#i needed to make the angsty idea a little silly so i don't get held accountable later on. chuuya will freak out in horror in a moment

[carrotkicks]

you aren't dazai...

tumblr user @iwritenarrativesandstuff got me thinking about dazai becoming Fyodor's next meatpuppet. probably won't happen but extreeemly fun idea nonetheless

[sapphosewrites]

For the ask game:

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - For 'Terok Nor AU'

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - choosing 'An Influx of Bashirs'

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it - 'Necessary Storms' for Kira/Ezri!

Thank you, friend! You know I love an ask game <3

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

The easiest fic for me to write was Whisper a Dangerous Secret, because all I did was come up with a silly little ficlet, and then ectogeo did all the work of turning it into a whole real story with feelings and stakes! My tendency historically has been to say that whatever multichapter fic I finished most recently was the hardest, but I think the award is still held by I Will Choose Free Will, because it cut deep to my own fears about mortality and what it means to make a meaningful life.

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - For 'Terok Nor AU'

For the whole series? So so much! It was supposed to end with the arrival of the Federation, but everyone kept leaving such delicious comments and giving me more and more ideas about how to keep it going. Julian and Garak were also supposed to have successfully gotten together already, but every time I sat down to write the scene where it was meant to happen (and it was meant to have happened multiple times by now), I found myself reveling in the tension and angst instead. Originally, I hadn't even decided if it was Section 31 specifically that Julian was running from, and now I've got Sloan running around in season 1! It keeps surprising me, but that's become part of the fun.

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - choosing 'An Influx of Bashirs'

Ooh, I haven't thought about this fic in a little while, thank you for inviting me to return to it. I'm going to go with...

Once he could have withstood it, but that was before Tain sent an assassin after him and Mila thought that Tain was the one who needed saving, before Tain dangled redemption in front of him along with Mila’s life, before Tain died finally and forever and Garak realized he would never return home and Mila’s face on a viewscreen was the only family he had left.

Which is really angsty, but I like the rhythm of that sentence for reasons I can't articulate.

I'm also delighted to be reminded of this fic in tandem with the Terok Nor AU series, because you reminded me that I had once intended to add a one-shot of canon Julian meeting his Terok Nor AU self!

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it - 'Necessary Storms' for Kira/Ezri!

Now this is interesting! Kira wasn't in that fic, so the first big question is how to get her there. It's possible she and Ezri are married, and she's become a Starfleet Spouse in parallel to Garak, but I don't see her easily agreeing to leave Bajor to join a starship. Unless, again parallel to Garak, something has forced her to leave Bajor, maybe a political push she couldn't agree with? Like a return to d'jarra? Or maybe her past ties to Odo or something have made her unpalatable to the masses, or maybe there's another isolationist movement and she's too close to the Federation... It's an interesting question to consider, but for these purposes let's keep her with Bajor and have something bring her to Trill. I could see her as already in a relationship with Ezri before the story starts, joining to investigate maybe because Ezri has gone incommunicado and she's worried? Or she also gets kidnapped like Julian because she was close to Dax and knows about the symbiosis commission's secret. Then she and Ezri are in captivity together, and maybe that could provide the space and push for them to admit feelings for each other... Or, if I were really going to restructure the story, maybe what I'd do is have the crew request Kira's help as an expert in resistance movements, to infiltrate or otherwise interact with the uprising, to help rescue Julian and Ezri. And then Garak and Kira have to team up to save their partners.

This is a really fun question to consider, thanks for asking it!

[m-jelly]

(1/2) Heyoo! U good? Just found ur blog and gotta say ur writing is amazing so congratulations! And I just had an idea of a one shot with captain levi and wanted to request it so here it is: basically he has a crush on a (reader) cadet, that he doesn't know how to express and stuff AND reader has a guy best friend that gives off Jake Peralta vibes and-

(2/2) loves to make jokes abt Levi's height, which just makes him angrier bc he thinks the reader is dating him, and one day he just confronts her abt that and kinda confess. Tiny angsty but general fluff thx honey 💕💕

Hi, my lovely <3 Happy to do this. Also, I do like watching Brooklyn 99. Think this is a cute thing for the lovely pair to happen.

I want you to be mine.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: canon world, romance, falling in love, Levi has a strong crush on you, jealous Levi, possessive Levi, confessions.

Concept: Levi has always had a crush on you, but he's never done anything about his feelings. You're a good cadet and you specialise in medical support, so you often help him with his scars and pain from the straps and gear digging into his skin when he fights. Levi adores you so much and wants you as his, but he doesn't know how to act on his feelings. Levi has noticed a guy always hanging out with you and trying to make you laugh. His jokes soon turn into digs into Levi's height and looks, which you don't seem to like at all. Levi gets so sick of the man, he confronts you about everything and learns the truth at the same time he confesses to his love for you.

Beautiful, just beautiful.

Levi's heart raced in his chest as you walked around your office grabbing the things for his bruises. He blushed a little, then pulled off the leather straps of his gear. He unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled it off to show his muscle, scars and bruises to you.

Levi held his breath when you walked closer to him with bruising cream in hand. He shivered under your touch. He loved you being so close to him and you smelt so sweet like honey.

You smiled at Levi. "Sorry, it's a little cold."

"What?"

You showed him the cream. "You shivered, so I thought it was the cream."

He blushed a little and gripped the bed. "Tch, silly brat. You should warm it up."

You hummed a laugh as you collected more cream. "I'm not the silly one, you are." You rubbed the cream into a massive bruise on his pecs where the front strap went across. "You shouldn't train as hard as you do. If you keep this up, you'll start cutting into your skin."

Levi looked away from you as he blushed harder. "Sorry."

You hummed a laugh. "You're making me think you get hurt on purpose just to come to see me."

Levi groaned a little and gripped the bed more because you had seen right through his actions. "Tch, stupid."

You sighed, then moved to his back and carried on rubbing in the cream. "How are your legs?"

Levi gulped hard. "Why the fuck are you asking that? You trying to get me naked?"

You frowned and peered around his shoulder and gazed at him. "Last time I checked, we all wear straps across our thighs and legs."

Levi blushed a little. "Oh. Tch, I'm fine."

"Okay." You washed your hands, then smiled at him. "I recommend you don't do any practice for a few days so your bruises heal, but most people don't listen to me anyway."

"I'll rest."

You hummed. "Sure, sure."

