worth it to eat fast or I wouldn't have made it in time.

The expression on her face already told me everything, the same gleam in her eye that twins have when they are disturbing me, why do I get the impression that it won't be so easy?

"Good morning Y/N, do you need anything?", she said leaning against the wall with a mischievous smile that I chose to ignore. "Actually yes, you should already know, the Weasleys challenged me to set them apart and you as a friend should know how, anything is useful, anything really", I liked that she was direct because I could be too. I don't like wasting time with small talk, especially when I don’t have too much time.

"They actually told me it would happen, but they didn't tell me more details, what happens if you lose? Some kind of prank I bet.

"They will annoy me twice as much as they already do, I don't know how you manage to be friends with them, she stared at me for a few seconds and then grinned. "What?"

"I'll help you since you're asking me but maybe you'll soon see that it wouldn't be so bad to lose", I just nodded without really believing it would happen. "Fred is louder and generally more annoying, George is quieter and more careful. You can find out more by noticing for yourself, I'm going to get going, I want to practice a little before class begins", she pointed to the castle entrance.

"Thank you so much Kate, I'll owe you this one. See you later", I smiled and waved as she walked away from me after waving as well.

Now I know the basics but they might try to trick me, switch places or pretend to be the other one. I have to be prepared and there is only one way.

9:00 a.m

The bell rang and the halls filled with heads hurrying not to be late, especially the poor first year students heading for the dungeon. I could see some shaking on the way out of the Great Hall but my destination was completely different, I headed up the stairs along with the other forty years to Minerva's class.

There was no sign of any of the twins, if they had decided to skip this class my plan was destined to fail.

The class was about to start when the two of them entered without any hurry and I smiled internally for having kept an empty chair next to me, just in case.

"Are you gentlemen having a problem with your audition? The bell rang five minutes ago. This kind of behavior is not tolerated, Mr. Weasleys. Minus ten points for Gryffindor", her angry voice boomed, and no one seated dared to breathe.

"It won't happen again, professor", I was surprised not to hear any funny remarks as a comment and I'm sure she was too but didn't show it.

"Sit down and open your books, let's move one more step forward from yesterday's lesson...", she continued talking but I barely paid attention after one of them sat down next to me.

"So, you're George, you can tell me now that I already know", he looked a little surprised for a few seconds but soon regained his posture.

"How did you guess it? I didn't even say anything", he said looking at me intently and I just shrugged, I wasn't about to say since this is clearly a plus for me.

"That's a secret that will stay with me, it wasn't that hard", I commented, dipping my quill into the ink to start writing what Minerva was going over on the blackboard.

Behind us it was possible to hear Fred's excited whispers that I had learned to ignore after all these years. Now it seemed so much easier, it's not as if I hadn't noticed them both all this time, it's a bit impossible since they make themselves present everywhere.

We remained silent, since this is the only way I can concentrate. I even mentally thanked him for that, but it didn't seem to do any good today. My attention kept being drawn to the red-headed boy next to me, I couldn't help it.

Internally I blamed it on my will to win, because to do so I would have to pay more attention to him, that's all my body wanted to do, focus on George Weasley.

I only realized that I was crossing the line when I noticed that his cheeks started to take on a reddish tint and a shy little smile appeared. To make matters worse, there was Fred's giggles, who was watching everything with the best view; there was no way I could get away with this.

After this awkward moment, I forced myself to pay attention even though my desire was to get out of there, since he now decided to start watching me not as discreetly as he thought he was being. I was much better at that.

"Is there a problem?", I mustered up the courage to ask when it was already 15 minutes before the bell rang again.

I noticed him bite his lips and crack a small smile before looking forward again, "why would there be a problem?"

"You were looking at me", I answered quietly so as not to draw attention from the other students and especially from Minerva who was passing between the desks checking to see if everyone was practicing the spells correctly.

"You were looking at me before that, discretion is not your specialty, you know?", I was a few seconds without knowing how to answer that and in the meantime, I could see him savoring the fact that he had left me speechless.

"Yes, I was watching you to differentiate you better from your brother, and why were you looking at me?", I spoke in a direct tone looking him straight in the eyes and the other redhead's laughter sounded behind us and George gave him a nonchalant look, as did the woman, who had just passed us.

"Is something wrong Mr. Weasley?", she asked and of course, everyone around us had to pay attention too, because they had nothing else interesting to do.

"No, I just remembered a joke I heard, I could tell you if you want. I assure you it is very funny", he assured holding back the urge to laugh even harder.

"Your little jokes stay outside the room Mr. Weasley, and you all, if you haven't perfected today's transfiguration can get back to work", she caught everyone's attention and continued walking peacefully.

We ended up getting distracted from the main subject, he obviously took the chance of not answering me and just kept on training as I did.

12:00 a.m

We had the next 3 classes together and I stayed close to them and their friends as well. As I imagined everyone was very nice to me, we could have become friends much sooner if we weren't stuck in a fixed group of friends.

Some things had become much clearer in my head and others even more blurred. They didn't seem to be picking on anyone but me, although it hadn't happened all day. Then why? I was going to find out.

"Will you come sit with us today?", Katie said with an arm around Angelina's shoulders, both looking at me with a smile that wouldn't let me deny them anything.

"Sure, I'd love to. It's kind of funny that we have more things in common than I expected", I remarked as we walked slowly, with the hasty crowd in front of us. I would usually be with them but it's much better this way, time is not as important as catching up with everyone.

"I had no idea you liked quidditch, have you thought about joining the Ravenclaw team?", Angel, as she asked to be called, inquired and at that moment, I should but I didn't notice her gaze leave me and go to the twins, several times.

"I'm not as good at playing as I am at watching, so I prefer to stay in the stands", I replied with a small smile until I noticed everyone in that small group communicating with their eyes, which I chose to ignore.

"So Angeli, since when did you start playing?", I started the subject that was going to last throughout the entire lunch hour and it couldn't be better.

Everyone had some story to tell, I must admit that Fred's and George's were the funniest. At no time was there any kind of awkward silence, or a moment when I was not included in the conversation. I did notice that some of my classmates were surprised that I sat there, but in general they were looking at us because of the noise. Their special talent was talking, which I found refreshing since I could hear more and talk occasionally.

The worst part of it was that I ended up not paying as much attention to either George or Fred as I had planned, although now I know a little more about both of them and my new friends.

3:00 p.m.

After two classes of Aritmancia, I had a free period and many homework assignments to do and as I walked to the library, a familiar voice called out to me.

"Y/N!", I turned around and was faced with George and his broom near the stairs, not so far from me, "We are going to practice a little, do you want to come too?", I was about to say no, as I was already busy but then I remembered, I still had to guess who was who at the end of the day.

I had really forgotten and started to enjoy their company, I had to remind myself that I wanted to win and that it made perfect sense to spend some more time with him, if it meant that I could guarantee it. Or at least, I tried to convince myself of that.

"Sure, who else will be training?", I asked as I walked over to him and then we walked together to the castle entrance and towards the field. "Just Angelina and Fred, the others have classes or something to do," and I just nodded in agreement.

We hadn't spent any time alone since Transfiguration class and I didn't know what to say, as did he but I didn't feel uncomfortable, just lost in my own thoughts.

"You came to watch half the best quadribol team play today. You won't regret it," Fred was the first to speak up as soon as we arrived and I could only laugh, how could one person be so confident? I needed some tips.

"My expectations are higher than you Weasley, you better not let me down after that speech," I wasn't trying to be funny but I heard a chuckle come from the redhead next to me. "You're not out of it George, none of you. But remember, no pressure. I'm only going to judge a little bit," I said smirking, not really taking any of the words I said seriously.

"Go sit down and prepare to be impressed," the black haired girl gave the last words, grabbed her own broom and flew to the three right hoops as I hurried to the stands.

Luckily, I didn't miss much and less than 5 minutes later, I could tell with certainty how good the three were. They took turns as goalkeepers for Angelina, even though it wasn't really their position in the game.And after 15 minutes, the dynamic changed for the two of them to try to hit her, one at a time, for them to practice as beaters.

But honestly, I paid much less attention than I normally do. I couldn't tell them apart from so far away, and this realization made me face the shameless excuse I had created for myself. I just wanted to be there, and the reason for that I wouldn't say out loud.

More than 30 minutes later, the three of them instead of landing on the ground, came flying towards me and stopped by my side.

"So you can talk about how impressed you are now", I pretended to think for a few seconds and the indignation on his face was so funny I almost didn't say it but after such an arduous training like that, they deserved it.

"You guys were amazing, if someone from another house could watch the official training sessions I would really come to see more", I smiled and it was extremely adorable to see George's already red face redden even more after my compliment.

"You already know you can't watch the official practices, we are finally starting to understand each other", Fred said and took a step to hug me and I immediately took one back. "You're soaking wet Fred Weasley, don't even think about it. This is not the time for hugs".

"But I think it's a good idea sweetie, you can't hide from a Weasley, so just accept it", he said with an evil grin on his face and I was ready to run, I hated sweat especially when it wasn't mine but his long legs came into action once again.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced, so you have something to be proud of after all", I complained, pulling away seconds after he had cornered me in the hug, which wouldn't have been so bad if it had been any other time.

"If that's the grossest one, you really don't know what's waiting for you honey. This is just the beginning," Angel said with a satisfied smile on his face. "But we better go now, I need a shower and we still have one last class today," she added and flew out of there after waving to us.

"Yeah, I need to take a shower too, I'll see you guys later," Fred said before getting out of there as quickly as possible, leaving me alone with George again.

"Well, do you want a ride? It's much quicker to get down that way," he smiled slightly at me and I agreed without a second thought.

I held his bare arm, because I thought it was better than hugging him and regret appeared immediately because I always had some issues with flying. It wasn't the worst thing in the world but it was far from being one of my favorites.

All I could do was close my eyes as we crossed the field, my hands automatically closed around his arm, the weather was windy and I could feel the shivers that went through his now red skin as well as mine.

It was a few seconds if I'm really honest but it didn't feel like it to me, I've never picked up a broom other than for classes and it's been a long time since I stopped having fun in those classes.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I felt my feet on the ground again.

"I'll see you later then, I haven't forgotten about the bet. You better be prepared," he gave me a beautiful smile and the consequences of that is the only thing I wasn't prepared for.

5:00 p.m.

There are those moments when you have to stop and ask yourself, what the hell is happening to me? For countless reasons obviously, and it was my turn. I didn't come up with any answers that made me blind to reality, which was really frustrating because that way it would be easier for me to just ignore.

But nobody told me it was going to be easy, which is a shame because I would have someone to blame.

All this played out in my head before I received an owl from them, telling me that I could go to the Gryffindor common room to finish our bet, along with the password for the day. I was prepared after being warned by basically all their friends, all I could think of on the way there were some spells, mainly revenge because I wouldn't let it go if there really was a prank.

But what happened was quite different, the place was quieter than I imagined, although they had many people sitting and talking normally including Fred and George.

"Oh hello stranger, you have finally decided to give us the honor of your presence, I can say for everyone, we are all grateful," I had barely stepped into the room when Fred spoke up with the most sarcastic smile I have ever seen, should I be confused?

"If I get all this reception every time I come here, I will definitely come back more often. Thank you, I feel very welcome," I said with an equally big smile, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Okay smartass, it's time for your answer," he continued speaking, the same voice but now that I was close, in front of them, I noticed that there was something very wrong there.

"Why are you talking like that George?", was my only thought, they were imitating each other, the voice was extremely similar, I could never tell the difference just by that, but looking at him, it is impossible to be mistaken.

Their expression dropped on the spot and I realized that there were more people watching me and maybe they knew the plan, because everyone was a little shocked too, was it that simple?

"That's impossible, who was the snitch that told you? Whoever it was, you're going to have a tough future," Fred even stood up and didn't bother to do another voice, he spoke and I was sure I won.

"Nobody told me, I didn't need much to realize that you guys were faking it. He spent the whole conversation scratching his arm, it's been like that all day," I pointed to George who had not taken his eyes off my person so far.

At that moment they looked at each other for a few seconds and then back at me. I should be happy but I wasn't. Even if I wasn't going to admit it out loud, they just proved to me how amazing they are and I wasn't going to lose that.

"Now that I've won, I want to change my reward. It's very simple, I want to reverse the reward and the punishment. I want an extra dose of Weasleys," I had to get a certain amount of shyness out of the way to say this but it was worth it.

It was worth it because I could see a sparkle in both of their eyes that went beyond a successful prank, it was worth it because I had the best years at Hogwarts with the best friends I could ever want. It was worth it because I found the best boyfriend in the world that day. I never thought I would be so grateful for a silly bet.

Harry Potter Masterlist

[icedthoma]

friendly competition

--Since you seem to like chapstick so much... maybe have a reader and Bakugou and neither of them know what the chapstick game is so the bakusquad ropes them into playing it before they know what the rules are?

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Notes: thiS IS THE LAST CHAPSTICK POST I SWEAR HSSBDKJS DON’T COME AT ME T-T (it’s just writing kisses is rlly fun ight ok ill shut up now)

“This is stupid.” 

“You know, for once I find myself agreeing with you.”

“For once? What are you talking about, idiot? I’m always right.” 

“Yeah? I saw your red kahoot screen the other day, don’t even try to lie.”

Mina slid in between you and Bakugou, who’s hands were beginning to spark at your nonchalant attitude. “Let’s all calm down before someone gets sent to the hospital."

Huffing, you folded your arms and jerked your head away, plopping down to sit cross-legged on the common area’s floor. “Whatever. That doesn’t change the fact that little Rat-suki over here is being a whiny brat, as always.”

“What did you say? I’m going to--”

Kirishima yanked Bakugou back as he attempted to lunge toward you with palms blazing. “Come on, man. We’re all here to have fun!”

“Don’t even know why I came to this stupid thing anyway,” Katsuki hissed as he reluctantly sat down on the couch farthest from you. 

“What’s the game?” you sighed, just wanting to get it over with. You’d go along with their antics to make them happy and leave you alone for the next couple hours, where you could catch some must needed rest. 

Ashido beamed at your question, and flung a plastic grocery bag out from behind her back, holding it high in the air like it was some sort of trophy. “The chapstick game!” 

“What’s that?” you and Bakugou said in unison, then immediately glared at each other from across the room. 

“I asked first, you overrated extra.”

“Actually, we asked at the same time, you stupid blond hedgehog. No wonder you were never in band, you can’t count.”

Kirishima was prepared and once again held Bakugou in his seat before he exploded you to pieces. He resorted to flipping you off from his hunched position on the couch. 

“Gremlin,” you mouthed back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“As I was saying, we’re playing the chapstick game,” Mina continued. “I will act as judge, of course.”

“Hey, Bakugou! I think you’d be great at this!” Kaminari teased, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “You’re good at cooking, so you should be able to tell these flavors apart in a heartbeat!”

“Y/n’s a pretty good cook too, you know,” Jirou piped up from Kaminari’s other side. “I think she could give Bakuboy a run for his money.”

You grinned at your friend’s support, staring smugly at where Bakugou was trying to burn holes into your forehead with the power of his glare alone. “Oh yeah? I think so, too.”

“Well, we won’t find out unless we play, huh?” Ashido yelled, finally losing her patience with all the interruptions. “I blew a quarter of my allowance on these, so we’re putting it to use or else.” 

“That’s not very good money management.”

“Shut up, Denki!” 

