#ill find a better way to organize this eventually

[notmorbid]

pearl.

dialogue prompts from pearl by siân hughes.

what were you afraid of?

no one deserves to be judged on the worst five minutes of their life.

the house is full of secrets.

i know this one.

i'm not going to your stupid haunted house.

how can you not know how to light a fire?

you never wanted me for myself.

try summoning something useful, like a pizza delivery.

you were right. i was wrong.

it's not you. it's nothing to do with you.

it never felt right. it was never the right time.

have you got anything on your feet?

i want to say goodbye.

you're not well enough to go anywhere.

i'll forgive you, eventually.

there are words that only mothers say.

would you like me to do a drawing for you?

you're good, i can see. kind.

grief takes the kindhearted the hardest.

go home by nine, or they all take their clothes off.

i've never met an actual pagan before.

sometimes i think i've lived my life as an observer.

it's the summer solstice. wear your best undies.

it turns out all those clichés and bad pop songs were right.

'jaunty' is not a sexy word.

are you comfortable with posing?

is that your natural hair color, or did something go wrong with the dye?

you already know my name. it's on my card.

why do you even care?

it's hard work trying to pin all your love on a peg that's trying to prove a point.

i was too young and stupid to know when to back off.

i couldn't bear how happy you looked.

i think you're a bit ill.

i know i have to run away, but i'm too tired for running.

i've spent my life wishing i knew better.

there's no way i'm leaving you alone for a minute.

it hurts me to see how much you love ____.

i can go from reality to invention in a heartbeat.

every human has a trip switch.

i don't know how many times i have written this, how many versions there are.

will the devil be there waiting for me?

you've finally run out of excuses.

i didn't like it much, but i didn't mind much.

parents are supposed to be organized. good at getting out of bed.

what if no one is to blame?

it's hard to take credit for anything good.

that's fun for old people.

you're like a vengeful wraith.

just don't expect me to be where you left me.

go inside. this is not going to get any better.

stay for a cold drink, at least.

it must have been lonely.

i used to light fires inside here for fun.

you'll have to find your own way out.

the worst thing is when you've forgotten, and then you remember.

there's supposed to be magic in naming someone.

the undead are not known for their mercy.

it's not much of a funeral, is it?

everyone always wanted to know why i was so unhappy.

how could you forget me?

there's nothing the matter with your heart. it's not broken.

[glowl0]

Is there a backstory of your scp oc?

Very much so!

Their full name is Seamus Kelly, but after outliving their only family (pre-963) decided to just go by Kelly (lore dump ahead)

Sean was born after the great war (1920), the youngest child of irish inmigrant parents in the USA. He was very sickly as a child and was often taken care of by his brother, Liam (6 yrs older) as both parents were unavailable (full time working father and emotionally unstable mother).

Whenever he was bedridden (which was often) his older brother would bring him whatever trinkets he would find (this would partly play a part in his collecting and antiquarian tendencies)

Liam had an ability that adult Sean now knew as an scp, he often cured his sibling's reocurring illnesses by somehow transferring whatever the body needed from his own (ex. white blood cells for an infection) although he wasnt really aware of the specifics. He deprived himself so much he eventually succumbed to an illness himself, passing away when Sean's 12.

About 5 years later his mother takes her life, death becomes a sore topic

He starts doing jobs for college money, as his father refused to pay for it due to their economic situation.

He looks for scholarships and because its the cold war, the goverment starts investing in science which also means: foundation scholarships, he finds them through a coworker he often talked with and had mentioned his brother's ability to (under the assumption of it just being child vision)

Once he moves into foundation quarters he cuts off his father, not being in good terms with him. Maybe its something he regrets later, in his thirties, when he is diagnosed with a life threatening illness and doesnt have an inmediate suitale donor, finding that his father passed away from kidney failure way before he even finished his major.

Around this time one of the articles hes in charge of is 963, a safe scp known to produce small fragile gems

It was thought to be used in some sort of healing ritual, as the tomb it was in had other things related to it, but it was clearly defective now, with an empty socket at its center.

Kelly kickstarted further research in an attempt to activate it, at first due to his own masked desesperation to find something that could cure him (he wasnt going to join his family, he wasnt) but after a while his fixation on it wasnt normal, with bouts of euphoria when near it and debilitating anxiety when not

Its a while before anyone realizes the artifact had seemingly stopped producing its crystals, that whoever was in charge of it had never reported it (conveniently Kelly's health is better than ever)

At some point after being suspected, hes detained for trying to take 963 out of its containment, thankfully a colleage was aware of Kellys abnormal behavior and claimed it to be a memetic effect, Kelly was given A class amnestics (this wont work of course, because Kelly's memories arent stored in himself now, its the artifact's)

Before he is relocated a security breach breaks out, and Kelly finds himself going through a path he shouldnt be able to recognice.

He is later found dead wearing the object, and when he is opened up they find the reason why. 963 had fed on his soul and grown its seed inside him, replacing his organs, millions of crystals varying in size, until it found the perfect form that could make it whole.

And somewhere an unfortunate researcher unknowingly woke up with it inside them.

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

“You’re sure about this?” asked Branchbark. 

“Yep.” 

Goldenstar nodded and tried to convince herself that she was entirely certain. Over the last week, she had met with the other leaders to organize a plan for the upcoming battle. They’d found a good spot in EarthClan’s territory for the meeting to occur. They’d plotted out hiding spots for all of their warriors and planned to accommodate whichever way the wind was blowing. Finally, the only thing left to do was to extend an invitation to Razor. 

It had been a difficult decision as to who she would bring with her. Obviously, she had to go personally. She had nine lives. If anyone was going to put themself in danger, it was going to be her. But going alone was ill advised. Sagetooth had returned from the most recent healers’ meeting with the guidance that she needed to take two cats with her if she wanted to succeed. She had been struggling to think of who it would be for a while now. 

Scorch and Aldertail were immediately disqualified from going back to the city. Bringing a healer wasn’t a good idea either given their lack of combat experience and she wasn’t willing to bring any of the apprentices either. Russetfrond was out too. If she disappeared the Clan needed a clear leader. So that had left her with Yarrowshade, Pantherhaze, Ospreymask, and Branchbark. Eventually, she had eliminated Ospreymask since the battle of the snowstorm had put a target on her back and she had decided against Pantherhaze to make sure Slatepaw didn’t lose another cat close to her.

She still wasn’t sure this was the right move. She wished that StarClan had been clearer about their instructions. She wished Scorchplume could come with her and give her advice. Still, this wasn’t the time to be indecisive. She straightened her posture and focused on the cats who were going to accompany her. 

“I need to bring two cats and it’s got to be you two,” she said. 

“Alright,” Branchbark said, sounding unconvinced but willing to take her choice on faith. 

“Thanks, Goldie,” Yarrowshade said. “It means a lot.” 

“Now remember what we discussed,” said Scorchplume, perched nearby. “Don’t show weakness but don’t be aggressive. Never let them corner you. When all else fails, fall back on superstition as your excuse.” 

“I know,” Goldenstar said with a smile. “I’ll be careful and come right back.” 

“You’d better,” Scorch snapped. “If you don't, I'm leaving Fogpaw without a mentor.” Goldenstar heard the worry under her playful threat and leaned in to rub her cheek against Scorch’s.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “This will be over before you know it.” 

After a beat of hesitation, Scorch returned the gesture, purring softly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

Goldenstar frowned ever so slightly but Scorch didn’t elaborate. Sighing, she turned her mind to business. The small group said their goodbyes and the Clan wished them good luck and they set off towards the city. They traveled mostly in silence which left Goldenstar with way too much time to think about how things could go wrong. 

What if they arrived and the city cats just didn’t let her leave? What if they were attacked on sight? What if Razor didn’t agree to a meeting? Scorch had of course guided her on how to avoid most of those problems. They weren’t going too close, staying where they could easily make a break for the territories. They were going to approach slowly and with friendly posture to avoid any unnecessary hostility. She was going to stress that she wanted to meet with Razor one on one to try and find peace. Things were planned out. So why was she so worried? 

They crossed the thunderpath as the sun neared its peak in the sky, the acrid stone blistering hot under their paws, and continued until a twoleg nest drew close in the field. Following Scorchplume’s instructions, they gave the nest a wide berth and settled into a path on the other side of a long thunderpath made of gravel. They padded along it until they started to smell cats on the wind.

“Getting close,” Yarrowshade mumbled, mouth open to the scent. 

“Alright,” Goldenstar nodded, confirming the smell for herself. “Remember, I’ll do the talking, just stand behind me and look strong but not aggressive, alright?” 

“Easier said than done,” Branchbark swallowed. 

“It’ll be alright,” Goldenstar said. “StarClan is with us.” She hoped they were, at least. 

After a bit more walking, they spotted a pair of cats strolling towards them on the other side of the thunderpath. Goldenstar raised her tail and started across after quickly checking to make sure there weren’t any monsters bearing down on them. The pair of cats stopped in their tracks and started whispering to each other while watching the Clan cats approach. 

“Hello there!” Goldenstar called in a way she hoped was regal. “I am Goldenstar, leader of the wild Clans. I’m looking to speak with a member of the Exalted.” She stopped a fox length away from them, Yarrowshade and Branchbark close behind her. She had to force herself not to look back at them to make sure they were sufficiently imposing. 

The cats before her were a pair of toms, both of them wearing collars with little charms on them. One was a ginger tabby with green eyes and a dark scowl on his face. He almost reminded her of Russetfrond except for the genuine malice in his eyes. The other was a brown tabby with a mask around his green-yellow eyes and a slim face. If Goldenstar didn’t know better, she would have thought he had been born a she-cat. 

The ginger tabby said, “Well, you’ve found some.” Yarrowshade bristled next to her.

The brown tabby cleared his throat and said, “Forgive my companion’s rudeness. It is an honor to speak with the illustrious Goldenstar face to face. How can we help you?” 

“I’ve come to deliver a message for Razor,” Goldenstar said. 

“Is that so?” the ginger tom shifted his posture by way of a threat. He opened his mouth to drink in their scents, looking down his muzzle at them. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar said, holding firm despite the nervous wriggling of her stomach. “I wish to discuss peace with him. In four days, at dawn, I will meet him in our woods in a place that is sacred to our people so that we can negotiate with the full support of our ancestors. He may bring a second but otherwise come alone. I will do the same.” The ginger tabby was glaring at her with eyes shrunken to slits. The brown tabby was barely restraining the look of elation on his face. 

“What a gracious invitation,” he purred. “I will go and convey the message to Razor at once. Uh, when the time comes, how will he know the spot to meet you?” 

“Cross the thunderpath where the pine tree's roots disturb the stones and head straight north from there,” she said, just like they had decided. “I’ll have my second wait on the edge of the forest to escort him.” 

“The thunderpath,” the little tom mused. “That’s the big stone path dividing our two lands, yes?” 

“Correct,” Goldenstar smiled. “I believe you call it a road?”

“We do indeed,” said the tom. “I will tell Razor at once. He will be most eager to meet you in four days time.” 

“Good,” purred Goldenstar, letting out a sigh of relief. “I look forward to it.” With that, she turned around and walked back across the gravel pathway, trying to convey confidence with every stride. She resisted the urge to look back but it seemed the others were not so strong. 

“They’re heading back to the city,” said Branchbark.

“Good,” Goldenstar said again. “I think they took the bait.” 

“I don’t like that tom,” Yarrowshade growled. “Something about him just… isn’t right.” Goldenstar twitched one ear in agreement.

“Do you think StarClan told us to bring three cats so they would be outnumbered?” Branchbark asked aloud. “Would they have attacked us if there were only two?”

Goldenstar looked over at him in surprise. “Maybe? I hadn’t even thought about that.” They had been so polite. It was baffling to think that one cat had made the difference.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Yarrowshade growled darkly. “Foxhearts, the lot of them.” 

Goldenstar shook her fur to dislodge the creeping unease settling into it. “Well, thank StarClan that’s done. Now we just have to win the battle.” 

“We will,” Branchbark said with surety. Goldenstar smiled and wished desperately that she had that unshakeable faith within her.

[pestorik]

I love your AU so much, it's so cute!

I need to know what kinds of adventures Adeuce gets up to with their caterpillar. The name Absolem comes to mind (or perhaps Alistair?) just because that's what the caterpillar from Tim Burton's Alice is named, if you're wanting to keep with that theme.

