#the idea of her spending eternity AS AN ANIMAL is fucking awful

[littlesparklight]

Gently holds Stesichorus' "Apollo saves Hecuba after the fall of Troy and settles her in Lycia" version close to my heart.

Let that poor woman rest!!!

[chidoroki]

TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

[slothgiirl]

percolating gently (noah x mc)

au in which jane marshall lives and mc and noah and jane run off to live happily ever after a family of three and also smut (if you don’t want to read that skip the section that goes “its christmas, technically”. 

title from a tennessee williams quote 

15k

It's the three of them in the end. Jane. Noah. And you. Just like it started. Just like it had been.

Always you caught up between the two Marshall twins; Jane’s hand in yours gripping tight and never backing down as she poured water into dirt to make mud. At nine, and never having shared Jane’s attention before, Noah had snubbed you on more than one occasion, shooting down watching Resident Evil just because you had suggested it.

It was funny how you'd befriended Noah first. Jane had a fever the week your parents moved to Westchester (to study some microbe that was super rare or some other incredibly niche nerdy thing). You'd been left to roam the neighborhood on your own as per usual, drawing trees and pets you wished for in chalk, and then Noah.

Noah.

Redfield- Jane’s let up at least a little. You're no longer stuck to that awful chair in terror but griping Noah's shoulders, your fingers clutching the fabric of his denim jacket because he can't, you won't let him take her place.

He's been through so much already.

They both had.

“Noah,” you stammer out, chilled to the bone from terror or the fact that you were in a damp and freezing underground chamber--probably both. “Noah, you can't!” You tighten your grip on him even as his frown deepens, anger clear on his features as he glares down at you.

You cut him off before he can snap at you. Looking over at Jane, no longer blazing, but hovering around, a shadow spilling into the corners of the room, eyes a cold blue without an ounce of friendliness or curiosity.

“I'm sorry,” you tell her, because this was all your fault. You should've never encouraged her. You should've saved her. You should've done more: anything but brush the memory of her away instead of dealing with the events of that summer. Denial had long been your method of choice but here Jane was. It had all been real.

You owe her this much.

And Noah-

“I promised I'd be there for you,” you think of the whistle, “I promised I'd protect you so that's what I'm going to do now,” you say even as your hands shake. “Let me take your place.”

You move to stand, but Noah doesn't budge, his head shaking as his agonized wide eyes meet yours. There's always been a sincere quality in the warmth of Noah's brown eyes that put you at ease and had you feeling like you two were the only people in the world and you could never say no to him; not now. He's a mess (just how you feel), beanie about to slide off his tangled hair, tear tracks down his cheeks. There's a pull in your chest, the painful need to throw your arms around him and hug him until the world stops being this shitty but you doubt you'd ever leave his side if you hug him now.

Noah shakes his head. “It should be me,” he utters into the eerie acoustics of the chamber, the horror of the situation audible in his voice. “It should have been me then. I can finally make things right.”

Your lip grumbles as you cry out, “don't say that,” your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, “don't you dare say that bullshit Noah-we were kids! None of this,” you look around, look at Jane, “this shouldn't have happened to anyone. And it wasn't anyone's fucking fault!”

If-when you got out of this, you were going to throw hands with Mrs. Marshall.

You used to wish she’d been your mother.

The shadow that is Jane inches closer.

Right.

It had to be you or him.

His skin was warm against your hand and you don't-you don’t think you can live in a world where Noah isn't there and he's had the shittiest time and you could've reached out but you didn't and he doesn't deserve this because he thinks he deserves this.

Noah thinks he should've died.

Fuck.

This was all so fucked up.

“It's okay,” Noah whispers softly, his hand covering yours before gently removing your hand from his cheek, removing your hold on him. “It's okay.”

“But-” you look at Jane.

You didn't know what was worse, a world without Noah in it or a world where Noah became some twisted monster the same way Jane had over the years of loneliness. No one started out a monster.

You shake your head, reaching for Noah's hand, “I promised I wasn't leaving you again.”

His eyes widen in shock, giving him that doe eyes look that sort of made you want to kiss him, as if he'd forgotten all about that moment, as if he thought he wasn't worth it but Noah deserved more than death. He should get to go to culinary school and deal with shitty customers at Baby Jane’s.

And it was too late to save the day.

If you were being honest, it was nine years too late. It was all about doing the best you could  in impossible circumstances because Jane didn't deserve to spend an eternity alone and scared and a monster either.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you swallow thickly before replying in a steady voice, having made your choice the moment Noah had been willing to go find Dan alone, when he'd opened up to you at the shop and you realized all this time it hadn't just been you dealing with the repercussions of Redfield, “Together.”

You weren't going to fail Noah again.

Noah is speechless.

But Jane was always able to go with the flow. A shadowy limb ghost over both your hands, in the vein of those cheesy moments in anime when a best friend speech got everyone through a big battle.

“Allll play too g etherR.”

“Yeah,” Noah says sadly, accepting that there was no version of this ending that didn't end in tragedy. “together.”

At least this way, you could be monsters together.

“It's okay Jane,” he tells his sister, his hand squeezing yours, “we’ll take over from here.”

*

*

*

You wake up cold, thinking that you'd left your bedroom window open (not that you were doing much sleeping in that room after the Dan night terror) again, but you're greeted with the sight of Jane curled up asleep between you and Noah looking the same as she had at the many sleepovers you'd have at their house. You don't know if she's real or if this is a dream or if you're dead and this is just a figment of your new reality, but you don't care.

Finally, you understand the ending of Inception.

You don't want to wake them up, still exhausted yourself, but Jane keeps shivering and you can only imagine how worried your friends were. Your phone’s dead.

You couldn't stay here.

“Noah,” you whisper, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “Noah…”

He grumbles in his sleep, but doesn't wake up.

“Noah,” you hiss.

“What,” Noah slurs, shifting as he lifts his head, jostling Jane at his side but your friend who was dead, was previously dead, continues to sleep looking like a particularly angelic little girl.

You can tell when the situation dawns on him: the twitch of his lips as his mouth settles into a frown, brows becoming drawn in thought.

It's day outside.

You're not sure which day.

Noah's phone is also dead.

Both of you stumble through the woods half asleep, Noah carrying Jane as if she was the most precious thing in the world which she was because she had been dead but now she wasn't and you were beginning to hope this was real and not a trick and that Jane was getting a shot at a normal childhood.

“We should go to my house,” you offer, keeping your voice low as to not disturb Jane who continued to sleep, no wonder Andy and Ava had been able to draw so many mustaches on her back in the day. “It's closer.”

And also you had no way of explaining how Jane had suddenly come back to life. That was something to process later. First a warm bed and sleep and then you had to let your friends know you weren't dead and figure out the whole Jane being alive with Noah. But first, sleep.

“Yeah, okay,” Noah answer’s, clearly still in shock. “Sounds good.” He says as if you two were discussing the weather and not sudden resurrection.

Then again, was this really that big of a leap considering everything that happened in the last few months?

You kick off your shoes and curl up with the Marshall twins to sleep.

*

*

*

“Why are you so much taller,” Jane asks once you’ve all woken up and yes, Jane’s still there, flesh and blood and the idea begins to solidify that she’s alive and well, well maybe not, you don’t know how much she remembers if at all and you still don’t know what to do with her but for now Noah’s rifling around your sparse kitchen, sending you a judgemental look at the half empty pancake box mix that expired a month ago but there’s no gross mold or anything so he uses it anyway, unwilling to leave Jane alone for a second.

Noah smiles easily, which has you smiling, “I’m not tall,” he replies to his sister, “you just shrunk.”

She frowns, nose wrinkling and you had forgotten she did that when she was upset, her nose wrinkling up as her lips turn downward. It was adorable. Then in classic Jane fashion she decides, “that’s a lie.” And sticks her nose up in the air, her fingers continuing to do whatever in your hair. It feels nice, her small fingers weaving clumsily through your thick hair, but Jane had never actually learned to braid so you’re pretty sure she’s just tangling your hair up but you wouldn’t refuse Jane anything right now.

It’s been days since the dance.

You have countless missed calls from your friends, texts getting increasingly and increasingly panicked, and nothing from either of your parents.

“Turn around,” Jane squeaks, tapping your shoulder urgently.

“Alright, alright,” you say, shifting in your seat. She’s tiny. All red hair and freckles and she hasn’t left your side since waking you up, knees in your side as she’d yelled that she was bored and wanted to play so loud it had woken Noah up.

Jane looks at you with a frown. “You’re big too.” Then her lower lip wobbles.

Shit.

Hastily, you pull her onto your lap, wrapping your arms around her.

“Why am I still small,” she whispers, looking up at you with the same wide brown eyes you were so used to.

“Uh,” you swallow thickly, trying to figure something out because maybe she didn’t remember and wasn’t that for the best? Wouldn’t that be the best case scenario? The only problem is you’re barely eighteen and not at all prepared to handle a nine year old. Had you really been this small when your parents decided to fuck off? “It’s because. . .you’re special, like Peter Pan.”

She crunches up her nose for a second, thinking. Then in her child innocence, she nods, deciding she likes the explanation. “You should’ve come with me,” Jane pats your cheek sadly, “grown ups are so boring.”

Noah wheezes, a pancake slipping off the spatula as his shoulders shake with laughter.

You hadn’t had time to talk about what had happened, what he had done, and you certainly hadn’t had time to process your feelings on any of it, but you were always glad to see him laughing.

“Someone had to take care of your dumb brother,” you reply, legs kind of going numb with her weight.

Jane nods sagely, “Noah is dumb. Because he’s a changeling.”

When you were kids, you’d both been obsessed with goblins and trolls and fairy tales. You two would dig in the dirt looking for hag stones. Sticks would double as magic wands and swords. The old fur jacket Jane liked to play dress up with was her selkie skin and you would take turns hiding it around the house.

Noah rolls his eyes. He hadn’t liked your weirdo kid games the first time around, he liked them even less now and you can’t help but grin at his expense. “You’re the redhead in the family.”

Jane blows a raspberry.

What a way to win an argument.

It’s past midnight before Jane crashes.

You’re on your third watch of frozen which had seemed like a great way to keep Jane inside the first time when you’d suggested it (kids loved that movie) and had become the worst, as Jane made you watch the movie again and again, singing “do you want to build a snowman” at the top of her lungs. That hadn’t stopped you and Noah from helping her find all the pillows in your house to build a castle with. Your living room has become a pillow castle fort.

During the second watch, Jane had dug around through your closet, before finding a blue hoodie you didn’t even remember you had and tying it around her shoulders. “You’re Anna,” she’d told you, giving you pigtails when she gave up on braids.

Now, she was asleep on the couch, drooling on her pillow.

Noah immediately turns off the TV. “You couldn’t have put on Shrek?”

You’re sitting next to him on the floor, finally giving into the urge to look at the news on your phone. You hadn’t risked it while Jane was awake. She was a nosy child.

You frown, “we need to tell the others.” Because this was really happening. Jane was alive and you didn’t know what to do with that. She needed. . .fuck-she needed school and parents and probably therapy if she remembered any of it. You were just eighteen. You had no idea what to do.

Noah’s responding frown mirrors yours. “What? Why!”

“She just came back from the dead,” you reply quietly. “She needs-fuck what are we going to tell your mom?”

His expression turns angry, brows furrowing. “Fuck her. She doesn’t deserve to know.”

“Noah,” you sigh, not wanting to argue with him because what was there to argue. His mom was a shitty parent. “Dan, Andy. . .they think we’re dead. They deserve to know after what happened. They deserve an explanation.”

He flinches.

“And besides-we’re in high school! What are we-what the hell are we going to do with her,” you say gently because you couldn’t keep her cooped up in your house. You had things like high school and maybe college if you could salvage this quarter. You didn’t have a job. “She needs parents. And school. And. . .” You throw your hand sup in the air. You had no clue what she needed. You weren’t a functioning adult. You didn’t know what kids need.

“She has me.” Noah hisses back.

You roll your eyes. “I know that-fuck Noah,” becuase he was getting angry with you when all you were trying to do was help. God, he could be so freaking dense sometimes. “She deserves a normal childhood. How the hell are we supposed to do that for her? Does she remember any of it?” You cross your arms over your chest and stare at your feet. The garish pink nail polish was still intact.

Didn’t people need birth certificates and stuff?

Lucas would know.

Lily could probably do her computer thing and help with that.

He falls silent, glaring at the blank TV screen.

Noah’s breathing is harsh and you wait patiently.

“I can drop out,” Noah finally says quietly. “Get a job. . .”

“I’m going to call Lily,” you reply. “We need groceries anyway.” Like hell were you leaving Jane for even a second. This time, you mean to keep your promise.

*

*

*

Jane bursts into tears when she sees all her friends grew up without her, eyes turning red as tears streamed down her eyes and she buried her face in Noah’s chest, refusing to budge. He rubs his hand comfortingly against her back, carrying her upstairs.

Even from the living room, still a mess, you can hear her sob upstairs.

“What the absolute fuck,” Lucas utters, taking a seat, resting his head in his hands.

“Explain,” Stacy urges, already unpacking the groceries you’d requested into your kitchen.

You do.

You go over the last couple of days, most of which you spent sleeping.

“I think it says a lot about how fucked our lives are that this is only like the second craziest thing to happen to us,” Andy mutters, pacing around the room. “I mean,” he says stopping near the kitchen island, “the whole town got brainwashed!”

“Does-does she remember,” Lily asks.

You shrug, “I. . .I don’t think so. Clearly she doesn’t know why we’re all older. Maybe it’ll come back to her?” You hope it doesn’t.

“So what are we going to do,” Lily says, looking around at everyone.

Dan speaks up, “Jane could have blocked out those memories. My therapist said that can happen with traumatic events.”

“That makes sense,” you find yourself saying, slumping in your seat. You think you could just finish high school at home. It’s not like your parents would know, or care. They’re not here. That way Noah can finish high school and you can look after Jane. But then what?

“Just so we’re all on the same page,” Ava asks rhetorically, “we’re just going to ignore the fact Noah tried to kill us?”

You flinch.

“Jesus fucking christ Ava,” Andy snaps, looking just as agitated as you’ve all felt for months.

“One crisis at a time,” Stacy complains, closing the cupboard door with a hard thunk, “I can only handle one crisis at a time.” Then she looks over at you, “are you-is. . .you can stay at my house if you need to.” No one suggests Noah and Jane going to their own house.

You shake your head.

At some point, you were going to hash things out with Noah, but it wasn’t exactly anger at Noah that you felt. It was hurt and the raw heart crushing betrayal. You know you hadn't been there for him when he needed you--for years-- but you thought, you wish he had just told you about Jane being Redfield.You would have helped, you would have done anything to help Noah and Jane and maybe no one would’ve needed to play are you scared at all. Fuck.

But no. You don’t feel scared at being here with him which was what Stacy was asking about. It hadn’t even crossed your mind even once.

But it feels too private to tell them that the three of you have been inseparable since the ruins. You’d spent last night curled up on the living room floor with him. But that knowledge was yours. You weren’t about to share that.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine. “She can’t stay in Westchester can she?” Because you’re tired and want someone else to tell you what to do for once.

“Probably not,” Lucas answers tightly, still looking freaked out, eye twitching.

“It’s not a trick or anything. . .” Andy glances around.

You shake your head. Slowly, a plan forms in your head. Your parents would pay for your college, you’d apply out of state and take the Marshall twins with you. Instead of a dorm, you’d get an apartment. It could work.

Somehow.

“Have your parents called,” Dan asks gently.

“No,” you wave off. They weren’t important. Jane was.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to explain this,” Andy asks.

You wince. “Sort of. . .I don’t know.” You put your hands in your head.

It's Ava who wraps her arm around your shoulders, “we’ll figure this out.”

“Thanks.”

*

*

*

It's a familiar type of awful that Noah’s mom doesn’t really care that he’s spent the last six months living at your house.

With a great deal of arguing at 2 in the morning while lying next to a sleeping Jane, you’d managed to convince Noah to finish high school. And you’d promptly switched to homeschooling.

Lily had come through with Jane’s paperwork, now in your bag as your friends drop you off at the nearest regional airport.

You hold Jane’s hand, the only thing keeping her from running off as she takes the sight of the airport in. She’s thrown countless fits about being cooped up. But it was too risky for her to be seen in Westchester, a small town where everyone knew she’d died. The most you could do was your backyard.

So of course you’d made up for it by letting her pick your college.

“Someplace warm and sunny,” Jane had shouted excitedly, mind going crazy with plans as your acceptance letters came in.

Months on, it’s way less awkward even if Ava and Lucas have settled on ignoring Noah.

Andy hugs you hard. “Call when you land!”

You snort, “duh.”

Lily smiles and adds, “I might visit for spring break.”

“That would be great,” you tell her, tightening your hold on Jane as something catches her attention.

She pivots to Noah, who had the backbone of a toothpick when it came to telling Jane no which is why she keeps getting to skip brushing her teeth in the morning which was gross and she hated you for trying to chase her down, “I want that stuffed animal. If you give me that narwhal, I’ll eat my veggies.”

“You’re eating your veggies anyway,” you reply back, dragging her along.

“You won’t have to watch frozen tomorrow.” She continues, targeting her brother ruthlessly.

Noah’s already fishing his wallet out.

“That’s what you said about the hair color,” you point out, opting to carry her when she goes limp. “Don’t you dare Noah.”

Ava grins at you, amused and unhelpful.

“It’s just a toy,” he replies.

You roll your eyes.

“You two are such parents,” Andy laughs.

“I hate you,” Jane huffs. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“She told you,” Ava snorts.

Jane beams. Then reaches for Noah, who takes her from your arms without complaint.

You hug Lily one last time, and then. . .you’re going through security.

“I get the window seat,” Jane declares once you get past TSA.

“Go for it,” you tell her, belatedly realizing it’s going to be hell if it turns out she doesn’t like planes.

She nods, satisfied.

*

*

*

Tampa is no less humid and hot and awful a month in then it was when you first got off the plane but Jane loves it and there’s a park next to the building your living in: a tiny cramped apartment with only one room which went to Jane obviously which you and Noah had originally planned for you and Jane to share but both of you had capitulated to Jane’s demands within the day. She deserved being spoiled.

The A/C in Ikea was a godsend.

Sleeping on the floor with the bare necessities was not it and with you starting school next week, it was time to take your meager savings and get some furniture.

“Remember,” Noah says, pulling up the list on his phone. It had started with him grocery shopping since he cooked and needing to make a grocery list to Noah just taking over figuring out how to make the money your parents sent and his own contribution from his new job work. “Sofa bed. Bed for Jane. Blankets. One lamp. And a mattress.”

“Weren't you complaining about only having one pan this morning,” you ask as Jane drags you along to the first showroom, practically bouncing with energy.

Noah shrugs. “I can make it work.”

“Buying an extra pan won't kill us,” you counter. “We can just use my credit card.” And not eat out for the rest of the month, you didn't add.

“Let's play hide and seek,” Jane says with excitement. “I'll seek.”

You exchange glances with Noah.

Tomorrow you had to go sign her up at school. You had to go over the story with her again. Just to make sure you didn't all get in trouble.

Jane covers her eyes. “One. Two. . .”

You look around the tiny space, thinking of where to hide. Between school and Jane you weren't sure when you could or even if you could get a part time job. Noah was working at a diner during the evenings. You had gotten your classes early in the morning so you could be home with Jane while he worked. The problem was finding the extra free time to work.

Ugh.

Being an adult was hard.

But how much of an adult could you be when your parents were paying your tuition?

You head for the tiny bathroom which has a neat looking toothbrush holder and isn’t that something you need to buy? There were so many little things like a bath mat and towels and a dish rack that were only just occurring to you that were sort of essentials and jeez you really had one foot in adulthood. You don’t even hide behind the curtain, worried that Jane won’t find you easily and freak out and there’s weirdos everywhere. It was your job to look after her now. Not that Noah had asked for your help, but it was a given.

“Eight. . .nine. . .” Jane’s little voice carries and you’re struck by a flood of emotions that has your eyes tearing up.

Noah steps into the bathroom next to you, “we need a cutting board,” he says so seriously you can’t help but snort.

“What,” he asks, shaking his head at you.

“Nothing.”

He tilts his head.

You shrug, “just thinking. I don’t know. I don’t feel very grown up. And I took all the dumb towels my parents stockpiled for granted.”

“We should’ve raided your house,” he agrees, the corner of his lips lifting, “purge style.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I never get why everyone jumps straight to murder. What does Ava always say? Redistribute the wealth, rob a bank.” You roll your eyes, scoffing, “murder.”

Noah snorts. “Pretty sure that’s Lucas. Ava’s more of a go straight to cutting people’s heads off.”

“Robespierre style,” you grin.

“Robes who?”

“Robespierre. From the french revolution.”

“I think that’s the class I must’ve ditched,” Noah admits.

You frown. “You could do community college,” because you had to corner him at some point. Noah was very good at avoiding subjects he didn’t want to talk about. “We could make it work. Do your G.E.’s”

Noah shrugs.

“Noah-” Because he said he wanted to go to culinary school and you get the urge to drop everything and buy a ranch in utah and live with Jane for the rest of your lives except Jane would hate that and grow up and leave and how are you going to afford spoiling her if you can’t get a decent job? Noah deserved to go for his dreams too.

None of you had to be defined by your incredibly shitty childhood.

Jane pops in, “found you!” She giggles in her Baby Yoda t-shirt and leggings, “you two are bad at this game! My turn!” Jane grabs Noah’s hand and drags him along to the next showroom that catches her eye, “remember,” she lectures you both, “no peeking,” before shooting off.

“What did you end up choosing for your major,” Noah asks, as you both fail to keep your eyes closed, looking over at the sofa section. It would be so freaking nice not to sleep on the carpet anymore.

“History,” you admit, “though I’m not sure it’ll stay like that. I don’t know exactly what I want to do after college. Or if I even like history enough to major in it. . .it just sounded fine at the time.” You had done well in APUSH. That had to mean something. But you had also liked your economics class. . .maybe you should do economics? “I really have no clue. Has it been ten seconds?”

“Probably,” Noah says with a smile, “nine, ten, coming to find you,” he calls out.

It’s a living room showroom, and yet Jane had managed to squeeze herself right behind a floor lamp and the TV stand. She’s a slip of a girl, but her red hair makes her easier to spot. Thank god.

“Let’s go pick out things for your room,” you offer, because you still have to go downstairs and find all the different pieces and then still go home and put them together. Thank god for uber. Oh shit, did this mean you had to get a car at some point? How do people buy cars?

“Okay,” Jane nods, immediately taking off, and she has you and Noah speed walking after her, on the border of a full out run. It was hard to be annoyed when you were still so happy to wake up in a world where Jane was alive and here and who cares that it took three hours to get her to stand still long enough to comb her hair and putting her to bed was a long drawn out affair of a bedtime story and a snack and needing to be tucked in and checking on all her toys and deciding she needed a glass of water next to her just in case she woke up thirsty.

It was worth it.

You liked not living alone.

You liked not being alone.

*

*

*

You weren't sure who was more exhausted as you finished washing the dishes. Jane was sleeping, thank god. The nice thing about Florida was it was fall and it was still warm enough to spend the evening at the park so Jane could tire herself out while you read fifty pages of your history and sociology textbook. It was what all the other moms did and you winced when Jane asked to join the soccer team that practiced at the park by your building because you didn't have the money and you could only hope she didn't ask Noah because he came home tired enough but for Jane he'd take more shifts.

There was laundry you didn't want to do and a quiz in english which was a nice class even if everyone was half asleep at 7:30 in the morning because your professor was somehow awake enough to engage and rant about short stories that thankfully weren't the same ten dead old white men you'd read in high school but actual people alive today whose english you could understand. It's night, so you don't bother drying the dishes before turning off the light. Noah had brought food which showed how tired he was. Yesterday's leftovers had saved you from attempting anything because you sucked in the kitchen as your poor microwave could attest: aluminum foil and microwaves don't mix.

Noah’s already asleep when you slide into bed next to him. You can still smell the scent of oil and grease on his skin even as you stay decidedly on your side of the bed.

It's mid september in Tampa and it's still warm and it doesn't stop you at all from curling up with a blanket.

The window panes are cracked open letting in the soft moonlight and you lay in bed, brain melted from class and reading, and look at Noah's profile and how much lighter he looked compared to a year ago. The lines around his mouth from frowning had eased; Jane teasing out a side of him that had previously shriveled up.

It's done him good to get away from his mom. To have his sister. You just wish you could do more for him.

Like he was doing for you and Jane.

You drift off to sleep. . .

“Move over,” a small voice asks, and your eyes crack open to the dark of the room and Jane a hair's breadth away with wide scared eyes, a pillow hugged to her chest. Her voice is raw, as if she'd been crying.

You move over, brain sleep addled, to make room for her.

She slips in besides you, immediately curling up in your chest the way she does when she decides she's done walking for the day: the way she runs up to Noah when he gets home from work.

“Did you have a bad dream,” you mumble, not wanting to wake up her brother.

“I don't know.” Jane admits, “I just don't want to sleep alone.”

“I thought you wanted your own room,” you tease, a little more awake now.

“I do,” she cries out loudly in the dark of the night.

You can just imagine her pouting even if you can't see her, your eyes falling shut again. “Okay. You can sleep over tonight.”

“Yay,” she whispers back. “We should draw a mustache on Noah.”

You snort, “too late. He hasn't bothered shaving in like two days.” It was a good look on him: stubble. You'd teased him ruthlessly, almost choking on your water when he'd gone pink.

Jane giggles.

“Go to sleep,” you tell her. “You have school.”

“So do you.”

“Sleep.”

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

“Jane,” you whine, rolling over away from her, because she sure wasn't going to stop. “Sleep.”

*

*

*

“Where the fuck are my shoes,” Noah says, as he stumbles around trying to find his things.

You should've folded the laundry last night. Instead, it was a pile on the floor, clean, but a mess. You had parent teacher conferences today, and of course you were rushing at the last minute. Between finishing a paper for sociology and ditching class because of the conference and it's not like your statistics professor took roll call, you were still in a towel, freshly showered.

“Check the hall closet. I told Jane to clean last night and I'm like one hundred percent sure she just stuffs everything in that closet. Dan's right, we're fucking her up by spoiling her too much.” You search the pile of clothes for a nice dress. Was that right for a parent teacher conference? You were 18, what did you know? Besides, you were like guardian adjacent. Not a parent.

“Okay,” Noah replies when you hear the door open and why can't you find any clean underwear, you just did laundry this is insane and you have like five minutes to leave or you will be late, “but why'd she only put away one shoe?”

“Don't goblins only steal left shoes or something,” you reply, finding clean underwear but giving up on the bra. You'd go with a blue and white plaid dress. It wasn't too revealing for school even if it was one of those back of the closet dresses you never actually wore.

You slip your underwear on under the towel as Noah reappears in jeans and a t- shirt, freshly shaved. “What if they ask too many questions?”

“They won't,” you wave off. “And if they do we can just lie.”

“You're a bad liar,” Noah teases, rifling around in the kitchen.

You toss the towel aside, trying incredibly hard to act cool and calm when you weren't anything but, as you go to pull the dress over your head. It's not like you were flashing him. You sleep next to Noah every night.

But then why did you feel so flustered right then. “Am not!” You squawk indignantly, turning over to look at him as your dress goes over your head and your boobs are no longer hanging out for the world to see (there was a point to curtains after all).

Noah goes bright pink when he realizes your half naked in the living room, as if he hasn't slept next to you for close to a year now but then again, you used to sleep in an old shirt and underwear and now you've got matching pjs because Noah and yeah you should probably do something about that like you had wanted to since the party ages ago now but there had been Redfield and Noah admitting he was in a terrible headspace and it wasn't the time and now. . .you brush the thought aside for now. You roll your eyes (because your cool and calm even if your heart’s beating erratically) and grab your purse, before joking, “so are you going to get a haircut or are you going to do the man bun thing.”

Noah groans, “Jane told me I looked like homeless dog.”

“Ouch,” You laugh, “when she say that?”

“She woke me up again last night but I got her to go to her bed this time.” He admits as you walk to Jane’s school.

