#probably won’t again though cause it’s sort of miserable to use now lol

[metamatronic]

some of the old cast! it’s kinda crazy looking back at my old BATIM art, ngl. but it’s nice to see that i’ve improved!

[bubble-tea-bunny]

i could make you care

[saiki kusuo x reader]

author’s note: i tried to incorporate as many characters into this as possible to make it feel like an actual episode and i got overwhelmed so fast lol i haven’t written this many characters in a story in a long time. in any case hope i did them justice and that you enjoy :’)

word count: 3,029

Today’s morning is bright, and Saiki’s walk is quiet. Typically this would be no cause for concern. A quiet walk to school is few and far between, difficult to come by given the company he keeps. (He’d much prefer a calmer bunch, if he were granted the chance to choose, but that is neither here nor there.) Don’t misunderstand: he’d bask in this brief peace, guaranteed to be broken the moment he passes through the gates of PK Academy, if the reason for this uncharacteristic period of silence comes about because of the absence of one particular person—someone who, if one could hardly believe it, Saiki actually prefers to have around more often than not.

He walks past the street which leads to your home, his pace never slowing because he expects you’ll join him, as you do every morning. You’ll wait for him on the corner and smile widely like you haven’t seen him in weeks then skip towards him, falling in step easily. He’ll remain nonplussed as you hug his arm, give it a brief squeeze as you greet him—Good morning, Kusuo!—and then promptly let go because you understand he likes his space but you just can’t help but indulge a little bit.

However, none of the aforementioned events play out this Friday. You’re not on the street corner, not there to smile and fall in step with him. There’s no arm hugging or a bubbly greeting Saiki pretends he isn’t affected by. But the truth is that he is, the routine coming somewhat as a comfort, even at the price of sacrificing some of his beloved personal space. So when you’re nowhere to be found his brows furrow and he wonders where you are.

His steps slow until he comes to a complete stop. He wants to check up on you, sooner rather than later. There isn’t much time to delay if he wants to make it to school before the first bell, but this won’t take long. He crosses his eyes, activating his clairvoyance, and he centers in on you immediately. You’re still at home. You’re at home, and you’re sick.

A box of tissues rests on your nightstand and you’ve pulled your small trash can right next to it from where it usually stands by your door. You toss used tissues into it before nestling beneath your blankets, pulling it up to just below your chin and hugging it close in order to retain heat. Your breath evens out quickly and he can tell you’re asleep. Your body must be exhausted dealing with your cold, and he’s confident this is the way you will be the rest of the day—drifting in and out of sleep, dealing with the sniffles and congestion.

He blinks and loses sight of you and now he’s staring once more down the road. Readjusting his bag on his shoulder with a sigh, he resumes walking and thinks about his plans for the day. As it was the last day of the school week, he’d planned to go to Cafe Mami for coffee jelly to celebrate. But now that he’s learned you’re sick in bed, he’d have to make adjustments. Momentarily he debates if that’s really necessary. You probably wouldn’t want visitors in the state you’re in, and knowing you, you’d tell him to go to the cafe without you to enjoy himself anyway. The thought is tempting, truly, yet he can’t shake the urge to check on you.

It feels less like an obligation and more like a simple desire of his own to make sure you’re okay. Saiki shakes his head, more amused than frustrated. There’s no one else for whom he would so willingly do this, or much else, for, and he doesn’t think he’d ever tell you because you’ll tease him the way you are wont to do whenever his facade cracks and he’ll let you have your fun because when you ask if you’re really so different as to make him act this way, the answer is, well, yes. You are.

He imagines this scenario and the corner of his lips lifts in a small smile. Good grief. You could be quite the handful.

“Hey, Saiki!”

Nendo’s voice is entirely too loud for the morning and Saiki heaves another sigh, one that sounds as though it belongs at the end of the day and not the beginning. Nendo is joined close behind by Kaidou and Kuboyasu, and they easily fill the silence with discussions about going to get ramen after class and the latest movements of the Dark Reunion. Saiki really only picks up words here and there that allude to the topic of conversation but it doesn’t require his full attention. It’s the same song and dance every morning.

The commotion once he arrives at school is much the same. During lectures he is afforded the temporary reprieve from having his ears talked off, since the only one speaking is the teacher, but at breaks, the noise resumes, and though he always stays sitting at his desk, in hopes the others will get the hint that he’s uninterested in chatting, they inevitably crowd themselves around it, until he is right in the middle.

Hairo has outlined a new workout regimen and in his louder than normal volume of speaking he shares it. He’s going to start it today, and if anyone wants to join, they’re more than welcome. It doesn’t look like anyone wants to take the offer, which is expected. Hairo’s exercise routines were… a little extreme.

In any case, Hairo is nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm from everyone else and remarks he can’t wait for the end of the school day.

“I think I’ve been losing muscle tone,” he laments, and he complements this statement with a casual flex of his arm, more so to point out the specific areas he thinks are getting soft rather than to show off, but even if he isn’t trying, his biceps are bulging and if his sleeves hadn’t been rolled up, they would have torn.

Saiki’s brow raises. Yeah… I don’t think that’s an issue for you, Hairo.

“I’ve just finished installing an indoor gym at my home, you know.”

Everyone turns to find Saiko has entered into the circle, a smug smirk on his face. When had he gotten here? Really it’s only Hairo who has any sort of reaction to this, eyes practically sparkling imagining the machines and equipment (or maybe that’s just the glare from the fluorescent classroom lights). All the same, Saiko relishes the attention, boasting of the privacy and space and how really, it’s so much easier to be productive if there’s no one else there but Saiki can only wonder if Saiko even works out at all. He doesn’t remember that being mentioned, and Saiki is nothing if not detail oriented.

Saiki doesn’t have long to ponder over this (not that it would’ve continued much longer because he doesn’t actually care about whether Saiko exercises or just set up a gym in his house to brag) before Nendo asks where you are.

Had he just noticed? You always join them on their walk in the morning. But Saiki can’t say he’s surprised it took this long. What he is surprised about is that Nendo had noticed in the first place.

“Oh that’s right,” Kuboyasu adds. “I thought she just went ahead of us today.”

Yumehara informs them of your whereabouts before Saiki does. “She texted me this morning she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed home.” Her phone dings with a new message and she glances at it, then looks back up. “But she says she’s a little more awake now!”

“It’s the Dark Reunion.” Kaidou’s sudden interjection draws everyone’s attention. He clenches his right fist, staring at the bandages wrapped around it. “They’re trying to get to me by going after my friends!”

Saiki remains expressionless but if he didn’t have such good control he would’ve rolled his eyes. Or maybe she just has a cold.

Upon Kaidou’s claim that a secret society is responsible for your illness, Saiki picks up Yumehara’s thoughts: I wish I was the one Kaidou was so worried about! Maybe if I got sick he’d worry about me too! Getting sick to grab Kaidou’s attention? That’s… going overboard, but Saiki can’t find it in him to be shocked, considering from whose mind this speculation has sprung.

“Poor [Name],” Teruhashi says, kind as always. She sets an index finger on her chin, gaze momentarily aimed upwards as she thinks. “I was about to suggest we all go to the cafe after school today and I wish she could join.”

This gives Saiki pause. Wait. The cafe?

“That sounds like a great idea!” Yumehara declares. Again Saiki hears her thoughts: If we go, I need to do my best sit next to Kaidou!

Whether a visit to Cafe Mami comes across as a good idea because it’s a fun way to celebrate the end of the school week or simply because Teruhashi suggested it, Saiki doesn’t know, but one by one the murmurs of assent resound through the group and he barely contains a relieved huff. He’d already changed his own plans from visiting the cafe to seeing you instead, and it’s a good thing too since it’s apparent his alone time would’ve been ruined. Now he has an excuse not to stick around.

Once the final bell rings, they begin their walk into town towards the cafe. The sidewalk feels crowded with all of them on it, and they have to split into pairs to keep the opposite side of the sidewalk free for people going the other way. Among comments from everyone else about how hungry they are, Saiki makes known his intention to just pick up food before leaving. There’s somewhere he needs to be.

“You’re going to go make sure [Name] is doing okay!” Teruhashi exclaims. It’s a statement, not a question. “That’s sweet of you.”

Saiki shrugs. “Sweet” is not the first word he would associate with his actions. It just seems like common sense to check on you. You’d looked miserable this morning, but he takes your message to Yumehara earlier as a good sign that you’re improving, slowly and surely. Still, he’d be more comfortable seeing you himself. He hadn’t gotten any other chances today to use his clairvoyance, but at least it wouldn’t be long now until he’d be heading to your house.

Chisato is working today and she seats everyone. Saiki goes directly to the counter to place his order—coffee jelly for him and strawberry mochi for you—and he stands off to the side while waiting for the treats to be packed. The others are sitting on the far side of the cafe (in his peripherals he sees Yumehara has taken a seat right next to Kaidou) but he can hear them clear as day discussing what food they should order. Yes, he’s certainly glad he won’t be sticking around. Spending Friday in the midst of that noise is far from ideal.

Holding the bag of coffee jelly and mochi in one hand, Saiki uses the other to push open the door, the bell jingling gently, and someone, Nendo it sounds like, raises their voice to shout across the room: Seeya later, Saiki! Then the door closes behind him, and all he can hear is the footsteps of other pedestrians and the low whoosh of cars.

He exhales slowly. Peace at last. He proceeds in the direction of your home, and when he thinks to himself that any longer and his ears might’ve begun to bleed, he’s only half joking.

In the neighborhood it’s much quieter, the only person he passes being someone walking their dog, and only a couple of cars drive past. He knocks on the door and he assumes you’re in your room and so it will take some time for you to open it, but you’re there faster than he expects. You open it just wide enough to stand in the gap, and immediately he notices the fatigue in your eyes. When you realize it’s him, they light up, and the fatigue fails to take away from the brightness of your smile as you open the door wider.

“Kusuo!”

Inside, he sees you’ve moved downstairs to the living room. That’s why you’d answered the door so quickly. There’s a pile of blankets on the couch and a tissue box on the coffee table. The television is on and playing an animation. He doesn’t recognize it, but it must be one of the new ones you mentioned wanting to watch. However, you’re not interested in it now that he's here and you grab the remote to turn down the volume.

“I thought you were going to the cafe today,” you state, head tilting.

Saiki shakes his head. Change of plans. Instead I brought the cafe to us. He holds up the bag of food and doesn’t have to tell you what’s in it. You squeal in delight that he’s come bearing treats, but the sound is a little raspy and awkward due to your sore throat. It’s still easier on Saiki’s ears than the earlier commotion he’d been surrounded with and, if he’s honest, it’s cute.

You plop down on the couch and wait as he joins you. He unties the bag and opens the box, first taking out the packaged pink mochi and handing it to you. Then he grabs his coffee jelly and the plastic spoon it came with before settling back against the cushions.

You sit cross-legged facing him and bite into your soft and squishy treat, humming delightedly. “Thanks, Kusuo.”  

Saiki chews a mouthful of coffee jelly and glances at you.

You grin and hold up the mochi. “For the snack and for coming to see me.”

He shrugs because it’s no big deal. Or, well, he tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. But you know him better than that, better than most others do, and don’t brush it off so quickly. You breathe out dramatically and set a hand on your chest.

“What must I have done for Kusuo Saiki to give up his quiet time for me?” Then you giggle, and  it’s punctuated at the end by a sniffle.

He tells you there would’ve been no quiet time at the cafe since the others had also decided to go, and that you’re much better company. Even when I’m sneezy? you ask him, and he chuckles. Yes, even when you’re sneezy.

His remark about coming to see you because he’d prefer to be here and not at the cafe with the rest of your friends is merely part of the truth. The rest of it is that he did genuinely want to check on you to make sure you were okay. Though to give this a voice felt like too much for someone typically so reserved in his feelings, but you understand perfectly fine as you smile softly. You’re appreciative of his actions, and it would seem Teruhashi had been right about them, for you murmur that he reminds you of the mochi you’re eating: You’re so sweet!

Grabbing your mug from the coffee table, you frown when you see it’s empty. “I ran out of tea.”

Saiki sets the spoon and now empty container back in the box then holds his hand out. You blink, momentarily confused, but when it registers what he’s doing, you give him the mug. As he stands to make his way into the kitchen, you call after him.

“Thank you!”  

Having been to your house a number of times already, he knows where everything is and starts brewing a fresh cup of tea. You’ve turned the volume up on the television again, but you have to rewind to return of the spot you were at before he’d arrived. Once he comes back with a filled mug, instead of allowing it to continue to play, you pause your show.

You’d snuggled beneath the blankets and have to finagle your arms out of the multiple layers to take the mug from him. You say thanks again and blow gently at the tendrils of steam floating from it. The ceramic is warm in the palms of your hands and you sigh contentedly.

“Sorry I’m a little high maintenance today,” you apologize suddenly. “I’d make the tea myself but I just have such little energy…”

Saiki wishes you wouldn’t apologize because there’s nothing to be sorry for. So he tells you as much. Don’t apologize. Besides, he’d offered to make that tea, and if you wanted soup, he’d offer to make that too. He does understand where you come from, however. You tend to be more independent, opting to do things yourself, and you also know his propensity for being alone and needing space. As such, you’re careful not to be overbearing, and the idea of Saiki doing even little tasks like brewing you tea bothers you.

It’s endearing, the level of care you take to make sure he’s comfortable too, but when he says you’re far from high maintenance, he means it. You immediately understand what he’s implying and laugh before scooting closer and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Okay, point made,” you concede. With a small smile, Saiki grabs the remote you’d tossed down on the couch and presses play.

He would struggle to call you high maintenance on any day considering who your friends are.  They’re loud and all over the place, practically bouncing off the walls. Life could hardly be tranquil when around them and their antics. It’s the total opposite of Saiki, who values calm and silence. If they were high maintenance, he was low maintenance. That’s the way he prefers to be, existing in relative quiet and as close to mediocrity as he can muster. But he can't say he’s opposed to the occasional interruption to the otherwise mundane, especially where it concerns you. You’re not to be found on one side or the other, but right in the middle, and to Saiki, you are just right.

[theabigailthorn]

Hey Olly, I’m pro free housing, but i often get stuck on how it would work? Like, how would who gets what housing be decided? What if everyone wants to move to a beach town but all the housing is taken—do people get on some kind of wait list? Should housing be run by the govt, or should it be generational, like you bequeath your housing? Idk when I think about a system where you apply to the govt for your housing and it gets approved or denied, I worry about corruption/tankie shit. Any thoughts?

I get this a lot, and in the first instance I think it’s often framed in a pretty unrealistic way. I very much doubt everybody would suddenly want to move to a beach town because people put down roots wherever they are and have connections and jobs there.

That said, obviously people will want to move sometimes, just like now - so you’re right to think about how that would work! I can imagine that a local council, or some public body under local democratic control, would have a list online of all the properties that are currently empty. If you're looking to move you can browse the list, pick one you like, and apply! If more than one person applies for the same house then we can have a lottery system (unless it’s got special features that one person needs, like it’s on the ground floor and they can’t do stairs, in which case we can let them take priority there). Once you get the house you can pick up the keys and move in! You would be responsible for maintaining it, so once every so often someone from that local body will come round and say, “Hey, you need to clear the gutters or install some fire doors or whatever.” Once you’re done you give back the keys and move out! The important thing to realise is that whilst not everybody will get their first choice house - that is already true of the current system. No rent, no mortgages. The house is not owned by anybody and so it cannot be sold: homes are no longer the sorts of things that can legally be commodities.

Won’t there be corruption and people moving their friends up the list for the nicer houses? Almost definitely! Again though - real estate corruption already happens under the current system. At least this way nobody dies of homelessness and nobody amasses fortunes on the backs of other people’s misery.

Won’t this mean every estate agent and landlord is out of a job? Yup. But we will also be creating new jobs! Someone will need to administer that list, manage applications, show people round properties, inspect them... Seems like estate agents have a lot of transferrable skills that will be useful! Their new jobs will be much more stable since they won’t be conditional on the fluctuations in the housing market! Let’s make sure they’re unionised with pensions and decent wages while we’re at it!

But people won’t take care of the houses if they don’t own them! It’s hard to think of anything that has more evidence against it than this. Private renters already take care of housing which they don’t own because they live there. My landlord hasn’t set foot in my flat for three years: I do all the cleaning and repairs and I make it a home. The owner does zilch!

But what if someone wants to come into my house and just live there? Same thing that happens now if you rent, you have a right to privacy so you can tell them to leave? I don’t own the flat I currently live in, but I can control who comes in - even the owner is required to give me notice.

But I want to own a house someday so I can sell it and getta tha mon-ey! Tough titties I’m afraid. You don’t get to amass wealth at the expense of other human beings anymore.

I agree that the current housing crisis is a problem, but can’t we just introduce strong pro-tenant regulations? The housing market and the housing crisis are the same thing. That’s the point. Consider that every regulation you introduce will be challenged and eroded by the most rich and powerful people in the world. We have tried for over a century to regulate our way out of the housing crisis and it’s been a miserable, deadly failure. It’s time to cut the Gordian knot and realise that we will not solve the housing crisis until we do to landlords what Thatcher did to the miners: absolutely remove them as a political force.

But who will build new houses if nobody can sell them for a profit? We have a free healthcare system, don’t we? Why not a housing system too? It’s not perfect of course, and it’s vulnerable to privatisation by the backdoor, but if a job needs doing the government can pay people to do it - that is a thing that can happen.

But I already paid half my mortgage! Now you’re telling me my house isn’t an asset anymore? Admittedly, that sucks. But hey, at least you don’t have to pay the other half, and now you live in a society where you will never go homeless!

