#hes an enabler but also just trying to look out for curly

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Meet the Characters

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist

With the first chapter of the Dancing with the Stars fic, Closed Position, finally posting next week, I thought it might be fun to get to know Dieter and Kat a little bit more. I mostly did this for myself to try and get the Destiny & Deliverance version of Dieter out of my head. I also wanted to figure out Katarina a little more…because again, I still have Talia on the brain. 🤦🏻‍♀️

So, given that, you guys get some fun details on these two that will hopefully help me switch gears and give them a little more depth.

About Dieter Bravo in Closed Position

At the beginning of this fic, Dieter is eight months post rehab. This is the first time he has successfully kept clean for any meaningful length of time, and he is determined to stick with it. His acting career hasn't been going well because no one wants to work with him. He's looking to change his image and prove that he is a different man to get his life back on track. However, that process is proving harder than he would have thought as no one is taking his recovery seriously. As a last-ditch effort to save Dieter's career, his agent books him on Dancing with the Stars.

In an effort to hold on to his sobriety, Dieter has cut pretty much everyone out of his life that he considered to be an enabler or a bad influence. He spends a lot of his time alone and fills it with hobbies - painting, reading, music, taking care of his plants and the stubborn stray cat that won't leave his beach house.

Dieter has also been making an effort to present himself as less of a slob. When he leaves the house these days, he tries to look presentable and even dresses appropriately for work meetings. He slowly starts to embrace fashion and wants to look his best. He has held onto his longer curly locks, but instead of leaving them in an unruly mess, he does try to style them so that he looks more put together. As he gains more confidence, he embraces this version of himself and doesn't think twice about the old worn clothes he used to live in... except for his green robe. He still wears it around the house.

Even though Dieter keeps busy, he's lonely. He feels misunderstood and wishes people would give him a chance to prove himself. Ultimately, his dance partner gives him that opportunity. Sure, he finds her attractive, but it goes deeper than that. She gives him true friendship and the non-sexual intimacy that he has starved himself of most of his life.

About Katarina Stamos in Closed Position

Katriana Stamos has been involved with ballroom dance since she was very young. She has spent the last 13 years on Dancing with the Stars, where she often does not make it very far into the competition. Mainly due the partners she is paired with because they are just not physically able to keep up. She has suspicions that there are other nefarious reasons for it too. Those suspicions are confirmed during her last season on the show when she is paired with Dieter Bravo.

Kat isn't old by any means, but she is past the typical age of retirement for a ballroom dancer at 39. While dancing appears to be all about the glitz and glamor, behind the scenes its full of struggle and pain. Kat's body is wearing down and aches constantly due to worsening rheumatoid arthritis in her feet, knees, and hips. She's often too tired and achy after rehearsal to do things like clean her modest size house or go out with her castmates. She's a little messy and at times struggles to keep it together. However, she isn't going to let these issues get her down during her last season, not when she has finally been paired with someone that has potential to make it to finals.

This is an amazing opportunity for Kat, financially speaking. One would assume that being a cast member on Dancing with the Stars would be a good payout. It is, for those who make it further into the competition. Since Kat hasn't been lucky enough to do that, things can get tight with finances. Especially since she is trying to save up to open her own dance studio once she does finally retire from professional dancing. If she can make it to the end this time, her funding problems will be solved.

The last notable thing about Kat...she is dating another dancer on the show named Alec. They've been together for six years. Alec is kind of a jerk for many reasons that we will see play out through the course of the story. He becomes almost unbearable to deal with when Dieter comes into the mix even though Alec is the one that has a terrible history when it comes to fidelity.

There are some other tidbits we find out about Kat early on that explains why she is so accepting of Dieter and willing to give him a chance. What she doesn't expect are the feelings that come with their budding friendship.

How are you guys feeling about these new characters and this different version of Dieter? Excited yet?

I have done a TON of research around the behind-the-scenes workings of the show. I plan to share some of that with you as we go along. It has actually helped form a lot of the plot. While I don't claim 100% accuracy on it, I do plan to try and incorporate details as accurately as I can from what information is public.

With all that said, we finally get to really meet these two next week. I can't wait to finally share them with you!

💜Mysty

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, alcohol abuse, and drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

CP Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime  @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

[milosperfectlove]

VIVIMILO POST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have yet to finalize the outfits for the s/i design in fullbody form but here she is. here's vivian

i'll do violence and manipulation variants as well, it's just that vivian also changes appearance in those routes so i'd have to redraw her to correspond to her outfits in those routes lol EDIT: hi i did the two route variants

some bullet points about vivian under the cut

comparisons with eris

you might notice already the similarities in appearance to eris, namely the curly hair and heterochromia. this was intentional; vivian and eris are similar in a lot of ways, namely the desire for a perfect love and rotten personality, and vivian as a self insert was made to take eris's role.

of course, they also have stark differences; while eris's methods are rather calculating and require a lot of forethought, vivian is rather spontaneous and impulsive. vivian's shaping of milo isn't as carefully constructed as eris's, as vivian likes a more natural-feeling relationship. however, she still very much wants a corrosive and suffocating love, and will absolutely enable milo's obsessive tendencies and push him into it more and more until she can barely breathe... and then some.

furthermore, while eris's show of affection tends to be pretty mild, vivian is absolutely smothering in her love. she's a yandere as well, and her obsessive tendencies are much worse than preroute milo's. the reason she wants a perfect love is because she's loved in this intense and suffocating manner all her life, only to be met with rejection and disgust, and has always wanted someone to love her in the same way she loves. a give and take that's reciprocal in action.

while eris tends to be cold and relatively lucid, vivian... well, she's fucking insane. neurotic, emotionally unstable, delusional, the works. the classic "keeps up a sweet and cute persona, has overwhelming mental issues that freak out the normies." but it's okay, because she and milo can have overwhelming mental issues that freak out the normies together.

elaborating on vivimilo

vivian is absolutely the little spoon. she is very, very small. she's a big fan of the size difference between her and milo, in both height and body type.

she love love LOVES fashion, hence her appearance changes in violence and manipulation routes that i mentioned earlier. she's also always wanted to borrow her partner's clothes, especially if they're much bigger than her and especially for the sake of trying to put together cute coords with the clothes. personally, i feel like the hoodie that we see with milo P is one that he's had for a long time, so the color's kind of faded and weird-looking, and i think vivian could coordinate an outfit with it that looks very cute and fun in a more purposeful manner.

vivian LOVES pet names and likes to alternate between several different ones. sweetheart, honey, dear, the classics. her go-to is darling, that's her absolute favorite. doll and love are close seconds.

it's hard to say where she falls on the intro/extrovert scale. i think she's best described as an extrovert with extreme social anxiety. she'd LOVE to be more social, as she really likes the attention, but she tends to freeze up when actually trying to converse. it's a struggle.

words are fine, but she's much better with expressing her love through her actions. she's very touchy-feely and wants to be near her darling as often as possible. she's not very good at remembering to care for herself, but she'll try to care for milo as best she can, or at least remind him to care for himself.

definitely confesses first. it takes her a bit cus she gets really nervous and she's super afraid of rejection, but she's definitely the one to voice her feelings first. not like she's very good at hiding her affection, anyways. i think that before they start dating, she and milo have super obvious, super embarrassing crushes on each other that literally everyone can sense from a mile away for weeks on end, but they both avoid saying anything about it out of fear of making things awkward. category 5 BPD catastrophe. they both have panic attacks in the bathroom over this shit. and then vivian finally confesses and they're both sooooooo so in love.

afraid of squashing the bugs. her main concern is the bug getting anywhere *on* her cus it feels icky. considering that milo's terrified of the bug and keeps hiding behind her, she gets the nearest shoe to squash it herself. can only really squash with a shoe rather than use the cup/sheet of paper method cus she gets too panicky. she's rather imprecise as-is trying to squash the damn thing.

can't drive. is fine with being a passenger, but is otherwise afraid of cars. her spatial awareness is dogshit, and she gets so freaked out about being behind the wheel that she dissociates. it'll be a long while of practice before she can be trusted to drive to places.

knows how to cook some very basic things, but these basic things turn out pretty good. can probably cook more complex dishes if the disability doesn't tire her out too much that day, or if she gets help.

as mentioned before, she's very touchy-feely. she gets a little more nervous about getting physically affectionate in public, but not by much. definitely takes advantage of milo getting easily flustered by getting super physically affectionate at opportune times. she thinks it's so cute when he's like that.

leans more overprotective, although it's difficult to describe. she's used to being powerless in situations where her darling's being mistreated, so while it takes her a bit to step in to do anything about it, she'll still glare real nasty at anyone who treats milo even slightly too harshly.

has more relationship experience, although most of it was LDR since she's the kind of nerd who has more friends online than IRL lol

horny as hell, to the extent that she tends to hold herself back when expressing her sexuality out of fear that she'd be overstepping. when she's given the okay to express her sexuality unfiltered, she can get pretty needy. definitely the more dominant out of the two lol that man is submissive as hell

i think it would be difficult for me to elaborate on the awkwardness and jealousy levels but like. y'know the vibe. i'm getting so fucking sleepy so uhhhhhhhhhh yeah that's the post

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Hellooooooooooo

4, 8 and 12 for everyone, or all of your blorbos you'd think you'd have more to say! :3

[ask game]

Hiii!! Thanks for enabling me Arja fhsfdskldf, and apologies for the wait! :')

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Neira: chantry indoctrination u.u

Kala: being casteless and the iron hold the carta had on her

Liam: the Everything about his family but especially leandra

Lilian: being an apostate, and malcom

June: being a mage, and coming from a religious noble family

Ari: in a roundabout way, some parts of qun teachings his parents passed on to him

Adriel: all the ways in which she stands in between things

Noya: her family

Var'renan: her clan, specially tamlen

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

this ended up being more a "which traits do you share" oops but i hope that works!

Neira: being acutely aware of responsibility, trying too hard to avoid/postpone making decisions, her relationship with her sexuality (& gender, kinda)

Kala: her brand of defiance & stubbornness & sense of self, her fascination for the world around her and the live for little things, her wayof emotionally detaching herself when needed

Liam: the tendency to get too melancholy and stuck on the past, the wanting to stay out of drama the best he can. & his general sense of privacy and boundaries around it are similar to mine i think

Lilian: her the way she deals with intrapersonal conflicts and her attitude towards life, her brand of protectiveness and bond with her siblings

June: her trouble with social graces and expectations/politeness, her body type kinda?, her way of thinking wrt problem solving

Ari: wanting to get things done by himself, overthinking social interactions, "i'll just finish this one thing" "oh crap it's 3am"

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

Neira: her fuckign. Face shape. Sometimes it looks just like i want sometimes it looks awful, it's a 50/5p thing. Also i never get her to look skinny and lanky in the way i want. & drawing burn scars is hard </3

Kala: the braiidd i struggle sm with braids and i always forget to adjust the length over time lol. Also her height & making her look fat and beefy in the way i want

Liam: height again </3 also his dai era hair..... how even does one draw short spiky hair that sticks up all over the place

Lilian: still cant quite settle on the exact body type for her... And her nose, i can never get it right smh

June: very easy to make her look too young rip

Ari: horns >:( specially the broken one lolol i'm so sorry Ari for constantly butchering your horns 😔. And his proportions give me trouble smh....

Noya: i actually hate drawing her face tattoo more than renan's vallaslin lol. Also her hair and nose.. i still struggle with curly hair and i am super finicky about the nose shape and i can never get it Quite Right

Var'renan: i def have a tendency to exaggerate their nose too much cos i really like the convex shape :') Also, vallaslin TT

[leekwren4]

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[bisexualryder]

y’know part of me wants to say cullen develops a bit of a crush on olivia (before he realizes she’ll never be interested in the same way) bc i’m self-indulgent trash but part of me also wants to say “why’s he gotta develop a crush? why can’t they just forever and always be good friends and more like family and shit”.

then i remind myself i don’t need to impress anyone so like, fuck it, self-indulgence wins. and while yep they totally end up with a close, familial like relationship there’s an early stage where he’s blushy and awkward until varric spills the beans on what he heard the lady inquisitor’s preferences are bc he’s a lil shit that knows too much but also olivia is many things but subtle about anything, including her sexuality, is not one of em.

[iamwhelmed]

I’d kill for a fanfiction where Helga and Curly get stuck over summer, between elementary and middle school, together and unintentionally become, like, best friends. They bond over being a little eccentric, and over art, and over unrequited love (assuming, of course, Jungle Movie doesn’t happen-- or at least doesn’t happen until, like, way later).

They’re both so obnoxious together, they enable each other like nobody else. They’re making loud, unintelligible, annoying noises whenever somebody (likely Arnold, Lila, Sid...) starts getting preachy or annoying: “MAWP. MAWP. MAWP. See? That’s what you sound like”.

Curly starts completing Helga’s sentences-- but purposely at inopportune moments because she hates it when he does that. He always gives her this little shit-eating grin.

Curly starts getting manic and Helga just grabs him by the shoulders and goes: “Look at me. Look at me. Look at me! Does that sound sane? Does that sound like a thing normal people would do?” And she gets him to maybe back off of letting all the animals in the zoo loose, but she’ll help him sneak into the chimpanzee pen after dark so he can fight one.

Helga starts panicking about her secret love for Arnold getting out and Curly walks her through five different plans of execution to make the Scary Feeling™ go away. Phoebe is the one who tries (sometimes fails) to shut these mission ideas down.

He and Helga have a pact to get platonically married if they hit 30 and are still single. Curly has picked out the suit for this occasion and has a catalogue of possible dresses for Helga, who he knows will be picky. Helga has booked the venue just in case, because she’s nothing if not pragmatic.

Boys will walk up to hit on Helga, and Curly leans back and rates their courting tactics on a scale of 1 to 10, and nobody ever gets more than a 4. Curly will cup his hands over his mouth and audibly mock them after they inevitably get shut down because Helga is a one-man girl: “Your approach was commonplace, your appeal was substandard, and you should feel bad!” Phoebe will smack him after this.

Helga has adopted this rating system for just about anything-- his mental state, hotness of girls, comfort level-- almost like a secret language akin to Ice Cream, but she mainly uses it to ask Curly about his opinions in cinema. Phoebe is the only one who can keep up with what is being communicated, because they cut out so many words that are, to them, superfluous (Phoebe’s verbiage.)

Helga: Backgrounds, eh, 3.

Curly: 4. Script?

Helga: 5.

Curly: Modest.

Helga: Themes?

Curly: 3.

Helga: Also modest.

Curly is involuntarily good with girls when they come back from break. The kicker is that he is totally, incomprehensibly oblivious to it. He’s simply just a charismatic, romantic, suave guy. Years of pining after Rhonda made that a part of him. Him getting hit on and ogled is just a part of Helga’s life, now. She’s the guard dog who pinches hands when they try to touch the unaware pretty boy.

Now, this definitely causes some jealousy in Arnold, because he’s been trying to be friends with Helga for so long, and Curly just... does it without trying??? Also, he is subconsciously aware FiT was not heat-of-the-moment and this feels oddly like Curly is stealing from him-- not that he acknowledges that or recognizes it on any level. Rhonda is also very, very jealous. Not only did Curly get hot over the summer, now Helga is too??? M’am, there is only room for one beauty in Curly’s life and that has always been her.

Phoebe is put off by the possibility of being replaced at first, and almost certainly gets defensive, offensive with Curly over it. But that’s, like, for one episode arc. Now, they’re a trio and she’s the exasperated Mom that keeps her two chaotic, self-destructive children in check.

People think they’re dating (Arnold and Rhonda will disavow this to anybody who will listen), and come up to them asking about how they met, how they got together. Helga and Curly will go out of their way to fuck with these kids.

Random girl fifth grader, stars in her eyes: What is the key to a stable relationship?

Curly: *Undisguised snorting* Live. Laugh. Love?

Helga: I have no idea! You tell me! I’ve never been in one.

Curly: *unrestrained side-holding laughter*

Some other sixth grader who didn’t go to elementary with them: If your relationship had a theme song what would it be?

Curly, turning to Helga, who is muffling herself: Don’t laugh this is serious. *Turns to sixth grader* Crawling In My Skin.

Helga brings out the artist in Curly, the real man who loves deeply and the cute, handsome dork he is, and reigns in his “crazy”. Curly brings out Helga’s wild side and makes her live a little, and inspires her to hide her true self less. They’re like platonic Morticia and Gomez Adams. In this hypothetical, I’m 90% sure this was a Halloween costume they did together at some point. Phoebe was Wednesday.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if...? Part 5

(I know, I knooooow....I said 4 parts. Then adjusted it to 5 parts... Guess what? I’m up to 7 now. I can only hope that will be the final number... T-T And I still blame y’all xD You beautiful enablers, you <3 You know who you are! Writer baiters, commenters and rebloggers, thank you all! <3 <3 <3)

-

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

She has to get away. She has to run. She has to grab Corin and run. There are no storm troopers kicking in the doors of the Covert yet, there is still time. They can still try to get away.

The thoughts keep spinning inside her head and her heart is beating so hard she can barely hear anything except the pulse thumping in her ears. Her fingertips tingle and she’s dizzy.

