#otherwise this is just some words strung together

[zmediaoutlet]

This world without apocalypse—or demons, or angels, or magic of any kind, as far as Dean can tell—is… fine. It's a craphole for all the normal reasons, what with climate change and war and gas over three bunks a gallon. But—as far as Dean can tell, if he went down to the ghost highway in Nevada it'd really just be a dumb story kids tell each other at summer camp and not something that'd get his lungs torn out through his throat. If he went down to a crossroads and buried his face and name in the midnight dirt, he'd just be down a decent fake ID.

It's not like the dream he had all those years ago, when the djinn tried to give him a fantasy that was rotten through its core. This world is sterile. All the problems it has, problems of its own making, with no fate or angels or anyone trying to load the dice. You die here and—you die, and that's all. Your body rots into the earth and grass grows from the dirt above and there's no heaven or hell and no deals to be made and no responsibility to things beyond the concrete meat in front of you. Freedom, more bare and wild than anything he'd ever imagined.

He's gotten through about half the bottle, eyes dry and sore from reading, when Sam reappears, looking harried. "Hey there, People's Sexiest Man 2010," Dean says. At least there's Sam's face, when he hears it. "You think they send you a plaque or something for that?"

"If they do, this guy's probably got it in a trophy room," Sam says, revolted. His eyes drift down from the terrible gigantic version of himself behind Dean's back and to Dean's face, which for some reason makes him frown even if Dean's just—what, he's sitting here. "What?"

"How was—" Dean gestures vaguely at the ceiling. He wandered through the house while Sam was doing his own search, saw the master bedroom with its california king mattress and the his-and-hers bedside tables and the gallon-sized bottle of Wet in the drawer. Sue him, he investigates shit for a living. "You were gone a while."

Sam's mouth gets thin. Prissy bitch. "Don't laugh," he says, and ignores Dean immediately saying no promises. "Said I had a headache. She applied, like. Essential oils. Said we needed to re-align my chakras."

Dean sits back in his chair, something tense that had been wrapping itself around his spine slowly uncoiling. "Tell me she used a crystal," he says.

"Amethyst," Sam says, grim, and Dean whoops. "Dude, this world sucks."

"Oh, I dunno," Dean says, kicking his boots up onto the desk. He lifts the glass of stupid-expensive scotch he's nearly drained. "Got some perks, at least."

Sam comes around the edge of the desk, takes the glass out of his hand, and drains it. Dean would sock him one but, hey, he had some not-Ruby weirdo alpaca owner trying to align his chakras with a purple rock. Instead he leans over and pours Sam another inch or two of liquid gold. He expects him to knock it straight back but Sam only sighs, leans his hip against the desk next to Dean's boots. His thigh against Dean's calf, warm. Real, in a way all this strange day has hardly felt. Like he's been walking around a dumb Hollywood set, like if he threw a punch it'd crack through cheap painted cardboard, but then here was Sam and—there was the world, as it should be. More or less.

"People's Sexiest Man?" Sam says, after a few seconds.

Dean snorts. "People's Choice, too, for… something or other. Looks like we don't win real awards but the fans are into it. Probably for all those abs." Sam rolls his eyes, sitting back on the desk. He sets a boot on the chair next to Dean's ass so their legs press against each other, hip to ankle. "I don't know, man. It's… look, you're rich, you're a movie star or something, you're married. Demons are a crappy special effect. It doesn't one hundred percent suck."

"Genevieve says we had an affair," Sam says. Dean chokes on air, coughs, and Sam hands the glass of scotch back over. Smiling slightly, the bitch. "She wanted to use positive language about—healing with honest communication, or something. We had a huge fight but I guess they managed to cover it up and now you basically live in your trailer. Well, not you—Jason Ackles, or whatever. She thinks I've been trying to make up with you."

"Can't resist this even in an alternate universe," Dean says, when he's recovered his air. An affair. Jesus.

Sam sighs at him. "I hate this house," he says. He slides his hand under Dean's calf, pressing their knees together. "I don't care about alpacas. I don't want to be People's Choice for anything. I'll take all the crap that comes with it if I have to but I want to be home, where I've got my own name and you've got yours, and we're—who we are. Sound good?"

Dean bites the inside of his cheek. Sam raises his eyebrows, waiting. "Yeah, okay," Dean says, voice miraculously clear, and gets Sam to squeeze his calf, to lean forward. His hand sliding up Dean's thigh, his eyes steady on Dean's. Dean swallows, catches Sam's fingers. This free thing spreading wings under his breastbone. "Just—Sammy," he says, and Sam hums, eyes dropping to his mouth. "Maybe we can steal that bottle of Wet before we go?"

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Danny, gravity is a suggestion, but when he's human he prefers to feel ground under his feet while he's thinking. This leads to him often not realising he's started walking on the wall or ceiling when he's lost in thought or otherwise distracted.

Tim's definitely normal human friend Danny, pacing on the ceiling during his third visit at Wayne manor: [ranting about something, probably defending his love of weird flavour combo milkshakes]

The Batfam, silently debating how they're gonna break it to Danny that he's a meta: ........

Tim's eyes follow Danny as he starts pacing around the table, his homework abandoned on the table. His voice is becoming sharper, and his words are strung together more as he continues. He noticed that he became less aware of his surroundings when his friend started going on his rants.

Watching Danny's body language become slightly less human was fascinating. It started with his eyes—if Danny felt angry, they would glow green. Tim always knew when to cut back on his teasing whenever he saw the flash of green, no matter how brief the green was.

When Danny rants about something that upsets or makes him sad, his voice gains a particular echo. It is almost as if he is slowly walking into a cave.

There were times when Danny got excited or happy; his hair would start to puff up slightly. This reminded Tim of when he would rub a balloon on his hair to study the positive and negative charges.

Danny's hair didn't flout straight up, but it was electric enough to be noticeable if you paid enough attention.

It was as if his emotions affected his physical form like a mood ring. Tim could always tell what Danny felt by watching for the little effects.

All these little things were easy to hide. Most people noticed less than Tim did, but there was one little quirk Danny did that was rather hard to miss.

"What if we talked about the effect of well-lit street lights on crime rates?" Danny asked, striding up to a wall and casually pacing on it. He continued to think out loud, with his eyes closed, as he made loops on the ceiling. Tim needed to pay more attention to the subject of their presentation, but he was somewhat distracted by how Danny's hair and shirt defied gravity.

They stayed perfectly in place as if his friend were still on the ground and not upside down. Tim wondered if his powers were less flying and more gravity-shifting.

It would also explain his lower degree of super strength if he could manipulate gravity. (Tim didn't care what Danny claimed in gym class. No regular human could lift two punching bags like nothing, especially for something as casual as cleaning up)

Or maybe he was able to move in a fifth direction. From his perspective, while Tim was stuck in 3D, Danny could move in the fourth and walk on the ground. It would explain why he didn't notice he had stepped on the walls or ceiling. To Danny, he never left the floor.

"No, that wouldn't work," Danny mutters, making loops around the chandelier. "What if we...but then that would mean...."

Tim couldn't make out most of his words, but that was fine. Danny also tended to mutter under his breath when he was deep in thought.

He cranks his neck back, eyes tracing the way Danny seemed to strut around as if he was out for a walk on a nice sunny day in the park. Carefully, making sure Danny was too distracted by his thoughts, Tim aimed his camera phone at him.

He takes a few photos and then opens the family group chat.

Tim: I need advice on gently telling a friend something that may change our friendship. I've tried to say it to him before but he doesn't seem to get it.

Jason: buy him some flowers and write him a poem. He'll love it.

Steph: That's terrible advice, Jay. No one does that anymore

Jason: No one has class anymore, you mean. Besides, boys deserve to be romanced, too.

Dick: Just tell him how you feel, Tim! Be direct and make sure you use the words "I like you romanticly." Sometimes people don't understand you're asking them out.

Damian: Do not bother me with your failed courtships.

Duke: Maybe don't go as far as Jay said, but Dick's right. You have to say, "Go on a date with me" or something.

Steph: Try the bend and snap! It's Elle Woods-approved!

Tim: No, that's not what this is about. I need help telling Danny he might be a metahuman with Superman-level Power.

There is a long pause before his phone vibrates again.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon?

Bruce is typing.....

Tim: He's friendly! He just has yet to notice that what he does isn't regular.

Jason: Wait, isn't Danny that kid we saw you at the ice ring with? The one that snuck up on Cass by accident?

Tim: Yes

Multiple people are typing.....

Tim briefly glances up to see what Danny is up to, and he is surprised that Frost has started developing in his footsteps. That's certainly new. He attached the photos to the chat, sending them off as Danny slowly floated back down.

He watches as his friend flips horizontally in mid-air so that he's standing upright when he lands. His hair is starting to puff up again, so he is not surprised when Danny's eyes snap open with a gleeful glint in them.

"I figured it out, Tim!"

"That's great," Tim tells him with a smile as Danny eagerly returns to his seat. He is babbling about the solution to their government class and how he knows he can get their proposed bill passed with the correct narrative.

Tim watches frost develop around his pencil and chair. Fascinating. Does that mean excitement? He almost forgets about the family group chat while attempting to figure out what emotion Danny is experiencing to connect to frost that he missed a few messages.

Bruce: Tim, where are you?

Bruce: he made Cass jump because she didn't hear or see him coming. That's worrisome.

Bruce: He could be dangerous

Bruce: Where are you

Bruce: Tim, answer me

Bruce: Timothy Jackson Drake, answer the phone right now

Dick: Oooooohhhh middle name

Damian: They are in the left-wing dining room, Father. I already have a visual on them.

Damian sent a photo of two teenage boys sitting at a table, bending over to look at a book together. Papers and pencils are scattered around the stranger while Tim's trusted laptop is in front of his part.

Bruce: Good. Keep them in sight at all times and report any suspicious behavior.

Damian: Naturally.

Steph: No DNA test is needed

Duke: Literally.

Cass: I am confused. I thought we all knew Tim's boyfriend was not human?

Jason: We did not, in fact, know that Cass.

Cass: It is obvious by the way he moves that Danny is not a meta-human. He is close to one, but he moves like a different being. He reminds me of Captain Marvel.

Multiple people are typing......

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she��d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

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[saylor-twift]

“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

summary: your first few weeks in your new town, hawkins, are honestly anything but normal. you quickly find yourself caught between making new friends and keeping your distance, all while dodging the king of douchebags, steve harrington, and his clumsy attempts to get to know you, all on your first day. and, with a cherry on top, a strange figure in the woods makes you question if hawkins has a wildlife problem—or something much stranger. spoiler alert: it's not just deer.

“I’m throwing a party at my house this Friday. Food, drinks, pool, no parents, all the fun stuff. I wanted to invite you… it could be good for you, meeting new people and all!” Steve raised his eyebrows in that signature way of his, the one that usually made it hard for people to say no to. Y/N turned to look at the boy, her eyes narrowing with a hint of defiance in them. She deliberately reached into her back pocket to play her music again, looking forward to the parking lot—completely unbothered. “---Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te-da Just like that” “Jesus, this girl’s got a stick up her butt.” Steve thought to himself.

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: cursing, steve's horrible friends, otherwise none!

word count: 4.1k

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𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 “Uptown girl She’s been living in her uptown world I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy”

Music blared through a girl’s headphones as she made her way onto the campus of Hawkins High. Different voices strung through the air as she walked through the chaotic parking lot, with some students parking their cars and others being dropped off by parents. It was lively, with skateboarders tipping their boards and walking into school, bikers putting their bikes in the designated rack, while others got off the yellow school buses, making their way onto campus.

The girl clutched her school books to her chest, walking toward the main entrance to meet her campus guide. Her hair was styled in a voluminous fringe, wearing a white top paired with blue jeans, and a brown belt to add color.

“I bet her momma never told her why I’m gonna try for an uptown girl She’s been living in her white-bred world”

“Are you Y/N Smith?” A soft voice sounded faintly through the sound of music, coming from a girl with glasses and a short light red hairdo. Y/N glanced over to the girl and paused her Walkman, taking her headphones off and putting her attention on the girl.

“Sorry?”

“You’re Y/N Smith, right?” The girl repeated herself, looking at Y/N before looking down at her clipboard. She had a friendly demeanor, but didn’t quite seem the popular type.

“Yes,” The girl nodded. “And you are?”

“Barbra Holland, but you can just call me Barb. I’ll be showing you around.” The sweet girl smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N offered a tentative smile.

𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

As the lunch bell rang signaling the midpoint of Y/N’s first day at Hawkins High, she found herself navigating the bustling cafeteria. The girl was on the search for her guide from this morning, hoping she could sit with her instead of being a loner, not wanting to sit by herself. Or even worse—eat in the bathroom stalls, which was usually where she found herself at a new school.

The cafeteria smelt of hamburger mixed with other scents, alive with chatter and laughter, with students jostling for seats and trays laden with food. Other students were in line for lunch while some found their seats with their friends, the cafeteria growing louder with conversation by the second.

As Y/N spotted the girl who showed her around school earlier in the day, Barb, she made her way over to her table. She noticed she was sitting with another girl with mid-length brown hair. It was styled in a half-do, with a pretty flowery top and skirt, making her look neat and put together. 

Summoning her courage, Y/N made the final approach to their table, a tentative smile on her lips. Barb and her friend looked up, their expressions warm and welcoming as they gestured for the girl to join them.

“Hey Y/N, glad you found me. Would you like to sit with us?” Barb smiled at the girl, inviting her before she even had to ask.

Grateful for their invitation, Y/N nodded and took a seat across from Barb and her friend. “I’m Nancy, it’s nice to meet you.” Barb’s friend introduced herself, reaching out her hand to shake the girl’s.

“I’m Y/N, thanks for letting me sit with you guys.”

As Y/N settled in and quietly listened in on the girl’s conversations, she couldn't help but feel a pang of self-doubt creeping in. They’re probably just letting her sit by them to be nice, they’ll push her away eventually if she doesn’t herself.

What’s the point of getting close to anyone right now?

Putting aside her doubts, Y/N hesitantly joined the conversation, listening intently as Nancy and Barb chatted animatedly about their classes and upcoming plans. They were warm and inclusive, making Y/N feel more at ease in their presence.

“Y/N, how are you liking Hawkins High so far?” Nancy questioned, observing the new girl. 

“It’s been okay, definitely different than what I’m used to. Thanks to Barb, I’ve found my way around alright.” Y/N politely smiled, fidgeting with her fork.

"Well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Barb and I are here to help." The brown-haired girl smiled across from her.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

After some more light conversation, Barb showed Y/N the way to the rest of her classes, but her brain scrambled and she forgot where to go for sixth hour after lunch. She looked around the halls, lost, glancing at the number for her class on her paper schedule, looking back up to read the classroom door numbers to try and find a match.

“Hey there, new girl, you lost or something?” An unfamiliar masculine voice echoed in the girl’s ears, glancing up to see a tall, brown-haired boy, whose hair was styled fancily, falling almost perfectly in front of his face. 

He had light brown eyes that reflected golden in the sunlight—wearing a nicely fitted navy button-up shirt with jeans and Nike blazers. He had slightly tan skin, and if you looked close enough, you could see a few moles that complemented his face. He stood across the hall from her, hand on hip, watching her gaze land on him.

“Not exactly lost, just—finding my way around.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, clutching her books to her chest, not wanting to ask anyone for help, let alone talk to any more people.

“Well, lucky for you…” The boy leaned against the lockers in the hall, practically beaming with confidence. “I’m an expert navigator. The name’s Steve, Steve Harrington.” 

Cautiously, the girl replies. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Smith.”

“Smith, huh? Sounds mysterious. You hiding any secrets?” Steve raised an eyebrow at the girl before rudely being interrupted, by what seemed to be a friend.

“Preying on the new chick now, huh King Steve?” A boy with fluffy hair smirked as he slung his arm around Harrington. He looked smug and had pale skin, with dark hair and freckles covering his face. 

“Get off me Tommy,” Steve shoved him off. “I’m just trying to help show her around,” He rolled his eyes.

When Steve finally stopped bickering with his friend, he turned to see the new girl nowhere to be found. Frustration flickered across his expression.

“You scared her off, Tommy!” He pushed his friend’s shoulder, slightly irritated—mostly disappointed.

Tommy snorted, unfazed by the reprimand. “She doesn’t seem all that worth it anyway, man. I mean—did you even look at her? She looks like a total priss anyway!” His words dripped with derision, a smug grin spreading across his face as he continued to mock the girl who had piqued Steve’s interest.

Steve’s frown deepened. “No, douchebag, there’s something about that girl…” He spoke with a mixture of curiosity and determination, a spark of intrigue lighting up his brown eyes. There was a challenge there—something different from the usual girls he encountered.

