#this is supposed to be a symbiotic relationship!!!! please can we all work together. please

[trans-yllz]

person supposed to be moving in this week has not signed the lease or told me when they plan to get here. old housemate keeps loudly moving stuff out at like 10pm on week nights. new housemate has various slightly inconsiderate habits that are kind of driving me insane. other housemate acts like he's the only person on earth who might have stuff going on while he continues to not pay rent. I'm going to light this house on fire

[skimmingmilk]

howdy skim! how do you get Sonic and Tails characterization so spot on? Typically watching cutscenes i can read between the lines or think deeper on some bits of the games but you just flesh them out beautifully and I was just wondering what your interpretation of Sonic and Tails is!

Hi there! :D

Ahh, thank you! I’m so happy you like their characterization! Watching cutscenes does really help get the voices down, but you’re right in that it doesn’t give us a ton of emotional range to work with. I think—in the case for how I approach Sonic and Tails specifically in the Picket Fence series—it helps that their foundation is a mix of game personality and AoStH personality. 

AoStH, while a very silly series, offers a lot in terms of range for Sonic and Tails’s emotions and reactions to stress. We get to see Sonic angry and upset and scared in ways beyond what the games tend to show and Tails is very much a little kid just doing his best, with a bit of a stubborn and defiant side to him. Taking these traits and emotions and more or less infusing them into the game portrayals (specifically Adventure and Adventure 2) are kind of how I establish their baseline.

The rest has just been practice! I’ve written so much of these guys now, their behaviors and the way they think have become almost hardwired into my brain xD I didn’t start out super confident about my portrayal of them—Sonic in particular used to give me a lot of stress because of how much stock people can put in how he’s characterized. I thought for sure people weren’t going to like how I wrote him at all—and I’m positive there are people who don’t and that’s fine! But I wasn’t writing for them. I’m not writing for Sega or any official media, I’m writing for me and the people who want to read the same stories I do. 

**Edit: This isn't to disparage anyone who is more particular about how Sonic's portrayed. It's solely because there's already so much stress involved in the writing process, I don't need the added stress of writing for an audience that wouldn't like my style anyway hanging over my head! Especially when it's free fanfiction I'm doing in my spare time for fun. There are plenty of other really talented writers out there who have their own spin or take on the characters that people can find enjoyment in <3 I don't have to please everyone and that takes off a lot of pressure!**

So that pushed me to find my footing as I put Sonic in situations I wanted to see. The more I wrote him and practiced his voice, the more natural it became. I got comfortable with him and the confidence just built up over time to the point where I can trust him to guide the narrative and get himself where he needs to be, rather than me just shoving him into place.

In a way it’s a lot like learning to draw them, right? First, you stick pretty closely to on model references to make sure they look like who they’re supposed to. You learn their shapes and defining features, then once you're comfortable, you start to branch out, push the limits, and infuse more of your own style to them. It’s the same with writing. You follow the guidelines canon materials have given you at first, but once you understand how the shapes of their personality traits fit together, you can bring your own style and flair to the writing to expand their potential and match the creativity of your ideas that go beyond what the games, comics, movies, etc. have covered. 

More about how I personally approach them beneath the cut, because this got long, I'm sorry xD

I think my interpretation of Sonic and Tails relies on a couple of things. First, their relationship to each other. They are best friends. Sonic has a lot of friends and cares about a lot of people, but Tails is specifically his best friend. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s so important to me to establish that it’s a symbiotic relationship that goes both ways. It’s easy to see why Tails likes and admires Sonic, why he’d want to be his friend and that he looks up to him, it’s all part of his character arc in early games. So making sure Sonic views him in the same light is key—not just as a little brother figure he has to look out for, because that kind of responsibility doesn’t really align with Sonic’s free spirit*, but for Tails to be someone he genuinely admires and wants to be around. Sonic keeps pace with Tails because he wants to, because he’s choosing to of his own volition.

*Just want to add, that’s also what makes their dynamic so compelling to me. Sonic’s cool, rebellious, free spirit doesn’t typically lend itself to the idea that “my best friend is a sweet, eight-year-old genius mechanic who has a bit of a complex about me.” On a surface level, that doesn’t seem like it would align with a stereotypical “cool” character, at least not to me as an American kid in the 90s and early 00s. So playing with that and making sense of it is so fun and critical to my portrayal of him.

The second thing is mainly making sure my writing feels genuine. Like, I need to believe in the way I’m writing the characters because if I don’t, then I can’t possibly expect readers to. Sometimes it requires planting a few seeds along the way in order to earn the payoff of an emotional reaction, so that I can get to a place where I can write something like Sonic the Werehog hiding his face with one hand as he howls from the sheer relief of being free from the burden of taking a life that he was fully prepared to take on and believe him when he does. Or when Tails is trying to troubleshoot his own jealousy and insecurities on his own rather than talk it out, I need to believe that he believes what he’s doing makes perfect sense to him.

Honestly, my characterization of them is probably pretty skewed and biased to my personal tastes at this point. I don’t think this is a definitive way to write Sonic or Tails, but based on my experiences with how I’ve engaged with their characters throughout my life, I just write them exactly the way I want to and try not to worry about whether or not it aligns with others’ views of the characters. Taking away that pressure and outside influence gives me room to play and explore different possibilities. There are also certain characterization choices in canon media that I don’t necessarily agree with, but I try to work in aspects of that in a way that doesn’t totally contradict that piece of media while also aligning with my view of them, if that makes sense?

Basically I don’t disregard everything, but rather try and work it into my foundation that was built primarily on AoStH and the Genesis/Dreamcast-era Sonic games, so that people can still see a bit of Jason or Roger or Colleen's performances or nods to the OVA if that's their preferred piece of Sonic media. **Edit: I have the most familiarity with the English side of Sonic, but of course would want to be open to people who's favorite Sonic is Jun'ichi, too, I just haven't had as much exposure to him as Sonic, so can't say for certain if anything I've written feels in line with that**

I hope this answered your question? It was very compelling to think about and I hope it provided some insight into how I approach their characterization!

[leapingbadger]

The Conspiracy - Chapter 2

Summary: Obi Wan and Cody are working to navigate Obi Wan's suspension from the Jedi Council when a comm from the Bad Batch gives them something new to worry about.

Read more on AO3 (please note only people with AO3 accounts can read in an attempt to avoid feeding the AI scrapers. If you don't have an AO3 account I would highly recommend one, there is so much amazing fanfic and art on there!)

Excerpt:

They had spent the last few weeks in a serene, idle domesticity. Something that should have been so foreign to both men but had happened without a word of discussion. They moved around Obi Wan’s quarters in some kind of dance, fluidly picking up clothes, turning on the kettle, using the fresher as if they had been living together their whole lives. And he supposed they had, at least for the last few years.

The relationship between a General and their Commander had to be symbiotic. It was impossible to win battles otherwise, but Cody had always been able to anticipate Obi Wan needs, tactics and plans in a way that most would deem impossible. Obi Wan could obviously sense his Commander’s feelings and instincts before they happened, but he had never needed the force to know when something was bothering Cody and gave him the space to discuss it in his own time. It seemed like those skills had translated well as their relationship changed.

Obi Wan’s eyes tracked down the Commander’s face, falling on his long dark eyelashes, fluttering as he was slowly coaxed out of sleep. He took in the scar of his forehead and temple, a shape so familiar to him he felt it was drawn on his heart. The former Commander’s chest rose and fell slowly, a scattering of dark hair tempting the Jedi’s fingers, but he managed to stay his hand.

“You’re awake early.” Cody said sleepily as he took a deep breath, his chest puffing out and closing the gap between him and his Jedi.

“I have an early meeting, I’m afraid.” Obi Wan said, the smile still present on his face.

Cody’s dark eyes fluttered open, he reached over to Obi Wan and as he so often did these days, brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Do you want breakfast before you go?”

Obi Wan shook his head slightly, “I’m meeting with Master Windu. If it’s about what I think it’s about, I think food will only add to my discomfort.”

“Do you think he’s going to give you an answer?” Cody asked nervously.

Obi Wan signed and rested his head back on the pillow, “One can only hope, I suppose. Of course, I’m enjoying our little interlude until the reality of it all comes crashing down on us.” He said with a chuckle.

“You don’t think they’ll let you stay, then?” Cody asked, his eyes downcast, a shadow suddenly cast over his face.