I'd love to see what Octavinelle looks like in your AU (they're my favorites!!!) but take your time, and make it how you want it to be. You're doing wonderful work!

im shocked i actually forgot about there being a caterpillar in alice in wonderland. absolem sounds a bit too serious imo, i was imaging a cutesy name to match his appearance lol. im considering "fozzy" like fozzy the bear.

putting this under the cut for those who want to read my very sane ramblings

I imagine A+D adventures would be very much in the vein of the original AT episodes with every one having a new storyline and introducing new characters, and then later episodes having those characters come back and revealing more backstory/becoming more involved in the overall plot (ie magic man, slime princess, etc). and then ofc a more "core" cast with more frequently occurring characters like heartslabyul and maybe some other first years. It would definitely be ace and deuce-centric with them driving most of the interactions and then gradually having more and more episodes that arent just about them.

in my head riddle introduction goes like this: A+D are native to the garden kingdom and are doing their regular stupid shit. that day it just happens to be doing parkour in the royal gardens. riddle comes along and is ofc furious and being the overreactive little freak that he is, banishes them from the kingdom. that's how they meet cater, who introduces them to trey, and they eventually kick riddles ass and its revealed he has a very controlling mother who influences his behavior. riddle realizes the error of his ways and they all team up and usurp her. riddle takes over the kingdom and is now mostly an ally.

trust me i love riddle and a lot of other characters but almost everyone would start out as being a cartoon villain bc that's just the nature of AT. leona is a prince but has no real political power so spends his days bullying civilians. epel has been enslaved by an evil witch (vil) and needs the help of A+D to beat him up, but after vil's defeat epel understands him better and becomes his apprentice by choice. jack the wolf seems hostile at first but they learn he is actually a human who has been cursed and he spends like the entire series trying to break the curse and you only get to see him human in the very last episode lol. everyone will be a silly character with silly problems but overall still sympathetic and relatable. it will have some sad and heartfelt moments but mostly remain lighthearted (just like AT). these are cartoony, oversimplified representations of canon twst, not meant to be realistic takes or a deep dive into mental illness.

i'll be working on octavinelle once i finish savanclaw (they will all be in order) but azul is going to be the octopus wizard and he has 2 evil henchmen. they run a successful seafood restaurant as a front for their magical crime ring. or maybe A+D defeat them and convince them to go into the food business instead of organized crime and they find out they are really good at it lol

[muiitoloko]

Hello❤️ could you please write some Harry Hart x reader where reader has a deadly illness or something like that and doesn't know how to tell him please❤️

You don't have to though! Don't feel pressured❤️

Title: "Fight for me"

Summary: You fight for him.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death.

Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for nudging me back into Harry Hart's world! Gotta admit, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic about our old pal Harry. Those first fanfics with him? Whew, they were like the training wheels for my writing journey! But hey, even though I've come a long way, there's always room for improvement, am I right? 📝🚀

As the days passed, you found yourself grappling with the weight of the secret you carried, the knowledge of your impending demise lurking in the shadows of your mind. Deep down, you knew you had to tell Harry eventually. He was your friend, your confidant, someone you trusted with your life. But the fear of how he would react, of the pain it would cause him, held you back.

You and Harry had been through so much together, bonded by the trials and tribulations of life as Kingsman agents. You had faced danger head-on, stared death in the face more times than you could count, but this was different. This was a battle you couldn't fight with fists or gadgets. This was a battle against time, against an enemy you couldn't see or touch.

It had all started on a mission, just like any other. Some evil idiot with grandiose plans of spreading a new type of deadly virus in New York through the water supply. You and Harry were sent in to eliminate the threat, to neutralize the danger before it could spread. And you had succeeded, taking down the man responsible for the virus with precision and skill.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the insidious nature of the virus itself, its ability to infect even the most cautious of agents. Hours after the mission had ended, after the adrenaline had faded and the dust had settled, you received the devastating news. You had contracted the virus, a death sentence lurking in your bloodstream, waiting to claim you.

In the weeks that followed, you tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, as if the specter of death looming over you was nothing more than a distant shadow. You continued to report for duty, to fulfill your obligations as a Kingsman agent, all the while hiding the truth from those closest to you.

Only a select few knew of your condition, the Kingsman doctors who had been tirelessly working to find a cure, along with Arthur and Merlin, your closest allies within the organization. They had sworn to secrecy, to keep your condition hidden from the rest of the world, to spare you the scrutiny and pity that would surely follow if the truth were to come to light.

But despite their best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, the fear of facing your fate alone. And so, you continued to push yourself, to throw yourself into your work with a fervor born out of desperation.

Each day brought new challenges, new obstacles to overcome, but you refused to let it break you. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face death with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the days turned into weeks, the black lines on your body began to appear, starting on your stomach and seeming to grow more pronounced with each passing day. Concerned, you made your way to the medical area of Kingsman to find out about it, showing the lines on your belly to Doctor Sarah, one of the organization's trusted physicians.

Dr. Sarah wasted no time assessing the situation, immediately ordering blood tests to better analyze the mysterious phenomenon. As she prepared to draw blood for the tests, she asked if you were experiencing any symptoms. With a sigh, you nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in your chest as you began to roll up the sleeve of your Kingsman suit, revealing your forearm.

"I've been feeling more tired than usual," you admitted, wincing slightly as Doctor Sarah tied a band around your arm to prepare for the needle. "And it seems like everything I put in my stomach is being repelled. I can hardly eat, and even walking has become painful."

Before Doctor Sarah could respond, there was a knock on the door, and Harry entered the room, concern etched on his features. Doctor Sarah scolded him gently for not waiting for someone, but allowed him to come in before she resumed her task of drawing blood.

"Kay, what are you doing here again?" Harry questioned, his voice filled with genuine concern as he focused his attention on you. "This is the third time this week you've been to the medical area."

You ignored his inquiry, your gaze fixed on Doctor Sarah as she finished taking your blood. With a smile, you thanked her and straightened your shirt, grabbing your suit jacket from one of the nearby chairs.

Turning to face Harry, you feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, your tone carefully neutral as you made your way towards the door.

But Harry wasn't fooled, his brow furrowing in frustration as he followed closely behind you. "Kay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice soft but firm. "You're avoiding me, and I don't know why. Please, talk to me."

Feeling Harry's presence at your side, you hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your secret bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But with a deep breath, you continued on your way, your steps quickening as you made your escape from the medical area.

"I'm not avoiding you, Galahad," you replied, your voice strained with the effort of maintaining your composure. "I've just been... busy the last few days."

But Harry wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily, his determination evident in the way he matched your pace, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Kay, I know you're hiding something from me," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm not going to let it go until you tell me what's going on."

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of Harry's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, steeling yourself for the confession you were about to make.

"You're right, Harry," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze. "I've been hiding something from you for a while now, and... it's time to tell you."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were about to reveal. But he certainly didn't expect what came next.

"I like you, Harry," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I'm... in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It wasn't a complete lie - you had harbored feelings for Harry for some time now, feelings you had kept buried deep within your heart for fear of rejection.

But now, faced with the prospect of your own mortality, you couldn't bear to keep the truth hidden any longer. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to reveal your feelings to Harry, knowing that it would provide a plausible explanation for your recent behavior and, more importantly, that it would drive him away.

Harry's eyes widened in shock at your confession, his features frozen in disbelief as he processed your words. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions and unvoiced fears.

But then, with a sigh, Harry reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Kay," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and regret, "I had no idea... I'm sorry."

You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't be," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I knew you would never feel the same way, Harry. You're a Kingsman through and through, and I... I'm just a friend."

With those words, you pulled away from Harry's touch, your heart heavy with the weight of unrequited love. Turning on your heel, you walked away, leaving Harry standing alone in the hallway, his gaze following your retreating figure with a mixture of regret and longing.

But deep down, you knew it was for the best. You couldn't bear to burden Harry with the knowledge of your impending demise, couldn't bear to watch him suffer as you wasted away before his eyes. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to push him away, to spare him the pain of losing someone he cared about.

As you disappeared around the corner, tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face your fate with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the weeks passed and your condition worsened, you found yourself confined to your bed at home, the pain in your stomach becoming unbearable. You lay there, feeling weak and helpless, unable to get up or eat anything of substance. The black lines that had started on your stomach now snaked their way up toward your neck, a grim reminder of the disease ravaging your body.

You had been in bed for two weeks now, having left the Kingsman hospital wing after receiving the devastating news that there may not be a cure for you. Unable to bear the pitying looks from those around you, you had made the difficult decision to come home, to spend your final days in the comfort of your own bed.

Merlin called you practically every day, his concern palpable even through the phone. But you couldn't bring yourself to answer, having told him that you would only reach out when you felt that your time was near, so he could take care of your final arrangements.

Alone and in pain, you lay in bed, the weight of your impending death pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. The days stretched on, blending into one another as you drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain in your stomach a constant reminder of your mortality.

But amidst the pain and despair, there were moments of fleeting clarity, moments when you allowed yourself to reflect on the life you had lived. Memories of missions and adventures with Harry and Merlin filled your mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to your lips as you reminisced about the good times you had shared.

But as the days wore on and your strength waned, those moments became few and far between, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance. You knew that your time was running out, that soon you would be nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the history of Kingsman.

And so, you lay there, isolated and alone, the black lines creeping ever closer to your neck as you waited for the inevitable end. But even in your darkest moments, you refused to give up hope, clinging to the belief that somehow, someway, you would find peace in the end.

Today was another day like the others. You curled up in bed, the pain in your stomach a constant companion as you ignored the persistent ringing of the doorbell at your house. Whoever it was could leave; you just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your misery.

As the doorbell finally stopped ringing, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But just as you began to drift back into the numbing embrace of sleep, there was a knock on your balcony door, startling you out of your reverie.

You sat up, a mixture of irritation and confusion clouding your thoughts as you made your way to the balcony. What the hell was Harry doing there? You opened the door, the cool breeze of the evening washing over you as you faced him, a frown marring your features.

"What are you doing here, Galahad?" you questioned, your voice tinged with annoyance as you met his gaze.

Harry waved a paper in front of your face, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger as he demanded to know why you kept it from him. Confused, you glanced down at the paper, your heart sinking as you realized what it was.

It was an exam paper, a paper from one of your recent medical exams, detailing your morbid condition in stark black and white. You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to find the words to explain yourself, to make Harry understand why you had kept it from him for so long.

But before you could speak, Harry's voice cut through the silence like a knife, his words laced with pain and betrayal. "Kay, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of an answer.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your guilt and shame. You had never seen Harry look so sad, so angry, and it tore at your heartstrings to know that you were the cause of his pain.

"I... I didn't want to burden you, Harry," you finally managed to choke out, your voice thick with anguish as you met his gaze. "I thought it would be easier if you didn't know, if I just... faded away quietly."

But Harry wasn't having any of it, his frustration evident in the way he shook his head, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You idiot," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Do you really think I would have let you face this alone? That I wouldn't have been there for you every step of the way?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you buried your face in Harry's chest, his words washing over you like a balm to your wounded soul. In that moment, you realized just how much you had underestimated his love and devotion, how much you had underestimated the strength of your bond as friends and comrades.

"I'm sorry, Harry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry for keeping this from you, for shutting you out when I needed you the most."

Harry ignores your excuses and pulls away to look at you, his determination evident in the firm set of his jaw and the steely resolve in his eyes. He promises you that he will find a cure, that he will search the whole world if he has to, to ensure your well-being. But you shake your head, your gaze filled with resignation as you admit the harsh truth.

"There is no cure, Harry," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "The only person who could even produce a cure is the creator of the virus himself. And... I killed him."

Harry's expression softens with understanding, his brow furrowing in concern as he processes your words. For a moment, he is at a loss for words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you.

But before he can respond, you feel a sharp pain rip through your abdomen, doubling you over in agony. Harry's eyes widen in alarm as he rushes to your side, his hands gentle as he helps you to lie down on the bed.

You try to protest, to reassure him that you'll be fine on your own, but Harry scolds you, his voice filled with frustration and concern. "Stop pushing me away, Kay," he insists, his eyes blazing with emotion as he meets your gaze. "Just stop. You don't have to go through this alone."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak as you meet Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry," you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't want to burden you with this. I thought... it would be easier if you didn't know."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "How dare you even lie to me like that?" he murmurs, his voice laced with pain and betrayal. "Is that why you said you were in love with me? To keep me away?"

You don't have the strength to protest, to explain yourself, so you let him believe that his confession was nothing more than a lie. Harry continues, his voice filled with regret as he admits his own shortcomings.

"I don't want to lose you, Kay," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "It hurt when you walked away from me, avoided me for so long. And when you lied and said you loved me... a part of me liked it, knowing this. I don't understand why, Kay. I've never known how to deal with feelings, and so I moved even further away from you, allowed it, thinking you would overcome your feelings for me."

You meet Harry's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words to respond. "Harry, I..." you begin, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a gentle touch, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender caress.

"Don't," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't say anything, Kay. Just let me be here for you, please."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, unable to find the strength to argue with him. In that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatens to consume you, to let Harry's presence wash over you like a soothing balm.

And then, without warning, Harry's lips find yours in a soft, tentative kiss, sending shockwaves of electricity coursing through your veins. It's not the first time you've kissed him - on missions, it's common to pretend to be a couple to maintain cover - but this kiss feels different, somehow. It's filled with a depth of feeling that you've never experienced before, a silent declaration of Harry's love and devotion that transcends words.

For a moment, you're lost in the sweetness of the kiss, the warmth of Harry's embrace enveloping you like a protective cocoon. But as the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you with an intensity that takes your breath away, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness.

Harry loves you, he's confessed as much, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. It's just pity talking, you tell yourself, his concern for you clouding his judgment. But as Harry pulls away, his eyes blazing with an emotion that leaves you breathless, you can't deny the truth any longer.

"Kay," he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion as he cups your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I love you, more than anything in this world. Please, let me be here for you. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try to push him away. "No, Harry," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't love me. It's just pity, I know it is. You're just feeling sorry for me."

But Harry's expression softens, his eyes filling with a tenderness that steals your breath away. "Kay, look at me," he murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. "I love you, with every fiber of my being. And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you, to show you that you are not alone."

As he protests, his voice filled with desperation and determination, you feel a surge of conflicting emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. On one hand, you want to believe him, to trust in his unwavering resolve to find a cure and save you from the clutches of death. But on the other hand, you can't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatens to consume you, the knowledge of your impending demise looming over you like a dark cloud.

But Harry refuses to let you wallow in self-pity, his hands gentle but firm as he holds your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Kay, look at me," he insists, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't give up, not now. I refuse to let you surrender to this disease without a fight."

