#sorry if this is incoherent in my defense i am sick

[ladyofthenoodle]

I made this for ur box but it crashed when I tried to send. anyway she has been listening to marinette talk about Adrien’s calves for the last 18 minutes

aaaaaa thank you for sending it to me despite it crashing. my eyes desperately needed to see this. poor alya. when will someone rescue her 😭

(also your style looks so cool like this?? there is something so. textured yet round about it. idk how to describe it but i really like it)

[secretgamergirl]

It’s a bit absurd how we’re all keeping our heads in the sand about armed terrorists attacking American hospitals and power infrastructure, isn’t it?

Going to have to apologize upfront for discussing this over here. Topics this dark I generally try to keep over on Twitter where there’s more of an understanding that I am the gal who shares the really horrific news people are missing out on, but as I recently spent a whole post explaining, I am currently suspended from Twitter due to bigots mass-reporting a totally innocuous post until it triggered an autoflagging system, and I have no idea how to regain access to my account. So dark stuff on Tumblr, sorry.

Anyway yeah, as I was saying, terrorists. Like, full on terrorists, the kind of people who decide it’s a good idea to take as many bombs and or guns as they can find, and go to large population centers and kill whole crowds of people, out of a vague sense that doing so will advance some cause of theirs, but on interrogation they tend to just all quote the same incoherent gibberish, because nobody really becomes a terrorist out of a strongly held religious belief, it’s just about feeling alienated from society and getting groomed by a bunch of weird cult leader types into believing that they’ll gain the recognition and respect they crave through killing a bunch of people. Those guys.

A pretty significant number of them, for quite a while now, have been doing these pretty well coordinated attacks in the U.S. There’s the mass shootings, of course, that much I’ve been writing about for what’s seriously coming up on a decade now. That’s still a thing. And more recently, that’s been coupled with bomb threats on hospitals. Specifically children’s hospitals at that. Now, I know for a fact that a significant number of people reading this, as a defense mechanism, are just going to automatically downplay and dismiss that. It’s the whole reason I’m writing this post really. So let me clarify.

It is true that I said there have been a lot of recent bomb threats on children’s hospitals. The article I just linked (you do all know I have a habit of using bold text to note links on Tumblr because the default formatting makes them hard to see right? I’m not just randomly emphasizing things?) is actually about a particular hospital getting threats called in multiple times in the last few months. But hey, it’s not like bombs were actually planted right? They didn’t actually blow up a hospital full of sick children, so, nobody actually died or anything, right?

Well, this isn’t really data that people really bother to collect with this sort of thing, because there’s too many other variables, but you know when there’s a credible bomb threat in a building, they have to shut that whole building down, evacuate it, and keep it shut down for a good long while as people comb over the entire location really thoroughly looking for the bombs someone claimed to have planted.

Now, I don’t know if you know this, but hospitals kind of need to be open and full of people 24/7 to make sure that people don’t die. That’s why we have hospitals. In particular, children’s hospitals are a thing for, you know, young children, who have either serious serious diseases threatening their lives, or need emergency surgery from people specialized in working with smaller bodies. Having children in such states evacuate a hospital isn’t really practical. Maybe not even possible depending on the state they’re in. And even if you leave them there, and doing so doesn’t actually cause them to die in an explosion from bombs someone lied about, taking all the medical professionals out of the building for like a full day means they can’t do the things those kids need done to remain alive, and even if there were no emergency cases when the threat came in, having the hospital shut down that long means new cases where people are trying to rush someone to the special emergency hospital for stuff for children that’s rare and specialized so we have them spaced out way more than other hospitals are... going to be showing up and told they have to go somewhere else, and you know, frequently with hospitalization, getting there ASAP is literally a life or death thing.

So what I’m saying is, whether or not it turns out to be “a hoax” bomb threats on children’s hospitals absolutely lead to dead children, and should always be discussed with that in mind. Kind of a big deal.

And you know what else is a big deal? A group of terrorists coordinating an attack to destroy enough power substations to take out the power to 11 cities for 3 days and counting as of when I’m writing this, at the start of winter. Did you know that happened? People really don’t seem as concerned as they should be.

Now, if you’re actually clicking through on these articles, or you just know me and the sort of things I talk about, you’ve probably guessed that the reason none of this stuff is really being reported on with the sort of panic and awe this sort of thing usually warrants, part of that is because these terrorists are white obviously, but a huge part of it is that the terrorists in question are fully aware of the weird exploit where nobody will pay attention to something if people are talking about trans people. No really, just compare that last story, which is talking about the actual scope and severity of that attack in North Carolina, while stressing that nobody knows what motivated it, and this story from the day it happened, where people are being pretty candid about what motivated it and the whole thing is centered around just quoting a local hatemonger on how clearly this is the wrath of god coming down on “the immoral drag show” she claims “mocked God.”

You can have the story explaining this is an anti-queer bigotry thing, or you can have the one about it being a real serious issue, pick one.

One of the last posts I made on Twitter before getting taken offline was talking about how shocked I was to see President Biden actually using the phrase “transgender Americans” in a statement about a terrorist committing a mass shooting at a Transgender Day of Remembrance event, killing several trans people, and being stopped by two trans people before he could kill anyone else, before the police arrived to... arrest one of the heroes and keep him from checking on his loved ones. In a reasonable world, yes, obviously. How the hell could you even talk about a story like that without mentioning trans people? But in the world we live in? People bend over backwards not to mention these things. Here’s the New York Times’ coverage of the shooting in question, for instance. Not one single occurrence of “trans” in the whole piece.

I’ve seen plenty of other coverage take the extra step with active misreporting, calling the trans woman who got the gun out of the shooter’s hand “a drag queen.” Again, this is typical of both media coverage, and political responses. The erasure I mean, to the point that Biden’s statement was a shocking outlier.

Meanwhile a particular terrorist leader who is largely agreed on as the ringleader of the recent violence, and proudly labels herself as a stochastic terrorist in her Twitter bio even, immediately responded to the news of that shooting by calling for further attacks on other targets in the area. Others openly calling for this sort of violence did dial things down slightly in the aftermath, but only because they are currently holding seats of power they don’t want to lose. Others like the shooter’s grandfather, have a bigger scope for their violence. I don’t even know what to say about stuff like this response form another terrorist leader. This one though let’s be real, is a terrorist actively calling for more mass killings, right out in public.

Now again, you don’t see media coverage of this treating it as seriously as it is, largely because these terrorists keep shouting about trans people, and... the media kinda has it out for trans people. I realize that can come off like conspiracy theory talk, so let me assure you I deal only in conspiracy facts. There is a bias against trans people in the media, full stop. We are blacklisted from reporting, impotent though they are, media watchdog groups have been on people’s cases about all the propaganda they put out for some time now, and hell, The Guardian in particular has faced criticism on this front from... The Guardian. The closest I can find to a mainstream source taking this seriously is Teen Vogue, which, hey, is actually a shockingly great political news source if you haven’t paid attention to what they’ve been doing the past decade or so. And you know, not to put too fine a point on it, but, Matt Walsh, Tucker Carlson, Jessie Singal, Tim Pool, Ian Cheong, the whole staff of Breitbart, these are all people who are regularly labeled as “journalists” and half that list are fully open with their straight up neo-nazi ties. The most popular thread I ever posted on Twitter was about another group of “journalists” getting together for some mob violence, filming it, and writing stories after DARVOing the whole incident. So yeah, a lot of the terrorists I’m talking about today are parts of the media conspicuously failing to report on this stuff.

And a lot more are in the government. Like... this is a link to Kyle Rittenhouse’s wikipedia page. I don’t know what more I really need to say on the subject that isn’t covered by this chronological look at this guy who drove 22 miles in order to find people to shoot who had a problem with a cop shooting an innocent man 7 times and failing to face proper repercussions, successfully finding and shooting a crowd of such people, successfully killing two of those people, and proceeding to then... become the poster child of the Republican party receiving praise adoration and media platforms. Like, that’s really where we are.

So to review- Terrorism, mass murder, hospitals shutting down, 40,000 people losing power in freezing temperatures due to the violent destruction of a massive area’s whole power grid, these are bad things, and we should talk about them more, but we don’t because the “we” who should be doing the talking largely finds these to be great things, actually. That’s bad, and we need to make big changes now.

Meanwhile, I hate to do the begging at the end of the article thing but... I’m about to die? I just lost my sole source of income and I was already living hand to mouth before that? I’m freezing and my legs aren’t working right, I have nobody to turn to, and my only real professional experience is in a field where, again, bigots have conspired to keep me from ever working again. So... it would really, really help me out if you could maybe directly throw me a little support via Patreon?

Or you know, if you can’t do that, because hey times are tough, or even if you can, maybe get the word out via Twitter and/or whatever platform you moved to after abandoning Twitter and let people know, hey, I got shut down there over some total BS, people could maybe stand to raise a big stink over that, point people towards say this blog post here, encourage people to spread that around, maybe let some of the people I care about but have no other way to stay in touch with me know why I suddenly went silent, how I can’t see any of the messages they might have tried to send me, etc.? Because seriously otherwise I have until the end of this month plus however long after it takes for my electricity to be shut off and or me and my cats to be thrown out onto the streets and I am literally going to die because I have like, medical equipment that requires electricity health problems here. Thanks.

[ceebit]

hi cece how are you <33 i was wondering if you might be able to direct me to some good juyeon content (visual content, gifs/vids) ?? bc i need a gateway to getting into tbz finally and having seen his face before, i feel like he might be my way in, LOL. he’s just. SO beautiful. also, fave tbz songs/albums ? i think i have finally cleared up enough space in my head to make room for a new boy group, and it might be them. like i need more boys to be totally normal about 🫠 anyways hope your day/night is going good (it’s night here) ! ttyl !!

hiiiii i’m good ^_^ hope ur day was good too!! i had a bunch of rice krispies and feel kinda sick lol but NOREGRETS!!!! and now i am basking in the glow of moderate delulu and thinking thoughts and thinks on how to approach this idea cat has so cleverly stuffed into the crevices of my cranial cavity <3

AND I KNOW RIGHT…… ISNT JUYEON SO [WINDOWS SHUT DOWN NOISESHSHSJ)2/$/&2$1’]

as for how i got into tbz…….. i have cat and rose to thank for that 😭 yk, i myself am still kinda. is grasping a straws the right phrase to use here? i’m still pretty new! but what i like to do just follow a bunch of tags related to them so that they show up on my dash when i least expect it (which is why i’m reblogging a lot of hongjoong lately lol……. demon man 😵‍💫) but that’s pretty much it like. content wise* outside of their music. for me at least since i’m still digging a deeper hole myself 😭 but as for their MUSIC……..

their music is so [incoherent dying noises] do u get me…….. my ultimate fave song rn is definitely salty (beating kevin up i hate him he’s supposed to not be flirting w anyone vocally like that how dare he) and that’s from the reveal album !! which btw………………… what the fuck is that entire album laced with oh my god.??/?: listen to that and if u come back in one piece with ur sanity intact i commend u for having the wills of a god. the chaser album is so good too btw….. my fave off that one is the stealer (the piano intro i’m sorry oh my god—but let me stop before i melt into the floor)

ALSO I SAID THIS BEFORE BUT. mariah carey’s career is OVER the boyz r IN christmassy is the cutest fucking song i’ve ever heard in my life. all i want for christmas is DEAD it’s OVER (this is joke for legal reasons people get rlly defensive over that song pls don’t come for my head or life thank u—)

i also just. pinterest surf for hours bc time is a concept my brain simply refuses to keep with like. i will literally just pinterest surf for HOURS (i swear that’s how i learned most of their names) also watched a LOT of introductory videos just to get a feel of their individual personalities….. like this one on jacob and this one on juyeon plsim squeezinf them both so tight i’ll cry

(*content wise tho i’ve started watching their lil youtube series called stealer house if i’m not mistaken? it’s cute ^_^)

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

please he would threaten to punch her and she would go from ☹️ to 😁

“I’m gonna smack you.”

“Harry, it’s not funny.”

“Am I laughing? Look at my face, do you see a smile on it?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly. Because this isn’t a laughing matter. I am sick and tired of you being mean to my girlfriend. I’m exhausted. Worn away. Eroding. Weathered. I’m sand particles, at this point.”

Y/N attempts to keep a neutral attitude, but his comical dramatics are difficult to resist. “I—”

“So, if you’re gonna keep being mean to her— if you insist on putting her down— then I have no choice but to clock you in the face. Sorry, not sorry. I haven’t spent months and hundreds of dollars making her feel perfect for you to come and ruin it. Can’t allow that.”

“Harry—”

“Assume the position.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Harry comments easily, lifting his fists up as he bends his knees a bit, his posture crouched as he shuffles from side to side, throwing air punches to suggest he’s practicing. “C’mon, hands up. I’ll even let you get into a defense stance before I rock your shit.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, haphazardly putting her arms up as if to block a blow, kinking an eyebrow at him pointedly. “Like this?”

“Your form is utter rubbish, but it’ll do.”

“This is ridi—”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her insult. Harry charges forward, snaking his arms around her waist and chucking her upwards, throwing the girl over his shoulder as he straightens his body. He spins around sharply with her in tow, cackling as she screams in surprise and pounds at his back, demanding he put her down. Despite her protests, he can her giggling between words, trying to keep a solid front in order to get him to oblige.

Harry tosses her around messily, laughing even harder as she shrieks and grasps onto his t-shirt, kicking her legs in an effort to get him to release her. He turns his head, calling over his opposite shoulder so she can hear, a evil smirk plucking his dimples into place. “You want me to put you down?”

“Obviously.” Y/N spits in fake exasperation, wriggling around wildly to emphasize her point. “If you keep spinning me around, I’m gonna hurl all over your Marc Jacobs t-shirt. Put me down now.”

“Happy to.”

Harry reels around towards his couch, sauntering over with his mind set on the cushions at the very center. Y/N recognizes his intentions immediately, and she begins to thrash with more fervor as she screams more objections and threats. “Harry, don’t! I swear to God, I’ll shave your head in your sleep if you fucking—”

“You said you wanted me to put you down!”

“Not like this!”

He sucks at his teeth mockingly as he tuts in a scolding manner, giving her backside a hard spank just to be annoying. “You should’ve been more specific, blossom.”

“I’ll fucking bite your dick off next time if you—”

Harry leans backwards to gather his strength, grabbing a firm hold of the backs of her thighs to guide her as she tumbles. He lurches forward, her torso see-sawing across his study shoulder as he chucks her onto the sofa, right onto the mound of pillows he’d aimed for. Y/N lands on the plush mountain with a rough exhale, her body sinking in deeply due to the momentum Harry had put into his fling. She blinks up at his chandeliers in a foggy daze, shaking her head to get her bearings back and struggling to sit up onto her elbows.

The second she manages to prop herself up, she wishes she hadn’t. Instead of being met with Harry standing before her, arms folded over his lean chest as he laughs at his own antics, she’s met with him looming over her with a mischievous glint in his eyes that suggests he isn’t done. Harry bends one of his forearms back, patting his elbow with the opposite palm in a gesture that suggests he’s preparing it for use. He squats down as if gathering all his might, a goofy grin splitting his face in half as he bellows in a deep, exaggerated voice that imitates a sports anchor. “Styles goes in for one last move, and it’s not looking good for his opponent, folks!”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“He crouches down and jumps into the air, locked onto his target!”

“Harry, I’m serious!”

“The crowd goes wild with anticipation!” Harry simulates the screams of an imaginary audience, his giggles interrupting the sound as he plants his footing appropriately. “He goes in for the final kill!”

“No!”

“The crowd is chanting for blood! ‘TKO! TKO! TKO!’”

“Rot!”

“TOTAL KNOCK OUTTTTTTT!”

The vampire launches himself into the air, screaming incoherent bloody murder as he lands on top of his girlfriend with a muffled thump, the matte leather couch shifting with their conjoined weight. He doesn’t hit her with his elbow at all— the posing had simply been for theatrics— but he does dive his face right into her neck, blowing raspberries into her skin until she’s a giggling, bucking mess under him. He weaves his arms around her hips, pulling her close to keep her from escaping his attack, continuing to nip and prod as he wreaks havoc across every pressure point where he knows she’s ticklish. Y/N shoves at him futilely to try and get him off, but she’s too caught up in the moment to actually garner any success. They’re a mess of flailing limbs and contagious laughter as Harry torments her, and she’s practically forgotten all about her concerns from earlier. In the face of Harry’s efforts, her insecurities have shrunken away and dissolved all together, just as he’d intended.

When the immortal finally rolls off her in a merciful ceasefire, he lands on his back beside her on the couch, the motion accompanied by an empty grunt and a shit-eating smirk. He glances over at the human, her hair a rat’s nest and her clothes wrinkled and bunched due to his actions. Even with her disheveled appearance, the bright smile adorning her features lets him know his little act had worked out the way he wanted it to.

He reaches over, moving a strand of hair off her cheek with his index finger, delicately tucking it behind her ear. He then nurses the back of that same digit over the apple of her cheek, the gesture as tender and caring as his voice. “Feel better?”

She cranes her head to meet his gaze, chewing into her cheek to stifle the warm fondness flooding her heaving chest. “Maybe.”

“Good.” He pinches her cheek playfully, putting on a serious demeanor for the sake of the joke. “Take this round as a warning, then. I won’t be so nice next time.”

“Consider me warned.”

[regretthatsme]

Looney's Sister - Harry Potter x Fem!Lovegood!Reader

That's right bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes. I'm back. I'm so happy that I finished a oneshot. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm sorry I've taken so long to post. But, it's here now!

Harry didn't know when his fondness for Luna's sister, Y/N, started. He just knew that he liked her a lot. They were quite good friends, actually. A few years ago, she saw him struggling with herbology, which just so happened to be Y/N's strong suit. It quite convenient honestly, especially when you consider the fact that Y/N was have issues in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knew from the start that his feelings for her were more than platonic. What he didn't expect was for him to fall so hard. But, how could he not when she was so perfect.

Her bubbly personality was so inviting and warm. Her eyes made e/c his favorite color. He adored her laugh; it sounded like a beautiful melody. Her smile was just as stunning.

Godric, I'm whipped, he thought. There was one issue, though. He couldn't for the life of him ask her out, ironic for a Gryffindor. What if she doesn't like me? How do I ask her out?

His mind would race into the late hours of the night, wondering how he would work up the courage to ask her out. He knew she wouldn't like something big and extravagant, for she had trouble processing lots of information at once, much like her sister. Her sister!

Harry wondered how he never thought of asking Luna before. I mean, their personalities mirrored each other almost perfectly. He quickly ran to the forbidden forest. Luna spent most of her time there.

"Hello, Harry." A dreamy voice called to him.

"Hello, Luna."

"Is there a reason you are here?"

"Umm... yeah." Harry's face became very hot suddenly, a stark contrast to the nippy weather that morning. "I-uh. I should probably come right out and say it, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." Luna responded. Harry couldn't tell if she was sarcastic or not.

"I've fallen deeply in love with your sister, and I was wondering if you knew how I could ask her out."

Luna was clear shocked by this revelation. She thought for a few minutes before replying, "I appreciate your honesty, however I cannot say that I am too pleased with it."

Harry's face fell slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Harry, she's recently had her heart broken by another. I'm sorry, but I do not trust you with her love."

-*-*-*-

He knew he shouldn't be over thinking this. He knew that it was pointless. He knew it was only going to give him stress, but he couldn't stop as much as he tried. Who would dare hurt her? Her? The most caring, beautiful person in Hogwarts?

Needless to say, Harry's eyes were sporting some serious under eye bags the next morning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Hermione during breakfast, noting the discoloration under her friend's eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"He was up late last night." Said his best friend and roommate, Ronald Weasley.

"No, I wasn't, Ron."

"Okay. Fine. You went to bed at a reasonable time." Ron said before turning to Hermione and mouthing No he didn't. Harry was about to retaliate before a small body sat down next to him. A dreamy voice rendered his speech effectively useless as a flush filled his cheeks.

"Hello Hermione, Ron. Good morning, Harry." She addressed each individually, as she always does. "How are we this morning?"

Ron smirked a small bit at his friend's face. "Oh, I'm splendid." He remarked, chuckling slightly at his friend's state. "What about you, Harry?"

Y/N seemed to perk up at the name. Her head turned to him, only now noticing the rosy hue on his cheeks. "Oh dear, you don't look so well." Her voice was distinctly quieter, almost as if she only wanted him to hear. Her hand slowly came up to feel his forehead. "You're absolutely scalding! And it's clear you haven't gotten any sleep."

She panicked slightly.

Ron tried to hold in a laugh. "Oh, yes. Harry was hacking and wheezing last night. It was horrible."

Harry's eyes were about the size of saucers. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"Trust me." He mouthed back.

"He's in no shape to go to class. Someone must take care of him." Harry just realized what Ron was trying to do. Wanker.

"I would, but Hermione and I have a test first period." Hermione nodded too, quickly becoming aware of his scheme. "Looks like you're going to need to take care of him. I really wish I could help."

Y/N's eyes never left Harry's face. "Be sure to tell the teachers about Harry's predicament." She said as she dragged him out of the great hall, despite his protests. She knew the password was as she was a frequenter of the Gryffindor common room. He was led to his dorm and was forced onto the bed.

"Y/N, I'm gonna tell you one more time. I'm not-"

"Shhhhhh." She cut him off. "Harry, relax. I can't remember the last time you did." She did have a point. He couldn't remember the last time he had a stress free hour, much less day. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and whip up something. Get some rest, alright?" He nodded his head. His eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. He didn't really dream, but he felt a sort of presence. It felt like a giant hug.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he woke to the sound of Y/N closing his bedroom door. "I made a soup with some clowort root mixed in. It should help with your symptoms." She said. "And, there is some water to wash it all down."

"You never cease to amaze me." He said rather bluntly in his sleepy delirium. He took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted quite like the food in the great hall, but there was something distinctly different from it. There was an unmistakable taste of... home. He quickly went for more.

"Slow down, Harry!" Y/N's volume raised ever so slightly. "Consuming large amounts of clowort root can lead to some unwanted side effects."

"Like what?"

She gestured for him to lead forward, as if telling him a secret. "People tend to make quite irrational decisions when copious amounts of clowort are in their system." She pulled back and gave a stern yet loving gaze.

"I don't know. I've eaten a decent amount and I don't feel a thing." He said indifferently. She simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Hey. I uh... I heard from Luna that you had some trouble with a boy and I'm here if you need to talk or anything." He knew that he probably shouldn't invite his crush to talk openly about a romantic partner she had, but he would listen to her talk about anything and everything just to hear her voice.

"Oh. It's nothing. Just a stupid fling that hadn't even lasted a month." Y/N said, her eyes becoming more solemn looking.

"It's just... if I had a girlfriend," especially one as perfect as you, "I would treat her better than that."

"I can see the brash decision making has already taken effect." Y/N jokes lightly, but only was laughing at it.

"I'm serious, you know." He said, grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers through his.

"Harry, you're not thinking straight-"

"Ever since we met each other and you helped me with your helped me with my homework. You were so kind."

"Harry, please don't-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, I wouldn't be so keen on falling in love someone who nearly dies every other weekend either, but I needed you to-"

"Harry." Her voice was ferm enough to cut off his incoherent ramblings. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "You're not well. You're saying things you don't mean-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Harry, I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes held a certain glossiness to it that he hadn't seen before. Her voice was almost breaking. "You are amazing and sweet and beautiful and... well, words can hardly describe how much I admire you. But," Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. "You're just doing this because you're sick and under the influence. You don't mean it-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry giggled slightly. He was getting a bit frustrated at this point. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

She looked deep into his emerald eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and they weren't lying. Every emotion, every thought running through his pretty head, everything could be seen in them. It was so intense, she could only make eye contact for a few seconds.

"Nothing." Y/N whispered. Harry's head snapped to her. "I believe you, Harry." They sat in silence for a while, processing the revelation that just took place. It was a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. The apprehension of the unknown was creeping upon them. Now what? Where do we go from here?

Harry was the first to make a move. He held his arm out, inviting her join him on his, rather small in hindsight, bed. She happily accepted and curled into his side. She was practically on top of him due to the size of the bed, yet he couldn't be happier. Neither could she.

Bonus:

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" Y/N was positive that Luna's cries could be heard throughout the entire castle.

"Luna, please calm down-" She tried to console.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

[unholyobsessions]

Take a sick day (or a dozen)

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Five times Julie takes care of Luke and one time he returns the favor

Requested: Yes

A/N: For the first part technically, Luke should not have gotten the symptoms as quickly, it normally takes days, but let’s just pretend okay? let’s not worry about technicalities

Warnings: Sickness, light cursing

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist 

It’s the middle of July. Julie should be getting ready to go to college not taking care of her stupidly adorable little brother. Her dad is out of town photographing a wedding, so when Carlos comes down with Chicken Pox, she is stuck with nurse duty. 

