#it's canon that they share clothes when they do their sleepovers anyways

[negrowhat]

I'm lowkey hoping that while he's staying with Tharn we get to see Phaya randomly wearing the NAGARUDA t-shirt...

they need to sell that shirt right??? Especially since they don't seem to be doing any product placements in this series besides that Kombucha tablet forever ago...I would like to see it.

[vmpiires]

❛ INFINITY — 無限大

choso x f!reader ﾉ MDNI

𑂻𑂴 summary. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ you and choso go on a “date” and choso opens up about his family

𑂻𑂴 tags. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ choso (non-curse), mid 90s AU, nsfw, female anatomy, stoner!choso, mentions of going broke, possible sexual content, canon/modern lore mixes, etc.

𑂻𑂴 a/n. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ i almost forgot about this story BUT IM HERE. reblog to support meeee and enjoy :D (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part)

𑂻𑂴 misc. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ masterlist ,, AO3 — dark mode recommended. WC — 2.35K — part four

@sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3 @exinqiu

“you wanna…hang out? like, right now?” you heard choso say hesitantly over the phone. it was around ten at night and you weren’t busy. you didn’t have anything better to do. plus, you wanted to go out a bit more since you were a bit of a homebody.

“yeah, why not?” you beamed over the phone. “it’ll be fun and i don’t have nothing else to do. plus, we need to hang out more before it gets too cold…winter is around the corner.”

“oh..um, yeah sure. you’re right.” choso answered. though, he was in the clear for the evening since yuji would be spending the night with his friends for a sleepover, the male was still skeptical about somethings.

what if there’s an emergency? what if something happened to his little brother? anything could’ve happened while he was away, not supervising.

you grin excitedly, starting to list multiple places you could go. it took some quick process of elimination just to choose the park. it was simple and it seemed like choso really wanted to go for some reason, so you agreed.

once you got off the phone, you navigate to your messages app and send him a text, ‘oh i forgot to say that if you wanna bring food or something you can.’

now you had to play the waiting game. it was always you waiting longer than five minutes or less than a minute for choso to text back.

well this time you didn’t have to wait. your phone makes a sound shortly after you sent that message. you take a glance down to see that choso loved your message.

‘helping my brother pack. i might be a little late.’

you smiled at the text and urged him to take his time. you thought it was sweet how heavily choso cared for yuji. nothing never went unnoticed around him. he was like a big brother and a mother in one.

you began to put on your clothes and grab whatever you needed before you would finally leave out of the house and make your way towards the park.

the night sky was so clear and perfect. you could see all the stars just from where you were standing. that’s when you started to wonder if choso liked stargazing. how would he feel about that?

you were quickly reminded that choso may not have time for stuff like that since he seemed like a busy man. you could also tell he was the type that wasn’t very exposed to current day activities trending amongst other people.

it’s like he’s trapped in his own bubble.

“hold your hand out,” choso said before lifting yuji’s hand to clip his nails. “now, i’ll be going out somewhere tonight, so i won’t be at home while you’re with your friends…but if you need me, please call me, okay?”

“i know, big brother,” yuji smiled up at his elder brother. choso’s cheeks turned a rosy color before smiling back. “but where are you going? you never leave the house this late unless you picked up work.”

“you’re right but tonight is different…i’m gonna meet our brothers, spend some time outside the house…i shouldn’t be rotting in here all the time anyway.”

choso put the boy down once he finished clipping yuji’s nails and ruffled his hair. he would fold some clothes and place them down into the bag neatly.

“don’t let anybody touch your stuff and break it, okay? you’re allowed to share but make sure they’re being careful. you know money is hard around here and i can barely afford some of this stuff for you.” choso mumbled. his soft expression seemed to turn into a slight frown.

yuji nodded but he couldn’t help but notice his brother’s expression. “are you mad, big brother?”

the dark haired male blinked quickly and shook his head. “no, no. i’m not mad…life is just really hard and i need to probably find a second job.”

working as a bartender is okay for him, he didn’t mind it. but when it came to needing more money to upkeep the house and to satisfy both their wants and needs, he would need a second job.

“then we won’t be able to hang out together,” yuji frowned. it was already hard for choso to make time for his little brother but now it would be even harder.

“i know, itadori…i know. but i’ll make it up to you as best as i can. i promise i’ll never forget about it, okay?” choso held his pinky finger out to yuji. “you trust me?”

“i trust you,” yuji grinned.

“good.” choso smiled as he retracted his hand away from the boy. “now hurry and go grab your coat and your shoes. let’s go, we don’t wanna be late.”

yuji nodded and grabbed his coat from the closet by the front door and put on his favorite red boots before hurrying out of the door, waiting for choso to follow behind him.

after choso drove yuji to the other side of town, choso would make a stop at the corner store and bought another pack of cigarettes and some snacks that you both would like.

it took a little bit of time to make up his mind because he was a bit picky about what he ate but he’d eventually figure it out before heading to the park, finally meeting up with you.

“hey,” choso called her name breathlessly as he jogged over to the spot where you were sitting at. the park was empty, perfect for just the two of you to relax and talk and do whatever came to mind. “i’m so sorry i took so long. i drove thirty minutes from my place, to the other side of town for yuji then back, i’m sorry.”

you noticed his apologetic tone and you nod your head no, smiling at him. “don’t worry about it. like i told you, you didn’t have to rush to get here. i wasn’t going anywhere.”

the two of you finally get comfortable on the grass, eating the snacks you both brought and the drinks. choso noticed you opening a can of beer from the six pack brought with you. the male lifted an eyebrow.

“i thought you didn’t drink..” he said softly. you nod, taking a sip of your beer before sucking your teeth.

“i don’t but it’s nice for the occasion, you know?” you reach down and hand one to choso, offering it to him. the male was about to say no but he considered your next words.

“come on, just one can won’t hurt you. you gotta loosen up a little bit. you’re a busy guy that barely gives himself a break. tonight’s your night, cho.”

the male would light a cigarette and put it between his lips before humming. you were definitely right. choso never gave himself a break. he was always moving. hesitantly, he’d take the can from you and open it, listening to the sound as it hissed open.

you giggled when you saw choso’s face contort to an expression of disgust the second he took a sip of the beer.

“you like this?” he asked.

“i don’t like it either but after a while it’ll taste better.” you reassured. there’s a silence between the two of you as you both sat there, taking in your environment.

trees blowing gently in the quiet wind of the night. lampposts casting dim lights and weak shadows, and the occasional chirping of crickets hiding in the soil somewhere.

choso wasn’t a man of many words so the silence was tolerable but then a thought came to your head. while choso smoked his cigarette and you ate your snacks, you turned to him.

“why’d you wanna come to the park so bad?” you asked.

“it’s from a recurring dream i have. every time i have that dream, i see my brothers here. i just wanted to….i don’t even know. i just wanted to know that this place wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, i guess.”

“do you know what happens in the dream?”

“it all goes by so fast…it’s not that i don’t remember what happens, i just hate talking about it sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize,” you scooted a bit closer to him. “hey, let’s talk about something else. to lighten the mood, y’know?”

“oh..yeah, good idea.” choso nodded slowly, taking a drag from his cigarette. you had an idea already on what to talk about and you were obviously eager. anyone could just tell by the look on your face.

“have you ever stargazed before?” you began.

“uh…no. i mean- i look at stars but…i don’t do it like that. it’s- i don’t know.” he trails off, looking embarrassed and shy when he realized that he’s stumbled over his words a bunch.

“here, lay down.” you would lie down and choso just looked at you as if what you were doing was the oddest thing on earth. you waved your hand, gesturing him to do the same.

finally, choso would lay down, his eyes lighting up at the blanket of stars covering the sky. the stars were beautiful and bright that night. he could see some of them lining up, creating shapes—constellations.

“i love stars. they’re just so pretty.” you comment, “they look so close but they’re just so far…too bad some of them are dead.”

“these stars have been dead for a long time, they’re just now reflecting back to us.” choso chimed in lowly. you sighed.

“don’t you wish you could just be a star in the sky? not having to worry about anything or anyone in the universe, just yourself?”

“i’m not sure if i wanna turn into a star just yet,” choso said. “it sounds like death to me…but if i could run away and live somewhere secluded from society, i’d do it. me and yuji.”

“do you think anybody would miss you?” you frown a little, your expression a bit serious. choso shrugged.

“i have no friends...and if i did, they all died or they’re just people i don’t speak to anymore. i’m that lonely.” he sighed. “i don’t need other people anyway. it doesn’t bother me.”

choso looked at you and automatically felt embarrassed again. he ran his fingers through his medium length hair and shook his head.

“sorry. i overshare a lot.”

“you apologize a lot…it’s not really anything wrong with it, i just noticed that.” you say. “is that just…how you are? if you don’t mind me asking..”

“it’s just how i am, so—never mind. my dad was just so hard on me, i was always apologizing for something and he just kinda turned me into a sorry mess.”

the sudden mention of his father made him frown and he sighed. “i’m glad i don’t live with him…but i would probably stay there just for some money. he’s the typical salaryman with a son that’s broke…or at least, almost broke.”

“does the job you work at not pay enough?” you shifted your body so you were facing choso instead of the sky.

“it helps me get me and my brother some food that would last us a while and probably a shirt. not any of that luxury stuff. the only time i get that kind of stuff is when it’s given to me.”

“okay, that, i think is an exaggeration…every time i see you two, you’re dressed nicely and when we facetime, your house looks nice and clean,” you say. your hand slowly moved towards his but you hesitate to keep going.

“yeah, i guess it is. my job pays pretty well…i guess i’m just paranoid about it not being enough.” choso took a drag of his cigarette. when he felt your hand on his, he’d look down at it then back at you. instead of leaving your hand where it was, he’d take your hand into his.

the two of you were feeling a buzz from the beers you were drinking and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. choso saw the soft smile on your face as you looked into his soft, tired eyes. you saw how his dark hair covered a lot of his face as he laid on the ground beside you.

“you know, i think you’re a really nice guy,” you blurt out. you weren’t even aware of what you were saying yourself. “i really like you.”

“i….” choso’s breath hitched, “uh…i like you too. i’ve liked you for a long time—since we met.” the male could feel his ears getting hot and the tip of his nose was a pinkish color from the cold, mixed with his blushing.

there was a tingly feeling on his face as his cheeks began to warm with excitement and embarrassment. the cut underneath his bandage was starting to bleed again.

“take this off,” you whispered, slowly removing the bloody bandage, revealing the red cut across his nose that’s usually black. you would take a napkin from your bag and once again, clean the blood from his face.

choso was obviously embarrassed. this was the second time you saw his cut but he didn’t really like others seeing it. the male used his hoodie to cover his nose.

“uh…thank you..for uh—for cleaning it.” he mumbled. you smiled at him and pulled the collar of his hoodie down from over his face before kissing him. your lips locked with each others and you both seemed to be in a deep state of excitement and euphoria.

choso never kissed a girl before. he wasn’t sure what was happening or what he was supposed to do but he tried his best to follow your lead anyway.

when you pulled away, you could see the surprise on choso’s face. his face was flushed from being so inebriated just as you were.

you both fell silent. the only noise that existed was your own breathing and the nature around you. choso was sure he wouldn’t remember much of this tomorrow and neither would you…but deep down, he found it hard to believe.

lowkey this took so long to write,, i’m tired 😭 i’m glad you guys like this. i made something happen so…now its time to get ready to wrap it up. also sorry if there’s any mistakes lol

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[paintbrushnebula]

I saw your peni and Gwen art from a while ago and it's absolutely adorable. And I was wondering if you had any headcanons for the two of them ?? I don't see people talking about them much

Aw hey glad you liked that art! I really wanna make some more comics with spiderverse characters soon. And I just love Gwen and Peni as characters and what their dynamic could be like.

That being said, you've REALLY come to the right place for some headcanons for these two goobers! You've done my heart good with this ask ^_^

Peni had been a part of the society longer than Gwen, but she hadn't remained in touch with any of the OG spider-gang. I wanna read up on Peni's comics one of these days so I can learn more, but I do think Peni had a nasty canon event happen in the past year before Gwen joined HQ. Peni didn't want to talk to anyone, but then one day was at HQ after dark for whatever reason (maybe she just dropped off a successfully captured anomaly). Since Gwen apparently lived at HQ, she was up and find Peni curled up silently crying. Gwen didn't know what to say, so she just started carding her fingers lightly through Peni's hair. Peni let out a little gasp and then leaned into the touch without ever looking at Gwen in the eye. Neither of them said a word. They just sat there. Gwen offered to let Peni sleepover in her HQ dorm room, but Peni declined. Peni avoided Gwen even more after that night. Idk I don't think any of the spider gang from the first film really kept in touch in the past year. I'm sure that changes after ATSV though.

Now after BTSV however, Peni would really open up about everything. And Gwen's now learned a thing or two about being moral support. Peni's (jesus the typos) constantly showing up at Gwen's window at ungodly hours, just an absolute bawling mess, the poor thing. All Gwen has to do is open her arms out wordlessly and Peni just hides her face in Gwen's abdomen and grips her shirt and everything. Gwen says very little, just coos and a bunch of quiet little "it's okay"'s. Gwen's way of comforting people is like she's trying to calm a spooked cat. This is all new for her, but she doesn't seem to realize that she's kinda a natural lol. This time, when Gwen offers to let Peni sleepover for the night, Peni doesn't hesitate.

Gwen spoils Peni rotten lol. Whenever higher authority complains about Peni's antics, or tells on her to Gwen, she'll ALWAYS side with Peni. Miguel could go to Gwen complaining that her little spitfire is hacking into the watches to send unflattering pictures of him to the entire society and Gwen will go "omg she's literally just a bby why can't you just leave her alone."

They do watchathons of bad movies late at night to make fun of them like ya do with ya homies.

Gwen CONSTANTLY forgets that Peni is 15. Like she doesn't seriously think she's a toddler, but she lets the super short anime girl look fool her into thinking she's 12 or something. So like if Gwen sees Peni maneuvering a vehicle, she freaks out for a minute before she remembers, or if Peni is about to a watch a PG-13 movie and Gwen will FLAIL for a hot second.

Gwen hands down a lot of her old clothes that don't fit her anymore to Peni.

Gwen doesn't understand any of Peni's smart sciencey talk, they both know it, but Gwen gives Peni's ramblings her full undivided attention anyway.

(I actually posted this one recently) Sometimes Peni will just walk up to Gwen and stretch her arms out, to signal that she wants Gwen to deadlift carry her by her pits like she's a cat. When Gwen does it, Peni just lets her head hang back and her body go limp like she's dead or smth. Gwen just holds her out like that and goes about her day like normal for half an hour.

they both share an obsession with Pokémon. They make fan covers of the music together.

Thank you for the ask! I love these two sibs ^U^

[nammikisulora]

Unquiet Nights

For @mechtober2022's 26th daily prompt, Favourite Headcanon.

I couldn't choost one fave-fave one, so I ended up doing a consistent one I'm rather fond of: Jonny finds literal sleeping together to be something very intimate and vulnerable, far more so than sex. So let's have a look at when it happens anyway!

This one got a bit darker than previous ones, with an M rating on AO3 (but as I feel, within this event's rules). CWs for canon-typical everything and a little more, detailed list below the fic itself.

On AO3 here, as well as below the cut. Maybe be better to read on AO3 on account of length, just over 3,5k words.

---

When he agrees to travel with her, the Doc gives Jonny his own room on her small ship. It’s barely more than a supply closet with added sleeping accommodations, but it’s… it’s certainly more than Jonny’s ever had before. He swallows and glances shyly at the Doc.

"Um, uh. Thank you", he mutters. Did she somehow… know how he feels about sharing a sleeping space with people? That he'd kind of worried about that bit, when he said yes to joining her in space? But what if asking about it would make her change her mind, just to make a point of who's in charge? No, better not.

Fortunately the Doc just smiles and leaves him to settle in.

-

When Nastya first joins them, Jonny kicks up such a fuss that Carmilla immediately discards the idea of letting him stay with her in the lab to make sure nothing goes awry. He storms off, fuming and relieved at once.

Once she is well enough to choose her own quarters, Nastya prefers to sleep in warmer places than Jonny can stand, probably doing unspeakable things with the ship while she’s at it. This means that while they strike up a tentative friendship during the day, he isn’t ever subjected to any awkward suggestions of a sleepover, which he still fuzzily remembers from his childhood with a vague sense of dread accompanying it.

Then they’re suddenly planetside, and the Doc’s gone off on her own. They’ve bedded down as far as possible from each other in the small hotel room, but Nastya is shivering so hard that the chattering of her fucking teeth is keeping Jonny awake. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” he asks after a while, struggling to keep his tone light and conversational. He doesn’t want to pick a fight, just get some fucking sleep. Nastya mutters something that definitely sounds like a Sprussian curse, then she sighs and turns around.

“I’m cold”, she says. “M-my blood. It’s cold. Aurora usually helps to keep me warm, but she is…”

“Not here”, Jonny supplies, before he’s subjected to any kind of lovesick whining. Nastya makes an unhappy, affirmative noise, but doesn’t say anything more. Instead she just continues to make the bed frame rattle with her shaking. Jonny closes his eyes, and tries to ignore it.

It’s impossible. He gives it a few minutes, but he quickly realises it’s a lost cause; he can’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Hey, Nas?”

“Mmh-hm?”

“Do you want to. Share a bed. For warmth. I’m, y’know, not as hot as your spaceship – pun extremely not intended – but maybe we could actually, y’know. Fucking sleep.”

For a minute, the silence is absolute. Then Nastya sighs again, deeper than before, and says, “Alright”, between chattering teeth.

And fucking hell, she’s cold as a fucking icicle when she crawls beneath the covers of Jonny’s bed. She’s brought her own blankets too, and spreads them on top of Jonny’s. They lie stiffly next to each other, barely touching, while Nastya continues to shiver violently.

“Can I, uh. Hug you?” Jonny asks, not entirely sure what he hopes for the answer to be. But when Nastya nods jerkily, he wraps his arms around her without hesitating, the cold of her skin seeping through his clothes.

It takes a long time for them to fall asleep, even after the shivering dies down. Feeling too awkward to speak, the night passes slowly, but the silence grows more comfortable after a while. Just when dawn has started breaking, Jonny finally slips into an uneasy slumber, thinking that maybe sharing a bed with someone isn’t so bad after all.

Fortunately Nastya seems to agree, because they need to repeat the sleeping arrangement for the next few nights, as long as they’re staying at the hotel. It gets easier each night, but that doesn’t stop him from being extremely grateful when Nastya returns to the warm embrace of her ship-girlfriend the moment they’re back onboard.

He still prefers his own sleeping space, thank you very fucking much.

-

Ashes is the coolest person Jonny has ever met. After what they did to Malone, he doesn’t even hesitate to tell them so.

“You’re alright”, they tell him, and Jonny has to fight hard to keep his beaming mostly internal. He does make sure to steal them some very nice cigars when they land on one of Malone’s most remote asteroid outposts to refuel, though.

To his eternal amazement, they also respond positively to his clumsy attempts at flirting, and for a while sex with Ashes even beats violence as his favourite pastime. While they do occasionally end up in a bedroom out of sheer convenience, Jonny never sticks around for long afterwards. Sometimes he wonders what it would feel like, though, to stay and doze off on their arm… but in the end, he figures that asking would be too fucking weird.

Another thing that both puzzles and amazes Jonny is how well they seem to be taking – well, everything. The whole thing that lead to their first death, being mechanised by the Doc, and then erasing their whole fucking world from existance. Ashes seems to be remarkably well-adjusted for someone who just went through all of that, taking it a whole fucking lot better than Jonny did, and he’d only killed two people and burned down a single casino.

Then, after maybe a couple of months, Cyberian ship time, Ashes simply… crashes, and Jonny realises he’s misinterpreted the situation badly. Fits of uncontrollable rage alternate with screaming nightmares, and so many things are set on fire that Nastya starts to seriously fear for the safety of the ship.

Very predictably, Ashes’ interest in fucking Jonny drops pretty drastically during this time, which he mourns in private but isn’t stupid – or even insensitive – enough to bring up. He still spends time with them, though. Partly it’s because Nastya half ordered, half begged him to, but mostly because he genuinely likes Ashes and would prefer them not to be distressed. The problem is just that he has no fucking idea how to help.

So he plays cards with them for days on end, offering them booze to sleep and cigarettes to share, and always leaves feeling wretchedly inadequate because nothing he does seems to make the slightest fucking difference. Then one night, Ashes breaks the pattern by suddenly dropping their cards and avoiding his eyes.

“Stay”, they whisper. Jonny chokes on his inhale, his eyes watering from the smoke. When he’s done coughing, Ashes sits half-turned away, hugging themself with tears glittering in their eyelashes. Jonny swallows, feeling altogether unqualified for what’s being asked of him. But Ashes, cool, amazing, put-together Ashes, looks like they’re about to fall apart, and Jonny doesn't want to find out what would happen if they do.

"Yeah, okay."

They halfheartedly offer to fix up a makeshift bed on the floor for him, but Jonny just snorts and shakes his head, then clambers into their bed.

He doesn’t get much rest that first night. Ashes thrashes in their sleep, crying out to the ghosts of their past, and despite Jonny’s efforts not to listen, he learns a whole lot of things he rather wouldn’t have, at least not like that. But the fact that they bury their face in his chest and sob when they startle awake in the middle of the night cycle, instead of setting the washing machine on fire again or something, probably counts as a win.

So he moves in with them, at least for the time being. It’s weird as hell, sharing his living space with someone else like that, but it’s a hit he is actually, for once, willing to take for the team. A nice bonus also turns out to be how nice Nastya is to him when she realises what’s being set on fire instead of her beloved ship and their furniture.

Eventually Ashes calms down again, and Jonny gradually migrates back to his own quarters. It's a relief in most ways, but sometimes he finds himself reaching for a warm body next to him in bed, only for his hand to close on empty air. He rarely asks to spend the night with them, though, but he also rarely declines when they ask him to stay with them.

-

Brian doesn't sleep. Not in a way that a more flesh based being would call sleep, at least. He does occasionally… power down in a way that takes some rousing if someone needs him urgently, but it still isn’t sleep.

Jonny kind of likes that about him. He hangs out with Brian on the bridge, pushing the boundaries of how long he can stay awake himself, before he staggers off to crash in the safe solitude of his own room. Fortunately Brian doesn’t seem to mind Jonny’s increasingly incoherent ramblings when he’s stayed up for too long; he even appears to appreciate the company. Still, sometimes he looks at Jonny with sad, fond exasperation, and tells him, very gently, to go the fuck to sleep. Jonny’s heart always gives a weird, metallic twinge at that, and he usually heeds Brian’s request.

He almost doesn’t notice it when he simply starts dropping asleep around Brian instead. The first time he conks out in the co-pilot’s chair, he wakes with a hellish crick in his neck, feeling like he’s been hit by a space freighter.

“Briiiiiaaaaaan”, he whines, “break my neck for meeeee…”

Brian shakes his head like he can’t believe what he was hearing, but kindly does it for him. Jonny feels much better when he revives.