“It matters not, my love. We will survive either way.”

[babybatscreationsv2]

Spider-Verse: Predators ch24

Marvel | Starker

Peter Parker is barely keeping it together. Dealing with Gwen Stacy's death, Harry Osborn going MIA, and MJ refusing to take his calls, has the guy feeling seriously run down. Now to top it off, his uncle Ben is facing serious prison time. Fortunately or unfortunately, New York's own Kingpin of Crime, Tony Stark, has offered him a deal to save his uncle. On a positive note, this Kingpin guy is kind of hot. Is it wrong to sleep with a murderous criminal?

Rating: Explicit

Read it on Ao3

The lab was in shambles. Lights hung from the ceiling, bits of metal and glass littered the floor. It was impossible to safely navigate the place without his suit. Even Tony wore his fancy new nanobot tech as he investigated the damage. On a normal day, Peter would be babbling and investigating the swarm of intelligent minibots that covered the man's body, but now he sat, watching the crack in the glass start to grow.

“How long... do you think?” Peter asked.

Tony swiped a hand through his hair. “A few hours as best. Once the glass breaks-”

“I know. We can't keep him in stasis without the chamber. You really don't have another one?”

“I'm sorry, Pete. That alien freak broke everything. There were three others, but they're all broken.There's one we might be able to repair, but I don't think it will be in time.” Broken glass crunched over his feet as he left the tech he was fiddling with to come stand behind Peter. His large metal hands covered his shoulders. “What's your plan when it does break?”

“I don't know,” Peter sighed. “I don't know, Tony...”

Tony kissed the top of his head. “I'm here with you, baby.”

Yes, Peter felt warmer, safer to hear it. He even let his eyes close for a moment and pretend none of this had happened. The problem was that Tony couldn't protect him from this. When the stasis chamber that was containing the half formed Lizard broke, Harry's transformation would begin again. He would be left mindless and destructive. And there was no cure. Tony had been trying for months to find one and never did. They could sedate him, keep him tranquilized, but would it work? There were no guarantees.

“Let's fix it. The other chamber.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed. Peter was admittedly surprised. He expected the man to remind him how much work it would take and how much time and how little time they had. He had expected Tony to insist on putting a bullet in Harry's face the minute they realized that the glass was breaking. Peter had changed something in him after all. He cared a little bit more. Or maybe he just cared about Peter.

They got to work. Half of their time was spent by Tony explaining to him what every little part was for. Peter knew machines well enough, but he wasn't the genius who built his own stasis chamber and there was a lot to learn. More time was spent teaching Peter what to do before they could do anything, than Peter would have liked. After a few hours, he understood well enough what everything was and they settled into a rhythm in their repairs. Most of Peter's work was done at the 3D-printer while Tony fiddled with the machine, but it was a system that worked well enough.

Peter was repairing a broken wire when Tony put down the tools in his hands. His head tilted up toward the ceiling and he sighed.

“What is it?”

“We should just let him out,” he said, looking away at the wall.

“What?” Peter stared. He couldn't be serious. Let the Lizard out?

Tony looked at him. “Murdock wants his blood. You heard him, right? He wanted his alien pal to get the blood from the cooler, but they didn't get it. There's not a single bag or vial missing. If we turn your lizard friend loose then Matt will go after him.”

“We can't do that! He could kill someone.”

“And Matt could kill you! Or your aunt for that matter. I don't know if you've noticed this, but Matthew is a literal fucking ninja. If he wants to slip into Aunty May's house while you're not around, I can't promise you that my people will notice.”

Peter shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the wall. “Then I'll go home. Until we get him. I should have been home.”

Tony turned his head away and Peter knew that he'd hurt him. It was the obvious thing to do, but Tony could be surprisingly fragile. He needed Peter close. If he stopped coming to the tower it could damage their relationship. He couldn't leave May to die either way. He'd do a lot of things for Tony, but not that. Maybe he'd been naive to think that she was safe all this time.

His spider sense flared up at the back of his neck. There was someone else in the lab. Peter turned, watching, listening. He raised his arm, ready to fire and Tony followed suit. Then a woman entered the room.

Peter recognized her blonde hair and glasses. Betrayal cut at him. He had sort of thought they were allies. Elsa held her hands up in innocence.

“I know you're mad. I get it, but I think we can help you.” Her eyes wandered to Harry, half covered in scales, in his cracked containment chamber.

“Is my security team sleeping? How did you get in here?” Tony said.

“We're good at getting into places we're not supposed to be.”

“Oh yeah? Who's we?” Tony asked. Before Peter could explain, there was Venom rising in a goopy, snake-like form from Elsa's shoulder. “Alright, explain yourself.”

“Murdock betrayed us, too. He helped us once, because he hoped that we would owe him. Except that it didn't go like he planned.”

“You're not making a great case for yourself,” Peter said.

“Yeah, maybe get to the part where we care,” Tony added.

Elsa sighed. “Men,” she huffed. “My other isn't stable. Never was. I created it, but things happened, we bonded too soon. I shouldn't have taken it out of containment until it was ready. Long story short, I needed something to stabilize it. After months of research, my work suggested that something like Spiderman wasn't so different from my symbiote. In theory anyway. I don't know how he found out, but Murdock came. He said that he could get me a sample of Spiderman's blood. If I were willing to kill Spiderman for him.”

Peter heard the whir of Tony's repulsor charging. “Please wait,” Elsa sighed. “You'll only piss them off and we didn't come here to kill you.”

Tony let the charge die, but he kept his arm raised.

“Anyway,” she began again. “He got me the blood and it helped, for a while. Spiderman's blood stabilized Venom and gave them new abilities as well. We were stronger than ever. And then the bond started to break. We got sick.I realized that something in your blood was breaking down our cells. You might have spider-like abilities, but you're not actually a man bonded to a spider. You're still made of human parts. We aren't.We're an amalgamation of two different creatures. Like the Lizard. We need to know what keeps the Lizard's form stable once it bonds to a human body.”

Tony whistled. “That was a lot. You think that up on the cab ride over?”

“It's true!” Elsa shouted. Venom growled.

“Eat him,”it hissed.

“Hush, love,” she said. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

“What is it you want?” Peter asked. He finally lowered his arm and took a step forward hoping to resolve the tension before another fight broke out. All it would take was another hard hit and the glass protecting Harry would shatter. They'd have a whole host of other problems.

Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. Venom nuzzled into her hair. “If we allow Venom to bond with this lizard boy, I'm almost certain that Venom will be able to separate the lizard parts from the human parts and bond with them. We've been practicing. It's possible that it won't work, but if Venom can bond with the Lizard and draw it out from the boy and carry it over in to me it will save the boy from the Lizard and possibly give us a way to stabilize our bond.”

“If that's even possible, it makes sense... Sorta.” Peter shrugged.

Tony sighed. “It's your boyfriend.Your call.”

Peter shot a glare over his shoulder. Then he crossed the dirty floor and he looked at Harry sleeping in his goop. Maybe they could fix the other chamber, maybe they could sedate him if the glass broke too soon, maybe they could eventually engineer a cure, but how long would Harry stay this way? He could wake up an old man. His heart ached. He'd done so much to hurt him already. Maybe he could save him. At least from this. From the first big mistake Spiderman ever made. And maybe he could finally be free of the Lizard himself.

“We'll try it. What are the odds this hurts Harry if it doesn't work?”

Elsa shrugged. “I'm sorry, but no one has ever done anything like this before. He could reject Venom immediately. Venom could make a mistake and separate the wrong cells.The Lizard could do any number of unpredictable things. There's no way of knowing.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “For what it's worth, I know that my other will do everything possible. We have a stake in this, too.”

If she were telling the truth, she would die if this didn't work. Not just Harry. This could easily go from a cure to a disaster. If they didn't anything try at all, Elsa would still die. Despite having destroyed Tony's lab, she seemed like a decent person who just wanted to live with the slime monster she loved.

“Please,Spiderman,” Venom rumbled.

Peter nodded. “Okay. Let's give it a shot.”

Elsa helped Peter clean off a cot for Harry while Tony went to his computer. It started draining the goop from the chamber. Then they could remove the IV and all the sensors and pull him out. They might not have long before the sedation wore off once the IV was out.