Luke, her ever so caring boyfriend, offers to help her so that is why they are both running around the house, waiting on Carlos hand and foot. Julie keeps phoning the doctor every thirty minutes because Carlos still will not eat and Luke keeps replacing the cold towel on his forehead. 

What Luke forgot to mention when he offered to help was that he never got the Chicken pox as a child. After the third day Luke woke up, scratching at his arms and torso non stop, Julie starts getting worried. A few hours later she gets tired of seeing Luke not so subtly scratching again, so she grabs his arm and pulls up his sleeve. His arms are covered with blisters and Julie lets out a loud gasp. 

“You lied!” Julie exclaimed. 

Luke pulls his arms away from her grasp and raises them in defense. “Technically I didn’t lie. I did not know I never got chicken pox!.” He counters her accusation and Carlos, who is sitting between them, just glances back and forth between the two, highly amused by the interaction. 

“Go take a shower, I’ll go call the doctor and ask him what to do when an eighteen year old idiot gets chicken pox.” Julie huffed out, getting up from her crouched position beside the bed. 

Carlos and Luke stared after her and the former shook his head. “You’re lucky she loves you.” 

Luke let out a small laugh and pushed himself up. “Yeah I am.” 

Fifteen minutes later Luke is out of the shower and now running a high fever. The doctor reassures her that he would be fine and that she should just use the same medication that she has been giving Carlos. 

With that out of the way, Julie realizes that Luke is a giant baby. He complains more than Carlos and whines about the slightest inconvenience. It should be in her best interest to send him home and have his parents take care of him but she knows they both have full time jobs and cannot afford to take a week off to take care of him. So she muscles through it, running back and forth between Carlos’s room and her own room, where Luke is staying. 

It’s after midnight, two days later, and Carlos has already succumbed to the exhaustion so she is sitting next to her bed, placing a cold towel on Luke’s forehead, who had just been complaining that the room is too hot. A moment later, after he had taken his medicine he turns to look at her, a loving smile on his lips. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit.” He says it so softly that she has to lean forward to hear him properly, but there is so much emotion in that statement that it makes her cheeks flush. 

“I would do it one hundred times over Luke, you know that,” she whispers, reaching a hand toward his, curling their fingers together. 

“I know, but still thank you. I know you would much prefer to spend the weekend shopping with Flynn.” That gets a laugh out of her and Luke smiles triumphantly. 

“You would have found a way to tag along,” she retorts and Luke barks out a loud laugh, immediately followed by a yawn. “Go to sleep, I’m in my dad’s room if you need me.” She presses a kiss on the crown of his head and gets up to leave, turning the lights off on her way out. 

. . .

It’s their first semester at University and things are going great. But of course Luke had to go and ruin it all. Julie really does not know how someone could get sick as easily as Luke. It’s normally a common cold that goes away in twenty four hours but no. He had to go all out. 

It’s flu season and Julie is stuck in a dorm room with her very annoying, very sick, and very adorable roommate/boyfriend. 

Luke can barely move, his body feeling heavy. His head is pounding and the room feels both too hot and too cold at the same time. 

Julie walks back into the room after a quick trip to the local CVS store to get supplies. She really hopes this doesn’t last for more than a few days, because she can’t afford to miss too many classes. She makes the mistake of turning on the light, prompting Luke to grown loudly and yell in discontent as if he were being stabbed. Julie rolls her eyes and turns the light off, settling for the lamp on her desk. 

She pulls out the thermometer from the bag and proceeds to tear up the packaging with her teeth because in her state of stress, she didn’t think of just putting the bag down. Once she finally got it open she put it against his forehead and waited for the indicated beep. 

She hisses once she sees the temperature. “102.5. Damn I was really hoping you didn’t have a fever.” She takes out the packet of pills from the bag and a water bottle and hands him two pills and the open bottle. “Take these.” 

Luke obediently takes them and turns to look at her. “Aren’t you worried about catching it?” 

“Not really. I had my flu shot two weeks ago. I told you to get it but you’re afraid of needles.” Julie deadpans and sits on the edge of his bed. 

Luke shoots up with a sudden burst of energy. “I am not afraid of needles,” he exclaims. 

Julie rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Yes you are you big baby. Now lay down or you’ll get dizzy.” 

Luke mumbles incoherently, no doubt complaining, but he obeys and lays down, squeezing his eyes shut because just as Julie said, he gets dizzy. Julie pulls the covers up to his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair. Luke hums, content with the feeling of his girlfriend playing with his hair. 

“Can you sing me a song?” He asks after a few minutes, startling Julie who thought he had fallen asleep. 

“Yeah, of course.” She nods her head even though he can’t see her. Luke grasps her arm and pulls her down to lay down next to him. She lets out a small giggle and cuddles up to him

“I’m in my bed

And you're not here”

Luke interrupts her, finally opening his eyes to look at her incredulously. 

“Could you have picked a sadder song?” Julie barks out a loud laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth in order to not be too loud. 

“I’m sorry! It was just the song I had in my head.” Luke shakes his head, whispering a soft “unbelievable,” under his breath.

“Pick something happier but still soft.” 

Julie looked down at him, fully prepared to ask him what the hell he meant by his request, but he has already nuzzled back into her side with his eyes closed. She let out a small sigh with a small smile on her face. 

“Any suggestions?” 

Luke stayed quiet for a second before piping up with a tired voice. “Truly, Madly, Deeply. The One Direction song you showed me other week.” 

She decides not to comment on his unusual choice, Luke never having been one to willingly listen to One Direction (he loves them, he just refuses to admit it.) Julie simply kisses the top of his head and with a deep breath, she begins the song.  

Julie missed three days of classes, and every second not spent doing the work she missed or getting Luke his medicine, was spent singing him to sleep. 

. . .

Luke should have known that eating those hotdogs was a bad idea. The food truck was sketchy and mostly without customers but Reggie and Alex dared him to do it and because he’s a prideful idiot, he did it. Now he is suffering the consequences as he retches the contents of his stomach into the toilet as Julie rubs his back soothingly. 

She’s singing something under her breath, Luke doesn’t recognize it at first so he focuses all his energy on listening to her voice. 

“Sana sana colita de rana si no sana hoy, sanará mañana,” and she repeats it again and again. Luke has stopped throwing up by now and is resting his head on the toilet seat, which is not the most hygienic  but he can barely keep his eyes open much less move. He mumbles something incoherently and Julie leans forward, “What did you say?” 

“What the heck are you singing?” 

Julie has to resist the urge to laugh as she answers. “It’s I guess a saying? I’m not sure how to describe it, it’s just something my mom used to say whenever I would get injured.” 

Luke wants to believe that he nods his head in affirmation but in reality, it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing with how still he is, slumped against the toilet. His lips starts moving but there is no sound escaping them and for a moment Julie thinks he fell asleep, but then his arms reach forward to grip the edge of the seat as he starts throwing up again. 

Julie grimaces and continues to rub his back, only stopping when her phone rings and she has to reach her arm up to the counter to grab it. She speaks in hushed words to the doctor on the other end, nodding her head along to what he’s saying. A few minutes later she hangs up and Luke squints at her, wanting to know what’s going on. 

“Well apparently all of your symptoms align with mild food poisoning. Nothing too serious and since you don’t have a fever, it should go away on its own by tomorrow. Only thing is we have to keep you hydrated so I texted Alex and Reggie to get you some electrolytes.” 

Luke didn’t even try to move this time, simply groaning audibly and clutching an arm around his abdomen, which feels like it’s on fire. After Luke goes a full five minutes without throwing up, Julie brings a hand up to flush the toilet. The sudden noise causing Luke to jump up and turn to Julie with a paranoid gaze. 

Julie, not wanting to make him feel bad, hides her smile by biting her lip. She runs a hand through his sweat matted hair and gently pulls his head onto her lap. She continues to softly speak the ‘sana sana’ because even though she knows now that it doesn’t work, her little seven-year-old self believed it could cure any injuries or sickness. 

She stays in the bathroom floor, back cramping and neck stiff, for about thirty minutes, simply enjoying seeing Luke breathing in and out calmly. She knows that as soon as he wakes up, he will be filled with pain and discomfort so if she has to suffer a few minutes of it, then so be it. 

He is woken up by the sound of a knock on the door, no doubt Reggie and Alex with the supplies she made them get. Luke immediately shoots up and starts gagging and Julie doesn’t know how he can still be throwing up after having done so about five times already. 

She gets up and brings a hand to her neck, yelling out an annoyed “coming!” as the knocking persists. She opens the the door, takes the bag out of their hands, and closes it again, the fact that they are the reason she is in this situation not escaping her. 

She makes Luke brush his teeth before bringing him to bed, knowing he will be much more comfortable. She hands him an opened bottle of the lemon flavored drink, but he pushes it away. Julie rolls her eyes and pushes the drink back toward him. He groans and turns away, refusing to even so much as look at what she is offering. 

“I swear to God Luke if you don’t take this right now, I will pour it down your throat myself.” And she knows she is being a bit harsh but this is the only thing he has to take in order to feel better and he is acting like a child over it. 

With fear in his eyes, Luke takes the bottle, bringing it to his lips and taking the tiniest of sips, his mood immediately brightening at the smile Julie sends him. 

(Julie was right and he did feel infinitely better the next day)

. . .

It was supposed to be romantic.  

Julie smiling widely at him as he twirled her and dipped her repeatedly. Their laughter both echoing louder than fireworks and being drowned out by the wind. The rain hitting them at a rapid pace, quickly soaking them from head to toe. But they didn’t care. They were just two teenager in love, enjoying the clicheness of dancing in the rain to the beat of their hearts, which pounded against their chests as one. 

Luke doesn’t remember when exactly he started to sing, a couple of meaningless lyrics he had had stuck in his head for the a few days. And he is not sure when Julie joined him, but by the time they stopped, they were out of breath, it was already dark, and the large raindrops had turned into a light drizzle. 

So in reality, it was extremely romantic. 

What isn’t romantic is Luke waking up the next day with a horrible cough, congested, and a low fever. He tries to hide it, not wanting to admit it is big deal, but of course, Julie sees right through it. 

“You literally have the immune system of a newborn,” she says with a shake of her head. “Go take a warm shower, I’ll go call the doctor.” 

Luke opens his mouth to protest, but one harsh look from Julie sent his way and he immediately heads to the bathroom. He lets the warm water run over him, closing his eyes and hoping the steam created will ease up his nose. 

By the time he gets out, Julie has placed a warm towel and his favorite pair of sweats on the counter. He smiles and quickly dries up and changes. He pulls on one of his old muscle tanks as he exits the bathroom. 

Julie turns at the sound of the door opening and smiles. “I changed your sheets so they will be more comfortable. And the doctor said to give you the same things as when you had the flu but just in smaller doses.” 

Luke simply stares at her because he can’t help but think how the hell he got so lucky. His head is pounding and his throat is sore but with her sitting there in front of him, looking so effortlessly beautiful, he feels on cloud nine. He scampers off to his bed, taking in the scent of the new sheets and closes his eyes. 

Julie appears next to him a few seconds later, holding a bottle of cough syrup, a water bottle, and a small bottle of pills. He lets out a loud groan that is immediately followed by a cough. 

“You know Luke when I said I would take care of you one hundred times over, I didn’t mean it literally,” she says, trying to feign annoyance, but the loving smile on her face gives her away. “Now take your medicine please.” 

Luke throws his head back but takes the items from her hands. “Only ‘cause you said please,” he pouts. 

Julie snorts and kisses the top of his head before turning around. Luke lets out a sound of protest making her turn around instantly. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, voice filled with concern and disbelief. 

“Uhh class?” She phrases it like a question and shrugs her shoulder, not knowing what else she’s supposed to say. 

“And you’re going to leave me alone?” Luke has the biggest pout gracing his lips and he feels his throat closing in a little. Julie never leaves him alone when he’s sick. 

“You’re going to sleep all day anyway.” Luke shakes his head so fast that he has to squeeze his eyes to stop the room from spinning after. Once he has regained control he looks up to find Julie eyeing him softly and he knows she’s caving, so he puts on his best puppy dog eyes. 

With a defeated sigh, Julie drops her backpack. Luke cheers triumphantly and pats the space next to him.

“Wait. Before you lay down, can you get me one of those wet rags for my forehead?” Luke practically begs, and who is Julie to deny him?

She marches up to their little kitchenette and soaks a rag in cold water before filling a bowl with ice. She places the rag in the bowl and makes her way back to the bed, where Luke is just about ready for cuddles. She places the rag on his forehead and Luke shivers involuntarily. 

It is only a few minutes after Julie lays down beside him, when Luke decides to ask for something else. It seems that since he got her to stay, now he will take full advantage of it. This time he asks for a hot peach tea to ease his throat. And after that it’s a cold water bottle. After that it’s a plate of her peanut butter banana toast. 

By the time Luke falls asleep, she has ran around the room about ten times in order to fulfill his requests.  She lays down in her own bed, absolutely exhausted and is about to fall asleep when a loud whine come from Luke’s bed. With a groan, Julie sits up and her heart melts at the sight. Luke looks at her through half lidded eyes and makes grabby hands at her, clearly not liking having her so far away. 

Julie’s sure that by the time he wakes up he will no longer feel any trace of sickness so she goes and lays next to him, enjoying the familiar weight of his arm around her after a long day. 

. . .

Luke has no idea what words are coming out of his mouth at the moment and he supposes that’s an effect of the drugs. Today is the day he got his wisdom teeth out and his parents were supposed to take care of him for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, they had a last minute business trip and who is left with the responsibility? No one other than Julie. 

So that is why she finds herself lugging a nineteen year old back to the car, as he slurs out sentence fragments that don’t make a lot of sense. She finally gets him into the backseat and she takes a moment to breath before making her way to the drivers side. 

“Vroom vroom.” Luke mimics the sound of the engine turning on as Julie turns the key. 

“Yes Luke vroom vroom,” she responds with a smile on her face. Julie has taken care of Luke a number times but she has a feeling that this will be much different. 

When she parks in front of their dorm Luke lets out a loud ‘whoop’ from his place in the backseat. Julie turns and smiles at him and he does his best to smile back with the amount of cotton in his mouth. 

“The first thing I do,” he pauses as Julie wraps an arm around his waist to lead him up the stairs of their building. “The first thing I will do when I die, is ask Jonbenét Ramsey who killed her.” 

Julie stops walking for a full minute but Luke doesn’t seem to notice as he keeps rambling theories on who he thinks killed her. She looks at him, at first thinking that he is spitting out nonsense and then realizing that what he is saying actually makes a lot of sense. She makes a noise of agreement and continues walking up the stairs, letting go of Luke to open their door. 

Once she gets Luke settled he pulls on her arm and grins up at her, a small amount of saliva dribbling down his chin. “Kiss?” 

Julie shakes her head. “Sorry bud, no kisses until you’re no longer on drugs.” She wipes the drool with the tip of her thumb smiling back at him. He pouts and hugs his stuffed koala closer to his body. 

“Kiss!” He says again with a slight bounce. Julie laughs and shakes her head again, telling him to get some rest. “Cuddle?” He asks, trying to compromise. Julie complies with this request and lays down next to him. 

“You know what?” He mumbles and Julie hums, prompting him to continue. “I love you, more than you could ever possibly imagine.” 

“Is that so?” Julie giggles. 

“Yes. You are,” he furrows his brows to try to find the perfect word to describe her. “You’re music Julie. Your voice is the lyrics of my heart and your laughter the melodies.” 

Julie’s heart stops, her breath hitching as she blinks away tears. “I love you too Luke.” 

When Luke wakes up, he asks Julie if he said anything weird and Julie tells him he didn’t. And maybe it’s a little selfish of her but she wants to keep that little love confession to herself. 

. . .

Julie does not get sick often, so it it quite surprising when Luke wakes up and finds Julie curled up in her bed, groaning in pain. He scampers to her side quickly, gently shaking her shoulder in order to get her attention. With a soft whisper of her name, Julie stirs and squints up at Luke. She releases a whine and pulls the covers over her head. 

Luke’s eyes widen and he freezes for a second because, what the hell is he supposed to do? This situation is normally the other way around. He spots Julie’s phone on her desk and he makes a dash for it, knowing that she has the doctor’s phone number saved. 

“Come on, come on,” he mutters under his breath as the phone rings in his ear. He almost yells in success when the doctor’s voice comes through the phone but he is immediately offended by what the man says. 

“Is your boyfriend sick again Miss Molina?” Luke scoffs and responds in an equally sassy voice, because if Luke Patterson is anything, it’s petty. 

“No, actually Miss Molina is the one sick this time,” He waits for the reply, expecting another dig at him but the doctor shows immediate concern and asks for her symptoms. In that moment Luke realizes he doesn’t know what Julie’s symptoms are and has a weird need to turn to his mom (who isn’t there) and have her answer the questions. “Hang on a second.” 

He goes back to Julie’s side and does his best to get her to say something to him. He tells her that if she tells him what hurts he’ll get her ice cream, not actually expecting it to work. Seconds later, Julie is telling him all of her symptoms which he promptly repeats to the doctor on the other end of the call.

He tells her that it is better to bring her in so he can test her for different sicknesses but the one that caught Luke’s ear, is strep. He got strep (unsurprisingly) when he was younger and although he doesn’t remember all the details, he remembers it sucks. 

He coerces Julie to take a warm shower, insuring her that she will feel much better when she does. With a disgruntled noise and a lot of protest, Luke gets her to the bathroom. As she showers he changes her sheets and gets her favorite hoodie of his from his dresser. He places them on the counter for her and then sits by the door, leg bouncing up and down with anxiety. 

A few minutes later he is driving a sleeping Julie to the doctor’s office where they confirm that she does in fact have strep throat. Julie whines about getting her ice cream to ease her sore throat and he makes her promise that she will eat the chicken soup the doctor recommended first. He get’s to CVS and gets all of the medication the doctor prescribed as well as a pint of Julie’s favorite cookie dough ice cream and a few cans of chicken noodle soup. He can’t cook okay?

He tucks Julie into bed, giving her all the extra pillows so she can sit up as Luke heats up the soup. Julie grumbles about it being from a can and Luke does his best to assure her that it’s good, which includes him having to eat his own bowl of it. She falls asleep immediately after finishing the soup and Luke stays next to her, running fingers through her curly, still slightly damp hair. 

He is scrolling through his phone when Julie starts to stir, a noise of pain exiting her lips followed by a whine. 

“Hurts,” She whispers, cuddling closer to Luke. His heart aches for her and he pulls her even closer, kissing the top of her head. 

“I’m sorry Jules. Anything I can do?” He feels her nod and he looks down at her surprised. “Really? What do you need?” 

“Ice cream,” She mumbles into his chest and Luke’s shoulders start shaking with silent laughter. When he tries to get up, Julie clings to him and he has to remind her that she has to let go in order for him to get her the ice cream. She reluctantly allows him to leave and smiles the brightest she has all day when he comes back with Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough and a big spoon. She quietly enjoys her ice cream as Luke starts up a movie on his laptop. 

Luke spends the rest of the day emailing both his and Julie’s professors which takes much longer than he expects since he only has the use of one arm, Julie clinging to the other one tightly. The response from their professors are about the same, telling them to make sure to do their readings and whatnot. Eventually, when it is already late and dark outside, Luke shuts his laptop and goes to sleep. 

The next day, when Julie is a bit more lucid she pushes Luke off the bed in a haste. He yells out a string of profanities as he hits the floor and Julie looks at him incredulously. 

“Why are you in my bed? I’m going to get you sick!” Luke rolls his eyes as her hand goes to her neck, immediately regretting raising her voice. 

“Really Jules? You literally have taken care of me dozens of times. If you think that I’m not doing the same for you, then you’re insane. I love you and I’ll do anything for you. So lay back down while I heat you up some soup.” Luke gets back up and pushes her back into a laying position. 

Julie complains about it but agrees to his conditions quickly, not really having much energy to argue. She is much less clingy, now fully aware that she could let Luke sick if they’re not careful. 

Luke finds that taking care of Julie isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He teases Julie about her always complaining after he gets sick and she reminds him that she is much less of a nuisance than he is, which Luke supposes is true. After a week of Luke fighting Julie to take her medicine, long whines, five pints of ice cream, and a whole lot of naps, Julie is feeling much better. Luke says it’s all thanks to him, and Julie agrees with him for the sole reason of seeing him smile after she does so.

The most surprising part though, Luke doesn’t get sick and to them, that is a win within itself. 

(He does end up with a twenty-four hour virus going around campus about three weeks later but that’s a story for another time.)

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Whoops everyone’s poly

You guys remember that Mal/Jay/Evie/Carlos/Ben/Jane/Doug/Lonie post I made forever ago and said I probably wasn’t ever gonna write? Well. Turns out I’m gonna write it.

“You don’t have to be.” Mal says it with such conviction that Jane looks up from her shaking hands, blinking in stupid confusion at her. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to be a better daughter,” She says, firmer, and with none of the slow over-enunciation that usually accompanies her mother when Jane forces her to repeat herself. “If she refuses to be a better mother. It’s a two-way street, and since she’s the one who dragged you kicking and screaming into this world, she’s the one who owes you more.”

Oh. Oh, of course. For a second, Jane had forgotten who she was talking to, and now that she’s been reminded -- goodness, she’s so selfish, whining about such trivial problems to the isle kids. “It isn’t like that,” Jane rushes to explain. “It isn’t like --” The way Mal barely sleeps and Evie barely eats and Jay can’t stand being touched sometimes and Carlos has scars on every inch of him. “She would never hit me,” Jane says, instead of any of that. “She’s never once laid a hand on me.”

Mal breathes slowly out through her nose. Shakes her head. Meets Jane’s earnest stare with her own gaze too soft, too understanding. Says “She doesn’t have to.”

~~

Doug slams the side of his fists against the countertop, so full of rage and weariness that he’s sick with it all the way up to his lungs. It tastes like acid in his throat, spilling out past his lips. “We’re not human!” He snarls, angrier than he’s let himself be in a long, long time. “Dwarves and fairies and- and- genies and mer! We aren’t just humans with some extra pieces! We aren’t just different phenotypes, we’re completely different genotypes! It’s disgusting, the way they expect us to live!”

It isn’t fair to let this out in front of Jay. Doug feels kind of stupid about it actually, like a puppy yapping at a grizzled old police dog. His anger must look as pathetic as it feels, coming from someone like him, but -- dammit. 

“I am so goddamn tired,” He says, “Of chopping off pieces of myself so I don’t make some rich, spoiled asshole uncomfortable.”

His pitiful ranting sputters off into incoherent, angry noises. He thumps his fists against the counter a second time. A third, before he calms down enough to acknowledge that even though he’s sturdier than a human, his fists will still break before the marble does. He presses them down instead, palms flat against cold stone. Feels the hum of it under his hands like a struck anvil, ringing out.

In the sudden silence of the kitchen, he gasps “Sorry. Sorry, that -- I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

Jay doesn’t answer. For a second, Doug thinks he must have left the kitchen when Doug started throwing his little temper tantrum. Serves you right, he thinks. Other people shouldn’t have to listen to you whining.

Then he jumps a mile in the air, because without making a single sound Jay crosses the kitchen and gets close enough to reach out and tug on a lock of Doug’s hair.

Jay doesn’t laugh at him for startling and whipping around though, doesn’t even poke fun at Doug’s raised hands, like he thinks he’s tough enough to win a fight against anyone. Jay just looks at him with his easy smile and reaches up again, pushing Doug’s glasses up from where they’d slipped down his nose. “Want me to braid your hair?” Jay asks.

~~

“Hold up.” Lonnie rounds on Carlos so fast he jumps. “You’ve been holding back on me?!”

“No, no!” Carlos waves his hands in front of him like he’s trying to blow away the very idea. “It’s just, I’m used to fights where people are trying to kill each other! Like, for real kill each other? And those are really hard! But here it’s hard in a different way, because we aren’t trying to hurt anybody and there’s rules about what moves I can and can’t use and it gets kinda confusing! I guess I just… have to concentrate more on doing things differently for ROAR because I learned a totally different way, and it makes me slower and, like. Clumsier. I guess.”

Lonnie groans, bringing her hand up to her face. “Okay,” She says, after taking a minute to contemplate this new information. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get dressed, I’m gonna go get my sword, and we’re gonna meet in the training room in fifteen minutes to have a no-holds-barred, actual sword fight, and you’re gonna show me what you can really do. Got it?”