You try to turn away, to avoid his penetrating gaze, but Harry's grip on your face tightens, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Even if it's too late," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. "Even if there's no hope left... I can't keep fighting, Harry. I'm tired, so tired."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression filled with a steely resolve that takes your breath away. "Then let me fight for you," he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. "I swear, Kay, I will find a cure, no matter what it takes. Even if I have to go to hell itself and resurrect that bastard who created this virus, I will not rest until you are safe."

You want to believe him, to trust in his promise to save you from the jaws of death. But deep down, you know that the odds are stacked against you, that the virus coursing through your veins is a formidable enemy that cannot be defeated with mere words and promises.

And yet, as you meet Harry's gaze, the flicker of hope in his eyes reignites something deep within you, a spark of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. "Please, Kay," he pleads, his voice soft but urgent. "Fight, if not for yourself, then for me. Resist, for me. I can't bear to lose you, not like this."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to find the strength to carry on, to fight against the relentless tide of despair that threatens to drag you under. But as you look into Harry's eyes, filled with a love and devotion that transcends words, you realize that you can't give up, not now, not ever.

With a deep breath, you nod, a silent vow passing between you and Harry in that fleeting moment. "I'll fight," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "For you, Harry. I'll fight until my last breath, if that's what it takes."

And as Harry pulls you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty that surrounds you, you cling to him like a drowning man clutching at a life raft. In that moment, you know that no matter what the future may hold, as long as you have Harry by your side, you can face anything, even death itself.

[monecabhava]

THE YEAR OF SATURN : 2024

2024 is the year of 8= Saturn, in this year the main themes are slowness and hard work, when it comes to working with saturn it's always better to focus on the process and the current moment due to how slow results may manifest, it's the year of the people and workers as they're ruled by saturn and with saturn being in Aquarius we will see the people losing patience with many figures, alot of figures will fall and be humiliated in front of the public eye. 2024 is a karmic year so it's time to pay ! any thing from the past that wasn't complete will be in this year, any action you did in the past you will see the fruit of it this year but you need to be patience. Celebrity culture will starts to die greatly because alot will be busy with their own suffering and look to change into figures that represents them rather than high stars, the public demand similar images. With saturn year being 8, closer to the end of the numerical cycle and saturn cycle in the zodiac also coming closer to an end we will witness many endings, losses and separation with Saturn everything eventually dies in time. this year is no better than ketu year (2023), ketu wanted to teach you how to detach so that you are ready to the lack and dryness in saturn nature.

One of the important things we learn through Saturn is sitting boundaries, sometimes Saturn limitations especially with others become a perfect time to reflect on our own personal limits, where we draw the line, so it's also a good time to reflect on your personal boundaries.

Topics like ancestors, elderly and servants, old traditions/skills, old events, matters of time comes to light. General feeling of isolation and loneliness, limitations in relation to social connections and organizations, people starts to go into deep isolation and depression, emotional coldness is everywhere. Increase in the working load and stress levels especially in professional environments. possibility of something happening and causing covid like situation where people are being restricted.

this year alot might suffer from the loss of truth and the righteous path, saturn has it in him to drive the collective away from truth and into darkness, sometimes suffering can cause people to detach from each other and by centered around their pain to a level of losing the concept of society and seeking to relieve oneself in any possible way even if it means to hurt others, saturn energy can be this destructive and brings misery to the collective, we are being tested to keep our own righteous beliefs and conscience alive in a time where darkness is all we see and feel, we're tested to choose peace and move forward with faith in the divine justice instead of destruction. this year we see a great affliction to the collective consciousness, society has to move beyond these ill beliefs and limitations so that we all as a collective can heal and transform into a higher level, spiritual practices are very recommended because there's no better way to deal with suffering than a stable mind. Everything you learnt in Ketu year will help you greatly now because through ketu one achieves freedom from limitations, fears and suffering through detachment, ketu teach us to be free from Saturn cycle of suffering.

new rules or limitations related to technology and AI, crisis related to water bodies, ends of royal and political figures, alot of fear and despair in the public, the test is your faith !

Personal year

How to find your personal year number ?

You simply need to calculate your birth date + month + the year For example you are born in 23rd October your personal number for 2024 :2+3+1+0+2+0+2+4 = 14 = 5 mercury

**** now from my observations i noticed looking into your personal chart also gives insight of the year predictions, so in your chart if the year planet is in a weak situation you might experience some hardships and events connected to the house, planet might manifest itself on the negative side, it's recommended to check the year planet in your chart, if it's a slow planet ( rahu/ketu/saturn/jupiter) i also recommend checking where's the planet transiting through the year because you will feel the planet energy strongly.

Insight for each personal number

1- Sun

The year of beginnings, many new starts will flourish for you but put your eyes on Where's the sun placed in your chart, in sun year you might feel more extroverted and out going, a desire to share yourself and what you have to offer with the world. Possibilities of rise in status, alot of involvement with authority figures and the government. Dealing with the father, spirituality and religions are matters of interest this year, the desire to create and start a project or hobby or anything is good because you have enough energy to do so. Vitality and health are in check, in sun year you feel the sunshine that guides you to invest the energy in areas that you want to grow and develop, in sun year it's good to have a fixed routine to keep the energy going in a certain direction that sustain the starts you will choose. Truth/righteousness/law are important things to live by this year, it's a good time to learn how you can be honest and truthful with yourself and the world, listen to your spirit voice it will guide you on how and where to start the beginnings that will eventually help you in your developing path. Before you start reflect on the last 9 years cycle how did starts and how it ended, let go of all the destructed ways and techniques it's time for you to start fresh and the light is here to guide you, be truthful with yourself first and you will get the answer from the universe because it's always listening. don't be very egoistic because the sun might make you too confident and it will go unnoticed that you in fact are destroying yourself and burning all your starts, sometimes the sun give us a feeling of superiority because it looks like we have enough so making your own limits is not a bad idea either, so keep yourself in check or saturn will teach you this lesson the hard way… yk?

2- Moon

its time for comfort, slow down a little, comfort and nurturing is what you seek. Going inward to reflect and rethink yet it's good to not spend much times in the mental space because the moon nature is sensitive and unstable, change might happen too fast for you to process and your nature tend to be more moody and sensitive your perspective and reactions to things can be seen as exaggeration, grounding activities, meditation, yoga are all recommended because in this year the mind try to take control of things and look from emotional or a stressful angel, just like rahu the moon also can give illusion by giving things a bigger space which cause us to overreact or give the wrong judgment, the moon give us reflection of sun light it's a projection so be careful from projecting or being projected on from others, create a boundaries to separate between what's real and what's just an emotional state, our minds aren't always the friendliest place to be in so give yourself a break here, give yourself the time to absorb and understand life, good time to build a community that nurture and support you with women and mother/figures around you, call the feminine energy comfort and love you will receive it for sure. A good year to heal and connect with your emotions as they are not on how the mind judge them. Important to be involved with others and society, sharing your emotions with the right people will help you alot to manage all the challenges and sensitivity you might feel. As much as you need to be cared for you should do the same for others because in society it all depends on the harmony, possibility of starting a relationship here or even marriage as number 2 is the number of union and harmony.

3- Jupiter

year of bless, Jupiter year has alot to do with happiness and fortune, so it's to no surprise that 2024 will be good for you but because of the nature of the year being ruled by saturn some delays and obstacles might show yet good results are still coming. Interest in religious matters, spirituality and knowledge. Possibility of marriage for women, having children. Dealing or finding a teacher. Learning holy books & scripts, going into a new religious path, you tend to be more optimistic and hopeful about things around you, you dream to go beyond the limitations you had and it might be the right time to do so. jupiter helps you to see the real worth of things and with the year nature it's possible to let go of somethings because you don't see worth in them anymore, you start to search and look for something beyond the usual understanding, you seek purpose and just like the sun, jupiter too seek righteousness and truth in things. you might find it hard to ignore the things you ignore usually because jupiter hate ignorance and seek light. Jupiter will be in Aries and Taurus so you will seek to expand yourself and your saving, looking to gain more wealth or starting to collect things is very possible, you might feel like you are experiencing the material aspect of Jupiter more, seeking comfort and stability is an important desire for you this year, spending time with family. Jupiter will be squaring Saturn in Aqua so it's to normal for some delays to occur for you still you will have a positive mindset while facing these events.

4- Rahu

Rahu year brings a lot of confusion and weak to the mind, it keeps you restless and overstimulated to a level where it's hard to process everything which can eventually goes mental breakdowns. with Rahu in pisces there's a lot of questions and suspicious toward the general approach to the spirit like the religions and practices, rahu can give you enough creativity to create a new beliefs and practices for yourself also for artists it's a very inspiring year, one might feel like the creative part of the mind is pouring endlessly so it's a good time to start any kind of creative projects. Rahu in pisces can bring a lot of fake religious and spiritual figures/practices to light so when you decided to follow something this year be sure that it's original, rightous and not harmful. It's better to stay away from any alcohol and substance use because your mind will get confused easily and it's easy to overuse things, you need to stay sober and in charge, falling to the trap of addiction to anything is possible with rahu giving intense drive. Definitely a good time to learn more about occults and divination techniques if you're interested, also astrology but again be careful and don't do much because you might have obsessive tendencies toward your interests and make sure to check your resources. You might feel like you are forgetting things or mixing things so keeping a journal will be helpful. Make sure to consume good things for your body and soul !

Rahu gives a strong desire/ obsession to achieve something, even with Saturn energy your obsession will fuel you enough to seek for along time

5- Mercury

Mercury is even more unstable than moon so his year is all about changes, mercury is all about management, planning & processing so this year you pay more attention to these things, you start to plan your goals and make progress through that especially in your mercury house. Mercury is also connected to business, there might be some ideas about starting a business or starting to work independently. With mercury nature being childish and curious you feel really driven to experience and learn a lot of things, being around children can benefit you because they channel this energy easily, be careful though and don't be careless because you might act on somethings without thinking about the consequences. You feel more open to communicating and sharing your thoughts with the world, even if you have doubts it's ok let yourself be open and flexible to sharing and recieving sometimes it's needed to live and enjoy without thinking too much and calculating everything, to keep existing we need to feel the free childish side of us, let your inner child be loud and proud yet moniter it from behind the scenes without much restrictions. You might feel like you're seeing and understanding things from a very new perspective because mercury support our mental processing, be careful with overstimulating yourself by everything you take in this year. Have a good environment to experience and express so you won't be under mental pressure. Possiblity of enrolling in a course or university.

6- Venus

Venus year deals with social relationships mainly, in this year you feel more open to go back in society to socialize but due to Saturn this won't be very possible for you which can make things hard, you might not find the answers you are looking for from the external world, feminine energy is very prominent around you. You tend to pay more attention to self care and work on self love through that. material abundance and security are also important for you, you might feel like spending money on luxurious items and things that help you. İncrease in feeling sensual and sexy because you're putting the efforts. Venus rules desires too so it's to no surprise that you feel like there's many goals and things you want this year but Saturn can give a lot of delays and not like Rahu, Venus might just choose to give up on things. You might feel like you're being suffocated when it comes to your sexuality, creativity and enjoyment.

7- Ketu

In the year of ketu be ready to leave things behind, this headless energy has no real interest in anything other than the feeling of liberation and actual liberation. With ketu we actually become quite intense and sharp to a level where nothing can stay attached to us, the sharpness cause cutting the ties we have with things and eventually we become way lighter when reaching higher levels of enlightenment. In this year submit to the universe because if you try to do things your own way the extreme energy will only increase, ketu doesn't let things pass he will seek to destroy all attachments, the harder the tie the sharper the knife so let things go and master detachment in this year. Ketu energy can also bring things from the past but it's just temporary, only when you are truly detached from something ketu will allow it to be yours, only when you are free from the desire ketu will allow you to enjoy, with ketu gains comes when you are not expecting things, this detached planet has a lot in his dark shadows and it will come to light when you are not paying attention so again just go with the flow. Ketu will be in virgo so this might cause detachment from anything pure or clean so actually keeping routine here is recommended especially for health, be careful of destructive healthy habits and be careful of EDs, remember to keep balance. A big detachment from mental processes you might start to be random and start to take not very calculated decisions without caring about how bad or destructive the results are so be careful. Practices like yoga are recommended also try a form of dancing this year, take this as a new hobby !

Move your body to help it channel the intense energy.

8- Saturn

If you are going through Saturn year you will feel it's effect the most. Saturn just like ketu also seek separation and withdrawal but in a very different way, he's the patient Azrael, as everything dies in time with energy withdrawaling from living beings, Saturn doesn't destruct things aggressively and immediately, he's the angel of slow death, he works by slowly but surely drying the sources you use to nurture things by making you lose hope in the blooming possibility, by making you doubting and fear the result. This year you will feel a lot of worry and fear, self sabotaging is the destructive tool you choose.

Why aren't things happening ?

Why there's a lot of obstacles in my path ? Will the efforts I'm putting ever pay off ?

Is it better to just give up ?

You will ask yourself these questions along the year, along your path because it seems to you that things aren't really manifesting how you want them, there's nothing in your view but that's only temporary, have faith because things grow in time not in just a simple action. Be disciplined and have a fixed routine to keep channeling the energy in the certain areas you want to grow, enjoy the process because you will be in it for a long time, make the process your beautiful space, don't pay a lot of attention to your final far destination.

You might suffer from stress and a lot of fears, you will have a lot of doubts and limitations toward yourself and your actions don't fall for these traps, you're doing well as long as you're putting the efforts. Feeling of isolation from groups and others, you will outgrow many people in this year so be ready to let them go with ease. Don't forget that growth comes with the price of expanding which's something Saturn suffer with, so when you want to expand you will find limitations it's normal so do you really want to expand ?

