#i cannot offer any explanation as to this playlist

[5aaliyah5]

Textbooks couldn’t prepare me for this

Chapter 4: Explanations and Important Conversations

Pairing: Professor Hange x Student Reader College AU/Roommate AU

Warnings: mentions of throwing up but not graphic

Yup, another chapter only a day after the third one came out. I already had parts of this written, as in this chapter we start getting into the heart of the story/ Hange and Y/N attraction for one another. Hope you enjoy and like always I’m taking requests right now on Tumblr!

Also- adding the playlist once more:

Y/N turned to Hange, who she noticed was also blushing at the accusation, however, they stood up “Y/N, explain everything to her, I'll head to my room to give you two some space.” Y/N winced at their words. Great, this was just great. Things had been amazing between her and Hange for the past few weeks, and Y/N hoped this wouldn't change that.

“Come sit down with me…” Y/N sighed. She hadn’t even had coffee yet, and here she was trying to defend her honor to her best friend. What if Sasha didn’t believe her when she said nothing had happened between her and Hange? She hoped Sasha would have enough faith in her to know that that wasn’t Y/N.

“So… Y/N are you sure nothing has happened between you two?” She asked, “I mean- this is an unusual conversation to even have with my best friend, but it’s also unusual circumstances.” Y/N didn’t want anything between her and Sasha to change either and the idea of losing her friend worried her.

“Sash, I swear, nothing is happening between me and Hange. Ask your Dad. We are roommates and this is just honestly, a whole mistake…” Y/N babbled, with Sasha reaching out and placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder to calm her. Y/N breathed in and stated, “Nothing is happening between me and Hange.” Y/N reiterated, and Sasha nodded.

“Okay…” Sasha was quiet for a second and then said “I know Y/N. Sorry, I just freaked out for a second. I know you aren't the type to do something like that.” Sasha sighed and clasped Y/N’s hands in her own, as Y/N calmed down. She was glad Sasha believed her.

“Look, Sasha, you cannot tell Jean or Connie about Hange living here. Especially Jean!” Y/N squeezed Sasha's hands “He would freak out if he found out that the professor we share is living with me. We just became friends and I don't want him to think less of me because of this.

“I promise I won't Y/N! You have my word.” Sasha then stood up “Ill also have a word with my dad- I can't believe he set you up as a roommate with a professor from the school!”

“I don't think he understood that it would be inappropriate-” Y/N started and then added “And I don't think he could have imagined that they would be my professor as well. I mean- there are a lot of psychology professors at Shiganshina University, and technically they don't even teach psychology as their major, I think they do Biology. The university just couldn't find a teacher to teach Biological Psychology.”

“Well still, I'll see if there are any solutions we could come up with.” Sasha looked to Y/N, then asked “Do you mind living with them? Because if so, you could come to stay in my apartment. I wouldn't mind having you as a roommate Y/N especially for as long as we’ve known one another.”

“No- it's okay Sash. Actually… I've grown used to their company. They are fun to be around, and everything has been fine between us. No awkwardness, no fights, nothing. It worked out better than I could have hoped.” And it was. Y/N couldn't have thought of a better roommate than Hange, surprisingly. “I will take you up on your offer if something does happen between us, and I need to move. But right now, everything is good.”

“Okay... I'm down the hallway if you ever need me Y/N.”

“Thank you.” Y/N relaxed in the seat, glad that that was settled. She felt slightly bad for Hange now, who had ‘retreated to their room in shame’. She would offer them an apology later on for the whole situation. “So, what did you come over to talk about?”

“Oh yeah, yesterday!” Sasha’s eyes widened “Guess who just got an invitation to the most exclusive Halloween party?”

“Halloween? That isn’t for another month Sasha…” Y/N needed coffee badly if they were gonna start talking about Halloween now. Y/N stood up from the couch and motioned for Sasha to follow her to the Kitchen, which she did.

“Yeah, but this party happens every year and is so big that invitations get sent months in advance! I just happened to get an invitation because Jean buddied up with the frat house that throws it every year, and extended the invitation to Jean and his friends- which is us.” Sasha sat on the counter “I've been trying to get into this party since Freshman year, and now it's finally happening. The clout for just attending can be huge.”

“Well, I don't care much for ‘clout’ but if it's a fun party then, sure, I will go.”

“Yay!” Sasha cheered and quickly started her planning. “Okay- we need to have a matching theme!” Y/N could imagine the boys in whatever theme Sasha picked for them, and she laughed.

This would be good…

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A week had passed since Sasha had come over and things had slowly returned to normal. There was still a small tension between Y/N and Hange whenever Y/N mentioned Sasha’s name in a passing conversation, and Y/N felt for them. She knew they were worried about Sasha’s ability to not share the information with another person, however, they had told Y/N they trusted her so they would have to trust Sasha too.

There was also the whole idea of how Y/N and Hange were accused of sleeping with one another, which hadn’t even been a thought in either of their heads until Sasha put it there. Luckily, Hange had not bright it up to Y/N- either out of the need to keep the peace within their apartment or out of embarrassment.

Just like every other day, Hange and Y/N both stood in the small kitchen, as they worked together to start preparing dinner. Y/N hated touching raw meat, so Hange was handling that while Y/N prepped vegetables for their dinner.

“Hm? Where did we get these?” Hange asked as they took out the pepper and salt, which were in the Rabbit Salt and pepper shakers Y/N had bought that day at the store.

“OH- I bought those when we went to the store!” She said excitedly, as Hange admired them, turning them in their hand. “I thought they looked like us- Because this one has floppy ears and it looks like my hair” Y/N took the salt shaker, which was painted white. “-and this one has its ears up and sticking out, and it reminds me of your ponytail.” Y/N smiled as she looked at the black-painted rabbit that Hange held.

“I like it!” Hange raised theirs to the light. On the rabbit, they both held signs that read ‘salt’ and ‘pepper’ and Hange got an idea “Why don't we name them?”

Y/N tilted her head “Name them? Hm, fine.”

“I call pepper for mine-”

“Pepper? That's too basic-” Y/N countered, and Hange argued.

“It fits though-” They looked at the sign their rabbit held that read ‘pepper’, and they couldn't imagine another name for her.

“Yeah, it fits cause it's a pepper shaker-”

“I don't care, that's what her name is.” They obviously were not gonna budge, so Y/N sighed and shrugged.

“Fine. I'll name mine…. Chai.” She placed her rabbit shaker on the counter.

“Chai? For the salt shaker?” They asked, and Y/N shot them a dirty look.

“I think it's charming.” She huffed the explained “I had a pet rabbit named Chai when I was little.”

“Well, I can't argue with that. Alright, Cha,i it is. Welcome to the family you two.” Hange smiled and sprinkled some pepper onto the beef. There was a silence that they shared, as Hange focused on the meat and Y/N helped peel the potatoes and zucchini. Eventually, Hange raised their head, turning to Y/N. They wanted to know more about her- their information about her and her background was so limited that the scientists in them needed to correct that. “Did you ever date?” They paused and then realized how their words may sound. Most likely creepy, considering they are her professor and roommate. “I'm asking cause I know you grew up in a strict family, right?”

“Right- Well, I've dated two people, and have only been on one official date.” Y/N finished the zucchini she had peeled and moved on to the potatoes, which were quite a few considering it would only be the two of them eating.

“Oh,” they said, and were slightly shocked.

“Yeah- First dated a boy in middle school. He was the son of my father's best friend and he insisted we start dating to ‘finally bring the two families together’. We both dated for a year surprisingly before he figured out that I wasn't… straight…” Y/N paused and then peeled the last potato and placed it to the side. She stood up and took the pot of potatoes before running them under water to rinse them off.

“Oh, so you-” Hange was cut off by Y/N though, as they cut the beef.

“Im… Queer” Y/N confirmed. It was still hard to admit to herself as through her youth, she was always taught she shouldn't be and it ‘wasn't natural’ but she could never change, nor see herself with a man. “My second relationship was with a girl, who I dated back in high school. We did it secretly until someone caught us and told my dad. When my dad found out, he pulled me out of all the classes I shared with her and forbade me from seeing her again…” Y/N sighed. “That was the first and last time I was in a relationship that I wanted or enjoyed. Ever since then, I haven't dated 'cause it wouldn't be worth it to me to be in a relationship if I wasn't happy.”

“I know what you mean-.” Hanges words caught Y/N off guard as she turned to them.

“What?”

“I also am not straight.” Hange threw the ingredients into the pot and opened a can of chicken broth. “Figured that out when I was in college, though that was only after I started dating.”

“Oh-” Y/N knew they had to have been part of the alphabet mafia, as they went by they/them pronouns, but she didn't know they would be interested in women. Y/N smiled and placed the pot of cleaned potatoes and zucchini next to Hange. “Well, at least we have one thing in common that isnt related to class.”

“Yeah, that's always nice…” Hange nodded their head. At the same time, both Y/N and Hange reached into the pot to grab the same potato, with Y/N and Hange ending up touching with their fingers. Y/N blushed and pulled back.

“I- I should go clean up before dinner.” Y/N took a step back.

“Yeah- it should be done in the next hour anyways. Thanks for your help-” And with that, Y/N rushed off to her room and shut the door.

It was odd. Ever since Sasha had come over and assumed that Y/N and Hange had slept with one another, Y/N couldn't get that thought out of her head. The idea played in her head that same night, and then over and over again. Her and Hange being… Intimate. It was a forbidden thought that Y/N secretly relished in, as she had never kissed anyone, much less slept with someone. Maybe it was because they were so forbidden and closed off from that scenario ever taking place that Y/N thought about it. How would that even go? Hange seemed much too kind and thoughtful to top her, and from what she had heard about sex, usually, one person needed to be dominant and one submissive. Correct? She was so clueless…

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Classes had gone smoothly despite it being almost halfway through the semester now, and the work getting more difficult. The amount of papers that Y/N had written was absurd but it also made sense as she was going into a very research-based career and would need to know how to write them.

“Hey-” Y/N said, as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, with the long couch behind her. She had a small hand-held mirror in front of her, that she was looking into as she applied eyeshadow. The setting sunlight streamed through a window from a kitchen, casting the perfect amount of light into the living room for Y/N to see. When Y/N tried to put on her makeup in her room, it was either too dark, or she couldn't tell accurately whether her makeup was blended due to the lighting, so she moved into the living room.

Hange had entered the living room, partially surprised to see Y/N in there and seated on the floor. “Hey. What are you up to?” They asked as they watched her from the hallway entrance.

“Gonna go out to a Halloween party in a few hours, so I'm getting ready. Sasha invited me, and I know Connie and Jean are going so me and her will be okay.”

“Okay, be sure not to drink too much and be careful of your surroundings.” Hange came up behind Y/N and sat on the couch behind her, as they looked into her mirror to watch her focus on her eyes.

“I’ll be okay Hange, you don't need to worry.” Y/N glanced at them through her mirror for a second. “What are you gonna do this evening?”

“I'm gonna stay behind and hand out candy to any trick-or-treaters that make their way up here. I've seen kids around the apartment complex so I wouldn't be shocked if we got a few…” They leaned back and crossed their leg over the other.

“That's so sweet Hange!” Y/N placed down her mirror as she grabbed for her eyeliner next “I'm sure the kids will love that.”

“I hope so. I’ve never done this before so I only grabbed a bag of candy.” Hange quickly took a look at Y/N’s outfit. It was a short Black dress that looked like it was meant to be lingerie of some sort, with a grey bow tied around her waist. “So… what are you supposed to be?” They asked when Y/N looked up to them. She grinned and then shuffled in her spot for a second before producing a headband with a pair of ears on top of it.

“I'm a mouse- duh.” They choked for a second, as they started cracking up. They had not expected that answer.

“Mean girls reference I assume.” They asked and Y/N scoffed.

“Of course.” She responded and picked back up her eyeliner. “I'm going as Karen Smith, Sasha is supposed to be Grechen… and we made Connie go as Cady and Jean as Regina.” She applied her second wing, struggling for a minute with a look of concentration on her face before she approved of it. “I think Regina really fits Jean’s character actually-”

Hange sat in silence, watching Y/N apply the rest of her makeup with ease. They had never been so close nor had the time to just sit and watch the process, and they grew to appreciate it. They thought Y/N was beautiful, with or without makeup, hell, anyone with eyes could see how beautiful she was, but they were impressed by her patience and precision with the process it took to just do it.

“-Hange” Y/N said and Hange snapped out of their momentary trance, and then blushed. They had only caught the end of the sentence when she had said their name

“Hm? I'm sorry, I didn't get that-” Y/N giggled and repeated herself

“I said- It's been nice living with you Hange.”

Why were they feeling these things? It was wrong. They shouldn't be trying to hold themselves back from flirting with Y/N. They shouldn't be admiring how intelligent she was, they shouldn't be feeling jealous at the idea of Y/N one day dating someone if she chose to do that, And most importantly: THEY SHOULDN’T BE LOOKING DOWN THE GAP WHERE HER CLEVAGE WAS. They felt like an absolute pervert just thinking about Y/N in that manner, and disgusted with themself. “Dido.” They replied calmly, masking their internal freaking out.

“Yeah- I always know when my homework and papers are gonna get graded, You make good food, and you are pretty good company.” Y/N put on her mascara now, careful not to get the want on her upper eyelid or her cheek

“Love that you know when I grade things is on that list-” They rolled their eyes, amused at her words. “How do you know when I grade things?” They asked and folded their arms. They didn't care that she knew, but more so were curious how she knew.

“Ah, I noticed that whenever you drink coffee in the evenings, my grades are updated.” She grinned again, and Hange nearly swooned. She paid so close attention to them, to even notice something like that.

“Are you staking me Y/N?” They gave a fake gasp and placed a hand on their chest.

“You wish.” she stood up, gathered her makeup in her pouch, and walked to her room to put on her shoes.

Yes, Hange did secretly wish that.

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“Sash… I love you- but I genuinely thought this would be a smaller party.” Y/N sighed and shook her head. They had entered the house, thinking the inside might look different despite the dozens of people who were in the front yard already and drinking away. Inside was just as crazy to maneuver through the crowds of people “It looks like the whole campus came-”

“I mean… there are probably some party crashers in here, but it's hard to keep them out so they usually are allowed to stay” Jean shrugged as he walked into the house more, quickly being surrounded by the large group of people in the living room. He was easy to pick out as not only was he tall, but the white shirt that said ‘a little bit dramatic’ and pink cardigan made him hard to miss. He had fought and fought with Sasha on the costume until he realized he would be the only one left out if he didn't wear it. Yes, Sasha, Connie, and Y/N had peer-pressured Jean to be Regina George.

Connie- wearing a large pink shirt and saggy jeans- waved his hands towards Y/N and Sasha “Come on- let's go get some booze-” And they both shrugged and followed him. Y/N doubted they were gonna have anything she liked considering this party was thrown by a Frat house, but free alcohol was free alcohol, no matter if it was shitty.

The party didn’t get any better like Y/N had hoped, especially with the way Sasha had hyped it up, however, Y/N couldn’t complain about the decent music and free alcohol, so she stayed. They all stayed. Most of the night, Connie was with Sasha while Jean and Y/N paired up. It wasn't until Jean noticed the sway in Y/N’s steps that he decided to intervene, taking her cup from her and guiding her over to a couch.

“You okay Y/N you dont look to good…” Connie said over the music, as Sasha chatted to a group besides them.

“I don't feel too good…” Y/N replied and then looked at her friends. “I think… I think I'll be okay-” She started saying and then felt something in the back of her throat. She jumped up from her seat and tumbled out the front door and onto the porch where she leaned over the side and puked into the bushes below. At least she had made it outside, even with the few bystanders looking at her like she was odd.

Her friends had followed behind her, also breathing a sigh of relief at Y/N not puking in the house. “Oh shit… yeah we should get Y/N home…” Connie tossed his own red Solo cup’s contents out into the same bush Y/N had just finished throwing up in. “We don’t want her to puke here again, or on us.” Y/N walked down the porch steps and sat down clumsily on the cool grass and lying down. She could feel her body heating up and the nausea started to begin, even through the tingling that the alcohol caused.

“Hey Sash, ready to go?” Sasha gave a thumbs up, also drunk but not as drunk as Y/N.

“Yeah let’s bounce- I think some of the food in there wasn’t good anymore-“ she held her stomach and Connie and Jean sighed.

“You get her left, I’ll get her right, and we will both lift together” Jean placed an arm under Y/N’s armpits and guided her up from her spot on the grass, with Connie’s assistance. They all piled into Connie's car, which Jean was glad they decided to take instead of his as he was a much older model and in rough condition anyway. Connie was also the most sober out of them all (surprisingly) so he drove. (author note: don't drink and drive guys. I do not condone it and will find you and break your knees if you do /lh/jk)

When they pulled into Y/N and Sasha’s apartment complex, Jean and Connie helped Y/N out of the car, with Sasha climbing out behind her. The alcohol had kicked into full force by that point, and Y/N practically didn't assist them as they helped walk her towards the stairs leading up to her apartment.

“What is Y/N’s apartment number again?” Connie asked

“Hm- um Number Five,” Sasha remembered when Y/N first moved into her apartment. “I know there was something I was supposed to remember…” Sasha said as she walked up the stairs first, holding onto the railing and helping to guide Y/N up.

“It’ll come to you eventually-” Jean assured the brown-haired girl as they climbed up the stairs. Surprisingly, Y/N’s legs moved while they were going up the stairs, with her helping them and making it easier, however when they got to the top, she slumped back in their arms and both boys sighed.

“Is this the apartment?” Jean pointed to the Apartment with the 5 over the door, and Sasha gave a nod. He could see the lights were on and was not about to go searching through Y/N’s purse for her keys, so he opted to knock on the door, hoping her roommate would come to the door. And sure enough, he heard the door lock, and unlock, and a figure open the door- though he was quickly surprised when he locked eye to eye with a familiar face.

“P-Professor Zoë!?” Jean could feel the alcohol exit his system as he was face to face with his Biological Psychology professor. “W-We must have the wrong door…” He turned to Sasha, hoping that was the case, however Sasha, in her still half-drunken state, snapped her fingers.

“Oh yeah… that's what I was supposed to remember…” She said as she looked to Hange. “She told me not to tell you…”

“Bring her inside” Hange sighed, ignoring the situation for now. This was bad for them- another student figuring out that Y/N and they were roommates- especially one of their students. It had been one thing when it had just been Sasha, as she wasn't in any of their classes, but Jean was, and he was in the same class as Y/N. However, Hange couldn't exactly worry about that when Y/N was slung across Jean and Connie's shoulder with them holding her up “I told you not to drink too much Y/N.” They scolded gently as they took Connie’s place and leaned most of Y/N’s weight onto them, guiding her over to the Sofa for now.

“In all honesty- she didn’t. The alcohol was just… stronger than we thought it would be “ Connie intervened as he took a step back.

“Frat party?” They asked and all three of the students nodded. “Yeah, I can get why you thought it would be shitty. Well good on them for not watering it down, but now Y/N is forced to suffer the consequences-” Y/N was lying on the couch, her face flushed red and hair messily surrounding her face.

“Professor Zoë? What's going on?” Hange sighed and turned to Jean now

Hange wasn't sure whether they should give the full truth, or lie. Somehow Lying seemed like the worse option of the two. “Me and Y/N are… currently living with one another-” They forced out of themselves.

“Are you two-” Jean started but Hange cut him off.

“No. We are not… with one another.” They gritted out. Why was that the immediate assumption? “We can talk about this another day. Right now, I think it's important to get some water in Y/N’s system so she can flush the alcohol out of it and get her to bed.”