Tommy rolled his eyes and laughed, the sound grating on the brown-eyed boy’s nerves. “That’s what you say about every girl, man. Get a grip.” He shook his head, clearly dismissing Steve’s fascination as another fleeting whim, losing interest in the conversation.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring Tommy’s dismissive attitude. He couldn’t help but feel that this girl, with her aloof demeanor and guarded eyes—was a puzzle worth solving.

Y/N had turned her back on the commotion from the two boys, her steps deliberate as she made her way into the bustling school halls to find her own way to class. The fluorescent school lights above cast a harsh glow, reflecting off the polished linoleum floors.

The girl weaved through the crowd, her hair catching the occasional draft from the overhead vents, causing loose strands to brush against her face. She reached up to tuck them behind her ear, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of her Walkman clipped to her waistband. Music still played softly through her headphones, a comforting barrier between her and the overwhelming noise of the high school.

As she walked, Y/N couldn't help but notice the cliques forming in the hallways—the jocks congregating near the gym doors, the popular girls giggling by the water fountain, and the band kids chatting animatedly near the music room. Each group seemed to have its own territory, and Y/N felt like an outsider navigating through a maze of established social structures, knowing most of these kids had known each other since grade school.

Filing in with the crowd, she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with others as she ventured her way to her next class. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before her, a labyrinth of identical doors and bustling students. 

But despite the noise and the crowds, the girl felt a strange sense of calm. She was alone, but in that solitude, there was a certain freedom—a chance to observe, and to slowly, cautiously—find her place in this new town.

𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

The bell rang, announcing it was the end of Y/N’s first day at Hawkins High. She liked Barb and Nancy, and she hoped they would like her too. Yet the same question lingered in her mind; was it even worth it to make friends when she didn’t know how long she’d be in Hawkins?

But she could see right through that boy from the passing period—the typical, arrogant, rich white boy who messes with any girl he could get his hands on. He was cute, but too full of himself and wrapped up in his own world.

Y/N pressed the play button on her Walkman in her back pocket as she finally made her way out of her last hour, putting on her headphones for her ears to be met with the comforting sound of music.

“My brown eyed girl You my, brown eyed girl Do you remember when We used to sing”

As the girl made her way through the school's exit doors, her music suddenly stopped as she felt a button on her Walkman on the side of her waistband click. She was quick to turn around to pin down who or what paused her music, visibly annoyed—only to be met with a familiar face.

That boy from the hall—more like official douchebag now, Steve Harrington.

“Why would you do that?” She snapped, agitated—with the boy immediately getting defensive, throwing his hands up to the side.

“Sorry, sorry, I was calling your name in the hall, but you didn’t hear me.” Steve gestured to her headphones with his hands.

“Right.” She walked off with a flat expression, but the brown-haired boy was quick to follow her.

“I was wondering—” he paused, unsure if he should continue due to her uninterested face as she made her way toward the parking lot, her headphones still on, but no music playing. 

"I'm throwing a party this Friday at my house. Food, drinks, pool, no parents, all the good stuff. I wanted to invite you… it could be good for you, meeting new people and all!" Steve raised his eyebrows in that signature way of his, the one that usually made it hard for people to say no to. There was a hint of charm in his voice, almost as if he were daring her to refuse.

Y/N turned to look at the boy, her eyes narrowing with a hint of defiance in them. She deliberately reached into her back pocket to play her music again, looking forward to the parking lot—completely unbothered.

“---Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da Just like that”

“Jesus, this girl’s got a stick up her butt.” Steve thought as the music from her headphones blared once again. He glanced back at his friends, who were a little behind him, shrugged, and kept walking beside her.

He reached into his jeans pocket, grabbed a note with his address written on it, and handed it to the girl.

“At six, I’ll see you there.” He raised his eyebrows, his voice muffled through the girl's headphones as she reluctantly grabbed the note from him, watching him retreat to his group of friends.

Shaking her head, Y/N glanced forward, being met with the familiar appearance of Hopper’s vehicle pulling up in the parking lot in front of her. The girl was relieved, quick to open the door, setting her things down in the foot room of the passenger seat, and climbed into the car. 

“How was your first day, kiddo?” Hopper was quick to ask as the girl closed the passenger door.

“It was alright… the people were nice. I’ll survive,” She shrugged, to which Hopper gave a small chuckle. 

“You’ll survive, huh?” He mocked in a joking manner.

“Yeah,” she gave a small grin, proceeding to hold up a note to the man, waving it around. “I got invited to a party.” 

“It was by that boy that was walking with you, huh,” Hopper noted his observation, his tone covered by a sense of protectiveness. “You already know the rules though, kid. No parties. No boys. Especially at my house.” He eyed the girl, his eyebrows raising as he put the car in drive.

“I know, I don’t want to go anyway.”

After Hopper dropped the girl off from school, the chief continued his day back at the station. Y/N was seated on the back patio of Hopper’s trailer that sat on a lake. There was a slight breeze as her hair danced with the wind, her eyelashes fluttering at her sketchbook on her lap. Beyond the lake, trees covered the land, and the sound of cicadas chirping filled the girl’s ears. It was cooling off, and sunset was in a few hours.

Her pencil glided across the sketchbook page, detailing the lake and the landscape around it. She added a few finishing touches, looking back up to see details of the trees, but her eyes went wide, a bit frightened—as she was met with the same sight of the ethereal orange and red glow in the woods she had seen at the trailer park in her father’s backyard.

The girl sketched the sight with curiosity, adding the orange and red hues to the drawing. As she looked up again to continue sketching, a tall figure—similar to the one in the woods before, moved in the tree line.

A bit unsettled, she closed the sketchbook and watched as the colors began to fade from the woods, with the figure nowhere to be found. She rushed inside to read the time on the clock, 5:41 PM. Hopper should be home by six-fifteen. She’ll be alright.

Probably just deer anyway.

She brushed off what she saw, ignoring how unsettled she felt, making her way into the kitchen. “Shit,” the girl cursed at herself, realizing she left her toast in the toaster when she got home from school after getting dropped off.

She sat her sketchbook down on the kitchen counter and cleaned up the toast. She truly did consider going to Steve Harrington’s party on Friday, but she knew how it would turn out. He and his friends were douchebags anyways, and all they’re probably going to do is drink and smoke.

And then she began to remember the rules Hopper had set in place when she moved in with him. “I get off work late usually, it depends, but I always want you home no past 9. And no boys, no drugs, no parties…  you already know. And don’t answer the door if you don’t recognize the person there. Most importantly, no lies. If you’re going somewhere, write down where before you leave so I know. That’s all I ask of you.”

It was frustrating, having limitations and rules as she’d been used to her independence—taking care of herself during the decline of her father.

After her mother passed away, she was practically on her own. Of course, her father also made up rules along the way and would punish her for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But she knew she had to respect Hopper, whether she liked it or not.

As the girl sat in thought doing dishes in the sink, in the corner of her eye, she was met with a dark figure moving past the trees outside the window in front of her. Startled, she dropped the dish she was cleaning on the floor, seeing glass shards cover the floor. She let out a strained sigh, trying to shake off the fear nagging at her, assuming it was some sort of wildlife, beginning to pick up the mess.

While she cleaned up the kitchen, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling rising in her system. The glow from the woods again, the figure… suddenly, she heard a car engine pull up. 

Footsteps approached the trailer, and she heard the familiar sound of keys jingling to open the front door. She watched the door open as the familiar sight of Hopper entered the trailer, taking off his chief hat and throwing it onto the couch with takeout in his hands.

“Got Chinese for our movie tonight. Won’t be able to do it on Friday like usual this week,” The chief announced, setting down the food on the coffee table in the living room. 

“You’re home early,” Y/N announced, reading the clock, 5:51 PM, watching as Hopper gave a small nod, busy ridding his uniform jacket. “Quiet day.”

“Have you been seeing any animals around lately? Like deer or something?” She questioned, still uneasy from what she saw.

“Sometimes they come around. Why, did you see one?” Hopper questioned, plopping down on the couch, leather squeaking.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing a lot lately,” Y/N hesitantly responded, knowing there was no explanation for what she saw—which was most definitely not deer.

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

“So you’re telling me, the Steve Harrington invited you to a party, and you’re not going?” Barb emphasized her words as Y/N walked through the high school halls, passing peers towards the cafeteria.

“Yeah, he invited me on Monday actually, but I think his friends convinced him to do it.” Y/N looked over at Barb, shrugging. “It’s not that big of a deal. I can’t even go… not that I want to anyway.” She continued, opening the doors to the lively cafeteria.

“So you’re really going to turn down King Steve?” Nancy chimed in, her tone sharp in her sarcasm as she emphasized the silly nickname. There was something about the way she said it that made Y/N pause, but she quickly brushed it off.

“I don’t know why you guys are making it seem like such a big deal. He’s probably invited so many other people anyway… and why does everyone keep calling him that? It’s ridiculous,” Y/N shook her head as she grabbed a food tray.

“It’s what everyone calls him!” Barb answered, trailing behind Y/N. “If you went, imagine how popular you would get, and you’re brand new to Hawkins!” She added, trying to convince the girl.

Nancy, however, gave a half-hearted smile, her eyes not quite meeting Y/N’s. “Yeah, because apparently, Steve Harrington doesn’t have enough girls following him around already,” she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

“I don’t get why ‘the Steve Harrington’ is such a big deal. And I’m not interested in the popular crowd anyway,” Y/N mocked. “He seems like any other popular, rich, arrogant douchebag. I mean, look at his friends, and his hair!” She continued, watching as Nancy’s eyes flickered over her shoulder, suddenly widening along with Barb’s.

“Oh my god, what is it now?” Y/N turned around, only to be met by Steve Harrington—and his hair. God, his absurd hair.

“What about my hair?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed together in question, his hands automatically reaching up to smooth it as if he could fix whatever she was criticizing.

“Oh, nothing…” Y/N shook her head, looking up at the boy, a bit startled by his sudden appearance.

“Well, you’re still coming to the party tonight, right?” Steve asked, his gaze fixed on her. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she prayed that he didn’t hear the rather harsh words she’d just said about him and his friends.

“Uh,” she started, “Yeah, I can’t go.” She continued, watching as the boy's expression fell into utter disappointment.

“What, your parents won’t let you?” Steve questioned, slightly pouting, his lips formed into a small frown.

“I guess, and I’m not exactly the party girl anyway,” Y/N shrugged, glancing to the side where she caught Nancy staring at the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well, if your friends went, would you go?” The boy came up with an idea, with Nancy’s eyes flicking up to Steve’s. “I’ll go,” She chimed in, lightly elbowing Barb as she hesitantly nodded. 

“I’m not going either way, sorry.” Y/N shook her head, confident in her answer.

“Just consider it! You can always sneak out.” Steve winked, turning his head to the sound of his friends calling his name, getting distracted.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys tonight, at six!” He pointed toward the girls, shuffling off to his lunch table.

“Y/N, you should really go to the party,” Nancy suggested, but there was something off in her tone, almost like she was trying too hard to sound casual. “I mean, it’s Steve Harrington. Not everyone gets that kind of invite.”

“No—no way,” Y/N refused stubbornly, insisting on not going.

Nancy forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine, have fun missing out!” She mocked Steve’s words with a hint of something Y/N couldn’t quite identify—was it jealousy?

Barb, noticing the tension, chimed in. “I’m sure it’ll be fun… or not. I’m not really a party girl either, but I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said with a light laugh, but Y/N could feel Nancy’s lingering gaze, making her wonder if there was more to this than just a party invite.

“You guys can go without me, I’m sure you’ll have fun if you do end up going,” The girl gave a slight shrug to her friends, walking past them to grab her lunch.

“Steve Harrington, rejected by the new girl? No way,” a girl sitting next to Tommy at Steve's table scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief. 

Carol, with her light red hair styled to perfection and a face full of makeup that highlighted her icy blue eyes, leaned in closer to the conversation, clearly savoring the moment. Her fair skin contrasted sharply with the dark eyeliner that made her stare seem even more judgmental.

“Stop it, Carol,” Steve muttered, trying to sound nonchalant as he waved her off, but there was an edge to his voice. 

He slouched back in his seat, attempting to brush off the sting of rejection. He hated how it was becoming a topic of discussion, especially with Carol and Tommy around. They thrived on gossip, and he wasn’t in the mood to be their next punchline.

“Come on, Steve,” Carol pressed, her tone teasing but with a sharpness that cut through the cafeteria noise. 

“There’s got to be something up with her. Maybe she’s just playing hard to get, or maybe she’s not interested at all. I mean, who could turn down you?” The sarcasm in her voice was thick, as if she found the very idea ridiculous.

Steve sighed, rubbing his temple with frustration. “Maybe she’s worth getting to know, you know? I want to see what she's really about,”

There was something about Y/N that intrigued him—her guarded expression, the way she wasn’t immediately taken in by his usual charm. It was different, and maybe that was what kept her on his mind. 

“Yeah, if she actually wanted to talk to you,” Carol cut in, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. 

Tommy, who had been listening with an entertained grin, decided to jump in. “Or maybe King Steve finally met someone who isn’t falling at his feet—"

“You just don’t quit, do you?” Steve snapped, and the outburst caused a few heads to turn their way, but Steve didn’t care. He was tired of the mocking, tired of everyone acting like they knew him better than he knew himself.

“Touchy, touchy,” Tommy scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk remained firmly in place. “Just saying, man, maybe she’s not into the whole ‘King of Hawkins High’ thing. Maybe you gotta' try a different approach.”

Steve didn’t respond, just stared at the table, lost in thought. He hated to admit it, but Tommy might have a point. Maybe Y/N wasn’t impressed by his usual tricks. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to be someone different to get through to her.

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taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 13: Mononucleosis

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Wooyoung, Yeosang (mono)

Caregiver(s): Hongjoong, Seonghwa

Word Count: 2,199

Notes: I am, admittedly, not the most thrilled with how this turned out, but c'est la vie. I also finished this one pretty last minute cause I had several little bits of dialogue that needed to be strung together. I also know so little about mono, and everything is from Google.

When Wooyoung stumbled out of his room, feeling like death warmed over and craving a little attention from his members, he did not expect to find the room dark except for the light of the muted TV and the couch already occupied. Yeosang was curled up, looking just as bad as Wooyoung felt: skin dully pale, shadows under his eyes, body laying as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Their eyes locked. 

“Mind if I join?”

“Welcome to the party.” Yeosang curled his knees even closer to his chest to make room for Wooyoung on the other end of the couch.

“Your throat hurt like hell too?” Wooyoung asked as he collapsed on the other end of the couch. He stuck his feet under Yeosang’s blanket, and the other didn’t fight him. 

Yeosang nodded. “Tired as hell?”

“You know it.” 

“Great. Glad we can die of the plague together.”

“No one else I’d rather go down with.” 

Yeosang hummed. “I’m actually kinda worried, Woo. I felt totally fine last night, and now even the thought of moving is painful.”

“Funny you say that, cause I was starting to think the same thing. The ‘I was all good last night’ bit. I actually wasn’t all that worried. Until you just said that.” Yeosang’s foot reached out and met Wooyoung’s. “Now I’m less nervous.” Yeosang chuckled at that, but the sound quickly became a groan. 

They laid there, staring blankly at the TV, for an indefinite amount of time. Wooyoung had forgotten his phone in his room, and there was no way he was moving back there on his own. It wasn’t like Yeosang could help him. They were stranded on the couch until someone else found them. 

And that person ended up being San. “Good morning!” he chirped happily, passing the couch on his way to the kitchen. “You two have a sleep over without inviting the rest of us?”

“Something like that.” 

San stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to the couch comically slow. Wooyoung’s response may’ve been cheeky, but his voice was… off. He walked back around the couch, taking a good look at both Yeosang and Wooyoung. Lips pouted in confusion, San flipped on the lamp on the end table. His eyes went wide. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?”

“Is it that bad?” Yeosang asked. 

“You look like actual zombies,” San replied. 

“Maybe that’s what we’ve got, Sangie: Zombie flu.” Wooyoung tapped Yeosang’s foot this time, earning a single chuckle from the other man. San’s eyes flew wide, and he immediately brought his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose as he backed away. “San, it was a joke!”

“I know, but I’m guest MC-ing Music Core this week, and I really can’t afford to get the flu right now, zombie or otherwise…” Wooyoung couldn’t decide if he felt bad at San’s panic, or if he wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was being. “I’m getting Hongjoong and Seonghwa…”  

“Noooo! Don’t wake them!” Yeosang whined, burying his face deeper in the throw pillow. San made a mental note to lysol off the whole couch. Maybe burn it. 

“I’m waking them.” He set off before either of them could complain. 

“Has he always been such a germaphobe?” Wooyoung asked. 

Yeosang shrugged. “I mean, I get it. I wouldn’t want to have zombie flu on camera either.”

“Fair point.”