He jumped off the bed and walked right up to you making you gasp and blush in such a cute way. "I'll rest. I swear to you I will."

You gulped hard, then nodded. "Alright. Well, thank you for listening." You pointed to his chest. "Do you need help putting everything back on?"

He didn't. "Yes, please."

You smiled and helped him put his shirt on, then you buttoned it up. "I'm always impressed with how white you get your shirts. You make your own cleaning things?"

He nodded as he felt proud of himself. "Yes."

You looped the leather strap through the buckle on his chest. "I might have to steal it from you then."

Levi touched your shirt. "Yours are very white."

You hummed a laugh. "Thanks, but mine doesn't smell as nice as yours."

He saw an opportunity to get closer. "Maybe I could help you make a cleaning mixture just for your clothes."

You picked up his cravat, then put it on him. "I would like that." You stepped back and smiled at Levi. "There, all done. You better go relax, or I'll be very unhappy with you."

"Tch, you ordering a Captain around?"

You packed your things away. "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

Levi blushed at your cheeky smirk. "Tch, damn brat." Levi built up some courage inside him. He wanted to ask you on a date while he was healing up. "Oi brat?"

You turned to him and tilted your head and had that gentle smile that made him so weak. "Mmm?"

Your door was slammed open and Levi's worst enemy leaned in. James was a cocky energetic cadet that had everyone wrapped around his little finger. He was always cracking jokes and making people laugh. Recently, he'd been glued to your side. Levi had noticed it and hated it.

James grinned at you and sang your name. "Lunch. Now."

You smiled at him. "In a minute James, the Captain was just about to say something."

Levi glared at James, then looked at you. "Tch, another time."

You frowned at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

James stumbled a little when Levi shoved him out of the way. James hummed, then looked over at you. "They always say the smaller the man, then bigger the rage." He laughed. "Come on, it's funny."

You hummed. "Come up with a better joke and I might laugh."

James followed you around as Levi followed you both at a safe distance. "You know, I envy the Captain."

"Oh yeah? Why's that."

He smirked. "Well, he's so short that he's tit level with a lot of women. Must be nice to stare ahead and see beautiful mounds in front of you."

You sighed as you entered the mess hall. "Pick another joke."

Levi was furious at James, but he couldn't spy any longer now he was in the mess hall. He sat with Erwin, Mike and Hange as they talked and ate. He looked over at you and felt his rage and jealousy take over when he saw you laughing hard. He really didn't like James.

"Levi?" Erwin leaned on the table and smiled at his friend. "If you like her, just tell her that."

"Tch, shut up. It's not that easy. I've never felt this way before and I've never done this shit before."

Hange grinned. "Write her a poem."

Mike sighed. "No, just grab her and kiss her."

Erwin shook his head at his friends. "Don't listen to those two. Just do what you are comfortable with. Just tell her how you feel, okay?"

Levi hummed, then finished his lunch up and went for a walk to clear his head. He stopped when he saw James following you and messing about causing you to giggle. Levi was irritated and walked right over.

James opened his arms. "Captain! I almost didn't see you there! You know, talking to you strains my neck a little."

You backhanded his gut. "Don't be rude."

"I'm only joking. The Captain knows I'm joking. Besides, if he wanted to hit me he wouldn't be able to reach!"

Levi's eye twitched as rage filled him. He slammed his fist into James' face while he was laughing at his own joke. Levi grabbed your wrist, then yanked you towards him. He hurried along and dragged you with him. He ignore your protests and pleas as he kept pulling you along.

He stopped in the forest, then shoved you against the tree and slammed his fist against it by your head. "Tch, your boyfriend is a piece of shit."

You blushed "B-Boyfriend?"

"James! I fucking hate him!"

You frowned. "He's not my boyfriend."

Levi went white at your words, then he blushed. He choked a little on his words. "What?"

"He's not my boyfriend." You shivered. "Just ew, no thank you. He's a bit of an egotistic idiot if you ask me. Wait, you thought I was dating him?"

Levi blushed more as he felt embarrassed. "Maybe...it's just you two were close and well." He groaned. "Tch, shit. Me and my big mouth."

You smiled a little. "So, why are you so upset about him?"

He groaned. "I thought you two were dating and it pissed me off that you picked him of all people to be with. There are so many better people out there for you."

You folded your arms and smiled at the blushing Captain. "Like who?"

Levi's blush consumed his cheeks and the tops of his ears. "M-Me."

You blushed at him confessing a little. "You?"

"Tch, fuck brat. You got shit in your ears?" He grabbed your upper arms and squeezed. "I like you! I have these stupid romantic feelings for you and they just won't stop. I'm jealous that other men are close to you and I just want you all to myself." He locked eyes with you and had such a primal look, but it was also loving. "I want you to be mine."

You kissed him making him stiffen up and blush. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me to be yours. My answer is yes." You wrapped your arms around him and hummed in happiness. "This is the part where you hug me back."

Levi blushed, then hugged you back. "Tch, cheeky little shit."

You giggled. "I'm your problem now."

He buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Good. Everyone is going to know you're mine. All mine."

[rogue-durin-16]

OUT OF TROUBLE

Summary: After a Quidditch match, both George and Y/n sneaked out to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks with their respective teammates. The tension between the two groups might end up causing more trouble than imagined.

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty kinda fluffy

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, violence, concussion, language (?)

A/N: idk what to say apart from the idea of George losing his shit big time won't leave me alone and idek why (blaming it on that scene in the Order of the Phoenix in which George and Harry beat Malfoy the fuck up) so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Well," McGonagall's severe eyes scrutinized all six of us from the other side of her desk. "who is going to give us" she briefly motioned at Snape, who stood by her side with an unimpressed yet disappointed look on his face. "a proper explanation of why Madam Rosmerta so kindly let us know that not only seven of our seventh year students were on Hogsmeade without permission,"

"But also making a scene and coming to blows." Snape finished, quirking a brow. "Do you know how lucky you are that Madam Rosmerta picked on the fact that you were students?" The potions teacher's eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors before inquiring, "Who started it?"

Silence.

"Merlin's— There is a student in the hospital wing!" McGonagall exclaimed outraged. "You all ought to come clean about this one."

More silence.

"Mister Weasley, you seem to be unusually quiet." The Head of Slytherin pointed out.

"Well, you see, professor," George's head, which had until that moment been resting on his arms over the school desk, was tilted up slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache going on." He motioned at the back of his head, in which a patch of dried blood had glued his hair.