“Can you handle it from here? We still need to get Sash home-”

“Yeah, I've got it from here…” Connie and Jean gave Y/N one last look before they turned to Sasha, and started guiding her out the door to take her home. Hange watched from the door frame as the boys made sure Sasha got inside her apartment, locked the door, and then left. After they had left, Hange closed their apartment door and turned to Y/N. “Alright, let's get you to bed.”

“Bed?” She mumbled out, with a small slur in her words. They would be surprised if she remembered anything of this night tomorrow morning.

“Yes, bed.” They went to the kitchen quickly to fill up a glass of water and then went into her room to turn on the light and set the glass of water on her nightstand before returning to the living room for her. When they entered the living room again, she was sitting up, though still a little slouched against the backrest of the couch. Hange walked towards her and wrapped their arm around her waist as they helped her up.

Y/N lifted her arm to fling it around their shoulders, clutching onto their shirt. They helped guide her to her room and laid her down on her bed. They wished they could make her more comfortable, though they were not about to start undressing her and putting her in her sleepwear.

They did let her drink some of her water before she officially rested her head on her pillow, earning a small: “Hm. Thank you Hange…” At least she knew it was them. As they turned to walk away and turn off her light, Y/N grabbed onto the tail end of tier shirt, causing them to turn around. “Wait- can you… can you just lay down with me?”

“I shouldn’t.” They gently removed their shirt from Y/N’s hands but replaced it with their hand. Her hands were so soft to them, that they genuinely wondered how anyone in the world could be so perfect.

“You could… I think you should.”

“You do?” They chuckled and sat at the edge of her bed, the bed dipping a little under their weight. They still held onto her hand, as they thought of how cute she was.

“Mhm.” Y/N nodded her head the best she could in her pillow and scooted over in her bed. Hange sighed at the antic, but eventually gave in, laying beside Y/N.

“Fine. I'm only staying until you fall asleep though.” Y/N hummed in response and Hange finally said “Good Night Y/N.”

“Good night Hange.”

Hange tried to stay awake like they had promised themself they would. Tried to keep their eyes open, as they listened to Y/N’s breathing slow down and her light snores. It reminded them of ASMR, sometimes when they had too much on their mind they would put on ASMR in the background to fall asleep. That, combined with the sweet scent of Y/N and her comfortable bed contributed to their downfall, as they closed their eyes and fell asleep with Y/N.

They wish they could say they regretted it, but they couldn't.

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Author’s Note: Thanks so much for reading! I also drew a little picture of the Rabbit salt and pepper shakers cause they are important to the story. To those of you who are from AO3; welcome to my tumblr profile 😭👍

[hopeinthebox]

late to the party as per but finally giving this one a go - AND pestering some music favs with a tag <33 @cordiallyfuturedwight @banghwa @thvinyl @aprylynn @pauls-mccharmly @monismochi @thatredwine @huhfeatjhope 💜 and anyone else who fancies a go

[6okuto-moved]

did you ever happen to finish those akaashi bf hcs 👉👈

— akaashi relationship hcs

note from nia: YES. copy pasting this from my notes BFSJFB mini LL break time for keiji my beloved <3 (LL gang ur getting rime hcs today i pinky promise)

he is sooo. [perfect man] [angel] [beautiful romantic music]

he asks what you did today instead of how your day was because he knows it's easier and wants to hear every detail

he takes note of your interests and offhand comments of things you want so he can surprise you

he's so good at that tikotok couple gift challenge where you need to buy something that fits the prompts. so nonchalant about it smh

he'll quietly drop off some cut up fruits and a drink while you're working, kissing your forehead before leaving

he has a private playlist filled with songs that remind him of you and your relationship. he's flustered when you first find out but it works out when you make a collaborative playlist for both of you to have

he really appreciates how he can be open and comfortable around you. his laughs are louder and sometimes he'll even snort at an unexpected joke (he's embarrassed at first until you do it too </3)

he writes little notes and doodles for you to keep or put on your wall

i think people forget keiji is completely capable of being a Menace. one time he hit you with a pillow because you weren't waking up. when you shot up and asked "did you just hit me with a fucking pillow?" all he said was "what pillow?" as if he wasn't holding it

he offers to text or vc whenever it's late and you can't fall asleep. he'll tell a story or quietly hum a song

if you have something on your face he'll turn you towards him and gently wipe it off

he lets you put makeup and nail polish on him as long as it isn't too bright

sometimes he'll text you during his break at practice or work

he sends a photo captioned "save me" even though you cannot, in fact, save him

he's very cute & fun when you try to do a text prank on him because sometimes he's confused but he's Got the spirit!

you start sending song lyrics and he's like ?? but then realizes they're lyrics and sends the next lines and asks "did i do it right is this what you wanted"

he likes studying with you whether you're quizzing each other or just body doubling. you both make sure you aren't overworking (or goofing off)

he's really good at explaining things + he's very patient :[ if you don't understand his explanation he'll try wording it differently and showing more examples

he doesn't accept any bad self-talk . if you say anything along the lines of "i can't do this" or "i'm too dumb for this" he tuts and makes you look at him

kisses you on your forehead and promises that he'll keep helping and that you'll be alright

(you can ask for extra kisses and he'll jokingly call you needy before agreeing. forehead again, cheeks, nose, mouth. same order every time)

so grateful whenever you bring him his regular coffee order (if he hasn't already bought it plus your own drink)

he never fails to take you out on a date after exam season is over

yes yes cafe dates, museum visits, picnics at the park. why is no one taking this guy to a butterfly conservatory or pottery date. why are you not bringing him to a bookstore to pick out books and annotate and read together. why are you not staying in and attempting to cook or bake together....come on

you guys bought a cute plushie on a date and named it and now it's your child. sorry

the first time you held hands he was so !!!!!! oh my god he was nervous about his hand being sweaty and whenever you had to let go he'd aggressively wipe it on his pants just in case

now it's a normal thing you do and his heart still flutter a little but at least it isn't as bad

he wanted to get you flowers for your first date but started overthinking about if it was too basic, if you'd want to take care of them, etc.

he settles on your favourite snack and a necklace instead

genuinely so relieved when you put the necklace on and very happy when he sees you wearing it days after

makes sure you get inside before leaving, waves to you through your window with a smile

he overthinks and gets stressed sometimes. he tries his best to stop bottling it up and often comes to you first for comfort

he likes to play with your fingers and asks you to brush through his hair with your free hand

if he sees you in bed he comes in beside you and nuzzles his face into your neck

when you ask if he's alright he hums, "just needed to be with you for a while." oh i love u sir

he loves sleeping with his head laying on your chest or yours on his

will happily be big or small spoon

if you have pets they like him better than you. i'm sorry we lose

if you want him to meet your family, he gets all nervous but they end up loving him (who doesn't love akaashi keiji i'm srs)

took you stargazing once and when he saw a shooting star he wished he'd be able to stay with you and make you happy

arguments very rarely if ever happen. if they do happen they're resolved quickly because they'd probably revolve around taking care of yourselves better, anxieties, etc.

prints photos he's taken of you and the two of you together and puts them on the wall above his desk to look at

he invites you to watch his games and smiles and waves when he spots you

the team (bokuto) teases him and he blushes a little but then tells them it isn't his fault they aren't also in a relationship (Rip)

living with akaashi and him coming home and never failing to find you and say "hi love" before anything else oughghfhh

[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[disorganizedkitten]

Road To Ruin Anon again. You said there were themes to your Potter Twins' names - what themes?

Hi, yes! Sorry this took me forever to get to, but here we go!

The Post Anon Is Referring To // The First Slideshow Post

Okay so, in chronological order - I'm not putting the slides on again bc they make everything so long;

CHARLIE! Charlie/Charles/Charlus is... not that deep. We can give it all the in-story explanations we want, but the fact of the matter is that I was writing a Farland Files fanfic love letter and I just reused the name. I assume that Purplemango picked it either because they liked it, there's canonically a Charlus Potter he can be named after, and/or as Charles it follows the convention of Potter-Names-Mirror-English-Royalty, but I haven't ever worked up the courage to ask them. Probably never will.

SORREL! Okay so I'm mostly sure that Sorrel showed up in a googled list of Indian names, and it won my personal aesthetic contest - I know his middle name did, I don't remember WHAT his middle name WAS, but it means blue; Sorrel means red, and the Potter could refer to brown and I personally found that clever.

Having said all of this, when I just googled the name to double check, I found out that Sorrel is ALSO term for a plant, spinach dock is also known as common or garden Sorrel. I'm very sure that part isn't on purpose, but the Cobra Lily (Charlie) and Hyacinth/Hydrangea (Sorrel) aus are largely built on me hoarding as many plant names as I feel comfortable with and making them plot points so- *fingerguns* -it works out!

Moving on, I already mentioned the story behind CONNOR! The au was getting to the point I needed names to visualize, I couldn't choose, so I handed my phone and the googled list (no clue what I googled, that was three years and like 9 this-au-has-developed-into-a-whole-new-au-s ago) to my little sister. She said Connor. I said okay.

Honestly, either Sorrel or Connor is my favorite twin. They've just got shiny personalities. It's a close competition tho

TRISTAN! yeah yeah, his spelling is still being decided, chill, it doesn't matter until I start posting the au. I wish I could say something clever but I haven't even checked what Tristain means, unlike the others. I think. Actually, have I ever looked up what Connor means?

moment of silence while I do that brb

Back! Connor means Lover Of Hounds and I- wheezes I cannot. This is Hilarious. Unreasonably so. Little Ruler and his baby brother, Lover Of Hounds.

This tangent added like five minutes to this post and I have NO REGRETS

It also looks like a Gaelic name, which means there's a chance the list I gave to my sis was those, bc I do and will advocate for Irish Lily Potter at any and all given opportunities. If that wasn't what I was thinking it SURE IS NOW

Anyway, back to Tristan; I looked him up after I finished my Connor tangent, and I have once again been blessed in writing because the name could not be more perfect for the au if I tried.

"In Arthurian legend, Tristan (sometimes called Tristram) was a Knight of the Round Table and the tragic hero of the medieval tale "Tristan and Isolde". The tale has been retold in many poems and operas. This ancient name may derive from a Pictish original, Drostan, but the form was probably influenced by the French term "triste", meaning "sad". The name is popular in Spain." (source linked)

Gosh I WISH that was why I picked the name, the actual story is so much less cool; I wrote the outline leaving a T in place of the name the whole time (bc I kept trying to use Sorrel but NO I wanted it to be a NEW AU) and I know a guy named Tristan so it made sense to just. expand on the T.

WILLIAM: Will's name was given to me by the same person who helped make the Obscurial Au (Will's au) playlist, and I have no clue what their tumblr handle is but their Ao3 is Lonelyroads. I complained about how I couldn't find twin names that weren't either taken or have Negatory Vibes, and Lonely offered up Will, which follows the aforementioned Potter's-Named-After-English-Royalty tend/convention and looks good with Harry and has good nickname opportunities.

So yeah! That's all of them - there's no overarching trend but they each have their stories.

[providencehq]

Who will stop me from making self indulgent role swap au art?

Explanation more so under the readmore, it's a lot if you're interested:

Brook got a severe head injury while within the nanite research facility, since they had no one even remotely specialized to deal with any kind of emergency, especially that kind of injury, which is why the experimental nanites got approved to be used on her. She has scars from the incident since I like to think it took a bit of time for the nanites to reach their full healing capabilities so she still has evidence of what happened to her. Also it doesn't become clear that the nanites had some extra side effects until a few months into recovery.

After the nanite event and Brook is left on her own, she more or less wanders around the globe simply vibing. One of the people she briefly met and stayed with was Dr. Rebecca Holiday, a biomedical engineer and her sister, Beverly. Holiday doesn't work for Providence. Holiday tries to help Brook figure out who her family is but to no avail, but she offers help in simply being a guardian for Brook for a short while. Holiday helps to cut Brook's untamed hair into her more iconic cut and Beverly is the one to give her the dyed streak.

Thanks to @maya-makes-art for helping me figure out a friend to give Brook! I cannot thank them enough! Claire Bowman takes the place of Noah, she's originally hired to act as a mole for Providence since they need a way to both get to know Brook better (she isn't the best at getting along in Providence when she starts living there) but to also keep an eye on their child soldier. They end up getting along really well and become pretty close friends. Claire also plays soccer and this is how they bond a bit too

When Brook is first bought into Providence, they just assumed she was just another criminal like Gatlocke, who she was found with (they destroyed some Providence vehicles simply for fun, using the EVO attacks as a way to get away with their chaos, but they were caught and brought in.) Due to protocol, everyone and anyone has to get a cleared by a medical check up before being sent to a more appropriate facility/different Providence controlled location. Dr. Van Kleiss ends up doing taking care of Brook and everything comes back wildly off, causing White Bishop/Caesar to get involved.

Dr. Van Kleiss or as most simply refer to him, Kleiss, wears lab appropriate clothes (I'm sorry! Holiday is not lab safe!!!!) and keeps his hair tied back. He does have notable burn scars from the nanite event but can easily be covered up with clothing.

Providence finding out she is in fact an EVO and can actually control her nanites happens on day one of being at Providence. It doesn't go great and she actively tries to make herself seem scary by using her EVO powers (they're gauntlets! each having a half shield covering that can be pushed together to make an actual shield.)

Gizmo acts as an active voice of violence, chaos, and general recklessness around Brook, kinda of an opposite to Bobo's more passive 'break the rules' kind of attitude. Gizmo simply craves petty violence.

Rylander's powers turns EVOs into more uncontrollable and dangerous versions of themselves. Gizmo at one point is affected by Rylander (he takes the place of Van Kleiss in the au) and we get an EVO version of them that looks a lot like their og bunny EVO form. Brook can cure EVOs from this evolved state but they more or less become an incurable EVO after that, so she may be able to fix them from being a monster but can't fix them from being EVO.

Brook runs and and tries to hide from Providence when she's first there since she doesn't trust them. She isn't good at staying hidden whether in Providence or outside of it. Usually it's someone in the Pack sent out to find her and bring her back. She's only like this at the start and quickly grows out of being scared of Providence.

Also have a playlist for this au because it's gotten to that point

[pathofcomets]

soldier, keep on marching on (12)

fandom: mass effect andromeda (AO3)

pairing: jaal/ryder

summary: Sara Ryder will replay that moment before she died for the first time many times afterwards.

playlist: spotify

There’s no scientific explanation for the way this angara follows untaken paths, remembering truths inscribed in stone, connecting to feelings that he has not felt before. Sara Ryder watches it all unfold in front of her, and maybe she has to take back her words during a conversation with Suvi, because it makes her believe just the tiniest bit in a force she cannot explain. Maybe in another world, she is still back on the Citadel, nothing but a scientist doing her job, watching another universe unfold, that still as far away as this glimpse at another’s species beliefs.

But stars protect them, Sara Ryder, the human Pathfinder, might actually be the key for their survival in Andromeda, for an end with the war against kett. Her rumoured Remnant skills are not just rumour anymore: at her touch, the ancient structures blink alive, heeding her command, turning and glowing to the tunes she is singing. he finally understands the weight of her title, the sparkle of her role – the heaviness of all of that on shoulders that shake in exhaustion after the vault’s doors close behind them.

She manages to stand for 4 seconds, and then Sara falls to the ground, one hand going around her stomach, trying to calm down her nerves enough not to end up throwing up next to a robot’s jumbled parts. Peebee whistles, pleased, taking a deep breath of air, though the change in the environment’s quality is never any faster than a few months. Placebo effect, or theatrics, though knowing the asari, it’s probably the latter. The Pathfinder manages to turn, still frowning, still looking in pain, her gaze fixed on the closed vault now, inside which they ran for their lives just mere moments ago. It’s the most unlike herself Jaal has seen her.

She sticks mostly to herself on the way to the Nexus – and will use her recent sickness as the perfect excuse, even if her crew is not as easily fooled. Jaal sits in a small chair in the kitchen, watching Liam making himself a sandwich, the smell of mustard strong in his nostrils, because he wants to understand, even if he cannot grasp the reason why.

“How did Ryder get her ability to control Remnant technology?” he asks, his voice even, but Liam still chokes on his bread, his eyes going wide, staring at his angara friend.

“The worst kept secret in the universe, and you have no idea, huh?” he mumbles, and it’s with a delayed time that Jaal’s translator pick up the words.

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you should just talk to Sara directly. I may have been there, but it is her story to tell.”

He doesn’t miss the way Liam has mentioned their Pathfinder by her first name.

“So it’s not inborn.”

Liam shakes his head, tapping one of his fingers against his temple. “SAM.”

Jaal nods, though his curiosity is not fully satisfied. He only knows now this is passed down instead, from Pathfinder to Pathfinder. He doesn’t know yet, who the last Pathfinder was, or why does that matter so much, why no one seems to discuss it ever, even when it might seem relevant, even when the topic is right there. Aliens and their many conversations habits, slipped so easily into everyday life; making everyday life so much more difficult than it has to be. The way Peebee darts around any personal detail by making a sexual innuendo, welcomed and pleasurable, but a diversion nonetheless. Drack invokes his age, his clan – sometimes just stomps over people’s toes, or breaks a spatula between his hands. Liam jokes, words lost between translation, meaning entirely escaping the angara for the fact that none of these phrases invoke the metaphors behind it, and he dislikes that the human so obviously knows what he is doing. Lexi is a mask of professionalism, even Kallo up to a point, two sides of a different coin. Vetra just offers a connection, brings up a rare artefact, making people forget about what they wanted to discuss in the first place. He understands everything for what it is, understands not to push – at least not then.

Ryder is not so practiced. When she hears something surprising, something she doesn’t want to face on, her entire being stills, an unreleased tension budding beneath her skin. If she is facing someone she does not like, she’d straighten her back, fist her hands, make her voice louder, aggression more evident, a tactic that she employs so often during her calls with officials, gaping the special distance with attitude. If it is a friend challenging her, she smiles: but it is not a real one, no feeling behind the gesture, and she offers weak kindness, platitudes to tide her over. Those who accept it, leaving her be, seem to do it out of pity, because she is terrible at masking emotions; or those that hurt, anyway.

Which is how Jaal learnt that talking directly to Sara is not easy. Opening her up takes slow coaxing, constant work, a hand always outstretched in understanding, and she is still a feral dog licking her wounds most of the time. He wonders how deep they go, how raw it must all be, if he glimpses only at the surface and she seems so broken. It talks of a soft heart that has been beaten down into doubting, of a person that didn’t have to be strong until now, and is overwhelmed by the task.

He wonders, in the deep, dark voyage from her home, who did she have to hold on to?

And then he does not ask. He tried, fumbling over his words, before they disembarked on the Nexus, to bring it up, but her omni-tool pinged – once, twice, thrice – and at the fourth sound, she sighed, breaking eye contact with him, and looked down, her eyes widening with every word taken in, her presence shaken. Lexi found her almost immediately after, calling out her name from the doorframe, and Sara only had time to glance back at him in parting.

So he does not ask. Just yet.

***

“Director Tann is waiting for you in his office,” Addison greets Ryder, but she only pushes against her shoulder, not even wording a greeting back.

Vetra follows, catching up easily with the shorter human, even as she is almost running through the hallways of the Nexus. Everything else in this damn galaxy can wait, because where her brother is laying in his medical bed, she can finally reach him. For only a little while, but the ache of his absence is so humongous, her need for a little piece of him (for a living little piece of him) is so stifling, that she doesn’t know what else to do but push forward, harder and faster, anticipation almost choking her.

“Ryder!” Vetra shouts, and she finally turns.