“Again?” Fuck maybe she was having nightmares after all. “It has to be nightmares, but. . .” you trail off.

“I don't know,” Noah shrugs, “she says she doesn't remember. Just wakes up. But like why else would she keep waking up if it's not nightmares,” he frowns.

“Do you think they could be,” you purse your lips before continuing not wanting to be the one to bring it up but you sort of had too, “you think it's redfield related.”

“I really don't know,” he says, looking over at you with a sad smile.

Smiling softly, you squeeze his hand as you wait for the white pedestrian sign, “hey, she's got us. She'll be fine.”

Which makes you think about how Andy was right. You were such a mom. Had you mom-zoned yourself? That was good, you'd have to text that to Andy later.

Then you sigh, realizing that if you had a nightmare back then, your parents wouldn't have even been home for you to wake up. There had been weeks spent at Pine Springs and driving over to some niche science conference in Rochester or over to New Haven for a lecture.

“What,” Noah asks, intertwining your fingers with his as you cross the street.

“Just realizing how shitty my parents were,” you offer with a sad smile. What could you do about it now? You'd grown up.

“Just now,” Noah quips with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

Jane’s teacher, an older black woman who's style leans close to Lily's own preppy academic choices, looks at you both skeptically. “You’re here for Jane Marshall's conference?”

Both you and Noah nod.

She doesn't look reassured.

You bump Noah's knee with yours, hoping he'll say something to clear things up. Neither of you looked old enough to be her parents. You had a serious case of baby face.

“Uh,” he says, still an eighteen year old who's spent most of his life bowing down to teachers authority. You understood, still feeling strange going to the bathroom during lecture without asking for permission. “I'm Jane’s brother.”

You nudge him again when it's clear he's done taking.

“Noah,” he manages.

You roll your eyes. “We’re her guardians,” you had gone over the story hundreds of times, “their parents passed,” you look down at you lap trying to look sad, “a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Jane’s teacher, Miss Sanders, says sympathetically. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah well,” Noah trails off.

“Well Jane is a very outgoing girl,” Miss Sanders says, launching into her talk, “she's made lots of friends though sometimes getting her to be quiet during class time can be a challenge. She's at her grade level for reading and math. She does need more practice with writing longer sentences and,” she shuffles papers around, flipping through a red folder, before taking out some childish drawings. “These had me worried but in light of the loss she is going through, I think it's understandable.”

Each drawing is a variation of a theme: huge black blobs make up most of the page, with occasional stick drawings differentiated by hair color. Jane is obviously the girl with the red hair and triangle body. Redfield, she remembered something then.

Could it be subconscious?

You feel the blood leave your face as you look over at Noah. He looks just as shaken as you.

“It's normal for children going through the loss of a loved one, especially parents,” Miss Sanders tries, “to work through it in drawing and writing. But we could always let her talk to the school psychologist. Mrs. Hernandez is a wonderful child therapist.”

“Do you think it would help,” you ask, wondering if it was a good idea when Jane’s actual problem was of the supernatural variety. Maybe they would just assume that was her imagination, or her way of explaining away a loss.

“It couldn't hurt.”

You look over at Noah, slipping your hand into his, giving him an encouraging squeeze in his palm. It was his sister. It should be his call.

He pulls his hand out of yours, straightening up in the chair. “Yeah. That could be good.”

“Okay. I'll let Mrs. Hernandez know. That and make sure Jane’s reading books for AR. Her goal this year should 40 points if she wants to be part of the end of the year celebration.”

“I'll figure out where the library is,” you nod, “I'm sure she can find books while I study.”

“Sounds perfect. Any other questions.”

You look at Noah who shakes his head. He was starting to need a haircut. Even if you did like the way he looked with his hair loose.

“Alright then. It was lovely to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.”

“Oh,” heat builds up in your cheeks.

“We're not-”

“I'm not-,” you stammer, “I'm just a family friend.”

“Oh,” Miss Sander says, “I'm-sorry for assuming.”

“It's fine,” you manage, starting to leave. “Thank you. It was good to meet you.” You shake her hand, wanting to die inside.

“Nice to meet you as well,” she shakes Noah's hand and then you can finally leave.

You both hurry out the classroom, out the school.

“So that was,” Noah says, raising a brow.

“awful,” you finish. “But there were no red flags and we got free therapy out of it.”

Noah laughs, “I think we probably all need some therapy.”

“Rewatching arrested development isn't cutting it anymore,” you grin.

“I do feel like Gob most days.”

“Good,” you laugh.

“Really?”

“I don't trust people who identify with Michael. No self awareness.”

Noah laughs, “they are all horrible people.” His face becomes drawn, as he tucks loose strands of hair behind his ears. “How much do you think she remembers?”

You shrug, placing your hand on his arm. “I think it's probably bits and pieces. She did spend years and...she doesn't have nightmares? That's a good sign right? It's been months, she's not some creepy horror movie child?”

“Of course not,” he nods, looking down at you, with a frown. “She's fine. Jane's good.”

You smile shakily. “We're doing amazing. And she's happy if she hasn't stopped watching disney vlogs. No clue how we're going to swing that one if she asks.”

Noah matches you’re unsure smile, “take her to those rich people parks and call it disney.”

You snort. “It's Jane. That won't fool her.”

“It's Florida. We can just go to the beach.” He says with a shrug. “It'll be just as good.”

“Aren't there alligators though?”

Noah laughs at your expense. “Those are in the lakes and rivers.”

“Shut up. Want to go for pizza before you go to work?”

“Let's go get Indian food actually. There's this place I've been meaning to try but Jane’s-”

“Picky as fuck,” you say pointedly. “Like you used to be.”

Noah blushes. “Okay so my mom just cooked like kraft mac and cheese. That wasn't my fault.”

“And those pizza bites! I loved those,” you add, thinking back on all the sleepovers at their house as a kid. “I think when Jane came over was the only time I'd get to use peanut butter.” Your parents weren't around, but your nanny was philippina, you ate spice before kids discovered hot cheetos were delicious.

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “We should probably get a car at some point.”

“Face it bro, we're broke. I keep wanting to tell you to get a haircut but we're broke.”

Noah raises a brow. “Fuck off. I look like post-Beatles George Harrison.”

“You wish you looked like George Harrison,” you tease.

The food was amazing. Lunch indian buffets were where it was at. And since you don't have a class right after, you offer to walk Noah to work, “I've got to walk off the food baby,” you tell him, before you head back to pick Jane up.

Noah laughs, “The malai kofta was just too good.”

“I should've stopped at three plates but buffets always make me think it's a food contest,” you admit. “My nanny would take me to this seafood buffet with her family around lunar new year and we’d spend all day there to try and eat our money's worth.” It had been your favorite holiday as a child, after your parents had decided you were old enough to be left behind, only a handful of years after they decided you were old enough to bring along with them, and you hadn't seen them even at christmas.

“Damn,” Noah says with an easy smile, “at least I had good times with my parents.” His smile is so fragile. That just means it hurt him more when things fell apart.

“I had nice times too. . .with your family.”

Noah cackles.

You cross the street to the diner he works at next to a retirement complex with what you think are the best waterfront views next to the hotels you can't afford.

It's strange.

Your entire life, Noah has been this huge part of it and you've always lived in a tiny town so you knew everyone he did and knew what he got up to just by living near him in a town of like 500 people or what felt like such a small amount, your elementary school only had one class for each grade but now you hug Noah goodbye even though he always tenses against you, as though he's unused to the physical affection and that just makes you hold him tighter, then he's heading inside and greeting people you probably will never know and he's having this whole part of his life your not a part of and one day he's going to go on and live his life without you and it hurts: watching him laugh with some waitress that's tall blonde and beautiful in a way you've never been.

It hurts but you suck it up and go pick Jane up from school.

“Don’t worry,” your friend says, holding your hand once she realizes you've been standing at the water's edge. It's warmer than you'd imagined as it laps at your bare feet.

Jane has not stopped smiling since you'd bought her a bathing suit at Target: a pink one piece with sloths. You'd been more nervous, not knowing how to swim. You also felt every single bite of pasta you'd had last night in your black bikini.

Damn Noah for being so good at cooking.

“I've got you,” Jane says, leading you out further into the water, over to where Noah's out, up to his waist and you're pretty see it's deeper than Jane is taller, but if Jane can do it-a wave, a massive looking wave comes crashing towards you both.

You don't hesitate to run away.

Noah points and laughs.

You flip him off once the wave passes, leaving your hair wet.

Jane grins. “It's okay. I won't let you drown.” She pulls you back out again, a perfectly happy water baby. She always had been fearless. And unlike you, as the water deepens, she starts to swim alongside you.

“See,” she laughs, “it's easy.” Then she pops down under.

You make it to Noah, figuring the water wasn't that crazy. No tsunami like waves to pull you out to sea and drown you.

Jane comes up for air, “I'm Jaws,” she yells at Noah, tackling his side.

“Ooof,” he says, exaggerating, “oh no, a shark, I'm. . .dead dying. . .”

Jane giggles.

“Do not,” you warn her. “I'm barely here as is.”

Noah rolls his eyes and you have a feeling there about to roast you: both of them.

“It's just a little water,” he teases.

“It's not even that deep,” Jane adds. “It's the beach!” She pops back down under the water as another wave rolls towards you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, tensing, as the wave soaks what's left of your dry hair, splashing salty water into your mouth.

Jane pops her head back up, strawberry hair plastered to her head, smiling so wide. It's November and it's still warm enough to go to the beach. Even the rain here isn't cold that way it was back home.

The world was so much bigger than Westchester.

Noah reaches his hand out to yours. You take it easily, stepping closer to him, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

He had the right idea, now looking more like the fifth beatle than a shaggy haired hippie. Less to deal with at the beach.

“You okay,” he smirks.

“Shut up. I can't swim. You know that.” You'd complained about it a hundred times as they both forced you off the pile of towels where you had planned to read through your notes. Studying, it was gross.

“You're,” Noah rolls his eyes, “it's like three feet. You're not going to drown.”

“What if,” you counter, “I trip and swallow water and drown.”

“That's not going to happen. What you can't stand up?”

“Don't,” you warn.

He smirks, “it's because you're short.”

“Asshole,” you say, smacking his bare chest. Nothing you haven't seen, you tell yourself. Act normal, you reminded yourself.

“It is!” Noah crouches down a couple inches to your height.

You roll your eyes-

-and laugh when Jane launches herself onto her brother's back.

“I'm an orca!”

Noah lets go of your hand to regain his balance. “Wow there shamu.”

Jane frowns. “Sea world is evil. Ava and I watched Blackfish.”

You vaguely remember some orca documentary that you had mostly slept through. Taking care of Jane was hard and you had fallen asleep in those early weeks whenever you got the chance.

“No seaworld then,” you shrug.

“But I do wanna go to Disneyworld. I wanna go on the star wars ride!”

“You don't even watch Star Wars,” Noah points out.

“I would if we went to Disneyworld. My birthday is coming up.”

“No it's not,” you frown. They were April babies.

“I think you mean my birthday,” Noah says playfully.”

“I was born first,” Jane yells.

“So, I'm taller.”

You roll your eyes, sinking down to your neck. The water was nice. “You better throw yourself into the water if I start drowning,” you warn Noah.

“Yeah yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I'm not going to let you drown.”

Jane nods in agreement, “I'll kick him if he does.”

You laugh, happy to spend the days with the Marshall twins.

Bells don't ring, but the whole class knows when class is over, shoving their papers away into bags as soon as there's a minute left.

You leave English happily enough. It was a fun class, with plenty of movies and conversation that you were able to make friends in, unlike other lecture heavy classes where you had five minutes before class to talk during.

Sasha and Kevin both walk with you out of the lecture hall. “Have you started studying for the midterm,” Sasha asks, “I really don't want to write two in class essays. Multiple choice is where it's at.”

“I'd rather have an in class essay,” Kevin says, “and Professor Laux said it's just one. But he'd give us two prompts.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I love english I just hate the writing part. Or rather the long essays.”

“At least your not a computer science major,” Sasha counters, “physics is so much worse.”

“Not as bad as o chem.”

“O chem is not that bad,” Sasha counters.

You shrug, “art history major,” you grin smugly.

Kevin shakes his head, “just wait until you have to find a job.”

“Grad school. Both my parents love that shit. They'd help me pay for it.” They both had Ph.Ds.

“I wish my parents helped me pay for school,” Sasha complains again, “they are such hard asses about school but they want me to pay for everything, and live at home-can you imagine how many house parties I've missed to work at the movie theater.”

“Speaking of house parties,” Kevin pushes his glasses up his broad nose, “we're throwing this pre thanksgiving bash at my place. Beer. Snacks. Weed.”

“Shouldn't you be studying for midterms,” you ask, shaking your head. You also hadn't figured out what you were doing for the holiday. You had Jane and Noah now. It had to be special.

“Pfft. I will,” Kevin says. “You're only twenty once am I right?”

Sasha shakes her head. “Okay. But I'm stealing some weed.”

“You in?” They both look at you.

Noah's off Monday and Wednesday, when you get out too late to go pick up Jane. You can't leave her by herself, not that you would want to. You were looking forward to going to waste time at the mall and buy snacks at target: your usual Friday night.

You shake your head, “Can't. I've got Jane on the weekends. Babysitters are expensive.”

“Just tell your parents to look after your sister,” Kevin says petulantly.

You hadn't really explained things. It was complicated. Redfield had really messed up your life. Jane should be your age and going to house parties with you. But you'd have her alive in any shape or form so long as you got to see her. “Umm, actually,” you decide to explain a little, the practiced version, “her parents died a few months ago. They were-they were really close family friends and practically raised me so,” you trail off, thinking about how exactly to explain Noah. He was your best friend, a childhood friend, and. . .that was it.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah-”

“Well, if you're even able to figure it out,” Kevin says, “hit me up.”

You wave them goodbye and rush to your next class.

*

*

*

Noah's hair is still damp as he lays down on his side of the bed.

You were still going over your art history notes, wanting to go over the dates of the list of paintings you'd have to identify on tomorrow's quiz. The names were easy since styles even within art movements varied so much. It was a little harder in regulated art worlds: the buddhists of southeast asia didn't go outside their geometric ratios.

“You've been studying all day,” Noah says with a yawn. He no longer smelled like burnt oil.

“Yeah, I have a quiz.” You're sitting cross legged on your side of the bed. “It's on art identification.”

“That's what googles for,” he snarks back.

It was past midnight. Jane had been asleep for three hours.

“Smart ass.” You shut your notebook. The numbers had started swimming in your eyes a while ago. Nothing more was going to stick in your brain.

You turn off the light on your side.

“You're the smart one,” Noah laughs, “I'm just an asshole.”

“Oh,” you smile in the dark, highly aware of his body laying next to you, carefully keeping your leg from brushing against his skin. “You're self aware too!”

“Dick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

You lay in silence, listening to the sounds outside your windows, the cars passing by even at this hour, Noah breathing next to you. It was soothing, having people you loved with you. It wasn't lonely being home all the time.

Noah shifts onto his side: facing you.

You stare up at the ceiling, black from the curtains pulled right even as the window let the breeze in. It had been raining the past few days, but the cold days don't hold a candle to Westchester this time of year.

“Thank you.”

“For what,” you ask, smiling freely.

“What do you mean,” he pitches his voice higher, “for what? For everything.”

You giggle. “I haven't done much.”

Noah's tone is dead serious the next time he speaks. “You didn't have to help . . .with Jane. I don't know how I would've made it work without you, so yeah. Thank you. I didn't even ask-I wouldn't have asked you to give up college and partying-”

You have to stop him right there. “I didn't give shit up Noah.” He could be so dumb sometimes. If he had just told you Jane was Redfield, you would've helped him from day one to save her. But there was no point in bringing that up: just more salt in the wound. “And you didn't have to ask me: I wasn't just going to let you flounder alone. I wanted to-I wanted to be with you and Jane. That was never a question.” Heat flares up in the skin of your cheeks and nose as you smile, before you turn onto your side, looking over at Noah in the dark.

You can't really see him at all.

Thank fuck.

It's bad enough that you feel so flustered you might explode from the emotions swirling about in your chest. You don't know what to do about Noah, about your feelings for him.

Months ago, you would've just bitten the bullet and kissed him, but he'd also opened up about not feeling ready at all about relationships and you will not fuck things up for either of you. It had been easy with Connor when all the lights were green as he was clearly into you and responded right back.

It had been light and a way to not think about the terror of your day to day life for a few moments.

But it wasn't Connor you thought about so much your skin got all hot as you looked out the window during lecture.

You swallow thickly, squashing those feelings into some back corner of your mind.

“Thank you though, I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Don't be dumb. It's getting rid of me that'll be hard.” You could admit now, “Now that I know what it's like to have people in the house to kill spiders, I'm never leaving,” you felt lonely in your childhood house all through high school.

“I don't think Jane would let you leave.” Noah laughs.

“True,” you sigh. “it's nice not to come home to an empty house.”

“Our childhoods were so messed up,” he replies softly.

“It's like the gift that never stops giving. But hey, who cares. I have you two and my parents monthly deposits-and FAFSA!” You laugh, because what else could you do, wallow in self deprecating angst like Noah? You weren't sure you could beat him at his own game. “As far as I'm concerned, you're my family now. . .both of you.”

“When did you become a walking talking greeting card?”

“Asshole.”

Noah laughs.

It's a sound you love. For so long, it had been so rare. It warms you up, blots out all the horrible shit you've gone through and makes everything okay.

You fall asleep smiling.

*

*

*

Sasha settles in your ikea bland table with her bag full of notebooks and textbooks. “I wish I had my own place.”

Next week was finals.

Next week was going to kick your ass.

Matthew looks up from his calculus solutions manual for the first time in an hour, “it really depends on the roommates, mine eat all my snacks.”

“Hide them in your room,” you suggest, opening your computer up to the study guide the TA had sent out last week. “With your underwear or something.”

Jane giggles as she watches spongebob on the TV. Fourth graders had it easy. The upcoming winter break meant Jane was practically doing arts and crafts all week.

You open up a notebook to a fresh page as you write down all the key items from the study guide, underlining key items. You wanted to knock the art essays out of the park. It wasn't as easy to bullshit those as it was to make up themes for an english paper.

Fuck, you were already pretty much done with a semester at college.

Jane had almost been back for over a year.

“Can I see your midterm,” Sasha asks, “I want to see what comments you got.”

You fish it out from your binder. “Go for it.”

Matthew looks up from his pages worth of calculus, “I hate math. I should've just done an anthropology major.”

“Sucks to be an overachiever,” you snark, annotating your notes with a pink gel pen. You had never cared to study much in high school, but a major you actually cared for made all the difference in the world. You wanted museums and van goghs and the asmr of cleaning paintings like in youtube videos.

“I didn't think double majoring would be like this,” Matthew sighs. “I haven't slept in three years.”

Sasha shakes her head, “just go for the one you like the most.”

“So I can be unemployed with tons of student debt?”

“Or get that grant money,” you wiggle your eyebrows. It was what your parents were up to.

“That would mean a PhD,” he complains, but doesn't look completely turned off by the idea. “And I could put off figuring my life out for another four years. . .”

Sasha laughs, flipping through flash cards with a bunch of arrows and equations written on them. Physics.

Intro to Biology was so much easier. You practically only had to remember high school biology and read through the study guide a few times. You could remember the difference between eukaryotic cells and prokaryotic cells.

Sasha suggests ordering Pizza hut as Jane starts asking for food and you feel like yeah, a study break sounds good.

“Four hours is the max people can concentrate for,” Matthew says, as he eats a third slice of pizza.

“So we're done for the day,” Sasha asks, getting up to stretch, and joining Jane on the couch. She'd been an angel, sort of, content to just watch tv all afternoon as you studied. Sure, she'd raised the volumes to movie theater standards every half an hour, but other than that-an angel.

“If you're good for the day.” You were nervous. You didn't want to be a C student anymore. You wanted to try. Surely you had inherited some of your parents brain cells.

“I am,” Sasha admits. “I've been studying every day for four hours. My brain has melted.”

“Honestly,” Matthew says, “I just started studying. The semester seemed so long.”

“Same though bro,” You grin. “All the tests and quizzes went right out of my mind as soon as I was done.”

Sasha shakes her head. “Well, I'm taking a slice for the road. See you around.” She leaves.

Jane joins you and Matthew at the table, licking the pizza grease off her fingers. “I like Noah's pizza better.”

You wince. A cook you were not. “Well, he's working.”

“I know.”

“Noah?” Matthew says, clearly a question.

“My brother,” Jane says flippantly. “They sleep together.”

You're face burns; you want the earth to swallow you whole right then and there. “We live together,” you explain to Matthew who looks more confused. “Jane go watch TV.”

She sends an annoyed look at you, before running off.

“Noah's her brother. They're family friends-” you explain lamely.

“You don't have to explain anything to me,” Matthew says sweetly. “It's your business.”

“Yeah,” you push your hair behind your ears, feeling out of whack. Matthew was cute, but it wasn't like you wanted to jump his bones. He made sociology bearable. “Can you look over my paper? I'm still not sure I got the sources incorporated right-”

“Yeah. Sure. I didn't know sociology 101 would include writing research papers.”

“Everything was going good until I remembered we had that paper due,” Matthew agrees.

You study for another hour, mostly giving each other feedback on your research paper. “It would've helped if he'd given us examples,” you mutter.

“Right.”

Jane tugs on your arm. “Come play with me,” ignoring your classmate entirely.

“Yeah. Sure,” you smile tiredly. You were at your study limit. “Want to call it a night,” you ask Matthew who nods and grabs his things.

Jane scrutinizes him the entire time. She puts her hands on top of the empty pizza box.

“I don't like him,” she pouts, “He's boring. Who studies?”

“Boring college students,” you laugh. “He's fine. We have sociology together. We're also taking english literature pre 1800s together next semester. It was that or latin literature which sounds really pretentious.”

Jane giggles. “Let's play uno!”

“Okay, but just one game. You still have to take a shower before bed.”

“I don't want to take a shower,” Jane protests, “I want to be a horrible reeking troll! Rawr!” She chases you around the living room.

You burst out laughing, letting her tackle you to the floor. It was easy to forget how stressed out you were about finals when you had Jane.

*

*

*

You take deep breaths as you scramble to find your sneakers. It got cold in lecture halls.

Noah makes coffee, “you're going to do fine.”

“I'm going to fail and flunk out of university and my parents are going to hate me forever and i'll never get a job and take Jane to disney world,” you groan, slumping at the counter with a hand on your forehead. You should've studied all night. Why had you bothered going to sleep?

Noah pours you a tumbler full of coffee, with the hazelnut creamer that basically turned the coffee into a hot chocolate, “you've been studying all week. You might not be Lucas levels of 110% on a rest but you're going to do great. I know it,” he says with a genuine smile.

You blush. “I hope all the studying has worked. I've never tried this hard in school.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods with a soft smile. “High school sucked.”

“It did.” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping to steady your nerves.

He looks good in the morning light, before it's too hot to exist. Winter in florida meant temperatures in the low 70s, laughably temperate. Noah's wearing the same boxers he'd gone to sleep in, with a soft worn in grey t-shirt, and a serious case of bed head as his hair curls around his ears in the most adorable mop top.

If you didn't have finals to head to, this would be the perfect morning.

“You're going to do amazing sweetie,” Noah chuckles in the dickish way of his.

You snort, shaking your head. “Fuck yeah I will.”

“That's the spirit.”

You shove your feet into your beat up vans, grab your backpack. “See you later,” you smile at Noah.

“Yeah, good luck,” he says, putting his mug of coffee down on the counter and leaning down. One second he's smiling down at you, and in the next one he's pressing his lips against yours.

Holy fuck.

Your eyes widen.

Was this really happening, or were you just that tired.

“Shit,” Noah stammers, pulling away quickly. “I-”

You raise a brow, “What-”

“It was an accident. Sorry.” Noah steps back, running a hand through his hair, pink up to the tips of his ears.

You feel a bit like a deflated balloon. “What even was that?” Because what it seemed like was like he'd kissed you but-how do you accidentally kiss someone. No-this was way too much for you to dea with at the moment.

“I just-nothing. Just forget it,” Noah says. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“See you later,” you try, feeling all messed up. Had he wanted to kiss you? Was this you messing up for the both of you?

You wish you could call Lily right now, but you had a final to get to.

*

*

*

It's Christmas day, technically.

Jane's been asleep for hours and Noah's taking a bite out of the cookies laid out for Santa as you watch it's a wonderful life trying to puzzle out how this was a Christmas classic. It was boring.

Things had been so awkward with Noah as of late, as you both danced around the kiss, that you had let Jane talk you into a sleepover in her room almost every night. There was no way you could lay there next to Noah and not think yourself to death. Absolutely no way.

You had wrapped up her gifts in baby yoda christmas themed wrapping paper: an assortment of more clothes because Jane really didn't have much considering she had basically popped into life a year ago, random books you remembered liking in elementary and middle school, and toys that you had definitely splurged on including a two hundred dollar set of legos that you looked forward to building with her. It had been hard to keep it secret from her when you all spent the majority of your time together. Stacey had sent a big care package for all of you. Lily had sent gifts through the post office. Lucas’ contribution was a few amazon packages.

All your friends had sent something.

It was touching, considering the distance. You couldn't wait to see them again-Ava wanted to visit in the summer.

You flip the channel, deciding Full House reruns were better.

“Not Full House,” Noah groans, turning the kitchen light off.

“Let me guess. You're a Die Hard fan?”

“Best christmas movie,” he grins.

You shake your head. He could be such a guy. And just like that, the tension between you two dissipates. “No way. The Grinch is the best. The 2001 one anyway.”

You click the side table lamp off.

Noah sits down next to you as you flick through the channels, trying to find something to watch. “Bob's burgers?”

“Sounds good.”

It's dark. The volume’s on low. You're all curled up in bed, and Noah's not being weird-it helps that you're trying to be chill about it.

“How did your finals go?”

“Well I didn't flunk out,” you shrug. “I got a C in sociology but a B in everything else.” It was fine. It's not like you were a sociology major.

“I told you you'd do good.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, laying down entirely, ignoring the tv. “I just figured all the studying would...I don't know, mean I'd get straight As?”

“It's college-isn't it supposed to be like super hard or whatever,” Noah says with a shrug.

“I guess.” You just wished you were that kind of student. Even seeing how hard the effort was on Lucas’ mental health, maybe your parents might visit if you did get straight As. It was dumb. “I just figured my parents might pay attention if I did get all As.”

“Fuck your parents,” he says easily.

You snort. “Shut up. They pay like half the rent.”

“The least they could do.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Did you ever want to go to college? You know like when we had to write colleges letters in fifth grade, or was it sixth?”

“Naw. School was never my thing,” Noah says in the quiet of the night.

You smile softly, tilting your head so you're looking at him, the moonlight illuminating the angles of his jaw as it poured in through the windows. “Then it was always culinary school for you?”

He shrugs. “Yeah-I mean,” he closes his eyes, thinking silently. “I'm a little too dumb for school. I could never get the whole trig thing or what Shakespeare was saying let alone the subtext.”

You sit up. “Shut up,” you state, slapping his bicep lightly. “Don't say that shit.”

“It's true.”

You shift, closer to his side of the bed, closer to him still lying there staring up at the ceiling, not meeting your searching gaze. “You're not dumb. Noah-you are not dumb. You're so fucking smart-who remembered to buy toilet paper and figured out how to rent an apartment?”

“You can google that shit,” he says, covering his face with his hand, embarrassed.

“And cooking takes skill. Maybe it's not mensa harvard type smarts, but it's not nothing!” You just wanted him to see himself the way you did. You're sitting up on your knees now, as his expressive wide eyes meet yours, a dark romantic brown you could drown in, staring down at him. “Say it! Say you're smart and clever and amazing!”

“I'm not saying that,” he laughs off.

“Say, I'm fucking smart and I can do anything,” you repeat, nudging his chest.

Noah smiles and it does all sorts of things to you, makes your pulse race as heat winds its way all hot under your skin, all hot and bothered and feeling giddy like a dumbass and you never meet someone who felt like home the way it is with Noah. “I'm fucking smart,” he says quietly, rolling his eyes, “and I can do anything.”