“Now what’s going on here?” Yunho appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing in front of the couch, hands placed on his hips as if inspecting some sort of silly shenanigan. This was not a silly shenanigan, thank you very much. 

“We are becoming zombies,” Yeosang announced simply. 

“Okay. How did that happen?” Yunho played right along, noting the glaze in the younger man’s eyes, and hoping to either a.) keep him awake long enough for the MATZ line to check his out, and/or b.) get him to say something funny. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. We have not been in contact with any other zombies or hazardous materials.” 

“Yeah, we both just woke up like this.” Wooyoung attempted to pose without sitting up at all, the movement awkward and looking more like contortion than modeling. Yunho tried his best not to laugh, and was thankfully saved by the entrance of Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San trailing behind them. 

“Now what is this about a zombie flu?” Seonghwa asked. Both and Hongjoong had their arms full of supplies from the medicine cabinet, and after depositing them on the coffee table, he immediately moved to lay a hand on Wooyoung and Yeosang’s foreheads simultaneously. 

“Hyung, I think we’re dying,” Wooyoung announced before Hongjoong slipped the thermometer in his mouth. 

“How so?” the captain asked. “Give me symptoms.”

“Extremely tired. Very sore throat. Entire body aches. Felt fine last night,” Yeosang rattled off. 

“See? Dying!” Wooyoung exclaimed around the thermometer. Hongjoong flicked his forehead. 

“Relax. You probably just caught Yunho-hyung’s cold,” Jongho rolled his eyes. Neither Wooyoung nor Yeosang had noticed him enter the room, but he was currently sitting in the recliner, supervising as Hongjoong and Seonghwa desperately tried to play doctor to the group’s most impatient patient. And Yeosang too. 

“Not nice. Mingi had it first!” Yunho poked the maknae’s shoulder. 

“And I didn’t have a fever,” Mingi (when did he get here?!) pointed out. “And I don’t think Yunho did either.” 

The dancer shook his head. “Nope. And neither of us were this fatigued.”

“Wouldn’t classify it as a ‘very sore throat,’” Mingi added, starting to count on his fingers. 

“Okay, okay we get it,” Wooyoung whined around the thermometer again, rolling his eyes as he slumped back against the couch. He frowned, whole face creasing as Seonghwa pointed the thermometer gun at Yeosang’s forehead. He thankfully waited until Hongjoong pulled the device from his mouth before asking, “Why did you only use the forehead reader on Sangie?”

“So you’d be quiet for a little bit,” Hongjoong answered plainly, assessing the numbers on the screen. Seonghwa showed him Yeosang’s reading as well. 

“Rude.”

“Also, kinda gross to put the same thermometer that was just in your mouth in his,” Mingi commented. 

“Can we put a pause on the peanut gallery?” Wooyoung asked, pointing puppy dog eyes at Seonghwa. The eldest ran his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, similar to a puppy, but the feeling soothed him somewhat.

“Well, you’re both burning up, so it’s probably not the cold the rest of you had,” Hongjoong commented, starting at the thermometers as if doing so would give him answers. “But I’m stumped. Fever, fatigue, sore throat, but nothing else…”

“Should we get them looked at by a doctor?” San asked from the back of the room. To Wooyoung, it almost looked like he was hiding behind Mingi. As if that would save him from their germs. 

“Most definitely.” Hongjoong was tapping away at his phone now, likely alerting their managers to the situation. 

“Do we have to go right now?” Yeosang’s voice bordered on a whine. Hongjoong couldn’t help but pout with him, ruffling the dancer’s hair affectionately. 

“Well, it’s only 6:30 in the morning. The doctor isn’t in yet, buddy. So you two can rest here for a bit longer. Hopefully they can fit you in ASAP.”

“Cuddle with me, Sangie!” Wooyoung lunged forward towards his friend, resting on his abdomen. Yeosang squirmed away with an annoyed whine, t-shirt riding up over his hips from Wooyoung’s grabbing hands. He pulled it roughly back in place, as if seriously upset that Wooyoung would even consider touching him right now, which did confuse Wooyoung as touching feet earlier had not been a problem…

“Wait! Sangie, hold still.” Both members froze as Seonghwa gently lifted the hem of Yeosang’s t-shirt. Yunho gasped as Seonghwa revealed Yeosang’s abdomen and chest, covered with an ocean of red spots. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” San continued repeating the words like a protection spell, covering his mouth with his hands and beginning irritatedly pacing far away from the couch. Seonghwa nodded to Yunho, who immediately suggested he and San go take a walk outside. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Yeosang gasped. “What is this? I didn’t even feel anything!” His breathing started to pick up. “Hyung, what the fuck’s happening to me?!” Wooyoung simply stared at his friend’s abdomen, frozen in panic. 

“Oh Sangie, shhhh,” Seonghwa soothed, opening his arms and nearly falling back into the coffee table from the force of Yeosang clinging to him. “You’re okay. You’re o-kay. You said you didn’t even feel the rash, right?” 

“No!” Yeosang shook his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

“Well, you’re not gonna like it, but I think this means you have mono, bud.” The eldest glanced over to Wooyoung. “You too, love.” 

Wooyoung blinked, shaking his head as if Seonghwa had just told him there was a dragon living in their basement. “What?” he exclaimed. “There is NO WAY we have mono! Isn’t that the kissing one?”

“Yeah, Hwa, are you sure?” Hongjoong asked, kneeling down on the other side of Yeosang. Seunghwa nodded sadly. “My brother had it once when we were in high school. It’s not just kissing, you can get it from other things too,” he explained, petting Yeosang’s hair gently. The dancer had stopped hyperventilating, but his grip on Seonghwa had only gotten tighter. “Sharing drinks; that’s how my brother’s got it. Sharing chapstick. Maybe even toothbrushes…”

“We don’t share toothbrushes!” Wooyoung insisted. 

“Maybe even toothbrushes touching,” Seonghwa finished gently. “Maybe. It’s possible that you may’ve mixed water bottles with another group at some point, maybe that’s how…” He was cut off by Yeosang lurching away from him, glaring daggers at Wooyoung.

“YOU kissed me!” he exclaimed, immediately wincing at the pain in his throat. “You kissed me when I asked you not to, and here we are!”

Wooyoung’s head cocked to the side. “When?!”

“After our all kill! During the encore stage? You got too excited and grabbed my face and I tried to squirm so you hit my mouth instead of my cheek.”

“That was a month ago!”

“Yeah, about that, mono does have a four to six week incubation period.” Hongjoong held up his phone, where he’d been fact checking mono symptoms. 

Wooyoung clapped his hands to this mouth as his face drained of color. “Oh my god…” Yeosang continued to glare at him. 

“Well, good thing we’ve been super strict about not sharing water bottles,” Hongjoong muttered to Seonghwa, who nodded emphatically. 

“Who would’ve thought there would be an upside to half the group sharing a cold.”

“And that it would be that the rest of us wouldn’t get mono.”

“I can’t believe you gave me mono,” Yeosang huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and physically turning his body as far away from Wooyoung as he could.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped open. “Um, who said I gave it to you? Maybe YOU had it first and gave it to ME!”

“No. You kissed me. That means it’s your fault.” Now both Yeosang and Wooyoung were pouting on their separate side of the couch. Hongjoong and Seonghwa made the mistake of making eye contact and nearly burst out laughing. 

They were saved by the reappearance of Yunho and San, the dancer’s arm wrapped protectively around the vocalist’s shoulders. 

“Good news, Sannie. They aren’t contagious unless you kiss them!” Mingi cheered. 

“Well why would I ever want to do that?” San replied, pulling a face. Wooyoung threw a pillow at him, causing San to squawk in fear and dodge behind Yunho to not get hit with anything potential contaminated, despite Mingi’s earlier explanation. 

“Okay kids, settle down,” Hongjoong said, holding up his hands for a ceasefire. “I need everyone who’s healthy to go start getting ready for schedules. Yeosang and Wooyoung, I need you two to make up and take care of each other until manager-nim can come get you.”

“Kiss and make up, more like it,” Mingi snorted to himself as he disappeared down the hallway. Wooyoung wound his arm up to throw another pillow at him, but Seonghwa held him back. 

“Rest, Woo,” the eldest said gently. “I know it’s frustrating to be sick, and scary cause we don’t actually know what this is. But all you two can do is rest and let your bodies heal.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung relented. Hongjoong shook his head. Why didn’t Wooyoung ever listen to him like that? “Sangie, I’m sorry I may have gotten you sick.”

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong prompted. 

Yeosang sighed, releasing his arms from their cross. “I’m sorry I may have gotten you sick, and I snapped at you about it.”

“There we go! I think that’s earned you both popsicles later.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up immediately, but surprisingly so did Yeosang’s. The dancer never gave into bribery by snack, so he must’ve really wanted that popsicle to be so visibly excited. 

And sure enough, one doctor’s visit later, Yeosang and Wooyoung were curled up together in Wooyoung’s bed, officially diagnosed with mono and contentedly enjoying the promised popsicles, content with the assurance that there were plenty more in the freezer for them over the next few weeks.

[fictionalwhores]

Dating JJ would include...

-JJ’s love language is physical affection and you can not tell me otherwise (maybe with a mix of words of affirmation) 

-He holds your hands, traces shapes on your bare skin, hugs you from behind while  on the boat and the breeze blows against you lightly, attempts to braid your hair as Kie instructs him, if one of you guys are sitting next to each other but can’t hold hands he’ll keep your guys’ knees close so he can still feel your touch  

-JJ is a cheeky man and part of that physical affection includes slapping your ass whenever you walk in front of him 

-Hear me out, JJ is the best and the worst with pet names. All day long he can roll out baby girl,sweetheart, and babe (proceeded with a very strung out and pouting “Babeeeeeee”) 

-”Awww, come here, babygirl”

-”Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I promise” 

-”Damn, babe, looking good in my clothes” 

-But do not think he won’t also call you bro, dude, or man at any given point two seconds after calling you a cute name 

-”Seriously, man?” 

-”Bro, stop touching me! Your hands are cold as fuck” 

-”Dude, you will never believe what I saw today” 

-speaking of which, JJ owns the phrase “THAT’S MY GIRL” 

-late-night talks in the hammock admiring the starlit sky 

-if anyone even breathes wrong in your direction its ON SIGHT For this protective boy 

-JJ would 100% start little arguments just to see you get riled up and defend your stance 

-Followed with him kissing you and telling you to relax, he was just messing with you because he thinks it’s hot when you get worked up 

-When things are bad with his dad, he would leave for a few days at a time, which leaves you worried sick because JJ sucks at texting back 

-But he doesn’t want you to see him like that so he says he just needs some space 

-when he finally does come back you give him all the love in the world and he doesn’t try to fight any of it 

-okay I’ve never smoked but I really want JJ to teach me so imagine him rolling a blunt for you and instructing you through the whole process and making sure to stop you before you do too much or hyping you up when you finally don’t cough while taking a drag 

-Seeing who can ride out a wave the longest when surfing 

-Playing on opposite sides of beer pong because you two are competitive against each other 

-Although you and JJ usually get drunk together, on the rare occasion that he doesn’t get drunk and you do, he is right there next to you to help you get home and in bed clean and safe. 

-JJ trusts you around guys, it’s the guys he doesn’t trust and we know he wouldn’t let it slide if  a guy were hitting on you 

-imagine Kie teaching him how to make string bracelets and him making matching ones for the two of you and he plays it off as a joke but he’s so relieved when you actually love and wear it

-one time you two had a date on a boat but you both ended up cuddling and falling asleep almost all day and when John B found you two near the marsh you two were BURNT 

-speaking of dates, can we just imagine sitting on the beach together with feets close to where the waves are coming up and you finding a seashell wash up and then 10 minutes later you guys are both on a hunt to find the most shells and then laying them all out on the beach to make a big heart 

-JJ is a top but is always down to be the little spoon

[punks-never-die205]

Kid is always portrayed as someone who is brutal, violant and rapes women😑 is there a small chance he could be soft and romantic? 💕

... If you could see the face I'm making right now.

I... I have to assume you saw a Kid Pirates coded blog and just sent in an ask without reading anything?

... including the manga?

I want to clarify, I'm not angry - I'm all for people being free to ask what they please as they please, I'm just confounded. I think you're getting fanon/headcanon garbled with canon.

Let me do my best to stick to canon for a moment - we hear terrible things about the Worst Generation pre time-skip. Everyone has a reputation.

Including Luffy and his crew - the information the marines have on the Straw hats, and what they share to the world, is very negative. The only thing that saves Luffy is that, well, he's Luffy - he's not going to lean into any reputation, he's not even paying attention in the first place.

So people see some farm boy in flip flops and think --- Canonically, that Zoro has to be the Captain. It's a running gag.

Now Law and Kid both seem to have leaned into the reputation the marines have given them. (I could stretch this out to the entire worst generation, but I don't want to write that much).

We know Luffy's reputation is bullshit. We've learned Law's reputation, despite him trying to lean into it and convince people otherwise, is crap.

It makes sense that Kid's would be crap too - and let me be clear, I still think he's the most ruthless of the three. Kid strung up a pirate crew on crosses at the very least.

But to my point, we don't ever actually see him level some random civilian town for shits and giggles. We don't see any of the other stuff the marines say he's notorious for - all we do know is that the marine propaganda against pirates would (and, from the marines' point of view, should) be skewed in the marine's favor.

No government wants people to be sympathetic to their biggest problem, and some crews most certainly do the work for them - we're 100% aware of truly cruel and wanton pirate crews.

Luffy beats the shit out of most of them.

Anyway, my vibe on the Kid Crew is that they aren't all that big and bad - they're not nice, by any stretch of the word, but I think they are just as in character as pirates who string other pirates up on crosses as they would be pirates who help a shore-side town rebuild after a tsunami or storm flattened it.

Why for the second one? These guys grew up on a neglected island - the people might have been angry, and rough, and intimidating, but the junk heap of an island still have life on it. You can't survive harsh conditions without community, no matter how grumpy and snappy that community might be.

Makes me think of that one town in Fire Force - level the town in celebration, spend the next day rebuilding.

Anyway, none of Kid's behavior in Wano - the point where we actually get to see it for a good long while - points to some mindlessly ruthless piss of a human going around and terrorizing people for no reason. We see a guy who works together with people, going beyond what he needs to, to then cheer on the twink stealing his kill, and to celebrate peacefully afterward.

Sure, sure, recovery, but when Kid saw Luffy's new bounty and title he didn't exactly put a whole lot of effort into that "attack". Especially not after we saw what he could do if he dug his heels in.

It points to a guy leaning into a reputation that doesn't really mesh with him. But also, Luffy is Luffy.

Anyway, that's my answer.

[biolizardboils]

so heads up! im popping a LOT of Prime Season 3 posts into the queue--they'll start coming out one week from now, on January 22nd! if you can see this post and haven't watched it yet, here's some tags to block: #prime spoilers, #sonic prime spoilers, #sonic prime s3 spoilers, #sonic prime season 3 spoilers.

got all that? great! here's my final unorganized little rambles about the show:

shoutout to Rusty Rose's Birdie, who only appears in the very first and very last eps for some reason 😭 her speech about it not being her power source came outta nowhere too, but i loved the message behind it

when everyone arrives at the Grim, just before the ep ends, Nine starts breathing heavily and it. instantly reminded me of Movie!Tails when the bar was calling them freaks. fuck. its a nice reminder of where Nine's coming from

speaking of Nine his poses getting more unhinged over time!! hell yeah

i love that the final fight(s) felt like a kid smashing 3 different Lego sets together, real Robot Pirate Island shit

i laughed a little too hard when the Grim's dome started closing in cus Nine's citadel-thing already reminded me of a thing that happened in Fortnite once, but hell naw they had to add The Storm too sdfghj

METAL BIG DESTROYED ME LJKHGFDV im SO glad i wasnt spoiled about it!!! a while in i started finding it creepy instead of funny, which is an added bonus

i was spoiled about the Advance flashback and its clashing sprites though. the utter whiplash of seeing that without warning mightve made me choke on my hot cheeto puffs. someone's already remade it btw, check it out

i fistpumped at the small reprise of "me beauty" gfhjk ill miss you so much Dread

we're four years into the 2020's and Sonic has nearly died an agonizingly slow death 3 times in 3 different continuities! and dare i say it was delicious every time >:)

unless Word of God says otherwise I'm gonna assume that the giant shadow at the end was The Return Of Metal Big lpoihgfds

So... Twitter, huh? My spoiler filters there had some leaks, and I saw some discussion out of context that... actually made me kinda scared to finish the show. But then I did, and had fun with it just like the other two seasons, and I remembered that Twitter gets high-strung about things that don't matter so much, and that giving it sway over how much I enjoy things is silly lol.