“What?”

“Just… don’t get your hopes high, okay?”

“I can talk with my comatose brother. Yes, I’d say those are high, incredible hopes already,” she spits back, though she knows she is unfair.

Vetra knows it too, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She wanted to be by Ryder’s side by virtue of their roles, both of them older sisters, even if under different circumstances. She already thinks the Pathfinder way more put together than she would have been in the same situation, but this is a chance that seems so perfect, so wonderful – she knows Sara would break, if it was just a re-do of her life so far here.

Sara sighs, and her expression softens, just a bit.

“It will be fine. It can’t be… worse, right?”

“No, of course not,” Vetra lies.

Ryder resumes her chasing of ephemeral dreams. She barely even greets the doctor, a mumbling lost in gulps of air, as she takes a seat next to Scott’s bed, his hand in-between hers, her forehead glued to his fingers in a mimicry of praying, as SAM starts their connections.

Hearing her twin say her name brings that painful, familiar knot in her throat, that she has to struggle to swallow down. She kisses the back of his palm, allowing his voice to wash over her. She has always hated their father’s secrecy, but she finds that telling Scott the truth is the hardest thing she ever had to do. Her voice shakes and she takes often breaks between her words, trying to explain him a loss that she herself still cannot believe it is real. It feels like all of this is a nightmare, or a game – and at some point she will blink awake, and she’ll be in her stasis pod, or in a dusty bunk bed on Mars; she’ll even take cold Pluto.

She doesn’t know what she was thinking. Maybe the distance; between getting the news of Alec Ryder’s death and him actually having to face it when he wakes up will numb the pain, will smooth over the shock – but it doesn’t make handling his distress now any easier. If anything, it is worse, because while Scott’s voice rises, panic ringing in every syllable, his body remains so utterly still, a disconnect that cannot be bridged.

So the next words are lies; pretty beautiful lies. She describes Aya to him, but she doesn’t tell him it is the one planet that she will never touch, not like a Pathfinder, nor that the rest of the galaxy is trying to have them killed. But this is not enough to calm Scott, and their connection is severed afterwards. She wonders if the beautiful world she tried to paint him will be enough to make him dream of wonderful, nice things. It is an ugly thing, to be so grateful that her younger brother at least wasn’t there to witness their father’s death first-hand. Like this, even the worst nightmare is only make believe, because the reality is so, so much worse.

When she blinks, her head so much more silent than a second before, Harry offers her a glass of water, a timid smile. She gulps it all down, if only to have anything else to focus on, and she nods her gratitude to the man, pats Scott’s hand in goodbye, and leaves the room before she loses it entirely, looking at her brother’s body. He was so close, and yet he is still so far. The wait might just as well slowly kill her.

***

She inhales, her father’s favourite coffee package open under her nose. It is a stronger tinge than she is used to, but the familiarity of it almost makes her cry again. It is a coward’s instinct that brought her to her father’s room – her room, she has to remind herself. Though there is no personal touch from her, nothing even moved from its original place. She sits in his chair, feeling like a child playing dress-up with their parent’s clothes, and she listens to audios of the one of many secrets Alec Ryder withheld from his children.

“In his defence,” SAM’s voice is loud in the room, but soft. “He didn’t think he would die so soon.”

She has to blink, hard, before she is able to come up with words again. “Thank you, SAM. For this, and Scott… If you had a mouth, I would kiss you.”

It is a joke, but one that she actually believes. It’s not that she doesn’t trust or care for her crew, but it’s different having someone fighting so hard for her, in a galaxy that can feel so unbearably lonely. Here, the loss of her entire family is so much more obvious: where the air around her is finally silent, where there’s no distracting, needy messages, or loud trouble-makers. And even in the solace of her solitude, she still has SAM. The last standing bit of the Ryder legacy, besides herself.

His voice, this time booming privately, just inside her head, sounds amused and somehow pleased – she wonders if he had this realization from the first second they got united.

“If I had a mouth, Pathfinder, I would be honoured.”

She laughs, a real sound this time, getting up on her feet. Her father has bended the rules so much for his kids, on this trip, and in-between his important dossiers and weaponry files, he allowed them to stack each whatever it would fit. She picked books, and her finger lingers along the spines, all the titles read already. There’s a book, on explorations – the old ones, to Antarctica back when it was filled with ice, that she chose simply because she hoped her father might be interested in it. He, of course, never got to see it, most likely. She takes it from the shelves, and gets ready to leave the room.

Upon a second consideration, she steps back, picks another book from the shelves, and that’s when she returns to her duties.

***

“Hey, what do you have there?”

Ryder instinctively tightens her hold around the books, before she reminds herself how stupid that instinct is; she is not in middle school anymore, nor is Liam in any way some kind of bully (unless he really wants to, which luckily, he rarely does). So she moves, shifting her stance, allowing him to grab at what interests him from the array of things she is carrying. He takes the two books, and she busies herself stocking up a shelf with her dad’s coffee: whatever the Initiative is calling coffee, it is a watered down version of it, and she tries to plan a trip to Kadara port soon enough, if only for their illegal shit.

“Shakespeare?” Liam asks, snorting as he drops the battered old copy on the kitchen table. It’s clearly been read over and over again, pages yellowed and a corner bent, the spine broken.

It’s the most favourite thing she owns.

Jaal appears in the doorway, his eyes warming when he notices the two humans, taking in the scene in front of him.

“The author of Hamlet?” he asks, and of course Jaal, who asked immediate access to the cultural centre, knows exactly who Shakespeare is.

Sara Ryder points her finger at him, suddenly serious.

“Whatever theory they might want to make you believe, he was not elcor!” she says, a tone not unlike that of the Moshae when delivering her most important lectures accompanying her words.

“Though,” she softens. “Their version of Hamlet is a must-watch for everyone, I admit.”

“Yeah, if you want to go through psychological torture,” Liam snorts.

Jaal looks between the two, his eyes starry, curious – and Sara cannot stop staring, even when Liam lowers himself in his chair to stupendous levels, just to kick her in the shin, back to awareness. Her luck, though, Liam’s name is called out from a distance away, Gil’s voice booming loud. The two have a poker game planned, now that their snacks stock got refilled on the Nexus, and she snorts when Liam almost tumbles out of this chair in his haste.

Jaal looks down at the book the male human discarded, reading over the title.

“The Tempest,” he breathes, a bit of reverence in the word. “Is this the reason for the ship’s name?” he asks.

“Just lucky coincidence, though I have no doubt some might call me a romantic for it either way.”

But it’s fitting. What better name for the one ship that is supposed to explore a whole galaxy? When hit by a storm and finding yourself in a new unfamiliar place, the only thing you can do is make sense of it. When they gave her command over it, this is the first thing she thought about – how words and stories echo throughout centuries, throughout galaxies now.

“And this?” he asks, holding up the other book.

She smiles, a smile lost in a world 600 years ago.

“Explorers… Pathfinders of the past. Isn’t it ironic? I studied the things that people like my father left behind. I’m not a trailblazer.”

He nods, as if he actually understands the words, when he has no idea who this woman used to be, in her so distant life. He steps closer to her, and she looks at him, fully and openly, trusting him in this tiny kitchenette space, when just a day before he slammed her fully to the ground because she tried to wake him up. He has no idea what to make of her. He won’t, unless he asks.

“Will you tell me? About your father, your family?”

The change is immediate, the way she wants to claw her arms around her, protection in the body language, the space too cramped between the two of them for her to comfortably do so. But then, she looks at him, holding his eyes for a long moment, and then she sighs.

“He died to save me, you know?” she raises a hand to her eyes, mimicking the shattering of a glass, and realization chills him to the bones. “So now each time I restart a vault, I can hear my father taking his last breath, I can feel the phantom pain of my lungs crashing.”

Each time she saves a bit more of Andromeda, she revisits the trauma of her father dying for her, of her own body losing a battle, for the half of a minute she could have been called dead. Of course she cannot heal from it, not when she’s haunted by the cause of his death on every single planet she lands, not when it is her purpose.

It is the worst kept secret of the galaxy, and it has not yet reached him. Jaal asked, not unkind, his eyes focused on her; her inabilities have not rendered her a fraud in his eyes, not yet at least. But he deserves to know the truth, in the same way that he has offered it to her. And she is still shattered and fragile after the earlier situation with Scott, and there is no comfort in this galaxy that she can be offered, but perhaps this.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, readying herself to tell a story that she never had to tell anyone else. Hell, everyone knows – or at least everyone pretends to know – her life story, the poor Ryder orphan who somehow still became the Pathfinder. It’s a perfect rag to riches tale, sprinkled with enough drama and trauma that the story tells itself so easily in-between gossiping mouths. But nobody has asked her about herself, the Sara behind everything else, or about those she has called family, beyond the titles. Everyone just assumed they knew everything there is to know. And so she never had to recount her experiences, or call them by their names. She does so, slowly, stumbling over her own words, pausing so she can focus on the cadence of her voice, rather than the tangibility of her life.

“My mom died a while ago; she was a scientist – but she was always just mom to us. I have a twin brother, though he is younger than me. He…” she breaks off, her vision unfocused, and Jaal’s hand around her elbow is warm. “His cryo-pod malfunctioned when we arrived in Andromeda, so he is in a coma. I… I don’t know when he will wake up.”

She doesn’t say if. Because if this galaxy owes her anything, after it has taken so much from her, then it owes her the recovery of her sibling.

“Dad wasn’t really in the landscape. Too busy fighting, the workaholic genius soldier. I didn’t think we mattered much for him, until… until he died to save my life. How’s that for father of the year? He threw away the future of humanity to save his daughter.”

“It seems like he loved you,” Jaal’s voice is warm, but she does not look up at him, too focused on the pattern on the floor, already pulled in her past.

“I wish he would have said it. For Scott if not for me: he tried so hard to be everything dad wanted. He trained and fought, he’s the muscles and the charm in our family. If someone, he should have been the Pathfinder.”

“You speak so highly of him.”

“He’s all I have left, 600 years away from home. Well… not home anymore, I suppose.”

“You are an amazing wonder, Sara Ryder,” Jaal says, and she startles, her head moving to look up at him.

Fat, wet tears are falling down Jaal’s cheeks, silent, not betrayed even by his voice. But his forehead crinkles together, as if he is barely holding in his pain, eyes closed. He knows he would have scared her off, if he had stopped her in any way until this point, until the story took its complete shape. Here, in front of him, is just a young human who had so much to deal with in the span of months. Yet here she is, not only standing and doing her best every single day, as he has witnessed for all this time, but taking responsibility well beyond her skill, just because no one else would – fighting in the name of her beliefs, even when she shouldn’t have to.

“Are you crying?” she asks, incredulous, panic rising in her voice.

Jaal’s body shakes, and his eyes meet hers. Yes, he is crying: for her. Something in her chest twists, and she lets out a shuddering breathe. The something snaps, and she feels the build-up of tears at the corner of her eyes. Fuck. She didn’t cry when she woke up alone. She didn’t cry when Scott panicked at the news of their father’s death. But she cries now, because someone had understood and felt her pain, allowing her to do the same.

Sara’s fingers find his rofjinn; an awkward angle, but when she tugs, he falls willingly against her chest, his arm immediately wrapping around her. He smells like spices, a sweet tinge behind it all, and she inhales, his palm pressing against the small of her back, his face burying in her hair. She can hear her name, muffled, repeated over and over, like a chant that keeps both of them anchored, and if she wasn’t busy crying her heart out on his cape, maybe she would have been embarrassed, at being in such a position, comforted over something that shouldn’t be hurting anymore.

But the angara are not like that. Not once has Jaal – or any of his people for that matter, implied that she should get over things, nor do they forget their emotions as easily as humans or turians or krogans or salarians pretend to do. The wound, no matter how far in the past, can still hurt, and that is okay. Sometimes, there will even be people around to support her.

She sniffles, feeling her face burn with her exertion from crying, and when she slowly untangles herself from Jaal’s embrace, she almost pouts at seeing him look exactly just as beautiful as before, if not for the pained twist of his mouth. She is flustered, dabbing with her fingers at the wet material of his rofjinn. He smiles, amused – though she is still too embarrassed to look up at him, and his hand rises to stop her action. She frowns, but does not pull her hand away. His wrist twists, and although awkward and not exactly inter-species friendly, he locks his fingers with hers, just as she did before, when the roles were reversed. Her thumb now takes to rubbing circles into his skin. He’s not wearing his usual gloves, and she suddenly feels even more light-headed, not entirely from crying alone.

“I apologize,” he says, and she just blinks at him, dumbfounded.

She can feel his heartbeat against her wrist.

“I did not know the manner in which you became a Pathfinder, and I criticized you for it. Now knowing it, I think you are worthy of praise.”

She chuckles, a sound that turns into another round of tears, though no more loud sobbing accompanies it this time.

“Thank you, Jaal.”

“What was it you said? Always, Sara.”

***

“Ryder,” Jaal’s voice echoes throughout the empty hallways, and she looks up from her data pad, where she is lounged on the couch, to find him already walking towards her.

She cannot quite hide her surprise, because they are on the most perfect planet in the Andromeda galaxy, and he is somehow looking for her. They have yet to discuss the breakdown over her family story, and she burns with embarrassment when he stops in front of her, his arms crossed across his chest, clearly knowing that she is on board of the Tempest, and not out there enjoying fresh air and perfect nature, because she is actively attempting to avoid him.

But Jaal’s face breaks into a smile; a small one, but this is still a new development and she wouldn’t fault his hesitancy, when it’s in reply to her own cowardice.

“I would like you to accompany me,” he declares, and he extends out his hand, palm up, waiting patiently for her to stop ogling at him, and drop her own hand in his, so he can help her up on her feet and right wherever he wants to take her.

“Where are we going?” she asks, finally shaking off her surprise, placing her data pad aside, her fingers finding the soft padding of his gloves.

“Aya,” he replies, his voice thick with humour.

Obviously, since they are stationed on this planet and not even the resident pilots are on board at the moment. She may do many strange, stupid things, but attempting to fly the Tempest while her head holds only the most basic flying notions would be downright suicidal.

Jaal allows her to step out the ship first, and immediately afterwards matches his pace to hers. His strides are longer; she has seen him enough times in combat, to know the kind of distances that he can cover in only three well-timed strides, but he seems content to force them small enough to fit her own rhythm. She feels particularly touched by the attention, since no one has extended any such care to her thus far in this galaxy far away from home. Politeness at its finest, even as she’s sure he can feel the tension in her body at their unknown destination.  

They don’t even walk that far. With a short sprint to catch an empty bench, Jaal, with a wide gesture of an arm, invites her to sit next to him. She is dazed and a bit dazzled, underwhelmed by the setting. She has passed through this particular long pathway many times since discovering Aya, but she listens without opening her mouth to voice her doubts. At their back, the plants grow so large that they’re shaded from most of the sun, the green tips so close that they can almost tickle then nape of her neck. She can hear the nature, murmuring with life, brimming with health, the way it should be – and well, this is not so bad, a sound that she doesn’t think she will ever get tired of, especially not when she can spend months at a time without seeing any plant at all.

She sighs, closing her eyes against one light breeze passing through her hair, and when she opens them again, she finds Jaal already looking at her. She cocks an eyebrow at him, which makes his small smile return.

“This area actually has a name. Memorial Gardens; mostly used for relaxation, but as the name suggests, it is a place angara find themselves in when trying to grasp something of the past in their present.”

His explanation is calm, same tone all throughout, but she knows exactly what he is hinting at: her own loss, her own unmade peace. She doesn’t know if she should be mad at him, for not playing along with her obvious discomfort at the situation, or kiss him because he has sought out a way to make her feel better.

“Jaal,” she starts, trying to find some words to explain the tumultuous emotions inside her heart, fumbling to find her footing in what she wants to say.

“Ryder,” he interrupts, but his voice is so gentle that it doesn’t feel like much of an interruption at all. “Stay for as long as you please.”

He rises to his feet, bending over her just enough to squeeze her hand in his, reassurance and some force passed for her to be brave in just the barely-there ghost of a touch. She looks up at him, a storm hidden in her eyes, and Jaal nods at her, still trying to convey the same support.

“You are welcome here between my people.”

And with that, she blinks and he’s already half out of her sight. She takes in one shaky breath, trying to gather her bearing, and she asks SAM to turn off her translator, so she won’t get side-tracked from this one task from Jaal: enjoy this present moment, even when haunted by her past.

The first ten minutes, she follows the patterns on the stone walls supporting the higher level of the garden, stories that she cannot even figure the beginning of, too entrenched in a rich cultural understanding of the angara, that she still lacks. The next five, she remembers the time her and Scott hid on the Citadel for three entire days, trying to avoid Ellen’s wrath about a stupid bad assessment that they fucked up and forgot to notify their parents about. They returned when all their pocket money ran out, dirty from scrapping by and so hungry that their mother simply laughed when she saw them, and made them eat soup in their underwear, on the cold tiles of the kitchen, not allowed to walk over any of her carpets.

SAM notifies her that he has an entire database of photos and videos saved by the entire Ryder family, their reminders of a life in the Milky Way, once they’d brave the deep slumber. The ones from Alec remain perfectly untouched; Sara may be brave but she is not brave enough for that, not without her other half. Ellen’s are much the same. She opens her own with the ghost of a smile, and for an hour, she is lost in smiles centuries gone, people whose outline is turning blurry in her memory, whose descendants are probably lost in bureaucratic hells.

It is a picture of her and Scott, on their fifth birthday, each of them sat on one of Alec’s knees, that undoes her, unravels the tight lid that she had over her emotions. Her nose and cheeks are covered in whipped cream, Scott’s hand much the same, painting him the culprit. He’s grinning, a large smile, and one of his front teeth is chipped. Alec is beaming, not quite a smile, but the closest damn thing to it, and he looks so proud to be there, between his two children, that Sara cannot look away.

If the angara see the human cry, and cry, and cry – well, the angara feel deeply anyway. There’s nothing strange with it. And Jaal has given her the one place where she, Sara Ryder, the human Pathfinder, would not be judged for her emotions, now or in the future either.

[saphyhowl]

Chapter one: Encounter

Here it is. I know it’s not very long but I will continue tomorrow for part two. The fic I asked your thoughts about. Hope you like it. Again sorry for the long wait.

Edit: I added part two

“And on your right, you may admire the work of Jacques-Louis David, “the Coronation of Napoleon” painted in 1807. It took the artist two years to finish the painting. It is not only imposing because of its size but also by the…”

A young woman in a formal suit guided a group of visitors through the gallery in the Denon part of the Louvre museum. While the visitors admired the painting, the guide waved discreetly at a young man standing on the sidelines. He looked visibly bored but managed a timid smile as the woman waved at him. He strode towards her, his boredom noticeable even in the way he walked.

“I’ll be done in a few hours, why don’t you grab something to eat or maybe take a stroll outside. I know museums are not the funniest thing to see for a 19-year-old,” the woman said with a chuckle.

“No worries sis, I’ll grab something to eat at the “Paul” bakery. Text me when you’re done?” the young man answered.

The sister nodded and went on to describe the other paintings to her group. She glanced one last time at her brother’s figure among the visitors. The young man put his headphones on as he strode towards the exit. He scrolled through his phone to find the playlist that would suit his mood and nearly bumped into an elegant-looking man.

“Sorry,” he mouthed at the elegant man and continued walking.

A moment later he sat on a bench munching on a sandwich. Someone sat next to him but he paid them no mind. A tap on his arm. He looked up. It was the elegant man from before.

“Well, we meet again,” said the elegant man.