9- Mars

It's the end of a the cycle, are you ready to leave things behind and move forward?

With mars things can move fast in a very destructive manner the best way to keep up with mars is to move your body in the same flow, be careful from any injuries to your body especially where you have Mars & where mars transit through the year. Mars has no interest in talking or discussing so a lot of misunderstanding can happen be careful with your speech and try to avoid conflicts. Don't be very quick in making decisions think before acting because with mars there's no comeback, mars give you enough courage and force to take action but not all actions are beneficial some are destructive and other is just a waste of your energy, be wise in what you want to invest your energies in this year. Working out and physical activities are good to add in your routine.

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

He could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep.

THE ESSENCE OF PLEASURE (IS SPONTANEITY)

The ethereal glow of moonlight still swathes their Manhattan apartment when Oliver jerks awake at some ungodly hour, hard and disorientated from a particularly vivid dream. Elio’s sprawled on his stomach beside him. Slender arms secreted under his mountainous pillows. Nose buried so thoroughly in the striped material that his occasional snuffling snores are barely audible over the yowling tomcat in the communal courtyard, below.

Ever the perfectionist, his exhausted boyfriend has been burning the candle at both ends: taking full advantage of Juilliard's sound-proof practice rooms to cram for his upcoming assessments. Keeping him fed and functional is an uphill battle - Pro and Annella’s sage advice notwithstanding - so Oliver hopes he’ll rest for a good while longer, yet. In all honesty, he wishes the same for himself, but his erection shows no sign of flagging, and the pressure of the sheets alone is a marked distraction at his aching groin. 

He should get up, really. 

Satisfy his carnal urges in the bathroom across the hall. 

But the bed is comfortable, despite its age, the ill-fitting window lets in a draft, and for his sins, the familiar musk of Elio’s skin - the underlying hints of Marlboro cigarettes, bergamot shower gel, and Oliver’s own Drakkar Noir - throws a fierce accelerant on the molten core of his arousal.  

Discretion might be the better part of valour, but where there’s a will, there’s most certainly a way: as evidenced by his maestro’s miraculous presence at all. And he could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep. 

The lingering aroma of spent passion hangs enticingly in the air, and flicking his left nipple between thumb and forefinger, Oliver’s thoughts wander to the frenzied smacks of their bodies the night before. The whispered words of encouragement as he thrust inside him. Harder. Faster. Più profondo! The eventual pleas for mercy when it was Elio’s nipples he took between his teeth; working the sensitive peaks until they were red and puffy.

He can hear them still - those phantom cries ringing out like a tefillah - and Oliver’s heart trips over itself as he throws caution to the wind. 

Eases the rumpled bedding from his bobbing manhood. 

Gathers the slippery beads of excitement to ease his way.

A vehicle pauses on the street outside. A muffled rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird rising from its tinny speakers. Oliver closes his eyes on the guitar solo - wriggles to make himself comfortable - and focusing on his sensitive tip, pretends it’s Elio’s whip-smart mouth stretching to accommodate his glans. Unsurprisingly, the mental picture zips a molten trail up his spine, so Oliver proceeds to jerk his cock in earnest; swallowing the raspy groans that choke his tinder-dry throat. 

Imagination turns to need - already, this bears the hallmarks of his fastest orgasm in years - and fumbling blindly over the side of the mattress, he forces his fretful hips immobile as he snags a pair of cotton boxers from amidst tomorrow’s discarded laundry. Elio’s, he discovers, thanks to a surreptitious sniff; the unadulterated scent a powerful aphrodisiac as he brings it to his face.

Just like clockwork, his strokes grow frenetic. The tightness of his scrotum building exponentially as a blazing fire rages at the centre of his being. Beyond his control, the tense muscles of his thighs tremble with urgency - no less violent than the stuttering of his lungs - and the garbled syllables trapped beneath his ribs emerge via stifled whimpers until -

A pointy chin digs into his shoulder.

Blunt nails skim the fading scar on his side.

A second, unabashed palm encloses his fist.

He didn’t hear the tell-tale signs of Elio stirring: the unsubtle creak of their worn-out box springs as he shuffled to close the scant distance between them. Or maybe he did, Oliver debates, while Elio presses a soft, barely-there kiss to his jaw. Airy and teasing, and nowhere near enough. Maybe he’d simply deemed it part of the fantasy. But the shock - the livewire sensation of Elio pulling rank on his pleasure - strikes a deliberate chord, and with a strangled whimper Oliver’s shoved past the thin grey line labelled just about there to right fucking now; his climax exploding like a supernova as bright white orbs dance behind his eyelids. 

It’s devastating in its intensity, yet Elio giggles with clear delight as liquid heat coats their still-moving knuckles. “Better now?” he asks, voice gravelly over his thundering pulse, and Oliver barely has the wherewithal to nod when the other man wriggles southwards, seemingly intent on licking the pearly streaks from his heaving midsection. 

***

Happy Valentine's Day, Peaches... remember when I went through that phase of shameless Oliver wank fics? Well, I figured these two idiots deserved a happy ending ❤️

[afterthegreatunknown]

A Headcanon Regarding the Violet’s Father Debate

Beatrice Baudelaire. A talented actress and performer whose charming ways wins anyone over, who has a high-standing rank due to being a Baudelaire, one of two oldest VFD Families. And with a great dislike for it, this defaults Beatrice getting more respect and recognition.

Such respect and recognition surely mean Violet Baudelaire’s father is also of equal standing.

And Bertrand B. is one of equal standing. While new to the organization, he became The Golden Boy™ of his generation. He is the volunteer who all the older volunteers of the previous generation think can do no wrong. He is the volunteer in Bertrand’s generation who is well-respected and generally like.

But Lemony Snicket is also of equal standing, and it’s not just because he’s born into an old VFD Family. A trouble-making volunteer, he can show how driven he is when it comes to goals, which is admirable to those of his generation. And his devotion to those he cares for makes him well-liked and generally respected.

Clearly, Beatrice having two lovers that are evenly match means almost everyone should spend time debating the biological identity of Violet Baudelaire’s father. They wouldn’t be doing so if Beatrice, Bertrand, and Lemony told everyone themselves to avoid the debate.

The thing is, the three don’t care. Beatrice, Bertrand, and Lemony, after a very discreet meeting, agree that biological shouldn’t matter to the identity of Violet’s father. They all agree that Bertrand is Violet’s father. Bertrand is the one who was there when Violet was born. Bertrand is the one who [will] raise Violet alongside Beatrice. Bertrand is the one who Beatrice pick to start a family with. And Lemony holds no ill-will towards Bertrand for being the one Beatrice picked, as well as holding no ill-ill towards Beatrice for picking the one who can be there to support her and her child.

With Beatrice, Bertrand, and Lemony having pick their positions, it’s time to know the others.

Team ‘Lemony is Violet’s Bio-Dad’:

Esme (Believes Lemony and Beatrice forgot to use protection. She also thinks it’s amusing and pathetic that Bertrand is raising someone else’s child.)

Kit (More often than not, Kit thinks Violet is Lemony’s child, because she wants Lemony to be around in the most unlikely ways. This led to fights with Jacques.)

Frank (Based off the timing of the breakup and when Beatrice and Bertrand went to the Island. He is convinced they know the truth and lying.)

Ernest (Follows Frank’s logic. However, he thinks Beatrice and Bertrand went to the Island without knowing, so they’re convince Violet isn’t Lemony’s daughter.)

R (Follows Frank’s logic. R also asked Lemony upright, being one the few he kept contact during this time period but got no answer.)

Gustav (Because of all the constant drama, he just picks a side on the fly in case they have to state their opinion on the matter.)

Olivia (Flat out asked Beatrice and Bertrand if Violet is Lemony’s kid, leading to the couple to say no. Olivia is convinced they’re lying to her.)

Ellington (She found copies of ASOUE at a few bookstores, and she draws her own conclusions without any influences what-so-ever.)

Team ‘Bertrand is Violet’s Bio-Dad’: 

Olaf (By ASOUE, he’s running under the logic ‘the couple that slayed together, have kids together.’ Before, Olaf was convinced Lemony is a prude who used protection)

Jacques (As much as he wants Violet to be Lemony’s child, Jacques can never find traces of Lemony in Violet’s face, which lead to many fights with Kit.)

Josephine (Is convinced Violet is a premature child. Due to eventually losing contact with Beatrice and Bertrand, she never got her answer for sure.)

Ike (Due to an ill-spoken rumor that relates to Gregor being Fiona’s biological father, Ike chooses to believe Bertrand isn’t raising someone else’s child.)

Widdershins (Believes the timing works better with Betrand as Violet’s father than Lemony. Might factor with Widdershins believing the false reports of Lemony.)

Miranda (She was after all, on the Island with Beatrice and Bertrand. She knows of Beatrice’s past with Lemony, but Miranda is certain Violet is Bertrand’s child.)

Ishmael (Arrived on the Island when Beatrice was in her Third Trimester, and therefore assumed Betrand is the father. He did briefly consider Lemony is Violet’s biological father after reading the in-universe ASOUE book, but reject it.)

Moxie (Random Headcanon Time! I think there’s several Editors: Awful Editor, Dreadful Editor, and Kind Editor. Moxie is the Kind Editor, after she and Lemony semi-got back in contact. After hearing everything of the topic from the horse’s mouth that is Lemony, Moxie is all, “Yeah, Bertrand is Violet’s father.”)

Team: ‘Wait, are you serious? This is an actual topic of debate?’ Also Known as: Team ‘Haven’t decided yet’: 

Fernald (He knew the topic exist because he once saw Kit and Jacques getting into an argument about it, but it’s TEE when Fernald realize it’s a serious topic because Olaf and Esme ask about his stance and panic answers, “Unsure.”).

The rest of the Acting Troupe (Olaf and Esme started to argue about it again post TVV but pre-THH. They asked Fernald if they should get involve. Fernald tells them not to worry over it for now and they roll with it.)

Hugo, Colette, Kevin (Olaf and Esme got into another argument in TPP but because they’re the only remaining ‘Troupe’ left they can’t ask anyone what the hell they’re talking about so they’re just confused.)

The rest of the Associates (Whenever Ellington shows up to visit Moxie, the two sometimes get into arguments about it. Everyone is quiet when it happens. While they know Moxie is in contact of sorts with Lemony, they have no idea how serious of a topic it is between the two women until they see the arguments themselves.)

Team ‘Bertrand is Violet’s Bio-Dad’…but only because they have no idea of the theory Lemony is Violet’s Bio-Dad:

All of the Unfortunate Generation (Why should they know?)

Dewey (He was hiding away from the world before Fiona was born. Him meeting Violet when Beatrice and Bertrand visiting him was a nice, sweet surprise, and the couple didn’t want to ask if he heard of the theory from his brothers to ruin said meeting. Ernest and Frank —and later on Kit and others who do visit Dewey— never told Dewey their opinion because they want Dewey to be happy for his friends getting together and having a daughter/eventual family.)

Monty (He was traveling when the Violet’s Father Debate was at its highest, and came back after Beatrice and Bertrand’s return, when Violet was almost one year old. No one told Monty their opinions/informed him of the theory Lemony is Violet’s Bio-Dad because they want Monty to be happy his friends got together and had a daughter/eventual family while away.)

Charles (Think Bertrand is Violet’s Bio-Dad because Kit told him via letter when she was [back to] thinking Bertrand is Violet’s Bio-Dad.)

Hector (Isolated at the Village of Fowl Devotee after Fiona was born, but before Violet was born. Thinks Bertrand is Violet’s Bio-Dad due to Ike and Josephine.)

Georgina (Began her isolation in Paltryville before Violet was born, so the last things she heard is “Lemony is dead” and “Beatrice and Bertrand went to the Island.” Upon hearing word Beatrice and Bertrand came back from the Island and they now have a baby, Georgina is convinced Bertrand took advantage of Beatrice’s grief)

Phil + Hal (Naturally assumes the Baudelaires share the same father; in Phil’s case being on the Crew of Two on the Queequeg has Widdershins never telling him about this debate, and in Hal’s case Kit didn’t think about telling him about the debate)

Theodora + Jerome (Also naturally assumes that the Baudelaires share the same father. Both knew Beatrice and Lemony were a thing. Jerome figured Beatrice only decided to raise a family after becoming serious with Bertrand. In Theodora’s case, she believed Beatrice got pregnant on the Island, and it went from there.)

Half of the Original Schism Generation (Ex: Monty’s Sister, Adeline. Follows Theodora’s logical because it makes the most sense.)

Team ‘Can You All Shut the Ever-Loving F*CK UP’: 

Sally (Hearing the debate so much got to where Sally wanted to hear nothing about Beatrice, Bertrand, and Lemony for weeks. It got so bad, she once stopped talking to Gustav and other associates’ mid-way in conversations whenever it’s brought up.)

Larry + Haruki (Would have picked a side if people kept it as a minor thing but it got too large of a matter at hand, and two collectively went, “Fuck you we pick none!”)

Raymond ‘Q’ Quagmire + Joan Quagmire + Joan’s Triplet Sisters’ Alex and Lindsey (Raymond and Joan made cards that says if anyone brings up the topic in any of their presence, they have to pay a $1000 dollar fine. Alex and Lindsey made it a permanent ban topic by threatening everyone to change the fine to $10, 000 dollars)

Thursday (Miranda never told him the theory about Lemony being Violet’s Bio-Dad. He only knows about because Kit unnecessary told him the theory without him having a choice on the matter on day over a cup of Turkish coffee. Whenever Kit tries to bring it up again Thursday excuses himself from the table and hides out in the restroom/makes an excuse to cut their meeting short.)