Won’t wages go down once people no longer have to pay rent or mortgages? Maybe. Sounds like a good reason to join a union and have robust minimum wage laws for everybody! But even if they did - if your living costs have just been reduced by half cause you aren’t paying rent anymore and there’s now zero chance that you will end up on the streets, you could lose some wages and still be fine.

But people won’t go to work if they don’t have to pay rent! Absolutely right. Would you still go to work at your shitty job if you had free housing? Would you maybe go half as much, and spend the other half doing something you actually enjoy? If your boss harasses you or makes your job miserable, aren’t you now in a much better position to say, “Screw your job!” Guaranteeing free housing puts a massive amount of power in the hands of workers and would expose just how coercive capitalism is! Suddenly, if rich people want their floors cleaned or their coffee served - well they’d better pay the person doing that job properly or it won’t get done. All the people who actually keep society running in low-paid shitty jobs are suddenly able to demand the respect they deserve. Every pro-worker party should be demanding free housing: it’s hard to think of a move that would benefit the working class more than taking away the threat of homelessness used to keep them in line.

Won’t banks be in serious trouble if mortgages suddenly aren’t a thing? Probably. Some might go under. They will not get bailouts - if bailouts are required they will go directly to the employees and customers, who, remember, have all just had their living costs massively reduced because they have free housing now. They will not end up on the streets because homelessness won’t exist. 

This is ridiculous! For most of human history housing was not a commodity. There is more empty housing now than homeless people. The fact that people find it difficult to imagine an alternative now is a function of Capitalist Realism, but a lack of imagination on their part isn’t a moral or intellectual failing on mine.

I’m a foreign billionaire and I bought loads of property in your country so I can leave them empty to inflate my assets/launder my money that I got from doing crimes. Now you’re telling me I’m going to lose everything cause you’re confiscating those properties and letting people live in them?! Get rekt lol

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART VIII - Sorry everyone, this part is a little short and a little boring lol. It’s just some more Lucien and Eris stuff. Thanks to everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

its not boring!!! i love them!!!

Prince of Ashes. Part VIII.

masterlist.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Eris heard Maddox say. Even though Maddox sounded angry, he almost rarely was, but the permanent scowl that always graced his features made him look the part as well.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Lucien echoed, more high-pitched and sort of nasally.

Eris heard Lucien yelp as he walked to the large, open space they all used for training. Lucien was in the middle of the fighting ring, a sword hanging loosely from his one hand as he used the other to rub his forehead. “What the hells was that for?”

Maddox smiled, barely a flash of his white teeth, “It slipped.”

“Not a very good teacher, are you, Maddox?” Eris looked to the apple core that was still sort of rolling away from Lucien.

Maddox shrugged from where he was leaning up against the raised training ring, “Can’t be good at everything.”

“Eris,” Lucien looked at his eldest brother, his forehead red from all the rubbing or red because Maddox had put a little too much strength into throwing that apple core at him, “Tell him to stop throwing fruit at me.” He said it in a way that made Eris think that Maddox did it quite often.

Maddox merely rolled his brown eyes, “Eris, tell him to pay attention to his lessons so father doesn’t beat him for being useless.”

Eris sighed, “Lucien, listen to Maddox and pay more attention to your tutors.” Lucien sputtered, probably trying to find something sarcastic to say, but Eris raised a hand, “And Maddox.” Maddox raised his brows, still not scowling, just waiting for Eris to scold him. Eris wasn’t very good at scolding, Maddox so he just settled for, “Don’t throw fruit at Lucien.”

“He’s lucky we don’t live in the Day Court,” Maddox grumbled, “I’d be throwing watermelons at him instead.” Eris would have laughed if he were in a better mood. He’d spent the better half of the morning with Cato, torturing some criminal his father insisted was causing upheaval among the lesser faeries of Autumn, and he was feeling like absolute shit.

Lucien frowned when he looked at Eris, his brows furrowing in concern. “You alright, Eris?”

Eris couldn’t help but wonder what Lucien had seen on his face to warrant that question, “I’m fine,” he lied. Even to his own ears, that sounded a little flat and emotionless.

“Didn’t know you’d be coming over today.” The words were a little bitter coming from Maddox. Eris understood why, no one really bothered telling the younger brothers what was going on in The Forest House.

Being the middle child, Maddox never really listened to their father and never really fought to be High Lord, but he still liked knowing what was happening. Eris guessed that perhaps he was annoyed at Owain a little as well. Owain and Maddox were close, Owain leading the Royal Guard and Maddox having been at his side as soon as he was able. Eris supposed he would have been bitter, too, if no one was telling him anything important.

“Father had some things for me to do,” Eris replied, deciding that he wasn’t going to give Maddox any details of what he’d been doing with Lucien around. Maddox’s eyes flicked down to Eris’s hands before he turned away from him to look at Lucien again. Eris hoped there was no blood left under his fingernails. He felt as though he’d washed his hands a hundred times, but the smell still hadn’t gone away entirely.

“Better for us,” Lucien said with a smile, “It’s been a millennia since I’ve seen you.” In truth, it had been almost a year since Eris had last seen Lucien.

“Well,” Maddox said, pushing himself away from the ring, “If you’re staying, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Eris asked, more from curiosity than concern. Maddox could take care of himself.

“To find Owain, and if I can’t find him, I’ll go to Priam.” He flashed Eris a lupine grin, “Try to teach the little runt a thing or two, great eldest brother, perhaps he’ll be able to learn something from the best of us.” Before Eris could respond, Maddox had winnowed from the training area, the smell of roasting chestnuts left in his wake. Eris frowned, he wasn’t particularly happy about being mocked.

Maddox and Eris weren’t necessarily close, but Maddox was too young to ever really fight his way to the throne. If he’d managed to kill Owain and Cato, killing Eris might have proven very difficult. Little did Maddox know that Eris wouldn’t have lifted a finger against him. Eris didn’t know if he could live the rest of his life knowing that he’d caused his mother the grief of losing a child.

If his father knew how easily he’d give up if one of his brothers truly wanted him dead, Beron might have killed Eris himself.

“I challenge you, Eris Vanserra,” Lucien said in a loud, clear voice from his place in the training ring. - Eris shook his head, not feeling up to it. “Lucien, I’m not really in the—”

“Come on, Eris, humour me,” he grabbed a second sword from the rack on the other side of the ring. “I’m challenging you.”

Eris sighed, taking off his very expensive jacket and throwing it on the floor. It would probably wrinkle, but he didn’t want to risk it getting ripped. Lifting himself into the ring, Eris muttered, “Fine, I accept your challenge, Lucien Vanserra.” He was feeling a little horrible for having avoided Lucien for so long.

After Eris had rolled up his shirtsleeves and tied his hair back, Lucien handed him the sword, “I’m sure I’ll be able to beat you this time, I’ve gotten a million times better.”

The smile on his face was a little contagious. Eris took the sword, raising an auburn brow, “Have you now?”

“And I’m sure you’ve gotten rusty, spending all that time behind a desk,” Lucien flashed him a wide smile, “You know, doing father’s paperwork.”

Eris huffed a small laugh, if only Lucien knew what Eris had been doing for Beron lately. Eris tossed his sword from one hand to the other, “You shouldn’t underestimate your opponents.”

Lucien hummed his response before getting into the ring and raising his sword so that the tip was pointing at Eris, “Prepare to lose, brother.” He'd gotten quite tall, Eris noticed, probably as tall as Rufus.

Eris shook his head, kicking Maddox’s apple core off the ring, “I hope you know, fox, that I won’t be holding back.”

“Neither will I.”

Before Eris could get into his fighting stance, Lucien had lunged at him, a blur of red hair and brown fighting leathers. Eris lifted his sword, meeting the blow that had been aiming for his legs. He cocked his head to the side, raising an auburn brow, “Is that the best you could do?”

Lucien shook his head, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Eris.” He drew back his weapon and rushed at Eris once more, his attack deliberate and from many angles.

Lucien’s footwork seemed just fine, Eris noticed, and had to wonder whether Lucien was just being a bit of a nuisance to get a reaction out of Maddox that wasn’t a scowl. Given that Maddox had been ordered to make Lucien’s life miserable, Maddox had taken to just sort of bothering their youngest brother. The same couldn’t be said for the others, but Lucien had assured him more than once that he was fine.

Eris was actually quite impressed with how well Lucien was fighting. He’d been handling a sword for years, starting with a real weapon as the rest of his brothers had, but Eris still saw him as small and clumsy.

They went back and forth for some time, and when Eris tired of it, he disarmed Lucien efficiently. His sword clattering to the ground on the other side of the ring, Lucien raised his hands in defeat.

Eris grinned, “You should be less confident, fox, arrogance does not become you.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, “You think it becomes you?”

“Yes, yes I think it does,” Eris was still smiling, “You accept defeat, Lucien Vanserra?”

Lucien returned the smile, but there was mischief blazing in his russett eyes, “Never.”

Eris frowned, “What do you mean—”

Eris gasped as he felt someone grab the back of his shirt and pull. Before he realized what was going on, Lucien kicked out his foot and knocked the sword from Eris’s hand. Eris fell on his ass with an inelegant “oof” as the person behind him pulled down on his collar.

“I have a feeling arrogance is not becoming on anyone,” drawled Rufus from behind him, pressing a small knife to Eris’s neck.

Eris definitely should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. “Fucking cheaters,” Eris mumbled.

Lucien stood over him, grin wide, “You accept defeat, Eris Vanserra?”

Eris threw his hands up, palms out. “Yes, fine, I accept, you win.”

Lucien laughed, dropping down to sit next to Eris. He had just turned sixteen and he was still growing into his bones. Much too gangly and tall to be useful at much else other than one-on-one combat.

Eris was glad, Owain, who had been big and muscular for most of his life, had been sent to a war camp at seventeen. Rufus dropped down on Eris’s other side, his shoulder-length red hair tucked behind his pointed ears. All of the small hoop earrings going up the arch of his ear glittered in the light of the training ring. “You’re becoming cocky in your old age, brother, I think me and fox have taught you an important lesson.”

Eris snorted, “What was the lesson, exactly?”

Lucien looked at Rufus, “Yes, Rufus, what was the lesson?”

Rufus made a face, “Not sure yet, but there’s bound to be something he’s learned.” Lucien laughed, Rufus laughing with him after a moment, and even Eris smiled. Rufus knocked Eris’s shoulder with his own, “Did Widge show you what he’s been working on?”

Eris nodded. Widge had come to him earlier that week, running into the sitting room of Eris’s cottage, his copper hair a mess and ink stains on his face. The last time Eris had seen him like that, he had discovered a way to get fire to stay aflame on water. He’d had a mad sort of sparkle in his eye as he’d thrown a large scroll onto Eris’s lap, shoving Micah aside as he sat down between him and Eris to show them what he’d done. “He’s brilliant.”

“What did he do?” Lucien asked.

Eris turned to face him, “Found a way to make a shield out of flames that might protect an entire legion. Only problem is, he’s made all his calculations using our magic,” he waved a hand at Rufus.

“Which means that he’s got to convince three Vanserras to test his theory, or convince 30 soldiers with average magical abilities instead, I suppose.”

“I could try,” Lucien offered.

He could, but Eris wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what would happen if Lucien tested the limits of his magic. And he also wasn’t as strong enough as the rest of them when it came to his flames. Eris wasn’t entirely certain that asking Lady Morai to suppress Lucien’s magic hadn’t affected the flames he’d gotten from their mother as well.

“We’ll see,” Eris mumbled.

“That means no,” Rufus said, reaching past Eris to ruffle Lucien’s hair.

Lucien swatted away his arm, “I’m challenging you, Rufus Vanserra.”

Rufus sighed, but stood up. “Not this again, you never win.”

As Eris watched Lucien and Rufus, he decided that he had learned something. He’d learned that Beron was a fool for trying to pit them against each other when clearly they could have been a force all of Prythian would have feared had he pushed them closer together.

[runningw-thewolves]

Why am I sharing this? Well, here’s why.

Loki first started sending signs to me in like, January, I think? Now, I had been working with Fenrir since November of last year, and I was really comfortable with Fenrir. Loki on the other hand. I had done some light reading and it seems that the way things were worded made it seem like Loki had bits in common with my abuser. So, naturally, my anxiety went rocketing past Mars and I was absolutely terrified of the mere idea of working with Loki, worshipping him, just straight up scared of him cause my anxiety decided to hit ‘Red Alert’.

It was in March when he sent more signs that I finally decided the only way to get the right information is to take the plunge and talk with other Loki followers/worshippers/Lokeans and... oh boy. That night when I joined a Loki chat, I had a full blown panic attack. I can confidently say the worst one I’ve ever experienced. My entire body was shaking to the point that my back was sore. My throat was dry and my eyes couldn’t stop streaming with tears as I tried to make sense of the cacophony of noise in my mind and type it with hands barely able to stay still. Thankfully, someone was on and they helped calm me down and gave me reassurance about Loki. Eventually, when I calmed down enough that I was more present in my mental state, I think I heard someone speak. “Wow. He fucked you up, didn’t he?”

I believe that was a Saturday evening, perhaps? So on Monday, I invoked Fenrir and asked him to assist me in communicating with Loki. I had two candles lit - one for Fenrir, one for Loki. I had brought up I believe some chicken for Fenrir as an offering, a sort of pay for helping me communicate with Loki. So, I started talking and admitted I was straight up nervous about what I was doing. I explained my worries and concerns - stemming from child abuse, which lead to me developing depression, anxiety and PTSD alongside having been born Autistic. I attempted to use tarot, which failed miserably and I could sense an audible sigh so I used my ‘last resort’ technique of asking a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ question and giving each direction (left or right) one of those answers and watching the flame. It works as a last resort, and it’s what I use as a last resort. I made a compromise with Loki on one of my concerns, which I might talk about another day, and asked him if he was OK with it - he said yes. I also proposed a grace period with Loki, so I can get to know him more casually. Again, I asked if he was alright with this, and he agreed.

Now, in that time, everything has changed. That tension and anxiety has mostly melted away - it still rears its head every now and then, but what can you do? I went from straight up terrified of Loki to not being able to see my journey without him and his family. I’ve been learned so much, about not just my present but also my past. And it seems that childish wish that young 5 year old me wished did in fact come true, just not how I imagined. I always wanted my abuser’s approval as a child, cause I loved him. Of course, he never loved me though. I wanted to know what it was like to have a loving father you could run to when everything was going wrong. All I had known was being shouted out, belittled, berated and degraded, blackmailed and threatened left, right and centre. So when I realised I had begun to see Loki as what I had always dreamed of as a child - what I saw in the movies and books - my anxiety came back. I felt I was overstepping a boundary, like I was forcing myself into a family. It ate at me for several weeks, but I eventually told Loki. I finally admitted to him - after several minutes of hesitation from rejection and abandonment issues - that I had begun to see him as the father my own should’ve been. I think for a split second he was stunned, surprised even, but that quickly changed into care. I was crying bucket loads, so I can see why. What was the strangest part was after I had admitted to it. He gave me a little nickname; “daughter”. He said it twice, and both times I was sat in silence for a solid minute, processing. It was this evening the little ‘We sang the theme song of Bolt’ incident happened.

Now, just around the beginning of me opening up to him, Stray Kids’ Changbin and Felix released a song. Loki was practically screaming at me to listen to it so I did. I had first thought it was in regards to Sigyn - “I know you love your wife, dude. You don’t need to tell me about it.” Now though, I’ve come to realise he wasn’t talking about Sigyn. He was talking about me. Somehow, he knew that they were releasing the song and it described his thoughts about me and got me to listen to it. “Those sparkling eyes of yours, overwhelming with joy, they become waterfalls if I were to make a wrong move, I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you, because I really like you.” “I love your genuine, heart-bared, honest eyes, and how you’re fucking shit at telling lies.” “I love how your face says it when you simply won’t, how you can’t hide when you’re feeling like shit.” It’s a not-so-well-hidden secret of mine that my emotions are easily translated on my face. You can tell when I’m hurting pretty damn easily. What hit me weeks later when speaking with some mates I made in the Loki chat was the meaning. “I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you.” In other words; “I’m terrified that if I do something that reminds you of your father, you won’t trust me anymore.” It puts into perspective why he’s been so patient, why he has been just so careful with me. So, in a way this song is my response.

“Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love (family) never lasts, and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone and keep a straight face. And I’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance, and up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness. Cause none of it was ever worth the risk, but darling, you are the only exception.” There will always be a place for my grandfather deep in my heart - the father-figure I did have in my youth - and that will never change. But even he couldn’t help heal the deep scar of having a father who was just shitty through and through. Loki, on the other hand? I’m not sure if one can sense this, but I can feel that wound closing up. Loki understands so much about my traumas, my aspirations, fears and dreams. He has seen my hurt, listened to my hurt, and I always get the feeling that he listened properly. Properly tuned in. I’m still getting used to it. The one thing I’ve come to love the most about Loki is how when I’m depressed, he knows just what I am needing in that exact moment; a hug. I can tell when he’s hugging me cause he’s done it so damn much. Even when I had managed to anger him and I was practically eroding myself with guilt, he still gave me a hug. I can always hear his whisper when I’m upset. “It’s OK. You’re OK.” The only downside is I can tell he is hugging me cause my back and shoulders start getting sore for no explicable reason - and trust me, I’ve tested how the pain manifests multiple times and it still doesn’t have any explanation. It’s not that bad though - it’s actually really reassuring.

I said to myself I’d make my decision at the end of April. And well, it pretty much is. And this won’t be the first or last time Loki reads over my shoulder (hi!). At this point, to say ‘No’ would kill me, destroy me from the inside. So, I guess my answer is rather obvious then; of course. I don’t want this journey to end yet. I’m sure Vali will be happy to hear that. LOL But I guess it’s official now, huh? Would ‘Lokean’ be the right term? For now, I don’t know. But of course I’ll work with Loki. The sly rascal he is, getting me this attached. LOL Still, I can’t complain. I wonder if Sigyn was also calling out to me like my mate suggested; I’m sure you probably know, don’t ya, Loki? Well, I guess I better prepare for the entire family swarming the house like this is The Addams Family. So, here’s to the journey and where it goes next.