The brother smiled politely and took another bite from his sandwich.

“You can call me Comte,” the gentleman added as he stretched out his hand.

“Louis,” answered the young man as he stared at Comte’s outstretched hand, visibly refusing to shake it.

“What is your favorite painting in the Louvre museum?” Comte asked.

“None. I don’t like museums,” Louis answered as he immediately took another bite from his sandwich. Hopefully, that way the weird man would stop talking to him.

“I thought so. A pity. Paintings are a heritage, they have many stories to tell us,” Comte commented.

“I am sure they do sir,” Louis said as he looked away in annoyance.

“Le Sacre de Napoleon is a masterpiece. However, you must visit the Musée d’Orsay as well. The paintings there are filled with life,”

“I will,” Louis said with a loud sigh.

“Make sure to go with a knowledgeable guide, otherwise you might miss a few gems,” Comte added.

Louis nodded and continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Well, then Louis. I bid you farewell. Take in my beautiful city of Paris, she has yet to offer you plenty of treasures,” Comte nodded his head and walked away.

“What a freak,” Louis mumbled to himself.

He was about to reach for his soda bottle as he noticed a leather wallet next to him. Louis cursed under his breath as he knew what he was about to do.

A few hours later.

“Are you sure he never left the Denon area?” a young woman asked the security guard as he replayed the security footage.

“No Mademoiselle Sophie,” the security guard answered.

Sophie saw the footage for the fifth time. There was her brother passing through the gates leading to the Denon area at 1:32 pm. She held her head in her hand.

“This cannot be happening,” she whispered.

“It’s been past closing time Mademoiselle. Have you tried his cellphone again?” the security guard inquired.

She nodded and took out her phone. She tapped on her brother’s contact and held her phone to her ear.

“Come on. Come on. Answer idiot…”

She heard the familiar beeping that announced her call had gone straight to voicemail.

“Maybe he went already home Sophie?” suggested someone behind her. It was Alicia, one of Sophie’s colleagues.

“Maybe you are right Alicia. I will go check and if not then I will go straight to the police. He knows nothing about Paris and it’s getting late,” Sophie decided as she went to grab her bag and coat.

Sophie watched the city lights pass by the window as she sat in the subway. The closer she got to her stop the more nervously her knees jumped up and down. She practically ran towards her tiny apartment. She dropped her keys a few times because her hands trembled with anticipation. She opened the door and shouted her brother’s name. She shouted again as she entered her apartment. The apartment was dark and was exactly as she had left it before heading to work this morning. She shouted her brother’s name again storming into each room. No one.

Sophie crouched down and called her brother’s phone one more time. Voicemail. She looked at her phone and selected another contact. The sharp light from her phone hurt her eyes or maybe the tears she held back started to sting her eyes.

“Hello?” a voice came out of the speaker.

“Mom? I-I lost Louis,” Sophie managed to say before bursting into tears.

A few hours later, Sophie sat in front of a police officer, telling the middle-aged officer what had occurred. Sophie tried her best to recall any detail that could be decisive for the investigation. Another officer handed her a paper cup with what seemed to be coffee. She gave them a faint smile. The middle-aged officer spoke with Sophie it took her a moment to understand their explanations. All of this seemed surreal. The busy police station even at night, the neon lights. The office was busy with people doing paperwork. Sophie was sitting there filing a missing person report for her younger brother just like in any trailer movie. However, the heavy truth was nowhere comparable to what any series could transmit. She had lost her brother for whom she had always looked out for. Sophie felt as if part of herself went missing for good that day as well.

The police officer gave her a business card with a number on it.

“If you need to talk, we have a few people here who are specialized in helping families cope with the situation,” the officer explained.

Sophie took the business card and thanked the police officer.

“We will be at the Louvre tomorrow to investigate possible leads. We will let you know if we find something,” the other officer added.

Sophie managed to blurt out a few words of gratitude and exited the station. She caught sight of a familiar man leaning against a car.

“Antoine,” Sophie whispered and smiled.

The man named Antoine held out his hands to take hers. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“This is a nightmare,” she said as series of sobs took over.

Antoine held her in his arms until she had calmed down a little.

“It is not your fault. He will show up again, ok? Let’s go back to your place and get some rest,” Antoine suggested as he opened the door of his car.

The next day, at the police station.

“Our colleagues have scanned every profile of the visitors and staff on that day and none of them match with the man we see here,” explained the policewoman to his lieutenant as she circled the zoomed face of an elegant-looking man.

The lieutenant gazed at the different screenshots from the security footage showing the missing Louis with an unidentified man.

“How could anyone pass the heavy security of the Museum?” the lieutenant wondered.

“We found something else,” the policewoman showed him another screenshot.

The lieutenant looked closer and recognized Louis. The young man was following the suspect through a door.

“Where does that door lead?”

The policewoman turned pale.

“Now now Marie, it cannot be that bad,” the lieutenant encouraged the policewoman.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“What do you mean exactly with nothing?” the lieutenant asked.

“A storage room for flyers and whatnot. There are no windows, no shafts, nothing that could lead them out, except the same door they went through,” Marie explained.

The lieutenant sat back in his chair. He had seen a lot of cases in his lengthy career. However, this one was fairly new and slightly worrying.

“I’ll make a call. This, dear Marie, is bigger than I anticipated,” the lieutenant added before getting up to make a call. This case was out of his hands.

 #Trouverlouis

Paris was on fire. At least the social network was. The social media of every Parisian was showing and sharing one hashtag, a plea for help from a desperate sister. Sophie was in the kitchen, her phone on the table could not stop buzzing ever since she had followed her friends' advice. She had placed her faith in the algorithms of Instagram and every other network that might help to obtain hints on her brother’s whereabouts. However, after a month, the shares and posts resulted in lots of public empathy but few leads.

Sophie sat on a chair and stared at a picture hanging on her fridge door. The unidentified man who took away her brother Louis. She remembered the day she went to the police station with her mother this time. After they had told them another unit had taken over the case because of the lack of leads, her mother had thrown a tantrum. She insulted every policeman with every imaginable name. However, all the commotion dulled out as she saw the portrait one police officer had handed to her, explaining that she was allowed to use it to see if anyone in her circle could identify him. Ironically, no one recognized him.

Sophie looked at the portrait, eyes filled with pure hate. The pure-hearted, art and history passionate Sophie had made a vow to personally strangle the life out of this man. She grabbed her purse and went to the Louvre as she did every day for work. However, this time she went to stand for the umpteenth time in front of the door through which her brother never came back.

The door looked insignificant as usual, noted Sophie. She was alone in the area, it was yet too early for the storm of visitors to invade the halls of the Louvre Museum. Sophie sighed. The police had explained that it was a mere storage room of two square feet. She had looked at it many times during the past weeks. She lazily put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door, she knew what to expect.

Sophie let out a scream. The stack of cardboard from yesterday was gone, the pile of flyers and maps as well. The storage room looked more like an old corridor from the Louvre with a velvet rug, old paintings on each side of the walls.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” a voice whispered. It came from the far end of the corridor.

Sophie fumbled with her purse and took out her phone to take a picture.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” the voice repeated.

Sophie searched through her phone and was about to leave a voice message to her boyfriend Antoine.

“Sophie” another voice whispered.

Sophie shuddered; she knew that voice very well. It belonged to Louis.

“Antoine, I think I found a lead. I’ll send you a picture,” Sophie whispered on her phone, her voice a mix of fear and joy.

She released her finger from the recording button. She was about to tap onto the picture she had just taken to send it to Antoine. Something or someone pushed her into the corridor causing her to drop her phone. The door slammed behind her and Sophie was drawn towards the other end.

“No no no no. Let me out! Let me go! Please let me go! Alicia! Anyone! Get me out of here, please!”

On the other side of the storage door, Sophie’s phone rested on the floor. The screen shifted as a call entered, the name “ANTOINE” appeared on the screen. The phone buzzed in the still empty museum.

[peonies-and-honeybees]

Peonies-and-honeybees’ Spiritual Services

Hello! I have decided to open up paid readings for you guys! I have been practicing for about four years now and enjoy every minute of it. I’m excited to help you guys along your own spiritual journey and provide guidance using my favorite forms of divination and my talents as a medium.

(To receive a service please direct message me rather than using the ask box. I use Venmo. Please only send money after I have answered your message. Please do not mention anything about spirituality in the description as I could be shut down due to app policies. If you feel a reading was incorrect I will redo it but I cannot refund the service.)

Disclaimers:

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to because I will not be filtering anything, so shy away from death or anything medical please

I will need payment before the reading, but after we have discussed what you are asking for

I am not a health professional and tarot shouldn’t be used as a replacement for medical advice or therapy

No form of divination can predict with 100% accuracy, they just show you the most possible outcomes, paths, etc.

In the notes about payment, please only put your tumblr handle so it’s easier for me to keep track and I don’t get taken down

-Tarot and Oracle Readings-

(Requires giving me your initials and sign as well as some background on the question) 

These are some spreads I’m offering, if you find any you like that aren’t listed we can negotiate a price upon messaging. I will choose a deck to use after hearing the question but for $0.50 extra you can choose the deck you feel called to from a list :) 

🌸🕯🔮One card pull~ $3🔮🕯🌸

A simple one card draw to provide insight into a question or situation

🌸🕯🔮The Wheel of the year~ $15🔮🕯🌸

This 9 card spread will discuss what to expect during these different celtic festivals/ points of the year, reading will be dependent on the time of year it is purchased and will be in chronological order

🌸🕯🔮Shadow Self Spread~ $5🔮🕯🌸

A three card spread to show you the different positive and negative sides and defining traits of yourself, as well as how to work on your own growth

🌸🕯🔮Fairytale Archetype reading~ $10🔮🕯🌸

A 6 card reading describing your character and how to defeat the villain in your life

🌸🕯🔮Elemental reading~ $8🔮🕯🌸

A five card reading predicting aspects of your future in regards to each of the four elements

🌸🕯🔮Spirit guide spread~ $8🔮🕯🌸

A five card reading about about your spirit guides

🌸🕯🔮Soulmate Reading~ $7🔮🕯🌸

A four card reading about the details of your relationship with your soulmate

🌸🕯🔮The spirituality star~ $8🔮🕯🌸

A 6 card spread to explore a clear and concise question and help problem solve

-Aura Readings-

(Requires giving me your full name)

A reading of your soul’s color signature

🌸🕯🔮Basic aura reading~ $5🔮🕯🌸

A basic analysis about what color your aura is and what it means

🌸🕯🔮Advanced aura reading~ $8🔮🕯🌸

A more personalized analysis about what your aura color means and a card pull about how to maintain your energy and stay true to yourself

-Shufflemancy Reading-

A reading about the theme or feeling of a person or situation done with a specially curated playlist

(requires your initials and star sign)

🌸🕯🔮One song and explanation~ $2🔮🕯🌸

Even if you dont want to purchase, reblogging helps! Thank you!!

[sortavibing]

what the haikyuu!! boys/girls favorite songs/bands are📼

hello! this is my first post so i hope im doing it right :P anyways enjoy!

karasuno💾

daichi: Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey. he’s such a typical dad holy shit so yeah he 100% listens to this i don’t know what else to say like- 🤠 yeah he probably sings it in his minivan (you cannot convince me that he doesn’t drive a minivan)

sugawara: WAP by Cardi B. yes we stan this bad bitch. he LOVES this song like he can do the dance and everything and he pulls it off like the baddie he is please someone animate this i NEED it anyways yeah he doesn’t really sing it but he 100% has done the dance in front of daichi.

asahi: Lullaby by Johannes Brahms. this baby hes such a slut for classical music and he always listens to it before a big game to calm his nerves. he pretends that he’s listening to something “tough” but everyone knows that he listens to classcial, they just pretend to not know.

nishinoya: Old Town Road by Lil Nas X. yeah, he hasn’t gotten out of the old town road phase and he unironically sings it and does a yeehaw dance. no one can stop him because everyone (except tanaka) is too embarrassed to be around him when he sings and dances, so he thinks it’s ok (honey, no), also, tanaka sometimes joins in and it’s painful to hear and see.

tanaka: GOOBA by 6xi9ine. he thinks it’s “badass” and tries to rap it whenever it comes on, and he fails horribly, but nishinoya always hypes him up saying that he did a good job, causing him to start singing again please save karasuno from hinata, nishinoya, and tanaka’s singing

ennoshita: Cough Syrup by Young The Giant. though it may not seem like it, but this man has got music TASTE like- yes. anyways yeah this song is a vibe and he really likes it. he once tried to introduce good music to tanaka and nishinoya, but they said it was “boring” and “sappy” and he never wanted to beat them up more than he did then.

kageyama: he listens to like play by play volleyball games or podcasts that talk about improving your skills because he’s a hoe for that volleyball shit try and prove me wrong i dare you

hinata: Red by Taylor Swift. he has terrible music taste and he literally just listens to what’s popular and like what his sister listens to. he likes to sing outloud and his voice is worse than oikawa- like karasuno cannot handle hinata singing at all it’s literal earrape.

tsukishima: Fancy by Twice. tsukki is a hardcore kpop stan, and he 100% listens to twice religiously, like that's the majority of his playlist, and he refuses to play his music out loud, and everyone thinks he listens to like rock or some shit like that. only yams knows that tsukki listens to it and he was sworn to secrecy.

yamaguchi: Sports by Beach Bunny. he likes to hum it quietly to himself because he really likes the beat and the lyrics. tsukishima has this song saved on his playlist just for yams and he plays it whenever they share headphones.

kiyoko: Body by Megan Thee Stallion. i dont know what to say, she is just a baddie who loves the confidence boost she gets from listening to this song as she should kiyoko is amazing she even learned the tiktok dance to this song and she performed it to yaichi yaichi.exe has stopped working but she won’t show it to anyone else anyways shes just a baddie and we stan.

yachi: Green by Cavetown. yeah she really likes the calming peaceful vibes this song has and she likes to sing it quietly when she is in a public place, like a bus or a subway to calm herself down and she also plays it when she studies.

aoba johsai 📼

oikawa: Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA because it just raidates that “i’m hotter than you” energy (just like he does our twink king). he prob sings it in the locker room while everyone is changing and his singing bursts everyones eardrums omg the whole team hates oikawa’s singing so much

matsukawa: Toad sings WAP he’s such a memer like- yeah so he and makki probably obsess over these toad sings video because 1. they are funny as hell like it’s some god tier comedy and 2. they say oikawa sounds like that when he sings it’s true tho

hanamaki: Toad sings Sweet Home Alabama. he and mattsun have a running debate about which one is better, and they ask the opinions of literally everyone they meet about it. so far more people have chose maki’s favorite song and he’s a little smug about it.

iwaizumi: Ride by twenty one pilots. this is probably like one of his secret pleasures. most people think he listens to like rap or something like that, but he really likes this song. he hopes that oikawa will never find out about this, because he will never hear the end of the teasing, so he just listens to this song while he is by himself, or just without the team.

yahaba: Walking On A Dream by Empire Of The Sun. idk this just feels right, like i really have no explanation why i think this works it just does🤠

kindaichi: Wake Me Up bye Avicii. this man is borderline bad taste, but we will let it slide for now, so yeah again, he just gives me the avicii stan vibes, he probably thought he would like rap more, but one day he heard avicii playing on the radio and he was hooked. he still pretends to like rap because he has a “reputation”

kunimi: Advice by Cavetown. this man gives absolutley zero fucks about everyone’s opinions you bet your ass he listens to this song. he 100% puts headphones in to listen to this while someone is talking to him because he just doesn’t want to have a conversation with them. everyone hates when he does that, but again, he doesn’t give a shit.

kyotani: We Will Rock You by Queen. yeah this is probably his pump up jam and he always listens to it before a game to get hyped up. if anyone dares to talk to him while he has headphones in, he will not hesitate to bite their head off i know this for a fact.

nekoma💾

kuroo: Yarichin Bitch Club OP. ever since kenma introduced him to anime OPs, he’s been obsessed, and he loves the yarichin op becuase 1. it’s dirty and he thinks that’s funny and 2. it actually slaps like why does it go so hard i’m in awe- anyways yeah he always sings it in the most public places just to get attention bc he’s a whore for the spotlight like that 😌. he also sings it with bokuto whenever they are together bc we stan the dumbass duo.

yaku: Arms Tonite by Mother Mother. yeah he is kinda obsessed with mother mother but this is hands down his favorite song. lev once heard yaku listening to this song and made fun of it, and let’s just say lev got the ass whopping of his life, yaku takes no prisoners- anyways yeah he just vibes with it and it’s great.

yamamoto: Who Let The Dogs Out by Baha Men. the whole nekoma team HATES his music taste, and they never let him play any music becasue- it’s just so bad i’m sorry this man has no taste like have you seen his hair? (the slander is real :))

kenma: Hikaru Nara (Your Lie in April OP) kenma loves to listen to anime ops while gaming bc they are highkey all bops and he says they help him concentrate. he tried to get kuroo to listen to the songs with him, and kuroo started to like listening to anime OPs, so they usually listen to them together.

fukunaga: he listens to like john mulaney comedy shows becuse he’s a little dork like that and (timeskip spoiler) he becomes a comedian later on so it just fits 🤠

inuoka: Roar by Katy Perry. again, it’s just the vibes that i get from him, i can’t explain it, he just seems like a big dork who would like this shit. so yeah, he probably sings this song really loudly when it comes on and the whole nekoma team just has to tolerate him when he does it.

lev: Ra Ra Rasputin by Boney M. he probably started listening to this song as a joke because he’s Russian, and the songs about Russia, but he genuinely started enjoying it and whenever it comes on, he starts singing. his voice isn’t actually that bad but yaku still gets annoyed as hell when he does it and beats the shit out of him.

fukurodani 📼

bokuto: Mr. Brightside by The Killers. he gets really excited when this plays and always gets up to sing it really really loudly, and do a really energetic dance. akaashi calm your child please he’s not a good singer, but he’s not a terrible one either, so the team has just gotten used to it.

akaashi: This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory. eep akaashi the hopeless romantic we stan- anyways yeah he found this band in like his first year of high school and has been addicted ever since. he doesn’t really share his taste in music with others, but the one time he let bokuto listen to music with him, bokuto got way to excited and accidentally dropped akaashi’s phone and cracked it.

konoha: Spirits by The Strumbellas. idk i just feel like he would listen to this song. he would never play his music out loud though, because bokuto always takes the aux cord/ speaker before anyone gets the chance to.

shiratorizawa💾

ushijima: he doesn’t listen to music. like if tendou offers to play music with him, he’ll accept, but like he’s just confused why people like listening to music so much, so he will just listen with that face he always makes (😐) while tendo is jumping around, dancing, and going batshit crazy.

semi: All I Wanted by Paramore. he is flat out obsessed with this band and he learned how to play this song on his electric guitar and has went to a couple of their concerts. semi 100% makes fun of his teammates music taste as he should

tendou: Yoda CBT remix (i linked it if you want to listen), ok but seriously, i think money machine by 100 Gecs. tendo is so chaotic and i think his music taste reflects that. he cannot listen to music without dancing or singing, and he always plays his music on full volume (hearing? what’s that?) tendo never gets the aux cord, because the last time they gave it to him, the speakers almost broke.

goshiki: Eye of the Tiger by Survivor. this little dork omg i really don’t have an explanation for this, it just fits and i take no criticism on this because y’all know it’s true.