“We're going to have to work on that,” you laugh, belatedly realizing you're almost on top of him. Well, you are on top of him, you're knees are by his waist, but you're leaning over him and fuck you want him. The way he's laying there under you, looking like the sun shines out of your ass, it's thrilling.

“We will,” Noah says, wiggling his brows in a way that has you laughing into his chest.

Then you're looking up at him, unable to catch your breath, because you can't stop laughing and it's not like you're particularly comedic but-fuck it, you lean up and kiss him. It's what you've been itching to do since the party at-fuck, you don't even remember, but you remember finding him there and realizing he's what you had been missing, the reason you didn't feel like being there until you sat by the pool with him.

He's Noah and you're you and there's not a version of you that doesn't love him to bits; there's not a version of you that doesn't go with him to face the monster and rescue Dan and would give your life for him and Jane. Always. Because he's Noah-

You lean down and kiss him, trying to communicate the depth of this feeling.

It wasn't some crush.

Or some drunken affair at a house party.

You kiss his lips with a dizzying fever that burns hot under your skin as desire builds in the pit of your stomach: a bundle of nerves sparking to life. And he kisses you back, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb rubbing circles into your skin.

You tremble under his gentle touch, afraid that this too would disappear in your hands. You were so used to losing: to getting nothing.

Noah stares up wide eyed at you when you pull away.

You bite your bottom lip.

“I-,” he stutters.

“I've really been wanting to do that for a long time,” you confess.

“Me too.”

You swallow thickly at his confession. “Then it wasn't...it wasn't an accident,” you ask carefully.

Noah shakes his head once. “No. That-I just, I didn't want to mess up something good just because I wanted something more.” He looks so heartbroken in that second-

“Noah,” you sigh gently. “I was surprised and thinking about school but I've-I would've kissed you then if my head hadn't been so far up my own ass.”

He snorts, the line of his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “After what happened- I was lucky that you even wanted to talk to me at all. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me and then I thought it was just for Jane,” Noah admits painfully.

“I've always loved you.” You tell him. “And I'm going to keep telling you until it gets through that thick skull of yours.”

Noah chuckles.

“So are we on the same page?”

He rakishly raises a brow with a shit eating grin on his lips, “I don't know, are you gonna kiss me again?”

You vow to wipe that look off his face as you do more than press your lips hungrily against his, your hands against his chest as you shift once more, situating yourself and getting comfortable straddling his waist with your legs. You press hard kisses to his mouth as Noah kisses you back with the same fervor; you nibble on his bottom lip, bringing it between your teeth.

It's an exercise in breathlessness, a mexican stand-off in which both sides are ready and happy to pull the trigger because of the rush of blood to your head as you taste him on your lips. It's intoxicating the way in which he kisses your mouth and you forget the need to breathe.

But you, smiling against the skin of his jaw as you catch your breath. His chest rises and falls under your hands as he laughs giddily, feeling as crazy as you do.

It's not that epic romeo and juliet love that burns and destroys, but the fullness in your heart as you lay there with him.

You plant kisses down his jaw, savoring the hitches in his breath as you nip on the skin at the crook of his neck. “Is this okay,” you ask wickedly.

“Fuck,” Noah utters, voice breaking as he sucks in air. “Yeah-”

He cups your cheek with his hand and leads you up, brings you back where he can kiss you again. Noah kisses you-he lets himself kiss you. His tongue experimentally whetting against your all too willing lips before your mouth opens up to him and it's clear in the clumsy way he's eager to explore your mouth--the boy has no idea what he's doing.

It's fine.

You smile against his mouth, taking charge and running your tongue against his. Reaching for his free hand and guiding it, inviting him to explore the shape of your body in an oversized t-shirt and tiny booty shorts that you wouldn't even take the trash out in.

Noah does, clasping your hips with his hand as you binch up the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you lose yourself in kissing him, in drinking him in like a comfort series you could endlessly rewatch.

You're both breathless, as you lay your head down on his chest, content.

“That was,” Noah says all out of sorts, “wow.”

“Guess you're going to be the next great american writer,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, running his hand up your side.

“Hey,” you continue, relaxing into his touch, “Hemingway was a man of few words.”

“Was he the alcoholic one?”

“I think a lot of writers were,” you admit. “I tried to read his whale book but it was boring as fuck.”

“Moby Dick,” Noah says thoughtfully, “did Hemingway write Moby Dick?”

“Who cares,” you reply, pressing a kiss against the edge of his lips, fine with spending the wee hours of the morning making out with Noah.

“Well now I want to know.”

“Really,” you tease, bringing your hand up, running your fingers through his soft hair.

His eyes close. Noah leans into your touch. “I'll google it later.”

You giggle.

Then he’s kissing you again and you could care less about books and long dead writers. Noah captures your lips with his and you intertwine your fingers in his hair, a hand on his chest, wondering what it would feel like to have his bare skin against yours and caught between the enormity of your want and letting things happen naturally. It was Noah. You didn’t want to rush him.

You were still amazed he’d kissed you back,that he wanted you the same way you wanted him. The love had never been the point of contention between you two. You loved him at nine and you loved him at nineteen.

Noah losses some of his hesitation, his hands sliding down your side until they reach the swell of your hips straddling his waist. Then his hand slips under the fabric of your shirt and you moan into his mouth at the sensation of his fingers splayed against to taunt muscles of your abdomen.

It’s just flaring want consuming you whole.

“Is that,” Noah manages between bated breaths, “okay?”

You kind of want to shake his shoulders and say shut up and keep going, because you might just combust in the next few minutes if he keeps going like this, this clumsy tenderness mixed with the assault of his body discovering yours. “Yeah,” you stammer out, more feeling than young woman. “Great actually.”

Noah chuckles, trailing kisses down your neck as you lean back a little, before pulling away. . .before pulling your shirt over your head.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of your naked torso.

You can’t help the headyness in your chest at his reaction, at the way you were affecting him. “Like what you see,” you grin, all brash confidence that threatened to topple over like a house of cards at every turn, at the shift of his body under yours.

For once, Noah doesn’t have some smartass comment, just reaches his hands to your cheeks and pulls you down flush against him.

Fuck.

You kiss him feverishly, your hands finding the hem of his shirt as running yours fingers against the sliver of skin.

Noah moans into your mouth and you swear you can’t even function at the sound. The entire world is boiled down to you and him, him and you, and building pressure in your belly that threatens to explode.

“The shirt-,” you stutter out, half out of your mind.

“Yeah,” he obliges, sitting up and tugging it off.

And then you’re melting against him, the warmth of his skin against yours. Your breasts flush against his bare chest. Your toes curl up as you sigh, hands clutching at his neck, at his cheek, at the ends of his hair.

You kiss his jaw, you suck on the skin of his jaw and none of it is enough. Fuck, you want him so bad. You’re so fucking horny. It’s not like you’d been with a lot of people. But it had been over a year since your last sexual encounter.

And that might explain part of it-

Noah cups one of your breast with the palm of his hand, and fuck-

Your mind blanks as you moan his name. “Noah,” you whimper.

He kisses your collarbone, smiling against your skin.

“Do you want to-,” he asks, sounding more self assured by the word.

“Yes, yes,” you eagerly answer, kissing him hungrily. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Noah laughs breathlessly.

Then he’s whimpering as you run your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

His hand closes around your wrist before you can get further, “condom?”

“Fuck,” you swear. This was so unsexy of you both. But it wasn’t like you had a reason to buy condoms along with pads and fruit snacks. “I think I have one,” you vaguely remember there being one in your wallet.

“I really hope you do.”

“Jerk.”

With great reluctance, you crawl off him to go look for your purse. You had to stop throwing it wherever and hang it up. It would've made it easier to find right now.

You don’t look back at Noah, even though you can feel his heavy gaze on you. The airs filled with static electricity as you rifle around and find the slim black bag.

It’s another few minutes of fishing through its contents before you find the thin small envelope that you were pretty sure you’d gotten in health or at planned parenthood at some point. Ava had definitely been there.

When you turn around, Noah’s sat up in bed, in your bed, in the bed you two share, have shared for months. It’s too dark to make out the expression on his features from this distance, but it’s under his dark eyes that you make your way back to him.

You push your shorts and underwear down in one go, discarding them by the side of the bed, taking care not to lose the condom (you were going on another target run asap) before you’re once again straddling his waist, feeling Noah already hard under your thigh.

“I’ve,” he starts as you sit up on your knees, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh.” You’re off kilter. Does he not want to? It’s fine. You’re just surprised. It’s Noah. He’s tall and funny even if you want to strangle him half the time --he can cook-- and he’s so fucking hot when he’s not being adorkable. You’re surprised. “We don’t. . .have to.”

He sits up under you. “No. It’s,” Noah blushes, “I want to, it’s just-you should know?”

“Oh. Okay,” you lean in, kissing him with a tenderness he deserves in spades, “if you’re sure.”

Noah grasps your hips in his hands, pulling you in, “I’m sure.”

He kisses you.

You push him down onto the bed by his shoulders. His eyes are full of trust as he looks up at you, full of love like the moon on a clear night. You carefully open the condom up.

Noah shimmies his boxers off.

And because you’re you, you reach down and stroke his cock with your hand.

He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he throws his head back into the bed, his back arching.

You wait a moment for him to still underneath you, before you roll the condom onto his cock, letting your desire carry your through as you fumble a bit. Again, you didn’t exactly have much experience on Noah. You just had some experience.

You lean down flush against him, kissing his lips, as you guide his cock to the apex of your thighs and part your legs, moaning into his mouth as he enters your soaked entrance. Noah stretches you out, leaving you a trembling mess, faring no better than he currently was under you, as his hips thrust against you and you-fuck!

It’s a tangle of limbs as you wrap your arms around him, lacing your fingers behind his neck, wanting more, and more as your hips more erratically against his.

Noah is all kisses and moans and his fingers bruising the skin of your hips as he presses you closer against him.

You don’t really know or care about anything but the feel of his cock inside you, as he thrusts with fervor, and clutches you near. You just want and want and stars dance across your eyelids as your skin catches fire, the heat in your belly finally boiling over as you fuck him, grinding your hips against his.

You splutter, reaching your climax while topping the boy you’ve been in love with for what might as well be your whole life. It’s just your strained voice, repeating his name, “Noah,” like it’s an answer to the whole meaning of life bullshit.

Good.

Bad.

It always comes back to him.

Noah.

He comes against you a second later, your name a sharp breath on his lips, before he goes as boneless as you feel. You’re on cloud fucking nine.

It’s a feeling no amount of weed can come close to.

Exhausted, you get off of him, slumping into a puddle on the bed. Fucking Florida. You were too hot and sweaty to curl under the blankets now.

“I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” you snipe back, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, “now that I’ve fucked you you tell me.”

“Shut up,” Noah manages. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go toss the condom.”

He sits up slowly, “oh this episode’s my favorite.”

You’d completely forgotten about Bob’s Burgers reruns playing on the TV.

*

*

*

It’s New Year’s Eve and the three of you are eating ice cream on the beach. Only in Florida.

“And why can’t I go in the water?”

“Because you don’t have your bathing suit,” Noah tells Jane for the hundredth time.

“I promise I’ll just stick my feet in.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” you shake your head.

She frowns. “I promise!”

What the heck. It’s not like you were going anywhere else after this. “Okay. But you have to finish your ice cream first.”

“Wow,” Noah says, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leaning his weight against you, making you stumble in the sand. “What a pushover.”

“Me!” You reply, offended. “You let her stay home for no reason.”

The twins exchange glances. “She had chickenpox,” Noah shrugs shamelessly.

“And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Korean skincare does miracles.”

You roll your eyes at him, “shut up.”

Jane giggles easily as she decides this patch of sand is the one, and sits down, licking her rocky road ice cream happily.

“Jane,” you ask gently.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember why you’re ten and we’re not?” It had been bugging you, ever since the parent teacher conference. There had been no more nightmares since September, but it bothered you, that she might remember anything. That Jane might not want to tell you. You couldn’t help her if she didn’t tell you.

She shrugs. “Not really,” with a child’s ability to shrug things off.

Noah asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Do you remember Redfield?”

Jane looks at you both, frowning. “Who?”

Your shoulders sag with relief. You hide it with a bite of your ice cream cone. Jane had a habit of picking up on things.

“No one important,” Noah brushes off, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are being weird,” Jane complains. “Is this about you two being gross together? I saw you holding hands.” She narrows her eyes at you accusingly. “Don’t you remember boys have cooties.” She shakes her head. “Grown ups.”

“Jane,” Noah squeaks.

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yeah. We thought you should know.” It was better to leave the whole Redfield business behind. She didn’t need that shit weighing her down. “I don’t know. I like your brother a lot for some reason. Ava says it’s trauma induced codependency but she’s Ava so. . .”

Jane frowns again, letting the ice cream drip onto the sand as she thinks. “Does that mean I’m getting a sister?”

It’s your turn to be flabbergasted, as your skin reddens into a ripe tomato. “What!”

“It’s only fair,” she explains. “If you get my brother then I should get a new sister.”

“How about a stuffed animal,” you barter.

“You let me play five Nights at Freddies?”

“No way Jane,” Noah says, shaking his head. “It’ll give you nightmares.”

“What about minecraft,” you try. “Just on Fridays though.”

“Okay. i don’t want my ice cream anymore. I want to go play in the water.”

You nod, kicking your shoes off. “Okay yeah. Let’s go throw it away. I’m sick of mine too.”

You toss the ice cream and race Jane into the waves.

[thedevildomdaily]

Demonic Possessions Ch 2: Getting A Little Cozy

NOTE: Sorry about the delay. Had an unexpected guest I had to babysit. I also couldn’t stop writing this. I had no idea where to stop this chapter lol.

Warnings: None, just a little language. I

“Pftssss…” Lena had to cover her mouth with both hands quickly. The badass demons everyone on Earth feared were a bunch of bratty children! The nephilim wanted desperately to film the scene and share with her brothers. They wouldn’t believe her if she told them about this.

Lilly rolled her eyes and sighed as she begrudgingly went on into the room to join the chaos. She then patted the empty seat beside her for Lena. Of course the guys didn’t even pause in their antics at the arrival of their new guest.

The remaining seat available for Leviathan was on the other side of Lena. It seemed he would be stuck beside the 3D nephilim for eternity at this rate. He sat down, focusing on his phone, trying to rapidly tap on it while reaching towards his food.

“You’re going to pay me back for my property AND you’re going to retrieve it.” Satan responded. Lena thought he looked like he was going to snap at any moment given the giant vein on his forehead. She didn’t envy Mammon being the target of his rage.

Lucifer started to eat, but hesitated to say, “Mammooooon…” Which instantly caused the loud demon to melt into his seat to sulk. The eldest resumed his meal, ignoring the death stares still being shot at him by Belphegor.

“This looks delicious.” Lena finally spoke. The commotion, all of the food, the smells; All of it had been overwhelming and she didn’t realize she hadn’t tried anything yet. It was definitely colorful, and somewhat intimidating. She absolutely would not question the ingredients, let alone the nutrition facts. Wait, do they even have Nutrition Facts in the Devildom? 

Asmodeus had sat down, giving up on Beelzebub’s inability to control himself. When Lena spoke up, he gave her a sweet smile, “Oh it is. And it is super healthy. I wanted you to get to taste something wonderful for your first meal in the Devildom.”

“That’s sweet of you, thanks.” Lena chimed with a huge grin before digging in. “Damn this is sooooo good!” Her piercing blue eyes widened with excitement. No wonder the bigg’un over there was wolfing the stuff down. Her reaction caught a few of them off guard and nobody confessed that Asmo merely ordered the food. He solely focused on the presentation. 

It did get a few under-the-breath chuckles from a few of them as Asmodeus beamed at her response, “Oh thank you hun. I knew you’d like it. You seem to have good taste...you’re brothers too.” He was referring to the fashion they were wearing. He also noticed the fine quality of her luggage before. It looked quite expensive.

Lena chuckled, “Haha...Azri trained me well. We share a love of fashion...and shopping. I really need to do some shopping as soon as possible…” It was more of a note to herself out loud, but the beauty guru of a demon lit up with excitement, “Oh let me take you! Lilly we have to show her Majolish!”

Lilly joined in with equal amounts of excitement, “Yes we gotta. And it sounds like Azri should tag along too.” 

“NO!” Lena responded louder than she meant to. Lucifer actually stared at her for a moment. “I mean uh, not this time...he and I may have a few disagreements...when it comes to expenses.” There were a few demons at the table who could understand that. Pretty much Lucifer and Satan were the only responsible shoppers in the room. And of course Lucifer tried to keep a tight leash on his little brothers’ shopping expenses.

“I do need a few immediate room amenities ASAP.” Lena continued, “After Levi wrestled down all of those sheets, dust and cobwebs went all over the place. It’s a hot mess...and not in the good time.” that got a laugh out of Asmo and Lilly, “And I have no sheets, pillows, or a comforter...and I some furniture for my clothes...they’re all packed away still…”

“Awe! That’s no good! You can’t let your clothes get dusty!’ Asmo covered his mouth. He couldn’t imagine living in a room so dusty. It made him want to skip dinner and head directly to his luxurious bathtub. “Lena, you can sleep with me tonight?” Of course he was all smiles and eager to offer that.

“Asmo. Yer just being a perv.” Mammon commented, pausing his sulk-eating. 

Lilly shook her head, “I’m lending her a set of my sheets and a pillow for tonight. And did you show her the Akuzon app Levi? She can quickly order some cool furniture to be sent here in no time.”

The otaku demon looked up from his phone, “Yeah, I showed her Akuzon. We ordered some manga and wall scrolls and…” Leviathan proceeded to list 30 unnecessary anime or gaming-related items.

“What the hell! Did you just order that for yourself?!” Mammon exclaimed. He thought his brother went on a wild spree with Akuzon again. A rather bold assumption coming from the Avatar of Greed himself.

“No no no no!” Lena laughed, “He gave me a few recommendations, and then I saw a few things I liked. I'm a huge fan of gaming and manga myself.” Mammon, Asmo, and Lilly blinked with surprise. Great, there was another one amidst them.  “Hey, don’t judge me! They are great art forms and there is such a plethora of dynamic stories you couldn’t experience in any other media. I would also like to add that I am a freelance artist on the side and I focus on anime and gaming characters…”

Leviathan stared at Lena for a moment in awe of her ‘speech’. Where everyone else understood that she was just conversing about the subject, the indigo-haired demon saw her standing at a podium, giving an academy award-winning performance and he fought the urge to clap.

“Ah, gotcha.” Mammon responded. The other two nodded.

“Hey! Why did you guys just nod when she spoke passionately about those things, but when I say anything, you give me such crap you normies!” he scrunched his nose at his brothers in particular.

“Because she didn’t try to ramble incoherently about it for an eternity or bog us down with unimportant details Levi…” Asmodeus shrugged.

“Awe...I’m sorry…” Lena patted his shoulder, feeling bad for Leviathan, “I’ll listen to your rambles anytime.” Leviathan sighed and shrunk down for a moment, then realized that the female nephilim was patting him. A girl. Touching him. Repeatedly!

“WAAAAAGH! NooOoooOO!” Leviathan rose like a vampire from a coffin, out of his chair, and ran from the room. Everyone laughed at the scene. Even Lucifer ‘covered his mouth to cough’ at the same moment.

Lena merely chuckled sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to make him so uncomfortable...I guess I’m a little too chummy…”

“No. Leviathan is just…” Lilly tried to find the right words for it, “well he refers to himself as a shut-in. He always freaks out about body contact. Pretty much with just about anyone…” Though she knew Lena’s case was a little different and couldn’t help but chuckle.

~

When dinner was over, the house members scattered. Lena went with Mammon and Asmodeus to Lilly’s room to hang out and further discuss shopping plans. Levi didn’t respond when Mammon banged on his door to join them. It was nice to be getting along well enough with a few of the brothers already. The nephilim didn’t feel as welcomed earlier that day as she was now.

“This looks cool!’ she said as she approached the tree, “I can’t say I’ve seen a huge tree just growing in someone’s bedroom before. Are Poison Ivy or something?” Lena chuckled and sat on the side of the bed.

“Well, she and I do have a few things in common, not gonna lie…”Lilly responded as she joined her new friend. 

“So, are we gonna go shopp’n after class tomorrow?” Mammon scratched his head, looking a bit uncomfortable as he sat on the couch, “I may have to ditch last period if I’m gonna go too.”

This made a huge smirk spread across Asmo’s glossy lips, “Ah, trying to avoid paying our Dear Satan your check tomorrow by spending it all with us?” The question caused his older brother to blush and furrow his brows, embarrassed and angry that he got caught. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about. I just feel like getting a head start…”

Lilly exchanged looks with Asmo, then Lena. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”

“100%. I just arrived here today and I can read you like a book dude.” Lena gave Mammon a devilish grin.

Great, now the new girl was joining in on the ‘let’s pick on Mammon brigade. It’s bad enough when his little brothers and best friend did it, but her? Crossing his arms, the greedy demon refused to respond to her remark.

“While I do love poking fun at my scummy big brother,” Asmo chimed, “I do want to resume our discussion from earlier. What are we ever going to do about you in that filthy attic room?” Lilly joined in at the concern. “Why don’t you store your clothing in my closet until your furniture arrives from Akuzon? Lilly did the same thing.”

“That would be great, actually, I was kind of concerned about wrinkles and creases...and my brother vaporizing me over it.” Azri was the chillest guy out there, but fuck with his clothes and he was a 6’4”, fire-breathing maniac with claws. 

“And as for sleeping arrangements, I do really think you should consider sleeping in my room with me.” Asmo added. Immediately Mammon and Lilly glared at him.

Lena wasn’t an idiot; she knew he was clearly the Avatar of Lust. The right amount of narcissism, the insistence of closeness, and the weariness of everyone around him. She was also a big girl that could take care of herself. Even if he was a demon of seduction. “You know what? I’m game. If you have a clean, comfy bed I will crash it.”

The other two just looked dumbfounded at her, while Asmodeus closed his eyes and grinned. “Oh this will be lovely. We can do nightly facials and I’ll braid that beautiful silvery hair of yours. Maybe we can take a bath together?”

“Hmm...I might forgo that bath...for now.” Lena responded, “but the rest of that sounds delightful after this incredible fucking journey. My day wasn’t going well before I arrived, and then I’ve been a little overwhelmed by...well, EVERYTHING I’ve seen since we got here.”

“Are you sure about this? My brother’s a little perv…” Mammon’s arms were crossed again and he looked genuinely concerned. He didn’t want to be strung upside down somewhere by Lucifer again for not at least warning the girl. They were also supposed to be cautious with the nephilim until they learned more about them at least. Lucifer’s orders.

Lena yawned, unphased by the older demon’s concerns, “Maybe I am too?” She gave a sly expression at Mammon, making him blush and look away, pretending not to be. “I think you guys have some misconceptions about nephilim. Just because we are half angels, doesn’t mean we are highly virtuous and prudish.” She grinned, reflecting on the trouble she and her brothers have caused over the centuries. “I mean, we have more morals than demons, that’s for sure, but our feelings are so intensely human and we’re considered flawed for it. We’re whimsical, passionate, reckless, and live life to the fullest. And we suffer for it too.” 

The others in the room were quiet, reflecting on what she said. Mammon admittedly thought she and her brothers may be a bit innocent-like. Even older angels like Simeon tended to be. He and his brothers were once before. Asmo shared that sentiment as well, but was delighted knowing for sure that Lena wasn’t.

Standing up, Lena yawned again and stretched before she walked over to Asmodeus with an extended hand to help him up, “I’m really tired after eating so much tonight. Don’t we have to get up early tomorrow? I wanna rest ‘cause I am a horrible monster to wake up in the morning.”

Asmodeus took her hand; it was as soft as his. He blushed with delight and excitement. “Yes, we’d better get our beauty sleep! You too; the both of you!” Lilly was something of a muse for Asmo when designing and consulting Majolish with petite creatures in mind and his big brother did a lot of modeling.

~

The demon’s bedroom was so pretty and feminine. And it smelled wonderfully. The bed looked as soft and comfortable as she’d imagined it to bed. “Asmo, are you sure you’ve fallen? ‘Cause this room looks heavenly after doing all that dusting!” she stepped out of her shoes quickly and sprung for the bed, eager to touch the cozy comforter. “You weren’t kidding about this.”

There was a chuckle from Asmo, not taking offense to the comment at all. She was genuinely excited. Mimicking a feline, he walked slowly towards the nephilim. ‘I never kid about luxury and beauty darling.” He reached for Lena’s hair, pulling it all behind her. It was as silky as he imagined. She didn’t withdraw from him, good. He ran his fingers slowly through her locks before suggesting they went over to his vanity.

They both gazed in the mirror together. She looked drowsy, he was only a little. “I am so curious about you nephilim. I never met one personally until today.” He picked up a brush and began running it through her hair before putting it into a braid. Everything he did was in a rather intimate way, yet Lena never gave a reaction beyond her tiredness. 

“There’s honestly not a lot to be curious about.” Lena responded. She loved when others played with her hair and it was quite common for Azri to braid hers so no tangles got in it. He was more concerned by it than she was. That Mother Hen. “You really can ask me anything. You all can. We are transparent; we literally can’t lie. That’s the stupid angelic trait we all share. At best we can simply not answer you. That being said, and simply because we three are scorpios, we fucking hate lies. Don’t. *clap* Do. *clap* It. We sense that shit miles away.” She made Asmo laugh uncontrollably as she gave instances where exes got their cars destroyed or a garden gnome’s decapitated head through their bedroom window on the 5th story of an apartment. They were definitely far from angelic. Definitely emotional creatures to say the least.

“Lena. I think you and your brothers will really like it here in the Devildom. Your..passionate natures can run wilder here than it possibly could in the human world.” When he finished her hair, Asmo lifted the end and smelled it in a sensual way. “You can put your jewelry here. I promise it’s safe from my scumbag brother, Mammon. There’s a curse on this box specifically targeting him. Solomon created it.

“Oh did he now?” That got her attention. Her brow was raised as she looked at it. It did have the elaborate designs he fancied. “So you’re one of his..contracted?” 

Asmo nodded as he retrieved the night masks they agreed to apply once their make-up was removed. “Yes. We have a contract. He’s such an interesting human; I couldn’t resist him.”

Lena chuckled, “Trust me, I know. Been there…” This time Asmo was brought to attention.

“Are you one of his…?” he asked carefully. “Hell no! I wasn’t one of his 300 wives or 700 concubines...or is it vice versa? Any no. We did have a wild time together during the renaissance period in Italy. I’m not easily tamed and we were just ‘having fun’.”

Asmo beamed, wanting to know all of the juicy details. “Oh I’ve got some stories for you, darling. But then again he has plenty on me so you’d better not say anything to anyone else, got it!” Lena gave him a serious expression with the mask on, making him chuckle, but agreed not to tell. “I can promise pinky. Lilly explained how important a tradition it is. Heavier than a blood oath!’  

The nephilim started at him blankly. This was one of those times where she just had to avoid the truth. No comment. No problem. She shared the pinky promised the demon and they continued getting ready, spilling little stories along the way. Then came time to change clothes.

The demon leant her an oversized t-shirt that smelled like citrus, because Lena wasn’t going all of the way back to the dusty attic after getting nice and clean. She began removing her shirt, not thinking anything of Asmo being in the room.

“Oh my!” he said with wide eyes, “how bold you are, tempting me like this.” He turned away blushing, but held quite the smile. He thought of how much fun they might have in time.

Lena chuckled, “Sorry, I’m used to changing in front of others. Dorm life; fashion life; party life.” Her bra was tossed aside only after she put the shirt on and slid her ripped jeans off. Asmo changed in his giant bathroom. 

He emerged where cute, cyan pajamas that made Lena giggle, “You look so cozy.”

“And you look cute, yet seductive.” he chimed back as he headed to pull back the comforter. He insisted that Lena got in first, and to get comfortable. She followed the suggestion, then decided it was best to place a pillow between them, just to set things straight. She didn’t mind flirting around with him, but she had a little apprehension and self-control. 