“Just…” Davarax turns his attention to the children staring with horror at them. “Paz, continue the training. Everything is okay. Corin, do you hear me? Your mother just had a scare, but she’ll be fine. You’re all safe. I promise. Just go back to training and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dulsissia makes a weak sound of protest when he bends down and picks her up like she’s a bride at a wedding and not in the middle of a disaster, but he ignores her and carries her out into the hallway.

“We’re going to your room and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” Davarax says, it’s a gentle tone but he’s determined.

“We have to leave…” Dulsissia whispers, strangely weak and helpless all of a sudden, haunted by the countless memories of Macero unleashing his fury on others for much smaller offences than the one she’s committed against him. His pride will never recover and he will never forgive her.

Davarax doesn’t answer, merely continues walking down the hallway and doesn’t stop until she has to reach out and press the button to open the door to her and Corin’s room.

When he steps inside, she notices Davarax pausing for half a second as his gaze goes from cup to cup and whatever else she had used to put the flowers in to place them all around the room, then he snaps out of it and walks over to lower her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Once she’s steady and her feet are on the floor, Davarax crouches down in front of her. “Dulcy, tell me what happened.”

“I went above.” She replies in a whisper, staring emptily ahead. She can feel herself wringing her hands until her fingers hurt and then a pang of absent gratitude when Davarax gently places his gloved hand over them to make her stop. “I saw… There are storm troopers in Nevarro.”

There is a moment of silence before Davarax says the least thing she expects; “I know.” He doesn’t sound surprised or worried at all. “Is that what upset you? A storm trooper?”

Snapping out of her staring, Dulsissia flicks her gaze down to his t-visor. “What do you mean you know?”

Davarax gives a faint shake of his head. “There’s a military base not too far from the city. They come in to get some extra supplies some times. Nobody really wants them here, but it’s safer for the people of Nevarro to just sell them their goods and get them on their way again.”

Confusion battles with her fear and Dulsissia tries to make sense of things. If Macero knew she was here, he wouldn’t send a lone storm trooper to chat up the villagers. The city would have been burning and there would be white armor everywhere. She swallows and exhales. Just a random trooper then? Or a scout? How can she be sure? “If… if a storm trooper came here not to buy goods, but to… look for someone. You wouldn’t know the difference, would you?”

“The Covert is keeping an eye on that base, believe me. And we have ears in the city. If something was going on, we’d know.” Davarax reassures her. He seems to need to gather a bit of courage before asking his next question: “Is… is that who you are hiding from? A storm trooper?”

A bitter laugh slips from Dulsissia’s lips before she can stop it. If only! A single storm trooper she could have handled, but Macero has thousands of them at his beck and call. “I wish.”

“An officer then.” Davarax deduces. His fingers curl gently around hers. “Do you want him dead?”

He is offering. If she says yes and gives him the name, Davarax will go for Macero’s life.

Dulsissia thinks about how in a fair fight Macero wouldn’t stand a chance against Davarax’ muscle and skills, but then she also thinks about Macero hiding away in the heart of the Empire, surrounded by guards and the terrifying amount of soldiers and all kinds of horrible weapons available to him.

“No.” She lies. She will not risk having Macero take Davarax away from her and the children.

Davarax looks at her, knows she’s lying, but eventually gives a nod. He respects her choice.

“I didn’t…” Dulsissia knows she doesn’t have to explain herself to Davarax, but she wants to. She can’t stand the idea of him thinking less of her now. His opinion matters to her. “I didn’t know he was like… that when I…” She exhales, sharp with anger at herself and her own naivety. “I could have handled it if my mistake only hurt me, but… I couldn’t do that to Corin. So I ran.” She looks over at the visor and forces a smile. “I guess you’re regretting those flowers now, huh?”

“Do you still love him? The officer?”

The idea is preposterous. Dulsissia shakes her head. “The man I fell in love with back then wasn’t real. He never was. It was all an act.”

“Then, no,” Davarax reaches up and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I don’t regret them.”

Her eyes flood with tears and Dulsissia cannot believe just how good this man is. How incredibly lucky she was to have met him in her hour of need. Him, of all the souls in the Galaxy. “You are a bit too good to be true, Sir.”

Davarax hums thoughtfully before speaking in that wonderfully teasing way of his. “As I said, I’m not ‘that’ good.” He then moves up to sit next to her and sighs. “I’ll double check with the others, though I think if there was someone looking for you, asking around, we’d hear about it. But first, we’re going to go back to the kids and you’re going to tell them you had a bad experience in the city but we’ve sorted it out and you’re okay now. Sounds good?”

Dulsissia nods. “Okay. I can do that.” Her son doesn’t need to worry too.

-

When they step back into the training room, Dulsissia feels another stab of sharp guilt when she sees Paz ordering Din, Raga and Barthor around the room, doing exercises, but has Corin under his arm in his usual protective mode. Corin, who has his arms around the older boy’s waist in return and looks like he’s been crying earlier.

Dulsissia doesn’t hesitate to head over to them and Corin turns to wrap his arms around her waist instead when she’s close enough and she hugs him tight. “I’m sorry, baby.” She kisses his hair.

“You… you need help with… whatever?” Paz asks, looking anxiously from her to Davarax and back again. The other children stop to stare at them as well.

Smiling, torn between guilt for having caused the boy to worry as well and endlessly charmed by Paz’ very real offer to help despite not having the faintest clue about what is going on, Dulsissia reaches out and cups the side of his face with her hand. (She is definitely charmed by the instant flush it causes.) “That is very kind of you, Paz. Thank you. But me and Davarax worked it out.”

Corin looks up at her with badly hidden hope. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She ruffles Paz’ hair, he ducks away with a faint laugh, and then she focuses on her son again. “Everything is fine.”

“So you’re not leaving?” A voice asks, loud and clear.

Everyone in the room turns in surprise to look at the one who’d spoken: Din. Who rarely speaks above a mumble. He is staring at Dulsissia with agonized worry in his eyes.

“We’re not leaving.” Dulsissia confirms in a calm and reassuring voice, realizing he fears losing his new friend like he had ‘lost’ Davarax. “We’re staying right here with you, Din.”

The boy nods, solemn as usual but now with obvious relief in his dark eyes. Much like the relief on Corin’s face as he smiles up at her. “We’re staying?”

“We’re staying.” Dulsissia combs his hair back with her hands. “Mommy was just being silly.”

And while there is a tiny ball of anxiousness in the pit of her stomach, Dulsissia takes one glance over at Davarax, who gives her a faint nod and she feels her strength and courage return.

She’s not alone. Not any more.

Hiccuping with relief, Corin dares to lets go of her, but just as he’s about to take a step away to rejoin the other children, he hesitates and looks back at her. And while it is so very, very tempting to just wrap her arms around him and hold on tight, the fear of losing him still so vivid in her mind, Dulsissia gives him a nudge.

Corin hesitates once more and then heads over to the other children, who include him like one of them. And that is what he is now, isn’t he? Dulsissia can’t let Macero take that away from him.

She’d panicked up in the city. She can’t afford to panic. Macero is a cold strategist, so she’ll have to become one too.

If he thinks he can take Corin away from her and have her back as the obedient little wife, he’s got a rude awakening coming to him.

A bit like the one Dulsissia gets the next day after walking Corin to training. (It’s difficult to go back to the room instead of hovering in case a battalion of storm troopers appear.) Something vicious snarls behind her just as she’s about to press the button to open the door.

Jumping around with a startled sound, Dulsissia fumbles for the blaster that isn’t in the lining of her pants because she didn’t bring it because she thought she was safe inside the Covert because she’s an idiot and… Oh.

Dulsissia puts on a careful smile and tries to pretend her heart didn’t just jump up into her throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with the others?”

Glaring at her with murderous intent through the crazy mane of curly hair, Raga makes another growl. The little girl is just standing there, her hands curled into tight fists and her skinny frame radiates waves of anger so strong it’s a miracle she’s not hovering over the floor.

Clearing her throat, Dulsissia crouches down. “Is there something wrong, Raga?”

At first it doesn’t look like she’s going to say anything, not even a growl, but suddenly the girl shouts at her. “Paz is MY friend, not yours! You don’t get to take him away! He’s mine!”

Dulsissia’s eyebrows makes a valiant effort to reach her hairline. Oh dear. Okay, time for some careful diplomacy here. Like Davarax does. “Raga, sweetie, I’m not trying to take Paz away from you. I promise. And he will never stop being your friend. He cares about you very much.”

The furious eyes flicker a little and Raga’s lower lip trembles a little. “But you’re pretty!” It’s an accusation, not a compliment. “Davarax thinks so too. He watches you all the time. But you don’t get to take Paz away!”

Sighing, Dulsissia tilts her head a little. “Sweetie…” She considers her options and straightens back up. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk a little.”

Raga instantly tenses up with another snarl. Her little shoulders draw up and her feet move into a stance where she can attack or bolt into retreat.

Dulsissia presses the button and the door opens. “You can have some cookies.”

Raga’s shoulders relaxes. “Okay.” And she trudges inside.

-

Dulsissia wants to help the girl settle on the chair, but a warning snarl makes her keep her hands to herself and she gets a plate of cookies to put on the table.

The girl grabs a handful and shoves them into her mouth, chewing noisily and not very ladylike.

Feeling like she’s defusing a bomb, Dulsissia tries to find some clever way to approach the subject. “I’m not going to take Paz away from you, Raga. I just want to be his friend. And yours.”

She gets an angry eye scowling at her through the mess of curls for her effort.

This is not going to be easy. But surely there must be some way to reach the girl. Something they have in common. Dulsissia makes another effort at a smile and gestures towards her. “You have such lovely hair.”

Raga pauses in her chewing, scans her warily before she mutters; “My mom wants me to cut it. I don’t want to.”

“Then you shouldn’t.” Dulsissia agrees.

Shrugging, Raga plucks at the edge of the table. “It’s not pretty. Like yours.”

“You have beautiful hair.” Dulsissia objects, daring to take a step closer. “I wish I had curls like you.”

That gets her another wary glance, but there is cautious curiosity instead of open hostility now. Raga sits up a little straighter. “Have to cut it when I put the helmet on…”

“Nonsense.” Dulsissia scoffs, gesticulating towards the wild hair. “With some braids, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Now Raga is actually paying attention and the anger seems forgotten. “Really?” She frowns. “How?”

Dulsissia shrugs. “I could show you…?”

Raga’s eyes narrow for a second or two, then she gives a cautious nod.

It takes a long time untangling the crazy hair, not because it’s awfully tangled or Raga complains, but because Dulsissia is overly cautious about tugging her with the brush and enjoys doing something she actually have the skills to do. A lovely side-effect is how Raga sags more and more in the chair and almost falls asleep under the gentle treatment. There’s not a single growl.

Braiding most of the hair back from the very top to bottom in a simple but lovely pattern, once again taking her time, Dulsissia lets some hair hang free to frame Raga’s face so she can hide if she wants to, but the rest of her thick mane is now held back from obscuring her vision. That should make it easier for her to fight. She steps into the refresher and grabs a mirror so she can show Raga the final result.

“Look at that.” Dulsissia says, feeling no small amount of pride that Raga had trusted her enough to allow this. “Practical, yes? And you look so beautiful.”

Raga struggles against a tiny smile. “Do not.”

“You do.” Dulsissia reaches out and adjusts the braid a little with feigned nonchalance. “And just you wait until Paz sees this. He’s going to be so amazed. You look like such a warrior queen. The Mandalorian who can kick butt ‘and’ have long hair. I bet he’s never seen that before.”

Raga puts the mirror on the table and ducks her head down, now as flustered as the aforementioned Paz had become when Dulsissia kissed his cheek. “M’not pretty.” She mumbles, but she is smiling.

“You are ‘beautiful’.” Dulsissia insists. “Come. Let’s go show the others.” It’s about time she picked up Corin so why not show off her accomplishment too?

She just isn’t prepared for her heart absolutely shattering the moment they step into the hallway and begin to make their way towards the training room and Dulsissia feels Raga’s  hand reach over and take a hold of hers.

And luckily, after seeing how excited the girl was to show off her braid, Dulsissia’s predictions were completely accurate. Not only Paz stops what he’s doing, but the three other boys too, and they all flock around her to admire and try to figure out how the braid was made.

“You got to teach me how to do that.” Paz declares, mesmerized.

“I’ll think about it.” Raga snootily replies, slapping Din’s hand away from her hair.

Dulsissia has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Which is when Davarax sidles up next to her by the doorway where she’s watching the kids.

“Okay,” he says, “show me your hands. Hold them up and let me see them.”

A little confused but mostly amused, Dulsissia holds up her hands and looks over at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to see how many fingers she bit off before you managed to subdue her.” Davarax says, nodding towards Raga.

Laughing and giving him a smack to the stomach, which doesn’t cause him to flinch at all, it’s like slapping a wall, Dulsissia turns her attention back to Raga and feels an intense joy in seeing the smile still on her face. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Yeah, she is.” Davarax agrees, with no small amount of affection. “But she doesn’t give her trust to just anyone. People have to work for her trust and most adults take offence to that in a child.”

Dulsissia forgets to breathe when he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and this time lets his gloved finger trail down the side of her neck as well before his hand just rests on her shoulder.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to end up with every single one of them falling in love with you.” He murmurs.

Dulsissia dares to glance over at him and sees her reflection in his t-visor. Her heart is suddenly racing again but this time not from fear. “I think… I would like that.”

“Yeah?” Davarax asks, his voice low and soft and only meant for her ears. “You wouldn’t mind a big family? Even if they came with their… issues. And were a lot of work.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.” She replies, her voice a little shaky but she means it. “A big family, all that love, why wouldn’t I want that?”

Davarax lets out a soft exhale and he stretches out his finger again, trails it along the collar of her shirt. “I’m starting to think that maybe ‘you’ are a little too good to be true.”

Dulsissia lower her eyelashes and tries for a sneaky smile despite how she can feel her face burning. “Trust me. I’m not ‘that’ good.”

His finger pauses on her skin.

In that moment, it’s like it is just the two of them on the entire planet, but of course that isn’t true and they are sent crashing back to reality at the sound of running feet and Corin’s voice;

“Mommy, can you braid my hair too?”

Davarax yanks his hand away and she turns to her son with a faint laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you may have to grow your hair out a bit for that.”

-

No storm troopers flood into Nevarro, kicking down doors while looking for her and Corrin. The trooper she had seen must have been from the military base without any connection to Macero. Dulsissia wants to believe she’s safe, but the experience has left her skittish and reluctant to head up into the city again.

At least she can’t cause trouble as long as she stays in the Covert, right? Wrong.

Clearly the training had gone on a little longer than usual because they’re still in the middle of things when Dulsissia enters the room to pick up her son. The sound of the door opening distracts the kids; Paz looks over just as he’s throwing a punch and Din looks over as he side-steps, but Din steps to the wrong side and Dulsissia watches with horror as the punch slams into Din’s face.

Davarax and the other children automatically move over to where Din is squirming on the floor and covering his face with both hands. Dulsissia runs over as well and she’s seeing blood by the time she’s halfway there.

“Easy, take it easy.” Davarax kneels down and helps Din sit up. “Let me see.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” Paz makes a half-choked sound when Din lowers his trembling hands and reveals the blood gushing from his nose.

Dulsissia, knowing this was her fault, not his, slides her arm around Paz’ shoulders in a weak offer of comfort and support. He just stares at Din.

“It was an accident, Paz.” Davarax says, cupping Din’s face and gingerly prods the already swelling nose. He then lowers his hands with a sigh. “Yeah, it’s broken.”

Paz makes that sound again and Raga moves over to his other side and takes his hand in hers. Her eyes are big and solemn. Barthor is watching with a blank face. But Corin looks ready to pass out.

“You want me to do it or the medic?” Davarax asks Din.

“You.” Din replies, sounding like his sinuses are severely clogged.

Davarax nods, and if not for the situation being what it is; Dulsissia would have been shocked beyond words at the sight of Davarax pulling off his gloves and revealing his bare hands. Strong, confident hands. That move up to touch Din’s face again, focusing on his nose.

“Okay, you ready?” Davarax asks.

“’eah.” Din mumbles through the blood.

Before Dulsissia can really understand what is going on, Davarax does something, there is a disturbing crunch and then he lowers his hands again. “Done, but you’re going to need some ice on that. Up you go. Come on.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Paz offers a little helplessly. “I thought you were going to dodge. Otherwise I wouldn’t have… so hard…” He’s genuinely distressed. “You… you want to punch me?”

Getting up on shaky legs, once again assisted by Davarax, Din shakes his head with a faint smile. “Stob. S’find. Aggsidendt. Mby fauht too.”

Paz steps forward and reaches out to take a hold of his arm, clearly worried Din will just flop over again. “Ice. We’re getting you ice. Okay. Ice. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Corin looks over at Dulsissia, despair in his eyes, clinging to Din’s other arm. “Mom?”

Dulsissia nods. “It’s okay, Corin. You go with him. Come back after, yeah?”