“Do you think we should keep him sedated when we pull him out?” Pete wondered. “He could take someone's head off.”

“It could put Venom out, too,” Elsa frowned. “We'll just have to be careful.”

“I have something that might help, but it won't work forever,” Tony said. He went to the storage along the wall. Half of the cupboards were smashed, but one that was intact unlocked at Tony's touched. “I didn't make them big enough to fit a lizard man, but they'll hold him until he'd fully transformed.” He held up a pair of dense metal handcuffs.

“If all goes to plan, he never will,”Elsa said.

Peter sighed. “Nothing in my life goes to plan.” Still, he pulled open the door and caught Harry as he slipped out. Tony grabbed his legs and together they moved hin onto a cot. Harry groaned in his sleep.

“Clock's ticking,” Tony cautioned.

Elsa stepped up to the bedside. Venom stretched, becoming a long, writhing, stream of goo that moved from Elsa into Harry. The goop seemed to absorb through his skin, disappearing without a trace. Elsa gave a huff of breath. Nothing seemed to change with Harry, but Elsa was visibly anxious. Her shoulders twitched and her eyes were locked on to the spot in Harry's chest when Venom had disappeared to.

“How long do you think?” Peter asked.

She didn't move, didn't look away. “We practiced on rats mostly. It took a few hours. Could be days given the size and complexity of a human/lizard hybrid. And they'll be taking the most possible care.”

Tony eyed the room around them. Peter remembered just how badly it was all falling apart. It was a miracle the building overhead didn't sink down into it. “Elsa, do you have somewhere we can keep them until it's done?”

“I can monitor things from my apartment.” She reached out, her hand going to Harry's arm only to draw back. “I'll call you if anything happens.”

“Good or bad,” Peter agreed.

Cradling Harry's scaly form in webbing, Peter dragged him up the broken elevator shaft. Tony carried Elsa. She seemed distraught and Peter felt for her. He and Tony were codependent enough. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be separated from a partner who you otherwise shared a body with. It was obvious just how romantically attached they were and how odd was that in the first place? To be in love with the sentient goo you made in a lab.

Elsa lived in one of the cheapest apartments on this side of the city, or any side for that matter. Peter remembered how bad this particular building was from his time looking at apartments with MJ. The place smelled as bad as he remembered. The clutter of old food containers in Elsa's apartment certainly fit in with the aesthetic of the place and there was a faint smell of something dead coming from the overflowing trash can.

Peter tucked Harry into Elsa's bed. He grumbled as he Peter set him down. “Call me if he changes at all. If he moves, if he says something, anything.”

“You got it.” Elsa stood, leaning against the door frame. Her face was twisted with worry. He wanted to assure her that this would work, that everything was going to be fine, but he just didn't know. This was all her research, all her experiment, and yes if it went sideways then it would all be on her. Still, it was her life that was at stake, hers and Harry's. She caught his eye and they shared a look that said it all. She nodded, then he brushed gently passed her.

Tony was toeing at a stack of science magazines that could have been dated years back.

“Ready to head out?”

Peter nodded. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “I guess so.”

“Sure you don't want to hold your boyfriend's hand until he wakes up?”

Peter shot him a glare. “What's your problem?”

Tony shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Whatever. Let's not do this here.” Peter flipped out of the window and dropped down toward the street. He swung up on a web over the next building then down again. He swung his way up a few blocks, letting the rush of air calm his mind. He had enough on his mind with Harry's life being in danger. He didn't need Tony's jealousy weighing on him. Why had he even bothered to help him if he was going to be a dick about it? Swinging past a window covered in signs for the upcoming mayoral election, it occurred to him that it might not have been about him at all.

Tony was in his office when Peter swung back in through the window. He'd taken off his suit and was fiddling with the sleeve of his under armor. He kept his back turned as Peter came in, but they were going to have it out whether he wanted to or not.

Peter tapped his foot on the floor, debating where to start. “Were you ever actually looking for a cure?”

Tony turned. His expression was insulted. “Was I- of course of I was. Would I have given it to the boy if I found it, though? That's the question you should be asking.”

Peter's jaw clenched and he shook his head. “Why the hell did I ever trust you with this?”

“Because you had no one else,” Tony pointed out. “And because you can trust me.”

“Can I? You were going to use him as leverage against Norman. Why? So you could campaign against him?”

Tony snorted. “I don't need to be mayor, Peter. That's just silly.”

No, Tony was Kingpin and unfortunately that made him more powerful than the mayor. “You were going to get him elected.”

Tony nodded and gestured for him to continue. “And then? What happens next in my genius plan?” He turned away to pour himself a drink.

“And then you control the legal side of the city as much as the underground. Because you have his son. Because if you had a cure you could hold it over him. You wanted to let Harry out so that Norman would owe you everything when you cured him.”

“Well not exactly.” Tony sipped his drink. He leaned back against the table. “I didn't lie to you, Peter. I will never lie to you.” Peter didn't fall for his melting chocolate eyes. “There is no cure. Not yet. By the time we have one, the Lizard will be no more, one way or the other. I was going to let the boy out, let him do some big scary property damage, eat someone's cat, whatever, and then let Osborn know that I know that the Lizard is his son.”

“And he wouldn't want the city to know that. He'd do anything.”

Tony smiled. “Bingo. Now you're thinking like the Kingpin.”

Peter shook his head. “Fuck you,Tony.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I was never going to let anything happen to your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend! You are!”Peter tugged off his mask and paced the floor with it in his hands.“I wish you would just act like it instead of confusing me with all your jealously immediately after pretending that you're capable of putting all of that aside and helping me when I need you to and I don't get you, Tony-” He looked up, realizing then that Tony had set his drink down to stalk towards him somewhere during his babbling.

There was a dark possessive quality to his eyes. Peter let him crowd him in until he was backed into the wall. “Tell me again,” he rumbled. “Who am I?”

There was so much heat rolling between them it was smothering. Despite that he was barely two inches shorter than Tony, he was leaning over him enough to make him feel small, arms caging him in.

“My boyfriend,” Peter answered.

Tony nodded, a grin threatening to curl his lips. “And what are you?”

“Yours?” Peter said, hoping to appease whatever dark desire was growing in his eyes.

Tony's hand twitched against the wall and he could feel it against his throat without it ever touching him. “My everything.”

“Yours,” he said again, in a daze.There was a tension building between them. When Tony pressed their bodies together, Peter sighed with relief as the tension resolved.This was everything he needed. He let his hands wrap around the back of Tony's neck. He soaked up the press of Tony's hands on his waist. The man buried his face in his neck. There was no kissing or teasing, just warmth and comfort as they resolved their jealousy and hurt without another word. They stayed that way until the press of the wall into his back became uncomfortable and Peter gently pushed Tony back a step.

Tony sighed. “I've been selfish, asking you to come back here all this time while Murdock is out there. He'll recover from his injuries soon. You should be with your aunt.”

Peter pressed his forehead against Tony's. “It's going to kill me to be without you.”

"We can survive anything."

"I'll only be a call away."

Tony grinned. "Don't I know it."

[ddarker-dreams]

Online Love. Yan Shigaraki x Reader [Part 5]

Shigaraki has never had a full grasp on understanding others.

It’s never presented itself as an issue before, due to his unique lifestyle that doesn’t require him to rely upon others to the same extent most do. He doesn’t need to bend himself to the will of others. If anything, people need to mold themselves to his liking. 

There’s no place for coquettish remarks and hidden agendas for the people around Shigaraki. He wouldn’t care for it, and they’d be cut off without a second thought. 

So where do you fit into that? 

He doesn’t know himself. The black and white relationships that stay in neat, understandable boxes for him are all but wrecked by your presence. Where his underlings bite their tongue and present themselves to his liking, you feel no obligation to do the same.

You live as you please, speaking to him as you please. The rules he’s used to don’t apply to you, you don’t even know they exist in the first place. If anyone acted as you did towards Shigaraki, they’d undoubtedly be killed for it. 

There’s a fondness that’s reserved solely for you. 

Even so, he can’t help but feel aggravated at how you’ve been treating him lately. The past three days have been a miserable stretch, his mood taking a turn for the worst. Not due to anything you’ve said to him, no, but because of the opposite.

You haven’t messaged him in seventy-two hours. 