Yes, I think the last season could've been paced differently so it wasn't 5 episodes of the same Final Boss Fight. Yes, I think the writing switches jarringly between gearing for a young new audience and for a seasoned old one. Yes, I think the 2D flashbacks look and move worse than what fans constantly make for free. Yes, I think the final episode doesn't do nearly as much housekeeping as it should (does the Shatterverse still exist or not??). Yes, I think declaring the show is canon to the games or whatever they said probably wasn't the best idea. And yes, I think Black Rose should've had a shoulder-parrot!Birdie to match the other Amys. All valid critiques! All sensible things to think when you've been around the Sonic bush!

But I swear to god, people on Twitter act like these things spoil the whole package. Where's the nuance? Why does every opinion there become an absolute worth tearing others down for? Is it the character limit? I bet it's the character limit.

There's so much I love about this show that were infeasible for the Sonic brand just 3-4 years ago. Externalizing the characters' facets to explore them in-depth. Said exploration spanning multiple episodes instead of being one-and-done. The sheer amount of genuine Sonadow food (and I don't actively do shipping, so me adding it here should hold a lot of weight). The snappy, playful, yet blistering fight scenes that, dare I say, feel like a successful TV-budget Spider-Verse. It was all so much fun!

But I guess stuff like Green Hill being the gang's "home" is a big deal-breaker?? Like?? I thought that was silly too, but not worth ratio'ing people with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse over? Get well soon, I guess??

Rambling over, shout-out to the entire country of Canada for giving me the most fun I've had with a Sonic show since X! I'm gonna go figure out how to address all this as The End lol

[wolfnesta]

I just felt like putting some of my pent up feelings into words in the most simple way I could think of on Cassian and his character because I’ve been having such a hard time staying anchored and sometimes putting it down to words helps. It’s long so, under the cut.

I feel like it is worth to start off by mentioning that blatant plot armor is a peeve of mine but I’m aware that acotar is also a series that caters to some high strung romance aspects of fantasy that would otherwise be a huge red flag in real life, example, being super aggressive and protecting of their mates, the frenzy, etc. Basically what I’m trying to explain is that while I hate some aspects in acotar (like the plot armor) I’m willing to accept others parts some might find unsavory (like the red flags behind matehood) but by all means I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind or opinion of those things rather just stating how I chose to go forth reading the series.

With this in mind I want to point out the highlight of Cassian’s relationship with Nesta at it's initial stages.

In WaE he’s basically horny for Nesta the entire time which as I said I’m okay with overlooking, even find enjoyable, because of the whole matehood concept, but what intrigued me the most was Nesta’s reaction where she feels threatened that he can ‘see’ her—

‘then it had all stopped, the eye of a storm with them in it, and there she was.

And in those blue-gray eyes, he could see the thoughts swirling in her as if they were smoke under glass.’

And everything going forward since— when Nesta shows vulnerability to the queens in her passionate bid to save the humans he seems to react to her in a way that suggest he understands her passion and promises her his protection. In front of everyone. He explains how he fought in those lands and declares he’ll do it again. For her and the humans she’s desperately trying to save. Doesn’t try to pull her into a hug or remove her from the situation he simply wipes her tear because he seems to understand her. When she agrees to scry and he offers his solid presence silently, he knows she’d never ask it of anyone, he walks up to her half wounded and places one hand on her back. That touch is enough. How he knew she would need to see her father sailing through the water, the boat at the helm having her name on it and wordlessly grabs her and lifts her so she can witness all this.

I felt like he had this understanding of Nesta that no one has likely offered to her before because of her fickle nature. I lived for the idea that no matter how unreasonable she might be, that he would allow her to be as crazy and raging as she needed to be, without being terrible to her as his brother and Mor are because it would seem he saw her. I thought it was a neat character trait to be often misconceived as the brute, all brawn’s no brain kind of guy, when these actions with Nesta portray his emotional intelligence, even with Feyre when she’s punching and punching him and he knows to let her. That he would not think of walking away or leaving.

Just for the sake of not wasting my time or others I want to mention there is a difference between allowing your S.O. to step all over you vs being supportive and understanding. Cassian and Nesta are not together at this point. They are in that will they, will they not, stage very entertaining for the reader with Nesta being the one of the two that is undergoing recovering from trauma he himself admits to have lived and healed from. So I don’t find it to be some turn off for Nesta to be snarky and rude to him for the same reasons I can forgive the whole hornyness from Cassian. I’m not going to be swayed into thinking Nesta calling him names Amren has been calling him for centuries (*cough* like dog *cough*) is enough to give Cassian any superiority over Nesta (which the story tries to imply hence the plot armor I mentioned) which is one of the many things that sort of sent the canon ship asunder for me. Which leads me to vent more on some of the rest below.

Acofas/acosf was a mixture of what could have been but just sort of trailed in bloody ribbons from the butchering of the dynamic as a whole. In the way that he was suppose to be her silent supporter as he had been up until the awful gift giving scene. It was suppose to be in the way he could’ve defended her and took up for her, yes even when he knows she's wrong. Because this is the Nessian dynamic we were set up for. I’m not arguing about wether the moral compass of the reader thinks it’s the right thing to do or not. It’s because his character had already shown traits to fulfill these unmet needs in Nesta. So much so that she felt unnerved, as most people that have never met anyone feel the want or desire to understand them because of the thick walls behind an icy bitch face have—

Perhaps that was what unnerved her, made her want to slice at him. The utter sincerity. That he honored his promises, and did not make them lightly.

But oh the butchering when the emotional intelligence he had shown since is just radically wiped off the table when he insinuates she’s not trying enough and should maybe leave then, can’t understand why her sisters love her. It’s like being thrown a bucket of ice water. Like it’s jarring— whoa wait I thought he could see through her? How can his confession— ‘ I will find you in the next life and we will have that time’ suddenly be wiped off the map when he has shown emotional intelligence towards her knowing much less. At this point in the story she is not his anything to feel any sort of entitlement of her affection either. It’s just awful all around.

It’s almost as if sjm ( because at the end of the day me being anti cassian is me being critical of how sjm chose to go forth writing him) had this rough draft idea where Cassian could handle anything Nesta threw at him but it would be oh so sexy of him to throw some back. But instead it manifested into Cassian just kicking a down person all the while losing his most cherished quality, his emotional intelligence.

It’s so difficult to watch how this carcass is dragged further in hofas. As I mentioned this is my opinion of the Nessian dynamic we had been set up for pre acofas/acosf not if you agree with me on how it should be. I had thought Cassian’s strength and intelligence would give him the opportunity to be someone that was able to withstand Nesta’s ice and fire, that he would be strong enough to not call her out about being wrong in front of other people but rather weather telling her in private. Because in public he's on her side and makes sure everyone knows it but he is not also losing his own opinions and voice, on the contrary, he explains and talks to her not to everyone else in the room. That hofas chapter gave no indication of either thing happening. Even going back to beginning with the whole matehood concept being a red flag he doesn’t show any of those ‘protective’ instincts whatsoever. Sjm critical or whatever, I guess. It’s tiresome to keep seeing it’s partly because she keeps on picking and choosing when certain concepts apply if they don’t or do serve her purpose instead of like idk consistency. She chose to keep him in this torn position of bro’s before ho’s middle school ass concept because Rhysand is his brother or whatever not the more adult idea of being husband and wife/ mates and Nesta having honest reasons, him addressing the dangerous aspects of her choice with her only all the while not allowing his bro to step all over his mate in front of him.

To conclude, Nessian to me was about Cassian being strong yet patient, firm yet supportive, to someone like Nesta. For Nesta it's about having someone being beside her when everyone else is against her, about seeing her amazing heart even when she herself does not. For him to use these traits unique to him and be able to pick her up when she can't stand. To love ALL of her. Any attempt to keep this dynamic up in acosf doesn’t even serve the purpose to show me this but rather it just seems like a way for sjm to remind the reader Cassian is the one trying oh so hard to help Nesta and Nesta is the big evil who has/is being mean to this poor male. It’s the plot armor I mention instead of a harmony of character dynamics coming together to make a wonderful relationship. The hike scene is an example of sjm poorly trying to portray this when he tells her there’s nothing broken to be fixed but only after having witnessed Nesta being okay with dying from falling off a cliff and literally croaking over from dehydration not to mention how at this point his and the rest of the IC’s intervention has so many problematic points that have changed Nesta’s character to suit the weird idea sjm has of wish fulfillment for feysand on Nesta’s ‘punishments’. It’s just a bloody trail of ribbons all of it.

Well atleast there’s enough substance left for me to play with but also at the same time it’s enough for me to mourn the loss which can get tiresome at times. But it is what it is and I choose to carry on 😊

[cheeriecherrymain]

I have a rather....shameless request. I am pushing myself rather hard to do a 4 month Physics course and 4 month human anatomy course in one month... So would it be possible to ask for a Viktor head-cannon thing where the reader comes to him to ask for his physics expertise. Dealing with the reader getting very frustrated but yet never quitting (*cough* as in taking breaks *cough*) Thank you!

I really hope things go well for you, friend! School is hard and really kicks us in the ass sometimes, but I believe in you! Take care of yourself when you're able to - and know that we all wish you the very best!

---

Viktor x Reader

-We all know that Viktor is hard on himself. Pushing himself past his limits, staying up late even though he’s exhausted and can barely see straight. It’s a miracle this man didn’t keel over sooner than he did.

-The thing is, he knows his actions are detrimental to his health, both physical and mental. He knows that resting would benefit him. He just…doesn’t really care. He’s of the mind that his worth as a person is inherently tied to what he can do for and give to other people.

-Until he met you.

-He was drawn to your brilliance and ingenuity the moment you spoke out in your shared class. Your hardworking nature, and drive to learn - your thirst for knowledge, and desire to do things well.

-It only made sense that the two of you would end up together. Going from classmates, to partners, to friends, to partners. You always encourage each other in your respective fields of study, helping each other where you can, quizzing each other extensively before every test.

-But lately, he’s noticed that you’ve been…busy. 

-Though, busy might be a grand understatement.

-You’ve been absolutely swamped, is what you’ve been. Nearly drowning in schoolwork, up to your neck in papers and assignments and projects and lectures and presentations and studying, on top of that still needing to take care of yourself and get enough rest.

-You’ve even had to call in a rain check on the rare date night that the two of you had planned, in lieu of working.

-He understands, of course. He’d gone through the same physics class last year, with the workload condensed into just a couple of months in the hopes that he might be able to squeeze in an extra class.

-It had nearly eaten him alive. He might have actually thrown in the towel and called it quits, had it not been for you. Always there, finding time in your own schedule to help him out and listen to his ranting.

-He’d been so grateful back then. But now, seeing you struggle with the exact same things he did? It…worries him.

-He knows how it had felt, being entirely devoid of energy, constantly on the verge of passing out or throwing up, maybe both. The back aches from sitting for long periods of time, the neck tension and headaches, the words on the page blurring together after however many hours of reading.

-Not to mention all the emotions he’d gone through, ranging from despair, to anger, to guilt and grief and self hatred. Hopelessness. He knows that you’ve got to be feeling some kind of way right about now. And he…doesn’t know how to help.

-It had felt different, when he was the one going through it. He had wanted to push through it all and keep going, despite the strain it put on him. He had to learn, had to pass his classes and make something of himself. What good would he be, otherwise?

-But now it’s you. Wonderful, incredible, beautiful, brilliant you. He wants nothing more than to take care of you, and then some, because you deserve the world. And…he worries that you might be pushing yourself too hard.

-Or maybe he’s the one worrying too much.

-Even when you storm into the lab one evening, late enough that even Jayce has turned in for the night, he worries.

-You’re obviously frustrated, your entire body strung tight, your jaw so clenched he wonders if you might crack your teeth. You’ve got the heaviest looking bookbag slung over your shoulder, weighing you down so you stand crooked, and in your arms are even more ridiculously thick textbooks.

-Some of which he recognizes.

- “I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” he greets you, turning away from the notes he’d been copying down into his journal. “I thought for sure you’d be…studying…? Is everything alright?”

-He watches as you make your way over to the empty desk he and Jayce had set up nearby, for such occasions as you popping in to do some last minute studying.

-You drop your books onto the surface, letting your bag slide off your arm and hit the floor with a dull thunk. Then, you nearly throw the chair out from beneath the desk, and sit down so hard he worries you might have actually hurt yourself.

- “No, Viktor, everything is not alright!” you finally reply, muttering to yourself as you start rooting through one of the pockets of your bag, pulling out a disheveled notebook and a pencil. 

- “I have seven assignments due in less than three days, and I’m barely halfway through all of them! I’ve got four tests coming up, a final exam, plus whatever bullship pop quiz my professor decides to spring on us last minute! My head feels like it’s about to crack in half, my eyes have been burning for the entire week, and I haven’t slept in two days!”

-And yet, despite all this, you put your pencil to your paper and begin writing.

-He watches for a couple seconds, before standing quietly and making his way over to you. 

- “When was the last time you ate?” he asks softly, wincing slightly when your gaze snaps to him from the corner of your bloodshot eyes. Ah, he thinks. So your frustration and exhaustion is coming out in impatience tonight.

-He’s no stranger to such a thing.

- “I just want to know what I should get for you,” he clarifies. “I’m not going to stop you from studying - but I am going to do some of the smaller things that you probably can’t be bothered to do right now. Like eating.”

-Your gaze softens marginally, and your eyes flick back to your work.

- “I had a piece of toast this morning,” you tell him quietly. “It’s the only thing boring enough that would stay down. And ginger ale.”

-He nods to himself. He can do that.

-Twenty minutes later, he’s setting a plate beside you on the desk, away from where you might bump it with your elbow, along with the coldest carbonated beverage he could get his hands on so late at night.

- “Alright,” he says, while you grab a slice of the food he’d made. “Would you mind if I went over what you’ve got on your assignments so far?”

-You narrow your eyes at him.

- “It might help if you get a fresh pair of eyes on your work,” he assures you. “And I’ve been through the same classes that you have, remember? I might be able to offer some pointers.”

-You droop slightly, but nudge your bag towards him anyways, remaining focused on the paper in front of you.

-He gets about halfway through all of what you’ve written so far, leaving little sticky notes on things he thinks could use clarification or rephrasing, as well as little compliments to hopefully balance things out.

-He gets about halfway through, before the sound of your quiet sniffling stops him.

- “Are you-” he begins, but you cut him off.

- “Ignore it,” you nearly plead, wiping hastily at your eyes. “This has happened multiple times this week already - I don’t need coddling. I can work just fine.”

-He fiddles with the corners of the papers in his hands, watching silently as your eyes continuously well up with tears, only to be swiped away seconds before falling down your cheeks. Again and again, as if they’ll never stop.

-Until he can’t take it anymore.

-He reaches forward, wrapping his fingers gently around your upper arm, to momentarily draw your attention away from your work. You resist for a few moments, frowning slightly, but eventually his persistence pays off.

- “We’re going to get through this,” he tells you firmly. “You’re going to finish what you’re working on, and then we’re going to turn in for the night.”

-You open your mouth to protest, but he’s very quick to shush you. “And then,” he continues, “Once you’ve slept a little bit, I’m going to help you with your assignments. No, I’m not going to do them for you - you don’t have to worry about that. But I will be helping you with the structure and wording, and once you’ve got the final product scribbled out, I’m going to help you type them out: that’s menial work, and you don’t need to be worrying about it.”

-You stare at him for a couple seconds, frowning and looking frazzled and confused.

- “Why aren’t you telling me to quit?” you ask, sharper than intended. “I’m just going to be taking up your time - you could be doing better things. There are so many reasons you could be telling me to give up!”

-He trails his fingers down your arm, to your hand, which he tenderly pulls towards his face so he can press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

- “Because you’re brilliant,” he says, laying his cheek into the curve of your palm. “And you’re capable. Strong. Thoughtful. I admire everything about you, from your stubbornness, to your sense of humour, to your tenacity.”

- “And,” he lowers his voice, “I think that even the best of us require help sometimes. Even when we don’t want it.”

- “And sometimes,” he sighs, “We don’t even have the option. Some of us don’t have help. But I had you, even when I was too stubborn to quit, even when I was probably hurting myself. You knew that I wouldn’t give up, so instead, you did what you could to ease the burden on my mind.”

-He turns his head slightly and presses a final kiss to the palm of your hand. “And I know you’re the same. I won’t ask you to quit, because I know it will only upset you. So let me help you in another way I’m able to. Please?”

-He looks at you, with wide, pleading, beautiful eyes, and you can’t help the way your heart melts and warms. Tentatively, you agree.  -It will be a rough month, he thinks, turning his attention back to the papers in his lap. But maybe it will be a little less difficult if you’ve got each other. And afterwards, the two of you can celebrate by taking the nap of the century - perhaps he might even go out on a limb and book a reservation to that fancy garden restaurant you were interested in.