"Weasley, I must insist on you to go see Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall's tone, although remaining severe, softened a bit.

"Nah, 's not that bad." George gave Warrington a side look and forced himself to sit upright.

"I'm going to ask again." Snape spoke. "Who started it?" He weighed the possibilities before inquiring, "Mister Weasley?"

"Why me?!" George flinched at his own shouting.

"Do you want me to believe the state Mister Montague was left in was Miss Spinnet's doing? Miss Bell's, perhaps?" The Gryffindor girls grumbled under their breaths, catching the professor's attention. "What was that?"

"I said why us?" Katie questioned with a tinge of indignation. "Is it because we're Gryffindors?"

"Obviously." Snape spat, earning a roll from Mcgonagall, though she didn't oppose her colleague.

Alicia only laughed humorlessly and folded her arms over her chest.

"We can stay here all night, if you'd like it that way." McGonagall stated after around five minutes of just silence.

"Ugh, fine." George let his head fall in the comfort of his forearms again and groaned, "it was me— I started it. Can we go now?"

"What the hell?!"

"Miss Spinnet!" McGonagall scolded her, stomping her desk.

"Can we go now or not?" George's eyes met my shocked gaze briefly.

"Everyone but you, Mister Weasley." McGonagall stated.

"Wait, no." I tapped my foot nervously against the tiles and took at deep breath. "It wasn't him, it was me."

"Miss Y/l/n!" I refused to meet McGonagall's and Snape's face, so I left my eyes casted down, but I still heard the professors' quiet whispers. "What on Godric's name happened?"

Two Hours Earlier

After a Quidditch victory in Slytherin's favor, some of us had resolved to sneak out of the castle and go celebrate with a drink in Hogsmeade.

Turns out some Gryffindors had had the same idea, though the drink they were having was definitely not a celebration.

"Look who's here," Montague nodded in the Gryffindors direction, purposefully walking in their direction. "You're missing half of the team!" He chuckled, not stopping more than a couple of seconds. "Are they crying on their dorms?"

"Get lost, Montague." Katie Bell spat, earning faces from both Graham and Cassius. Alicia Spinnet flipped us off, and George limited himself to give me a small wave, which I returned with a little smile.

"How's the place this crowed?" Kevin questioned with a frown as we tried and failed to find an empty booth.

"No idea." I replied, taking a look around. "I'll go grab the drinks, you look for a place, yeah?" Cassius nodded and I made my way to the counter; I could feel Bell's and Spinnet's dirty looks on me while I ordered the butter beers.

"Celebrating, are we?" My head turned to meet George's form, leaning on the counter besides me.

"Yup." I shortly answered with a proud grin.

"You're missing your seeker." I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I wonder where he's at."

"You know where he's at." I quirked my brow when he played dumb, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I'm very aware it was you who sent him to the hospital wing."

"It was actually a bludger." He pointed out, giving Madam Rosmerta the coins for a butter beer.

"Oi, what are you doing?" I attempted to shove his hand away, but there was no use.

"Smoothly buying you a drink?" He winked and I felt blood going up to my cheeks. "Just her drink, though." He added, looking at Rosmerta.

"No you're not— he's not." The owner of the Three Broomsticks gave us a look but ended up accepting my money instead.

"Aw c'mon, Y/n" George pouted while Rosmerta passed me the drinks. "I've just lost an important match, let me have a win?"

"You can buy me the next drink," I resolved, chuckling at the way his expression lighted up. "but only if you don't cause trouble."

"Pfft I'm too depressed to cause trouble." I could tell he wasn't joking, though he still made it sound humorous. "Need help with that?" He motioned at the four drinks I was attempting to grab.

"No she doesn't."

George visibly grimaced at the sight of Cassius but, instead of snapping at him, he only leaned on me and pecked my cheek after saying, "No trouble, see?"

"Piss off, Weasley."

"No need to be that rude." I spat, taking two glasses in my hand.

"No need to consort with the enemy." He responded, picking up the remaining jars.

We approached the spot our Quidditch team had taken and had a surprisingly uneventful good time, until Montague started to run his mouth.

"Look at them, they're so pathetic." He obnoxiously laughed.

"Look at whom?" I questioned, a bit lost in my thoughts to know what he was even talking about.

"Don't play dumb." He hissed. "As if you haven't been staring at that Weasel since we entered."

"Ugh, honestly Graham." I lazily played with my jar. "Can't we just enjoy the drink without focusing on the only three Gryffindors in the room?"

"You're one to talk." Cassius mumbled.

"Meaning?"

"Graham's right, you've been staring at him." I pinched the bridge of my nose. They've done this little number so many times that I was no longer embarrassed. "What was that kiss about?"

"Cassius!"

"What kiss?" Graham inquired.

"He kissed her."

"Oh my gosh—" I threw my head down to my forearms in desperation.

"Ew!" Kevin gagged dramatically. "Did you let a blood traitor kiss you with that filthy mouth?"

"You did not just say that." My tone held a serious warning as I looked up at our keeper.

"Great, he's staring." Cassius grumbled.

"Frankly, he could use a lesson." My eyes widened at Graham's words; at first I thought he was joking, but then he grabbed his wand with a wicked smirk.

"Don't make a bloody number." I whispered. "We'll get in trouble."

"Y/l/n, I'm starting to think you're not on our side."

"Montague, if you earn us detention—" my words were cut off by another statement of his.

"No one's gonna know if we're sneaky enough." I looked at Bletchley and Warrington for some back up but they both seemed to be on board with Montague's plan. "What about a little... cruci—" before he could finish the word, I kicked his chair, making him fall to the floor.

"What's wrong with you?!" I shouted, kicking his wand away after standing up myself.

"Y/n, calm down." Cassius said.

"He was gonna use the Cruciatus, so maybe no?!"

"Careful, Y/n." By then, Montague had already gotten up; Bletchley had to tug him back for him not to go against me. "If you get along with scum, you're scum."

I didn't fully realise that I had slapped him until I heard a few people gasping; all from sudden, I was very aware that I had attracted unwanted attention.

There was a moment of tense silence between Montague and me, quickly followed by him grabbing my hair and hitting my face against the table, too fast for me to do anything about it.

"OI!" Cassius pulled me away from Montague, my hands covering my most likely broken nose, debating on whether to hold it to stop the nosebleed or not touching it to avoid more pain.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"They're talking shit." Katie whispered, squinting her eyes at the Slytherins.