Paz and Corin hold Din between them, Raga marches ahead to clear a path, while Barthor trails slowly after them. He pauses by the door, looks back at Dulsissia with narrow eyes and then disappears along with the other kids.

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax picking up his gloves and how he wipes the blood off his hands on his clothes. There is that golden skin again. He must look gorgeous under that armor and yet all she can think about is... “That was my fault.”

Davarax shakes his head and there is an amused tone when he speaks. “That was not anybody’s fault. It was an accident. Accidents happen.” The t-visor turns towards her. “They got distracted by the door, true, but do you think the fights out there, in the real world, is contained to quiet rooms with Do Not Disturb signs? No. They need to learn to ignore distractions or pay the price. I don’t think those two boys will make that mistake again, do you?”

Probably not. And it might be lesson that could save their lives later. But still doesn’t feel nice.

Dulsissia distracts herself by looking at Davarax’ hands again. The gloves look worn. “You need new gloves.”

Davarax studies his gloves and shrugs. “They’re good for a little while longer.”

“Would it be better if I got you some new gloves?” She asks.

Davarax lowers his hands and tilts his head a little. “Better? Better than what?”

“When you gave me that blaster, I didn’t understand what that meant.” Dulsissia says. “I realize now that bringing you some stupid cookies wasn’t… right. But I’m not sure if gloves are right either. I mean, Decco said weapons or armor. Do gloves count as armor?”

“What? No. Nono.” Davarax takes a step closer. “The cookies weren’t stupid. Or wrong. I’ve gotten weapons and armor before, but never cookies. Cookies that you made. That was… I liked it.”

Stupidly flattered, Dulsissia lowers her gaze and tries to not act like a twelve year old girl. “So, that’s a ‘no’ on the gloves?”

Davarax leans close and murmurs; “I prefer the cookies.” before he walks over to clean up the blood.

-

At first she thinks it is just coincidence and bad luck, but on the second day when door after door in the Covert refuses to open for her and no one else is having this problem, Dulsissia starts to wonder if it is something more.

That is confirmed on the day when she steps inside and finds her room filled with countless hairy bugs scuttling over the floor and walls and even the ceiling.

Her screams didn’t just bring Davarax running to the rescue, but also half of the Covert; thinking they were under attack by something horrible.

After that incident, she has little doubt as to who is the evil mastermind behind her recent misfortune. There is only one who could do stuff like this and get away with it.

Knocking on the door, Dulsissia puts on a polite smile and when it opens, she asks the person there; “May I speak with Barthor, please?”

The Mandalorian sighs and leans against the door frame. “What’s that boy done now?” There is dry irritation and resentment in that voice. And for some reason, that annoys Dulsissia.

“Nothing.” She chirps. “I brought him some sweets.” Dulsissia holds up the small packet with sweets she’d brought as bribery. “He’s a friend of my son. In Davarax’ group.”

The Mandalorian straightens and shakes their head with a sigh. “Whatever. He’s in his room.”

They point towards a door and walks off.

Dulsissia scowls at their back. No wonder the boy is pulling pranks to get attention.

Knocking on the door and then pushing the button to open it, Dulsissia steps into what is a small but extremely tidy room.

Barthor is sitting on his bed, reading, and the second he sees her; he jumps off the bed to land on the other side and just about cowers there. “You can’t prove anything!”

“Oh, I am aware of that.” Dulsissia says. “Davarax said you were incredibly clever, so I know you know how to cover your tracks. I’m not here to get you into trouble.”

He peers suspiciously at her. “Why are you here?”

“May I sit?” She points at the bed as there are no chairs or any other option in the room. When he just keeps glaring at her, Dulsissia sits down on the bed anyway and starts opening the packet. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“Friends.” Barthor sneers, still in hiding. “You don’t want to be my friend.”

“I do.” Dulsissia says, putting a sweet in her mouth before holding the box out towards him and offering him some. She suspects he’d never eat anything he didn’t see her eat first after what he’s done to her. And after a little scowling, he reaches out and takes a sweet. “I just need to know why you’re so angry with me. Did I do something to upset you, Barthor? Do you mind telling me what that was?”

Barthor keeps glaring at her, but she can see the clever mind working and looking for whatever motive she has for doing this. Eventually he straightens up and goes from scowling to defiant glaring. “I don’t want you to take Davarax away.”

Dulsissia shakes her head. “I’m not taking him away.”

“Yes, you are.” Barthor states, calm but definitely angry. “In the past, I could always go to him if I had questions or needed help.”

“You can still do that.” Dulsissia claims.

“When I needed his help on my project, guess where he was.” Barthor dares her.

She shakes her head, having no clue.

“He was out picking flowers.” Barthor throws his arms out in clear disbelief. “Flowers! Stupid, pointless flowers.” He sets his angry glare in her again. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you and you look at him. You’re not even a Mandalorian!”

Dulsissia swallows down the urge to snap back at the boy. “Here’s the thing, Barthor; Davarax has the right to have a personal life too. He lives and breathes for you children, he really does, but he also likes me. And I like him. That’s not going to stop just because you are mean to me. You know that. The only thing you can achieve is make me upset and disappoint Davarax, and I doubt the latter is something you want.”

For the first time, Barthor lowers his gaze. His shoulders slump slightly.

“How about a deal?” Dulsissia suggests.

The boy looks up at her again.

“How about, instead of you being mean and me supposedly taking Davarax away, we become friends and we all spend time together?”

Barthor scoffs with so much scorn and conviction it hurts. “You’re just saying that. You don’t want to spend time with me. No one does.”

Dulsissia purses her lips thoughtfully. Challenge accepted.

-

Davarax looks a little confused when she shows up that evening at his door and hands him a written invitation to dinner the next day. He looks at the card and then her and shifts a little uneasily. “I, uh, would love to, but…”

“Oh, I know you can’t actually eat,” Dulsissia waves a dismissive hand at him, “I just need you to be there.”

Davarax looks at the card again and gives a slow nod. “O-kay….?”

“Excellent!” And with that, she darts back to her own room. She’d handed cards to Corin and Din to deliver at Paz’, Raga’s and Barthor’s residences too.

There’s not much Dulsissia Motti knows how to do, but she knows how to throw a dinner!

The resources are limited, the dining area even more so, but Dulsissia makes the best out of it and she has two excellent helpers in Corin and Din.

Poor Din, with his still colourful and sore nose, spends more time at her place than he does his own home and Dulsissia has grown quite used to having the quiet boy underfoot by now. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t mind hard work and he hasn’t run off with Corin again.

When the day comes, Dulsissia is a bit nervous, which is hilarious. She has thrown dinners and parties for men who ruled half of the Galaxy and she never broke a sweat doing so, but these children and that man, their approval means everything to her.

The first of the other children to arrive is Paz. He’s early and hangs out in the kitchen with her, interfering with her cooking until she slaps him over the fingers and he instructs her to avoid certain spices (Barthor is allergic.), not to place those vegetables on Raga’s plate (She doesn’t like them.), and that Din loves an obscene amount of salt on his food. (The weirdo.) Dulsissia tries to ask him if he doesn’t rather want to play with Corin and Din, but Paz shakes his head and inspects the boiling pot like a security guard.

However, when Raga stomps into the room, she drags Paz away and they huddle together next to the other two to talk quietly while Dulsissia sets the table.

Usually Corin and Din help her with this, but today she has informed them they are all entirely off kitchen duty.

Today is her gift to all of them.

Davarax is next to appear and he is visibly surprised when he steps into the room and the children all jump up to run over and greet him. Handing out hair ruffles and playful nudges, Davarax sneaks a glance over at her as Dulsissia puts some flowers on the dining table. She gives him a smile.

(Dulsissia has had to rearrange the room, pushing the beds over to one side, borrow a table and chairs, but they will all fit at least.)

Davarax also offers to help her, but she gives him firm orders to go play with the children.

(She does not blush at his faint snort of laughter or the brief touch of his hand to her hip. Nope. Okay, maybe a little.)

When the food is ready and on the table, on time, Dulsissia takes her seat and watches the others choose their own seating. On her right sits Davarax, on her left is Corin and next to him, Din. At the opposite side of the table of Din, there sits Raga, who of course has Paz next to her. But the chair next to him is empty.

Dulsissia feels a tiny stab of disappointment.

She’d known there was no guarantee that Barthor would show up but she’d hoped…

“Okay, everyone,” Dulsissia chirps, determined to make the meal memorable for the others at least, vowing to find some other way to convince Barthor he is welcome, “let’s-”

There is a knock on the door.

Davarax gets up and walks over to open it.

It’s Barthor. He looks tense and wary, but Davarax pretends not to notice and merely ushers him inside. “We were waiting for you. Come on. There’s your seat. Hop to it.”

Dulsissia can’t stop smiling. She beams at Barthor, who greets her with a tiny nod, no scowling, and finally things feel right. Everyone is there.

The children chatter, bicker and eat. Corin laughs at something Din said to Paz.

Paz, who completely ignores the fact that Raga is eating off his plate and merely reaches over to slap Barthor’s shoulder to inform him that he’ll make him run twenty laps during training tomorrow if he doesn’t make a stink-bomb that Paz can plant under Din’s bed.

“No stink-bombs.” Davarax orders, pointing from Barthor to Paz and back again.

Barthor shrugs and focuses on his food. “I wouldn’t know how to make one anyway.” But the smile on his face says otherwise and Paz cackles with glee.

Davarax tells tales from his travels and answers their questions with never-ending patience as usual. Dulsissia makes sure everyone is tended to, takes care to talk to each of them, delights in watching them squirm under compliments as well as some gentle teasing. Even Barthor.

It’s perfect.

This… This is what Dulsissia has always been missing in her own life.

This is what she had been craving, even as a little girl and had no idea what she was aching for while she was surrounded by endless wealth and loneliness. This is what she thought she could have when she got married and didn’t. This is what she wants for her son.

Yeah, this definitely feels right.

This feels like… family.

[hanii-rose]

Ello Ello~! Can I get a garou with a s/o that was kidnapped in the past and has trama now, but acts so chill that you wouldn’t even notice? It’s ok if you don’t want to lol ( fluff please tho- )

Truth

Garou × |Fem|Reader

You sat on the grassy ground of your backyard, knees bent to one side, looking over your garden. The large sun hat you wore casted a calming shadow onto your eyes, allowing you to pick at your tomatoes with ease without the harsh sunlight glaring into your retinas.

You hummed a faint tune, relaxed and uncaring about the world around you. Not that it had anything interesting going on anyway. Your ruffled, beige skirt gracefully fell onto the the ground over your calves, sprawling onto the grass around you.

You eagerly plucked a ripe, juicy tomato from one of the stems it hung from, placing it into the woven straw basket where many of your other freshly picked vegetables remained.

A gentle breeze brushed past, sweeping your hair off of your shoulders. You gently held onto your summer hat and continued picking the ripest vegetables your garden had to offer, unknowing of a certain someone watching your silent movements.

Out of the blue, a sudden shade had been cast on top of your seated form and for a minute, you believed it was a big raincloud blocking the sun due to the large size of it. When you tilted your head up to inspect the sky, you were met with the face of a boy, a scowl on his features, likely due to the summer heat.

He stood above you, shielding the sun's rays, silently observing your expression from calm to surprised to calm once again.

"The hell are ya' doin'?"

"I'm just gardening. What about you, stranger?"

The unfamiliar male picked at the tight collar of his sweater, trying to enable air to pass into it. He raised a brow, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple to his cheek. Blinking at him in confusion, you shrugged, replacing your blank look with a gentle, happy expression.

It was his turn to shrug, rubbing the back of his neck whilst peering over your newly finished picket fence.

"Just out for a walk, huh?"

He gave a single nod, eyes darting from yours to look to the side.

"Say, isn't it a bit too warm to be wearing such a heavy sweater?"

The scowl from his face dropped, and he turned back to you with a look of annoyance on his face.

"What's it to ya'?"

You turned back to your plush tomatoes, chuckling at his childish words.

"At least I ain't half naked like you!"

Half naked, huh? You wouldn't necessarily call wearing an off shoulder top being 'half-naked' but to a boy, things like that are probably way different...

"That's what a child would say..."

You muttered under your breath but it must've been loud enough for him to hear it. He stopped scratching his neck, eyebrows knitted in utter irritation.

"Haaahhh?"

Plucking a shiny, ripe tomato from it's stem, you tossed it at the man, to which he caught expertly with one hand.

You giggled, your expression sly.

"Here, you can have this. My tomatoes taste really good, try one..."

You looked up at him from below, allowing him to get a better look at your face that had been partially hidden due to your large straw hat.

Your pretty, glossed lips took the shape of an attractive grin, sun kissed cheeks gleaming as the sunshine reflected off of them. Beautiful hair swaying as another faint breeze blew over, somewhat lifting the ends of your loose skirt and ruffling your cotton top.

The scene appeared vivid and bright and the boy in front of you seemed to be taken aback by your appearance, his expression no longer that of annoyed or irked.

"Tomatoes ain't that good..."

He stated, stoic and calculative.

You stretched out your palm to him, offering to take the tomato back.

"You can give it back if you don't want it."

You peeked over at him with one eye closed, a smirk itching to take over your lips.

"I never said I ain't gonna eat it!"

Mhmmm, that's what you thought.

"Well stranger, now that I've given you a peace offering, how about you give me a name?"

He looked up at the sun, contemplating your request, ultimately deciding to tell you. It was the decent thing to do anyways...

"Name's Garou."

You nodded, beginning to fill your basket once again.

"I see, I see..."

He waited, leaning on your tall wooden fence, arms crossed, tapping his foot.

You said nothing.

"Well, aren't ya' gonna tell me yers'?!"

Snorting, you grabbed the tin watering can that sat beside you, not bothering to give him a glance.

"Whatever, I'm leavin'!"

He started to walk, straightening himself out and biting into the red, delectable tomato.

"Y/N."

He halted mid-step, craning his head and looking over his shoulder.

"My name is Y/N."

Without a word, he walked off, disappearing over the horizon. What a strange fellow...

🍅🍅🍅 >>

"Yo..."

You craned your neck, tearing your eyes off of the worded pages of the neighborhood newspaper. Your knee length, white dress slowly swayed as you came to a halt on your large, metal garden swing.

"Oh stranger, you again! Back for another tomato?"

Garou folded his arms, leaning on the thick steady metal legs of the swing set.

"Are ya' gonna give me another tomato?"

You shrugged, closing the newspaper and placing it down next to you.

"Sure, if you want. They're really good, right?"

"I've tasted better..."

Garou picked at his nails with a bored look, uninterested in small talk.

"Ok, either way, I'll get you one. How about you sit down here while you wait?"

You patted the empty spot next to you on the large swing but he passed, walking away.

"Now, hold on mister!"

"Oh, c'mon! Sit down while I bring you some vegetables and then we'll talk!"

Before he could walk too far, you latched onto his arm, taut biceps tightening at the feeling of your smaller, smooth limbs around his. Hugging it, you pressed it close to your chest, somewhat leaning into him, squishing up against him. Garou's eyes had widened in surprise at your actions and he tried wiggling out of your grasp but you were unrelenting.

What? Wait...what? Did you just invite him for some vegetable tea-time? Him? The Hero Hunter? Wait, did you just invite him to something? How long had it been since a pretty girl wiggled around his arm for a chance to talk to him?

"Fine."

Oh, right never... Well, since your being so persistent, why the fuck not?

You happily dragged him back to your swing, pushing his shoulders down until he sat comfortably on the seat, legs spread and arms resting on headrest.

"I'll be right back!"

Scurrying off, you carefully began plucking the ripest and juiciest tomatoes your garden could offer and bringing them back to Garou.

"Here, these are perfect for eating."

With that, you handed him a straw basket containing three tomatoes and sat down next to him, placing your fingers on your lap.

"So, how are you today?"

You began, trying to elicit small talk from him.

"...Uh, good?"

"Why are you so confused about it?"

You giggled, asking him about his answer.

"W-whatever! Why do ya' have so many tomatoes?"

You tilted your head to the side, thinking about his question.

"Hm? Oh, well I think they taste good..."

Garou gave you a look, as if saying 'that's it?'

"I also sell them to the local stores. I'm a dropout so I have to earn a living somehow, ya' know?"

"But I don't think he could defeat Goku "

Ah, that makes much more sense. Garou gave subtle nods as you rambled on about your interests, favourite books and the nice grocery man down the street who pays extra for your vegetables. But seriously, what's with you? You grab a random guy off of the street and just start talking to him? Who are you?

"Oh, Y/N! I was looking all over for you in your house dearie, I hope you don't mind, I took a look around..."

Huh, who's this?

A middle aged woman, stood in front of the two of you holding a little ceramic pot in her chubby hands, a mouthwatering aroma erupting from inside of it. Her eyes glanced at Garou but took a sharp turn to look back at you, curly brown bob bouncing as she ecstatically spoke.

"I brought you some cabbage stew. I know how much you like my cooking!"

"Oh, Ms. Keiko, you really didn't have to..."

Garou watched as she handed you the pot, chatting away without a care in the world.