[hyperfixated-homo]

The Disney Trivia

Ao3 Link (leave a comment if you wanna! it would make my day <3)

Summary:

It's been months now since the side's have made up, and started actually treating each other like family. Now, with everything back together, they have the brilliant idea to play a game of trivia!

In which, Virgil and Roman are the hosts (who knows more about Disney than those two?) and also may be dating, we'll get back to you on that one.

Patton and Janus are flirting the whole time.

And Remus just thinks Logan is neat.

A/N: Holy god that is the most I have ever written in a single session ever. I don't regret it at all, this was amazing asodijowajd. I missed a lot! But it was kinda necessary because the fic would have been hella long otherwise and some of it was contradictory. I hope you guys like it :)

Word Count: 5117

Ships: Mociet, Prinxiety, Intrulogical

Warnings: Mentions of Remus' heart squishing? I don't think there's anything to be really concerned about lmao

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because DISNEY Logan!”

“That’s not exactly a sufficient answer, Roman.”

Patton smiled at the two of them as they started bickering. Even now, months after their little family sorted through their drama and everyone started getting along, it seemed like some things would never change.

The sides sat together in a large debate hall, apparently a dreamspace Logan had created a while back for a video with Virgil. Back then it had been the two of them arguing over Thomas’ negative thinking, but now it was being used for something much more fun. The side’s first ever proper group trivia!

It was an idea Roman had a couple weeks ago, during their family game nights (which mainly consisted of uncontrollable chaos). He had thrown it out there randomly during a game of Kahoot, but forgot about it shortly after.

It wasn’t until earlier that week that it was brought up again.

Virgil had come up to him shyly asking if he still felt down to do a proper game of trivia, and had suggested the first theme: Disney!

Roman had agreed instantly, and the two of them spent a couple days planning and researching for the game.

The two of them would be running the game as hosts, while the other sides were split into groups of two. Janus and Patton had been dubbed team Mociet, while Logan and Remus were in team Intrulogical.

Patton was more than a little confused when Remus started giggling at the names, but shrugged it off.

The room had been decorated more interestingly for the fun occasion. Roman and Virgil had stated that they wanted to go all out for this trivia, even if it’s more of a joke than anything else.

The curtains behind were closed, colored black as they were before, but now had added detailing that made it a less monotone background. They had strung up simple banners on the wall, and there were more than a couple new lights in the room that they wanted to use for aesthetic purposes. The floor had been changed to carpeting that had a full rainbow gradient from one corner of the room to the other.

But most importantly was the art.

Hundreds of paintings of Disney characters lined the walls. Different, stylised versions of every princess, prince and villain imaginable had been drawn on them in bright, vibrant colors.

Logan was very confused when he saw them, noting that they wouldn’t be seen much anyways since the attention would be on the judges and the stage, so he didn’t understand why they would put so much effort into it.

Roman said that it didn’t matter.

(The amount of fun that he and Remus had painting them together more than made up for it.)

It was a very neat set up! And according to the boys, there were a couple other things too that they hadn't even shown yet, because they wanted it to be a surprise for when the game actually started.

“Wow, they’re still going?”

Janus’ voice cut through Patton’s thoughts, snapping his attention to the snakey side on his left.

“Huh? Oh- they stopped arguing about the scoreboard ten minutes ago. This is a new argument.”

Janus looked at him with a deadpan expression that Patton couldn’t help but smile at.

“It’s not that bad. We just need to wait for Virgil to get the cards! He’s not going to take that long.”

Janus’ eyes softened quickly, and he turned to look back at Logan and Roman. “Yes… I suppose so. We’ll just have to wait.”

Then he turned back around, suddenly seeming a lot more competitive. “What’s our game plan?”

Patton blinked. He had absolutely no clue what Janus was talking about.

“The what now?”

Janus sighed, fondly exasperated.

“How are we going to win this Patton? You probably know at least a little bit about disney. I’m going to be fully honest, I know virtually nothing. I would say that the teams are fair in that sense except Logan’s a massive Marvel nerd and Remus knows almost as much about Disney in general as Roman, so it really isn’t. We’re at a massive disadvantage here.”

Patton blinked, again.

And Janus sighed, again.

“Do we not- is there no game plan?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Patton looked between him and Roman. “…be nice and hope for the best?”

Janus looked at him for a moment, then once again turned away, mumbling something about how hard it would be to gaslight Virgil into giving them points. Patton was about to make a concerned remark when the door slammed open and the anxious side himself walked into the room.

“Alright losers, stop the fighting. It’s game time.”

Roman audibly squealed, immediately stumbling over to his stand.

“Okay everybody stand in your area. Go stand- you too remus, you stand normally by your podium. We’re starting! Play the music! Why isn’t- LOGAN, THIS IS YOUR DREAMSCAPE, PLAY THE MUSIC!”

Logan rolled his eyes, but complied with the prince’s request, snapping his fingers. The Disney theme started playing, and suddenly the lights shut off.

As the music swelled, new, brighter spotlights slammed on, and the four contestants were surprised to see that they’d been changed into stunning suits and corsets, similar to their outfits at the courtroom but clearly glamorized by Roman. Their podiums had changed as well, the old wooden stands being covered fabric of their own colors with their symbols at the bottom.

Before they had time to even mention the change, another bright spotlight illuminated their hosts. Virgil and Roman were also wearing new clothes, much more layered outfits with more designs sewn into them. Virgil was sat down behind a tilted table that no doubt hid the question cards, while Roman stood in front of them.

The short intro theme faded into a bright show theme, something Patton vaguely recognised.

Roman jumped forwards, welcoming them to the show and going over a prepared speech that played in time with the music.

“Welcome everyone to the first ever Sanders Sides Trivia! Not about us, but being played by us! Today we have a very special theme, suggested by my darling emo nightmare behind me,” Virgil blushed and gave a little wave “DISNEY!”

Patton cheered. Remus joined in, and then all four of them were clapping for Roman.

His eyes were alight as he walked in front of them, posture bubbly in a way that it only ever was when he got the chance to be on stage.

“Thank you! Thank you all!” He took a mock bow.

“Today on the stage we have our two wonderful teams! First up, Team Mociet! Featuring everyone’s favorite father figure, Patton, and the slithery snake himself, Janus!”

Remus whooped from beside them, and Logan and Virgil clapped for them loudly.

Janus loudly said “Totally hate being here today, how dare you invite me.”

Patton waved at everyone, unable to stop himself from giggling.

“And as their competitors today, we’ve got our brilliant book nerd, Logan, and his partner in crime (who may or may not have actually committed some crimes), Remus!”

He and Janus cheered for them, and Remus laughed maniacally while the two of them waved as well.

“I am, of course, Roman Sanders, and this is Virgil! We will be your hosts today everybody!” he continued. The four of them together gave them a round of applause, Patton and Remus yelling out compliments over the loud noise.

“Thank you, thank you. And thank you all for coming! We’re going to go over some ground rules first, before the game can officially start, so we can just jump straight into it!”

He made his way behind the table, as he said that, sitting down. The next part was apparently Virgil’s job to present.

“We’re playing by a point system. You are given points for getting questions right, giving us a good argument or just being cool in general. We’d set better requirements but honestly, I’m sure that all of you guys would find a loophole no matter what rules we set. So we’re not doing that. Points are given based entirely on how me and Roman feel about your answers.” He leaned forwards in his chair, and rested his head in his hands, elbows on the table.

“We can also add points at any time in the game!” Roman chimed in quickly “Not just during question times! For example, padre, I’m loving the attitude right now. Plus ten points!”

There was a loud ring, and then the curtains opened behind them to show a big board, with the two teams' scores on it. Team Mociet had ten points.

Virgil continued. “We can and will take away points, too. Not for getting questions wrong, but for other things. Arguments we don’t like, trying to cheat, sabotage, all that good stuff. Like, say, that stupid hat Janus is still wearing. Minus ten points. Bad hat.”

There was a sort of power down sound, and they watched the points be erased and go down to zero.

Janus didn’t say anything. He just looked at Virgil with the most “are you serious right now” face he could muster. Patton tried his absolute hardest to not laugh next to him. He mostly succeeded.

Virgil was not phased.

“Also, fun fact, even though we can’t actually participate or win, me and Roman can also get points. Because we’re just superior to you guys in every way. We have pretty general rules here, no changing the answer, no physical fighting, no attempted murder, the usual things. Basically just don’t break our monopoly rules and we’ll probably be fine.”

“We’re also not going to win anything.” Patton wondered how long Virgil and Roman had rehearsed this for them to be this in sync. “This is obviously just for fun. No need to get too competitive. I’m looking at you Logan.”

“That’s bold coming from the guy who played checkers with Janus for five hours because he refused to stop until he won a game.” Remus called out.

“That’s not what we’re talking about right now.” Roman replied “And honestly, you would have too if you saw how close I was. There were so many times I almost won. We tied at least-”

“ANYWAYS!” Virgil interrupted him. If Roman started rambling now they would never actually play. “That’s all we have to say. We might add or change some rules later on if things are too chaotic.”

“Right, right. Okay! With that all out of the way, let the games begin!”

A happy little tune that sounded somewhat similar to the ending of a looney toons episode played, and the lights flickered on again.

There was silence for a moment in the debate room, and then Virgil spoke quietly.

“So… how was that?”

“Guys that was amazing!! Oh my goodness I loved it!!” Patton was practically vibrating on the spot from pure excitement over the performance that the two of them just gave.

“Oh I absolutely despised the personal nicknames. Horribly kind of you.” Janus couldn’t seem to keep a smile off his face, clearly also very hyped up.

“I was not expecting the lightshow, I will admit. It was a brilliant choice to use that blackout period to change the scenery, we were all invested quite quickly.” Logan commented.

“Very good idea. We all look hotter than a hooker on a Friday evening in these clothes!” Was Remus’ response. An interesting complement, but a complement nonetheless.

Their judges were clearly happy with the positive reception, Roman hardly able to keep still in his chair and Virgil’s eyeshadow glowing a bright, glittery purple.

“Then let us not waste any more time! Onwards, to the competition!”

Patton let himself relax into a more comfortable standing position, as the category of the first questions were announced.

They would have an absolute blast playing this, he was sure. He just wondered if it would get as chaotic as their previous family times.

———

Everything instantly fell apart.

Well, instantly was a bit of a stretch. Everyone behaved for at least five minutes, usually the game nights spiral downhill as soon as it starts!

Patton just needs to keep looking at the positives. If not, he might literally explode.

“THUMBS both ARE and ARE NOT FINGERS, ROMAN. Some people, especially those in the medical field, do refer to them as such for simplicity's sake, but the truth is that the answer to that question is SUBJECTIVE. They have a DIFFERENT ANATOMY, ROMAN. I DID NOT ANSWER INCORRECTLY.”

“LOGAN THE QUESTION WAS HOW MANY FINGERS MICKEY MOUSE HAS. IT ISN’T THAT COMPLICATED.”

“DEFINE A FINGER FOR ME ROMAN. DEFINE IT. TELL ME WHAT A FINGER IS. IS A THUMB A FINGER TO YOU? IS IT? DOES EVERYONE HERE CONSIDER A THUMB A FINGER?”

Remus raised his hand lazily, pretending to not find this entire situation hilarious. “I don’t think a thumb is a finger. It’s a digit.”

“REMUS STOP SUCKING UP TO LOGAN LIKE THAT FOR MORE POINTS-”

It was honestly sort of amazing that they’d managed to start screaming at each other so quickly. They hadn't even gotten to the actual “debate for points” questions. These were just regular trivia. And yet they somehow managed to start a debate. About fingers.

When Virgil said that they could gain points by “giving a good argument”, Patton didn’t think he considered how far Logan and Janus were willing to go to convince the others that they were correct. Maybe he forgot that one debated for fun and the other liked to pretend to be a lawyer. This was bound to happen eventually.

Although, Patton wasn’t really focusing on that right now, but rather the fact that Janus was trying to change the points on the scoreboard behind them again.

“Jan! Stop that!” He whisper shouted.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He lied. Like a liar.

“Stop trying to give us points, we’re tied already, it doesn’t matter!”

Indeed, the two teams were tied at 30 points each, after seven questions. So far, they had been pretty simple, and the reason that their team didn’t have more points was because Virgil had randomly decided to subtract five from them, because he “felt like Janus was up to something. Nothing in particular but… something.”

He was right, obviously. Janus was trying to steal the question cards from the host table with one of his spare hands. But Virgil didn’t know that.

“No, you're right. I’m sorry sweetheart. There’s no point in cheating this early in the game, it’ll just make the others suspicious and make it harder to do so later on. I’ll save that one for later” Janus winked.

“That is not what I meant and you know it mister.” Patton crossed his arms, as if that would make Janus take him more seriously.

“Do I?” His mischievous smirk only seemed to grow.

“Yes! You do!”

“Sorry about that darling. I’ll get it eventually, promise.” Even if Patton wasn’t literally face to face with him right now, he would be able to hear the smirk in Janus’ voice.

“That’s-”

“FINE. YOU GUYS CAN GET TWO POINTS. IS THAT OKAY?”

“FINE.”

“FINE.”

Roman threw his hand up and the scoreboard behind them changed to show the numbers 30 - 32.

All four of the other sides just stared at the two of them.

“Okay, Virgil, what’s the next question?”

He looked Roman up and down, squinted, and then looked away.

“Uh… when did snow white come out.”

“Alright. JANUS.” The deceitful side jumped slightly, then turned to Roman, smoothing out his outfit as if it never happened.

“Right. What’s the question?”

“Minus five points for not paying attention.”

“Wha- excuse me?” Janus stared at Virgil in shock. “That’s not fair-”

“Shoulda been listening dude. You keep forgetting that we can do that. Pay attention.” Virgil smirked at Janus’ barely concealed rage. “The question is what year Snow White came out.”

Janus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Pfft, easy. 1957”

Roman stood up quickly, and in a dramatic gesture moved to point at Janus “HAH, WRONG! It was-”

“No, it’s not! It’s totally 1947! Are you just making stuff up to make me lose?”

Roman stared at him, immediately stumped. He spluttered out a “What? No! I promise it’s-”

But Janus was quick, and also an expert gaslighter. “Then did someone change the date on the flash card? Because it was definitely 1937! How could you get such an easy question wrong!?”

Roman’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, as if he was trying to refute the statement but couldn’t find the words.

“When did it come out then?”

Virgil rolled his eyes in response. “1937. Dude you were off by like twenty years.”

“No he wasn’t.” Remus’ voice. Yet again speaking purely to add on to this meaningless argument, adding flame to the fire. “He said 1937.”

Virgil looked at him like he’d grown four heads. “N- dude did you miss that entire conversation? He said 1957.”

“He did also say 1937, though.” Said Logan, as if he was helping them in literally any way. “Are we still counting it if he changes his answer before the actual answer is revealed? His final date was 1937.”

Roman just stood there, trying and failing to process their questions. Virgil answered for him.

“We. We’re not accepting that. Final decision. We’re the hosts here, and he’s not getting any points.” Then he turned to glare at Janus again. “Matter of fact, minus five points for trying to trick us.”

Now it was Janus’ turn to splutter, exclaiming various forms of “what the hell, Virgil?” and “why??? Just why???”

Patton sighed, leaning down to lay his head on his stand.

“Patton! This next question is for you!”

He snapped his head up to look at them, smiling on instinct. “Yeah! I got this!”

“I thought it was one question per team-” Logan tried to interject but Roman steamrolled over him.

“How many years was Genie from Aladdin trapped in the magic lamp?”

“Oh! Uhh… like a hundred thousand years right? It was a really long time!”

Roman looked at his card, then at Virgil. He just shrugged. “Close enough.”

The princely side turned back to Patton, a beaming smile on his face. “Great job popstar, 10 points for you! You’re doing fantastic!”

“Ten poi- he didn’t even get it right?!”

“Shush up Logan, he deserves it. Anyways, Remus!”

Patton found himself smiling as well. The fact that his kiddos would give him points even when he got it wrong, ah he loved them so much!

He looked over to see what Janus thought, only to see him quickly turn away to look at their friends. He caught a glimpse of a smile on his face though, a moment of fondness in his expression.

And then Patton found himself smiling a whole lot more.

It was nice. This was nice. Maybe a little bit chaotic, but when were they not?

Besides, it wasn’t that bad.

———

At some point during the trivia, Virgil and Roman had started to give themselves points. Which was fine, they had mentioned that they would do so at the start after all!

But then they started doing so increasingly often.

Like, every couple minutes often.

For things like how cute the other looked, or how smart they were, or how well they worked together.

And they gave each other a lot of points. Like, hundreds of points. Way too many points, considering the fact that it was over double the amount of points the two teams had combined.

So Remus and Logan, the competitive bastards that they were, of course immediately decided to comment on it and start a debate on whether it was appropriate to give each other points for things like “the color of their eyes” (Roman you can’t give your team points every time you look at Virgil because you think he’s pretty. If we could all do that then what is even the point of the point system in the first place?)