"Of course they're talking shit." I responded.

"I'd love to go there and shove those—" Alicia grumbled, tightening the grip on her glass.

"Don't." They both looked at me expectant and I only shrugged. "Y/n asked me not to cause trouble."

Alicia snorted when my eyes travelled to Y/n and Katie mocked me with a silly grin. "Awww, Alicia, he's in love."

"George Weasley is in love" Alicia faked a gag. "With a Slytherin."

"Oh my— you're two shut up." I felt blush creeping up my neck, though I couldn't help the smile twitching up the corners of my lips.

"I mean," Katie shrugged, sharing a look with our friend. "Could be worse."

"Could be Warrington." Before I could respond to Alicia, a loud noise was heard behind me. "Ooooh your princess just kicked Montague." Our chaser commented; we all turned around to look at the Slytherins. "This is gonna be fun."

"Why do I feel like they're talking about us?" I said with a laugh.

"Did... Did she just say 'cruciatus'?" Katie questioned, a tinge of worry in her voice.

"Damn! Okay, time to go." Alicia whispered, getting up right after Y/n had slapped Montague. Katie and I were already following her to the exit when a thud made us stop in our tracks.

"He did not—" Katie started.

"He did." Alicia replied; she was quick to double check on me, but I was quicker to stalk towards Montague. "George no!"

READER'S P. O. V.

I came to the conclusion that we were already in trouble, so I might as well go for it and get Montague back.

Cassius saw that coming and held me back by my forearms, but Graham was being pushed against the table behind him in the blink of an eye.

It took us all aback the way George had stormed in scene; we stood there frozen for a hot second, until Bletchley realised Montague was trying to shake George off in vain while the Gryffindor threw blows at him whilst tackling him to the table.

"George! Stop!" Alicia yelled, coming to stand by my side, unsure of what to do.

"Get off him!" The keeper was the first one to try and remove George from Graham, whose face was starting to look as bloodied as mine. He did succeed for a split second, giving the Slytherin chaser enough room to get back at George.

I shook Cassius off the moment Montague jumped on George to aid the ginger, but before I could do anything, he was punching Graham again, though now he sported a swollen lip himself, along with a cut on his cheek, probably caused by Graham's rings.

This time, when Bletchley tried to shove him off Montague, he ended up with George's elbow digging into his stomach.

"He's gonna kill him!" Bell exclaimed, genuinely worried about the outcome.

"George!" I called his name, hoping it would have an effect, but the beater was too lost on the fight. "Wait— No!!" I tried to grab Cassius' hand when I saw him reaching for one of the heavy jars, but he was quicker to crash it on George's crown.

He hissed, losing balance instantly; his hands went to the back of his head, releasing Montague from his hold. My teammate took the opportunity to kick him off, but before he could try to punch George again, I reached to them, pulling the ginger away and not so accidentally stomping on my Montague in the process.

Just when everything seemed to have calmed down, I noticed Spinnet had thrown herself to Cassius.

Bell was struggling to tug her friend away, Cassius was being pulled back by a mildly hurt Bletchley, Montague was curled up in a ball on the floor and George and I stayed knelt not far from him while I checked his head.

It was only when Madam Rosmerta appeared with a towering, strong employee who managed to separate Spinnet and Warrington that it came to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Graham tried to use the Cruciatus curse on George, professor." I explained without meeting McGonagall's eyes. "And I stopped him."

"He— he what?!" The Head of Gryffindor yelled horrified.

"Miss Y/l/n, did you send Mister Montague to the hospital wing?" Snape questioned wearily.

"That was me." George replied before I could make anything up. "And Warrington broke a glass on my head."

"Spinnet tried to kill me!" Warrington shouted.

"If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead!" Alicia yelled back.

"Don't lie to yourself darling!" Bletchley hissed.

"Don't 'darling' her dickhead, I'll jump on you right here!" Bell spat, leaning over her table.

"Shut up, Bell!"

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted. "Fifty points will be substracted from each of you. Your families will be informed of this, and needless to say you won't make any more trips to Hogsmeade."

"Minerva, I think Weasley has earned himself detention for the rest of the year." Snape commented.

"And so did Mister Montague and Miss Y/l/n." She responded. "Now off to sleep, all of you— except from Weasley and Y/l/n, you two go see Madam Pomfrey— no but's, Weasley."

"Yes professor." George sighed, getting up and following me out of the class and into the corridor. "You okay?" His voice was so soft as he fell into step with me that I had to refrain myself from kissing him.

"Nose's probably broken." I shrugged, stealing a look at his crown. "How's your head?"

"Hurts a bit." He was obviously playing it off, but I didn't say a thing about it. "I'm sorry for that little number."

"Nonsense! As if it was your fault Montague's a douche." I reassured him.

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"I'm only mad at the fact that I didn't get to punch him." I replied with a chuckle triggering a smile on his. "Plus," I chewed on my lower lip, hesitating for a moment before adding, "it was kinda hot."

George let out a shocked snort, his whole face redder than mine while words stumbled incoherently out of his mouth, preventing him from forming a coherent sentence.

"Don't do it again, though."

"Uh- yeah— NO- I mean, no- I-I won't— I don't do this often—" I giggled at his stammering and brushed his pinky with my own. He cleared his throat and took the hint, intertwining his fingers with mines. "You know, technically it was you who caused trouble so..."

"So?"

"Can I still buy you a drink?" He sheepishly requested, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand while we reached the hospital wing.

"We're banned from Hogsmeade, though." I reminded him.

"Well, I might know a way of getting there without being noticed."

"I'm in then." I stated. "Only if you promise we'll stay out of trouble."

"Can't promise that." He squeezed my hand and let it go when Madam Pomfrey spotted us. "But I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will." I tugged on his sleeve and placed a kiss on his cheek before following the healer's directions.

[cuddlecave]

Reread thru the deep Ben au and I'm having angsty ideas for when Gordn got taken.

Suppose constant exposure to Ben, being literally inside him, has changed him some how. Its subtle, neither of them noticed, but he is slowly adapting to this new life. An alteration in his skin, changes in his eyes, etc.

BM definitely notices tho. They have data on Gordn from before, taken when he went to routine physical exams before the mission, and the differences are quite obvious when comparing both sets of data. They decide to take samples. By force.

Gordn does not cooperate in the slightest, so instead of taking small, reasonable sized samples, they get angry and just take his arm. At which point Gordn panics.