“Psh, fine. I’ll play along with your dumb game,” Bakugou scoffed, squinting at you while jerking his thumb towards the floor. “But you’re going down, you hear me?”

“I’ll make you eat your words like it’s your inferior cooking.” Walking over to where Mina was holding the bag of chapstick at you, you took a random one and looked at its label. Strawberry. “Wait, so what do I do with this again?”

“Put it on!” Kaminari urged you, and you did so.

“But I already looked at the label, so I know what flavor it is.”

“You’re not the one guessing, silly!” Uraraka piped up, looking pointedly at where Bakugou was still perched atop the common room couch. 

“How is he going to...” you trailed off as the realization hit you. “No.”

“Absolutely no way,” Bakugou growled, coming to the same conclusion as you. “I’m heading out.”

“If you don’t play, you forfeit and Y/n wins by default,” Ashido called after his retreating back. He froze, hands twitching but not sparking yet, clearly torn between his desire to beat you in every competitive way possible and his distaste for games like this.

“It’s fine, Mina,” you laughed, waving your pink friend off. “I think I’ll take this free win. I’m sure Bakugou agrees.”

“Oh, no way in hell,” was all you heard before Katsuki whirled around and stormed back towards you. 

“Wait--hold on--what are you--” you managed to stammer out before he grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you, right in front of all your friends.

You were barely aware of someone saying, “Oh my God he actually did it, someone get the camera right now--” followed by several other shouts of the sort, but it had all been lost in the background to your shock that Bakugou had indeed, done it. Your eyes were wide in surprise as you took in his face scrunched up in concentration, lips brushing against yours with a softness you never would have expected from him. His palms were rough and calloused and warm against your cheeks, and you couldn’t believe that these hands, the ones that were holding your face so gently like you were made of glass, were the same ones that had tried to blow you to smithereens on multiple occasions. 

Once you had gotten over the initial shock and got used to Bakugou being so close to you, you then felt kind of awkward. Where were you supposed to put your hands? On his shoulders? Behind his neck? Was that too intimate for a simple game? 

Just as you started having these frantic thoughts that made you extremely self conscious as to the way the two of you looked to the rest of your friends, Katsuki exhaled sharply and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt much to your annoyance. The cool air conditioning was such a contrast to his warm body, that for a second you found yourself wishing he’d come back. 

“Strawberry,” he said, an insufferable smirk plastered on those lips you hated, those lips you wanted to come back to you more than anything. 

“Y-yeah,” Ashido murmured, gaze darting around to the rest of your friends in the room, as to confirm that she wasn’t the only one who saw that, right? “You got it.”

“Tch.”

You frowned down at the strawberry chapstick that had been in your hand the entire time, Bakugou getting slapped on the back by Kaminari in the corner of your vision. The thing was, you could tell from the moment you held the stick to your face that it was strawberry. The smell was potent enough that he should have been able to tell as soon as he got within smooching distance. But he had kissed you anyway. 

You didn’t have the time to dwell upon this enigma, as Bakugou was snatching a new stick from the bag and swiping it across his mouth, shoving it into his pocket once he was done. “Well?” he barked. “Do you need an invitation?”

Rolling your eyes, you went up to him, steeling your nerves with determination. He raised an eyebrow skeptically as you paused in front of him, wondering how you were going to reach him from your lack of height. He certainly wasn’t going to bend down to your level himself. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, you sighed and grabbed his shoulder with one hand and the back of his head with the other, yanking him down to crash his mouth onto yours. 

Unlike his kiss, yours was anything but soft. You kissed him because you knew he wasn’t made of glass, you kissed him to win, your eyes open and narrowed as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, noticing how he tensed up when you did so. His crimson eyes stared a challenge into yours, just daring you to lose to him. You coudn’t smell anything relatively fruity, so you ruled a whole bunch of flavors off the list. Your tongue had come away from his mouth cool, a stark contrast from his generally warm skin. Which led the only option to be...

“Mint,” you said, ripping your mouth off of his and placing your hands on your hips defiantly. 

“Spearmint, actually,” Bakugou snarked, tossing the stick up and down in the air.

“I say it counts!” Ashido exclaimed, quieting down at the end to murmur, “And who knew Y/n could kiss like that?”

"Hurry it up,” Kaminari complained, bouncing up and down on the couch impatiently. “I want to play it with Jirou.”

“In your dreams.”

“We’re literally dating, what are you talking about--”

“What are you all doing still up?” Iida yelled, appearing at the front of the room and silencing all of you in an instant. “People are trying to sleep, and you all are making such a racket downstairs. I implore you to stop at once.”

“...that’s our cue to leave,” Mina whispered, grabbing the bag and running upstairs followed by Kirishima and the rest of your friends, leaving you, Bakugou, and Iida alone. Iida sighed and stumbled off towards the kitchen, mumbling something about just wanting to get some water.

It suddenly became so quiet you swore you could hear crickets chirping like they did in cartoons. 

You snuck a glance at Bakugou out of the corner of your eye, only to find him doing the same thing. The two of you jumped in surprise as you caught each other staring, and you quickly averted your gaze to the floor. 

“Listen, about earlier.” 

You looked up to see Katsuki rubbing the back of his neck, his face uncharacteristically tinged with red. 

“Yeah?”

“That didn’t have to mean anything, okay? It was just a stupid game, so don’t think too much about it, or--”

“We never found out who won, you know.”

“I would have won anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” 

“You had an easy one, okay? You could tell by the smell alone, meanwhile I actually had to try.”

“Oh yeah?” 

You knew you really had no reason to be provoking him like this. Literally none. So why were you continuing to do so? 

“Whatever, it’s just some friendly competition,” you said, flicking your finger against his chest and turning away. However, he caught your wrist before you could fully pull away. 

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Friends.”

You searched his face curiously, but there was no malice or anger in his expression. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now, and that bothered you. Friends...maybe yesterday, that was what could describe you two. 

But something had changed, and there was a shift between you that you weren’t sure was good or bad. Maybe it started when Bakugou agreed to the game in the first place. Maybe it was when he held his lips against yours longer than necessary. Maybe it was when you yanked him down to your level and kissed him until your lips bruised. 

Not quite friends...but not entirely more...

“Sure,” you forced yourself to say, brushing an invisible lock of hair behind your ear and sliding your hand out of his grasp, which you found odd because he literally could have just let go and save you the experience of brushing your fingers over his for a split second. “Of course. Idiot. Anyway, isn’t it past your bed time?”

“Tch. See you later, loser.” 

Both insults lacked venom, and you both knew it. As you walked up the stairs, Bakugou a few steps in front of you, you fisted the stupid strawberry chapstick tightly in your hand, the only thing you had linking you to that moment. 

The moment everything changed.

[tigerdrop]

Cringe is dead, talk to me about the funny half-life men and their relationship

okay here is my essay. it is titled These Guys Actually Like Each Other, and Gordon Freeman Is Just Kind Of A Dick*

(disclaimer: these are just my 2 cents. dont take me too seriously! im just some guy online who has watched this shit too many times.)

first things first. these guys actually like each other. this is a key aspect of their relationship. benrey, obviously and textually, digs gordon freeman - you dont flirt that heavily with guys you arent into, and so much of what he says and does is geared around making gordon crack up. thats pretty gay.

but the counterpart to this is that gordon freemans pretty fucking gay for benrey, too. you may say, “oh, but word of god says its not requited!” and to you i will say: bull shit. gordon is uniquely obsessed with benrey compared to all the other characters. if gordon didnt like the fucking guy, he wouldnt giggle with him and share in-jokes with him and bring him up every 5 seconds when benreys not around. thats concern, bro. thats worry. thats real shit

but i cant blame people for thinking that gordon freeman genuinely doesnt like benrey. benreys partially responsible for some of the worst things that have happened to him, the Arm Thing among them. and gordons very insistent afterward that he doesnt like benrey. he even goes so far as to try to kill benrey a couple times. to this, i must argue that gordon freeman is just kind of a dick.

lets talk facts here. canon. Lore. from the moment we hop into gordons shoes, we can see that he is a jerk to every npc on his way into black mesa. this is his default: a dude who just runs his mouth and says rude shit. he calls tommy a freak within 5 minutes of meeting him. he infantilizes the guy and barely considers him a real scientist. he doubts that bubby is a real name for like no fuckin reason. in “real life”, this is because its funny, and wayne is trying to make a funny half-life stream. in a textual sense, this is because gordon “hlvrai” freeman is a dick. this is the way he acts, consistently, throughout the series.

(brief aside: this is why the whole “gordon is a nice guy and a great dad” characterization baffles me. the way he actually acts in canon is, in short, bitchy and lacking in self-awareness. and i love that for him, i really do. it makes the moments where he just tries to be a nice guy stand out. but thats the thing: his intermittent moments of decency and kindness are not the whole of his personality! this dude kind of sucks most of the time!)

the way that gordons general asshole attitude extends to benrey is complicated. in fairness, benrey makes it his job to annoy the shit out of gordon as much as possible, and that warrants a negative attitude, but gordons pretty paranoid and ends up blaming benrey for nearly everything that happens to him, regardless of if its warranted. this is a pattern he exhibits both before and after the Arm Thing. its a little bit of a dick move! especially considering that, prior to the whole “betrayal” subplot (which was not exactly planned very far in advance), benrey is no more malicious or annoying than anybody else gordons having to travel with.

(okay, this is kind of a subjective evaluation, but still. my point stands that benrey is not any more of a hindrance to his progress than anybody else in the science crew, and neither is he particularly more violent or murderous. hell, gordon freeman has probably killed more guys than benrey. benrey just tends to get.......special treatment.)

all that said, i am still convinced that gordon really fucking likes benrey. please consider with me the following: it would be remarkably easy for gordon to just ignore him and do what he has to do, but he doesnt. he could stop engaging. he could stop thinking about benrey. he could stop bringing benrey up to the rest of the crew every time benrey leaves to do his own thing for awhile. but he doesnt. and, again, yeah, the extra-textual reason for this is “two guys are doing an improv comedy thing and bouncing off of scorpy is kind of the point”, but within the text it reads to me as gordon not being about to get the dude off his mind.

and this is in addition to all the times we see gordon being genuinely nice and receptive toward benrey! its in the little things: laughing the hardest and longest at benreys jokes. only ever reciprocating that stupid underwater “BBBBB” thing with benrey. trying to catch benrey when he falls, despite his insistence moments earlier that benrey should hop in the wack ass crystal generator and get hypermurdered. fondly remarking that benreys sweet voice sounds beautiful. his sort of flustered responses to most of benreys overt flirting. none of this is the way normal people react to a guy they hate. this is all fuckin gay to me, man.

its this combination of the outward insistence that gordon hates benrey with his inner eagerness to be around him and think about him and engage with him that gives off strong “repression” vibes, to me. for whatever reason - pride, embarrassment, resentment - gordon maintains a front of hating the guy and wanting to kill him for a lot of the series, but it doesnt gel with the way he fucking giggles and plays along half the time that benrey starts fucking with him. its a game, and that game is one of the only ways gordon knows to manifest affection for him.

(remember “oh my god, hes got a knife!”? that was the gayest shit i ever seen in my life. tittering like a schoolgirl while benrey chases him around like “im gonna get you haha”. insanity.)

the cool thing about repression is that you can have it manifest in a lot of ways! and this is where things like “headcanons” and “my own personal affection for repressed bisexual men” come in. a lot of how i characterize their relationship is an extrapolation of a lot of things like gordons canonical insecurity issues/anxiety, gordons whole anti-bootboy thing screaming “internet wokeboy who means well but probably has a lot of repressed baggage” to me, etc.

how do you get massive amounts of sexual repression out of what you see in canon, you might ask? well. if wayne would stop having gordon talking about being jerked off by the suit, or talking about chugging a 40-gal drum of potion and having to hold his piss, or worrying about being eaten by benrey the moment he sees benrey at setscale 10, maybe i would have a higher opinion of gordon “hlvrai” freeman and whatever latent psychosexual issues hes got going on. but here we are

i havent even touched yet upon how benrey feels about gordon. this one is helpfully made a little more plain by the fact that benrey very much wants to suck his dick in canon. (i dont even have to go into details. we all know.) but IMO the best part about this ship isnt just that they dig each other, but how. benrey gets overtly flirtatious in the second half of the series, but IMO his preferred method of flirting is just fucking with gordon: chasing him with knives, shoving him around in a bathroom, trying to get scans of his feet. but all in like a slapstick, giggly, fun-and-games sense, you know? at least when it works.

a lot of the time, though, it doesnt work out that way. he clearly just likes doing it whether or not gordon responds positively. which is, you know, Weird. not very nice. but also in line with the way everybody else treats gordon freeman. gordons kind of the universes chew toy in any given universe, and the same holds true here. hes kind of helpless......subjected to 4 demons attempting to make his life as difficult as possible. in a way its cathartic.

sorry. i got sidetracked. anyway, benrey very much likes to mess with him and unnerve him and demean him and i will be perfectly frank with you: that is hot. i have problems and illnesses and one of them is that i am a masochist who goes crazy for that kind of thing. calling gordon a “dirty lil boy” and telling him to “look at the mess [he] made” is some straight up kink scene shit.

i like to imagine that a lot of this behavior isnt caused just by the guy who played him wanting to be funny and antagonistic, but by benrey as a character not really understanding what constitutes “pushing a joke too far”. hes not human, and whatever he is doesnt have a very normative way of understanding the world around him, full of people who actually get hurt for real and die for real. benrey expresses what seems to be genuine surprise and distress after the Arm Thing, as if he didnt know that his actions would have serious consequences. and it doesnt seem to fully sink in afterward, either.

it reads a lot to me like hes used to video game rules and treating people around him like NPCs. if they get hurt, its no big deal, because its not real. he likes jamming random buttons on gordons interface and seeing what comes out. its probably a lot of fun for him, the same way that seeing a streamer or a youtuber suffer for our amusement is fun. its like, you know, in my opinion, gordons very cute when hes frazzled. hes also cute when hes laughing. pushing gordons buttons has a 50/50 chance of either of these things. and this is how he ultimately flirts with gordon: by pulling his pigtails.

but at the same time, benrey does legit care about gordon and knows some boundaries. benreys the one most often shooting at enemies to protect gordon, and he spent most of the last act trying to convince gordon to turn around and not fight him because they were friends (best friends, to be specific). he just lacks a lot of the emotional intelligence it would take to express the feeling of “he digs gordon and likes seeing his face get all red and sweaty regardless of the cause”. and gordon lacks the emotional intelligence it would take to express the fact that he doesnt know if he likes or hates benrey and hes scared as hell that its the former

because, lets be real. unironic benrey-liking is a sign of problems disorder. just look at all these words ive written about it.

can you imagine? this bizarrely powerful, non-human entity that can shrug off gunfire and grow to the size of a building has decided that youre his new plaything. benreys the bored guy booting up skyrim and fucking around in the console, and gordons the hapless favorite follower that hes taken a liking to. its a really fun dynamic IMO

after all this, its safe to say my title is a little misleading. the asterisk stands for * and So Is Benrey, Actually. they are both kind of awful dudes who thrive off of teasing each other and they deserve each other. and i am crazy about it. thank u for coming to my TED talk

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

@w1lmutt So tbh I probably could’ve had this ninth part of the unedited v!Wind fic out earlier; I already had it mostly written. But on the flip side, I’m sure you’ll be happy know that the whole story's going to be a bit longer than previously expected!