He wanted to pout at the dividing pillow. Lilly did the same thing, which was no fun. He wanted to at least snuggle with her, feel her curves that filled-out his shirt. They laid beneath the top sheet and comforter, facing one another with smiles. “Good night Asmo. Thank you for the delicious first dinner, volunteering to go shopping with me tomorrow, and letting me crash here.”

“You’re welcome Darling. And thank you for sharing some candid Solomon stories. I’ll cherish them forever!” They both laughed and the demon watched as Lena drifted off into her dream world. It was really quite something. She had all of the trust in the world in him not to try something with her. He was always used to apprehension and it took forever for Lilly to fully trust in him.

He found himself wanting to run his fingers against the edge of her soft, porcelain face and hair as she slumbered. Asmodeus refrained, but continued to watch over her until he too fell into a deep sleep.

~

The sound of some odd alarm clock started buzzing, causing Lena to groan and bury her face under a pillow. It was strange. It smelled like lavender and honey. She didn’t recall trying any new perfumes lately. And she didn’t have one of her witchy ladies crash.

“Good morning Darling.” she heard a songbird voice chime. It was so close to her; TOO CLOSE! The nephilim quickly rose, clutching the pillow beside her in a panic. It was obvious that she forgot all that had transpired the night before. Lena was totally lost, having no recollection of entering this “Better Homes Than Yours”-looking bedroom.

Her eyes darted straight over to the owner of that voice: a “pretty boy” type. He had a seductive smirk as he stared up at her. He was clothed, though his pajama shirt was completely unbuttoned. It made her instinctively look to see what she was or wasn’t wearing.

The nephilim’s antics caused Asmodeus to chuckle lightly. He knew exactly what was going on in her head. He’d seen it happen so many times: The panic of waking up in a stranger’s bed. The Avatar of Lust never got bored watching this scenario play out. He was highly curious about what Lena thought had happened. “What’s wrong Darling? You look a little lost…” He decided he would have a little fun with her.

“I uhm…” was all Lena could manage to respond with. Her hair was braided, yet the top was completely frizzed. Her eyes widened when the stranger reached towards her. “Did we…?” It wouldn’t be her first time, by a long shot, but she felt completely refreshed instead of her normal hung over status after an ONS. 

“Did we what Lena, Darling?” Asmo asked, playing coy. He was loving this. What naughty thoughts was she having about him? She froze, looking at his open shirt. He looked so hot laying like that. She’d be very proud of herself if she didn’t in fact jump his bones the night before.

“You know…” she said, slightly embarrassed, “bump uglies…”

“There is most certainly nothing ‘ugly’ about me Darling.” he responded, giving her a wink. He let her process that for a moment, watching her sigh and throw herself back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. He knew he was on the edge of taking things too far, and decided to stop with the charade.

Leaning really close to her, Asmodeus whispered in Lena’s ears, “As much as it would’ve been, we only did facials and went to sleep.” He chuckled softly as he saw her ear turn pink.

“Eeeergh!” Lena gritted her teeth and popped the side of his hip, as he was casually lounging on his side, embarrassing the hell out of her. “You are fucking aweful!” She kicked around, pouting.

Asmo chuckled more, loving being able to see her like this. She was absolutely adorable in this state. He totally saw why Solomon would try to fool around this dangerous beauty. He didn’t react, but that swat actually hurt a little. “As much as I want to keep snuggling-up in bed and tease you, we really need to start getting ready for class. You do NOT want Lucifer on your case, especially so early in the morning.”

Remembering she had to go to school made Lena groan even more. “Damn it! I don’t wanna Asmo...it’s too early!” 

~

It took awhile for the two of them to get dressed, followed by hair and make-up. Asmodeus couldn’t resist getting to make-over someone after getting himself dolled-up. It was clear that Lena was used to it, holding perfectly still and moving about just right. She explained that she modeled for her brother, Azriel, quite often.

When they were ready, both Lena and Asmo exited his room, giggling about some joke she’d told about Solomon. It just so happened that Levi and Satan were walking down the corridor to witness this.

Of course, neither of them knew about the sleeping arrangement, and thought exactly the wrong thing. “Oh, good morning guys. What do you think? Am I RAD material?” the nephilim asked, showing off her school uniform. She felt rather silly wearing a uniform. Her school didn’t require one, focusing on individuality and expression more. 

Satan merely stared at her, blinking. He wasn’t sure what this situation was, nor how to respond. “Uhm, it suits you well..” he cleared his throat a bit. Asmo was such a clever little demon, knowing what his older brothers thought and continued to play games. He reached out and took Lena’s hand. “It does, doesn’t it!?”

Leviathan’s face was red, but he looked otherwise rather deadpan. He gave no response, but instead walked right past his younger brothers and the nephilim. It was a curious reaction to both Lena and Satan. She assumed he just wasn’t a morning person.The three followed after Leviathan downstairs to the dining room table.

 It was Mammon’s day for cooking. He’d gone the waffle route, making it quick and easy. The was beast bacon, hellfire bumble bee syrup, and fresh fruits of The Devildom. “You guys are gonna spoil me with all this delicious food.” She chimed and gave her compliments to “Chef Big Money Mammon” which caused him to blush and go tsundere on her.

“You don’t eat like this at your place?” Beelzebub asked, before swallowing what she was sure to be an entire waffle whole. 

Blinking for a second in disbelief, she quickly shook her head, “Nah, we had a cafeteria at Belmont. We’re too much in a hurry to enjoy a setdown meal in the mornings. Too many things to do on our agendas. That and Azriel forbids sugary foods, especially during the most important meal of the day.”

“There’s only one important meal?” Beel asked, swallowing even more food.

Lilly laughed, “I told you we believe breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It sets your energy and mood.” Lena nodded as she began to take her seat.

‘Oh Lena, Darling,” Asmo chimed, “I might have to agree with your brother about eating too much sugar at breakfast. Your skin is so soft and smooth…..(paused for effect), I don’t want you to get any acne flare-ups. Especially after I spoil you with the latest line from Majolish.”

Okay, the sneaky 5th brother was really having some fun with his implications. Though everyone really did jump to conclusions quickly. And what made things even more suspicious was the way Lena didn’t react to him or get embarrassed.

“Today, Asmo DARLING, I will make an exception to the dietary rules thwarted upon me.” she replied, “Mammon took time to fix me a plate and I intend on enjoying it. Besides, it’s a part of my learning experience. Cuisine speaks volumes for culture anywhere you go.”

The second eldest brother couldn’t help but smile to himself at the appreciation for the food he made. It was unexpected coming from a stranger. “Yeah, don’t waste that food. I got up early to get it ready!”

There were jokes flying around the room about ‘chef Mammon’ with a lot of laughter. Even Belphegor, who was still in sulk mode, took the time to thank him for ‘slaving over the waffle iron’ for everyone. The only one that didn’t seem to joke around was Leviathan. He was quietly focusing on his phone as usual.

“Enough, everyone. It’s time to leave.” Lucifer announced. There were a few sighs that followed. Beelzebub quickly crammed as much as he could in his mouth as his twin began to push him towards the exit. “Beel, you should be good til lunch…” he murmured sleepily.

Lena was actually excited to share her first night experiences with her brothers and learn about how they fared. She didn’t text them anything besides ‘good night lub you!’. She’d rather see the expressions on their faces.

~

On the way to the Academy, Lena walked up beside the 3rd eldest; her ‘keeper’ she decided to call him. “Hey, are you playing the same Otome today?”

Leviathan froze for a moment, then continued to play. “No, I’m playing an action RPG…” He didn’t seem enthusiastic, nor did he seem focused on the game either. It puzzled Lena, so she kept on with the conversation, “I like those. The Marvel Alliance is my favorite.” 

She could see a struggle in him. It was like he wanted to ask about it, but held back. What was his deal? Since he wanted to know, obviously, she went ahead and continued, “So it's all of the characters in the whole Marvel universe. It’s random what good guy characters or bad guys you get, but you draw random ones, build your team that are good against certain types of enemies, and level em up. It’s got decent story lines, and it’s cool you can play as bad guys too...it’s just. I really hate the ‘pay to play’ games that get you into gambling away your money for the characters you want.”

He glanced at Lena out of the corner of his eyes as she spoke. She really was the only person he knew that could ramble on about games like he could. Well not as much as him. He was the king otaku here after all. 

“Are you by chance upset with me?” Lena asked, “I figured you’d at least share your opinion of the whole pay-to-play thing…” she had a tuition for these things and hated feeling awkward around people, especially ones she’d be around a lot. 

At first Leviathan was going to dodge her question, then Asmodeus called to the nephilim to ‘hurry up’ to walk with him. It made him grit his teeth. “NO! Why would a shut-in otaku care about a 3D girl getting a little cozy with Asmo!?” He shouted at Lena and stormed on ahead of  everyone.

Lena felt the eyes upon her. Not only did the fellow House of Lamentation members look at her for answers, but other RAD students gathering about the school grounds who witnessed the scene as well.

The nephilim facepalmed as Lilly joined her at one side, with Asmodeus at the other. “What was that all about?” 

[ffamranxii]

Sailor Stars thoughts:

1. The anime does its absolute best to make the Starlights unlikable. Taiki is a fucking asshole (he won’t even give a dying girl, who he explicitly was taken to visit, an autograph, and tells a bunch of children that their grandfather’s theory about souls becoming stars is dead wrong), Seiya is a Nice Guy who hits on Usagi constantly despite being told multiple times she has a boyfriend, and Yaten is a mildly sarcastic cardboard cutout. I know the manga doesn’t expand on them much but the anime is supposed to help make these people real. Counterexample is Chibi-Chibi, who hardly speaks in the manga and relies on her cuteness alone to be likable. They gave her a very cute voice because it was literally all they had to work with, given how often Chibi-Chibi actually appears

2. The dub cast for the Starlights is frankly awful. As civilians, Taiki alternates between a woman trying too hard to make her voice deep and having a bad cold, Seiya sounds like a prepubescent boy, and Yaten sounds like a woman (which they’re not, as civilians); as Starlights their voices are VERY high pitched, especially Yaten’s. Their sub voices just sound like woman talking a bit deeply and then normal women.

3. Why the FUCK did Toei think literally changing sex was less controversial than crossdressing? The Starlights are women and have always been women. Plus, them being male civilians in the anime creates a paradox, because if they’re men with sailor crystals who can become senshi, why can’t Mamoru - who is confirmed multiple times throughout the series as carrying the earth’s star seed and thus being Sailor Earth - do the same? Naoko said Mamoru can’t be a sailor senshi because he’s a man, but the Starlights don’t abide by this rule, they change their fucking biological sex

4. Why is absolutely no one concerned that Chibi-Chibi, a THREE YEAR OLD, just goes off on her own and has her own little adventures? She wanders into some strange old man’s house and they’re all “oh that’s just Chibi-Chibi,” and no one is worried that a literal stranger invites a three year old into his house where he gives her toys and candy? The 90s were WILD, man

5. Why does Chibi-Chibi, again who is THREE YEARS OLD, have a thigh gap?

6. This one’s on Naoko because it’s like this in the manga, but the anime is supposed to expand on the universe so I blame them too: Why does literally nobody question Chibi-Chibi’s motives? Some strange pink haired child who fucking falls out of the sky one day up and brainwashes Usagi’s mom into thinking she’s her second daughter, and nobody bats an eye at this? That’s sus as fuck and literally the only question anyone has is “is she your kid or Chibiusa’s?” She doesn’t even have a NAME, “chibi” is just a random word she says!

7. I am DIGGING the mobster feel of the Animamates’ civilian forms. Especially Iron Mouse and Tin Nyanko, who clearly launder money through a shady car dealership.

8. The Starlights’ only redeeming qualities are their snazzy entrance music and Seiya’s red suit

9. Why is Aluminum Siren the only Animamate who understands that a senshi has a pure star seeds? Like, y’all killed the senshi of your home planets to take their star seeds so YOU could be senshi (which is presumably why Galaxia wants more seeds, to make more Animamates with them), shouldn’t you know that?

10. Aluminum Siren/Lead Crow are trying their damn hardest to give Harumichi a run for their money in the quest to become the Best Space Lesbians.

11. So the Moon Kingdom fosters loyalty through child soldiers. I’m assuming Queen Serenity has her own senshi in the form of our senshi’s mothers, etc. (Which begs the question of if the Asteroid Senshi are supposed to be the future kids of our senshi or if they too are child soldiers from the asteroids they’re named after.) Kinmoku seems to foster loyalty by having the Kakyuu’s senshi fall in unrequited love with her. (In the manga it’s stated Kakyuu has a husband who died when their planet was destroyed.) I mean, whatever works, right?

12. I LOVE Tin Nyanko’s dub voice. She’s only around Usagi’s age and she sounds it

13. The dub actress for Lead Crow seems like she’s half assing it. Her voice doesn’t raise properly when she yells, she never sounds really angry, and it’s just so odd. I find a lot of dub voices do this, while the original Japanese VAs will scream their lungs out into the mic

14. On the reverse, Galaxia’s voice actress is a badass. She’s supposed to have a deep menacing voice but I like the one they gave her in the dub. She’s quiet, and sounds almost kind, and that’s a fucking TERRIFYING sort of villain we don’t see a lot of. Even when she’s pissed she doesn’t raise her voice.

15. Why are Lead Crow and Tim Nyanko the same height? Lead Crow is like 5’10 and Tin Nyanko is 4’11 like Sailor Moon

16. As an aside, Tin Nyanko and Lead Crow don’t like each other, which reminds me of the cats vs crows trash can showdown in Haikyuu lol

17. Haruka’s hate boner for Seiya gives me life

18. FINALLY someone calls the Starlights out on being assholes but it’s only after Makoto sees them harassing a THREE YEAR OLD (Chibi-Chibi). Literally everyone BUT Usagi thinks they’re assholes. “They sing such beautiful songs!” Bro. You can sing pretty and still be a fucking dick.

19. Lead Crow goes after Sailor Moon only after reading Siren’s notebook. Ditzy SIREN is the smartest Animamate, lord help them

20. Kakyuu’s dub voice is SO GOOD. She’s my favorite minor character, I’m still bitter they didn’t show Sailor Kakyuu

21. Seiya’s crush on Usagi was so awkwardly shoehorned in. I hate it. Jesus fucking Christ Usagi is sobbing in the goddamn rain about how much she misses Mamoru and Seiya is STILL coming onto her.

22. It is literally so fucking funny to me that Mamoru spends all of Stars fucking dead. He’s just a perpetual damsel in distress.

23. Rei literally lectures Usagi about leading Seiya on and how “you need to do the right thing and tell him you already have someone,” AS IF USAGI HASN’T BEEN DOING THAT AT EVERY AVAILABLE OPPORTUNITY. THE FIRST TIME THEY MET SHE SAID SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND, SHE’S TOLD SEIYA OVER AND OVER THAT SHE ISN’T INTERESTED IN HIM, THAT SHE’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, THAT SHE LOVES HER BOYFRIEND. The fucking MISOGYNY here, like it’s Usagi leading Seiya on instead of Seiya being a fucking Nice Guy who can’t take no for a goddamn answer. Shut the fuck up, Rei.

24. Pretty sure under Kakyuu’s headdress is a pair of odango

25. The fact that Iron Mouse and Aluminum Siren both die when their bracelets are removed yet Tin Nyanko doesn’t implies that Tin Nyanko was the original Sailor Mau. Mouse and Siren dying implies that forcing senshi powers on a civilian is dangerous and that Galaxia’s bracelets are the only thing keeping them alive (albeit brainwashed). Yet Tin Nyanko seems to revert to “good” when one of her bracelets is destroyed. Galaxia has to intervene and kill her personally. Tin Nyanko may have offered her senshi powers to spare Mau (this applies only in the anime; in the manga she’s explicitly said to have killed Sailor Mau)

26. Oooh Galaxia’s angry voice is so commanding and sexy

27. Don’t gimme that “we love Usagi but we love you Starlights just as much.” No you fucking don’t. The whole death scene in the anime is just so... ugh. Bad.

28. The Outers fighting Galaxia is hilarious. They’re supposed to be stronger than the Inners yet Galaxia never even has to get out of her chair to kick their asses. The writers were trying real hard to make us fear the worst and back the senshi into a corner but literally they’ve made this an impossible battle to win that only becomes winnable due to plot armor.

29. Rewatching Stars and classic after Eternal and Crystal makes me miss the battle damage the fuku took. The new series always has them looking pristine, but in classic they actually get roughed up and battle scarred. It makes it more real.

30. Aww how come Uranus and Neptune got to keep their names when they joined Galaxia? I wanna know what whack ass Animamate name they would’ve gotten. (Also Galaxia literally just sent them out like Pokémon, wtf)

31. I feel like Saturn dying shouldn’t be possible since she’s literally a senshi of death but... whatever, go off I guess.

32. So.... Uranus and Neptune joining Galaxia to try and take her star seed is a cool idea that absolutely did not happen in the manga, and needed more than half an episode of development. Would’ve been a cool plot if it wasn’t so rushed.

33. So much of this season was rushed so they could tie the series up at a beat 200 episodes. If they really didn’t want to go over 200, they should’ve cut the Nehelennia arc (which isn’t in the manga anyway) and and focused on developing the Animamates, this sweet Harumichi betrayal plot, and explaining Chibi-Chibi??? Her existence makes no sense without Sailor Cosmos, and they just... didn’t include her??? Wtf

[opalescent-cheetah]

Christmas Sweater (Witney)

For @artificialperidot for the @rpdrficexchange. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this fic <33

Two prompts inspired this story: “Character A loses a bet and has to wear a different ugly Christmas sweater every day till Christmas. Character B works at a clothes store” and “Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud”.

Huge thanks to @veronicasanders for betaing - you’re amazing!

Willam can still hear Alaska’s gleeful laugh in her mind.

She can’t believe she’s doing this, but she’s not the type to back down. Not even after losing a bet she was at least ninety percent sure she was going to win. No, wait – especially not after losing a bet like that. Willam’s going to wear these god-awful sweaters every day until Christmas and look so good Alaska’s going to wonder what she got herself into.

Well, that’s not exactly true, Willam thinks as she grimaces down at her basket of ugly Christmas sweaters. They’re misshapen and baggy, and far too colourful, even for her. The collection is nothing short of an eyesore. Five days shouldn’t feel like a long time, but when Willam has to picture herself walking around looking like a sentient Christmas tree, it might as well be an eternity. She’s never liked Christmas much to begin with, and these ridiculous sweaters are only going to make the holiday season that much more dreadful. 

She rifles through the rack of garish designs to pick out another of the slightly more bearable sweaters. It’s red and white, patterned with snowflakes and stripes and little reindeer standing so close together they look like they’re about to kiss. It’s the fifth and final one; she shoves it into her basket and turns to walk towards the cash register. The cashier looks away quickly, hiding an amused smile behind her hand, and red-hot embarrassment floods through Willam when she realises that she had been watching the entire time.

She marches resolutely up to the counter, trying not to look as disgruntled as she feels. The cashier – Courtney, according to her nametag – offers her a dazzling smile as Willam places the basket between them. Willam refuses to look her in the eye, partly because she doesn’t want to see the quietly amused gleam she knows she’ll find there, and partly because Courtney is fucking gorgeous and, in a situation like this, Willam doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. If they were at a club, she would be boundlessly more confident, but here – when Courtney is struggling to stifle a smile as she scans the tags of each sweater – she feels a little bit like a baby animal, wobbly and unsure.

“Oh, this is one of my favourites,” Courtney says, holding up the red-and-white reindeer sweater and jolting Willam out of her reverie. “You’re really getting into the Christmas spirit, hmm?”

“I, uh… no,” Willam manages. “They’re for my family.” The lie comes quickly enough, and Willam is thankful for it.

Courtney just smiles sweetly, knowingly, and something shifts deep in Willam’s chest. She leans on the counter, forces it back down, as Courtney nods and scans the tag. “That’s very nice of you,” she comments, folding up the sweater with dextrous familiarity before gently placing it in a brown paper bag.

Willam pays quickly, itching to get out of the store as soon as possible. This experience is twisting her up in knots – she just wants to get home and verbally slap Alaska through the phone. She can feel Courtney’s eyes on her as she leaves, and, against the more rational side of her mind screaming at her to just go, she looks over her shoulder just in time to catch Courtney waving. She simply inclines her head in acknowledgement, the image of Courtney’s gentle, cheerful smile burned into the back of her mind.

 ~

 Everything on the television is boring.

Willam’s skin is prickling with restlessness as she sits sideways in her armchair, limbs spilling out over its edges. The distant click, click as she scrolls through shows blends into background noise, merging with the quiet humming of the heater. She’s curled up in one of the sweaters – the red-and-white reindeer one, which she has to admit is probably her favourite of the whole tasteless lot – and it’s surprisingly warm and cosy, wrapping around her like a warm hug.

And then the singing starts again.

Willam’s been hearing it on and off all night, through the roof from the apartment upstairs. Her skin crawls with irritation; sure, it’s Christmas Eve, but would a quiet evening be too much to ask? The person singing may have an incredible voice, but they’re still being so loud.

After a moment of stewing in her own exasperation, Willam realises the song she’s hearing through the roof is unfamiliar. At first, she’d thought it must’ve been one of those overplayed Christmas songs (especially considering the time of year) but the tune isn’t something she recognises.

She stills, quieting the shuffling of the cushions beneath her restless body, and lets herself listen. As soon as she catches the words mistletoe and Santa, she realises the song is, in fact, in theme with the season, and her irritation floods right back.

Willam has never been a Christmas person. It’s never been much more than another day of dealing with drunk extended family and being forced to help fish the Christmas tree out of the swimming pool. She likes buying gifts for people – the pile of neatly wrapped presents under the miniature tree Alaska gave her will attest to that – but the rest of the holiday has always seemed like a lot of wasted effort.

Whoever’s singing still hasn’t shut up, and Willam has decided that she has had enough. Flinging the remote onto the cushions, she marches out of her apartment and up the stairs, shivering at the cold touch of tile beneath her bare feet.

It isn’t difficult to locate the singer’s apartment. Willam knocks loudly, crossing her arms as she waits. The singing is abruptly cut off before it is replaced by the shuffling of footsteps.

When the door opens, Willam isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry: standing before her is none other than Courtney, the cashier from the clothing store. She’s even more startlingly beautiful than Willam remembers – perhaps it’s the surprised glint in her green eyes, or the slight quirk at the corner of her lips. Willam wants to sink into the ground at the sight of her.

“Hey, I know you. You bought all those sweaters last week,” Courtney says by way of a greeting, her eyes sweeping over Willam’s body before she raises a hand to her face, hiding her smile. “Decided not to give that one to your family, I see.”

Willam feels immediately too big for her skin, her embarrassment running red-hot through her veins. She swallows, forcing her expression to remain neutral and unbothered.

“You were singing very loudly,” she says simply, feeling her confidence trickle back in when Courtney visibly flushes.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea the walls were so thin.” Courtney looks abashed – and rightfully so, Willam thinks, but that doesn’t stop her heart from thrumming just that little bit faster when Courtney offers her a nervous smile, peering at her from under her lashes.

The silence that follows is awkward. After shuffling her feet for a moment, Willam makes to leave, but Courtney jumps in before she gets a chance to speak.

“Well, uh… since we’re neighbours, I suppose I should formally introduce myself,” she says. “I’m Courtney.”

“Willam.”

“Willam…” Courtney rolls the word around on her tongue, trying it out, and Willam likes how her name sounds in her lilting accent. “Anyways, Willam… now that you’re here, would you like to stay for dinner?” Courtney offers before she pauses suddenly, looking flustered. “O-Only if you’re free, of course! I made myself Christmas dinner but I think I made too much.”

Courtney looks adorable when she’s blushing. 

“I’m free,” Willam tells her, failing to bite back a grin.

“You look really cute in that sweater, by the way.” There’s a cheeky glint in Courtney’s eyes, and Willam’s insides melt under her gaze, unsure whether she should take it as a compliment or a friendly jab.

“I know. I look good in everything,” she manages to reply breezily, stepping over the threshold.

“I won’t argue with that.” Courtney winks, playful, before turning to lead the way into the kitchen, where she pulls out a seat at the dining table and gestures for Willam to sit.

“You learning to be a waitress?” Willam teases when Courtney pushes the chair in under her. “Do I have to give you a tip for helping me into my seat?”

“Wow, who knew I could be rewarded for good manners?” Courtney replies, and Willam grins. She’s liking Courtney more and more with every second she spends in her apartment.

Courtney then disappears behind the kitchen counter, and Willam hears the clatter of plates and cutlery. She fiddles with the edge of her sweater, twisting it up in her fingers, before she asks, “so what were you singing, anyways?”

Courtney’s head bobs back up and she slides dinnerware onto the countertop. “Nothing, really,” she says, and Willam likes the rosy tint of her cheeks. “Just a song I’m writing.”

“You write songs?” Willam can’t help but be impressed. “Sing me a line or two.”

“Are you sure? Couldn’t you hear it the entire time anyways?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure it’ll be nicer when I’m not hearing it through the roof.”

Courtney murmurs her agreement, and part of Willam regrets berating her for the noise. The other part doesn’t – otherwise she wouldn’t be here, sitting in Courtney’s kitchen waiting to share dinner with her.

She watches as Courtney taps the countertop with her fingertips, hears her gently clear her throat before she starts to sing.

“From head to mistletoe

I’ll never let you go

You’re what I’m wishing for

Santa keep me warm tonight…”

She sounds even better in person. Courtney trails off shyly, and Willam starts to clap, a smile tugging at the corners of her face.

“How was that?” Courtney asks, voice soft.

“Bitch, that was fucking amazing. I regret telling you to shut up.”

Courtney giggles. “Probably better that it was you and not the guy that lives upstairs. He scares me.”

Willam has no idea who she’s talking about, but she nods anyways. She watches quietly as Courtney sets the table before bringing out dishes of food, delicious but unfamiliar smells wafting to Willam’s nose.

“Holy shit. You really did overcook,” she mutters, peering at the dishes lined up on the table. There’s mashed potato, a variety of vegetables ranging from cauliflower through to carrots, and something that looks like dry scrambled eggs but smells like curry. “What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the mystery dish.

“Curried tofu scramble,” Courtney replies. “I’m vegan, so… sorry if you were expecting a turkey.”

“Nah. Turkeys are overrated. I’m lactose, anyways, so at least this means I can eat your mashed potatoes.”

Courtney smiles. “That works out then. Do you drink?”

“’Course. What’ve you got?”

“I’m making my friend Vanity’s Christmas cocktail. If you could call it that, anyways – it’s really just champagne and orange juice, but it’s nice.” Courtney swirls the bottle of juice around for emphasis. “Do you want some?”

“‘Christmas cocktail?’ Just sounds to me like your friend thinks she invented mimosas,” Willam tells her wryly.

Courtney’s standing in the open door of the freezer now, surrounded by icy smoke like dragon’s breath. “Technically, you’re right, but” – she digs around, pulling out a plastic container – “we put sorbet in ours.”

“Sorbet?” Willam asks, startled. “It’s fucking freezing and you’re eating sorbet?”

“Trust me, I know,” Courtney laughs. “But it’s the middle of summer in Australia right now.” 

So that’s where her accent is from. The foreign lilt to her words only makes her more endearing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she tells Courtney, who puts a generous scoop of sorbet in two glasses.

They make small talk during dinner, and more often than not, Willam catches herself staring: she likes the way Courtney smiles when she speaks, her eyes alight with a wistful joy. Her gaze keeps drifting back to Courtney’s glossy lips, and every time, she has to force herself to look away. She feels tender and relaxed – perhaps it’s the champagne in her drink, but Willam’s pretty sure it’s Courtney.

They discuss their family Christmas traditions; Willam learns that this is Courtney’s first December away from home, that Courtney had called her parents earlier that evening because it’s already Christmas Day in Australia. She listens as Courtney recalls fond memories of summer days on the beach, tanning in the hot December sun and sharing Christmas cocktails with her best friend, Vanity. Willam can’t get the image of Courtney in a bikini, skin glowing gold against the sand, out of her head, and she fights the blush that threatens to creep up her neck.