He reaches for anything, searching for Ben's presence. The eldritch always spoke partly in his mind, so he could be easily understood, and after spending so much time together there's a small bond forming. It was strengthened a little when Ben would occasionally call out to Gordn while the human was on land, asking him silly questions.

Now, Gordn subconsciously digs for that bond and desperately reaches back, crying out in pain and fear.

Ben, who had recently notice Gordns absence and was still debating on whether he should just let the human go if he wanted away so bad, is not expecting the call. The terror in that mental cry shakes him, and he reaches back without hesitation. He sees Gordn being held down and effecticely maimed, and he reacts violently. Not with Gordn, his human is snatched away as carefully as he can manage, tucked into a poich for healing and comfort cuddles, words of reassurance whispered directly into his mind.

As for everyone else in the room, they're suddenly choking on lungs full of seawater. Not just their lungs, actually. Every cavity in their bodies is now overflowing with ocean sauce, straight from the depths of the most concentrated brine pools Ben could find. Not a pleasant way to go, but nothing less than what they deserved.

With his immediate fury temporarily abated, Ben divides his attention for a more gentle matter. He's still consoling Gordn, the human has gone nonverbal and is just trying to bury himself in a stomach fold. It pains Ben's heart and stokes his anger back into a burning rage, but he needs to think long term. Gordn mentioned at least 4 people that he still cared about within the Mesa walls, and for his sake, Ben will be genuinely merciful. Given all Gord said about them, they aren't hard to find. He doesn't grab them too, but he does whisper.

Something's wrong. Something's happening. Maybe leave for a few days, take a vacation. You don't want to be here when tomorrow dawns.

Tom and Drnld get the bad vibes and clear out quickly, only slowing down enough to help Harold sneak Bbby out too. It's easier than it should be. Anyone who should have stopped them always seemed distracted. They don't question it, they just get out and get as far away as possible.

Now that he's certain that his wrath upon BM won't harm Gordn even the slightest, physically or emotionally, Ben is free to wreak havoc.

oh i LIKE that. i wonder if after havoc has been wrought, ben reaches out to the sci-team again, give them word that their friend gordn isn't dead actually. and uh, the reason their old workplace isn't really a thing anymore is because 'mesa was trying to make gordn's alive status not a thing anymore (or at least, that it seemed like to ben). they can't see him yet, he needs time to recover, but yeah he's okay. and in literally the safest place he could ever be. when gordn does show up again a week or two later with this weird guy they'd never seen him with before but who gives off the same weird vibes as that voice they collectively heard in their heads, they got SO many questions.

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Softly, Barely a Whisper -- Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (part one)

Softly, Barely a Whisper — Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (pre apocalypse) (part one)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Description: (Name) moved in with her uncle, the Sheriff of a little town in Northern Georgia, to escape an abusive household. While living with her uncle, she meets Daryl, a redneck with a heart of gold and a life very similar hers. Fluff and angst and awkward shy Daryl Dixon ensue.

⚠Warning⚠: great amounts of bad language, past mentions of abuse, past mentions of rape, there's probably more, this'n's kinda a mess. Don't read if you get triggered easily.

Genre: angsty fluff?? Hurt/comfort?? I've no idea. Is awkward Daryl a genre?

Pairing: teen!Daryl Dixon x teen!fem!abused!reader

A/N: hey, sorry I've been gone for forever, I suck at commitment. I also suck at naming things, hence the title. I wrote another long motherfucker of a "oneshot" and therefore am breaking it into chapters like I did with Impromptu Cuddles, so look out for the other chapters soon enough. Enjoy.

Words without A/N: 3242

<—————————————>

"Sure thing, Daryl. You can use whatever ya'd like, just make sure you put it back afterwards. The doors unlocked and yer more than welcome to go in for a drink or anythin' if ya need it." Bill Coleman, or Sheriff Coleman, as most knew him by, called out as he moved to open the door to his cruiser.

The Sheriff was an interesting character to the youngest Dixon. He had hardened features and a voice like a gravel truck that immediately implied a harsh disposition, his eyes were constantly squinted into a look that resembled judgment, and the vibe he gave off was just generally unpleasant; but, in all reality, Bill Coleman was probably the gentlest man Daryl had ever met. He understood the workings of the Dixon household without ever having to be told, and did what he could to make life any bit easier for the teenager. Whether that be arresting the senior Dixon whenever he found possible, or offering Daryl a place to stay in his home over the weekend. Bill was, all in all, a genuinely kind human being. Something, Daryl found, was rather rare in his life.

But, even though the Sheriff had his trust, and he knew the Sheriff trusted him the same, it still came as a bit of a shock to him to see the officer willingly let him, a Dixon, have open access to his house while no one else was home.

Everyone knew not to trust a Dixon. Nobody in the town was willing to make eye contact with him, let alone trust him to their house and belongings while they were away. Will, his father, had done a fine job of destroying the family name in his drunken escapades, and his brothers addictions did nothing to help. This, combined with the confusion and disbelief that coursed through his system, explained the gawk the boy's eyes held as he stared in awe at Mr. Coleman's retreating figure.

This had to be some kind of trick, right?

"Oh," the Sheriff called. There it was, the part where he'd laugh it off and say "just kidding. Like I'd let a freak like you into my home without supervision."

Once again surprising the young man, his expectation was the farthest thing from what the greying man actually said.

"I fergot ta mention my niece, my sisters kid. She'll be here soon enough, gets off work in a half hour or so. She's been stayin' with me since, ah–" he trailed off a bit, one leg up in the cruiser, the other still planted firmly on the ground as he looked at Daryl over the door's window, looking mildly uncomfortable "–well, she's jus' stayin' with me. She's real sweet, you'll prolly get along with 'er. Jus', eh, just be soft, ya hear? She's a bit skittish, and real shy, too, so don't be too offended if she avoids ya, she don't mean it rude like."

And what on earth could he mean by that? The avoiding that he'd done when describing why she was here, what had happened that he didn't want to talk about? Daryl had a few theories already.

"'Till later, Daryl. Take care, and remember what I told ya, boy." With a wave and a caring (or warning, he could never quite tell with the old man) smile, the grizzled man pulled out of the small driveway and onto the road leading out of the trailer park to go do his civic duty, leaving a still heavily confused, and now slightly concerned, Daryl Dixon standing outside of his garage.