I only took my eyes off them for like a DAY, where did all these new plunnies come from aiieeee 

I don’t want to promise the next part will also be out soon bc that feels too much like jinxing it, but, um. *side-eyes the pages and pages of Stuff I've already scribbled for the next few parts*

TW: The ending scene made me cackle evily when I first thought of it. That's it that's the warning

<<First Part 8 Next>>

Twilight climbs the ladder to the lookout post the newest Link first greeted the traveling heroes from. The kid’s perched there now, kicking his heels in the open air, head resting on arms folded against the railing—just like the first time they’d met.

Such a difference a single day makes.

“Food’s ready,” he announces himself, though there’s no way Phantom hadn’t heard him making his way up. The boy doesn’t respond. Twilight musters up his patience, makes an effort to keep his voice even and nonconfrontational. “Wild made enough stew for everyone. He’s a pretty darn good cook; you’re missing out.”

Phantom doesn’t move. “Don’t need it.”

Twilight frowns. He climbs all the way into the lookout and approaches the slumped form, stopping just outside of striking distance. “You haven’t had anything all day. You need to eat, kid,” he coaxes.

“Fuck off. Don’t patronize me.” There’s no bite to the words. Twilight folds his arms, trying to project sternness. Phantom lackadaisically flips him off without even looking his way.

Twilight sighs. “...Enjoying the view?” He prods instead, changing tack.

“...A little. I’m mostly listening. I’d... forgotten what it sounded like.” A stilted pause. Phantom sighs, so quiet it’s nearly lost on the breeze. “The village, I mean. While it was awake.” 

Twilight, who hadn’t meant to provoke such honesty with his offhand comment, finds himself momentarily derailed. Phantom seems to take his silence as an invitation to continue—or perhaps he’s not talking to the other man at all, anymore.

“Aryll hugged me back today,” he says, blank. “And. Everyone’s awake. I... don’t need to sweep the porches, or trim the grass, or make sure the water in the rainbarrels is still fresh. I...”

One of the seagulls hops closer. Link holds out a hand to it automatically, but it flaps away. He stares down at his empty hand for a long moment before he seems to realize there’s no bait in it.

“It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not anything new—I should be able to do this, greet my friends and talk to my sister and help out where I’m needed. I used to. I know I used to.”

The silence stretches.

Twilight finally sighs, breaking through the tension that had settled gauzy and ill-defined over them. “I came up here for a reason. I need to talk to you.”

Phantom finally deigns to look at him, giving the other a droll look from the corner of his eye. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be here alone otherwise; you guys have been paired off all day.”

Smartass. Twilight hisses a breath through his teeth. “Look, it’s about Time.”

Phantom tenses.

“You’ve been hurting him. You’re going to stop doing that,” he informs the kid.

Phantom’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not going to attack you guys again. And I apologized for the-”

“I’m not,” Twilight grits out, “talking about a physical wound.”

The boy doesn’t understand. How can the boy not understand? Twilight wants to pick him up and shake him.

“As far as I can tell, your only impressions of him come from legends that reverie him, and memories that hate him. He’s not whoever it is you’ve built up in your head, Phantom. Try opening your damn eyes for a change.”

Twilight stares the younger boy down. He needs the kid to understand: he is deadly serious about this.

The little hero is wide-eyed with confusion, uncertainty grinding away his usual guard. Phantom visibly chews over his words, slow, like they might make sense the third time where they didn’t the first. Skepticism paints his face. He still doesn’t get it. 

But he nods. Agreement, however reluctant. Twilight will take it.

"Now come on," Twilight huffs. He stalks away. "Wild's made food; the least you could do is not let it go to waste."

~o0o~

Phantom picks at his dinner. Like he'd told the Hero of Twilight, he doesn't need it—hasn't bothered with food for a long time, frankly—but refusing to eat after it'd already been doled out to him would be terribly rude. He's not so far gone that he's forgotten all his manners.

He and Aryll sit back-to-back in a ring of people, surrounding the roaring beach fire one of the visitors had made to cook with. It's still odd, feeling something moving and breathing so close to him, but... it’s not so bad when no one’s trying to grab him. He’s fine as long as nothing's moving too quickly in his personal space.

Pressed against his sister now, he remembers the times he'd hug the statues or lean on them for comfort. He throws a few token comments into the soft evening conversation, just to hear those real, actual voices respond to him, and this alone is leagues better than relying on his memory and imagination to fill the silence.

Listening to Aryll’s excited chatter, to the gentle shifting of over a dozen living bodies gathered on the same beach... he realizes how much he’d missed this.

It’s not perfect. But for the first time in a very long while, Phantom finds himself held in the grip of a feeling that could almost pass for peace.

~o0o~

They send Grandma out to sea that night.

Dusk is not the appropriate time for someone to set sail on a long journey. But for her last voyage... the darkness will see her safely to her destination. That’s what the villagers say, at least.

Phantom’s lost his share of people over the years. He hates that he should be used to goodbyes—hates hates hates that this time is different.

(It’s not even that she’s family; he was old enough to remember his parents, after all. No, the difference between Grandma and everyone else he's lost is that he is so much more directly responsible for her death.

He might've loved and missed some of those others comparably, but Grandma... Grandma is one of his mistakes.)

~o0o~

Tetra finally comes to him in the morning.

She’d been avoiding him, and he’d been letting her have her space—no matter how much he ached to have her back again. She had every right to be angry at him, after all.

(He’d failed her. In every way that mattered, he’d failed her.

All that strength and he still couldn’t keep her safe; all that resolve and he still couldn’t get her back before Bellum had dug it’s claws in deeper than he could pry out of her; all that time, and still no Hyrule to show for it. He couldn’t even avenge her, in the end; the traveling heroes had robbed him of that killing blow.)

So of course she’s angry. Of course she’s disappointed in him, of course she's been avoiding him, of course of course.

There is a time and place for regrets, Phantom knows. That time is not now; that place is not here. Not when he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Tetra—his best friend, his partner, his anchor—finally, finally awake.

And yet. And yet.

She stands next to him without a word. They watch the dawn like that—together, with neither able to bear looking at each other.

~o0o~

The sun is fully up by the time her idiot speaks.

He fingers the mark on the back of his hand in lieu of looking her in the eye. “Do you think the power of the gods could bring her back?” He asks. He doesn’t look at her as he says this, gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “Not forever. Just... just for a little longer.”

She feels cold. “I thought we’d agreed never to make a wish.”

“...Yeah.”

Tetra scowls. “How seriously are you asking? Is this the grief or the insanity talking right now?”

“I... I don’t know.” His eyes belie this—calculating, intent. He’s looking out at the ocean, but she can’t tell what it is he's actually seeing.

“I heard the story from those other heroes. How long?” She grabs him by the arm, yanks him around until he’s forced to look at her. “How long has it been?” She demands.

Link rips himself away from her touch. “I don’t know,” he lies.

She punches him on the arm for that. He winces but she can tell it’s entirely for her benefit; he’s not hurt at all. Her blows don’t reach him anymore.

She probably hasn’t reached him for a long time, now.

“Give it to me,” she demands—suddenly, inexplicably furious. He regards her warily. She barely recognizes him anymore. “This has gone on for long enough. I never should’ve let you try to carry this power alone. Give me the Triforce, Link.”

Link’s eyes narrow. For a moment, Tetra is convinced he’s going to refuse—that she’s going to have to enlist her crew and maybe those outside heroes to hold the idiot down so she can pry the corruption from his hand. 

But no. Link deflates and, for once in his life, makes things easy for her. “Okay,” he agrees, all wilted and sad and nothing like the spunky kid who once demanded a ride to the Forsaken Fortress from her on this very shore.

She lets him twine their hands together, goddess marked to goddess marked. The symbols glow together, synchronized in a way their bearers used to be, and when they open their eyes Tetra has an extra golden triangle on her hand.

The Triforce of Power is a trip. Link’s eyes are blue again, and they widen in alarm when she pins his wrist, when she seizes him by the collar and drags him around like it’s nothing. “That’s not enough,” she growls. “I said, give me the Triforce. All of it, Link.”

“Tetra- what are you-”

“Give it to me!” She shakes him a little. “Now!”

“No! Have you lost your mind-”

She backhands him. It's the easiest thing in the world.

He goes staggering, one hand flying to his cheek and the other reflexively dragging that terribly familiar sword from thin air. He freezes before he can raise it against her. "Tetra...?"

"Fine." She cracks her knuckles. "The hard way, then."

"What are you doing?"

He looks frightened. Of her. Is this what they've come to, now? Tetra could almost laugh, could almost cry. She draws her blade instead of doing either.

"Making sure something like this never happens again," she vows, eyes burning gold, and strikes without holding back.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Prompt idea: cassian and nesta’s first disagreement / fight as a couple (if it’s LPG verse i’ll be super happy but it’s up to you how you want to go about it hihi)

anything to make you super happy!! it’s lpg-verse, but you don’t really have to read lpg to understand it. it’s a few months after nesta goes to illyria with cassian.

and hey, has everyone signed up for the fandom-wide holiday gift exchange? it’s gonna be loads of fun and the deadline’s coming up, so please hurry!

---

In his half-millennium of life, Cassian has had plenty of occasions to look back and marvel at the stupidity of his youth. Like how he used to think garish scars and bruises were good ways to show girls he could fight. Or when he thought that he could just sleep off getting blackout drunk. Or when he loved War Week.

It’s not that he hates it, exactly. He may be the General Commander, but he’s still a soldier. Still addicted to the adrenaline of the drills. An intense desire to prove himself, even now, by besting anyone who crosses him in the ring.

But…he is the General Commander. And War Week isn’t just about him giving his all, it’s about ensuring the entire military is in top form. And considering a significant portion of the military just died a few months ago, and another part are actively trying to de-throne Rhys, and the trust he has spent centuries building with these people is falling through...well. It has not been the best week.

It hasn’t been a week, either—it’s the tenth day of this nightmare that it finally ends. All drills have been run, all reports filed, all meetings concluded with the grim confirmation of their worst suspicions: Hybern has weakened them considerably.

And that and all it entails will be there tomorrow morning. So tonight, he can go home, finally, and drown his sorrows…in Nesta.

Just thinking of her tugs his lips upwards. He’s barely slept all this time, always something to do, oversee, correct, and on and on and on, but it’s finally over for just a bit. It’s nearly six in the evening, and the first meeting to discuss reform is tomorrow at eleven, so he has till then with her.

He shivers, not because of the windchill, as he imagines what seeing her again will be like. Has she missed him as much as he’s missed her? Has she planned on welcoming him back into their bed, like he had at every spare moment? Maybe she’s even cooked for him. Maybe duck, like he always makes for her. Perhaps she’s set the table the same way he did on the night he first kissed her—properly, he means, without any imminent existential threat looming over them—with the fine china, like a real homecoming. Maybe she’s dressed up. If she’s dressed up, he should dress up, too. What if she’s laid out clothes for him? She’s always reading about grand romantic gestures, isn’t she? Perhaps she’s been inspired.

Every wild fantasy spurs him faster, and before long he lands at his house, throwing open the door before even setting both feet on the ground.

“Nesta!” he calls, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Gods, he’s missed her so much.

But one look inside tells him there’s no romantic dinner awaiting him. There’s only a plate drying on the rack.

Even so, Cassian can’t keep the grin off his face. If Nesta’s not here, then she’s in their bedroom.

On any other day, he might’ve teased her right back and taken his time coming to see her, even made himself dinner until she gave up and came to see him, but it’s been ten very hellish days. He moves quickly to the room, as if participating in one of his drills.

The door’s closed, but he can smell her, feel her, and gives himself just a moment to adjust before he opens it—

Nesta. There, beautiful, alive, in bed, waiting for him, perfect—reading a book. 

She doesn’t look up.

Cassian bites his cheek to keep from grinning. So that’s how she wants to play this.

“Hello, Nesta,” he drawls.

She dutifully ignores him, her dark curls bouncing slightly as she angles her head to the side to flip a page. Oh, how he’s missed this, seeing her read in bed. She sits beside him some evenings, head on his chest, one hand in his, the other holding her book.

“Did you miss me?”

At this, Nesta—finally—acknowledges his presence. She lifts her cool gaze to meet his and holds it for three seconds before looking back down at her book.

Cassian’s grin falters. That wasn’t very fun.

But he saunters up to her anyway, and, laying down on his side, reaches his hand over to slowly crawl up her thigh. “This wasn’t the warm welcome I was expecting, you know.”

Nesta jerks her leg away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, voice icy.

Cassian sits up immediately. This isn’t a game. He looks over her wildly, but her face and posture show only anger.

He reaches his hand out again, tentative, this time, and to hers, not her thigh. “Nesta,” he says, putting as much concern into his voice as he can without her accusing him of being condescending.

“How was War Week?” she shoots at him.

He blinks. “Awful,” he says, smiling uneasily. Has she heard something about it that upset her? He racks his brain, trying to think of what it might be…she knew Rhys was going to be there. Is she upset because they saw each other?

“Are you sure you’ve finished everything?”

He gives up rifling through everything. Nothing’s coming up, and frankly, he doesn’t want to waste anymore of the hours he has to spare with her arguing.

“What are you upset about?” he asks.

Nesta snaps her book shut and straightens her back. She faces him head-on, anger radiating off her like he imagined joy would this night. “You said it would be a week. It’s been ten days.”

Oh.

Right.

“I’m aware,” he says lightly. “It was only meant to go on for a week. But apparently, we’re all completely out of shape. Good news for anyone trying to overthrow the crown,” he adds, touching the tip of her nose. Her glare doesn’t falter, so he continues, in a much softer voice, “Do you really think I enjoyed finding out I had three more days of War Week, when I had planned our reunion out a thousand times in my mind? I wanted—“

“I don’t care what you wanted,” she hisses. “I want to know why I had to find out you weren’t coming back from Emerie instead of from you.”

“I couldn’t come back to tell you—“

“Is the art of letter writing too advanced for your brain to comprehend?”

There’s more than just ire in her stormy grey eyes. Cassian can sense pain, too. “I…I know I should’ve written, but I was just so busy. There was always something—and you know how stupid Illyrian males are, don’t you?” he says with a grin. “And obviously, you like it a lot, but I was never particularly into—“

“Is everything a joke to you?” she demands.

Cassian shuts his mouth. She hasn’t been angry at him like this since…before they started this—thing between them. These past few months have been so easy. Blissful. She doesn’t get mad anymore, only vaguely irritated, and even then, only to give him reason to appease her. But this is an argument. A fight.

How did they resolve those before they got together? Cassian can’t remember ever emerging victorious; only miserable and angry. Nesta’s favour is earned through months of good behavior alone.

But he doesn’t have months. He only has fourteen hours before he has to leave.

“Of course not,” he says, voice low. “It’s just I’ve missed you so much—“

“And how do you think I felt?”

There’s that pain again, etched more clearly on her face now. It thins out her cheeks and tightens her jaw.

“Do I even matter to you? Or do you think you can just waltz in and out as you please and—“ Cassian cuts her off with a tight grip on her hands.

“Don’t say things like that,” he says, serious. “You know what you are to me.”

“You couldn’t find the time to send word you were going to be three days late,” she says, not trying to break out of his hold but not pulling him closer, either. She bites her lip for a moment, hesitating, before she says, “And you haven’t even apologized.”

He goes through their conversation quickly in his mind and swears inwardly. “I’m sorry, Nesta,” he says. “For being late and for not telling you and for not apologizing right away.”