‘Uh. Now?” Carlos glances at the clock, brow furrowing. “But it’s already past curfew? And, I heard you saying you had a test tomorrow, don’t you wanna stu--”

“De Vil!” She cuts over him. It’s kind of cute, how quickly and how easily he jumps to attention when she calls on him. “Fifteen minutes. Do you need me to say it again?”

“No, Captain,” He says. When he shakeshakeshakes his head his curls go flying everywhere. That’s kinda cute, too. “I’ll be there.”

Lonnie lets her stern expression drop, grinning at him, and then grinning wider when his shoulders slump and he smiles shyly back at her. “Good,” She chirps. Then she turns on her heel and marches out of the room.

~~

It’s half past one in the morning. Ben will blame that for why he can’t seem to smile wide enough, can’t bring himself to brush off Evie’s concerns with quite enough grace. It’s half past one in the morning and Ben needs to be up in three and a half hours to meet with his financial advisors and he has two tests tomorrow that he hasn’t studied for and He’s expected to give a speech at the Gala this weekend and he’s still fighting with his counsel over housing arrangements for the new wave of isle kids even though they’ll be here in barely a month and he just. He can’t. Smile. Right now.

Weak, he thinks. You’re so weak.

Evie’s hand is small and warm and so gentle when she rests it against his arm, peering up at him with worry all over her face. “Ben?”

To his horror, he feels his eyes start to sting. He turns away from her, clenches them shut, hoping against hope that she hasn’t noticed. “I’m sorry,” He gets out through the sudden knot in his throat. “Sorry, I’m. I’m just a little over tired is all, I was just --”

“Getting coffee?” Evie accuses, not unkindly. “At almost two am?”

“I have. Paperwork.”

“Ben.” She doesn’t try to force him to look at her, which is a good thing, because his fight against the tears is a losing battle. It’s all he can do to breathe instead of break down sobbing. “Ben, sweetheart. When was the last time you slept? Or…” A thoughtful pause. A dangerous pause, because Evie is observant and she pays attention to everything and the only person better than her at noticing things Ben would rather keep hidden is Carlos, who Ben has managed to avoid.

When Evie speaks again, her voice is even softer, practically whispering to him in the low light of the kitchen. “Or ate? Or got some exercise, or did something you enjoyed?”

He can’t answer her. He’s too busy trying to stop crying. Part of him is almost grateful for it, because it means he doesn’t have to admit that he doesn’t remember.

“Oh, Ben…”

He risks a look over his shoulder. Through blurry eyes, he sees her, looking at him with such open heartbreak on her face. Whatever defenses he has, they aren’t strong enough to withstand that. He crumples forward against the table, buries his face in his hands. “I don’t--” He hiccups out. Coughs. Swallows. Tries to breathe. “I don’t know what to do.”

[spaceskam]

the storm inside him grew

day 10 for @winged-fool! And also the last one that will be on time! The last 3 are taking longer than anticipated, but they’ll still be coming. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

warning: ptsd, dissociation, angst, hopeful ending, hurt/comfort

ao3

Alex had never felt so shitty and so content at the same time.

He raised his hand that was cupped with water, letting it pour over Michael’s bare chest. The man was deadweight against Alex after having fallen asleep sometime shortly after the beginning of their bath. He was breathing slow and steady, a direct contradiction to the tear tracks on his splotchy cheeks. Alex wasn’t really sure what had caused the crying, all he knew was Michael had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of a storm. He was sobbing and shivering and soaking wet, so Alex pulled him inside without a thought.

“I’ve got you,” Alex whispered, keeping himself from covering him in kisses. He wanted to. Badly. That’s all he wanted. However, he didn’t know if he was allowed. He wasn’t really sure what was happening.

Michael had clutched onto him, sobbing incoherently in between the word ‘Alex’ over and over. Alex had hugged him and tried his best to make it go away, to make whatever was hurting him leave. When that didn’t work, Alex had whispered sweet nothings to him that was usually saved for when day turned to night and defensively rough sex turned into something a lot more personal. Still, that hadn’t worked, so Alex asked what he needed and all he got in response was ‘Alex’. So he brought him to the bathroom.

For all he knew, Michael was still in a relationship with Maria. They could’ve broken up and that could’ve caused the crying, but this didn’t seem like an end-of-relationship breakdown. So they could still be together and this could’ve been triggered by something else entirely. Was this just a long time coming? Did something new happen? Was Isobel okay? Was Liz okay? He didn’t have answers and he didn’t really want to ask. It was easier to be in this bubble of them that he hadn’t gotten in years. Not really, not entirely, not purely.

This was pure.

Buffy’s feet tapped against the tile as she waddled in, staring at them with her naturally judgy eyes. Alex wanted to say ‘what? I’m not doing anything wrong,’ but the truth was he could be doing something wrong, he just hadn’t gotten confirmation and was choosing to be ignorant. Because, if Michael and Maria were still together, this was something wrong. Even though it wasn’t sexual, even though it wasn’t even romantic, it was something intimate. If Michael was Alex’s and Alex found out he went to someone else and took a bath with them to calm down, he would be furious.

He didn’t feel as bad as he should’ve.

“Four years ago, I thought I was never going to see you again,” Alex whispered, pushing a wet hand through Michael’s hair. It was already wet with a mix of sweat and rainwater, so Alex cupped more water in his hands and brought it to his hair. “We had gotten in a fight and you told me that if I planned on leaving again, there was no point in coming back. But I had to leave because I was still in the Air Force and I wasn’t about to get arrested because I didn’t want to leave your bed, so I let you push me away. Maybe some part of me wanted you to.”

Michael moaned low in his throat as Alex began working the shampoo into his hair. He had no idea if he was even awake or not, but he kept on. He’d already fucked up today, might as well revel in it.

“I love you,” Alex said, softer than before, “Even if you don’t love me and even if you don’t want me to love you, I can’t help it. You are in my veins, Michael. No matter what, I am yours. And I’m so sorry about it. I wish I could be someone that you wanted.”

Michael took in a heavy breath through his nose and shifted, laying on his side with his head tucked over Alex’s heart. Alex resisted the urge to kiss his head and poured more water on it instead.

Buffy huffed at him, waddling back out as if she couldn’t even take his shit right now. It was a valid feeling to have. The logical part of Alex’s brain could barely deal with him right now, he was stuck. And, God, he wanted to be stuck.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Alex went on, making sure he got all the soap out of his hair before reaching for the conditioner, “But I hope you know you can tell me. Maybe I can help. Or, even if you don’t want to, I’m still here. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

He got every inch of Michael’s hair, being extra careful about the side that was pressed to his chest. He didn’t want him to move. When he got it all covered in conditioner, he just stared at him for a moment. And when that didn’t feel satisfying enough, he wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, “You’re safe.”

Alex felt the last of the tension fall from Michael’s shoulders.

Getting Michael to bed was a great feat that left Alex feeling sore and out of breath.

He had to wake him up so he could get out of the bath, but being conscious only seemed to reignite the panic in his system and he ended up crying on the floor of the bathroom. Which meant Alex had to listen to it as he dried off as quickly as possible and put on his prosthetic even when he really didn’t want to. But, he did it and dried Michael off before bringing him to bed.

He took a moment to breathe before he dressed them both in nothing but boxers, too worn out to do anything else. Then he took his leg back off and sat on the bed where Michael was crying helplessly into the comforter, his whole body balled up and shaking.

“I hope you’re okay,” Alex whispered, staring at him uneasily. This was too much. He should’ve just let him sleep in the bath.

Alex crawled into bed and grabbed the blanket, engulfing Michael and himself in it. He wrapped Michael up in his arms and held him as tightly as he could. Michael’s face stayed tucked under his chin with his cheek against his heart, wrapped up in him. Again, Alex felt the moment he relaxed. It took weaving his hands through his wet hair and taking steady breaths that Michael unconsciously matched.

“I’ve got you, love.”

Alex stayed awake for another hour or so and Buffy decided she could stand him enough to come climb onto the foot of the bed. It was well past 3 in the morning and things were finally calm which allowed Alex to dose off with the love of his life in his arms.

He couldn’t have been asleep long when Michael woke him up again.

Michael was suddenly aware again, sitting up slow and confused as he looked around the room. Alex rubbed his eyes and gave him an encouraging smile. He wanted so badly to go back to sleep, but he could stay awake to make sure he was alright.

“Alex?” Michael said, voice clear like he hadn’t been sobbing for hours, “What the hell is going on?”

Michael looked almost offended, clearly irritated to find himself, not in his girlfriend’s bed, but in his ex’s. That woke Alex right up, sitting up sharply.

“Why am I here?” Michael demanded. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and stared at him. He just roughly got out of bed. “Where are my clothes? What the fuck happened, Alex?”

“Do you not remember?” Alex asked carefully. Michael scoffed.

“Obviously not. Last thing I remember was I had a date with Maria and then it started storming and suddenly I wake up half-naked in your bed,” Michael said, still searching for his clothes. Alex felt sick as he paused and looked at him accusatorily. “Did anything happened?” 

Alex gulped and his stomach dropped. He pulled the blanket up over his chest, feeling vulnerable and out of place and angry. All he’d done is taken care of someone he loved who needed him and now he was being judged for it.

“No,” Alex said softly. 

“Good,” Michael said, “Where are my clothes?”

“Bathroom,” Alex answered. Michael stormed that way and came out fully clothed.

“Do not tell anyone about this,” Michael all but threatened and then he was gone.

Alex sat frozen for a few minutes, trying to process what had just happened. No processing seemed to make sense. Did Michael simply lose hours of his night to crying to Alex? Did he drive when he wasn’t all there? Regardless, something about it all left Alex feeling horrible and dirty.

He laid down and tried to blink whatever tears that came away. Buffy crawled up beside him, cuddling up and trying to provide the comfort that Michael had. It didn’t really work, but he appreciated the effort.

He just couldn’t figure out what happened.

-

Two weeks passed and Alex hadn’t heard from anyone about anything. Michael never called, Maria never freaked. It was radio silence. He felt it was for the best and tried to forget about it. He was almost successful too.

It wasn’t until he heard a crack of thunder and a familiar panicked knocking on the door that made it clear that he couldn’t forget. Alex tried to ignore it and tried to be the bigger person. He still hadn’t been able to shake how wrong and dirty he’d felt when Michael had left the last time‒he refused to make it worse. He wasn’t going to answer the door.

“Alex,” Michael’s voice called, panicked and scared and desperate and thick with tears, “Alex!”

Alex clenched his fists in his lap, squeezing his eyes shut and tried to breathe. Buffy whined and nudged his leg, pawing at him. He didn’t know if she was trying to tell him to calm down or to go to Michael.

“Alex! Alex! Alex!” Michael screamed, sobbing as he banged against the door. Alex could hear the horrible sounds of him crying. 

“What do I do?” Alex whispered to no one in particular. He needed help. He couldn’t do this alone.

Buffy ran to the door in response, pawing at it and howling in response to Michael’s cries. That felt like all the help he was going to get.

Slowly, Alex went to the door. When he opened it, he found Michael in the same state as he had three weeks prior. He was soaking wet and sobbing and instantly clung to Alex like it was the only thing he could.

“Alex,” he whimpered. Alex had no choice but to hold him right back. He couldn’t just let Michael cry. He couldn’t do it.

Rather than make the mistake of stripping him out of his wet clothes again, Alex simply fetched a towel and wrapped around him. He placed them on the couch instead of the bed. He let Michael curl into him, but he didn’t initiate anything. He refused to do something wrong again. He refused. 

Michael was shivering in his towel, head in Alex’s lap. Alex simply ran his fingers through his hair and tried to tell himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. This was fine. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“You can’t do this to me again,” Alex told him, “You can’t just come here… You can’t just need me.”

Michael, of course, didn’t respond. Instead of stressing, Alex continued to run his fingers through his hair and try to keep him warm as the crying persisted. The crying only died down when Michael fell asleep, even then letting out small little whimpers. Alex wanted to hold him until every single thing that had ever bothered him went away. He wanted so, so badly to will it all away.

But he was terrified.

This time, he didn’t sleep. Instead, he stayed still until Michael jolted up and looked around. Just like last time, he was disoriented.

“What the fuck? Why am I here?” he grumbled to himself. His eyebrows were furrowed as he bowed his head, staring at the ground in confusion. Alex said nothing. “Alex, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said coldly. That awful feeling he got from last time rushed through his body again. This was wrong. He was horrible. This was inappropriate. 

“Alex, I’m losing time,” Michael said, turning to face him. He wasn’t insulted like before which was good. “Second time in two weeks. I don’t remember coming here.”

“I didn’t touch you, you don’t need to worry.”

Michael scoffed and shook his head, standing up and dropping the towel. He stared at Alex, eyes angry just like last time. Alex did all he could to be respectful and, again, he felt horrible. He wanted to curl up and take a shower all at the same time. He was dirty. Bad. Wrong.

“Do you even care about anything but yourself, Alex? Saving your own ass? I’m losing time and all you’re going to do is say that you didn’t touch me? I can’t remember anything!” Michael spat at him, angry at something, someone, and turning it onto Alex.

Alex wasn’t stupid. He knew it was unwarranted. He knew not to take it to heart. And it still felt like a blow to the stomach.

“What do you want me to do? Tell you what happened? You showed up and screamed my name until I let you in. Then you cried yourself to sleep. That’s it, that’s where your time went,” Alex explained, hoping it would make him leave. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand him staring at him like that. All angry and disgusted.

“Just… leave me alone, Alex,” Michael insisted, storming towards the door with his squeaky shoes.

“And what if you come back to lose time here again?” Alex called. The squeaking stopped.

“Don’t let me.”

Alex waited until the door slammed before bringing his knees to his chest and letting his tears fall.

-

“You need to go!”

“Alex!”

“No! I’m not doing this!” Alex yelled. Michael dramatically dropped to his knees, crying and latching onto Alex’s thighs with his head on his stomach. Alex used the door frame to hold himself up, looking up in hopes someone would save him.

“Alex,” Michael begged, holding onto him tightly. Alex peeled him off and then dragged him inside, tossing him onto the couch unceremoniously. Michael reached out to him in desperation.

“We are not doing this again,” Alex said, “Stay on the couch. You can leave when you wake up from whatever this is.”

He knew Michael wouldn’t remember any of this. Right now, he was losing time and losing his mind. Something was wrong, but coherent Michael had asked him to leave him alone. He was doing his best to listen.

Alex didn’t sleep that night. Something about listening to the man he loved wailing for him kept him up.

Sometime around four in the morning, the wailing stopped. Another hour passed before Alex heard knocking on his bedroom door. He didn’t answer.

“Alex?” Michael asked, voice hoarse from the hours and hours of scream-sobbing. Alex didn’t say anything, staying curled up with Buffy and chewing on his thumb. It was worn down entirely. “Alex, can we talk? I know you’re awake. We need to talk.”

“Come in,” Alex said without his own permission. He was tired and worn down from listening to him cry for hours. He just wanted this to stop. He couldn’t take it.

The door creaked open and Michael slowly walked inside, arms crossed as he stood in front of the bed. He smelled like the rain that had coated his skin. He looked pitiful. Alex didn’t sit up, instead cuddling Buffy closer and peering over her to see him.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Michael said weakly, “But it has something to do with you.”

“Me?” Alex echoed, not even trying to hide how much that hurt. All he’d done recently was hurt, hurt worse than he’d ever hurt in his life. 

“I keep coming to you. I blackout and I come here every single time. That has to mean something,” Michael said. Alex took a deep breath.

“It happens every time it storms.”

“You think that has something to do with it?” Michael clarified. Alex shrugged. “Why would the weather have something to do with it?”

“Has something bad ever happened during a storm?”

Michael scoffed, “I mean, I lost Max. But, still, that was afterward.”

Alex let go of Buffy and slowly sat up. He was slowly but surely piecing things together. Well, some things. “Thunder can sound awfully similar to an explosion.”

Michael wrapped his arms tighter around himself. “What are you saying?”

“Some people when their PTSD is triggered, their mind will go somewhere else to protect itself. Maybe that’s what’s happening,” Alex offered, “Maybe you’re being reminded of Caulfield or losing Max or both. I don’t know. It just sounds like it might be a possibility.”

Michael swallowed and bowed his head, huffing a laugh. It slipped into a shuddering breath as he curled into himself. Alex longed to reach out and comfort him, but he didn’t. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard. He was so scared to fuck up.

“Okay, okay, so I’m dissociating,” Michael said, nodding, “How do I stop?”

“I don’t know. Therapy, I guess,” Alex said, “But that won’t necessarily stop it. It might just help.”

“So, what, I’m gonna continue losing my fucking mind every time I hear thunder?” Michael asked. Alex licked his lips and didn’t answer. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t magically fucking cure PTSD.

“I don’t know,” Alex said.

“Why you, then? Why am I coming to you? What’s so special about you?” Michael asked. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, his whole body aching in response. What’s so special about you? “Alex, wait, I‒”

“I don’t know how to help you. If you need me to throw you on my couch every time you come here, I’ll do it. I’ll do what you want, just stop fucking saying shit like that to me,” Alex snapped. He couldn’t take it. He felt like a dick for being rude to someone who wasn’t okay, but fuck. He’d had enough. “You keep acting like I don’t have feelings. You always act like that! Ever since we were 17, you act like I can’t be hurt by you! You act like what you say doesn’t matter, but it does! Do you not understand how badly it hurts to hear you act like I’m scum? How horrible I feel whenever I take care of you and then get punished for it? Do you know how many days I have spent disgusted with myself for the way you looked at me? I’m trying my best and I…”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, voice weak, “I’ve been taking it out on you, but I’ve just been‒”

“You love that word, ’but’,” Alex pointed out, “I’m sorry, but. I know you’re hurting, but. I really love you, but. That erases everything, you know. Nothing’s ever your fault.” 

“Alex‒”

“Just go,” Alex said, looking over at him, “I’ll be here when you’re dissociating, but you can go otherwise.”

Silence. Michael opened and closed his mouth multiple times. He never said anything.

“Okay.”

And he was gone.

-

There was a 98% chance of a thunderstorm.

Alex waited.

The sky turned gray. The air got muggy. Alex went home early. There was a knock at the door before the thunder even began.

“I figured out why I come to you,” Michael said whenever Alex opened the door. He was coherent for now. “It’s because I wanted you then. When things got bad for me, I wanted you. My subconscious is now just… forcing me to go to you.”

“Okay,” Alex said. Michael took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “I’ve been reading about everything and trying to work through it without having to go to a therapist and tell them I’m a freak of nature, and my first step is telling you I’m sorry. I’ve been horrible to you and everyone else. You’re right, I always blame other people and I am so sorry. I’m going to work on that.”

Alex gulped and nodded, “Good. Thank you.”

“And I’m not going to say ‘but’ anymore. You’re right about that too.”

“Okay.”

“And I broke up with Maria,” Michael stated which felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the conversation and Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “I was hurting the both of you and myself, so I think it was for the best. Obviously I still want you.” Alex’s eyes went wide. “Not like that. Well, actually, yes, like that, just not right now. I want… I want to be a better person before I can even try to be with another person.”

“Good for you,” Alex said, “I’m proud of you.”

Then they stood, staring at each other in silence that was awkward. Things were never awkward between them and suddenly…

“What are you waiting for?” Alex asked. Michael just folded his lips in. “Are you waiting for forgiveness? Because I’m not ready to give that to you just yet. You hurt me badly.”

Michael grimaced, but softly said, “No, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I would really, really appreciate it if you could give me the opportunity to make it up to you, though.”

“How do you plan to make it up to me?” Alex wondered. Michael quirked the smallest little smile.

“Just time with you. Showing you that I’m trying to change. And if you don’t want to be alone with me, that’s fine. And at any point you can tell me to stop and I will. Just… please give me a chance,” Michael begged. A loud crack of thunder sounded overhead and Michael visibly flinched. Alex’s heart went out to him involuntarily.

“Okay, you can try to make it up to me,” Alex agreed. Michael gave him a thankful smile. “Do you want to come in? You know, since you might just be coming right back here anyways.”

“Thank you,” Michael said, stepping inside. 

They both sat on the couch and waited. Michael took slow, regulated breaths and Alex silently praised him for it. It was better than nothing. The night went on and Michael never seemed to slip away completely, though his hands were shaky and he got a headache from hell. Alex sat with him through it and they spoke about anything except for the negativities. They spoke until the storm quieted down.

It felt like a successful night.

“You can sleep on the couch, if you want,” Alex told him, “Just come get me if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Alex started making his way towards the hallway, Michael added one last thing.

“Alex,” he said, “You never did anything wrong those last few times. The fact that I made you feel guilty and dirty for being good to me when you had no idea what was happening makes me sick to my stomach. I am so, so sorry. I can’t ever repay you for what you did for me.”

Alex paused and took a deep breath. It was the first real breath he’d taken in a while that would actually go deep. It felt good.

“Thank you.”

[tonystarksdumpsterfire]

curiosity killed the cat- 1

You took a deep breath in.

You absolutely loved the smell of the Saturday petrichor. It had rained the night before and you were out to get your morning coffee from a little shop called Le Petite Chat. You had been going there for a few years now because you love the aesthetic of the place. It was also very close to your work which was a plus. You worked as a veterinarian for both exotic and domestic animals and you had earned quite a title for yourself over the years, considering you were quite young in your early twenties.  You stared out the window and noticed dark clouds beginning to form.

"It looks like it's going to rain again..." You said aloud to no one except yourself. You sighed and finished your Vanilla Latte. You had forgotten your umbrella so you had to get home before it started raining again. The moment you left the cafe, it had started raining.

"Oh jeez." You huffed out and put on your hood. You started walking rather quickly towards your destination when you heard a cough as you were passing an ally way. You stopped in your tracks which in hindsight is never a good idea and peaked to look into the alleyway. You were shocked to find a black cat shivering under a box. Your heart melted in an instant. You began making your way into the alleyway to observe the cat. It seemed to notice you shuffled back deeper into the box.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you." You told it and put your hands up defensively while inching closer to the box it was hiding in. It looked a bit less apprehensive, which you took to be a good sign, so you crouched to be at eyesight with the cat. Now that you were closer, you could see how beautiful this animal was. It was a pure black cat with piercing green eyes. You had never seen a black cat with green eyes before, well at least not this type of green. It had hints of a light sea blue colour but was mostly emerald green. It was a beautiful specimen, to say the least. You had reached out to caress the raven-haired cat when it began to hiss at you.

"Shhh, it's okay, I just want to take care of you." You told it softly. You attempted to scoop up the cat into your arms but it was trying to bite and scratch you now. It bit you just enough to hurt but not enough to shed blood. You tried to calm it down but it wasn't complying very willingly. You decided just to wing it and scoop the cat into your arms. It began trying to bite you to loosen your grip.

"I'm not gonna hurt you! It'd be much wiser of you to come back to my home than to stay out in the cold." You gave it a stern look and almost as if it understood you, it complied and let you carry it to your apartment.

.

.

.

You finally unlocked the door to your apartment and dropped the cat inside. You then took off your shoes and stepped inside behind the cat. You thanked the stars that the inside of your house was quite toasty. You then bent down to pet the cats head. It quickly stepped away from you and hissed.

"Hey! I just helped you out of the rain!" You told the cat as if it could understand you. You sighed and went to pick up the cat. It began hissing and mewing again.

"Cmon, I have to run a few checks on you to make sure you don't have fleas or a sickness." You said and scooped the cat up into your arms. Without your coat, you realised how wet and cold the cat was.

"Or maybe, I should dry you off first." You gave it a small smile before walking into your bathroom and placing the cat on the floor. You rubbed its fur with a towel until it was semi-dry.

"Well, little one, I still don't have a name for you. What would you like to be called?" You asked it while folding the towel and putting it in its rightful place.

"Oh! I don't even know your gender yet. I should check that." You reached for the kitten and it began hissing at you and getting in a defensive position.

"Alright, alright! I'll yield for now," You grumbled, "But I still don't know what to call you." You stated and looked down at the now calm cat. Just then, thunder began sounding in the sky. Your eyes widened and you began to smile.

"I know! I'll call you Thor!" You smiled brightly. The cat's jaw dropped (something you didn't know was possible) and began scratching the rug in your bathroom. You yelped in surprise and attempted to calm the cat down.

'Loki.' Something whispered in your ear. You turned around and grabbed your neck defensively. You could've sworn you felt a breath on your neck when you heard the whisper. You could feel goosebumps begin rising on your skin. Loki. The name resonated in your mind. It did have a nice ring to it. You looked down at the emerald-eyed cat who simply mewed at you as if it was agreeing to the name. You brought your hand down to pat it's head to which the cat complied surprisingly.