shirabu: Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott. semi introduced him to this song and he pretened he didn’t like it but he’s secretly obsessed. i think he generally doesn’t like music but this song- this song is such a vibe that he has to like it. (anyways yeah go listen to this song its so good)

inarizaki 📼

kita: Animal by Neon Trees. he isn’t really open about listening to music, he only listens to his songs when he is alone and when he has earbuds in, and if someone walks up to him to talk, he takes his earphones out (we stan a respectful boy). so yeah, he isn’t a big fan of music, but he still likes to listen from time to time.

aran: You Know It by Colony House. he will never listen to music in front of anyone because whenever he hears this song, he has to sing, and he doesn’t like singing in front of people (the miya twins are annoying he can’t do anything in front of them🙄), but yeah, this songs really good we stan this man’s music taste.

atsumu: Girls in the Hood by Megan Thee Stallion. this man LOVES this song like- he is obsessed. if you ask him something, he will literally reply with “can’t talk right now, doing hot girl shit” and he just walks away and ur just like- what the fuck bro. anyways yeah he thinks he’s a bad bitch but he really is just a dork.

suna: 505 by The Arctic Monkeys. yeah, the basic choice would probably be “why’d you only call me when you’re high”, but i feel like he would like this song better because it starts off kinda vibey, and then it goes into this great guitar bit, and just- the v i b e s so yeah i think he really likes this shit.

osamu: cooking podcasts. like he literally doesn’t listen to music, just shit about cooking. atsumu makes fun of him for it and he is just like “bitch shut up and go do ur hot girl shit 😐” and just walks away and keeps on listening to his cooking shit. (we stan this petty bitch)

others💾

saeko: E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE! by CORPSE and Savage Ga$p. this is self explanatory, she just is a bad bitch and this is what bad bitches listen to 😌 she def has played this song while getting it on with someone.

terushima: Bust It Open by Lil’ Wil. we all know terushima listens to these thirst trap songs and tries to do the tik tok dances that are associated with them. he probably posts videos to these songs on tik tok and they get a good amount of likes (cough cough he has a following of many thirsty girls).

sakusa: 24 hours of nothing yeah he doesn’t listen to music he just puts this on with headphones so people won’t bother him. he finds the silence relaxing and hates it when people interrupt him (cough cough atsumu)

btw: for some of the songs that aren’t on basic streaming services, i linked the youtube video for them.

anyways, i hope you enjoyed my first post [eep finishing this made me really happy]! have a nice day!

bye for now🌊

[discocritic]

putting this under a cut because this bitch got long. 

first, let me welcome you to the fandom. since we’re a pretty small one, it’s always exciting to hear more people are joining! 

my advice for you is just basically what i wish i knew when first joining the fandom a couple years ago. the danger days album, comics, and twitters are the three main pieces of media that the universe is made up of, and some of those can be a challenge to navigate (because i was sure as hell confused when i started trying to figure everything out), so i'll outline some things you might want to know!

i'm assuming you've listened to the main danger days: true lives of the fabulous killjoys album, but there are a couple of bonus songs such as "zero percent" and "we don't need another song about california." those aren't on spotify, as far as i know, but you can find multiple audio/lyric videos on youtube.

there's also a 3-track EP called the mad gear and missile kid that includes the songs "f.t.w.w.w.," "mastas of ravenkroft," and "black dragon fighting society." tmgamk is described in an interview by mcr as a band that the killjoys would listen to. these are also not on spotify but, like the other songs, can be found on youtube.

if you don't want to buy the comics but still want to read them, i know of two (legal) ways to do that. this youtube playlist has videos that show each page of the comics, and this post has pictures of each page.

there are two danger days wikis (with comic spoilers! so beware), but one of them is way more useful and people don't tamper with the information in it.

there's also another little extra comic thing called "dead satellites" that was released for free comic book day a few years ago. it doesn't really have anything to do with the main storyline of the actual comics, but it does offer a glimpse of battery city life and zone bands, which is cool.

there are character twitter accounts for dr. death-defying, party poison, dj hot chimp, newsagogo, agent cherri cola, and gary levko (i may be missing some; i don’t really pay attention to the twitters lmao). here’s a link to dr. d’s and you should be able to find links to the rest through his tweets. 

i would also suggest checking out the danger days side of tumblr! (although you sent this ask to me so i'm assuming you've started this step already.) starting a danger days blog is a great way to get to know other members in the fandom while creating content of your own, and if you send asks to any of the blogs i'm about to mention, i'm sure they'll be glad to interact with you!

@killjoyhistory is a goddamn lifesaver. everything you could ever want to know about the danger days world is collected and archived at this blog, whether it's behind-the-scenes content from the music videos to interviews with the band where they mention danger days to forgotten concepts from the first drafts of the comics!

@graffitibible writes the most in-depth danger days fics with the best characterization and plots i have ever read. and they've come up with some super cool explanations for things in the DD universe. definitely check them out. 

@neon-rat posts tons of great headcanons and has an ongoing fic series called How To Navigate and Contemplate (and i'm promo-ing this because i cannot fucking wait for the next chapter to come out!). Although you should probably read her first fic, How Time Decides, on ao3 for the current one to make sense!

speaking of fics, @enby-partypoison has multiple different DD AUs! with everything from superheroes to ghosts to modern-day, aer ao3 will have something for you! i also had the privilege of working with aer to organize a holiday gift exchange the past december, so ae gets bonus points for that :)

if it's worldbuilding you want, @ruination-formation has tons of headcanons about places and people in both the zones and the city. she also writes tons of fics on her ao3 that you should check out as well.

@tapefish, @funkobraofficial, and @ravenxbones make amazing killjoy art! sometimes i just have to sit down and scroll through their art tags because everything they create is absolutely fantastic.

there are so many other amazing blogs i could mention, but these are a few that happened to come to mind when i was typing this out. but seriously, fire an ask towards any blog and i'm sure they'll be more than willing to answer it!

anyway, i’m going to end this now, because most of this was drafted as i sat in a drive-through for half an hour and lost track of its length, but i hope at least some of this has helped! and of course feel free to drop by my inbox again if you have any questions. 

[adrenaline-roulette]

Hallow-Queen (Joe)

I wrote three Hallow themed one shots back in October for the Boh Rhap cast (There was supposed to be a fourth, but unfortunately some things came up, and I was unable to write it. Maybe this Halloween I’ll finally get it done!?)

Anyways, there is a fic for Joe, Ben and Gwil

First up will be everyone’s favourite Dino boi! Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

The monster mash filled the bathroom as you got ready for the evening, your poor spotify algorithm will be so confused after tonight. You go for months listening only to the hits of the 80’s, and then suddenly, monster mash, and the Addams family theme are on loop! That however did not stop you from grooving along to the song, moving your hips to the beat and bobbing your head. You could hear Joe downstairs, setting everything up for the party he had organised at the last minute. Joe had sent a group text to the BohRhap cast, demanding everyone be free for Halloween. This, of course had been met with a rather loud outcry. Rami and Lucy had already made plans, Gwil was travelling to Wales to see his brother, and Ben well, Ben was free and had accepted immediately. Up until two days ago, it had been planned for just you, Joe and Ben to have a quite night together, watching scary movies, and pigging out on pizza. That is, until Joe had received a message from Gwil, his brother had come down with the flu, and didn’t want to pass it on to him. Your party now consisted of four. Next came a message from Lucy, “Okay, this is crazy, I haven’t seen you in months! Tell Joe that Rami and I will be there this weekend! (Don’t mention anything to Rami please, I’ve still got to figure out how to tell him…)”

With six confirmed people, you had taken it upon yourself to invite a few extra people, work mates, old school friends, and the castmates of Joe’s current project. As far as Joe knew, there were only going to be four of you in attendance tonight, yet somehow the extra bags of crisps, candy, and drinks hadn’t clued him in on the fact that there would be a lot more people in your house tonight. The doorbell rang downstairs, and you pause your music listening out for Joe as he shuffles around the floor below.  There’s the faint mumbling of voices, though they’re too quiet for you to pick up on who had arrived. Your phone ‘dings’ on the bathroom counter, and you turn your attention to it, a message from Ben illuminating the lock screen. “How long am I keeping Joe occupied for?”

You had a rather special surprise instore for Joe tonight, but to execute it properly, you needed Joe to give you some space for a little while. Ben had been more than willing to help out, offering to keep Joe away from you and the bathroom for as long as you required. “Just need 20 mins.” You send back just as the doorbell rings again. If you had planned everything correctly, everyone would arrive at roughly the same time, which meant Joe would be busy greeting all his unexpected guests. Turning back to face the mirror, you grin at your reflection, time for the piece de resistance! Carefully, you step into the legs of the suit you had chosen to wear, shimmying the material up to your hips. The suit is incredibly baggy on you, and it only becomes more noticeable as you shrug the outfit over your shoulders, but that was all about to change.

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

“What the hell is that noise?” Joe asks, turning his attention to Ben beside him, who paused as he went to open a beer. A loud ‘whirring’ noise seemed to echo around the entire apartment, Ben had a suspicion as to who the cause of the noise was, but had promised not to say a word.

Instead, Ben simply shrugs, popping the cap off his beer and taking a swig. “No idea sorry.” Joe squints at the blonde, but says nothing more on the topic, his eyes traveling over the costume his best mate had opted to wear. “Ben, mate, I’ve gotta ask. What are you wearing?” He waves his hand in the general direction of Ben’s costume, which consisted of a lime green skirt with purple flowers, salmon coloured tank top, and black boots.

Ben looks rather outraged at Joe’s obliviousness to his costume. “I’m sexy Patrick Star you uncultured swine!” He cries out, folding his arms across his chest, glaring at Joe. “What about you? You’ve barely put any effort in at all!”

Joe looks down at himself pouting at the blonde. “What do you mean? I’m in costume too!”

“It doesn’t count if you dress as your own character!”

Now that was something Joe hadn’t considered, he hadn’t even run his costume by with you, he just assumed that what he had decided to wear would be fine! He had on his baseball outfit from undrafted, lucky number 15 for Pat Murray. Looking at the slightly faded red shirt now however, Joe realised it was perhaps a somewhat lazy costume choice, he had just been so excited to still be able to fit into it! He never stopped to think, should he wear it? “At least my ass looks good in these pants.”

Ben can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “Well, you’re not wrong.” A grin is plastered to Joe’s lips, as he gazes around the kitchen. Clearly you had been up to something, as there were currently at least fifteen people milling around the apartment, none of which he had invited, not that they were any less welcome though.

“No fucking way!” Joe screeches, as he looks over to the front door. It had been left open, allowing the warm night air flow into the apartment, also to stop people from constantly ringing the doorbell, allowing the guests to just walk right on in. Ben casts his glance towards the door also, an identical look of glee on his face also. “RAMI! LUCY!”

The sheer volume of Joe’s voice carries over the small crowd of guests, and the two people of his calling turn to look at him, only to find the man in question jumping up and down like a child on Christmas, waving his hands in the air. Ben looks almost embarrassed to be stood beside him, though he would never leave his side, especially seeing as the only other people who he knew at the party, were headed straight for him now. The ever impeccably dressed couple, now stood with them, dressed as Jack and Sally from the nightmare before Christmas. It was a classic costume, but they both pulled the look off so well! “What the hell are you two doing here?” Joe grins, as he wraps his arms around Lucy, then Rami in a tight, welcoming hug.

“You know, I would love to know the answer to that also Joe. Lucy, perhaps you could shed some light on the situation?” Rami smirks, wrapping an arm around the blonde bombshell.

Ben raises a quizzical eyebrow at Lucy, while she shies away from the interrogation she was currently facing. “Maybe, I accidentally typed in the wrong address when booking our uber?” She offers in explanation, though it’s obvious that even she doesn’t believe her own lie.

“Did Y/N have something to do with it?” Joe laughs, swiping a beer off the table for himself.

“I’m pretty sure Y/N had something to do with this entire party. You just weren’t told.” Ben offers quietly. Joe nods in agreement, there was no denying you had created this party, even if Joe had thought he was the one planning the whole thing.

The front door continues to swing open and closed, allowing more and more people inside, the dull mumble of conversation rising to one of a low roar. A tall shadow looms over the small group, who had migrated into the sitting room, Rami was scrolling through Joe’s phone, creating a playlist for the night, while Lucy, Ben and Joe discussed their latest projects. “Looks like our mission from God was a success. We’ve gotten the band back together.” The deep voice of Gwilym is one that cannot go unrecognised, and the small group all turn to face him. The Brit was dressed as Indiana Jones, complete with a whip from a children’s costume of the adventurer, and a brown sable fedora.

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

You switch the air pump off, turning to face the mirror once more, a broad grin covering your concealed face. “Joe is going to love this!” You chuckle to yourself, moving to exit the bathroom. Your walk is a slow, lumbering one, your oversized costume causing you to take short steps, as apposed to the long strides you usually took. You left your phone on the bathroom counter, having realised you had no way of picking it up and storing it on your person, now you had your costume fully applied. As you exit the bathroom, the soft notes of the time warp, melt into those of the much louder all star, the smash mouth hit blaring through the speakers on the floor below. “Stairs, okay, we can do stairs. This is fine, I am fine...”

At no point during the costume planning process had you considered the need to travel downstairs, and now here you stood, trying to gauge what the best way to tackle your descend. To say it was a slow process down would be an understatement, as you neared the bottom, a few guests stopped to look at your larger than life costume, attempting to peer in and see who had donned such an outrageous outfit. However they soon gave up, when you took too long to reach them. You could hardly blame them for walking away, by the time you got off the stairs, it had taken you close to seven minutes! You wouldn’t wait for you either.

You scan over the crowd, costumed people milling around your apartment drinking and eating, a few dancing along to the music that filled every crevice of the small home. Finally, you spot the people you had been looking for, your small band of misfits who had taken up one of the sofa’s in the sitting room. Somehow Ben, Lucy, Gwil and Rami had managed to sit themselves of the two-seater, leaving Joe sat cross legged on the carpet beside them. Moving closer, Ben is the first to spot you, not that you had expected anything else, he was the only one who knew what your costume was, in all honesty, he had been keeping an eye out for you all evening. Your shadow looms over Joe, who frowns slightly at what he would deem, as a rude intrusion into his personal space. “Hey mate, I think one of your guests needs a hand.” Ben smirks, raising an eyebrow in your general direction.

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

Joe looks up at Ben, his neck straining from having to continuously tilt his head back at an awkward angle to see his friends. He pushes himself up from the floor, adjusting his now lopsided baseball cap, before pivoting on the spot, only to come face to face with an inflatable T-Rex. The grin which takes over his face, is one you had been praying you would see tonight, and it only cements the fact, that you had worn the perfect costume. Sure it would likely never be worn again, you couldn’t think of a time where you would require a T-Rex costume, and you could almost guarantee that after tonight, it would be folded back into the amazon box it had arrived in, then shoved under your bed, never to see the light of day again. But just for this moment, the look on Joe’s face, made it all entirely worth it!

“Y/N that had better be you under there. Or I’m about to profess my love for a complete stranger.” He chuckles, the grin never wavering from his cheeks, as he looks past the mesh below the dinosaur’s head, searching for a face he could recognise.

You shake your head from side to side, the dinosaur’s head moving erratically as you do so. “Of course it’s me! Honestly, who else would do something like this?” You laugh, as Joe wraps his arms around you, hugging as best he can through the thick layer of inflated costume.

“Bugger me I love you.” He breaths out softly before he whirls around on the spot, one arm remaining wrapped around you, causing you to stumble forward with him. “Benjamin! Did you know about this?” Joe cries, mock hurt flashing through his hazel eyes.

Ben simply shrugs, downing the last of his beer, before leaning forwards and placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Don’t yell at Ben! If it hadn’t of been for him, this whole thing would’ve been ruined with your snooping!” You laugh in your friend’s defence.

Joe turns to look at you, mouth agape at your outcry. “What do you mean, my snooping?”

You roll your eyes, though quickly speak up, having forgotten no one can see your face terribly well. “Oh come off it Joe, you know as well as I do that if you get a hunch something is going on, then you do everything in your power to get to the bottom of it!”

“I do not!”

This time, there is a chorus of people agreeing with you, and Joe now turns to the group who he had only moments ago been sitting with. “Ben, I expected this from you. But the rest of you? I expected better!”

“Oh Joe, we love you, But Y/N is right. You remember Christmas last year, when you thought Gwil had you for secret Santa? You wouldn’t let it go for weeks! Not until you finally got you present, only to find out Rami had had you!” Lucy grins, shaking her head softly. Joe has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

“You followed me home one night after filming! It was bloody terrifying!” Gwil chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “I nearly called the police, I thought someone was about to rob me, until I realised it was you lurking by the front door!”

You can’t help but laugh at this, as Rami turns to look at Gwil in shock. “I’m sorry, Joseph did what now?” Joe fumbles with his words as he attempts to explain himself, as Gwil simply laughs loudly, unable to form words to explain the situation to Rami. You remember that discussion quite well with Joe.

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

It was close the four in the morning when you heard the front door creak open, you had been napping on the sofa, the show you had been binge watching on Netflix long since finished. But Joe had promised he would be home at a reasonable hour tonight, so you had decided to stay up and wait for him. This, however, was not what you considered a reasonable time! And from the way he had been talking when you spoke on the phone earlier in the day, he was expecting to be home just after midnight.

 “Hey babe.” He smiled, toeing off his shoes at the front door, and hanging his coat up on the hook by the door. You frown over at him, peering over the back of the sofa, sleep clouding you vision momentarily.

 “Where have you been?” You sigh, on any other night, you would likely get into an argument over his late arrival. But you were too tired for that right now, and quietly you were just glad that he was home now.

Joe has the decency to look somewhat guilty, as he moves around the apartment, settling down on the sofa beside you. He lifts your legs for a few moments, before lowering them back down, now resting over his lap. “I’m sorry Y/N. I had a few errands to run. I guess I lost track of time.”

“Errands at three in the morning?” Joe goes still, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind as he tries to think up an excuse. “Out with is Mazzello.”

Joe pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index fingers, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “I, um, followed Gwil home.” He mumbles.

You’re at a loss for words, and blink steadily at the ginger beside you. You had met Gwilym only a handful of times, he was such a gentleman! And for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Joe had felt the need to follow the man home. “Expand and explain.”

“You know how the cast and I are all doing secret Santa this year?” Joe pauses, and looks over to you, watching as you nod in understanding before he continued. “Well, Rami kept asking me about things that I liked, and what I would perhaps want for Christmas. At first I thought nothing of it, but then I saw him and Gwil whispering to each other, and they kept looking over at me when I was grabbing a coffeein between takes. I put two and two together, and figured Rami was collecting information for Gwil! I asked around, tried to find out if anyone knew who had me, but either no one knew, or they refused to tell me. So I decided to take things into my own hands! We finished up for the night, and I decided to follow Gwil, to try and confirm my suspicions. He went to a department store, and I followed him as best I could, but I couldn’t see what he purchased, there were too many people around. So I realised I just had to follow him home, and see if I could catch what I was wrapping. And well, that’s kinda what I did. Problem is, he caught me lurking around the place, swung the door open, demanded I come inside, and proceeded to give me the lecture of a lifetime.” Joe finishes looking like a kicked puppy.

You can barely contain your laughter, and if it were to be told by anyone else, you would say they were lying. But you knew Joe, and this was exactly the kind of thing he would do! “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that right? The whole point of secret Santa is right there in the name, it’s supposed to be a secret!”

“Yes, I know that! But I just had to know if he did have me!”

“And, the verdict was?”

“I still don’t god damned know! I couldn’t see what the gift was when he wrapped it, and he refused to tell me!”

You shake your head, sighing deeply, it was a good thing you lived this man, otherwise you would be on the verge of sending him to a psychiatric ward. “Bloody hell Joe, I’m going to bed before you tell me anymore.”