Then Jonny finally pushes too far with the Doc, and she decides that she needs to make sure he hasn’t actually damaged his brain with some of his violent antics. Because there is no way he's stupid enough to actually endanger the ship over petty resentment… right?

He crawls out of the lab on his hands and knees, nearly two full day cycles later. The Doc tried to convince him to stay, offering treatment to mitigate the symptoms of the examination, but he’ll be damned if he spends another fucking minute in that fucking torture chamber of a lab… He makes it all the way around the first corner before he collapses, too exhausted and in too much pain to move another inch.

That’s how Brian finds him, an indeterminate amount of time later.

“Jonny? Are you alright?”

Any other time, he would’ve flipped Brian off and sniped some sarcastic remark about robotic observation skills. Right now, he feels too awful to do anything but whimper.

“Ngh.” Jonny winces when the cool silicone of Brian’s palm touches his cheek. There's a muffled clang when Brian kneels down next to him. He tries to shy away, but quickly gives up and simply lies still again, panting.

“You need help”, Brian says. It isn’t a question. Jonny whimpers again.

“N-no…”

“Yes, you do. Let me help you.” Brian lifts him as if he weighs nothing at all, careful not to jostle him too much. Jonny still thrashes weakly, fighting both his grip and the nausea re-awakened by the movements.

“N-no, don’t take me b-back, don’t – don’t –”

“Shhh, I won’t. Just rest, Jonny.”

Reassured and rocked in Brian’s arms, he slips in and out of consciousness, quickly losing track of where they’re heading. He jolts awake when Brian sets him down on a bed; his own, to be precise. After depositing him there, Jonny expects Brian to leave, his job done, and is surprised by the lump forming in his throat at the thought. Some long buried part of him longs to reach out, grab Brian's hand and hold on –

But Brian makes no move to leave. Instead he stretches out beside Jonny on the bed, not touching him, but close enough that it can be passed off as accidental when he rolls over to lie with his face and forearms pressed against Brian. It doesn’t take long for him to succumb to sleep, confident that Brian will keep him safe.

When he wakes up again, Brian is still there. He doesn’t budge at Jonny’s half-hearted insults, thrown to cover up his embarrassment over Brian seeing him in that state. Finally he gets tired of Jonny’s tomfoolery, and fixes him with the kind of serious stare only Brian can pull off.

“If you want me to leave, I will. Otherwise, stop it.”

Jonny shuts up, and goes very quiet for a while. He squirms a little, but the thought of Brian leaving him makes him feel all cold and queasy. The words seem to stick in his throat, and he has to stop and clear it a few times before he manages to get them out.

“Don’t – don’t go. Stay.”

Brian stays.

-

And then there’s Tim. Tim, who slept curled in Bertie’s arms until a Lenny shell tore them apart forever; Tim who blew up his moon in retaliation for his loss.

Tim. Angry, beautiful, grieving Tim, who lashes out at anyone who attempts to get too close, not allowing anyone to comfort him. So Jonny turns to the only sensible course of action, and sets out to piss off Tim as much as he can. That way Tim will be forced to temporarily snap out of his state of abject despair, and actually interact physically with someone, even if it’s only to murder him.

It’s an arrangement he’s pleased with, Jonny tells himself, while still recovering after a particularly violent scuffle. Tim had him pinned on the floor, straddling his chest while strangling him slowly, his face radiating fury. After Jonny lost consciousness, Tim must have ripped him limb from limb with his bare hands, judging by the state he revived in, and left.

So now Jonny is very slowly making his way back to his own quarters, aching in a whole host of interesting places that he barely knew could hurt. His slow, limping route takes him past Tim’s door, and of course it’s only a coincidence that he stops there to rest. Yeah, that’s it, he just stops to catch his breath, not to eavesdrop, it’s not his fault that sound carries so well around here. So it isn’t on purpose he hears the muffled wails from inside.

It’s a choice not to immediately keep walking, though. He should have, Jonny knows; Tim doesn’t want anyone around to see how much he hurts. But Jonny doesn't leave. Instead he leans against the wall beside the door to listen, and his chest feels tight at the noises of distress coming from within.

Clenching his fists, Jonny resists the impulse of knocking, just to see what Tim will do, and that’s when the thought pops up for the first time, unbidden and unexpected. I want to hold you when you sleep. Jonny startles. What the fuck? Then he realises with a sinking feeling that it’s true. He wants to hug Tim until he’s calmed down, and hold him the way he remembers that Tim likes until he can sleep easily again…

Oh, fuck. Jonny shoves himself away from the wall and stumbles off in search of something strong to drink.

Fortunately for everyone, but most of all himself, Tim does mellow somewhat, given time. He even comes around to the idea that if he and Jonny are going to share a living space indefinitely, at least most of the time, it’s better not to be on openly hostile terms. It’s more of a relief than Jonny would admit to anyone. Not even to Ashes, despite the fact that he locks himself in their room to collect himself, the first time Tim invites him to a joint shooting practice session.

“Fuck, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Ashes says dryly when Jonny works through a whole pack of cigarettes in quick succession, huddled on their bed. Jonny glares at them.

“I do not.”

Ashes snorts and shakes their head, but thankfully leaves it alone.

Then they find their way to Kind Cole’s war, and it’s great. Jonny loves it, the pointless bloodshed, the tragic backstory, the violence… and best of all, when he asks Tim if he wants to join up as soldiers together, Tim says yes.

It’s amazing. Jonny loves every fucking second of it, and Tim seems to enjoy himself as well. They fight and kill and laugh and sing and die, and Tim, covered in gore and grinning like a madman, is so fucking beautiful it makes Jonny’s heart ache. He wants to lick the blood off Tim's lips, he wants to devour him whole, he wants to brush the dirt off Tim's face and fall asleep with him curled up in his arms…

The problem with being immortal is that neither of them are particularly careful. What does it matter to be shot down when you'll just get up again? Quite a lot, it turns out, if you're thrown into and buried in a mass grave before you've had time to revive.

Jonny swears loudly and keeps digging, occasionally shouting Tim's name. Sifting through the bodies is heavy, nauseating work, the stink of it even making Jonny’s jaded stomach turn.

"Tim!" he yells, the sound muffled by the cloth he's tied over his face. "TIM!"

At first he's afraid that he's picked the wrong grave, but finally, several layers down, something moves. 

The first thing Tim does after Jonny manages to extract him from the corpses is to be profusely sick. The second is to flop bonelessly in Jonny’s lap, trembling and drawing huge, gulping gasps of putrid air. It’s clear he’s in no state to move on his own, so after failing to get any coherent responses for a few minutes, Jonny settles for half carrying, half dragging Tim back towards the rebel army camp. He manages to clean the worst of the gunk off them both and relocate them to a mostly empty storage shed, where he tries to make it as comfortable as the situation allows.

The whole time, Tim refuses to let go of him, except for the briefest, most necessary moments. He still hasn’t spoken more than the odd word, but he holds onto Jonny with a white-knuckled grip, and panics when Jonny tries to leave him alone for a minute to fetch a blanket for them.

“D-don’t g-go”, he gasps, “d-don’t l-leave me al-lone, don’t – don’t let th-them b-bury me ag-again.”

“I won’t”, Jonny promises. He helps Tim lie down on some mouldy cushions, and pulls a tattered tarpaulin over them. It’s going to be a cold night, but it’s the best he can do for now. Tim clings to him, still shaking, and Jonny hugs him, once again promising to keep watch. To keep him safe, to bring him home. Fuck knows how he’ll get hold of Nastya on short notice here, but he’ll figure out a way. He doesn’t tell Tim that, though; it doesn’t seem to be the time.

Jonny doesn’t sleep that night, but eventually Tim does, when exhaustion wins out. He wakes up more than once, gasping for air, but calms down a little when Jonny is right there, warm and alive.

And Jonny? Oh, Jonny savours the feel of Tim in his arms, trying to impress every sensation of it in his memory, forcing down the little niggling of guilt at enjoying it so much. It’s not like he’s going to go out of his way to fabricate situations to replicate this one. There are lines even he, Jonny d’Ville, won’t cross, and while he’s many things, most of them bad, he’s not a fucking creep.

-

It takes them a couple of weeks to get back to the Aurora, most of it spent dodging both the royal army and the rebel one, who’ll shoot deserters on sight. But Tim makes it clear that he’s very much done fighting for the moment, and Jonny doesn’t argue; soldiering isn’t the only way to fulfil a taste for violence in a place like this. And Tim continues to stick unusually close to him, which Jonny relishes in a way he refuses to examine.

However, once back on the ship, he disappears to his own quarters, presumably filled with guns and octokittens, after declaring he needs a break from Jonny for an indefinite amount of time.

It stings. Jonny wanders around the ship, restless and irritable, until he finds himself outside Ashes’ door. Not sure what he hopes for, he knocks.

“Come in”, they call, and Jonny enters, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to hide how sweaty they are.

“Can I, uh. Can I stay here tonight?” he asks without looking at them. Ashes makes a surprised noise in the back of their throat, but manages to grab his wrist before he has time to bolt.

“‘Course, come on.” They drag him inside, and Jonny quickly shrugs out of his belts and outer layers. Then, without speaking, he crawls into bed, lying down to face the wall. Ashes joins him a moment later, curling themself around the curve of his back.

“You don’t have to tell me”, they say. As if he would have! Jonny swallows.

“He thanked me for taking care of him, then told me he didn’t want to see me again for as long as possible, and fucked off.”

“Oh. Huh. Yeah, that’s…” They trail off, which Jonny is thankful for. He burrows into their warmth, closes his eyes tight, and lets their steady breathing lull him to sleep.

---

Detailed CWs: temporary character death, violence, and arson; unhealthy family dynamics; post-traumatic crash; a character gets temporarily buried alive-ish in a massgrave and needs to be dug out (not graphic); emetophobia warning (brief, not graphic); mentions of sex occuring; corpses & war.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Music for the Soul

Summary: Soulmate AU where the song your soulmate is thinking of gets stuck in your head. 

This fic is inspired by and gifted to @yellowpaintpots.

Notes:  canonical, this is S2 E6 and a little beyond but it’s not exactly like the show obviously.

AO3

Kurt Hummel was used to not fitting in. At McKinley High, he was often an odd man out. He did partner projects alone, he held his tongue around bullies and had no one to complain to, and most days, he had an entire lunch table to himself. No one sat with the kid in weird, homemade clothes unless there was no other choice. 

What kept him going was music. He had one earbud in as he walked down the halls. Choosing from playlists his mother used to listen to, Broadway soundtracks sung by people still performing on stage today, and to the thrill of his father, rock classics. If Burt Hummel had passed anything onto his son, it was his music tastes and the fantastical idea of soulmates. 

The image of a white knight coming to save him by serenade was one that haunted him before he fell asleep. A boy, which little eleven-year-old Kurt held close to his heart, picked out by the universe meant just for him. Even when he started to find the fantasy a little too cheesy, it kept Kurt going until he found the glee club.

No one could touch him or change him because there was someone out there who would love him exactly the way he was. 

The New Directions were a hot mess when they started, of course. The 5 of them weren’t winning any competitions when they first found themselves in the choir room but they were five misfits who finally had friends. People who understood the passion of music and an adult who shared that same passion and would hopefully guide them to their dream futures. 

Just months later, they became a mixture of a dozen sophomores and freshmen with a Sectionals win under their belt all ready to face the Dalton Academy Warblers in a few weeks. With Regionals looming over them, glee had become much messier than usual. With plenty of in-fighting about solos and song choices, the choir room was always a jumbled, loud mess. That is until Mr. Schue came up with the idea for a school musical. It was taking their minds off of Regionals for the time being.

Kurt was all too happy to be auditioning for a role instead of sitting in the back row wishing he had a shot at a solo. His voice was too unique for Ohio. But someday, he knew, it would get him to Broadway. He held that thought close to his heart while tuning out Rachel’s insistence bickering.  

Yesterday, Mr. Schue had decided their school musical was going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kurt loved cult classics as much as the next person but he wasn’t sure how Mr. Schue had gotten this approved by Figgins. It seemed too risqué for high schoolers. 

He only hoped whoever his soulmate was enjoying the soundtrack he had stuck in his head this week. 

Kurt planned on auditioning for Riff Raff. Already putting mental outfits from his closet to wear. The wound of Mr. Schue assuming he’d play Frank N. Furter based solely on the fact that he was gay was still fresh but his audition was going to blow everyone away. 

He had chosen “Dammit Janet” for his audition despite it being a Brad and Janet duet. Quinn, who was hoping for Magenta, was going to be his partner. They had joked about the main roles already being off the table before auditions; it was clear Mr. Schue had chosen Finn and Rachel for the leads. It was hard to be upset when Quinn had instantly offered to do a joint audition with him. Their voices went so well together and Kurt liked spending time with her. 

Ever since Kurt and Mercedes had their stint as Cheerios, they had gotten closer. The three of them even had a weekend sleepover this past Saturday. Mercedes had dumped the Cheerios but Kurt stayed on and Quinn had just gotten back on the squad after her dismissal last year. Coach Sue had them sing during practice last week and Quinn was waiting for him after their showers with the suggestion of a double audition song. 

They had been having rehearsals in the auditorium during their shared free period and twice after glee club on days when it wasn’t already reserved. As the day came closer, Quinn offered her house to practice in since her parents were rarely home and so Finn wouldn’t become Rachel's spy. Though, Kurt assured her Finn was much too engrossed in video games to bother with their rehearsals. 

Since they increased their run-throughs, Kurt’s had one song in his head all morning. In case the lyrics weren’t already ingrained into his head, he had his own little concert in his head. Just after lunch, that changed. A mere 3 hours until his audition after school his soulmate’s music had taken root. As much as Kurt was willing to bow down to the queens of pop, what he wouldn’t give for 5 minutes of something other than Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. This bubble gum pop song had gone from ‘oh, that’s a good song to scream in the car’ to ‘if I hear it one more time, I’ll rip my ears off’ fairly quickly. 

It hadn’t helped that his brain went from one song on repeat to another. 

As he sits in geometry, he tries to hear Mr. Finnegan’s explanation of arcs but his brain has other plans. 

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans. 

Kurt knows it’s just a song but the image is so clear in his head. 

Smooth, soft skin. Obviously, someone who used lotions regularly, Kurt expected nothing less from his soulmate. Neatly trimmed fingernails so they wouldn’t catch on Kurt’s pants when fingers trailed up to cup his knee. The grip would be teasingly light. He never let his fantasies get too far. Especially outside the privacy of his bedroom. In all honesty, even when he was alone in his bed at night envisioning the same kind of scenario, Kurt didn’t really know what came next. He wasn’t even sure what kissing really entailed. 

What if his soulmate is ready for...certain things...Kurt’s not even to verbalize yet. What if he’s imagining their first meeting very differently then Kurt, who’s hopeful they’ll have coffee or a meal together before they do anything besides maybe hand-holding. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, unless you ask Katy Perry it seems. 

He spends the rest of math wondering what the boy with Katy Perry in his head must look like. Kurt wonders if his soulmate wears bright colors like his idol or maybe Katy is a secret shame that he’ll only share with Kurt. 

…

Blaine liked fitting in. He enjoyed the uniform for many reasons. One, he thought the blazer looked stylish. It was also nice knowing what you had to wear every day, one less thing to worry about people judging you for. Plenty of people at his old school picked on him for his bow ties but at Dalton, everyone had neckwear. The standard blue and red striped tie. He liked how neat it was; there was a certain way to wear said uniform. 

Everyone was the same here. No typical hierarchy of jocks and cheerleaders. Only the Warblers stood out simply because everyone knew them. 

How could you forget a group of boys singing acapella at all hours of the day?

 Blaine might joke that they’re teenage rockstars but really they are just a group of talented guys who liked to sing. 

The Warblers were the first real friends he ever had. 

When he was still attending public school he held tightly to the idea of his soulmate since it seemed hopeless to wish for friendship. Not when he was being harassed for a sexuality he wasn’t sure of yet and being pushed to the ground in the parking lot for it. 

But a soulmate was a guarantee. Everyone had one. By the time Blaine reached eighth grade, he knew. All of those middle school bullies had used words Blaine didn’t quite understand until that moment. 

He was surrounded in the parking lot after school having missed his bus because someone had stuck gum in his curls during last period. That was the day Blaine started to seriously consider investing in some gel. Maybe that would prevent some bullying. Anyway, he was surrounded, being literally kicked around by a group of soccer players and friends. 

Other students had gathered to watch the so-called fight but Blaine thought their chants would only grab the attention of a teacher or so he hoped. No one came quickly. He had enough injuries by the end for his mom to insist on a trip to the ER. A big black eye and sprained his wrist along with plenty of bruising on his limbs. 

But he honestly didn’t remember getting hurt beyond the initial pushing to the ground. When the bullying got bad like this he pulled out those daydreams. This time around it wasn’t this blurry image of hand holding, there was a boy. Blaine hadn’t seen his face but his voice was soft and comforting, inviting Blaine in. There was an outstretched hand just out of reach for Blaine to take. Blaine knew then. His soulmate was a boy. 

When everything was over and he was being released by the doctor, all he knew was there was some boy built perfectly for Blaine just waiting to be found. Waiting for him. 

He hadn’t even been upset by his injuries because he was sitting with these thoughts of ‘how do I come out to my parents?’ 

Instead of deciding that day, he kept those daydreams close to his heart for the next year and a half. Until the issue of high school came out and Blaine didn’t want to go back to public school. To his surprise, both of his parents took it well. They were more concerned for his safety than his sexuality. Together, they decided on Dalton. A private school with a zero tolerance policy for bullies. That was that. 

He still had his doubts at Dalton. Was he really good enough to be a lead soloist let alone go onto Broadway someday? Could he make it out of Ohio? In those moments, Blaine still came back to his soulmate. Someone, no matter what came, Blaine would have by his side. 

When he imagined his soulmate, Blaine could never truly figure out what he’d look like. All he saw was that outstretched hand. Usually, people could draw up a picture in their heads based on the music they heard. 

For Blaine, the genre of music didn’t help. His soulmate was clearly someone with mixed taste. 

Today’s selection was...a musical. Blaine wasn’t familiar with the characters Brad and Janet but he had looked it up at lunch. Some kind of cult classic people went to see in the weeks leading up to Halloween. It was October so it made sense for the soundtrack to be stuck in his soulmate’s head. Blaine wondered if he had gone to see it, wondered who he saw it with. 

The Warblers thought he was crazy. Imagining that his soulmate was off with some other person. It was rare to date seriously before meeting a soulmate but Blaine always told them the same story of his parents. Both of them had been in very serious relationships before they met. Hell, his mother had been engaged. Neither of them thought they’d meet their soulmate, which was also fairly rare but had happened.  

When they met, they didn’t drop everything to be together. The wedding was put on hold but his father hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend right away. His parents wanted to be together only if they agreed with the universe’s choice. 

Blaine knew his dad had been wary of his mother’s music taste. Pam had been deep into her metal phrase in her early twenties. His dad, Robert, was not a fan. He loved classical music. Forever dooming Pam to hum music without lyrics meanwhile Robert was cursed with “nonsense yelling” as he called it. Lucky, both of their music tastes had shifted over the years to have more overlap. Though, Blaine and Cooper had been subjected to dinners with a mixtape of Def Leppard and Bach. 

They got together in the end, which was the important part, but what if they hadn’t chosen each other? What if Blaine’s soulmate was deeply in love with someone else and he’d spend the rest of his days loveless and alone?

When he voiced these thoughts aloud, his friends usually told him what a downer he could be, which tended to shake those fears away. If his parents, different as they were, still fell in love it would happen to him too. It was just a matter of when. 

…

The next day at lunch, Mercedes was fretting over her soulmate. 

“What if he’s super young, Kurt?” 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, stabbing his salad. 

“He’s got The Backyardigans theme song in his head again,” she sighed. “He got to be like 7. I’m just not comfortable with that.” 

“It’s an age gap for sure,” Kurt agreed, but he’s fairly sure Sam Evans was singing that song after PE today, “or maybe he just has younger siblings. Don’t let your only-childness cloud your judgment.”

She hummed in agreement and pushed her tater tots around. 

It was sort of a hard way to figure out your soulmate unless they were obvious about what music they had playing in their heads.

Some people, like Mr. Schue, we’re pretty obvious. He had been singing in the auditorium when Ms. Pillsbury found him. It was a pretty clear-cut match. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Kurt is sure she’ll overhear Sam’s humming soon enough. 

He doesn’t want to spoil anything for his best friend nor does he want to be wrong. Soulmate meetings only come once in a lifetime. 

Well, the first soulmate meeting that is. 

There are plenty of people, like his dad, who lose a soulmate too soon and are gifted another one later in life. Kurt was so happy when he introduced Burt and Carole at parent-teacher conferences. They had just been listening to the Wicked soundtrack in the car ride over and Carole Hudson did not strike Kurt as the type of person who knew “I’m Not That Girl” by heart. 

“Are you nervous about auditions?” Mercedes asked. “The list goes up today after glee.” 

“Not at all like,” he shrugged, “I think Quinn and I did well.” 

“Oh no, Kurt, we crushed it,” Quinn said, sitting down with her lunch. 

He smiled at her. Quinn went on to compliment Mercedes on her audition, having heard part of it from outside the audition. She would’ve been inside with Kurt to watch but Coach Sue wanted to meet with her head Cheerio about their upcoming competition. From what Quinn had told them via text, Sue was going all out at practice today. 

“She doesn’t want us to be late,” Quinn said. “That list better be up right away.” 

“We should change before glee,” Kurt suggested. 

“Good idea.” 

Once Quinn had sat down the rest of the New Directions filed in. With interlocking pinkies, Santana and Brittany wandered over taking the last two seats available. 

“Cheerios practice is gonna be hell, hope you’re up for the challenge Hummel,” Santana said. 

He shot her a short glare. 

“Kurt always understands the assignment, Santana,” Quinn quipped back. 

Brittany nodded in agreement smiling at Kurt from across the table. She gave him a small wave half hidden by her lunch tray. In return, Kurt waved back just as shyly. 

They had an interesting friendship. Kurt had kissed Brittany before. He was sure it hadn’t phrased Brittany as it had him. After all, she had kissed almost every boy in school. Some kind of record, he thought. 

They sort of dated for like a week when Kurt was trying to convince himself he was straight. When he firmly realized he was kidding no one, not even himself, they broke up. Since then, he and Brittany had remained close. They were both Cheerios and in the glee club, it made sense. 

He was happy to have Brittany in his life, even if that meant Santana by extension came with her. Santana was fine outside of the public eye. If the Unholy Trinity incited Kurt to their sleepovers, Santana was a different person. She put up a front at McKinley, extremely similar to the one Kurt attempted when he dated Brittany. 

Few are privy to why she did this, Quinn and Kurt knew and he was fairly certain Mercedes did as well. She was very perceptive that way. Brittany was Santana’s soulmate. It explained so much about their relationship. Always in sync, completing each other perfectly, a literal better half.