This has never happened before, in the entire time he has known you. In the past three days you’ve not logged onto any of your games, responded to his messages, or uploaded on social media. He’s aware of the fact that you’re physically fine -- a bit of stalking ensured that nothing had happened to you.

A part of him almost wishes that was the case, so he could make sense of it. It would be undoubtedly easier to digest the situation, and he could get you out of the situation with ease.

But the aspect of the unknown is what troubles him the most. His mind wonders pathetically, grasping at any straws to make sense of why you’ve been living your life normally; just without him. 

Staring at his monitor in the dim light of his room, Shigaraki grimaces at the blinking cursor in front of him. Coarse fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting so desperately to seek you out; but unsure of how to go about it. He wants to demand an explanation. 

Were you really able to live your life peacefully without him? Did Shigaraki delude himself of the symbiotic relationship he once believed you two shared? 

His teeth ache from the hours spent grinding together, neck raw from constant scratching. Sleep has all but evaded him, as he spent hours painfully waiting for you to come back to him. For things to go back into the routine he was used to. 

Your absence serves as a reminder of how much he needs you. 

Narrowing his bloodshot eyes, he abruptly stands from his trash covered desk and stalks over towards the door. How dare you ignore him, how dare you treat him like this! Did he mean nothing to you all along? Have you just been waiting for the chance to cut him off, having been secretly disgusted by him all along?

Fury masks over any secret feelings of hurt, Shigaraki intent on demanding Kurogiri to warp him over to you. He’d get an explanation one way or another. Even if he had to pry it from you. Staying idle any longer would surely be the death of him.

Before he opens the door, he hears the custom alert. The one that he had set for you, so he could always know when you were messaging him. 

Shigaraki’s mind goes blank as he goes back over to his computer. He wonders if it was imagined, only to be disproved by a message from you on his screen.

From: [First] 2:06 AM

hello tomo-kun

That... that’s it? Mouth slightly agape from confusion, Shigaraki’s mind races with countless responses. Ranging from cruel words directed at you for ignoring him for so long, to inquiring about what even caused it in the first place. But none of them are typed out as he delivers an equally mundane response. 

To: [First] 2:06 AM

Hey

Anyone else would’ve been facing the wrath of hell right now, but Shigaraki manages to contain himself. Knowing that you haven’t forgotten about him or discarded him was enough to momentarily distract him from his previous rage. Biting his finger nails that were already short from countless hours of similar activity, he awaits your response. 

From: [First] 2:10 AM 

i’m sorry that i haven’t been around... 

From: [First] 2:11 AM

i’ve been having kinda a bad time lately with some stuff. but if it’s okay with you can we play some comp? i kinda just wanna take my mind off it. if you’re not busy that is 

It isn’t concern that he feels, but an undying curiosity. If something major had happened to you, like a death of a loved one, he would’ve known about it by now. What could’ve happened that upset you this much that he wasn’t alerted about? 

Shigaraki silently ponders to himself. Maybe he needs better scouts. 

To: [First] 2:12 AM 

Whatever you want, idm

An immediate response. 

From: [First] 2:12 AM

thank u, i appreciate it

From: [First] 2:13 AM

aaa i feel so dumb. im sorry im sure i worried you. i just havent been in the mood to talk to anyone. its nothing like crazy or anything im fine, just some life stuff 

Shigaraki’s never been the best at comforting people, as it’s a task that he’s never been given. He can barely take care of himself, much less anyone else. But in situations like this, he feels you’re supposed to offer something. Only for you would he stretch himself in this way.

To: [First] 2:15 AM 

What happened 

It might seem like a lackluster response, but to anyone who knows Shigaraki it would come as a surprise. People’s personal affairs have never interested him in the slightest, but you’re a unique case. 

From: [First] 2:16 AM

wellllll its kinda stupid but ig it doesnt hurt to tell you lmao 

From: [First] 2:17 AM

ive... ive had a crush on this guy for a long time. we’ve known one another for a few years, stuff like that. anyways i worked up the courage to ask him out and he got upset at me. saying stuff like im ruining our friendship. it was just really bad, and ever since then ive been on auto pilot 

The word crush hits him like a ton of bricks. He’s incapable of focusing on anything else in that moment, as time all but comes to a stop. His breathing uneven, and hands shaky; he sits back from the light of his screen. Disgust isn’t the right word for it, it doesn’t begin to describe the barrage of emotions he’s experiencing. 

You liked someone. You liked someone that isn’t him. 

Even if he actually wanted to, he couldn’t fake a decent response to your message. All along he’s been under the impression that you may return his feelings. That all the little gestures meant you treasure him on the same level he does you, and that you would one day be his. 

Hours spent daydreaming of you sweetly confessing to him come to mind, as his vision goes red. 

It doesn’t matter how. He’s going to find out who this cesspool of human waste is, he’s going to savor tearing each limb from their body and take pleasure in his screams of agony. Shigaraki will take care of this individual personally, wanting them to suffer in the same way he has. 

There isn’t any way you could like someone else. This all has to be a joke, a cruel prank with an eventual punchline. There’s no other way to make sense of it. No one else could be even remotely deserving of your affections other than him, and no one will ever have them if he could do anything about it.

He will figure out what to do with you and your betrayal later. For now, only this apple of your eye has his attention. Countless cruel ideas flood his thoughts like a tidal wave, a malicious grin breaking out onto his face. 

Shigaraki will make them pay.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 5/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! i won’t bore u with a big long a/n but i will say thank u so so much for everyone that’s shown this fic love and been supportive to me over the writing process of this chapter, it means the world. this one has a content warning for…drumroll please…smut! enjoy u slaaaags xo

last chapter: October- The gang made plans for their first year together, Tia gave everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora had a realisation that would change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

this chapter: February- Tayce has always hated Valentine’s day. But will hatching a plan with Lawrence and spending the day with A’whora change her opinion on it this year?

***

Tayce thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that they’ve not been caught yet.

Honestly, she should’ve known how her and A’whora attempting to sneak around would go from the start; it’s not as if either of them are subtle people. Between A’whora always needing people’s eyes and attention to be on her and Tayce simply being unable not to attract attention, it’s hard for either of them to be covert in any way, shape or form.

The first time (or first three times in quick succession) back last month had been easy enough; by the time Bimini, Lawrence and Ellie had returned back to the flat from their day drinking expedition with Ellie’s friend they’d all been too drunk to see their hands in front of their faces, never mind notice that Tayce’s room smelt of sex and that A’whora’s top was on back to front. But living with four other people and trying to find a time where they’re all out of the flat at the same time is like gold dust, so a lot of the time Tayce and A’whora will disappear to one of their rooms (ten minutes apart, so as not to attract suspicion) and then have to spend the entire rendezvous talking in hushed whispers or biting down hard on their lips or whining into their pillows to make sure nobody boots down the door and demands to know what’s going on.

Still, even if it’s quiet and covert, Tayce is nothing short of addicted to this new layer of the relationship she has with A’whora. There’s something intoxicating about giving A’whora what she wants: it’s in the way her big, pleading doe-eyes flutter shut in ecstasy, the way her lips drop open from a bratty pout into a blissful gasp or a too-loud moan that makes Tayce feel like clamping a hand over her mouth. It’s surely only a matter of time before the others find out and ruin this whole thing for them so Tayce wants to make sure A’whora doesn’t blow their cover, because there’s part of her that loves keeping it all under wraps like it’s their own little secret they share.

Besides, the sight of A’whora biting down hard on her knuckles when she’s trying desperately not to make a sound is never one that Tayce is going to pass up on.

It’s the way she goes quiet when things get intense and Tayce has to draw her words out of her like she does her orgasm, because aside from the fact that she needs to know if A’whora’s enjoying everything Tayce is doing, the way she starts blushing whenever she tells her what she wants or how good something feels is sinful enough to make Tayce believe that maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad.

The juxtaposition of the devilishness A’whora manages to radiate whilst looking like and talking with the voice of an angel isn’t lost on Tayce. The way she’s so eager to please, the way she always asks if everything’s okay, the way she’ll look up from between Tayce’s legs with that ever-so-slightly deer in the headlights look with her juice smeared across her lips like gloss and wait for Tayce to tell her everything feels amazing before she’ll relax, and a mischievous grin will take hold on her face before she’ll continue pushing her increasingly closer to the edge. Tayce had always thought praise kinks were a myth but A’whora is the living Kelpie that disproves her theory. She only ever needs to tell her that she’s a good girl, or that she’s pretty, or that she’s perfect (usually with a princess tacked onto it for good measure) for A’whora to whimper and beg, greedy and impatient. The way she reacts to the praise is enough to make Tayce want to keep giving it, so she supposes the relationship is a symbiotic one.