And the hosts immediately took offense, justifying it by saying that they were the ones in charge here, so obviously they got to decide what was and wasn’t a good reason to give someone points.

Which prompted Janus to start another debate about how unjust it was that the two of them were in complete control in this situation even though it was not through democratic election, thus making them the unofficial rulers of a self proclaimed biarchy.

To which they responded that since it’s not a government system, it doesn’t work like that.

And now they were talking about kingdom hierarchy, in the middle of a disney debate.

And yet again, Patton could not find reason to care, because Janus was once again attempting to change the scores in their favor.

“Jay! We said that you couldn’t do this!”

“We said? I think you mean you said, my dear. I never agreed to anything.”

Patton threw his head back tiredly. “Janus, that’s cheating. It’s not fair to the others! We aren’t even winning anything, there’s no need to keep trying to find ways to win!”

“Oh but Patton, I need to do something to assist you! After all, you’ve almost been carrying me this whole game!”

That was true. Virgil and Roman had tried their absolute hardest to find ways to discredit Janus’ every answer, and take away points from him at any chance they got. In direct juxtaposition, they gave Patton as many points as they possibly could, even for completely incorrect answers.

(Patton didn’t really know how to explain that the points didn’t really mean anything to him, and by now was answering wrong just to see how Janus would react when they gave him the points. The fact that they were somehow still above negative points was honestly just a bonus.)

“C’mon sugar, let me do this? Please?”

Well. If Janus was going to play it like that, then Patton was going to have to bring out the big guns as well.

He turned to him, opened his eyes, and gave him is best pouty face.

He saw the exact moment Janus’ face went from “smug flirting” to “oh no he’s cute”.

He had to fight to not blush at the way the snake looked at him.

(Janus couldn’t stop looking at his eyes, his lips, the soft curves of his face as he tried to win him over. Patton looked every bit like the sweetheart Janus kept calling him.)

He sighed, closing his eyes, and pretending that he wasn’t completely melting on the inside. “…I suppose it doesn’t matter that much. If it really upsets you, I’ll stop.”

Patton’s face split and without really thinking about it, he launched himself forwards to crush Janus in a hug.

Arms wrapped around him by instinct (too many arms for a normal person, probably, but Patton had always thought that more arms meant more comfort). He laughed out a small thank you, burying his face into Janus’ suit.

“Yes, yes, I’m amazing, I know. Go back to your stand, you’re making me look soft.”

Patton laughed at the comment, but did indeed stand up and go back to his podium (he didn’t mention the fact that despite the complaints, Janus didn’t try to separate himself from him until Patton did).

The others had been arguing for far too long now anyways.

“I’m just saying, we should definitely have guillotined more rulers! It would have fixed so many problems!”

Wait, what?

“Remus, that would be RIDICULOUS. They didn’t have the concept of free will, or rights back then. They just would have elected another bad ruler!”

“Guys what the hell are we talking about.”

The conversation died instantly. The four of them looked at each other, and then at Janus, and then back at each other.

“I uh… I have no clue.” Was Virgil’s reply.

Which was typical. And also understandable. But maybe not what they should be doing right now.

“…okay. Can we get back to trivia now. That’s… that’s like the only reason we’re here in this stupidly fancy room, still standing up, still killing my legs. Can we wrap this up please.”

Roman snapped into action, getting the cards and moving swiftly on to the next question.

“Right! Yeah! Y'know what, we’re going to do a couple flash rounds. Me and Virge will just call out some questions and whoever answers first and most accurately gets points. Good?”

They nodded.

The game continued.

———

“Order!” Roman called out in the loud room. “Order in the court! This is the FINAL question! Up for debate here my guys, gals and nonbinary pals. Completely subjective, alright?”

Everyone hushed up, ready to answer the final question.

“Who is the best Disney prince?”

“Flynn Rider.” Four voices called out simultaneously.

The hosts paused for a moment, before looking at each other, and then back at their contestants.

“Correct. Five hundred points for everyone. Good game!”

“Well, this was a miserable experience. I despised every part of it.” he smiled at Virgil and Roman, not out of mischief or irritation but of pure, unfiltered care. “Thank you for organizing this. It was wonderful.”

Patton nodded aggressively next to him. “Yeah!! We got super side tracked but by golly was it fun!”

Roman laughed, and Virgil’s eyeshadow seemed to brighten a few shades to match the pink growing on his cheeks.

“Yeah it was… it was fun or whatever.”

“It was enjoyable.” Said Logan from beside them. His voice was low, a little raw from how much yelling he did in the two hours they spent doing the trivia. “Even though it devolved quickly into something that was most definitely not trivia.”

“Maybe next time we should have another group host it.” Remus said. “Y’know, like the winners of this game get to choose a theme for the next time.”

All of them seemed to perk up a little at that idea.

“Who won?” asked Janus.

“Not you guys.” was Virgil’s immediate response.

Janus hissed at him. Virgil hissed back.

“Did we even count the points?” Roman squinted at the board behind them, as if closing his eyes would make the massive numbers on them make more sense.

“I believe you stopped trying to actually calculate it when you started adding thousands onto the board. Much less the millions.

Roman shrugged. “Eh. That’s fair. We don’t really know who won then. Maybe we can hold a vote or something.”

Logan hummed. “That would be appropriate.”

Patton felt a hand rest on his, atop his podium.

He smiled, and closed his eyes.

For a moment there was peace. The group was tired out, energy completely depleted after that rollercoaster of emotions.

“…Maybe Janus should be disqualified though. I would consider changing the question cards and the scoreboards quite an easy disqualifier.”

“He did WHAT.”

———

Maybe it was a little bit mean for Remus to tell Logan that Janus had cheated right at the end there. Everyone was tired after all, so there was no point in wasting any of their remaining energy on questioning how he did it.

But Remus was petty.

And Janus did try to mess with his score.

All is fair in love and war.

Besides, who would he even be if he didn’t try to cause a little chaos right at the end?

He looked over at the other sides from his spot in between his and Logan’s podiums, bent in a position that would probably be impossible, if he weren’t an imaginary person who could make his spine disappear if he wanted to.

Janus was trying to justify himself to a group of three angry light sides, although it was clear that most of that effort went into trying to explain his methods to Patton. Said moral side was making an attempt to scold him that would probably be more effective if he looked in any way mad, and not just like his kitty had clawed up his favorite couch cushion. Roman and Virgil were leaning together in their seats, heads leaning on each other and holding hands.

He turned to look at his teammate. Logan stood resting his elbows on the podium in a rare moment of relaxation. He was observing the “fight” just as Remus was before, but usual cold expression was replaced with a soft, happy smile.

Something about it made Remus’ heart squish strangely. Maybe he was having heart palpitations.

He untangled himself enough to poke Logan's leg with his foot.

“Psst.”

Logan turned to look down. The fondness remained on his face, albeit with a little bit of added confusion.

He looked really hot from down here, damn.

“What is it you need, Remus?”

“If you could see any marvel scene in real life right now, to study, what scene would it be.”

Logan furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “…Comic book or movie scene?”

Remus shimmied, moving around so that he could stand up.

“Either.”

Logan took a moment to think, looking away from him in concentration. “Hm… there’s a fascinating scene in the marvel comics where the Scarlet Witch removes the abilities of all mutants from planet earth, almost by accident, because she doesn’t want them and the humans to keep fighting. Although, I suppose that’s not exactly a visitable scene, since her powers are never really thought to be observable in that sense.” He looked at Remus again, who was now standing up. “I would want to see what Tony Stark’s lab looks like. I know most of the science there isn’t real by any means, but it would still be fascinating to see how he would theoretically create his suits and weaponry.”

That sounded really smart. And complicated. And like it would take a lot of effort.

Remus reached out and grabbed him by the hand.

And suddenly, they weren’t in Logan’s dreamscape anymore, but Remus’.

Although it didn’t look like what his dreamscape usually looked like.

There were tables and tables of tech all around them. Holograms and metal scraps and projects were laid out that looked incredibly similar to the ones in the original Marvel movies. There were some odd choices of weapons, for sure, some of them seemingly old fashioned and not at all what would actually be in Ironman’s lab.

It didn’t matter.

And it didn’t matter how much energy it took Remus to make the room. Or how much his head hurt trying to remember basic mechanics so that he could make anything here believable.

None of it mattered.

It was all worth it, for the way Logan screamed in happiness.

[renegade-skywalker]

One of Many Mornings

Despite her best efforts, Merit still fears that Gale will sacrifice himself upon reaching Moonrise. She does her best to convince him otherwise.