[charliesradiodemon]

Charlastor Week 2020 Day 4: Jealous/Possessive

34. To Pretend (TUMBLR ATE THE ASK FOR THIS REQUEST IM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS ONE)

(I’m cheating again, but it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise anymore lol (im doing it a couple more times this week just fyi) Please enjoy this double whammy! I think both prompts fit together very well!)

To Pretend 

It was happening again.

Another meeting with another duke’s son. Her mother and father had been setting up more and more meetings with suitors and frankly, Charlie wondered how this one got through her father’s personal screening.

The fish demon was the eldest son of yet another “respected duke of Hell” and thus a potential suitor for Charlie. She couldn’t remember his name, but he was the rudest, most entitled asswipe Charlie had ever met. Besides her ex boyfriend Harold of course.

He showed up at the hotel out of the blue to introduce himself before their scheduled date. Now they sat in the hotel’s lobby, engaged in a one-sided conversation that ebbed away at Charlie’s sanity. She’d tuned him out long ago and had no clue what he was talking about at this point. She didn’t even bother to respond anymore either. Not that politeness would matter, he was far too focused on himself to notice Charlie’s boredom. 

She wished she could just get up and leave. It would have been easy considering how little the man payed attention to her. But even if she did, he would eventually notice and the fish demon was certain to either hunt her down in the hotel or complain to her father, who would certainly not appreciate her decision. No, she needed a good reason and fast if she was going to preserve her sanity. 

In that moment she heard the front door open. She perked up and smiled hopefully. ‘This is my chance!’ 

She glanced at the suitor and found he was still so engrossed in his story that he wasn’t paying attention to Charlie in the slightest. ‘Perfect!’

To Charlie’s surprise, it was Alastor who’d just come in. He was probably here for his usual visit to check in on the hotel. That, or he was just bored and wanted to chat with her as he did on occasion.

Once he walked into the room, Alastor turned his attention to the noisy individual in the lobby. And to his surprise Charlie was there with him. She was the reason for his visit today and he didn’t appreciate the annoying demon next to her taking up her time. When he looked to his business partner, he found a desperate, miserable, pleading look on her face. 

Just from his observations, Alastor quickly pieced the situation together. The unfortunate demon princess was probably stuck with the obnoxious fool beside her. And judging by his clothing, he seemed to be a rich demon- probably a nobleman of sorts. If that was the case, he was definitely one of Charlie’s suitors. ‘Ah. There’s a pest in the lobby, bothering my dearest Charlie. That won’t do.’

The fish demon was still ranting, causing Alastor’s blood to boil. The nobleman had the audacity to treat Charlie this way. The neglect and disrespect of someone such as her was plain criminal, fit for punishment. Though he had many ways to dispose of the pest, Alastor’s focus was on Charlie. Thinking about her, Alastor instantly came up with the perfect solution. He needed to take advantage of this; for this situation, as irritable as it was, was perfect for him to further his plans.

He’d heard of the mad dash for the princess’ hand a week ago. Knowing Charlie, she wouldn’t stand for it and wouldn’t accept anyone that would come her way. And Alastor was right. She’d blown through several suitors in such a short amount of time. Thanks to that, Alastor hadn’t needed to do anything and he could take his time strategizing. Rushing into it wouldn’t be to his advantage. Though he was an overlord, he was still a mortal soul, therefore giving him a slim chance at becoming an official suitor.

However this seemed to be a golden opportunity. It was time for him to make his move and he needed to move fast. He would insert himself into this race. It was just too bad there weren’t more people watching. Though if he made a good show of this, the fish aristocrat would certainly cause a fuss with his family, and then Lucifer himself. Yes, this would be perfect. Passing up this opportunity could be detrimental and he may lose his chance.

He shadow-stepped to her side in an instant and bent over to listen to her pleas. Had he not been so annoyed he would have found her expression adorable and would have continued to watch from afar. But not this time. Right now she needed an out and the radio demon was more than happy to oblige. “What seems to be the matter dearest? You look absolutely miserable!” He asked with an amused yet attentive expression.

Sighing with relief, Charlie leaned in closer and whispered through gritted teeth. “Please get me out of here.” When Alastor looked down at her pleading face he couldn’t help but smile fondly back. Her expression truly was adorable to say the least, but her smile was what got him. When he nodded in agreement, his heart nearly stopped when he watched as her face lit up with gratitude. With that gorgeous smile he knew and loved, he knew exactly what he had to do. No, what he desperately wanted to do.

Charlie glanced behind her and found that the pompous fish was still going on about something, until he finally looked at her and then to Alastor beside her. He scowled and finally shut up, glaring sourly at the pair. Charlie quickly stood, praying Alastor had a plan. Preferably a plan that didn’t involve flaying and frying the annoying man, as much as she wanted to.

The slimy nobleman stood, puffing out his chest and sauntered up to the pair all while glaring at Alastor. “Hey princess, who-“

Before he could finish, Alastor turned to Charlie and tilted her face up to him. “My love, I’m home,” he said down at her before crashing his lips onto her’s. Charlie’s dark, wide eyes stared up to Alastor’s closed lids. It wasn’t the most romantic of situations for a first kiss, but it didn’t matter to Alastor. He just savored the moment he could have with her. Just a moment was enough to sate his craving. For now. 

As soon as the unfazed man pulled away, he pulled the dazed princess to his chest and stared down the frozen fish stick. “I apologize my good man, do you mind if I cut in? I’m sure you won’t, seeing how your incessant yammering is upsetting the love of my life.” As he spoke, his voice distorted just enough to spook the nobleman. The air around them crackled menacingly and Charlie didn’t realize, but she pressed her head against’s Alastor’s chest on her own whim.

With a yelp, the young demon turned tail and sprinted as fast as he could in the direction of the door.

“Hmm, a wise choice. No wonder your father chose him,” Alastor turned his face downward to view Charlie’s bright red face. He chuckled quietly at her flustered expression. “Charlie?”

When Charlie realized their position, she shot her face off his chest and slipped out of his grasp. Alastor tightened his fist and brought the arm that held her behind his back, cursing his blabbering mouth. If he’d just kept it shut, she may have still been in his grasp.

The red-faced princess balled her fists at her sides and glared up at him. “Al!”

Alastor chuckled again, fully amused by her adorable reaction. “Oh, was that not what you wanted? Your little problem scampered off though!” his sing-song voice matched his full grin. 

Charlie threw her hands up and waved them around wildly in the air once her cheeks stopped burning. “When I said ‘get me out of here’, I meant whoosh us out of here with your voodoo thing!” She thrust her arms down, trying to seem more irritated than flustered.

Alastor chuckled and leaned closer toward the raging princess. His mischievous grin and close proximity made Charlie blush through her frustrated frown.

He bent until he was eye level with her. He took her chin in his hand, and chuckled in amusement. “Really? Because I thought you had just invited me to join the race for your heart, dearest Charlie.”

[lucarioisinthevoid]

swap personalities au. Jeremy is to be feared and puppet is an uwu. mike is soft no cuss man. Henry has a lorge soul and feels all emotions v much. thats all i got lol

Okay, this escalated into half an AU, so I’ll put a read more, because this really is long as hell. Tldr though, Jeremy is a horrible sadistic cunt using religion to justify his hatred for others and his bad treatment of them, Mike is constantly unsure of himself and tries to be nice but is fairly miserable, Phoney is the happiest guy on earth who LOVES life, Dave is a sociopath, but a well-adjusted, serious one, Marion is an innocent being constantly crying in his little box- And Henry has done a lot of mistakes in his life and is now stuck in his suit, his fear of life turned into nothing but mourning, while being tortured by one of his victims for all eternity. Frankly though, I’m still trying to figure out if their goals and moral stances would still stay the same if their personality switched, HMMMM- I’m having fun with this, this might become an actual AU. I just wrote out a segment as a writing exercise, heh. -

Fredbear’s was Jeremy’s favorite place. It wasn’t as much the attractions there, as it were the employees he worked with. Though, then again, there was one attraction he was REALLY fond of. Comfortable he sat on the music box, the melody being accompanied by loud and agonized sobs. They wouldn’t let him sleep. The box’s mechanism needed electricity to work, using the crank charged it all up, causing the soul inside immense pain. It was his favorite attraction, because the sound always reminded him of his father, back in his childhood. It was familiar. Nice. Comforting. “It’s not because I hate you.” He causally told the box, drawing another muffled howl from within it. “It is more because I’m bored. I want to listen to music. It is not my fault you are in there, you see? Not my fault at all.” Slowly he winded it up one more time, smiling to himself as he heard footsteps approaching. Not the Phone Guy, no. He was too prone to mind his own business. There was only one person who could step up like this. Hesitant, despite already being here. “What is it.” Jeremy finally asked, cold and snappy, suppressing another smile at the wince coming from the other employee. “I- I think you might- well- if you could- you know- I-“ “Hurry the fuck up. I don’t have all day.” Sharply Mike sucked in the air through his teeth, close to tears, but trying to force a smile. “H-hey, maybe you should- not- wind the box?” “Oh? Why?” “B-because the crying, it’s- I-“ He took a shaky breath. “Idon’tlikeit-“ “You don’t?” Pretending to be surprised, Jeremy put his hand in front of his mouth, “I’m SO sorry! You see, crying is actually quite the nice sound. It is the sound of being needed! But of course, a cruel man as you yourself would not understand how wonderful it is to bring comfort to other beings. And it is not like anyone is getting hurt. You are not trying to say the machines have REAL feelings right? Don’t be stupid.” “N-no, not-“ “See? Nothing wrong with that.” “But-“ “What is it with you? Why are you still trying to bother me about this? Are you having an episode again? Are you going to try to hurt me? I know there is a small part within you that just wants to HURT people. You disgust me.” Mike opened his mouth, but was incapable of saying anything. “Yes, that “demon”, that sometimes causes you to black out and wake up surrounded by nothing but agony. You are delusional with your talk about it being Fredbear. Maybe you should just accept that you are horrible and a danger to be around. Maybe you should just leave. Never come back. This world is better off without dangerous sinners like you.” Finally it was enough for Mike and he turned on the spot running off. Jeremy watched after him, disinterested. He wouldn’t do anything more exciting than that. Too much of a coward to take the last step. Though then again, he would tattle on him. Groaning the boy stepped off the box, looking back at it. The sobs have quieted down. The foolish soul inside still trying to keep ahold of its optimism really intrigued Jeremy. Sure, he did god’s work, trying to convince the soul to leave by any means possible- after all, nobody was allowed to hide from the fires of hell- but it was so utterly stubborn. Despite nothing being left, no inkling of a motivation, he stuck around. God must really hate him. Everyone in this restaurant really. But before he could think about it any further, from behind there was a small cough. He turned around, facing the owner of the location. It always took a second for Jeremy to remember it weren’t the man’s glasses that shined, but the eyes behind it. The Purple Guy looked down at him expressionless. “Did you harass Mike again.” It wasn’t even a question, he knew the answer. “No.” Fully confident he said. “But I would not expect a sociopath to understand the difference between harassment and a normal talk.” “… sociopathy is not depriving me of being able to understand and listen to my employees, Mr. Fitzgerald. Nor does it take my morals. I can still recognize your behavior as abhorrent. Why did I even hire you?” “Because you’re into small boys?” He grinned widely, then shrugged as though he hadn’t just leveled an abhorrent accusation at him. “Because I’m the only one willing to deal with Henry?” “… how about you do what you do what you were hired for then. Mr. Fitzgerald.” “Sure, sure. Oh, but maybe you should shortly check behind you, slightly to the right, where Phoney is putting a stack of party hats on fire and trying to put them onto his head?” He started laughing as William quickly turned and rushed off to save the wild Phone-headed man from probably damage, potential death. No way in hell that Jerry would tell him he was the one constantly smuggling in the lighters, since the grumpy guy at the price corner refused to do so. Instead he sneaked into the saferoom of the location, though he probably didn’t have to. Inside there only really was one thing. An old, slowly rotting golden suit. But that never fooled Jeremy. He might was surrounded by idiots, but so far the brain rot hadn’t hit him. “Well, Henry, how are we doing today?” The suit didn’t react. “Aw. Another day of no attention? What is it? Cannot even give me the littlest bit of appreciation for keeping you from breaking into pieces and making your existence even more painful?” Nothing came back. “… well then again, you probably think you deserve it. Which you absolutely do. Not even hell wants you. Nobody wants a child murder.” The suit’s clawed paw twitched, making Jeremy giggle in delight. “That NEVER fails. Fantastic. But is that all I am getting?” He proceeded to grab a bucket from the side, filling it with warm water and soap. “It’s really pathetic. You made that suit as your protection. Your shield from the world you cared too much about. You used the suit to play the big man, to tell people off, Fredbear was a rude bastard and it was the only way you could protect anything you loved. And now? The least you could do would be to go out there and bite all of these heathen’s heads off. But you won’t. Because Fredbear was just a suit and you’re just a coward.” Bemused he started to sprinkle water on the unresponsive suit. Washing, oiling, keeping it in check. “Too bad. I guess I have to wait until the locust descend to feast on their flesh during the end of days.” There was still nothing. Finally Jeremy quieted down, uncomfortable. Just wash it and get done with it. “… bad people deserve bad things. And bad things happen to bad people.” He quietly mumbled. “I’m not wrong with this. I’m not even that bad towards them. They would fucking kill me or worse if that would profit them. They are heathens without any sort of moral compass pretending to be all harmless and nice.” He hadn’t noticed Fredbear’s head slowly moving to the side to be able to look at him in his position. The chuckle made him snap up however. “… projecting… won’t protect you… from your shame…” “You- YOU-“ The boy squeezed the rag, soapy liquid running down his arm. Then he laughed, abruptly and harshly. “Oh NOW you are talking. To accuse me of NONSENSE. Meanwhile your friend William is broken up about your passing and you just sit here- like you COULDN’T if you WANTED. Shows how much you care. Just move on to the afterlife and take your punishment.” Once more there was nothing. Jeremy gritted his teeth, trying to control his temper. “You will NOT make me act in wrath. You will NOT drag me down. You will burn on your own, you creature lower than DIRT.” Outside Mike had finally calmed down, staying around Simon for a bit really had lifted his spirits again. There was just something about his unbridled joy about being alive that nobody could escape. But there was something he had to do. The customers had cleared out, so he could allow himself to sit down next to the box, without feeling bad about putting more pressure onto the other dayshift workers. “… h-hey. Can you… can you hear me? I’m- hey, how about- I might could take you out of there if you- if you would like to-“ The crying had subsided, but the lid stayed firmly on. “Nobody would mind! I think. I mean, I’m sure. Yes. Please, you… don’t have to be alone in there.” A weak voice sounded, muffled. “… no thank you.” “Ah- s-sorry. I just- I hate what is happening to you. I- I wish I could do something. I’m so sorry.” “… it’s not your fault.” “It sure feels like it though.” Gently Mike sighed. “Hey… I could… tell you a story maybe? I really want you to feel better…” There was hesitation from inside. “… can I tell you a story instead?” “Is- is it a nice one…?” “… no.” There was a short break. “But I hope you will listen to it anyways…” “O-okay. No problem. Not- not at all!” He quieted down to listen. From the distance, Old Sport leaned against the wall, watching on. Phone Guy attempted to sneak up, but was quickly frozen in place by a glare. It softened up however and he waved him over. “Phoney. Still alive?” “Alive and well and wouldn’t want it any different!” Happily the man agreed. “What about you?” “Eh. Neither truly happy nor truly alive, but still optimistic.” “What’cha looking at?” “… Mike. Kinda worry for him. He seems so unsure about everything.” “Oh, I’m sure he’s just nervous about this new job. We’ll get him out of that shell, and if we have to drag him!” “That… sounded like a threat.” “Oh. Oh no! I didn’t mean that!” Quietly Old Sport chuckled and patted his pal on the head. “I know. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” “Trouble? I don’t want any trouble, that’s true! But a lot of so called “trouble” is just an adventure waiting to happen!” “… sometimes. Not in this case though.” “Awww, that’s too bad.” Both of them looked onto the tormented smile on Mike’s face in the distance. Again Old Sport sighed and looked at Phone Guy. “Do me a favor and look after him, alright? I worry for him.” “Everything will work out. I promise! I’m the manager, it’s my job to take care of everyone! Even Jeremy. Especially Jeremy. Poor boy has some issues too. But nothing that can’t be fixed with patience and love!” “I take your word for it.”

[udunie]

Okay, you guys, here’s the part of the Gerard fic that I love (it goes on to a sex scene that I don’t like, cause it doesn’t seem to fit the tone of this part)

Warning for: prostitution, drug abuse, addiction, generally heavy themes

Also, this is basically not edited or betaed at this point, I just want to pick your brains about how to go on with this, cause I feel like ‘monster cock and fake tits’ isn’t the way to go... Please let me know what you think :D

ETA: wow love it when tumblr fucks shit up, anyway, fixed now lol

***

Stiles was just a month or two over eighteen when his dad died. He didn’t like to think about it. Or all the things that happened after. It was like whatever self control he ever had was buried with his dad, leaving him destined to make one bad decision after the other.

Stiles just wanted to forget. Preferably everything; not going to college, not being able to pay his dad’s medical bills, being forced to sell the house, living in his jeep and turning tricks on occasion to survive… He just wanted to escape it all.

First there was the drinking and the weed, and when those were not enough anymore to get him through the day, he tried other things… ecstasy, cocaine, whatever. With his ADHD, drugs didn’t always work as they were supposed to. Sometimes a little too well, sometimes not at all, or in ways he didn’t enjoy. Nothing really stuck.