"I guess it's settled then, I'll call you Loki," You told Loki and rubbed his you were guessing it was a male because of the name head. You began rummaging through your drawers to find a flea brush.

"I still have to check you for fleas, Loki, so please play nice." You muttered and began brushing through the cat's fur. Loki began purring which caused you to smile. When you had finished you placed the brush back in its rightful spot in your drawer.

"Welp, it seems you don't have any fleas or flea dirt which is a good sign." You smiled down at Loki.

"You look a bit skinny, I'll get you some food." You got up to go set up a water and food bowl for your new cat.

.

.

.

Loki began exploring the bathroom after you had left to set up his food.

'What a strange predicament I have found myself in.' Loki thought to himself. The only reason why he was in this position in the first place was because of his idiotic brother trying to help him with his "dark side", as Thor stated it. He had managed to escape his brother's grasps by shapeshifting and transforming into several different things, starting with a bird and now ending with a cat. It had been quite the tiring day, to say the least. And gods know how long it's going to take until he'll be able to change into his Asgardian form again. Perhaps he could wait until the mortal left him alone to make his escape. But, what would he do then? Go back to living on the street in the cold? He growled in frustration and jumped onto the sink.

"Okay, I'm back." The mortal said, coming back into the room Loki was in. She scooped him up into his arms and he mewed in compliance. The mortal walked into the living room and placed him down on the floor next to a bowl of water and food. Loki stared down at the two bowls.

'A-am I too eat this slop?' He thought to himself.

'How dare this mortal feed a god in such a way?' Loki hissed and the mortal made a confused face.

"I thought you would be hungry or at least thirsty." She said confusion lacing her tone. She looked thoughtfully for a moment then perked up.

"Oh goodness! Do you belong to someone?" The mortal started spewing incoherent words of worry. Loki rolled his eyes and hissed. The mortal looked shocked.

"I'm guessing that's a no? You're quite communicative for a cat, it's almost as if you understand me." The mortal stated and bent down to pet Loki.

'It's because I do understand you puny human." Loki thought to himself but, for a puny human, he sure was enjoying your touch. Loki began purring and the mortal smiled.

"I'm sorry I don't have a bed for you, I haven't had any pets of my own for ages. Feel free to sleep wherever seems fit but please, don't dirty anything," She gave him a small pat on the head before walking to her bedroom, "Goodnight, Loki." She muttered before going into her room to do her nightly routine.

'Goodnight, Mortal.' Loki thought to himself before turning around and jumping onto her couch. Now, that he wasn't distracted by the mortal's conversation he could take in every aspect of the apartment. It was quite luxurious actually. It was modern, with glass windows all around the living room, and the view from the windows was breathtaking. The living room was quite large with a small glass dining table surrounded by beige couches, complimented by house plants. There were many plants in the home, it made the place feel more lively. The kitchen was attached to the living room and the counters were all marble. Loki jumped up onto one of the counters and looked at the view. He looked down at all the cars and all the buildings. He felt a tinge of guilt in his heart he quickly shook off.

'No. What I did was right. I would've been a saviour to this realm." Loki reassured himself but the growing pain was evident. He jumped down from the counter and decided the windows did him no good. He walked over to his bowl and water.

'This will not be shameful because I am currently an animal," He stepped closer to the food and lowered his head, "I am still a god." He justified before digging in.

.

.

.

You awoke by the sound of your alarm and the sun shining down onto your face. You groaned before turning over and shutting off your alarm clock. You sat up and stretched while making an inhuman noise. You quickly got out of bed and brushed your teeth and hair. You changed from your pyjamas to a pair of cute white jeans with a brown belt and a brown and white striped shirt tucked into your pants. You unbuttoned the first few buttons and rolled up your sleeves. Deciding you looked suitable for work you stepped out into the living room and laid your eyes on a black cat curled up on the couch. You smiled and turned to the food and water which he had finished. You walked over to the cat and gave him a small shake. The cat sleepily mewed and half-opened his emerald eyes.

"You have to come with me to the vet, Loki." You told the cat softly but now he seemed fully awake. Loki mewed in protest.

"You don't have to worry, I'll be the one checking on you for the most part." You scooped Loki up and placed him in your arms and placed him in a cat bag.

"It won't hurt, you have to trust me." You told Loki and he only looked up at you with pleading large green eyes.

You sighed and decided to call a taxi. You would normally walk to your work but you decided it would be easier to just drive. Loki was quiet most of the way to your work which you were grateful for. Once you arrived you thanked the taxi driver and headed into your work.

You uttered polite 'Good Mornings' to a few of your co-workers before rushing into an empty check-up room and opened your cat bag. Loki practically ran out of the bag and began mewing violently.

"Oh cmon, you're so dramatic," You muttered to Loki before petting him reassuringly, "I just need to get another doctor in here to help give you anaesthetics." You told Loki. His eyes widened at the sound of that.

"NO!" Loki yelled. Loki yelled. In English, in a human voice. You stared wide-eyed, jaw agape.

Did this cat just speak?

[damienthepious]

it’s lizard kissin’ tuesday.... and we have done a Mean Thing. Sky @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile is responsible for the initial concept and a LOT of this besides. 

No More Changes (I’ll Still Love You The Same) 

[ao3] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, (tho not THIS chapter certainly), Curses, human!arum, (but not... because he WANTS to be), (it ain't good y'all), Panic Attacks, Overstimulation, Rilla Is Queen Of Comfort, Damien Does Not Consider The Consequences Of His Words, (tho that's not relevant until next chapter...)

Summary: Lord Arum and his Keep have fought off curses before, but they have never dealt with one quite like this. They have never dealt with a curse while having a couple of humans around to help them, either... though it remains to be seen exactly how helpful Arum's lovers will be, in the effort of restoring him.

Notes: We made ourselves sad. Now we are subjecting y'all to the sad. Am I sorry? ..... a little actually, yeah. I promise we'll make it better eventually tho. @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile, thank you SO much for throwing this concept at me and letting me just go berserk about it. I love you!!! Thank you for writing this with me!!! <3 Work title from the song Pristine, by Snail Mail. Chapter title from the song Human, by Dodie. 

Chapter 1 - Paint Me In Trust

~

It is instantaneous. Like a bolt of lightning.

Arum doesn't scream, not exactly. He inhales, sharp and shocked, and when he exhales it sounds as if he's being punched in the stomach, and he collapses to the ground, half-buried in his cape.

"Arum-" Rilla drops her recorder. Doesn't even notice it fall to the floor of the greenhouse as she sprints to the side of the lizard, going to her knees when she's close enough, but when she reaches to turn him onto his side to get a better look-

He feels wrong.

Soft. He feels soft. She pushes the cape aside, and when she rolls Arum onto his back, she finds a panting, glassy-eyed human groaning softly into the folds of the cloth.

"What-" Rilla says blankly, and the human winces, curling into a tighter ball and making a choking sort of noise. "Who-"

"A-Ama-" he chokes, a hand lifting clumsily to press at his throat. "Amaryllis-" he manages, and Rilla loses her own breath.

"Oh Saints," Rilla says faintly. "Arum?"

"What-" he tries again, and his voice is pitched so low that she almost doesn't hear how horribly ordinary it sounds. Soft. No rattle, no roughness to speak of. "Amaryllis, I- I can't-" he presses up on one arm (Rilla can only see two), but he slips, and she only barely catches him before he smacks his face into the dirt.

"Arum, I need you to breathe," she says, halfway on automatic. First steps. Baseline, while her brain races to try to understand exactly what just happened. "Keep," Rilla calls, voice understandably strained. "Keep, do you know what just- what that was?"

There is a pause, and Arum-the-human breathes short strained breaths in her arms, his muscles twitching and jerking. The Keep- sings vaguely, a song that sounds off key with itself. Uncertain, confused.

That song, that wavering, it seems to startle Arum to some sort of coherency, and he tilts his head back, squinting at the ceiling, and Rilla realizes with a sick jolt that his eyes, his human eyes, they aren't purple. They are without color entirely, pale and gray, set in a face that looks vaguely familiar but wrong, like a building remembered from childhood, with walls torn down and reconstructed past the point of recognition.

"Keep?" he asks, his new smooth-soft voice wavering uncertainly, and the Keep fails to answer right away a second time. It sings, after a long moment, and Arum's new unscaled brow furrows, his breath hitching. "Keep. Keep, I can't- speak again. I command you to-"

It sings again, and Rilla recognizes the lilt of desperation in the notes.

"Keep, I can't-" he pauses, snapping his jaw shut, and then he winces at that and presses his hand to his jaw for a clumsy moment before he lifts the hand further, his palm flexing in front of his horrified face. "What- what-"

"Breathe," Rilla says again, and Arum sucks in a breath as he lifts his other hand, and then he twists against her, his back arching just slightly, and she realizes that he's trying to move his other arms. The ones that aren't there, anymore.

"I-" he says, and then he looks up at her, pale gray eyes wide and damp at the corners. "I can't-" he lifts his hands, clumsy as they try to grip her shoulders, and she pulls him to sitting so he isn't entirely on the cold dirt, and his breaths come faster and sharper as he says, "Amaryllis I can't hear your heart-"

He's incoherent after that, for a while. Rilla nearly screams in the effort of getting the Keep to understand her, to get it to focus for long enough to open a portal to Arum's room so she can carry him (easily, Saints but this human body is slight), lift him into her arms while he just clings and hyperventilates until she can set him down in familiar sheets.

Arum keeps brushing his hands over his own skin and wincing, keeps twisting and flinching away from the sheets when he touches them, and Rilla knows overstimulation when she sees it and honestly there's a logic to that, isn't there? Arum has spent his entire life in scales, and he’s nowhere close to unfeeling, his scales are plenty sensitive in their own right but it's different from human skin and now he's- he's human, and-

She keeps trying to make her mind wrap around that. Trying to make it make sense. It doesn't, obviously.

Regardless of sense, it's true. Arum is, currently and uncomfortably, human. With smooth dark skin and grey eyes and dark hair that falls down around his shoulders in unkempt waves, with nearly a full foot of height stolen from him somewhere.

She shakes her head. Situation at hand, Rilla. One problem at a time. He's overstimulated, terrified if the look in his eyes is anything to go by. She climbs up onto the bed beside him, and when he turns his panicked eyes towards her she tries a grim, sturdy little smile, and then she carefully, gently pulls him into an embrace, arranging him so that his head is resting on her collarbone.

"Just breathe," she whispers. "Try to breathe with me, okay? I know you're scared, and that's- honestly that's totally fair, but right now you have to calm down or you're gonna make yourself ill or make yourself pass out. Just- focus on my breathing, and try to make yourself slow down enough to breathe with me."

His body presses into hers, his hands alternately squeezing her and fluttering away when the contact gets too much, but after a moment he goes still, and his breathing hitches instead of slowing.

"Hey," she says softly. "Hey, please Arum, you've gotta-"

"I can- I can hear your heart now. I- you need be this close? Amaryllis I feel- my ears and tongue and eyes and nose have been dulled by half and half again, how- how-"

"Oh," Rilla says, and she wonders if he can hear the way that makes her heart stumble with sympathy, with fear. "Oh sweetheart I'm sorry, but you have to- oh Arum-"

He clenches his jaw, clinging tighter against her, pressing his ear over her heart and pressing his eyes defiantly closed, but she can feel his shoulders shaking, can see the tracks of tears running down his face.

"Even this," he hisses miserably. "I don't- is it- is this why the poet is always-" he stops to shake for a moment. "I can't make this stop-"

"I know, sweetheart," she says in a whisper, and she tries not to follow right behind him into shaking, into weeping. "I've got you, I've got you." She doesn't tell him to breathe again. She merely rubs her hands as softly as she can on his back, holds him against her and lets him hear her steady, steady heart. She hums, and holds him, and lets his tears play out.

It takes a little while. That makes sense, too; it’s not as if Arum has much practice holding back tears like this.

“I- I’m- I apologize, Amaryllis," Arum mutters eventually, when he has managed at last to match his breathing to Rilla's, murmuring the words into the skin of her throat. "That was-” his mouth twists miserably, mortification clear on his face.

“Don’t. Arum, this is- I mean, as far as I know this is fairly unprecedented,” she says with a wry frown. “It’s a perfectly reasonable response to have.”

“Nevertheless,” he mutters, and then he pulls himself reluctantly away from her skin, sitting with a wince. He lifts his arms again, scowling as he looks down on overly soft, clear skin, on stubby fingers with blunt nails.

“So,” Rilla says, matter-of-fact. “This is magic, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he grumbles.

“And obviously, you know more about that than I do,” she says, a long-suffering sort of admission. “So, do you have any idea what could cause something like this? Any clues, any suspicions, any suspects?”

“Punishment.”

Rilla blinks. “Punishment?”

He sighs, winces, reaches a hand up to touch his own cheek. “Working for the Senate- I never should have put myself into that position. They have- they have safeguards to prevent betrayal.”

“And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning before now?” Rilla asks incredulously.

“I have been… since the Terminus, since us, the Keep and I have been layering defenses, magical and otherwise. While the Senate scrambled to recover after the loss of their weapon- I thought- I hoped I would have enough time. I hoped that I would be unimportant enough to them to slip through the cracks, but-” he winces, his hand pressing against his throat for a moment and his eyes going distant and uncertain, and then he works his jaw awkwardly before he mutters, “I sound… so strange.”

“You were layering defenses,” Rilla redirects gently, softly touching his shoulder, hoping she can draw him back before the distress overwhelms him again. “How do you think this- whatever this is. How did it get through?”

Arum ducks his head. “I… the Keep and I… we focused our efforts mainly upon the swamp itself, and the Keep.”

“What,” Rilla says, voice blank with horror. “What about you, you idiot?”

“The Keep is more important,” he hisses, his eyes slipping closed. “Protecting it is my purpose, Amaryllis. If it dies, so too does this entire swamp. And so too would I, as well. It is not entirely unselfish. If the Keep dies, everything here dies with it. If I die…” he shrugs. “I would rather not, obviously, but if I die, the Keep survives. It produces another familiar, and it continues to create and nurture life and magic in this place.”

“Rather not,” Rilla says faintly. “Arum-”

“It is not a choice I enjoy making, but it is an easy choice, in the end.”

Rilla hates that a part of her understands his logic. Most of her, though, is furious that he would discount himself that way. “Next time maybe try protecting both, jackass,” she says, her voice wavering.

He smiles, grim and strange. “Next time,” he echoes.

“So,” Rilla says, shaking her head and clearing her throat. “So. It’s probably the Senate, or someone working for them,” she says. “That’s a good theory, and I think it’s safe to run with it. So, why this? Why turn you into a human? Why not just-”

“Kill me?” He laughs. “I am certain some would have preferred that. But there is a certain… rationale to this. A clear message in the execution. I have aligned myself with humans, yes? This is all to say that if I would join them, I may do it properly.”

Rilla feels her stomach twist. “You think they know about us?” she asks, her voice low.

“Doubtful,” he says with a sigh. “Not the two of you specifically, at least. But they are aware that I was responsible for the destruction of the Hermit, they are aware that I was not cast off the edge of the world, and they are aware of… rumors.”

“Rumors.”

He glances to her, his entire expression gone soft and open. “Of a human claiming, quite publicly, to love me.”

Her heart plummets. It must show on her face, because Arum blinks in surprise and reaches a clumsy hand up to touch her shoulder.

“Amaryllis-”

“This is because- because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut? Saints I’m so-” she clenches her teeth, “stupid, Arum I’m-”

“Hush,” Arum says, frowning. “Don’t be foolish. This is not your fault, no more than it is the fault of a certain knight for failing to kill me. There are rumors of that, as well, you know. The fault lies solely with whoever concocted this spiteful little scheme.”

“Still,” Rilla says, her brow furrowed. “Still. If it contributed-”

“Hush,” he says again, the hand on her shoulder squeezing gently. “You did not do this to me.”

“No,” she says with a sigh, and then she straightens, her eyes taking on a determined glint as she pulls Arum’s hand into her own. “No, but I’m gonna be the one who helps you fix it.”

Arum’s expression falls again, open and raw, and Rilla’s heart clenches for all the ways he clearly does not know how to hide his feelings in this body.

“Y-yes,” he says, his voice wavering.

“If someone did this,” Rilla says with a scowl, “we can undo it.”

He stares at her for a moment, grateful, surprised, hopeful, and then tears roll over Arum’s cheeks again, and he swipes at his face with his jaw clenched hard as Rilla makes a small noise, pulling him close.

"The lot of you creatures can't possibly feel this way at every moment,” he mutters viciously, struggling in the effort to push back the tears, to control the shaking in his voice. “As if- as if every touch is scalding and sharp, as if you can only half interpret the world, all sense sliced to unsatisfactory fractions. As if you are but a breath from breaking at all moments. You cannot possibly feel this way."

“No,” Rilla says softly. “No, I think that’s- that’s just by comparison. Your senses are a hell of a lot keener than ours, and your scales provide a lot more natural protection. If I got suddenly put in a body like yours, I bet I’d be overwhelmed by all the new noises and smells and sights, and I’d feel like my sense of touch got all wrapped up in cotton or dipped in wax. It’d be distressing in just the opposite way.”

That makes… a certain amount of sense. Arum grumbles under his breath and winces when the noise is not accompanied by the usual growl. It feels as if someone reached into his throat and replaced his own vocal chords with some foreign flute. Not that that particular point is the worst of this, but it is distracting.

“Shit,” Rilla says softly, and Arum blinks and focuses back on her.

“What?”

“I was supposed to-” she sighs. “I have to go send an entire frickin’ flock of pigeons, now. I don’t have time to deal with my regular appointments while we’re busy fixing this.”

Arum’s heart lurches in two completely different directions at once, both grateful that she would put her work, her healing aside temporarily for him, and simultaneously wracked with nerves at the idea that she is going to leave him alone in this state, even for a little while. He swallows roughly.

She’s too perceptive for his own good, though. She notices the look on his face, and when she smiles softly he wishes he could growl at the sympathy in her eyes. He frowns instead, hoping it carries some measure of his ire.

“I won’t be long,” she says softly. “I just need to send some messages and gather some materials and notes that might be handy. Tell you what, though- Damien should be getting out of his meeting soon and he was already planning on springing a surprise visit today-” she pauses to grin a little more playfully. “Ruined the surprise on that one, but I’m sure the both of you will forgive me. Anyway, he’s free for the rest of the day, so I’ll give him the rundown and he can come through and help you out for a bit while I’m taking care of the unavoidable stuff. Sound fair?”

Arum wrinkles his strange short nose, seething that she would imply he requires help-

But he does need some measure of help, actually. Loathe as he is to admit it. He can barely manage to stand without his tail, with his legs so short and oddly bent. And Amaryllis has done very much in their time together, to help him understand that she and Damien will not judge him for this. That they want to help, when he so needs. And it is still... difficult, but Arum is trying. If ever he had no choice but to be vulnerable, now is that time. At least the universe is kind enough to bring him so low while he has such bright creatures to hold him and help him. Small miracles within such a nightmare.

He sighs, curling his arms awkwardly around his knees. “Very well, Amaryllis.”

“I won’t be long,” she says again as she slips from the bed, and then she leans back down and presses a kiss to his brow. It feels so much more vivid, the pressure more intense but less warm, on skin rather than scales. “Try to rest in the meantime, though, okay?”

“Rest,” Arum mutters derisively. “As if I can go cavorting with these malformed limbs-”

“Your body went through one hell of a shock,” she barrels on, pretending as if she didn’t even hear him. “I don’t want you to strain yourself any more than strictly necessary. Okay?”

He grumbles again, but she looks down at him sternly, her hands on her hips.

“Okay, Arum?”

He narrows his eyes at her, and his face feels hot. “Yes, doctor,” he mutters, but then he leans towards her in the familiar way, an unspoken request.

Her frown softens, and she bends to embrace him gently and press another kiss to his cheek, and before she pulls away she murmurs, “We’ll fix this. Whatever it takes.”

His throat is tight and hot and horrible for a moment, but he nods. “Whatever it takes,” he echoes, and then he allows her to settle the blankets around his shoulders before she calls for a portal to her hut.

The Keep takes a few extra moments to listen, but it does listen, and when Rilla is gone and the portal is closed and Arum is alone, and human, and alone, he finally pinpoints a feeling that has been squirming at the back of his mind since he collapsed in the greenhouse.

He feels half deafened, with these strange human ears. It is less dramatic than the weakness of his vision, or the utter travesty of his olfactory capabilities.

But his limited hearing is not the reason that all around him feels so… muffled.

Arum realizes, at last, the final strangeness of this transformation. The final cruelty. It is quiet, now that Amaryllis has left him. More than that, though. It is silent, in a foreign way. The Keep creaks around him as always, but Arum finally realizes what has been missing.

He cannot hear the Keep. Not really. He cannot feel it. He cannot sense it, steady at the edges of his mind, where its presence has always before been, sturdy and safe. Even when it slept after its illness, Arum could still feel that it was there, even if it was not aware or present. Now, though.

Now, Arum is alone.

Alone in his own mind, wearing skin that does not fit him, helpless as a hatchling without even his closest kin for comfort.

Arum closes his eyes. He does not have the strength for anything else, just now. He curls into as tight a ball as he can manage, his cape and his blankets an overwhelming pressure he cannot stand to remove, and he settles in to wait for one of his lovers to return.

[angrylizardjacket]

and then there was light [2] {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: lmao sorry if ur not takin prompts but if u r what about one where the boys™️ have just preformed and reader (who is a long time friend of the boys and esp rog) and is secretly dating roger but after the show reader is so proud of roger that she just forgets about the secrecy and snogs him in front of the guys and Mary and they’re all rlly surprised and shook but Fred’s like ‘lmao my kids are in love’

A/N: 4859 words. So a few of these ideas are courtesy of the lovely and kind @roger-bang-the-drum, so thank you for your help. xx This goes a lot of places, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one. Feedback is always appreciated!!

Warnings: Smoking, M rated but no smut.

[part 1]

There are moments, sometimes few and far between, when everything feels right in the world, and right now? The moment Roger steps out of the shower, towel hanging loose on his hips, and asks you what you want to drink as he opens the hotel’s mini-fridge, you’re letting yourself bask in it.

The sun is peaking through the curtains, which isn’t doing your headache any favours, but he hands you a bottle of water that’s probably expensive, and pulls out a Gatorade for himself. Flopping onto the bed beside you, still wearing just a towel, the drummer is quiet for a long time, basking in the easy silence of the late morning, and the sliver of sunlight that’s bouncing off his chest. You let your gaze linger, let it drift to admire him, pale and almost effortlessly attractive against the quilt.

“Like what you see, love?” And when you meet his gaze, he’s watching you, grinning smug and knowing. Embarrassed to be caught checking him out, you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks, turning away quickly. His laugh is warm in the morning air, nothing cruel or malicious about it, and when he gently moves to hold your cheek, shifting you to look back at him, his grin has shifted to something has your heart hammering against your ribs. “Come here.” Voice low and intimate, he pulls you into a kiss. 

It starts gentle, but becomes more insistent, your fingers ghosting over the bare skin of his chest as he pulled you closer, his hand on your hip tugging you closer, moving you until you’re straddling him. He’s got one hand in your hair and one on your ass, until it’s trailing up your back, beneath your shirt, nails scraping gently along your bare skin as your lips move down, trailing kisses from his jaw down his throat. 

With the room only growing warmer, you can feel your hangover headache pick up again, and move to kiss just below his ear.

“Put on some pants.” You murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh, as you move back to laying beside him, watching as he retracts his hands to lay them on his chest, looking up at the ceiling for a long moment. 

“Tease.” His gaze slides to you, but there’s no malice in it, maybe a little disbelief, but you just raise your eyebrows at him and take a long sip of water, pretending like your pulse wasn’t racing, like hadn’t wanted to keep going just as much as he had.

“No strenuous movements!” Shrugging helplessly as you parroted his own words back at him, he shakes his head, but rifles through his things for a set of clothes. “For now.” You amended, and the devilish grin you sported was one he mirrored, and he stepped across the room to kiss you once more before making his way to the bathroom.

The moment, that golden, everything-was-right-with-the-world moment, it filled you with contentment from the tips of your toes as you finished off the bottle of water, and got out of bed, breezing around the room as you folded up your clothes from the night before.

And in an instant, the moment shattered.

“Room service!” What sounded suspiciously like a man imitating a woman’s voice came ringing through the door, which only had you frowning.