"Oh it's no problem, sweetie!"

"No, no, I can't have you cooking for me everyday. I can do it myself, really..."

You exasperated, somewhat irked because of her interruption.

"What do you mean? Oh, you young people think you can do everything yourselves! Honestly, the government should really do something about people your age, especially people like you."

You rubbed your arm awkwardly, brows knitted and lips pulled into an uncomfortable smile.

"Well, I'd best be heading back now! You know how it is, busy busy!"

"I'll just go put this inside, don't go anywhere ok?"

You ushered her off, nodding at whatever she said until she waddled into her own house across the fence. You breathed out a sigh of relief, turning back to Garou to see him munching on a tomato, uninterested.

The sun had set halfway and Garou had heard enough of your meaningless chatter, heaving a big sigh, he stood up abruptly, popping some bones.

You quickly rushed into your home, setting the pot of stew onto your counter to let it cool off. Rushing back outside, you sat down beside Garou once again, and the two of you began to swing, continuing your pointless conversation.

"Hm? Leaving?"

He nodded, holding his last tomato in his dominant hand, and tilting his head towards your fence door, uttering a bored 'see ya' and leaving. You watched him exit, turning to the sidewalk, giving you one last glance and taking off.

---

The sun moved quickly and the once bright sky had turned dim, little drops of milk decorated the rare clear sky. The streetlights shined brightly, yellow glow illuminating everything within its vicinity. A gentle breeze had blown past and you slumped back in your seat, the squeaking of the swing coming to a halt. Reluctantly, you stretched and pushed yourself off, standing up and giving one last look at your backyard, walking inside your quaint home and shutting the door.

You tossed and turned on your bed, sweating profusely. Twisting your beautiful face into a pained expression, eyes shut tight in terror of your own thoughts. The nightmares of your past haunting you while you slumbered, unable to run, confined within your mind.

The rope burns.

The bruises.

The blood.

The tubes.

The thunder.

You weren't going to get much sleep tonight...

It was all so vivid and dark, and the feeling of suffocation creeped down along your throat, setting itself within your chest, as you heaved and shook. You awoke suddenly, nausea and fright overtaking your form as you trembled, beads of sweat rolling down your sides as you hugged yourself, trembling and disoriented.

🍅🍅🍅>>

Since the last visit from Garou, vegetable tea-time had become a common occurrence.

Garou trudged through the woods behind your house, nearing it slowly, hands pocketed, back arched.

The days only got hotter and Garou found himself sweltering under the sun's powerful rays, anticipating a fresh, juicy tomato from your garden. He would never admit it, but this month had been a somewhat therapeutic time for him. Every time he sent a hero to the hospital, he gave you a visit, sometimes prompt, sometimes prolonged.

All of the blood and injuries had been washed away and packed before that, he wanted to avoid any questions regarding his whereabouts. He feared if you saw his true colours, you'd stop being so sincere with him. A week ago you had proudly declared that you were friends now in your usual rambles and Garou wasn't willing to take any chances ruining it.

Free tomatoes with a cute girl? Yeah, no way in hell he's lettin' you find out who he is.

As he stepped closer and closer to your home, nearing the fence, he spotted you in your usual spot near your rich tomato plants, an unfamiliar girl standing in front of you, carrying two or three compact cardboard boxes.

Hiding behind the blooming cherry blossom trees behind your home, he gave an ear to your conversation.

"My dad only buys tomatoes from you because he takes pity on you."

"Of course, please tell your father I'm grateful."

"I'm not finished! Nobody from class misses you. We all think you're a freak!"

"I'm sorry you all feel that way..."

"The neighbors only talk to you because you're alone all the time."

"Yes, they're so kind..."

"I think it would've been better if you had just stayed missing!"

"Y-you should bring these boxes to your dad now. Tell him I added some extra in there, just to be safe."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh, you came today, good! How are you?"

With that, she turned around, her foot purposely on one of the adorable tomato sprouts, mashing it down with the heel of her white sneaker. After the baby-plant murderer left, Garou circled in, greeting you in a casual manner. You visibly brightened up and grasped his arm.

"S'all good... Say, who was that?"

Garou rubbed the back of his neck, brow quirked up, waiting for an answer.

"Remember the store owner I told you about the other day? That's his daughter. Cute, isn't she?"

Garou shrugged, perplexed. You seemed to like her and from the conversation, he could tell you knew her well.

"Hello, anyone in there?"

Then why was she speaking to you like that? And more importantly, what did she mean when she said you should've stayed missing? Was he missing something? Was there something he didn't know which everyone else did? Nah, you told him everything, it couldn't be that.

You waved your hand in front of his face, breaking him from his thoughts.

"W-wha..."

"I've been talking to you this entire time, what are you thinking so hard about?"

Poking his cheek repeatedly, you playfully provoked him and he swatted your hand away.

"Hurry up an' give me a tomato, lady..."

---

Sifting through the soil on the ground, you had found the perfect spot for re-planting that cute, crippled little tomato sprout that the store owner's daughter had squished. But holding it in place while simultaneously patting the soil down to fix it in was proving to be quite a challenge.

You needed some help.

"Oh, Garou~"

"Be a dear and help me with this? I promise I'll make it up to you!"

You sang, batting your lashes and twisting around to face him. He sat relaxing on the garden swing, chewing up a tomato you had given him. He looked at you, contemplating whether he should respond to your strange tone.

He glanced at you, then glanced at the half bitten vegetable in his hand. With one bite, it was gone. Rubbing his hands clean on his pants, he walked over to you, sqatting down to your level and holding the tiny plant in place as you stuffed it's space with rich soil and fertilizer.

"Thank you! You're such a big help."

Aren't you exaggerating just a bit, now? All he did was hold a plant while you did all the work. Nevertheless, your comment added to his ego and he swaggered back over to the swings, chomping down on another tomato, this time with a trail of juice running down his chin.

"Ah, it's dripping onto your beautiful sweater! Hold on..."

You stood up from your squatting position on the floor and took out a pink little handkerchief from your dress pocket. Adjusting your bucket hat, you patted Garou's chin, absorbing and wiping away any juice stains that may have clung to his skin.

"There, that's much better isn't it?"

"...Just like a child."

He nodded, cheek puffing out as he popped the rest of the tomato into his mouth, dirtying himself once again. You giggled to yourself, your fingers helping to muffle the noise.

He ignored you, poking his chin out for you to wipe again. You complied, of course.

Your day happily went by, without any interruptions.

All too soon, it was time for him to leave. The sun had fully set in the distance and the sky had once again been filled with glitter, sparkling in your eyes as you watched it together.

"I'm leavin'..."

You nodded, standing up and walking him to your fence door. Before he could fully step out, you pulled on his sweater with your index and thumb. He turned around slowly, facing you, confused at your foreign expression.

"Hm...?"

Your eyes fixed themselves down on your cobble walkway, trying to shelter your face from his observant eyes. Your free hand grasped and pulled on your skirt, nervously fidgeting in place. He could hear your heart pounding, hammering in your chest...or was it his?

The night had gone silent as you pulled him down lower, stepping up on your tippy toes and connecting a chaste kiss to his cheek.

He was left dumbfounded at your actions and you hesitantly released the fabric of his sweater, bringing it to your chest.

"I told I'd make it up to you, didn't I?"

The look on your face astounded him, leaving him stranded at your gate, as you dusted yourself off, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Garou blinked a couple of times, quickly shuffling to turn around, away from your stare.

"I d-didn't think ya' meant that..."

You looked away, embarrassed.

"W-well, I'll see you tomorrow."

He agreed, and you ran inside your home, standing near your doorway, looking at him walking away.

"Goodnight!"

You called from behind him and he waved with his back turned to you, getting farther and farther from you.

---

The cold air of the A/C hit your skin, calming you as you hugged your pillow close to your chest. Your eyes remained comfortably closed, happy thoughts streamed through your slumbering mind.

Tonight, you had slept soundly.

🍅🍅🍅>>

The booming crashes of thunder bellowed through the unusually quiet city as Garou sauntered past the glossy windows of the street, mindlessly observing the contents on the other side.

𝔹ℝ𝔼𝔸𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 ℕ𝔼𝕎𝕊: 𝕃𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕦𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕄 𝕜𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕟𝕕

Clothing, accessories, toys and electronics all looked the same to him as he carelessly made his way to you. The heavy rain drops made it harder for him to move, his sweater becoming drenched and heavy with water, his usual hairdo slumped forward, impairing his vision slightly. He came to an abrupt halt in front of the big TV store, eyeing the news displayed in bold letters on the screen.

He's reading slowly, focused on the faces of the two bastards on the screen.

...𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖

The images of innocent children flash by and somewhere in his cold, tattered heart he feels thankful for their safety. And then he sees it.

It was you. You, but...but, smaller. You...

Your picture. Dead expression, skin battered with bruises and scratches, large dirty cloth dangling off of your tiny shoulders. Innocent eyes, tearful.

Garou raced through the slippery streets of City M, the downpour only getting worse with every step he took. He could barely see in front of him, the streets had gotten so dark and hazy, the only thing ringing in his ears were the crashes of thunder that blew out through the atmosphere.

Finally!

Unimaginable winds collided with his form, pushing him back, street lights bursting, paper, signs and peices of wood dangerously flew around, nearly missing his body. He was almost there.

His harsh, observant eyes latched onto you, sitting on the floor, eyes tightly shut, your hands locked onto your ears, drowning out the frighteningly loud rolls of thunder. The lights seemed to be switched on, but no light was being emitted from them, leaving the room in a dark state. The power must have gone out.

He knocked on your door, holding onto one of the pillars of your home as to not get blown away. You hadn't responded. He knocked again. No response. Suddenly, a crash came from the inside, just as another boom of thunder shook the ground. He heard you shriek and without a second thought, followed the noise to your backyard, two large french windows open and banging against the walls outside. Climbing in, he grasped the handles, bringing them together and locking it securely, effectively closing it. The sounds outside had been muffled by the warm walls of your home and he turned around, studying the interior.

"Y/N."

He walked over, kneeling down to you, grasping your shoulder as gently as he could. Eyes softening at your face, tear stained and hurt.

"G-Garou, I "

"I-im sorry..."

Another flash of lightning flashed through your windows and you jumped onto Garou, latching onto his torso, face buried within his broad chest, cold and wet from the rain.

---

The storm had frizzled away rather slowly and all the while Garou had held you in his arms, silently, face hidden in your hair. You had cried and sniffled, ruining his already wet sweater with snot. As the rain came to a stable pace of hushed pitter patters, you finally released him from your hold.

You cleared your throat, standing up and rubbing your sides up and down.

"I don't know what came over me..."

Garou steadily rose from the ground, towering over you, face blank, staring at you intently.

"Y-you're here for some tomatoes, right?"

...

"No."

You shook slightly, he noticed. Wobbling backwards, you tripped, teetering downwards until Garou had stopped you mid-fall by your wrist. He pulled back, flinging you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your shuddering body.

"I'm here for the truth."

You but your lip, afraid of coming clean. You had his it for so long, you knew he'd feel bad if you told him now...

"I...um, are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Let me get you a towel first. You're cold..."

---

And so you had begun to explain your childhood. The happy days in the sun, at the park, holding your mom's hand and playing with your little friends.

Subsequently, this lead to many individuals wanting it for themselves or for research. The earliest memory of your childhood was the worst. The day you had been snatched from the warm protective embrace of your mother, into the confines of a cold metal room, fit with a heavy metal door. Tubes and needles poked your sides, dug into you skin, filling you with unknown substances, heightening your senses to the point where it hurt to exist.

You always had a fascination with plants, able to care for them and somehow make them grow quicker and healthier. At first, everyone thought it was your natural green thumb and caring nature but soon you had found out about a power no one else possessed. Growth manipulation. It wasn't just plants. Little animals and insects could be effected as well. Some thought you were a freak, others deemed you a lucky child, blessed with special powers gifted from the heavens.

You were often experimented on, put aside and brought back. It seemed to be a never-ending cycle of loneliness and isolation that kept you silenced. If you didn't comply with your tormentors, they'd tie you up, burning your soft baby flesh in the process, when it rained the lights would go out and thunder would cackle throughout the empty metal corridors, resonating through your small metal room, entering your tiny being. It was horrific, the bruises you received, the blood you shed and the years of your life which you lost.

Seven years. It took them seven years to find you and the rest of the children. You were rescued at last by elite forces storming the illegal research facility, the House of Evolution, more like the house of horrors.

You had been given hope but alas, your mother no longer lived in the same city, no longer cried for you to come back, no longer wanted anything to do with a girl such as yourself. At the tender age of fifteen, you re-entered society, ready to go to school, make friends, study, live. But when the time came, you found it difficult to fit in. Everyone was so mature, so stable and unhurt. It pained you to know no one understood your situation.

Whatever the other teens talked about, you would have a hard time understanding, you had no idea about any of the new trends, never held a smartphone in your life, never went shopping for clothes, never had a boyfriend and you certainly never anticipated anything other than pain. Emotions were hard to deal with in your early years but as time passed and you grew older, dropping out of school and going for therapy, you slowly figured your way around the world, while still staying in your own little universe.

Sometimes, things which occurred in more recent days triggered your painful memories, which triggered your anxiety, which triggered emotions that were unwanted. One of them being fright, like now. Garou listened intently, nodding and opening and closing his fists on his lap, understanding bits and pieces of how you felt. Clueless and naive, almost unwanted.

He sympathises, but still experienced some pain at the fact of your secrecy from him. Weren't you friends? Why didn't you tell him? He never would've guessed you had been through something like this. You acted so...so indifferent. You explained it normally. When people knew of your life, they could react in two ways. Sympathetic to the point where it becomes disgusting or being disgusted by you themselves. Garou was your friend, you didn't want either from him. You wanted genuine emotions from him. He understood again, much to your relief.

"Still, ya' could'a told me..."

"W-well, isn't there something you're not telling me, Garou?"

He gulped, his throat went dry. He scratched the back of his head, acting aloof. He shook his head no and crossed his arms, roughly leaning back onto your couch, looking anywhere but you.

"You're the Hero Hunter, right? I'm not as airheaded as you, I actually watch the news."

"Yeah, so? If ya' knew all this time, why didn't ya' say somethin'about it, huh?"

"Because you hadn't said anything. And I guess, I didn't want anything to change. I liked that you came around for tomatoes. It kind of sounds like I used you since everytime you were here, I felt normal."

"It was like going through therapy all over again. But better, with you... I didn't care what you did, what mattered was that you came back to listen to me and my nonsense...I liked it that way. That's why yesterday, I...."

You leaned into his side, your head falling gently onto his shoulder, your fingers intertwined on your lap. Garou uncrossed his arms, stretching and coyly placing one around you.

"Ya' wouldn't mind if I asked for a tomato, would ya'?"

"Of course not! Let me get you one..."

"No, ya' ain't gettin' it. I want one today..."

He sat up straight, gazing deep into your sparkling eyes, hand grasping yours to keep you from moving any farther.

"Tomorrow and...forever. Now do ya' get it? I wanna listen to you jabber on about how some stupid anime character can't beat another one, or how the ugly store guy gave ya' extra money for yer' plants. I liked it that way too..."

He rose from his seat on your couch, slithering an arm around your waist and inching closer to your face, noses brushing tenderly against one another.

"I'll give you all of the tomatoes I have...forever."

With that, the two of you sealed your lips in an act of pure passion. The kiss was innocent and sweet, and it left a warm feeling burning in your chest.

"You should see the look on yer' face."

Garou whispered and you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck, fondly eyeing his features.

"Do you want a tomato or not?"

Raw sunlight streamed through your large, pristine windows, illuminating the two of you where you stood. If anyone had witnessed the scene, they would surely deem it ethereal. You felt that way and so did he.

"You're blushing, Garou~"

"Sh-shut up and gimme a tomato, woman!"

In a strange little way, you matched each other, supported one another and existed together, through your highs and lows, through his ups and downs. Suddenly, everything was brighter and easier. You went back to school, working hard, having the courage to do anything you wanted.

Garou found a resolve as well, he left for sometime, but returned to you in one piece, took up a job and continued living. This was not how you had imagined your future to be, but it was this situation that gave you a reason to finally live life the right way. You finally felt happy to be free. And that was more than enough for you. Garou was here, and you were right there with him.

_________________________________________

The fluff at the end BLEHHH too sweet for me. Also, I feel like the ending is so rushed??? Sorry this took months to finish. I was stuck in a prison known as math and had no way of escaping. Hope you enjoyed!

[thelostmoongazer]

sooooo this is an au thats been in the works for a few weeks now! Ive been calling it the ForgetMeNot AU but @spudinacup​ has been calling them the Dust Bunnies and i just.... lets just say its an alternative name 

to put this au in the briefest description, this is a direct spin-off of the GONE WRONG AU (thank you spud for enabling me) where a divergence in events leads to Steven's body getting cremated and his ashes being spread over the hill where Steven died/where the injector landed, for ceremonial purposes. This au also incorporates a theory/au that @faranae​ has that involves the injector originally being used to create new gems/spinels. With this in mind, cremation ashes are commonly used to create diamonds to put in jewelry as memorabilia. So, with those two concepts in mind... i’m sure you can see where im going with this

(This au is based entirely around the events that will happen in the GW AU, events that I am in no way privy to how they occur so i’m just here for the ride, folks)

READ UNDER THE CUT FOR MORE DETAILED CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS AND NOTES 

•Cloud•

   Pronouns: They/them (occasional he???)