Nesta’s shoulders relax slightly and she pulls her hands away from him to clasp them tightly in her lap. “Well, I don’t want to forgive you.”

This, he decides, is not the right time to suggest all the ways he can make it up to her. Instead he moves closer, and says, “I didn’t write because I was sure I would be here. I spent every second of the overtime doing everything I need to so that I could come back as fast as possible. I didn’t think things would keep coming up, and each time they did, I was sure that it would be the last.”

“Well,” Nesta says, “you’re very ill-prepared for war.”

Cassian grins. “You can see why we needed the extra practice.”

“Hmph,” she says, not smiling. “For future reference…don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” he says immediately. “I promise.”

This calms her considerably, and she leans back against the headboard. “All right, then,” she says, prim. “You’re forgiven.”

His heart skips a beat. His next breath of air feels cooler, more refreshing, somehow. He hadn’t realized just how anxious this has made him. But he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t thank her, worried of what he might say and how she might react. So he puts a hand on her thigh again. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear any of my other reasons? They’re very convincing.”

“No,” she says decisively. “But you can start proving your worthiness right now.”

He grins again, and then he does.

Later, tracing lines up and down her stomach, he says, “You know, you were only angry because you missed me so much.”

Nesta sniffs. “I most certainly did not.”

And there’s the game he’s been waiting for. Definitely worth the extra three days. Although he’ll never catch her off guard like that again. Besides, Nesta’s far more fun to play with when she’s the one setting the rules, anyway.

[allycryz]

Duende - Uri & Haurche :3

PG because Haurchefant makes innuendo, set during early Stormblood.

The first draft of this was super easy to get out. The edits were a little harder because Urianger’s voice is very different from mine, but a good challenge all the same!!

‘Tis expected of a Scion to battle as expertly as one might pen a treatise. Urianger schedules two ventures per day to hone his physical talents: a bracing run before dawn and a lengthy solo training session at dusk. For the latter, he takes to the rocky shore along the coast line. The precarious climb to his preferred spot (providing both privacy and space) is part of his regimen.

Urianger picks the times when visibility is low and most residents occupied. Small talk is not his wont, nor is he at ease with those not in his immediate circle. There is something about his unmasked, unhooded face that gives strangers tacit permission to approach.

His position and decorum dictate that he engage somewhat in chatter during his errands. The residents do not press overmuch, for which he is grateful. Still, the task fits him worse than the too-small aldgoat leather gloves Lyse gifted him on his last Nameday. (Except, those he could not put on as easily as he might a polite demeanor. They refused to go past the breadth of his palm.)

There are days when the convenience of sunrise and sunset for sundry reasons, prove incompatible with other needs such as visibility and safety.

The unexpected rain pours down as he wends his weary way up the cliffs. It sluices through his hair, running rivulets over his brow. For the dozenth time, he swipes at his face and squints against the onslaught.

His feet remember where to place, his hands where to grip for balance. These are his cliffs and his winding, narrow path. No one knows it better. Should that memory etched into his muscle fail, a fall here would not be deadly.

‘Twould be painful though, and impact his duties for the next few days. For that latter reason–above all–he takes longer than usual along the rain-slicked terrain. 

There, he thinks as he nears the safety of the plateau. Urianger blows out a soft breath of relief, relaxing muscles he has kept tense during the arduous journey. For this stretch he has always found it best to walk sideways, arms spread for balance. It has never been a treacherous spot, simply steep enough to warrant caution.

Today, treachery comes at last. He takes a step up the incline, shifts to lift the other foot. The slippery grass beneath his boots gives way and both feet shoot out from under him. He has enough presence of mind to throw his gravity forward rather than backwards.

The impact is unpleasant but survivable; naught but his palms and dignity scraped. Dirt and mud bespatter the front of his shorter training robe. The cotton garment ends below his knees, the boots just above. Thus the joints are spared injury besides a dull ache. He chooses an ignominious crawl up to the plateau rather than risk another fall by rising on the sodden incline.

The rain is not so courteous as to clean his garments. It does offer some reprieve as he turns his stinging palms up to the sky and rubs the rainwater against the creases of grime and grass.

Ah, well. Rain is uncommon enough that he should be glad when it comes. Should his comrades ever summon him to battle in such precipitation, he shall be well-prepared. Lord Haurchefant oft speaks of how training in winter climes these five years have better forged him for difficult conflict. (Urianger suspects it is not only snow and ice that stood in the knight’s way.)

He finds himself smiling, thinking of his new colleague. Though their base is near underground, ‘tis not wholly cut off from the outside world. Vents let in sunlight, rain can be heard pouring upon the streets. Like as not, Haurchefant put a kettle on soon as he perceived the change in weather. 

The Waking Sands are enchanted to remain a cool temperature. If the sun does return in full force, they shall not overheat drinking cocoa.

Befouled, bedraggled, and besodden; he returns to the outskirts of Vesper Bay. The twilight and the rain have not put off the residents. A knot of people gathers near the market stalls, the hum of their voices rising just above the thrum of rain upon roof and stone and sea. The citizens hold cloaks and hands over their head as shields, one has a parasol meant for sun and aesthetics. 

‘Tis a lovely pink one with expensive-seeming trim. A shame it is likely ruined.

The reason for their cluster becomes apparent. Lord Haurchefant is the focus upon which they circle, tallest among them save two other residents. His silvered head is bent to them as they harken to his low voice. This eve, he has garbed himself in a long scarlet coat over his usual apparel. ‘Tis the first time he has donned sleeves since his arrival.

 (For all the good it did me to be tempered by winter, his lordship had said. It does make me rather pitiful in a desert. I shall do my best to acclimate to Thanalan.) 

They all gaze upon him with utter rapture. It has ever been so, since his lordship’s residence began in the Waking Sands while Urianger’s comrades and Haurchefant’s love continued on to Gyr Abania. Their adoration is not due solely to his fair countenance or noble title, though both must aid the cause.

There is an...openness in him that beguiles all he meets. Urianger has witnessed the surliest residents and most peevish of vendors open like blossoms to the sun when Haurchefant turns the glory of his attention upon them. Such an unusual power he has seldom witnessed and never from so kind a soul as this knight.

There is no avoiding this throng, even would it not be unconscionably rude to avoid his guest. At least there is a smaller chance of strangers engaging him in conversation. Not with a beacon such as Haurchefant seizing their attention, both intentionally and involuntarily.

“-suppose he will be alright, he knows the land better than I.” He hears Haurchefant saying as he approaches. His noble brow is drawn down, his battle-sculpted arms folded. “But do let me know if you see him. No one expected this rainfall.”

Doth he….speak of me? Urianger wonders. As if attuned to his thoughts, his lordship turns his way. Surprise, then relief, and then rapture all pass across his handsome features.

“Urianger!” He exclaims. “Thank the Fury. I was worried–I know you favor treacherous paths,and with the dark and the rain…”

“I am well,” says Urianger. “Thy concern is much appreciated and noted. ‘Twould have been a perilous journey had I not been close acquainted with yon cliffs.”

Haurchefant steps towards him, gaze sweeping up and down. Lingering on his bare face, throat, and collar. “It seems it was perilous for your clothes. Let’s get you inside and taken care of, yes?”

One of the crowd smiles at Urianger. Mara, he recalls, the tall Hyur woman who hawks fruit.  “Well, we’re glad you’re alright, ser. I was just telling June that I worry when I see you go off in the dark.”

“Ah,” he says, trying to recall which is June. The baker. Yonder woman with the braids who oft gives thee extra tea biscuits. “Tis not my intent to cause worry. I am well versed in the land and how best to scale it.”

“Even knowing that, do be careful.” Mara gives an imperious nod. Others nod as well, their eyes on him and not the handsome knight.

He can only nod again, bearing and smile stiff. He does not recall all their names. It makes him feel the most ill-mannered of scoundrels. He sweeps into a bow towards them, hoping it goes to some measure in repaying their concerns. “I shall endeavor to have a care, my lady. Your solicitous care bringeth warmth into mine heart, ‘tis only right I do well by all gathered.”

She smiles and pats his arm. This seems a signal for all to disperse, more residents bestowing upon him pats and nods. It is a wholly alien experience, and he considers he may be lying at the bottom of the cliff in the midst of a delusion. Surely he is not dear to all these people with whom he barely speaks.

“Come friend,” Haurchefant says. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and have something warm in your belly.”

“Thou art just as sodden,” says Urianger. “Pray also attend to yourself. Thou shouldst not catch sick for mine sake.”

“Ah but I would have done so gladly if I had to save you today.” The knight’s smile is wide again, fair dazzling in its potency. Again, Urianger is astonished any resident would look at him with Haurchefant there. Do they not sense the charm radiating from his very core? “I do thank you, for arriving when you did. There are much better games we might play in the dark than hide and seek.”

Urianger near trips on the steps up to the door. Of course, Haurchefant is there to catch him, strong hands righting his balance and smoothing over his back. 

“I beg thine pardon,” says Urianger. Regretful that he has no mask or hood to hide the heat upon his cheeks. As Lord Haurchefant is cheeky himself to everyone, he is likely used to it. ‘Tis not the first time Urianger has witnessed or received innuendo delivered so warmly from this man. “Mayhap I used more energy than I surmised, during my exertions today.”

“Yes,” Haurchefant nods, opening the door. “All the more reason for you to come relax with me once you have cleaned up. I shall not have you burying yourself in work when you have earned respite.”

“For a little while,” says Urianger. He glances back at the streets, at the residents seeking shelter in houses and under awnings. At the way some of them look at them–at him. Relief and concern and warmth in their gazes. He frowns and cannot lose the change to his mien, even in the warmth and dry of the building.

Haurchefant pauses at the top of the stares, giving his shoulders a roll before beginning his descent. ‘Tis late and his friend is often tense in his upper body by the time supper comes. He will need help working the knots loose again. Perhaps Urianger might put off his tasks even further to repay Haurchefant’s worry and concern.

As to everyone else in Vesper Bay, he is at a loss on how to make recompense.

His friend reaches the door to their sanctum and turns back, looking up at Urianger still upon the landing. “Dear Urianger, what is the matter? That’s a rather pensive expression.”

“...I didst not realise the depth of their regard for mine person. Yon residents and I art not particularly close.” He shakes his head.

“Oh,” says Haurchefant, that entrancing smile returning to his mouth. “Do ask me an easier one next time.”

Facetiousness is not Haurchefant’s way. The ironic reply seems out of character. “Yes, I am aware the reasoning seems difficult to determine-”

“‘Tis not.” Haurchefant’s eyes crinkle with laughter. It does not sting–there is no malice in it. He doubts such a quality resides in the knight. “You are quite charming, even when cloaked. It inspires others to take interest in you.”

For the second time, Urianger says “I beg thine pardon? I am not given to using mine wiles-”

“No, no. We should all be in trouble should you do it apurpose. But you have a natural draw that leads people to want to know you. As you signal that is not what you want, they have kept their distance.”

It is an absurd supposition that Haurchefant says with all the conviction of his noble heart. So much does he seem to believe it; that Urianger wants to also trust it, if only for his friend’s sake. “I am...uncertain of the validity of thy premise. However, thy kindness and belief warms my heart. Wouldst that every man hath such a friend as you, my lord.”

At this, Haurchefant lets out a clear, ringing laugh. Again, there is no mockery in it. The sound is joyful and pleased, as seductive a sound as every part of the man. ‘Tis a wonder such a man as he thinks his draw is mirrored in Urianger.

“So I must endeavor to convince you of it, till you are no longer agreeing to humor me.” Haurchefant opens the door, shivering at the blast of magically cooled air upon his wet person. “Well, I look forward to the process. One could do far worse than spending an evening convincing a beautiful man of his charms.”

To that, Urianger has no answer. Nor does Haurchefant expect one. He winks and enters the Waking Sands, door closing behind him.

It occurs to him and the rapid beating of his heart, there is a reason he perceives Haurchefant as charming and beguiling and the one who everyone should desire. Projection has not been a key failing of his, but he has fallen prey to it before. And presently, it seems.

And Haurchefant is correct in one thing: there are far worse ways they might spend the evening. Perhaps Urianger shall put his work on hold tonight, to see the knight’s endeavor in full.

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter One

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders (minor)

TW: self-harm, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, food, sex mention

Words: 3,630

Summary: 

Logan can't feel.

Because every time he does, someone gets hurt. His emotions have no place in the world. He vows to squash them down until finally, maybe they'll be gone. But it's not a good idea to suppress such an important part of yourself, to tear your sadness, happiness, anger, until you're left dry and empty.

And Logan doesn't understand that until he meets someone. Someone very, very special.

Note: I actually have this finished, it will be updating daily. I’m likely going to write some extra works, later in Remus and Logan’s lives.

Why are you yelling? Stop yelling, stop.

Logan didn’t know what else to do. He had to tell them why this was happening, they were wrong, he couldn’t control this. It was awful, this awful feeling that made him completely unable to focus while incredibly worried about how he wasn’t focusing. He was just trying to tell them why.

 But he didn’t have to yell.

He had no reason to be angry at them. They did nothing wrong. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to scream and cry and hug his mom. He wanted her to understand what this was like. The fuzzy mold that dug into his brain and gave him fears that he didn’t want. The bricks that crawled into his chest and weighed him down and he couldn’t get up. But she didn’t understand them and he couldn’t explain, so he yelled.

 He hated yelling. It hurt, it scratched, he knew it was bad and he should stop, but he couldn’t. He needed to cry and he did cry, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to destroy something, he was angry, he wanted to punch someone.

 He couldn’t.

 He was nine, he shouldn’t be doing this to his mother. She was good and kind, and all he did was hurt her. He was awful to her, and she tried to help, but he couldn’t stop from getting annoyed, or angry, or sad. He couldn’t help but wail when the bricks got too heavy, he wanted them to be lighter. He had to move, had to hit something when the fears wouldn’t go away. He was scared his mother hated him, that she would abandon him with his brother. It didn’t make any sense, but he knew what he was doing to her and he didn’t stop. He was too much work for her.

 Two years later, he was the same. Still loud, still full of emotions. His throat hurt all the time, his mother kept getting fed up (she’d tried to take him to a therapist and that didn’t work), his brother Patton was scared for his health, and his dog wouldn’t let him anywhere near her. He’d developed ways to stop bothering them, though. Hold his hand to his mouth and bury his head in the pillow until the frustration went away. Bite his arm so he couldn’t keep screaming. Hit his head again and again and again until he couldn’t be angry anymore. It hurt. It was calming.

 He’d managed to become a bit less of a nuisance, at least. He’d tried to stop explaining the bricks and the mold and just let them be. They always fade after a while to something manageable. His tears were his own now. His emotions were his, and no one else needed them.

 He tried to be happier for his mom. He spent more time with Patton, trying to make him happy. Patton was concerned for him, and he appreciated that, but he knew asking for help would only make them suffer, and they weren’t allowed to suffer. Only he could suffer.

 He vowed to become a robot someday. Where he didn’t want to scream or hurt people. Someday it would be gone, everything would be okay. Maybe he’d have a wife and kids that he didn’t hurt like the people he loved now. They would love him and he would deserve it.

 Another two years and it had a name.

 Depression. Anxiety. Mental illness. They told him what he was and he hated himself even more. He was a thirteen year old being told that he’d been sick since he was a child. He was given ways to cope. He’d never tried to bleed.