“We didn’t order anything.” You reply, confused, opening the door without thinking, not hearing Roger in the bathroom saying your name as a warning. It was for good reason, as it turned out, as you find yourself faced with Freddie, Brian, and John, all looking bewilderingly back at you.

“Spotlight? What are you doing here? Where’s Rog?” Brian asks, and it’s John who responds, expression shifting from confusion to exasperation.

“Brian.” He says, so pointed it almost hurt, and Brian’s face lit up with realisation.

“Oh!” And after a beat, the guitarist frowned at the implication. “Oh.” And finally, he sighed deeply, resigned. “Oh.” And he pulled out his wallet, handing ten dollars to John, who suddenly looked like the cat who got the cream. You furrowed your brows at the exchange, squinting, feeling a little betrayed at it’s implications.

“Well are you going to invite us in?” Freddie asked, and it’s then that you notice him beaming. 

“No way, what do you all want?” Roger glowered at them the moment he stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, buckling his belt. He hovered behind you, careful not to touch you.

“No, no, no.” You insisted, crossing your arms and glaring at the three of them. “What was that all about?” Your words were followed by a moment of silence, and the other three boys looking at you like they couldn’t quite believe what you’re asking. After a beat you hear yourself saying, “Do you really think so little of me?” And despite Roger’s actual scoff behind you, your gaze demanded an answer from the others. John at least had the decency to look a little ashamed as he passed Brian’s ten dollars back.

“We’re here to say that we’re leaving in a few hours, and came to see if you wanted breakfast.” And though his knowing smile had died down, part of you could tell he didn’t believe you for a second. He leaned in, almost conspiratorially, though his voice was loud enough that the others heard. “You know, wearing his clothes does hold some implications, darling.”

“I had a shower because I felt like I’d body surfed through a dumpster last night. But being incoherent is such a turn on, right?” The last bit dripped with sarcasm, and Freddie held up his hands defensively, taking an actual step back.

“No need to get bitchy, we’re just here for breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” And at his offer, you let your anger dissipate, uncrossing your arms. “We’re sorry if we offended you.” He added, and you smiled gently.

“Let me just put on some proper pants.” And with that, you close the door, leaning against it with your eyes closed, breathing in through your nose to steady yourself until you hear the other three leave. When you open your eyes, Roger is looking expectantly at you, and he does not look happy.

“What was that about?” He asked, and your expression fell as you stepped past him to grab your jeans. 

“I don’t want to seem like just some groupie, not to them, not to anyone on this tour.” You mused, not looking at him as you stripped off the shorts he’d given you, pulling on your own pants. He didn’t respond, but you knew he was waiting for you to elaborate. “This is my job, Roger, and I’m happy to try things out with you, God knows I’m looking forward to sleeping on a bed again, but if things go south, I don’t wanna look unprofessional, like I was abusing my position to get close to you.”

“And what do you think they’ll say about me?” He asked, crossing his arms. “Rock-star lures in crew member with promises of fame and fortune?” He scoffed, and you looked up at him, expression softening.

“They’re not going to say that, you’re a man, Rog, and you’ve already got a reputation. You can go on living your rock-star life after me.” You mused quietly, and Roger takes a deep breath, making himself relax before nodding.

“Fine, I get it. We keep implications to a minimum for a while.” He agreed. Once your pants were finally buckled, you stood, giving him a thankful smile, moving to kiss him gently. “You know they don’t see you as just a groupie.” He said, half-smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Good; I mean I am,” you admitted with an amused smile, “but I don’t want them knowing that.” And he kisses you, warm, hands on your hips holding you steady, grounding you in the moment.

“We should get to breakfast.” He sounds like he really doesn’t want to leave, but you know the boys are already suspicious, and so the two of you head down to the dining area.

The moment you step back onto the equipment bus, there’s a sinking sensation in your chest, the discomfort practically crawling up your spine as you breathe in the stale air, and see the rest of the crew already sitting themselves in the most comfortable positions they could find.

“You’re not usually so late.” One of the sound guys frowns at you, and you clench your jaw, ignoring him and making your way to the back of the bus. You take your place, trying not to let the heat or the bumpy ride make you motion sick, resigned to the long trip to the next city.

Things have changed between you and Roger, obviously, the dynamic had shifted, and for the first two stops, neither of you were sure how to maneuver your usual breaks, especially since the other boys had been insistent on joining you. It exasperated you, clearly they didn’t believe that nothing had happened between you and Roger, but you kept professional, and kept conversation light.

The thing is, nothing really had happened between the two of you, not yet; after gigs, he would go to the afterparty, and you would be too exhausted from bump out to do more than make your way to his hotel room and crash on his bed. It’s nice to wake up next to him, his arm around you where he’s also crashed, almost fully dressed, but there was never enough time to enjoy it by the time you had to leave to get to the equipment bus before anyone got suspicious.

Except that they were, because you were usually the first one there - obviously, you’d been living there - but now, if even one person arrived before you, people’s eyebrows would rise.

“We’ve blown a bulb in the drum risers!” Everything changes the night that you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. A bulb blows in one of the parcans beneath the drum risers, and the sound operator from his spot in the bio-box, is losing his goddamn mind. The stage manager tells you, and you’re just confused.

“We have spares but-” You’re cut short by the frantic stage manager feeding off of the sound operator’s panic.

“Where? How fast can you get to them?” He asks, and you take a deep breath, re-centering yourself in the chaos before answering that you can get to them in less than a minute, but you’re not sure what- “Can we go to black at the end of this song?” The stage manager is speaking into their headset, and you feel adrenaline flooding your veins as you realised what you would have to do.

The space behind the drum risers is not a lot, and there’s even less beneath them; space enough to fit one person, maybe. And yet here you were, spare parcan in your hands as Killer Queen comes to an end and the lights fade to black.

“Go! Go! Go!” You’re urged on stage, pushed by the stage manager, and you move as quickly as you can in the almost complete darkness, sitting yourself down behind the drum risers as the lights come up.

“What the fuck?” You hear Roger murmur to himself, unaware of you currently shifting to lay on your belly and wriggle beneath the about-to-be-active drummer. The rest of the band also confused, none of them having known what had happened, but they played it off well, Freddie laughing with the others about a technical difficulty before starting their next song.

You unplug the faulty light from the power board the moment the first bass drum beat kicks in, and you jump, whacking the back of your head on the drum riser, swearing loudly and profusely, though it was drowned out by the music. Pulling the light from it’s position as the drum beats set your teeth on edge, deafening you with every passing moment, you burn your hands on the still hot light. Gritting your teeth despite the tears welling in your eyes, you pull out the scalding gel in it’s frame from the parcan, shifting it into the spare. As the song died down, you moved the spare light into position, waiting for the lights on that level to die down so you could plug it back in, and have it come up naturally with the others. 

Heart in your throat, you can feel every movement of the drum risers above you, and you’ve never felt closer to death before; large burns on your already calloused hands, whole body being knocked around by the beat of the bass drum. Once you’ve finished you’re job, you pull the broken light from it’s position, and lay behind the drum risers in shock, staring up at the ceiling, tears in your eyes as the adrenaline has already started numbing your hands, and the music turns to white noise in your ears.

Roger catches sight of you at the tail end of the set list, and his eyes go wide, mid-song, but he can’t stop playing. Looking up weakly, you see the stage manager giving you the thumbs up, but clearly signalling for you to stay where you are, and you do, pressing your burning hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down as the adrenaline slowly vanishes and you’re left with the realisation of what had happened.

The lighting designer and operator yells at the stage manager for a full fifteen minutes while you sit on a road case, still in shock after the gig.

“One light doesn’t fucking matter in that situation; she could have died! Look at her; look at her!” He hollers, and you realise vaguely that he’s talking about you. Looking up, the stage manager meets your blank, shocked gaze with a guilty one. “Get her to the fucking medical officer, that was so fucking irresponsible.” 

Once there’s cream and large bandaids on the burns on your hands, you make your way outside, having been given the night off as compensation, and almost immediately you’re swarmed by the band, asking what had happened.

Freddie calls you brave, calls you darling, kisses your forehead and brings the others in for a group hug.

“I don’t get paid enough for this.” You’re definitely still in shock as the laugh escapes you, but it makes the rest of them smile, and they offer to buy you drinks at the afterparty. You’re too dazed to say no. The others seem happy that you’re okay as you walk to the pub, but Roger trails behind the group, expression dark.

He keeps you close all night, always by your side though Freddie is also just as likely to be on your other side. The boys are true to their word, keeping your hands full of cool drinks all night, though you mostly sip them, pacing yourself to keep your balance as the night progressed.

“You seem really rattled, Rog,” John sits on your other side as you take a moment of peace at the bar.

“She was beneath my drums.” It’s the first time he’s said it all night, angry and a bit afraid. John’s expression fell and he nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around you to give you a squeeze, and moving to clap Roger on the shoulder before moving on. 

When you suggest leaving, Roger agrees without hesitating, telling the others he would walk you back to your hotel room; they all gave him understanding smiles, knowing how much seeing you in pain and shock behind him, mid-show, had freaked him out.

The walk back to the hotel is quiet, his arm around your waist for the whole duration, though he still radiated an anger. 

“Are you okay?” You’re pulling off your shoes, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Me? I-” the question seemed to bewilder him, and he frowned, still lost in his own thoughts, “I’m fine, you- are you okay?” He asked, and you smiled gently at him, still not having fully processed everything that had happened. “Who fucking let this happen?” He snapped, not at you, just bitter at the universe, now pacing.

“Roger.” You stood, reaching out to catch him by the shoulder, and he turned to you, anger melting away.

“You looked scared and hurt. I know how loud I play, I can’t fucking imagine being trapped beneath that.” He admitted, quietly bitter. “I can’t believe they made you do that.”

“It’s my job.” Was all you could say in response, expression falling. “Sometimes I love it, sometimes I-” something catches in your throat, finally looking in his eyes, and you suddenly understand, and you scowl. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Roger, it’s how I make a living.” You snap, defensive, turning away to get changed into the pyjamas you’d thought to bring along when he checked in earlier in the day.

“If you think I’m not going to worry about you,” his hands are on your hips the moment you pull off your shirt, his voice a low growl in your ear, “you’re dead wrong.” A shiver runs through you, and he turns you around, pulling you close enough that he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, bodies pressed together where you’re only wearing a bra and your jeans. 

Seeing the fear in your eyes when he had looked back had fucking terrified him, and he can’t get the image out of his mind. When he opens his eyes now, however, you’re looking up at him, pupils blown wide, smirk on your lips.

“Shut the fuck up, just tell me I’m good at my job-” You tease, but you don’t mind when he interrupts you with a kiss. All he wants to do is to hold you, be with you after everything that had happened; the realisation that his feelings for you ran a lot deeper than he thought began to shift to a primal need to show you what you mean to him in the best way he knew how.

“You’re incredible at your job, okay?” He murmurs, walking you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sit back on it. “What you did tonight? Dedicated to a fucking fault, you know that right?” He’s making quick work of his own shirt as you slide further back onto the bed, grinning as he praises you. “At the top of a ladder, you’re the queen of the goddamn stage and you know it, don’t you?” He follows you onto the bed, leaning over you, seeing the equal parts pride and mischief in your eyes, splayed out and waiting beneath him on top of the duvet. Your grin morphs into a smirk, the only confirmation he gets before you’re pulling him into a heated kiss. 

When you wake the next morning, your burnt hands ache a little, but that’s nothing compared to the ease and contentment that you find yourself filled with. Roger’s got an arm slung over your hip, you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing with his chest pressed against your back. You lace your fingers with his, feeling him give your hand a gentle squeeze in his sleep, and let yourself fall back to sleep.

Things get easier after that, between the two of you, easier and more comfortable. After everything that had happened, it seemed the other band members’ suspicions had died down, which you were thankful for, and it seemed like things almost went back to normal. 

You spend your breaks up ladders and shoving lights into the drum risers from the front, and you have a smoke with Roger as the break comes to an end, though now more often than not you’re using his stomach as a pillow. Freddie’s the only one who’s seen the change, you think, but he has the decency not to say anything.

The sex is pretty incredible; you’re given a few nights off from bump out after the incident had occurred, which you and Roger took full advantage of. Even after, you started to attend more of the afterparties, integrating yourself into the culture he was already so submerged in. 

Sometimes, you’d get there late, and there’d be girls hanging around like flies, and you’d have to beat your own rising jealousy with a stick, because once you arrived, still wearing theatre blacks, he’d have eyes for no-one else.

So maybe you got comfortable in the new, easy dynamic, been a little bit careless. 

“Lighting wench?” He calls, and you make a noise of discomfort in the back of your throat.

“You know I hate that.” You call to him from where you’re sitting against the drum risers, and ask him to retrieve the stack of gels from where they were resting on the edge of the stage. He does so without complaint, pulling out a cigarette and patting his pockets for a lighter. He doesn’t even need to turn and ask for you to pull the one from your pocket. 

Lighting the cigarette as you cut a new gel for the ones that had been burned through during the last show, you feel him put the lighter back in your pocket, and hear him take a long drag, leaning back. It’s a comfortable silence that spreads between you, and he’s offering you the cigarette after he takes a second draft. When you look up, he presses a quick kiss to your lips, more as a greeting than anything else, and you take the cigarette from him with a smile, passing him the stack of gels to hold while you worked. 

“Um, Y/N?” It’s the sound operator, and you look up suddenly, unsure of how long he’d been there. “I was told you’re the person to talk to if I want a cable run?” He asked, a little confused.

“It’s Spotlight.” Roger doesn’t look at the interloper, looks instead out to the empty audience. The sound operator doesn’t look less confused.

“I’m your gal!” You reply, smiling far brighter than you necessarily needed to, pointedly ignoring Roger. After being handed a cable for the weirdly positioned amps in this particular theatre, the sound designer leaves, giving an awkward smile to Roger, who’s been sitting, smoking, and crinkling a gel between his fingers while he waited.

“Thanks, uh- thanks Spotlight.” And with that, he leaves you and Roger to yourselves. Roger’s smiling to himself.

“Shut up, you barely call me Spotlight anymore.” You roll your eyes at him and begin to run the cord, listening as Roger mutters something about it being the principle of the thing, and moving to practice a song you didn’t recognise. 

From that moment on, there was a tension in the air, and it felt like everywhere you went, the other members of the crew were watching your every move. It made it difficult to steal from the band’s catering, but it made it substantially worse to try and have a private moment with Roger.

“How’d you get so close with the band?” The assistant stage manager actually chose to sit with you at the back of the equipment bus on one of the shorter journeys you would be taking.

“They started hanging around me, I sort of had no say in it.” You shrug as much as your pretzeled up position in the back allowed.

“But they like, really like you.” She grinned, eyes shining as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Like, Freddie gave you a nickname, Spotlight.” She said, pointedly, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, he saw me... doing my job.” You mused, unsure if your discomfort wasn’t clear, or if she was just choosing to ignore it.

“And I heard about how Roger spends all his lunches with-”

“Yeah,” you laugh, loud and uncomfortable, cutting her off, “listen, why are you asking me this? You know you can just talk to them if you want to get to know them... they’re just people.” She looked taken aback by that, and you think she’s finally starting to get it. Except that you’re pretty sure you’ve offended her with your bluntness, and she purses her lips.

“Well, anyways, I’m glad he’s got a little ‘tour girlfriend’.” She sneers, and her words hit you squarely in the chest. She stumbles back to the front of the bus as it continues along, and you feel like you’re gasping for air.

“Hey, what are we?” It’s only a few stops until this leg of the tour is over, and the ASM’s words have been playing on a loop in your head for almost a week. Roger, laying beside you in the morning sunlight, is quiet for a long moment.

“Whaddya mean?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow to properly look at you, though you’re staring at the ceiling, slight frown creasing your brow.

“I mean... well what happens after the tour?” You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, even as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that when we get to it.” Though he may have thought it would be assuring, you feel tension knot in your stomach at his words.

“Rog, if you wanna leave me after, I- I mean I’ll understand.” It hurt you to say the words, and you don’t see the way his expression falls. He hadn’t thought about it, not really, you’d been together for almost two months, and he’d sort of just expected that you’d be on the next leg of the tour too. “They don’t usually keep the same crew for the full, cross-continent tours.” You admitted, heart sinking a little at your own words.

“What if I had a word to them?” His words surprised you, caused your heart to soar momentarily, though you tried not to get your hopes up.

“You really don’t need to do that.” You laughed humorlessly. “It’d be easier, honestly, less paperwork and hassle and shit.” Turning away from him, you feel him reaching for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, tapping a gentle rhythm.

“It’s not a hassle.” He tells you, and then, much quieter, “and it’s not like I want to leave you behind.”

The week and a half of the tour is nice, but different. You and Roger don’t talk about the future, just make the most of your time together, oftentimes becoming frantic and desperate to leave reminders of your existence on one another. Holding tighter than necessary, leaving pleasant bruises and scratch marks in places no-one else would know about, never speaking about what was to come. 

He’d never made mention that he’d talked to EMI, not until the night of the final show. 

It had been ethereal, he was glowing when he played, so focused and energetic, you tried to listen to the music, thinking it was one of your last chances to hear this set live, but you kept getting lost in the image of him. He beams at you when he catches you watching from side of stage, starry-eyed. You can’t even bring yourself to be irritated by the ASM’s eye roll. As soon as they finish, you feel the adrenaline flooding through your veins at the prospect of the final bump out, and he heads off stage to the dressing room.

As soon as the auditorium is cleared, the crew is given the go-ahead to start bump out, and you get to work. He comes out fifteen minutes later, and you’re both thrumming with energy.

“Spotlight!” Roger calls to you where you’re pulling up taped down cords. Looking up, startled, you see him making a beeline for you, before he wraps his arms around you, swinging you around. Surprised, you make a squeak before he puts you back down, pressing his lips to yours. You melt into his embrace, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s that for?” You asked a little breathless, grinning at where he was beaming back at you.

“You’re coming to Europe with us.” He told you, and your eyes widened, before you hugged him tightly, laughing with disbelief. “Told EMI you’re the best lighting assistant we have; told them the show’d be a mess without you.” You murmurs in your ear, giving you a squeeze. Looking at him, there’s awe in your eyes, and he can’t help but kiss you again, in the middle of bump out.

“Okay, so who had ‘final show’?” You hear John’s voice behind you, and when you and Roger break apart, you see the crew crowding around him, all withdrawing their wallets.

“Me, obviously.” Freddie said, and the rest of the crew groaned. “I knew you too had a flare for the dramatic.” Freddie grinned at the both of you, accepting as people offered him ten dollar notes. “Good for you two.”

“Did everyone bet on when we’d get together?” You asked, frowning, and at that, you heard a chorus of laughter rippled through the crew and band members.

“Oh, we’ve known for ages, we’re betting on when you’d make it public.”

[part 3]

[anodyne-sunflower]

Blue fire-Theseus ScamanderxReader (Req.)

A/N: Request for injured Theseus and reader fighting off the blue fire which leads to a kiss. Lol 🤷🏻‍♀️ I hope I did your request justice, my dear...I don’t...even know...

MOOD MUSIC: Hostage by Billie Eilish

***

You felt the heat, harsh and energetic in its movements as it propelled you back, its bright flames lapping towards you in sick curls. In some oratorical way, it called to you, whispering incoherent words that still held the same eloquence as any other. You paused there in its view, breathing strained and hands cramped from holding your wand too tightly. With what energy you could muster, you ignored its promises, eyes scanning the crowd of other Aurors and wizards alike that dotted the arena. Just then, you saw him, equally disturbed by the fire that took over the stone and people standing in its way. For all the years you knew Theseus, he rarely showed fear, and seeing him display it so plainly now...it made your skin crawl in a cold sweat.

“Theseus!” Your voice bellowed through the flames, catching his attention as he turned to your direction. His eyes were wild with a frightened rage, the dismay he felt diffusing over to you in its quiet anxiety. They were helpless. You were helpless. There was little any of you, no matter the skill or talent, could do to end this without further loss and while you wished to run to his side, that mercy would not be granted to you.

“Go!!” Theseus yelled back, boots clambering up the steps along with his brother. You saw them both in a clumsy panic, Newt gripping desperately at Theseus’ blazer until he managed a strong enough hold to apparate them both out of here. Their disappearance startled you for a second, the flames climbing higher until you felt its burn teasing at your face. You screamed in your anger, slashing at it and propelling your wand forward just enough to will it away. That was your chance, you saw, the split second between being consumed and having freedom from this massacre.

“Ah!” Your body willed away, the sudden momentum of apparating causing you to slam hard into the walls of the mausoleum outside. Pain shot through your arm, but for you, that agony was well worth surviving the hell inside these walls.

“Y/N?!”

“Theseus?” If not for the solid foundations, you were certain you’d of fallen over already, giving way to the exhaustion hitting your body. You knew he was alive, that was the only charity the fates could offer today, but even the favor of getting to see him before you, was a long shot.

“Y/N!” There was desperation in his voice, long and drawn out in its misery as he searched the rubble and endless alleys for you. Somewhere in the background you could hear Newt trying to stop him, but your fiancé seemed unyielding in his quest to reunite with you. It was the only piece of knowledge that settled your nerves, and just as you summoned your strength to walk over the debris in full view of the rest of the outside world, the walls gave way. Each stone rocked with purpose, the pillars and decor finally caving and unleashing the wrath that Grindelwald had set upon you all. The blue fire spilled forth, flying towards the darkened sky and forming into the hellish facade of a dragon.

“Oh god...” You sucked in a breath, favoring your uninjured arm as you swiftly brought your wand up. This may end in your death, but you would not die a coward. “Come on then...” Your boots bore hard into the ground, steadying your frame and giving you the force necessary to command the flames away. Though you held your own for the time being, you knew you weren’t the master of the fire and your stamina could only take so much until you found yourself being coerced to one knee before it. It was humbling, if you wanted to be kind with descriptions, to see the power that one man could possess within himself. His entire aura was felt in these attacks, bright and unrelenting and just as persuasive as his silver-tongued words. You tried with all your might to keep your wits, but the closer they got the easier it was to convince yourself to surrender and let them take you. “Theseus...”

He was the last thought to cross your mind, your heart nearly tightening with grief as you felt the weight of leaving him behind. This was hardly a worthy farewell, and you could not bear the idea of being burned so furiously there would be nothing left to mourn, not even ash. But, what hope was there in the face of such dark magic? In your eyes, you were already dead.

The dragon took flight again, it’s blue wings gushing open and ruling viciously over those who would dare to oppose it. You could hear their screams, pained and grieved as the last bit of their existence seared away under the beasts fiery roar. Even with the might of the Ministry Aurors, it seemed fate would deem this to be the outcome of this war.

“I love you.” It was a whisper, spoken to no one and yet you held Theseus in your heart as the dragon came flying down at you. You felt your body stiffen in defense, fear and acceptance taking over as you glared the dragon down. All your breaths were shaky and forced, throat clenched with all the preparation of the pain to come.

“Y/N!!”

Theseus’ arm encircled your figure, tucking you protectively into his body as he held his wand up and fought what he could until you were compelled to follow him. There was chaos all around, but all you focused on was his voice, distraught but courageous in its tones. He moved you towards an opening, pushing you as gently as he was able until he, too, could join you there behind a pillar. You observed him breathing, chest rising and falling roughly in a feeble attempt to regain some control. However, he was just as drained as you were, his back hitting the stone and eyes closing in relief when the fire spilled forward, covering all exits, but leaving you two alive.

“Theseus.” There was nothing else to say, and you just stared at him elatedly, examining every inch of his body to make sure he hadn’t been harmed in the battle. His clothes were singed in certain areas, the collar of his shirt now dusted an awful black. “You’re hurt.” Your voice broke, body carrying you forward until you stood in front of him in your worry. There was no time to fuss, but you were just relieved to see him again, knowing only a few moments ago that gift could’ve been taken from you. Caring for his wounds, was the least you could do in return for his bravery.

“Think nothing of it, darling.” Theseus tried to placate you, his warm smile only making your heart flutter in concern. You knew him well enough to detect deceit, and even if his intentions were pure, you still fussed over him.

“Let me see.” You gazed up at him, fingers reaching for the cut that adorned his cheek. It was bleeding fairly enough, and if he felt any pain he certainly didn’t show it. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Theseus-“

“I promise.” He smiled again, letting himself enjoy the soft caress of your fingers on his jaw. Tonight wasn’t over just yet, and for any of you it could very well be the end, but he would never forgive himself if he let such moments as this pass him by without proper attention. “Are you alright?”

“I am. Thanks to you.”