Honestly, it gave Kurt so much hope that everyone’s soulmate was like that. A missing puzzle piece. 

He really hoped his soulmate listened to more than just Teenage Dream because the lyrics were slowly creeping into his everyday language. 

Usually, Kurt found himself hyper-focused in glee club. He got an energy boost just from walking into the choir room. Like a light switch turning on. His focus wasn’t always on whatever lecture Mr. Schue was pursuing, sometimes he watched his fellow glee clubbers (catching himself up on drama just by sideways glances), or mentally mapping out his next performance. 

Today, Kurt wasn’t able to do any of those things. With the soundtrack of Teenage Dream (again) in his head, all he was thinking about was the center of a bulletin board with the cast list for The Rocky Horror Show on it. How far down the list was Riff Raff? How many names came before his?

Someone was snapping in front of his face. Kurt shook himself from his daydream to find Mercedes.

“Boy, wake up!” She said, “cast list is about to go up.” 

Either glee club had gotten shorter or Mr. Schue was putting it up early. 

…

Blaine didn’t really understand why the Warblers were concerned. Doing an improv performance was not new to them. In fact, Blaine had done three already this school year and he was only a freshman. 

The first one he did had been way back in September, he hadn’t even been an official Warbler yet. Warbler Tradition said: all potential freshman recruits were required to perform again after their auditions with the whole group. It was a solid way to see if they fit in well with the other established Warblers. Blaine fondly remembers vibing along with the older Warblers and fellow potentials to a medley of Pink songs. None of the freshmen had solos but it was still a fun time. 

At the time it seemed like all of Dalton fit into the choir room and surrounding hallways but in reality it was the entire freshman class. Improv performances weren’t something any middle schooler had seen before but the upperclassmen of Dalton knew the Warblers had plenty of improvs to come for the rest of the school year. The first one was special. Just for the newbies. 

Three days after that performance, Blaine had gotten word that he was to be a new Warbler and two months after that he was granted his first solo. Now, he was slowly becoming their go-to soloist for almost every performance for an audience. Blaine had become a vital part of all rehearsals for the most part. He was honored by their commitment to him honestly and he loved to sing however, a week and half of preparations was a tad excessive. Still, he walked his way to rehearsal positive that the council would have at least five points to discuss before they actually started singing. 

He walked into the choir room shaking his shake fondly and smiling at the Warblers already present. 

The council were always first to arrive. Together. Then it was a mixed bag of who followed. Usually Trent was there, punctual as always, and Blaine took the seat between Trent and Jeff. 

The room was mostly full already. 

Nick came in shortly after Blaine and sat across from him immediately asking if there had been a pop quiz in Stanton’s class earlier and was rather relieved to find out Jeremy was a filthy liar, who liked to start trouble. Before Jeremy could get on Blaine’s case about being overly sincere, the meeting began. 

Wes banged his gavel and welcomed everyone before gesturing for David to read off last meeting’s notes. Once the talking portion of the meeting was over, they pushed the furniture aside to make room. 

...

A week later Kurt was happy to have one musical under his belt but thankful the performance run had been short. If you thought the New Directions were dramatic during competition weeks, it was nothing compared to their musical rehearsals. 

Now, Mr. Schue was having the brilliant idea to host a boys vs girls competition. Of course, Kurt hadn’t wanted to work with the boys. They were sure to exclude his musical talents and he doubted he could get them to agree to any of his costume suggestions. 

This was hardly a challenge. It was bland and they had done it already. 

Kurt was sitting in the back of the choir room pouting. Yes, pouting. Full on arms crossed, head down, and bottom lip puffed out. Until, Mr. Schue had an actual brilliant idea, Kurt’s suggestion of course, to spice things up. 

The boys did not appreciate Kurt’s six hours of work putting two posters together. Even with the assignment to bring more feminine qualities into their performance, the boys ignored his input. So, when Puckerman suggested Kurt spy on the Warblers, he was thankful for a reason to leave. He packed up his projects and headed home to change.

When Mr. Schue found out who their competition was, Rachel and Kurt did some googling. He had seen the all-boys school uniform and was fairly sure he could replicate it with clothes he already had. 

He pulled some looks from his closet. Once satisfied he looked up directions to Westerville. 

Dalton was huge. It looked like a museum. How on earth was Kurt going to find their choir room? He hoped there were signs inside or a map. 

As he walked down a spiral staircase much too pretty to be in a school, he decided to just ask for directions. He was going to get lost if he kept walking without help. 

When the boy he stopped turned around, all Kurt could think was ‘I’d love to put my hands all over you.’ Which was a ridiculous thought to have because he didn’t know this boy and where had that even come from? Oh right, Teenage Dream was still playing in his head. Thanks, Katy. 

If only his soulmate knew he was using this song to fantasize about running off into the sunset with another boy. 

…

Blaine loved being in the spotlight. Wes would say it was because he didn’t get that kind of attention from his parents but that simply wasn’t true. Well, unless Cooper was around; he always pulled focus when it came to their parents. Older sibling privilege, he assumed. 

But he was running late. He stayed behind in class to ask a question which turned into his teacher rambling. Didn’t he know the Warblers had a performance today in the senior commons and Blaine was their lead singer? 

He was checking the time when someone stopped him on the stairs. 

A beautiful boy. Unlike anyone Blaine had ever seen before. He almost missed his name because he was caught up in memorizing his face. 

There was something said about being new, which Blaine doubted since he wasn’t in uniform, and Blaine mentioned a shortcut he knew of. 

It wasn’t really a shortcut. More like the long way to the Senior Commons but less crowded. Everyone was making their way to the Warblers and Blaine wanted as much time alone with Kurt as he could get. 

He wanted Kurt’s full attention. It was no wonder he instantly wanted to show off. Teenage Dream fit his vocals perfectly and Kurt was an excellent audience. In fact, Blaine was set on serenading him. 

He had no way of knowing that exact song had been playing all day long in Kurt Hummel’s mind. 

Afterward, Blaine lost himself in a group hug from the Warblers but Kurt’s beaming smile caught his eye. He pulled Wes and David aside, confirming his own suspicions that Kurt was spying on them first before convincing them to invite Kurt for coffee. 

The four boys sat at a table. Kurt seemed very nervous now. Blaine wasn’t sure if it was because he had been caught or something else was going on. In the end, Blaine thought it best for just him and Kurt to have a conversation. Not at all because he wanted alone time with him. 

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for romance. 

Once they were alone the whole tale seemed to flow out of Kurt: the name calling, locker shoving, his biggest bully. Blaine could relate. 

Sometimes he felt phantom pains in his right leg from Sadie Hawkins. At first, Kurt scoffed when Blaine began sympathizing. If he were Kurt, he might not believe himself. 

Private schoolboy bullied? Blaine sure didn’t look like someone who lacked friends. It was fairly common knowledge that Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for harassment. So, he explained. As brief as he could about his own experience with public school bullies. 

Kurt and he seemed to have more in common than a love for music. 

He doesn't have any plans to see Kurt again though Blaine has plenty of ideas on how they could get together. Coffee at the Lima Bean. Old musicals were playing at the revival theater. Maybe another high school was putting on a play this weekend. All Blaine needed was a good enough message to ask Kurt out. He drafted plenty but none sent. 

After school, Blaine knew Kurt might need an extra push. He was pretty sure classes at McKinley were done for the day. 

He sent a single word. Less second-guessing that way. 

Courage. 

Then, he walked to the library to start writing an essay on Lord of the Flies for English. 

However, he found himself unable to concentrate. Usually after a performance, Blaine had the song stuck in his head for at least a day or two afterward. In addition to humming in the weeks of rehearsals, of course. Instead, Blaine found himself thinking about Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones and oddly Livin’ On a Prayer. Both songs he thought better suited his father or Cooper’s tastes. It was a mashup of the two songs like his soulmate was hearing them simultaneously. 

When he started thinking about his soulmate, there was a clear picture of someone. It didn’t take long for Blaine to bring up those blue eyes and the soft complexion of Kurt Hummel. Which was crazy thinking. He had no idea if Kurt was his soulmate. 

Soulmates tended to be around the same age but just because Kurt was also in high school meant nothing. By that logic anyone at Dalton could be his soulmate too. 

During his brief time with Kurt this week, Blaine heard no music from his mouth. In fact, Blaine had done all the singing. Even with half his brain saying he was nuts to think Kurt was his forever, Blaine couldn’t let the thought go. 

…

Blaine’s text comes in in the midst of the girls’ performance. A wonderful mashup and excellent costumes. Tina had texted Kurt about the leather jacket idea early this week. He was very proud of how they managed to pull the looks together in such a short time. It was impressive. 

Altogether, Kurt was feeling great. The boys had their rehearsal, apparently their performance was turning into an apology. Kurt wasn’t sure what they had done to Coach Beiste but apparently, she was quitting. He and Blaine were texting periodically now. No one knew it but Kurt was surely developing a huge crush on the Warbler boy. 

Then, he confronted Karofsky. He didn’t want to feel the same regret Blaine did—no one messes with the Hummels. 

It seemed like mere hours but in reality, it was days, Kurt was enrolled at Dalton and saying goodbye to the New Directions. 

He was full on having a Vanessa leaving Troy moment here. Kurt Hummel has got to go his own way. 

God was he nervous to start at a new school. In the middle of the school year too. Being the new kid was going to be hard but not as difficult as staying at McKinley would be. 

When Kurt was greeted by Blaine’s smile outside the office on his first day, it made Kurt relax. At least he already had a friend here. 

It isn’t until they’re walking down the hall together—Blaine insisted on escorting Kurt to his first class—that Kurt noticed Blaine was humming.

“Is that High School Musical?” Kurt asked. 

“Oh, um, technically it’s the sequel.” 

“What about us…” Blaine sang, “what about everything we’ve been through?” 

“What about trust…you know I’ve never wanted to hurt you?” 

Blaine chucked. “Cheesy but true. Such a good movie.” 

“We should watch it sometime,” Kurt suggested. 

Instantly, he wanted to take it back. He’s been told he can come on too strong. Especially around cute boys. 

“I’d love too!” Blaine said. “I have it on DVD.” 

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine again until their one shared class of the day right before lunch. He sits across the room from Blaine during history but next to him at the Warbler’s lunch table. 

Most of the group has the same lunch so Kurt is introduced to them before his audition later this afternoon. 

“Nervous?” Wes asked, “you shouldn’t be.” 

“Yeah, from what Blaine's told us you're a great singer,” Trent added. 

“He’s barely heard me sing,” Kurt replied, poking Blaine’s arm. 

He only sang one line of a song to the other boy today. 

“Well…” Blaine rubs his neck abashedly. “I might’ve watched some New Directions videos on YouTube.” 

“Oh, I forgot Rachel uploaded those.” Kurt tunes to the other Warblers then, “I hope I don’t disappoint.” 

After lunch, Blaine walks Kurt to class again. “Between you and me, you’re a shoo-in.” 

“Really?” The Warblers were such an esteemed group. Not at all like the disorganized New Directions. They had also been a glee club for far longer. 

“Really.” 

***

Blaine has had High School Musical songs in his head all day. Whoever his soulmate is, at least he’s got good taste in Disney Channel original movies. Then as the Warblers were preparing for Kurt’s audition, the song switched. An Evita song. 

His soulmate sure did love musicals. Blaine was rather happy about that. He could already picture them sitting on the couch cuddled under a fluffy blanket with any number of classic musicals laid out before them. Arguing over if it was too soon to rewatch Moulin Rouge and whose turn it was to make popcorn. 

They’d be in a big city apartment. Somewhere where no one cared if they were gay. All anyone wanted to know was how they discovered they were soulmates. Their origin story. 

From that point, the daydream grew fuzzy. Blaine couldn’t come up with that meet-cute story. It hadn’t happened yet and nothing his brain could come up with would ever match up with his future reality. 

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the choir room. 

The room was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t every day the Warblers auditioned someone mid-semester. Of course, Kurt had special circumstances but the group was notorious for never breaking tradition. 

Blaine tried to focus but it was difficult without Kurt at his side. Lately, he had been distracted whenever Kurt wasn’t around. All Blaine could hear, despite the loud room, was the song in his head. 

I had to let it happen

I had to change

Then, Kurt walked in and music started to play. For a split second, Blaine thought he was imagining the words from “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” coming from Kurt’s lips. Surely he hadn’t chosen the same song as Blaine’s soulmate had in their head. He knew it couldn’t be his imagination when Trent leaned over and whispered to Blaine how much he loved this song. 

Like lightning striking a tree, Blaine had a realization. Kurt Hummel was his soulmate. 

Oh god, what was he going to do? 

His skin was burning as if it was burned away like bark. He drooped in his seat desperate for water to put himself out with. To put a stop to the tingling sensation bubbling up under his skin. 

All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Kurt. Some part of his brain was able to override that thought. He couldn’t ruin this audition for him. There was plenty of time to spend with Kurt after this, Blaine had all the time in the world to talk with his soulmate.

Soulmate.  

Never did he think he would find his soulmate this soon. Gosh, they were only teenagers. They had so much life to live together. This was rare, special, to find your soulmate so quickly in life. Blaine would cherish it, he’d be thankful for this gift for rest of his days. 

But how in the hell was he going to tell Kurt? It had to be romantic. Blaine always thought it would be when he finally came face to face with his soulmate, his one true love. There was so much work to be done and so little time to do it. Now that Blaine knew, he didn’t want to spend another day without Kurt knowing too. 

He used to dream about running dramatically in slow motion towards each other and embracing just as it started to rain, which of course led to a fabulous first kiss in the sudden storm. But Blaine knew how unlikely that would be. 

He’d just have to build a new fantasy, which he thought would be easy to do if Kurt was his so-called Prince Charming. Whatever happened was going to outweigh everything his imagination had come up with thus far. 

First and foremost, he’d had to sit through a discussion of this audition, which he was barely able to pay attention to. All he wanted to do was walk up to Kurt, cup his face, and kiss him. After Kurt was finished, the council dismissed him. Blaine knew he’d find Kurt just outside the choir room because they had plans afterward but now he had no idea how he was going to sit through coffee with Kurt and not tell him. 

“He’s very good,” Trent said, nudging Blaine. 

He nodded in agreement. It seems most of the group concurred, Kurt was a good fit for them. 

Kurt Hummel was the perfect fit for Blaine too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. 

***

Kurt didn’t consider himself to be a good reader of social cues especially when his own emotions were involved. See, Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. Crushes on straight boys never ended well. With Blaine, he swore things would be different. 

They were friends, classmates, and hopefully, soon they’d be fellow Warblers. Kurt was not going to mess this up. Even if Blaine was really cute and friendly and super kind and understanding. There was so much to love about Blaine, Kurt found it hard to find something he didn’t like. 

He had found focusing on his dislikes of a person kept his feelings at bay. Like how messy Finn could be really shut down any romance fantasy Kurt had drawn up. Except, Blaine didn’t dye his hair like Sam, he was completely organized (Kurt had seen his dorm room; spotless), he was modest and genuine. 

It made sense that everyone at Dalton wanted some of his attention. Blaine embodied Kurt’s idea of a gentleman and then some. 

After his audition, Kurt sat outside the choir room waiting for his results. The council would discuss with the full group, release them, and regroup tomorrow with a vote. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to be dismissed because Blaine had promised to buy him a cup of coffee. 

Some of the Warblers who were leaving had some pretty nice things to say about Kurt’s performance. Just general praise which soothes some of his initial nerves. Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to walk out with a big smile on his face. That boy couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt would know if he was in or not just by looking at his face. 

Kurt was joined on his bench by a boy who introduced himself as Duncan. 

“I was super nervous after my audition. I just got in at the beginning of this year so I know what you’re going through.” 

Kurt felt his shoulders drop in relief. As much as Blaine tried to assure him the audition would be perfect, Kurt felt like he couldn’t relate much as the star of the glee club. Back at McKinley, Kurt rarely had center stage. Here, Blaine always had everyone’s attention. 

“That’s actually great to hear,” Kurt said, with a slight chuckle. 

“Seriously, Kurt, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m a little concerned they’ll kick me out just to have your voice,” Duncan teased. 

They keep talking about what it’s like to be a new Warbler since Duncan is positive Kurt will be getting good news shortly. He offers up some pointers to get on the council’s good side. 

“I loved your song choice by the way, so weird because Evita had been in my head all day.” 

It feels like someone’s dropped an ice cube down his back. He sits up quickly. 

Oh, Kurt thought, is this it? 

“You did?” He must’ve heard wrong. There’s just no way. 

“Yeah, I love that musical,” Duncan confirmed. 

Could it be this easy? He wondered. 

“We should hang out again soon,” Duncan told him, “I’d love to get to know you. Newbie Warblers gotta stick together.” 

Kurt gives Duncan his number before the other boy wanders off. Before Kurt can get too deep into any fantasies of his soulmate, wondering if that soulmate has just left him or not, Blaine comes out from the choir room. 

“Hey you,” Blaine greeted with a big smile. 

“Are you allowed to give me any inclination?” 

He shook his head but was still smiling wide which made Kurt feel like good news was in his near future like Duncan had said. Kurt was telling Blaine how long he had practiced the song over the weekend with Rachel and Duncan reassurances when Blaine blurted, “Duncan Samuels?” 

“Yeah, we just met.” 

Should he tell Blaine about them being soulmates or wait until he was sure? 

But Blaine just nodded. Something was clearly bothering his friend. For now, Kurt was going to let it go because he was sure Blaine would come to him if he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to force it out of Blaine. 

Kurt couldn’t even get Finn to talk to him during their warm milk chats at night. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the information out of Blaine if he tried.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, continuing his previous line of thought, “Rachel has this whole stage setup in her dads’ basement.” 

“I don’t find that hard to believe based on everything you’ve told me about her.” 

After that comment, their coffee date is back on track, Kurt doesn’t bring up his potential soulmate meeting. 

***

Duncan Samuels was his lifelong nemesis. As far as Blaine was considered his life began when he figured out Kurt was his soulmate and if Duncan was going to interfere with that they were now enemies. Since their coffee date yesterday, Blaine hasn’t heard a word about Duncan but he also had yet to see Kurt today. They only had one class together after lunch, which Blaine was on his way to now. 

Kurt saved him a seat and delivered the news. 

“Duncan and I are going for coffee today.” 

Those words were devastating. 

In normal circumstances, Blaine would’ve asked Kurt why he wasn’t going to rehearsal but of course Kurt wasn’t a Warbler…yet. Blaine knew the Warblers were going to announce Kurt’s membership at the end of day, which meant this was the last rehearsal Kurt wouldn’t attend. 

So instead of a calmly said, normal statement, Blaine spent the next minute freaking out. 

Duncan was the worst! He was going to steal Kurt away from him before Blaine ever got the chance. Well okay, the rational side of him thought, Kurt isn’t being stolen he’s going willingly. 

“That’s nice,” he finally said. 

There was no way for Blaine to stop Kurt and honestly no reason to try since Duncan posed no threat to Kurt. He didn’t need a protector. Blaine knew they were soulmates and he’d find a way to tell Kurt later on. At the end of it all, Kurt was his soulmate. He just knew it. 

“Are you free when I get out of rehearsal?” 

“For you?” Kurt asked, “of course, I’ll probably still be in the cafe.” 

“I’ll come find you,” Blaine told him. 

Still, all throughout Warbler rehearsal, Blaine’s attention was elsewhere. He needed to get out of here and meet up with Kurt. Wes knew it too because he pulled him aside at one point while David ushered the guys into a new arrangement.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, “I need you focused for competition.” 

“I will be,” he vowed. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Blaine looked back at the other boys but they were already harmonizing. 

“It’s Kurt.” 

Wes smiled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s in, I can’t believe we have a countertenor on our team now. We’re going to wipe the floor at regionals.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wesley. McKinley already knows what a talent Kurt is, he won’t be a surprise to them,” Blaine reminded him. 

“Ah, but they didn’t utilize his talent,” Wes said, “it’ll shock them to see Kurt in the spotlight.” 

Wes patted Blaine’s back and guided him back to the group to finish up rehearsal. 

Blaine couldn’t help but check his phone again before he tuned back into rehearsal. He knew Kurt was getting coffee and that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone. 

One of the best things about Kurt was when you were with him everything else was put aside. Blaine was sure if things got really serious, Kurt would shut his phone off entirely to prove a point. Right now, it was annoying as hell. Blaine needed to see a reassuring text that Kurt wasn’t running off into the sunset with Duncan Samuels. 

What if his phone was turned off because the two of them were standing at the altar? Everyone turns their phones off in church. 

He really really needed to talk to him. Blaine didn’t want to be the type of soulmate that holds onto that information too long. It’s like he’s lying to himself not being with Kurt. 

Once rehearsal was finally over, Blaine rushed over to the on-campus cafe where he knew Kurt would be. He had to be there. 

When Blaine pushed his way through the door, he saw Kurt was sitting alone nursing what looked to be a cup of tea. When Blaine approached him he could tell it was Chamomile. 

“Can I sit?” 

Kurt nodded but didn’t say a word as Blaine hung his bag across the back of the chair and removed his blazer. 

He expected a question about the Warblers, perhaps an inquiry about his status to become one but nothing came. Kurt wasn’t even drinking his tea. 

“What’s wrong? Did Duncan say something to upset you?”

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Duncan didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me as usual.” 

Blaine didn’t understand. 

“Am I that unlovable?” 

“What?” 

Kurt was the most kind, sincere person he knew and Blaine had only met him a few weeks ago. He was most certainly lovable considering Blaine fell for him in just under 3 weeks 

“I can’t really blame him,” Kurt continued, “it’s not his fault we aren’t soulmates.” 

“You thought he was your soulmate?” 

Maybe telling Kurt wouldn’t be too difficult after all. 

“It’s just he made this comment yesterday that made me think…but of course I got too ahead of myself again and really I should know by now,” Kurt mumbled the last bit, “nothing ever goes to plan.” 

“You can say that again.” 

This cafe wasn’t a romantic candlelit dinner. He didn’t have rose petals to scatter around. There was no champagne to toast. But he had the most important thing. 

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hand. “Think of a song.” 

“Why?” 

“Just do it,” Blaine said. 

Kurt’s face was scrunched up in a “I’m confused but I’ll trust you” kind of way. 

As soon as the song hit him, Blaine opened his mouth to sing, “this could be the start of something new…it feels so right to be here with you.”

“How did you—?” 

Blaine smiled at him. “Pick another song.” 

“Your cares and troubles are gone. They'll be no more from now on.”

His mouth opens slightly. 

“Your turn,” Blaine said, “ I want you to sing what comes to mind.” 

Wasn’t the best way to prove they were soulmates to test each other? 

Blaine wanted Kurt to have his own moment of realization even if he engineered it. He didn’t want their “how-did-you-know” story to be him informing Kurt about their connection. Instead, he wanted to tell people about listening to Kurt’s Warbler audition and thinking how odd it was to know the song he was going to sing before it began. Kurt’s story would start with a laugh because he imagined someone other than Blaine as his soulmate the very same day. 

And wasn’t that just so silly of him? 