 He did the day he learned he could.

 It was freeing. Hitting and biting was hard, but slicing his skin was so easy and so pretty. The blood that rose from within told him that he was a person, and an awful one. If anyone ever saw, it would be the end of this.

 He didn’t yell anymore. Most of the time he was absolutely silent. Yes, he participated in class so he didn’t get a bad grade, but only the bare minimum. He never raised his voice, never allowed himself to laugh too loud. His brother was scared for him, but he didn’t know the half of it. He had few friends, only one other anxious teen named Virgil. He felt more comfortable talking about fear and self-hate, but only in a joking way. He had to close himself off from everyone. He couldn’t hurt anyone.

 His mother had, again, tried to get him to go to therapy. She said it would help his anxiety. God, she didn’t even know. He stopped cutting his arms pretty early on, since his mother got concerned that he always wore long sleeves. His legs got all the more blood on them.

 How could he have this with people who care? How could he hate himself this much when nothing had ever happened to him? Why had this ever happened?

 He didn’t know.

 Fifteen was his worst year yet.

 He’d made so many friends this year, yet it all got worse. He felt like he couldn’t breathe most days, like every day he was dying. He wanted that, he wanted this feeling gone. How could he heal after eight god damn years?

 It was a warm October morning today. The sun shone on his back, glittering across the autumn leaves. The normally boring school looked orange and majestic. Students laughed and chatted as he passed by.

 It had been a bad month. He was sure that he’d only been happy for a couple hours in the past thirty days. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t killed himself yet.

 Patton was talking to him about something, probably about another cute kid. Ever since he’d come out as pan, he’d endlessly talked about the people he found attractive. It was exhausting for Logan to hear his brother point out girls he might like. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to come out.

 He wanted to date. It might be nice to have someone to kiss and cuddle, to offer comfort when the days got bad. To have more comfort than cold, sharp blades. He couldn’t do that, though. He’d hurt enough people already.

 Still, he couldn’t help but fantasize about some guy that would share his interest in science, talk to him about space and chemistry and biology. He wasn’t good enough for someone like that. Someone that would never date him.

 He waved to Roman and Virgil as they passed. They were probably scheming some new way to get out of doing classwork. Logan sped up, realizing it was nearly time for him to organize Ms. Kachinsky’s books. He had to finish before she left her room in the morning to teach. There was supposed to be another kid, too, so he couldn’t be late.

 “Hey, Lo, where’re you going?”

 “Kachinsky, remember?”

 “Ohhh, yeah.”

 The building was cold inside. He headed into his teacher’s room, decorated blandly with supposedly motivational posters. He’d volunteered to do this job, no one else was going to organize encyclopedias for a 70-year-old woman. He didn’t know why she even had so many.

 As he walked into the half-renovated closet, he was presented with many emotions.

 One, this man was munching on a sheet of paper.

 Two, he was not adhering to the dress code.

 Three, Logan was glad he wasn’t because a crop top and booty shorts looked damn good on him.

 “Um. Hello.”

 The teenager looked up, paper in hand. He stood up and tossed it in the trash, swallowing. Logan pointed slightly to the trash can.

 “You were eating a piece of paper.”

 “Yeah?”

 “That doesn’t seem like it should be healthy.”

 “I looked it up, it’s pretty much fine. Are you here to start on the books?”

 Logan nodded and the two of them got to work in silence. The boy was pretty, he had a slight mustache that doesn’t work for many people, but it did for him. He looked a little like Roman, but with a broader build and stronger jaw. He was exactly the type of person that Logan would have designed as the most attractive, in his opinion, if he would have ever designed an attractive man.

 “How’d you get roped into this?”

 The boy turned his brown eyes to look at Logan expectantly, who wasn’t expecting any kind of interaction with him.

 “I volunteered.”

 “Oh, teacher’s pet?”

 “She’s 70. No one else was going to help.”

 “Fair. This is my substitute for detention ‘cause I have to work after school. I’m Remus.”

 He stuck out his hand, which Logan took.

 “Logan.”

 “Oh, really? I was kinda looking into that name. One of my friends stole it, though.”

 A look of confusion crossed over Logan’s face, but it disappeared as Remus held out the trans pin on his jacket. He noticed now how many pins there really were. There was the trans one, he/him, a weed symbol (however he got away with that), a skull one, an atom one, a chemistry tube, a gay flag, and various other little ones. They offered quite a bit of insight onto his personality, which seemed more and more attractive as their interaction went on.

 Remus kept talking to him, which he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t have much of a personality, and what he did have, he didn’t really show. Most of his personality was just extreme emotions. He didn’t show those, either.

 They did get to talking, though. Remus somehow pried out Logan’s interest in science and his plans for the future. They talked about how they’d do anything in STEM if they could. They talked about how annoying humanities majors were, and how annoying they were to humanities majors.

 They finished the books, and Remus’s conversational skills got Logan to stay a tiny bit longer. Too much longer.

 Before they even knew, there was a click at the door. The closet was big, so it wasn’t like they were right next to the door.

 “What was that?”

 Logan headed cautiously to the door and turned the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

 “We’re locked in.”

 Remus whispered “shit” under his breath before running to the door and banging loudly. The sound was fast and loud. They were locked in, they wouldn’t make it to class, they’d get in trouble, he’d be awful all over again-

 He couldn’t breathe. He was a failure all over again. He needed to get to class, his nails dug into his skin, his razor could help now, but he was shaking now and everything was wrong and this was supposed to be a simple morning thing and he shouldn’t have stayed and he shouldn’t have liked Remus and he shouldn’t feel anything, not anger, not fear, not sadness, not love-

 “Hey, hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

 This is the first time you meet him and he’ll already know you’re fucked up.

 Logan dodged away from him, tripping over a chair and falling on the floor. He could barely control his movements, his arms and hands wouldn’t listen to him, and he was already seeing this, he was never going to get a boyfriend or make another friend and he was dumb for thinking that. He grasped his upper arms with his hands, digging his nails into them, hoping it would help enough to stay fucking still.

 “Logan, can you take my hands? If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I know we don’t know each other, I just wanna help.”

 Logan tentatively reached out his hand, well aware of the indents on his arm. Remus’s hand was warm and strong, so he reached out his other hand as well. He rocked slightly, trying to steady his breathing.

 “If you’re worried about getting in trouble, they can’t exactly blame us for getting trapped in a closet. It’s only one day, I’m sure it won’t hurt to miss a class or two. You can make up work and you can talk to your teachers if you’re concerned about missing important stuff.”

 “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. I’m sorry for wasting your time with that.”

 “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

 Logan leaned against the wall now, holding his knees. Remus slid down beside him.

 Why do you feel comfortable with him?

 Even from their distance, Logan could feel his presence there.

 You just met him.

 “Whaddya wanna do?”

 “...I think I have travel checkers.”

 “...Sure.”

 Logan searched through his bag, pulling out a tiny box and opened it. The little magnetic pieces had to be pried off of the board and rearranged. They played probably over ten times before the game couldn’t sustain their attention any longer. Logan started trying to stack them, knowing it wouldn’t work, but hey, he was bored. Remus took the ones Logan wasn’t using to form the shape of male genitals.

 “Hey, could I borrow some of yours?”

 Logan wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. He pushed his pieces over to Remus and leaned back on the wall. He checked his watch. It was already an hour past the time they were supposed to be in class, and no one had come by yet. They probably weren’t going to until Ms. Kachinsky came back to get her lunch. Since her room was being renovated, she was teaching health either in other classrooms or outside if they got desperate.

 Remus looked rather proud of himself when he finished his creation. 

 “So we’re stuck in here for another few hours, with nothing to occupy us but encyclopedias, whatever we have in our bags, and each other.”

 “The things you could do to someone in here… With someone. That’s not better.”

 “Who cares what anything implies at this point?”

 Remus joined Logan against the wall, staring blankly with him. 

 “You got your phone?”

 “Didn’t think I’d need it. How about you?”

 “Broken. Like it usually is. At least I have a job. And a brother.”

 Remus paused for a moment before speaking again.

 “I suppose we’re kinda obligated to become friends. After spending so much time alone in a closet.”

 “We could play a game. You do that with friends, right?”

 “Never have I ever been stuck in a closet before.”

 Logan held up his fingers and put one down.

 “If we’re talking metaphorical closets, yeah.”

 He took a moment to realize what he’d just said. He’d half-outed himself to a practical stranger. He hadn’t come out to anyone yet.

 “Oh, I guess I told a lie then.”

 Remus put one of his own fingers down.

 “...I’ve literally never come out before. You’re the first person and I barely know you. Heh, maybe I should actually tell my brother so he starts pointing out cute guys instead of girls.”

 “I’m honored. Your turn.”

 “Oh, yeah. I guess I’ll go for the boring one. Never have I ever been in a relationship. Not surprised, though.”

 “Can I be excused ‘cause it was a girl?”

 “Fair. You go.”

 “Mm… Never have I ever had a dog.”

 “Really? You seem like a dog person.”

 Logan put his second finger down, shifting slightly.

 “Nah. My dad’s allergic. I keep trying to sneak one in anyway, but my brother always catches me. Didn’t think it’d be that hard to get him on board. He loves dogs. Side effect of being the perfect child, I guess. You don’t let yourself do what you want. My parents are good parents, they just… trust him a bit more.”

 “It’s not so bad to be independent. No trans kid with transphobic parents ever chopped off their hair, or binded for the first time, or wore a wig or a dress with their parents’ permission.”

 “No one ever found their passion from someone who tried to choose their path.”

 “Very insightful.”

 “Thank you. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

 “Never have I ever worn a crop top.”

 “Hey, that’s cheating. You should, though, you’d look good.”

 “Would I?” Logan’s cheeks dusted slightly pink.

 “Would it be weird to offer you to try mine on?”

 “Probably, but I don’t think either of us are very normal. Plus, you develop a certain kind of relationship with someone you’re locked in the closet with.”

 Logan’s small blush only darkened as they turned away from each other and he heard fabric moving about. Remus tossed the shirt over his shoulder, and probably blushed as Logan took his own shirt off.

 Remus had buttoned his jacket to cover his chest. It didn’t completely cover it, but it didn’t matter to him all that much (Logan, however, turned red when he saw it). The shirt fit reasonably well, a little loose but it looked good nonetheless. Logan was hesitant, but Remus might have thought it looked very good according to the color of his cheeks.

 “Didn’t think you could get much hotter. I was very wrong.”

 Well that confirmed it.

 Logan didn’t usually get flustered so much that other people could tell, but this had triggered the darkest shade of pink to cross his cheeks. Remus giggled at that, which only made them darker.

 “Hah, made you blush.”

 “Was that your only intention?”

 “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I meant it.”

 “We barely even know each other.”

 “Are you saying I’m not allowed to flirt?”

 “Do what you want, I guess. Sure. Flirt. All laws are broken, we’re locked in a closet.”

 “Whatever I want?”

 “Now it’s enough.”

 “Fine. Got any more ideas?”

 “Search for a morsel of food in my bag, maybe.”

 “I might have chips in my bag. If not, I may have to resort to cannibalism.”

 “Then you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. And didn’t you say I was hot? Pretty sure a half-eaten body won’t be as nice to look at.”

 “You never know.”

 Remus found a small bag of chips in his bag, opening it and handing Logan some chips. They both munched quietly until it was done, then returned to their placement on the wall.

 “Oh, do you want your shirt back?”

 “Not really, but I should take it. Someday when we’re not trapped in a closet I’m gonna buy you a crop top.”

 They changed back into their original clothes, Remus nearly stealing a glance at Logan’s shirtless body.

 “How much time do you think we’ve got left?” Remus turned his head lazily towards the other boy.

 “Probably another hour or so.”

 “We never finished the game, did we?”

 “No. Your turn, I believe.”

 “Except now we both have to put a finger down ‘cause you wore the crop top.”

 “That’s not how it works!”

 “Hey, I put a finger down for metaphorical closets. Plus I let you wear my crop top, it’s only fair.”

 “Well… I guess I have two left now.”

 “Hah, three. I’m winning. Never have I ever,” Remus began, “eaten pie. It’s the one sweet thing I’ve never had. My mom tries to make it sometimes, but it always gets burnt. I’ve tried to convince them to let me eat it anyway.”

 “Hm. Me neither.”

 “Seriously? Hasn’t basically everyone eaten pie?”

“Too much sugar.”

 “At least it’s fruit, though. I mean, you accepted the chips, those aren’t exactly healthy.”

 “That’s an exception. We don’t have any other food.”

 “Well, fair. Your turn.”

 “Never have I ever… heh, never have I ever been happy. Shit, no, didn’t mean to say that.”

 It’s not that inaccurate, though.

 “Guess we’d both have to put a finger down. You’re smiling.”

 “Hey, doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

 “I know how smiling works. If it’s real, your eyes squint at least a little bit. Your eyes are squinting a lot. It’s cute.”

 Logan accepted this and put another finger down. He hated feeling because he knew what it did to people when he did. When he was happy, he wasn’t on guard. He had to be careful about what he was doing, else he could end up being insensitive.

 “Okay. If I can get one more, I win. Never have I ever been on a plane.”

 “God, I wish.”

 “Oh, come on. If you end up beating me, I’ll eat your homework.”

 “Never have I ever had to copy someone’s homework.”

 “Well I guess you managed to get both of us to one. My threat still stands. Never have I ever played piano.”

 “Nope.”

 “I’m gonna change that at somepoint. You’d be hot playing piano.”

 Logan leaned in closer.

 “Never have I ever been as pretty as you.”

 “We both lose.”

 “That- doesn’t even work.”

 “Sure it does.”

 “God, I barely know you and I’m flirting with you.”

 “Like we’ve both said, locked in a closet. Who cares what we do? Honestly I’d be down to fuck if we weren’t in school.”

 “We’re teenagers.”

 “So? Heh, we’ve already taken our clothes off in front of each other.”

 “We weren’t looking at each other.”

 They heard footsteps from outside. Remus got up immediately and started knocking on the door as loudly as he could. They thankfully got closer, and they were both relieved when the doorknob turned and the classroom’s light poured in and it wasn’t just a dim lamp lighting the room. Logan felt as if he’d lost something, despite the return to class supposedly being a good thing. He felt just a little bit emptier.

 “Ms. Kachinsky! I apologize, it seems as if we were accidentally locked in.”

 “Oh no, I’m sorry, boys. I mean, I’m the one who locked you in here, I’m guessing. Well, you’d better get to class. I’ll send you both with a note.”

 She wrote them both a note and they went on their way, no way of knowing what she’d just created.

[bemused-writer]

VNC Chapter 44 Analysis

Well, I think the main takeaway most people had with this chapter is that Vanitas is a lot less collected than we all thought. And I completely agree. XD Clearly, I've given this fellow too much credit in my fanfic.

Anyhow, it almost goes without saying that we learned a lot about Vanitas in this chapter, but we also learned a surprisingly large amount about Roland, so let's dig in.

The first thing that struck me as noteworthy was Noé's complete and utter overreaction. We already knew that he never really had to do things for himself with Louis and Dominique constantly taking care of him when he was young. For example, Mochizuki pointed out that they always helped him clean his room, and he is now terrible at being tidy. In other words, Noé was a touch spoiled. This is relevant because it explains why he has never had to take care of an ill person once in his life, so if Vanitas says he can't continue on then, by Noé's logic, he really must be dying.