“You’re injured.” Theseus scolded, eyeing the way you nestled your other arm safely at your side. You could pretend as you like, but that was too serious a bite for him not to notice.

“It’ll heal.” You spared him the long explanation of how you got it, and to you his wound was more concerning. Even if he paid it no mind, you could take what energy you had left and mend it for him. “Here. Let me.” You raised your wand to his face, ready to close that cut and give him just a bit of relief to brave on. But, that wouldn’t come, and just when you began the mumbling of a healing spell he gripped your wrist, eyes focused on the fight raging on ahead.

“Newt...” Theseus appeared concerned, lips dipping to a frown when he witnessed his younger brother and the others being lambasted by the fire. There was no time to lick his own wounds, and now that you were safe he felt the urge to move on and aid them. He shifted his gaze back to you, taking in the details of all your features in their worried state. Your concern for him was heartwarming, but he feared he must do it all again.

“Stay here.” He still held your wrist, thumb stroking your palm lovingly while he admired every part of you. There was no telling where this night would lead, but he would count himself fortunate to have had the time to call you his. With a slight tug he brought you close, tactfully closing the distance and planting a warm and amorous kiss to your lips. By the time he pulled away, you were panting, his fingers leaving your wrist as he shot out of his cover and headed for the others.

***

TAGLIST: @brittanymcsharry @marvelous-revengers @jinx4karma @preppy-by-the-c @marsbars101 @ariminiria @jackdawsonsgrl @emily12x @november-ash @dasha-tardis @lunadiilios @tamanamohain @ghoulishbergara @blackrose-92 @siren-lamented-vampire @theonlyparadox @unexpectedlyromantic @newtstarmander

Again, some tags won’t work. I’m sorry~

[theonetruespacegayarts]

It’s a Delicate Process

Chapter One

[Content Warning: Non-graphic depiction of vomiting.]

Deck stumbled and tripped over his own feet, his vision was more than double. He could feel sickness rising from his stomach, his shoulder hit a wall as he tried to keep it down. Just a moment later, the ground below, along with his boots, were painted with the contents of his stomach. He swore and stumbled away from the mess, well, it was more like he tripped over nothing. He fell onto his hands and knees, which broke the half filled bottle of vodka he'd stolen from the bar he was just thrown out of. When the bottle shattered, several shards, large and small, cut into and embedded into the skin of his hand.

He fell heavily onto his rear, with a sort of thud, and he began to pull some of the larger shards out of his hand. Tears formed quickly in his bloodshot grey eyes, streaking his pale cheeks with the faintest glint in the flaxen light of the alley. He gently sobbed, legs sprawled out in front of him, angrily tossing larger shards as he pulled them from his hand.

The light sound of scuffing could be heard at the entrance of the alley, behind Deck, the scuffing of lazy feet. Someone too lazy to pick up their feet while walking, or maybe it was deliberate? Deck knew he didn't care, he just wanted to get home to free his mind of the complicated memories that somehow seeped through his drunken state.

"Oi, buddy. Y'alright?" Someone behind Deck called out.

Deck didn't even acknowledge them, he only winced in turn with the scraping of his nails across sharp glass in his skin. He couldn't breathe through his nose now, and his sniffles echoed just slightly against the walls that surrounded him. His sobs did too, short, soft, and half choked, trying to quiet himself.

"Ay, I'm talkin' to you." The voice called again, the scuffing stopped and he heard footsteps approaching him. The scuffing was deliberate.

"J-Just fuck off, wouldja?" Deck exclaimed in a shaky tone, tossing another shard he freed from his hand a few feet in front of him.

Deck mumbled something incoherent and the person behind him was unsure if he was talking to him or to himself. Regardless, he knelt down and gently placed a hand on Deck's left shoulder, which was as quickly swiped off as Deck had slid 3 feet away from him.

The man was alarmed, he raised his hands out in front of him, palms facing Deck to show that he meant no harm.

"Easy, there. I'm not tryin' to hurt ya." The stranger said.

Deck's eyes were wide with what seemed like confusion, especially telling by his furrowed brow. His eyes quickly turned away from the stranger as he stood up quickly, oh fuck, too fast. He lost his balance, stumbled to the side, his head felt like it was floating and his eyes closed. He briefly opened them again to see the stranger lunging toward him and the world was spinning, the ground was--rising? And then-

The whir of an oscillating fan could be heard, and Deck didn't need to open his eyes to know the room he was in was bright, too bright. It was plain to anyone's mind that he was really hungover, his head fucking hurt and his thoughts were only on the pain. He rolled over, shit, too quick, and he was on the floor. A carpeted floor, his were all hardwood. He half opened one eye, taking in the piercing bright view of an unfamiliar room. He shut his eyes tight and a groan made itself known deep in his throat as he pressed hard into his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Wh-Where the fffuck," he began, and felt a harsh rush from his stomach, somehow holding in the sick that almost erupted from him.

"Good morning, gorgeous!" The same voice from earlier? Last night?

Deck was startled, he jumped up from his stomach quickly on his knees and shuffled backward. He was too sober for this, too fucking sober, and his head was throbbing. Instinctively, both hands rose to his eyes, which he now noticed were quite puffy, and covered them to shield the light. At this point, he didn't care if he'd been kidnapped, he just wanted that fucking light off right now.

"Do what you want, dickhead. J-Just turn off the fucking light." Deck said, an obvious demand.

"Buddy boy, you're in my house," The man's voice said, it sounded louder than it should have. "And, well… Can't turn out the sun, in case ya didn't know."

Deck was relieved when the light got dimmer, the sound of metal scraping metal accompanied the sudden lessening of light.

"The hell am I at your house for? You kidnap me?" Deck was defensive, and more than a little bit scared, which could be heard by the trembling tone of his voice.

"'Cause you passed out in an alley and I wasn't gonna leave you there for the pigs to grab." The man said with a short laugh.

"Why do you c-care? You don't knooow me." Deck said, he'd gagged while speaking and held a hand to his mouth to keep it down.

"Darlin', I'm not fond of the way those fuckwads handle drunken messes like you. The junkies wouldn't be too kind with you either." The stranger said, his tone was so serious yet he sounded like he was joking.

He must be joking, no one gives a shit about a junkie.

"Name's Lars, by the way." He said when Deck didn't say anything to him.

Deck's mind was so jumbled, his thoughts were like the shards of glass that were still in his hand. He winced when he realized his hand was also throbbing, but noticed the feeling of gauze wrapped around his hand. His shoulders slumped and he heaved a heavy sigh. He felt so defeated, like such a disappointment, he just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Ah, right. Your hand is pretty sliced up, isn't it? Didn't wanna mess with it while you were unconscious, but I made sure it wouldn't get infected." Lars said before he stepped out of the room.

Deck simply let himself fall over onto the floor and closed his eyes, he rolled himself on his side and hoped he'd fall asleep before Lars reentered the room. Within minutes, and to his dismay, he heard footsteps approaching from the direction Lars had left the room. He heaved a gentle sigh and felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, he didn't want to cry in front of someone who barely knew him so he fought the tears away.

Deck was lying on the floor right in front of the couch, very much blocking the way, especially with the coffee table close by as well. Lars didn't seem to mind this, he found his way around Deck and sat himself upon the couch. Deck heard the clank of glass on wood and some wrappers rustling as Lars emptied his hands of what he was carrying.

"Come on, boy. Get up and sit on the couch." Lars said, it almost sounded like a demand, but there was a sort of caring tone to it?

This was foreign to Deck, it was so off from his usual life that he thought he was having a very weird dream. He muttered some words to himself, too incoherent for Lars to pick it up. He very reluctantly pushed himself up, losing a little balance on one side and wincing because of the glass in his hand. His throat was getting tight from the heavy emotion building in his chest and his eyes got misty. He wanted to scream and punch any nearby solid objects with all the force that his skinny arms could muster, but he held back. He was slow, finally sitting back on his heels, where he lingered for a moment. He fully expected Lars to bark Hurry the fuck up! at him, but Lars was quiet, patient. Deck slowly stood up, the light that remained in the room stung his eyes and he had to shut them again, carefully using the back of his legs to find the couch before slumping down next to Lars.

"There ya go, good job." Lars said with a faint smile that he knew Deck wasn't going to see.

Wake up, Deck. Come on. There's no way this is real.

Lars leaned forward to grab something off the table before leaning back and turning himself a bit toward Deck, where their knees bumped together. Deck's eyes shot open and he jerked away a bit on instinct, letting out a shaky breath before letting himself relax a little when he realized it was, what's the word… an accident? This has to be a dream.

Lars raised his hands defensively, holding metal tweezers between his thumb and forefinger, showing he wasn't doing anything to cause him harm.

"You're fine, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you." Lars said softly. His voice was rough and deep, but there was this tone to it that was so unfamiliar to Deck.

When Deck's stiff shoulders slacked the slightest bit, almost unnoticeable to the human eye, Lars slowly lowered his hands. He raised his left slowly toward Deck, splaying his fingers out to show he had nothing hidden.

"Can I have your hand? Gotta get those shards out." Lars said softly, not moving his hand even an inch so Deck wouldn't get spooked.

Deck was very hesitant, taking his time to contemplate his movements before making any decisions. After a few minutes and some incredible patience on Lars' end, he very slowly raised his left hand and gently rested it in Lars'.

"Okay, this will hurt, but I promise you it will help." Lars said before gently unwrapping the gauze from Deck's hand. It had several splotches of crimson where his hand had bled, but that was to be expected.

Lars took the tweezers he had in his hand and, as gently as he could, pinched a larger shard between the prongs to slowly pull it out. Deck visibly winced and yanked his hand away, which he immediately regretted because this reflex caused the shard to tear his skin a bit more upon its exit.

"S-Sorry!" Deck exclaimed in obvious fear, recoiling and slamming his eyes shut.

He opened his eyes a moment later when he felt no painful contact from the man next to him. And when he did, he saw what must have been concern in Lars' amber eyes. And there were tears sitting upon his lower lids, like the sight of Deck's fear tugged at his heart in a painful way.

"Hey, you're okay. Nothing's gonna happen to ya. You're safe here. All I'm doing is gettin' this glass out so you can heal." Lars spoke gentle and slow, giving a soft smile so Deck knew he meant well.

Deck give two quick nods, then hesitantly returned his hand to Lars'. He tried his best to sit still, but winced with every shard that was pulled from his palm and fingers. He also jerked away multiple times, but Lars only slacked the grip he had on his hand and let him pull away, waiting patiently for his hand to return. Deck was so stunned by the fact that the guy didn't get anywhere near upset. He was patient and obviously cared quite a bit, even though Deck was just was an addict he picked up from an alley.

Once all, or most, of the shards had been freed from his hand, Lars gave a small warning before soaking a piece of gauze with rubbing alcohol, and gently dabbing the open wounds, which Deck winced and almost jerked his hand away, but held mostly still for. After this, Lars wrapped his hand with a roll of gauze he had on the coffee table.

"I gotta wash my hands and throw this away. Just sit tight. I'll make ya some food when you're feelin’ better. Just let me know when." And with that, Lars stood up, grabbed the materials he had with him, and left the room.

Deck stared at his gauze wrapped hand, thinking deeply about the whole 30 minutes he just experienced. He was so confused, so conflicted, this could not be real. This could only be an incredibly realistic dream. His breathing started to pick up and tears, too heavy an intense to blink away, prickled from his tear ducts before beginning their trail down his pale cheeks.

[simkjrs]

msa asks (chap. 4  & onwards)

masterpost of msa asks that have been piling up, starting from when chapter 4 was published. thanks for your patience everyone...

answered in chronological order (first sent to most recently sent). i might have missed a couple, sorry about that

Anonymous said: IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT IT'S OUT

Anonymous said: *INCOHERENT SCREECHING AND FLAILING*

ah, the halcyon days of innocence, before everyone finished reading the chapter

Anonymous said: *just finished chp4* uh Yeah about that what the fuck? simk whAT THE HELL DID YOU POUR GUNPOWDER ON YOUR PC? LOAD 14 BULLETS ON EVERY KEY ON YOUR KEYBOARD? SEND KILLER ZAPS TO ANYONE WHO SCROLLS UNTIL THE END OF THE CHAPTER? I WAS SO EXCITED ABT THE UPDATE THAT I COMPLETELY FORGOT THAT U WERE ACTUALLY A MURDERER IN DISGUISE? ANOTHER BEGINNERS MISTAKE, BECAUSE EVERYTHING U WRITE FUCKS ME UP ON EVERY FUCKING LEVEL? SO YEah what i wanted to say is that i love you

to date this is still one of the funniest asks i’ve ever gotten and it’s going in my testimonials

Anonymous said: me @ the new msa chapter:👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

thank you, i do my best

Anonymous said: OH MY GOD! YOU REALLY PUT THE SNAKE FASHION THING!! :DDD :OOO

it was too good to pass up!! if you want to message me w/ ur name or url so i can credit you for inspo/the prompt, feel free :p

Anonymous said: I actually thought in the middle of the chapter that temple-dog would help Izuku escape so he would get captured by the other side of the coin and now i'm just crying

fjdlfkjsldf im sorry im like this. i do this 

Anonymous said: in just a few hours the comments went from 5 to flipping 23 25

yeah im very lucky to have so many people follow & support my writing!! im grateful to everyone who comments.

Anonymous said: I wonder how being sick works for MSA Izuku. In that odd state of not being as aware as usual and your mind being foggy, would he hear that star song easier or any other odd spirit shenanigans?

he’d just be kind of out of it and more susceptible to... things 

Anonymous said: SCREAMS?? I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND THIS CHAPTER WAS ABSOLUTELY STELLAR, THANK YOU FOR IMMEDIATELY BRIGHTENING MY NIGHT! I HOPE YOU HAVE A FANTASTIC TIME!!

ahh im really glad you enjoyed chapter four that much!! thank you!!!

Anonymous said: IM HOLLERIN THE NEW CHAPTER WAS SO GOOD WTF??

fjldkfsldf thank you.... 

Anonymous said: When I first commented on Ao3 I felt like looking at the other comments and I noticed all of them (at the time) had a line along the lines of "he needs a break" so I ended up imagining him just sunbathing on some tropical beach (read deserted island) sipping coconut Juice and sighing happily with noone to bother him.

that would be ideal. i think izuku also would not know what to do with himself

Anonymous said: MSA Izuku ch.4 summary: Kirishima: Hey are you ok? Izuku, literally on fire: Why, what's wrong?

GHFLKDFJLSDF IM LAUGHING!!! YOURE NOT WRONG

Anonymous said: I just finished msa ch4 and im?? Its 0 dark 00 and I have a 7 hour shift later Toda but I had to put it down and gnash my teeth over how GORGEOUS and HEARTBREAKING this chapter was before picking it up and finishing it. God im so stoked that it came out. Alright my pal, I hope you have a good time period of indeterminate length; take care of yourself yo!!

thank you im so glad you enjoyed it!! and i hope things have been good for you!

Anonymous said: ffuuuUUUUCK THAT TEMPLE-DOG YO WHAT AN AWFUL ICKY THING TO DO

correct, although in its defense, if izuku had just been another spirit, their connection would not have had that kind of effect 

Anonymous said: Uh, sorry if this bothering you, this has something to do with Msa Izuku, but not the new chapter (love it BTW, poor Izuku got captured by Overhaul. The cat is a new bar.).So, I would like to ask, just for fun, what would Izuku sees if he meets C/astiel face to face and how would the spirits react?

i think my worldbuilding and spn worldbuilding would conflict in so many terrible ways, but... izuku would prob be able to see c/astiel’s wings and true form? only for a bit before his eyes started getting itchy, and then started bleeding... dont think the spirits would like angels very much. spirits are a very prideful and arrogant bunch who don’t like to be intruded upon or interfered with

Anonymous said: who is Senshajou other than an amazing creature which I love already

senshajou is plato’s ideal cat. they are not exactly a spirit. they just are

Anonymous said: I'm suuuper curious about what the One for All spirit looks like in MSA, because my first thought is that it'd have to be this massive chimeric mutant due to the nature of it's creation and the fact it's been bonded to eight separate people.

coming back and reading this is incredibly funny because like. yeah. ofa is a chimera. not quite for the reasons you think, but yeah

Anonymous said: You know what I'm thinking right now? What of kiri and deku met in public after The Arrest™. The sheer chaos it would bring. The Confusion ™. I'm sure deku would just take one look at kiri and just. Book it. Also ch4 helped inspire me in my endavour to write about my etheral starlight dragon god for a original story i've been thinking up. You're really good at describing creatures beyond Imagination, you know.

you have correctly predicted this scenario. 

also im glad ch4 was able to help you in your writing endeavors!! best of luck!!

Anonymous said: whenever i read msa i always picture izuku wearing like, some kind of grey cloak, with the hood always up and shadowing his eyes no matter the context/location/surrounding temperature. It doesn't make any sense given the general fashion in bnha but I can't help it- msa!izuku is a cloak kinda guy imo

you’re right but msa izuku would also hate the attention that would come with wearing a cloak. he is definitely a hood-up kind of guy

Anonymous said: msa au in which Deku escapes the villain alliance, breaks into Kirishima's home, and just, fucking collapses on the couch. Kirishima gets up the next morning to see the fucking cryptid he'd hunted for days just, sleeping on his couch like a giant cat. What the fuck. What the fuck.

hold that thought

Anonymous said: So I'm reading ch 4 and listening to "I appear missing" by queens of the stone age and it works ridiculously well ngl (also like gd this chapter is so good the hype is real👍👍)

thank you!! this is a p cool song

Anonymous said: In MSA does everyone have a spirit? Have people always had spirits? Do you know how quirks started? Do even quirkless people have spirits? Why don't they have quirks? Could Izuku open their channel, or is the quirk canceling bullets different from quirkless people? So many questions!

most everyone has a spirit but not everyone, people have not always had guardian spirits, i do know how quirks started, quirkless people have spirits, they don’t have quirks because their bodies have not adapted to channel their spirit’s energy adequately, and izuku can try something with unlocking quirks, but it depends on what there is to work with already. quirk cancelling bullets rewind the bond between spirit and human but they don’t erase the adaptations to the body. quirkless people dont have that adaptation in the first place... hope that makes sense 

Anonymous said: dunno if this's been mentioned/acknowledged or asked about before, but wheres izuku's guardian spirit?

he ain’t got one. but why... 

Anonymous said: CHOO CHOO IT'S THE UNRESOLVED EMOTIONAL ISSUES TRAIN COMING IN AT 242379 MILES AN HOUR THERE ARE NO STOPS THERE ARE NO BRAKES WE DIE LIKE MEN ON THE HELL EXPRESS ~bakugous spirit

this is a joke but actually, yes. actually, this is very applicable to msa izuku himself, and so many characters i write, actually. this is an icnredibly funny ask and i love the phrases you use  and i would not be surprised if i subconsciously absorb this phrase and accidentally use it in the future. thank you for this

Anonymous said: question: if msa izuku and kirishima were in a dangerous situation and izuku almost got hurt very badly/died but he managed to escape. BUT kirishima didnt see him escape and didnt know he was okay. how would kirishima react

in typical kirishima fashion he would be very worried about izuku and would probably try to figure out a way to rescue him

Anonymous said: im ppl have been talkig abt izu's guardian spirit lately, but wht abt allm's? i like to imagine that when shimura died, she became toshi's guardian spirit

shes not allm’s guardian spirit but shes Around

Anonymous said: ok but the part where msa izuku says release it rly reminded me of cardcaptor sakura just sayin

never watched cardcaptor sakura but thats p cool 

Anonymous said: I'd like to think if MSA. Izu/ku got hit with a quirk erasing bullet it wouldn't kill him, just like knock him out for a good day or so until he wakes back up through spite and the universe just hating him and being like "man thanks for the nap gun guys gotta get me one of those"

Anonymous said: I had a dream that msa!izu/ku was standing in his cell and staring at a nearby guard and the guard is wondering wtf why is he staring like that but actually he was just really tired and fell asleep. Standing up. W/eyes open.

HEY THIS IS INCREDIBLE AND INCREDIBLY FUNNY AND IF SOMEONE WROTE A SNIPPET WITH IZUKU DOING THIS I WOULD ABSOLUTELY BELIEVE IT

Anonymous said: I'm sorry but I have to tell you “Would you like to sit?” “No.” is the funniest interaction I have ever experienced in my life I woke up my grandmother at 3 am cause I was laughing so hard and she's doesn't even live on the same floor as me

im so glad that izuku being a bullheaded and troubled teenager can bring some amusement and laughter to your day

Anonymous said: i guess you could say that in the lastest chapter, msa izuku is kicking ass... /and taking names/ BA DUM TSHHHHHHH

HGJDFKJSDLGSDF IM LAUGHING!!!! STOP THIS

Anonymous said: In the MSA verse when someone doesn't like their quirk for example like your OC Mitoki and they don't use their quirk how does that affect their spirit?

doesn’t really affect their spirit except like, psychologically or emotionally, because they would Like for their charge to be able to use their powers in order to defend themselves, but their charge Is Not

Anonymous said: What would Mitoki think of MSA Izuku?

msa izuku: says Anything msa izuku: pulls Those Stunts msa izuku: does stuff of gray legality without bothering to explain himself, ever msa izuku: also is grudgingly a good person mitoki: this guy is hilarious and a fucking RIOT, i have to adopt him immediately

Anonymous said: i imagine after hearing the music of the universe msa izuku doesn't like human music anymore, huh?

i think he isn’t very fond of any music that reminds him of that experience, and how he nearly lost sight of his sense of self. normal, mundane music with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is probably a relief

Anonymous said: Just wanted to drop in and say that I really love MSA!!! It's a super refreshing read, and I LOVE how you write everyone. I'm so hooked, you have no idea. Thank you so much for all the work you put into it!!

thank you for dropping in and letting me know!! i love feedback like this, makes me happy to keep writing and sharing stuff. i hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Anonymous said: someone: *gives izuku positive attention* izuku: you come into MY HOUSE

yeah that’s pretty much exactly it

Anonymous said: This might be a little weird and specific, but how would MSA Izuku react to someone who does similar stuff to him? Meaning, constantly does weird eldritch shit while sassing away any attempts to figure it out. And also assuming that they keep crossing paths no matter how either party feels about it.

probably kind of uncomfortable, but if this person is reacting to said eldritch stuff the way msa izuku reacts to spirit stuff, i think he’d just recognize this person as someone else who’s going through a lot of stuff and just wants to be left alone, and then msa izuku would proceed to leave them alone. maybe quietly give them a coffee if they look like they need it, then leave.

if this person was enjoying eldritch stuff, i think msa izuku would be kind of envious of them, and resentful, because hey, this person gets a way better deal than me in terms of eldritch mysteries, why do i get stuck with all the bad stuff? 

either way i don’t think msa izuku would spend a lot of time with them, he has a lot of his own stuff to deal with.

Anonymous said: Holy hell. Did Izuku, like, frickin ABSORB afo or some shit??

Anonymous said: Did izu/ku discover afo's spirit's name? And then proceed to destroy afo

Anonymous said: If I was Aizawa, or any other clever member of the hero crew, my assumption would probably be that Izuku is the product of a quirk that makes physical manifestations of other people's quirks. The person with said quirk probably used it on themselves, thus Izuku. It would reasonably explain why he's so dodgy about his identity, can fix/alter quirks, talks strangely to nothing, and is so effected by the eraser quirk. (It's fun manufacturing wrong but reasonable theories!)

oh thats a really interesting theory!! hmm yeah... it could work, but if i was aizawa i would wonder why izuku didn’t just disappear if he was just a temporary manifestation of a quirk. i’ll deffo consider this though and if it proves useful to the story i hope you won’t mind if i use it? 

thank you for writing in!