Rather than have Kurt just sing to him, Blaine harmonized with him. This was the proof. He’d sing everything Kurt could come up with and vice versa. 

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “We’re….”

He nodded. 

Before Blaine even realized it, Kurt was out of his seat leaning towards him, they’re kissing. Kurt’s fingers are curved around his chin and his other hand is tickling the curls at the back of his neck. The tiny wisps of hair that always escape the gel by the late afternoon. 

Blaine would happily keep his curls loose if it meant Kurt would keep his hands in his hair always. Especially, if it meant they’d never stop kissing. 

Eventually, Kurt has to pull away. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

“Soulmates,” Blaine whispered. 

It had been quiet while they kissed like everything else in the world just stopped. All the sounds of Dalton came rushing back all at once. The students in the halls, coffee orders being called out, and the shuffling of chairs as people came and went. 

“When did you know?” Kurt asked, sitting down again. 

Blaine pulled his seat around so they were closer and Kurt immediately reached for his hand. 

***

3 months later. 

Blaine hadn’t been upset to lose to McKinley at Regionals. How could he have been when he got to sing with his soulmate in front of a crowd? Their duet was so in sync and the crowd could tell. He doesn’t think he ever received such a loud applause. 

Blaine had wanted to just be in that moment forever—staring into Kurt’s eyes hearing the words in his head just before they were said aloud, gripping his hand before pushing him into the spotlight to soak up the audience’s love. 

No, Blaine was happy about Regionals. The Warblers had worked hard on the set; their second place trophy sat on the right corner of the council’s table at meetings now. What Blaine was concerned about was Kurt’s leaving. 

His dorm room was empty now, the last suitcase zipped up. Blaine was sitting on his boyfriend’s mattress taking in the last moment that Kurt was a Dalton student. 

“I’ll miss you too, you know, a lot,” Kurt said from the doorway. 

“I know,” Blaine replied, “it’s just sad.” 

Kurt took a seat next to him on the bed. 

“I’ll sing to you.” 

Blaine smiled. “Promise?” 

“Everyday.” Kurt kissed his cheek. 

They were going to be okay. 

[squidbobby]

Shambles (The Rockiest Rock Bottom Ever), a squidbob fic, Chapter 1

Summary:  After the volcano disaster that wasn't, things are starting to get back to normal...except that Squidward's house has been destroyed by earthquakes and he's in shambles. Bikini Bottom's own hero, Spongebob Squarepants, offers to take Squidward into his home until other arrangements can be made, and Squidward doesn't exactly have many options. Feelings ensue.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Living Together, Sharing a Bed, Post-Canon

This work is also available on my Ao3.

I welcome prompts for most ships!

It was a wonder how much of Bikini Bottom had stayed intact after the disaster that sort of wasn’t. Really, with the odds they had been given, the whole place should’ve become a seafood buffet by now. He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, that his place was destroyed. The pineapple was one thing. Round and organic, it had no trouble staying in one piece throughout the quakes, though apparently not everything inside was so lucky, if Spongebob’s unusually somber trash drop-off meant anything. Patrick’s home was rock, same as Squidward’s, but it was low to the ground and dome-shaped, and his entire living space was made out of sand, anyway.

Squidward’s home was not so lucky. He had tried to listen to Sandy through the fog, something about the building being too brittle to withstand seismic activity? Either way, his home--his former home, that is--lay in shambles around him. A few locals including his neighbors had volunteered to help Squidward sift through the rubble, and were now shuffling around in pairs, sorting things into variously marked piles and murmuring sympathetically to each other. Squidward glanced around, dazed, doing little and feeling useless. Occasionally someone had held an object up to him for appraisal, and his positive or negative grunts would determine which pile it went into.

About an hour into the search, a distinctly Spongebob-y series of noises came from behind Squidward. A grunt, a crash, a gasp, and a hurried shush. Even in his state, Squidward knew when to be suspicious. He whipped around to find Spongebob and Patrick grinning fearfully and hiding something behind their backs. Behind them was a toppled-over piece of rock wall that had been covering a significant little area and which nobody had worked up the motivation to move until, apparently, Patrick’s brawn and lack of brain had successfully coordinated. Squidward started towards them.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked with a sigh. “Can’t be any worse than anything else we’ve found so far.”

Spongebob and Patrick exchanged remorseful glances before Spongebob pulled his hands out from behind his back and showed Squidward what they had found.

“Oh…” came out of Squidward as he lowered himself shakily onto what was left of the sofa. So they had finally gotten to the ruins of his art room. He’d known, distantly, that that was coming eventually. It was a different thing entirely to see Spongebob, the picture of empathy, gingerly holding up the splintered pieces of his clarinet while looking at him as if he was going to splinter, himself, at any moment.

And splinter he did. For the first time since the volcano didn’t erupt, tears welled up in Squidward’s eyes.

“I-I, uh…” Squidward began shakily. He barely had time to take another breath before a sob escaped him and his face crumpled as he covered it with his hands. Squidward suddenly felt like everything was caving in on him. First the trauma of the almost disaster, then the shock of coming home to being homeless, and now the humiliation of losing control of himself over a stupid piece of wood in front of a dozen people. He curled in on himself on the sofa and wrapped his arms around each other. All the rock bottoms he thought he had fallen into in his life didn’t compare to this, the rockiest rock bottom ever. His breath hitched when he felt a dip next to him on the sofa, but he didn’t pull his hands away from his face lest the dip’s creator see his face, which was sure to be puffy and red by now.

A small hand tentatively touched Squidward’s shoulder, and he hunched further inward until a soft voice spoke up.

“It’s okay,” Spongebob murmured. “They’re gone.”

Squidward carefully peeked over his fingers and realized that Spongebob was telling the truth. Whether the volunteers had left of their own volition because they were uncomfortable with Squidward’s outburst or had been shooed away by Spongebob and/or Patrick, the two of them were now alone on Conch Street. He considered retreating back behind his hands anyway, but this was Spongebob. The little guy had seen Squidward at all of his worst times, him being the cause of most of his worst times notwithstanding. Squidward lowered his hands, sniffed, and faced forward, gathering up what dignity he could. He could see Spongebob in his peripheral vision, his face open and vulnerable as always. Suddenly he felt a wad of tissues being pressed into his hand, and Squidward smiled despite himself, but it was a sad smile.

“I don’t know what to do now.” Squidward said to nobody in particular. Now that the sobs had died down, he felt hollow again, but this time with a headache.

“What do you mean?” asked Spongebob. His head was cocked like a quizzical child’s.

Squidward huffed. “I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. My mother offered to let me live with her, but that’s hours away and my job is here. There’s nothing left to rebuild my house with, and I don’t have the money or credit for a new place. I’m gonna have to move back home and lose my job and live in my mother’s basement like the loser I am, and--”

Spongebob’s hand tightened where it was on Squidward’s shoulder.

“What do you mean you have nowhere to go? My house is right there!” He gestured next door, where the pineapple stood unfazed by the earthquakes.

At this, Squidward turned to look at Spongebob’s face straight on. His mouth was quirked into a smile, and his eyes were the kind of wide-eyed enthusiastic empathetic eyes that Squidward had seen in him when they’d passed abandoned baby snails in a box or flowers that needed watering. Well, Squidward guessed he was not that different from an abandoned baby snail these days.

“I don’t know, Spongebob…” Squidward started. They’d roomed together for short periods of time before for one reason or another, and it never ended very well.

“Shush,” Spongebob said, headstrong. “I won’t hear any protest on this. I want to help, and this way you can keep your job and we can walk to work together. Oh, it’ll be like a sleepover!”

As Spongebob began talking about matching pajamas and his eyes began to sparkle, Squidward wondered whether it would really be so bad to stay with his neighbor for a while. Besides, what other options did he have? He shuddered to think of what staying with Patrick or Krabs would be like, and he wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to go home and listen to his mother cry “I told you so” every other minute as if it was his fault that he had barely escaped death and his house hadn’t. Squidward sighed inwardly.

“Okay, Spongebob, but just until I find somewhere cheap to stay.”

“Yay!!!” Spongebob released Squidward’s shoulder and ran into the pineapple. Squidward looked around, confused, until Spongebob burst back out with a handful of what looked like empty bags.

“Here,” Spongebob said, handing Squidward a large duffle bag. “Pack up everything that’s in the ‘not completely destroyed’ piles and we’ll get you moved in and go shopping for some essentials!”

So this was really happening. Squidward stood up from the sofa and quietly began putting blankets and clothes from one pile into Spongebob’s bag as Spongebob hummed merrily and collected his own pile into a reusable grocery bag with smiley faces all over it. Squidward watched him and snorted out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. How many times had he been cruel to the little guy, only for Spongebob to come right back the next day, smiling as brightly as ever? And how many times had Spongebob gone to great lengths just to help him, or simply make him smile? For a moment, Squidward looked at him and saw the hero of Bikini Bottom, the kid who helped his friends stop a natural disaster in its tracks and save an entire city. He didn’t seem like so much of a kid these days.

“Woo, let’s go buddy!” Squidward was shaken from his revelry by a shout, and he looked up to see that all the remaining piles, including the rest of the one he was working on, had been packed and left in a pile of overstuffed bags decorated with varying levels of whimsy. Spongebob grabbed his arm and led him to Squidward’s boatmobile, which had been spared. “Best friends’ shopping trip!”

[yououghtaknow]

15 + 24?

hi!! thank you so much <3

15. introduce us to your version of william

oh BABY!!!!

okay. so. the thing about william is i have always hated him. as someone who has been in a manipulative situation similar to noorhelm, just hated the man. so, i decided to create a new man. a good man. complex, but good.

enter JAMES ABRAHAM COHEN!!!!! he’s introduced to the song teenagers by mcr and is wearing a trenchcoat over his school uniform, not only because he’s edgy, but because he’s cold because he immigrated to the uk from the middle east. he is, at the beginning, a manwhore, yes. but he’s a party boy, a guitar boy, who rori sees and thinks Yes. My Future Husband. meanwhile he’s just having a drinking contest with his Boys and then talking about his favourite comic book character. he’s not a bad boy TM. he’s a Dumb Teenage Boy.

he's a genuinely nice guy. he apologises to rori as many times as he can, and only stops because she asks him to, and they become friends. he falls madly in love with liz as soon as she starts roasting him. he’s just an Understanding guy who’s made mistakes and is always trying to get better and be there for his friends. he literally let jake live in his flat for a good while. 

and, my favourite thing about james is that he forced his friends to audition for a production of grease with him to see the girl he Loves So Much and ends up getting the lead role???? TWICE???? this man is danny zuko and roger davis. 

also, in my personal opinion, i think james is kind of a superior arthur skamfrance. both have a disability (arthur is hard of hearing, james has autism/adhd), both have abusive family, both are in a love triangle with two beautiful girls (one of whom is a wlw chris b). and also a surprise member of the boy squad starting in season 3. 

also, in a way, my william is a william/jonas/eskild combination??? which is very fun. i just love taking all these different skam dynamic, cutting them up and throwing them in a pot and seeing what looks nice.

also, ONE LAST THING, i think my william has the most reasonable reason to go to london. as it is an hour away from brighton by train and he can come back before the day’s over. because he’s a teenage boy. and we will be seeing a lot more of james in season 5. get ready for it.

24. tell us about a ship that is endgame.

i’m going to be real with you all on tumblr dot com on this night. i honestly don’t know what romantic ships are going to be endgame, because i plan the seasons i’m writing as i’m writing them, so i only have the vague framework of what i want for the endgame of skambr as a whole. so i’m just going to talk about the 3 main romantic ships that are canon as of the end of season 4. and i’m gonna Go Off.

esther/sandy:

OKAY. taking sandy’s story as a whole. she’s kissed her best girl friend. she started dating a guy she doesn’t like. she’s desperate for something new to come along. and esther has just moved back from germany. she just wants to meet someone to talk to because she’s so lonely. and boom. they run into each other one night by chance and it’s “oh my god she’s so pretty” at first sight. and then they start talking and become friends so quickly (and esther introduces sandy to the keysmash). also, nooreva should’ve been canon. i have rectified that.

but god. the way they have their conversation in s1 e4 and almost kiss but get interrupted by sophie??? god. and when they actually kiss in s1 e6 and suddenly everything’s Good until they get caught. and sandy Runs because what else can she do? she’s terrified. and esther stays. and when they see each other again, esther doesn’t say anything because she knows sandy can’t talk about it. until sandy gets outed and attacked by the football team, and esther instantly goes to protect her and puts her own feelings aside to make sure sandy’s okay. and sandy just Needed a safe place to land like esther for so long. and when they finally kiss at the christmas fair as “girls like girls” plays????? god.

and their relationship in all of the later seasons GOD. i love them. their fight and reconciliation in season 2. them just being together casually, with sandy healing from her past and learning to truly love herself, and esther opening up and having someone there to comfort her when she needs it. and the fact that they’re still friends throughout it all, because it;s not just friends to lovers. it’s friends to friends AND lovers. also when esther sang “boy problems” by crj at sandy..... ICONIC

liz/james:

GOD. okay these two are really one of my favourite dynamics i’ve ever written. because they start as “oh you’re the annoying guy my best friend’s got a crush on”. and go to “oh you’re the ASSHOLE who broke my friend’s heart”. to “oh she may have forgiven you, but i Have Not”. and james is just like “I Am Being So Nice And She Still Hates Me”. but then we see liz seeing james’s art piece at the end of s2 e1. and she connects with it so deeply. and then they have their first real conversation in the next episode and they have a lot in common. they get each other. and he sings “perfect for you” from n2n to her. and she gets so overwhelmed by the fact that her mind might be changing that she just Runs Away.

and then we get the sleepover scene and GOD. one of my favourite scenes to write. james being a good cook??? james smoking out the window and liz making fun of his guitar. and then liz beginning to play james’s brother’s piano and james making it a duet as they sing “falling slowly” from once together. and then they share a bed and instead of saying something creepy, james just says “i think we might be becoming friends”. and she texts him immediately after the prank on the holiday episode. and their first kiss. GOD. with him always calling her elizabeth and the pride and prejudice parallels and “bad idea” from waitress...... and then them spending the next day together. also, in the first kiss clip liz says that she “hates one direction”, and in the next morning clip, one direction plays as she walks with james. it’s a metaphor baby!!!!!1

and their whole political dynamic GOD. it’s actually based a lot on how my politics have changed from when i was 14, beginning to write the series, and now. with going from the centrist-liberal ideas of “all violence is bad :) racism isn’t that bad guys :)” to liz using her privilege as a rich white girl to fully bail james out of jail for assaulting the man who’s been racially harrassing him for months. and the scene where liz has her meltdown at school and james takes her home, puts her to bed, and sings her to sleep. AND THE SCENE WHERE HE COMES OUT TO HER AS TRANS GOD. also them just being nice in the background of season 3 and 4. delightful.

bree/rori:

THIS RELATIONSHIP IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITES TOO GOD. their DYNAMIC in the scene where bree is introduced and rori is all starry eyed over her and bree will already do Anything for her. it’s about the “i want to be her friend so bad” kind of crushes. and bree and rori getting closer and closer as the season goes on, and they get the “i bet i can make you horny” scene because i just think it’s really fun.

and GOD. the evilde plot in skam og makes me. so Mad. but here...... it’s about the internalised homophobia. it’s about the wanting one good movie kiss. it’s about the them making out to one direction in the middle of a school event. AND THEM DOING THE PRANK TOGETHER ON THE EASTER HOLIDAY EPISODE. QUEEN SHIT! and the scene where bree is drunk and talking to liz about how it feels to be in love...... that was about rori!!!! and when they played sandy and rizzo in grease together. the homoeroticism, the best friendship.

and in season 3 when nick and rori get together and bree is just standing there, jake talking to her and she looks into the camera...... god. and SEASON FOUR RORIANNA. WHICH IS THEIR SHIP NAME IN MY HEAD. GOD. them just being best friends and bree being silently in love with her because she’s happy that rori is happy with nick (who is also her friend). the scene where they “practise kissing” because rori is scared to kiss a girl onstage (we love internalised homophobia), and how bree also ignores it because she’s scared of conflict. and they’re always so there for each other. rori being there to support bree so hard when bree’s at her lowest point. bree being there for rori and ready to fight for her. bree going from waking up next to josh, to waking up alone, to waking up next to rori. them going from slow dancing to daylight by taylor swift to laughing and dancing on a crowded stage in la vie boheme.

quite genuinely? they have it all. evilde. sana/chris b. eva/chris b. noora/chris b. noora/vilde. it’s about girls supporting girls and also them kind of being cut from the same cloth as sandy/esther. one of them having internalised homophobia and running away from the kiss, and the other silently loving them until they get a yes or a no. 

anyways every relationship i write is about having clear consent and respect for your partner at all times. and also about friends to lovers. and also the tenderness of musical theatre couples. oh shit now i want to talk about jake/al. well. this is my tumblr blog and you all have to deal with me.

jake/al: jake and al are currently Not Together as of skam brighton season 4 but god. i love writing their relationship so much. it’s about them meeting when al is in a manic episode and jake is deep in his depression and grief. about the nothing and the everything. it’s about the jason and peter secret gay lovers, the tony and maria falling in love on the balcony and having their first kiss at a pretend wedding, the romeo and juliet whirlwind romance that ends in tragedy. it’s about the bright orpheus al with his music and his bright life and sad, bitter jake, hating everything about himself and holding his own, but then falling in love and finding a way to build himself a new life, while al is falling down into a deep depressive episode. and then jake picks al up and gives him the tools he needs to help him step back from the ledge. and then al, who’s spent the entire season chasing after jake and the joy he gives him, turns around and walks away to better himself. and jake is okay with it, because he also needs time on his own to get better, and they agree to stay close friends, and they do!!! it’s about the gay experience of falling madly in love and then going back to be friends.

[void-tiger]

Gentron Week: Days 1-3

Characters: Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, Ryou “Jiro” Shirogane

Prompts: Bed-Sharing/Sleepovers; Clothes-Sharing; Soulmate AU (sorta), Hand-Holding

Canon Compliant?: NOPE! Not even a little, although canonical events are referenced.

Other Notes: ...I started this with Sunday’s prompt, got behind, then realized that it fit with the first three days, anyway. Hope that’s alright.

He’d been back for almost a phoeb now, thanks to the combined efforts of Jiro, his Team, and his Lion. And after he got back there was a bit of a scramble trying to sort out immediate things like Lion bonds, then of course the much more mundane ones as well. Like sleeping arrangements. Clothes. Who owned what with the small stockpile of belongings after months-to-years in space between them and the lines already blurred.

When they first rescued Shiro from the Void of Black Lion’s inner quintessence field, there hadn’t been time to figure these things out beyond who flew with Black and their Team. And after that what time hadn’t been spent fleeing Haggar’s repeated assaults was spent running repeated tests over both Jiro and Shiro for any lasting “presents” left by the witch, or any lasting damage from his time spent suspended at the subatomic level for so long. Then remedial drills as well as he reintegrated back into the Team and they had to relearn how to form Voltron...again.

But after they exhausted every drill, and after they could confidently form yet a third version of Voltron with their current Team (Shiro was disheartened to learn about Keith defecting to the Blades after his stint as Voltron’s leader. He still hoped to reach his friend, to let him know he was still alive, that the Team and Shiro both wanted him to return home), and after Allura and Coran were finally confident that both Shiroganes had a clean bill of health (and NO nasty spells and implants leftover) ...they could finaly rest.

Only, they still hadn’t sorted through who owned what. Or who even had bigger claim to Shiro’s old room. 

But like with his bond with the Black Lion, Jiro practically shoved Jiro into his old room, only pausing long enough to grab himself a fresh set of bedclothes, with Lance insisting Jiro crash with him. (Shiro was pretty sure that the tank and sleep pants he himself had ended up wearing actually belonged to Jiro. Not him.) But sleeping alone in a dark, quiet room proved unbearable. It was too easy for Shiro to return to that listless floating he experienced while suspended in the Void, body free from all the aches and pains he’d long since reconciled as his “normal” but only his mind kept intact. 

Well, mostly.

Only...

Soft, steady snores competed with his own gulped and held shallow panting. His right side felt lopsided and pinned down by a weight that wasn’t from his now-absent Galran prosthetic. And for all the Black Lion’s efforts to make him comfortable while he was stored as atoms within the Lion’s quintessence, he’d never felt warm. Or felt anything at all, really. And the Lion’s quintessence certainly hadn’t smelled like laundry detergent. Come to think of it, Shiro didn’t quite remember making it back to his bunk.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the Castle’s night cycle gloom. Soft green light cast shadows against his sleeping clone’s pale skin, ragged scar, and inky black hair. Shiro felt his eyes flutter closed as they were dragged down by tiny, but dense, dense weights. Like mini neutron stars. Shiro felt himself lulled back to sleep, drifting not in Voltron’s Void, but the innocence of stars that space once held for him.

In the morning, neither spoke about the previous night. But to his bemusement the room had somehow converted into holding two stacked bunks where there was only one previously overnight.

.

Jiro wrenched himself awake with a silent scream. His sheets stuck to his skin thanks to a dripping sheen of cold sweat as well as lay tangled around his legs and feet. As did the image still vivid behind his mind’s eye

He scrubbed his face furiously and sniffed reflexively, glaring at his ruined bedding. Even if the could get back to sleep again, no way was he going to be able to sleep in that. With measured movements in an attempt to not shake the shared alcove and wake his brother in the upper bunk, Jiro softly set his bare feet down against the frigid floor. He then cautiously groped his single hand in the dark until he finally felt a bed corner, then tugged. The mattress rose about half an inch before slamming back down. Jiro barely bit back a curse.

The sheets, however, stayed firmly tucked for all his trouble. Naturally. Yet another reminder about Why He Needed His Own Prosthetic. Or at least his own bayard. He’d prefer not borrowing Shiro’s.

The sheets above him rustled as he heard Shiro stifling a yawn. “Jiro, what are you doing.”

Jiro winced. “N-nothing,” he murmured as he fought to keep his voice steady. “Go back to sleep.”

“Ry.”

Jiro knew that tone. That sympathetic I’m the Black Paladin and Leader and Your Big Brother so you better tell me And Deal With It tone.He’d used it himself against Shiro more than once. He hated being on the receiving end. Especially when Shiro felt the need to switch to using some form of “Ryou” to further his point. “Just remaking my bed,” Jiro hedged.

“At 2:30 in the morning?” Takashi pressed.

Jiro remained silent. The bunk shifted as Shiro’s feet scraped against the rungs. Shiro gently nudged his brother to scoot over with his right shoulder. Jiro obliged. He heaved an exasperated sigh when Shiro immediately started untucking the sheets and gathering them into the center of the mattress as one, wadded bundle.

Of course Shiro could. Shiro had a bayard that could double as an arm while they both waited for new prosthetics.

“Nightmare or memory,” Shiro asked abruptly.

Jiro squeezed his eyes shut. “Vision,” he finally choked out in a strained whisper. “I’ll just...” Jiro cleared his throat thickly as he grabbed the damp bundle of sweaty bedding. 