Courtney asks about Christmas in Pennsylvania, and Willam tells her about the year the Christmas tree ended up bobbing in the pool, about sneaking liquor while her family was cooking, and about sledding down hills thick with snow. Courtney listens with wide-eyed intrigue, and it makes Willam feel important – like what she’s saying really means something.

“That sounds like so much fun,” Courtney says. “Did you really get that much snow every year?”

Willam shrugs. “Most years, I guess.” Her chest warms at the glow in Courtney’s eyes, and she wonders suddenly if she should invite her to Alaska’s Christmas party tomorrow. Courtney’s presence alone would make the small talk and the boring holiday traditions that much more tolerable, but above all, Willam would love to see her again. She can feel the doubtful part of her stirring in the back of her mind, whispering that it’s too forward, that Courtney will say no. 

And then Willam remembers that she’s the kind of person who usually doesn’t have doubts – or, if she does, she ignores them – but as she turns back to Courtney, she realises her gaze is now somewhere else, her focus abruptly torn from Willam. 

“Willam,” she whispers, sounding awestruck, “it’s snowing!”

“No way. This is LA – it never snows,” Willam says dubiously, but when she spins in her seat to face the window, she sees hundreds of tiny white flakes drifting, as light as bubbles, through the air. 

Courtney has already jumped up from her seat, her face pressed against the windowpane as it fogs up with her breath. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” she gasps, clearly enthralled. Willam joins her at the window, standing just close enough for their elbows to brush, and peers outside.

“Nope. Just a snow machine.” She points upwards, where the edge of the machine is just visible. “People like to make things look more festive than they really are.”

“You’re such a party pooper,” Courtney pouts, but Willam can see in her eyes that she isn’t really serious.

“Yeah, and you’re gullible,” Willam replies, deadpan. Courtney giggles, shoving her away playfully, and Willam feels her face break out into a smile. She isn’t sure whether to love or hate what Courtney’s doing to her; it’s like snow is falling softly in her chest, feather-light flakes brushing her ribs, but when they touch her they melt into warmth.

They move to the couch after that, and Courtney pulls a blanket over their legs. They sit and talk whilst Courtney absentmindedly traces the shapes of the reindeer on Willam’s sleeve. Willam’s arms tingle at every touch, goosebumps shivering up her skin despite the comfort of her sweater.

Willam loses track of time, huddled beside Courtney; all she’s aware of is Courtney’s presence, the excitement in her voice as she rambles. She has never been so enamoured by someone before, and she wants to treasure this entire evening. She’s going to wrap it up like a Christmas gift, preserve it, so that she can open it later and feel this delicate warmth all over again. This isn’t like her, and she knows it – but something about Courtney has drawn her in, made her soft.

And then Willam catches sight of the clock, ticking quietly on Courtney’s wall. It’s nearly eleven – for a dinner with someone she’s just met, she’s long overstayed her welcome.

“It’s getting late,” she says abruptly, pushing the blanket aside and getting to her feet. “I – I should probably go.”

Courtney’s eyes dart towards the clock, and she lets out a quiet gasp. “Wow, I had no idea we were talking for that long.” She stands beside Willam, wraps her in a careful hug. “Thanks for spending Christmas Eve with me, Willam,” she says, breath hot against Willam’s cheek. “Will I see you again sometime?”

Courtney’s cheeks are rosy with hopeful sincerity, and Willam starts talking before she can second-guess herself again. “Actually… my friend Alaska is hosting a Christmas party tomorrow, from three till ten pm. Do you wanna be my plus-one?”

She is rewarded with the immediate brightening of Courtney’s eyes. “I’d love to! Here I was expecting that this Christmas was going to be boring… thank goodness you showed up when you did.” She giggles, and Willam smiles.

“I’m a miracle-worker, I know.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, feigning arrogance. “No need to tell me twice.”

Courtney snickers. “You certainly don’t need to hear it twice, you dog!”

“I prefer ‘classy and elegant goddess’, thank you very much.”

“Oh my god, you are too much!” Courtney laughs as she follows Willam to the door. “I can’t believe I agreed to spending an entire afternoon with you tomorrow.”

“Girl, you know you love me,” Willam winks.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing me agree to that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Willam sings as she steps over the threshold, back into the cold of the hallway. When she arrived here hours ago, she was restless and irritated; now, she’s leaving with a new number in her phone and a smile on her face.

She turns to wave, and Courtney grins, pointing at her chest. “You should wear that more often, by the way. It suits you.”

Warmth blooms behind Willam’s ribs. Maybe she can pull off ugly Christmas sweaters after all.

 ~

 Courtney’s already waiting downstairs.

Willam sees her through the elevator glass as it descends. She’s leaning back into the leather upholstery of the couch, legs crossed at the knee, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers as she watches the passers-by. She looks lovely in her rose-grey coat, blonde hair spilling out beneath a pink beanie. There’s a white scarf wound around her neck and Willam imagines tugging it gently to pull her closer, close enough to kiss.

She shakes the thought from her mind immediately.

Courtney glances over, suddenly alert, when the elevator pings. Her eyes light up when she sees Willam before she abruptly bursts into laughter.

“What are you laughing at, ma’am?” Willam asks wryly as she strides across the tiled floor, stopping mere inches from the couch, where Courtney stands to greet her.

“Lovely choice of outfit today,” Courtney snickers in response. “I see you’re going to have to rethink some of those family gifts.”

Shit. Willam had forgotten she was wearing the final ugly sweater under her unbuttoned coat – after close to a week it had almost become monotonous. This one is far less preferable to yesterday’s reindeer, and Willam marvels at her own stupidity for leaving it for Christmas Day. It looks like a patchwork quilt in the shape of a sweater: pieces of red, white and green are held together by white borders like frosting. Miscellaneous images decorate the garment, and Willam isn’t even sure if half of them are relevant: there’s a bag of flour and an eye surrounded by rainbow sequins, among other odd things. The sweater is an ugly amalgamation of neon-bright colours and bold shapes; in short, it is an eyesore.

“Oh, shut up,” she tells Courtney.

Courtney straightens the collar of Willam’s jacket, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m intrigued,” she says. “If you’re so embarrassed, why are you wearing it?”

“I was cold! You want me to freeze to death, bitch?”

The corner of Courtney’s mouth quirks upwards in amusement. “So, of all the things you could’ve chosen, you decided to wear this?”

“I can’t believe I’ve only known you a day and you’re already bullying me,” Willam deadpans, avoiding the question.

“Two days!”

“Okay. So we’re counting that time you laughed at me while I was shopping.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was–”

“Bitch, you so were! I have eyes, you know!” Willam shrieks in laughter, pushing playfully at Courtney’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, so maybe I thought you were kinda funny,” Courtney admits. “But you still haven’t answered my question!”

Willam sighs, defeated – Courtney clearly is not going to let the matter drop. “Fine. I lost a bet to Alaska, and she made me wear a different sweater every day until Christmas. You happy now?”

Courtney lets out a laugh. “I knew it was something like that! What did you bet on?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Willam tells Courtney sagely, turning on her heel and striding towards the door to wait for their Uber. Courtney giggles, heels clicking as she follows.

They don’t have to wait long. Willam slides into the backseat beside Courtney, who primly folds her hands in her lap. She remains silent, distracted, even after Willam speaks to the driver and the car departs. It takes Willam a moment to realise she’s humming under her breath, forehead creased in concentration.

“Hey, is that your song?” Willam asks. The tune is quiet but familiar, taking her back to her evening in Courtney’s kitchen.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Courtney’s cheeks are pink. “I’m just a bit stuck on a lyric.”

“Sing it for me,” Willam prompts her. 

“Okay. It’s the first verse that I can’t figure out, but this is what I have so far,” Courtney says, before launching into song.

“I never thought that I would be

Your gift under the Christmas tree

Unwrap me ’cause it’s Christmas Eve…”

She trails off into a hum after that, quietly tapping her fingers to the beat of the song.

“I’ll do you one better,” Willam says when Courtney goes quiet. She clears her throat, singing, “Come eat me out, it’s Christmas Eve…”

“Willam! You filthy dog!” Courtney shrieks, mouth agape, and Willam dissolves into hearty, seal-like laughter. It’s the perfect way for her to drop hints that she’s a lesbian, and be funny at the same time – although Courtney isn’t laughing, not yet.

“What is it with you and calling people dogs?” Willam retorts, still gasping in amusement.

“Well, it’s better than ‘drongo’, isn’t it? I’m trying to be polite!” Courtney looks like she’s trying very hard – and failing miserably – to hold back a smile, and it only makes Willam laugh harder. She doesn’t even know what a drongo is, but Courtney’s Australian accent was so raw when she said it that Willam can’t help herself.

“Either way,” she tells Courtney when she’s calmed down, “if there’s any filthy dog in this car, it’s definitely you.”

Courtney swats her over the arm for that, but she’s smiling now, green eyes glittering with repressed amusement. Willam feels a spark of triumph, blazing bright behind her ribcage.

“That was lovely, but do you have any serious ideas?” Courtney asks her, leaning back into her seat.

Willam grins at her, not quite apologetically. “Mind singing the tune for me again?”

She listens quietly as Courtney hums. Thinking for a moment, she blurts out the first thing to come to mind. “Everyone’s sleeping, but… uh…”

“But we’re far from dreaming!” Courtney exclaims, as if she’s won a jackpot. “You genius!”

“I am, thank you for noticing,” Willam replies, pleased. She watches as Courtney types it into her phone and adds, “well, that’s one line down, and however many left to go.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking, for the rest of it, that the other person is dressed up as Santa,” Courtney says, pocketing her phone, “so I want there to be some… Santa-themed lines, if that makes sense.”

Willam nods distantly. Person. She can’t help but pay close attention to Courtney’s word choices.

“Willam?” Courtney snaps her fingers in Willam’s face, jolting her back to reality. “Did you hear me?”

“I – yes. Yeah, I was just thinking.” A pause. “Reindeer.”

Like yesterday’s sweater. The one Courtney said she liked the best when she was at the checkout.

Oh, how Willam wishes she’d worn it today instead of this ugly thing. At least it had been bearable. In fact, now that she’s come to associate it with Courtney, she’s even started to like it. Just a little.

“Reindeer,” Courtney murmurs thoughtfully. “Rudolph. Sleigh… sleigh bells?”

“That’s all great, but it’s not a coherent sentence,” Willam reminds her.

“Shush. This stuff takes time, you know,” she retorts, but her lips are quirked in the beginnings of a smile, and Willam can tell that Courtney enjoys this playful banter just as much as she does. She watches as Courtney thinks, mumbling soft phrases under her breath, and wonders how someone can manage to be so adorable.

“Give me more,” Courtney suddenly says, and Willam wrinkles her nose in distracted confusion.

“More what? Reindeer?”

This time she gets a laugh. “No, you idiot, Christmas words. I need more to work with.”

“Bitch, you know I’m not a Christmassy person,” Willam huffs. “Fine. Uh. Snow. Snowmen? Fuck, um, carrots. Cookies… cookies and milk.” She pauses, looking around for ideas, inspiration, anything. But what would she find in an Uber?

Her gaze drifts to her hands, clasped together in her lap, and it hits her. Her sweater!

She rolls up the sleeves of her coat to reveal more of the colourful patterns, and begins listing the things she sees. “The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus. Uh, a glittery eyeball? Flour. And… cocaine.”

Courtney sputters out a laugh. “Cocaine? Where did you get cocaine from? That list was a train wreck and a half!”

Willam points to the lines of white wool bordering each patch. “Cocaine. Snort snort, bitch.”

Courtney shrieks with gleeful amusement. “Oh my god. I am not putting cocaine in my Christmas song.”

“Okay. How about weed?” Willam offers, feigning complete seriousness, and Courtney’s laughter starts up all over again.

“We’re here.” The driver interrupts them before Willam can think of more ways to make Courtney smile.

“Thank you kindly, and have a lovely day!” Courtney says as she steps out of the car.

“Ew. You are disgustingly polite,” Willam tells her.

“Well, you offered to tip me for it yesterday, so I’m not complaining.” Courtney bats her eyelashes, and Willam has to look away – she’s so cute it’s making her heart hurt.

Suddenly, there’s the clicking of heels on tarmac, and an excited voice calls out Willam’s name. She turns just in time to see Alaska’s arms fly around her shoulders, crushing her in a tight hug.

“Girl, you look fucking ridiculous,” Alaska tells Willam as she inspects her outfit. “And I love it.”

“Well, you better, because you’re the reason I look this stupid.”

Alaska chuckles, her gaze flicking briefly to Courtney. “Wow, and who’s this lovely woman? You could get some fashion tips from her, Willam.”

Courtney giggles, extending her hand to Alaska to shake. “I’m Courtney. Willam and I live in the same apartment block.”

“Lovely,” Alaska drawls, smiling jovially. “I’m Alaska, and that’s my girlfriend, Katya.” She waves at a blonde woman standing by the door, dressed from head to toe in bright red. Instead of waving back, Katya pulls out a rubber chicken and begins sucking loudly on it. Willam can hear the grotesque squelching noises from where she’s standing.

“Where the fuck was she even keeping that?” she asks, although she knows she shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. It’s Katya, after all.

“Probably up her ass,” Alaska jokes, hiding a smile behind her hand before she calls out to Katya. “I can’t believe that chicken is getting more action than I am!”

Katya grins around the chicken, sensually pulling it out of her mouth. “Mama, when you’re busy, I have to find other ways to satisfy myself, you know!”

Alaska opens her mouth to respond, but Willam nudges her before she can say a word. 

“Let’s go in already,” she butts in. “It’s fucking freezing.”

Alaska murmurs her agreement, turning to lead them both inside. Courtney shoots Willam an excited grin as they follow, and Willam’s heart somersaults in her chest.

A small crowd of people has already arrived, and they mill about, swirling drinks in their hands as they chat. Alaska guides Willam, Courtney and Katya – who joined them at the door – through to the bar, where she pours them all drinks before taking a seat on a nearby couch.

“So tell me,” Alaska drawls, leaning back against the cushions with one arm around Katya’s shoulders. “Did you two meet recently? I’m surprised I haven’t heard about you yet,” she adds to Courtney.

“I was working the counter when Willam bought her sweaters,” Courtney explains. “Wait, are you the same Alaska she lost her bet to?”

“Girl, how many Alaskas do you think I know?” Willam scoffs. “Of course this is the one.”

“Has Willam told you the story yet?” Alaska asks, an eager gleam in her eye. “Or was she too embarrassed?”

“Too embarrassed,” Courtney laughs, and Willam huffs beside her.

“Would you like to hear it?” Alaska prompts, looking far too excited to share. Courtney nods eagerly, and Alaska launches into the story.

“Ok, so, Willam’s been really into fitness lately, and the other day, she challenged me to, like, a pull-up competition,” Alaska explains, grinning when she sees the miffed look on Willam’s face. “I upped the stakes by saying that whoever did less had to wear five different ugly Christmas sweaters, one for each day until Christmas.”

“I can already guess what happens next,” Courtney giggles.  

“Yeah. As you can tell, I obviously won,” Alaska beams, smug. “Willam was fucking pissed. She was so sure she had it in the bag.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, just look at those noodle arms!” Willam exclaims, gesturing wildly to Alaska’s spindly limbs. “You literally have no muscle mass. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

“I mean, clearly there’s something here, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing that awful repurposed patchwork quilt,” Alaska comments, flexing under her coat. Katya giggles, pulling a comically exaggerated smirk as she squeezes Alaska’s arm, and Alaska licks her cheek in response before they both dissolve into hysterics.

“I have to deal with this all the time,” Willam stage-whispers to Courtney with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I’m the ultimate third-wheeler. The fucking best. I could make a career out of it.”

“Well, there’s a bet you won’t lose, at least,” Courtney snickers back.

“Fucking bitch,” Willam grins.

“Anyways, Willam,” Alaska says suddenly, hand still resting on Katya’s leg, “you should thank me, you know. If it weren’t for my incredible strength, you wouldn’t have met this gorgeous woman right here.” She gestures casually to Courtney. 

“Nah, I would’ve. She was singing loud enough to wake the dead last night.”

“Oh, and that’s why you heard,” Alaska quips. Beside her, Katya flails her arms in laughter, wriggling in her seat.

They talk for a little longer before Willam excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and Courtney leaves to pour herself another drink. Alaska and Katya sit in silence for several heartbeats, watching as they leave.

“Romance is afoot, Alaska! I can just smell it!” Katya says emphatically once they’re out of earshot, tugging at Alaska’s arm.

“I think you might be right,” Alaska replies, slow and thoughtful. “Maybe we should give them a little… nudge in the right direction?”

 ~

 Alaska and Katya have disappeared by the time Willam gets back from the bathroom. She glances around quizzically, but she can’t even spot Katya’s bright scarlet clothing in the crowd of partygoers.

“Did you see where they went?” she asks Courtney. It’s unlike Alaska to up and leave like that, but then again, she’s the host of the party. Willam’s sure she has plenty of other people she needs to talk to.

Courtney shakes her head. “I just went to get a drink. Turned around and they were gone.”

Willam shrugs, secretly pleased she gets to talk to Courtney one-on-one again. “It’s whatever. They’ll come back. In the meantime, we can chill.” She flops back into the couch cushions, and Courtney takes a delicate seat beside her.

Willam doesn’t get a chance to say anything else: something falls just in front of her face, and for the briefest of moments she thinks it’s a spider and nearly jumps out of her skin. Courtney, too, looks alarmed; her drink has sloshed over the rim of her glass and is dripping down its neck. When she looks again, Willam realises that the item is, in fact, a sprig of mistletoe, crudely tied to a string.

“Oh no,” a familiar voice suddenly drawls, and Willam whirls around to find Alaska crouching behind the couch, Katya bubbling with barely-contained laughter just beside her. “Where did this mistletoe come from? Oh my god, now you have to kiss! There’s no way out of it!”

“Alaska,” Willam growls through gritted teeth, “I hate you so fucking much.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she purrs, winking deviously.

“Fuck off,” Willam sighs before turning to Courtney, who is smiling awkwardly.

“This is… quite the interesting situation we’ve found ourselves in,” Courtney mumbles, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “If you don’t want to–”

“Willam never backs down from anything, ever,” Katya whispers to her, just loud enough for Willam to hear. “You know, I would just go with it… I’ve heard she’s pretty good with that mouth of hers.”

Courtney immediately turns beet red, and Willam’s heart beats faster, thudding rhythmically against her chest. She has to force it to slow, force her muscles to relax; she tells herself that this isn’t anything new. She’s kissed plenty of women in her time.

But none of them were Courtney, and that makes all the difference. Willam has never wanted someone like this; this is softer, like the brush of a feather or the first touch of snow. This want is warm and heavy in her chest. It feels more permanent, somehow, and Willam wants to be careful with it.

The sprig of mistletoe trembles before her eyes, bobbing in the air like a dancer. Alaska’s shaking the stick, silently urging Willam on, and it’s like a prod in the side; Willam leans forward, charged with nerves, skin hot and prickly under her sweater. Every touch is like fire.

Her lips meet Courtney’s and they are soft and warm. She can taste the strawberry in her lip gloss, smell the artificial sweetness of her shampoo. Willam feels like she is glowing from the inside out; like someone flipped a switch, and all the Christmas tree lights came on at once.

Then they’re drawing apart, huffing quietly, their cheeks rosy and warm. Willam loses herself in Courtney’s eyes, enveloped in a moment of bliss. But it’s tainted with awkwardness; these are hardly suitable circumstances for a first kiss. Definitely not with Alaska and Katya watching, hissing at each other to shut up and stop giggling.

“We should do that again sometime,” Willam manages with a false air of casualness, shattering the moment. Katya wheezes with glee, and Willam watches Courtney turn an even darker shade of crimson.

“You know where to find me,” she responds, smiling coyly, and something warm and soft stirs deep within Willam’s chest.

[theworldbrewery]

Hot Takes: Elves

“When an elven soul returns to Arvandor, it is adopted by the other gods of the Seldarine and given respite from the world for a time, during which it is left alone to ponder its creator’s disappointment.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p 36

I have three sourcebooks in front of me, and all of them are trash.

Elf lore has gotten more fucked up with every new release, and WotC seem to just be digging themselves deeper.

The drow and Lolth

Narrow depictions of ethereal beauty

Relationships with other races, especially orcs

At the root of this is the rather uncomfortable blend of religious themes and racial predestination found in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes.

Disclaimer: I don’t want to suggest that all the official elf lore is bad. I want to suggest that all the official race lore is bad, actually.

Let’s dig in. Scroll to the bottom of the post if you wanna skip all the bad stuff WotC already wrote about elves.

“[The drow] are infamous for their cruelty, evilness, and desire to dominate.”  -Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide, p. 107

“To most, [drow] are a race of demon-worshipping marauders [...] emerging only on the blackest nights to pillage and slaughter the surface dwellers they despise.” -Player’s Handbook, p. 24

“The surface elves’ attitude toward murder [...] is carried to the extreme by the drow, who have elevated the assassination of both enemies and friends to an art and who consider killing to be just another tool for resolving disputes and clearing the way for social advancement.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p. 40-41

So all this is bad. We’re gonna throw all this out in a hot sec, but I’m quickly going to discuss why the lore looks like this in case someone is unfamiliar with it:

basically, the creator of All Elves, Corellon, had a descendant goddess named Lolth, who apparently claimed that elves could attain superiority over other races, had a major falling-out with Corellon, and her followers went with her into exile and became the drow. Also in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, the elves were revealed to be trapped in a cycle of reincarnation where they spent an undetermined period of time dead, alone, and left to contemplate how disappointed Corellon was in them for agreeing with Lolth even a little bit. For some reason, this reincarnation cycle is presented as a good thing... somehow. (this is why elves have a blase reaction to murder, since the deceased will just be reborn later, and why the drow seem to be just fine with killing recklessly.)

This all could be just fine! Except drow are conspicuously the darkest-skinned subrace of elves, and also the one most aligned with a ‘matriarchal’ society. It’s worth pointing out that Corellon is a nonbinary god, but also that the elves “viewed Corellon as their father, the one who had sired them, and Lolth as their mother, the one who set them on the path to their destiny” (p. 36 of MToF). So not only is Corellon being forced into a cisnormative creator narrative, but the comparative “woman” power is being characterized with cruelty and violence. So there’s a lot going on with ‘innate’ savagery and race.

So we’re just gonna throw all that out, because it sucks. It’s got signficant racist implications of inherent violence in racial groups. Sure, WotC tries to retcon it from an in-born racial trait to a cultural one, but it still preys on the concepts of racial essentialism, whether biological or cultural, and fuck that noise. 

“Usually, true elves were a naturally slender and athletic race. Elves had a similar range of complexions to humans, with wood elves typically coppery or pale skinned and wild elves having darker pigmentation.”

“[Elves] live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires [...] Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.” -Player’s Handbook, p. 21

Moving on from the drow, official lore gives the impression of elves as a whole as graceful, thin, and more ‘white.’ The quote above from the Forgotten Realms wiki (which is often used for lore reference) asserts that “wild” elves have “darker pigmentation”--a frankly horrifying example of the same problem with the drow characterization equating savagery, or lack of civilization, with dark skin colors. It’s... bad. It looks bad and it is bad.

Furthermore, the ‘good’ elves (and this itself has to be interrogated) are “naturally slender and athletic,” and constantly being characterized as beautiful. We’re equating elves with thinness and apparent youthfulness--you’ll never hear about the beauty of gnomes, for example, who are just as long-lived but who continue to age at a human-ish rate (making them extremely old-looking by the end of their lifespan). Looking young, thin, and athletic combined with the goodness, grace, and artistic nature of elves creates 1) a very human-esque image of beauty that elves almost surely shouldn’t possess, and 2) a serious problem of describing most elves as “good and beautiful” and drow as “evil”. 

“Although they can be haughty, elves are generally gracious even to those who fall short of their high expectations—which is most non-elves.”

“Most of the gods accepted Corellon’s mutability and passionate behavior, but these traits infuriated Gruumsh, the greatest of the orc gods.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p. 35

The PHB has a subsection on elven attitudes toward other races, specifically dwarves, halflings, and humans. This subsection is comprised of backhanded compliments: dwarves are stupid and clumsy but brave and good craftworkers, humans go much too fast but they’re good at accomplishing stuff, etc. In MToF, we see the “elven perspective” that if elves are reincarnated souls of their ancestor elves, then half-elves are a reincarnated but weak elf, a human soul in an elf-ish body, or a “true elf” trapped in a half-body until freed by death, all basically bummers. And don’t get me started on orcs, where their god was the cause of the bloodshed that created the first elves. 

In the official lore, elves look down on everyone, all the time, for just about any reason. And those reasons almost always fall into (you guessed it!) racial stereotyping!! 

There’s no discernible reason for elves to be as “haughty” as they are. Apparently they’re just so perfect that it’s impossible to live up to their expectations. I guess.

And that’s not even getting into the concept of eternally punishing all elves for apparently disagreeing with Corellon, all of one (1) single time. It’s... horrific. Reading up on the reincarnation cycle has only convinced me that it’s designed as a unique torture where elves have to spend their childhood totally aware of how they betrayed their primary deity in a past life, then when they “sleep” or trance out they also relive those memories, and then forget them just in time to die and be forced to spend up to millennia pondering how Corellon is upset with them. And that’s the elves who get reincarnated! The drow live shorter lives, and will never reach the apparent paradise of Arvandor. They just go to some other afterlife plane, presumably the one reigned over by an evil spider goddess.

Like. That’s so awful and grimdark, and steps all over the “elves are descended from the fey” thing, but more than that?

It’s horribly unimaginative. It’s just so boring in comparison to all the potential an elf society contains. (not to mention it’s wayyyy too focused on the cosmic side of things rather than a societal view.)

Reimagining Elves

yeah, so, given that we’re scrapping... pretty much all the elf lore.... I’d be remiss in not providing some cooler, more inventive options. As always, you can always choose to craft your own, but here are some ideas to get the gears turning.

Racial interactions: Elves live in close communities composed of one’s extended family, and place a lot of emphasis on family ties and the political relationships between elf families. These family communities tend toward conservatism, with the elders of the family deciding things like marriages, suitable careers, etc. 

Marrying outside the complicated political machinations of elven culture is verboten, so having half-elf children is especially off-limits. Or leave that whole hangup in the lorebooks entirely! Maybe having loads of half-elf children, especially by multiple humans, is super popular because then you can get your political influence into many different places! Who knows! 

But also, any culture that doesn’t lean into this community structure is seen as totally incomprehensible and not worth bothering with. Too many failed marriages with orcs who don’t understand things like “individual property rights”.

Aesthetics: Elves tend to do artsy stuff, but their definition of “art” is... unusual, for most other races. They carve large boulders in the woods and just... leave them there for travelers to find, or manipulate the growth of vines to take shapes like one of an elf drawing a bow, or weave a glimmering silver net of fine thread and hang it from the trees like a dew-speckled spiderweb. They’re reclusive, living in artists enclaves. 

They might dress in loud colors, play screamo music because it’s “expressive”, and paint their faces with blocky shapes because it’s “an avant-garde reflection of the soul.” Go wild. 

Elves can be chubby, elves can be fat, elves can be buff, elves can be light and dark-skinned, elves can glow in the dark, elves can be disabled, elves can be chronically ill (actually, imagine elves with disabilities or illness creating the most pretentious medical aids or training like. a direwolf as a service animal. cause they’re that extra.), elves can be tall or short or whatever. just make sure they have pointy ears (unless...)

Subrace differences, gender: different elf communities have very different views on gender; none of which are “there are two immutable genders/sexes.” for instance, high elves might have a rigid 2-gender system, but it mostly relies on sets of stereotypes and social roles that adolescent elves have to choose as they mature, and then they’re ‘locked in’ for the rest of their life, and they’re seriously looked down on for violating those rules one gender is not valued over another, but they’re rigid systems. 

wood elves may have a ‘what’s a gender’ approach instead, but then any elf who comes up with a gender identity for themself is suspected of wanting to be like those snobbish high elves or something. 

The drow are inclined to have lots of genders, but there’s a clear hierarchy that places “femininity” (by an elf definition) above other gender presentations in emulation of their goddess, Lolth. 