Thus, it's completely fair when Manet and Nox wonder if these two are children; they're both certainly acting like it. XD

Still, Noé is coming from a place of genuine concern; he's never seen Vanitas act like this just like we haven't.

Before I move on, one thing I'd like to point out is the difference between Noé and Luca's reaction to the people they care about acting oddly. Luca immediately goes to someone he knows Jeanne trusts--a friend in other words. Meanwhile, Noé goes to the nearest authority figure he can find: Count Orlok. I think this is telling on both their parts.

Luca is someone who was raised to be the authority figure. While he doesn't like it even remotely, he knows he has to solve things for himself. He probably also knows the value of going to someone you know you can trust; he's surrounded by the aristocracy and he knows you can't trust just anyone with delicate information.

Noé has blind faith in authority figures on the other hand. He obeys Teacher without question, accepts Ruthven's presence in his hotel room as something he has a right to do in chapter 19, and he always listens to Dominique no matter what. Both she and Teacher are the ones that choose what his clothes look like according to the extra in the back of volume 3.

I suppose what I'm getting at is that Noé is very comfortable, accustomed even, to other people making decisions for him. He's not the one who has chosen most anything in his life, and I think this attitude started when he was very young. Certainly being sold as a slave and accepting that whoever bought him would be his "master" was a mindset he probably had to develop to survive and he may not have fully grown out of it. I'm sure it was only compounded by being surrounded by people who doted on him and protected him and made sure he never even had to make a decision for himself. His attitude is born of a very strange mix of neglect and indulgence.

In other words, Noé has a lot of potential problems he needs to sort out, and I'm sure his independence is going to be one of them.

Getting back on track, all of this is to say it's not surprising Noé goes to Count Orlok when he can't find Amelia. In theory, he could have tracked Dante down, someone Vanitas sort-of trusts, but he doesn't. It could because it would have been too hard to find him, but personally I don't think it even crossed his mind. He doesn't know what to do; someone else is supposed to handle these matters.

As for Vanitas, he is a complete wreck in this chapter. XD I think Vanitas is the kind of character that likes to act like he's calm, collected, and definitely knows what he's doing. It's even easy for us, the readers, to think the same because he has the book, he has the powers, he knows all about vampires when even the vampire protagonist doesn't, so it would make sense.

But all of that ignores the fact that Vanitas has also shown some definite signs of being slightly unhinged in awkward social situations from the very start. How does he befriend Noé? He stalks him all across Paris. How does he react when Noé gets closer to understanding him? He draws a dagger at him and tells him to go away. Alternatively, he calls him a slur and tries to make him leave. How does he handle Dominique accusing him of loving VotBM? He goes on a full-blown rant in the middle of a vampiric ball and generally makes a fool of himself.

So, the fact that he's a complete mess when he realizes he has genuine affection for someone is actually a lot less surprising in this context. Vanitas is trying to be someone he isn't. In other words, all that pompous know-how is a complete facade. 8D

So, in line with him making a fool of himself at the ball, he proceeds to make a fool of himself in front of Orlok, Nox, and Manet and, frankly, Noé.

Manet understandably wasn't expecting this information, but what's more interesting is that it confirms the fact that Vanitas really hadn't told Noé a thing after Gévaudan. The fact that he has now snapped and is telling everyone in the whole room shows just how affected he was. But what's also interesting is that he only starts to talk about this when there are other people. He couldn't just tell Noé himself. Perhaps because he thinks Noé won't have any advice?

And this is the definition of oversharing. XD Even Noé looks like he's wondering what on earth Vanitas is saying.

Honestly, this is more the kind of awkward, wildly inappropriate confession I might expect from Noé except that Noé would have the sense to only say something like this to someone he trusts, like when he told Dominique he thought Vanitas's blood smelled good. Still not the most tactful thing, but a whole lot better than describing, in some detail, the torrid affair you're having to a room full of people you barely know. 8D

As a side note, this pretty much confirms what I was saying in my last meta: Vanitas didn't enjoy Jeanne drinking his blood previously, at least not all that much. This time he did, and that definitely shows a shift in their relationship. As for how all of that works, it could be because Jeanne is fonder of him as well. Perhaps a vampire's toxin is in tune with that kind of thing? Unfortunately, we just don't know enough at this point to say.

Regardless, it means that when Vanitas went on that long rant to Jeanne in chapter 12 about how great it felt when she drank his blood and how they were definitely compatible, was yet more lying. It's kind of, possibly, true now though, hence his freakout.

Anyway, Orlok and co. decided Vanitas's "emergency" really wasn't that much of an emergency and they were understandably kicked out. I like that they were apparently very careful with Murr and included some treats for him as well. They really do love that cat. Knowing what we kind of know about Murr now I have to wonder: is this some kind of elaborate manipulation...?

But Noé, apparently still taking Vanitas's malady very seriously despite all that weird stuff about Jeanne, is not content with being kicked out.

I suppose the point here is that, despite knowing what Vanitas said was improper, he still isn't quite catching the gravity of things, and he's still convinced Vanitas is dying rather than having an existential breakdown over love.

Meanwhile, Vanitas is walking around in a haze in Paris, thinking about Jeanne, her smile, and the promise he made her. We get a look at his face, and I think it actually gives some pretty solid insight into what he's thinking:

He clenches his fist, his face is flushed, and he looks worried, distressed. The problem here isn't just that he cares about someone and doesn't know how to deal with it. No, it's actually much worse than that: he cares about someone and he promised he'd kill her if she ever lost herself and Vanitas, cursed with a certain understanding of just how bad things can get, knows he might actually have to keep this promise, a promise he may now regret making.

So, he's flustered because he cares, frightened because he cares, but also terrified because he knows things can only go badly from here. And, more than anything else, he knows he might actually be in love.

It only makes sense he'd think of Noé's original question here. It's not just that Noé is the one who's been trying to figure all this out (not Vanitas), but Vanitas knows Noé is the reason he's gotten into this much "trouble" in the first place. Opening up, caring about people, making promises he might not be able to keep... He is definitely blaming Noé for all of that. I wouldn't be surprised if he finds a way of blaming Noé for his romantic entanglement as well, which may be the actual reason he's avoided talking to Noé: he blames him, but he's also supremely embarrassed.

And in the midst of all this confusion and pain who is added to the picture? None other than our one and only Roland!

I think that might be my favorite image of the whole chapter. XD

Earlier in this meta I mentioned that we almost learn more about Roland in this chapter than anyone else, and it's thanks to Vanitas's exchange with him that we do!

The first thing we learn about Roland is something we've already had inklings of in earlier chapters: he's far more tactful and calculative than he would have people believe. He refers to Vanitas as "Vincent" and says Olivier is his coworker. Immediately, he has established that, for one, he's very good with details. He remembers exactly how Vanitas introduced himself and Noé when they first met. Furthermore, he knows Vanitas likely doesn't want to get further entangled in chasseur affairs, so he lets him know that he isn't with a random friend: this is someone potentially dangerous to Vanitas.

Not that it does much good because Vanitas isn't exactly thinking clearly.

This one, singular statement from Olivier is surprisingly revealing! I'd had a headcanon that Roland has had past relationships and it turns out that is absolutely true. Apparently, Olivier not only knows about them, he doesn't care, provided Roland isn't out and about doing anything else. He doesn't say what, specifically, because Vanitas is there, but we already know he's worried about what Roland is doing with the chasseurs and whether he's going to betray the Church. Not so much because he thinks Roland is wrong, exactly, but because he doesn't want any trouble for himself.

These two have an odd relationship. XD Olivier clearly understands the way Roland is, accepts it even, but he draws the line at Roland dragging everyone else into his schemes, hence why he offered to buy Vanitas the coffee in the first place.

Anyway, Vanitas ignores all that because Olivier brought up the only subject he cares about and wants advice on: women.

This is my other favorite image from this chapter. His face is the perfect encapsulation of "What are you doing? I was just trying to get you out of trouble and now you're sitting down? You're going to stay?!" The fixed grin, the panic. This is a thing of beauty.

Naturally, things only get more awkward because that's just the trajectory Vanitas has set for himself in this chapter.

I also just want to point out that the smoking, the string of relationships, the casual dining, the flying, the actual job, all point to Roland being a fair amount older than Noé and Vanitas. Probably mid-20s about? I'm sure that he and Olivier are the same age, regardless, though potentially from different class backgrounds. Olivier is decked out in aristocratic garb and Roland is dressed for flying. That doesn't necessarily mean he's poorer, but the impression I get from him is that he's probably middle class at most. I think there was an extra that mentioned he supports his siblings? I'm not sure now.

Anyway, after those 15 minutes of awkward rambling, Vanitas finally gets around to the question he's been meaning to ask. Apparently, Roland knows all about it.

There's kind of a lot to cover in those three images. Roland has not only had past relationships, he's had several. Judging by Olivier's remark, they've all been remarkably short. One has to wonder if we're talking one-night-stand kind of short or it-lasted-for-a-week-before-my-preaching-became-too-much kind of short. Maybe Mochizuki will enlighten us someday. XD

But the most interesting thing is how hesitant Roland is to discuss Olivier's relationships and how Olivier doesn't even deign Vanitas's question with an answer. Yes, he's popular, but no, he's not going to talk about who he's with and neither is Roland. When Roland says "I'm one thing, but Olivier...?" it could mean a few things: he thinks it makes sense for himself to be "promiscuous" but the thought of Olivier being the same is impossible. Personally, I find this the most likely for now. Alternatively, it's one thing to casually discuss his own affairs, but gossiping about a friend goes against his code of honor and Vanitas is kind of asking a personal question. There is also a third possibility that Roland can't imagine Olivier with a woman. Olivier's popular, but he's not interested. Naturally, Roland wouldn't announce that to the world and it isn't particularly relevant to Vanitas's question anyway.

Whatever the reason, it subtly demonstrates how well the two know each other.

Vanitas finally gets to the heart of things, and it fits in with what I thought happened:

This really was the first time Vanitas saw Jeanne for who she was, as an actual person, and not just someone he can mess with. Before that particular moment, he truly knew nothing of Jeanne. Now, he's finally had a glimpse of her actual personality and it's incredibly genuine, forthright, and strong. Of course, now that he sees that, how can he not find her at least a little appealing? And how can he not now be forced to reckon with his past behavior? He was horrid, there's no getting around it. Regret isn't something Vanitas handles well along with, apparently, emotions in general. Hence his next dilemma:

And at long last, Noé is finally seeing what the problem actually is. He didn't piece it together at Orlok's, but he's now hearing it from Vanitas directly. It's no wonder Noé surreptitiously sits away so he can listen. This whole time he's been wanting Vanitas to explain things to him, not just about the cold, but about love as well.

Roland is trying to be helpful here but, let's be honest, Vanitas is dropping a lot on him out of the blue, so I think it's understandable that he's a little confused right now.

And we finally get to the heart of the whole thing: Vanitas thinks he's a disgusting person. Someone like Jeanne definitely shouldn't love him because the only kind of person who could love him is someone who is as awful as he is and he's now been confronted with the fact that maybe Jeanne isn't. There relationship has a ton of issues, don't get me wrong, but Vanitas isn't seeing that; he's seeing that Jeanne has been kind to him, seems to care about him, and that definitely isn't the kind of person who would love him. Not genuinely.

The whole thing gets even more confusing if we take into account that his decidedly romantic moment with Jeanne reminded him of VotBM. They weren't having a romantic moment, but the discussion of affection, of hugs, were directly intertwined. Until we know more about VotBM I can't say if she was motherly or if things were decidedly more questionable there, but Vanitas must have gotten his twisted ideas about relationships from someone. Did VotBM have a bad relationship with someone? Did his past trauma simply color everything else in his life?

Olivier and Roland are understandably concerned, but it's Noé here that really stands out. He's pieced something together about Vanitas and now understands him a little bit better. After each arc, he and Vanitas have had a small conversation that brings them closer, but so far they haven't had that in this particular arc. My guess is it will be in the next chapter or the one after (since this one was labeled "part 1") and the arc will be wrapped up for good. There is, genuinely, a lot of stuff they need to cover about Gévaudan, Vanitas's relationship with Jeanne, and what they're doing next. There's also the small matter of Noé's injuries....

So, these two are going to have a lot to cover and Roland knows that right now, what Vanitas needs, is someone to talk to that he properly trusts. I almost wonder if he timed his dramatic God speech just so Noé could chase after him to begin with.

This really reads as "Go to him, Gilbert" and that amuses me.

Roland knew Noé was there the whole time (he's observant as we've mentioned) and he knows he and Vanitas have a powerful bond. He himself was inspired so much by it he changed his views on vampires completely. So, logically, he knows Noé needs to talk to Vanitas.

But Roland's motivations are still a bit harder to describe.

This much makes sense. The fact that he's had a string of lovers and doesn't seem particularly dejected by his constant breakups makes it obvious he wasn't particularly attached to any of them. He speaks about love as if he knows what it is, but he's never been that invested in a person to our knowledge. The only person we've seen him spend any length of time with is Olivier and they have a complicated relationship at best. Are we to assume he at least has an attachment to him? He threatened him before, but he also seems fond of him, and Olivier at least seems comfortable around Roland in turn.

And yet, Roland speaks of attachment as if it's a foreign thing to him. We know he has family, we know he has Olivier, he even has God, but like Olivier said: he believes in himself as a follower of God more than God Himself. Perhaps it's best said that the only thing we really know about Roland is that he's confident in himself, his own morals and beliefs.

And I think that's how Vanitas fits into Roland's worldview to a certain extent. Vanitas is a project of sorts: Roland wants to save him, very much in the religious and physical sense, and he knows Vanitas is in danger every day at least physically. Perhaps he worries for his soul as well, not necessarily that he's going to Hell, but that he has lost himself and could "shatter" at any moment.

Oddly, Noé isn't brought up in this conversation whatsoever even though the person Roland showers with blatant affection is Noé, not Vanitas. This could very likely be because he knows Vanitas isn't receptive to that kind of thing; it's a tactic that works great with Noé, but definitely not with his companion and Roland is above all a calculative person.

And that's all I've got for now! I do like that Roland and Olivier dropped their serious conversation about an actual Vampire Eradication Unit to deal with Vanitas's love life. That's pretty supportive. XD Also, there's a Vampire Eradication Unit that Gano is a part of and if that isn't one of the main plot points of the next arc it will be soon enough.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing how Jeanne handled things. It looks like she's done at least moderately better than Vanitas, but most people would. XD

[moonlightkitkat]

Caught in a Trap

words: 2920

Marinette had no idea why she'd been summoned to Mr. Damocles’s room. When Lila hadn't shown up that day, she’d hoped that she’d have a day of peace, a day where she wouldn't have to deal with her lies and her bullying. Apparently she'd been wrong.

Her fears were proven correct when she opened the door to the principal's office, seeing the owlish Principle and a pitiful looking Lila waiting for her. For a moment, she thought that Lila had been found out, that she hadn't been careful enough, and hope surged through her.

“Marinette! How could you cheat off of my test!” Lila wailed, a fresh flood of crocodile tears spilling out onto her cheeks. That hope quickly faded as she realized the real reason why she was here. Suddenly she felt very tired, and she slumped into the seat next to Lila. 

“Monsieur Damocles. I didn't copy her test,” she said tiredly. “Besides, Lila sits on the other side of the classroom, three rows behind me. I couldn’t have copied her if i tried.”