It was exactly on his nineteenth birthday when he met Kate. 

“Want to try something new?” she asked, slithering up to him in the club. Stiles saw her around before, he knew she was selling something, though never really checked to see what. Lately he didn’t have the cash to get anything serious. “You look like you could use a little pick-me-up. You’re cute, so I’ll let you have one on the house.”

Stiles was a bit drunk and a bit high and very stupid.

“Wha’s it?” he asked, voice slurring a bit. 

“Silver Bullet,” she said, holding up a pill. It reflected the strobe lights weirdly. “It will shoot all your troubles dead, baby. That’s a guarantee.”

Stiles popped it into his mouth without hesitation, chasing the bitter taste down with the vodka tonic he managed to flirt out of someone.

And the rest was history.

***

Silver Bullet wasn’t like anything he ever tried before. For one, it worked; getting him high and happy and horny every fucking time. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t tired or cold or lonely when he took it. Everything was fun and easy and sexy. It felt like being in love with every single person around him. 

At first, it was easy. Almost too easy. He took a pill and felt like he wanted to make love to the world. He picked up a few johns, had sex that felt way better than it had any right to be and by the time he crashed, he had the money for the next few pills. 

Even when he was sleeping, he dreamed about them, about having a whole palmful of those pretty, white pills. Even in his dreams, he could see the tiny, metallic looking particles in them. When he asked about it, Kate said that was the magic and he believed her. Stiles couldn’t imagine going for a day without.

Then Kate raised the price. Then she raised it again. And again. ‘Welcome to the free market, where demand sets the price’ she told him, laughing. He tried to look around for another dealer, but nobody was selling Silver Bullet, they all told him to fuck off if he even just asked about it.

It only took a month for him to start begging her. He sold the jeep, he sold his parents’ wedding rings, he had nothing more to give.

“I will do anything, Kate, please,” Stiles told her. The music was too loud in the club, and the lights too blinding and the shadows too deep. For a second, he thought about just… taking the little tin box of pills he knew she had on her with force, but it was a struggle to even hold himself upright. He was always so tired when he went too long without it.

She leaned back against the wall. Stiles wondered if her smile was always that cruel.

“Hm… Anything?”

“Anything, whatever you want, I will do it,” he said, the words rushing out of him. 

“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she said, fluttering her lashes. 

Stiles remembered seeing her through the haze of the drug. She’d looked like an ethereal being, like an honest-to-god angel.

“You… you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, I’ve never se-”

“Am I prettier than your mommy was?” she cut in.

She was standing so close, Stiles could almost taste the pill burning his tongue.

“Yes. Yes, you are, so much prettier,” he croaked, mouth dry.

She laughed, loud and harsh.

“Unfortunately, baby, flattery won��t get you anywhere,” she said. Stiles wanted to cry. “This is a family business, you know? What sort of a girl would cut her father’s profits?”

Stiles felt shaky and like he was about to throw up. He must have looked miserable, because Kate gave him a long, calculating look.

“But you know what? I can take you to meet him. Maybe you can dazzle him with your… talents.”

Kate was really the most beautiful woman in the world.

***

He was shaking during the whole car ride. He hadn’t had a high in three days, and he felt like he was about to die. Kate made him lie down, his head on her lap, and she stroked his hair, nails too sharp as they scratched against his scalp. The man driving the car - her brother, Stiles thought - gave him a few disgusted looks in the rearview mirror, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

He was going to meet Kate’s dad and fuck him and get high and everything would be fine.

Kate’s father lived in a huge house surrounded by a park and iron gates. It was like something out of a movie, but he was way too anxious to really appretiate it even as Kate led him inside. There was a double staircase in the entrance hall, and Stiles was told to wait there.

The place was big enough that he thought there should be an army of servants around, but everything was strangely silent. Stiles tried not to stare too much. All he could think about was getting his pills. Or maybe stealing something and pawning it off so he could get cash. But… Kate probably wouldn’t sell to him if he did that, right? It was hard to think with his whole body numb with need.

He spaced out instead, staring into mid distance, imagining how good it will be to get his pill and feel alive again. Stiles had no idea how long he just stood there until he finally heard Kate calling him from the top of the stairs. She sounded annoyed.

“Get your ass up here,” she bit out when she finally had his attention. “You don’t want to get him in a bad mood.”

Stiles didn’t. He ran up to her, not daring to touch the polished railing.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, but she already turned her back, leading him to a set of tall double-doors. 

“Daddy,” she said, pushing them open. She sounded very different than when she was talking to Stiles. “Here he is.”

Kate’s father was an old, old man with short, white hair and a stern face that had Stiles shifting from foot to foot with nerves. He was lounging on a sofa in pajamas and a brocade house coat. His eyes were cold enough to make him shiver where he stood.

“Stiles, this is my father, Gerard. Daddy, this is the boy I’ve told you so much about.”

Stiles doubted that random junkies were a regular topic at the family dinner, but he didn’t say anything. He had a goal in mind, and Gerard didn’t look like he enjoyed people mouthing off.

The old man looked him over, like he was a piece of gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

“Strip.”

Stiles swallowed, glancing quickly at Kate. She nodded her head at him, smiling in a way that made him second guess himself.

“Go on, baby, try to make a good impression.”

Stiles licked his lips, and got to it. He felt stupid and weird with her watching him undress for her father. Without the warmth of drugs in him, he was acutely aware of how boney and pale and… ugly he was.

When he was finished, he just stood there, eyes glued to a spot over Gerard’s shoulder, wanting to cover himself but knowing that he shouldn’t. 

“Don’t you like him, daddy?” Kate asked, sounding like she was pouting, but Stiles didn’t dare look at her again.

“I would have preferred a girl. You know that,” Gerard said. Stiles would have pissed himself if that much disdain was directed at him, but Kate just laughed, her voice sweet and light.

“But I don’t want to have a little sister or brother,” she said, teasing. “Chris is enough of a headache.”

Gerard barked out a laugh, sitting up straight.

“Damned right he is. Fine.” He picked up a shiny, darkwood box from the side table, opening it in his lap. It was lined with dark green velvet and there was an injection needle in it. It looked like it was antique, with little rings at the end of the crossbars. Beside it was a corked vial, filled with something that glittered like mercury, though lighter in color.

“Come here and get on your knees,” Gerard told him, not even glancing at Stiles. He clearly expected to be obeyed.

“I… What… what is that?” Stiles asked, watching him stab the needle through the cork and pulling some of the liquid into the syringe.

Gerard looked at him.

Stiles made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

Suddenly Kate was behind him, her breasts pressing into his naked back. 

“That’s the good stuff, baby. That’s the real Silver Bullet right there, the same one you love so much, just a thousand times better,” she whispered in his ear. “And if you want it, you better be a good boy.”

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe. Just the mention of the drug made all his cravings rush back tenfold. He wanted it. He wanted to feel it so bad.

He dropped on his knees in front of Gerard without any more hesitation. He didn’t like needles, and he didn’t like him, but he wanted… He needed the high.

Stiles didn’t expect to be backhanded hard enough to make his ears start ringing. There was a dizzying moment when he forgot where he was or why. Gerard grabbed his jaw, his fingers biting into him.

“When I give an order, I expect you to follow, is that understood?” he asked, sneering into his face from up close. 

Stiles whined. His right cheek was burning. It would probably bruise… But it wasn’t even close to being the worst thing he ever got just to get high.

The man stared into his eyes for a long moment, maybe waiting for him to put up a fight, but all Stiles wanted was the Silver Bullet. 

“Good,” he said finally, patting his face where it hurt. “Open your mouth.”

Stiles did.

Gerard trapped his tongue between his knuckles and pulled it outward and to the side. His fingers tasted salty and a bit bitter.

“This way, it will get right to your head,” he commented, Stiles closed his eyes as he saw the syringe getting closer. He just wanted to be alive again. “Don’t move.”

Gerard injected him at the base of his tongue. There was a sharp bite of pain that made him suck in a breath. He could feel his mouth flood with saliva.

And then…

Stiles remembered how happy he was back when he was just a kid and his mom bought him exploding candy. It was sweet and sour and like he had a little firework going off in his mouth. This was like that, but he could feel it in his head, his skull was filled with exploding candy, popping and popping and throwing sparks of flavors and colors and shapes and smells in every direction, every nerve in his body sizzling and popping and popping… The world was suddenly and inexplicably beautiful. 

Everything was so pretty and bright and pleasurable that it almost hurt. 

He could feel his hips pumping into the air, body convulsing like it was caught in an orgasm that just didn’t want to end. There were still fingers in his mouth and he moaned, licking and sucking at them eagerly. He felt like he was a flame, radiating pleasure and everything around him reflected it back, just amplifying it even more until he was drowning in light.

***

“What a nasty little slut,” Gerard said, letting the boy kneeling in front of him suckle on his fingers, slurping around his knuckles like he was trying to give the blowjob of his life. His eyes were glazed over and he was twitching almost alarmingly. “It’s been… what? Forty seconds? And he already came twice.”

Kate laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Gerard did, but he didn’t want Kate to know. The girl had to learn to do better, even if she managed to do an adequate job with this one.

“Should have been a girl,” Gerard reminded her, pushing his fingers in as deep as they could go, nudging the boy’s tonsils. He didn’t gag, but his eyes did roll back. Ah, and he was coming. Again. “But I will take it.”

[shima-draws]

OH HEWWO here’s the two new characters for ATS I’ve been gushing about nonstop!! Their refs have actually been done for quite a while, I wanted to draw more of them before I shared but I just got so excited I couldn’t wait!!

Their inspiration is probably pretty obvious lmao as stated several times by my pals but well, Albion’s been planned to look smth like that for a long time now so :’Dc

Albion’s on the top!! And Ikaia’s on the bottom!!

Their backgrounds and story details are under the cut, but be warned, it is LONG lol

Albion Kerrigan Age: ??? (Physically, early twenties) Hair color: Black and white Eye color: Black and white (Dual-user) Element: Light and Darkness

Remember when I introduced Edan and Valdis way waaaay back? Well, Albion is one of their companions--the Grandmaster of Light and Darkness! (His name was Alva previously, but I changed it.) He’s existed within Kishuniia for countless millennia, ever since that world was created. However, unlike his Grandmaster brethren he doesn’t like to play by their rules, and goes to interact with humans despite the fact that it’s strictly forbidden by Astraeus (the Grandmaster’s leader and the only existing tri-user (besides Kaz, who is a special case)). Because of his Grandmaster status, he serves as a pillar for Shima’s world, being an existence that keeps it thriving. If a Grandmaster were to be killed, the entire world would collapse instantly, for those seven pillars are needed to keep it functioning. And that is the reason why they conceal themselves from humans, spending thousands of years avoiding humanity or just in hibernation, and why Astraeus, being their leader, is so cautious about interacting with humans, who could easily abuse them for their power and unknowingly cause the world’s destruction.

Even so! Albion has always been an outsider within the Grandmaster group--not because he doesn’t get along with them (Edan’s his closest friend among them) but because he doesn’t like being tied down by their rules. Humans fascinate him and he’s always seeking knowledge on how they function and evolve, and he’s sorta inherited their mischief, always getting into trouble with people. But that’s just because he’s playful! Being a very curious and energetic person, he easily falls into misunderstandings, and also enjoys playing pranks on people lol

Astraeus is a really calm and laid back person, but with Albion they’re kinda strict--they pretty much act like a parental figure lmao and Albion HATES it. Astraeus kinda treats him like a kid, mostly because they don’t believe Albion is capable of understanding just how important of a being he is, being a god of this world, and it frustrates them. They’re quite protective of all of their Grandmaster allies, especially Albion since they know he attracts trouble and will disobey them no matter what they say. Albion’s constantly just like “Go away” and Astraeus is like “If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen” so they’re just constantly arguing. Family squabble. Mkdmasdas

Ikaia Belcour Age: 23 Hair color: Blonde (very subtle pink gradient at the bottom) Eye color: Pinkish-red Element: Water

Ikaia is my newest baby...I would and can die for him...he’s a good soft boy that doesn’t allow any bullshit and pretty much does whatever he can to achieve his goals. He’s also trans!! 

He actually met Albion when he was 8 years old, after finding him collapsed in some bushes outside his house--apparently Albion had irritated some of the boys in town and gotten into a fight with them (but of course, he pulled his punches, letting them get out their anger and trying not to inflict too much damage). Ikaia then tended to his wounds and started asking all sorts of questions. Albion found him immensely entertaining. When Albion asked for his name, Ikaia hesitated because he didn’t like the name he was born with--so Albion gave him the name Ikaia, and he’s stuck with it ever since! 

Albion stays around town for a little while, and he slowly starts getting attached to Ika along the way. Ikaia, being the youngest of a large family, is ostracized by them, especially since they’re all gifted with elemental abilities and can use them brilliantly while he fails to master his powers of water. The only person who really cares for him is his older sister, but it’s hard for her to protect him when everyone else is essentially out to get him. Ikaia tells Albion he dreams of running away and being free from the ties of his family, and doesn’t have to put up with their misgendering and bad treatment of him. Ikaia excitedly suggests traveling with Albion, who sorta just goes with the flow and travels to wherever, being the adventurous type he is (which is smth Ikaia dreams of doing), and Albion jokingly says maybe he can one day.

By mistake Albion realizes that Ikaia’s elemental gifts lie more on the side of ice rather than just water--as elementals tend to specialize in different fields of their element, down to specific battle styles and practical uses. Once Ikaia discovers that he’s able to control his ability EASILY--he realizes he’s better at freezing things, developing a knack for it right away! Albion trains him a bit and teaches him a few Grandmaster tricks that only he knows. Ikaia excitedly goes home to show off to his family--they are proud at first, but immediately turn around and start using Ikaia for his powers, which makes him miserable. They also start noticing Ikaia hanging around Albion, which they find VERY suspicious, and punish Ikaia for meeting with him. Albion feels immensely guilty for getting Ikaia in trouble, and even worse, a very furious Astraeus shows up and berates Albion for interacting with humans, fearing that the secret of his Grandmaster status might leak.

Astraeus threatens to erase Ikaia’s memory of Albion, to which Albion protests, saying it isn’t fair to erase all the happy moments they had together just to preserve their secret. (Also they’d have to get Valdis to come do that who is like halfway across the world anyway.) Because of how close Ikaia and Albion had become, Astraeus says they won’t erase the child’s memory, but that Albion has to leave town and never look back, and forbids him from ever seeing Ikaia again lest Ikaia realizes that Albion’s immortal. At this point Albion’s been driven into a corner and can’t really oppose that decision, so he goes along with it, reluctantly, because he’d actually wanted to see the type of person Ikaia would grow up to be. 

Finally, Albion resolves to leave town. Ikaia is absolutely distraught, of course, not wanting to lose the only friend he has, and the person who’s taught him so much. Albion tearfully says he’ll come back one day, and Ikaia makes him promise to take him with on a journey across Kishuniia and show him everything he knows once he’s grown up and mature enough for the journey :’) Ofc this is a lie but Ikaia doesn’t know that;;

Years after Albion has left, Ikaia becomes stronger and trains more often to master his elemental abilities--and also lashes out more frequently against his family. At this point, he’s become a bitter sort of person, under his family’s control and the promise that Albion never came back to fulfill. His sister gives him encouragement but Ikaia tells her there’s no point in believing in lies, that Albion had probably just been humoring his childish fantasy. Still though, he finally leaves home at age 16--sick of his parents and siblings’ manipulation, he starts traveling around and participating in tournaments to hone his skills. 

And then, 15 years after Albion had left--Ikaia is in his early 20s at this point, and has become a renowned champion of local tournaments, going under the name “Ruka” because he doesn’t feel super comfortable using his actual name, especially because of how important it is to him, being the one big reminder of Albion he has. People refer to him as the “Frigid Prince” because of his use of ice and his cold personality lol. It’s at one of these tournaments that Albion stumbles upon him again, completely by accident 👀 Ikaia is shocked to see him from the audience and almost loses his match but he uses his irritation at Albion to win lol. He honestly thinks it was just a hallucination for a while, but he runs into Albion again outside of town--who had been avoiding meeting him--and just. Shit hits the FAN LMAO. Ikaia is absolutely FURIOUS at Albion for breaking his promise, and ofc is very confused as to why Albion still looks exactly the same. Albion refuses to reveal his identity as a Grandmaster, since he knows the truth would put Ikaia in danger with both Astraeus and any other humans looking to take advantage of them. But it becomes clear to Ikaia that Albion definitely doesn’t age, and probably isn’t human like he’d assumed--and he realizes that was the reason Albion never came back, and slowly but surely forgives him. (He’s still irritated for a long time after tho lmao)

With that said, Albion’s finally able to fulfill his promise and take Ikaia with him on a journey :’D They do a lot of catching up and they spar against each other occasionally, tho most of the time it ends in a draw since Albion’s afraid of hurting Ikaia despite the fact that Ika’s definitely strong enough to handle his blows lol. To Albion, Ikaia feels like an entirely different person, and it takes him a while to adapt to how snarky he’s become, and slowly begins to realize that Ikaia definitely doesn’t smile as much as he used to when he was a kid. (He then starts blaming himself for this drastic change in his friend, wondering if Ikaia’s become such a bitter person because of Albion’s “abandonment” of him.)