Subrace differences, food: Elves divide themselves by how they cultivate their food. Wood elves cultivate “wild” foods by feeding meat and dairy-producing animals and taking care of naturally occurring plants, and harvesting from the technically-untamed world when they need supplies. 

High Elves have gardens and livestock pens, which are typically exquisitely maintained, but they don’t eat meat; all animals are strictly for dairy and textiles. 

Drow have a collectivist system of crop production, which involves sustainable growing practices on the lands they own aboveground and harvesting at night. They keep animals to eat weeds, bees to pollinate and for honey, and spiders that catch pest insects that would damage the crops.

Religion/Ancestry: some elves believe their elf gods shaped them from the fey, some believe they were descended from the fey and the gods adopted them, and others insist that evolution is fake and the gods created them from whole cloth and the fey thing is just a coincidence.

Weapons: Elves train with weapons because it is: an artform (weapon dancing), a skill competition, an environmental necessity (either for hunting or for battle), or what have you.

The drow, as a whole: you get to choose one. Either the drow are evil, or the drow are dark-skinned, or neither of those are true (on like, a subrace level. individual drow can be whatever). Anyway. If the drow aren’t evil (the better option anyway), they weren’t exiled to the Underdark. Obviously. but a significant portion of the elven population is descended from winter eladrin/the Unseelie Court, and as a result they are allergic to sunlight to varying degrees, so they’ve made a home underground. They worship the spider goddess because she taught them to weave clothing from the web of giant spiders that live in the Underdark. Let Lolth be the goddess of practical craftwork, rather than art for art’s sake, a goddess of knowledge and advancement instead of murder and savagery.

Obviously you can use any and all of these in your own campaign. If you don’t use them, have fun making up your own lore that is clearly superior to existing WotC elf lore!

[djemsostylist]

I think the most interesting thing about reading Star Wars has been the journey that I’ve taken with the Big Three--that is, Han, Luke, and Leia.  As a kid, they were all I knew about Star Wars.  And honestly, I don’t think I really thought about them much, beyond thinking they were cool and wishing I could wield a lightsaber.  As a tween/early teen, I read mostly Rogue Squadron, and I started to be disappointed in them...they seemed to distant, and honestly kind of boring?  As a teen, I read the NJO, and then...well, to be frank, I hated them.  They were distant and useless and they let down their kids over and over again, and the war went on without them, and really what was the point?

I recently re-read the NJO, and then I started (and am almost finished with) a huge read through of the entirety of Bantam, and suddenly, I get it.  Luke, and Han and Leia are imperfect--and I think it’s why I hated them so much as a teen.  I wanted them to be the infallible heroes I had known as a child, and I wanted to them to stay magnificent for me.  But when I read them as an adult, it’s like, I dunno.  They still fucked up.  Badly.  Leia and Han were terrible parents, and Luke failed his niece and nephews.  They made terrible decisions.  None of them were what they should have been.  But it’s because they are people.  It’s like when you realize your parents are people, and they fuck up, but they do the best they can.  

Leia isn’t a mom.  She’s a politician and a leader, and she loves her family, but they aren’t her priority.  Leia is a Tully, but her house words are “Duty, Honor, Family” because family matters but family dies.  Duty is eternal.  Han wants to be a dad--he does.  The problem is Han isn’t quite sure how to relate to these child/adults who ask questions he can’t answer and can do more at 8 then he can contemplate at 50.  And honestly, Han’s main problem is that he loves Leia too much.  It’s not that he finds her infallible, but he can ignore her flaws because he needs her.  Push comes to shove, and he’ll choose Leia over his children, every time.  I don’t think its a stretch to say he can’t live without her.  Han’s pretty far down on Leia’s priority list, but she’ll still choose him over the kids too.  This isn’t because they don’t love their children--they do.  But I’m pretty sure Han and Leia never really felt like the kids were theirs--they belonged to the galaxy, and they were so independent and thoughtful--they didn’t need Han and Leia to do things for them, but they still needed them.  But Leia had a galaxy to run and Han can’t sit still (especially if Leia needs him) and so the kids get left to their own devices. 

Luke, he tries.  He really does try, and he does love the kids--he truly does.  And the kids--they adore him.  Seriously, every time he shows up in any of the books, the kids literally jump him.  Anakin climbs him like a tree, and the twins demand an arm, or if that isn’t available they just cling to his legs.  And when he’s around, they insist he do everything--read with them, play with them, listen to them, etc.  And I think it’s because he’s the one who gets them, really gets them.  

Leia spends a limited amount of time with the kids--usually when they are together it’s in the same room, but they are usually quietly doing something while she works.  If she brings them on vacation, they have a nanny/Threepio to watch them.  Threepio or Winter put them to bed, cook them dinner, arrange their lessons, take them on day trips.  She locks her office, and her bedroom door.  She isn’t the sort of mom you jump on and shower with thoughts and ideas and love.  She’ll take your macaroni necklaces, but she won’t wear them.  She is a hug twice a day mom.  

Han spends time with the kids, but its all actions.  Playing in the pool, getting Jacen to run laps, teaching Jaina to memorize star maps.  He connects with them the only way he knows how--by feeding their interests.  Jacen likes animals?  Bring him a cool snake.  Jaina likes flying? Bring her a hyperdrive.  But Han gets tired too, and on more than one occasion, he needs peace, because, honestly, the kids are overwhelming.  They ask a lot of questions, they need a lot of attention, and they are always getting into everything.  And Han, despite his best efforts, he doesn’t really get them.  

But Luke.  Luke gets them.  He tinkered with things, like Jaina does.  He understands droids and machines, like Anakin.  He has deep, almost overwhelming empathy, like Jacen does.  And like all the kids, the Force is a part of him.  He can’t just touch the Force--everything he is is the Force.  As Obi-Wan said--”It surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together.”  It’s not an other--it’s an essential part of who he is.  Luke can no more imagine life without the Force than he can imagine life without breathing.  It’s a part of everything he does.  He trusts it, relies on it, manipulates it.  It’s as easy as breathing.  That’s what it is to the kids too.  It’s their whole life, their everything--and Han and Leia don’t get it.  Han has no Force ability, not even the barest latency like some non-Force users we know have (Jaina’s husband is an example). Leia has the Force, but she’ll never really trust it.  She’ll never give herself over too it, not completely.  (Bantam did a fantastic job, by the way, of explaining why Leia becoming an eventual Jedi Knight makes no sense.  The Force will always have Vader in it, and Palpatine, and Leia will never, ever be able to forget it.)  

So Luke understands the kids, and he knows them, and he loves them, but he can’t raise them.  Because Luke isn’t really sure what his role his.  Luke fights the Empire, but he doesn’t hate it.  He doesn’t have the hate to drive him, and though he cares about the galaxy, he isn’t exactly into rebuilding it.  He sees Leia’s place in the government, and he respects it, but it’s not for him.  He forms the Jedi Academy, but he isn’t really a teacher--the Force comes too naturally to him for that.  He isn’t a general, isn’t a politician, the only thing he really is is a Jedi, and the thing is--Luke has no idea what that means.  Is it what his father was--a hero who saw too much and fell?  Is it Yoda and Obi-Wan, tired old men who gave up on the galaxy?  Is it his sister, who leads without the Force entirely?  Is it merely an addendum to his name?  Luke experiences, essentially, what I think many late 20-early 30 somethings experience--an existential depression, if you will.  What am I?  Who am I?  What do I do when I can do anything but nothing really drives me?  What if what I do is not enough?  Do I matter?  He’s crashing because he doesn’t know, and he looks at the kids and he doesn’t know how to help them.  He can answer their questions and calm their fears and teach them control, but he can’t help them with the future, because he isn’t even sure really what the future is.  

I guess what I’m saying is, Bantam was a curious look into what happens when your heroes--your parents, the people who are supposed to know everything--turn out to be just people.  When higher level adults are just adults who lived longer.  Luke and Leia and Han are people--flawed and imperfect and sometimes awful, but they’re people.  It’s why I love them so much.  It’s why I love Star Wars, honestly.  Because it’s a story of family, and people, and generations.  To quote Matt Stover “It is a story of love and loss, brotherhood and betrayal, courage and sacrifice and the death of dreams.  It is a story of the blurred line between our best and our worst.”

[adrianvsart]

memorable and overall funny camp camp quotes

well…after 8 HOURS, i’ve finally rewatched the camp camp series for almost the 5th time. and boy, was it agonizing to say the least. nevertheless, it felt very rewarding after i finished gathering all the quotes together.

ill be updating this as new episodes are released but these are the ones out to the public so far (not including the new ones released on the rooster teeth website as i will wait until its posted on youtube).

it’s under the cut because, oh boy, is this LONG;

Episode 1, Escape From Camp Campbell

“Can you believe it, Max? We’re getting not one! not three! but two new campers today!” “Yup! it’s really truly horrifying.”

“I’m not here to make friends, David! I’m here because camp is where kids are sent when their parents don’t wanna deal with them. Why do you think we return the favor when they hit seventy?”

“Hang on a sec, what are you even doing out here?” “Well, it’s definitely not because the bus only comes from the city to drop off and pick up campers and so far seems to be my only reasonable method of escaping this fucking nightmare of a camp. Definitely not that.” “Heeey…language.”

“Suck a dic-” “All I want is for you kids to have as much fun as I did when I was a Campbell camper! Is that really too much to ask?” “I refuse to believe someone as happy as you can possibly exist.”

“No, silly! This is adventure camp! Ad-vent-ure! My mom said so! Unless she was lying…again. Sorry about that hand by the way, just exerting dominance, you know how it goes.”

“Max, you are not leaving my side for the rest of the day!” “We’ll see about that, CAMP. MAN.”

“Tell ‘em just how much you love it, Max!” “See, that’s the sad thing…he still actually thinks that I love it.”

“Gooood morning, Gwen!” “MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Nurf, you don’t crank shit! Get down from there Space Kid!”

“What about that astronaut kid?” “Astronauts, the wannabe jocks of the scientific community? Please.”

“Yeah, so far every attempt to answer our questions just raises more questions.” “Hey, good for you! You’re starting to catch on!”

“[Pulling out guitar] Well, I’m glad you asked, because I have a little song that I can sing–” “No.” “[Putting back guitar] When Gwen’s not around.”

“You are the bane of my existence.”

“This is bullshit!” “Woah, check out the balls on new kid.” “[Looking down at her crotch] Where?”

“Oh god, it’s coming back, the crippling anxiety and regret.”

“Why would you help us?” “I’m an agent of chaos.”

“Oh no. I hope YOU learned, David! I hope you learned that before today, you only had one little bastard to deal with. But now you’ve got three." 

Episode 2, Mascot

"Oh, he talked! Did you hear that?!” “Are you a gypsy?” “Uhhh…”

“[After just flinging the camp mascot to the next island with a huge rock instead of hitting David] Aw, man…That was supposed to kill you.”

“Well, Max, we were going to make hand-made ice cream, but someone killed our mascot and now we need a new one BECAUSE EVERY GOOD CAMP HAS A MASCOT, MAX!”

“Lady-sickness. My mom used to get that all the time.” “How do you cure it?” “EDGE CLOSER TO DEATH.”

“Calm down, it’ll be fine. Besides, anything’s better than hanging with DAVID." 

"Sorry everyone, just…really overwhelmed by all this friendship right now.”

“What’s WRONG?! I wanted to spend my summer in an air conditioned laboratory! Not walking around a future Wal-Mart parking lot!” “Aw, come on, Neil! Nature can be your friend if you just give it a chance!” “…There’s a raccoon trying to scavenge Nerris.”

“It’s resistent to charms!” “Nerris! Play dead!” “I’m out of mana!" 

"Uh…this looks like the place teenagers go to get stabbed.” “…Probably.”

“Hey, so, how’d you lose that hand anyway?” “[unintelligible mumble] JEWS [unintelligible mumble]” “…I feel like you should be more specific.”

“[Sigh] Well, I guess Nikki was right. Enjoy wearing my skin.”

“[After killing a squirrel] Mascot.” “DUDE! YOU FUCKING KILLED IT!” “…Oh.”

“[Aggressively killing animals] I AM THE KING NOW! THE THRONE IS MINE!" 

"Wh-Where’d it go?! Bring it back!” “Oh…I don’t know how. This is kinda why I’m here.”

“Where do we go now?!” “I don’t know! This was a really bad idea in hindsight!”

“I WANT A VIKING’S FUNERAL! LIGHT ME UP!”

“…Why do you always have to make things weird and complicated?” “Well, I mean, I think this is all pretty normal…”

“Does this mean we’ll be the Camp Campbell Platties?!” “No, I don’t think so.”

 "…What about the pussies?“ "Definitely not!” “Yeah, I like that!” “Pussies for life.”

“…So what’s with the Quartermaster and Jews?”

Episode 3, Scout’s Dishonor

“Ah…another wonderful day at Camp Campbell. All that’s left to do now is recharge with a full eight hours of lying in bed…awake! Waiting for tomorrow!”

“Alright, guys, our first attempt to bust out of this god-forsaken hellhole didn’t work.”

“So…what are you gonna do on the outside?” “Probably live with the animals. Try and get raised by wolves, maybe work my way up to alpha. Pee on stuff.”

“I think I’ll go to my dad’s house and tell him that mom sent me to an abusive summer camp. Pretend to like him more so she’ll try to buy back my love." "That’s really dark, Neil.”

“Where are we?” “Where happiness goes to DIE.”

“WHY DO YOU KEEP HITTING ME?! AND WHY IS IT ONLY CLOUDY OVER YOUR SIDE OF THE LAKE?!”

“God, your face is gross.” “…What…?” “Oh, sorry, that just slipped out…” “Dude…” “Sorry… I know… That was mean.” “It really was…”

“Oh, we don’t kidnap campers. That’d be immoral.” “THAT GUY LITERALLY STABBED ME IN THE BACK!”

“Neeancy, boys are supposed to be tough.” “And rugged.” “And if they pee in you, you get pregnant!”

“Y'all are some ignorant fucking cunts!”

“[Dreamily]…he can pee in me anytime.” “Tabii seriously, what the fuck?!”

“That was super gay.” “We JUST learned a lesson about stereotyping!”

“You know, maybe I don’t hate Camp Campbell, maybe I hate EVERYTHING." 

Episode 4, Camp Cool Kidz

"This sucks…This is the kind of peasant work my parents left their home country to avoid." 

"That’s fucking stupid, nicknames don’t make you cool.” “Pssh, spoken like a true first-part nicknamer.”

“No one’s TOO cool to talk to. Even cool kids take giant, uncomfortable shits from time to time. Helps remind you that we’re all equal.”

“Oh, maybe he’ll give us a raise! Or, tell me I’m like the son he never had!” “…Or explain why he’s wanted by the government.” “Or that. Yeah, there’s that." 

"WE GOT OURSELVES AN UPRISIN’!”

“Max! I am very disappointed in you for this behavior! But I’m also torn, because you were clearly paying attention during knot-tying class!”

“This is just like Le Mis! Ah, I love it!” “Don’t make this lame, Preston.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the hell up! Did you nerds forget who revolutionized this place?! I should be leading you! Not "x-treme sports barbie” over here!“

"Rage-against-the-machine-fight-the-power-9/11!” “Progressive buzzwords can’t save you now.”

“Like the minutemen of the Revolution, we will fight for our independence!” “Minuteman…mommy calls daddy that when they argue.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this. It’s only been a few hours and we’ve already gone shirtless!”

“Aw, man! Sooo uncool.” “MURDER HIM!”

“What are you kids doing?!” “We’re gonna kill Space Kid!”

“You guys are here to rescue me?!” “No! Shut up David!” “Aw…”

“No fighting! Violence never solves anything!” “STAB HER, BITCH!”

“OH GOD! SOMEONE STOP-DROP-AND-ROLL ME!”

Episode 5, Journey to Spooky Island

“I was VERY innocent and impressionable back then!” “…So, last week?”

“What’s scary is how much I wanna kill myself right now.”

“So help me if this involves vampire romance.” “I-It could’ve been werewolves. You don’t know!”

“Here’s a horror story, go look at the job market you’re dealing with after this camp shuts down!”

“[After a squirrel jumps out of Space Kid’s spacesuit] Wait a minute! How is it that you aren’t even phased by that?!” “Might’ve helped if I hadn’t put it in his suit to begin with.”

“Wh-what do you think about that moaning and wailing?” “Pssh, it’s just teenagers from that church camp working on those repressions again. Not that I know anything about it, just being a kid and all.”

“So…No dead campers then?” “Nope! We’re good!” “Damn.”

“What’s with space case?” “Squirrel-splosion.”

“Ah…So the revolution has begun…”

“Pssh, ghosts don’t exist. You die, and then you’re faced with eternal nothingness. It’s gonna be great.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?! YOU’VE NEVER DIED!”

“We’ll see who’s yawning when we’re all DEAD!” “Why would we…?”

“That seems redundant.” “Yeah, and I think endangered…”

“I AM NOT ABOUT THIS SHIT, NIKKI! SCIENCE HAS IT’S LIMITS!” “Don’t be so naive, this is mild experimentation at best.”

“You know what this is? Proof that the founder of Camp Campbell is a rich piece of shit with terrible morals and who also potentially kills people! …ALL THINGS I WAS ALREADY PRETTY SURE OF!”

“But the monsters! The wails! You can’t explain that!” “Actually…” “THE HELL I CAN’T!”

“Guess that goes to show that sometimes, the only thing scarier than monsters and ghosts…is real life. Specifically old people having sex. Weird, kinky sex. In a dungeon. Boy, that is…that is some dark shit.”

Episode 6, Reigny Day

“Under my rule, I WILL MAKE CAMP CAMPBELL GREAT AGAIN” “[Thinking] This is probably fine.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH NEIL, NURF? SHOVE HIM IN A LOCKER? MAKE HIM PROM QUEEN, ONLY TO COVER HIM IN BLOOD?”

“You seem pretty confident about that. Where were you on the night of-” “Shut up, let’s go find him.”

“Yeah? What did you think I meant? I’m not some kind of secret police or something.”

“[Nervously] All right kiddos, why don’t we take this conversation somewhere else, like another room! Or another camp!”

“We shall make an example of him! Let the hunt begin!” “[Thinking] This is still fine.”

“[After Preston destroys the floorboards with a crowbar] This has escalated quickly.”

“[Thinking, after getting nervous about the judges] This is no longer fine.”

“[Thinking] I can’t believe I lost to Dolph, he isn’t even a counselor!” “[Thinking] Plus he really looks like Hitler.”

Episode 7, Romeo & Juliet II: Love Resurrected

“Please, the theater demands your utmost respect-” “[Through megaphone] SHUT YOUR YAPS, IT’S TIME FOR THE PLAY!” “Ahem, thank you Gwen.” “[Through megaphone] DON’T MENTION IT!”

“Y'know, Juliet should’ve done karate instead of kissing boys. HIYAH! Maybe she wouldn’t have died then.”

“Has anyone seen my phone? I must have dropped it while doing my smile exercises.” “Don’t admit to that…”

“Guuys, you’re just adding to my anxiety! If you don’t return the phone, I’m going to have a panic attack, and that’s on you!”

“Yo, did someone say black magic?” “[Facepalming] Amateurs!”

“Thanks for your contribution, an inanimate object stuffed with hay could have acted better! [Turning to the platypus] Platypus, you’re doing great! Stole the scene! Keep it up!”

“Alright people, get your SHIT together!”

“You’re up next, break a leg, buddy.” “You’re right! If I’m injured, I can’t preform! Hit me! Hit me hard! It’s gotta look convincing!”

“Our love is forbidden just like Romeo and Juliet’s but we will be together even if it costs us our lives. UGH! It’s so romantic, I wanna die!” “He called us cunts last time he saw us.”

“I’m gonna make that kissing scene so hot, it’ll be rated TV Y 7.”

“It appears, my son, in her sorrow, she killed herself.” “Nooo! [Seinfeld music]”

“Ugh. Why is he so sweaty? Robots can’t sweat. THIS ISN’T CANON!”

“I don’t know who this BITCH is, but she is KILLING IT! AH!”

“I need to stop this!” “Why? This is awesome! Whoo! You go girl!”

“The theater! The cruelest mistress of all! My career! Like the mistakes of so many teenage girls, has been aborted.”

“Oh, nobody plays Bonquisha like that!” “[In distance] Kick his ass!”

“What about me? Where’s MY apology?” “I’m gonna be honest, I’m not sure who you are.”

“[Holding up a picture of Cameron Campbell] Have you seen this man?” “Oh, uh, I’ve been told to tell you no.”

“They don’t give Oscars for stage performances.” “That’s how good it was.”

Episode 8, Into Town

“What did I say? I said don’t do fire safety camp and political history camp in the same day unless you reeeeaaally want it to turn into riot control camp." 

"You’re still on fire, btw!” “Thank you.”

“Eyy, we’re talking here!” “The moon landings were a hoax filmed in Area 51 orchestrated by the government as a publicity stunt designed to humiliate the Russians in the space race!” “Noooooo! No! I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!”

“Ah! Sweet 22.2 degrees Celsius, here we come!” “You idiot! This isn’t about air conditioning!”

“Just what exactly do you think he’s into?” “Hookers and blow!” “[Simultaneously] WHAT?!”

“Neil, you go be Neil in the nerd shop. Just stay here and keep an eye on the wagon. Get ready to haul ass if you see David about to leave.”

“Eeny-meeny-miny-mo, what lame place did David go…in?”

“Don’t serve your kind here.” “Your kind? Your kind?! Care to be more specific, sir? I’m calling you out!” “Kids.” “Oh, well that’s totally understandable.”

“Him? Yeahh, he’s a bit on edge now, isn’t he? Kept saying something about how it was all some kid’s fault.” “I know what you’re thinking. You’re totally right.”

“So, he come here often? Is he a sad drunk? Happy drunk? Gay drunk?”

“He beat a women?! David, you unbelievable bastard, I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“[Coughing] Max? I think I’m dying.”

“[To Max] Don’t come back. [To Nikki] Come back when you’re 18.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t wanna drive him to murder! I just wanted to show him that his entire philosophical outlook on life is flawed and that the fundamental beliefs and ideologies he holds so dearly are trivial so that he’ll start crying himself to sleep like the rest of us! I’m not a monster!”

“You sick bastard! Your getaway from the camp is TO GO CAMPING?!”

“Just. Kill us!”

Episode 9, David Gets Hard

“FUCK YEAH, SCARE ME STRAIGHT!”

“Well, we’re gonna learn that little shit some manners, David! Because we are contractually obligated to!" 

"After all, there’s only one camper at Camp Campbell worse than him, and it’s me.”

“What do you want?” “Double desert, no activities for a week, and David’s social security number.” “Done.” “Gwen!” “SHUT UP, DAVID!” “Okay…”

“Today’s the day I get hard!” “Okay, maybe we don’t phrase it like that…” “Oh no! Rule 1: no backing down! Look out, world! I’m hard and I’m coming! Whether he likes it or not, Nurf is gonna let me in!”

“…So does he want to help Nurf or fuck him?" 

"You’re pathetic.” “And getting blood on my boot.”

“No, no! You’re being positive again! Gwen’s the fucking worst! She slacks off, reads garbage and has no idea what she’s doing with her life!” “[Angrily] What?”

 "There’s no time-travelling doctor coming to save you Gwen! Get your shit together!“ 

"Right! I know that’s probably hard to hear!” “No.” “And may have even been a little too far!” “Not at all” “But by golly, it seems to me you’ve never been very polite to anyone!” “[Muttering] God damn it.”

“Man, he is…way more fucked up than I thought.”

“[Sarcastically] Oops, didn’t see you there! [Normally] Just kidding, I was fully aware of the situation. I’m just acting out for attention. That being said, I do think I need corrective lenses, my mom just won’t take me." 

"Oh, so we’re doing the whole Freudian thing now? Everyone wants to fuck their own mom, get over it!”

“So, what are you gonna do now?” “STAB MY DAD!” “NO! What?! Why?!”

“What do you expect? I’m just a kid! Eat my farts, butt-nut!”

“Well, I guess it turns out at the end of the day…sometimes you just gotta hit kids.”

Episode 10, Mind Freakers

“Sure, Harrison, that’s it. It’s certainly not because I believe in the fundamental laws of everything in existence which goes against the slightest chance of magic even being possible.”

“Get rekt, Harrison. Why don’t you do a real magic trick if you’re so good.”

“Oh! You just got Abraca-OWNED, Max!”

“Yes, and it would’ve been even better if it had happened to Neil as I intended, but you get the idea. Magic!”

“I do NOT feel okay!”

“It’s not like I’m gonna loose sleep over it. [Later that night] Shit.”

“Yeah! I believe! Cut me in half! I’ll be fine! …I’ll be fine? I’ll be fine!”

“Okay, Neil. I got you, fam.” “I don’t know what that means, but thank you.”

“How does Harrison have the Gaul to do something so hurtful, ya know?” “Yeah, it’s kinda shitty. I feel-” “It’s like he doesn’t even care how this affects ME!” “You?!” “Yeah! How can he be so selfish?”

“I don’t know, Neil. There’s still so much I need to learn. I gotta reach level 4 and I haven’t even been sorted into a house yet.”

“Just proving that any idiot with half a brain can do that trick you pulled off yesterday.” “Wait, are…are you calling yourself an idiot, Neil?” “SHUT UP SPACE KID.”

“YOU SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, HARRISON!”

“The only thing I’m killing is your hocus-pocus bullshit, Harrison!”

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the greatest trick of all. Getting a cynical, close-minded asshole to believe in magic!" 

Episode 11, Camporee

"Guess who’s got two thumbs, diplomatic immunity and is here to host the annual Lake Lilac CAMPOREE?! This guy!”

“David, what the hell! No one told us about this!” “We’ve literally been telling you about it everyday for weeks.” “Yeah, but we never listen to you guys! Put up flyers or something.”

“Darn it, Teddy, you KNOW I’ve got a crippling gambling addiction!”

“Yo, David! I think I speak for all of us when I say that I don’t wanna become some fascist military peon!” “[Raising his hand] He does not speak for all of us.”

“BOO! Give us actual advice!”

“[Nervously] We just, uh, you know gotta believe in ourselves!” “Nope, we’re boned.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ! Campers, we are winning that FUCKING trophy!”

“[Innocently] Kill.”

Episode 12, The Order of the Sparrow

“Gwen, why is David dressed like a turkey?” “Because he’s fucking David, Nikki, you’ve been here long enough to figure that out.”

“Wow, that is racist.” “Seriously, are you offended?”

“[Whining] Do we have to?” “No, but-” “WAIT! Nevermind! It’s mandatory!”

“Tell us now, turkey man!”

“I can be nice! I’m the nicest!”

“David! You know me! You know I love nature! You know if I could, I would have BABIES with nature!”

“Resistance is futile, turkey man!”

“David. Witness me. Witness my love for nature! [Tries kissing platypus but it bites him instead] Ow! You whore! Let me love you, god damn it!”

“I can’t believe I frenched a platypus for this!”

“Life sucks. And we live in a world of desensitized, apathetic assholes. Why don’t you just get with the program and stop giving a shit.”

“That’s why I’ll never stop trying, because somebody fucking has to.”

“Wake up, buttercup!” “Nikki! No more arrows!” “You can’t control me, white devil!”

“Alright, I fixed it. Everybody hurry up and…ah, shit, he’s awake.”

“Max? Did you-” “DO NOT look too deeply into this. You suck, this world sucks, and one day we’re all gonna die and none of it will matter but if we didn’t do this, I’m pretty sure you’d kill yourself or something.” “[Sniffling] Oh, Max…” “Or shoot up the camp. I dunno, it was a possibility.”

Season 2, Episode 1, Cult Camp

“[Bursting through the door] Goooood morning, David!” “Goood morning, Gwen! Wait, this feels backwards.” “Yep!”

“But today’s the day!” “[Gasp] You’ve realized your love of Camp Campbell and everything it stands for?” “[Happily] HELL NO!”

“Ha, are pulling my leg?” “No leg-pulling here, but we are keen on handshakes!”

“You know, I think now is the perfect time to use my vacation days.” “[Simultaneously] Aw, Gwen. Are you sure?”