The Man’s bushy eyebrows rose at that, and he looked from the sniffling brunette to herself. “I was told that Miss. Rossi was moved to take the test, she said it was too distracting where she sat..”

“Who told you that?”

“Why, Miss Rossi herself!”

Lila looked at her with a pout and nodded. “I can't believe you don't remember that I sat next to you! Alya wasn't there yesterday so I moved seats!”

Marinette’s brow furrowed. While it was true that Alya wasn't at school yesterday-she hadn't studied all week and spent the day cramming for the test-, Lila had stayed in her seat. “Why would it be distracting though? She sits in the very back and doesn't have a desk partner. There's no reason why she should have moved. In fact, she didn't move seats at all, i sat alone during the test.”

Realizing she was caught, Lila quickly stuttered to come up with an excuse. “I asked to be moved because I didn't want to accidentally cheat by seeing Max’s paper! He's super smart, and I was worried that I might accidentally see his answers!”

Smirking, Marinette crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “Oh? Are you saying you weren't worried that Nino would get as many answers right then? After all, if you're saying you asked to be moved because you were worried you’d cheat, then you're saying you weren't worried about copying Nino’s answers.”

Sputtering, Lila quickly shook her head. “No! O-Of course not! Nino’s… very smart..”

The Principle nodded, shuffling through some papers on his desk. “Indeed. He did well on his test, scoring an 87%, while the two of you only had a 72.”

Marinette winced as she heard her score. She hadn't had any time to study, there's been several Akuma attacks, two from Lila herself, and she'd been so tired she wasn't able to stay up at all to study. Maybe she could talk to the Master about making some new permanent heroes to help her out.

Sighing heavily, the principle looked up at the two of them. “Now, two of you getting the same score is one thing. However, you two answered the test exactly the same, word for word, and that’s something I cannot ignore. We take cheating and plagiarism very seriously at Francois Dupont, and one of you must be punished. Now, if the person who cheated comes out and says it right now, i will lighten the punishment and let your teacher decide what punishment to give you in reward for your honesty. If not, then both of you will be given detention for the rest of the week, as well as getting extra work from your teacher.

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror, and she felt a pit in her stomach drop. 

Detention? Extra work? She barely had enough time to do her homework as it was! There was no way she could do that! Part of her wondered whether or not she should just give up and lie, saying that it was her that cheated. At least then, she wouldn't have as bad of a sentence, and Ms Bustier would vouch for her… right? After all, Lila would rather be punished alongside her rather than admit that she lied and cheated.

She took a deep breath, and was about to admit to something she didn't do, until a frustrated noise came from Lila, catching her attention.

“Marinette why don't you confess already! Do you really hate me so much that you'd force me to take a punishment I don't deserve just to spite me?”

If only Lila knew how close she was to giving in, just how close shed been to winning, she’d surely regret opening up her big mouth. Her resolve was steadied, her heart hardened, and her mind set. Lifting her chin, she looked at her principle, her eyes not leaving his.

“Monsieur, I did not cheat. Lila is lying. She did not sit next to me, and she sat in the back. I don't know how we have the same answers, but I can promise you that my answers are my own. I even turned my paper in before Lila did.If you want to check before punishing us, please check with Miss. Bustier. Then you’ll know which one of us is really lying.

Lila froze at her words. It was obvious that she hadn't expected Marinette to ask him to check with their teacher. She thought she broke Marinette’s will, that the fight in her died. Only now did she realize that Marinette had not backed down, not by a long shot.

The principle seemed to consider her words, and nodded in agreement. 

“Excellent idea Marinette, i’ll go check right now.” picking up their test papers, he stood up,accidentally knocking over the loudspeaker, fumbling with it before accidentally knocking it on the ground. A high pitched shrill filled the air, and Marinette and Lila both covered their ears immediately, squeezing their eyes shut at the painful noise. In her bag, tikki did the same. 

Quick to click a button that would turn off the noise, the principle laughed and cleared his throat. “Sorry girls, accidentally turned it on. I'll be back after talking to your teacher. Now stay here, ill be right back.” 

Both girls were quiet as he left, and it wasn't until his footsteps could not be heard that Lila turned on her, her eyes burning with fury.

“You couldn't just give up could you? You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just gave in and played along. If you let me win id stop targeting you so much, it's your fault all of this is happening!”

Marinette’s cheeks reddened as she was blamed for her bullying, and she stood up, glaring down at her. “Me? I’m not the one who cornered me in the bathroom and threatened to take all of my friends away if i didn't obey! I didn't force you to lie or bully me! You did that all on your own, and I’m sick of it!”

“Youre ‘sick of it’ hm?” Standing up, Lila snickered and shoved Marinette back into her seat. “If you're sick of it, then why don't you stand up to me? Why don't you tell all of your little friends and take them back? Oh that's right. They like me better than they like you! In fact, they hate you all now! Alya and Nino? They believed me so quickly, and now they're my best friends. Not. yours. The class? Honestly im shocked, I didn't expect them to like a new kid over their own “Everyday Ladybug,” she sneered.

“The only people I can't convince are Chloe, Sabrina, and Adrien. I don't care about the first two, nobody likes them anyway. Adrien though? Oh if only Ladybug hadn't shown up and humiliated me. Then i'd be the one he believes. I'd be his everyday ladybug! No, i'd be better than that. I’m his everyday Volpina.”

Marinette tried sitting up, but only resulted in getting shoved again, grunting as her shoulder hit the back of the chair.

“But just like ladybug, you keep getting in my way! Now stay down, and shut up. Otherwise next time, it wont simply be a cheating test.”

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asked, scared of what she might suggest.

A wicked smirk slid onto her face, quickly replaced by an innocent pout as she tapped her chin. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe ill say that you've been threatening me, or I’ll manage to get Miss. Bustier to get you moved out of the class because you make me uncomfortable. Oh! Or I could get out my special effects makeup and make it look like you beat me up, I'm sure that would get you expelled for sure.”

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears at the threats. There’s no way she could prove any of that didn't happen. No one believes her anyway, why would they believe her now? The fight in her died out, realizing she'd lost.

“How did you cheat?” she asked softly, her voice a hushed whisper.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Lila asked innocently, cupping her ear. “I can't hear you, tinnitus and all.”

Gritting her teeth, Marinette growled “how did you cheat?”

Laughing, Lila sat down on top of principal Damocles’ desk, crossing her legs and leaning forward, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. “Oh that? That was easy,” she grinned.

“All I did was to be the last one to turn in my test. Then after class was out, I offered to help grade papers, put mine in the trash, grabbed a blank one and copied every answer word for word. Did you know you had eight grammar mistakes?” she clicked her tongue in disappointment. “It’s a good thing you have good handwriting, it's about the only good thing about you. I thought about copying Max’s test, and then getting a few answers wrong on purpose, or saying things in a different way so I could get an A, but I thought this would be so much better. Any other questions?”

Matinette thought for a moment, looking up at her. “Are you really willing to get detention and extra work just to get me in trouble?”

“Of course!” Lila laughed with no hesitation. 

“After all, all I have to do is bat my pretty eyes and shed a few tears about how you lied and I was wrongfully punished, and i'll have everyone willing to help me do my work! And by “help”, i mean “do”. I have that class wrapped around my finger. For such smart students, they really are dumb, but i wont complain. After all, the only one they can blame is themselves for believing me.”

The door slammed open behind them, and both girls shrieked at the sudden bang the door made as it hit the wall. Turning around, Marinette saw a red faced Damocles, horrified Miss. Bustier, as well as a furious Alya, Nino, Adrien, and the rest of what looked like the whole school behind them.

“Off my desk.” The principle snarled, his eyes narrow.

Like a frightened kitten, Lila hopped off of the desk and was immediately in her seat, her demeanor completely different. Her confidence from before was gone, filled with fear and confusion. Clearing her throat, she looked at her friends and offered a small smile.

“Its okay everyone, you don't have to be so angry with Marinette. She confessed and admitted that she che-

“Oh it isn't Marinette we’re angry with,” Alya growled, her fist clenching her phone at her side.

Lila blinked in surprise, leaning back at the girl’s hostility. “Alya? What’s wrong?

“What's wrong is that you've been lying to me! You've been lying to all of us! You made me believe that you were my friend when all you've done is use me against Marinette!”

Lila froze, slowly looking at Marinette. 

“M-Marinette, w-why would you lie-

“She didn't lie!” Alya roared, stomping forward, only to be held back by an equally angry looking Nino. “You cant lie anymore Lila! We heart it! All of it!”

Confusion covered Lila’s face, her nose wrinkling in confusion. “Heard it? What do you-

It was at that moment both girls noticed it. An echo. Looking at the loudspeaker, Marinette realized it wasn't off. Mr Damocles never turned it off. It had been recording them the whole time. The whole school heard what Lila had said to Marinette, the whole school now knew Lila had been lying to them, that Lila had turned them against their close friend, their friend who helped them so much and cared for them so much. The whole school was furious at this intruder who sought to hurt their Everyday Ladybug.

What no one realized was that Chat Noir was standing among them, his ring in his pocket to resist the urge to transform and destroy the girl who’d tormented his friend, a friend he cared about.

Alya held up her phone, showing that it was still recording. “You can stop lying now Lila, just like a fox, you've been caught in a trap you were unaware was even there.”

Marinette felt like she was going to cry. They knew, they knew she wasn't lying. They realized that Lila had hurt her, that shed lied to them, that she’d threatened her, that she had tried to ruin her life. She wasn't alone anymore.

Alya’s eyes went to Marinette, and they softened. “Marinette.. I’m so sorry.. I never should've stopped listening.. I'm so so sorry…”

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood up, rushing to her friend’s open arms. Or the first time for as long as she could remember, she cried. Alya’s arms tightened around her, ending the footage with a simple click. Some moments were too private to be recorded, she learned her lesson after Oblivio.

“I tried so hard to tell you!” She wept. “I thought I lost you!”

Alya’s own eyes began to water, and she buried her face into her friend’s hair, rubbing her back softly. “No girl.. I’m the one who lost you.. I never should have listened to Lila. I was a terrible reporter, I’m a terrible friend. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but i'm so so so sorry.”

Another pair of arms wrapped around her, and she felt the brim of Nino’s hat poked her head. “Marinette, you and I have been friends since kindergarten, but I got… I got too excited about Lila. I got too excited thinking about how she'd get me discovered, how she knew so many people, but I forgot that I have my own little celebrity right here. Two if you count Adrien.”

She giggled at that, sniffling as her tears began to slow.

A fourth pair of arms surrounded her, and she looked up to see Adrien’s guilt ridden face. “Marinette… I'm sorry.. I didn't keep my promise.. I promised we'd be in this together.. But I left you.. I was scared, i didn't know things were that bad, i..” he chewed his lip, and Marinette frowned, looking up at him and leaning back from the embrace of her friends.

“Adrien, you abandoned me. You never once spoke up about her lies, and you told me to keep quiet about it because you were worried about Lila being akumatized. I listened to you, I figured if I wasn't alone it would all be okay, but it wasn't. I was alone, everyone hated me, and you sit there and watched. You’re only apologizing now because there's nothing for you to lose here. Well I’m sorry, but i can't be friends with someone who leaves their friends when you know they need you. I don't accept your apology, and I’m afraid I can't forgive you.”

The whole class was silent at her speech, shocked that Marinette could speak like that to her crush. Only he wasn't her crush anymore, he'd stopped being that a long time ago. He'd stopped being her friend too, only she had lied to herself to believe that he still was. Funny, it seemed she was a liar too.

Adrien was stunned, staring at her in shock before laughing nervously. “Marinette you don't mean that..”

“Actually, I do. Maybe later ill forgive you and i'll apologize, but right now this is my truth. I'm not hiding the truth any longer.” turning to Alya and Nino, she offered a sad smile the tension leaving her.

“I want to forgive you both, but it'll take some time. I'm Still hurt by this all.. But I do still want to be your friend, if you’ll still have me that is.”

Nodding her head, Alya offered a warm smile. “Of course we want you girl. We’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

“Excuse me?” a bored and annoyed voice called from behind her. Turning around, Marnette saw Lila, staring at the whole group of them, irritation evident on her face now that she wasn't pretending. “So.. what happens to me now?”

Five words that Marinette never thought she'd hear were spoken, and time seemed to slow. Lila’s face paled, and her eyes widened in shock and horror. Alya and the others cheered and rushed to hug Marinette. Marinette herself was in a state of shock, relief, and bliss all at once. It was over, it was finally over.

“You Miss. Rossi, are expelled.”

[artificialqueens]

Stupid For You, Chapter 4 (Crygi, Jankie, Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

summary: Jackie has to address her actions from the party, while Gigi has to process feelings she’d rather not. Also, if you aren’t familiar with speaking on radios, 10-4 means affirmative.

Gigi spent the rest of the day in bed. After crying until her eyes were red and puffy, she sat in bed trying to process everything. Crystal had a boyfriend. A boyfriend. When she shut her eyes, all she could see was the blonde boy and Crystal kissing. All Gigi could do was think about their relationship. How did they meet? Who asked who out? Have they slept together? Were they in love? Was it serious? She then pictured them doing gross romantic couple things. The thought of Crystal and that boy going to a pumpkin patch and picking out a pumpkin while sharing hot apple cider made her heart sink. Gigi pictured the two of them at prom, his tux matching her dress, dancing the night away. After breaking her heart with more scenarios, she forced herself to stop thinking so hard about it.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. Gigi thought about how beautiful and carefree Crystal looked… She thought about the way her face lit up when she won beer pong. She started thinking about the two of them dancing… The way Crystal’s hips swayed against her… Gigi’s mind wandered to when Crystal changed in front of her.

Never had Gigi Goode seen anyone’s bare chest but her own. She bit her lip as she pictured Crystal topless, while stroking her own breast, while her other hand trailed downward… She knew it was a bad idea, so she forced herself to stop. Gigi sat up in bed, trying desperately to clear her head.

Her next thoughts were about Crystal’s sexuality. Was she straight? With the way that she acted around her, Gigi was almost certain that she wasn’t. There was no way. But what if she was? What if she was reaching, and everything Crystal did was completely reasonable for a friend to do?

Back when Nora lived at home, Gigi watched her older sister get her heartbroken many times. Nora, much like Jaida, got extremely invested extremely quickly. One time when she was fourteen and Nora was eighteen, Gigi watched her big sister cry over some boy on the debate team. It had been the second time that month. Gigi, who had finally had enough told her sister to stop being so stupid for him.

Now she was trying to tell herself to stop being so stupid for Crystal. Four years later, Gigi understood that her words were much easier said than done.

Gigi just hoped to God that she would be able to keep it together the next morning.

“Hello, my love!” Crystal said cheerfully handing an extremely unenthused Gigi a coffee mug.

Gigi forced herself to snap out of it. It’s not like Crystal was shattering her heart into a million pieces and then torching them on purpose.

Crystal looked at Gigi. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.”

“Gotcha. I feel you. Me and Ryan went hiking yesterday. Hiking isn’t fun hungover. It’s not very much fun to begin with, but especially not when you’re hungover, but I promised him I’d go.”

This was her chance. “I didn’t know you even had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah! We’ve been together since freshman year of high school. I guess I’m just not the type of person to gush about her boyfriend.”

“That’s so… sweet,” Gigi managed through gritted teeth.

“I really love him. This is so lame, but we won homecoming king and queen.”