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

As you stand with your rag-tag group of friends, you make a note of the one flaw in your costume, you have no way of eating or drinking whilst wearing it. A pout forms on your lips, as you join in with a conversation Lucy had sprung up with Ben. After a while, you excuse yourself “I’d best go play hostess to the rest of the guests.” You say with a grin, stepping away from the group.

“We all know we are the best guests here!” Rami calls, giving you a double thumbs up as you walk away.

You grin, shaking your head softly as you move around the large number of guests. It seemed like most people had taken the option of bringing a plus one, not that you could blame them. You often did the exact same thing, dragging Joe along to most social gatherings you were invited to. Slowly, you made your way around to everyone, making polite conversation with the guests you didn’t know well, and speaking enthusiastically about your costume with those you did know. By the time you had made the rounds a few times, you were hungry, and honestly really frustrated about not being able to eat. You made your way over to Joe, attempting to be subtle as you slide into the conversation he was engrossed in, Gwil talking animatedly with him about his latest project. “Hey babe, could I borrow you for a few minutes?” You ask softly.

Joe turns away to look at you, smiling at you, leaning down to hear you over the loud noise of the party. “Sure love, let’s go somewhere quiet so I can actually hear you?” He grins, before leading you away, towards the laundry. It was a rather small room, and was barely more quiet than where you had just been, but you were thankful for not having to manoeuvre the stairs once again. It was one thing to go down, and you wouldn’t know where to begin with how to go up. “What’s up?” Joe grin, leaning back against the washing machine, arms folded loosely over his chest.

“Can you give me a hand getting out of this?” You laugh, gesturing as best you can with you tiny T-Rex arms, at the costume you were surrounded by. “It was a bitch of a thing to get on, and I don’t even know where to start with taking it off.”

Joe grins, though moves to you quickly, helping you out of the outfit with ease. Perhaps you should’ve asked for some help getting it on also? That probably would’ve been a good idea… Joe places the sad looking T-Rex in the corner of the laundry, grinning across at you. “Now who are you supposed to be?” He chuckles, taking in your now lack of costume.

You look down at your yoga pants and shirt combo. “I’m a Jurassic Park fan still, can’t you tell?” You smirk, pointing to the faded Jurassic Park logo shirt, which you had long ago stolen from Joe. “I’ve got a soft spot for ‘lil Tim Murphy. He was my first movie crush.” You giggle.

Joe sighs, rolling his eyes at you, though a smirk tugs the corner of his lips. “How about a soft spot for Pat Murray too?” He suggests wriggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You walk over to him slowly, rolling your hips as you do so, watching as his eyes travel from yours, and down to your hips. You stand up tall, taking the dusty cap off his head, planting it firmly on your own. His hair is an absolute mess underneath, his auburn locks pointing in all directions.

“Perhaps I just have a soft spot for that actor in general?” You tease, before making your way out of the laundry, and back to the party. You don’t wait for Joe, making your way over to your group once more, throwing yourself onto the sofa with an “Ooof.” Ben barely had a chance to get out of the way before you land partially on him, and Lucy grins at you from where she sits on the arm of the sofa.

“Someone pass me something alcoholic in nature please.” You grin, as you make yourself comfortable, sinking into the cushions. You don’t have to as twice, a glass of what you assume is rum and coke, thrust into your hands from Rami. “Cheers!” You grin, raising your glass in the air, before tipping the contents back.

You quickly fall into conversation with Ben, thanking him over and over again for keeping Joe distracted earlier in the evening, to which he brushes you off, telling you to not worry about it. Completely unaware, that when he brings up the promotion you recently got at work, that perhaps he was now keeping you distracted. Joe had reappeared recently, sitting on the opposite side of you, with a bowl of hula hoops in his lap. Carefully, he takes your left hand, and places one of the snacks on your ring finger, a soft blush covering his cheeks. “Thank you Joe, I am starving!” You grin, eating the food off your finger.

You’re oblivious to what he’s getting at, paying no mind to which finger he continues placing the crisp on, and instead, eating it off each time a new one appears. Joe looks at Ben over you shoulder, who simply shrugs in response, unsure what either could do about it. “Babe, could I maybe have more than one at a time?” You ask sweetly, and Joe looks physically pained.

Lucy, who had been watching the events unfold before her, had cottoned on to what was going on early in the piece, and decided to jump to Joe’s aid. “Y/N darling, just take a second and look at your hand yeah?”

You frown slightly at her, before turning away from Joe, looking down at your hand. “What’s so special about? Oh….” Perhaps it shouldn’t have taken you this long to figure out what was going on. The hula hoop sat just above your first knuckle on your ring finger.

“Um, I know this isn’t how one normally does the whole, proposal thing. But we haven’t gone out looking at rings before, and I don’t know was your ring size is… So I’m kinda hoping this will do for the time being? As a place holder kind of thing?” Joe rambles, the blush creeping steadily up to the tips of his ears.

“Joseph, I’ll marry you with or without a ring.” You grin, throwing your arms around his neck, as his snake around your waist, your lips pressing together in a fierce kiss. A kiss full of promises of the future.

“Jeez, I don’t know how we’ll upstage Halloween next year.” Gwil smirks, as he and the other guests who were aware of the happenings clapped for the newly engaged couple.

My Masterlist

[eyos-interlude]

YOU WAITED TOO LONG I’M SORRY

*gets ready to post and receives a reminder that I still have work to do*

me:

heyyyyyyyyy guysssssssssss. i’m bak. for a little. bit. ok thats a lie y’all have watched me make a meme and reblog shit but also. making playlists takes alot fam. 

here’s the playlist link if you don’t read my uber long explanation of what it is

Anyways

 I FINISHED TWO PLAYLISTS THOUGH ITS JUST TAKEN ME FOREVER TO POST THEM LIKE I DO.

so. @sweetsweetemo​, a patient saint. first person to come back and request again. requested a playlist where someone’s bf left them, the felt alone in the world, and they were gonna get try and drink their pain away. and that in itself is very depressing, and i can kinda relate cuz um. just dON’T USE HIGHSCHOOL TV SHOWS AS A BASE-LEVEL EXPECTATION FOR RELATIONSHIPS OKAY? OKAY.

so i based this off my own experience except i am not 21 so i cannot drink. instead to get over my hopeless loneliness i read fanfiction and basically threw myself into any positive outlet i could think of to distract myself. 

so this playlist isn’t strictly depressing, it’s more dreamlike and wonky - don’t get me wrong you’re still sad - but there’s that upbeat feeling your distractions offer you that you can’t exactly refuse. cuz you keep shoveling it down your own throat. but there’s more feelings than sadness. there’s anger, y’know, the sting of being left, the bruised ego. the feeling that no one really gets what you’re feeling??? like they just don’t really care and you’re a burden. and then of course, there’s the momentary happiness of all the devices you try to use to distract yourself. 

basically, this playlist means a lot to me, cuz i forced myself to relive my most embarrassing (cuz it was my only) break up and try and simulate the feelings i felt during the first 24 hours of the aftermath.

so without further ado, click this bitch to go through a fake break up.

list of songs is under the cut. 

Affluenza - Conan Gray he’s my go to sad boy

Answer - Tyler, The Creator KING

Barefoot - Summer Soul

Chanel - Frank Ocean

The Cut That Always Bleeds - Conan Gray

Daisy - By By Bad Man & Kim Yoonju

dayfly - DEAN, SULLI, & Rad Museum

Dry Flower - SURL

EVERYTHING - The Black Skirts

Female Energy, Part 2 - WILLOW 

Fight or Flight - Conan Gray

for lovers who hesitate - JANNABI

GGONDAE - Wetter the song title awoke something in me and idk what

Heather - Conan Gray

Hollywood - The Black Skirts

Honey Tea - OOHYO

Kill Your Darling - Summer Soul & Charming Lips

The Lights Behing You - SURL

긴 꿈 (A Long Dream) - Se So Neon

점심시간 (Lunch Time) - Dasutt ITS!!! SO!!! GOOD!!!

Okinawa - 92914

P - Jaden

Ribs - Lorde yesyesyesyesyesyesyESYES

See You Again - Tyler, The Creator  & Kali Uchis

She - JANNABI 

Stay - Post Malone

Summer - JANABI

summer depression - girl in red gotta have my girl in here somewhere

Summertime IN Paris - Jaden & WILLOW 

Sunflower, Vol. 6 - Harry Styles

Sweet Tooth - Cavetown

Time Machine - WILLOW

WANTED U - Joji

파도 (The Wave) - Se So Neon 

Who Do You Love - The Black Skirts

Wish You Were Sober - Conan Gray

Wonder - ADOY

Young - ADOY

Your Dog Loves You - Colde & Crush dogs are the best

잊고 살았던 것들 - Summer Soul this song is SO FUCKING PRETTY

i dead ass just got hit with a wave of loneliness by LOOKING at this playlist i hope this invokes the feelings you wanted!! i’m so sorry it took so long :(

here’s the link again!!

more playlists coming soon!!

[fracturedmotivationwriting]

Dexter was developing a routine since joining this new pack. She woke up extra early (before anyone else in the 'barracks'), went for a run, grabbed a coffee on her way back, showered, and waited for a job assignment for the day. When there were no jobs, Dexter spent her free time searching for her own apartment and a side job to help pay the bills. She hadn't exactly been swimming in cash when she joined the pack. A year on the run will do that to a girl.

Because of her routine, it was no surprise to find Dexter running through the city streets as the sun was barely inching over the horizon. She had her headphones in, her pump-up playlist blaring a bit too loud to be respectable. With her strengthened sense of smell, eyesight, and balance, she figured she could spare her hearing while she ran.

She was passing a coffee shop, heading towards the park to run through the wooded trails, when the smell hit her.

Dexter nearly fell right then and there.

The same smell from the party bombarded her senses. New but familiar. Comforting but exciting. It made her heart start beating even faster (which was probably unhealthy since it was already pretty fast).

As Dexter realized that she had run past her mate, her panic response kicked in. Fight or flight. Dexter chose flight. She pumped her arms a little harder, pushed her legs a little faster. By the time she reached the park, she was full-on sprinting.

And the scent was following her.

Dexter refused to look behind her. She took a sharp turn onto a different trail, this one with a little rougher terrain than the one she usually took. The path weaved and curved before her, rocks and tree roots twisting and turning under her feet. But Dexter couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.

She faintly heard someone calling after her over the sound of her music, but she did her best to ignore it. She focused her attention on the smell, trying desperately to outrun it. She was so consumed by it, however, that in her haze she didn't notice the ground beneath her growing more uneven. The tree roots were becoming thicker, the soil looser, and lifting and dipping unevenly -- this trail was not as well-traveled, not as well maintained.

Dexter didn't see the giant root. But she sure did feel it when her foot slipped just under it, her leg lurching as her momentum carried her forward but her captured foot pulled her back. Dex's instincts kicked in as she ducked her head in, pushed her hands before her, and attempted to use her momentum to roll her forward.

She hadn't seen that she was heading straight towards a drop in the terrain. She gracelessly rolled down the hill, instinctively reaching out to grab onto anything to stop her momentum. She felt her head hit something sharp on her descent. Her arm brushed the broken side of a fallen branch. Her hand finally connected with something steady, and she latched on. She felt her body jerk as she pulled herself to a stop. Her shoulder burned from the pain. Dexter closed her eyes, letting her body fall limp against the earth as she held onto the root her hand found.

Her headphones had fallen out during her fall, and Dexter could hear someone scrambling down the hill above her. She heard muttered curses as the man skidded to a stop above her head.

The scent was almost unbearable.

Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to open her eyes, to take a look at the mate that Fate had picked out for her. To meet her future.

Dexter stayed still.

"Oh no. No, no, no. Don't be dead. Please don't be dead," the voice continued to mutter, a hand reaching out to her neck. She felt him searching for a pulse. Dexter almost laughed.

"I'm not dead," she groaned, her eyes still firmly shut. "Bruised and battered, definitely embarrassed, but not dead."

"Oh thank God," she heard him chuckle. She still couldn't see him, but she could feel him lean back a little, giving her space. It felt easier to breathe now that he wasn't touching her.

"Are you going to open your eyes, or continue to play dead?"

Dex couldn't help the half-smile on her face. She waited a moment, gathering her courage, before slowly blinking open her eyes.

At first, she was blinded by the sunlight poking through the trees, but then he came into view. His hair was a mess, probably from chasing her almost two miles away from that coffee shop, through the park, and down the hill. There was a tear in the knee of his pants, and Dexter could see the dirt and blood on his skin. He must've tripped coming down the hill, scraping it on the ground. His button-up shirt would probably need to be dry cleaned if it was salvageable at all. Yeah, after chasing after Dexter through the woods and stumbling down the hill after her, he was definitely a little worse for wear.

But that wasn't what stopped the brain circuits in Dexter's head. That wasn't what stopped her breath short. That wasn't what made the butterflies in her stomach turn into birds.

His eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue-grey she had ever seen. It may have been cliche to think, but Dexter had never seen eyes quite like his. And while her mate apparently had eyes that made her heart skip a beat, Dexter still wasn't ready to be staring into them.

But she was.

"So," he spoke up, a small chuckle in his voice. "You must be Dexter."

Dex nodded, unable to form words as she examined the face of the man hovering over her. She was still getting distracted by his eyes.

"Do you think you can sit up?" He asked gently, offering her a hand for support. "You fell for me pretty hard. I think your forehead might need stitches."

Dexter slowly sat up, wincing as she gently touched her forehead. Judging by the blood on her fingertips and the pounding in her head, he was probably right. Her ankle was also throbbing and burning all at once, from getting her foot caught underneath that root that caused her descent down the hill in the first place. Not to mention every other muscle and joint in her body was aching from the run and the tumble. She was sure there were more minor injuries her adrenaline was just ignoring.

Then his words hit her.

She glared up at him, slapping his hand away as she tried to rise to her feet.

"I did not fall for you," she (harmlessly) snarled. "If you hadn't been chasing after me like some serial killer, I wouldn't have tripped in the first place."

Dexter didn't miss the cheeky grin that the man was trying (and failing) to hide. He took a step back, hands raised in surrender as he chuckled softly.

"Maybe if my mate didn't go running every time I was nearby, I wouldn't have had to chase you."

Dexter rolled her eyes. She didn't need to explain herself to him. He may have been her mate, but she wasn't ready to meet him yet. And she didn't owe him an explanation as to why.

She started to walk forward, trying to get back up the hill and away from him, but as she shifted her weight to her right foot she realized just how big of a mistake that was. She practically howled as a sharp, burning pain raced up her leg. She felt her knees give out. But before she could fall to the ground a second time today, a pair of rather strong arms caught her. In one swift movement, her mate had caught her and lifted her body into his arms bridal style. He started marching up the hill, a furrow in his eyebrows and worry in his eyes.

"We should get you to a hospital. Your ankle may be broken. And you should get checked for a concussion while you get your stitches."

"I'm not going to a hospital," Dexter shook her head, panic filling her veins once again. It wasn't like she was scared to be found out as a werewolf (she knew the pack had connections that would overlook that sort of thing). She just couldn't risk her name being filed into any systems. She couldn't be on any official records. Not while Devin was still hunting her down. But that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with her mate within the first hour of meeting him. She didn't even know his name yet!

"Please, no hospitals. You have to trust me, but I cannot go to the hospital. Please."

The desperation and urgency in her voice must have done the trick. Her mate looked down even more worriedly at her but nodded.

"Fine," he conceded. "I can get a doctor to do an unofficial house visit. We'll go back to the Pack House. It's the closest."

"Thank you," Dexter mumbled softly, tightening her grip around his neck. She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Her mate probably thought she was bat-shit crazy. And she was just now realizing the humiliation of the entire situation: she had sprinted away, gotten so distracted that she'd tripped, and now he was carrying her to safety because she had hurt herself trying to get away from him.

And she still hadn't learned his name.

"This is going to sound kinda stupid," she mumbled, earning a raised eyebrow from her mate. His grip on her tightened a little as they made there way out of the trail and into the main area of the park.

"But what's your name?"

Her mate let out a small laugh, glancing back down at her.

"Frankie," he introduced himself. "Well, Francesco Bellandi. But my friends call me Frankie."

Dexter felt her heart sink. She really had the most rotten luck.

"Bellandi? Like the Alpha's son, Bellandi?"

"Yes," Frankie answered slowly, that furrow in his brow returning.

Dexter felt like she was going to vomit. Only she would have the bad luck of being mated to the Alpha's son. The Alpha who she still had to prove her worth to. She had spent the last year of her life on the run, searching for a new pack to accept her, to protect her, and now she was mated to the son of the Alpha. Cause proving her worth hadn't been hard enough.

Then another realization came to her. It was harder to hide when you were mates with the Alpha. And one day, Frankie would be Alpha. Her scent would be out there, easily detected by other packs as a sort of warning alongside Frankie's. Devin would be able to find her.

Dexter really felt like she was going to puke.

"Put me down."

The sudden command almost made Frankie stop. And the seriousness in her voice almost made him drop her.

"What? You can barely walk, Dexter."

"Put me down. Now!" Her words came out harsher than she had intended. A passerby spared them a curious glance, but continued on, minding their business. Frankie gently set her down.

"Dexter, what's wrong? Are you feeling dizzy or something?"

Dexter shook her head, taking a gentle step away from him. She winced as the pain rushed up her leg, but managed not to fall again.

"I- I just need some time. I need some space. I can't- I can't do this. I can't do this,," she mumbled, refusing to meet his worried gaze. "I'm sorry. I"m so sorry. Just- just please let me go. I gotta go."

She continued mumbled as tears filled her eyes. She turned away from him, hobbling down the street and trying desperately to ignore the pain. Thankfully, Frankie stayed put, confusion and shock in his eyes as he watched his mate stagger away.