   Age: Last to emerge

   Flaw: Twinning wisps (in layman’s terms, when too many outside elements interfere and stunt the growth of the diamond) (design more heavily based on this) 

   Symptoms: light projection is underdeveloped. Black misshapen “skin” is warped over crystalline “nursery clusters”. (I headcanon that in the early stages of gem growth, their entire form is nothing more than a small, light projection cluster of the gem their made of, but then this condenses into one spot, the gem, thus leaving behind the refined light projection and hardening the gem.) The underdeveloped skin is black/reddish because of the presence of other elements, receding it’s formation.

   Personality: All three are curious about the world, sure, but only Cloud is as forward with their intrigue. They have the mentality of “This interests me, I am going to learn more.” Which often leads them to invading boundaries and personal bubbles.    They are the most likely out of the three to ask questions and strike up conversation (that is, at least, when they learn English. Even though I can still see them trying to anyway even with broken English lol) making them very charismatic and friendly. This, in turn, makes Cloud act as the three’s door to learning more about this new world they’ve found themselves in.

   Other Notes:    - Representation of Pink Diamond. Poofy pants, Leotard over pants, Flats. Their Personality also reflects this, mimicking Pink Diamonds childlike curiosity and hunger for knowledge about life on earth.    - Meant to mimic Steven’s friendly nature.

•Sky•

   Pronouns: She/He/They

   Age: second to emerge

   Flaw: Clouding

   Symptoms: Pigment discoloration around eyes paired with iris colomba (poor vision)

   Personality: Sky is the grounding force of the group, they are the one to bring them back down to earth and be the calm when either of them go into their own heads too much. They are also fairly curious about the world but isn’t as direct about it, mostly preferring to observe from afar unless encouraged (or enabled) by the others (*coughcough* cloud *coughcough*) this isn’t to be confused with skittish, though. If sky were to be approached by someone unknown they wouldn’t run away, they’d most likely stay where they are and give you a funny look.    Sky will often need encouragement, direct or indirect, from the other two to make their own willing decisions, and will often parrot cloud or slug. Sky will often act as their dictionary or mental catalogue. If one of them forgets the word to something it’s likely sky will be the one to remember it.

   Other Notes:    -Representation of Rose Quartz. Shawl layer in the shape of RQ’s dress, loose ringlets, bare feet. Their personality reflects Rose Quartz’s mature and nurturing energy with the deep love for all those they hold dear.     - Meant to mimic Steven’s caring spirit    -due to iris colomba, her vision is very poor. But a symptom of iris colomba is the presence of floater spots in ones vision which, in children, can lead to a more developed use for peripheral vision. This is the case for Sky.

•Slug•

   Pronouns: He/They

   Age: First to emerge

   Flaw: Black Inclusions (bits of spinel?)

   Symptoms: Black splotches all over body, mental conflict (short temper, mild co-dependency)

   Personality: Being the first to emerge, Slug takes on the role of protector. This makes him very defensive and slightly possessive of the other sibling. He is the most antisocial of the group but can be easily swayed into any activity by the other two, especially when it comes to affection. He typically comes off as crass and rude to strangers (or anyone who isn’t sky or cloud), but if his trust is earned (with a lot of effort) he will show it rather than say it. Slug is the most visually observant and spatially aware out of the two and acts as their sharper set of eyes (this also going hand in hand with their role as protector).

   Other Notes:    - Representation of Steven. Jacket, (comparatively) shorter curly hair, sandals.    His personality reflects Stevens protective nature (and temper) and desire to help. Wanting nothing more than to be useful to those he cares about most.    - Meant to mimic Steven’s will to fight

•Overall Notes•

   • These gems emerge about 3-4 or so months after the current events of GONE WRONG (THIS IS LIKELY TO CHANGE) 

  • Each gems deformities/premature emergence all make these gems extremely brittle compared to a normal perfect cut diamond (or even a regular gem for that matter)

  • 3 gems instead of one was the fact that a pink diamond, in essence, is practically identical to a white diamond, as far as whats in it’s chemical compound to effect it’s color. With this in mind, its been explained before that White Diamond carries the essence of the entire spectrum. If this is true, then why wouldn’t a pink diamond if they’re practically identical? Therefore, the result of adding those residual properties of a pink diamond from within the ashes, would produce the “purest” forms of the spectrum. White, yellow, and blue. All of them tinted slightly with an ashy pinkish hue.

   • Many things were factors in their premature growth, but a main factor is the amount of injector fluid that was provided in the growing process. When spinel first lands the injector, its very apparent that there is plenty of fluid injected into the hill right upon impact. But in this circumstance, after the current events in Gone Wrong, the injector goes idle (or is possibly removed and relocated by/to Little Homeworld but that is completely up in the air and reliant on future events in GW.) and what little fluid was left behind by the injector was what was used to grow the three gems 

   • Currently, their vocabulary is very limited. They will normally speak in 1-3 word sentences unless they are parroting. Although, given that they are technically elite gem, albeit deformed, they do have the programming for an advanced ease of grasp on language. 

   • Because of their human influence, they have taken on specific traits of Steven. Yes, different physical aspects (facial features, body type, clothing, etc.) but they also gained instincts from Steven. Not to be confused with memories, but rather impressions of specific muscle memory.     Although they don’t need to, they will sometimes desire sleep or food, often unknowingly acting on human instincts. They will even find themselves drawn to specific things/places/people, finding them familiar or warming up to this thing/place/person with ease. (e.g. feeling familial attachment to Pink!Steven not long after first contact with him, with the exception of Slug (lol))     This can include, but is not limited to, other absent minded behaviors; such  as, inflections in speech, subtle ticks (i.e. humming, tapping feet, idle movements), specific hand gestures, ect.

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

[mediocre--writing]

Steve rogers x reader where they see their twin baby girls escaping their cribs and their dog helping them 🥰💗💗💗

Summary: You and Steve have finally began a family, but what trouble will they bring to your daily life?

Word Count: 990

Warnings: bad language word(s)

It was the first night in a long time that you were getting a good sleep.

Steve was working in the tower frequently because he took time off from field work and you’d been taking care of your twins all day, all the time. There was never a quiet moment in the house anymore.

No matter how stressed the both of you were, you knew that you were right where you wanted to be, happy, together, and beginning a new family.

However, there were side effects to this whole “new family” thing.

Namely, the two members of this family.

Stella James and Juliet Shane Rogers.

Bright little babies with more personality than the average person has in their pinky toe. And, being at the wonderful age of two, they were very excited to explore the world.

That world being the rest of the house.

But a big, wide, world to them nonetheless.

You, ever the ray of sunshine, tried to look on the bright side of all of it. It was tiring you out and you hadn’t slept well for the past two years, but kept your energy as high as you could.

The current reason for loss of sleep: the children were walking around in the middle of the night.

So somehow, they were escaping their baby prison (“It’s a crib, stop calling it that!” “Hush, Steven!”) and they were walking into your room, and waking you up by jumping around or just going to sleep, only to be rolled over onto in the early morning.

Steve found it a bit annoying, but you loved that they were such little troublemakers, just like their dad.

You didn’t know how they were doing it.

They were by no means tall or strong enough to shimmy down the sides, nor would they be able to just jump, but they were escaping one way or another.

So you, as a worried parent, decided to put a camera in their room so you could figure out how they got out.

After that (semi)peaceful night when you slept through the night, only to be woken at five in the morning due to a loud yelp from Stella when Steve had rolled onto her.

Waking up instantly, you ran to their room to watch the video, curious how they were able to escape their room.

As you were plugging the camera into your laptop, Steve came up behind you, a hand on your shoulder and a kiss on the cheek. You heard the little pitter-patter of tiny feet and the click-clacking of your dog, Dodger’s, toenails on the hardwood floors.

Once the video popped up, you sped through the dark video until you saw movement, at around 1:45 am.

There was something moving around down near the floor of the crib, which you realized to be Dodger. He scratched at the crib once or twice, then a little curly-haired head popped up from where they were sleeping and began to shake the other twin.

Then, they began to lift themselves over the edge of the crib, then from there they would step on Dodger’s back, then down to the floor.

You and Steve were in pure shock.

There weren't two little heathens escaping, it was two little heathens and an enabler.

While Steve was less than pleased at the thought of this being a nightly occurrence, you couldn’t help but shake with laughter at the video, which you rewinded, watched, then rewinded again.

“How are you laughing?” Steve asked, “They could have hurt themselves or broken Dodger’s back!”

“First of all, they weigh like 30 pounds, so I don’t think they’d break the dog’s back,” You chuckled at Steve’s accusations. “Second of all, will you relax for a minute and find the humor in this? They are just like you, all irresponsible and shit,”

“Wha--” Steve’s eyes widened, “I’m an adult! I’m not irresponsible!”

“Well Bucky said that as a child, you were a heathen, just like those little children over there, which are fully yours, I was an angel!”

“I doubt it!”

“Call my mom and ask, I didn’t do anything bad until I was in middle school!”

“What did you do in middle school?” Steve asked, confused.

“I punched a kid so hard that I broke his nose,” You said with a smile, which did put Steve on edge a bit.

“Ok…”

You both left the video alone for the rest of the day.

As a family, you made breakfast, which was mostly Steve making pancakes and you and the girls eating as much as you could without him noticing (he noticed).

After breakfast, you all got ready and went out to a farmer’s market, dressing casual and comfortable, along with Steve’s absurd excuse for a disguise.

(“A hat and sunglasses do nothing for you, Steven!”

“It’s worked this long!”

“You get noticed every time we leave the house!”)

Nevertheless, with two toddlers, your life was never easy or calm, but you enjoyed their antics and all that came with it.

The other avengers also enjoyed the twin’s antics, given you would send them photos and videos all the time.

Though, the best thing was when you got home, and sent the video to the team, and, not even two minutes later, Bucky called you, explaining the time Steve climbed over the school fence to skip class and got stuck at the top, meaning he had to get a laughing Bucky to catch him when he fell.

Steve claims it never happened.

You, trying to diffuse the situation, pulled Steve onto the couch, cuddling him into you.

It was nice and calm before two little bodies attacked from either side, making a big cuddle pile.

You’d never give this up, though. Your perfect little family.

No matter how crazy and hectic they were, you’d always love them.

Because terrible comes in twos, but you and Steve were prepared for the worst.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 24: Helen Richardson

It’s been almost five hours that Helen has been making the rounds of this particular house. It’s a Grade II listed building, which means that on top of the usual bankers, executives, dentists, and barristers traipsing through, she has a few people she’s fairly certain can’t afford the building but who are clearly interested in what a historic home that can be lived in might look like, despite the fact that the interior has been redone several times. She’s a little more brusque with them than the others—nothing that can be complained about, of course, just on the off-chance they are actually able and, more importantly, willing to buy it, but there’s no point in wasting her time on someone she won’t earn a commission from.

She checks her list. She has one last viewing scheduled for the afternoon, and she frowns slightly at the entry. She’s not certain how to pronounce the last name, which instantly puts her on edge, and she’s a little bit annoyed that whoever put together her appointment schedule didn’t proofread it before they printed it.

It’s only when she answers the door that she realizes that her list is actually meant to say Dr. and Mr. Walter Koskiewicz.

“Ms. Richardson?” one of the two men says. His voice is far more polished and refined than she would have expected. He’s neatly dressed in a pearl-grey button-down, tailored black pants, and a discreet but expensive-looking watch. His bearing is assured and confident, and despite the warm smile on his face, he moves like a man accustomed to obedience, respect, and wielding a decent amount of power.

Still, Helen is hard-pressed to keep her distaste from showing. The man’s silver-streaked dark hair is longer than she thinks is decent for someone in a position of authority and worn in a style more appropriate to a twenty-something entrepreneur running an experimental tech start-up than the middle-aged academic he appears (she guesses the “doctor” title is more in the nature of a Ph.D. than a medical degree). He’s also covered in scars, round and slightly ridged, pale against his brown skin, and she can’t even begin to guess where they came from, but it’s probably not something she wants to even think about, let alone know about.

And then there’s his…husband?

They’re an odd-looking couple, to be sure. The second man is at least a head taller than the first and decidedly fatter—Helen thinks uncharitably of an illustration in the book of nursery rhymes she had as a child depicting Jack Spratt and his wife—with blue eyes and fair skin dusted with freckles. His hair is short and curly, a mix of caramel and white, which is the only clue that he’s probably around the same age as the other man. He doesn’t hold himself with the same assurance and authority; while he’s smiling as well, he actually seems more than a little nervous. He’s dressed just as neatly and professionally as the first man, but he’s clinging to the first man’s arm very tightly. She can’t tell if it’s out of nerves or possessiveness or what, and she almost wants to tell him that she’s not interested in his man.

Instead, she schools her expression as best as she can. “Yes, I’m Helen Richardson.” Normally she would ask if they are the last name on her list, but she doesn’t really want to try and pronounce it, so she simply waits.

“I’m Dr. Walter Koskiewicz,” the first man says smoothly, holding out his hand. It bears the same round scars as his face, with the addition of what looks like the remains of a severe burn on his hand, which makes Helen extremely reluctant to touch it. “This is my husband Kieran. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Charmed,” Helen says. She accepts his hand for a perfunctory shake and keeps her professional smile on her face despite the somewhat unpleasant feel of the thing. She ought to offer her hand to the other as well, but frankly she just wants to get this over. “Shall we begin the tour?”

“Of course.” Is it her imagination, or does Dr. Koskiewicz sound slightly disappointed?

Helen launches into the by-now familiar script as she begins showing the two men around the house. Dr. Koskiewicz makes several remarks that seem rather banal to her regarding the decor, and she finds herself wondering what his field is. She can’t place what Mr. Koskiewicz does for a living, either. She’d almost suspect he was simply arm candy if he was younger and fitter, but unless he’s let himself go to seed a great deal, there has to be a reason beyond that they married. And in her experience, most men whose trophy wives no longer meet a certain standard of attractiveness obtain divorces and trade in for a newer model. It may be different for gay men, though—how would she know? Of course, Dr. Koskiewicz isn’t exactly a beauty prize himself, and considering this house is on the lower end of the pricing spectrum for the sorts of places Helen usually shows, he likely isn’t as well-off as all that, comparatively. So it’s entirely possible he simply doesn’t want to rid himself of an old spouse until he’s lined up a new one.

It’s also possible that they’re actually in love, but Helen wouldn’t know about that either.

As they approach the kitchen, she begins mentally wagering with herself on whether or not they are actually interested in purchasing the house. Usually the kitchen is where the distinction comes in. It’s had all modern appliances and new counters and cabinets put in, so generally speaking, the people who are only there for curiosity’s sake start asking questions about when it was renovated and how permission was obtained and what it looked like before (Helen has no idea; the renovations were done some years ago, per the specs, and she wasn’t even working for Wolverton Kendrick then) and, often, rant about destroying the historical significance of the house, even though it’s only a Grade II. At least it enables her to weed them out as having an intent to buy before they see what’s been done to the upstairs. The serious buyers will peer in but not usually show much interest in it, considering most of them have someone to do the cooking for them, or else comment on the colors or the brand of the appliances.

She doesn’t tell the two men this, of course, only gives them the standard patter about the timing of the upgrades as she leads them in to show them the door to the back garden. Dr. Koskiewicz checks in the doorway and turns to his husband. “It’s a bit narrow. Do you want to go first?”

“You go ahead,” Mr. Koskiewicz says. It’s the first thing he’s said since he came into the house, and his voice definitely isn’t as polished as the doctor’s. Helen wonders if he’s an academic as well, just not as highly distinguished a one—a librarian, maybe? He also has a faint accent she can’t quite place. She can’t tell if they’re both foreign and Dr. Koskiewicz just had better teachers, or if, odd as it may seem, Dr. Koskiewicz chose to take his less-impressive husband’s surname rather than whatever name he had before. “Just warn me before you stop.”

“Of course.” Dr. Koskiewicz kisses him on the cheek, then moves forward to follow Helen.

She watches Mr. Koskiewicz for a moment, and then it hits her all of a sudden. He’s blind. She didn’t notice at first because of his glasses—clear glass, not sunglasses—and his eyes look, well, normal, not cloudy or scarred like she might have expected. The fact that he can pass himself off as a normal person bothers her, for some reason. However, the couple appears to be in the class of being able to afford the house, so she’s not going to risk saying something that might offend him, or his husband. She merely continues with her spiel.

“What are the schools like in the area?” Mr. Koskiewicz asks as they come back in from the back garden. The question makes Helen miss a step. The sorts of people who usually buy homes from Wolverton Kendrick normally have their children taught at home, and the older ones tend to get sent away to boarding school. It’s so unheard-of for her to get that question that she hasn’t even bothered to familiarize herself with the answer.