“Awe, cute.” Gigi could hear her the insincerity dripping from her voice. Thankfully Crystal couldn’t.

“He’s really the best. I think you guys would get along really well.”

Yeah, right.

Gigi hesitated. “Why don’t you ever post pictures with him?” Because of the many nights spent stalking Crystal’s social media, if there was any mention of a boyfriend, she would have known.

“Honestly?” Crystal began. “He doesn’t really like to take pictures. He’s very anti-social media. Ryan is low key a conspiracy theorist. Almost every day he tells me to delete my social media because now North Korea has my information or something.”

“That’s so… interesting.”

 What about you, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Did you just not want one or…”

Gigi trusted Crystal, but didn’t trust her enough to tell her everything about her. Not yet. “I think that I’m afraid to let people in.”

“Really?”

She sighed. “Ever since my dad, I’ve had a hard time trusting anyone. Abandonment issues and shit.”

“I am so sorry.”

“I guess I just look at as what’s the point of dating if they’re just going to leave anyway?”

Crystal held her hand on top of Gigi’s and looked at her with a face full of sincerity. “I’ll never leave you.”

“Thank you,” Gigi managed in just above a whisper.

“You know too much about me. I like you, and really don’t want to have to kill you.”

—

Jackie was one to always be on time. However, she was not one to be an extra half an hour early. But, she knew that Jan was opening, and aimed to avoid the blonde at all costs. Unfortunately for Jackie, when opening her locker, she saw blonde hair and a purple backpack out of the corner of her eye. As much as she hoped she wouldn’t, Jan made her way over.

“Jackie, hi. Do you want to talk about… it?”

“I’d prefer to not if that’s okay,” Jackie said shoving her bag inside of her locker.

“Jackie, don’t shut me out. I know that it probably isn’t like you to do something like that, but it happened. It happened, and you can’t take it back. I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I really value and respect you as a person. I don’t know why you freaked out, especially because kissed me first. I’ll give you space if you want space, but please. Talk to me when you’re ready.” She walked away without waiting for a response.

For the rest of the day, Jackie couldn’t focus. She was team lead that day, and almost forgot to send Nicky on her break. While in tower, all Jackie could think about was Jan. She had no idea why she couldn’t shake the blonde from her head. Even though she dated boys all through school, she never felt strongly toward any of them. She slept with her boyfriend in junior year, but broke up with him right after, because she felt nothing toward him. There was something different about Jan. Jackie felt things toward Jan that she thought she was supposed to feel to her boyfriends. The keyword being boyfriend. Being gay was out of the question for Jackie. Her entire life, both of her parents that being gay was immoral and disgusting, something Jackie never understood. It was up until she met Jaida her first summer at Paradise Isle before she even met a gay person. As Jackie looked at the monitors from tower, she tried to reassure herself that she definitely wasn’t gay, and that Jan was just pretty. Even if she knew it wasn’t true.

Finally, it was time for her break. Jackie looked around, making sure that Jan wasn’t also on her break. Thankfully, she was in the clear. Jaida was sitting at a table by herself eating a salad.

“Hey, girl,” Jaida said as Jackie sat across from her.

“Jaida. I have a problem.”

“Is that problem a pretty blonde girl named Jan?”

“How did you know?”

“What do you remember about the party?”

“I kissed Jan. Like. I initiated it, apparently. But it was just one kiss right?”

“Ooh, chile. No, you guys were making out. For a while. Everyone saw. You were grabbing her ass and everything.”

Jackie buried her head in her hands. “Oh, no.”

“Have you seen her today?“

“Yeah, this morning. She tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen. She agreed to give me space… I can’t hold this off forever, Jaida.”

“No. You can’t. You know what y’all need?” Jaida questioned.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m not taking Jan onto the Ferris wheel.”

Because Paradise Isle was mostly ran by people who were all around the same age, there were plenty of relationships, flings, and conflicts. When any problems arose, it was customary to go into the Ferris wheel to resolve any issues. The parties in question would ride until they either they resolved their issues, stormed off angrily, or ran away crying. It wasn’t something management allowed, but the supervisors knew how much conflict it resolved, so they let it slide. Jackie had never had to take any rides in the Ferris wheel. Jaida, however, took at least one a summer. Her second summer she took three.

“If you don’t take her, I’m going to shove your skinny Persian ass into that ride. I’ll drag Jan by the hair if I have to. You are going to talk this out. Okay?”

Jackie grumbled. “I guess.”

“Tell Jan to meet you at the Ferris wheel. The Genie closes early tonight for maintenance, right?”

Jackie nodded.  Once a month, The Genie closed a half an hour early for maintenance, which made it the perfect night.

“Okay, perfect. Jan’s stocking tonight, so it’ll be easy for her to slip away.”

Jackie’s heart beat fast as she tried to come up with what to text Jan. She reread it twice and made Jaida read it, too before she sent it.

Hey. I’m really sorry. Can we talk? I’ll be at the Ferris wheel at close.

Jan responded almost immediately.

ill see you then

“How did she respond so fast?” Jackie questioned.

“Stockers do whatever they want. Anyway. My break’s over. Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do.”

—

Gigi couldn’t stop thinking about Crystal. It didn’t help that she was in the slowest store, at the slowest time of the night, all by herself. Nobody wanted to buy overpriced, blurry photos of themselves on rides. She debated calling Jan because she was bored, but decided against it, since Jan was going to be by soon to close the store.

“Hey, gorg,” Jan said as she made her way inside.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“’Hey.’” Jan mocked Gigi’s depressed tone as she started shutting down photo monitors.

“Promise you won’t tell?” Gigi felt like she was in middle school saying that sentence.

“Pinky promise.”

Gigi linked pinkies with Jan while emptying the register. “So me and Crystal got super close super quickly, I’m sure you saw.”

“Yeah, of course. She’s a sweetheart.”

 “Yeah she is. Anyway. I started feeling…. Feelings toward her. Do you follow?” Jan nodded. “And honestly, I thought she felt the same way… She spent the night at my house after the party and literally cuddled with me.”

“Oh wow, really?”

“Yeah. So here I was, thinking that she felt the same way. Turns out I was completely wrong. Get this, she gets picked up from my house by her boyfriend.”

“Oof.”

“Oof, indeed.”

“Well,” Jan said. “Have you thought about telling her?”

“Absolutely not.” Gigi finished putting the rest of the money in the locked bag. The two girls headed out of the store.

“Why not?”

“What good is it going to do?”

Jan slammed the gate in front of the store shut as they left.

“Would it give you any sort of peace of mind?”

“I mean, maybe. But what if it ruins everything? It’s not like she’s gonna break up with him on the spot to date me. Why would–”

They were interrupted on their way to the money room by an older woman.

“I’m supposed to meet my family at The Landing. How do I get there?”

Jan smiled kindly. “Ma’am you’re on The Landing right now.”

“I am? Where’s my family?”

“Can’t help you with that ma’am, hope you find them!” Jan walked away before the woman could continue.

Gigi rolled her eyes at the woman. “Why would I risk the friendship? I’d rather have her in my life as my friend than not at all.”

They reached the money room, where they were greeted by Nina. After handing her the locked money bag, they made their way to Isle Mercantile’s stockroom to help close.

“At the end of the day, it’s up to you. I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not an easy situation, and it doesn’t have a clear answer. I’m sorry Gigi.” Jan hugged Gigi.

“Thanks, Jan.”

Jan. “Oh shit. I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

“Jackie wants to talk about… things.”

“Good luck.”

—

The rest of Jackie’s workday went by disgustingly slow. At least she spent the rest of her shift at Load 1, which meant that she ran back and forth checking lapbars, and then engaging her console. It kept her busy and kept her mind off of Jan, at least for a while.

Once her shift ended, Jackie changed into the clothes that she had in her bag, old jean shorts, and a t-shirt with her university’s logo, desperately wishing that she kept cuter spare clothes. Close to closing, all attractions on The Boardwalk had a short wait. When she got there, a slightly unusual girl named Yvie was operating the ride. Jackie didn’t know Yvie well, but remembered that the year prior, Yvie had to ride the wheel with a girl named Scarlet.

It was five minutes after close. All Jackie could do was think about what a big mistake she made until she saw Jan running full force down The Boardwalk. “I’m so sorry! I was mending a broken heart.”

“Good luck,” Yvie said as they went up.

Jackie and Jan didn’t say anything at first.

Finally, Jan broke the silence. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret kissing me?”

Jackie sat, methodically constructing her answer. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Well why did you freak out then? I hope you know that you really fucking hurt me, Jackie.”

This made Jackie’s heart break. Knowing that she caused such a kind soul hurt killed her. “Jan, I am so, so sorry. That is the last thing I wanted to do. I just need you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“It had absolutely nothing to do with you… Honestly my entire life my parents told me being gay was bad, and I didn’t think I believed them, but maybe part of my subconscious did. Not that at all is an excuse for my behavior. The thought of liking a girl the way I was told I was supposed to like boys freaked me the fuck out.” 

They reached the platform.

“Again?” Yvie asked.

Jackie nodded.

“Gotcha.”

“I never even considered the fact that I could be gay. And then I met you, and you’re so confident in who you are.”

“Confident in who I am? Jackie, I’ve never labelled my sexuality. I dated a couple boys in my time, but also hooked up with a girl on my soccer team. I just know that if I like someone, I like them. I don’t really think anything beyond that matters, not that I haven’t had late nights where I couldn’t stop thinking about how confused I was.”

Jackie was surprised. Jan seemed so sure of herself, so it was unusual to imagine her being unsure about anything. “Really? You seem so confident about literally everything.”

“Do you wanna know a secret? Most of it’s fake. My mom used to always tell me ‘fake it til you make it,’ and I guess it stuck.”

They reached the bottom again. Yvie looked at them and Jackie nodded.

“10-4.”

They started rising again.

Jackie exhaled. Her heart was pounding. It was now or never. “I’ve dated boys all throughout school. I slept with one of them. And honestly, Jan? I felt more when I kissed you the other night than I ever did when I was with any of them, and I was drunk… Jan, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the party. I think about how you light up every room you go into. I think about how pretty you are when you smile. I keep thinking about kissing you again.”

“Wow.”

“And I’m sorry if that’s strong, but I just need to tell let that off my chest and I understand if–”

Jan didn’t let Jackie finish. Instead, she grabbed her shirt and kissed her. If Jackie thought kissing Jan drunk was nice, kissing her sober was incredible. Their lips moved in perfect synchronization. Jackie was used to boys who led with the tongue. Instead, Jan’s kisses were gentle, yet powerful. Jackie unconsciously moved her hand through Jan’s soft hair. Eventually, Jan broke the kiss.

“Is that okay that I did that?”

Instead of answering, Jackie pulled her into another kiss. At this point, they reached the top.

“I really like you, Jan. I don’t really know how to process that information, but I know that I like kissing you.”

“I like kissing you, too. We can take it as slowly as you want. I want to see where this goes. I think we have something good here.”

“I think so, too.”

Jan rested her head on Jackie’s shoulder the rest of the way down.

Yvie looked in at them.  “You guys good?”

Jan smiled. “Never better.”

[justasingaporegirl]

Look I’m really proud of my country and how open and accepting it is but one thing I absolutely HATE about Singapore is the way mental illness is portrayed in the media.

In local TV mentally ill characters usually become that way after a Very Traumatic Incident. It gives the wrong impression that you can only have mental illness if you’ve been through Very Bad Stuff. Things like depression and OCD don’t exist unless you have some trauma to back it up.

Also, the way these characters are written is horrid. I turned the TV to a random show with a character who ‘had a mental regression’ (the programme’s words, not mine) after an accident. Throughout the character’s 7 minutes of screetime in the 45-minute episode she could barely string together a coherent sentence, didn’t look anyone in the eye, did not even recognise her own family members. This is problematic in so many ways.

Firstly, this is perpetuating a stereotype of mental illness. Not all mentally ill people are bumbling idiots with zero brain function. I go to school, have dinner with my family and go out with friends during the holidays. Literally no one, not my classmates or my teachers or my parents, have guessed that I have depression (though a few suspect that something is wrong). You can’t identify a person with mental illness the same way you can identify a person who’s been through a horrific incident through some sort of scar. If you really want to know who around you is mentally ill, you have to dig. Ir’s not like people wear a badge saying “I AM BIPOLAR” on their right forearm.

Second, what even is mental illness? The show i watched never even attempted to identify what exactly this woman was suffering from. Is it PTSD? Depression? Who knows? all the show said was that she suffered ‘a mental regression after an accident’. That’s not helping people to know what mental illness is to begin with. Mental illness isn’t simply 'losing your mind’. Just as how cancer patients still have bodies, mentally ill people are still able to think and feel emotions. It’s just that the way they think and feel is not healthy.

Third, literally every side character in the show either hated her or pitied her. THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU SHOULD DO TO A MENTALLY ILL PERSON. Why would you hate a person just because they are ill???? Also, just because a person is mentally ill does not mean we are objects of pity. Just. Treat us like normal people, please, but with extra helpings of compassion and understanding. We don’t need you constantly discussing ‘why is XXX like this’ or ‘how tragic YYY is’. We’re not some tragic novel for you to read and cry over. Love us or leave us, but we don’t need your pity.

Fourth, the way suicide is dealt ohmygosh icanteven. This might be something less restricted to SG TV alone and more universal, but like, in shows when the mentally ill person is standing on the rooftop wanting to jump and the entire kampung and their mothers come out to stand like 30 metres behind them yelling at the person ‘don’t jump, don’t jump’. As someone who has seriously attempted suicide before let me tell you, few people are really screaming and crying when it comes to the moment just before. All the screaming and crying would have been done a long time ago and if they are seriously contemplating suicide, seriously about to go through with it, they should be for the most part calm. And they would not ever EVER engage in a 20-min debate with the whole world about whether or not they should jump. Think about it this way: if you failed to notice how your loved one is suffering and crying for help all this time, what on earth do you think you could say to them now that would make them change their mind? I’m not saying it’s impossible, certainly not, and everyone has different thought processes leading to suicide. but most of the reasons these TV characters give that suddenly convince the person not to jump goes along the line of ‘you have so much to live for, we love you, who’s going to look after your dog if you die’? Do you think every seriously mentally ill person who is at the brink of suicide has not thought about all those things at least a bazillion times? So why do you think that by repeating it they will suddenly turn around and decide not to jump?

Fifth, in literally every show I’ve seen the person who contemplates suicide ends up never going through with it in the end. Just once, I’d like to have the writers be brave enough to let the character take their own life. Let the audience see how their loved ones have to deal with the aftermath and decide for themselves if suicide is worth it or not. Show the world the stark reality of mental illness and suicide and let people talk about it. Don’t just choose the easy way out by having the person change their mind at the last minute and chicken our of killing themselves. Let us really bring the hard issues into the media so that we as a society can witness them and discuss them and make things better for people everywhere.

This is not a pro-suicide or romanticising-mental-illness post. I wish that people were more aware of such things, especially the media-makers who always give me the impression that they want to talk about serious things but don’t know how to talk about it or worse, chicken out of doing it at the last minute. Hopefully people will start to change their opinions on mental illness and make this world a little kinder.

If you are contemplating suicide, don’t hesitate. Get help NOW. I promise you, however futile you think it might be to get help, it will be much more wasted if you don’t even try. Remember, you are loved and wanted even if it doesn’t always seem like it, and you CAN get better if you'd only let yourself. I believe in you :)