“Ry,” Shiro called again. “We can deal with that tomorrow.”

“But--” 

Shiro tossed a fresh set of bed clothes at him, forcing Jiro to drop the bundle as he reflexively tried to catch the set thrown at him with his non-dominant hand. Jiro shot Shiro a baleful glare. Shiro toothily grinned.

“Fine,” Jiro mumbled through a faceful of pantleg, then stalked out of the room and into the bathroom to change. He flipped the light on, immediately wincing at the sudden, harsh light, then glanced down at the set Shiro tossed at him. It wasn’t a fresh tank and sweatpants, oh no. It was that quiznacking Black Lion Onesie, with the right sleeve already zipped off.

When Jiro returned, he found Shiro sitting crosslegged atop a newly remade bed with fresh sheets, face illuminated by the glow of a datapad resting in Shiro’s lap while he rested his chin in his left hand. The bayard sat deactivated on top of the bed next to him.

“You’re gonna kill your eyesight that way,” Jiro snarked.

Shiro glanced up and shrugged nonplussed. “It’ll get fixed again by the next pod visit.”

Jiro balled up his discarded pajamas and chucked them at Shiro. They struck Shiro’s face with a wet-sounding smack before landing in his brother’s lap.

“Okay, first of all, gross,” Shiro drawled dryly. “Second, is that the thanks I get for remaking your bed, brother dearest?”

“You earned that and you know it,” Jiro dead panned.

“Fair.”

Shiro wadded up the sweaty clothes, then tossed them at the heap of used bedding already shoved into a corner. However, he still didn’t budge from Jiro’s bunk.

Jiro sighed in exasperation. “Look...I appreciate you putting my bed back together, but are you gonna move or not.”

“Not just yet, Ry,” Shiro said seriously.

Jiro swallowed. “Ryou” again. That didn’t bode well. “Alright...” he said apprehensively. “But no way can I sleep between the sheets in this thing. It’s way too stuffy.”

Shiro chuckled softly with a small smile. “You don’t get it, do you.”

“Apparently not, unless you tell me,” Jiro huffed impatiently.

“You’re right, that thing is way too hot to sleep in--”

“Think you do need your eyes checked, afterall,” Jiro interjected sardonically.

“Hush,” Shiro scolded lightly with a playful swat to the back of Jiro’s head. Jiro continued to glare balefully, but without any real heat to it.

“--but that’s not exactly the point,” Shiro continued. “The Team made that for me when they threw an impromptu surprise slumber party.”

“...And think you need a reminder of the definitions of ‘impromptu’ and ‘surprise’,” Jiro remarked. “And yes, I do remember.” He tapped his temple. “So what’s your point.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “It’s the Team’s reminder that I’m not alone to sort things. that they--and the Black Lion--are always gonna be there if they can. And I’m reminding you that that extends to you, too.”

Jiro’s eyes squeezed shut as he tensed around the way his breathing tried to hitch. The vision, which already left him raw, flashed resh into his mind’s eye once again. As did the loss of his Lion Bond--or rather, how he never had one, not really--although technically he knew that wasn’t Shiro’s intention. Shiro wasn’t that cruel. His hand clenched around the fabric pocket of the onesie until his knuckles turned white.

“Hey,” Shiro called again urgently. “You still with me?”

Jiro nodded stiffly. He gulped down more air as he tried to stuff down the impending sob that threatened to erupt out. A hitched hiccup escaped instead for his trouble.

Gently Shiro unwound Jiro’s hand from his death grip against the fabric until he could hold Jiro’s hand in his own, shifting so that his good arm and shoulder could support his brother. “I’m sorry. That didn’t help, did it,” Shiro murmured apologetically.

Jiro shook his head furiously. A few traitorous tears leaked out to trail down his cheeks and nose and stinging the ragged scar across his face, before splattering against the tacky thing. Jiro felt Shiro hug him tighter, promptint the violent sob to finally escape. Shiro simply held him closer, but thankfully one-armed. Jiro didn’t know how he’d react if the bayard shifted into Shiro’s prosthetic and rubbed it in even further.

“Which one was it?” Shiro asked softly.

“They chose you,” Jiro finally bit out around his sobbing. “She...the witch. She tu-turn-ned me against them. I wasn’t...I wasn’t strong enough to stop her! A-and they chose you!”

Shiro’s eyes closed. Of course it was that vision, which happened to be his own worst nightmare. Of course, despite his best intentions, lending the silly onesie only made things worse. But, secretly Shiro was glad that Ryou was processing things this way, instead of...

Jiro’s tears gradually slowed into steady, shallow hiccups as they finally spent. For now. Snot and saline still continued to flow from his eyes and nose. Jiro’s face wrinkled in disgust and embarrassment. Shiro wordlessly passed him a box of tissues from the alcove’s shelf. Jiro accepted it and sniffed.

“But how have things happened in this Reality?” Shiro finally said softly.

“They...the Team found you,” Jiro answered hesitantly with a sniff. “I didn’t have to die.”

Shiro hummed his confirmation. “And you were the one to find me. The Black Lion placed the bracelet Princess Allura made me around that prosthetic,” Shiro reminded him. “And you never hurt anyone. Our Team found another way to...” Shiro faltered, then swallowed thickly. “...to bring me home.”

Shiro felt Ryou nod against him. Good. Maybe his words were reaching his twin.

“And even if that did happen, it wouldn’t be your fault. Not now. Not ever.”

A spike of anger shot through Jiro’s chest as a memory of a different vision shoved its way forward. Shiro’s voice through his lips. Lance not contradicting him. No one contradicting him. But he swallowed that resentment back down. Shiro didn’t need to know. He’d sort that one out on his own, or take it to the grave.

Jiro felt Shiro staring at him in bemusement, but thankfully his brother didn’t push it.

“Besides,” Shiro continued. “Is Allura responsible for what Empress Allura has done?”

“No,” Jiro ground out vehemently.

“Then neither is our Team. This Team would never do that. And if for what ever reason they did try it, I’m eating my arm. Then kicking their butts no-handed.”

Despite himself Jiro laughed. And silently he supposed that Shiro’s logic applied to Shiro and That Other Shiro as well (the Shiro that wasn’t him...quiznack this was complicated.) Somehow they had avoided That Reality, although Jiro desperately wished that he wasn’t the one dealing with all the aftershocks as space and time realigned and knitted itself back together. Not that he’d with that on anyone... (the witch included. Especially the witch. He shuddered to think about what she could do with that knowledge.)

“...okay,” Jiro finally whispered tightly. “Although then you really would have two robot arms.”

Shiro barked out a laugh then reached over and tapped Jiro’s right stump. “Technically I already did. Or will.”

Jiro chuckled again, then yawned. Exhaustion dragged at every joint and limb. The vision and his outburst left him feeling emotionally wrung out and spent, but he was still suspicious if sleep would come. Or what it would hold this time.

Shiro released him, then laid down on this side, scooting until his back was flush against the alcove wall and left Jiro with most of the room on the narrow mattress. Jiro rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation. He placed the tissue box, abandoned datapad, and Shiro’s bayard back onto the alcove shelf above them, passed the folded throw blanket at the foot of the bed to his belligerent brother--really, that should’ve been the first thing to clue him in as to Shiro’s intentions--and settled in on Shiro’s other side. Shiro poked Jiro’s left shoulder and grinned.

Jiro huffed a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Shiro merely grinned harder. “You know you love me, Roo,” Shiro teased in sing-song.

Jiro rolled his eyes then shoved Shiro’s shin with his foot. “Keep telling yourself that, Kashi.”

“Hey!” Takashi squawked indignantly. “No kicking allowed!”

 “Technically this was your idea,” Ryou snorted. “You should’ve know better, older brother dearest,” he added sweetly.

“I’d say I should ask the witch for a new twin, but I’d rather not know how many more models she made,” Takashi grumbled.

Jiro scooted closer to Shiro. Shiro gently nudged him back to make more room. Jiro obliged, then rested his head under Shiro’s right stump.

“We’ll get her back for that...right?” Ryou asked tentatively.

“Definitely,” Takashi growled. “And I’d pay good GAC to see Allura saiyan blast that witch at least once when we do.”

“Think I could get Hunk to make a popcorn basket to hold over that?” Ryou quipped.

“Dork,” Takashi laughed.

“Technically you’re calling yourself that, Shiro.”

“Mmm. And who recently actually took tactical advice from Return of the Jedi?”

“...I’m glad you’ve forgiven me for that,” Jiro said softly.

Shiro nudged him gently with his shoulder. “I’m still not happy about that, no,” he admitted. “But...I understand. I’m not sure what I would’ve done instead if in your shoes, honestly.”

“Well, thanks for that, anyway,” Jiro mumbled.

“Hey. It all worked out. And regardless as to why or how, I’m glad that you’re my brother.”

“I’m guessing that you’re meaning--?”

“Both, yeah.”

Jiro grinned inwardly. He opened his mouth to reply, but Shiro’s breathing had already slowed to soft, steady snores.

He’d have preferred having his own thoughts and own memories and own identity from the start, he mused. And he’d definitely have preferred being born Shiro’s real twin instead of subbing as a replacement for a stillborn one. But...at least this way he could understand Shiro a bit better. In a sense the two had shared a soul for a time, albeit not quite as literaly as in That Other Reality. And besides: what better way to use Haggar’s “gift” than to better protect and support his brother?

With one final, vindictive grin Jiro felt himself drift to sleep, lulled by the slow, gentle thuds of a twin heartbeat.

[maikatc]

black sun tale | jackson

i want more jackson love so i shall share jackson love. also this is from the 3rd draft of bst too and most of it is still in the current canon, just a good amount of changes here or there (like the ending-)

-

Since the sun wanted to kill his skin like usual, Jackson stayed inside with his companion

Despite her constant rambling, he stared at his computer screen in focus. He checked left and right from every forum he travelled to, reading all of the comments and theories that left in each and every one.

“Do you think we should get Finn over? Since he’s basically the same as you and never bothers to listen. Well, actually he’s pretty good at multitasking so it’s mainly just you.”

There was a sour tone in her voice, which her minor complaints caused him to look at her directly rather than his screen. “Mirana, I can still hear everything you say while I read.”

She crossed her arms, “That’s impossible,” she scoffed.

“Have you ever seen some foreign movie with subtitles?”

Mirana looked at him deadpanned. “I was forced to, yes.”

Jackson sighed, he figured that socializing during the summer was probably a good thing. “Just call Finn over.”

“Okay! I’ll go on speaker.” Mirana grabbed her phone as Jackson comforted himself back to his laptop, muttering.

“Why am I even friends with you guys again?”

“Because childhood friends are bitches like that.”

“Right.” He cringed at his own lack of silence.

“I’m guessing Jackson’s being a prick again?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s the reason you always invite Finn over here,” Jackson entered the conversation as Finn entered through the doorway.

Mirana crossed her arms. “I always tell you guys to go out but no,” she spited.

Jackson rolled his eyes, “You haven’t seen the news lately, haven’t you?”

Finn replied, “You mean the area deaths?”

“Mirana, do you really think anyone would go out with that situation at hand.” Jackson eyed her as she played with her red hair.

Mirana looked down, muttering words Jackson couldn’t hear. She looked back at both of them, “Well, we can always just go somewhere indoors. You guys just stay in your houses all the time.”

“I’m researching about the area deaths.”

“I’m trying to hack online friends for a prank.”

Jackson and Finn replied to her simultaneously.

The girl sighed and pointed at Jackson, “Okay that’s too depressing to spend days on,” she shifted her hand towards Finn, “And that just means you need more of a life.”

Finn chuckled, “They hacked me a few days ago, gotta get em back.”

Mirana shriveled downwards, “Y’all need more vitamin D, goddamnit.”

Jackson opened his computer again, “That’s why they made pills for it.”

“Don’t forget the flavored gummies.” Finn added, going on his phone in the process.

Mirana stared at them deadpanned. “… You guys suck.”

As Jackson’s focus drifted back to forums, a hand suddenly closed his laptop, causing him to jump. He saw Mirana take Finn’s phone as well.

“What the hell?” Finn his arms up as his phone was gone.

She swiftly grabbed both of their arms, her strength being able to pull them up. “I’m dragging you guys out. We’re going to the diabetes shop.”

Jackson’s eyes lowered at her. “Fucking hell.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you guys candy in return.”

Jackson pulled himself out of the girl’s grasp. “Let me at least get ready to go.” He looked at himself, still just in a white t-shirt and black boxers.

He walked to his drawer of clothing, taking off his shirt in the process.

“Don’t you ever think that’s too forward?” Finn commented.

Jackson opened a drawer full of shirts, “It’s not like I’m trying to get you guys to sleep with me. Well, anybody anyways.”

“Yes, we’ve already gotten over this: You don’t like people.” Mirana stood by his bedroom doorway as she spoke. All the while, Finn was on his phone he had gotten back from the girl. “Besides, out of anybody, Finn would be the one distracted by you right now.”

Finn turned away from his phone immediately. “Middle school means nothing.”

“And nothing came out of it, so now we’re just chill.” Jackson grabbed a grey t-shirt he’d gotten from concert Mirana brought him to around a year back. He put it on without much thought and then wore a red unbuttoned flannel over it.

As Mirana and Finn talked to each other, returning regrettable middle school memories, Jackson added a simple pair of jeans and a belt to complete his outfit. He tucked his shirt in as he walked towards the mirror. He fixed up his tuff of brown hair lying on top of his coffee-colored skin. Adding his grey newsie cap on his head, he turned towards the others.

“You definitely go on the internet too much.” Finn eyed his outfit.

Mirana laughed, “I still don’t get why you where that hat, I gave it to you as a joke.”

Jackson shrugged. “Well, I like it.”

“It makes you look like an old man.” Mira smiled.

“Let’s just go,” Jackson grinned at their common talk.

 ***

 “I still hate the sun.” Jackson complained.

“Take off your flannel then,” Mira told him, rolling her eyes.

Finn said, “Hey Jackson, there’s this one video I’ve been meaning to show you too.”

“Finn, another video and I’ll take your phone again.” Mira remarked, causing Finn to place his mobile in his pocket yet again.

“Oh yeah, you heard of the Katzmann death, right?” Jackson asked Finn.

Finn nodded. “We’re screwed.”

“I still don’t get why you used the excuse of the area deaths when you still die indoors now.” Mira grumbled to herself.

“It’s more common outside though, the Katsmann kid was the first time a death was inside. And that happened like two days ago.” Finn spoke in defense.

“I still want to know why this is happening. It’s just getting weirder…” Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, his sight on the ground as he walked in the streets. His curiosity had peaked as always.

“Leave that to the government.” Mira’s hand made a brushing motion.

“It’s easier like that but people should try to figure it out so they’d know what to make best in the situation.”

“Yeah, yeah, but your ideas are too out of proportions.” Mira retorted.

“Don’t go into one of your journalism talks again please, Jackson.” Finn commented.

Jackson sighed and let go of the conversation.

The traffic was busy as always, creating the city noise he’s listened to for almost five years. Turning his newsie cap backwards, he observed the tall buildings engraved in his mind as his friends talked to each other about whatever gossip Mira had. Their snickers mixed with nostalgic sounds eased him slightly.

However, there were ideas peeking through his mind again, area deaths being the topic of course. The number of clues for the cause is nothing to discuss. There was no reason for many of them to just die so suddenly. Everybody would just fall from system failure. No way it couldn’t been a shooting, no injuries. How could a virus appear out of nowhere and kill others instantly without any other contact? How would the virus just disappear suddenly after mere seconds of so many dying? How could no one else around the area be affected if it were to spread so quickly? Why-

He bumped into somebody, someone shorter than him for sure. He looked down from his height to see a boy around his early teens down on the ground from lack of attention. Mira and Finn stopped with him.

The boy had white hair, likely dyed, covering his eye and strangely pale skin. He bore a simple, yet untucked, buttoned shirt and tight black jeans. His visible eye stared at him dully, though it shone a pretty blue.

He got himself up after muttering something under his mouth.

“Sorry, ‘you alright?” Jackson asked looking down at him. He was definitely short, maybe less than five feet compared to himself being over six.

The boy observed him again, and with a small curve on his lip, he said, “Yeah, but you better pay more attention.” He walked off without any other comment.

“You should probably pay more attention too,” Finn fussed.

         They walked for about another minute until Mira noted, “Well this was a pretty short walk. Not much to complain about, right?”

“I’m still sweating like shit, Mira,” Jackson bickered, “Shut up.”

Mira ran to the store door, “There’s a thing called cold drinks, you know.”

Finn walked inside. “I’m just gonna have some sour candies and soda while I plan on what the hell to do with life after high school.”

Jackson sighed as he walked in himself. “Same though, I don’t want to think about the college applications in two years.”

“And I don’t want to think about that stuff since we just went through sophomore year and it’s summer, so be quiet.” Mirana entered, slamming the door.

The store was the same as always, an array of candies near the cashier and soda pop stacked upon each other in rows. Throughout the store held packs of what kids get nowadays: junk food. Though laid around were mediocre everyday items such as earbuds or chargers, which were simply begging to be bought with their cheap prices. Jackson and company mainly went however for the small table they held for customers who just wanted to relax. Though, behind the front counter was a man around their age, who they all knew well.

His name was Kasen, his parents were managers so it was the easiest job to get, from what Jackson heard. Whenever he’d visit the shop for a quick grab of snacks for a sleepover, he would chat with him whilst paying with the little cash he’d have at the moment.

His aloof attitude towards the job made the shop surprisingly more welcoming with his honest attitude. Which is its own downside since he makes the family more money from the teenage crowd, thus his parents force him to stay.

“Yo, Kasen,” Finn walked towards him immediately. “How’s today’s shift going for you?”

Kasen looked up from the article he was reading on his phone. “Boring as usual.” He wore his signature, busted nametag as well as a short-sleeved hoodie for the heat. All the while he placed iced coffee from the coffee shop down the street and a fan to keep him cool.

Jackson shrugged, “Well, at least you have company now.”

Mirana picked out three individual candies that each of them liked themselves and placed them all in front of Kasen as she grabbed her wallet. “I told you guys I’ll by candy for you,” she placed the exactly amount of money on the counter to pay, “So here you go.” 

“I still have to scan it.”

Mira paused. “Oh yeah.” She handed the treats back to him.

Kasen quickly put his long-cut blonde bangs behind his ear and scanned all of them to hand them back to her. “Okay, now you guys can have it.” He took a sip of his iced-coffee again as he took the cash to put in the system.

“Wait!” Finn suddenly said. “What about the drinks?”

After a quick moment of silence, Kasen sighed as the computer printed out the receipt. “Just get your soda already and pay me again.”

 “I still don’t get why you guys just have a table here…” Mirana sat back as she ate gummies.

Kasen leaned forward from his counter. “Well, it was my idea when I was younger, my parents bought it as a present so I wouldn’t be running around the store while they worked. Plus, I thought that people who wanted to stay shouldn’t be standing. Didn’t really noticed how weird it was until I got older.” He snickered pulling up his glasses.

Finn chugged some of his cold, orange pop and took a sighed as he swallowed. “Aren’t we the only people who actually sit here?”

Kasen shrugged, “Well, there are some who do, but they don’t bother talking to me. Mainly since they’re basic bitches, but they get annoying easily so I don’t really try at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” Jackson nodded, “You’re a good man, Kasen, a good man.”

“Yes,” Kasen chuckled, “A good man without an idea of what degree I even wanna get.” He took another sip of coffee.

“Isn’t that half the students though,” Mira questioned.

“I guess so. I mean, at least I’m pretty sure my parents will let me quit after graduating.”

Jackson indulged in his popping candy as the others talked. He already had a basic plan after graduating high school, though without older siblings like Finn had, he didn’t have anything to make reference of for himself.

“Damnit…” He muttered, taking a sip of his lemonade as the others laugh about some random new topic.

 ***

 Jackson had returned to his cozy apartment, lying beside his dining table and lightly chuckling from the thoughtless jokes of the media.

Mira and Finn had left hours ago, all the while his mother had arrived back from the hospital, cooking up dinner. Her bleached hair puffed up into a mess like always as her small eyes carried bags underneath.

Jackson turned towards her directing, eying that she wobbled as she walked.

Jackson stood up, closing his laptop as he slipped next to her and place his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve worked two nights shifts and a day shift to top it off, I’ll make dinner.”

The woman blinked at him slowly, only to place the cutting knife she held for vegetables and sighed “Fine.”

She stumbled towards the table and slumped down on a chair.

Jackson nodded to himself as she already fell to a slumber, and went on to cut the rest of the veggies to use for the last step.

The rice noodles were already being boiled and the chicken breast was already cut. All Jackson had to wait for was the rice noodles to be ready.

 His mother blinked her eyes open as Jackson stirred all of the ingredients together in a wok.

Jackson stirred repetitively for some time until the clattering of plates struck his ears. He turned to see his mother grabbing plates without precaution. Though, he shrugged and laid his eyes down upon the food. “The pancit is ready.” He said as he began serving food to the plate that had been passed to him.

“You’re starting to make better food than me, it took seventeen years.” Her mouth slurred as she spoke as Jackson passed the plate he held to her.

“I’ve been good, besides you passed out immediately once I offered help,” Jackson scoffed.

After gathering their food and utensils, the two sat on the dining table together.

“So how did your day go?”

The light shined above them dimly, and his mother’s voice was weaker than normal.

“Mira dragged me and Finn to the shop. She paid for treats though so I didn’t have to use any money.”

The woman sighed. “Well that’s good. But I’ll pass you some more money by the end of the month.”

Jackson dragged his food around silently. “You know that you don’t have to save for college money now…”

His mother looked down on her plate as she chewed up her meal slowly. As she swallowed, she replied, “I’m just trying to being precautious. My family budget got screwed over for my education around your age.”

“But you still managed.”

“But, I had to work my ass off while you were just a baby.”

Jackson scoffed, “I know, I know. But it isn’t like I’ll be in that situation.”

She sighed, placing her spoon down gently, “Look, I’ve been working enough extra shifts for the hospital to offer me a vacation week. Will that make you a bit happier?”

Jackson took a spoonful of his meal. “Yeah, just rest for the week though. I’ll take care of the house.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

They continued to eat the meal until Jackson picked up both of the empty plates to wash. His mother meanwhile, sat at the table to have some herbal tea and bread. An array of clean dishes on the other side were waiting to be put back in place, however Jackson’s desire to was barely existent as he washed more things.  

“So, Mom, have there ever been survivors of area deaths that were in the hospital?”

“No, even the news says that no one in those places survived, you’d know that better than me.” Jackson could easily tell with her tone that she was confused.

He replied, “Yeah, but the news gets information wrong sometimes, so it’s always good to gain your own evidence.”

His mother took a sip of her tea. “That’s true. I’m guessing you’re making your own little conspiracy theories again?”

Jackson rolled his eyes with a grin. “No, this situation’s too vague to have a real solution here.” He said while placing a dish to the clean side of the sink.

“Are you going to keep trying to look for clues?”