It’s funny the way they seem to swap personalities in bed. Tayce- who usually can’t shut up or slow down if her life depended on it- likes hushed giggles, breathy gasps, biting hard on her lip to make sure she’s not too loud. She likes to draw out the foreplay and teasing until they’re both burning up and so wet they drip down their thighs and onto the sheets, and when she fucks A’whora she’s always painstaking and precise, slow and languid. A’whora, for her part, is the opposite. She moans and whines and bucks her hips in the air, always desperate for satisfaction and to satisfy Tayce in return. She knows exactly how to push Tayce to the edge and then over it and she never wastes a minute getting there, sometimes ripping two or three orgasms from her in quick succession with nothing short of relentless, smug determination. They shouldn’t work together but Jesus Christ, they do.

It’s because of all this that the way they sneak around has become a kind of foreplay for them. The trips to the smoking area on nights out just so Tayce can back A’whora against the wall and crash her lips against hers needily. The squeeze they’ll give each others’ thighs under the table if they’ve all gone somewhere for dinner together, and the twinkle in both of their eyes acting as a promise of things to come later. The text A’whora gives Tayce from the sofa opposite as they’re all sitting around watching whatever shite Tia has stuck on that simply says “i want to 👅 your 🐈 until you 💦” which makes Tayce almost choke on whatever she happens to be eating or drinking.

But she supposes the rest of her flatmates have been too wrapped up in their own feelings to even notice her and A’whora’s lack of subtlety. The end of January saw Tia finally make things official with Veronica who she’d been seeing for a few months already, so she’s been bouncing around the flat with a spring in her step and a permanent smile on her face and always humming or singing a cheerful tune under her breath. Tayce is happy for the girl, she really is, but even she has to admit the pair of them acting like little loved-up Sylvanian Family squirrels is vaguely nauseating; the way they’ll nuzzle each others’ noses while curled up together on the sofa and the way they happily belt along to Heathers while they make pancakes together at eight in the morning on a Sunday, which is never the hangover cure they seem to think it is.

In stark contrast, Ellie has been stomping through the flat for the past few weeks or so as if she’s an assassin with a bounty on Cupid. At literally any mention of love or romance she’s there with a fake retch or a huge roll of her blue eyes, talking about how she wishes every couple on earth would drop off the face of it. She has stark disregard for Tia’s happiness, preferring instead to wallow in her own misery. It’s immature and it’s petty and it’s completely ridiculous but Tayce supposes Ellie is hurt and heartbroken, and Tia and Veronica are getting the brunt of it because they’re the root cause.

If Ellie is bad then Lawrence is worse. If Ellie is pissed off then Lawrence is woeful, and she’s not much better whenever she’s forced to be around the flat’s new couple. Her usually cheerful jokes poking fun at her various flatmates are now entirely based around how single she is, all delivered as if Eeyore had a stand-up set. There’s only so many times Tayce can fake-laugh at each variation, only so much enthusiasm she can inject into the laugh she gives in response to “I’m so single I canny even get a bus to hit on me”. Combined with the constant way Crazy for You is getting blasted from behind her closed bedroom door on a loop, Lawrence has been acting like the lesbian reincarnation of Bridget Jones for entirely too long to be considered acceptable.

“Why don’t we just tell Els that Lawrence likes her?” A’whora had suggested, as they’d lain in Tayce’s bed naked apart from her duvet that was wrapped around them both and the opening drum beat to Crazy for You had cut through the wall for the third time in the past ten minutes.

(Tayce knows Lawrence had asked her not to tell A’whora about her crush on Ellie. She does feel bad for telling A’whora about her crush on Ellie. But when A’whora had asked her why she thought Lawrence had been behaving like a war-era mourning widow for the past few weeks it had just slipped out. Besides, the threat of a month without sex that Tayce had used as leverage so A’whora wouldn’t blab to Ellie about it has so far seemed to be good enough motivation. As it stands neither of them seem to be able to go three days without a shag, so she’s really hoping A’whora doesn’t open her big mouth for both their sakes.)

“It’s not that simple,” Tayce had muttered, threading some of A’whora’s long, straight hair through her fingers absent-mindedly as she spoke. “There’s feelings there, they wouldn’t be able to just fall together like we did. It’s messier when there’s crushes involved. With us it’s just good sex with a good friend, you know?”

A’whora had gone quiet as she nodded, a minute frown appearing on her face. Tayce supposes it had been as a result of the prospect of more Madonna ballads from Lawrence’s room for the foreseeable future.

Bimini, who Tayce has been the most concerned about picking up on something being different between her and A’whora, has been surprisingly and uncharacteristically imperceptive. Bimini being Bimini hasn’t let on that there’s anything different going on with them, but Tayce is sure it’s got something to do with the bashful smile they give their phone screen sometimes, or the way they seem to be at the flat with them all less and less of late, or the uni project they’re completing with their friend Asttina which seems to have been going on for about a fortnight. Whatever it is, they seem happier than usual; a little cheerful glow lighting them up from the inside out that Tayce just knows there’s a reason behind. She’ll let them tell her in their own time.

If the atmosphere in the flat had been full of mixed-up, chaotic sets of feelings before, then when it reaches Valentine’s Day it’s on another level entirely.

Tayce begins her day waking up, rubbing her eyes, and stretching as far as her bones and muscles will allow. She’s alone in bed- she and A’whora never sleep over in each others’ rooms, the overwhelming amount of suspicion it would draw the next day would be staggering- but Tayce sometimes wonders what it would be like to wake up with A’whora. Maybe she’d be curled around her, having sought her out in the night to cuddle. Maybe she talks in her sleep. Maybe she snores. Tayce doesn’t know why she’s thinking about this, or indeed why she wants to know what it would be like.

They’re just friends, after all.

She sleepily snatches up her phone from her bedside table, checks the time (10am, a decent enough lie in) and then checks her notifications. She’s got a Whatsapp message from A’whora and she ends up spluttering a laugh as she opens it. It’s a photo of her having clearly just woken up, hair all messy in its bun and bags under her brown eyes. She’s sinking into the pillow and pulling a face that gives her a double chin. She looks a state, but something about the photo makes Tayce’s heart happy. It’s the fact that A’whora- the same A’whora who took a month before she let her flatmates see her without makeup, does a full face before even going to Tesco, and fake tans twice a week- has sent her a selfie with a sleepy, bare, ridiculous face. Tayce has always felt a little like their friendship has been a series of breaking down A’whora’s walls and with this, another one has crumbled. It’s nice that she trusts Tayce enough with every little part of her, and it’s a responsibility that Tayce doesn’t take lightly.

The message that accompanies the photo says “Happy valentine’s day bestie xxx” and Tayce feels her heart flutter a bit. It should feel weird that A’whora’s acknowledging the significance of the day. It’s kind of overstepping the line they’ve drawn together, it’s sort of breaking an unspoken promise.

But regardless, Tayce doesn’t mind. She actually likes it, more than she probably should. So she taps her nails against the screen, smiling in spite of herself as her message starts to appear.

T: that selfie’s really doing it for me uno

T: got me all excited for the romantic valentine’s day sex we’re gonna be having xo

The screen tells her that A’whora’s typing, and she can feel the heat begin to pool in her stomach already at the prospect of some flirty texts to start the day off. That is until there’s a muffled drum beat and an oboe that drifts into Tayce’s consciousness through the wall, and she realises with visceral frustration that Lawrence is playing that god damn bloody fucking song again.

Tayce lifts her leg and kicks the wall that separates her room and Lawrence’s with a thud thud thud, hoping it’ll make it all stop- the soundtrack to her friend’s emotional pining doesn’t double up as a good soundtrack to dirty texting. To Tayce’s exasperation, however, her door flies open a few moments later, and she cranes her neck and buries her phone under her pillow to find that Lawrence has invited herself in.

“Did you knock?” she asks inquisitively. Tayce narrows her eyes.