TMWBBNH and TWWHBNB (Think the Baudelaires are small potatoes in the grand schemes of things. It’s not their concern and they are able to get Olaf and Esme to shut up about it before they even argue about it whenever around.)

Team Dead and Therefore Excluded:

Pretty much any dead character by the ASOUE Period, canonically or assumed otherwise (Ex: Gregor, the other half of the Original Schism Generation like Dashiell, N Caliban because I headcanon N is dead, and others not mentioned here.)

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: A Brand New Ending (Kin)

This is my rough notes for this fic. Subject to change. Any suggestions or input you would like to contribute are welcome.

Probably spoilers for Kin

(tagging @bellaxgiornata and any other Kin fic writers out there)

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Title comes a quote of uncertain origin: No one can go back and make a brand new start, but anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

You are half-Irish on your mother’s side.

When you were young, your parents died suddenly. You were taken in by your aunt and uncle who lived in Dublin, a couple houses down from Michael and his family.

AUNT and UNCLE can’t have kids and treat you like their own daughter.

Uncertain if your aunt and uncle are involved in the Kinsella criminal organization or not.

You are at least one year below Michael in school and develop a crush on the older boy. These feelings are returned and eventually you start dating. At some point, you give your virginity to Michael.

Something breaks you apart –

(1) AUNT and UNCLE either don’t approve of your relationship with Michael and/or having sex outside of marriage, and decided to move away to keep you away from this boy and his bad influence – maybe there was a pregnancy scare or an actual pregnancy but you ended up miscarrying.

(2) They find out about Bren’s disgusting habits toward young girls – maybe he molests you – and UNCLE and AUNT move away from Dublin to protect you from Bren (doesn’t trust the police in this matter for whatever reason – either they are criminals too or just thinks Bren has connections that would get him off).

Has sporadic contact with Michael afterward but the timing never seems right.

He is either having an affair with his brother’s wife or has gotten married to WIFE and has a little girl or is in prison for accidentally killing his wife.

You try to move on but your romantic relationships are all disasters in some way. Some better (perfectly nice guy but you are hilariously incompatible) than others (at least one was abusive)

Sometime during Season 1, you run into Michael again. One thing leads to another. In the morning, you are naked in his bed. Part of you wants to stay but something important comes up and you must dash off

Maybe AUNT or UNCLE has an emergency – become very ill or fell and broke their hip or had a stroke or a heart attack. Something very serious that eats up your attention for a while.

When you start getting sick, you think its stress. It’s not. Either by condom failure or birth control failure, you find yourself pregnant (again?). You know Michael is the father – you haven’t had sex with anyone else in over a year.

You try to tell Michael but ended up intercepted by Amanda. Who acts like herself and convinces you don’t really mean anything to Michael (“He just got out of prison. He’d fuck anyone.”) and certainly doesn’t want anything to do with child you are carrying.

Maybe its stress or hormone or anxiety or your self-esteem being in the toilet but you believe her lies and return home in tears.

You refuse to tell AUNT or UNCLE who the father is but all or most of the pregnancy but they eventually learn it.

Michael finds out when

(1) AUNT or UNCLE goes down to Dublin themselves to tell Michael off for his treatment of their niece. Michael is understandably confused, then gobsmacked.

(2) AUNT or UNCLE has some kind of relationship with Birdie and complains to her.

Maybe Birdie saw your conversation with Amanda – close enough to know she said something that had you running away in tears but not close enough to hear what was said. Maybe tried asking Amanda about it but obviously not cooperative, might be self-righteous about running off the interloper (you).

Not sure if he finds when you are still pregnant or shortly after giving birth to the twins. Yes, twins – a boy and a girl.

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

Ill-Fitting Armour

Ship: Zevlor/gn!Tav Rating: Mature Tags: heavy angst, injury recovery, broken limbs, Zevlor POV, post-Act 2 boss fight (like seriously massive spoilers), angst with a happy ending, (eventual) love confession Summary:

Zevlor is ready to fall asleep on the beach after escaping Moonrise Towers. His body aches, his throat is parched and his utterly defeated. Unfortunately for him, Tav has other plans.

AO3 link if you want, or you can read it under the cut.

He has never welcomed the bite of a cold night’s air. He has always bundled his scarf tighter around his neck in the winter and rubbed his gloved hands over his tail during his watch in Elturel. Yet when he stumbles out of the mindflayer nest, battered and bruised, his mouth feeling as if he swallowed sand, he gulps down the cool night’s air. He wraps himself in it, clinging to it tightly. The night’s air nips at his nose and scrapes down his tail, screaming his freedom back into his old bones. As he sways on his feet, he considers dropping right here and forgoing camp altogether. A nap in the grass sounds especially nice.

Until the phantom, unwelcome sensation of slimy probes slithering through his mind shudders through him. In an instant, his eyes are wide as he stands rigid. He can’t sleep. He doesn’t deserve sleep. They’ll find him if he sleeps. He has to make it to – he has to make it somewhere before he can sleep. Was there an inn somewhere? Hadn’t Tav mentioned an inn? Could he sleep there?

Would he be safe, or would he just put more people in harm's way?

Triumphant, wavering laughter sounds behind him like the bells of the church, and he’s yanked from his mind to see them standing there. Well, more like leaning. They have one arm slung over Halsin’s shoulders, the other over Karlach’s, limping out of the tower. Wyll trails behind them, looking no better off than the other three but able to walk on his own. Zevlor’s heart sinks as he finds himself at a loss. Had he still possessed his oaths, it would be such a small task to rest his hand on their shoulder and breathe life back into their battered body. Instead, he stands there helplessly, familiar sorrow drowning his heart.

He's not sure what God takes pity on him for them to look up, lay their eyes upon him and beam as if all his sins had burnt away. For but the briefest moment, time itself stops so that he may hear his name pour from their lips like honeyed wine for all eternity. Not even Halsin nor Karlach could hold them back as they wiggle free and limp toward him. He’s at their side in an instant, catching their fall despite the scream that wants to tear from his throat the moment he puts weight on his left arm. He bears the pain as he stares at them with utter terror.

“You’re injured; why are you coming to me? You should have stayed right where you were. I would have come to you – I was going to. You’ll only make your injury worse by walking on it,” Zevlor scolds them. Had he froze again? Had they called out to him, and he stood there stone-still? Was that why they tried to come to him?

“You’re injured too. You were swaying on your feet, Zevlor; it was instinct. I wanted to help,” they whisper, placing their hand gently on his left elbow as if they know his arm is broken. They ease their weight onto his right side, wrapping their arms around him.

He does not deserve their kindness, yet they do not deserve to be pushed away. So, he holds them gently, cradling them as if they were the bundle of stars he’d imagine every night in Avernus, hoping he’d wake up to them from that endless nightmare. “I do not deserve your help. Not after what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care,” they state with a quivering voice, holding him tighter. “I’ve had enough of people telling me I have to base my beliefs upon theirs. If I decide you deserve my help, then you deserve my help. We have healing herbs back at camp, and if Halsin knows how to splint my broken leg, he’ll know how to fix your arm. Come with us –“ they squeeze him tightly as if his rejection was their hopeless morning in Avernus – “Please?”

Zevlor’s heart crumples at the way their voice wavers as if expecting him to refuse. He can do no more than clutch them tighter, wincing when he jostles his broken arm and white-hot pain sparks through his body. He nods his head against their neck before he can find his words, wrestling with the last bit of his resolve so that he doesn’t break into wrecked sobs. “I couldn’t possibly refuse you even if I wanted to. Point the way, and I shall do my best to help you there.”

“There’s no need for that,” Halsin chuckles heartedly, coming up behind them. “Karlach, give me a hand here if you will. I’ve been craving Gale’s cooking before we crashed into that new Hell, and my hunger has just returned now that we’re free from that unnatural place. I can feel it eating away at my stomach as we speak!”

“Hah! I bet I’m hungrier, old man. Gale better have a double batch of bread rolls because I’m going to eat a whole dozen!” Karlach argues playfully, patting Zevlor’s hand gently to encourage him to move it.

He pulls away from Tav, letting her sling their arm over her shoulders. Halsin barely glances at him before lifting him off his feet and carrying him in his arms. Zevlor opens his mouth to protest on account of his dignity, but the moment his feet no longer need to support his weight, all the strength flees his body as he suddenly realizes how tired he truly is. So, he lets Halsin carry him back to camp, stealing glances at Tav to make sure that they’re not going to suddenly vanish or pass out or die. They glance back at him, and he must look positively horrible because they pat his knee and tell him to rest. That he’s safe. That he’s earned it. Even when confronted with his transgressions, all they offer is forgiveness. As if they could see past the hellfire in his eyes and into the locked box he keeps his heart inside so that they can’t hear the thundering symphony it’s composing for them.

Unfortunately, no matter how much he wishes he could sleep, even if it is just to please them, he can’t. A fiery pain spiderwebs its way through his body, pulsing at his side as they make their way to camp. He can do nothing more than clutch it tightly, pretending not to notice it. Each step Halsin takes is agony, yet he knows there is nothing they can do for him. If they cannot fix Tav’s broken leg, they cannot fix what is most likely just hunger. That’s all this is. Hunger. He’ll be fine with a little supper.

He hears camp before he sees it. He smells it, too – hearty stew wafting through the air as someone mutters about needing more basil. Laughter greets them as they find their way back, Jaheira meeting them at the edges of camp to help Wyll to a seat by the fire. He tries to brush her off, but the glare that she shoots him clamps his mouth shut. Halsin sets Zevlor by the fire with the promise of returning shortly. Zevlor opens his mouth to tell him to take care of the others (and himself) first, but Karlach sets Tav down next to him, and suddenly his mouth is as dry as it was on the beach.

“How are you feeling?” Tav probes gently, fishing a bottle of water out of their pack. They take a long swig of it, sighing when they pull it away from their lips.

“Like I just crawled out of Avernus for the second time,” Zevlor admits, dragging his hand through his hair. Strands cling together, held together with dried blood and whatever horrid fluids covered the mindflayer colony.

Laughter escapes them quickly, wrapping him in a warmer blanket than any breath of fresh air. It curls around him like the arms of a lover, entrapping his hopeless mind to the point that he finds his tail unintentionally curling around their side. The moment he catches himself, he moves to pull it away, but with a small, considering hum, they place their hand over it, rubbing small circles into it with their thumb. He is certain they have no idea what they’re doing to him as he feels his heart pound in his chest. All he can feel is their soft touch – he could die in this moment and have never been happier.

“Drink, you sound like you need it,” Tav instructs him, pressing the bottle of water into his hands.

A cocked eyebrow shuts him up before he even realizes he’s opened his mouth to protest. So, he takes the water instead, treating himself to a small sip at first and then a greedy gulp. Then two, then three, then four. He feels his stomach cramp, yet his parched mouth demands more, having been starving and dehydrated for untold days. There was no way to tell time down in that mindflayer hell. His stomach cramps again, yet he ignores it in favour of drinking more still, until their hand wraps around his and pulls the bottle from his lips.

“Slow down, slow down; you’ll make yourself sick,” they urge him, worry bubbling in their voice. The edge of their sleeve is used to wipe away the spit dribbling down his chin, and his ears fold back in embarrassment.

“My apologies, I should have –“

“No, none of that. No apologies. Just take a deep breath for me,” they say, still indirectly holding his hand.

He does as he’s bid and winces, having forgotten the pain tearing through his side. They catch it instantly, and he screws his eyes shut to be free of their judgment. He cannot face their disappointment anymore today. The water bottle is set down in the dirt next to them as they turn themself to face him fully, letting their injured leg stretch out however it wants. His tail has curled around himself, attempting to make himself smaller, attempting to hide. Only now does he realize how laboured his breathing has become and the shockwaves of pain that ripple through his broken body with each breath.

“I should have set your leg first,” Halsin says, approaching the two of them finally.

“My leg can wait. Zevlor needs your help first,” Tav says dismissively, resting their hands over the buckle of Zevlor’s belt. “May I?”

“You’ll only be disappointed,” Zevlor mumbles, fiddling with the rim of the water bottle.

A tender hand cups his cheek, brushing back a shameful tear he hadn’t noticed was there. Their touch is warm and comforting – far more comforting than he deserves. He can’t help himself; he leans into it, every starved and broken piece of his soul surfacing at the slightest hint of affection. “You could never disappoint me. I’m merely worried. May I see?”

He’s so close to shattering, and they have no idea. It takes every last bit of his strength to bite back the wrecked sob desperately attempting to claw its way out of his throat. Instead, he nods his head, letting them pull his belt away.

“Oh, do not stand there like a dumb-founded child, Halsin. Pick one and help them; I will take the other. There are two of us, after all. Three, if you count the patient who refuses to acknowledge their own injuries are just as bad,” Jaheira scoffs, approaching the group and lightly knocking Halsin upside the head.

“I thought you might not have enough left after helping purge Moonrise and then healing Wyll,” Halsin confesses, taking a seat in the dirt next to Tav.

“I know how to heal people with more than just magic – I would not have survived this long if I did not,” Jaheira states plainly, taking a seat at Zevlor’s side. She does not know him, and Zevlor is grateful for that. He doesn’t have to worry about disappointing her with the extent of his injuries.

Tav is adamant about helping him out of his armour. They undo each tie as if they had tied them a thousand times, forcing Zevlor to swallow back the idea of them helping him into it every day. There was always a tie or two in the back he couldn’t properly do up on his own. Yet he knows he could never have that. They certainly wanted better than an old Hellrider cast out of Elturel, who couldn’t even keep his people safe when they needed him the most.