It takes a long time for Ikaia to finally start opening up to Albion, but when he does, and when he finally discovers Albion’s status as a Grandmaster--he resolves to protect Albion no matter what, and even stands up to Astraeus and challenges them to a fight in order to prove he’s worthy enough as a human being to stand by Albion’s side :’) Before this Ikaia had kinda been going through life without any real purpose, only wanting to get stronger without knowing why--but when Albion crashes back into his life again, he realizes that Albi’s been the driving force behind everything he’s done in his life, and finally knows what he wants to do from then on out. Seeing Ikaia stand up to Astraeus moves Albion tremendously, and that’s when he starts Catching Feels >:3c (It also doesn’t help that Ika looks REALLY good in thigh highs. Albion’s very weak for them fnadkald)

Ikaia’s pretty popular with his fans--especially the girls, who find him to be very handsome and charming with his cold and quiet demeanor--and Ikaia’s ignorance of them usually makes them freak out over him more lmao he just can’t avoid it :’D He doesn’t really care about fame particularly, and is disinterested in the affairs of his peers in the tournaments, but he does appreciate the support he gets! He’s a very careful battler and strategist, preferring to think first before charging in, while Albion is the exact opposite lmao. Being so cold and calculating gives him an air of arrogance, but he’s not like that, not at all! Deep down he’s still the excited, kind child he used to be, and he still really looks up to Albion a lot and is inspired by him! He likes teasing Albion a lot; they’ll get into friendly arguments and bicker over silly things. Ika thinks Albion’s an idiot despite being an all-powerful immortal being and sorta appoints himself as a babysitter for Albion under Astraeus’ instructions and Albion’s fury at that lol. Ikaia teaches him a lot about the human world, what humans are like, and how they function--which is something Albion’s always been extremely interested in.

They do fall in love, eventually! But it takes a long time because Albion’s never developed feelings for a human before, due to their lifespans being so short and him never being super attached to any of them in particular. He’s curious about them and he likes them, but human lives are fleeting and fragile, so he doesn’t really allow himself to get really close with any out of fear of losing them. After he starts getting closer to Ikaia he becomes very...overprotective of him, and worries constantly about his health and his state of being, and nags at him to be more careful when he gets hurt. Eventually Ikaia snaps back at him and tells him to stop coddling him and acting like a mother hen lmao. He does understand Albion’s fear, as Ikaia feels the same, worried that someone will take Albion away and try to use him against his will, and does his best to reassure him...!

A long time later when they finally get the balls to confess to each other, Albion pleads for Astraeus to let Ikaia become an immortal (who had already considered his options and decided yeah, spending an eternity with Albion would be really nice), and Astraeus, having seen how important they are to each other and viewing Ikaia as Albion’s only true friend, grants him immortality!! (Which they can easily do, being the Grandmaster of Time, Space AND Stars--) And then, Albi and Ika begin their eternity together. Insufferable partners to the end. LMAO

There’s this whole thing where people do eventually find out about Albion and there’s a huge battle arc where they fight to get him back and he turns into a raging demon and unlocks his Grandmaster Destruction Powers or something after Ikaia gets hurt and. Yeah. That’s a story for another time LOL

WHEW sorry that got long but that’s the gist of it!! I love my boys very much and would lay my life on the line for them, yessir

Bonus screencaps from me blabbing on about them in Discord:

[fire-fira]

Nonbinary Awareness Week Day 2: Coming To Terms

(This is probably going to get wordy as heck.)

First time I heard terms around being nonbinary or about there being more than two genders:

Whoooooo boy. Okay, so the first time I heard terms for it was sometime in my teens (because yay, the now dated af documentary [Middle Sexes]-- dear gods, I had to be around 18 or 19 even though it feels like I saw it when I was way younger, more around 13, smh). First time I was aware of there being more than two genders though... That was back when I was 4. I didn’t have the words for it back then beyond ‘I know I’m not a girl. So does that make me a boy? ...Noooooo, I’m not that either.’ (Not that I was saying that to anyone around me, because no one asked.)

When and how I realized I was nonbinary:

LOL

Like I said with the first question, I knew I was nonbinary when I was 4. (I’m an allistic hyperlexic and I was WAY too smart for my own good as a little kid. I was thinking through cause-and-effect when I was 4 and reading at a college level in first grade. So me going through that whole ‘Why are they calling me that? That’s weird and isn’t right, I’m not a girl. Okay, if I’m not a girl does that mean I’m a boy? ...Noooooo, I’m not that either’ string of logic at that age was entirely on brand for me.)

Something else that was entirely on brand for me at that age was looking at the world around me and not seeing any examples of what I knew I was and immediately coming to the conclusion that if I told anyone I wasn’t a girl or a boy that they’d think I was insane and have me committed to an asylum and I’d never be let out. Not fun times. (Though hilariously enough, that same logic I had as a kid also came to the conclusion that since I wasn’t a girl or a boy that it was impossible for me to be straight. Yes, I seriously thought out that sort of crud and came to that conclusion as a kid. And considering I’m aroace turns out I was right-- though obviously not for the reasons I thought back then. lol)

Though the first time I saw an example of anything in fiction that said ‘that’s what I am’ in terms of my gender to little me was when I was 5 and saw the anime Dominion Tank Police for the first time. (The character didn’t even have any lines and was unconscious in a sort of stasis, and then wasn’t even on screen for long. Pretty sad if you think about it, but 5-year-old me was enthralled by the idea of seeing a character like me when I didn’t think that was possible.)

Second example of a character in fiction that read as nonbinary to me was way back in 1st grade and it was a book on tape. I can’t remember the title or the author (infuriatingly enough), but I do remember that the main character (named X) was able to mentally jump from one person to another and ‘inhabit’ them without anyone knowing they were there ‘controlling’ the person’s actions, and that X’s pronouns shifted with whoever they were temporarily inhabiting. (Little me both was and wasn’t envious of the idea. On one hand, being able to switch around like that would have been nice; on the other hand, never being seen as me and only as other people is something that I found unnerving, and still do.)

Did I ever consider being a label other than the one I identify with, and what was the process of finding my gender like?:

From ages 4 to 18 there was a TON of me not saying outright what I was, but also trying to be read as nonbinary as possible. I was so painfully obvious about being nonbinary that it was like a rhinoceros wearing a tutu and a tiara and trying to hide behind a 1 ft tall bush and claim it was a ballerina. No one was buying it. But since most people around me didn’t have the mental framework to even conceive of anyone nonbinary, there was a lot of me freaking people out because they could tell I was ‘weird’ but they couldn’t put into words or place how I was ‘weird’.

I tried to figure out terms back in junior high to early high school, but the ones back then didn’t really stick. (They were way too caught up in my aroace-ness too, and just didn’t feel right. I let go of the two terms I thought up back then because they also felt kind of pretentious to me and I didn’t like that feeling.)

I came to third-gender as the term that just felt right when I was 22 or 23 thanks to self-education and finding Will Roscoe’s [Changing Ones]. (And damned if my mixed-race Native ass wasn’t relieved to know that a lot of NDN cultures recognize(d) people like me for who we are/were. And yeah, I know there are some things in that book that are questionable, but at the time it was what I needed.)

For a while in my early-to-mid 20s I considered identifying as genderqueer, but I couldn’t pin down the definition for it in my head and that made me uncomfortable-- and with the fact that one of the possible definitions is ‘a person not identifying with socially constructed gender roles’ (which can apply to some cis people), I felt like it wasn’t clear enough in stating that I am not a woman or man. So I ditched it pretty quickly.

I also had a brief stint in my early 20s of wondering if I was intersex and had been operated on before I fully grasped the concept that anatomy =/= gender. (I might or might not be, genetics and biology is weird and complicated and I don’t really care, though as far as I’m aware I’m not.)

Calling myself nonbinary more generally clicked into place when I was about 25.

I’ve vaguely considered Two Spirit, but 1) I don’t feel like I have a right to that term without someone else Native saying that I am (for complicated personal reasons), and 2) part of me feels it’s not quite as specific as I’d prefer for my own self-description.

Have I come out to anyone else? Who?:

AHAHAHAHAAAAAA-- I started coming out more openly in my early 20s and I never freaking looked back.

First person I actually came out to (in that complicated ‘I’m not a girl or guy’ way) was the school counselor for my grade on the last day of my senior year of high school. Talk about dropping an info bomb and running.

First person in my family I came out to was a cousin who I’m not close to (and has serious issues, which I’m hoping she’ll eventually get better from), and even though I haven’t seen her in years (she kind of burned all bridges with our family) my fiance’s seen her around recently and has told me that my cousin used the right pronouns for me. Honestly didn’t expect that when at least two (loud) members of my family won’t even give me that respect.

My family knows, all my friends know, back when I was in college I made it a point to come out on the first day of classes every class, and I make it a point to come out if I’m going to be interacting with anyone for an extended period of time rather than just a few minutes. Why? Because I am still PAINFULLY FREAKING OBVIOUS, and if I tell people right off the bat then they’re able to get over the internal ‘OMG THAT PERSON’S WEIRD! BUT HOWWWW????????’ pretty quickly instead of freaking out over trying to pick apart why I trip their sense of ‘this person is strange’.

If you’re not out, are you planning to come out? Is being out important to you?:

I am SO thoroughly out.

I cannot and WILL NOT go back to lying about who I am. I was so damn miserable before I stopped lying and trying to hide that I’m an enby. No one can pay me enough to ever willingly go back to that.

And again, I’m painfully obvious. I can’t hide, even if people have the biggest cis-normative goggles on, because my behavior, personality, intonation, and body language-- everything of who I am-- gives me away. It’s honestly safer for me to be upfront about my gender than it is to try to hide it, because if I’m going to be tripping wires for people anyway then I may as well give them the framework to understand it so they don’t stress and obsess over it to the point of either ostracizing me or being outright hostile. (Yes, that’s happened to me a lot in my life.)

Plus my being so blatantly out has helped a bunch of other people where I live come to terms with the fact that they’re enbies too. And there is no way in hell I will ever regret having helped others have the confidence to be who they are.

[sigynpenniman]

Just Sick - a very fluffy Julian BashirxReader one shot

In which Julian Bashir is a very, very good doctor.

Author note: I write best in first person so first person it is. It’s still a reader insert in my mind though, just insert yourself lol. Also, not really a romantic relationship here, just an affectionate and close one. This is pretty much just a warn, fluffy, “Julian Bashir cares for you while you are very ill”. Fluff, H/C, not-really-romantic, tw/cw for hospital/medical stuff, descriptions of being very ill and mention of needles. Tbh this is the fic I wanted to exist, but it didn’t, so I just...wrote it. @a-star-that-fell - based on that message you sent me, I think you might enjoy this one!

I woke up before I opened my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what had woken me up - it was silent in the room save for the persistent beeping that permeated every space on the station. I shivered. It was freezing cold; or, more accurately, I was freezing cold. And someone was after me. Or were they? I felt my heart rate rise, slightly. Where was I, even?

I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead at a blueish grey wall. Right. The infirmary. I pushed my hand into the bed and pulled myself into an upright position. It was then that I felt it, all over. The overwhelming misery. I hadn’t been that miserable when Julian had left me here - not great, not even good, but okay. He had diagnosed me with some disease with an alien name but a routine and nearly harmless prognosis and sent me home. I had one too many experiences with illnesses that felt like nothing but then weren’t, and so I had asked if I could spend the night in the infirmary instead. Julian had, of course, said yes.

I put my head in my hands. My brain felt like warm syrup, and my whole body felt like I was dying. I swallowed. It sent a wave of electric pain through me. My throat felt as if someone has scoured it with steel wool. I started to cry. The misery was overwhelming; there was nothing to do but cry. My brain struggled to keep up. It was like thinking in molasses. I tried to figure out exactly why I was crying, but I wasn’t quite able to think clearly enough to know. I only had single words flash through: miserable, cold, scared, tired. I heard a rapidly approaching set of footsteps, and Julian leaned into the room and looked at me.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard crying.”

“Julian!” I nearly yelled, through my tears.

His eyes grew wide with concern. “Anne, what’s wrong?” He asked.

I started to open my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a panicked sob.

“Hey...hey...you’re okay. You’re alright.”

Julian spoke warmly and crossed the space between us in a few, long strides. He reached out and gently rubbed my shoulder. “Hey” He said again, quietly.

I made eye contact with him. “Julian...” I repeated. I was having a hard time collecting things to say that weren’t just his name.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked. He sat down on the bed next to me.

I hunted for words. They came out all once, and a little bit incoherent, between sobs.

“I feel so bad. I feel...so bad. My throat hurts so much. And my head, too. I can’t...think? My brain is moving kinda slow. And thick. And sticky? That makes no sense. I’m not even sure what’s real. I’m pretty sure I was having a dream about someone being after me...”

I paused and locked eyes with Julian in a panic. “Is someone after me? No one’s after me right?”

Julian smiled slightly, an affectionate, slightly amused, but deeply concerned, smile. It was the kind of look you give anyone you love who’s just looked at you and tearfully asked a nonsense question. He shook his head. “No, no one’s after you. NoTHING is after you. You’re safe.”

I nodded. Moving my head made my brain feel like it was rattling in my skull. The sudden, pounding pain caught me off guard and I put my head in my hands again.

“Are you cold?”

“Very.” I answered.

“Look at me.”

I removed my hands from my face and picked my head up. Julian pressed a cool hand against my forehead.

“You’re absolutely melting. That’s why you’re a little delirious too - high fevers can cause delirium, in some cases.” He removed a tricorder from his pocket and scanned me, studying it intensely.

“How high?” I asked.

“One hundred and three. And you’re very dehydrated, as well.” He tapped the Rs in “hundred” and “three” slightly in his proper English accent and I couldn’t help but smile despite my overwhelming misery. He caught this out of the corner of his eye, and smiled back at me.

“Ah! That got a smile! Though, I’m not really sure why that’s what got a smile.”

“I just never get tired of your accent.”

“It’s been three years” – He stuffed his tricorder back in his pocket – “And you’re still not over my accent?”

I shook my head.

“Julian, I will never be over your accent.”

I coughed, several times. My throat felt as if it was being ripped through. Julian, who was still sitting next to me, rubbed my back. The ripping pain in my throat put me back over the edge and tears began to bite at my eyes again.

“I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? Let me do a quick symptom rundown here, and you tell me if I’m missing anything: fever, headache, throat hurts, general malaise. Did I miss anything?”

I shook my head.

“Alright. I’m going to go gather a pile of medication for you, and we’ll see how many of these things we can take the edge off. I’ll get you some water as well, you need to keep drinking. Got any further requests?”

I shook my head again. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak I would just start crying again, so I kept my answers to nods.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Julian asked softly.

Another nod. Julian stood and walked out of room. I gave up trying to keep it together and melted back into heavy sobs. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been too sick to stop crying, but it wasn’t an experience I was enjoying.

When Julian returned a few minutes later, I was sitting, knees pulled to my chest, sort of balled up on the bed, with the blanket wrapped around me. I was still sobbing. I didn’t even realize Julian was in the room until he rested his hand on my shoulder. I jumped slightly and looked up, and straight into Julian’s dark, kind, worried eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” He spread a hypospray and an assortment of tubes full of medication out on the bed next to me and handed me a glass of water.

“Drink. You have to stay hydrated. You’re already headed towards dangerously dehydrated as it is - if you don’t want an IV in your arm, I recommend that you start knocking back the water.”

“Thanks” I answered with a heavy sniffle. I took the glass from him and took a long sip. Even the water hurt my throat going down and I went back to crying. Julian frowned and wrapped his arms around me, the whole ball of knees and weeping that I was. I buried my snotty face in his uniform. He stroked my hair.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to try and make you feel better, okay? I can’t promise it’s enough, but I’ll going to do my best. And I’ll be right here with you, no matter what. I’m not going to leave you alone again.”

I nodded, which mostly just meant rubbing my face on his uniform a bit.

“Can I let you go, briefly?” He asked. “I need to tank you up. I want to get all these meds into your system as quickly as possible so they start working. How about this – let me let you go for a minute and medicate you, and you drink some more water, and then you can unfold yourself and I can hug you properly.”

“It’s a deal” I answered. Julian unwrapped me from his arms. I leaned my head to one side and presented my neck. I watched my ever affectionate, ever concerned doctor loading one of the tubes of medication into the hypospray in his hand.

“You know” Julian began, in the tone that meant he was about to launch into a list of facts of some kind or other. I made a hum of acknowledgement as Julian steadied my head with his hand and pressed the the cold metal of the hypospray into my neck. “You should be glad you live in the 24th century. The Hypospray is a pretty recent invention - if we were in the 21st century, I’d be sticking needles in you right now.”

“I’m glad every day.”

Julian finished unloading the various medicines into my neck. I sat up straight and Julian pressed the glass of water back into my hand. I took another long, painful sip and handed it back to him.

“Can I be honest?” I asked, my voice sounding like gravel.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think any of that helped at all.”

“It won’t, immediately. It’ll probably take about 15 minutes for the medication to start working.”

“Then it’s normal that I still feel like I’m dying?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“...was that thing you said earlier about a hug a promise?”

“It absolutely was. Can you unfold yourself?”

I nodded tearfully and removed my knees from my chest. Julian sat down on the bed next to me.

“Is there anything else I can do?” He asked.

“Just hug me. Please.” I sniffled. Julian pulled me into a tight hug.

“You’re going to be okay” he reassured me, as I leaned into him.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. His uniform was crisp and cool under my cheek, but his body was warm, and I snuggled as close to him as I could and did my best to soak it up. I was still freezing cold.

“You’re shaking!”

“I’m still so cold. It’s like I’m cold to my bones. But you’re warm.”

Julian squeezed me tighter. I adjusted my head on his shoulder and realized I could hear his heart beating; quiet, slow, rhythmic. I inhaled deeply and did my best to relax the varying parts of my body I had been tensing for some reason or another. Julian was a thin man, but a soft one. He made for a very good snuggle. I still didn’t feel good, I was still sick as a dog, but I felt better in his arms.

“I bet you never thought you’d just be snuggling one of your patients.”

Julian gently rubbed my arm. “Is it helping?” He asked.

“So much” I whispered.

“Then I’m just doing my job as a healer.”