“[Picking on Max after he raises his hand] Yes, Max.” “[Points at Daniel] Who the fuck is that?” “Why, what an excellent question!”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” “Whoa, watch the language there little fella!”

“I don’t really know what you’re selling here, Daniel…but I am BUYING IT!”

“Oh my fuck, he’s ACTUALLY- [Banging on David’s door] A CULTIST! YOU HIRED A FUCKING CULTIST, YOU IDIOT!”

“Again with these cult jokes, Max? Please.” “He gave everyone a "de-toxification” diet then started spouting off Latin from a book with a pentagram!“ "He’s bilingual AND cares about nutrition?!”

“[Sweetly] Hey, David?” “Yes, Nikki?” “WAKE UP AND SMELL THE KOOL-AID!”

“I would just like to point out the fucked-up implications of specifically YOU [points at Dolph] putting specifically ME [points at himself (Neil)] into a gas chamber.”

“I love you, Daniel!” “[Gasp] But…That’s not right! Max doesn’t love anything!”

“Poor guy, must have been some bad fruit punch.” “[Sigh] You’re a moron.”

Season 2, Episode 2, Anti-Social Network

“Nurf, leave me alone, or so help me, I will post photoshops everywhere of you kissing guys!” “Woah! Hey, somebody’s a little tense. You might want to look into some agression therapy. Besides, maybe I already tried to explore my sexuality…you don’t know. [Sniff] Chris, why did you leave me?”

“Oh my fucking god! Is it always just adventures with you two?!”

“It’s a chat bot.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, it’s a programmed, repetitive, humorless, inhuman, simulation of a person.” “Yeah, Neil!”

“Okay, okay. So maybe a couple of you might have critical thinking skills. Good for you, but other than that it’s all going according to plan.” “And what plan is that?” “The "get everyone to leave me the hell alone” plan. I’m a genius!“

"What could possibly go wrong?” “Everything, but until it does, I’m gonna go plug David into this thing and see how it plays out. Have fun doing…whatever.”

“Damn, Neil, you did that with graphing calculators?”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Every calculator’s running an updated version of my chat bot, but they’re all acting different.” “Yeah, I’m about three seconds away from removing the batteries from David’s.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing we got them all. Can you imagine if someone impressionable and naive enough to believe everything they heard from a chat bot had-” “[Simultaneously] Oh my god, Nikki!”

“I can only hear about "shipping” people’s “bae’s” for so long.“

"Calculations complete. My analysis is…absolutely fucking not! You humans all suck.”

Season 2, Episode 3, Quest to Sleepy Peak Peak

“Get rekt, Mr. Waffles.”

“Actually, we’ll take whatever we can get, preferably we wouldn’t be talking to either of you.”

“[After kicking the ground and supposedly making the Earth shake] Oh no, my anger has manifested!” “Get to a door frame!”

“How do you know so much about it, Gwen?” “Yeah, I thought you had a…liberal arts degree.” “[Sighs] Associates degree.” “Oh, that is so tragic.”

“You coming too, Max?” “Still got those dice?” “Yep!” “[Grabbing the dice and walking away] Nope.”

“You can be the dwarf, because they’re dumb and ugly, just like your face.” “Aww, yeah. That one hurt. But my mom says I’ll grow into my looks.”

“Oh god! It’s chirping menacingly at me!”

“Anyone else want a twenty-sided asskicking?”

“Big deal, so you threw a bunch of dice at some animals. Kind of a dick move, to be honest.”

“This is a level 1 cave at best. There aren’t even any fire-breathing dragons or even a dang ol’ goblin!" 

"Oh, well, I guess that will work.” “[After the volcano starts to shake] IT FUCKING BETTER!”

“[After seeing the lava] Woah! Okay, well, saw the volcano, think it’s time we head back!”

“You’ve angered the mountain, Harrison! Gosh, you suck!” “I do not suck! You’re the sucking one!” “[In background] You both suck!”

“Oh, this is gonna be goood! Neil, are you seeing this?” “[Angrily] I’m going to hit you, Nikki!”

[imhereformysciencefriends]

I was asked why I like Dave(sprite)/Tavros so here's a list

Like okay 1. Their interactions in canon? Absolute fucking gold 2. Tavros going to Dave’s human-moirail in order to get tips on how to troll him and Rose deadass throwing her shit brother under the bus to the most incompetent sweetheart ever? Iconic 3. They’re both at that awful stage of post-abuse where they realize what was done to them was Wrong, and was never okay, and that they will never, ever be able to forgive their abusers for what they did to them, but they also know that they did have genuine feelings of affection for their abuser because they were dumb kids and sometimes… well… it’s hard 4. They genuinely just like each other? When Aradia helped them talk to each other in the dream bubbles Dave was like “omg I have to spend the rest of eternity with this douchebag” and was all but visibly vibrating with excitement. Whereas Tavros was very upfront about how happy he was to have Dave as his Bubbly Buddy and imm wanted to rap/hangout/ throw down the sick fires yo 5. Both lyrical. Like rhymes and throwing down, but while Dave is kind of neurotic about the perfection of his sick beats, Tavros is not afraid to be bad, and genuinely does things for the fun of it 6. Related. Tavros does a lot of things just for the fun of it including child’s card games, Peter Pan, and make believe. He knows it’s silly, but likes it anyway. Tavros would be a HUGELY positive influence in Dave “yeah I’m totally a coolkid look at me I’m so cool” Strider’s life 7. Tavros is very honest. He’s a little shit and has a nigh-constant smirk but he is also sweet and honest and upfront about his feelings (when they’re positive, more on that later). Dave “Hey I just met you and this is crazy but here’s my personality so validate me maybe?” Strider would hinge on his every word when given enough chance to get used to the praise and good feelings Tavros so willingly offers 8. They are both incredibly insecure and try to cover it up with false confidence/bravado. They would see through each other’s shit because they would recognize it as the exact shit they themselves are pulling. This would mean they would be easier to let their masks off around each other, because they know that the other one knows anyway 9. Specifically referring to Davesprite now, since while they have many shared experiences the two are not actually the same person. Davesprite could talk to someone about how he feels like the spare, the extra, the unwanted, one use wonder. Tavros would listen. Tavros would understand. He has been told how useless and stupid he is by Vriska so much, we all got to see him believe it himself. They could console each other, remind the other that they are /valuable/ and wanted and fuck anyone who says they have to be /useful/ in order to be allowed to exist 10. Davesprite is half crow and Tavros can Commune with animals so the two would be able to communicate on a non verbal level, at least to some extent. I’m guessing an impression of feelings and emotions less than actual concrete thoughts and ideas. But it would allow Tavros to feel when Davesprite is feeling down and send him little pings of love and affection and reassurance. Likewise, Tavros would never have to doubt that Davesprite loves him, because he would be able to feel Davesprite loving him. –Less serious– 11. Davesprite is a twink and Tavros is a large and beefy bara and Davesprite could swoon over those thick, meaty lancer arms like goddamn 12. Please picture Davesprite draping himself over Tavros’s horns or curling up in his arms or making a blanket nest and cuddling with him in it and also bringing Tavros shiny objects “just cause I felt like it” 13. Nepeta shipped it and I trust her

[hexiewrites]

you love the sea: part one, clotho [creation]

setting: non-magical, mythical AU pairing: marcus flint/oliver wood word count: 2981 A/N: finally, we’re here! this fic is the result of my giveaway from a few months ago. dedicated to the brilliant and lovely @flintwoodandco, who suggested an amazing idea about selkies that I just kind of.... ran with. ;D there are four parts to this thing, and I’ll be posting the rest of them for the next three days (part 2 on sunday, part 3 on monday, and the final part on tuesday - if all goes to plan). I hope you all enjoy reading this one, because I’ve absolutely loved writing it! (as always, a big shoutout to my beta and cheerleader @nymphadoraholtzmann!!)

(you can also read it on ao3!)

I’m not excited, but should I be? is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me? I know I love you and you love the sea but what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

- unbelievers, vampire weekend

The last of his bags landed with a thud on the wooden floor of the old cottage, and Marcus dropped ungracefully down beside it with a loud huff of exhaled air. He took a moment to catch his breath before he glanced around the room - there were boxes on every available surface and two duffel bags beside him at the door. His entire life, packed up and carefully wrapped and it looked like so much less stuff than it should have been - shouldn’t twenty five years take up more space?

Shaking away the morose thought that he had nothing that mattered and no one who cared, and that’s why this room looked so woefully empty, Marcus forced himself to his feet. He grabbed a small box from the living room couch, then padded into the small kitchen of the cottage, surveying the space as he went. He had purchased the place with the furniture included but this was his first time seeing it in person, and it was certainly as… quaint… as had been advertised.

Marcus dropped the box onto the small kitchen table and pried it open, digging through until he pulled out something that felt mug like. It took him entirely too long to pull off the paper that had been wrapped carefully around it to prevent breakage in transit, and he silently cursed Pansy for her over-the-top precautions, especially since it was just a stupid plain mug anyways.

He reached the sink and cranked the tap on, pleased that the water that came out looked drinkable. As his cup filled he glanced up to look out the window and when his eyes focused he nearly dropped the mug in awe. It was stunning. His friends had all looked at him like he’d grown a second head when he sat them down and explained that he’d purchased a small cottage in the Orkney islands in Northern Scotland, but now that he was here he knew he’d made the right choice. The cottage was a little ways from the nearest town and up on a piece of higher land, and from his kitchen window he had the most incredible view of the ocean. His property sloped downwards and ended in a sandy beach interspersed with large boulders, entirely private according to the girl who had sold him the property.

After Marcus’s father had died, he stepped back to take a long look at the life he was creating for himself. His father had been part of the Death Eaters, one of the most notorious gangs in London, and Marcus was set to join up as soon as he, according to Thoros, “pulled his head out of his arse”. Then there’d been a major raid, organized and carried out by some orphan police officer whose parents had been murdered twenty odd years ago by the gang, and now Marcus was an orphan with no prospects. By the time the press had figured out where he lived, he had fallen so deeply into depression he almost walked out into the madness of it all and surrendered to the inevitable.

And then Adrian had, quite literally, smacked some sense into him and told him to get out of town for a bit, move to the coast, recollect himself, and come back when he was ready.

Adrian hadn’t quite been expecting him to go this far, but something had tugged at his heart and this cottage showed up for sale and everything just… fell into place.

Marcus took a large drink of the water he had poured, and then without a second thought he dropped the cup in the sink and headed out the door. It didn’t take him long to find the staircase crudely carved into the side of the hill and he kicked off his shoes at the bottom, taking a deep breath before stepping into the water. It was cold against his skin and he let out a quiet yelp but didn’t move. Instead, he held still for a few moments, felt the motion of the waves push and pull against his skin, then he waded over to a boulder that sat on the beach and climbed up onto it.

He sat for a long time, thinking about the last week and how quickly he had ended up here; about all of the steps that led him here. Now that he had finally slowed down, all of the feelings that he had been pushing back for weeks started to slip through the wall he had been building. Before he knew it, a sob wracked his body and he began to cry. All Marcus could think of was his father - the stoic but proud man, who was a criminal but a good father, a harsh man but a gentle leader, a lonely person who had lost the love of his life and had carried on despite it. Tears rolled down Marcus’s cheek and as his sobs quieted, he realized he could hear them drip into the water below him.

Finally, Marcus took a deep shuddering breath and reached up to rub at his face with the heels of his hands, and opened his eyes.

And almost fell off the rock he was perched on.

Not ten feet in front of him was a seal. Large, with smooth dark grey skin on its head, and spots of lighter sandy beige across the front of its chest - at least, what Marcus could see peeking out of the water. The seal had large nearly black eyes which seemed to be… watching him.

Marcus frowned, and swayed slightly to the left. The seal slowly turned his head to track Marcus’s movement. Marcus swayed to the right, and the seal spun in the water, eyes never leaving Marcus’s face. When he met the animal’s eyes again, he let out an involuntary shudder - something ice cold had slithered down his spin and settled into his gut and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth against the unpleasant sensation. There was a splash in the water and when he looked up again the seal had moved nearly two foot closer, and then stilled in the water, never taking his eyes off of Marcus.

Marcus and the seal sat for what felt like an eternity, though was probably more like twenty minutes, and then finally Marcus felt the cold Scottish air and realized his toes were going numb now that the summer sunshine had started to set, and he let out a sigh and turned and headed back up the beach.

By the time he reached his house, when he glanced back to the water one last time, the seal had gone, and he wondered if all of it had been some fever dream brought on by lack of sleep and the acute stress of the last few days. At the very least, he decided to leave the packing to the next day. He dug out a blanket from one of his duffle bags and wrapped it around himself as he crawled into the cottage’s small bed and managed to fall asleep.

Marcus had been in the cottage for nearly two weeks, and he was finally starting to settle in. Minus two or three stray boxes he was completely unpacked, and he had managed to find his way into town to pick up groceries. The people in the town were nice, if a bit standoffish - understandable, as he was the city boy outsider. Besides, he hadn’t moved out here expecting to make friends; he had come for the privacy and was very much enjoying just that.

In fact, Marcus had just been thinking about how nice it was to spend his days never having to worry about other people when he glanced out of his kitchen window and down towards the beach.

And realized that something was wrong.

Because there was someone sitting on his rock. On his beach. On his private property.

Narrowing his eyes, he shoved his feet into the sandals that now lived by the back door and headed down the hill towards the beach, getting ready to give this asshole who was trespassing on his property a piece of his mind.

When he was about twenty feet away, he realized something was more than wrong. Because not only was there a person lying out sunning on his rock, but there was in fact a very naked man lying out sunning on his favourite rock.

“Hullo?” Marcus called out, forcing himself to look at the man’s face and not his body. That wasn’t a much better solution, unfortunately, because the man also happened to be… rather gorgeous. He had sandy beige hair that fell almost artfully across his forehead, and a smooth swooping jawline, and soft looking lips that left a tight sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Marcus cleared his throat and stepped a little closer. “Er, excuse me?” He tried again, a little louder, glancing around for any sign of who this man might happen to be. There was a pile of what looked like clothes next to the man, but it also looked almost… wet. And the texture seemed off from where Marcus was standing, though the sun was at an odd angle.

He took another step and then tripped on one of the rocks jutting out of the ground and let out a shout and a few choice curse words, and then - as if in slow motion - the man from the rock sat up and spun towards him. Marcus was still recovering from his trip and before he could say anything, the man grabbed the pile of clothes beside him and leapt off the rock and forwards into the ocean.

“What the fuck?!” Marcus shouted, stumbling forward as he rushed for the rock. “Hey!” He shouted again, and kicked off his sandals to climb up onto the rock. It might have been summer, but it was still Northern Scotland and it was far from anything considering warm, and this man had just dove into the sea. Marcus peered through the dark water and couldn’t see the man, and glancing out towards the horizon he couldn’t see a boat in the smaller cove surrounding his beach either.

Finally, he gave up. The man must have just been a fast swimmer and gone in a different direction - but it still didn’t make sense. Why would someone boat over to his beach, swim in, sun out on a rock right up on the land, and then take off? He clearly knew he was trespassing - but there were miles of unclaimed beach around him. Why not just go somewhere else?

Marcus lifted a hand to run through his curly hair and let out a sigh, finally sitting back onto the rock.

And then he heard a splash.

Convinced it must be the man finally coming up for air, Marcus glanced over towards the noise, and nearly shouted again in surprise.

There was a seal floating happily in the water.

Watching him.

And it wasn’t just any seal. He wasn’t entirely sure how he knew, because obviously there was no way to be really sure - he hadn’t seen that many seals in his life, after all - but he knew that it was the same seal that he had seen before. He caught the creatures eyes and blinked, shook his head, and opened them again. The seal was still there. And still watching him.

Marcus shook his head and turned away from the water. “I need a whiskey,” he grumbled aloud, hoping it would snap him out of whatever it was that had him convinced strange men dove away into the ocean and a seal was stalking him, and then headed up off the beach back towards the cottage.

Three weeks later, Marcus saw him again.

He had just come back from his daily run and had been wiping the sweat off his forehead and seriously contemplating jumping in the sea for a quick refresher when he realized that, once more, there was someone on his rock.

This time, he walked down towards the water as quietly as he could, making sure not to trip over anything in the sand. He made it to only half a dozen or so feet away from the man, and this time took a moment to scan his eyes over the other’s naked form. He knew it wasn’t really alright, to be staring at someone who seemed to be nearly asleep in the high midday sun, but it was his rock and his beach. And he hadn’t really seen many people at all in the last month, and certainly no one as fit as the sandy haired man was.

Swallowing, he decided on a different tactic. “Hey there,” he tried, voice softer and not as aggressive.

It still didn’t seem to be enough, because the man shot up again and had one hand on his pile of clothes before Marcus was able to get another word in.

“Wait!” He managed, and luckily - shockingly - the man paused. “Hi,” he tried, and then cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on the man’s face instead of his gorgeous body. “I’m Marcus.”

The man seemed to hesitate, and Marcus watched as a pair of stunning sea blue eyes flicked over his face. Just when he was about to give up, the man spoke.

“Oliver.”

Oliver. Marcus couldn’t help but roll the name around in his mind, and as it settled he decided he quite liked it. The man had a Scottish accent that sounded charming, and Marcus briefly thought that it was an accent he could get used to hearing. “What are you up to, Oliver?” He tried, not wanting to scare the man off but still not entirely sure why he was on Marcus’s beach in the first place.

Oliver frowned, his eyebrows drawing together and his lips narrowing. “Didn’t you-” Oliver stopped then, and seemed to think this over for another long moment and just as Marcus was about to say something else, he shook his head. “Just enjoying the sun.”

It was Marcus’s turn to frown, and he glanced up at the sky. Sure, it was a relatively nice day all things considered. There wasn’t too much wind on the beach, and the sun was doing it’s best to warm the day up. But it wasn’t what he would call warm, really.

“I, uh, live up in the cottage there,” Marcus said, suddenly not sure what else to say to the strange man, and turned to gesture up at his cottage. As soon as his back was turned, though, there was a splash, and he nearly shouted as he spun back only to find the rock empty.

He took a deep, frustrated breath, and shook his head.

Maybe he needed to go back to London for a weekend. Clearly the solitude was starting to drive him actually crazy.

It didn’t take long for Marcus to discover that the previous owner of the cottage had left behind more than just furniture. One day, while walking along the beach, he stumbled across a small shed that was mostly sheltered from the elements - as well as his view. It took him another day to break open the lock, and when he finally did he was delighted to find a small two man sailboat stashed away inside.

The next day he made the trek into town and returned with arms filled with bags. Resin, sail thread, sealant, everything he could think of and remember back from the days when his father had signed him up for lessons in the summer at the local yacht club to “keep him busy”.

For the first time since he moved up north, Marcus felt like he had a purpose. He worked on the sailboat for nearly a week straight, and occasionally after long nights and too much resin work, he glanced out to the water and was convinced he could see the head of a seal bobbing along in the surf.

Finally, he had a nice day - with clear skies and a relatively stable wind, and he hauled the boat out to the water and pushed off. When his sails puffed out with wind he let out a whoop of laughter and tightened the main sheet, pulling the tiller and heading off into the water.

He’d been out for nearly an hour when he realized that he wasn’t alone in the water. Turning his boat into irons, he glanced around to look for the sound of a splash he was sure he’d heard. A minute later, the familiar seal’s head popped out of the water and Marcus couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Hey buddy,” he said, reaching a hand out towards the creature. He had decided earlier in the week that there was no way it could be the same seal, but it also didn’t really matter (or so he was trying to convince himself), and so why not be friendly? Marcus splashed his palm against the water and then the seal gave a kick and was suddenly right next to his boat.

Tentatively, Marcus reached out and ran his hand along the side of the creature and couldn’t stop the grin that broke out over his face. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting, but the seal was soft and smooth and Marcus let his hand drift over the creature a few times before he finally pulled his hand back to pick up his main sheet and turn his boat back in the direction of his home.

He still wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he decided to pack up and move to a tiny island in the north of Scotland, but he was starting to be more and more grateful for whatever bit of fate that had tugged him in this direction.

(also tagging, because I think you might be interested: @pctter, @mxrcusflint, @oliverwvvd, @flintwoods, @provocative-envy, @dramione84 - if you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know!!)

[fanficwritingrequests]

Netflix and Chill(ed Yoghurt)

Michael can't stop thinking about Eleanor. Fortunately(?) for him, Janet has a solution: Netflix! But it doesn’t quite work out how he wants it to.

~

Eleanor Shellstrop is not unique.

It's not an insult, Michael thinks, as he closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. It's a statement of fact. She's just another one of the seven billion humans populating Earth. Of that seven billion, there's thousands of other humans who are as terrible (if not more so) than her. Thousand of jerk-ass humans who had as much capacity for change as she did.

So no, she wasn't unique or special in any way.

At least initially.

The only thing that differentiated her from them was the fact that she actually changed. They all had the chance to do so, but it was only Eleanor (stubborn, determined, amazing, Eleanor, his mind interjects irritatingly) who actually did something about how much of an asshole she was. Granted, it took the knowledge of the afterlife, an ethics professor, two other humans, and the threat of eternal damnation to get her to take action, but hey- Who cares about the small details? The important thing is that in the end, she tried and succeeded to become a better person.

It wasn't as if it had been easy. Eleanor had literally everything going against her.

And when Michael says everything, he truly does mean everything. He threw every obstacle, every problem, every trick in the torture book, against her. If there was a way to torment her, Michael used it. Every single one of her weaknesses and flaws were dragged to the surface and stacked against her. He didn't pull his punches, and by all logic she should have crumbled like a badly built Jenga tower. It should have been, quite simply, impossible for her to improve.

But this was Eleanor Shellstrop, and she showed him that impossible was not a word in her vocabulary.

Against all odds, she changed. 802 reboots, and in every single one (the ones that lasted long enough, at least) she put herself on the path of good all on her own. It was in different ways every time, but the end result was the same. In each reboot, Michael did his damnedest to make her afterlife hell, but he also watched as she grew and learned and improved in spite of it all.

It was frustrating.

It was impressive.

But above all, it was fascinating.

There was something about her, that he could never tire of watching. Oh sure, the others were just as frustrating in their efforts to better themselves (Jason was both a delight and a terror to watch) but they didn't have the same... spark that Eleanor did.

She was in a category all on her own, and Michael didn't understand what it was that made her so special. He'd gone over this dozens of times (honestly he's lost count of how many times he thought about the Dilemma that was Eleanor), digging deep through her files and desperately searching for something to explain... well to explain her in all her unpredictability.

Every time he came up blank.

Eleanor Shellstrop was just your regular, boring, run-of-the-mill, human.

And yet she was extraordinary.

In his entire several thousand years of existence, he had never come across a more frustrating mortal.

If this had been a few days ago, he would have called her existence a curse, a bane on his immortal life, and he would have meant it completely.

Now though... Now he's not sure. He's not sure of anything anymore, except maybe that Eleanor was starting to mess with his damned head.

He drew in a sharp breath, disturbing the stillness of his office. This was the first time he's had any time to himself since Vicky had the gall to blackmail him. And of course, he would spend it thinking about Eleanor. Because that was just how pathetic he was nowadays.

It was all her fault (obviously. who else could it be? him? definitely not.) How could he not think of her after her attitude earlier? She just had to go and be amazing and aggressive and brilliant, didn't she? All the others had easily agreed to his offer of teaming up after he spoke, but her? Nope- she had to go and question everything first. Had to get up all in his face with that scarily gorgeous face of hers and threaten him.

Great. Now he can't even think of her negatively without paying her a compliment. The day was just getting better and better.

He needed a distraction. Something, anything, so long as it keeps him from thinking too much. The logical part of his mind tells him that this is absolutely a classic Shellstrop move (as Eleanor would say, and damn it he's thinking of her again- it would be nice if he could stop doing that-) which means it will do nothing to help him, and will probably make things worse.

Yep he's definitely ignoring that logical bit of his brain.

"Janet?" He calls out as he opens his eyes.

The neighborhood consciousness appears with a smile and the familiar boop which heralds her arrival.

"What can I do for you Michael?"

"What do humans do to distract themselves?" Humans were the great procrastinators, so they must have some good ideas. No other race could put off doing anything better than them.

"That depends on the state of distraction that you want," she states cheerfully, "Do you want a light state where you can immediately resume your previous tasks afterwards?" A book appears in her hand. "Or would you prefer something more along the lines of ignoring a current task to help relax?" A laptop with a playing video drops on top of the book. "Or an intense I-don't-want-to-remember-the-last-ten-hours sort of distraction?" Finally, several bottles of alcohol appear and somehow manage to be perfectly balanced on top of the laptop.

Michael blinks. The last one is tempting, but he doubts Vicky would approve of him getting inebriated and possibly spilling any secrets. He has to care about her opinion now that it actually matters, he thinks acidly.

"I'll uh, I'll go with the second option."

"Excellent!" Everything disappears from her hands, and a TV appears in front of her instead.

"This," she pats the top of the TV, "is connected to every channel and every tv provider to ever exist from the beginning of time until the present. It can also show any movie, series, animation, and various other types of media; just state your preference out loud."

She smiles and turns back to Michael. "Can I help with anything else?"

"No," he says, eager to wipe his mind blank, "Thank you."

When he switches open the TV, a somewhat familiar logo appears. He almost mistakes it for The Bad Place version called Tenflix (it only shows the top ten worst TV series of all time- in 144p), and manages to suppress a shudder. He's so sick of watching reruns of Baywatch. Thank god it's only Netflix.

One day, multiple series, numerous movies, and about 7 tubs of frozen yogurt later, he's taking back his thanks. What started out as a simple distraction has now become an all-consuming void which has sucked him in and refuses to let go. It's more dangerous than IHOP.

He was just starting on his eighth tub of yogurt when there was knocking on his door. If knocking was defined as extremely loud banging on a surface, then yes. There was knocking. A lot of it.

He would have stood up, but the warmth and comfort of his chair coupled with the blanket around his shoulders made a very compelling argument against the prospect of actually facing his responsibilities. So he did what any self-respecting demon would do.

He ignored the knocking.

Ten seconds (precisely, he counted) passed. Then: "MICHAEL WHERE THE FORKING HECK HAVE-" a very familiar voice yelled, and Michael was so shocked that he just... fell out of his chair. And dropped his tub of yogurt. Then fell into the yogurt, ruining his favorite shirt.

"...you...been..." Eleanor trailed off, blinking rapidly at the sight she was greeted with. They stared at each other for several seconds, unsure exactly of how to react.

Then Eleanor burst into laughter. As in the, full blown, doubled over, can barely breathe, kind of laughter. Michael just sighed and settled into the puddle of yogurt, completely resigned to his fate. So this was what humiliation felt like.

"Holy shirt," Eleanor wheezed, "Holy shirt. You should have seen the look on your face. I wish I could have taken a photo!" She slapped her thigh as she continued to laugh.

It took her a full two minutes to finally calm herself enough to be able to talk normally again; two minutes of which Michael spent marinating in cold product. It's not as disgusting as one would expect. It's- It's pretty comfy, actually, once you ignore the dampness. Oh, and the fact that his dignity has taken a nosedive and is now practically non-existent. not that much of it existed in the first place.

Eleanor, in a rare display of pity, (mock-pity, but pity nonetheless) stoops down to offer him her hand. Michael takes it, taking no small amount of satisfaction in smearing melted yogurt all over her palm. Petty, of course, but he's a demon. That excuses it, right?

(Hint: It doesn't)

"Oh come on ya big lump," Eleanor pulls him up forcefully, ignoring the way her clothes are getting stained, "Stop moping."

"I'm not moping," he insists, but she just rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Ignoring his protests completely, she sets him down back in his swivel chair. He clamps his arms together and glares at her like a child. There is no heat in his gaze however, and Eleanor takes it all in stride.

"Hilarious as it is to see you like this," she gestures towards his ruined clothing, "we should probably get you cleaned up." She smiles at him, and his heart skips a beat.

Fuck. He's hopeless.

He stares at her for a moment too long, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"What? Do I have something on my face? Aw shirt, did I get your stupid yogurt on my-" she wipes frantically at her cheeks with her sleeves.

Michael grabs her arm, gently, and gets her to stop. "No, you're fine! Great! Your face is great!- I mean,no, it's not-"

"My face isn't great?"