“How old are your children?” she asks, to buy herself a bit of time while she sneaks a quick glance at the folder. Surely there’s something in there about area schools. Surely.

“Oh, we don’t have any yet,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. “At the moment, it’s only the two of us and the cat. We’ve begun the application process to adopt, though, and we’re hoping to be matched soon. It’s why we’re looking at homes. Our current living situation is spacious enough, I suppose, but…not necessarily somewhere you’d want to raise a child. Or children, as the case may be. We’re hoping for more than one, at some point.”

“Well, then, you’ll have time to select the right schools.” Helen manages to find the data on local primary schools and reads off the statistics in her file. She tries to make it sound like she already knew the information, but the steady look Dr. Koskiewicz gives her makes her suspect he knows she was unprepared for it, which makes her tense and a little angry. It’s not her fault they chose to ask about something so unusual.

As they head up the stairs, she decides to fish about a bit for some information. The problem is that she still isn’t confident that she’ll pronounce their name properly, and the last thing she wants is to be condescended to. That’s the way with these academic types, she’s often found; they have a little bit of power and wield it like a weapon, especially over a woman or someone they perceive to be beneath them. So in order to get the information she wants, she’ll need to come at it sideways.

“Are you at Kings College?” she asks, casually, trying to sound as if she doesn’t care one way or another if he does.

“No, I work in Chelsea,” Dr. Koskiewicz replies. At first she thinks that’s all she’s going to get, but after a moment, he adds, “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Magnus Institute?”

Helen isn’t, not really, but she’ll chew off her own arm before she admits that. It never goes over well with clients when you profess ignorance of their profession; they always get offended if they think you should have heard of them, or at least what they do, and you haven’t. Besides, she doesn’t want to wind up in the middle of a history lesson on a non-profit or a think tank or whatever the Magnus Institute qualifies as. Best to hedge her bets. “Quite a prestigious institution,” she says in as neutral a voice as she can.

“You might say it’s outstanding in its field,” Mr. Koskiewicz says. His voice is almost as bland and neutral as Helen’s.

“It’s where we met,” Dr. Koskiewicz informs Helen. She glances over his shoulder to see him smile at Mr. Koskiewicz in a way that makes her stomach turn over. “I was hired as a researcher, he was in the library.”

Helen feels a slight stab of vindication—she was right about Mr. Koskiewicz—but it’s layered with a veneer of disgust about the whole situation. This isn’t the sort of neighborhood that would normally welcome people like them, she doesn’t think. Some of these high-end neighborhoods are getting a bit more diverse, but these two are a bit much all at once. She’ll admit that Mr. Koskiewicz seems normal enough, at least to all outward appearances, but he’s very clearly the less powerful of the two, and his blindness is definitely a point against him.

Upstairs in the home are four rooms designated as bedrooms, and used as such by the current owners, but which can also be studies or something similar if need be. She delivers the usual speech extolling the virtues of the rooms. Mr. Koskiewicz is listening rather intently, but to her surprise and slight annoyance, Dr. Koskiewicz seems distracted. He keeps examining every door intently, peering into the spaces in between, like he’s looking for evidence of woodworm or wants to see the details of the construction. There’s something a bit unsettling about it.

“Calm down, serce, you’re going to give me a headache,” Mr. Koskiewicz murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I know, it’s—” Dr. Koskiewicz sighs and squeezes his husband’s hand before turning to Helen. “Ms. Richardson. Have you ever noticed…something unusual in this house? Or any house you were showing? Like…a door that shouldn’t be there?”

“I’m…sorry?” Helen says cautiously. She’s had some weird questions asked before. She’s been asked about whether or not a basement can be made watertight (not waterproof, the client had insisted, he wanted to fill the basement with water and have a subterranean swimming pool and wanted to know if it was possible). She’s been asked about a room’s suitability for rituals to the Old Gods and about whether it contained enough space for an exorcism. She’s been asked if homes are haunted, if any murders have taken place in them, and if they might have secret tunnels used by robbers or counterfeiters. But being asked if she’s ever seen a door that shouldn’t be there? That’s new.

“It’s not a trick question, Ms. Richardson. Have you ever encountered a door in a place you weren’t expecting—yellow, perhaps?”

Okay, this is definitely weird. And a yellow door? Why is he being so emphatic about it? Her smile is slipping. The worst of it is that Helen doesn’t know the right answer. The truth, of course, is that she has no idea what he’s talking about. Of course she hasn’t seen any appearing or disappearing doors. She deals firmly in reality. She’s never seen a ghost, never spotted a UFO, never met anyone possessed by a demon. She doesn’t believe in magic, or have much truck with religion—she goes to church services with her mother on Christmas and Easter, but that’s about it, and she’s not sure how much of it she actually buys into. Certainly she’s never seen a door that wasn’t exactly where the house plan said it should be.

But she’s also usually fairly good at judging why a client is asking about such things. Some of the people who ask about murders or hauntings are fearful. Others are hopeful. The answer is almost always actually no, especially if it’s about the supernatural, but when she senses a client who will pay extra to be haunted or to be able to claim a salacious history to their new home, she’ll make something up, then jot it down after the client leaves just in case someone else asks before the first client commits to the sale. Very, very occasionally, there is an actual alleged haunting attached to the house—and once she really did have a house on the market that may have been lived in by a serial killer during the height of his crimes—but she’s good at spinning the story properly whether it’s something the owners disclosed to her or she made it up on the spot. The trouble is that she doesn’t know if Dr. Koskiewicz wants this alleged door to be there or not.

After a heartbeat, she decides on honesty. Frankly, she doubts they’re actually going to buy the house, regardless of what she says. At least this way she doesn’t have to pretend to have seen an unexpected door, be asked to describe it, and get caught out in a lie. That won’t do much for her credibility, or her commissions. You never know what kind of influence people actually have and they might spread around that she can’t be trusted.

“I can’t say that I have, Dr…” She trails off as she realizes she still doesn’t know how to pronounce his name properly.

“Koskiewicz,” Mr. Koskiewicz supplies. He’s studying Helen intently, making her wonder if she was wrong about him being blind…but no, he’s just looking in her direction, but seeming to focus on a point slightly to the left of her. It’s actually more than a little creepy and she wishes he would stop. “That’s a good thing, Ms. Richardson. A very good thing.”

“Please, allow me to explain,” Dr. Koskiewicz says, sliding his arm around Mr. Koskiewicz’s waist. “We at the Magnus Institute study the paranormal and the supernatural. One of the phenomena I have been studying involves this…door that keeps turning up unexpectedly. You might say it’s a rather persistent haunting. And it’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

“I see,” Helen says politely. She hopes he’s not about to lecture her. There is nothing she finds less enjoyable than an academic explaining his pet project or particular area of study to her. She would, in complete honesty, rather jam a sharp stick into her eardrums. And the paranormal? Definitely not an area she has any interest in. The historians she can just about tolerate, as she occasionally learns something worth sharing about a house she’s showing that can bump up the price if the right party hears it. But she really isn’t sure she can sell a haunted door as a feature. Unless this mysterious door comes with a ghost of some kind, but really, that seems a bit ludicrous. And there’s no guarantee it would be tied to any one particular house. There’s no resale value in it.

“But you haven’t seen anything like that,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. “You’re certain?”

“Very,” Helen says firmly. “I would remember.”

Dr. Koskiewicz studies her, then nods. “Good. Very good. I’d hate to raise a child in a house with that hanging about.” He laughs and adds, “I’m not altogether certain the Professor would be all that thrilled with it, either.”

Helen raises an eyebrow before she can catch herself. “Ah, if you have an adult housemate, this room right here also has an en-suite bathroom. Not as grand as the master suite, of course, but certainly private and well-appointed.”

“The Professor is our cat,” Mr. Koskiewicz says with a smile. “I doubt he needs a whole room to himself, but we do appreciate your point. Perhaps a room for an oldest child.”

“Perhaps,” Dr. Koskiewicz agrees, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards. “Someday.”

Unbelievably, there’s still a chance Helen can make this sale. She still isn’t sure she wants to, but there’s a chance. She slips back into the familiar patter, rattling off the specs and amenities of the house and neighborhood. Now that they’ve dealt with the ridiculous question about an unexpected yellow door, it’s a lot easier.

She winds down the spiel as they head down the steps. Dr. Koskiewicz asks several questions, more normal ones than asking about the supernatural or the paranormal, and from the sorts of things he asks, she thinks she gleans a bit more information about the pair of them. Certainly enough to tailor her closing speech properly, anyway. It’s something she prides herself on. She tends to get the bigger commissions from her employers because she can sell houses most people have given up on, at a higher price than the seller is asking, by targeting specific things about the potential buyers—either something they’ve shown interest in regarding the house, or something they’ve let slip about themselves that she can exploit. Admittedly, she’s prone to occasionally exaggerating a teeny bit, and sometimes downplaying things she can be sure won’t show up as a hit on a pre-sale inspection, but nobody’s ever come back to complain about it. As long as the company does well out of it, nobody really cares.

She delivers the closing remarks, highlighting those things she thinks they’ll be drawn to, and talks up the amenities. She decides not to mention her concerns about how well-received they would be in the neighborhood, since neither of them looks like they belong; if they buy the house and find out their neighbors are going to make their lives miserable, well, that’s not really on her, and maybe she’ll get the listing if they decide to resell. Not that she’s necessarily hoping for that, but hey, a commission is a commission.

“Contact me if you decide you want to buy,” she finally says, handing Dr. Koskiewicz her card. He studies it for a moment, then pulls out a leather wallet and tucks the card inside. “I understand you’ll need to think this over, but if you’re interested, you may want to hurry. There was a couple in this morning willing to put in an offer.”

It’s a lie, of course; these two are the most intent viewers she’s shown the house to yet, and nobody’s made an offer. The house also hasn’t been on the market very long. But she’s learned that dangling that bit of bait often gets people to put in a higher offer. The owners want two and a quarter million, but she wonders if she can get these two to go to two and a half or maybe even more. She might even be able to get them up to three, which of course means a bonus for her.

“I can assure you that you’ll be the first to know, once we’ve talked it over,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. He holds out his hand. “Thank you very much, Ms. Richardson.”

“Of course.” Helen gives him her most professional smile and accepts his hand, trying not to wince at the feel of the scar tissue against her palm. She means to give it another quick shake and move on, but he tightens his grip slightly, holding her still, and stares at her intensely. It’s extremely uncomfortable.

“Please be careful,” he says quietly. “And if you do run into…anything unusual…I urge you to come to the Institute. You’ve been so kind to us. It’s the least we can do.”

Helen has no idea what he means, or what she should be worried about. And she doesn’t feel like she’s been especially kind, unless the other real estate agents they’ve dealt with have been more openly hostile about their foreignness and their homosexuality and his scars and his husband’s disability. But she’s not stupid enough to say that out loud.

“I assure you,” she says, fighting to keep her smile in place. “If anything unusual happens, you will be the first to know.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Koskiewicz releases her hand, but he keeps staring at her intently.

Mr. Koskiewicz holds out his hand uncertainly in her direction. “Thank you for being so helpful and direct. It’s refreshing to not feel…misled.”

Helen accepts his hand uncertainly, but honestly, after the doctor’s, it’s a relief—soft and fleshy to be sure, but he doesn’t grip overly hard, and it’s not as dry or, well, corrupted. Still, she’s a little unnerved by his statement, or more accurately by the way he says it, like it’s some sort of joke she doesn’t get. “Certainly. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I wasn’t.” She takes a half-step back and manages another smile. “Have a nice evening.”

“You as well.” Dr. Koskiewicz takes Mr. Koskiewicz’ arm and leads him to the door.

Helen, as is her habit, walks them to the door and watches them head down the path. Then, unable to stand it, she quickly hurries after them and peeps through a gap in the privacy fence sheltering the front garden. She doesn’t know much about cars and isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but the battered, ancient Ford Escort isn’t it.

She stares, utterly gobsmacked, as Dr. Koskiewicz opens the door for Mr. Koskiewicz, then goes around to get in the driver’s seat. The engine coughs and chokes for a moment before it catches and the car pulls away. It somehow doesn’t fit with the image she cultivated of the two of them. Either they have less money than she thought, or they have as much money as they do because they don’t spend a lot of money on new vehicles.

Either way, she thinks, glancing at her watch, her appointments are over for the day. She’s free until eight o’clock tomorrow morning and can go get something to eat, and she decides then and there that she is going to have a martini. Maybe two.

She rather thinks she’s earned them. Even if she doesn’t make a commission off of this one.

[supercasey]

TMA Fankids

Exactly one (1) person enabled me to post this, so here we are

JON/MARTIN KIDS

Name: Sebastian Timothy Blackwood-Sims Gender: Transman Age: 14 Appearance: Long black hair, dark brown eyes, dark skinned (African), paints his nails a lot (usually black or purple), wears a lot of oversized hoodies and leather jackets, almost always wears sweatpants, wears goth makeup because fuck you, etc. Personality: Is way too much like Jon according to everyone, but he's got Martin's softness and high empathy. Gets really anxious if he has to socialize a lot, so his dads try to make sure he has a lot of alone time when he needs it. Acts like a little punk, but he loves his younger siblings to death. Can see ghosts, and has been seeing and talking to someone named “Gerry” since he was about three or so (it worries Martin, but Jon is secretly happy about it). (Marked by the Lonely/Eye)

Name: Millicent “Millie” Georgie Blackwood-Sims Gender: Ciswoman Age: 13 Appearance: Long black hair, striking grey eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/African), wears a lot of leather jackets and short skirts, always has the coolest socks, usually has at least a few bandages on her knees, wears glasses (round frames), ties a lot of ribbons in her hair, etc. Personality: Very goth despite only being thirteen years old (makes Auntie Melanie proud). Surprisingly enough takes more after Martin than Jon, but she definitely has Jon's curiosity. Loves hanging out with Sebastian when she can. Also quite introverted, but she makes friends really easily. She likes hanging out with her dads sometimes, but she doesn't share many of their interests. Loves all things biology. (Marked by the Eye)

Name: Franklin “Frank” James Blackwood-Sims Gender: Cisman Age: 9 Appearance: Short orange hair, bright green eyes, pale skinned (Caucasian), covered head to toe in freckles, wears glasses (round frames) but they're almost always cracked (much to Jon's frustration), has a gap between his front teeth, wears a lot of outdoorsy gear and shorts, insists on wearing his safari explorer hat everywhere he goes, etc. Personality: Absolute wild child; he wants to play sports and run around outside as much as he can, something neither of his dads can relate to, but they encourage him to pursue his interests and be his own person. He really wants to be an explorer of some kind when he grows up, and he adores animals with all his heart. Very extroverted. (Marked by the Vast/Eye)

Name: Sasha Hope Blackwood-Sims Gender: Ciswoman Age: 6 Appearance: Dark brown hair, light brown eyes, covered in dark freckles, mixed race (Caucasian/African), wears a lot of light greens and blues, loves wearing princess themed dresses, carries her stuffed T-Rex “Mr. Chompy” everywhere she goes, has a lot of hairbands, wears glasses (round frames), etc. Personality: She's still pretty young, so she's obviously only just beginning to become more of her own person/have a personality, but so far she's taking a lot after Jon and follows him around everywhere he goes. She looks and acts a lot like OG!Sasha, not that her dads know this. What's more concerning, however, is that she reportedly keeps seeing a big, green eye in her dreams, something she seems frightened by. (Marked by the Web/Eye)

BASIRA/DAISY

Name: Kingsley Bruno Hussain-Tonner Gender: Cisman Age: 15 Appearance: Tall as all hell, long dark red hair, even darker brown eyes, mixed race (Latinx/Arab), has a scar running down the right side of his head, wears (Daisy’s) his mom’s old leather jacket around, has the most torn up jeans known to man, wears glasses, always has bandages around his knuckles, refuses to wears shoes/socks, etc. Personality: Born rebel. He’s been getting into trouble since he could walk, and he can’t help but take pride in that. Good friends with Sebastian, even if he thinks he’s a bit too nervous for his own good. Loves wrestling with Daisy whenever she’s willing to. Teases his sister a lot. Bit of an asshole, but he’s got a heart of gold under all that angst. (Marked by the Hunt)

Name: Rosalina Melanie Hussain-Tonner Gender: Ciswoman Age: 12 Appearance: Light brown hair (shaved off), dark brown eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Arab), wears glasses (square frames), prefers wearing sweaters and gym shorts despite them looking weird together, has over a million pins on her backpack/purse, carries first aid supplies on her at all times, refuses to wear shoes/socks, etc. Personality: Almost the exact opposite of her older brother. Very down to earth and chill; she honestly hates it when her bro tries to drag her into shenanigans. Prefers sports over books, and she really wants to form/join a sports team of pretty much any kind. Can beat her brother in a fight, much to his frustration. Bit of a Mama’s Girl for Daisy. (Marked by the End)