Jackson groaned, “With how weird this all is, and the situation just getting stranger, I’m not even sure if anyone is gonna get a solid theory to this.”

His mother hummed thoughtlessly, “Well, even the absurd theories end up being true sometimes, so what do you got?” She took a bite of her bread in the process.

Jackson finished up the last dish and turned off the sink. He turned towards his mother with his hands holding the counter behind him. “The closest shot that I have is some artificial virus.”

She eyed him in a tired surprise while saying with bread in her mouth, “And what makes you say that?”

Jackson took a seat across from the woman, stretching his arms while looking at her straight. “Well, if you look at how the area-deaths go. They only happen in a specific location at the moment, and it kills everyone almost immediately. So, what if someone or some people had developed a virus they could activate and spread however they’d like. But at the same time if this were in a, most likely, terrorist perspective, it wouldn’t make sense to just attack specific people out of convenience when they can make mass destruction so easily with that type of destruction. Even more nonsensical that they would guess use this technology on singular people such as the children who’re kept and-… yeah.” He stopped himself from rambling too much.

“Hm, makes sense that this would be tricky. But maybe you should try and see other perspectives on who may have done this if there was someone in action.” His mother stirred her tea as she spoke, spreading the scent of plants and herbs across the room to Jackson’s dismay.

Jackson shrugged. “It’s hard to think of any. This tech would be impossible to create without tons of money or support.”

“With the world nowadays, anything can happen really.” She took another sip of her tea, tipping her head downwards only to get herself back up quickly.

Similar to past nights, Jackson got up to take away her tea and bread. “You’re going to work again tomorrow, right? Go to sleep.”

She blinked until she replied, “Okay, okay. But you’re drinking the rest of that tea for me.”

“That’s fine with me, mom.”

She got up with him as he walked with her to her bedroom.

“Oh yeah,” his mother said whilst slumping herself through the short hallway, “did you have fun with Mira and Finn?”

“Yeah, we talked with Kasen at the shop too, but I was still busy thinking so I spaced out for most of it.”

She softly chuckled, “Of course you did.”

They arrived at her room, all a mess with dirty clothing and mail, and she wobbled her way to fall on her bed. “Night, Jackson,” she said dozily.

“Night, Mom,” he replied as he closed the door with a soft creak.

Jackson walked back to the living room to go back to his laptop. All the while he was in the regular thoughts of a 34-year-old woman working herself exhaustingly for her almost already-independent child.

 ***

 Mirana sat quietly on the floor with her sketchbook while Jackson took notes on his bed for summer homework. As Jackson bored himself with science facts, he noticed Mirana had observed him with her pencil at hand.

He listened to her sketching on her paper as comfort, the pencil tip scratching ever so slightly against the sheets.

“So, what are you drawing now?”

Mirana placed the pencil eraser on her lip, focusing on his position yet again. “Trying to make a sketch of you, but this angle is tricky of course.”

“Why don’t you just move somewhere else to get an easier angle?” Jackson raised his brow, though her answer would most likely be predictable.

She shrugged, “The harder the angle, the more impressive it is to pull it off.”

Jackson typed up a quick fact that he’d forget later. “I still don’t get how people can draw.”

“Well, at least you can take pictures,” Mirana scoffed.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You just don’t know how to take pictures of people.”

“Adding a filter like you do doesn’t work on everything.” Mirana whined quietly as Jackson turned to his notes again.

They continued doing their own work. And whilst Mirana seemed to have fun in her focus, Jackson began to grow a headache as per usual.

“Hey Mira, are you almost done with your sketch?” He asked.

“Oh, I actually just did. You still have those colored pencils I gave you, right?”

Jackson replied, “You told me to keep them in case you drew here so I left them to die in my closet. Go look there. I’m gonna get some pills.”

Mirana put her sketchbook and pencil, beginning to stand in the process. “’Kay, thanks”

Jackson pushed his laptop aside and got up from his bed. Muttering to himself about not sleep depriving himself before working.

He quickly walked to the living room cabinets, finding headache pills quickly from the last time he left it there. He grabbed the cup of water he’d abandoned from morning breakfast and took the pills with it, having a good chug of the rest of the cup for safe measures. Though as he drank the rest of the cup, thoughts raised through his head.

The quicker I get this work done, the more time I have to relax and… maybe get some money from a job. I’ll look after. It’s starting to get dark though-.  

His surroundings turned grey and silent as he felt a brush on his back in a flash. He choked on his water from flinching, though everything went back to normal the second he coughed it out.

Jackson gasped for air as he stumbled his hands towards the counter edges. He slowly breathed out, “What the hell…” as he stilled to calm down.

“Jackson, you okay?” He turned around to see Mirana by the end of the hallway.

Jackson let go of the counter and answered her. “I just choked on my water a little bit,” he sighed.

The woman crossed her arms and lowered her eyes. “I could hear from the other room. Your walls were thin enough.”

“Of course,” Jackson groaned as he straightened up his t-shirt.

“Have some more water. The pills won’t support your choking bit right there.”

“Sure, sure,” Jackson grumbled as his poured more water from the pitcher.

“So,” Mirana said as Jackson started drinking again, “what made you so startled anyways to that point.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yes, but choking that much by an accident isn’t really that believable.”

Jackson took another gulp of his water. “It was just random chills. I’ll look it up later or something.”

Mirana stayed quiet until she sighed, “Okay then, I’m just gonna go back to coloring.”

She walked back to where she disappeared in Jackson’s eyes. As he turned to look back at the window set on the living room wall. 

The streets were just as lively as ever. Kasen was probably taking a nap during his breakshift of the day, while Finn procrastinated to even read his english books in the first place most likely. Despite his rural beginnings, everything that brought out curiosity and naivety to him had faded into the mundane.  

His mind continued racing until he finished his drink, swifting the glass towards the sink to clean later and going back to his room. 

Though, Jackson opened the door to find his room floor covered in multiple dull colored pencils. He looked ahead to already see a blur of colors in Mirana’s sketchbook.

Carefully, Jackson dawdled to the other side of the room. “You don’t have to throw all the shitty pencils across the room,” he retorted.

Mirana scoffed, “They aren’t shitty. They just aren’t needed for the sketch.”

Jackson rolled his eyes from her ignorance as he sat next to her, getting a better sight of the sketch.

She managed to catch his appearance well, like usual. His light tan-skin was replicated using a simple mix of pencil shades. His eyes squinted smaller than they already were as he focused, which was a usual habit in his defense. Though Jackson noticed his hair was a brown mess, and he subconsciously fixed his hair with his hand as his eyes analyzed the piece some more.

“Goddamnit Mira, it’s good.”

“Thanks, I mainly just colored you but I think I’m gonna move on to an outfit sketch.” She spoke as she turned to the next page, catching some stuck pages out from seemed to be dirt.

“What kind of outfit are you thinking of?”

“Just a thin dress, for when I go out swimming, you know?” She started sketching out lines of the model’s head.

Jackson’s mind swirled about what type of design it’d be, though another question came to mind.

“With how many outfits you made, did you ever consider being a designer or something?”

Mirana scrunched up, tapping her pencil slowly as she slightly hummed. “I’m not really sure yet. I like doing art in general, outfits are kinda just another hobby but I don’t know shit about actual fabric stuff.”

Jackson shrugged as she kept sketching slowly. “Yeah, but you can always learn, that’s what half the internet was made for.”

Mirana chuckled. “Yeah, but I prefer using the other half,” she clicked.

Jackson scrunched his eyes. “If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, get out.”

She snickered as he groaned back onto his own workspace.

“So, Jackson, what are you gonna do when I’m gone for the next two weeks?”

Jackson opened an online textbook, “Oh- Wait, shouldn’t you be packing right now?”

Mirana said, “I already did all of that last night. It was pretty easy.”

“You just stuffed everything you had other than your sketchbook and materials into your luggage without a thought, didn’t you?”

She grinned. “Pretty much.”

Jackson shook his head, “Your car trip’s gonna be around 2 days long…”

“Yeah, but out of anything, all I really need for survival is my sketchbook. Same goes for my music but I always have that so no need to worry.”

Jackson sighed, “Don’t come complaining to me when you don’t know where your swim-suit is.”

Mirana looked up from her sketchbook, “What? I got too focused on something.”

Of course, he thought. His screen became his sight again as he said, “Just don’t die in Massachusetts.”

“You’d probably like it more than me really, colder than here in New York City.”

Jackson smiled. “Trust me, I don’t like anything considering the weather.”

 ***

 “It’s been two weeks. More kids died in their apartments. News is saying that people are starting to move. And at the same time, we still have no idea why this is happening in the first place.”

Finn commented, “There haven’t been anything else like this outside of NYC, so it could be worse.”

Jackson snapped back, “But what if it does get worse?” He slammed down his laptop from the kitchen table, walking off to refill his glass of water from minutes prior.

“Jackson?”

He chugged his cup full down with a vitamin D pill quickly, coughing and wiping his mouth with a sigh as he finished. “What,” he gasped.

 “You’re getting stressed again. Calm down.”

Jackson huffed. “I don’t understand what’s going on anymore. The press would’ve released something weeks ago explaining, but all I get is shitty blogposts.”

He sat at his table again, arms over his head and kicking his long legs back and forth from the stool. “If we keep this up, we’re all gonna die soon enough.”

Finn stood silently, then sat on another stool on the side. He clapped his hands together while taking a breath. “Okay. Jackson, we aren’t gonna die. Out of anything if we see people die, just turn for it until you’re out of the area completely. Maybe try not to breathe, I don’t know.”

“But we still don’t know the main cause, we’re fucked.”

“Jackson, you have to calm down,” he patted Jackson’s back.

Jackson said blankly, “What’ll happen if my mom gets involved?”

“Jackson!” Hands stuck his arms tightly, turning him to face Finn again, who was stricken with concern in his eyes. “You need to stop worrying about this stuff. You should know out of everybody that it’s not good for you.”

Jackson blinked, then replied slowly, “If we stop doing anything, we’ll get nowhere. If we don’t know anything, we’ll get nowhere… We need this.”

Finn sighed, letting him go steadily. He glared at him softly, “Just don’t stress yourself out like that anymore.”

“Don’t worry. I think I’m fine now, I’ll just take some relax pills.” Jackson stood and turned to the cabinet of pills, grabbing a bottle of valerian root pills. He refilled his cup again to take it in.

He finished the cup silently as Finn attempting to make conversation after their talk.

“Huh, that’s a first.”

Finn cocked a brow. “What?”

Jackson said, “I’ve been having these weird chills lately at random, and over half the time it was when I was drinking water. And for the first time in two weeks,” he raised his cup, “I was able to drink an entire cup without getting any.”

“Wait,” Finn asked, “Is that why you’ve been drinking tons of water and choking?”

Jackson nodded, “Yeah, didn’t really like it but I wanted to see how long it’d last. Besides I stay inside so much that I might as well get a lot of hygiene to compensate.”

“Understandable.” Finn went back to his phone. “So, you said that you were hanging out with Mira tomorrow when she comes back, right?”

“Yeah, down at the Amersford park at 2:30.”

“Do you think I can join a bit after? I’ll be like an hour late since I’m gonna hang out with some of the basketball guys.”

Jackson shrugged, “Yeah sure, she’s pretty much just hanging out with us as a way of getting out of unpacking for a bit so the more the merrier.”

Finn chuckled, “Her room’s gonna be a disaster either way so it’s fine.”

“I’ll text her later. But for right now, you’ll go do my math work for me.”

 ***

 Jackson’s phone buzzed while he looked at pop culture news. He picked it up to see Mirana’s name plastered on the phone.

He clicked the green button and answered, “Are you almost here? It’s almost two.”

“We got here earlier than expected, so do you think you can come over now?”

Jackson looked at himself, dressed in a random t-shirt and a pair of boxers yet again. “I can, but I need some time to get ready first.”

“You’re in your boxers again, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Okay I’m just gonna wait with YouTube. See ya soon.”

She hung up right afterwards.

Jackson groaned from his own lack of sleep and got up regretfully. After taking deep breath, he dashed to his drawer and quickly dressed himself. He immediately brushed his teeth in the bathroom, washed up his face, and fixed up his hair. He snatched his newsie-cap and phone to be completely ready to go in the record-time speed of five minutes.

He quietly said goodbye to his resting mother before going off.

Jackson called her again as he started walking to the park.

“Are you out of your house yet?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.”

“Good, you’re being productive.”

“Unlike you.”

“Shut up”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Oh, bye then.”

Jackson hung up the phone as he started to take his ten-minute walk of the week.

 ***

 Just a block away from Amersfort park, and Jackson only struck silence in his ears. He cocked his head to say the least once he noticed.

He walked to the entrance steadily. He found a scent wasn’t of the city’s smoke, which was utmost peculiar causing him to walk quicker.

A thick atmosphere comforted around him as he got closer, and his hand suddenly began to burn but he ignored it during the flashes of monochrome that appeared in his sights, with chills going down his spine continuously.

He got to the entrance, and slowly turned to see what exactly was going on.

His eyes widened to the point where it hurt. His blood ran colder than it had ever been before as his heartbeat sped up faster and faster. His eyes slowly began having forming thick, wet tears that burned against his cold figure.

He couldn’t stop staring at all of messy, bloody bodies that laid before him. The eyes of pain they’d left only made sense with the giant puncture on their bodies.

And what laid across the entrance of the park was dyed-red hair that he could always remember.

Mirana ended up dead in New York City.

Though, as Jackson stood in shock, his eyes caught a black figure standing. It was ginormous, skin wrinkled up to its spine and a black aura surrounding them as well. However, its paws held thick claws that were stained red.

This isn’t real.

The monster turned and saw Jackson.

This isn’t real.

It took a single step towards him.

He could barely think.

He could barely tell reality anymore

However, one single thought formed completely.

Run.

[aspiratinganxiety]

Can I request the sleepover head canon ?💕

Of course you can, baby doll! I am sorry it took me so long to get to it… 

Anyway, I am writing these headcanons as though the reader and the character are already in an established relationship. Rather than offer a play by play of what sharing a night with this character looks like, I’m instead breaking down how the topic of overnight stays developed or effects the relationship between the reader and their partner.

If you were wanting platonic interactions or some first time sleeping over imagines, please let me know! Also, I tend to write female insert characters unless otherwise directed or inclined. 

If you’d like this same prompt with a male s/o, please tell me.  

Also, I ran out of steam before getting to Damian. I may very well come back to add him to this post. For now though, it is 3:17 am, and your girl is tired. 

Now, this prompt is the letter S from @imagine-mcu​‘s alphabet of headcanon prompts. Thank you, imagine-mcu. I am grateful for the access to this resource, and I hope you don’t mind that I am using it for DC materials 😂   

Dick: 

-Listen, you are positive that you’re not the first girlfriend whose home Richard Grayson has quietly annexed. There’s a method, okay? A foolproof strategy designed to optimize the amount of time he has with you at every opportunity. 

-As far as he’s concerned, it is the only logical way to progress in a relationship that he deems serious. His line of work is perilous, dammit. He’s a patient man, but he’s not a friggin’ saint. Tiptoeing through the awkward do-si-do of “should I stay or should I go?” every single time the two of you wind up fooling around in one or the other’s apartment is a waste of effort that could be geared toward activities that are much, much more fun.

-Even before you outright know that he’s Nightwing (you heavily suspect), Dick’s begun the invasion. First, he always wants to stay at your place. Works for you. Sleeping in your own bed is a gift, and he has a lot less to worry about in terms of hygiene maintenance.

-Why fight an agreeable tide? 

-And that’s just what he counts on for Phase 2. He wants to keep a change of clothes and some extra toiletries around your place now that it’s the go-to. 

-Some pajamas. 

-Maybe a jacket and a pair or three of socks. 

-Oh, yeah! He forgot to mention that Bruce sometimes calls him into the WE office on short notice to contract with the sub-company under his name. Could he have a sliver of your closet for a suit? He does’t want it to get wrinkled in the drawer you cleared out for his things.  

-Sure, normal enough… except that you’ve only been dating for a month n’ a half. Exclusively for a scant three weeks (Your last boyfriend lived out of a duffel bag that you kept by the shoe rack in your front room for 9 months before you even let him have the drawer).  

-Whatever. You and Dick both keep tight schedules, and it’s not as though anything is feeling rushed or overwhelming. Just the opposite: you feel like you can’t spend enough time with him! 

-You quickly make a habit of using his man-smell soap for a change of pace on occasion. Or a spritz of his cologne here and there when it’s been a busy week and you miss him, even though it’s only been 4 days since he was last there. 2 days since your lunch date. 

-Shut up.

-You haven’t quite mapped out the rest of the moves that he put into play, but before you know what’s happening, nearly all of the space in your weensy, Tupperware container of an apartment is divided equally between you and your boyfriend of less than three months. 

-All of this to say that Dick’s sleepovers don’t feel like sleepovers, they’re just Tuesdays. Or Saturdays. Or Wednesdays. Whatever the hell day he shows up, lets himself in with the spare key that you didn’t so much as hesitate to have made for him, and goes about eating all of your Frosted Flakes.

Jason:

-Sleepovers are rare for Jason toward the beginning of your relationship. Not just because he accidentally punched you in his sleep once, though that did put the kibosh on overnight visits for a while. The predominant reasoning that he cited when apologetically declining one of your invitations involved his hours being flipped completely around. Most nights, when sleepovers are meant to be happening, Jason is hard at work sussing out the details of a case or running a patrol. 

-Simply put, he felt like there was no reason for him to be skulking in and out of your place in the dead of night, disrupting your rest, just because he’s chosen to live one doozy of an unorthodox life. 

-However, this noble resolve deteriorates quickly.   

-Jason’s dedication and the singular advantage of being the only full-time vigilante in the whole batfamily also means that he’s out of the country on lengthy, long distance assignments more often than any of the others. 

-The nights Jason gets home from these missions had proven to be the best time for you to arrange overnight stays. Days, sometime weeks of being completely out of contact with one another has a way of asserting all of the comforts and satisfactions that you find in your partner’s company, both physically and emotionally. 

-He’s real weak to the line, “But baby, I’ve missed you so much!” too…

-10/10.

-It’s super effective!

-Look, it’s not like you pressed when you got the impression that he didn’t want to have you over or be at your place because he needed space to work through something risky or complicated. 

-You’re not stupid or some spoiled, manipulative brat. 

-Jason’s life is hard, painful, and incomprehensibly dangerous. He’s not looking to change one damn thing about that either. His lives exactly as he wants, minus some small tweaking here and there where old ghosts are concerned. 

-You understood this from day one.

-Unfortunately, it took a much longer time for him to figure out that you didn’t give a single fuck about missed sleep or nosy neighbors assuming he was a drug-dealer and filing complaints because he buzzed in at 4 o’clock in the morning. With the way that he lived…

-No, because of the way that he lived, you wanted to capitalize on every single moment that he could bear to spend with you. 

-Some people went lifetimes never knowing a love like the one you had for Jason. Hell would be seeing a snowstorm if you were gonna’ let the idiot continue to rob you of his presence because he was afraid of inconveniencing you. 

-Once that was through his thick, self-depreciating skull, the need to orchestrate sleepovers was no longer necessary. 

-You moved in together, renovating the loft he owned in the Cauldron district to be a bit more Welcome Home! and a lot less Marks with Bodyguards Cost Extra.

Tim:

-Oh, Tim. 

-Sweet, wonderful, awkward, angel-baby Tim. 

-The first time he slept over at your house, it was January. He passed clean out on your living room floor during a power-binge of Stranger Things that he had been apologetically procrastinating since the season release in October. 

-You didn’t have the heart to wake him, not even when he started to drool, snore, and suddenly sit bolt upright, shouting?

-His proclamations made zero sense: something abstract about Scarecrow robbing some guy named Oswald of his prized Wyandotte laying hens.

-A cursory attempt to talk to him indicated that he was still, to your horror, fast asleep in spite of sitting perfectly straight on his own and lecturing you about the dangers of yellow scented candles. 

-You settled him back down on your nest of blankets and flipped the TV off, loosely praying that this was some kind of fluke and you wouldn’t have to worry about your boyfriend accidentally leaping off of your balcony in a state of gibbering semi-consciousness. 

-You messaged him in a panic when you woke the next morning to find him missing, terrified that he slept-walked into traffic while you caught some rest on the floor beside him. You detailed the entire scenario for him, omitting nothing to spare his pride. (The man had scared you nearly to death. His ego wasn’t exactly your top priority when he said he’d snuck out because he liked sleeping in his bed better than he liked your floor.) 

- “Sexy, right?” he replied with a winky face.

-It wasn’t, he hadn’t, and he hasn’t ever since. The explanation: ”It only happens sometimes when I’m way too tired and I’ve had way too many energy shots.” 

-Even so, that first experience proved to be surprisingly indicative of the bizarre occurrences that would befall you when Tim ended up sharing a night with you.

-First the sleep talking, then staying up all night crouched over his laptop like some kind of gremlin while you slept not three feet away, arguing about the benefits of avoiding blue light in order to actually let your brain power down, and, finally, physically wrestling you to keep you from putting his phone in your nightstand drawer so that he would just lay the F down and go to bed.

-Tim does his best to gracefully make it seem as though your bickering is all in good fun despite your very real frustration with his lack of ability to focus on spending time with you and disengaging from his crippling responsibilities to both Wayne Enterprises and the endeavors of the Batman himself.

-You’re honestly still working on it, but he does forfeit all internet capable devices after 9 pm while in your home. 

-At first, it was out of obligation and only at your explicit request. Now though, having garnered some of the soundest, most rejuvenating sleep of his life every other week or so at your place, he tosses the phone in the drawer himself as you get ready to tuck in.

-Tim doesn’t know if it’s the regular sex or the down pillow-top on your mattress, but he can fall into blissful, dreamless unconsciousness in under half an hour by your side. 

-Perhaps it’s the near ritualistic way that you insist on sharing a cup of chamomile tea before heading toward your room? Maybe the laundry detergent or the weight of your too fluffy comforter?

-Regardless, shortly after he’s eagerly relinquishing his tech in favor of a solid night’s sleep and some quality time with you, an uptick in his demeanor and proficiency appears.

-You find it endlessly endearing that he needs a measurable statistic in order to justify asking you if he can stay over every week, rather than biweekly. As though you need data to be convinced to spend more time with him. 

The lovable idiot...  