I took another deep breath. “I think it’s a natural gift you’ve got. You’re not a healer for your skills or training. It’s just your aura. All that legit medical attention...” I paused. “And I think just being snuggled helps more than any of it.”

Julian tucked my head under his chin. I yawned. I felt the most like falling asleep I had in forever. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world, safe and warm and entangled completely with Julian.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course” Julian answered, dutifully.

“Can you...stay? I know you’ve got other things to do and places to be, but I feel so much better like this. I’m so tired. I could just fall asleep just as I am.”

Julian laughed. It was a warm, loving, slightly amused laugh. “I said I wasn’t leaving you I wasn’t kidding. I absolutely can stay and I absolutely will. Can we...rearrange this?”

I laughed too.

“Of course.” I removed myself from Julian’s hug. He pulled himself up to the head of the bed and leaned against the back wall. He stuffed a pillow behind his back and extended his arms to me. I crawled back into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me again. I resumed my position, resting my head against his chest, his heart beating quietly under my ear. All the noises of the infirmary beeped quietly in the background. Julian had tucked my head under his chin again and was gently rubbing my arm. This was, I felt sure, the most comforting place in the world to be. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting immediately.

“Goodnight Julian” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head.

“Goodnight Anne.”

The next time I woke up, it was only briefly. Julian, bless him, was still holding me close. He was, however, also fast asleep. I grinned at his sleeping face and fell back asleep myself.

When I woke up for good I was alone. I pulled myself out of the bed and took a couple questioning steps towards the door. I felt like a different person than the night before. I walked out of the back room of infirmary and into Julian’s laboratory. He was studying something on the computer.

“Good morning!” I exclaimed brightly. Julian spun around in his chair and smiled at me.

“Good morning! You seem much better!”

“I am. Thank you. How did you get out from under me without waking me up?”

Julian shrugged. “Carefully.”

“I know that was a tall order last night. But you stayed with me. I can’t tell you how much it helped.” I crossed the few steps between us and extended my hands to him. He reached out and took them. “Thank you” I breathed. “Thank you, for everything.”

“You said it helped, right?”

“More than you know.”

Julian squeezed my hands. “Then, my dear, I am just doing my job.”

“As a friend? As a healer?”

Julian smiled.

“As both.”

[itsladykit]

I was reading your response about the older dead brother... Now I'm wondering/thinking. If every Au has a dead brother... Doesn't that mean that there is an Au (or multiple Aus in that matter) where none of the brothers die. Also, cause I'm a brat, but only if you're up for it, how would each papyri lives be different had the dead brother survive? Only do the Sans if your in the mood.

Lol—actually? For the non-Twist ‘verses, the younger brothers wouldn’t exist. In those verses, Gaster made the 2-series boys because the 1-series skeletons proved to be so fragile.

So it would actually end up with Sans and Rus or, in the Fell-verses, Slim and Red only—no 2-series boys at all, except in the Twist-verses. The Sans-es would be older in the non-Swap ‘verses, and the Paps would be older in the Swap ‘verses.

(There’s actually a really wild rabbit-hole you can go down, figuring out how many possible combinations of Papyrus-es and Sans-es there are if you use my background headcanons. @crushingonsans and I stayed up super late one night, calculating it out. The number was obscenely large. This is part of the readson I don’t actually treat my AUs as a result of the “many-worlds” theory. They’re just an after affect of the magic used to create the barrier.)

Cash and Plum would have a younger brother, though—a younger brother that would be a lot like Papyrus (or a mix of Papyrus, Edge, and Twist).

So, if none of the brothers had died—

Undertale:

Sans and P1 would have been brothers. I’m gonna go ahead and call P1 “Honey”, because that’s what he’d be like. He’d be quiet and shy. With a tendency to laugh too loud—only to immediately get embarrassed about it. Smart though. Unlike Papyrus, Honey’s more into books and theoretical mathematics as opposed to applied mathematics and engineering.

Sans would be...honestly, pretty unbearable. He’s overprotective in my headcanons, but Papyrus chafes under that protection. He fights it in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. Honey would just accept it, even if he doesn’t like it. This is a bit of a bad brother au, frankly. Sans thinks he’s doing the best thing for his little bro—especially considering his delicate health!—but he’s really, really not. And Honey just won’t stand up to him at all.

There wouldn’t be any platonic Undyrus here, but I think Honey and Alphys would have an online friendship.

Underswap:

We’d have Stretch and...I don’t have a nickname for Sans as the younger brother. Uh? Fuck it, I’m calling him Sans. So, Stretch would be the older bro, and I’m afraid he’d also initially have a bit of an overprotective streak? But I think Sans would end up just sort of...leaving? He’d come of age. He’d leave. Probably get a job at the castle working for the queen. (Maybe dating the queen?) He’d really resent his older brother, and do his best to keep away from him.

Stretch would be miserable as a result. Probably drinking himself into an early grave. He’d feel his brother’s distance and dislike very keenly, and blame himself for screwing up their relationship. Hopefully, Muffet might step in and help him get back on his feet, get help or counseling.

Underfell:

So this would be Slim and Red—but let’s call them Pup and Cherry. At first, I thought these guys just...wouldn’t survive? But I think, maybe, they could. Cherry would still have that period of going semi-catatonic, and Pup would still seek out help from Muffet, but this time, with Pup’s fragile health, she’d decide that making them into sweet-pieces would be her best option to turn a profit.

I can’t decide if she’d sell them both or keep Pup for herself as a status symbol. Either way—they’re sweet-pieces.

Swapfell:

It’s Red and Slim again, but let’s call them Mutt and Crimson.

Mutt would be the older brother here. I don’t think the queen would have had the same interest in Crimson that she would have had in Razz, so she probably would have given them both longer leads. When Alphys rebelled, Mutt and Crimson probably would have gone with her. Crimson would end up working more closely with Undyne and Mutt would work with Alphys. The rebellion would have taken over much sooner, so by the time Frisk came through the Underground, they’d have been out in Snowdin, acting on behalf of the new Empress.

Swaptwistfell:

This got long. Wow.

This is a Twist-verse, so all three would have made it through here. The youngest brother is a P2 model like classic Pap, Edge, and Twist. Let’s call these guys Plum, Money, and Crisp. I’m calling Plum by the same name because he’d be virtually unchanged. His younger brother’s death was meaningless to him; he is an actual sociopath.

Money’s still pretty similar, but the main difference is that he’d actually have someone he cared about; Crisp. It would anchor him to the “family”, but it would also result in worse fights between him and Plum. In the normal ‘verse, they’re not violent, but here, I think they would be. So Money would be even angrier, more bitter, and more distrustful, because he never would have gotten out.

Crisp would be a lot like classic Pap in some ways. He’d be part of the guard’s engineering corp, and so he’d throw himself into his work building traps to escape his unhappy home life. He’d probably befriend the man behind the door (Asriel), and might even be able to coax him out into taking the throne from his mother. With the Queen exhiled, Asriel would be able to put this ‘verse back on track. It would be more Tale than Fell. Plum would likely go with the Queen, and the two Papyrus-es would finally be free. Money would still be pretty hard for Crisp to draw out of his shell, but he’d manage in time.

Twistfell:

Let’s talk about Sans and Blackberry. (I’m out of nicknames. I’m sorry.)

Blackberry would probably be a lot more like Blue? Softer and sweeter. Less prone to poisoning people. He’d have two older brothers to keep him safe after all.

I...want Sans to live here? I really do? But I’m having a hard time believing Twistfell Muffet would let Twist keep a semi-catatonic monster around the way Fell Muffet did. I don’t know. Maybe Twist stashed him somewhere. Let’s assume he lives, or this exercise is really very pointless.

Between Sans and Twist, I think they’d actually overthrow Muffet before things got too bad. So Twist wouldn’t be as scarred up, he wouldn’t be claustrophobic, and his LV wouldn’t be as high.

All three of them would run a Hotland gang with Blackberry as the face of the bakery, and Twist and Sans doing the dirty work behind the scenes.

[momestuck]

Epilogues: Candy, ch 29-38 (Epilogue 7)

Hoo boy, she’s back. *rubs hands together, cackles*

...actually having read the chapter that’s not a lot to get excited about. content note that this epilogue features a physical assault turning into a sexual assault, and then its aftermath and further violence, in chapters 32 and 37.

also like heavy depression and ennui in general

Chapter 29

...is so short it fits entirely on my screen.

Whatever alt-Calliope has been waiting for, hanging about on the asteroid, is here. Not ‘the Prince’ (i.e. Caliborn), but... someone.

Not Vriska either, we can presume, given the use of ‘he’ pronouns.

Chapter 30

Jake, laying it on rather thick, goes to Jane with bad news. Her father is apparently dead, having (supposedly) taken a bullet rocket for ‘the human president’ to save him from one of Karkat’s assassins. There is no body to dispose of, because his body was destroyed.

This has ‘obvious ruse to cover a defection’ all over it to me, but Jane wouldn’t see that I guess.

Jane takes this the prompt to escalate her war against the trolls to full-blown genocide - total war of extermination, shouting like a cartoon villain. Gamzee, the only troll present... jokingly calls this xenophobic - and turns it into a flirt.

Jane decides now’s the time to stop this whole hateflirting thing, and has her guards take ‘this troll’ off her bridge. To be executed with all the other trolls, presumably. Though he’s not dead on-screen yet.

It’s a very strange mix of cartoon-villain ridiculousness, ordinary ridiculousness, and like... the word genocide.

Chapter 31

Back to John and Vriska, with pretty much no time having passed. John gets her up to speed. Her reaction is predictable...

(VRISKA): ...

(VRISKA): ...

(VRISKA): That’s...

(VRISKA): Th8t’s the........

(VRISKA): Stupidest *F8CKING* thing I’ve ever heard!

Also she’s the (Vriska) in this scenario, because Vriska Lalonde was ‘here first’ lol

Anyway, Vriska confirms very definitely that Lord English is not dead, she was indeed on the battlefield, and she’d prefer to get back there. John brings her up to speed - by this point he’s blaming himself for the decision that broke ‘cause and effect’; everyone got what they thought they wanted and it turned out to be a horrific catastrophe.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Gamzee - who is not, it seems, dead - shows up. He attempts to set this incandescently angry Vriska on the course of “redemption”...

Chapter 32

This chapter features Vriska beating the absolute shit out of Gamzee for... a whole lot of paragraphs. I guess everything Gamzee was all just setup for this.

This features a lot of named moves, like European-style Uppercut and Reverse Hangman. Probably a wrestling thing.

Which, well, I thought this was just going to be a fandom-catharsis, what if Vriska (avatar of People Who Like Vriska) fucked up Gamzee (avatar of Those People Who Like Vriska Dislike) really fucking hard, but I reckoned without V ‘lick the troll’s armpit’ and her sense for the perverse. tl;dr: Vriska beats the shit out of Gamzee, Gamzee gets horny for it, starts licking her foot; Vriska goes and starts a hate-makeout with him.

The existence of kismesisitude really fucks with any concept of telling someone to go and get fucked, huh. Literally no fucking clue what to make of this at this point.

Chapter 33

Rose comes to talk to John. At this point, it’s very clear that things are far from the rails of ‘canon’, whatever that means anymore.

It’s nice to have Rose back, to say some longwinded philosophical bullshit. She talks about happiness, by way of her wizard fanfiction: in short the implication is that knowing one is in ‘heaven’ destroys (the ability to enjoy) it.

ROSE: But that isn’t me anymore.

ROSE: I am blind against the veil of this world.

ROSE: It’s all ambrosia to me.

ROSE: I don’t care if it’s not true. I care even less if it’s not canon.

ROSE: I have a beautiful wife who I love more than I thought possible, and a daughter who I am immeasurably proud of.

ROSE: It can all be senseless, ephemeral noise that dissolves in the void. A whisper swept up by the wind before it’s uttered.

ROSE: I’m still grateful to have felt this way.

Glad someone isn’t miserable.

The chapter ends with a hug as the bombs go off, and John deciding ‘finality’ was always his to decide, now they are no longer part of ‘the story’.

Chapter 34

Back to Vriska Lalonde and Harry Anderson. Vriska’s involved in the war, although not taking it all that seriously at all. Apparently this Vriska is having a kismesis with Tavros, although rather tame compared to the Alternian version.

They have a fairly inconsequential conversation and then Vriska catches sounds of Gamzee, and goes to investigate... and comes face to face with (Vriska) hatefucking Gamzee, I guess.

Homestuck... was a mistake?

Chapter 35

Vriska POV chapter.

She’s having a meltdown over having just made out with Gamzee. This includes dwelling briefly on her own Awful Childhood:

She remembers the shame and excoriation of her childhood—the fear, the pressure, being coerced to do awful things to undeserving kids. All that embarrassing effort she spent trying to emulate her ancestor. She threw every bit of herself into the role, but in recent years reflecting on the charade has only made her cringe.

If this is going to be going through the same beats as Gamzee’s joke “redemption arc”, that would be something.

Anyway, Vriska furiously demands Gamzee not tell anyone - Gamzee, meanwhile, is starting to feel, more and more, that ‘he was taken advantage of’, that what just happened was sexual assault - that he’s outright feeling unsafe as a result.

I am really fucking lost as to what this is all “saying”, at this point. Is the point that, by making Gamzee out to be so reprehensible, we inclined not to sympathise when he’s sexually assaulted? To like, look out for those we hold to be disposable, to recognise that even shitbags can be harmed?

Perhaps there isn’t a conscious point.

Regardless, Vriska is so desperate to brush over what she’s done that she chokes him to death. He’s not a ‘real’ God tier, so she can just do that. Unfortunately for her, Vriska Lalonde is there to bear witness.

Chapter 36

Back to John, who is contemplating existentialism. Only for... Jake to arrive, having finally fled his horrific abusive relationship with Jane.

Love that letter J.

Anyway John is so apathetic now that he can barely bring himself to care about Jake more than ‘a sim stuck in a pool’, but he does manage to get shaken out of it by realising there’s a kid stuck in the equation.

Jake’s question... was I a bad person? Jake says he’s so used to letting other people control him, he never took responsibility when it mattered.

John makes a token effort to encourage Jake to look to the future - and Jake suddenly brightens up in a way that’s clearly suggesting something is still very much up. He invites John to dance.

It’s all a bit much huh.

But it’s enough to convince John that even if this Roxy isn’t ‘real’, he still ought to make up with her.

Chapter 37

Vriska [Vriska Lalonde] and (Vriska) [Vriska Serket] catch up, which means the text colours and the character prompts are quite difficult to distinguish.

Vriska Serket laments that John is an idiot, but holds power that the rest of the cast could never hope to have (his retcon powers etc.). Vriska Lalonde is dismissive.

Vriska Serket reminisces about the awful shit she’s done in her life - to Tavros, to Terezi, to the other Vriska who was, for a while, happy in the dream bubbles. She tries to convince Vriska Lalonde that this is bad, and not to be like her. She’s not very convincing.

But utlimately... they come round to talk about Terezi. Not by name, though.

(VRISKA): May8e that’s why I h8’d my ghost self so much?

VRISKA: Why?

(VRISKA): 8ecause I just had a sense.

(VRISKA): On some level I knew she was right. She was happy and honest with herself. And that’s what made her...

(VRISKA): A version of myself who was actually worthy of someone I cared a8out.

(VRISKA): Don’t get me wrong, we had a nice time for a few years living on that meteor.

(VRISKA): It was a good, sta8le pale relationship. 8ut that’s all it was.

(VRISKA): We couldn’t really connect in a deeper way 8ecause I was still... the way I am, I guess?

(VRISKA): Layers and layers of armor and defenses.

(VRISKA): And I had some mysterious feeling that weak ghost version of myself was always meant to form the kind of connection with her that I never could, 8ecause she didn’t have any of that stuff getting in the way.

At that point it comes out that Vriska Lalonde nicked John’s phone, giving Vriska Serket the chance to finally... well first read back their entire conversation, and then at last to text her.

Chapter 38

God this particular Epilogue is going on a bit huh! There’s only two chapters left for the final one.

There is also very little room for any sort of ‘resolution’. Of relationships, maybe... we might get to see Terezi and Vriska reunited at last. But the war and so on... are not going to be wrapped up in three chapters, though they’re not the point. The metaphysical weirdness is unlikely to receive much of an explanation.

It’s going to be a bittersweet ending, at best...

Anyway we open with Roxy, looking forward to meet up with John again. It’s nice to finally get a little Roxy POV.

John tries to explain his whole theory that the ‘candy’ choice has basically robbed everyone else of choice. Roxy meanwhile is rather back to her old self - perhaps she never left it. She won’t have any of it. She wasn’t acting like a doormat to John because of some metaphysical non-canonicity bullshit - that was just where she was.

JOHN: i just kept wanting to find ways to make everything make sense, you know?

JOHN: but maybe it just fucking doesn’t.

ROXY: i know we became grownups in a world built specifically n cosmically for us

ROXY: so i get wanting to find a pattern in everything

ROXY: but not everything has 2 b that deep

so then they move on and we finally learn a bit about where Roxy’s been at that’s not filtered through John’s perspective. It turns out that Roxy is our putative nb character I guess:

ROXY: i had all these conflictin thoughts abt how to be me in the first place

ROXY: like what it meant to date a beautiful skull alien

ROXY: sexualitywise and genderwise and person in generalwise

ROXY: for a while there i didnt know if i wanted ppl to think of me as a woman at all

But ultimately... she just drifted apart from Callie, and it wasn’t something she felt comfortable talking about with John.

I’m not going to just quote this entire chapter, but there’s some compelling, truthful stuff about Roxy’s self-conception around gender, how it changed when she got pregnant... obviously my experience of transness is in some ways quite a different one, but still.