MELANIE/GEORGIE

Name: Bethany “Annie” Willow King-Barker Gender: Ciswoman Age: 9 Appearance: Second tallest of the triplets, short red hair (curly), bright green eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), her face and arms are absolutely covered in dark freckles, wears the most oversized sweaters, sweatpants are the best pants, etc. Personality: The firstborn of the triplets, Beth has a very no nonsense attitude, yet she still follows her siblings into all kinds of shenanigans (mostly because she goes along with whatever Matilda says). Pretty put together, but she's an eccentric bookworm and would much rather sit inside and read than play outside. (Marked by the Eye)

Name: Matilda Joy King-Barker Gender: Transwoman Age: 9 Appearance: Tallest of the triplets, long blonde hair, light brown eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), wears jeans with a skirt, has ballerina shoes (wears them damn near everywhere), tank tops are the best shirts ever invented, wears a ginormous adventurer’s backpack everywhere, always has some kind of big ribbon in her hair, etc. Personality: The secondborn of the triplets, Matilda is almost always the leader and insists that her siblings follow her along on adventures. She's very protective of her siblings (especially little Eddy), but also won't hesitate to dropkick them. Fairly outdoorsy. Has a great talent for solving puzzles and tests. Low-key hates Aunt Daisy for unspecified reasons. (Marked by the Hunt)

Name: Leonard “Leo” Grant King-Barker Gender: Transman Age: 9 Appearance: Shortest of the triplets (yes he’s mad about it), short brown hair, dark green eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), wears shorts most of the time, every piece of clothing he has is torn in some way, has army boots, always brings a backpack with him places, wears glasses (square frames), etc. Personality: The thirdborn of the triplets, Leo is very introverted yet also very outdoorsy, often running around at all hours of the day and as far away from everyone as possible. Loves his big sisters, but he prefers hanging out with Frank when the Blackwood-Sims kids come over. Kinda cowardly if we're being honest, but he'll jump into danger if it means protecting his family and friends. (Marked by the Vast)

Name: Edwin “Eddy” Oliver King-Barker Gender: Cisman Age: 4 Appearance: Short black hair, light brown eyes that flash green when he’s upset, dark skinned (African), has a huge scar running from one corner of his mouth all the way down to the middle of his chest, can’t stand wearing short-sleeved shirts (unless he has a hoodie/sweater over them), hunches in on himself a lot, carries his stuffed cat “Cheshire” everywhere he goes, etc. Personality: Very, very introverted. Has a thousand-mile stare. Selectively mute; has never spoken a word to anyone. He clings to both of his moms whenever he gets the chance, but if they’re not around, he’ll follow his siblings wherever they go. Can and will bite you if you try to touch/hug him without his consent. Has definitely seen some scary shit in his dreams, even if he can’t talk about it. (Marked by the Dark/End/Eye)

[sherlollydramoine]

Detroit

Prompt 15: “not interested, thank you”

Fandom: Rami Malek/Need for Speed Movie

Pairing: Finn X Reader

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Predatory Male Character (don’t worry–he gets his), Fist fight.

Here’s the follow up that was much requested to Broken Promises (HERE). Didn’t have time to edit this so please don’t mind my mistakes.

It had been just over a year since you’d walked out of his life away from everything that you’d ever know to start fresh. A good friend of yours from college worked for some big time corporation in Detroit whom upon hearing about what had happened and your need to start fresh had recommended you for a position. Everything was a blur after the interview having been basically hired on the spot and you needed to move quickly. The company itself owned several apartment buildings and was able to provide you housing for six months until you’d been able to secure one on your own. They’d been generous in allowing you three weeks to start, which enabled you to gather the remnants of your life with Finn, and put them on a truck.

You’d been unable to face him without feeling some kind of guilt. You did just walk out offering no explanation, after angrily expressing your frustration with his broken promises. Once you’d left there was no going back for you, you’d purposely fallen out of touch with everyone to avoid any updates on Finn. 

“Hey, YN, boss needs you to run some files down to the second office,” your co-worker and roommate Alicia informed you as she perches herself on the corner of your desk crossing her legs over each other, her heel clacking against the faux wooden front of your desk. You kept clacking away at the business email you’d needed to finish typing, hitting spell check, then sending it off to digital transmission land.

Looking up at her nodding your head, you hated this corporate job with every fiber of your being, but it more than adequately paid your bills. Alicia was the only friend you’d made since your move to Detroit. The two of you bonded quickly over the fact that in the main office of this company, you were only two of three women.

 “Yeah, sure I’ll run em down anyway since I’m out to lunch in about ten minutes anyway. Anybody need anything from the other office while I’m there?” you ask, you hated going down there. The fellas who were employed in the secondary office were far less refined than those on the top floor and were prone to make rude or outright lewd comments. The only man in the other office that never was rude or lewd was the actual office manager Doug, a kind man in his late forties that had a wife and four children.

“I don’t think so. At least no one has said anything to me about it. There is something you could do for me though?”

“Yeah sure Leesh what is it?”

“Could you give me the scoop on one of the newer guys down there? I heard some rumblings that he was gorgeous. Can’t remember his name though, Jen said he was kind of flirty in a goofy way and he talked about cars a lot.”

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, you agree to give her the scoop on the new hire, though a small part of you felt sad. That description could fit any number of men but it also aptly described your ex and it made your heartache a little bit. She wasn’t sure what cubicle he was located in but you figured it probably wouldn’t be overly tough to spot them. New hires were easy to spot: Ill-fitting suits, slightly tense, and they never seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Alicia gives you a big smile and then ambles away back towards her desk buzzing her boss to make sure that he had the files ready to go for her. You watch as she disappears into her boss’s office for a couple of minutes reappearing with a stack of manila files in her hand.

“Here ya go, darling. The top six files need to go to HR and then the rest go to Doug. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Pushing back from your desk and standing up, taking a moment to stretch as it had been way too long since you’d seated hunched over a computer answering emails for the last several hours. Taking the files from your friend you trek towards the elevator bank humming a song that had been stuck in your head. Dropping off the necessary files to HR and then getting back on the lift to drop off the last stack downstairs before your lunch break.

“Hey Doug,” you said with a friendly smile. “These are all yours,” you say as you set the large stack of manila folders stuffed to the gills with who knows what paperwork in his ‘INCOMING’ tray.

“Thanks YN, how’s it going upstairs?”

“Oh you know, the same ole same ole. I just do as I’m told,” you laugh out. You start walking back towards the door, “Anyway, I gotta go but let me know if there is anything that you need from upstairs.”

As you walk out of Doug’s office you catch a glimpse of a man with very familiar curly hair and your heart drops. You couldn’t help but stare thinking maybe you’ve hallucinated or if this was really happening. The man must have felt your eyes on him because when he looked up both of you gasped in shock.

You didn’t wait around for him to react instead sprinting down the corridor to the elevator. Trying to calm your breathing as you rode the elevator down to the main level of the building, walking across the marbled floors, and out the door as fast as you could.

What the fuck is he doing here? You thought. How fucking dare he come all the way to Detroit. He has no business being here.

After your second cup of coffee, you came to the realization that It didn’t matter as you likely weren’t going to see each other very often, you could do this. You were an adult after all. Instead of grabbing lunch, you grab another coffee and then head back upstairs to your office deciding to cut your lunch break short.

The rest of your day was spent working furiously not even realizing when it was quitting time until Alicia tapped on your desk with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Bitch, we’re going out!”

“Do I have to Leesh?”

“Yes, yes, you do. You never did give me the deets on the new guy. Is he as handsome and flirty as Jen said he was?”

“Yeah. He is, he’s also my fucking ex,” you respond dryly, watching her face morph from curious to curiouser. 

Grabbing your bag and following her to the elevator making the quick decision that you’d go out. If there was ever a time when you needed a strong drink and some possible casual sex, it was tonight.

 Alicia ends up taking you to one of your usual spots. As was common for the place it was crowded and loud full of other ‘suits’ wanting a little bit of fun on a Friday night. After scoring you both a prime spot to hang, she flings her bag onto the seat next to you and flounces off. Her red curly hair bouncing as she dances along to the beat of some heavily auto-tuned pop song that was blaring through the speakers. 

Sitting back in your chair watching the random groups of people taking shots, sipping beers, out for nothing but another convivial Friday night.

In your observations, you failed to notice when Finn walked in with a group of co-workers still in his suit and tie. He fidgets nervously with his tie, loosening it while talking to one of your other co-workers.

Just then Alicia re-appeared with a small tray of assorted shots carefully setting it down to avoid sloshing the amber colored liquid over the shot glasses. 

“Uh-oh babe, looks like you’re in for a heck of a time tonight,” she warns, tilting her head in the direction of Finn.

You look up in time to see Finn walk past your table, your eyes briefly catching before you lower yours, grab a drink off the tray, and slam it back. 

“Fuck this night!” you yell out, grabbing another drink and repeating. Twenty minutes and five shots later you were definitely feeling good. 

Grinding against Alicia on the dance floor giggling with each other forgetting all about the issue of your ex being in the same space as you. 

Leaving the dance floor behind under the guise of thirst, Alicia goes back to the table while you grab another round of drinks. While waiting an attractive man you’ve never seen before turns to you to strike up conversation apparently, not really wanting to deal with any of that you turn your body away. Dealing with men right now was not necessarily high on your list of priorities since you were already a few shots deep.

“Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink?” the stranger asks. 

“Not interested, thank you,” was the only thing you could think of to say. Inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded but at the moment you couldn’t be fucked to care.

“C’mon, what could it hurt? It’s just one drink,” he responds with a tone that made you suddenly angry.

“Yeah? One drink? And then what, mister? Then another one, and another until you’ve got me so drunk that you can take me home and use me in whatever way you see fit because somehow I owe you something. No, no, no. I don’t want your fucking drink!” you were yelling now stamping your feet looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a crowded club, and the handsome stranger had the nerve to look pissed off.

“Now gorgeous that-”

“She said no man, why don’t you leave her alone,”a familiar voice sounded from behind you. 

“Oh and what are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?,”the man challenged.

Rolling your eyes at the sudden testosterone fueled fight that you can feel is about to happen.

“Nothing, I’m just letting you know that my girlfriend isn’t interested in your drinks. She’s an independent woman capable of buying her own.”

The bartender returns with your drinks, eyeing both Finn and the stranger, the aggression radiating off of the both of them. It had been a year but you could clearly see Finn with his chin up in definance, shoulders squared, strong arms tense, and fists balled. A stare down between the two until the man in the suit swung at Finn, hitting him square in the side of the head. 

Finn might be to most men considered small but he was tough, having worked as a mechanic for most of his life. He had way more muscle packed under his suit than it looked like he did. 

Finn stumbled backward, hand coming up to the side of his face where the asshole had struck him. Abandoning your drinks in favor of subduing Finn, you launch yourself at him and doing the only thing in the moment that you could think of to do, you press your mouth to his. It only took his brain approximately three seconds for him to go from aggressive to horny.

His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, you moan into his mouth giving into the warmth of him. The alcohol you’d consumed making your brain foggy, slowly processing what is happening. You break the kiss without warning hoping that whatever the hell that was, the spark that you had felt would fizzle out. 

Forgetting completely about the drinks you make your way back to your table grabbing your bag ignoring the look on Alicia’s face as you then make your way out of the club in a stunned confusion.

“YN?” you heard Finn call out.

You whirl around, nearly stumbling in your half drunken state, ��What Finn?”

“Do you-need some help?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed.

“You know what, why the fuck not.”

You barely remember walking home with Finn in tow but when you woke up in the morning with Finn still in your bed a slow smile spread across your face. There would be worse ways to wake up on a Saturday morning.

[fizzingwizard]

Alright alright alright digimon adventure: episode 21, go!!! Last week I was interested to see if the pretty vague ep 21 preview was gonna be a mostly dull fight type filler ep or if the reason for the vagueness was there was too much plotty stuff going on for them to reveal. It’s the latter, I’m happy to say!

It was really cool!! There was a lot of good stuff so YAY! Anything I write here will be a spoiler but let’s just say that T is a very important letter in the alphabet! multiple Ts, in fact!!

Cap of the day: my boy being AWESOME

Let’s get to it! under the cut as usual

Now last week’s episode was A LOT. We rescued Takeru who no one even knew needed rescuing, gained and then immediately lost the Holy Digimon, got him back in the form of a digi-egg, and then immediately lost THAT too. Honestly I get why it’s Chosen Children and not Chosen Adults - adults would be like “are you KIDDING me all this work with NO PAYOFF I am gonna SUE”

Patamon’s digi-egg has been abducted by this guy... Skullnightmon? It seems he was a Xros Wars character. I had to look him up because at first I tried “Scarlnightmon” because Idk I was thinking Scarlet Night??? like night of blood and death??? idk. and Google tried to autocorrect it to “Scranton.” Uh... yeah. Skullnightmon makes more sense because of the BIG ASS SKULL on his breasplate. -.-;

It occurs to me how little I know about any Digimon series other than Adventure X’D I mean, I’m not gonna do anything to change that, but.... yeah I’m gonna continue to mix up stuff like this. His loyal steed is Darkmaildramon.

Yamato, of course, is immediately like Protective Mode On.

So at first I was a bit worried that this ep was gonna just Move Things Along as usual and Yamato wasn’t going to react to his little bro randomly being in the digital world. Let alone in the clutches of pure evil up until just recently. When you’re caught up in battle it’s admittedly hard to find time to Talk about stuff but COME ON

Fortunately, thought we don’t get a lot of Talking, we do get a bit. Like this cute moment where Takeru tries to explain what happened and Yamato’s just like “We can talk later” and gives him this adorable head pat. Ok, fine. I can live with that. It’s better than nothing xP

They arrive at the creepy castle which Taichi recognizes as the place Ogremon directed them to. It looks very evil and in front of it is a giant equally evil moat.

They also find this sinkhole sort of thing which Takeru promptly rushes over to stand at the very edge.

Yamato: OMG kid I look away for ONE SECOND

le gasp! Takeru finds a shiny feather at the edge of the hole! It’s a sign of the holy digimon! We should go investigate!

Oops first we have to find this gross Garurumon knock off... Its name is Splashmon but I think it should be “MeltedCrayonGarurumon”

Splashmon is apparently also from Xros wars and can turn into liquid and take on the form of other Digimon... I don’t know if he’s always this shit at it though. Maybe being controlled by evil is the reason for all the meltyness because he looks pretty cool in his wikia:

rofl...

Splashmon showers them all with acid rain and Yamato protec baby bro :< *wibble*

He then carries him to safety like this. xP

Yamato: Takeru, hide!

Takeru: This bottomless pit that reeks of evil seems like an ideal hiding spot. Niichan will be so proud

No but seriously... looks like we don’t get cowardly, crybaby Takeru this season. The kids getting to y’know Be Human about stuff is a thing it looks like I’m going to continue to miss in this reboot. But on the other hand, I genuinely DO enjoy Takeru throwing his all into saving Angemon.

Skullnightmon sticks Angemon’s digi-egg here where it gets chained down by evil vines. Very evil. Also seems like overkill, I mean, it’s an egg, what’s it going to do, roll off the platform?

We then switch gears and rejoin the kids in the real world, where Koushirou has, apparently overnight, if not in the last five minutes, created an update for their digivices which enables them to always be in contact with their partner. I don’t really get the details but that appears to be the size of it. We also catch up with Mimi and Jou.

At first I thought this was a school, but no, IT’S MIMI’S HOUSE. She has a PERSONAL CHAUFFEUR. Like, 99 Adventure Mimi was well-off, that was especially clear in 02... but... WOWZA.

Mimi’s parents look as stupid as ever xD I love them. They’re joined by her grandpa. After having been gone for three days with no explanation, Mimi’s parents are just like “Don’t you want to take it easy at home today?” when she says she needs to go out. Mimi’s just like “I gotta do what I gotta do!” (ok she actually quotes her grandpa from back in her intro ep but) and leaves like nothing happened.

.... I think grandpa might be dead. He doesn’t move the whole scene. Doesn’t even change his expression. I guess his mouth is a bit more open but that could just be because rigor mortis hasn’t quite set in

Meanwhile in Jou’s (normal, average) apartment, we meet SHIN-NIISAN!!! He’s as much of a dick as ever. I love him. Jou’s parents were mad because 1) he was gone for three days, 2) he skipped cram school, 3) he lost his textbook. I think Shin’s basically like HECK yeah finally my little bro shows his cool side! So he decides to be an enabler. GOOD, seems like Jou needs someone to be on his side at home ;_;

Their Digimon partners are traveling in the interwebz like... this... -____-;

They end up tracking Calmaramon, who is indeed Calmaramon.

I remember from Frontier when Renamon evolved to Calmaramon everyone gave her SO MUCH GRIEF for not being sexy. Wasn’t there like this whole episode devoted to how beautiful Izumi’s evolutions were and then Calmara the Squid Woman shows up and everyone’s like “ewww gross yuck!!” And ok I know she’s evil here too. But guys I JUST THINK SQUID WOMAN IS WICKED AWESOME OKAY. Like that is a LOOK. Versace take notes.