[akatdollie]

SASOKARU for the ship meme thing

Send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

SasoKaru,Sunan Sweethearts Verse

where they first met andhow - They met on Karura’s sixth birthday, which is only a coupledays after Sasori. This was the first year that his parents weren’t there tocelebrate with him, and the date passed him by. He was wandering theneighborhood and was drawn to the sounds of a party, which Sasori had to crash(naturally). He becomes great friends with Karura and Yasha and is invited tothe next birthday party (which he would have crashed anyways).

how long their‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved - They just? Naturally came together. Therewasn’t much flirting between them, just two kids that had fun making flowercrowns and eating rock candy who noticed one day that their hearts beat fasteraround each other.

who fell for who first (if applicable ) - Karura fell for Sasori first. She tends to get crusheseasily, I feel. She realizes she loves him after he steals medicine for her(and is caught and punished). Meanwhile Sasori is kind of dumb and - he noticesthat he fixates on her a bit, and just stares at her trying to figure out why,and then she looks up and smiles and his pulse skyrockets like - oh.Probably should have a doctor check that out.

where their first datewas and what it was like - On the cliff just outside Suna. There is a small pathknown by village children which they use to get out of the city withoutdetection.

who asks who out and how( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ) - When they’re in their young teens, Karuraprepares a bunch of food and asks Sasori if he’d like to go on a picnic whenthe sun is low/setting. He agrees, though at first he doesn’t get why Yashawasn’t invited, but then she grabs his hand and leans in close. He gets thehint, and ducks his head.

if they keep / kepttheir relationship secret or let everyone know right away - Karura told Yasha immediately, not onlybecause Sasori was his friend, too, but because she kinda gushes over theromantic details. Yasha doesn’t always get it but, eh. As long as she’s happy…

if they adopt any petstogether - Sasori has his own collection of bugs which Karuraoccasionally cares for when he asks. Though I feel that Karura may bring homean injured bird that causes mayhem when it tries to eat some of Sasori’scollection.

who’s more dominant - Sasori, though Karura tends to make the firstmove.

where their first kisswas and what it was like - It was on their first date, on the cliffs outside Suna.

if they have anymatching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ) - To be fair, civilian Sunans seem to wear theexact same outfit everywhere (blue robes, eggshell/white scarves), but Sasoriin particular likes to match, or at the very least not clash.

how into pda they are - Adult Sunans aren’t very affectionate (in myHCs), but Karura is all hearteyes whenever Sasori holds her hand or puts hisarm around her shoulder. He makes excuses to do so.

who holds the umbrellawhen it rains - I think they both stare at the sky dumbstruck, then Karurabreaks out in a smile, because it hardly ever rains in Suna. At least notenough to need an umbrella.

where their usual ‘datespot’ is ( if applicable ) - They meet by the well that no one notices anymore. Thebottom is dry but filled with coins where they have made wishes - a traditionthat is not strictly Sunan, but is popular among younger people.

where the proposalhappens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded byducks? at a disney park? ) - See above.

who proposes first - Once Sasori figures out they’re together, he’spretty much determined that they’re going to get married and be like a betterversion of his parents. He proposes as soon as he’s of age. A young marriage (but then again, life expectancyprobably isn’t great in canon).

who’s more protective - Sasori would kill for Karura. But Karura tendsto notice his shift in moods/emotional vulnerabilities. (He’s more physicallyprotective, while she’s more psychologically protective).

how long it is beforethey sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ ) - They’ve had sleepovers since forever haha.

if they argue aboutanything - If they argue about anything, it’s about how Sasoridoesn’t communicate needs, particularly when he’s in a dark state and relyingon Karura to help him. (Feelings? What feelings?)

who leaves more marks (lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. ) - I’m not really sure about this, but I’mleaning towards Karura; Sasori doesn’t like it when his things get damaged.

who steals whose clothesand how often - Sasori steals Karura’s clothes, especially herheadscarves, which is very funny when Yasha tries talking to him from behindthinking Sasori is his sister.

how they cuddle (spooning? facing each other? ) - Spooning. Karura likes hugs and Sasori needs them.

what their favouritenonsexual activity is - I want to say going to the greenhouse and picking flowers(some poisonous, some pretty).

how long they stay madat each other - As a general rule, Sasori can stay mad at anyone foreternity… but I don’t think he gets mad at her.

what their usual coffee/ tea orders are - Sasori has thick, imported coffee while Karura has icedtea (maybe sweet?).

if they ever have anychildren together - I HOPE SO. At least four.

if they have any specialpet names for each other – Karura @ Sasori, “Love.” Sasori @ Karura… wordshe traces on her skin but doesn’t say.

if they ever split upand / or get back together - I feel like there is a period in their young lives wheretheir relationship is strained (maybe Rasa is attempting to court Karura andSasori dislikes it), but in this verse, at least, they don’t split up.

what their shared livingspace is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? ) - Sasori is an organized hoarder within hisworkshop - he keeps everything he thinks he can use. His stuff in livingspaces, however, is contained to the bookshelves; all the other space is filledwith Karura’s things. Pictures of family, pictures of them, some sketches thatSasori has given her, flowers on the kitchen table. Warm, light decor. Shemakes it feel like home.

what their firstchristmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like - Suna doesn’t celebrate either holiday in myheadcanons, but there are plenty of festivals devoted to various gods, wherethe city swells with merchants and food vendors from all across the Land ofWind and sometimes other countries. It gets very crowded, so Sasori grabbedKarura’s hand to make sure they didn’t lose each other. (That was his excuse.Karura was very delighted, of course.)

if they have any ‘coupletraditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking everyfriday evening? ) - For various reasons, they celebrate their birthdaytogether. Yasha is always invited.

who falls asleep firstand who wakes up first - Karura falls asleep and wakes up first; if consumed in aproject, Sasori may not sleep until dawn.

who’s the big spoon /little spoon - They switch depending on who needs comfort more. Sasoriprefers to be the big spoon.

who hogs the bathroom - Sasori, who doesn’t leave home withouteyeliner/perfectly messy hair/occasionally face paint

who kills the spiders /takes them outside - Karura takes the spiders outside after they initiallystartle her. Sasori keeps them as pets.

X

[transbilliam]

Hi please go on for days about Stan and Bev’a friendship I would appreciate it

YEAH SURE .... well like in canon you know they have a really cute and funny connection near to the beginning of the book when bev asks the boys to look at her bathroom... and it’s odd because in the book it’s really just her, eddie, stan and ben, nobody else. and so they go to her bathroom and stan is the one to suggest that they should clean it up! and they do, they work on it for hours and shit, and then they go to the laundromat to clean the rags they used because bev can’t throw them away or her parents will know. and stan insists on paying, and they joke around about him being a gentleman on their first date and it’s so cute i love they joking around

in general i think they would be just really silly together.. like i feel like they both have kind of morbid and weird senses of humor and both are really keen on their surroundings so they would probably both notice something none of the other losers do and just burst into laughter that only they share

they share clothes sometimes, and that’s CANON, stan has a couple of bev’s old sweatshirts that say marsh on the back (he wears them proudly, over a button up) and bev has random clothes from her and stan’s sleepovers that she stole from him for pajamas

bev often will call stan late at night and he’s usually up anyways to listen to her, be patient, and offer kind words when she’s feeling inconsolable, and she feels guilty/a burden doing that to anyone else but stan

bev and stan: underrated duo.

[laughingpinecone]

Chocobox 2020 letter!

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

It’s a long list of character combos so the specific requests aren’t overly detailed, please draw at will from my general likes and general fandom likes in addition or as an alternative to any of those!

All requests are art or fic - for art, the stuff I like is the kind that depicts the characters doing something. I’ll always be happier with a very simple drawing of two characters walking together or sharing a cup of coffee than with an ambitious composition that looks like an Avengers poster. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s).

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships)

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, nerdy canon references, unrequested characters popping up

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay), canon retellings, consent issues

Ghost Trick

I am very interested in various characters finding about the erased timeline, but not getting their memories back, and having to live with being told about what they did but never remembering it. Exploring the ghost lore is great. All what-ifs welcome (what if they managed an acceptable happy ending but didn’t reset the timeline, what if a different party went back to the past and kept their memories, what if Alma’s ghost stuck around…) Also open to AUs here, especially for generic fantasy or sci-fi settings or the Final Fantasy ones I prompted last Yuletide .

For the non-canon sides of Jowd/Alma/Cabanela, please no infidelity? I’d be good with either setting the fic during the game timeline or some what-if thereof when the other spouse is dead or unavailable, or simply keeping them offscreen and not mentioning them (eg Alma/Cabanela beach day, Jowd/Cabanela precinct shenanigans)

For Jowd in general, I do love my big boy and enjoy milking that size difference for all it’s worth. In gen contexts too, it’s neat. him big.

Alma/Jowd & Cabanela: Sleepover time! In whose house and why? What’s a Best Friend (tm) thing to do?

Alma & Cabanela: what’s a moment just for them, how are they aligned? How are they both changed by the tale of the other timeline?

Alma/Cabanela: ghost Alma joins up with Cabanela! ...and doesn’t remember the details of her murder or it’s gonna be a very short investigation, but anyway. Bittersweet ghost romance?

Alma/Cabanela/Jowd: please give me a completely smitten Cabs who spent so long pining and can’t believe it’s happening for real (even if it’s been happening for like, two months already?)

Alma/Jowd: how’d Jowd’s strength come in useful that one time?

Alma & Sissel: plot twist, she saves him. Did he misplace his body? Miscalculate some core jump?

Cabanela & Bailey: unexpected dance partners? Cabanela is harsh toward his subordinates but maybe not so much outside work?

Cabanela & Memry: extremely unconventional mentor & pupil let loose on the town like two horrible geese

Cabanela & Missile: what will get these two exhausted?

Cabanela & Jowd: all the devotion, please! Maybe coming from Jowd as well for a change

Cabanela & Pigeon Man: new timeline friendship? PM is a magnificent Cabanela wrangler, I think, reining in the whitecoat excesses...

Cabanela & Sissel: out-noiring each other, Sissel having the time of his life following Cabanela in an investigation

Cabanela/Jowd: hurried confessions outside the prison? Jowd figuring out he reciprocates right then and there or later on? How much later? What’s his favorite thing about Cabanela and vice versa?

Jowd & Emma: I don’t want to undercut her idealism and sound moral principles in doing what she did simply to take a stand against the death penalty, but did they know each other maybe? Or does Jowd reach out afterwards, curious about this woman? ...do they collab?

Jowd & Pigeon Man: I wanna see how they get along... a tiny snippet of a case? What Are Pigeons If Not Small Chickens After All?

Jowd & Yomiel & Sissel: Sissel has two dads. That’s just how it is.

Jowd & Yomiel: Postcanon bonding with total human disaster Yomiel leaning on Jowd like a cat and Jowd being also a human disaster but like more dad-shaped?

Kamila & Pigeon Man: (overriding the “focus on children” DNW) adopted uncle doubles as science mentor!

Kentucky Route Zero

(Should Act V come out between the end of nominations and reveals, I’ll be playing it immediately and I’ll probably add a few thoughts and prompts here for kicks, at the end of this section, after a spoiler warning. Obviously feel free to stick to canon up to Un Pueblo De Nada regardless.)

I’m all for exploration of any of the game’s themes and for including any staples from adjacent genres - wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I generally love AUs so if you want to sidestep the inconvenience of an incomplete canon that way, be my guest! Or of course there’s Xanadu at the height of its glory, an infinite what-ifs generator. Were the requested characters part of it, what were their digital counterparts up to? A Xanadu narrative would be great! I’d also love to hear about any new spot along the Zero or the Echo river, or an expansion of some place that’s only mentioned by Will in HATATE or only gets a few paragraphs of text. Lula getting ideas for a new installation, or an article talking about her work? Donald listening to Static between stations somehow (Donald being constantly high as a kite as per this)? Joseph who went back to the surface finds himself near an entrance to the Zero somewhere? A collection of Weaver-isms? Sad surreal bureaucracy? Feel free to bring in anyone else from any part of canon.

Cate & Will: a small, chill adventure on a new island? Extensive mushroom lore?

Joseph Wheattree/Lula Chamberlain/Donald: the disaster concave love polygon in all its glorious doom... does even Xanadu contain a single hope for them? I’m fascinated by alternative developments in which they all stayed underground and explored further, sprinkled with subterranean symbolism at will

Junebug & Lula Chamberlain: something something art! Something something we live in a society, too. Idk I’m intrigued by their strong personalities and how they might clash, Junebug’s abrasiveness and Lula’s resigned bitterness

Weaver Márquez & Donald: she was down there! They are both very bizarre individuals! How’d that go!

Will & Donald: ...conversely, as far as we know Will was not down there but Will knows everyone. So how’d they get to know each other? What’s the Bureau of Secret Tourism’s take on the Hall of the Mountain King?

Pyre

The burning found family feelings, the revolutionary passion, the tension between topside social constraints and the kind of freedom allowed by the Downside! I love all the themes, the solemnity, the heart of this game. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure, while out of the other triumvirates, I’m “love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. My main interest usually lies in post-canon exploration when applicable, but I’m also into various adventures during canon. Pick a location or a place outside the map and see what happens? As for the ending variables, I’d ask for a peaceful revolution and Oralech alive, but no preferences on who’s up or down, pick whatever works best for any given plot bunny.

Big Bertrude & Volfred Sandalwood: “people who were close in the Commonwealth find each other in the Downside” is always a gr8 thing to explore and I’d love it for them! Epistolary friendship if they end up separated?

Big Bertrude/Pamitha Theyn: sneaky, reserved kindred spirits. Their shared ending is great and I’d love to see it expanded. Bertrude’s attitude being thorny in a way that’s just what Pam needs to allow herself to open up... also: snake kisses.

Celeste | The Gate Guardian & Oralech: he let him through when the  and they waited for the Nightwings... did they exchange a few words there? Or do they meet again somehow, in the Union or among the stars?

Celeste | The Gate Guardian & Sandra the Unseeing & Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: the three people who were there when the Scribes walked the earth and who have opposite opinions on the matter. I’d like to see their views clash, either when they were young or during game events

Molten Milithe & The Vagabond Girl: I imagine ae (I called her Tae but no strong feelings on this front) might have different relationships with the different Scribes, so what’s the one with the Wild Witch? What was she going through at a time when she felt her close?

Oralech & Big Bertrude: Bertrude’s protectiveness toward Volfred could be fun to explore here, both in the old Nightwings’ time and postcanon. Volfred aside, they’re a baby revolutionary and a grizzled agitator, which sounds like fun!

Oralech & Pamitha Theyn: idk I just want to throw Oralech at various Nightwings and see if he can make some friends. He and Pam look complicated enough to stand each other.

Oralech/Volfred Sandalwood: I am mainly interested in postcanon reunion, or postcanon established relationship. Getting to know each other again. Oralech figuring out that Volfred’s puffing up in formal meetings because he’s super nervous about all these responsibilities. Seeing what their dream looks like

Oralech/Volfred Sandalwood/Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: Volfred has two hands, and sometimes miracles happen twice? How do they balance each other, what’s the Oralech/Tariq side like and what’s Volfred’s perspective on it? Is Tariq a constant part of their lives or does he fade in and out?

Pamitha Theyn & Ti'zo: flying buddies! He’s a simple soul and she is very much not, but he’s also ancient and has seen heartbreak like hers over and over...

Rukey Greentail & Volfred Sandalwood: on pragmatism. I feel like these two could come to a mutual understanding in their own way.

Oralech & Sir Gilman: is there any way that this won’t end in a demonstration on how to perform a nautical knot with a wyrm?

Tariq & Ti'zo: the great gossiping duo. All the juciest skreeches. There are also a few occasions when Tariq says something about the imps while he blatantly means himself, and I’d like to know what Ti’zo thinks of this projection.

Tariq | The Lone Minstrel & Big Bertrude: he knows how to handle her, and she should know how to appreciate a slightly eldritch creation (?) of the Scribes...

Volfred Sandalwood & Hedwyn: in Oralech’s own words to Hedwyn, Volfred probably picked Hedwyn as an Oralech replacement. Does this change Hedwyn’s opinions on Volfred and the plan? Was it a conscious choice on Volfred’s part? Or how do they get along in general?

Volfred Sandalwood/Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: “both think the other is the bee’s knees and possibly out of their league” is catnip to me. I’d say it’s understandable from Volfred while Tariq is just super smitten (and struggling with his own sense of identity and desires, sure. but also smitten). So I think it’d be fun for Volfred to be somewhat out of his depth for once and try to be close to/console Tariq for whatever reason?

The Last Remnant

I’m very interested in post-game exploration, and getting a clearer feeling of any of the cities and assorted places that populate this fascinating world. I like the whole party with their characterization based on battle quotes, red bubble dialogues, and even their unique stat (‘authority’ is a natural fit for David but ‘romance’ tells me something new about Sibal!) Character interaction. Bit of worldbuilding. What’s another festival they celebrate? Do they erect something else instead of the Valeria Heart? Any fun discoveries down in Siebenbur? Where the hell IS Veyriel, anyway, do they go look for it and if so what do they find out? End of an age. Old bonds.

David Nassau & Torgal & Allan: catfight with mediator. Torgal has two h... Torgal has four hands actually and I’m very interested in his very positive relationship with David and his disastrous one with Allan. It’d be fun if these two aspects of his life came together, like a platonic V

Emmy Honeywell & Pagus: Emmy just ended up short a parental figure and the oldest and chillest of the four generals is right there?

Pagus/Maddox/Sibal: give me all the Qsiti worldbuilding, Siebenbur worldbuilding, Remnant daydreaming, shared backstory, old men reunions after the ending…

Twin Peaks

Case fic but they don’t find out jack shit, someone disappears, David Bowie was there, it’s complicated. Fragmented, shifted, mirrored identities. New Lodge spaces. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. Transcendence. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation used as a prompt, actually. Twin Peaks is all about the mystery to me, the awe of mystery and unknowability and the human drive to look beyond and the risks of getting a peek, and about shared consciousness and trauma taking physical form in an uncaring world. Go wild with the ethereal whooshing! But I also love the human warmth at the heart of it all, and sometimes it’s enough to anchor these characters and let them have a nice day. A fic entirely focused on some instance of coziness against the cold chaotic background of canon would be great too.

Canon-specific DNWs: any singular Dreamer being the ‘source’ of canon, BOB (let alone Judy) being forever defeated in the finale, Judy being an active malevolent presence in the characters’ lives, clear explanations for canonical ambiguities, ‘Odessaverse’ being the reality layer, the Fireman’s House by the Sea being the White Lodge, anything that 4 hours Twin Perfect video says is the explanation of Twin Peaks

Albert Rosenfield & Constance Talbot: city mouse and country mouse? What’s their long-distance friendship like and what’s an occasion for them to meet? What’s her position in the symbolic spread of blue rose and blue rose-adjacent disasters/hopes for the future?

Audrey Horne & Diane Evans: Weird postcanon encounters? Can Diane lend a hand when Coop most certainly could not? They are hardened in different ways; we know Audrey has a precious dreaminess underneath that mess, what about Diane?

Chet Desmond & Albert Rosenfield: punchy&pacifist sounds like a recipe for disaster but their directness makes me think that they’d get along great?

Chet Desmond/Sam Stanley: reunion fic! Chet’s been AWOL for years, Sam has fallen through the cracks, how do they find each other again and why do they choose to remain off the grid? I would also like to read about them in the present day-ish, handwaving the return and reunion. Maybe they made a new life for themselves. If Sutherland were to play Sam again, Sam would be… notably more buff. What caused that change, was it traveling with Chet, what kind of person is he now? Could they be in Buenos Aires, investigating on their own whatever that shrinking box was?

Constance Talbot/Diane Evans: when the show was airing we used to joke that the various plots converging on Buckhorn were actually a race to woo the absolute jewel that is Constance. Cynthia got there first but Diane knows how to flirt! We have a whole week and a whole town...

Cynthia Knox/Tamara "Tammy" Preston: the FBI and USAF supernatural branches meet again after Douglas Milford’s times... what’s their attitude toward it (who’s the Mulder and who’s the Scully......), in what ways does their respective task force’s past inform their views, is there more hope for a new generation who saw the trauma of the past without living it firsthand? LET TAMMY KISS ALL THE GIRLS BUT THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR

Dale Cooper/Albert Rosenfield: fiery early days? Dream meetings that Albert will inevitably write off as a product of his aching subconscious? Post-finale where Albert has made his peace with Coop not being part of this world and not even deigning to greet him, except one day Coop is back - with apologies? Post-post-finale where they’re peacefully living out their days as best as they can?

Dale Cooper/Harry Truman: Harry seeing his Coop again… somewhere, somehow. Maybe he perceives him in the woods, maybe Coop isn’t all human now. Monster cuddles very welcome. Could be canon divergence but could very well be post-s3. Harry getting closure for waiting all that time in front of Glastonbury and never giving up on Coop… they can live in the woods together…

Albert Rosenfield/Harry Truman: did they tragically fall into each other’s arms in the wake of Coop’s disappearance? Did they realize they’re so good for each other, but neither of them was willing to give up their life? And/or was the wound of Coop’s disappearance too fresh for them to try to heal? Do they keep in touch throughout the years? Does Albert resign on the spot with a resounding fuck it after the s3 finale and rush to see Harry? Does he stay this time?

Dale Cooper/Albert Rosenfield/Harry Truman: basically the sum of the three sides of this triad… give them peace, given them nice things, give them so much love… Coop finding his place in the world and making up for lost time… give time to these old wounds…

Diane Evans & Albert Rosenfield: any ol’ night drinking together, or ending up in some liminal place much to Albert’s chagrin (and Diane’s as well...?)? I just love their bond and want to see more of it. At any point during their shared history and even after the finale!

Donna Hayward & Audrey Horne: the half sisters meeting again please? And finding a new balance between them, different from what it would’ve been when they were young when they never got a chance to discover it...

Gordon Cole/Phillip Jeffries: does Gordon eventually manage to throw himself into the void (that’s one way of considering a retirement plan!) and reach Phillip? What’s left inside that teapot alembic, or is he the smoke? How did Gordon even get word from Phil - in his pt17 infodump, he seems perfectly aware of the other’s status - what kind of contact have they kept? I love all the fanon I’ve seen for them, if you want to lean into it.

Harry Truman & Chet Desmond: I don’t know how, I just know that it needs to happen to see how they’d bounce off each other. Chet got the short straw with Cable and Deer Meadow in general; Harry just likes them fancy agents...

Lucy Moran & Albert Rosenfield: this. This is the ultimate recipe for disaster. How can it turn out less-than-horrible for everyone involved? Especially with young Albert?

Tamara "Tammy" Preston & Albert Rosenfield: wlw mlm solidarity? He used to be the one pulling all-nighters finding needles in haystacks, now it’s her job; is technology helping? Does she eventually get the full weight of what tulpa Diane and shooting tulpa Diane meant to him? What’s the latest Gordon gossip? What do they do for fun?

Tamara "Tammy" Preston & Dale Cooper: she roasted him for two dossiers in a row and looked characteristically unimpressed in pt17; conversely, the narrative may or may not have positioned her as ‘the new Cooper’. Idk I just want them to meet somehow and feel the passing of the torch...

Tamara "Tammy" Preston & Margaret "The Log Lady" Lanterman: the lady said in TFD she would’ve liked to meet Margaret and I operate on a strict “give Tammy what she wants” policy, details schmetails. There are places in this world and others where the passing of time is at best a vague suggestion, so.

Wally Brando & Harry Truman: Wally visiting his godfather, whom he deeply respects! Frank wasn’t quite on board with Wally’s whole thing but what does Harry think of it?