“If ‘knocked’ means ‘banged on the wall to shut you up’, then yeah, I did,” Tayce deadpans. Lawrence doesn’t seem to take the hint and instead lets out a dramatic sign, flops down beside Tayce on her bed as if to fully illustrate the fact she isn’t leaving anytime soon.

“Tayyyce,” she begins, whining pitifully. Lawrence is never one to conceal how she’s feeling and always wears her heart on her sleeve, which Tayce can appreciate in a friend. If Lawrence is annoyed, she’ll tell you. If Lawrence is happy, she’ll show it. If Lawrence is pining after her best friend she’s been in love with for years, she’ll let everyone know…apart from the only girl it affects directly.

“What is it, babe?” Tayce asks sympathetically, rolling onto her side to give her friend a cuddle. She knows what the matter is, but she also knows Lawrence clearly wants to vent, so she’ll be a good friend and let her.

Lawrence huffs a sigh. “Tia’s all loved up with Veronica in the kitchen and Bimini’s probably off shagging their pal right now and Ellie’s never going to know I exist as anything other than a friend. I fuckin’ hate Valentine’s Day.”

Tayce would normally agree. Tayce usually hates it too. It’s corporate and cheap and tokenistic, as if the only ways people can show love are through red roses, chocolate or teddies. Pick one or all three, give them to the person you love the most otherwise did you ever really love them at all? Maybe she’d like it better if she had someone to spend it with, but she’s not. She’s never.

Apart from today, that is. Apart from A’whora.

“It’s bullshit,” Tayce nods, squeezing Lawrence’s side. “But hey, you’re not on your own, girl. I’ve not got anyone to spend it with either, and neither’s A’whora.”

Lawrence sticks her bottom lip out. “Yeah, but you two aren’t all sad with feelings and crushes. I mean, we all know A’whora’s not got a heart so she’s off to a flyer already.”

Tayce laughs at Lawrence’s joke even though they both know it couldn’t be less true if she tried. She pokes Lawrence’s arm, frowning and unable to stand her moping much longer. “Well, why don’t you try and make a move today? Y’know, show Ellie why you’re a good option as well.”

“A good option? Sorry, I didn’t realise I’m sat in a fridge next to a sandwich as part of a Tesco meal deal,” Lawrence rolls her eyes. Tayce nudges her with her foot to make a point.

“Fuck off. You know what I mean! Hang out with her, do something fun. Maybe dial up the flirting a bit.”

Lawrence rolls over onto her side to face her, as if to drive home the pointed stare she’s fixing her with. “Have you ever seen me trying to flirt? There’s a reason I’ve never brought a girl back here. I mean my vagina’s so out of use I think it’s closed up like a pierced ear nobody’s put an earring through in a while.”

Tayce lets out a screech, part-horrified, part-disgusted. Her stomach hurts as she tries to collect herself, and an idea forms in her mind. “You could so do it if you tried. Hey, here’s what to do, right? Tia and Veronica are going out for that big romantic beach walk Tia’s been talking our ears off about for weeks. Bimini’s missing in action, as you said, and probably will be for most of the day. And I’ll get A’whora out of the flat for a while. So that means you’ve got Ellie all to yourself, on Valentine’s day, ready to be…I don’t know, wined, dined and sixty-nined.”

It’s Lawrence’s turn to howl in disgust now, but the sparkle’s back in her eyes as she grins at Tayce. “I don’t think we’re at that stage yet, doll. But I don’t know, maybe you’re right. I mean she’s never gonna see me as anything more than a friend if I keep acting like only that, is she?”

Tayce smiles, glad to see she’s instilled some confidence in her friend. “That’s my girl!”

Lawrence claps her hands together decisively. “There we go, then. I’ll have her drippin’ like a knackered fridge in no time!”

The pair of them burst out into untethered shrieks of laughter, ones that draw footsteps from the hall and cause Tayce’s door to open again, this time to reveal both Ellie and A’whora. It looks as if the pair of them were together too, and Tayce thinks it wouldn’t be unusual if Ellie had been venting to A’whora about her own unrequited crush.

“What the hell is so funny? I’m trying to do a big emotional, dramatic monologue about my broken heart to this one but I can’t, because all we can hear is your monkey screeching through the wall,” Ellie grumps, sitting herself down at the foot of the bed.

“We were shagging. That’s just the noise I make when I come,” Lawrence deadpans. As Ellie and A’whora splutter a laugh, Tayce fixes Lawrence with an incredulous stare, one which she hopes communicates “if that was you flirting then what the fuck?”.

“G’wan, Els. Do your big monologue here,” Tayce encourages her, budging up as A’whora squashes onto the bed too even though there’s barely room for two at the best of times, never mind four. A’whora groans long-sufferingly.

“Please don’t make me sit through it again.”

Ellie turns to her friend, affronted. “Girl!”

“I’m joking, babe.”

Appeased, Ellie lets out a plaintive little sigh as she casts her gaze up to the ceiling. “I’m just fucked off. I mean I get that Tia’s happy, and I’m happy for her-”

“No you’re not,” Lawrence cuts in matter-of-factly.

“No I’m not, but that’s beside the point,” Ellie rolls with the interruption, making Tayce snort with her honesty. “I just wish they weren’t…rubbing it in my face all the time, you know?”

“They can’t rub it in your face if they don’t know you like Tia, Ellie. You can’t get annoyed at them for existing,” A’whora pulls a face, honest to a fault. It’s something else that Tayce really appreciates about her; she knows she’ll never get bullshitted by A’whora, knows she’s truthful and upfront. It’s just another part of what makes their arrangement work so well- she knows A’whora’s not exactly going to be covering up any feelings anytime soon.

Ellie continues with a huff. “I know. And I know I’m being unfair, and I know I’m being immature about it all.”

“Give yourself some credit, girl, you only just turned eighteen about five minutes ago. You’re allowed to be immature,” Tayce quips, earning a laugh from A’whora and Lawrence and a scowl from Ellie that she knows she doesn’t really mean.

“It just sucks not being able to turn my feelings off. I want to get over her, you know? It’s just hard when we live together and Veronica’s round all the time.”

There’s a lull in conversation where the girls hum in agreement and empathy. Tayce chooses this time to sneakily elbow Lawrence in her side, as if to nudge her towards spending time with Ellie.

Lawrence takes the hint. “Ellie, what’re you doing today, hen?”

Ellie looks despondently at her. “Probs greetin’ into a pint of Haagen Dazs. How?”

“Well, I’m wanting to dye my hair,” Lawrence says, and the niche context for spending time together knocks Tayce for six a little. “And although I wouldn’t trust you to keep a succulent alive, I’d trust you to do a not awful job of hairdresser duties. You wanty help me out with it?”

Tayce tries not to look at A’whora because she knows they’ll end up sharing a knowing smile that’s entirely too suspicious as Ellie’s face lights up. “If anything would cheer me up right now it’s the prospect of fucking up your hair beyond all recognition.”

“Brilliant,” Lawrence deadpans, though there’s a little smile on her lips which suggests to Tayce that Ellie could very well completely shave her completely bald then dye her scalp yellow and Lawrence would still thank her.

Tayce turns to smile at A’whora. Time to hold up her end of the deal.

“Well, I don’t much fancy staying to deal with the fallout of this inevitable disaster. You wanna go for brunch somewhere?”

A’whora’s so clearly trying to bite back her smile, make it seem more contained and controlled, but it still spreads across her face like a sunbeam and it warms Tayce’s heart like one too. “Alright. S’pose I could squeeze you into the calendar somewhere.”

As the pair of them lock eyes and Tayce struggles to suppress her own smile, the girls are interrupted by a knock on the door. Tayce shouts them in, figuring they might as well squeeze a few more people onto the bed while they’re at it and attempt some sort of world record, but it’s Tia and Veronica and they aren’t staying long judging by the fact they’ve both got their jackets on.

“Just saying goodbye before our lil’ seaside adventure!” Tia smiles, her happiness completely uncontained and radiating from her; if A’whora’s smile was a sunbeam then Tia encapsulates the energy of the whole burning star. Tayce is happy for her.

“Have fun girlies, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Tayce smiles, waggling her fingers in a wave.

“Aye, no sex on the beach!” Lawrence says, unsubtle and untactful as ever. Veronica flushes so red she borders on purple, and Ellie gives a laugh dripping in schadenfreude.