(Takes place in Act 2, immediately post-Weave scene)

~~~

For the briefest of moments, time did not exist. 

All Merit knew was the comforting nothingness of dreamless sleep, her body slowly growing heavy as she drifted back into waking life. As if washing ashore after a sea at storm. One moment she was as weightless as a star strung up in the night sky, glittering with the predawn, and the next she was a stone bound by gravity, warm and earthen yet still somehow other, now nestled safely upon the beach as the dawn threatened.

And yet the change did not startle her, time slowly slipping back into place as if the veil were being draped gently back over her waking eyes, her consciousness yet again housed within the body she had for so long called her own. Her eyes fluttered open to find the sky full of stars just as it had been back on the edge of the ravine, a tapestry of Gale’s making, only after a few more moments she realized she was instead staring up at the canopy of Gale’s tent, never once realizing that he had the heavens embroidered into the fabric of his shelter all this time. And that’s when she realized that she wasn’t some smoothed stone settled safely on a shore and instead wrapped warmly in Gale’s arms, his lips meeting the side of her neck as she awakened further. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quietly, his breath teasing the hair on the nape of her neck. A pleasant chill ran the length of her spine. His voice was warm and honey-like against her ear as he wrapped his arms more snugly around her from behind, his body cradling hers as she instinctively eased herself back into him, two pieces falling into place.

“And… I wanted to talk to you about our night together.”

Merit sighed and smiled, blinking against the dark canopy of blue above her as she drank in the moment and tried to retain the night in its entirety. It was almost as if the entire thing had been both a dream as well as a previous life, both lucid and otherworldly, and simply beyond words. Her limbs tingled at the memory, her heart warm. She could steep in the thought of it forever, but instead she turned to look Gale in the eye, surprised to find his gaze unsure. His grip on her did not waver, their bodies still close, but his dark eyes traveled her face, both as if tracing her features and committing them to memory as well as searching for some sign of unspoken dissent. 

“I hope it meant as much to you as it did to me,” he said softly, his dark eyes wide and intent and so full of forlorn longing that Merit’s heart ached at the sight of him.

“Last night was-” she began, her voice both feeling and sounding alien to her as she spoke, suddenly unable to continue as if the thought ended there. Only it didn’t - the feeling extended beyond herself and into eternity, only any notions her mind had to describe the sensation simply paled in comparison to the aftermath of her very essence intertwining with Gale’s. It was beyond merely physical sensation, careening far into a realm she knew nothing of how to possibly put into words yet also desperately wanted to return to. They’d bonded, body and soul, their thoughts and feelings mingling with one another unsure of where one ended and the other began, in the end enmeshing into something forever altered and entirely other.

Merit’s chest brimmed with a feeling she’d never felt before, yet she somehow knew it also felt like home - not one she’d never visited until now but one she instantly knew was always meant to be hers, a home both inhabited in and shared with Gale. And yet she had no vocabulary to voice it, nothing to label it with and no such way to convey the all-consuming sense of something both akin to completion and yearning that now subtly threatened to burst from the confines of her ribcage as it sought to extend the very edges of even herself.

Unsure of how else to describe it, she placed a careful hand on what she spied of Gale’s scar peeking from beneath the collar of his tunic - just as he had urged her to do so when he first revealed the origins of his condition to her, and just as she had placed her careful fingers over his bruised collarbone when she’d first kissed him, testing the waters and wondering if despite her want that she’d somehow doomed them both. She knew it wasn’t necessary, but the gesture felt right somehow, and the feeling as Gale shuddered pleasantly beneath her touch as he watched her acted as both proof and promise of that sureness. And with another deliberate thought, Merit urged her mind to connect with his, and within the moment their minds were as one.

She bit her lip as her eyes traveled from the naked contour of Gale’s collarbone up towards his tender gaze, their sentiments and sensations mingling as one again, as if this was truly to be their shared intended existence, both reliving the night and everything that followed, every feeling echoing in one and then the other, as if both asserting then confirming each notion - shared now, yes, but as if the sentiment had been shared already, mirrored in each of them and then amplified in the multiplicity of it, pleased to find their feelings not just reciprocated but in duplicate. 

It was almost as if she were nervous, her entire being a live wire as she steeped in the feeling. And unlike the weightlessness of the night before, Merit relished the warmth of Gale’s skin beneath her palm and the way his other hand raked at the small of her back as he inched their bodies closer. For all the wonders experienced the night before, she liked this, too. Almost moreso. He eventually rested his forehead against hers, the calm of his breath against her cheek a serene reassurance of everything she felt and everything she sensed equally in him. If her body hummed the night previously or even in the moments after waking, her limbs were certainly abuzz now, prickling with a certain promise that felt as safe as a roaring fire and a feather bed.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” she admitted in a hallowed whisper, her hand finally retreating from the hollow base of Gale’s neck to thread through his hair as she held him close. Gale’s breath caught in his throat. One hand remained at her waist while the other reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb tracing the outline of her cheekbone as he beamed quietly back at her. She trembled pleasantly beneath his touch, not wanting the moment to end while simultaneously desiring even more of it.

“Neither have I,” Gale replied, almost breathless. His gaze was more intent on hers than she ever remembered it being, his irises as wide and dark as the night itself yet just as luminous, a certain affection in his gaze that was unmistakable yet unprecedented somehow. “And despite everything that’s befallen us and everything yet unresolved, what I feel for you somehow outweighs all of it. Almost as if-”

Before he could continue, Merit pressed her lips to his, pleased to feel him sigh against her. He was delectably warm and welcoming, an errant sound emitting from the back of his throat as he surrendered to her kiss in a way that made Merit shiver, only wanting him more. He tasted of cool earth and raw honey - real and sweet and present. She thought of the night before, as if what had transpired and was shared between them was both only a second prior but also an eon ago, aching for a closeness she wasn’t sure she could ever manage, whether corporeal or incorporeal. But the feel of him against her now soothed her: the taste of his kiss, the weight of him beside her, the warmth of his hands on her skin.

Merit continued to kiss Gale with urgency, the feeling swelling within her chest until it was almost too much to bear. Finally, she pulled away slowly, only to look upon him as if it might be the last time. She knew it wasn’t but there was an unexplainable pull in the depths of her, a worry rooted in Gale’s words the night before. Her eyes traced his features as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, cradling his face in her hands as if she were committing all of him to memory - by sight and by touch, wondering if she had time to relish in all the rest. 

“I’m sorry,” Merit pleaded, still holding him close. 

“For what?” Gale asked with a breathy laugh, his eyes full of want as he tried to read her expression. 

“You were going to say something,” Merit said, hungry to kiss him again and never stop. 

Gale’s mouth opened as if he were about to answer, but instead he pulled Merit to him and kissed her again, a somber desperation overcoming him that matched the sudden anguish that coursed through Merit now. He parted his lips against hers this time and drank her in. Merit sighed as Gale’s tongue gently probed hers, his other hand pulling her to him in a way that she thought their bodies might fuse as they had the night previously. Merit obliged and followed the lead of his kiss, waves of affection lapping at every part of her, equally wanting to enjoy the moment while simultaneously starving for more of him. 

“Everything I feel for you, with you-” Gale continued, pulling away from the kiss only to breathe, brushing his nose against hers, “-feels as if it’s the most paramount concern in all the world,” panting his words with every exhale before kissing her once more. “The rest only pales in comparison.”

He said this as if it were both a plea and an apology, even if the sound of it only made Merit radiate with a pleasant, inner warmth she wanted to let consume her whole.

Merit could only whimper against his mouth, overcome with a sentiment that possessed her so entirely that she did not know what to do with it, the feel of it overwhelming her in an instant. Merit never wanted to be kissing Gale more than she did now, her lips aching for him each time they parted, a wave of want possessing her whenever she felt him sigh or gasp against her, a part of her feeling that if they stopped now that she might never get to kiss him again. Her chest felt as if she were about to dive off a steep cliff and into an unfathomable abyss, only the gaping maw of the unknown within her felt sweet and shivering. Her hands gently clawed at the warmth of his skin as she kissed him still, inspiring a mirrored moan from the depths of Gale’s throat.

Gale’s hands then slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the folds of fabric almost alien to her after their night together in the Weave. And yet the sensation of Gale’s fingers gracing her skin beneath it with practiced pause made her tremble in a way that only intensified her already insatiable need for him to be closer. She ran one hand through his hair as she kissed him, pleased to feel how solid he was, how utterly real, while her other hand ran along the contour of his collarbone, relishing in the shape of him and how his body fit against hers before tugging on the lace of Gale’s collar before the thread came loose.

With a sudden stillness, Gale gripped her waist and gently but forcibly pinned her beneath him, pulling away from her lips as he kissed her cheek and then the upturn of her jaw before eventually draping kisses down the length of her neck. Merit sighed again, a low moan escaping from her throat just as Gale muttered a spell against her skin and within the span of a moment, the tent was silent except for their rapid breaths and the silk of their voices lacing each and every sigh. Merit’s hands reached for Gale’s neck, guiding his lips back to hers, her fingers eventually spiriting down the back of his nightshirt as he pressed himself against her once more. Gale shuddered pleasantly and urged her closer in a way that made the core of her grow warm and wanting. 

One of Gale’s hands moved up towards her face, threading his fingers through her hair as he angled her face sweetly against his, while his other hand gripped her hipbone with a firm authority that made her go weak in the knees.The feel of his tongue gently interlacing with hers sent another chill through her that felt sweet yet insatiated, each of them ever hungry for more. She ached to feel more of him, and closer somehow. 

Merit’s hands moved from the now-open collar of Gale’s shirt to insistently tugging at the back of the fabric as they continued kissing, growing more and more breathless with each passing moment. Gale was the first to finally pause. He pulled away, panting, and looked upon her with a heavy-lidded gaze that instantly set Merit’s heart aflame. He bit down on his bottom lip, his chest heavy with labored breathing as his eyes flickered across her face, drinking in the sight of her as he eventually obliged. Within a moment’s time, his shirt was discarded and he pressed his lips again to hers, his hands instantly reaching for the slip of Merit’s skin beneath her own nightclothes as he lightly urged her shirt off as well. 

Merit didn’t pull out of the kiss. Instead she raised her hands in silent yet ever so willing surrender, allowing Gale to pull her top off over her shoulders. Their skin was endlessly warm where they touched in the aftermath, the tent growing hot as they continued kissing, the warmth of their breath further heating the air between them. Memories of the night before flooded Merit’s mind - the sensation of Gale’s soul against hers, sentiment mingling with unearthly sensation - and yet there was something about being here with him, now, that felt even more intimate yet also only more sacred for what transpired in the Weave. She ran her hands along his chest as he kissed her, delighted to feel him shudder pleasantly at her touch, wondering what other new magic she might yet discover between them.

“I want to feel you,” she found herself saying, as if possessed. She spoke her words into another kiss pressed to Gale’s mouth. He smiled in response, his lips curled into a smirk as he kissed her still, pressing his hips against hers again in a way that made Merit melt. Gale didn’t say anything at first, his hands only traveled beneath the waist of her trousers in a gentle but urgent plea to slip them off, a gesture Merit mirrored on him in kind.

“And I want to feel you,” Gale echoed as they obliged each other’s shared pleas. Merit relished everywhere their skin now met, the waning night touching the rest, pulling him closer to her as she delighted in how warm he felt against her in light of the chill. “All of you.”

It was all it took for Merit to obey, as if she wasn’t already eager, savoring the feeling of Gale being this close, his hands roaming her every curve like an intrepid explorer as her own fingers traced every outline of him that she had not yet seen and committed it all to memory. It was strange, almost, having opened herself completely to his soul earlier only to feel even the mildest of trepidations at being this exposed in close proximity. As if there were some flaw forgotten that would change his mind or stay his hand. But Gale only kissed her more deeply, retreating only to drape kisses across her chest and over her shoulders, his hands carefully but emphatically pulling her closer as she felt his earthly want against her as if in insistent plea that the night never end. And she did not want it to. 

The solidity of him felt almost like a novelty - not just after their long night entwined in the Weave, but after weeks of yearning for him to be closer, of soaking in each moment their elbows brushed against one another’s or their hands touched, their fingers lingering against one another’s in a solemn attempt to draw out their time together and make it last forever. Even each of their earlier kisses before this felt so chaste in comparison. But now, the heat of their skin searing sentiment into flesh, Merit knew that whatever entanglements she’d had in the years before this were nothing in correlation to the wealth of feeling she felt for Gale - now or ever. Gale fit against her in a way that was endlessly perfect, as if their equal but unfinished parts were always meant to complete the other.

A part of her mind opened up then - the feeling of Gale’s thoughts brushing against hers like the soft brush of hands reaching for the same thing and relishing in the not-so-accidental closeness. In that moment she knew he wondered the same just as they broached the precipice of the same conclusion, the thought echoing in both their minds, a voice in unison: so this is love.

Merit had been in love before but never had it returned like this, nor had she ever felt it so deeply. And the currents of its depth coursed through her as she kissed Gale and urged him closer; closer than skin on skin, closer than shared breath and sighing in concert. She meant what she’d said before - she wanted to feel him, yet not only as she had in the Weave but every part of him, anchoring him to the here and now in a sudden plea that he remain in the land of the living. Because as sudden as the depth of her feeling was, so was the notion that it could all soon be over should he choose to heed destiny’s cruel call.

As if in response to her inner turmoil, Gale quelled her worries with a kiss deeper than she’d ever known, his lips threading with hers as if they were forever meant to be pressed to one another, and his tongue lacing with hers so gently yet so sweetly that she felt her entire body shiver in response yet in the sort of way that she knew she never wanted to be parted from him ever again, savoring the feeling of his warmth mingling with hers as his hands drew her even closer. Then, with the slightest and most endearing trepidity, one of Gale’s hands eased its way between her legs. He sighed and smiled against her mouth as he felt her want, and she leaned into his touch, yearning for more which he was all too happy to oblige.

Gale lilted out of their kiss, smiling and out of breath as he tentatively slipped two fingers inside her, eliciting a gasp from the depths of Merit’s throat. A shiver coursed through her at the feel of him, smiling against his mouth as he readjusted and kissed her again, reaching for the length of him with a careful hand. Her gentle touch only encouraged his desire, feeling the length of him harden further against her palm as she carefully caressed and stroked, their panting breaths in concert as they fell into an unspoken but understood synchronicity. It felt both like a plea as well as an invitation, both their question and answer the same as they exhaled deliciously in unison. Gale pulled out of the kiss only far enough to gauge Merit’s expression, his eyelashes fluttering heavy-lidded against her cheek as he drank her in and eventually paused, retreating his hand and relieving her own before carefully guiding himself between her legs and without another moment’s hesitation, made them one again. 

It was both foreign and familiar after exploring the furthest depths of each other’s souls, and yet the feeling of Gale inside her sent Merit to another plane entirely. Pleasure coursed through her as he thrust once, twice, and deepest on the third dive, his breath even but harrowed as one of his hands reached up to cradle her jaw and bring her mouth closer to his upon which to kiss. His mouth was pleading but tender against hers, his hips moving against Merit’s with a hungry yet tamed tenacity that enraptured her completely. All she could do was lean into his kiss and urge her hips in harmony with his, yearning to feel more of him and deeply so. 

Merit parted her legs ever so much more and invited Gale even more deeply inside her, at first caressing his chest as he breathed heavily against her before latching onto him as if for dear life. All she knew is that she wanted him to be impossibly closer, almost as close as they’d been entwined in the Weave but more corporeally so, yearning to feel his heat and savoring each taste of his lips upon hers. Gale’s other hand hooked behind her lower back, angling her against him in a way that instantly made her see stars and she wondered whether they were still connected via tadpole or whether they’d simply committed themselves to eternally being on the same page that some things simply no longer needed to be said. 

Wave after wave of euphoric ardor flooded her as Gale urged himself inside her again and again, alternating between kissing Merit desperately and pulling away only far enough to tenderly watch her gaze on his, his nose brushing against hers as his eyes glazed over with an unspoken but quiet rapture as he reveled in the feel of her, looking as if his eyes might roll back at any moment at the blissful feel of her beneath him. But Gale’s eyes remained intent on her, the depth of his affection clear in his unwavering gaze as he breathlessly thrust his want inside her, careful but indulgent, and kissed her deeply again. 

As all encompassing as their time spent in the Weave was, Merit felt overwhelmed with sensation even more now on the receiving end of Gale’s love in the earnestness of his kiss, at his insistence at the velvety core of her, and in the way one of his hands threaded his fingers through hers, pinning her further to the ground beneath the bedroll they lay upon, reminding her again of the earth and its fleeting pleasures, hoping against hope that this wouldn’t be the last night she would spend with him while solemnly insisting that it wouldn’t be. 

A knot of mounting satiation threatened her nerve endings, her body succumbing to the sweeter sensation of Gale urging himself inside her, the feel of his hardening want both pleasing and teasing her in a way that she both wanted to see it through as well as have it last forever. Powerless against it and desperate besides, eager to feel completion despite her heart’s hungrier desires, Merit clung to Gale even more despairingly, again thinking of what might happen come morning when this was all over, as if him separating himself from her would also act as his death sentence. 

Overcome with a sudden heartbroken agony, Merit kissed Gale harder than she ever had before, threading her free hand through his hair and savoring the feel of him against her, inside her. He lilted again from her kiss, panting deliciously against her ear as he grew impossibly hard. Merit felt herself cascade from the precarious precipice of euphoria and over the edge of it, the sensation of Gale inside her suddenly slick and sweeter than before as a breathless whimper escaped her lips. Merit pulled him to her as Gale delved even deeper inside her, an errant moan escaping the depths of his throat as she felt him bottom out entirely and tremble within her, pulling out as he pressed yet another harrowed kiss to her mouth. He kissed her still even as he’d exited, smiling and laughing a hollow laugh against her kiss-swollen lips before eventually dismounting and laying beside her, completely breathless.

The moment that followed was a bit like waking from a dream, overcome with a sudden lack that what she felt now was familiar but as if it were only half-remembered. Merit’s limbs hummed with a sweet excess of energy, just as they had in the aftermath of the night before. And as similar as the sensation was, the feel of it was quite different. Her skin was suddenly cold without Gale atop her, her skin prickling with goosebumps as her sweatslick skin adjusted to the cool of the night air.

Merit glanced outside through the sliver of the tent’s mostly-closed flap; it was still early, or late depending on how she wanted to look at it. Even if some might consider it early morning, she preferred to think of it as an extension of the night before, wishing that morning might never come. 

She turned, smiling softly, and watched as Gale not-so-silently caught his breath beside her, his body still close yet not close enough for her liking. He eyed her almost bashfully though unable to hide a satisfied smile, a look Merit recognized from the first time they kissed. There was an unspoken apology in his wordless gaze just as there had been then, one that meekly said out of practice.

She rolled over onto her side and inched herself closer to him, propping herself up carefully upon Gale’s chest, one hand slowly tracing his collarbone while her other hand brushed his now slightly damp hair from his forehead. Gale reached for her waist, his fingers carefully tracing absent swirls across her lower back. She shivered pleasantly and pressed her lips to his mouth, smiling as she felt Gale hum pleasantly into her lazy kiss. She had meant for it to be quick, a fleeting but earnest don’t worry to drown out his doubt, but soon her kiss grew ravenous and softly so, turning from a forgiving thing into a pleading one, not that there was anything Gale needed to be absolved of. There was no need to impress her, especially after last night, and she wanted to believe there was still time for further practice. Still panting slightly, Gale’s breath caught in the back of his throat as his lips reciprocated her unspoken adjuration, sending Merit into a whole other world of want.

She wanted to press her palm to the crest of Gale’s collarbone again, to tether their minds once more and make him know just exactly how she felt. Yet part of her sensed that he already knew. 

Before she could get too lost in the feeling despite wanting it to never end, Merit pulled away only slightly, her lips still brushing against Gale’s as she whispered more earnestly than she’d ever uttered anything, “I love you.”

Gale froze, a look of almost heartbroken disbelief overcoming him at the sound of it. As if the last night wasn’t quite enough to convince him, as if telling him she was also in love with him in the meadow wasn’t quite enough either, as if every stolen glance and every shared skip of a heartbeat wasn’t quite enough from the start, as if opening her mind to him upon waking wasn’t quite enough though it came oh, so close. And yet it was this simple declaration that finally quelled his unyielding uncertainty, the realization of it dawning in his eyes as Gale looked at Merit with more affection than she knew what to do with. 