He flinches when they pull his shirt from him and gasp. He knows he’s covered in scars, probably a few bruises as well, and that it’s not a pretty sight. His body never was a pretty sight. It has always been covered in dramatic reminders of his fiendish heritage – reminders that are only more painful after Elturel’s fall.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Halsin mutters at his side, and Zevlor wants to curl into a ball and die.

“You didn’t think it was that bad? Are you looking at the same thing I am?! How could you not notice this while you were carrying him?!?” Tav all but cries, squeezing his hand as if trying to distract him.

Zevlor forces his eyes open, seeing Tav and Halsin staring at his side in horror while Jaheira dumps several herbs into a mortar. He swallows thickly before lowering his head to stare at his own side. Vomit nearly escapes him when his eyes land upon the gash dragged from his ribs and across his belly. It’s green and oozing – definitely infected – with horrible purple and green bruising (black in some places as well) surrounding it. Two hands cupping his face wrench his tear-stained gaze away, bringing his head up to look at Tav instead.

“Focus on me, don’t look at it. Just focus on me, okay?”

“Am I going to die?” He hates the way his voice quivers, but he has to know. If these are to be his last moments, he cannot let them go silently.

“I’ve already got something for your infection; just hold still so that I can apply it,” Jaheira orders him, taking a piece of cotton to wipe away the puss first.

“Hold on, Jaheira, let Halsin set my leg first so he can give you a hand,” Tav interjects, turning their attention to her whilst holding Zevlor’s face.

“Fine, but he must do it quickly. We need to treat this,” Jaheira sighs, sitting back against the log to wait.

“I only need a moment,” Halsin assures her. “Is this the position you want it set in? You probably won’t be moving for a while after I do this.”

“Hold on then,” Tav says, holding up a hand. Halsin gives them a curious look but nods, helping them reposition themself behind Zevlor with his head resting against their chest, a horn on either side of their neck. Zevlor gladly leans back against them, breathing easier at this angle and soaking in the warmth radiating off their body. Gods above and below, he must be delirious if he can’t find it in himself to advocate for his aching heart. “Is this alright with you, Zev’?”

“I can breathe easier. Thank you,” he answers honestly, taking their hand in his own. “Squeeze my hand as hard as you need. I promise you can’t do worse than my existing injuries – you might even distract us both.”

“Thank you,” they whisper against the top of his head, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“Ready now?” Halsin inquires, positioning his supplies around their leg.

“Do it,” Tav nods, squeezing their eyes shut.

Halsin instructs them to take a deep breath and focus on holding it, yet they scream all the same when he snaps their bones back into place. Zevlor can’t help the way his tail curls instinctively around them, trying to soothe the pain as he squeezes their hand. They tense rather than squeeze his hand, their whole body locking up until Halsin urges them to breathe again.

“Zariel’s flaming ass, that never gets easier,” Tav pants, folding in around Zevlor. They’re careful not to hurt his existing injuries, but he welcomes the arm wrapped loosely around his neck and their steady heartbeat against his skin.

“Now, may I fix your lover, or will you make me wait longer?” Jaheira asks, an edge of understanding in her voice.

“He’s not my – we’re not –“ Tav stammers, letting go of Zevlor’s hand and leaving him crestfallen. He lets his hand go limp at his side where they left it as if it would bring theirs back.

“You certainly told me to keep an eye out for him like he was. You had a wild look in your eyes while you said it, too, constantly checking over your shoulder as if you expected him to appear over the horizon,” Jaheira recounts, wiping the puss from Zevlor’s wound. He’s never been more grateful for the pain, giving him something else to latch onto other than bitter heartbreak. He has no right to even be heartbroken. He knew he had no chance at their heart even before he almost gave into the absolute.

“I – Well –“ Tav continues to stammer, shutting up quickly when Jaheira shoots them a look of disbelief.

“Jaheira, perhaps we should change the topic of our conversation? This is not something we should meddle in – especially not right now,” Halsin points out, taking Zevlor’s broken arm and examining it to assess whether it requires a splint or not.

“All the more reason we should discuss it now. He needs a distraction from what we’re about to do. He gave one to Tav so willingly, as if it was second nature, and they positioned themself so that he could breathe easier after you told them they would not move once you set their leg. I have only seen such behaviour in those deeply in love,” Jaheira argues, scowling at the last bit of puss before tossing the soiled bandages into the fire.

“They are adults; I am certain they are more than capable of confessing their romantic feelings for each other without our assistance. And they are sitting right next to us – we are working on one of them,” Halsin points out, deciding that Zevlor’s arm did not require him to reset the bone. He splints it carefully, wrapping the bandages around it diligently.

Shooting back in the argument, Jaheira starts working the antiseptic salve into Zevlor’s wound gently. He’s grateful for the pain all the same, as it distracts from the heartache eating away at him faster than the infection. As embarrassment bubbles in his chest, threatening to overturn his empty stomach, Zevlor feels a finger gently brush his pinkie. He curls his hand around it, feeling Tav’s hand slip into his own, lacing their fingers together. His heart thunders wildly in his chest as they squeeze his hand.

“Break my hand if you need to; I won’t mind. I know the salve can’t possibly feel good,” Tav whispers quietly as Jaheira and Halsin continue to bicker like old friends.

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re already stuck in this position because of me; don’t let me make it worse,” Zevlor begs, hanging his head carefully so as not to nick them with his horns.

“I’m holding you because I want to. Because you need to be held right now. You could have told me you were uncomfortable; I would have moved and gotten some of the pillows from my tent so that you could still breathe easier,” Tav says, stroking their thumb against the back of his hand.

Even the mightiest of mountains fall, and Zevlor is no mountain. Not by any stretch of the truth. He turns his head to the side, burying his face in their shoulder as if it would hide him away. As if he could bury himself in their arms and the world would blanket him in darkness, hidden from both judgement and sympathy. Thankfully, they lean their head back the moment he moves so his horns don’t injure them – one less thing for him to worry about – letting him fully turn his head. His body shakes as he feels hot tears roll down his cheeks, his ears pressed flat against his head. Halsin and Jaheira politely ignore him, probably pinning his wrecked sobs on the pain of his injuries, yet Tav cradles him in their arms, whispering soft nothings under their breath for only him to hear. What could he possibly have done to earn their kindness, their sympathy? What silent prayer to an unseen God blessed him to feel their hands against his tattered skin?

Their hands card through his hair, uncaring about the dried blood and grease tangling his locks together. Carefully, they pull away the hair tie, barely holding his hair together. They are patient, letting him sob until he’s nothing more than a shivering mess struggling to breathe. Cradling his hand, they let him calm down until he realizes that his torso has been bandaged and they have been left by the fire. He manages to force himself to take a deep breath, feeling it waiver in his lungs as they encourage him to take another with a kind hand rubbing his back. With the fear and stress finally slipping his mind, he finds himself able to melt into their arms, letting their hum of approval wrap around him.

“Do you think you can eat something?” they ask tentatively, resting their head atop his.

Zevlor’s stomach growls before he can respond, and they laugh, a sound that rivals the greatest symphonies. He can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed as he unfurls himself from his cramped position.

“Don’t worry, Gale’s already dishing up dinner. How are you feeling? Any fever? Pain?” Tav immediately questions him, resting their hand on his forehead to try and judge if he’s running a fever. He can feel their worried gaze flicker over him, attempting to assess the collateral damage of the battle.

“Nothing I haven’t felt before,” he says without recounting the memories of Avernus. Even if the salve had numbed the pain in his side, it has still wormed its way through his body, pulsing from his broken arm.

“Here, chew this,” they instruct him, seeing right through his awful attempt at hiding his pain.

He stares at the leaf they drop in his hand, unease settling in his stomach. He cannot take medicine from their hands, no matter how willingly they give it. They have done enough – too much – for him, and he has given them so very little. Guilt twists in his gut like a frightened snake. “You should be taking this. You actually had to fight Ketheric; I just had to limp out of the nest,” Zevlor argues, trying to press the leaf back into their hand.

They cup their hand underneath his, brushing their thumb against his wrist. Their brow is creased together in worry, twisting his heart into knots. “Please, take the leaf, Zev’. I’ve already had one – Halsin made sure of it. You may not have fought Ketheric, but finding your way out of the nest must’ve been no easy task. All I had to do was jump down a fleshy tunnel – I had no idea how to get out of there – you had to map your way through a mindflayer nest whilst injured and exhausted.”

“Okay,” he says, swallowing his argument. He plucks the leaf from their hand and chews on it, staring at the ground, unable to bring himself to meet their gaze.

Tears dribble down his face as the pulsing heat slops off his body, leaving him blissfully pain-free. The sensation is horribly foreign, his hands shaking, expecting for the pain to return tenfold. He winds them around his sides in hopes that it hides how unsteady he truly is. The softest whisper of touch consumes him as they pull his hands away from his injured side, delicately cradling his cast in their hand. He can’t help the way he leans into their touch, how he slumps against their solid body and lets them hold him. Adrenaline has leached out of his body, leaving him nothing more than a compliant mess, too hopelessly in love to bring himself to pull away. He’ll cling greedily to even the faintest of touches they’re willing to give him, memorizing the cracks in their skin so that he can recount them to himself whenever he needs.

“I can give you something stronger if you need,” they offer, and Zevlor freezes, fearing they read his mind.

“Give him this; it’ll help him keep food down,” Halsin interrupts, sitting down in the dirt next to them. He has three bowls of stew and a potion bottle with him, the last of which he uncorks and holds out. “There’s enough here for you to split it; it’s too strong for one person to drink alone.”

“Thank you, Halsin,” Tav says softly, taking the potion. They keep one hand on Zevlor’s broken arm, forcing him to keep it elevated, but the other hand wraps around the neck of the potion bottle. Zevlor waits as they eyeball half of the bottle, grimacing at the taste, before finally handing it to him. “Drink, you don’t want to insult Gale by tasting his stew twice,” they joke, making Halsin chuckle. Zevlor smiles weakly, letting out a small huff of a laugh and nearly curling in on himself when fresh pain streaks through him. “It’ll help, I promise,” they insist, feeling him wince against them.

He takes the bottle, taking a small sip at first and grimacing at the taste. It has the distinct aftertaste of goblin piss and mouldy cheese. Yet he brings it back to his lips all the same as instant relief washes through his body. The nausea he hadn’t even realized was hiding under his exhaustion is banished to the far corners of his mind as he finds it easier to breathe. Taking a slow, deep breath once the potion is finished, he closes his eyes, revelling in the pleasant numbness.

“He looks better already. Less green than before,” Halsin points out as he takes the potion bottle away.

“He’s stopped shaking too,” Tav comments, bending their unbroken leg for a more comfortable position. “Think you can keep food down?” they ask, rubbing his shoulder firmly.

“I’d eat a raw imp right now if I had no other options,” Zevlor says despite himself. He can still taste the imp, blood dripping down his chin as he cups his hands in a feeble attempt to catch it while still holding the limp body to his face. He’d been so hungry he had eaten the bones, and had Tilses not stopped him, he would have eaten the guts too.

“I promise you; my stew is far better than raw imp!” Gale defends himself, walking over to drape a hide across Zevlor’s lap. He keeps on walking afterwards, settling down on the west side of the fire next to Wyll with his own bowl of stew. “The only thing ‘raw’ in it should be the parsley on top. Which you can thank Halsin for since he was the one who made sure it wasn’t poisonous.”

“Thank you,” Zevlor manages to rasp out, taking the offered bowl from Halsin. “I meant no disrespect by the raw imp comment, I –“

Gale holds up his hand to stop him: “Please, don’t apologize. It is not the first odd thing someone has implied they have eaten or would eat. But if you continue, you’ll most likely spoil our appetites. Eat your stew, Zevlor, before your potion wears off.”

“Right, sorry,” Zevlor mutters, picking up the spoon. He cradles the bowl with his broken arm, picking up a spoonful of potatoes, turnips, carrots and barley. There are chunks of meat in the bowl, but for now, he takes only the vegetables.

“No need to apologize,” Gale says dismissively, feeling rather pleased with himself when Zevlor takes a small bite and then immediately goes back for another, then another, then another.

The camp falls into light conversation as dinner is finally eaten, and everyone puts the memories of the Mindflayer nest behind them. Plans for what they’ll do once they reach the city are discussed – some goals heavier than others – and Zevlor lets himself sit in silence, picking at the last few mouthfuls of meat in his bowl. He knows he needs to eat them, but after the nest… it takes him a good thirty minutes to get through the five chunks in his bowl, using the fire and weight against his back to distract himself. Tav is busy talking to Halsin by the time he’s finished, and not wanting to interrupt their conversation, no matter how tired he is, he leans back against them and lets his eyes close. They don’t seem to mind, gently stroking their thumb against the back of his hand. He feels sleep settle heavily in his bones, calling him under like a siren’s gentle song. He can sleep here. He’s safe to sleep here, he decides.

He barely sleeps despite his exhaustion. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees an Absolute cultist leaning over him, inspecting his injured body, tapping on the pod to keep him perpetually awake, perpetually in Avernus. Yet each time he surfaces from a light doze, he feels the arms around him, rubbing his back and the gentle vibrations through his body as Tav talks to their companions. It’s enough to let him rest – at least for as long as the potion lasts. He can pinpoint the exact moment it clears his system, leaving him in dull agony once more. He doesn’t dare open his mouth and interrupt their conversation to ask for more. He doesn’t deserve more. He just screws his eyes shut and bares it.