“Wind your bloody neck in, you menace,” Veronica bites back good-humouredly, the dregs of her embarrassment still colouring her cheeks. “Have you seen the weather forecast for today? It’s absolutely freezing!”

“That the only thing stopping you? Sure you wouldn’t be the only people in existence that’ve tried to shag wearing two jumpers and a parka,” Lawrence continues to joke, and by now Ellie is a collapsed heap on the bed.

Tia speaks for her girlfriend who’s still blushing fire-engine red. “Well usually, Lawrence, you wear sexy underwear for your girlfriend on Valentine’s day. Not that you’d know.”

A’whora and Ellie let out a little whoop of shock in response to the shady comment, which neither Lawrence nor Tayce join in with. Tayce deigns to give it a little smirk, but knowing how Lawrence has been feeling for the past few weeks kind of removes the humour of the comment for her.

“Here, watch it. Only I’m allowed to make jokes about how single I am,” Lawrence herself narrows her eyes in response, before smiling tightly at the loved-up pair. “Anyway, have a lovely time, you two!”

“We will!” Veronica practically squeaks in delight, flicking some of her blonde hair over her shoulders as she loops her arm through Tia’s and they leave the flat, the front door clicking behind them. There’s a silence in Tayce’s room before Lawrence speaks again.

“Smug wee gits.”

The rest of the girls dissolve into giggles, Tayce whacking Lawrence on the arm. “Shut up, bitter Betty. Go make your bad hair choices.”

“Right, let’s go!” Ellie claps excitedly before reaching out for Lawrence’s hand. She of course accepts gladly, a hint of pink blush to her cheeks as she’s dragged out of the room by her enthusiastic friend.

The moment Tayce’s door shuts A’whora shimmies up next to her side, a little twinkle in her eye that Tayce knows all too well.

“Hey you,” she smiles, throwing an arm and a leg over Tayce in a full-body hug. Tayce laughs at her clinginess, how she remembers A’whora describing herself as “not much of a huggy person” when they first met in freshers’ week and now she’s the human embodiment of a baby koala.

“Stop flirting, God,” Tayce shoots back playfully, watching the affronted expression take hold on A’whora’s face for only a second before pulling her in for a kiss that A’whora instantly turns up the heat of. Her lips are soft but her kiss is full of a hunger that makes something inside Tayce tighten up, and there’s something about the way A’whora clearly wants her that leaves her feeling ever-so-slightly breathless.

“Right, that’s enough of that,” Tayce jokes as she pulls away, and A’whora’s plaintive pout is almost motivation enough to keep going. But Tayce has made a promise to Lawrence, so she doubles down. “C’mon, get ready. And wear something classy as well, we ain’t going to some scaff caff we could spend any old hungover morning in.”

“Wait, were you serious about brunch?” A’whora’s expression changes, her smile becoming almost shy. It’s ever-so-slightly adorable and completely endearing.

“Yeah, girl! I said to Lawrence I’d take you out so that her and Ellie can have some alone time. Get your shit sorted,” Tayce explains.

There’s shutters that go down behind A’whora’s eyes suddenly, and Tayce narrows her eyes, confused. “Unless you’re not keen?”

“No, of course I’m keen!” A’whora brightens up a little, smiles at Tayce mischievously. “If you’re taking me out, though, you’re paying.”

Tayce blurts out a laugh. “Fuck off! Fine, I’ll pay today. Just means you have to pay next time.”

“Oh there’s a next time, is there?”

A’whora’s batting her lashes at her flirtatiously, but her words have made Tayce’s heart do a little somersault. She supposes what they’re doing is a little bit like a date, and that’s not what their relationship is. They used to hang out like that, though, used to do things just the pair of them like go to the library and pretend to do work, go for lunch at Nandos, watch films together curled up in bed. In a way, Tayce supposes nothing has changed. It would be weird to not hang out just the two of them just because they’ve started hooking up.

So Tayce just returns the smile, casual and chill because that’s what they’ve agreed to be. “I gotta get paid back somehow, don’t I?”

“Could pay you back in other ways,” A’whora winks, and Tayce splutters in a giggle.

“Shut your whore mouth or we’ll never bloody leave the flat.”

They get ready after that, anticipative energy radiating through the wall of A’whora’s room. Tayce feels almost a little nervous. She doesn’t know why. It’s just a brunch, and it’s just A’whora. If she thinks about it, though, A’whora’s never been just A’whora. Tayce has always found an element of joy in spending time with her that she hasn’t ever felt with the others. The spark that goes off in her heart whenever A’whora laughs at one of her jokes, the comfort she takes in just being in the same room as her. The way Tayce has always looked forward to the time they get to spend alone together and the way that, since they started whatever the hell this is, that feeling has only intensified.

It feels more intense now than it ever has before, though. Maybe because it’s a little bit like a date. Maybe because it’s exactly like a date. Maybe because Tayce shouldn’t be this happy about that fact. Maybe the way she used to fancy A’whora- the way she used to just want to kiss her and get her in her bed- has evolved since they started this whole friends-with-benefits situation.

She takes a little deep breath, frowning at herself as she does her lipstick in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, girl,” she mutters under her breath; because really, what the hell kind of levels of freaked out would A’whora be if Tayce were to show or to tell her any of this? They’re just friends. Friends that hook up. Nothing more than that, and Tayce can’t let herself hope that hard either.

A’whora knocks on Tayce’s door just as she’s securing two gold hoops into her ears. She’s taken the wear something classy brief as seriously as Tayce knew she would, and she’s dressed in a short, black leather skirt and a black and white tailored shirt; one colour on each side, separated by buttons down the middle. Every little detail and accessory has been as thought out as an outfit from a fashion student could be: a pearl choker around her neck and a pearl headband through her intricately curled hair, simple silver earrings and a pink faux fur coat and the black Michael Kors bag that Tayce knows has been her pride and joy since she got it for Christmas. Her legs are bare and she’s wearing high black stilettos which make her legs look entirely too good, and in turn fill Tayce’s head with memories that she needs to push out of her head or else the outfit A’whora’s spent so long putting together is going to end up on the floor.

“Love this,” Tayce points at her approvingly, and A’whora’s smile is a little bashful as she gives a twirl. “You look stunning. I mean, you’ll be freezing. But you’ll be stunning and freezing.”

“Just means you can warm me up later,” A’whora winks at her, and Tayce hides a giggle behind her hand. She never used to get shy if a girl flirted with her, especially not one with the lack of flirting abilities that A’whora possesses. She could always give as good as she got, she still can.

Tayce doesn’t know, though. Something about the past month with A’whora has changed her a little now that their relationship is inherently more intimate. Tayce can drop the cool, calm and collected persona she always used to wear to get girls into bed. Instead she’s allowed herself to be a little more goofy, a little more wild and animated and energised. A little more herself.

“You look stunning too, though,” A’whora adds with sincerity, the little grin on her face only making matters worse. Tayce has decided on a white shirt dress she’s cinched in at the waist with a huge belt, and paired it with thigh high vinyl boots. It’s one of those outfits she owns which is low effort but high payoff, especially when A’whora’s got a little twinkle in her eye like that.

Tayce snorts, grabs her bag from the side of her bed and whacks A’whora with it. “Stop trying to flatter me into bed and let’s go, gorgeous.”

They leave the flat with a shout of goodbye to Ellie and Lawrence, but judging from the way the door’s open and the showerhead’s running and both girls are yelping and laughing in the midst of some water fight, they aren’t able to hear it. Tayce leads A’whora through the cobbled streets and winding, dipping roads of the city as she talks a mile-a-minute about where they’re going and how she hopes they’ll have a free table. She almost wants to reach out and take A’whora’s hand, entwine their fingers together like another piece of the puzzle they share clicking into place. She doesn’t, but she wants to.

She’s sure the feeling will pass, anyway.

She’s sure it’s normal for her heart to swell as much as it’s currently doing as she walks beside A’whora, for it to flutter like a moth to a light whenever she smiles and flashes her teeth. A’whora is beautiful, and Tayce is sure that even friends that didn’t fuck would get tongue-tied if one of them was as stunning as she is.