Like can we get some body positivity??? There is NOTHING wrong with being half-squid. Zephyrmon is not better just because she wears lingerie! Bet she can beat everyone at the swim meet. Also tastes yummy fried or raw with soy sauce.

ok I’m done. I’m serious about loving Calmaramon though. I have so many Frontier issues I totally forgot about >_>;

*cough* so yeah Calmaramon and those little green Digimon virus things take control of some boat and Koushirou’s like Uh-Oh Danger Will Robinson. Piyomon tries to attack with Magical Fire and is surprised, for some reason, when it does not do much. They are very much outnumbered and Calmaramon is clearly a much higher level than them so WHY do they think child-level is gonna be enough??

So this is cool!! Koushirou appears to be learning to read digi-code! He sounds out Calmaramon’s name by himself. We still pretty much have the question of why Taichi could just read digi-code fluently (well, almost? he randomly couldn’t read everything at the fortress if memory serves) and Koushirou has to sound it out... will we get an answer to this or?? Like if it were Takeru or Hikari I’d just assume it’s their Magic Baby powers at work but it was never made clear if just Taichi can read like this or they all can, and now it seems like maybe they all can’t since Koushirou’s trying so hard here...

Meanwhile Takeru...

99 Yamato would never have taken his eyes off Takeru for so long lmao

though it makes more sense if this season’s Takeru is more independent which he seems to be

Splashmon turns out to be really tough to beat, because he’s lost his mind and therefore holds nothing back xP He crushes MetalGreymon and WereGarurumon to the ground, infecting them with miasma.

At this point I was disappointed that Taichi and Yamato were still so clear-headed... like when are you gonna worry about your partner dude?? He gets the Crest of Courage because he’s never felt fear in his life??????

But then, their next move fails and WereGarurumon de-evolves back to Gabumon, while MetalGreymon is still in Splashmon’s clutches. He proceeds to pretty much make MetalGreymon’s arm wither away...

And Taichi FINALLY looks worried. ABOUT TIME.

Takeru has made it to the bottom of the hole, where he is startled to find this giant eye. I would also fall right on my bottom if I suddenly came across a giant eye.

Giant eye seems interested in Takeru’s digivice, so Takeru politely lets him have a look. BLINGGGGGGG.

Giant Eye: Ow ow ow turn it down!!!

Takeru: Sorry it’s LED!!

Taichi runs to rescue MetalGreymon in the... most ineffectual way possible... I love him...

The miasma can even hurt humans, it appears. Even though he’s in pain, Taichi doesn’t give up, and we get to hear Yamato shriek “Taichi!” all scared and adorable-like.

Taichi passionately reminds MetalGreymon about what they’re fighting for and succeeds in motivating him to be less dead.

Taichi: GIMME A V DOT THE I CURLY C T O R Y VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP* VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP*

Yamato: Incredible... so this is the power of a Pep Talk...

Taichi’s Pep causes MetalGreymon’s arm to... fall off... but it’s ok because it sprouts a long wiggly band of light uhhhhhh which then turns into a Giant Gun. So all is well. because MetalGreymon didn’t already have enough guns

MetalGreymon succeeds in defeating Splashmon and we seem some purple crystal sort of thing disappear, my guess is that’s what was controlling him. Agumon falls from midair and Taichi catches him like this.

They cute. They also need a break. Well, Agumon needs a break, I honestly think Taichi doesn’t even have an Off button...

Just when you think things can’t get weirder... Giant Eye appears.

Takeru’s on top of him looking all cool! Till he immediately falls!

Yamato catches him somewhat more adroitly than Taichi caught Agumon xP

The eye belongs to ElDradimon!! I love “animals with worlds on their backs” so this is totally up my ally. My first guess about the eye was that it was gonna be one of the digital sovereigns but this is still pretty cool.

Sooooooo cooooooooool

Yamato doesn’t even lecture Takeru about going off on his own and not hiding like he was told. SO DIFFERENT CANNOT COMPUTE. But looks how happy Takeru is to be praised by his bro for helping ElDradimon. Awww.

I’ve got to now reevaluate how I think things will go down because I really expected Takeru to be something that drives a wedge between Yamato and Taichi. In the old days, Yamato was super protective but Taichi would let Takeru do whatever and Takeru got a little boy crush on him which fed into Yamato’s inferiority complex. But if Yamato’s not overprotective and Takeru is already capable on his own... New directions are good though. I won’t be sorry if they don’t rehash all that BUT I need it to be replaced with something else. Taichi can’t just always be serious, Yamato can’t just always be cool... I like the reboot but I am still on edge about the character stuff.

... Yeah so ElDradimon was mega cool and then... he opened up his VACANT head... bahahaha.... bahahahahahahahahahahaha

So what I really liked about this ep was what I saw as parallels drawn between Taichi and Takeru on the theme of “Do anything to help your partner.” Takeru can’t stop looking for Angemon’s egg, that’s why he goes into the hole after finding the feather. He might not know what’s doing but he’s still gonna do it. Taichi knows a bit more and he’s usually so calculating and strategic, but when MetalGreymon looked on the verge of defeat he threw caution to the wind and tried to save him himself. Okay, not the first time we’ve seen this, true, but it did seem to be the running theme of the episode.

I know I didn’t really talk about how apparently the kids can now update their partners with new powers/gadgets?? by believing in them enough... but y’know that just sounds like the sort of thing a kid’s show would do. I almost miss the card game from Tamers... it would be cool to see the kids have to think and strategically choose what they want to equip their partners with. That was part of the enticement of Tamers, where Adventure was more inexplicable magic, Tamers relied more on intent. Taichi is such a strategist (and of course there’s also freaking Koushirou) that it seems a waste to not involve the kids in the decision making more.

Next week’s ep preivew was a bit hard to follow but 1) the animation looks better than this week thank heaven and 2) it looks like fun. And we get more bamf Takeru! Woot. Can I still say woot in 2020? I can because of senior citizen privilege right?

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 4: a tight-knit family

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a theatre brat to the highest degree (Sorry Roman stans), Remus being Remus, (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please dm me!! This chapter we see a LOT of Patton, a little of Virgil, and some Roman being an ass behaviour. I apologize if this chapter is lackluster, it’s important I promise!! Also I just finished chapter 5...its 3295 of intrulogical fluff 

Pairings: Eventual Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Eventual One-Sided Logicality, Platonic Analogical, Platonic DRLAMP

Word Count: 2269

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer

After a few weeks, not disappointing Remus was a weak reason to be here. 

Though he never considered himself a quitter, god he would love to just quit one thing in his life. The thing being theatre. 

When Thomas arrived Roman bombarded him with questions. Turns out, Logan was cast as Hamilton due to his exceptional rapping. Roman, weaker at rapping but a very confident and strong singer, could provide the extremely skilled vocal performance required by Washington. If Logan were to get sick, Roman would play Hamilton and Remus would hand over Maria’s part to his understudy. Which made sense, of course. The beginnings of rehearsals were, by all means, not entirely awful. They were going to learn the music to the show, song by song. The first problem arises with Logan’s absolutely awful stage fright. After the first run-through of the title number, Alexander Hamilton, Logan almost threw up again. People looked directly at him whenever he sang or rapped. The musical director, Jamahl, assured him it was fine. Jamahl, as nice as he was, would be receiving a solid two on Logan’s chart. It’s okay, Logan, Everyone gets stage fright, Logan. That, quite frankly, sounded like a bunch of bullshit. Especially since every time Logan got too nervous and messed up, Roman laughed from off to his side. 

Which shouldn’t bother him. It really shouldn’t. Except...Well, it was infuriating to be laughed at. For something he can’t control no less. He was ready to ball up his script and pelt him with paper until he stopped being a colossally egotistical idiot. Along with Roman’s frankly abhorrent behaviour, Logan also had to deal with feigning...romantic intimacy. Don’t get him wrong, Patton was a very nice guy. But...how would you feel knowing your first kiss would have to be fake for a theatre production? Bad. You would feel bad. So does Logan. Logan is sick of all of this, and by the end of the second week he finally snaps. 

When he hears that during Helpless he needs to kiss Patton, he doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. Of course, after he does, Roman decides to open his big dumb mouth. 

“What’s wrong, Microsoft nerd? Upset that your first kiss will be on the stage?” 

Patton reels back and glares at Roman almost instantly, opening his mouth to defend Logan, when Logan turns on Roman himself. 

“I am beginning to wonder if you ever just shut up,” Logan snaps, fists balled in anger.

“Because honestly, for the two weeks I have been in this theatre program, you have done nothing but spout off like a tea kettle about to boil over all because I happened to be better than you at one thing. So I am sincerely asking, do you ever shut up?”

Somehow, he has done the impossible. Roman is stunned into silence, his face goes red with anger. 

“How dare-” Is all he manages to get out before Thomas calls for a five-minute break. 

Thomas motions for Logan to come over to him, and he’s still fuming. If he were as dramatic as a certain hoity-toity theatre brat, he would be practically foaming at the mouth. Thomas is an adult, so he tries to pull himself together. 

“I apologize-” 

“Don’t. Roman kinda deserved that,” Thomas says with a smirk, “He’s a great kid, but he has a lot to learn.”

It’s his turn to be shocked into silence, because never in a million years would he expect an adult to enable such an outburst. 

“Really though, Logan, Just try not to let it happen again. I’ll let it slide this time, okay?”

With a nudge to the side and a kind smile, Logan is sent to have his break. 

Roman is quiet for the rest of the day. Logan could not be more pleased. Roman’s anger at him was unjustified and awful, he was overall awful. After today, he would need to add a negative rating to his charts. He doesn’t think he could ever get along with someone like Roman without eventually succumbing to his anger and strangling him. Logan knows his extreme anger is wrong, but Roman was just...just...absolutely, unbelievably, infuriating. Sitting in the lobby waiting for his father like usual, he is approached by Patton. Alone this time, without Virgil. Which is strange. 

“You look like you’re about to rip someone's head off,” Patton giggles out with a sympathetic smile. 

Logan sighs and gives him a little smirk, “My apologies, are you going to be getting a ride with Virgil tonight?”

“No, his dad is picking him up! I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out!”

“I-” Logan thinks on this for a while, then shrugs. It may be for the best. Patton has been very kind, and he has defended him when Roman was being a jerk.

“Sure, let me message my father.”

Patton’s car is a beat-up looking second-hand thing that looks like it rolled out of a dump. Inside, it’s actually very well taken care of. Patton calls the car “Christine” and pats her lovingly. Hanging from the rear-view mirror is a small frog-shaped air freshener that makes the car smell of strawberries. The seats are comfortable, and Patton’s music is sweet. Eventually they pull into a parking lot in a townhouse area, and as they walk down the street Patton waves and says hello to all his neighbours that are outside. 

“You know them all?” 

“Oh, yeah! Lots of them have babysat me, or my sisters! And I’ve babysat for them too!”

Huh. He didn’t know Patton had sisters. Though, the second they enter his house, it’s entirely obvious. 

In the living room, there are three young girls. Patton’s shoes are barely off when the two youngest ones rush him and engulf him in hugs. The older one walks over and smiles at Logan first.

“Hi, which one are you?” She asks, and Patton laughs.

“Delilah Ann! That’s not nice!”

“I’m Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lilah, I’ve heard a lot about you. Mostly ‘cause Pat doesn’t shut up.”

Patton looks a little pouty, but Logan thinks he likes Lilah. She doesn’t look much like Patton at all. Her hair is more wavy than curly, and a very nice strawberry blonde colour. She doesn’t have glasses, and dresses very tomboyish, the only thing that ties them together are their freckled cheeks. She’s only thirteen, but Logan finds her interesting to talk to. While Patton is dealing with the younger ones, she tells him about how she wants to be a mortician and is the smartest in her family. Logan smiles a little while they have a mostly one-sided conversation. 

One thing the siblings have in common is certainly their talkative likability. 

The younger two are put to work on their homework at the dining table, and Patton begins to set up dinner. Logan sits next to the girls at the table, Delilah retreating to her room, chatting with Patton as he cooks. He offered to help but was denied at every turn. Something about him being a guest, and how he shouldn’t have to. They’re discussing their roles in the play when the youngest slams her head against the table dramatically.

“Patton! I don’t wanna do this anymore!” She whines, Patton puts some potatoes in a pot then brushes off his hands on his apron. 

“Do you need help, or do you need a break?” 

“Help!”

Logan peers over her paper and sees a bunch of simple multiplication questions, she must only be in second or third grade. 

He clears his throat, “If you’d like, I could help you.”

“Oh! Oh! Yes! Patton can Logan help me please!” 

Patton agrees, despite obviously looking at Logan and saying ‘You really don’t have to’ with his eyes. Logan likes to teach, he’s more than happy to help out. Especially since Elaine is extremely charming. You can definitely see how much she looks like Patton. Big square glasses, blonde hair in pigtails, tons of freckles dotting chubby cheeks. She acts like him too, spouting out awful dad jokes that make Patton lose it laughing in the kitchen. She tries her best to listen, and manages to actually complete her math homework with a pretty good mark. Her teacher will hopefully be impressed. Logan’s dad texts and asks if he needs to be picked up, but Elaine begs him to stay for dinner and...well he can’t say no, can he? Patton says he doesn’t have to stay, but he wants to. 

He’d never had siblings, it had always just been him and his parents. Though he loved them, and they loved him, it was so...lonely sometimes. He had always wanted a little brother or sister, maybe even a pet, but it never really happened. The energy in Patton’s house was somehow a perfect mix of lively and calm, they felt like they were really a family. Logan relished in it. The feeling of community, full of love so openly given and received. The most he had were very quiet holiday dinners with the few Larks who were left. He remembers being Elaine’s age, he felt so lonely. She wasn’t lonely though, she was full of love. So was Patton. It was very nice. He watches Patton cook and he chats with him while realizing he’s been much too harsh on him. His kindness wasn’t fake, there was no way. He was a real person who was actually that nice. He defended him out of the kindness of his heart. 

Ding.

hey logan wyd rn

Ah, Virgil. That was a pleasant surprise. 

I’m actually at Patton’s house. Elaine has roped me into staying for dinner.

He can almost hear Virgil’s little chuckle. 

yeah she does that hows sophie

Sophie? Oh, that must be the third sister. She’s very quiet, her eyes haven’t once looked upwards the whole time they’ve been sat together. 

“Ahem-Uhm-Sophie,” Logan starts, and Sophie looks up from her homework, “Virgil was wondering how you are?”

Her eyes light up, “I’m good. Is he going to come over?”

She’s good. She wants to know if you will be coming over.

hah, sure tell her to give me 20 

“Yes, give him twenty minutes.”

Sophie smiles, and Logan is reminded of Virgil almost immediately. She has dark brown hair that covers her face and a bit of a natural glare. Her smile is shy, and he wonders if Patton secretly stole Virgil’s little sister. 

It seems like it, even more, when Virgil actually gets there. Sophie’s entire demeanor changes. She becomes extremely talkative and tells Virgil all about how she’s got a new villager in her animal crossing town. Virgil entertains her with talking, going and helping Patton to cook. Logan gets up to help as well, but Virgil waves him away. Virgil looks like he belongs here, in this little dining room-kitchen. He’s laughing beside Patton, talking to both girls and Logan, helping cook and set the table. Logan can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before. While Patton is putting the food on the table, the door opens and a tired-looking woman enters. Virgil goes to greet her, and she smiles. Her hair is curly and blonde, her eyes are a cloudy green, she is covered in a smattering of freckles, and she looks...just like Patton. 

Logan gets up to go greet her as well. When she sees him she beams and it’s like he’s been confronted by the sun herself. 

“You must be Logan! Virgil and Patton talk my ears off about you!” She pats his head, and continues, “The boys just adore you! It’s about time you came for dinner!”

He almost can’t speak, and both Virgil and Patton whine about her embarrassing them, but he nods, “Thank you for having me, but I’ve only known them for two weeks, Ma’am.”

The woman looks a little confused, then laughs joyously, “No need for that, kiddo! Just call me Lisa, okay?” 

After patting him on the shoulder, she slinks by and greets all her children. Lilah has come back down, and the whole table is now filled to the brim. Dinner is filling and delicious, Patton really has a talent for the culinary arts. Which is strange considering Logan took him as someone who, like him, couldn’t cook to save his life.

After dinner, Patton brings Logan and Virgil to his room to hang out. They play video games, talk about anything they can manage, and by the time it’s late Logan is smiling. At nine, Elaine and Sophie are whining about Patton putting them to bed. Virgil and Logan wish them good night and Virgil drives Logan home. 

“Logan, I’ve gotta ask...why did you agree to hang out with Patton?”

“Well...I’m not actually sure. I think that I needed it.”

“How do you mean?”

Logan looks out the window and thinks to himself. Why? He’s never had friends, or much of a close family. He figured he agreed because well…

“Patton has something I don’t. It helped me understand him better to see what he has.”

Virgil accepted that, but Logan wasn’t sure he understood it fully. He’s not even sure he does. 

That night, Roman gets a negative two. Patton gets a ten, and written on his pages are the names and personalities of his family members. Along with that, is a very simple phrase. 

I have concluded that Patton is, indeed, a very good person.

Why it took him this long to come to terms with, he will never understand.