This man, knowing his family's history with bad habits, was not only willing to let the teenager into his home without a watchful eye, but was also perfectly okay knowing he'd be there, alone, with his (skittish and shy) niece?

Maybe the old man is finally losing it, he thought.

Still in shock, the young man turned on his heel, and began the short trek back to the shedd to continue working on the pickup that he had been working on fixing up. Though it was really nothing but a shell sitting on bricks right now, he knew that someday it'd be his pride and joy.

Some uncounted amount of time later, Daryl was finally pulling himself out from under the hood. His throat itched with dryness, and he was covered in sweat from the never-ending harshness of the Georgian sun, but, nonetheless, he couldn't help the little spike of pride that ran through him as he looked down at the beginnings of the new-made guts of his pickup. Allowing himself the luxury of a small smile, he decided he'd finally take the old Sheriff up on his offer, and moved to head into the house to grab something to wet his throat, and maybe even a rag to wipe off his face, if he was feeling risky.

He found, upon entry, that the house was relatively clean. Cleaner than it had been the last time he'd been in there, at least, and only as clean as an old trailer house could really get.

Still, where before there had been newspapers scattered, now there were none, and in place of the cluttered kitchen was a clean countertop and a basket of fresh apples. He didn't dwell on it a whole lot as he moved to the sink to fill up a plastic solo cup, though he did wonder if Bill would mind if he stole an apple. The young Dixon couldn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.

Filling his cup, he was quick to chug it down, the cold a dramatic (but welcome) shock against the harsh dryness of his throat. He let the water run into the sinks basin as he filled the cup up again, again, and then one more time, and only on his fifth return to the water did he realize the difference in sound. A few inches of water was backed up in the bottom of the sink, refusing to go down the drain like it should, and completely changing the sound the water pouring from the faucet made as it headed downwards.

Quickly setting the cup aside and turning off the faucet, he watched the water make its incredibly slow decent into the drain, and decided he needed to pay back Sheriff Coleman's hospitality. It was the least he could do, after all.

Opening the doors that lead to the plumbing beneath the sink, Daryl set himself to work.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

"Good night, (name)!" Mr. Sennet's overly cheery voice called to the young woman as she moved her way through the front doors of the diner.

Calling out a quick goodbye to him as well, she hurriedly climbed into her rig. A shitty little Honda though she was, she still got the young (name) from a to b, and (name) would be forever grateful to her uncle for gifting it to her.

Dusk was just beginning to settle as she took off towards her new residence, and she worried slightly if her uncle would be angry that she was out later than usual. The diner had been busier tonight than normal, and instead of getting off at seven, as per usual, it was now closer to nine.

Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself aloud:

"He's not like they were, he won't be mad at you. He's not like them, he won't be mad."

Though she really did believe it, she still repeated it aloud to herself the entire way back to the house, as if she thought she could will it into existence if she hoped hard enough.

It was silly, she knew, but she didn't really care. After all she'd been through, she thought she deserved a little self reassurance.

The drive to her new home was short lived, though she didn't much mind. She hated to be alone now, it gave her too much time to think, and far too much time to overthink. A regular pastime of hers, it seemed.

It was odd, really. Before, when it was just her and the chromed glass house and the bruising voices, before she was taken away by her uncle, she loved to be alone. She cherished the times of peace she had between the hurt. Now, if she was alone for more than thirty minutes, it was likely she'd be found having a mental breakdown in a bathtub.

But, enough of the depressing stuff.

As the scarred girl pulled into the driveway, she didn't notice the second pair of tracks that accompanied her uncles, as she was far too wrapped up in her head. Something she'd be sure to kick herself for at a later date. She didn't notice the single light that was on in the kitchen, either, nor did she pay mind to the tools that lay neatly around their box as she passed the shedd that functioned as a garage, and she simply put the shell of a pickup truck that sat just outside off as another of her uncles pastimes. Opening and stepping through the front door, she didn't even notice the smudge of mud off the sole of someone's shoe that was left on the carpet.

She did, however, definitely notice the way the hair on the back if her neck stood to attention at the sound of a voice that most definitely wasn't the Sheriffs cursing angrily from the kitchen. Metal clinking to the ground and a tapping on something that echoed like tubing followed behind the exclamation, and (name) felt herself seize up in fear.

"It can't be them," she reminded herself silently, "it isn't them, it can't be."

Swallowing her fear, trying desperately not to let the tears that branded the backs of her eyes build enough to fall, (name) forced herself to move farther into the room, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat that resided behind the door and dropping her bag by a table near the door as she did.

Thinking back to the little bit of self defence that Bill had taught her upon her moving in, she pulled the bat to her side to keep it close enough that no one could easily pull it from her grasp, but could still cause some damage if shoved forwards hard enough.

Sneaking around the corner of the refrigerator that hid the person from view, she took a deep, calming breath before poking her head around to take a peek.

He was young, she could tell, likely not much older than herself. Shaggy, brown-blond hair nearly reached broad shoulders, and even though he was hunched over beneath the kitchen sink, she could still tell he was much larger than her. Muscles flexed under a sleeveless button-down shirt as he twisted a wrench against the plumbing under the basin, grunting lightly as he did.

He didn't seem like he was there to cause trouble, she figured. Who in their right minds broke into a house just to fix their backed up sink? Oh dear, maybe he's not in his right mind? What if they sent him and he's here to kill the girl? What if he was there to bring her back to them somehow? But they were away, they couldn't hurt her, could they? Even from the depths of prison, or the entrapment of the psych ward, the girl didn't really doubt that one of the two could get a word out to have her hurt (killed?) for getting them put away. She was going to die now and she wouldn't even be able to fix the meatloaf that she had planned for tonight's dinner. She felt her body begin to tremble (or perhaps it was already, and she only just then noticed) and her eyes glazed themselves with tears, to her dismay.

Could she swing and knock him unconscious? Could she at least discombobulate the man long enough to escape? Could she really even hurt somebody like that?

Before she could come to a decision, however, the decision came to her.

Away in the living room, a phone rang. The shrill tlrrring! making both bodies jump slightly, and causing the boy bent beneath the kitchen sink to take notice of young (name).

Blue eyes widened as he caught sight of her, baseball bat clutched in hand, and he threw himself backwards and away, slamming his body into the ovens door. Instinctively, his arms moved to guard his face and torso.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!" The loud exclamation startled the girl, and she jumped again, shoving against the refrigerator hard enough to make it rattle dangerously.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing the plumbing turned out to be far more difficult than Daryl had originally assumed. The bits holding the stuff to the things was rusted on, making it difficult to loosen the thingy mabob and clear anything clogging the that thing.