[mystieres]

hello

it’s swagoru. this will be a message for the people who care about me or just don’t have anything else to do. (sorry if this is straightforward.) it is april 3 today, so please don’t treat this as a prank.

includes: general mood for the past few months, notice of hiatus, where else u can find me, and my plans while i’m on hiatus

once you’ve started reading this, please read through everything. i might cause misunderstandings if only part of this is read.

i am posting with the risk that people will not see this. and that’s alright. i just want to say it. i’m used to people not saying anything back for now. i never expect responses of any kind until they are actually given. this is a little pessimistic but i promise you all that i will not be doing anything reckless. and i promise that i do not blame anyone for this. the message was intended for the sole purpose of expressing how i feel and what i will be doing, and it is not against anyone.

i’ll start with the bad stuff first.

i’ll be frank, and i won’t blame anyone. i feel unwanted on social media and in general. and i don’t want anyone telling me that they did want me around all along, because that doesn’t change the way i experienced or the way i currently feel. i don’t want anyone to apologize for this either, because maybe they really don’t want me around, or they didn’t know how i felt. in any way, none of you are ultimately responsible for how i feel. don’t be. don’t feel responsible. in the end, i should be the one responsible for my own feelings and happiness. it’s just what i’m feeling right now. but i really do love and appreciate the messages of help i have gotten, all the gifts. they have pushed me forward.

while i tried to be as accommodating as possible before, i somehow ended up becoming selfish. as much as i tried to prevent people becoming uncomfortable, somehow i did. i unknowingly hurt others or made them uncomfortable. i do have my own personal problems but i won’t use them as an excuse. i’ve been through a lot, but it shouldn’t have changed the way i talked with others. i’m sorry.

i know i might have been rude or weird without being aware of it. but i just wanted you all to know that i appreciate you all a lot. everything has been causing me anxiety lately. i don’t know what i’m supposed to feel on social media anymore. i feel like i don’t belong anywhere anymore. irl, all my other friends are in relationships, and i’m really starting to feel that i was meant to be a lone wolf. right now, everyone’s already developed close ties when i started interacting with them.

in short, when it comes to building relationships and socializing, while some of you consider yourselves bad at doing this, i am a complete failure. i don’t know how to interact with past friends. even a hello seems awkward and like a burden. but i am afraid of hurting, of being hurt, leaving, and being left behind. and it always feels like something is going out of my control. and i am creating and maintaining the status quo of being alone. i am hoping that this will change. of course, i should be changing the way that i look at myself. but i see myself as nothing more than a problem to others, and have been for the past six or so years.

now, some of you might have offered or will offer your dms for me, and i appreciate it. it really means a lot. unfortunately, i’ve never been the type to want to rely on anyone because then, i’d feel like a burden. most of the time i’d prefer to just rely on myself instead of giving other people more problems as i know they’re busy, or i’m just not close with them. i have been so used to people spoon-feeding me, or completely leaving things to me, that asking for help is a completely foreign idea. someone like me, who is completely aware of her weaknesses, needs to learn how to rely on others. i would like to change this someday, but it’s just improbable for me to do that right now.

i have been having periods of silence where i would refuse to talk or reply to anyone for a few days at a time unless necessary. this has happened at least twice in the past month. i don’t want to feel rude or like a problem. another reason is that i don’t get that much interactions anymore. so i just don’t see any point. my lack of self-esteem aside, maybe i’m not that likable, i’m not very fun to talk to, or maybe what i make sucks or i’m just not talented enough. the algorithm has something to do with it too, i guess. all of them are good explanations.

a lot of you can understand how disheartening that must feel. personally it makes me feel inferior or unwanted. often i get told, “well, screw what they do. just continue to do your stuff!” and i will. i tell this to other people a lot. i’ll continue to draw and write. but as for small talk, i don’t know what exactly to say. there has to be a point now. i can’t say things that don’t make sense anymore.

so to the people i know on tumblr, instagram, twitter, and discord, thank you so much for being a great part of my little circle of friends. i’m going to admit i don’t keep many. i love you all so much that you’ve all made me cry with your kind words, gifts, and playlists. the music, art, writing, and advice you share. a bunch of you even met me before i turned into a legal adult, and even saw me through graduation. although i can’t recall every single thing i’ve experienced, i just wanted you all to know that i’ve been thankful for everything so far. you’re all great and amazing people. and i feel like i can’t express it enough. i am hoping that this is just another phase of me trying to break out of my shell.

there is a high likelihood of me going on an indefinite hiatus. this has happened before. all these past breaks have been half-assed and only making my emotional health worse. if i feel unwanted, then something must be wrong with me and i must change it myself. but i can’t do it while being problematic to others. it’s self-defeating. i must go on and better myself. and most of all, i’m tired of treating my depression and adhd as excuses. i’ll experience problems, but i don’t want to talk about them anymore when i could just do something.

i have logged out of my current discord because i always feel compelled to open messages and talk. i’m not forced. but i’m making myself uncomfortable.

twitter will probably be the exception (handle: swagoru_), and i will continue posting online, waaay less on tumblr. i cannot guarantee replies to messages. i’ve tried socializing but i just suck, so i’m too afraid to reply to anything. i have also put up a wordpress (check reblogs for the site) but there’s nothing in it yet. best site ever, because i won’t feel pressured or forced to interact or gain clout.

and here’s some slightly better news. please let me flex for now.

i am graduating with around/at least 11 awards bagged in total for my entire high school life (grades 9-12). some math contests and journalism stuff. and i am going on to college. 

it leaves me with just one issue: money. i am budgeting the inheritance i received from my late mother. aside from her, no one else is earning money for me. i have the support of my grandparents but i want to establish financial independence as soon as possible. i tried to apply for a job a while back but i was so busy. but i might take it this summer. for months i have been considering commissions, but it’s either i don’t have enough clout or talent to do them. my works barely get any notice so i’m deciding against it. but i am always going to try improving my art, writing, and myself. one day i will be brave enough to open commissions. i hope some of you will consider when i have my portfolio ready.

this means that i will be a lot busier preparing and improving myself. this also serves as my adjustment period from a high school student who was sheltered and completely dependent all her life to someone who is slowly being introduced into adulthood and reality.  i’m still learning how to live. i can’t let others befriend me while i’m still a mess. and most of all, even with my conditions, i don’t expect the world to adjust to me.

but when i become active here again, i hope that i’ll have the courage to speak and reply like usual. i hope to get rid of all this negativity and this shyness i must overcome.

i hope you read through everything. i’m going to miss you guys. i don’t know when i’ll be more active to talk. hopefully when we do, i will have become a better person by then.

all the love,

swagoru 💙

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life - #59

         WELL. It's been about a donkey's age since I've been able to update this. Normally I'd apologize for the wait…but…well, honestly, I've been beating myself up enough as it is and it's not like it happened out of the blue. Kinda-brief update for anyone wondering:            I've warned about an impending grief hiatus since my uncle Bob's cancer diagnosis, and the hiatus came to pass in December. Uncle Bob finally lost his fight to cancer after two years of treatment and fading. The end came on rather suddenly but after the deathwatch he went peacefully and without pain. His death really messed me up, especially since I was already suffering from depression. Our first Christmas without Bob was also our last Christmas with Granny Chance, his mother and my grandmother…she suffered a massive stroke in January and died soon afterward. In the space of a month, my family and I lost two members, one right after the other. In a word, the whole situation has been FUCKED and it's still not completely over. There are good days, and bad days…and, to quote a certain Del Toro film, "Then there are the really bad days." Between those, we're all slowly working our way through the fallout and healing process.            This chapter is the first I've been able to finish since SEPTEMBER, largely because all of my stories are currently in plot-required angsty-dramatic phases and I CANNOT WRITE SAD SCENES when I'm depressed. It's entirely IMPOSSIBLE, they always come out farcical or they just don't flow. It SUCKS. TBH, I don't know for certain if I'm going to be able to catch up to my previous writing abilities or pace anytime soon but I'm certainly going to try. Also, quick note if you're reading this on Tumblr – they recently enacted a WORDBLOCK LIMIT on text posts of 100 blocks. Yeah. We're now limited to 100 paragraphs including the title. If the chapter's low dialogue and has no notes, that's fine, but if not? Well, we're just screwed because THIS ONE ran 86 ¶s WITHOUT the notes, glossary, and pre-story stuffs. I'm not sure yet how I'll be handling that limit for good, whether that means posting links to sites without the bullshit limits, posting long chapters in pieces, or linking to the separate posts with the notes and glossary, but I'll figure it out in time. For now, I’ll be including the NOTES at the end and you can find the GLOSSARY at FFnet or AO3.  Check out Spotify for a playlist centered on this arc - features suggested listening for this chapter and the next few, and much, much more.         Lastly, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for their patience and understanding, and give a shout-out to some wonderful people who've made this new chapter possible. This chapter is dedicated to Wolf, Newt, and Ihlni for their invaluable support and kind words – to my hubby Cold for letting me ugly-cry on him without complaint and never failing to remind me that life has to go on – to my ma-in-law for teasing me about earning a nasty hangover instead of acknowledging that I looked like death-on-the-rocks and was obviously crying before I answered the door – to my mother for being a bloody SAINT and to my father for intentionally being an asshole when someone to fight with was just what I needed – to Wanda Farmer on AO3 and vbt22220 on FFnet for their encouragement in reviews, the folks on Tumblr who offered kind words when I needed them most, and to all you wonderful people who've stuck by me, read my stories, and are still reading after all this time. Above all, though, this chapter is dedicated to the memory of Granny Chance and Uncle Bob – may they ever rest in peace.

Suggested Listening: Fuel "Hemorrhage [In My Hands]," Paramore "The Only Exception," Prince "Purple Rain," Survivor "I Never Stopped Loving You" 

 59: A Matter of Honor

The Lair, November 19th - around noon

Donatello wasn't known for being a fool; regardless, he felt rather foolish anytime the obvious failed to register until it was staring him in the face. This was just such a time. He didn't recall sequestering himself in the lab much less falling asleep at his workbench, but the proof was self-evident: a crick in his neck, a strand of insulated wire still stuck to his drool-sticky cheek, and sweat-smeared glasses half off his face. It took a moment of tired lip-smacking and searching to comprehend the facts—ah, right, he pulled an all-nighter to complete the vital signs monitor for Kimber's visit. From what he could see, the device was, indeed, completed. Too tired to consider the absurd picture he must make, he peeled the wire trimming off his cheek and set it aside.

What woke him? He searched his memory, found nothing, then turned to more closely examine his surroundings. A plate of now-cold PopTarts and a cup of coffee (helpfully covered with a cracked saucer) waited a safe distance from his elbow. Right - it was Saturday. This time last year he easily lost track of the days between all-nighters and the sleeping-binges that always followed them. Now he had a weekly reminder in the form of too-sweet coffee and half-burned pastries, courtesy of the confusing woman whose scent still clung to his skin. How blessed he felt in this moment…

The moment ended with a familiar sound—a sleep-slurred phrase he could recognize anywhere but never quite understood. Ya been away too long he got, and he recognized the terms sook, e'en, and nip though he wasn't fully certain of their context.* Beyond that the half-Celt tucked into the cot may as well have been speaking Greek for all he knew. The oft-repeated tease fell short in a particularly nasal snore. Donnie hoisted himself out of his chair with a chorus of protesting joints and slowly rounded the workbench. Silently, he regarded his sleeping woman, soaking in all the silly little details that caught his eyes—the freckles spattered across her skin, the flash of faded ink peeking up over her drooping neckline, the stubborn silver cowlicks sticking up at odd angles from her loosely bound hair—anything to remind himself she was still alive.

He shook his head in weary defeat. A full week after their desperate flight from Willsdale and every time he woke he still half-expected to find Amber cold to the touch, lifeless and painted in blood. Perhaps, he considered as he gathered her in his arms and made his way to their bedroom, this was one scar which would only be healed with time. Perhaps, he considered as he lay her across the neatly tucked quilt and curled up behind her, he could only conquer his fear of Amber's death by focusing on her life. Even as he tugged her flush against his plastron and groin and nuzzled into her neck, he couldn't erase the memory of her: bruised, bloody, and broken, and rapidly fading in his arms. He shuddered and sucked in a steadying breath of her scent.

She wasn't dead, she was alive now…it was enough…right?

Red Fern Florist, Noon

Normally, Red Fern Florist was a calm place – a quiet and classy establishment that just so happened to be run by people who didn't care about being quiet or classy. This, alas, was not a normal day, not even in the slightest.

Abilene Whitaker manned the register, eyes focused somewhere beyond the neon-streaked pages of her textbook and not registering a word. The backroom echoed with near-constant racket—crashes, curses, objects falling or being thrown… Abby sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and dragged herself off of the barstool to investigate. Sure enough, Mercy was stocking the shelves a tad too roughly…if by roughly one meant throwing the bags of supplies around like a spandex-clad steroid junkie at a WWE grudge-match smackdown.

"Alright, that's enough," Abby snapped at her blonde subordinate; Mercy froze, embarrassed grey-blue eyes meeting Abby's over a lean, hunched shoulder. "You've been stomping around and slamming things all afternoon. What on earth could be so horrible you've gotta torture the mulch?" Mercy cringed, fixing guilty eyes on the bag of mulch in her grip. Caught. "Well?" The blonde uttered a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, snorted, then slid the bag onto its shelf with more care than necessary.

"My man's ex is comin' by tonight," she admitted under her breath. "She's stayin' a few days."~

"WHAT?!" Abby squawked in protest. "He's bringing his ex over?! Aw, Hell naw! Girl, you drop that boy before I find him and punch him in the man-fritters!" Man-fritters?** Mercy couldn't help it – she sniggered at the visual – but her laughter faded into regret when she registered the rest of Abby's threat.

"No can do," she sighed, "it's kinda unavoidable." Abby crossed her arms, scrunched her lips into an almost exact replica of Leo's 'pissy leader pout,' and waited for an explanation. Mercy rolled her eyes, spearing her fingers into her hair and yanking. "Kimber…well, she's like me an' Amber," she explained under her breath. "Remember I told ya Amber…uh…went home for a few days? Well, she almost…um…didn't come back. Bitch-nipple's comin' over to see how long any of us can stay home without that happening. She invited herself, we voted, Raph lost, she won." Abby took a moment to let that sink in.

"Your guy tried to vote her off the island?" A grim nod from Mercy. "They broke up before she left, right?"

"…and she left before he an' I met," Mercy added even as she rolled her eyes.~ All the code-talk really got on her nerves but they had to be mindful of the security cameras. Abby leaned against the doorframe, lean shoulders at a sharp slant, and hazel eyes puzzled behind her fuchsia-streaked hair.

"You think she wants him back?" she asked quietly. "He won't…" She sucked in a nervous breath. "What if she tries to win him back?"

"You're kiddin', right?" Mercy scoffed. "He dumped her! He's been angsty as fuck over breakin' her heart, yeah, but I know'im—she could make all the moves she wants, he ain't gonna budge."~ Not to mention Kimber's still dead she added in her own head then shook it. After all, she was dead, too. The whole situation stank like a crappy soap opera. "I trust'im, Abbs," she added under her breath. "Raph chose me, not the Jersey-Devil-wannabe…jealousy's pointless when I already know the end result, an' that end result is he's with me."

Abby watched her a moment, scrutinizing and studying; just as suddenly as she issued the threat against Raph's genitals, she smiled. "You're a strong woman," the neon-haired clerk remarked lightly. "I ever heard one of Cherie's exes asking to stay, I'd bash the twat's teeth in. You need anything, you give me a call, alright?" Mercy nodded, halfway between a cringe and a grateful smile, and went back to the stocking. "So how are things going between you two, anyway?" Abby added taking up her share of the lifting. "You never bring him by, you never tell me much about him…how's he treating you?"

Mercy paused, brow furrowed, and scrambled for an answer that didn't make her sound like an absolute sap. She couldn't find one. "He makes me wanna listen to Faith Hill, watch him sleep, an' punch his ex in the teeth," she grumbled. The heat in her cheeks went nuclear at Abby's excited squeal.

"Oh-em-GEE!" the younger practically shrieked. "You love him!" Mercy shot her a sour glare.

"Woman," she groused, "shut yer ass – the bullshit's leakin' out."

The Lair, shortly after dusk   -   00:00:00  

Two weeks ago, Kimber Bryant faced down Leonardo and demanded the opportunity to make right the trouble she caused his family. Now she stood in the hallway, practically quaking in her mud-stained canvas sneakers, unsure how to proceed. It didn't exactly help that Leo was still glaring at her from behind and her other escort, Donatello, kept fiddling with the tablet strapped to his left forearm.

"Now remember, you've gotta keep the leads from getting tangled," the genius rambled without ever once looking at her. "A little perspiration shouldn't cause any unwanted interference—I insulated the outer casing well to deter any outside condensation or humidity finding its way into the monitor's internal components but there are limits." Kimber rolled her bottle green eyes over at Leo in hope of rescue from Donnie's babbling but received only a glare. "It's not fully water-tight," the genius continued with a shrug and 'meh' expression, still without even glancing her way, "so we'll need to cover it with a water-resistant dressing when it comes to bathing but other than that it—"

"Today, Donnie," Leo grumbled. The younger startled out of his thoughts, fingertips still poised on the holographic chart projected over his tech-tab. He blinked a few times in rapid succession as though refreshing his memory then turned to Kimber in question. From the looks of it, she seemed ready to chew her ankle off to escape the lecture. She really was so very different from Amber…how could they possibly be the same person underneath it all? Could a person's history and past choices really have that big an impact on their personality and attitude?

"Uh…right," he uttered with a wince. "Anyway, it's natural for your core temperature to fluctuate a certain amount over the day but if it drops too low, I'll get an alert. We may not have much time to get you back…so…" he trailed off in hopes she'd pick up the slack.

"Don't get comfy," she finished sourly. "Yeah, I got it. Git lawst."~ He crinkled his nose at her demand but said nothing; instead, he rolled his eyes in defeat and took off toward the lab.

"Remember our agreement," the eldest warned under his breath as he shouldered past her. "You have one chance, and you're to stay—"

"I got it, I got it," Kimber snapped in response. "Go dig t'at stick out'a ya ass before it gets stuck up t'ere."~ Other than a deep-chested growl of warning, Leonardo said nothing—he just stormed past her to some destination she didn't care to know. Rolling her eyes at his attitude, she made her way toward the light at the end of the hallway. The closer she came the more clearly she heard a familiar voice—a voice that still haunted her fondest dreams and worst nightmares.

Familiar laughter led her into the living area where two people were cuddled up on a lumpy sofa. The larger wore a familiar boyish grin that stole the breath right from her lungs. In her grip, the duffle-bag strap slid loose—sweaty palms, she realized. A fluttering, weightless sensation filled her veins—oh, no… 'Gawd dammit…why've I gotta still love'im?'~ She choked around the damned butterflies doing barrel-rolls in her gullet. Steeling her nerves, she shook off her mushy thoughts and turned the corner. 'It don't change nothin'—dead's dead, an' he never chose me anyway. It's better t'is way.'

Raphael…he looked so much the same and yet so different. His eyes shone with laughter where they once burned with distrust; his posture was relaxed where he always kept up a front before. Tucked into his side and 'narrating' the boxing match with absurd faked voice-overs was a tall, lean woman with short messy blonde hair. Kimber's lip ached to curl in a sneer as the blonde loosed a raucous laugh but she fought it back—Raph wasn't hers. If this…this woman in his arms was enough for him…well, she'd respect that. She only ever wanted to see him happy and by God, she'd do so, no matter how much it hurt.

One moment, everything in Mercy's world was perfect. There was a decent match on TV, Raph had 'bullied her' into not-cuddling with him, and for the moment they had no other obligations. As it always seemed to, though, everything fell apart in a single breath…a breath that carried a perfume of vanilla, sugar, and musk. The smell wasn't entirely unpleasant but it was strong enough to make her sinuses burn and her head hurt. Why must so many people marinate themselves in perfume and cologne?

As Mercy and Raphael turned to greet the newcomer in unison the arm around her waist slackened—bright golden hazel eyes widened—full, scarred lips fell slack in dismay. Those lips formed a single word—a name Mercy spent hours cursing that afternoon—but no sound came forth. Torn, she held her silence, eyes darting from Raphael to the stranger and back again almost desperately. She knew this moment would come, she just didn't realize how much she'd want to scream obscenities when it did.

The stranger broke the stare first, bottle-green eyes flustered behind their impeccable smoky eyeliner. She reached up to her modest neckline, grabbed at the pair of worn metal dog-tags at her chest, took a deep breath, then looked up again with a weak smile. "'ey, Raphie," she murmured in a voice still thick with smog. "Long time no see, huh?" The hulking mutant couldn't even get out a single word; he just nodded, his chin and lips unnaturally stiff. Even as he stared down Kimber Bryant he clenched his fingers even tighter to Mercy's waistband. Mercy glanced down at the sight of his three-fingered hand anchoring her in place by a belt-loop. Just that morning, she woke up with that hand tangled in the hem of her nightgown anchoring it at mid-thigh. She had nothing to fear.