Roxy speaks of like, the future to come, that she’s expecting to change in many more ways yet, that it doesn’t matter if it’s the ‘most true’ path, but it’s the one she’s on... it sounds corny summarised like that, but it feels a lot more real than Jake’s whole thing.

end of epilogue 7

so adulthood huh... adulthood is a fuck. being human in general is a fuck. fucked up that we gotta be a bag of seawater with a subjectivity and all that.

we’re moving to the end here. the struggles... the war and so on... it’s not really about that, they’re just set dressing. the point is just, what it is to live in a world as fucked up and pointless as this one, I guess. classic existentialism jazz. (editor’s note: bryn has not read an existentialist philosopher in her life, and the extent of her knowledge of the subject begins and ends with the videogame NieR: Automata.)

the struggles within that cycle...

[magpiefngrl]

snakes on a plane

I’m totally and shamelessly reposting my Slytherins travel with Ryanair headcanon, because it got buried under the original (shit)post and I know @o0o-chibaken-o0o​ was busy that week and might have missed it? Anyway, that’s my excuse. Apologies for inflicting this twice to some of you. 

So in answer to Chibaken’s reblog here about 8th years taking a trip, I wrote:

I see two different scenarios in my mind re: flights. For the Muggle trip to Greecethe school would use Ryanair or Easy Jet so it’d be a humorous fic, born of my many delightful experiences with these two airlines (all the Europeans are probably groaning right now). First, the 7th and 8th years would be faced with hundreds of people queuing at the check-in desk, holidaymakers holding straw hats and the hands of little children, who you just know they’ll be screaming during the flight. Pansy would arrive with three suitcases and a hat box for a week-long school trip and have to pay something like three hundred quid for her extra luggage, while Daphne would be sitting on top of her own suitcase, trying to shut it; in the end, she’d wear three dresses on top of each other at Luna’s suggestion. As Daphne is a natural trendsetter, several Muggles would copy her style and soon it would be a sensation. Kate Moss would be photographed nine days later outside Groucho Club in three dresses and praised for her bold accessorizing. Back at the airport, all of the Slytherins would have to pay for excess baggage while all the Hufflepuffs would throw a tantrum at security, because they wouldn’t be allowed to bring their homemade pumpkin smoothies and honey biscuits onboard (although I think food is allowed through now?). However, a new delay would arise and make Peony Dufferdill, the Muggle Studies Professor, curse the decision to take her students on a Muggle trip. The delay is of course Draco: he’d make a fuss at security for not allowing him to go through with his wand. Everyone else would roll eyes and/or glare at Draco, because they’ve been told that wands are checked luggage only. In May,  Gatwick (or god forbid, Stansted *shudders*) airport is packed with holidaymakers, I’m talking thousands of people, so staff are exhausted and travellers are in a hurry and kids are crying and so Draco would have stalled about a hundred and fifty people at the very least by arguing about his wand, and Harry would try to intervene and explain things to him (‘cause he did it a lot those days, he liked to “explain” Muggle things to Draco after class) but Draco would be in a strop, and then Peony would have to subtly Confund the airport security staff and everyone around them (she kept her wand for situations like this, but she’d had the foresight to transfigure it to a lipstick first).

Flying with Ryanair or Easy Jet is a unique kind of hell, so picture the narrow seats and aisles of the place full to bursting with travellers, kids who start screaming after takeoff, Greg trying to squeeze his bulky frame in one of those tiny seats (new headcanon: Greg turning to boxing as a way of coping after the war and releasing tension, and meeting Dudley and becoming besties! Omg). Harry would be sitting next to Ron and Hermione, but he’d rather sit next to Draco, who had been dragged in the middle seat by Greg and Blaise. At least Harry’s across the aisle from them, so Draco is full on sarcastic comments because it amuses Potter, and Harry is leaning towards them and Blaise would change from the aisle to avoid having Draco lean over him all the time, but no one wants the middle seat so he stays put. You have to pay for the food in budget airlines and the prices are exorbitant, but only the Muggleborns complain, because they know what £5.5 gets you in the real world and it’s not a tiny Panini with a slice of cheese.

Professor Peony would be sitting next to an elderly couple who do the crossword in the Times or read Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, and she’d thank the heavens for these quiet people (she can hear Draco’s sniding all the way to the back, drilling into her brain, and Potter laughing from across the aisle, and Daphne saying how she’s too hot with these dresses on and Ginny saying “You’re too hot. Period” and Millicent would be howling at some extremely rude joke McMillan is telling her, which draws the attention of several four-year-olds and their frowning parents) and so Peony would buy a tiny bottle of wine (“keep them coming” she tells the air steward) and decides when they land, they’ll have to book British Airways for the return flight and if she needs to cover the cost for the students who can’t afford it, then so be it.

Visiting Greece would be great, though. That’d be a fun fic to write :)

The second scenario that I wrote in the tags (I actually started writing a fic about it some months ago but it’s only 300 words) which @bixgirl1 also mentioned is a long-haul flight to, say, Sydney. Emirates or Singapore Air are fantastic airlines and a long-haul flight has several comforts, but these people would be in first class so it’d be amazing. I’m talking proper silverware, screens on the seat in front of them with a selection of DVDs to choose from as well as the regular in-flight entertainment, blankets and face masks and tiny toothbrushes and special socks and glasses of champagnes just before takeoff). Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theo, Tracey and Greg would be be sitting next to each other, but the seat next to Draco would be empty. And then Harry boards the plane because for some reason he’s going to the same convention in Sydney ��� and wouldn’t you know! He’s got the last empty seat, right beside Draco! What are the chances of that?! Draco isn’t too pleased, because he’s a little nervous about flying, but tries to hide it. The two of them have been out for coffee once or twice and they’ve had some pleasant chats at the Ministry after training, and once they sort of flirted in a pub (Draco isn’t sure, he was a little tipsy at the time and may have been bolder than normal and he thinks that maybe Potter was also drunk and didn’t mean whatever he said – Draco can’t remember for sure and vows never to drink again, while holding his second glass of champagne of course). Takeoff is indeed stressful for Draco, but Harry holds his hand for support, only every time he tries to pull his hand away, Draco pretends to shiver so he’ll keep holding it for some time. Harry looks amused, but Draco is sure he’s fooled him.

This flight is a whole different experience and after a delicious meal (they have a menu with several choices), the lights dim and everyone settles for a long night and covers themselves in blankets. Harry and Draco have been talking – Draco a little calmer now that the plane seems able to stay aloft; he wasn’t sure it could – and they’ve had some wine and they’re leaning back on their seats, which fully recline because first class. The blankets are super soft and they spread them over them as if they’re about to sleep. (spoiler: they won’t sleep). But they encounter some turbulence, nothing terrible, but Draco yelps, very embarrassingly, (Blaise and Theo scoff from further down the plane) so Harry takes his hand again and tries to comfort him and maybe under the blanket (it’s not Harry’s fault, he can’t see through fabric) maybe instead of finding Draco’s hand, he touches his thigh? Idk you decide.

And then they make out. Hm, I could write a bit of smut based on that, one day.

Thank you for the prodding, Chiba and Bixie, I was incredibly and miserably blocked and burned out for the past week and couldn’t write a sentence, but here’s 1k words on a headcanon lol. ❤  ❤ ❤

***

(This and the cock and nipple anon replies are the only writing I’ve done since Erised! Writer’s block is still going strong)

[schtroumpf-a-lunettes]

The Smurfs That Canon Forgot, Ch.2

AO3 link | FF.net link | Can also be read right here on this post!

Ch1 here

I’m posting this chapter late because I was busy nearly getting fully taken in and deceived by a Chinese company lol. It’s longer than the first chapter though, hope that makes up for it a bit. Also, chapter updates will be weekly from now on, at least for all the future chapters that are already written out. Enjoy!

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Everyone slept in longer than usual. Once Harmony was awake, he made sure to rouse everyone else with a blast of his horn, much to their chagrin. As the smurfs had awakened one by one, Father Time was bombarded with questions and he was burdened with the unpleasant task of informing them that there had been no miraculous return while everyone was asleep. This was quickly apparent to the smurfs who had slept outside and yet they asked hopefully after Papa and the others anyway, in the off-chance that they had slept through the return, and that the seventeen smurfs had come back and were currently catching up on much-needed rest in their homes where they belonged. A couple of smurfs came running out from their homes at different times, eagerly asking for updates and prepared to be angry if they had been left to sleep through the return.

Once Harmony’s horn blared, the remaining smurfs came quickly running out from their homes or sat up from their makeshift beds on the snow outside.

Actor Smurf got up as usual, hungry and ready for breakfast. To him, all that he knew was that a loud noise had woken him and in his sleepy state confused it with the breakfast call. He went outside expecting to be greeted by delicious smells but instead stopped short when he was met with many smurfs milling about aimlessly and – Father Time?!

The events of the previous evening all came rushing back to him and it hit him that they still hadn’t come back. There were seventeen smurfs unaccounted for right now, and he was thinking of breakfast?! He’d just assumed they’d return during the night.

The villagers were starting to exchange looks of concern and a muted kind of panic was beginning to spread among some. Everything was supposed to be sorted out yesterday, and barring that – this morning. No, they were probably getting worried prematurely. They could be back any minute, so there was no use getting worked up right now. Right?

“Th-th-th-they still aren’t back!” Scaredy covered his eyes and shook.

“Aw, that’s enough of that! It’s early in the day. They have all the time in the world to get back to us, yeah! Why don’t we give them the benefit of the doubt, huh? The last thing I want is for them to get back from a time-travelling adventure to a bunch of miserable smurfs!” called out Tuffy Smurf. “We gotta be a little bit more patient, that’s what we gotta do!”

“You’re right. Have a bit of faith, smurfs!” Harmony agreed.

Father Time stood up from his sitting position and all eyes turned to him. If this was his only reason for standing, it was entirely unnecessary considering that he towered above the smurfs even when he was sitting down.

“Yes, I don’t necessarily think we have cause for concern right now. After all, Papa Smurf is with them, and so we can rest assured that the expedition is in good hands – of course, you don’t need me to tell you that, heh. In any case, I think there may just be a slight delay in their return for some logical reason currently unknown to us, and so for the time being, all we can really do is continue to wait. I’m afraid that I do have some matters that I need to attend to today, but you can be sure that I will return here this evening to check up on the village, and if you need me before then you can come to my dwelling to find me. But I think that the chances are very high that all of your fellow smurfs will be back before sunset.”

The smurfs bid Father Time farewell and Nanny told him firmly to make sure to get some rest too. And once he was gone, it was a matter of consciously maintaining a positive atmosphere, keeping their spirits high, or distracting themselves. Some smurfs were better at it than others…

“I’m really hungry…” Sloppy Smurf announced, and was met with a chorus of agreement. None of them had eaten breakfast yet, after all, considering that there had been no Greedy Smurf around to make it.

“I should have thought of that...” Nanny muttered, “I should have realised someone would need to make breakfast… I could have done that, easy.”

“No, Nanny. We all expected Greedy to be back f’r breakfast. And we’ve all been busy thinkin’ about other things, no need to claim the blame for this” Woolly patted her on the shoulder.

“So... what are we going to eat?” Tracker asked.

“Well, don’t be silly, we’re smurfs, aren’t we? And do we not have a huge stockpile of smurfberries? So what are we waitin’ for!” Nanny steeled herself and replied incredulously.

“Well… Of course, we don’t usually just eat smurfberries and sarsaparilla leaves for breakfast. Greedy, well, cooks us up something nice, normally…” Poet pointed out.

“Well, fiddlesmurfs!” Nanny laughed, “You smurfs’ve been spoiled rotten for far too long, don’t you know that food’s food? Now c’mon, let’s go get our breakfast!”

Everyone was hungry and so no-one was about to complain. Smurfberries and sarsaparilla leaves tasted just fine – it’s just that, it wasn’t the same compared to something like Greedy’s porridge or Greedy’s pancakes. It didn’t feel like breakfast, but then again, this was no ordinary breakfast under ordinary circumstances in the first place.

“Boy, I sure hope Greedy is back in time for lunch” Nosey Smurf said ruefully and garnered a few laughs.

“We don’t know what Greedy went through – er – is going through in the dinosaur ages, he could be really tired when he gets back! Would we really make him cook up our lunches right away?” Weakling Smurf objected, having taken the statement entirely at face value.

“Well, knowing Greedy… making a meal is just what would cheer him up and cause him to stop feeling tired!” Nosey grinned.

Weakling Smurf couldn’t help but smile, “More like eating a meal.”

Scattered good-natured laughs gave way to sighs. “I do hope we all get to see Greedy again today. And not just because he makes the tastiest meals you can imagine.”

***

Suffice it to say, Greedy was not there to make them lunch. All the smurfs had for themselves was a bowl of smurfberries for breakfast and a bowl of smurfberries for lunch. It was starting to look like they’d be having smurfberries for dinner too.

Some smurfs were torn between attending to their own matters or milling about in the main village to be at the ready for the return of the missing smurfs. Others took to passing their time in the village itself – two birds, one stone.

“Maybe they won’t arrive in the same place they left?” Poet wondered, “What if they landed somewhere in the forest?”

“Well then they could be anywhere! We can’t just go around searching the whole forest, especially in these kinds of temperatures!” Timber said in exasperation.

Poet sighed, “You’re right. Well I sure hope they arrive in the village, or that they’re making their way here right now.”

The sky started to grow dark, and everyone started feeling rather hungry. No one wanted to bring up the issue of dinner. No one wanted to concede to eating another meal without the missing smurfs.

Father Time returned to the village as promised.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I took an afternoon nap once my tasks were done and slept a bit through my alarm. Have Papa Smurf and the others returned yet?” He needed only to glance about at the glum faces before him to determine the answer to that question. “...I see. Well, that is quite troubling...”

He sat down heavily on the ground and the smurfs all gathered around.

“Just what is going on with them, Father Time, what’s up with those time crystals!” someone called out.

“Could they have landed somewhere else – say, in the forest, for instance?” Timber asked, echoing Poet’s earlier remark.

“I – I don’t know. Not unless there was a malfunction with the crystals or some kind of mistake was made, I – I just don’t understand it” he said softly, looking at the ground. Everyone fought to keep their panic and their despair at bay. Just one day, it had only been one day, it was nothing, it was no big deal.

Except when you’re time travelling, when you have the ability to go to any point in time -

No, there could be any number of reasons why they weren’t back yet – you have the ability to go to any point in time – except if something went wrong -

Father Time looked at them all.

“There’s no reason to worry too much just yet-” he began.

“Of course not!” Tuffy shouted, more anxiously than anything else, “I’m not worried at all. Those smurfs’ll be back soon. We can’t just…!”

“Yes, of course,” Father Time continued, “There’s many different possibilities here. I must admit that it seems not everything has gone according to plan, but it could simply be the case that the time crystals are malfunctioning somewhat, throwing off their time of arrival back to us or their destination. So their return could be off by a few days – a week – a few miles –“

Scaredy sunk to the ground, shaking all over. None of this sounded promising. So they could land somewhere dangerous? They could land right in the middle of Gargamel’s lair! They could-

Father Time went on. “The possibilities are... endless. But Papa Smurf is with them, it’s surely a minor setback they’ve encountered-”

And there was no guarantee they even survived the mission to return that little dinosaur back home.

“What do you suggest we do?” Nanny demanded, “You yourself stand there sayin’ the possibilities are endless, yet you tell us everything is probably fine?!”

“I’d continue to remain on the lookout over the next few days, with luck Papa Smurf and Grandpa Smurf will be able to get everyone back-”

“What do you think went wrong with the time crystals, Father Time?!”

“Everyone, please try to stay calm. As I said, it could be a problem with the time crystals malfunctioning. How they might have malfunctioned, I’m not entirely sure. Or – well, I’m sure, I mean the time crystals and their key are in good hands. I’m sure neither Papa Smurf nor Grandpa would have misplaced them-” Father Time didn’t sound fully convinced.

“But it wasn’t just Grandpa and Papa who were sent back in time like it was supposed to be… What if they did lose the crystals or that key you were so worried about?!” another smurf spoke up.

“Well...” Father Time hung his head. “If we are considering those as possibilities, then… It’s possible that they are all… lost in time...”

Some smurfs let out cries, some slumped, and others remained frozen where they stood.

“Without the crystals they wouldn’t have a method of travelling through time, without the key… They wouldn’t have a way to return to our specific point in time…”

“If I could just TRACK them!” Tracker yelled unexpectedly – he practically screamed the word “track”. “But no, they’ve travelled through time, there is no trail for me. But can’t you track them?! You’ve got to have some way! You’re Father Time!”

“I-”

“Couldn’t you just go after them? We know where they went – back to return that creature! We could just travel back to that point in time and find them!”

Father Time was shaking his head sadly. “The dinosaurs were around for… a while. I don’t know which specific point they went to, or the exact place they landed, nor do I know what crystal combination they used, we could search for forever and not find them...”

“But you’re Father Time” someone muttered bitterly, “Doesn’t that mean that you have all the time in the world?”

And how could they know the poor missing smurfs hadn’t simply had some tragedy befall them all soon after arriving back in time? Or if something went wrong and they had no way of travelling elsewhere, they would have lived for the rest of their lives surrounded by dinosaurs and be long dead either way. What practical difference did either of those scenarios make to everyone right here, right now?

“Those time crystals are just about impossible to track… I would need to have a very clear idea of exactly where and when to look. But at least we have some inkling of how far back they went… I will start making some investigations into it when I return back home, although I’m afraid that I can’t promise anything will come of it. As I said, I think we should all also continue to hold out hope for some time. If there are any new developments, please come and see me immediately, and I will continue to stay in close contact with all of you. I must be going now… I’m terribly sorry that you are all going through this...” Father Time took his leave with his head hung low.

Nanny commanded everyone’s attention once Father Time left.