"No, it's beautif-" Yep, he's stopping that thought right there, "I mean- I mean..." If the ground could kindly swallow him whole right now, that would be fantastic.

Eleanor stares at him blankly as he continues to dig himself further into what he assumes is an early grave. Either he'll die of shame (an impressive feat for a demon), or Eleanor will kill him out of impatience.

Fortunately for him, neither of those things happen. Instead, she claps a hand against his forehead and asks, "You okay there dude? Are you sick? Wait, do demons even get sick? Do you get hell fevers? Oooh, maybe hell pneumonia?" she wrinkles her nose, "On second thought,maybe not. That sounds disgusting."

Her ramble gives him enough time to gather his wits. "No- No, Eleanor. We don't get sick. Not in the way you know at least."

"Mm. Okay," she shrugs, "Anyway. Back to you."

"Right. Well, there's no need to make this whole song and dance about it. I can just do this," he snaps his fingers, and he's back in his regular, clean clothes again.

"Oh. Yeah. Kinda forgot about that." For some indecipherable reason, she actually looks disappointed. But she quickly recovers and goes back to smiling again. "Well then, now that that's cleared up," she grabs his wrist and pulls him out of the chair. There's a lot of strength in that deceptively small frame, enough to make him physically stumble as she drags him out the door of his office.

"Hey- What the-" he protests, but the attempt is half-hearted at best.

"Don't think I forgot about you promising to go to Chidi's ethics class with me!" she throws him a mock glare over her shoulder, "If you think I'm going to suffer through another one of those classes alone- Then you've got another thing coming buddy."

Michael sighs internally. This is what his eternal life has come to. Being bossed around by one, tiny, stubborn, insignificant human.

But, he thinks, as he sits beside her in her Icelandic-fashioned house and watches her argue passionately with Chidi while Tahani and Jason watch on in amusement-

It's not really as bad as he makes it out to be.

This could be the start of something good.

[lumiolivier]

Chapter Twenty-Two:  Fireball Burns Back

Word Count:  4941

Chapter No. 22/?

Notes:  I know, I know.  It’s been quite sometime since I last posted a chapter.  Things have been rather hectic lately.  I was getting ready to go on vacation.  I went on vacation.  I had to recover from severe depression because of said vacation.  Not because of it being over, but because it happened.  Long story.  You’re not here for that.  How about that chapter, though?  Let’s do that.

Chapter Twenty-One:  Long Live the Red Hats

Mother…fucker…

 Can I die now?  Is this what dying feels like?  The adrenaline from last night has definitely worn off.  I’m dead inside and more hungover than I’d like to be.  I woke up to the empty bottle of Fireball in my bed and my pajama bottoms missing.  That’s fantastic.  And I still had to go to Julian’s.  I’m sure he had aspirin.  Would he mind if I took the whole bottle?

 I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into my bathroom to heave my guts out.  Isn’t this wonderful?  First day of unemployment and I’m already a cliché.  And if that wasn’t bad enough, when my phone went off, the usually delightful chime of my ringtone turned into a million nuclear bombs going off in my head.  My day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

 “Hello?” I groaned into the speaker.

 “Holy shit, baby,” Julian spoke softly, “Are you ok?”

 “I found that bottle of Fireball last night,” I told him, “Needless to say, I don’t have any left.”

 “Mimi,” he worried, “That bottle was damn near full.  We didn’t drink much out of it last week.  You finished it?”

 “What can I say?” I gagged on round two, “I needed to sleep.  I’ll be over soon.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Positive,” I swallowed the stomach bile trying to make its way out of my mouth, “I’m fine.  But you wouldn’t happen to have aspirin at your house, would you?”

 “A whole bottle,” Julian cringed, “Are you sure you still…”

 “Yes,” I cut him off, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 “Alright,” he let me go, “I love you.”

 “I love you, too,” I hung up and threw up some more.  Note to self: Nearly a whole bottle of Fireball? Not a good idea.  Do not do again.  I grabbed some clothes out of my closet, not quite sure who I grabbed, and headed for Julian’s.  Not getting dressed quite yet.  Once Julian leaves for work, I had all intentions of crashing in his bed. Putting my pajama bottoms wouldn’t be a half bad idea.  The neighborhood doesn’t need to see the little kitties on my underpants.

 I pulled into his driveway, pushed his front door open, threw myself into his chest.  Like a reflex, Julian wrapped his arms around me, “Oh, Mimi…How trashed were you last night?”

 “I don’t know,” I murmured into his t-shirt, “I drank the rest of the Fireball and went to bed. Now, I feel like absolute shit.”

 “Alright,” he put me on his couch, “I’m going to get the aspirin bottle.  Stay here.”

 “Where am I going to go?” I whined, “It’s not like I’m going to work.  Or anywhere else for that matter.  My parents still think I’m employed.  Is it cool if I hang out here while you’re gone?”

 “Fine with me,” Julian allowed, throwing me a white bottle, “In fact, I insist upon it.  Now, take a couple of those.”

 “Don’t have to tell me twice,” I downed two blue tablets without any water.  If I drank something right now, it wouldn’t stay down, “I’ve never been this bad.”

 “Never?” I had a feeling he didn’t believe me, “Come on.  You can’t tell me you didn’t get shitfaced on your twenty-first birthday.”

 “I didn’t,” I clarified, “I had maybe one drink and went to Chili’s.”

 “That’s so disappointing,” he pitied.

 “Hey,” I shrugged, “My best friend was only sixteen and my parents didn’t like me drinking.  That’s why all of my booze is hidden.”

 “Do you keep it in one of those classy globes that double as a minibar?” Julian asked, going back into the bathroom.

 “Yes, Julian,” I groaned sarcastically, “Because somewhere in my room, where you’ve been a few times now, you’ve seen a globe.  No, dumbass. It’s in my desk drawer.”

 “Hemingway style,” he approved, “I like it.  Although, I think Hemingway would have it in a super classy globe.”

 “I’m going to punch you,” I gagged a little more, running over to the kitchen sink.

 “I really wish I could stay and take care of you, Mimi,” Julian sympathized, “But my Netflix and my Crunchyroll premium account doesn’t pay for itself.  Are you going to be ok by yourself?”

 “If you come back and I’m pantsless,” I warned, “That’s not an open invitation to try something.”

 “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, coming out as Russell, “Not in your condition.  The last thing I want is for us to be in the throes of passion and you turning around to throw up.  I’ll come straight home after work, ok?  You need anything, call me.”

 “I will,” I wrapped my arms around his waist, never wanting to let go, “If Griffin comes in today, don’t be a dick about me.  I know you want to, but don’t.  He’s not worth it.”

 “One of us has to be bringing home some money,” Julian teased, “And I’ll be damned if he ruins my viewing of Orange is the New Black when it comes back.”

 “Nerd,” I cuddled into him.

 He kissed the top of my head and grabbed his keys off the counter, “Go back to sleep, ok?  I love you.”

 “I love you, too.”

 Julian went off to work while I curled up in a little ball in his bed.  Still warm.  Still felt like him.  Even had an indent where he was laying.  Perfect. My first real day off in what felt like an eternity and I’m spending it with a wicked hangover.  Give yourself a pat on the back, Mimi.  Or how about laying in Julian’s bed and going back to sleep? I liked that idea better.

 A little while later, the blaring ringtone on my phone decided to wake me up.  I rolled over and caught a glimpse of the clock.  Who the hell would be calling me at noon?  I grabbed my phone off Julian’s nightstand, “Hello?”

 “Where are you?” Veronica squeaked on the other end, “I just talked to Julian and he said you quit.”

 “Veronica,” I scolded, “Could you keep it down?  I’m hungover and sleep deprived.  I love you, sweetie, but your voice is like nails down a chalkboard right now.”

 “Sorry,” she apologized, “Now, what happened?”

 “I quit my job,” I shrugged, “Not much to tell.”

 “But you’ve been working at the café since forever,” Veronica pointed out, “Why?”

 “Because I needed to move on and Griffin’s an asshole,” I explained, “I couldn’t stay and a change of scenery would be nice.”

 “No,” her voice broke a little, “You’re not leaving Lenexa, are you?”

 “No,” I settled her, “I’m not leaving until May.  Then, I’m taking a trip.”

 “If you’re not at the café then,” Veronica wondered, “Where are you?”

“Julian’s,” I might regret that later, “He let me crash here, so my parents won’t find out about me losing my job.”

 “He’s so sweet,” she awed, “Are you guys together yet?”

 “What did I tell you?” I shut her down, “Once I know something, I’ll tell you.”

 “Julian already told me.”

 “No, he didn’t,” I knew this game, “Or you would’ve led with that.  Besides, there’s nothing to tell.”

 “Dammit!” she snapped, setting off an earthquake in the back of my brain.

 “Veronica!” I growled at her, “Jesus, why don’t you fucking shoot me?  It’d be quicker.”

 “I’m sorry,” she settled, “I don’t mean to.”

 “I know, honey,” I came down, too, “It’s just…I’m tired.  I’m exhausted.  I’m sick. Cut me some slack.”

 “I’ll let you go back to sleep,” Veronica let it go, “And I won’t ask about you and Julian anymore.”

 “Thank you,” I sighed out, “You tried pumping him for information, too, didn’t you?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Go back to class, Roni,” I pulled out the mom voice, “You know where I’ll be.”

 “I don’t know where Julian lives,” she chimed, “But I’ll check on you later!”

 Click.

 I was too awake to go back to sleep.  Don’t get me wrong.  I still felt like inside out ass, but at least I had more sleep.  As much as I didn’t want to get out of Julian’s bed, I got up and got in the shower.  And I’ve never enjoyed a shower more in my life.  Except maybe for a camping trip I was forced on one summer, but I digress. Now, I could see who I grabbed this morning.  Come on, hungover me.  Tell me you made a smart decision.

 Alphonse Elric.  I did make a smart decision.  All I had for Al was a short, loose, gray dress to simulate his armor.  It won’t push on my stomach.  I don’t have to wear pants.  Hungover me deserved a medal.  I got out of the shower and searched Julian’s kitchen for something to eat.  Hopefully, I’m past the puking phase.  Even during my worse hangover, I stopped throwing up after a good nap.

 To no surprise, Julian had packs on packs of ramen.  My god, Julian.  Were you preparing for the apocalypse?  My beloved boyfriend had more ramen than what one has the right to in a lifetime.  It’s like he’s hoarding.  Every size, every flavor.  Flavors I had never even heard of!  Julian, baby, you need to lay off your Amazon account.

 I made a package of creamy chicken, put a shake of sriracha in it, and turned on his Crunchyroll. What to watch, what to watch. Maybe I should go old school and watch Dragonball Z.  It has been quite some time since I watched Dragonball Z.  Nah.  I’ll watch something else.  Wasn’t feeling too nostalgic.  Until I found something on the list that did get me all nostalgic.

 I might have started my road to otakuhood on Pokémon and Sailor Moon, but a part of me had a soft spot for one in particular.  I had gone from fourth grade until my freshman year of high school without living my otaku life.  Five years of no anime and a fully functional social life.  But then, for old time’s sake, I decided to turn on Netflix and in my recommendations was an anime called Fruits Basket.

 This girl Tohru ended up living in a tent in the woods after her mom died.  She didn’t want to be a burden on her father’s father.  Little did she know, the property she had staked her tent on belonged to the most popular boy in her school.  Yuki Sohma…My first anime crush.  I had to admit it.  That is until I saw his cousin Shigure.  From that moment on, I was a Shigure girl.  However, the Sohma family had a secret.  If any member is hugged by someone of the opposite sex or is under a great amount of stress, they turn into an animal of the Chinese zodiac. Shigure was a dog.  Yuki was a rat.  And I loved them all.

 Fruits Basket was the anime to reintroduce me to the beautiful world I missed so much.  It made me go back and rewatch Sailor Moon. It made me rewatch the original Pokémon series.  From Fruits Basket, I jumped right into Fullmetal Alchemist, the original series. And from then on, I never had a regular social life again.  The only reason I met Veronica was because of a school project.  I kept my love for anime and manga and video games under wraps and it’s been that way ever since.  Once the theme started playing, I felt a bubble of emotions rising deep within my heart and tears started streaming down my face.

 I was so happy when you smile.

Your smile breaks through the clouds of gray.

Far from the sunny days that lie here and sleep.

Waiting with patience for the spring.

The flowers will bloom renewed again.

Knowing there’s more beyond the pain of today…

 Such a beautiful song. My heart never failed to melt whenever I heard it.  I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch in Julian’s living room.  Life was good.  I forgot about the hell that happened last night and the hell I went through this morning and I couldn’t be more content.  For a brief moment, the world was ok again.

 I’d be lying if I said I didn’t put a dent in Julian’s couch today.  I nearly watched the entire series and felt the judgment.  I’m sick, ok?  Fuck off.  I had a day to myself to do whatever I damn well please and did just that.  I binged one of my favorite anime on my boyfriend’s couch.  I kept ramen down and sucked down half a case of Julian’s bottled water, which I probably owe him…But all in all, I had a good day!  Minus the part where I wasn’t feeling too hot, but still!

 “Honey…” Speak of the devil, “I’m home.  Do you have pants on?”

 “No,” I shook my head, “But I showered today.”

 “Good for you, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of my head, “How you feeling?”

 “So much better,” I pulled him down to the couch, “I missed you.”

 “I missed you, too,” Julian pulled me against his chest, “What have you been up to all day?”

 “Nothing,” I smiled, “And loved it.  I forgot how nice solitude can be.”

 “Well then,” he chimed, “I brought you a present.”

 “You didn’t have to do that,” I brushed him off, “What’d you bring me?”

 “I don’t suppose you want another bottle of Fireball,” Julian assumed, “At least I hope not.”

 “Not at the current juncture,” I promised, “Or in the near future.  Seriously, though, what’d you get me?”

 “I took a detour on the way home from work,” he admitted, “You hadn’t called or texted, so I figured you were either sleeping or good enough for me to take a trip to Kansas City and back.”

 “I thought you were getting a little late,” I glanced up at the clock.  Yikes.  I lost track of time.

 “I made a stop at the mall,” Julian went on, “at that store you told me about with the shit selection. But the closest we can get to any otaku-y goodness without going online.  I saw something I knew you’d squeal over and I knew you didn’t have it.”

 Julian grabbed a little bag from the other side of the couch and put it in my lap.  I’m sure he outdid himself.  He always did.  I felt around a little.  Soft, squishy.  Plushie. Definitely a plushie of some sort. By the feeling of it, an animal. That’d be so weird if he got me a member of the Sohma family.  I pulled my present out and, as predicted, squealed my heart out, “Julian!”

 “You’re welcome.”

 I’VE BEEN EYEING UP LITTLE SEBASTIAN IN THE PINK COW SUIT FOR MONTHS!  I never went up to Kansas City by myself enough to get him, though! Where there was the Sebastian plushie in the pink cow suit, there was also a Ciel plushie in a blue cow suit. And I needed them in my life, but just having Sebastian for now was good enough for me, “Julian…This was so sweet. Thank you.”

 “I couldn’t decide whether to get Sebastian or Ciel,” he thought.

 “They had Ciel, too?” I gasped.

 “Yeah.”

 “You did good, though,” I approved, “He’s precious.  I love you.”

 “I love you, too,” Julian grabbed over the arm of the couch again, putting another bag in my lap, “That’s why I got Ciel, too.”

 “Julian!” I squealed again, pulling little cow Ciel out, “You didn’t have to do this.”

 “I wanted to,” he fought, “You weren’t feeling good and I wanted to make you feel better.  I figured why not use your OTP to my advantage?”

 “You know,” I hid a smile, “It’s cute that you think Sebaciel is my OTP.”

 “They’re not?” Julian gave me a look, “Bullshit.  Then again, you have seven different OTPs, I’m sure.”

 “I have one OTP per franchise,” I clarified, “Unless we’re talking Fullmetal.  Don’t even get me started.”

 “Who’s your overall OTP?” he asked, “If you had to pick one.”

 “How to give an otaku an anxiety attack,” I teased, “That’s like telling me to pick my favorite child!”

 “But…?”

 “But,” I cuddled into his ribs, “I do have one.  My number one OTP…”

 “Which is…?”

 “Isn’t it obvious?” I kissed his cheek, “Us.”

“Oh,” Julian awed, “That was cheesy…”

 “I know.”

 “But,” he held me a little closer, “I loved it.  And you. And I really can’t wait until May.”

 “Me either,” I beamed with visions of cosplayers and panels dancing in my head, “So, how did you manage today?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “It’s Wednesday,” I pointed out, “Book club came in.”

 “Oh yeah,” he remembered with a hint of an eye roll, “They asked about Sebastian.  Broke their hearts to hear what happened.”

 “What happened?” I asked.

 “He skipped town,” Julian spun the tale, “Apparently, he found out he had a kid in England somewhere.”

 “Does he now?” I giggled, “Was that on the spot?”

 “Yes, it was,” he took a little pride in his work, “Not bad, right?”

 “I’d give that fic a read,” I critiqued, “Maybe the first chapter or two.  After that, I’d lose interest.  The plot would be too farfetched and nothing adds up.  Three stars.”

 “Three whole stars?” Julian gasped overdramatically, “I’m so honored.  That’s coming from someone with your internet star power.  I’m sure you get the senpai comments, too.”

 “I do,” I nodded, “Senpai, Mom…Mommy.”

 “Oh, you poor baby,” he cradled me, “Speaking of comments, have you looked at the ones for the Death Note set yet?”

 “I figured we could read them together,” I insisted, “You got your phone?”

 “I do,” Julian pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his website, “Let’s see. BrilliantRoseCosplay sends one. Misa Amane is the top of the list for the most annoying anime character ever, but she makes for some really hot cosplayers.  Welcome back, Julian!  Keep your Misa coming.”

 “That’s sweet,” I awed, “Read another one.”

 “Ok,” he scrolled, “NicoNicoChan45 says this.  A question. Is your Misa the same as your Ciel? They both look like they have similar body shapes, but the face looks so different.”

 “Do we say something?” I asked.

 “Of course we do,” Julian pulled up a text box, “Without them, there is no us.  If they’re going to take the time out to talk to us, the least we can do is talk to them.”

 “You sound like me,” I chuckled a bit to myself, “I’m the same way with my comments, too.”

 “What do we say?”

 “Tell them,” I thought it over, “Yes.  Your Ciel and Misa are one in the same.  And they’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

 “Alright,” Julian typed out his response, “Who are we doing this weekend?”

 “I’d love to do all of Team Mustang,” I picked, “But we don’t have enough people.  We already have Mustang and Hawkeye.  We need Breda, Falman, Havoc, Armstrong, Hughes, and Fuery. And Black Hayate, if we can find a dog that looks enough like him.”

 “You’d want to add in Hughes, too?” he got a little choked up.

 “Of course,” I followed his lead, “No matter what, Hughes will always be a part of Team Mustang.”

 “You know what?” Julian smiled, “I think I can make a few phone calls and make Team Mustang happen.”

 “Are you serious?” I squeaked.

 “Completely,” he nodded, “Hold on.  I’ll be right back.”

 “Ok,” I let him up and reassumed my position on the couch.  I couldn’t believe it.  To think I used to only cosplay in my bedroom.  Now, I’m online and I’m about to participate in a group cosplay!  Hell, I did a couple last weekend!  I was a part of a well-known cosplayers website. We were partners!  Even better, we were us.

 Things really were going to get better.  I’m well overdue for a win.  I had enough points in my karma bank, I think.  Dealing with Griffin and bitchy soccer moms with screaming children, a dipshit stoner and unsupportive parents, I’m sure someone up there had something for me. Something good had to be coming.  

 “So, good news!” Julian came back, “We have Breda and Havoc.  Our Fuery is going to have to call me back.  I can’t get a hold of our Hughes or our Falman.  Unfortunately, our Armstrong is on his honeymoon right now. But it looks like things are going our way.”

 “You know,” I laid my head on his shoulder, “I have an idea for a Royai crack fic that involves all of Team Mustang.”

 “Oh?” he chimed, “Care to share with the class?”

 “Basically,” I explained, “It’s a day at the office.  Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Havoc have a pool going, wondering when the colonel’s going to wise up and confess how nuts he is for Hawkeye.  They all do little things around the office, trying to win the pool while sabotaging the others.  The winner gets to be best man at their wedding.”

 “Nicely done,” Julian applauded, “When did you come up with that?”

 “Just now,” I smirked, “You’re not the only one that can come up with ideas on the spot.”

 “That’s not fair,” he pouted, “You do this regularly.  Speaking of things of the fan fiction nature, did you get any done today?”

 “Fuck off,” I retaliated, “I was sick all day.”

 “You had all this time to yourself,” Julian got judgmental, “What did you do all day?”

 “Watched anime,” I mumbled.

 “I’m sorry,” he nudged me, “I didn’t hear you.  What was that?”

 “I binged Fruits Basket!” I yelled at him, “I forgot how good of an anime that was!  And I enjoyed every goddamn minute of it!  I almost finished before you got home!”

 “Then, why aren’t we finishing it?” he yelled back.

 “Wait,” I stopped, “What?”

 “Yeah,” Julian wrapped his arms around me, “What episode are you on?”

 “The last four,” I cuddled into him, “Where did that come from?”

 “I like fucking with you,” he smiled, “It’s fun.  You get all angry and puffy and it’s adorable.  You’re like a Chihuahua with a size complex.”

 “Julian,” I growled, “You’re so lucky I love you.”

 “Or what?” he kissed my cheek, “You wouldn’t do anything.”

 “I could delete our pictures from your phone.”

 “They’re already posted.”

 “Dammit,” I thought a little harder.  And a lot dirtier, “I could set Miku on fire.”

 “You wouldn’t set Miku-chan on fire,” Julian figured, “You know better.”

 “Do I?” I glared, “She gets the honor and privilege of cuddling my senpai every night.  I’d go all yandere on her ass.”

 All of a sudden, he got nervous, “You wouldn’t.”

 “I would,” I stood my ground.

 “Then, what’s to stop me from doing the same with Sebastian?” he fought back.

 “He can be replaced,” I cringed internally.  I love you, Sebastian.  I don’t want anything to happen to you.

 “What about Rin?” Julian pointed out, “Or Mustang?  I don’t think you have any other dirty body pillowcases.”

 “That you know of,” I stuck my tongue out at him, “I have one that’s been on back order for the past few months that’s supposed to be coming in soon.”

 “Who is it?” he wondered.

 “No,” I cut him off, “I’m not telling you.”

 “It’s Noiz.”

 “Nope.” It might be Noiz…

 Julian thought some more, “Gray Fullbuster?”

 “I’m not telling you, Julian.”

 “No,” he mulled it over, “You’d be more of a Gajeel Redfox kind of girl.  Can’t blame you.  I’ve thought about what his massive arms would be like to lay in.  Don’t get me wrong.  Gray would be nice, too, but you’re small.  Gajeel is huge in comparison.  You’d feel like a baby with him.”

 “Still not telling you.” Damn, he had me pegged.  I was a sucker for a good pairing with a major size differentiation.

 “Am I even in the right series?” Julian asked, “Is it someone from Fairy Tail?”

 “Nope.” It’s someone from Dramatical Murder and you already guessed him.  I turned on the next episode of Fruits Basket, “Now, I love you, but shut the fuck up.”

 “What’s this one?” he settled down.

 “Ritsu Sohma,” I beamed. I loved Ritsu.  Ritsu was a spazz and when Tohru first met Ritsu, she thought Ritsu seemed like such a nice girl…only to find out that Ritsu was a crossdresser.  I loved him, though.  An absolute mess on legs.  His curse was the monkey.  Accurate.

 And so, we began our evening together, curled up on the couch, watching the anime that got me back into this mess.  I could’ve been more conventionally normal if I wouldn’t have turned on Fruits Basket. But honestly, I’m perfectly content with where my otaku life has gotten me.  I’d be a part of a group cosplay by the weekend.  I had my equally awesome otaku boyfriend.  I couldn’t complain.

 Gladys was right.  To hell with what other people thing.  I was in a good place.  In fact, I was in a great place!  Sure, I don’t have a job, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find another. One where I’m appreciated and my boss isn’t a sexist pig.  Sure, I’m socially withdrawn, but that doesn’t mean I’m lonely.  I had Julian and Veronica and Paul, to a certain extent. Because of my budding social life, I sent my mother a text, telling her I was crashing with Julian tonight. We’re working on a big project together.

 Which wasn’t completely a lie.  We were. I had a crack fic to write and maybe we’ll make it come to life together.  I for one, thought that was a beautiful thing.  I felt my phone buzz on my thigh with a quick text back from my mother.

 Pulling an all-nighter?

 I rolled my eyes at her ignorance.

 Yes.  I’ll be home after work tomorrow.

 “What was that all about?” Julian wondered as I threw my phone on his coffee table.

 “Giving my mother some peace of mind,” I told him, getting comfortable, “It is cool if I crash here tonight, right?”

 “As long as you don’t try setting Miku on fire,” he stipulated.

 “I won’t.”

 “Then it’s fine,” he allowed, “About time, if you ask me.”

 “You’ve stayed with me twice,” I reminded him, “I still have one time on you.”

 “God, I can’t wait for Saturday night,” Julian looked down at me, “You have no idea.”

 “Not the first time I’m clueless on a Saturday night,” I shrugged, “And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

 “This Saturday is special, though,” he cuddled me, “It’s very special.  The one day we can’t forget.”

 “The day we proved we can’t turn back,” I sighed, “The day we have to keep moving forward.  Maybe on Saturday, I should burn the café down.”

 “That’s preemptive arson,” Julian stopped me, “I don’t want to be an accessory.”

 “I’m not burning the café down,” I promised, “I wouldn’t be that stupid.  We have con season coming up and we have to cross state lines. Can’t do that if I’m in jail.”

 “That’s my girl,” he kissed me, “Keep your thoughts of arson to yourself, salamander.”

 “You calling me a pyro?” I pouted, “Because that’s your job.”

 “What?” Julian scoffed, “You think it says Flame Alchemist on my business cards?”

 “You have business cards?” I wondered.

 “Yes, I do,” he confirmed, “When I’m doing cons and shit?  Oh, hell yeah!  I have people asking for serious commissions every now and then, so I’ll give them my business card and we’ll keep in touch.”

 “Does it say Flame Alchemist on it, though?”

 “Maybe…”

 “You’re such a nerd,” I laid my head in his ribs.

 “I know,” Julian played with my hair, “Don’t judge me.”

 “No judgment from me,” I promised.

 “I’m a whole lot worse than my otakuhood, you know,” he admitted, “Sci-fi.  Fantasy.  My favorite book as a kid was the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings series.”

 “You are a nerd,” I teased, “In all sense of the word.”

 “Right down to the superhero underpants,” he assured.

 “You’re not wearing superhero underpants,” I groaned into his side.

 “You want to put money on that?” Julian pulled up the top of his boxers.  That may or may not have Captain America on them, “Told you.”

 “That’s nice, sweetie,” I patted his shoulder, drifting off a little.

 “Are you getting tired on me, baby?” he asked, running his fingers down my back.

 “A little,” I suppressed a yawn, “Why?”

 “If you’re getting tired,” Julian brushed my hair out of my face, “We’ll go to bed.  My doorways are pretty narrow, so if I’d have to carry you to bed again, I’d end up hitting your head on the wall.”

 “I’ve been fighting a headache all day,” I whined, “If I could not hit my head, that’d be great.”

 “Come,” he pulled me onto my feet, “Let’s go to bed.”

 “Ok,” I was ready to clock out.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted to stay up with Julian a little while longer, but I guess I couldn’t complain. We were about to sleep together and he was kind enough to take Miku off his bed for me.

 “Hey, Mimi,” Julian peeled his shirt off, “Do you want this before I throw it in the washer?”

 “Are you really offering me your t-shirt?” I started feeling heat in my face.

 “Yeah,” he shrugged, “Why not?”

 “I’ll take it,” I threw Julian’s t-shirt on and dropped my dress around my legs, crawling in bed with him. His body felt so warm under mine. And right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

 “Good night, baby,” Julian kissed my cheek.

 “Good night.”