Putting all of his focus into wrenching the bits away from the stuff, Daryl completely failed to notice the other presence in the room with him, and when the phone in the other room shocked him out if his thoughts, he found his mind immediately assuming it was his father standing there with a weapon in hand.

As his back hit the oven and his arms moved to guard his head, he caught full sight of the person, and quickly came to realize his mistake. His heart beat harshly against his ribs, and he couldn't help but exclaim his dislike for the situation.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!"

At his shout, the girl flinched away from him so harshly that he thought the refrigerator was going to come crashing down on top of him, and he immediately felt guilty, for some odd reason.

She looked absolutely terrified. (Eye color) eyes big as saucers, glazed with fear and glossy with tears, shaking hands gripped the metal of the baseball bat so hard her skin turned white, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes never left his form as he slowly stood up from the ground, one hand still held out in front of him, whether to ward off an attack, or to show he meant no harm, neither really knew. The girl was down right terrified of him, and he hadn't so much as said a word to deserve it yet.

This had to be the niece the Sheriff was talking about, he decided. The scared look she was giving him as she slowly backed away from him made him feel downright awful, and he knew he needed to do something to show her he meant no harm. So, remembering her uncles words, Daryl worked to make his voice a bit less gruff than usual, and tried to keep the edge out of his tone.

"Uh-uh, I ain't here ta hurtcha, girlie–" she took another quick step back "–I'm a friend of Bill's. I was jus' comin' in ta get a drink, I ain't here ta hurtcha."

There was far more that could be said, he knew, but words never really were his forté, and he wasn't sure how much he could talk before he made her more uncomfortable. However, the little bit that he had said, mostly naming her uncle, he thought, had made her shoulders un-hunch a bit, though she kept her distrusting posture. Smart girl.

Slowly lowering the bat until it pointed at his chest she grabbed it with both hands and hesitantly backed out of the kitchen, beckoning him to follow her. Keeping him safely at the end of the bat, and moved to pick up the still-ringing phone and gingerly press it to her ear, her eyes never leaving him, and the bat never wavering (though it did shiver along with her tremors.)

Her eyes relaxed a bit more at the voice on the other end of the line, and though Daryl couldn't much hear the words that were being said—aside from the mumbled tone—he could still tell it was the sheriffs deep voice that spoke.

"Yeah? Uh-hm, good, I uh, I guess... I did. Of course," as she spoke to the formless voice, Daryl couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran up his spine. What if the Sheriff didn't want him there now that he'd scared the girl? He had warned him, he thought. What if Bill made him go back to his shit-hole house and wouldn't let him come back again? This place was one of the few he had to escape that hell, he didn't want to lose that. What if the officer freaked and called Daryl's dad to come pick him up? He'd have hell to pay if he let that happen. He was sure he'd end up with a few more scars at least if his dad were to find out that someone knew of what went on behind closed doors. The Sheriff, no less. What if he–

His spiraling thoughts were disrupted when he caught the sound of his name coming from the other end of the phone line and immediately tuned back in.

"Uhm, uh, yeah, I–I guess. I mean, yeah, yes, he's still here... Oh, no, he's, uh, he's been nice enough," was she even still talking about the red-necked youth? "Yes, of course it's okay, uncle Bill. Sure-sure thing, yeah, that's okay with me. I was thinking about making meatloaf tonight, anyway, that usually makes enough for more than just you an' me."

Wait, what?

The girl had lowered the weapon, though she still kept a tight grip in it, and gave him a shy, almost apologetic smile, before finally letting her eyes dart away. Daryl stayed frozen in his spot. What was even happening?

"–oh," she suddenly looked dejected at whatever had been said on the other side. Scared, almost. "Yeah, no, no, that's-that's okay, uncle Bill, sure thing. It's okay, promise," she suddenly donned a small smile, and though he knew imediately that it was fake, he still found himself startlingly light-of-breath at the sight.

"Yeah, of course, see you tomorrow, uncle, stay safe." Tomorrow? What? Why was all this so confusing to the youngest Dixon? Why was the disappearance of her smile making him feel so hollow?

The sudden change in the expression that the smaller figure wore was dramatically startling to Daryl. Going from sad and scared and sorry and a bit regretful to blushing and wincing and all together uncomfortable in the blink of an eye, the girl shriekingly exclaimed:

"Uncle Bill! No! Ew, gross! Don–Don't say things like that, ya nasty!" Daryl couldn't help but find her blush and stutter quite endearing.

Even from the few paces away that he was, he could still hear the loud laugh that erupted from the other side of the phone.

"Alrigh–alright, uncle Bill," the girls face was still flushed intensely, "I'm hanging up on you now... Yeah, yes, okay—thanks for that." She winced again at whatever he'd said, and she somehow flushed even harder. In a softer voice, now, "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Stay safe." Her last words were barely a whisper.

Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, the girl placed it gently on the receiver before turning to glance at Daryl, though he took note that she never once fully looked at him again.

"I'm, uhm, I'm sorry," she whispered, grimacing softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ו×~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Do’s And Don'ts With A Reunited Legion, Part 3

AKA This is the fifth closet Legion popped into, because the first four were occupied by Anti, Bim, Sharper and Ollie respectively. In all seriousness, I originally planned for this story to be very angst-filled with a side heaping of the noose dealio that @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms wrote. Lucky for you folks, that never made it in, but I’m saving it on the back-burner for the next angst surprise. Also, since this is a double whammy with a second submission, the next piece is not angsty! Have fun.

…

Eric hadn’t spent as much time with Legion as he wanted to when they got back, considering the fact that Mare stayed rather close to them. And despite the ghost’s apparent friendliness, Eric was still pretty terrified of him.

That wasn’t to say that he had avoided Legion. They would spend small moments together, usually with him knitting and them watching intently while they sorted out the yarn. Or talking in soft voices when headaches came along, each respectful of the other’s pain. One time he even cooked with them, and it’s then that he learned Legion had a selective range of cooking abilities and that they were terrible when it came to high-concentration cooking. Like making sure the pot didn’t boil over. At least there wasn’t a fire.