“Alright smurfs, you heard what Father Time said earlier. The others may be coming back at any time, so there’s no use moping around for the time being. And Father Time just might be able to find some way to track them too, you never know! Until then, we all need to make sure that we keep this village running smoothly, y’hear me?”

Discussion broke out amongst everyone. The missing smurfs could be back by tomorrow, or they could be back next week. Or-

Waiting until tomorrow was one thing, but it was true that they all couldn’t afford to neglect their duties and their day-to-day lives until the other smurfs returned, seeing as they had no way of knowing exactly when that would be.

First thing’s first -

It was time to have a bowl of smurfberries for dinner.

[ship-all-ships]

Stranger: ((5th year Christmas)) Why do you hate me so?? -SM What have I done to deserve such a punishment from you??? -SM

You: What have I done other than get sick this year?-AP

Stranger: The Christmas present you gave my dad.... -SM Why would you give him a pun book! -SM What have I done to you to deserve this torture?? -SM

You: Oh, ha. Thought he could use some humour in his life. Does he like it?-AP

Stranger: ...he loves it -SM

Stranger: I never thought I'd ever want to blow a book up ever so much in my life -SM

Stranger: I told you to buy him an actual book! -SM Like Jane Austin or something -SM

Stranger: He doesn't even understand half the jokes cause it's talking about muggle stuff! -SM

You: It was the only book they had at the joke shop and my Christmas shopping time was very limited-AP And he's read everything at the bookshops in the wizarding world, so I thought this would be interesting-AP Besides, your family doesn't really know a lot about muggles. Not that mine is /much/ better, but we've got two raised muggle in the immediate family so...-AP

Stranger: This is not the way to teach him about muggles, Al... -SM

You: How did I teach you?-AP

Stranger: It's awful -SM He's laughing to himself and then asking to explain jokes and then laughing again -SM

Stranger: Teddy. Teddy taught me. -SM You just made fun of me for saying Rad. -DM

Stranger: How was I supposed to know rad was outdated, Al?? -SM

You: Because you learned it from Teddy? He's a total hipster-AP And he didn't teach you /everything/-AP

Stranger: ...True -SM But Al, at least like an encyclopedia would've been nice -SM

You: I wish I could see this-AP

Stranger: You wish, huh? Why don't you come over and see the chaos you've made -SM Maybe you could apologize to the house elves too -SM The house elves, Al! They have done nothing but feed you and care for you! -SM

You: [....] Would they make me that tea and some soup if I did come over?-AP

Stranger: ...Yes -SM

You: Maybe-AP

Stranger: You know you could actually come over though -SM I'm sure you wouldn't mind slipping away from your family for a bit? -SM

You: Ha, yeah. I'm so congested and drugged up I can barely get through a conversation without my head spinning, but Christmas is at nan's so just slipping out to find a place to sleep is /hard/-AP

Stranger: Awee, sorry to hear that Al -SM

Stranger: Ask if you can sleep here though -SM And like, go in the morning maybe? -SM

You: Or I'll just pop over now and fall asleep-AP

Stranger: Yeah! -SM

Stranger: Wait. I'm supposed to be mad at you -SM

Stranger: Come here and apologize to me -SM

Stranger: Then we can have cocoa -SM

You: Hmm, okay. On my way-AP

Stranger: Great! -SM

Stranger: I'll be expecting a formal apology, Mr Potter -SM

You: I'm wearing like, three jumpers and my /glasses/. There's no formal here-AP

Stranger: Lol I cannot wait to see this -SM

You: Scorp.....-AP

You: I mean, you've seen it before, I think-AP

Stranger: I have -SM

Stranger: But I love seeing it -SM

Stranger: It makes you look so cute! -SM

Stranger: Like a big marshmallow -SM

You: Merlin, I'm going to regret this-AP

Stranger: Yup. -SM

Stranger: And I'm going to love it -SM

You: Your dad still has the pun book though-AP

Stranger: Unfortunately -SM

Stranger: But maybe he'll torture you with it now! -SM

You: He won't torture me, I'm sick-AP

Stranger: It will be the kindest torture you'll endure -SM And my dad probably has some potions stocked up to help you -SM

You: Merlin, I hope so. Nan made her famous cure, but it hasn't cured this yet-AP

Stranger: Really? Your Nan's recipe didn't work? Awe, must be a really bad bug then -SM I'll ask my dad if he's got anything at home -SM

You: Okay. I'm on my way now-AP

Stranger: Dad says he might have something -SM

Stranger: See you soon, Al -SM

You: ((paras?))

Stranger: ((Yup. Do you mind starting?))

You: ((not at all! Just give me a moment))

You: Albus had managed to let his mum and Teddy know offhand that he was going to Scorpius's to take a nap. At least, he tried. He was so congested that he didn't really know when what he said made sense or not. He was mumbling quite a lot. Sneaking off to the fireplace, Albus stole a pinch of floo powder and quickly sent himself away to the Malfoy Manor. The trip left him a little dizzy and disoriented, but he recovered a few moments after stepping out of the hearth. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, groaning at the pressure behind them before stumbling off to find someone who actually lived here. "Scorpius?" He asked, walking from the living room and down the hall. "You still here?"

Stranger: Scorpius smiled at his enchanted notebook and hurried to tuck it away and rushed down from his room to the kitchens in the basement. He was so pleased that Albus was coming. It had been awfully lonely, especially since the Pureblood families hosted their yearly ball yesterday and Scorpius was once again left to socialize with a group of people who hated him. So, yes, he was happy Albus was coming. Scorpius had just finished the making the cocoa and carried the tray using his magic before hearing the crash of the fireplace. He jumped and bit and hurried up the stairs and towards the familiar steps. "Albus! Hi," he called out and hurried over, careful not to lose the balance of the tray. He hugged him tightly before pulling back, frowning a bit. "Oh, look at you. You're so pale," he said and hurried him into the cozy parlour. "I have cocoa here and a bunch of blankets. Don't you worry."

You: The Malfoys were bad with illness. They were never entirely certain when to react, and Albus felt bad that he figured it had to be because of Scorpius's mom, but he didn't ever ask. In truth, he loved the coddling. If Scorpius was bad, Draco was worse. Once, Albus came over with a fever so high Draco actually forced him to bed and brought a private doctor to him, then contacted his family and calmly explained that he'd be staying over until his fever subsided. He then poured over every one of Albus's requests. Albus had cried at how loved he felt. All he could do was smile as Scorpius ushered him into the parlour, sitting down on his favourite sofa and grabbing the cocoa, humming as he brought the hot liquid to his lips. "You're the sweetest" he murmured, patting the spot next to him for Scorpius to join him. "Merry Christmas, Scor"

Stranger: Scorpius pouted as Albus sat down on the plush sofa, making sure he had a nice hot mug of cocoa before getting to work. He grabbed the blankets and started to wrap Albus up. First tucking one around his legs, then a separate one on his feet. He added one more to cover his back and around his shoulders before a final one all over, leaving enough room for himself. Scorpius waved his wand to slowly bring over his own cocoa and cuddled up next to Albus' blanket barrier, smiling at him. "Merry Christmas, Al," he said and leaned over to give him a simple peck on the cheek. "Dad'll be here soon. He's just looking to see what he's got."

You: If his cheeks weren't already flushed with fever, then they would have grown red as Scorpius kissed his cheek. Grinning, Albus closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Scorpius. That was, of course, until that change of movement made it hard to breathe, so he had to move again. Merlin, this was miserable. Everything hurt and he just sort of wanted to die, but being in the warm quiet of Scorpius's house made things so much better than at at his Nan's. Humming, Albus closed his eyes and tried to rest until he heard footsteps approaching the parlour. He forced himself to look up then, smiling lightly as he looked up blearily at Scorpius's father.

Stranger: Scorpius pursed his lips at the disgruntled sounds Albus made. He adjusted a pillow against the armrest and leaned against it, pulling Albus and his blanket suit against him, hooking his leg around him to keep him secure in place, knowing that Albus wouldn't stay still unless forced to. He even pulled him back down when he noticed Albus was going to sit up for his dad. "Al, don't. You rest. Dad won't mind," he said softly. Draco knocked and opened the door, holding a silver tray with a couple bottles of potions. "Hello, Albus," he said calmly. Draco would never minded admitting that he adored Albus. The two Slytherins clicking instantly when they first met, their first conversation being of Scorpius of course. Now, Draco treated him like his own son. Especially in times of need. Just like this. "How are you feeling?" he asked and set the tray down on the coffee table, kneeling down beside the couch and placed the back of his hand against his forehead.

You: Albus wanted to fight the embrace that Scorpius forced him in, but he couldn't. It was so sweet, and in a moment he knew Scorpius would start playing with his hair, and maybe if he was lucky he'd be able to fall asleep because he hadn't done that in centuries. Still, he felt bad for cuddling up against Scorpius with Draco coming in. Even though they were so close, Albus still felt the need to be formal with him. The man always presented so nicely, it seemed a shame to be seen like this. Huffing as Draco placed a cold hand on his forehead, Albus pouted and still tried to sit up a bit. "Your son is slowly trying to roast me alive, but other than that?" He asked, just as his voice caught and sent him into a small coughing fit. "Miserable"

Stranger: Scorpius laughed softly and leaned down to press his lips against his head before scrunching up his nose slightly. Albus had been sweating a lot. Scorpius and Draco looked down at Albus as he coughed, staring an equally concerned look before Draco turned back to Albus. "I can see that," he hummed before turning to the potions on the tray, mixing two or three into a small cup. "Scorpius. I want you to get Albus in the bath. Freshen him up and give him a new set of clothes and let him lay in bed," he said and watched the small amount of potion boil together. Scorpius nodded seriously before looking down at Albus. "Al, you think you can do that? I think you'll actually feel much better if you wash the sweat off you," he said and pressed his hand against his cheek, hoping his warm hands may help him. God, how he hated seeing his best friend like this.

You: Sitting back up again after the coughing fit had made Albus dizzy. He hadn't actually listened to Draco or Scorpius too much, but then Scorpius was next to him and all Albus wanted to do was burrow into his side and hide. So he did, curling up as Draco mixed a potion for him, hiding in Scorpius's shoulder. He grunted when Scorpius asked him if he'd be up for it, but he didn't fully hear what he'd be up for. "Yeah, sure" he agreed regardless, because being less sweaty sounded really nice, but then again so did a nap. "Will it make breathing any easier?"

Stranger: Draco turned around and nodded. "It will. The steam with help," he said. Scorpius smiled and took off the layers of blankets from him and stood up, helping Albus to his feet. "We can add lavender scents in it too to help you ease up more," he reassured before turning to his dad, placing one arm around Albus' waist to support him. "How long will the potion take, dad?" Draco looked up at them, unaffected by the obvious affection Scorpius was showing Albus, already used to it. "Around twenty minutes. Plenty of time for him to bathe and get dressed."

You: While the blankets might have been roasting him alive only moments ago, the absence of them made Albus shiver as if he'd never get warm again. Cursing Scorpius quietly, Albus stood up with help and regained some of his balance. He still didn't feel great though, and he happily leaned against Scorpius once the other had an arm around him. He hummed at their short conversation before being brought up to Scorpius's bathroom and sat down on the toilet as he watched the other draw a beautiful looking bath. "Make it warm" Albus murmured as he watched, his arms wrapped around him to try and stay warm now that he was suddenly chilled. "You took my heat away, Scorpius"

Stranger: Scorpius nodded and hurried Albus upstairs and into his bathroom. He waved his wand to warm up the room before rolling his sleeves up as he filled the bath, laughing softly at his orders. "Yes, master," he said, teasingly before he made sure the water was hot enough for Al, pinching a few drops of lavender into the water. He then turned to Al and walked over to him, kissing his head. He knew it was weird for friends to do things like that. But since when did Albus and Scorpius ever listen to the rules. "Do you need help in the bath or are you good? I can keep my back to you if you want? Don't want to leave you alone just in case you pass out."

You: In all honesty, Albus loved the affection Scorpius gave him. It made him feel good, it made him feel loved. He giggled when Scorpius kissed his forehead and then slowly started to peel his clothes off. "You think I'm gonna....pass out?" He asked, pulling off his jumper and throwing it on the floor. He was slowly slipping into uninhibited territory the more his fever climbed, which only made him want to be closer to Scorpius. "You could join if you want....I wouldn't mind"

Stranger: Scorpius nervously bit his lip, wondering if he should get his dad if Albus was going to pass out. But when he stepped closer, he blushed, holding him upright in his arms. He chuckled nervously and helped him take off the last of his layers, looking away when Albus was fully exposed, helping him into the bath. "Why don't I stay outside and help you," he whispered and made sure Albus was comfortable in the tub before cupping some water in his hands and pouring it over his hair, trying to rinse out the sweat.

You: While he was blushing and giggling the whole time, Albus did enjoy the help Scorpius was giving him in undressing. And while he pouted about not getting Scorpius to join, this wasn't so bad. He leaned back towards the other once he was settled in the bath and sighed, trying to keep himself together, even though all Scorpius wanted to do was clean him it seemed. "You're so good to me" Albus hummed, closing his eyes as he tried to relax. "You and your dad and....you're all so good"

Stranger: Scorpius smiled down at Albus, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, reminding himself to change his own sweater as it got slowly wetter and wetter. "That's because we both like you, Al," he said softly and sighed happily when Albus seemed to be relaxing. "You're like family to us, Al. Us Slytherins gotta stick together you know," he said, teasing softly as he chuckled. Once Albus' hair seemed clean enough, he grabbed the soap and leaned over to clean Albus' chest, not being too thorough as he tried to force his mind into a safer place. He couldn't be thinking thoughts like that in a time like this. Albus was his best mate! And he was sick too! Scorpius bit his lip as he concentrated on washing him up and nothing else.

Stranger: Scorpius smiled down at Albus, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, reminding himself to change his own sweater as it got slowly wetter and wetter. "That's because we both like you, Al," he said softly and sighed happily when Albus seemed to be relaxing. "You're like family to us, Al. Us Slytherins gotta stick together you know," he said, teasing softly as he chuckled. Once Albus' hair seemed clean enough, he grabbed the soap and leaned over to clean Albus' chest, not being too thorough as he tried to force his mind into a safer place. He couldn't be thinking thoughts like that in a time like this. Albus was his best mate! And he was sick too! Scorpius bit his lip as he concentrated on washing him up and nothing else.

You: This was heaven to Albus. He could fall asleep to this, it was practically a dream at this point. Humming as he let Scorpius clean his chest, Albus moved one of his hands to lay on top of Scorpius's, chuckling lightly. "I love you" He murmured, slumping back against the other. "Thank you for letting me stay here. You're...you're so great"

Stranger: Scorpius froze at Albus' words, watching him with wide eyes for a moment before nervously chuckling, fondly shaking his head. "Oh, Al. The fever's really getting to you," he said and made sure all the soap was washed off before setting it down and picked up a towel. "Anytime, Al. You can come by anytime you wish," he said and wrapped his arm around Albus and helped him up, looking away as he wrapped his lower body in a towel, quickly picking up around one for his shoulder and the third one for his hair. He held his arms and helped him out of the tub. "How're you feeling?"

You: "It's not the fever!" Albus protested, a little offended at how Scorpius took it all. He continued to try and protest as he was getting wrapped in towels, but there wasn't much he could do. Frowning once he was all wrapped up, Albus shrugged off the towel across his shoulders. "They're itchy, even though they're the nice ones" he murmured with a huff. "And I'm not....delusional I'm just....." He was caught off guard then by a fit of sneezes, causing him to double over and nearly loose the other two towels. "I'm sick, okay? shut up"

Stranger: Scorpius blushed when Albus tried to defend himself. How could he mean it though? They were friends. But Scorpius quickly let those thoughts slip away when he rushed forward, to keep him standing, letting Scorpius sneeze over his shoulder. "Alright, alright. No need to get fussy," he hummed. "Let's get you changed," he said softly and led him into his room, making him sit on his bed before walking over to his drawers and pulling out his comfiest pair of pajamas.

You: Albus knew those pajamas. He knew those pajamas like the back of his hand, because they were Scorpius's favourite. He loved those pajamas, and right now he was forefiting those on Christmas so that Albus could wear them. The sentiment was so sweet, that once Albus realized what he was doing, tears sprang to his eyes. "Scorp...." he mumbled, reaching a shaking hand for the set. "These are your favourite pajamas"

Stranger: Scorpius looked at him curiously as he made his way with the pyjamas in his hands. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly worried before realizing what those emotions were about. He honestly could feel his heart melt. He loved his friend so goddamn much. To his angstiest fits to the cutest way he acted when he was sick. "It's okay, Al. I want you to wear them," he said and held them out to him. "You need them more than I do," he said, offering him a soft, reassuring smile.

You: These were Scorpius's bad day jammies. They were the "the world is ending and I need comfort" jammies. These were the way that Albus knew he needed to give his best friend more attention, because something was wrong in his life. These were the "I miss my mom" pajamas, and the fact that Albus got to wear them right now, when he was stock full of gross sick germs and snot only made the whole exchange better. Leaning in for a hug before he took the pajamas, Albus wrapped his arms around the other and sniffled a few times. "If it didn't hurt to cry so much, I' be crying so much more" He mumbled. "Are you sure?"

Stranger: Scorpius laughed when the other leaned over to hug him, catching his friend in his arms and hugged him back. "I'm sure, Al. They're just jammies," he said, though he knew they were so much more. Honestly, Scorpius felt Albus needed them. He was sick and weak and super emotional and Scorpius knew Albus hated being all three- thus, comfort jammies. Scorpius pulled back and smiled at him. "Just change into them, Potter. Because I change my mind and give you the itchy ones," he teased, hinting at the other to hurry up. He couldn't have his dad come in while Albus is tearing up and nude.