She pried Raph's fingers loose, stretched an imaginary crick from her neck, and rolled off the sofa to her feet. "I'll catch up later," Mercy remarked with an entirely faked smile and made her way to the side door. "Compost prob'ly needs a turnin' 'bout now."~ On the way past, she silently took in what details she could, mentally comparing them. The other woman was her height but beyond thin and into skinny. Her hair was coarse—naturally red from the looks of it but with a texture similar to unraveled jute twine. A sharp glance told Mercy the other had practically no ass; no competition there. She rolled her eyes, punched in the security code to pass through, then let the door drift shut behind her.

Before she could get anywhere a pair of large, powerful hands snatched her by the shoulders, spun her about, and pinned her to the tunnel wall. "Why you leavin'?" Raph demanded sharply. His voice was barely below a shout but as so often before, Mercy saw underneath that posturing—she saw the suspicious shimmering in his eyes, the nervous tic in his jaw, the vulnerable hunching of his shoulders, and the lurching of his throat and plastron from frantic heaving breaths. Fear was the one thing he really had no reason to feel in this case but it was written all over him. She cupped his squared jaw, thumb tracing the scar splitting his lip.

"I ain't leavin', ya meathead," she corrected as he covered her hand with his in a frantic grip. "You were friends, right? Ya never got to say goodbye. I've seen how this's been tearin' you apart an' I'm sick of watchin' it."~ Her lips curled in a tease but it was entirely true—she was beyond sick of having another woman in their relationship, even a dead one. "Ya need closure, I get that—I'm backin' off so you can get it. Got it?" Raphael said nothing—he just stared back, visibly searching her words for subtext. When he finally spoke, what he asked made no sense.

"Why?" he demanded in a near-deadpan. Mercy wrinkled her nose but before she could speak, he continued. "Why're ya testin' me like dis? What've I done ta deserve dat?"~

"Testin' you?" Mercy shook her head and scoffed. "I'm not testin' ya, Red," she promised. "I know you and I trust you—you're not about to cheat on me with anyone, much less a dead chick, right?" He shook his head in agreement and his eyes softened; he belatedly released her hand, choosing instead to cup her cheek.

"I wouldn't do dat to ya," he confirmed gruffly. "I'd never…I promised not ta hurt ya an' I meant it…but…" He faltered, flustered and struggling to find the right words. "Dis ain't right…ya ought'a be pissed at me fer even lettin' 'er come here…heck, if dis happened to any other guy, he'd get slapped fer lettin' it happen!"

"You're not any other guy," Mercy reminded shortly, "an' I'm not any other gal. Jealousy won't help anything, it ain't healthy, and you weren't too keen on her comin' over, to begin with. I've got no reason to be mad at'cha, an' especially no reason to hit ya."~ Her eyes drifted back toward the side door, now closed, and she sighed. "I don't like it," she admitted as her hand drifted down to his thick neck, "but I know you need closure an' I trust you enough to not interfere."

Raphael said nothing—what could he possibly say?—instead, he took a step back, eyes wide. This wasn't the first time she professed her trust in him, nor would it be the last, but this utterance seemed the most improbable of all. Wait…no, there was one other moment even more unexpected—a recent moment, the moment he first witnessed Mercy Ross fall apart at the seams, right there in his arms.#

Tousled blonde hair spilled across his pillow like scattered straw. Unpainted lips, swollen from friction, panted around gasping breaths. Work-roughened fingertips clawed at the equally tough skin of his bare scalp and shoulders as he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on her finally bared skin.

   "I trust you," she'd promised only moments before. "When are ya gonna start trustin' yourself?"  

   "Ya shouldn't trust me," he'd blustered, but despite his denials, he caved to her temptation. He knew from the first breath it would take weeks to clear her pheromones from his lungs; he'd never forget the taste of her or her keening cries of completion. When the madness left her eyes and the fire dulled in his blood, Raphael knew he'd never be able to see his Mercy the same, nor would he ever cease to be humbled by her seemingly unshakable faith in him—trust he couldn't recall doing a damn thing to earn.  

That July, Raphael took a chance on happiness in the middle of an open rooftop—a single kiss followed by countless more, all sound-tracked with heavy metal. Ever since then, anytime he fell to the temptation of Mercy's lips, he lost himself completely. He wanted her—he needed her—he craved her—she was the air he breathed, vital to his very survival and responsible for every beat of his heart. Far below the filthy streets, in a dark passage forgotten by the world in general, he stole her lips and breathed her in reverence.

He loved her—loved her beyond the limits of his fears and follies—and that was why she knew he wouldn't let her down.

"So you two, huh?" Raphael ducked his head to avoid Kimber's eyes, hoping she couldn't see the traces of stickiness at his lips or the tenting of his patched trousers. She said nothing, choosing instead to examine the worn red tweed of the sofa arm she perched on.

"What of it?" he retorted slumping onto the seat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Looks like ya found a good one, 'at's all," she shrugged. He studied her silently a moment, searching for signs of deceit. In his heart, he knew this stranger was Kimber—his Kimber, the friend he threw away over his insecurities and fears—but her appearance was largely unfamiliar. Kimber was always on the chunky side of curvaceous but with an undeniable sex appeal. This new body was built like a scarecrow - all long limbs and frizzy hair - but underneath he could see the same sensual confidence Kimber had before she died. That sensuality was all Kimber - Amber lacked it completely, always coming across somewhere between odd and awkward. This woman, though visually unfamiliar, was definitely Kimber. Something in her eyes spoke of mischief…and regret. "Fer Gawd's sake," she swore under her breath and turned an acidic glare on him. He refused to meet it, locking his eyes on one padded and splayed knee. "I know t'a drill—I'm dead, not stoopid."

"Ya were never stupid, Kim, jus' stubborn an' naive," he protested but she waved him off.

"T'en quit lookin' at me like t'at." After a moment of resistance, he finally bit the bullet—he met her eyes. "Yeah, like t'at," the redhead grumbled, "like I'm gonna jump ya if ya take yer eyes off'a me or somethin'. I may be livin' in a homewrecker but t'at don't make me a homewrecker." This time, she was the one to hide her eyes.

A long, tense silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional sound from the Lab or utility room. In this unexpected but overdue moment, despite the drastically different appearance, Raphael saw Kimber as she was when they first met—not the over-confident temptress with the venomous smile and devil-may-care attitude but the lost, lonely, frightened runaway searching for her place in the world. Her new body was thirty-five if it was a year old, but she'd never looked more like a child to him than she did now. The night she turned Lefty and Northpaw over to the police and fell apart, Raph let the wrong head do the thinking and her heart suffered for it. So much heartache came from that one bad call—Kimber's death, too, was a result—how could he ever make it right?

"Rah-fay-el." The quiet – almost reverent – utterance of his name startled him from his brooding. Kimber faced the far wall but her eyes were locked on his askance. "Tell me t'a truth…did ya ever love me?" He blanched; she scoffed and picked at the faded red tweed covering the sofa. "I know we was close," she clarified in a soft tone void of accusation, "friends to be sure, but did ya ever love me like I loved you?"

He didn't answer—he couldn't answer, not around the painful lump in his throat. For so long, he wondered the very same. Loving Kimber, after all, would have made his betrayal a crime of passion rather than a bad move made in paranoid self-defense. Despite all his brooding introspection, though, he always came up with the same answer: he could have loved her, but he didn't…if he'd kept his head, maybe, someday, he could have loved her, but he didn't. "Exactly." Kimber's near-whisper broke his train of thought. "I knew ya didn't love me," she admitted even as her shoulders drew tight and her painted lips stretched in a sort of sneer. "I always knew it, I just t'ought…eh, no matter. I'm not gonna fuck up yer life again."

"I think ya got dat backwards," Raph pointed out dryly. "I fucked up yer life—I'm why yer…" He faltered, his throat clenching around the word as though to prevent him from voicing it. "Ya know," he settled for with a weak half-shrug, "like dis." Kimber watched him silently, eyes sharp enough to cut away his protective façade.

"Say it," she challenged. He flinched; she slid off the armrest and stalked over to face him, arms crossed in defiance. "Say it, Raph," she ordered, "ya know what I am—ya know t'a word, so use it. I'm…" She trailed off, one eyebrow cocked in expectance.

Raphael cringed. Of all the times he wished it was possible to completely withdraw into his shell, this was one of the worst so far. Weary hazel eyes drifted from Kimber's dirty canvas sneakers up her faded jeans and cotton blouse, up to her unimpressed eyes. "Yer…dead," he whispered as if confessing some great sin.

"Exactly," Kimber harrumphed and jabbed him between the eyes with one clear-lacquered fingernail. "Dead folks an' live folks jus' don't mix, ya muck-brained mawron.~ It wouldn't work an' I ain't about to waste my time tryin' ta make it work. Capiche?" He nodded, glaring up at her retreating back.

"Den why'd ya come back?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his knee. "Dere had to be anutha way to test Don's theory, so why'd ya volunteer?"~ Kimber stilled in her pacing, carefully arranging her words before they could all spill out without concern for her feelings.

"I never got ta say goodbye," she admitted in a near-whisper, "not ta you, not ta Daron or Lefty, not ta anyone who mattered…but I've neva been t'at big on goodbyes anyhow, ya know?" Her voice cracked on the last words and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, she turned to the side as though watching him over her shoulder but her eyes remained hidden. "I made a lotta mistakes, Red—a lotta stoopid decisions t'at hurt a lotta people—an' much as I wanted to just stay dead, I lived ta regret every one'a t'ose decisions. T'at's why I came back…t'a fix t'a shit I broke an' atone for my sins. If t'at means stayin' here fer t'ree days while you an' Blondie play suck-face, so be it."

"Ya know you're puttin' yer life at risk, right?" Raph reminded, ignoring the suck-face comment. "Donnie ain't sure about da timing on dis thing, ya know. He an' the braided nutcase passed five days in her world but they weren't gone a whole three days, here. Who's to say ya'll have a full three days here? Who's ta say ya won't drop dead in an hour, or three hours, or even a minute from now?" He shuddered at the thought, his mind helpfully supplying several months' worth of nightmares to choose from, most of which ended with Kimber dying in his arms. "Ya froze, Kim, an' dat ain't an easy way to go; are ya really willing to risk goin' through it all over again?"

"It's my choice," she reminded with a stern expression reminiscent of an unimpressed schoolmarm. "No one asked me ta make t'at choice. Besides, see t'is?" She tugged her neckline aside to show him the small plastic device hung from her neck and the line of wire trailing down to her armpit. "T'is lil' t'ing's monitoring my core temp—we've got t'is covered. Trust me?"

Raph considered the plea a moment—for it was, indeed, a plea in every sense of the word—then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I don't like it," he admitted in a throaty rumble, "but it ain't my job ta like it." There was much more to say, but for the moment, he hadn't words.

"Nope," Kimber agreed with a sly grin. "It's yer job ta help me give Daron a heart attack. What say we give'im a visit from t'a Livin' Dead Girl?" It was just a tease—just another excuse to ignore the elephant in the room—but for the moment, Kimber didn't care. She had more important tasks to focus on—messes to clean up, mistakes to correct, sins to atone for, and honor to regain. For now, the rest could wait.

  The Lair   -   00:35:00 and counting

Time stops for no man, people often said, and the same could be said for women. Never mind that Amber's cantankerous counterpart was staying in the Lair for the weekend…lurking around every corner…stinking up the place with her perfume…just waiting for a chance to bitch-slap Amber back into her place at the bottom of the food chain…

Amber shuddered at the thought and firmly shoved it into the back of her mind. Kimber Bryant made Amber all kinds of nervous but her presence didn't excuse Amber from her chores. There was too much to do—laundry to put away, studying to do, dinner to prepare— Something soft and furry brushed against her calf, startling her from her thoughts. "Right," she muttered as Kirk bypassed the laundry basket at her feet and hopped up onto Donnie's bed. "Gotta clean the litterboxes an' feed Kirkland too." After a mrrruhl of warning and a superfluous butt-wiggle said feline launched himself right into a pile of folded undergarments and began viciously mauling a sock big enough to double as an oven mitt. As he lay on his side, wrapped around the sock and kicking like a homicidal kangaroo, Amber sighed and shook her head in whimsical defeat. After how much she'd missed him she couldn't really be upset with the little murder-machine; cats, after all, would be cats, and socks could be darned.

"It's inevitable, Kirk," she teased as she hung a pair of patched canvas trousers in the frame-and-fabric 'closet.' "You're just gonna have to get used to sharing me with Donnie. I know I'm Mom but he's mine - you can't resent him forever." With an adorable cotton-muffled urrrr, Kirk glared at her over a mouthful of beige knit as if to say watch me. Ah, the jealousy of spoiled cats.

"Honestly, I'm lucky to have Donnie," she added to herself, doubts and worries filling her thoughts between wire hangers. Back before the dream connection was confirmed—before Donatello confronted her with his old Tonfa and confessed the name of her dead classmate—Amber could fool herself he wasn't the same Donnie she grew up with. She could tell herself that he didn't know all her dirty little secrets. He didn't watch her fall apart over the last few years of her life, partly from illness and her and partly from depression and apathy. He never heard how her poor choices in college may have led to the death of a classmate. He never knew she routinely slaked her carnal needs in impersonal encounters so her time with him in dreams could be focused on more important things than her hormones. If this Donnie wasn't her Donnie, then the mistakes of her past were only a secret to keep.

The problem was…now she knew this was her Donnie…and by the sounds of it, he remembered everything. Amber paused, fondling a strip of worn purple fabric. Even after countless washings, every one of those masks smelled strongly of his oddly comforting blend of coffee, machinery, musky exertion, and spice. "How can he even look at me, Kirk?" Amber murmured into the sweet-smelling fabric. "I screwed up with him so many times…I gave up on him, I – I gave myself up to other guys…how doesn't he hate me by now?"

This last question seemed the most perplexing. Sure, the purpose of those impersonal booty-calls was to shut up her hormones so her scant time with Donnie could be put to better use, but she always regretted them afterward. Regret, though, didn't count if a person intentionally committed the same crime over and over again, and she was guilty—guilty of closing her eyes, mentally replacing the other men with Donnie, and crying herself to sleep after they left. Regret was a weak word, really; what she felt wasn't weak. After all the time she spent hating herself for the infidelity, the idea that Donnie didn't hate her for it made no sense.

The dead silence tore her from her ruminations; odd, considering Kirk had a habit of 'answering' her every time she spoke.## After a quick glance at the bed, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. The little furball was out cold, wrapped around her favorite bra and snoring into one generous cup. The battered sock sprawled on the floor half under the bed—the enemy was vanquished. Chuckling at the absurdity, Amber crouched to retrieve the sock but paused when she noticed something wedged between the mattress and box spring. A warped silver wire binding, traces of green beyond the rings…surely she was mistaken, but it wouldn't hurt to check…right?

Amber tugged the notebook loose and promptly cringed in recognition. It was her journal, the one she hadn't written in for months then misplaced. Why was it jammed under the mattress like a nudie magazine? Curiosity drove her to investigate and she quickly discovered the litany of notes scribbled upside-down in the back. She quickly lost herself in the writing—questions and memories, hopes and fears Donatello couldn't bring himself to share with her, all centered around their years apart. Though she didn't dig too deeply, there wasn't a single word of blame or judgment anywhere—nothing that indicated resentment or disgust. Amber almost missed the sheet of loose-leaf that slipped out and fluttered to the floor—almost. The pencil-scribbled contents might have made her stumble if she hadn't already seated herself before. "I met my lover in a dream," she whispered in recognition.^ "That poem…I thought I lost it...I guess Donnie found it?" Soon enough, she hit the final lines:

Mibbe someday he will see –     Someday the truth I'll tell. For now, I've only memories,     And dreams I shot tae Hell.

Or, rather, those should have been the final lines—they were the last she wrote. Someone, however, clearly thought the poem wasn't finished and added their own verse…in pen…neatly printed by a familiar hand straddling the border between calculating and persnickety. "No way," Amber muttered thickly as she scanned the added verse, wide-eyed and breathless. "Naw fookin' way!"~ No matter how she protested, the words remained clear, impossible yet obvious. Still marveling at their presence—and at the subtext—she never heard the soft ticking of a distant clock, or the even softer inhale accompanying.

Dreams can sometimes fall apart,     And memories can fade. The truth you shared can't change my heart…     Your lover-friend I've stayed…

I'll see you in our dreams.  

There was no stopping it, no holding back: Amber crushed the paper to her pounding heart in elation. He remembered. He understood. He loved. Perhaps, even…he forgave?

Sometimes emotions are too powerful for words; fortunately for Amber, squealing unintelligibly required none.

UP NEXT: (Currently in-progress)

Chapter List

- The vital signs monitor – At first I wasn't quite sure if such a device was on the public market, at least aside from 'smart' devices like FitBit and such, so I did what I do best: I researched the fuck out of it for funzies. Turns out there are more varieties out there than I expected, each monitoring different signs in different fashions and to different accuracy levels. Since Donnie's never been the sort to simply COPY others' ideas, we can safely assume he's combined the best of several devices. The result is a small electronic monitor [about the size of a 9-volt battery] hung from the neck by a lanyard, which measures core body temp by way of leads attached to an adhesive-backed electrode stuck in the armpit. We can also assume fitting the device on Kimber was incredibly awkward because she intentionally MADE IT awkward.

* Full statement including what Amber's snoring cut off: "Ya be'n 'way too long 'gain, ya sook—nae be'n by fer a nip'er a bosie. Wha's a lass ta think?" – This little bit of Scotchness is a routine in-dream tease from Amber. You've been gone [from our dreams] too long again, you old softy—you haven't even come by for a kiss or cuddle. What's a woman to think?

** Man-Fritters – Alas, I cannot claim authorship of this little snigger-inducing euphemism. That honor belongs to author Mimi Jean Pampfiloff in her Accidentally Yours series. While the first two books were pretty recipe [if you know what I mean] they were HILARIOUS recipes. I'm not ashamed to admit that the scene in the first one where the heroine belts out 80's pop hits to keep sane made me laugh so hard I spewed my tea, CHOKED ON IT, then spent the rest of the day CROAKING. It was WORTH IT. (That said, the author also used a lovely little nonsense-word coined by my IRL friend Autumn back when we were in high school but didn't notate it. I'd encourage Autumn to stop starting word trends without first seeking a copyright but that'd mean I'd have to pay her every time I stole her stuff, heh.)

Also: Abby has no accent. She's intentionally warping the Oh, Hell no! in hopes of showing Mercy just how upset the news makes her.

# Implied smut – The encounter referenced here didn't make it to in-story occurrence BUT it took place during the Absolutes arc, which took up too much time-and-space for the intended back-and-forth between worlds. It's written up and included in the "Gallery of Memories" as The Blonde and the Beefcake and it can be found HERE.) It's almost entirely lemon, BTW. ;P

## Kirk tends to 'answer' Amber every time she talks to him – I am SO not basing this on our cat Heiferlump. Nope, not at all! …fine. Yes. Heifer responds to EVERYTHING she hears, no matter who says it, and it's rare to find someone she can't bait into answering back. She's particularly adept at getting my father to argue with her and routinely tries to argue with the microwave beeper. O_o It's awesome.

^ The Poem, "Dream Lovers" – I've not posted the entirety of the poem in any chapters or even the GoM installment of the same name. NOW, however, you can find the entire poem in comic format HERE, on this story's Here on Tumblr, OR on DeviantArt. The comic includes Donnie's additions and a small blurb of backstory leading to this scene, and the Tumblr/AO3 posts include a glossary for the many odd words used in the poem. For convenience's sake, I've included the translation of the included verse below.

Again, since Tumblr’s decided to be an ass about wordblock limits, see FFnet or AO3 for the glossary if anything throws you off.