Wally Brando & Laura Palmer & Dale Cooper: I have a soft spot for Dale and Laura traveling through strange spaces, lost, slowly healing. On this background, imagine, if you will: Wally speeding by on his bike. I need this meeting…

[darnedchild]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 - Day Four

A/N : Sorry this is so late, had some Real Life Stuff come up (which meant going out to eat dinner because I’m not gonna eat Hamburger Helper at home when I’m dealing with drama, you know?).  Might not/probably won’t post this on FF.net or Ao3 until tomorrow because I need a nap and some chocolate. Unbeta’d, as per. 

OH, before I forget - this one is probably a hard PG 13/light M for a tiny mention of wanking.  Sorry.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 – Day Four (Non-Canon – First Sleepover/Sleep Together)

Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?

The first (and last) time Sherlock sleeps on Molly’s sofa was the night he jumps from the roof of Barts.  The horrid piece of furniture is far too short for him, and not nearly as comfortable as the one he’d been forced to abandon at Baker Street. Beggars can’t be choosers, unfortunately; and he was lucky that Molly was willing to put him up for the night at all. If anyone knew he was in her home after he was supposed to have plummeted to his death, she would be in serious danger.

She shuffles past him at half seven, clearly on her way to the kitchen and the coffee maker.  “You kept waking me up all night, I could hear you tossing and turning. Next time just take my bed.”

They both freeze.  They had never discussed the possibility of a ‘next time’.  He doesn’t know what to say; so he simply says, “All right.”

Molly nods and continues her barely-awake shuffle toward the coffee maker.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time he sleeps in Molly’s bed, he has been “dead” for over six months.  He uses the key she’d slipped into his hand moments before he’d left for parts unknown after his fall, the one he’d hidden in a safe space that no one would ever think to look for.  

She isn’t home, and a quick glance at the calendar on her desk confirms that she is on shift at Barts.  He crawls into her bed, dead on his feet, and tells himself that he’ll wake up as soon as she comes through the front door.  The last thing he wants is for her to find a short-haired half-naked ginger wrapped in her blankets and to scream the house down before calling the police.

He wakes up roughly eight hours later, to the sound of the shower coming on in the en suite bathroom.  There is a bottle of water and a sandwich waiting on the bedside table.  

By the time Molly walks into the bedroom wrapped in a bright purple robe, hair wet and stringy around her face, he has already devoured half the sandwich and is carefully holding the plate under his chin to keep the crumbs off her sheets.  

“I’m sorry if I scared you, when you came home and saw me.”

“Why would I be scared?” Molly asks as she sat starts to dig through her dresser for something to change into.  

Surely that was obvious.  “Strange man in your bed?”

She turns toward the bed with a pair of yellow pyjamas covered with cavorting kittens held to her chest.  “I knew it was you.  I mean, I know you’re strange, but you’re not a stranger,” she tries to joke.

He swallows the last bit of sandwich and washes it down with some water.  “How? I saw John on the street today, and he never gave me a second glance.”

Molly laughs, as if she thinks he’s joking.  “Who else would be sleeping in my bed?  The big bad wolf?  No one else has a key.”  She wags a chastising finger in his direction as she moves toward the bedroom door.  “And you shouldn’t be anywhere near John. Mycroft would have your head if he knew.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The second time he sleeps in her bed is only a few weeks after he’s returned to London and officially came back from the dead.  He hasn’t quite adjusted to solitude and stillness in the night at Baker Street now that he is living there alone.  Everything is too quiet, too alien.  It even smells wrong, nothing like his years-old memories promised.  Sherlock suspects that will correct itself the longer he is in residence, but that didn’t help him at the moment.

He knew Molly is working the night shift so he doesn’t have to worry about talking to anyone or pretending to be civil when all he wants was a familiar space to shut down for an hour or two.

The bed calls to him as soon as he steps through her door.  He falls asleep the moment his head hits her pillow.  When he wakes up four hours later he is in a much better frame of mind. A photo of Molly and the fiancé tucked into the vanity mirror catches his eye as he dresses.  He glances back at the bed with an annoyed grimace.  

When Molly comes home that evening, she finds that the bed had been remade with new linens and the old ones are waiting in the washing machine, cold and wet.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The third time Sherlock pauses in the doorway of her bedroom.

Something is off.  

Wrong.

The room stinks of the fiancé.  

A sweeping glance tells him what his mind had already subconsciously deduced.  There is a dark, masculine catch-all container on her dresser, the kind that held wallets and watches when a man undressed for the night.  It’s totally at odds with Molly’s bright and feminine décor. A second robe hangs off the hook on the closet door.  Blue plaid, far too large for Molly’s small frame.  Another phone charging cord waits on the far bedside table.  A pair of men’s slippers haphazardly dumped at the foot of the bed.  

He backs out of the room and immediately moves to the front door.  His hand hovers over the table next to her door, her key dangling from his fingers. Surely the fiancé wouldn’t want Sherlock to have unrestricted access to Molly’s home now that they were practically living together.  

After a long moment, his hand closes around the warm piece of metal.  He sweeps through the door, locks it from the outside, and then carefully tucks the key into his pocket.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The fourth time isn’t even his idea.  

He is in the lab at Barts, unusually irritable and snappish and so, so tired.

“You haven’t been sleeping.”  Molly’s voice makes him jerk and he nearly drops the slide he’d been about to load into the microscope.  He hadn’t even realized she was in the room.

“After the Zucker double homicide and kidnapping the reporters have been camping out on the stoop again.  I can’t get a moment’s peace.”

There is a long moment of silence, and he glances at her from the corner of his eye as he fiddles with the magnification on the scope.

“You know you’re always welcome at mine,” Molly offers. “Go get some rest.”

Sherlock leans back on his stool and watches her face. “Won’t Tom mind having you invite another man into your bed?  I sure as hell would.”  He has no idea where that had come from, or why he sounds so belligerent about it.  “If you were . . . If I was . . .  I would want to know who’s been sleeping in my bed.”

Molly frowns and opens her mouth to say something.  He’s worried for a second that she is going to ask him a question that he won’t be able to answer.  Instead, she pulls her mobile out of her back pocket.  “He trusts me.  I’ll let him know right now.”

Her thumbs slide across the small screen as she types out the text, reading it out loud as she writes it.  “An old friend needs a place to kip tonight.  Told him he could stay at mine.  Is it okay if we go to yours?”

She hits send with slightly more force than necessary, and holds it up for him to see.  “Done.”

The phone pings a few seconds later.  Molly glances at the screen and frowns, then quickly tosses it face down onto the worktop without a word.

Fifteen minutes later when she gets up to get a cup of coffee from the vending machine up the hall, Sherlock sneaks a glance at her mobile.  There is a message from Tom – “It’s Sherlock, isn’t it?  We’ve got to talk.  Tonight.”

Sherlock knows that spending the night at Molly’s is going to cause problems between the couple.

He does it anyway.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The fifth time is the night of the Watson wedding. He lets himself in and heads straight for the bed, strips down to his skin, and curls around her pillow.

He doesn’t care if Meat Dagger finds him.  Part of him actually hopes the other man discovers him naked in Molly’s bed, but he refuses to examine that too closely.

She comes home sometime after one.

Alone.

Sherlock stirs at the sound of the front door being closed and the metallic jingle of her keys hitting the little table.  He waits to see what she’s going to do once she realizes he’s there.  

She grabs some clothes out of her dresser and heads into the bathroom.  Minutes later, she quietly pads to the bed.  “I know you’re awake.  Budge over, you’re on my side.”

He does, without a word.  She crawls in and turns onto her side away from him.

“I’m not wearing pants,” he blurts out.

“It’s okay.  I won’t peek.”  Molly rolls toward him and leans up just enough to plan a quick kiss on his cheek. “Night, Sherlock.”  Then she flops back over and quickly falls asleep.  

She’s gone when he wakes up the next morning.  Her scent surrounds him, and his cock is embarrassingly hard.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

He doesn’t remember the next five or so times he finds himself in Molly’s bed.  

He’s never high when he comes to her home.  He knows, without a doubt, that she’d eviscerate him if he dared to.  Or worse, call his brother or Mummy.

But he’s often coming down, hyper sensitive, and desperate to get away from Janine’s cloying clinginess.

Molly is aware that he’s seeing someone, and that he’s doing something very harmful to his body.  He’s seen the tight way she holds her lips, and he knows she wants to say something about it, but she doesn’t.  

She insists he showers before she lets him fall into bed.  She keeps a pair of men’s pyjamas hidden on the top shelf of her closet, out of Tom’s sight.  He knows she’s worn them herself a few times, in between his visits, can read it in the way she looks away as she hands them over each time.  He doesn’t mention it.

She shares the bed with him twice more, always curled away from him.  The last time he lets his fingers softly touch her hair, careful not to wake her.  It’s soft, just as he’d imagined it would be.  He wants to rub his cheek against it, bury his nose in it.  

Every one of those five times he wakes up with an erection that he can’t will away.  The night he touches her hair, he rolls out of bed and straight into her shower where he jerks off, coming so hard his knees buckle under the stinging spray of water.  

The only times he’s managed to get that hard when he is with Janine is when he’s ended up thinking of Molly.  Molly’s hands on him.  Molly’s mouth.  Even then, he refuses to climax; telling himself that he’s being honourable for Janine’s sake, and that it has nothing to do with feeling guilty about using Molly’s memory in such a way.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The eleventh time is two nights before Christmas.  Molly settles into bed next to him, careful not to jostle him too much as he’s still recovering from being shot.  She leans over to kiss his cheek, as has become their habit when she’s sharing the bed with him, and he reaches up to slide his hand under her hair against the back of her neck.  He holds her in place as he slowly turns his head until his lips brush against hers. It is the softest kiss he has ever had, and it makes his heart ache.  He releases her, and she draws back.  Her eyes search his in the barely there light from the street lamps outside the curtained window.

“Why?”

“Because.”

She nods, as if it were a real answer, then lays down.  She’s facing him for once.  A moment later he notices that she’s brought her hand up to rest between them, and he puts his over it.  His hand is large enough to completely cover hers, and once again he notes that her ring finger is bare.  That knowledge makes him irrationally pleased, another feeling he refuses to acknowledge just yet.  He laces their fingers together.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time Molly falls asleep in his bed, they’ve been babysitting Rosie.  The child is barely old enough to sit up with assistance, and yet she’s run two of her godparents into exhaustion.  Her spare cot is upstairs in John’s old room, but Molly doesn’t feel comfortable with putting her down for her nap so far away.

Sherlock suggests they all lay down in his room.  

The three of them settle down on top of the covers, Rosie carefully positioned on her back between the two adults.

When he wakes up, his hand is on Rosie’s little stomach and Molly’s fingers are barely touching his where they curve over Rosie’s side.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The sun has risen by the time he hesitantly lowers himself into her bed for the twelfth time.  She’s asleep, twisted in the blankets.  He can see the dark circles under her eyes, the dried tracks of her tears.  She stirs when the bed moves.  As soon as she realized it’s him, Molly tries to roll away. He catches her, pulls her into his arms, presses his cheek against her hair.  She’s crying again.

“Why?” she pleads against his neck.

He tells her about Eurus, about Sherinnford, about the coffin and the phone call.  “I . . . I meant it, Molly,” Sherlock whispers into her hair, his voice rough and scared.  “I love you. I didn’t understand it until I thought I was going to lose you, but it’s true.  I swear it.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time he sits on the edge of their bed, he can’t help but fidget.  

Molly’s old bed has been dismantled and moved into the garden shed.  They plan to update several rooms now that Sherlock has officially moved in, the first of which is the bedroom.  Replacing the bed with something larger and slightly less overtly feminine had been a priority. The bedding is completely new. His antique wardrobe has been brought over from Baker Street, and now stands across from Molly’s vanity.  They are planning to trade several other pieces of furniture between Baker Street and the small house, merging the two locations until they both feel like home.

They’ve agreed that it is best for him to continue to rent his old rooms from Mrs Hudson for his work.  The better to keep his private life separate from the public face of the World’s Only Consulting Detective.

He has no idea why he is nervous.  He and Molly have spent more nights together than apart since Sherrinford, but this is different.  

He wonders if he should turn off the light, but before he can reach for the bedside lamp Molly walks into the bedroom.  She’s wearing a vest that has seen better days and barely covers the tops of her thighs.  Her hair is loose, but still holds that little crimp from where it had been secured in a ponytail all day while they’d moved boxes and begun to unpack Sherlock’s things.

She is beautiful.

Sherlock thinks, once again, that this is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.  

He holds out his hand.  “Come to bed.”

[gaybluesargent]

Please provide me with every detail about these beautiful raven girls. i've got a notepad to fill with ink and nowhere to be in the morning...

this is very very late, so that morning has passed, but hopefully you still have some room in that notepad! just a note that all my raven girl headcanons are trans girl headcanons! & for the sake of my raven girls aus, aglionby is co-ed!(also, /tagged/all-your-favs-are-trans-girls!)

gansey:

generally Proficient at preforming femininity - looking and acting in ways everybody traditionally expects from a girl - but only really feels the need to be read as very Traditionally Feminine when she’s around her family

has very little physical dysphoria (she doesn’t rly want hormones or surgery) but her social dysphoria can get rly bad & lead to panic attacks if she doesn’t pass well enough in public

but with her friends, it’s not typically too bad!

i think she probably came out when she was like 14 or 15? she started transitioning when she was off traveling by herself!

so her family was kind of Shocked and gansey still. Has Trouble with that sometimes. but they’re not outright terrible about it. just. not rly Good either. 

she’s got shoulder-length hair in a clean-cut bob (that gets a little curly in humidity), but she puts it up into a ponytail or a hat as much as possible because she doesn’t like the way hair feels on her neck 

(it’s reminiscent of hornets)

post-trk she definitely chops her hair off and gets a rly cute pixie :’)

is Skilled at makeup and uses it to hide all the evidence of sleepless nights

paints her nails religiously because she finds the act of painting them very calming and likes the way it feels!

often paints them orange to match the camaro, even though helen tried to tell her that it looks a little juvenile to have bright orange nails

daily wardrobe (polo shirts, khaki pants, boat shoes) is virtually unchanged tbh… geek… i love her….

and for formal occasions, helen lets gansey borrow from her wardrobe if she wants!

(ps! more trans girl gansey content here!)

i looked all over for the post cuz i think i stole this idea from someone else so link me if u know it, but someday gansey marries blue and legally changes her name to Gansey Sargent :’)

ronan:

butch! trans! lesbian! ronan! niall! lynch!!

(she loves her full name because her parents gave it to her and she doesn’t plan on ever changing it)

came out when she was 15, and once niall was killed, she started physically and socially transitioning All At Once

still has her head shaved. im in love with her. 

has and will punch a bigot without hesitation

she has 100 earrings in each ear and wears lots of rings

paints her nails to pick it all off the next day

when gansey’s extra anxious, she paints ronan’s nails for her, and it’s Soft :’)

her wardrobe is 100% unchanged from canon - rich tired punk farmer - and she looks gr8

she generally can’t walk in heels at all but she’s got this one pair of heeled boots that make her absurdly tall and she Loves It!

makeup skills are limited to making her look as Pissed Off as possible (meaning middle-school emo raccoon eyeliner and black lipstick probably)

typically not super dysphoric unless verbally misgendered

& isn’t rly comfortable with how deep her voice is but also isn’t willing to try to talk higher because she thinks she sounds silly, so she stays quiet a lot around new people

dreams up some fuckin miracle hormones for everyone and it’s Wonderful!

adam:

came out & transitioned later than everybody else because she wouldn’t even Consider her gender while she was still living with her parents

tbh gender probably plays into the whole Feeling Unknowable even to herself thing

but all her friends are trans as heck so she’s got a rly solid support system to help her once she starts to figure it out!

is rly reluctant to publicly transition because she’s worried abt how it might affect her future - being a trans girl makes life so much harder than just staying a cis boy - but, over time, she starts to make peace with it and realizes that Being Herself is worth the risk!

she fiddles with gender rly subtly at first: not really changing the style of clothes she wears, but buying t-shirts from the girl’s section instead of the boy’s section… growing her bangs out but keeping the rest of her hair short… wearing lip gloss… 

and these little changes help her comfort immensely, and eventually lead to more obvious changes in presentation!

tbh she probably comes out as A Girl first and then realizes she’s actually maybe a demigirl/a nb girl/something like that because being feminine feels Way Better than being masculine, but being A Girl doesn’t feel totally right either

and ronan helps with this, both as a role model for Not Giving A Fuck and also as a butch girl who shows adam that gender and gender expression don’t have to always align perfectly!

every now and then, adam puts on a skirt, and everyone in a 5 mile radius falls in love because she looks Damn Good!

especially with knee socks? like! shit!!!

noah:

noah is a ghost! you think ghosts care about gender? nope! noah’s agender or genderfluid in every universe and thems the facts 🙏🏻

but when noah was alive… he had some Gender Stuff

like, nothing as concrete as actively identifying as something other than a boy, but i think he definitely dabbled in gender presentation as a “haha jokes isn’t it funny” but secretly and quietly because it Felt Right

like… he definitely stole adele’s skirts a few times and his friends were like “czerny r u gay!” and he’s like “haha” but it was definitely actually subtle Gender Feelings that he didn’t have the vocabulary to express

anyway! once he’s dead he has no body and his presentation as Ghost Illusion can change with his comfort

so some days, he manifests looking more femme, and his friends know when to switch up pronouns and make him feel better!

similarly, he can read everybody’s mind, so he always knows what to say and how to comfort his friends when they’re feeling down about anything, including gender stuff!

henry: 

stylizes her name to ‘henri’ to be a little more femme!

Fashion Icon! 

she’s inexplicably stylish. like. the outfits she puts together are Ridiculous and no one in their right mind would wear them and they look Amazing?

sometimes more femme, sometimes comfy being a little more butch, sometimes splicing styles completely! There Are No Rules!

also her Hair. legendary. she grows it out and does all kinds of things to it. she’s known for her elaborate braids. :’)

makeup took the longest to master but now she’s great at it and helps the rest of the girls do their makeup too cuz she’s easily the best at it!

absolutely unapologetic? henri “kiss my trans ass” cheng. henri “down with cis” cheng. 

once henri is fully integrated into the group and gets access to the Dream Hormones, she’s like “!!! idk why my mom is wasting time trading magical artifacts when we could just sell this shit! we’d be set for life and it’d be a great cause!!”

blue:

let’s make her a trans girl too cuz why not!

when maura was pregnant and they found out blue was a boy, calla and persephone were like ‘…sounds fake but okay’

so when blue gravitated toward femme stuff and insisted she was a girl from a young age, they were all like ‘ah that makes more sense!’

there wasn’t a lot of money around 300 fox way for hormones and stuff, but there’s lots of love to go around and they always make sure blue is supported and as comfortable as possible!

blue gets into sewing and making her own clothes during middle school, once puberty starts to wreak havoc on her ability to seamlessly shop in the girl’s department! 

this is a skill that she shares with the rest of the girls once she meets them – she helps them tailor and tweak all their clothes to fit more comfortably!!

she and henry become Fashion Buddies and they make outfits for each other all the time!

300 fox way is kind of a sanctuary for all the girls – surrounded by women who easily and immediately accept them as women too, surrounded by the magic they’re all so in love with… maura, calla, and persephone are their adoptive moms! they have sleepovers at blue’s all the time, individually when they’re having bad days and group sleepovers for fun!! 

[fabulismrp-blog]

FULL NAME: Camilla Anne Windsor. AGE: Twenty-three. DATE OF BIRTH: November 6th, 1994. SEX: Female. GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender. PRONOUNS: She/her. OCCUPATION: Unemployed, self proclaimed heiress.

AESTHETIC – Popping champagne bottles, pearl necklaces, high heels too expensive to think about, name dropping brands and people, carefully curated outfits, spending two hours on makeup, coffee and tea only through straws as to not stain teeth, calling everyone you hate ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’, fake smiles, diamond earrings, pink lipstick, sun peeking through white blinds, calling maids ‘the help’, hands full of shopping bags, cheerleading uniforms, private schools, neatly done hairdos, rose gold everything, twinkling laughs, the color gold, thick southern accents curated perfectly towards better diction, bubble baths in tubs big enough for two, ivy crawling up old buildings, lipstick stains on napkins, perfume lingering when you leave the room.

LIKES: Candles that smell like flowers, dark and inky pens, manicures and pedicures, lemonade and sweet tea, Keeping Up With the Kardashians (and most other reality television), gossiping, reading classic novels, being overdramatic, painting landscapes, dressing up just to look at herself in the mirror, asking for the manager, sleepovers with friends, diamonds.

DISLIKES: Feeling inferior, jeans, grease/dirt/any kind of muck, leaving the house without makeup, frozen yogurt, swimming, sweating, getting her picture taken without proper preparation, polyester, the smell of gasoline, driving.

HEAD CANONS

– Camilla Anne Windsor was named for her grandmother, and goddamn her if she didn’t act like she was deserving of the name. Posture poised and perfect, smile gracious (with straight and white teeth), the perfect image of a southern debutante prepped to marry to someone to increase monetary value — that was all that mattered, anyway. Going to church was for appearances, donating to charity for the good impression it made on others — the Windsor family was selfish, mean, and cutthroat. It wasn’t that Camilla wanted to be a fake bitch, it was that she had to.  

– She was born all soft edges, willing to share her toys and smiling at those who came to visit the family with big brown eyes. Instead of keeping this mentality, she was shoved into clothing too expensive for an infant and paraded around like a prize, a toy, a symbol of wealth — “Look, at how beautiful our daughter is! Maybe one day she and little Antione can marry each other!” Even then she didn’t fancy the idea of being forced to do anything. Every time she would reach out for the toys locked in the cabinet, her hand would be swatted away.  

– Childhood wasn’t much different, except for her responses. Now instead of wanting to run around outside with the children she saw in town (certainly not from her window, the Windsor Estate was a private one with a long and winding road), she was perfectly content to sit in her room, tutoring and etiquette lessons pounded into her head. She remembered one night where she was particularly vitriolic to her mother over it, causing a fuss not because she hated it but because she felt like she had to. What is this, the 1800s? She’d asked. The slap across the cheek and the broken skin from her mother’s engagement ring gave her the first taste of the diamonds she hasn’t stopped craving since.

– Adolescence wasn’t much different either, the same repetitive actions forced into her at a boarding school, tearing her away from the hometown she liked to pretend she ruled. It was a silly, childlike fantasy, staring out her window at their tiny section of Louisiana and pretending she was the princess that would one day own it all. The tiny cars zooming down the road, the white picket fences stark below dark roofs. Once she was sent away, blazers making her shoulders look boxy and knee socks making her feet sweat, she didn’t get to see her kingdom any longer. When she came back, would it be different?

– She came back worse than she had left, an bedroom caught in the past and a dead mother welcoming her home. Her quiet and begrudging attitude, doing everything in silence with a grimace on her face had turned into anger, all barbed wire wrapped words and coy attempts at displaying bragging rights. She no longer wanted to be a princess, she wanted to be a queen.

CONNECTIONS

TBA.