When he looked back on this, Eric had no real idea why he was in that particular hallway. It was nearing the evening, and the slowly falling sun casted distorted shadows through the window panes. Some of the trees helped to give each shadow it’s own shape, but they were light enough to be rendered separate from Dark or the Void’s signatures. Eric remembered the sensation of warmth against his skin, probably falsely conjured up in his own subconscious, but it felt lovely. The air was tranquil and there was no booming floor, rattling doors or even a groan of defeat (those were caused by the ‘old folks’, mainly Dark, Phantom, Mad, and Google). Just blissful quiet.

…And the barely noticeable hiccup that came right after a long, hard wail from sobbing.

What?

Eric wasn’t one for confrontation, and if this were any other time and any other place, he would’ve ran off to grab his Dad or most anyone else for backup. But with the peace of the previous moment still within him and a sense of curiosity that had begun blooming again (once he moved here), he wanted to see what was happening. Of course he knew that sound, he had sounded like that many times in the past, usually on the cusp of or already into a full blown panic attack. So to hear someone else sounding like that, well, loneliness wasn’t good for situations like that. He could help? Right?

He moved slower to trace the sound, and he eventually got to a plain looking door, no label to it. Probably a broom closet or something. A perfect place for someone having a panic attack.

Personally, he preferred the closets on the ground floor.

Don’t think like that. He scolded himself, before taking a deep breath in, trying to instill his confidence before raising a fist to knock against the door. The wavelengths shattered the silence, canceling out all other thoughts and sounds. Including the weak gasps.

“H-h-hello? Uh-um, an-anyone th-there?” Nothing greeted his question, and he began to wonder if he was hearing something. But that sound was so accurate…? “Its-s-s  Eric-c?”

hic

There it was again. The barely perceptible sob. “I-I’m com-m-ming in? No-no, I’m coming i-in.” He grasped the handle and tried to turn it, but found it was locked under his grip. His fingers were already trembling, and he had to take another breath to try and steady them. “Cou-could you open t-t-the d-door?”

“No,” The voice took him by surprise, but he recovered once he realized who hid beyond his reach, separated by an oaken wall.

“L-L-Legion?”  Oh goodness, this wasn’t good. He had yet to see them hurting like this, besides when they had first come back from that place, when they had been with that scary man. He could remember those moments when the Actor was in the house, the way the terror of his presence constricted his throat and his lungs. And those visits were short, lasted fifteen minutes at most. Legion was with him for weeks. Stuck beside him with no escape.

Eric knew he wouldn’t have made it, and standing outside this door, it finally struck him that Legion couldn’t have gone through all that unscathed. They had to have been hurt too. And now, now maybe they were working through it.

“L-Legion,” He started, slowly settling himself onto the floor beside the door, taking time to lay his prosthetics against the carpet. “Legion, I-I’m here. An-and if y-you need me o-or you wa-wanta talk about it-t, I-I’m here. You-you’re not al-alone.  N-n-not anymore.” He settled himself beside the door and waited, letting the silence settle within the hall. Letting the fading sunlight warm his skin. Letting himself hope that his presence in the hall would be enough for Legion.

Legion, that silly ‘kid’ who knew more than they let on, who held in their eyes ages of knowledge that betrayed their form. Eric saw them as an older sibling, playful and confident of themselves, always encouraging what he wanted to do and serious in their promises. Host’s kid, the one that he knew the older man would fight for. Just like his Dad.

And wasn’t that something amazing? That he had a real Dad now. And that Legion had a Dad too. They both had someone that loved and protected them, that didn’t want anything from them. It still took Eric by surprise sometimes…

“Eric?” The voices asked hesitantly from the wood, speaking through the crack between the frame and the door itself. Eric shook himself out of his musing, turning his head so that his ear was beside the crack. He wasn’t sure why there were multiple voices, unless this was what Legion meant when they said they weren’t alone upstairs. 

“L-Legion?”

“We’re sorry. For keeping you here. We’re… we’re fine.” That was a lie, and he knew that both of them knew it. And well, he wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily this time.

“It-it’s fine. Hon-n-nestly Le-Legion. I g-g-get it. S-s-sometimes-s you need to b-b-be alone. S-sort through it-t. Y-ya know?” There was a weak laugh from the crack, a hollow laugh.

“Never really alone. Not with so many of us fighting. To be heard, to say Something. To be alive in us.” There was a pause before they continued, their voices tampering down into one again, even if there was the slightest reverb to it. “We were beginning to lose it, and we didn’t want to scare anyone. We get, scary when we’re losing it. Didn’t want to worry Dad or Mare. Just… just needed to breathe again. Breathe without scaring anyone.”

“A cl-closets-s nice l-like that.” Eric said, trying to keep his voice steady. “S-small to k-keep the w-world from cl-closing in o-on you. Its secluded, q-quiet and m-makes you b-big.”

“Yeah, I guess a closet is ideal. Bright side of things.” There was some shuffling, and beside Eric the lock popped open. “You can come in, if, if you want?” The nervousness in their voice was obvious, but they were in good company. Eric was always in a state of nervousness.

“Sure,” He reached up and grasped the handle, turning it with ease this time. He gave it a gentle tug and opened a crack, letting enough fading sunlight in to illuminate the figure in the little room. Legion was bracing themselves against two shelves, their hair falling in messy, tangled waves around their head. The hood hung like a deflated balloon on their shoulder, and the cloak had stretched to cover all of their body. Like a giant blanket. Protective and cuddly.

“Nice place y-you got.” Legion titled their head, their eyes lighting up despite the redness that tainted them and the puffiness of their skin.

“Prime real estate.” Eric pulled himself in, opening the door wider to paint Legion in the last rays of orange light. They glowed radiantly, like something out of folklore. “Eric, you sure you aren’t an angel?”

“Huh? What d’ya m-mean?” They grinned.

“The light is a halo around you. You look like an angel.” He blushed, rubbing the back of his head.

“Th-thanks!” He settled beside them and they stared out the top of the window, holding hands up to keep the bottom rays from blinding them.

“Makes us think of that time we tried to convince everyone Dark was a vampire in the Retro.” Eric turned to them.

“What?”

“Oh, that story’s great. Okay, so, it was right after Dark over in the last universe had kinda turned over a new leaf and we wanted to give him a proper ‘welcome back.’ So, first we rigged up this giant spotlight with Wilford’s help…”

Submitted by: @englishbreakfastandquills​

*to the tune of John Mulaney’s Monkey Man joke* Babey, babey, babey man