Anonymous said: Goodness, I love your work. A part of me silently lives for the day when MSA!Izu and All Might spend time together and AM's just?? Immune to all of Izu's snark, while still being such a dad. Like "Deku my boy, where's the hoodie I gave you? It's getting cold out."/"Based on the trajectory of the moon and sun, in a garbage bin somewhere."/"Oh! Well it *was* my old highschool hoodie. It was probably getting too old to wear anyway"/*Cue frustrated-mortified screams of the little cryptid child*

frankly i don’t think msa izuku would be able to handle someone knowing About Him and genuinely looking after him at the same time, he’s only ever had one or the other at a time, if all might did this msa izuku would short circuit and have a minor crisis because he doesn’t know how to accept affection from someone who accepts him for who he is. this thought hurts me and i regret thinking about this. really good ask, thanks for sending it in

Anonymous said: Your fic ‘know what i’ve made by the marks on my hands’ is a power move in of itself.

fndlfksldkf THANKS, im putting this in my testimonials

Anonymous said: Ever since the beggining of MSA I can't get rid of a certain though. Bakugou's Quirk something horibly adorable and comepletely enamored with Izuku. Like, the moment it sees him, it just jumps at him with hugs and kisses, possibly some purrs. Izuku avoiding the duo because he's so done and tired of the vilent love and explosive heatred mixture.

izuku hates it because both of them are giving him some form of attention and he just wants them to forget about him and be done with it

Anonymous said: Idk whether this was asked but how do names come across in the second intonation?? Like if izuku was saying senshajou (?) would the name come out in japanese or does the second intonation have a way of saying names without actually saying them? Basically would listening in on their conversation reveal a bunch of static and then just "carwash" in the middle of the sentence??

intonations aren’t a new language, just a manner of speaking, where the fourth intonation takes the most energy and the first intonation (normal speech) takes the least. effectively, izuku and all the spirits are speaking japanese, but the intonation they speak in will take their words to a different energy level. if that makes sense. so, no, ‘carwash’ would not show up in the middle of a sentence

Anonymous said: SIMK IM CHOKING!!!!!! YOUR ART LEFT ME SPEECHLESS ITS SO GOOOOD!!!!

thank you so much!!! this is very flattering, and makes me very happy as well

Anonymous said: Hey have you ever played OFF?? Idk the first pic you drew for MSA rly reminds me of it

i have not! but i love the art i’ve seen for it

Anonymous said: so are the guardian spirits in msa bound to their humans in a distance sense? like can they just wander off to somewhere far away from their human or would they hit a boundary somewhere?

yes, spirits are basically bound by proximity! they can leave their charges behind and go gallivanting to another continent but it’s Not A Good Idea for a few reasons and becomes very unpractical. they can travel pretty far from their charges if the necessity arises, though.

Anonymous said: there is a lot of things i could say about your my spirit academia art but the first thing that i thought of was "wow izuku looks good with nail polish"

fjdlkfjsldf

everyone looks great with nail polish!

Anonymous said: msa!izuku's flirting: you're slightly less terrible than everything else happening in this situation right now

izuku says this stiffly and without looking at the other person because expressing emotion and vulnerability is difficult for him

Anonymous said: Honestly msa!izuku is the most relatable au Izuku. I too wish I could just fade from everyone’s collective knowledge and become the local ghost story middle schoolers dare each other to test. *izuku gets ding-dong-ditched but only because local children are too terrified to stay to see the beast that lives in that apartment*

Wait what does Izuku do for halloween anyways?

i accidentally deleted the second half of your question so that’s just a paraphrase sorry!! but yeah, i’ve infused msa izuku with some of my more cryptid-longing tendencies, i find it hilarious that this has carried through. i love the proposed scenario. it’s incredibly funny and absolutely something that would happen to izuku 

i dont think halloween is very widely celebrated in japan? but if it was, izuku would probably just shut himself in his room for the night because he doesn’t want to deal with any aspect of the holiday

Anonymous said: heya!! i just read your msa fic and i absolutely adore it! the whole idea is just awesome in the every sense of the word and ive found myself already completely immersed in it! your writing of izu/ku is very relatable for me and it only makes me love the fic more?? ahh im just head over heels for it!!!!

ahhh im really glad to hear that!!! i hope you continue to enjoy future chapters, as we explore more of izuku’s character, and possibly, his past :^)

Anonymous said: u have probs already gotten this question before, but was msa izuku (or his soul) merged with his guardian spirit at birth? Cause izuku basically says that something went terribly wrong at his birth... so I'm thinking he somehow merged with his spirit????

something like that! there was spirit fuckery involved.

Anonymous said: I cant help but think prototype!izu/ku's hair would match msa izu/ku v well

im laughing because ive actually drawn msa izuku with a hairstyle DISTRESSINGLY similar to prototype izuku’s hair. msa izuku has got that unhappy, emo vibe about him that just naturally attracts the kinds of vibes that prototype izuku’s hair gives off

Anonymous said: is izu/ku's guardian spirit like nessie or bigfoot or something? cause i swear to fuck he's such a cryptid omg

HRNGLDFLKSDF IM LAUGHING

nah, izuku doesn’t have a guardian spirit. only... himself

Anonymous said: Did All Might give Mirio One For All in MSA?

no idea, haven’t thought about it, won’t figure it out until i actually need to address it

Anonymous said: I just wanna say that I love msa and kirishima is trying

kirishima *is* trying and we are all loving and supporting him for the amazing work he does

Anonymous said: Say, would Shinsou’s quirk work on MSA!Izuku?

you will find that out in, sports festival msa au, wherein msa izuku accidentally takes his canon counterpart’s place right after he’s finished the obstacle course event in the sports festival. i need to get through the end of the sports festival before im satisfied with publishing it... but i’ve finished the shinsou fight. so! you’ll see :p

Anonymous said: Hey I sent you an ask a while ago but idk if you saw it or not, but I just wanted to say that I really liked your latest chapter of msa! The music that you described in the chapter was really amazing and it made me think of this song called “the heaven’s flock” sang by the Texas all state choir. Obviously it won’t be anything close to the ethereal other-worldly music that you describe in the chapter, but it’s what came to mind while I was reading it. You can find it on YouTube, hope you like it!

hey im super glad!! i spent a lot of time editing those paragraphs for Maximum Spiritness, it’s always gratifying to know someone enjoyed them. and yes, i checked out the song on youtube, and it’s pretty cool! choral pieces usually don’t interest me a lot but this one was fun. thanks for telling me about it!

Anonymous said: i just found your ff and I love them! Tired(tm) Midoriya is great and I love him.

thank you!! izuku who is tired of this bullshit and calls it out when he sees it is definitely very fun. 

Anonymous said: where is msa!izuku's physique in comparison to the cannon timeline? is he closer to how he was at the very start of series, or while he was training with All Might before he got One for All?

he’s pretty lean and wiry with plenty of stamina, so i’d say he’s about on par with canon izuku after training with all might pre-yuuei. he probably doesn’t have as much raw strength but i think he has more stamina

Anonymous said: Msa izu/ku escapes from the Precepts' clutches and starts booking it around the tunnels and just. Stumbles upon Eri. Stops and takes the time to fuckin wrangle her spirit to stop it from unexisting him and just books it with her "I'm taking her now bye"

this is hilariously close

Anonymous said: you used a lyric from meet me in the woods for the 4th chapter of msa and god thinking about it that song fits the au?? at least as much as i've seen about it.

thank you!! and yeah, i’ve actually got that song on my msa playlist. specifically, my msa kiri/deku playlist, because it fits so well. [sips that heart hurting juice] im happy someone caught the reference!

Anonymous said: just read the quote from Morrison 'she utilised violence in a purely feminine way' by chucking hot pokers at people and all I can think of is msa!izu/ku being so done with everything and being violent 'in a purely deadpan way', chucking his collection of spray paint cans/ art supplies/ occasional chair at the spirits because he's just so done and LET HIM SLEEP OR AT LEAST TURN UP WITH COFFEE GODDAMIT.

you are not, wrong 

thats what his scripts are for!

Anonymous said: Msa! Izu/ku's laugh sounding like a dead rustling/ raspy monotone that is simultaneously eerie and extremely concerning to the point you want to wrap him in marshmallows.

msa izuku’s laugh sounds very, very tired, which is arguably the same thing

@iamlikecain​ said: Hi ! I juste wanted to say that I love your fic My spirit academia and sassy Izuku is what I now live for. Btw, he doesn’t deserve to suffer omg that poor baby and uuugg I hope he’ll be happy ;—-;

haha thank you!! i’m glad you like msa izuku’s shenanigans!! and yeah. he really doesn’t deserve any of this. things will, hopefully, look up for him soon! i am not setting out to write a pessimistic story, eventually things will get better

Anonymous said: Your my hero academia spirit AU is super frigging interesting??? Im dying to read more :DDD

thank you! im super glad you enjoyed it

Anonymous said: What are your favorite msu!izuku headcannons?

just the fact of him existing in this unrestrained, unintentionally chaotic state of being wherein he does what he needs to and may even do what you want him to, but in a way that makes him and you and everyone else involved feel like you’re all just a bunch of clowns. heres a couple more facts about him though

his goal in life is to become a famous reclusive calligrapher who has retired to the isolated countryside to do calligraphy, where no one can bother him

secretly still really passionate about heroics but kind of embarrassed about it so if you find out or bring it up he WILL try to kill you

messy and not very good at cooking, but doing his best

knows some kind of weird trivia that you wouldn’t really expect

Anonymous said: b r u h what would inko's quirk spirit creature look like?? soft and playful and curious about all sorts of smol trinkets/objects??? would they be combative w izuku too??? ;-; or reach some sort of grudging acceptance of their presence??? smol green abomination belongs to my beloved human, so no fighting little abomination

honestly i haven’t given a lot of thought to inko’s guardian spirit, other than that it’s probably pretty small and not one of the most powerful spirits out there. it’s kind of distant from izuku, bc izuku makes it uneasy, but it cares about izuku in its own way. 

[a-mole-of-iron]

Short story: “Peacekeeper’s Journals - Airborne Welfare“

In a galaxy overcome by injustice, violence, hunger, and suffering, someone eventually has to stand up and say: “Enough.“ And this story, first in a short story cycle, focuses on the people who have done exactly that - the Peacekeeper Force, and among them, Kellian Korfal Aamvek, a young Peacekeeper officer who is willing to put his well-being and even life on the line to make the world a better place.

Read on, and you will see: Kindness and solidarity. Triumph in the face of adversity. Feeding the hungry, defending the powerless, and flying a variety of aircraft like a total madman. All this, and more - in Peacekeeper's Journals.

Genre: military sci-fi sentimental novel (well, short story). Content warning: absurdly miserable Charles Dickens-level poverty, momentary reference to abusive childhood, and lots of general sadness... but also plenty of fist-pumping adrenaline-fueled action.

***

"If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage, it's probably a helicopter, and therefore, unsafe."

- Military/aviation proverb

Hardcore electro-industrial rock thundered in Kellian's pilot headphones as he all but scraped the surface of a dried-out water canal with the underbelly and landing gear of a helicopter that he stole. He called out through the helicopter's intercom, yelling "Hey, everyone alright there in the back?" as the coaxial rotors swooshed right past an overhead monorail line - the passengers just answering with incoherent screams as they held on for dear life. Rapidly climbing to avoid a collision with an overpass coming up in front, he made a dangerously sharp turn around a dilapidated tower block to try and shake the pursuers. The day didn't look particularly good so far, but he could still turn it around if he got to friendly territory safely. Luckily, right now he was in the pilot's seat - a fact that'd allow him to take on an entire battalion and get away safely. This wasn't the first time he made a stunningly successful, nail-biting aerial escape - and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

***

This particular instance of Kellian's "badly-calculated risk-taking for the sake of the downtrodden", as he always called it when explaining his actions to High Command, began on the preceding morning. Then, he had no idea what was to come; he was on simple convoy guard duty, riding in the back of a truck to protect important supplies. His ears and tail breezed in the oncoming gentle wind, oxygen mask and pilot headphones hanging loosely alongside other gear, as always, and trench coat buttoned up in the spring chill. The run-down city he and the other Peacekeepers were in has definitely seen better days; after the once-powerful Starfarer Hegemony collapsed, it was sadly a common condition for its former worlds and peoples. Kel looked from the truck as the convoy approached the more populated area; regrettably, the place, like the entire city, really was a sorry sight. The street they were going through was in a state of dire disrepair, with garbage and rubble lining the streets, cracked wall paint and stucco and pothole-strewn pavement, dirty windows, rusted fences, vehicle wrecks that have been stripped of all that could be useful. A few people looked out to them with a mix of curiosity and fear: some children who were playing in the rubble with rusty tin cans and tattered pieces of red and blue cloth, trash collectors and scavengers who picked through things the - in massive quotes - "better-off" people threw away. Kellian understood the plight of those people, to the fullest extent he was able to. Being mistreated and then abandoned was familiar to him - and really hoped he and the Peacekeepers could bring something good to this planet's society.

As he looked up for a moment into the patchily-clouded sky, trying to find solace in it, Kel was told over the radio that the convoy was rolling in towards its destination. The head vehicle driver thanked the convoy defenders, as the trucks slowed to a stop; halting in such a manner that Kel noticed a few scavengers and beggars in a small courtyard off to the side, arguing over something. With the trucks held up at the gates of the local district hall, he hopped off his vehicle, and walked over to the scavengers. They were all different - different heights, different sexes, different ages - and yet the same, all wearing equally patched-over clothing, and all looking just as sad and downtrodden as one another. They noticed him, and reacted with fear.

"Wh-what do you want?" one asked, stammering. "Are you from t-the Iron Authority?"

"No, not at all." Kellian replied in a soft, nonthreatening tone. "I'm from the Peacekeeper Force, and I'm here to help."

"The... the Peacekeepers? Why?" another one of the scavengers asked, hiding their eyes from Kellian's sight. "Why are you here? Why so many soldiers?"

"The soldiers are here to protect you and the supplies we brought for you." Kellian said firmly. "We aren't here to conquer, we are here to help you build."

"Do... do you mean these are supplies? F-for us?" another scavenger asked from the back of the group.

"Yeah." Kellian responded. "Your community deserves help, and since no-one else will provide... we are here."

"Do you just give help to anyone who asks?" the person from the back asked. "I... I really need food for my family now..." He paused for a second, then continued. "We couldn't meet our quota because my friend here was sick, and now the Authority will barely pay us for our salvage..." he said, almost sobbing as he stepped forwards. "My family has two kids to feed and care for... what am I going to tell them all...?"

"Hey, I understand you. Please don't despair." Kellian said. "Helping people in need is second nature to me." He gently put his hand on the scavenger's shoulder, and reached into his flight suit's pocket, pulling out a sizeable Peacekeeper field ration. He handed it to the scavenger, and said: "Here, please take this. We'll be giving out a convoy's worth of food to everyone in a couple of hours, but I know all too well how it is to see hunger in someone's eyes."

"I... how can I thank you?" the scavenger asked. "You're so kind..."

"You can thank me by showing up to the... hmm. How's it called?" - here, Kellian paused for a moment - "...ah, right, leadership gathering, I think. Is that right?" he asked.

"A gathering?" the third person from among the group asked. "We haven't had one in years... are you really just going to hand out food, no questions asked?"

"More than just food." Kellian said, pointing to the convoy with open arms. "We brought tech resources, medical supplies, help for your teachers and librarians, means of defense. And above all... we tried to bring hope. Just hold out for a bit longer. Things are about to look up for your city, believe me."

"Tech... medkits... our doctors, our teachers... are we really going to get so much help? I just don't... it's so unbelievable! How can it be true?" one person in the group asked in astonishment.

"Well... you'd better get used to things going well for a change." Kellian told the group with a sad smile. "I and my comrades-in-arms will lay down our lives to protect you, but I hope the situation won't demand that level of sacrifice."

The group murmured among themselves, talking about the Peacekeepers' reputation; Kellian figured they may have heard good things, but not enough to convince them the Peacekeepers were worth trusting. He thought for a moment, then raised his hand a bit and addressed the group.

"Hey, I know how it looks." he said. "We might just look like another convoy of soldiers rolling into town. But we'll do our absolute best to be better than that." He paused for a second. "My CO, comrade Tak’Lar, will gladly make our case, but you've got to trust her. Trust the good things you may have heard about us."

"Okay, okay." one of the group replied. "I... we did hear good things about the Peacekeepers. But there's not much room for hope out here..."

"Well, do you want to do a favor to your community?" Kellian asked. "Then go and tell others that the Peacekeepers arrived with supplies for you, that there will be a leadership gathering, and that we mean no harm. Letting people know is the only way we'll be able to actually distribute what we brought."

"Well, alright..." one of the scavengers replied.

"Don't worry, things will be better soon." Kellian told the group. "We're not going to leave you alone and adrift."

"Thank you." the scavenger told Kellian. "Peacekeepers or not, we didn't hope any help would ever--"

"Let me stop you right there." Kellian told him. "You're just as worthy of help as the rest of the galaxy. And we will get help to everyone, one step at a time."

***

Later in the day, a little past lunchtime, the district hall and the plaza outside have gathered a fair few listeners. The diverse crowd was only united by one thing: there were people of all sorts of ages, sexes, genders, and societal roles, from several different species - all of them equally impoverished, and faintly hoping the Peacekeepers really would change something for the better.

They were talking among themselves, with a mix of apprehension and expectation in the air; by then, the news of the Peacekeeper arrival had spread across the district and beyond, and all who trusted them have shown up to hear what they have to say. A Peacekeeper officer - Kellian's CO - took to the central stage, and laid out the interstellar aid program.

"My comrades." she told the crowd, "My name is Ervek-Vaa Tak’Lar, and I am a Peacekeeper. We are here now, and we are going to try and make sure it means something for you. A convoy of supplies arrived today, the first of many; there is enough food for all of you, and it will last you at least three local weeks, with three good meals a day for everyone, if you pool it with what you have. And by then, we'll have many more convoys coming in!"

The crowd cheered, and Ervek-Vaa continued. "I asked your council to unload the trucks, and as soon as the speech ends, you can go and get rations in the parking lot. But that's not everything." she said. "We brought medicine for you, as well!" she told the crowd. "Right now, it's not much yet, just basic supplies, but I've been told many districts in your city barely have any left. Please, think of this as something you all deserve." she said, giving an encouraging smile to her listeners. "Everyone in this galaxy and beyond deserves a good standard of medical help whenever they need it, and we will do our absolute best to help you with that. We consider it our duty."

The people cheered again, but then one person in the back held out her hand. "Yes, what is it?" Ervek-Vaa asked, pointing her arm out at her.

"Yes, sorry..." the woman in ragged clothes asked. "My name is Heva Rii... I'm a teacher, or at least, I was a teacher..." She looked down at her feet, then continued. "Is it... really true that you brought something for teachers as well?"

"Yes, it's true." Ervek-Vaa told her. "Some textbooks in appropriate languages, and school supplies... we'll be able to supply you to repair the school building, as well. It's not much, but this is just the first convoy. There will be more - I will give all I can to make sure that happens."

The crowd cheered once again, rumbling with hope - a feeling that had been all but lost to them. Kellian was simply standing by a side door, hands in pockets, looking out into the crowd as he wondered what would be his next assignment on this mission. Suddenly, though, he saw two people approach him: a young kid, and the scavenger to whom he gave the food ration earlier today. The scavenger pointed his hand towards Kellian, and the kid walked up to him.

"Hey there." Kellian said.

"Hey..." the kid said. "You're the Peacekeeper, right?"

"I am a Peacekeeper, but yeah." Kellian said. "What can I do for you?"

"I... uh, my dad told me about you today..." the kid said. "People say bad stuff about myskans, but you don't look bad!"

"Heh, thanks." Kellian said. "My name's Kellian, but you can call me Kel. This goes to you as well, comrade." he said, nodding to the kid's father. "What is your name?" he asked the kid.

"I'm... I'm Exi." the kid said. "And my dad, his name is Cayan."

"Pleased to meet you two." Kellian said. He looked at the kid and his father - two frail figures, the father a bit shorter than him, wearing tattered clothing over their sand-yellow scales, their four-eyed expressions burdened with their hunger and sadness. "Is there anything you want?" he asked, struggling with his emotions as he saw just how bereft of happiness Cayan and Exi were. "Maybe I could... help somehow?"

"N-no, we... I..." Exi stammered, "We just hoped we could get food from the convoy, really..." He looked at Kellian, swallowing a lump in his throat. "My dad, he wanted to ask you about something, but I wondered, maybe you'd want to go to our place? Our family wanted to thank you, and if you need a place to stay..."

Kellian looked at the two, giving them a weak smile. "Don't worry, Exi, the Peacekeepers will provide me with a place to stay. But if you wanted me to, I could perhaps come along. Maybe. I'll just have to clear it with the command, but I think they'll understand." he said. "Now what was it that you wanted to ask, comrade?" he asked, turning to Exi's father.

Cayan looked towards Kellian, and mumbled: "I, well, I'm just worried for my brother today. He hasn't come back from a trading errand, and I just figured I'd ask you to come with us, so that our family can tell you what we know. I'm sorry if it's not your business, but..."

Kellian's ears perked up as he listened to Cayan. His brows furrowed, and he nodded to the two. "This sounds like something I should look into, definitely." he said. "I'm rank-and-file, but I think I can get it cleared. Where do you live?"

"We live here, in an old housing block..." Exi said. "It's down the street, at the Mirua Plaza."

After Exi told him where their family lived, Kellian raised his index finger to one side of his headphones, and pressed a communications button on it. "Command, this is Lantern 1-4, got two civvies from Mirua Plaza here with a possible missing person. I'm worried for them. Clear to investigate, over?" he asked. "Copy that, command, thank you. Lantern 1-4 out." He lowered his hand from the headphone, and told Cayan and Exi: "Alright, I'm clear. I can come with you; I'll look at your info and see if I can find your relative."

***

Having taken their alottment of food from the convoy trucks, Cayan and Exi went back to the building where they lived, with Kellian helping them carry the supplies. They went to Mirua Plaza, with its chipped, rusted rocketship statue and piles of salvaged junk around it. Kellian sighed as they went up several flights of stairs, with the stairwell's broken windows, writing in local scripts daubed over the walls, and garbage strewn around all along the path upwards. On the seventh floor, Cayan knocked on one of the doors, and the female voice from the other side asked: "Who's there?"

"Seena, it's me and Exi." Cayan said. "We have the supplies! And we have a guest with us, too!"

"R-really?" Seena asked from the other side. "That's amazing! Come on in!"

The door opened, and Seena invited Kellian in after Cayan and Exi carried in the food packs. She was a bit older than Exi, his teenage sister by the looks of it. "You're the Peacekeeper my father talked about, right?" she asked. "Welcome to our home... it's not much, but we try to..." she mumbled as Kellian walked in, her speech trailing off into silence as she turned her four eyes down towards the floor.

"Don't worry." Kellian said. "It's not your fault that your home might not be the best." He gave a reserved smile, adding: "We myskans judge people by their character, not by how rich they are."

After giving Seena a reassuring nod, Kellian looked around. The hab unit was still dingy and run-down, but definitely better than the outside world. The glass windows were all in place, dirty as they were, and the family's worldly belongings were either carefully stacked, or placed in the run-down cabinets, their paint peeling and wooden structure covered with dirt and soot. The weathered coat rack held all of the family's clothing, patched and ragged as one would expect on a world like this. A soot-stained, tattered curtain closed off most of the view to another room through a doorway, a few sheets of tin standing nearby - presumably to make a new door when that'd be possible. Kellian could see another member of the family resting in bed in that other room, a few more beds in the room he was in, and directly in the center of his view from the hab unit's door, a middle-aged woman keeping the fire in a scrappy, makeshift stove with her Thermodynamic set of psionic powers - the stove's chimney going out the window through a foam-insulated sheet of metal. Exi looked at Kellian, pulling on his sleeve, and asked: "I... I know it's not much, but what do you think, mister?"

"It's okay, Exi." Kellian said. "I know you're living a difficult life, and for that kind of life, your home is good. You're taking good care of it. Believe me, I wouldn't mind staying."

"Really?! Do you... do you really think that?", Exi asked Kellian with a few quiet sobs.

"Yeah, I do." Kellian said, patting Exi on his shoulder. "Please, don't cry. Things will get better now that the Peacekeepers are here."

"Yeah..." Exi mumbled, giving another quiet sob. "Thank you..."

"Shh, hey, it's alright." Kellian told him. "I know how it feels to be desperate. Your family is strong. You'll pull through, I promise."

Silence hung over the room for a moment, before the woman near the stove walked over to Kellian and embraced Exi. "Hello there..." she said, giving Kellian a glance over Exi's shoulder with a sad, ashamed look, recognizing how dismal the conditions must have looked to Kel.

"Hello. My name's comrade Kellian, but you can call me Kel." the myskan said. "What's your name?"

"Lemmta." the woman told him.

"Alright." Kellian said as Exi left her arms and went off to the next room.

Lemmta turned to Kellian with a more hopeful look. She raised her hand a little, and said: "Kellian... I'll be honest, I don't know what to make of you being here. I'd be afraid of any people with weapons showing up, but you brought more food than we've seen in the last month, Cayan trusts you, and you treat my son so well... you really do seem like a peacekeeper."

"Trust me, I'm not going to harm your family, and I'll do my best to protect your city." Kellian said. "I know it might be hard to believe, but we'll do everything we can to earn your trust."

"You've done a lot to do that." Lemmta said. "I've heard much worse about myskans, but you're so kind and helpful..."