He's not sure when someone gently shakes his shoulder, rousing him for his light slumber. He blinks groggily, finding the walls of a tent staring back at him. When had they moved him? He could have slept by the fire – they didn’t have to go out of their way for him. He’s nestled into the crook of Tav’s arm as they hold a potion out to him. It’s much smaller than the last one, and he moves to take it, hissing in pain. Someone takes it for him, pressing it to his lips, and he swallows, too tired to protest that he could have taken it. The pain vanishes a moment later, and he takes a steadier breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” Tav whispers softly, rubbing his back to distract him from the pain. His mind clings to the sensation, sinking its claws around it and focusing every ounce of attention he has left on it.

“It’s okay,” he hears himself say, his voice weak and wavering, choking in his throat. He can’t cry again. He doesn’t want to cry again. Please, don’t let him cry again.

“No, it’s not. I should have noticed – you could have said something. Why didn’t you say something?” Tav presses, circling their hand on his back as if they can tell he’s clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” his tired mind confesses, and he tries to bite back every word. To stuff them back in his mouth because they don’t deserve to have that dumped on them. They don’t need his problems on top of their already towering pile.

“Oh, Zevlor…” they whisper, wrapping their arms around him gently so as not to aggravate his injuries. He bites back the choked sob at the tenderness of their actions, the careful attention to his well-being that he has done nothing to earn. “You have done nothing wrong. The Absolute may twist a little part of us into what it wants us to be, but it is up to us if we give in to it. If we let it twist that part of us.”

“But I did,” Zevlor insists, curling in on himself. Unable to hold them out of fear of the guilt on his hands staining their skin. “I let it – I let it convince me.”

“No, you didn’t. You broke free from it. Even if you had almost accepted it, you knew it was wrong. Your denial is far louder than your acceptance. If you had given in – if you were truly guilty – you would not be here in my arms, letting me hold you,” Tav points out, resting their forehead against his. “You are alive, Zevlor. You are yourself. You are not another one of the Absolute’s pawns, stumbling around like a husk, ready to take any orders given to you.”

In any other state of mind, he’d argue against them, fighting every step of the way and refusing to agree with them. Yet he’s tired, and his brain cannot fumble together a stronger argument than ‘I almost gave in.’ Forgiveness has never tasted sweeter than coming from them, staring into their eyes with his vision clouded in tears yet to be shed. There’s an overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss them, to let them know just how much their words mean to him, to feel that love reciprocated. The moment shatters around him instantly as a pang of more sinister guilt crawls its way into his chest and sinks its claws into his heart. He doesn’t deserve to be held like this while his mind races – while he pretends it means no more than friendship to him. They have offered him more kindness than he could ever hope for at every turn, yet all he can think of is greedily stealing more. He pulls back, staring down at the ground and refusing to meet their gaze.

“You deserve to know the truth before you keep holding me like this,” Zevlor croaks, swallowing the lump that builds up in his throat. They give him space, holding him tenderly as he forces his led tongue to work again. “You can hate me after this – I don’t care, I’ll deserve it. But I can’t… I can’t keep letting you sit there and tell me these things without knowing what you mean to me. Jaheira was right, at least about how I feel. I can’t pretend anymore. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I’d walk through Avernus for a hundred years if it would please you.”

Silence falls over the tent as he waits for them to get up and leave. He flinches when a hand comes forward, gently cupping his cheek and turning him to face them. They wear the softest smile, making his heart hammer in his chest as he finds himself unable to breathe lest he ruin the moment.

“I would never ask you to walk through Avernus for me, but that does not mean I love you any less. I should have told you back at the party before we parted ways. I should have gone with you and gotten your caravan to Baldur’s Gate instead of getting all of us tangled up in this mess,” they confess, and he hangs onto every word, feeling their thumb brush against his bottom lip. “May I kiss you?”

It's by no means a coordinated affair. His lips are on theirs before he can breathe a word, pulling them closer with his good hand. When they only pull him closer, their other hand splayed across his back to support him. He leans further into the kiss, letting them take every piece of himself he has left. Even when they pull back, they place butterfly kisses on each other’s lips, unable to fully pull apart. They’re apart just long enough to catch their breath before they’re plunging back into each other, desperately trying to memorize every last detail freely given to them.

When they finally pull apart, panting to refill their lungs, Zevlor flinches as he yawns. He doesn’t want to be tired. He can’t fall asleep now. He has to stay awake and –

“Lay down,” Tav whispers, stretching out across the bedroll and spare blankets, pulling two pillows over for them.

He complies easily, letting them pull him into a position where he can breathe the easiest, his arm elevated on another pillow. They prop their leg up before twisting their body, curling around him the best they can with a contented sigh. He allows himself to pull them closer with his good arm, grinning like an idiot.

“Sleep, Zevlor. It’s a long way to Baldur’s Gate, and I don’t intend on letting you out of my sight again,” they insist, resting their head in the crook of his arm. “We can watch the sunrise another day, one when we don’t have to fumble around our injuries.”

“I’m sorry,” he rasps because it’s all he can think to say.

“Don’t be. I love you,” they forgive him, kissing his lips gently. “Just get some rest, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

He knows he can’t argue with them, so he turns his head and kisses them a final time, just for good measure. Just to remind himself that he can. “I love you too,” he whispers.

Tav smiles softly, curling closer to him, surely able to hear his thundering heart. He cannot help but smile back at them, basking in the feeling of them curled up next to him. The idea that they trust him enough to fall asleep next to him is harrowing. Guilt still weighs heavily on his consciousness; its claws dug deep into his heart, yet in their presence, all he can feel is overwhelming forgiveness. He lets himself fall asleep there, focusing on his sloppy confession rather than the transgressions of his actions. For once, he does not dream of Avernus.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Prompt from @unboundprompts: "The door never led to the same place twice."

Nothing is ever really lost

(Tw: quick mention of death, illness and war)

The door never leads to the same place twice.

You don’t know where it comes from. It’s just there.

Sometimes, it materializes out of thin air in your room, and won’t go until you open it.

The first time, when you were much younger, it was made of white porcelain and just big enough to let you pass. You were scared of course, but curiosity got the better of you, and you went to the other side.

You have a clear memory of that day. What a happy travel this time! It'd led you to a quiet beach, at dawn. You’d taken out your shoes and let the sea go to your ankles, watching the sun rise, listening to the waves, and oh how you’d missed that sound. When people had started coming in, notably a couple wearing weird clothes and short haircuts, you’d come towards them, your naked feet running on the sand, and told them excitedly where you were coming from. They'd smiled, thinking you were a charming little liar, but they’d invited you under their beach umbrella. You’d spent the day talking, eating sandwiches full of fish paste, and exchanging stories. You didn’t speak the same language, but somehow you understood each other. At the end of the day, you'd waved goodbye to them, and you'd come home.

The door had disappeared right after, gently fading into nothing, but it'd come back.

You’re okay with that.

You are used to it by now. Eventually, it turns up again, and when you’re ready, you go through.

It never looks the same way. The porcelain from the first time has become wood or metal, and sometimes it’s made of things even stranger, that you can barely describe. Either way, it’s always warm to the touch. It brings you into strange little villages where you see cottages with roofs and beds made of straw. You visit towns full of half-timbered buildings, built on hills, nested on a plain or around a large river. Sometimes you see huge megalopolis with shining bridges and steel blue skyscrapers.

At first, you just wandered through. Since you can’t control the destination though, and you’re pretty sure you can never go back in the same place, you’re now prepared. Each time you step in, you bring a bag full of notebooks and boxes and a camera picture. You interview each inhabitant who wants to. They’re not deep questions: what tools they use to make their food, what they like to do, how hard their work is, how they feel about their families, and so on. You collect meaningless trinkets, pocket change, leaves, and seeds. You take pictures of everything. The constructions, the people, the food on their table, the bugs sleeping on plants, the night sky – everything.

Strangely, you’re never scared. You’d never dare to be so bold in your original world. The deep feeling that this is not your world keeps you strong. No matter how many times you’ve crossed the threshold, it never feels quite real. It's like a dream, and you've left your fears behind. You can do whatever you want, talk and behave however you want, and nobody can punish you for that. You’ve discovered that if you call it during your travel, the door comes in front of you. Home is always close and no one can follow you there. People have tried, but the knob refuses to work for anyone else but you. You’re safe.

When you’re back, you organize your findings in your shelves. Your room begins to look like a crow’s nest, full of shiny things.

You’re okay with that.

However, not all travels are pleasant. Sometimes, villages are full of starving people with eyes too big and too shiny. You meet young men and women whose bodies are full of spots, their limbs smelling like rotten flesh already. Children about to be hanged for stealing apples. Soldiers killing inhabitants in summer clothes. And sometimes, there are only ruins, where all you can hear is crying.

The first time, you thought you were in hell. The door was huge and ebony that day. You don’t want to remember what you saw behind, but you do. Someone died in your arms that time. Once you were back, running away and sobbing, you’ve thrown yourself into your bed and did not touch the door for months. It waited and you hated it. You hated everything in the world, including yourself. Your eyes were closed tight not to see anything.

You can’t keep the memories out of your brain, though. You can’t help but feel guilty. It’s not like you could bring anyone with you, but still. There must be something you can do. After some time, you prepare another bag. This one is full of things you’ve already collected. The next time you meet another devastated city, you clench your teeth and go through. You share seeds to grow food. You leave behind machines plans that were used to heal or to help build houses again.

When you're done, you tell stories. You’re full of them now. The families and their kids who don’t know about tomorrow hear about the people you’ve met, their hopes and their desires. You tell about the shining skyscrapers and the bugs, the way the sun shone on the hills and the roofs of cities, how warm and light was the breeze the day you saw the ocean, and so many things you forgot.

And then, when there’s nothing left to share, you go home. The door will bring you far, far away next time, because the only thing you know for sure is that it never leads to the same place twice.

Of course, if you asked the people from the other worlds, they would tell you another story. They’d say that the door only leads to one place, where a witch lives. They’d tell you about how she walks the earth through time and space. Some pretend she’s a bringer of apocalypse, always there in troubled times, taunting poor souls, speaking of blessings they couldn’t get. Some pretend it’s a beneficent fairy, always there with little helps and little comforts.

It doesn’t matter much to you. You know that all your life, there will be the door.

And you’re okay with that.

*

Back to Fantasy Masterlist

[llamamicrowave]

Why I ✨Hate✨ Phin Mason

(any racism will be deleted <3)

In the Miles Morales PS5 game, we are introduced to a new version of the Tinkerer. Originally a one-off villain from the original Spiderman comics, the PS5 game developers try (and fail) to elevate the character.

First off, her personality. In most of the scenes, she is in with Miles, she’s just ruthlessly bullying him, this would be fine if it were a mutual thing but Miles just sits back and takes it?? Her entire personality basically dissolves into an ‘asshole that is better than Miles in every way possible’. The developers make her a weird tech genius, implied to be smarter than Miles and even Peter Parker in some scenes. This choice makes sense with her Tinkerer persona but (in my opinion) they kinda give her Ganke’s original personality and reduce him to a social media guru (refer back to the Thanksgiving scene at the beginning of the game).

In her FIRST SCENE (before we know her as the Tinkerer) she and the Underground attack a Roxon plaza where Miles’ mom Rio is campaigning. At this point, Miles doesn’t know Phin is the Tinkerer but Phin knows for a fact that Rio would be there (once again, refer back to the Thanksgiving scene at the beginning of the game). She is KNOWINGLY putting her friend's (and implied crush) mom at risk along with innocent civilians. And the WORST part of this is that this was completely unnecessary to the Underground's actual goals. Their real target was a truck containing Nuform of the COMPLETE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN, and since Phin is the leader of the Underground SHE chose to send a ton of her men to the rally, all while knowing Miles and Rio would be there. She then, out of costume, apologizes to Miles and blames the attack on Spiderman. HUH????

This bitch is dumb. And I mean that literally, her plan doesn’t make any sense. Despite the developer's attempts to make Phin seem like an evil genius, her entire plan falls apart once you think critically. Her goal is to halt the production of Nuform, a new, dangerous energy source developed by her brother, Rick. Nuform was also responsible for the eventual illness. Keep in mind that this illness didn’t kill him. While trying to destroy all the remaining Nuform, he got electrocuted (I think?) by it and then died in front of Phin.

(Apparently, this whole family is dumb ‘cause who takes a teen girl into a highly secured lab?)

Phin’s plan is constantly changing from the minute she is revealed as the Tinkerer to the final act. At one point Miles tries to warn her of Roxon's plan but she doesn;t take his warning and her entire plan falls to shit. And she has the AUDACITY to blame him for that!

And I haven’t even gotten to when she finds out that Miles is spider man! She accuses him of lying to her (which he was) in order to get access to her DOMESTIC TERRORIST ORGANIZATION! Did Miles lie, yes. But did Phin put innocent civilians at risk, including Rio? Yes! Phin needed to be taken down and she wouldn’t listen to anyone else instead of Miles.

The game wants us to believe that Phin is a sympathetic foil to Miles instead of the aggravating dumbass she really is. We see this in almost every interaction the two have. Miles is painted as a liar who doesn’t deserve a friend like Phin and is constantly apologizing to her, despite Phin being the aggressor and often in the wrong. Where ass Phin is depicted as a misguided girl with good intentions.

This is a problem because the plot of the game depends on Miles and Phin’s relationship, and if we don’t care about that relationship the emotional payoff at the end falls flat. Spoiler alert: the bitch dies. (DING DONG).