Before she could do anything, Gale kissed her again with an unmatched zeal that left her breathless, pulling her atop him as he kissed her more ardently than anyone ever had. This kept happening - their every act of expressed affection somehow superseding the last, each one sending her heart soaring to some new inner height she never before thought possible. Her unbound hair surrounded them as if veiling their kiss from the world and creating an entirely other one within it, and for the moment she wanted this moment to extend into forever, neverending.

Just as Merit settled atop Gale, her hands running along the pleasing edges of his sternum, relishing feel the quickening of his breath beneath his heaving chest, Gale rolled her back over onto the ground beside him but this time the side opposite, urging their bodies together until they were utterly skin to skin.

Finally pulling out of the kiss, Gale exhaled, “I love you,” as he instead kissed the corner of her mouth and then her temple, uttering “I love you,” again as he kissed the underside of her ear where her jaw met her neck, planting more careful kisses down the slope of her neck until he met her shoulder, his lips brushing lightly against her skin there as his hand gently squeezed her upper arm, next kissing the length of her collarbone and saying “I love you, I love you, I love you,” before finally returning to look her in the eye and stilling so completely that Merit thought the moment had truly frozen in time.

“Were that this night might never end,” he said again, whispersoft, his fingers softly tracing the edges of her face. Merit leaned into his touch, abruptly overcome with a certainty she hadn’t had before. 

“There will be other nights,” she said. “I promise.”

Promise. It was as much a promise to him as it was for herself, instantly afraid of what the world might look like if her words were somehow false, even if a seed in the pit of her stomach insisted that they weren’t.

“I want to believe you,” he resigned after the pause. “I want to believe that we’ll find another way. But-” Gale tore his eyes away from her gaze as he caressed Merit’s hair away from her face, memorizing the outline of her as if this truly might be their one and only night together. “How can you be so sure?”

Merit returned the gesture, studying him not because she wanted to believe this might be her last chance to do so but because she wanted to capture everything about this moment, about this night and the ever encroaching morning, as if crystalizing it in a bead of amber for all eternity. It felt important because it was the start of something, not the end of it. If only she could convince him as much as she was slowly convincing herself. 

“Because you still owe me a proper tour of your tower,” she pleaded earnestly with an easy, small smile. “And Waterdeep, too. I’ll even buy you a drink at the Yawning Portal. My treat.”

Gale smiled sadly at her but let her continue, his eyes flitting between her gaze and her mouth as he continued to caress her hair. 

Merit ran her fingers along the now-cold of his exposed chest, pausing once she reached the base of his throat, her thumb tracing his scar with sudden trepidation. She stilled. A wash of panic rose within her as she looked from Gale’s tender gaze down to the ghost of the orb, again reminded of Gale’s intentions the night previous. She wasn’t sure if her mind were linked with his, but all she could think of, the word and the want coming in waves, was stay, stay, stay.

Gale’s other hand reached up and anchored her there, his fingers half-lacing with hers while his thumb ran across the back of her hand. Merit pressed her palm with a soft firmness against him, as if she might quell the orb by sheer force of will alone. Stay with me, she thought, the sentiment steeping into every pore of her. Just stay. Please.

“But we’ll probably end up in Baldur’s Gate first,” she continued instead, “So I’ll show you around of course, and you’ll need to come ‘round the bakery since Fable’s pastries are, to put it mildly, out of this world. And I'd know, because you've taken me there now.”

Just as Gale wanted her to meet Tara, Merit couldn’t imagine a world in which Gale wouldn’t meet her older sister, her best friend and the person she missed most, wondering whether Fable thought her sister was dead, or worse: had abandoned the family. The thought clawed at her insides but she pushed past it, soaking in all of Gale’s expression as she continued, “Not to mention you’re finally getting the hang of chords, and we still haven’t committed one of your poems to song. I have just the melody, too, and we’ll-”

Now it was Gale’s turn to interrupt her with a kiss, one that was so tender yet all-eclipsing that the words poised on her tongue dissolved in an instant, gone as soon as she closed her eyes and breathed him in. Gale’s hand threaded through her hair until his palm cradled the back of her head, angling her face against his as he deepened his kiss and eclipsed her thoughts completely.

Gale finally pulled away, about to launch into an earnest apology but Merit found herself speaking instead, her grip on him pleading and hungry and almost out of her control.

“And because…” she continued, still answering his question from before, her heart gripped with a sudden weight she couldn’t shake, “Where else will all of what I feel for you go if you’re gone?”

Gale's mouth hung quietly open, his gaze forlorn as he read her expression and took her words in. After everything, Merit felt the most naked now, unendingly vulnerable and eternally anxious in the wake of her accidental but heartfelt confession. The truth of it hung between them but left a lump in her throat she couldn’t will away. So instead she committed all of Gale to memory - the look of him, the feel of him, the taste of him - desperately hoping that none of it would fade with time even if she knew it was the way of things.

In what had only been a moment, hanging like a bead in a thread of unending time, Gale rested his forehead against Merit’s, the weight of him against her reassuring, and the closeness of him even more so. He eased into a small, somber smile, but one that radiated with a warmth that could rival the sun as well as the physical sensation of their skin touching now.

“I am far beyond fortunate to have you,” his voice was whispersoft but steadfast as he ran a gentle thumb across the hollow of Merit’s cheek. “Even the power of the Weave is mundane compared to the way you make me feel.”

Merit’s chest felt cavernous at this confession, her skin prickling at the very thought of it. Especially knowing how much it meant. 

“I do not presume to know what we might find once we storm Moonrise,” Gale continued. “But if there is any hope of defeating this, it is by your side. If I have learned anything in all my years of living, it is that with you-” he paused, emotion welling in his throat as he looked deeply into her eyes, his voice laced with hushed amazement, “With you perhaps anything is possible.”

A flicker of thought and feeling coursed through Merit’s mind in an instant, a sudden sense of desperation overcome instead by the impossible depth of Gale’s affection. She felt his mind again, then; lighter, hopeful, and smoother around the edges, death no longer looming so close. 

And then she heard it: the soft chime of birdsong, the call of early morning. An unusual though welcome sound in a place like this. Or perhaps she'd only imagined it in the wake of the impending dawn. It broke her out of her reverie as well as quelled the miniature universe in which only she and Gale occupied, time slowly eclipsing their borrowed eternity. Either Gale’s spell had only just broken or, if they were lucky, it was merely the very cusp of dawn. The edge of another day. 

As much as she wanted to linger here in night never-ending, time beckoned. 

“There will be other mornings,” Gale said as if reading her mind before pressing his lips to her cheek, lingering there as he kissed her once, twice, and three times before finally saying, “Brighter ones, with you. I promise.”

[my-mt-heart]

The title will always be a no no for me. It's just ridiculous with the subtitle. And what about S3? Carol will disappear again even in the subtitle and get replaced with what? Norman posted pics with Raise The Dead while filming for S1. Even if they never wanted Melissa on the show, going from the first Spin Off to the Double Dick Spin Off is an insult. Not just to her but also to everyone who wanted the first show to happen. (Yes, I view them as separate shows and concepts. The original SO died as soon as Melissa was out)

Let's be honest. It was never supposed to be a one man show until it was and he even said on a talk show he wanted a title like batman or spiderman. He said it. Only weeks after Melissa was out. They strung her along during negotiations only to replace the title after she was on board.

THE AUDACITY

Yes, give a couple more interviews stating it was always the plan. Yes, say a few more times more how much you enjoyed working with her. It's only blablabla. Actions scream louder than words, especially when you're dumb enough to say in an interview that making the show without your buddy Nicotero was a dealbreaker. We know what wasn't a dealbreaker, throwing away your co star and naming the show after yourself. But of course, it was stated that some people are only actors who appear on set without any saying. At least they should try to be consistent while lying.

The og spinoff and the DD/TBOC spinoff are two different concepts, developed by two different showrunners. Any attempt to convince us otherwise is just word vomit. We know what we had. We know what we lost. We were there. I don't want to get into the weeds of what Norman did/didn't do right now because there are more pieces to the puzzle than just him, but I do think it would benefit him and everyone else greatly if he could just stop bringing up what happened all together. Let's just move forward, you know?

[imaginethatneathuh]

Cold as Ice: Cait - Fallout 4

Cait & Sole Survivor, platonic.

Cait comes across a warehouse filled with chems and finds out Sole is the one responsible. Her reaction is rather rash.

TW/CW: References to addiction, chems, anger.

Word Count: 2.2+K

Inspired by @danses-with-dogmeat

•

A dull light easily broke through the branches as Cait made her way back to Sanctuary Hills from killing the small raider encampment to the North. Her shotgun hung loosely in one hand as the other stayed on the strap of her pack. Her thick red and white plaid flannel kept her warm, but even so, a cold wind was a powerful thing. Dry twigs and leaves crunched beneath her dirty, mud-splashed boots as one such wind whipped past her. It sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of what she'd felt after withdrawals set in, but just barely so.

Cait tensed at the thought.

I ain't goin' through that shite again. I'm fine.

Taking a deep breath, Cait closed her eyes and centred herself before letting out the breath and opening her eyes.

It hadn't been that long since she'd been cured. Since you'd helped her get clean. The memories were still fresh, yet the urge was nowhere to be found. Still, the pain from the withdrawals was always the first thing to surface.

You'd said it was some form of PTSD.

Cait wasn't sure what that was even after you and Curie tried to explain it.

As the dark grey of her eyelids disappeared, Cait watched as a puff of wispy, white air twirled in front of her before disappearing.

As it faded, a building came into focus. It was off in the distance, but Cait could see it was cobbled together and unfinished.

"What the Hell?" She asked, mumbling to herself.

Cait frowned as she got closer. She slipped her free arm through her pack's other strap and handled her shotgun with both hands rather than the lazy one-hand position. Cait checked the chamber, ensuring she wasn't going in without ammo.

As she got closer, Cait realised it wasn't some random building and, while cobbled together, wasn't unfinished. The massive main door was just open. The tall, wide building looked like a warehouse she'd seen before, similar to Wicked Shipping Fleet Lockup, rusted, broken glass and all.

What the Hell is this doin' out here? Did Sole make it?

Cait keeps getting closer while keeping her shotgun up, ready for a fight.

Though it did seem like one of your constructions with its proximity to Sanctuary and Vault 111, Cait had been around these parts hunting and clearing things out for a while. Not even you, with your uncanny ability to build like a magician, could have erected such a massive building without Cait noticing. Not to mention, you hadn't been around for several days. You'd have gone to Sanctuary for supplies if this was what you were doing.

As she got closer, Cait heard nothing. Not the sounds of robots thumping around and guarding whatever is inside, not the humming of turrets or lights, not even the sound of raiders or bugs. The place was eerie and quiet, far too quiet to be normal.

The building itself was fine; it was just a little rusty and had broken windows. Otherwise, it seemed sturdy enough, perfect for raiders, animals, ferals, or even settlers.

As Cait climbed up on a ledge, she peered down at the short drop and thought to herself. If something's in here, should I risk letting it know I'm here for the sake of speed?

Shrugging, Cait jumped down with a slight thud. She exhaled as she crouched from the small jump before shooting back up; even with the small amount of noise she'd made, not so much as a radroach crept out. In fact, as she peered past the massive doors and into the warehouse, she saw dead ones strung up, cut into and torn apart.

Immediately, Cait went into cautious mode and aimed her shotgun around as she searched for any living thing.

Those roaches had to have had some interference. Without someone doing it, they wouldn't have been cut and strung up like that, dangling the length of the loading door.

Mentally, Cait began crossing things out.

Not super mutants. They don't come out here.

Can't be ferals or robots, either. Ferals would have ripped 'em a part where they lay dead, not string 'em up. Bots wouldn't give a damn after they're dead.

Settlers are out of the question. Maybe one or two would have been out here, but in that case, they would have gone to Sanctuary or Abernathy Farm. Those places are safer than some random building in the woods.

Raiders then? A new group, maybe? Fucking dumbarses would pick someplace close to a settlement.

Cait noticed something odd as she stepped through the door and under the roaches.

No, not more dead animals strung up. And no, not dead people.

What she noticed were boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. They were everywhere. On every shelf all the way to the top and in every corner. Some open and some not.

But other than the seemingly neverending amount of fucking boxes that are just everywhere, there wasn't much else. Not even a candle.

You could count the roaches, but they're in a halfway spot; therefore, they're off the table.

Cait allowed her shotgun to drop to her side and loosely held it again.

"What the fuck?"

She looked around, confused, and stared at the boxes of all shapes and sizes.

There were crates, ammo boxes, trunks, suitcases, lockers, file cabinets, cardboard boxes, and every other type of container and box you could possibly think of. There were even several coolers.

Speaking of which...

Still erring on the side of caution, Cait approached one of the boxes, well, not boxes, but containers. Specifically, a cooler sitting closed on one of the shelves. She looked around it, ensuring it wasn't trapped with a tripwire, bathroom scale, or anything of the like.

"Clean," she said to herself, nodding.

Despite nothing being attached, Cait still slowly lifted the lid. And, as she peered into the cooler, she scowled.

Silently, she moved to another container and opened it. Her scowl only grew. She moved to another and another and another. She even cracked a crate open, only to be met with the same thing every time. Well, not exactly, but it might as well have been.

And before you ask, no, there weren't body parts, animal or human/ghoul/whatever. No, nothing so simple. Instead, there were chems of every type and lots of them.

The place was a damn warehouse filled with chems, not even a 30-minute walk from where she lived.

Cait stepped away from the disgusting things, the things that had nearly killed her more than a few times, the things that had driven her into a massive hole so deep she couldn't get out alone.

She didn't know if she felt like throwing up or lighting this place up and letting it all burn away. This many chems all in one place? It was a junkie's paradise, but Cait wasn't one anymore, not after 95. You had made sure of that; you'd saved her.

I should tell Sole, Cait thought. They'd never allow something like this to exist.

Cait recoiled away from it all and backed up. As she turned to go back the way she came, she was met with the silhouette of someone. The person had set down a bag and picked up a clipboard, a can of water in their other hand.

If you were close enough, you could hear the woman growling as she found the creator of such a disgusting pile of shite. She stormed over to the person, seeing red and her trigger finger itching.

"Oi! Fuck face!" Cait shouted, getting the perpetrator's attention. "What the fuck is this?"

They turned, and Cait was greeted by the face of the piece of shite who did this.

And it was... you?

Cait slowed as she watched you slowly lower the clipboard and drink. Her mouth hung open, and she just stared.

You, the ever kind, ever caring Sole Survivor of Vault 111, were the one stockpiling dangerous and disgusting chems like Buffout and the shite that had nearly killed Cait, Psycho. The very same person who'd helped Cait through her withdrawals on their way to 95. The same one who'd saved her life a thousand times over. The same person who'd risked life and limb and their own mental wellness to lend a hand to her, to randos, and to everyone they came across. You were the kind of person to take time out of your day to play with kids and teach them things they never would have learned otherwise. Shite, you'd go tend to the sick whenever you could.

So, why? Why would you have such a massive stockpile of the worst sort of things? Alcohol, Cait could understand. And she could understand extra Med-X, the Radaway and Rad-X, and the Stimpacks, but everything else? The Buffout, Mentats, and, worst of all, Psycho? What could you be using that shite for?

Cait, in all her time knowing you, had never seen you take anything but stims on the fly. You always went to the doctor for help if you needed it. You had never self-medicated unless it was an extreme emergency, and there was no other choice.

Cait could still remember you talking her through the withdrawals and the fight in Vault 95. She could still feel you embracing her tightly and grinning after Cait was cured.

How could you? How could you throw all that away? How could you lie the way you did and pretend to be such a good person?

The questions merely infuriated Cait further.

"What the fuck is all this then?" Cait growled. "You got any sort of explanation for me?"

You simply raised an eyebrow, cool as a cucumber. Before you could speak, Cait stopped them.

"No, ya know what, I don't care. I don't give a singular fuck!" Cait pointed toward the door. "With that door open like that and no protection, it's obvious you're jus' fucking waitin' for some kid to come across this place and end up like me. It's fuckin' sick, Sole. This entire fucking place is sick!" Cait got closer, gripping her shotgun and glaring into your eyes. God, she wanted to blow your head off for this. "You are fucking sick. So, if you want to keep me around, you will get rid of all of this. And I mean, get rid of it, not just sell it to some poor soul. So, either these go, or I do."

To your credit, you didn't budge or interrupt. In fact, you seemed relatively unbothered by Cait blowing up at you.

As calm as ever, you slowly, without breaking eye contact, brought the can up to your mouth and drank from it. When you lowered it, your face made no change, no sign of hurt or even relief. You simply said, ice in your voice: "Then go".

The thing about you is, as kind as you are, you ain't the type to take people's shite, and you sure as Hell don't do ultimatums. If Cait wouldn't even let you explain what's going on here, you wouldn't give her the time of day. Simple as.

Cait paused momentarily as she stared at what she thought was her friend. But her shock was quickly overcome by anger. "You are a– Fuck you, Sole! Fuck you! I can't believe I ever trusted you," she spat out. Cait shoved you aside as she made her way past and back outside.

•

Back in Sanctuary, Cait stomped over the bridge between the island and the Northside. Dirt, leaves, and twigs fell as she stormed.

She mumbled to herself, mostly about you and the chems. For a moment, Cait had considered telling people about your stockpile of chems but decided against it. When Preston or Codsworth found out... Well, thinking about that gave Cait everything she needed.

The sun still beamed down. Even with the overcast, the day felt far too happy. Especially after the recent revelation of who you truly are—a drug-dealing piece of shite.

A few settlers pass Cait by as she scowls at the ground and walks back to her flat. They say nothing, too afraid of her to try.

•

In her flat, Cait looked around at the random stuff she'd gotten in her time with you. The teddy bear you had jokingly given to her. The weapons you had modded and named for her. The fresh clothes, bedding, and an actual bed had been given to Cait when she moved to Sanctuary proper. Codsworths' housewarming present: a new pair of boots Cait never wore, not wanting to ruin them. The jacket Curie had given her to keep her warm. And, of course, the Minutemen hat Preston had gifted Cait as a way of saying "thank you for everything you've done" and a "you're always welcome with us".

Despite feeling this emptiness inside, Cait refused to feel sorry for herself or fall back into that hole. No, you wouldn't do that to her.

Cait grabbed a few things and a bag, stuffing some things into said bag.

If you wanted to ruin everything you'd created, you could, but Cait wasn't having any of it.

[gamerwoman3d]

Going through my notifications when these tags caught my eye

@bi-hans it made me imagine things 🤐

[Spicy/Explicit ideas under the cut 🔞]

First off if Shang got ahold of Sub-Zero, that means he also got ahold of Scorpion. And maybe he even caught Smoke but one bro at a time bc otherwise my brainrot will get brainrot.

Secondly it would take multiple Bi-hans to contain Shang Tsung: He's weasely and he can change the shape of his body so most restraints are useless. Bi-hans ice might work great on holding Raiden's hands to Madam Bo's bartop, but against the shapeshifting even that be useless.

Restraints that might not be useless to shapeshifters include Cyrax's shrinkwrapping net or something else that Sektor comes up with. In any case it might look like some radioactive-green rope shibari going on.

If Sektor gets involved in studying Shang Tsung it could be cool if Sektor figures out a way to 'force' Shang Tsung to shapeshift into whatever they want to play with. You know how when Reptile shifts halfway it kinda peels away the human to reveal the scales? Imagine Sektor using tech to "peel away" Shang Tsung's bottom half to replace his cock & balls with a more sensitive clit and g-spot on a whim.

But the best thing I imagined was two of the Bi-hans wanting a taste, with one of them just going for it and the other like "hell, scoot over." And instead of just moving aside enough so they can both go down at once, the first one just shoves Shang Tsung's thigh open further until he's basically doing the Johnny Cage style splits. Then the clone just gets beside him cheek to cheek and they both plant their faces in his pussy together.

I'd imagine each clone has the original's memories up until the point when the cloning occurred. Shang Tsung would totally pull a Sorcerer's Apprentice move and try to turn one Bi-han into two, and then two into four. That's as far as I think he'd get before they take over. I imagine the original is easy to tell apart b/c the others have no scars.

I also imagine Scorpion arriving to witness the aftermath. He sees like, 4 Sub-Zeros getting dressed around a strung-up fucked-out Shang Tsung breathing heavy, caught in a still-dripping web of glowing green ropes. And of course the first thing Scorpion does is get critical, like "I don't see why this was necessary, bro what are you thinking"

Then Shang Tsung sees a chance to piss him off and he takes it like "perhaps you'd be more sympathetic if I looked a bit... different," as he changes into Harumi's form. Still a mess. Still fucked-out. Still bruised up and bitten and basking in the afterglow. Just smarmy, with an uncharacteristically smug look on her face, right before sticking her tongue out at him in a debasing "come here" motion.

It gets hotter in the room and all four Bi-hans just watch Scorpion suppressing the rage in his face in silence. Scorpion doesn't look at any of them, but slightly jerks his thumb toward the door in a dismissive "get out" gesture with his eyes locked on Shang Tsung. The Bi-hans leave the room. They each give Shang Tsung one last meaningful look before they leave, to let him know without a word that "Shang Tsung, you just goofed."

And then insert whatever torture/edging/murder/orgasm denial fantasy you like.