Kellian looked at Lemmta and said: "Believe me, the bad things you'd normally hear about myskans are just lies. Many of us try our best to be kind and decent - just like your family."

"Thank you, Kellian..." Lemmta told him.

"Trust me, I'm not the only myskan who helps the Peacekeepers deliver food to the poor." Kellian said, reaching out for a handshake.

Lemmta reached back to Kellian, shaking his hand weakly. "Thank you." she said in a soft voice. "We didn't didn't expect any help, definitely not now..."

Kellian just looked at her with sadness in his eyes, and said: "I understand. My own father yelled at me and hit me any time I didn't follow his orders to the letter. And I felt like I couldn't expect anything to get better... even when I hit back with my psionics and the coward ran away from me and my mom. But trust me, things can get better. You just have to be ready when they do." He turned his eyes away, staying still for a moment. "Sorry, I don't want to bring you down even more." he told her. "I just want to say, I know how it feels to be in a bad place." Turning around, he tried to smile for Lemmta and Cayan, despite his sad feelings. "Okay." he said with a sigh. "Cayan... what can you tell me about your brother? Where'd he go, and when was he supposed to come back?"

"Well..." Cayan said, looking down to the floor, "His name is Merhal. He was supposed to go to another city district to trade some electronic scrap for fuel. We were expecting him back by lunchtime, but the other district is near Authority patrol routes... and now I fear..."

"Please, Cayan, don't worry." Kellian said. "I will personally go there, and search for your brother. If he's been injured or captured, I will bring him back alive. I've done things like that hundreds of times before. And believe me - I'm sure he's alive. I'm sure I'll be able to rescue him."

"Thank you." Cayan told Kellian. "I barely know the Peacekeepers, I only know you for a day - but you're so kind, so willing to help..."

"Don't worry about it." Kellian told him. "It's literally my job to help people like you. There's a reason I am a Peacekeeper." Kellian nodded politely to the family, and took one step back. "I'm going to leave now, but trust me, I will be back." he said. "And your brother will be with me, Cayan, safe and sound." With that, Kellian walked out the door, glancing back for a moment with a hopeful smile to reassure the family he was helping, and walked back down the stairs.

***

Within the hour, Kellian reached the other city district to investigate. He climbed out of a Peacekeeper scout car, nodding to the driver to head back to base, and looked around. Before him was a small city square with a rusted hovercar wreck off to one side and a waterless, dusty fountain in the center, the buildings around the square showing nothing but cracked walls and broken windows. There wasn't even any large-scale vegetation to speak of - just some grey-green weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement. The quiet wind blew around trash and scraps of paper, with no-one to be seen nearby. It all looked sad enough, but Kellian was, sadly, kind of used to it all. He looked downstreet, and saw a kind of life sign: a tattered golden-white-and-teal banner with writing in local script on it, possibly indicating some sort of place where people could be found. Figuring he could start there, Kellian set off down the street, keeping his eye out for anything that could be important to finding Merhal.

Gently knocking on the door, rusted around its frame and boarded up with plywood where a big glass pane once was, Kellian walked into the place under the tattered banner. It looked like a store, or an establishment similar enough to one. The shelves were loaded with salvaged items and resources - the shop owners were doing their best, it seemed. Still, the environment itself was dingy and run-down, with light having trouble getting in through the dirty windows and rust and grime being prevalent across the furniture and store shelves.

At the counter, Kellian saw the storekeeper clerk writing something on a piece of polypaper... but they stopped right as they noticed him entering, looking at him and immediately trying to hide behind the counter, even though it barely concealed them.

"W-what do you need? Who are you?" the clerk stammered.

"Please, don't be afraid." Kellian said, raising his hands to show he wasn't armed. "I'm not here to hurt you. I am a friend, comrade. A friend."

"But aren't you from the--" they asked.

"No, I am not from the Iron Authority." Kellian interrupted. "I am a Peacekeeper. I will not hurt you, I just want to ask you about a missing person."

"The Peacekeepers? I barely ever heard about the Peacekeepers..." the clerk said. "I heard you help people, but..."

"Look, let me be clear." Kellian frowned. "I see you're afraid of the Iron Authority. But if you help me now, you'll help to get it out of your city and off your planet, and they'll never know it. Our goals are no secret; the Authority can go die in a crossfire, as far as we think."

The clerk peeked out a little more from behind the counter, their face showing an expression of fear and misery just like those of many other people Kellian saw so far. They tugged at their ragged scarf, and asked: "I... see. What do you need to know? I don't really know much..."

"Like I told you, I'm looking for a missing person." Kellian said."He's a little shorter than I am, he's got yellow scales, and his name is Merhal. He was in the district before lunch, to trade some electronic scrap for stove fuel. Have you seen him?"

The clerk's expression once again became gripped with fear, and they tried to hide behind the counter again. "I, sorry, I can't--" they stammered, "Sorry, I can't tell... I don't..."

"The Iron Authority have taken him hostage, haven't they?" Kellian asked, instantly realizing what has happened.

"I... sorry, I'm just, I..." the clerk told Kellian, trying their best to get the words out.

"Hey, hey. Be calm." Kellian said. "I won't ever tell anyone you informed me. And I really need to know what happened. I implore you, tell me; Merhal's life may depend on it."

The clerk kept hiding behind the register, Kellian looking at them with pleading eyes. After a few moments, the clerk looked back towards him, and reached out towards the myskan with their hand.

"Okay... I think..." the clerk mumbled, "I, well, if you can save Merhal, I..."

"I'm sure I can." Kellian said. "Please, tell me where he went."

"Merhal... he was here, but then the Authority troopers stormed in and took him, and others too..." the clerk stammered.

"Others? There were other people here?" Kellian asked.

"Yes... seven people in all... the Authority troopers dragged them all away..." the clerk said, shuddering in fear.

"Then I will save all seven." Kellian said. "Don't worry, I will bring them all back safely."

Kellian raised his index finger to his headphone, pressing its comms button, and said: "Command, this is Lantern 1-4. I've been informed that seven people have been taken hostage by the Iron Authority. I will attempt a recon mission and report back, over." After a brief pause, he said: "Negative, Command, I will not attempt a rescue on my own unless absolutely necessary, over." Another pause, and he responded with "Affirmative, Command, I am going now. Affirmative, will keep you posted. Lantern 1-4 out." He turned to the clerk, and said: "It's better for you to lay low. Try to avoid the patrols; the Iron Authority isn't going to exist for much longer, in all likelihood. Just hold out, and things will be much, much better."

"Okay... I will try..." the clerk said.

"Please, just take care of yourself, okay?" Kellian asked. "That's all anyone can ask of you. The Peacekeepers will be helping the city as much as they can from now on." He nodded politely, and walked out of the salvage store.

***

On the approach to the Iron Authority outpost in the district, Kellian opted to tread carefully, making quiet steps and checking the corners before rounding them. A bit away from the needed place, he decided it'd be wise to take a view of the location; thankfully, the outpost was surrounded by buildings, and Kel knew how to exploit that. He made his way to a nearby fire escape, and hopped up to ascend the ladder, finding himself on a desolate rooftop. The city panorama he saw around him was as damaged by neglect and decay as the street-level view; a sorry sight of crumbling walls and broken windows.

Looking towards the outpost, he noticed a helicopter readying for takeoff on the far side of it, and took out a small set of binoculars to look it over. What he saw was instantly alarming: a group of Iron Authority's jackbooted thugs ordering seven handcuffed civilians to board the helicopter, waving around shock batons and blaster rifles. One of the civilians was obviously Merhal, with yellow scales and four eyes, and Kellian decided - he had no choice but to act. He raised his hand and pressed his headphone button, saying: "Command, this is Lantern 1-4. It's absolutely necessary. Lantern 1-4 out."

Making a running start, Kellian ran across the rooftops, leaping between them and then silently jumping down into the outpost grounds. Landing with myskan agility, he quietly made his way to the landing area, seeing the civilians get pushed onboard, followed by an armed guard, followed by the pilot starting the engines. As the helicopter's coaxial rotors started turning, Kellian readied himself to rush his target. He peeked out from behind the crates, seeing the helicopter and the guards around it; most weren't even looking in its direction, with just the guard onboard of the vehicle itself posing an immediate threat.

As the helicopter's rotors revved up, Kel raised up his hand, and focused the force of his mind on the helicopter guard. Before he could close the door, the guard was pulled from the helicopter by Kel's gravitic powers and flew off, barreling into several other guards who were keeping watch. Using the sudden confusion, Kel leapt towards the helicopter, reaching it in several bounds, opened the front door, and threw the pilot from the cockpit. The other guards tried to open fire on him, but before they could do anything, Kellian reached out with his hand again - and with his mental effort, the guards were thrown back, crashing into the nearby walls and crate stacks. Getting into the seat, he rapidly slammed the thrust lever to the maximum degree he could; the craft rapidly took off, with several bolts of blaster fire ricocheting off the hull.

"Alright, everyone, don't panic!" Kellian yelled into the helicopter's intercom speaker.

"Who is this?! W-what are you doing?!" one of the passengers asked in fear.

"This is your rescue, comrade!" Kellian responded. "Close that door, we're getting out of here!"

"B-but how-- why?!" another passenger asked.

"I'm a Peacekeeper, and we're not leaving you behind!" Kellian responded, rifle blaster bolts passing by the cockpit windows as the helicopter lifted far out of their range, towards safety. Kel pressed his headphone button, and called out: "Command, this is Lantern 1-4! I am coming in with the rescued civilians via airlift! Yes I stole the helicopter! No, it was the only possible tactical option! Affirmative, Command, I will write a full report! Just get ready for us. Lantern 1-4 out!"

***

Kellian turned to the intercom as soon as the helicopter made it out to the safe distance from the outpost. As it flew over the desolate city, he punched on the intercom.

"Hey, I have a question for you all. Why were you taken hostage?" he asked.

"We don't really know..." one of the civilians replied. "My gods, is this all really happening...?!"

"Believe me, this is real." Kellian said softly. "And you're safe now. I'm one of the best pilots in the sector... though I'm sure some of my comrades-in-arms would disagree." He paused for a moment, before asking: "So, you don't know why did the Iron Authority try to capture you?"

"No, not really..." another person told Kellian. "I overheard something about ransom..."

"Oh, that might explain it..." Kellian said. "The Peacekeepers brought in supplies today, and... maybe they wanted to ransom you for those. Honestly, seems like the Iron Authority... from what I've heard in the mission briefings, they're just insufferable--"

Suddenly, Kellian's insult-to-be was cut off by the helicopter's proximity alarm. He looked at the radar display, and noticed several small radar signatures approaching their location. "Figures... I knew they wouldn't let us escape that easily..." he muttered. Glancing over the instruments, he figured what he could do with the particular helicopter he had. To his glee, it was a highly maneuverable, aerobatics-certified model... just the thing that he needed. He turned to the intercom again, punching it on. "Okay, everyone, change of plans!" he told the passengers. "Hold onto your seats as best as you can! We have choppers incoming, probably unmanned, so I'm going to try and shake them! We just have a few clicks to fly further, and then we'll be safe!"

Kellian reached out to the control panel and flicked a few switches, disabling the helicopter's piloting assists. After that, he enabled the back view camera, giving him a picture of what was going on behind the helicopter. He saw a few small dots approaching from about 4 o'clock, and figured from the radar he had about a minute before they were in the attack range. He looked down through the bubble canopy of the pilot compartment, evaluating the landscape: a decayed urban sprawl with a couple of towerblocks, a water canal going roughly in the needed direction, and some public squares and roads he could fly through if need be. He reached down to a pocket on his pilot suit, fishing out the Flashbang - his personal music player that was plugged in via the suit's custom comms wiring. "Fine, you gunheads." he muttered to himself. "You want to dance? Let's dance." as he pressed the "Play" button on the Flashbang.

In an instant, Kellian pulled the helicopter into an aggressive dive at the same moment that one of his favourite songs started playing over his headphones. The pulse-pounding electro-industrial track was a perfect backdrop, Kellian's sight focusing as he plotted the flight route through the city. He leveled the helicopter out a little above the city rooftops, weaving and dodging between tower blocks as the pursuing helicopters opened fire on him. Angling the rotors, Kel ascended rapidly, then did a 360-degree turn around the vertical axis, briefly seeing the unmanned craft of his opponents before losing some altitude and spinning directly into the canals. He punched on the intercom, saying "Okay, you just hold on, comrades!"

"What in the fire lakes of the underworld?!" one of the passengers yelled back. "Are you completely nuts?!"

"Don't worry, I've got it in my claws!" Kellian yelled. "We're going to get out alive, unharmed, and only a bit rattled!" He turned off the intercom again, and directed his helicopter to speed along the surface of the dried-out canal.

Taking care to dodge several oncoming bridges with half-decent margin for error and banking the helicopter around piers and water outflow pipes, he made his way towards the city outskirts in a jagged line as fast as he could, enemy helicopters firing at him but missing by a long shot - whether they were AI or RC, Kellian's erratic piloting was too much for their operators' targeting skills. Looking at the navigator screen, Kel noticed he was coming up on a damaged section of the canals... and, suddenly for him, his pursuers started hitting the water and canal banks closer to his chopper, a quick look at the radar and back view screens informing him that they're trying to play his game now, chasing after his helicopter around the obstacles. "Oh, now you're playing by my rules..." Kellian mused with a wicked grin.

His electro-industrial playlist thundering in his headphones, Kel all but scraped the surface of the canal with the underbelly and landing gear of his chopper, punching the intercom on and yelling: "Hey, everyone alright there in the back?" as the rotors of the helicopter swooshed past the monorail line overhead. The passengers just screamed incoherently in response as they held on for dear life, Kellian pulling into a rapid climb to avoid an overpass in front and making a sharp turn around a dilapidated tower block. Trying to shake his pursuers, he descended to the rooftop level again, doing several rapid dashes against the sound of creaking metal and blaring proximity alarms. He noticed the industrial area on the horizon, approaching rapidly... and quickly realized the Peacekeeper base at a small spaceport was right on the other side of it. Kellian smiled - this was exactly what he needed right now. He put the engine power to maximum, and sped off towards the industrial zone with its smokestacks, pipelines, and fractionating columns.

On the approach to the decrepit industrial sector, Kellian glanced over the helicopter's instruments again, and then turned his eyes back to the landscape in front of him, comparing the radar map to what he saw in front of him. The oncoming landscape of tall buildings presented a perfect opportunity to him - sure, it was deadly dangerous for an unskilled pilot, but Kellian was anything except unskilled. He took the helicopter into a broad sweep leftwards, and flew it directly into the fray, weaving around the industrial structures. Noticing a canyon-like stretch of road between tall multi-floor warehouses, he dove right into it, with barely the required three-metre safe distance between the rotors and the building walls flanking the street - and to his satisfaction, the enemy choppers followed right after him. As the music track playing over his headphones hit its crescendo, Kellian sped towards a building complex at the end of the street... then, right before a lesser-skilled pilot would crash, pitched the nose of the chopper straight up and did a fighter-style J-turn; the screeching of the chopper's metal almost louder than the screams of the passengers, who were by all definitions not prepared for that sort of aerial escape.

"Ha! Got one!" Kellian grinned, as he heard one of the pursuing helicopters spin out of control and crash as it tried to follow after him. Reorienting the helicopter with another spin, he turned towards the Peacekeeper spaceport base - it was almost within reach now.

Pitching forwards and resuming his flight towards the spaceport, Kellian glanced at the backwards view display again. The second enemy helicopter was still in pursuit, but fortunately, Kellian knew exactly what he could do; a small forest of fractionating columns was coming up in front, the chemical plant they belonged to long since shut down and inoperable. Dodging enemy fire, Kel lured the remaining helicopter right after him, aiming for the space between two tallest columns. "Alright everyone, hang on!" he yelled over the intercom. "We're doing an aileron roll!" With that, Kellian banked the helicopter sideways, and squeezed it between the fractionating columns, the rotor axis pointing sideways and the landing gear whooshing a metre past one of the structures - Kellian giving all the extra safe distance to the rotors that he could. The helicopter turned upside down, and then back the right way, as Kellian heard another explosion behind him: the topmost portion of the right column got torn off, with plumes of fire and smoke rising from it.

For a few moments, relative silence hung over the helicopter's interior. With a satisfied smile, Kel breathed out slowly, and pressed "pause" on the Flashbang. Slowing the helicopter down, he punched on the intercom again.

"Hey... sorry for the rollercoaster ride. Hope no-one's injured?" he asked.

"Oh... you... you gods-damned... complete, utter, lunatic!" one of the passengers yelled. "Never, ever fly me anywhere, ever again!"

"You scared me worse than Iron Authority ever did, you madman!" another one added.

"Alright, alright, no need to yell at me..." Kellian said. "I know my piloting is far from cautious, but we got away safely, right? We're three minutes away from the Peacekeeper base now. And you're all safe. Just keep it together."

"Easy for you to say!" one of the passengers retorted. "I still can't believe we made it out alive!"

"Feh, I do these kinds of flights every week, and not once have I let anyone die from it..." Kellian muttered.

"Every week?! Oh gods..." a passenger mumbled in despair.

Kellian just sighed, and flipped over to the Peacekeeper comms channel. "FOB Restorer, come in, this is Lantern 1-4 speaking. I'm coming in for landing, be ready to accept rescued people. Yes, actually... have the medics on hand, just in case. No, it's not just because of what I just did piloting this bucket of bolts! Yes. Yes. No, I didn't! Yes, acknowledged. Lantern 1-4 out."

With that, Kellian made the last short distance to the spaceport - seeing the Peacekeeper spaceships on the decrepit landing field and temporary base structures placed in a few locations nearby. Noticing a good place to land, he slowed to a hover, then dialed down the engines and touched down. As soon as the helicopter landed, Kellian saw the Peacekeeper medics rushing over... and the fire crew standing a little further off in the distance. Grumbling under his breath about the horrendous lack of trust, he got out of the cockpit and looked on as the medics and Peacekeeper officers got people off of it, some visibly shuddering but others looking somewhat better.

A Peacekeeper officer walked up to Kellian, and asked:

"Comrade Aamvek, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yes..." Kellian replied, feeling he's not going to get away with yet another rash aerial escape that easily.

"Let's say, I hope you've got some time to spare, comrade." the officer replied. "Because you'll definitely have to do some explaining."

***

One very, very long explanation full of self-justifications and half-hearted responses later, Kellian found himself face-to-face with the people he saved. He looked at them with an awkward, shy smile, the group now feeling better but still visibly apprehensive.

"Hey... sorry for rattling your nerves back there..." Kellian said. "I know there's a reason why people complain about my piloting, but if it can save someone, I'm not going to hold it back."

The group looked at Kellian awkwardly, before one of them, a tall slender amphibian with a long forward nose and jaw and teal scales, dressed in a ragged woolen coat that was patched over many times, held out their hand. "It's alright." he said. "You saved us from imprisonment, probably even from death, myskan, even if it was scary. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it." Kellian said. "I'm a Peacekeeper, it's literally my job description. But... thinking on all that happened today... there's one thing I've got to tell you."

"What is it that you have?" another person asked.

"That you are the ones with the greatest task." Kellian told the group. "The Peacekeepers can give you the resources you need to rebuild, so that you no longer have to fend for yourselves. And we can protect your rebuilding efforts from anyone who'd want to rob you. But the rebuilding itself? That's up to you."

"Those are wise words, myskan." the amphibian rescuee said. "We will do our best. Thanks to your comrades, we are not alone now."

"Yeah. Exactly." Kel said. "Now, Merhal, please come with me." he pointed at the scavenger among the group. "Your family is waiting for you to come back."

"Of course, yes!" Merhal said, going after Kellian. "...as long as you don't drive..."

"Don't worry." Kellian grinned. "We can ask one of the scout car drivers to get us to Mirua Plaza."

Merhal walked after Kellian as the two left the group, going towards the motor pool to get Merhal a ride home. But a few metres away from the rescued people, Kellian turned around, and tried to smile for them. "And... by the way." he said. "If the Peacekeeper Command won't be opposed, you can keep the helicopter. I doubt the Iron Authority would treat you any better even if you gave it back. So make it your own, and use it for good. It's got the specs to be a good cargo lifter."

***

The drive back to Mirua Plaza wasn't too long; the scout car hovered over the damaged stretches of pavement, gliding towards its destination, Kellian and Merhal in the back seat. Merhal thanked Kellian several times for rescuing him, even though he admitted that Kel's piloting was at best utterly terrifying, and nothing would change his mind about that. When they reached the plaza, Kellian got out of the car... and looked up, noticing Cayan, Exi, and others looking out the window. He waved to them, Merhal getting out of the car at the same moment, Kel pointing at him - and heard the family cheering even from up above in the building. The two quickly ran into the building and upstairs as fast as they could... and when they got to the seventh floor, running through the open door of the hab unit, the entire family ran to embrace Merhal and Kellian.

"Thank you, Kellian..." Cayan said, weeping as he hugged Merhal close. "You saved my brother... I haven't hoped you'd do so much for us... that anyone would."

"Hey, it's alright..." Kellian said. "Cry if you need to... believe me, I'd give life and limb to save Merhal and others if I had to."

"Kellian, we owe you a great debt..." Lemmta said, almost crying herself. "How could we ever repay you?" she asked him.

"You don't need to repay me anything." Kellian said, lifting his head up and smiling to the family, gentle tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "The Peacekeeper Force literally pays me a living wage to help you and others. But... even if they hadn't, I'd still do it. Other Peacekeepers would do, too." He paused for a moment, before embracing Merhal and Cayan, others joining the three for a massive hug before letting go. Kellian smiled to them again - and this time, his smile was effortless. "We all took the Oath." he told the family as they looked towards him, Exi holding onto Merhal's hand. "We'll never abandon people in need of our help. We won't abandon you, and we won't abandon any others."

[along-the-way]

racism and queer stuff

I’m drunk and very unsure. I feel like I’ve gotten really sensitive to things recently. Anything about race and gender, I just get so uncomfortable so quickly when someone talks about those things in an even moderately inappropriate way. Even watching the fucking Office. it’s satire but I get uncomfortable as shit sitting there listening to them make jokes and hearing my mother laugh. 

Sometimes I worry that I’m pushing people away with that. Like it’s a difficult thing about me. And I promise I wouldn’t be reacting the way I do if it didn’t matter. but it does. All my life I’ve been treated differently because of who I am and I didn’t even realize how much random trauma I have from that until recently. I’ve been ostracized, bullied, straight up ignored because of who I am. And it hurts every time I hear another joke or comment that eludes to treating womxn, people of color, and queer people poorly and with less respect. Because those are my people. In a broad sense of course, but we’re all fighting daily to maintain respect for our communities and to keep fighting for equal treatment. that matters. I have to fight for that. There’s a responsibility that I have as someone with a foot in both worlds. I’m privileged in that way and I have to use that to make things better. it feels irresponsible not to.  

But my mother doesn’t get it. My sister doesn't either and I wonder if she ever will. It matters. Do you know what it feels like to have my mother be shooting off about whatever and casually be racist about immigrants at the dinner table? I’m the child of an immigrant. One who was lucky and had the resources available to him to climb out of poverty. One who is part of a model minority. Casual conversation that involves stereotypic praising of a racial grouping is still racist. It’s so deeply ingrained in how we behave that it’s insane and I feel like pulling my hair out because I can’t do anything about it. I sit there and I hear it, sick to my stomach because I think about my friends who the comments would relate to and how hurt they would be. But I can’t do anything about it because she’ll get defensive or change the subject. But fuck it’s so hurtful to sit there and know she won’t understand. 

I know I can talk to you and tell you that something makes me uncomfortable and you’ll understand. You’ll trust me when I say something is uncomfortable because it’s my experience and you get that it’s just different for me. I wish my fucking mom would. And she’s all upset that we’re not all hanging out together. But it’s frustrating as hell to listen to her talk about people she meets on the bus with the coded fucking language she uses. It’s like walking through a field of landmines talking to her. And trying to explain why certain things are okay or not is useless because she talks around whatever it is. And it’s exhausting because I know she doesn’t want to get it. 

I’m just tired of feeling like I can’t be myself at home because she and my sister just don’t get it. School is moderately better because at least there are other people of color and queer people to talk to about this. But fuck. I have to get out of here, dude. I can’t keep feeling like shit here because people aren’t educated about it or don’t care to try to be sensitive about it. It’s a whole movement. It matters. 

Okay, that’s enough rant to calm me down. Sorry if you actually read this, I know it’s kind of a lot and decently incoherent. But hey, I feel less like I'm gonna cry.