[aelinschild]

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 6th: Hope

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

AN: My biggest apologies for how late this is coming out today! My life is at the busiest it will probably be this year, so its been a bit of a struggle to balance life with writing, but I am doing my best to get this out <3

SYNOPSIS: Dont let me close. WORDCOUNT: 923 WARNINGS: Cursing, two really sexually frustrated adults, faint depiction of scars/wounds

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

“I didn't take you for a night owl,” 

Benign silence was scratched to a halt. Reeling in the afterglow of rumination, Aelin's hands stuttered over the mug. It had rolled once, twice, before settling with an unmistakable click onto butcher board countertops. No shock if they were layered with blood. 

Moments passed when she took to settle the nerves that had fired excitement and fear so quickly it left her dizzy. Pin prickling hair at the base of her neck. A gut feeling of ill intent. She had spent so much time absorbing his presence that she had forgotten he was there. The muffled huff was an indication. 

“No.”

She still didn't turn to face him, body set firmly against time worn countertops. If her hearing served her well, the light brush of air was the noise of footsteps muted from isolation. 

“‘No’, as in you are not a night owl? Or…?” He let it hang in contemplation. 

“Would you like some tea?” End. Door slammed firmly shut. 

Her arm stretched for another mug, set on the second shelf inside the cupboard. High enough that she had no doubt a man lived here. High enough, she would have to take up reorganizing eventually. If she stays, that is. 

The mug she had her eyes set for was quickly encased in another's grasp. Tattooed hand, larger than her face. She could imagine. 

“No need,” why did he grab a mug? “I prefer the salt water.”

“What?” 

He chuckled, a low throaty sound that worked wonders for the fatigued parts of her mind. A rumbling caress, wrapped up in musculature and warmed through lifeblood. There would be a delicacy inside a body like that. Closeness was its only equivalence. 

“Tired there, miss?” He hummed. She could feel the smirk on her. And she wanted to play back, lest she be left behind in whatever game they played. 

“No. I find I need some sort of stimulation before I sleep.” Hand drifting over the kettle, pouring in boiled water with the ease of someone who has not toed a possibly inevitable line. She pressed into the metal of the handle to better hide the tension wracked shakes. This is fun.

He made a noise. Something unidentifiable. Unremarkable. Aelin just spun to face him, taking a demure sip of boiling chamomile tea. Laced with honey. 

Two stood across from one another. Him, leaning against the island of the kitchen. Her, against the counters he owned. She felt rooted in place under his gaze. A green so deep it shines in hues of emerald and verdance. Vitriol of thoughts swirling under blown out irises. Inky depths with raw edges. The tattoos she would memorize. Run fingers over marred flesh, teeth and tongue. Tracing delicate lines that were as much a window to inside him as the house they stood in. All faded youth and roughened pride. Stood like a ruler of the space; every molecule in the fibre of the room bending its knee. Aelin wondered where the arrogance was casted aside to make room for whatever new humility played its part; welcoming a stranger into his home. 

“I see,” purring and condescending and interested. “Well, can I make you an offer?”

Like the light fell, or the shadows danced, his eyes changed. Curtains of achromatic waves dressed down. Chasing behind whatever has left. Softening edges in a way that had Aelin's gut twisting on familiarity. She had to look away. 

“Try me,” it came out breathless. Her sight restricted to tracing the rim of the clay mug. 

“The stars- I mean, it's supposed to be very clear tonight. Makes the stars easier to see.”

“Mhm.” 

A deep breath, “I was planning on watching. Just… along the shore.” There was something he left unsaid. She didn't offer up the answer that floated just outside her grasp. “Would you want to  join me?” 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Game over. 

Ghosting along the precipice of torment was a drop so far and incalculable. It was a misstep, every little moment. His body was all that she remembered feeling, this tethering life force of an invisible chain. Locked and silenced. The way the air moved had metamorphized the moment. Incongruent and irreparable. It would be an err of great reckoning to give in to the smouldering timidity oscillating inside forest green eyes. 

“I’ll leave you to the stars tonight.” Choked out, similar to the burn of saltwater as it rushed through viscera. “Have a good night, Rowan.” Whisper soft rejection. 

-

In the recesses of his mind, he knew he should be grateful she said no. Temptation made into curves and valleys; there was no resistance. Had she been here, had she said yes, he may have lost whatever speckles of humanity he held onto.  

And he couldnt forget what she looked like while sopping wet, layers peeled away and stripped down to the basal fragility of humanity. 

But the stars shined like molten gold, dripping from the night sky and bleeding into a slowly recovering heart. Pumping some sort of intentionality inside arteries. Debatable origins, questionable destinations. But it moved, and it burned inside of him. 

Rowan’s eyes sought out the constellation he had all but cut into his own flesh. He would like that, the stain of blood and the residue of scars. Some permanent declaration of this sudden inconsistency in his head. That – the inconsistency – had left him bare handed, no journal or charts in sight. Fuck, not even a scope of any degree. 

Just him and Cygnus. 

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if youd like to be added to the taglist!

[mysteroads]

World Building Post-War MHA, aka:

How Mr. Compress survives, thrives, steals all of AFO's money, and gives a big ol' "Fuck You!" to the heroes by doing a better job at saving people... All while staying classy. 😉

tltr: Mr. Compress steals AFO's money, creates a non-profit, names it all after the League to remind everyone why it's important and also to thumb his nose at the heroes.

So, mostly for my own edification, I started wondering what a Post-War MHA world would look like, and since MHA is a dystopia, how people would go about fixing the problems.

So, MHA dystopia can be described as: "Questioning the root of systemic issues brought about by a society grown both compliant *and* reliant on the protection of superheroes-- who have been elevated to celebrity/godlike status while ignoring 'Heroes' inherent humanity and all the flaws that come with being human-- while ignoring their own responsibilities as humans to help each other."

There's a reoccurring theme of Bystander Syndrome. Regular people growing compliant and being unwilling to step up to help their fellow man. Well, Post-War, I'm betting that's going to change, and that's where our boy Atsuhiro Sako can come in.

We all know Mr. Compress is going to survive. I really hope more members of the League do as well, but we know Atsuhiro Sako's going to make it. More than that, he's going jump headlong into making damn sure the past doesn't repeat itself, even if that means playing nice with the heroes (for awhile). There's going to be some sort of Villain Rehab program, or even a pardon/parole for the surviving LoV member(s). Sako's going to to be the perfect little ex-villain right up until his exit paperwork is processed.

And, since he was 1} in Tomura's inner circle, 2} he's clever enough to get Garaki to talk to him, and 3} he's an excellent thief... I'm going to assume he's smart enough to get the info he needs to access enough of AFO's accounts. 💸💸💸 And even if he's not, he's savvy enough to find the money somewhere.

I see Atsuhiro at the head of a Non-Profit Organization with several subsidiaries dedicated to different problems. Furthermore, as a unashamed former villain, I can see him naming the whole thing after the League... just to spite the heroes and remind everyone why he's doing what he's doing.😈 It's what his friends would've wanted.

The League for the Lost, and it's subsidiaries (colored for funsies):

Dabi’s Fire, for the campaign against domestic abuse and protection for the abused. 

Himiko’s Hope, assistance for so-called villainous and other maligned quirks, with a special emphasis on blood quirks and others with unique dietary requirements. 

Spinner’s Stories, support for mutation quirks and heteromorphs. 

Jin’s Friends, for free access to mental health resources. 

Big Sis’s House, safe spaces for queer youth and adults.

Tomura’s Soldiers, for the war against the trafficking of children with powerful quirks.

Honestly, this is probably the best way for the problems to be solved, and the best way to put AFO's ill gotten gains to good use. I mean, the money is there! It's going to be found eventually. Might as well use it to do whatever they can do to prevent a problem before it happens! And what better way to keep the memory of the League of Villains alive, get civilians involved in helping each other, and provide a warning for future generations-- than to put their names on Japan's biggest non-profit?

And, if he manages to piss off the old-school heroes and cops, while attracting the new generations, then that's just a bonus. 😎

If you made it this far, you are a most excellent person, a ✨gem✨ among readers!💖 And I want to hear from you! All... probably two, maybe three?... of you! What would you like to see from Post-War MHA? How would you fix the problems? Who from the LoV do you think's going to survive, and what are they going to do with themselves in the new world?

[kittycowboy]

so the bugs r actually like organisms?? creachurs? thats so neat... so theres chip implants like with ishawuu and bug implants?

Theure all bugs !! I sometimes say chips I think bcs like. wayy easier for ppl to get when I say that AJJGHJJE.

The bugs are these cockroach-like ithings that were discovered while some nuclewr bombs were being tested on an uninhabited island. These bugs were entirely uneffected by the bombs or radiation, and upon further investigation certain subsects of them coild survive different things- extremely high temperatures, extremelt low ones, being crushed, etc etc. This was around the time that the ppl working on Koro learned that it needed human brains to continue functioning, so there were a tonnnn of biotechnology progams being pushed.

One group ended up finding that the bugs can metamorphosis and attach to living beings, which then grant them aspects of their "power"- so like superstrength, higher speed, reaction time increase, better immune systems, etc. ALL sorts of things- but in exchanhe they would eat at the host and eventually kill them. BUT through yearsss of research and A Lot of dead test subjects they ended up finding a way to force a metamorphosis and install the bugs into humans in certain areas of the body to give a symbiotic relationship- the bug takes a liiitle bit of the host, but not emough to kill them, and the host gets the powers !!

The areas they have to be installed are different for each bug. So radiation bugs need to attach to the heart, agility/speed to the spinal cord, strength ones are actually interesring bcs you need TWO bugs- one to attach to the medulla and the other into the hypothalamus. All the surgeries are dangerous but as one can assume that one has a particularly high mortality rate.

Cellres bugs (what Ishawuu and Yoki have) were particularly hard to make, since firstly it was rlly hard to physically alter the bugs. I mean since each one has the power that it grants, you cant really. put hardware into a bug that heals instantly. BUT THEY DID !! What they discobered was that by literally shitting off the brain, the healing factor paused and they were able to adjust the bugs.

Naturally this was a rlly difficult process and a lot of the bugs died, so there were only a total of 50 people who got the bugs, and iirc like 32 who survived the inital installation? There were two groups, the test subjects n the ppl who theu Actually wanted to have the bugs. 30 test subjects made up of willing volunteers who, in exchange for getting a cellres chip, would serve Koro for like. the rest of time basically. Most of them were terminally ill patients or criminals w/ life sentences or on death row. Someeee of them, such as Ishawuu, already worked for Koro and wanted a chance at immortality- Ishawuu specificallt was super fucked up abt dying and also bcs she was a suuuper low rank despite giving literally everything she had to Koro, so she thought that is she put her life on the line as a test subject she wld be promoted

The second group of 20 ppl were high ranked Koro officials like Yoki, and they wouldnt get the bug until the test subjects had. yknow. been tested on.

Cellres bugs have to be put on the nape of the neck, if u feel that little bump from ur spine its just above that

[minophus]

college au is like. i couldnt tell u their specific majkrs but im sure ill have it at some point.

gabriel in regards to classes-he definitely prioritizes them. honestly if he had less abysmal habits and less of a habit of thinking too hard about his answers he could be better off. no doubt like hes a Good Stufent and he does well but he stresses himself out along w really (jnrealistic) high expectations he holds himself up to. def the gifted kid growing up. A and B student. sometimes a c writhes its way in there.

in regards to people- he loooooooves helping people. he loves hearing the Ohhhhh of a sudden understanding of a concept that he got to explain. very friendly and well liked but not wholly Cared about..hes used a lot just for his smarts, and like outside of helping tutor other folks theres not a lot going on socially. except for communication btwn him and his uncles(which i like to picture are the councillors. very religious family. like Crazy religious.)gabriel probably has some internalized homo/transphobia somewhere in there but he has an arc about that.

mirage and her classes - Makes half assed attempts to study in my mind, she puts her mind to it, pulls out a textbook reviews her notes etc … eventually grows bored, experiences the autism frustration of not having completed a task, and ends up in a nihilistic spiral while I Think listening to music. or texting a friend. she wouldnt admit it but music is a passion of hers. Dont tell anyone but i like to think she daydreams abiut starting a band.

mirage and her social life - she probably has a small circle of friends that are just a total fucking tar pit. she stands where she stands and they disagree sometimes but in the end none of this matters and we might as well hang out after class. actually do you wanna skip next period? etc. shes hard to get along with just because shes so horribly negative but i dont think shes outright rude. maybe has a passive aggressive or underlying tone but i dont think she means it. because none of it matters.

v2 and classes - very hard worker! vigilant and pays attention. snaps at you if youre distracting her. her bag is a bit of a total fucking mess but she’,ll get those papers after the test.( never gets the papers). She gets particularly pissed when people take their sweet sweet time moving around campus. she knows just what to say to get an extended deadline if shed ever need it. i think she has very organized notebooks themselves but again. bags a mess. dorm’s a mess. i think shed find a way to get a single dorm.

v2 and people - gets along relatively well, makes some MEAN small talk and fantastic at making a deal. no close friends though, primarily just acquaintances she waves at and asks how theyre doing.. thats about it. tries to have fun on her own.

v1 in classes - THIS FUCKING GUY. i cannot decide whether it would have straight A’s on accident or straight F’s while knowing the material SCARILY well. what i do know is it would never take notes it would never study its living a life and having fun. not a frat boy or anything tho i dont grt those vibes.

v1 with people - i dont think it has friends though on account kf It Doesnt Really Talk and a lot of other mchines dont bother to Bother with a guy who refuses to really talk. unintentionally rude somehow. creeps ppl out with the unbroken eye contact even as its doing an intensive task. verrrry expressive with bodylang though as if youve got the patience you can get a crazy convo going. like its unintentionally rude but i think its well meaning. unless if its v2. they happened to go to the same college and they have a sibling rivalry. if these two have no friends then theyve got eachother. to bully and tease.