To her delight, the brunch spot she’d had in mind has a table free for them; one beside the feature wall of plastic pink, blue and yellow flowers which Tayce already knows A’whora will be asking to take her photo in front of. She’s never actually been here before but she’s seen pictures on Instagram of the pink painted walls and pastel blue chairs and the white marble tabletops with shiny gold cutlery on top. She’s eyed up the breakfasts; avocado sourdough, eggs with golden yolks, and something which they’ve branded ‘donut French toast’ which A’whora is currently telling Tayce how excited she is to order, her eyes sparkling. If this was a date, it would be the perfect venue.

It’s just a pity that it isn’t.

They order two mimosas with their breakfasts- because fuck it, it’s Valentine’s day, and Tayce wants to celebrate the fact she’s got someone to spend it with even if it is just a friend- and the two of them fall into easy chat about all kinds of topics; uni, their courses, life at home in Wales and Worksop. Dating somebody new comes with stilted conversations, awkward pauses, the potential to cover a touchy subject. With A’whora there’s none of that. They already know each other inside out so they don’t have anything to re-learn. Tayce tells A’whora stories about Cara and Cheryl and understands when A’whora doesn’t join in with stories about her own friends from home. Instead, A’whora brings up their flatmates.

“I get really existential about it all. Y’know, fate and stuff,” A’whora frowns across the table at her mid-conversation. “Like, what are the odds the five strangers I’d live with in first year would be people I all get on with and genuinely like? And most of them would become my best friends in the world. You know?”

Tayce nods understandingly. “No, I get that. And like, fate putting Ellie and Lawrence in the same flat when they’d known each other for that long. And Tia and Bimini on the same train up when they moved in. What a small world?”

“Everything happens for a reason,” A’whora says quietly, shaken out of her small reverie by the plate of sugar-covered toast that’s being placed in front of her and thanking the waitress politely. Tayce can’t help but splutter a laugh when they’re left alone together again, looking at how A’whora’s eyes have lit up at the food in front of her.

“You’re like a child! An actual child. Swear to God, girl, you’ve got the same eating habits as Will Ferrel in Elf.”

A’whora cackles a laugh opposite her. Tayce wonders why it gives her such a sense of pride when A’whora laughs at something she says. Well, no- she knows exactly why, and the reason makes her stomach flip over like clothes in a tumble drier. She can’t think too much about that, though, so she thinks of something else quickly to take her mind off it.

“Right. I’ve got a fun game. First impressions of the five of us, go,” Tayce says, the idea coming to her as a result of what A’whora’s said. In response A’whora’s eyebrows shoot up, a scheming smile on her face as she tilts her head to consider her response.

“Ooh, well…easiest one is Bimini, because obviously I loved them from the get go.”

“How could you not?” Tayce agrees, spearing a strawberry from the pancakes she’s ordered herself.

“They just had this calm, kind aura that just immediately made me feel loads better about being away from home,” A’whora continues, nodding earnestly. “Same with Lawrence, although she was different. I actually thought she was batshit crazy. Or like, an alien, because no one human could be that funny.”

Snorting, Tayce points a finger at A’whora in recognition. “Jesus, that’s so true! I mean I’ve told you the story of when I first got to the flat? I actually thought she might’ve been on something. But that’s just who she is; when she’s up she’s up and when she’s down she’s down.”

There’s a pause as A’whora eats some more of her French toast, her gaze fixing on the wall as she thinks. “Ellie was the opposite. I didn’t know what to make of her at first. She was dead quiet and I think my back was up because I hated her dress sense.”

Tayce splutters. “Of course it was.”

“But now, like…God, don’t you miss the days when Ellie was quiet?” A’whora laughs affectionately. “I don’t know what I’d do without her, though.”

“She seemed a little more reserved than the others at first. But then that comes back to what you were saying about fate, because Lawrence definitely helped bring her out of her shell a bit.”

A’whora nods as she considers Tayce’s words, then her face breaks into a smile and she hides a guilty laugh behind her hands. “Tia…I thought I would not get on with at all.”

Tayce sips her drink and shrugs. “Well, you didn’t get on with her at first.”

“True. She’s just not somebody I would’ve ever hung out with before. I mean she’s told me before she thinks I would’ve bullied her in school, which, to be fair, I might’ve done,” A’whora pulls a guilty face. “But I guess being somehow the only two bitches with the ability to clean the flat is one hell of a bonding opportunity.”

Tayce feels her jaw drop open, offended. “Hey! I clean the flat!”

A’whora smirks. “Oh what, you pour undiluted Zoflora into the overflowing bin bag so it doesn’t smell, instead of actually…I don’t know, taking the bin out? My mistake, sorry. You’re actually the second coming of Mrs Hinch.”

The pair of them giggle together and Tayce sticks out her tongue in response. She takes a bite of her own breakfast before thinking about the girl they’re considering.

“I thought Tia was nice. Fun. I never saw her becoming my bestie or anything, but you know,” Tayce shrugs.

“No, that title was reserved for me,” A’whora smiles smugly. Tayce decides to have a bit of fun with her, tilts her head and narrows her eyes a little.

“You mean Bimini?”

“Fuck off,” A’whora fires back instantly, and Tayce throws her head back in a laugh. The laughter dies down as both girls eat some more of their food, until Tayce frowns at A’whora suddenly.

“You never said me.”

“Oh!” A’whora realises. Tayce thinks for a second that she could be blushing, but the sun has begun to appear behind the clouds and the light is shining through the glass windows and hitting the pink walls. It could just be that.

She looks gorgeous for it regardless.

“Do you want me to go first?” Tayce smirks, breaking out into a laugh as A’whora gives her an unimpressed glare.

“No, because I already know you’re gonna tell me you thought I was a total weirdo.”

“Not true! I actually thought you were a lot like me. Scared, nervous, a bit emotional. Well,” Tayce reaches across the table and pokes her playfully. “Maybe a bit more emotional than I was, but you know.”

A’whora rolls her eyes. “Good.”

“But seriously, I thought we were actually quite similar, y’know, underneath it all,” Tayce says, her voice growing a little quiet as she thinks. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The first maybe…month of uni. Everyone’s figuring shit out and either building new facades or letting their old ones from school or their hometowns drop. It’s rare you find someone who’s just real from the get-go.”

A’whora nods. “I think that was another reason why I was so scared. Because I was one of the bitches in school, and coming here I didn’t have those toxic friendships around me anymore. And you coming into my room on that first day was like…the first time in a while someone had actually been nice? And kind? So I guess I didn’t have much of a choice to just be myself. But also there was a part of me that didn’t really know what that looked like. You know?”

The conversation’s taken a deep turn, and Tayce doesn’t really know why. It’s not a result of one singular mimosa, she knows that much. But she’s glad A’whora feels like she’s able to talk like this with her. She knows it’s not always easy for her to open up to her friends, she knows she’s been burned in the past.

So Tayce reaches out across the table and takes her hand. “Well, to me…Aurora is a caring, kind, loyal friend. She has the biggest heart and all this love to give to so many people. She’s a shady hound, but we all love her for it. And all her friends treasure her because they know how lucky they are to have her in their lives.”

Tayce can tell A’whora’s trying to stop herself from smiling, and her gaze drops down to the table bashfully as she tucks her hair behind her ears. It’s almost like she’s embarrassed, self-conscious of the way all the diamonds of her personality have been excavated and laid bare. For a second Tayce feels a flush hit her face, wondering if she’s overstepped a mark, but then A’whora’s eyes lock onto hers and she’s smiling gratefully.

“Thanks, Tayce.”

Tayce would love to take her other hand. Tayce would love to lean over the table and kiss her in front of everyone else in the room. Tayce would love to tell A’whora everything she’s feeling, all these little moments and emotions illustrating a bigger picture that Tayce just wants her to colour in.

But they’re friends. So Tayce gives A’whora’s hand one last squeeze and winks at her as she draws her hand away.

“You’re welcome. Slag.”

And then they’re smiling at each other, and the conversation moves on. A’whora never did say what her first impressions of Tayce were, and it’s too late to ask her again. Tayce supposes it doesn’t really matter all that much. She’s more interested in how A’whora feels about her now. For example- does she feel the same way Tayce is feeling? Is she sitting opposite her trying to stop her heart jumping every time she smiles, trying to stop the butterflies fluttering in her stomach? Tayce is an upfront, honest girl. She’s blunt, and normally she’d ask.

But this situation isn’t normal, and something’s stopping her. Tayce always used to be the girl in primary school who’d play with the boys, run around the playground roaring until her lungs were hoarse pretending to be a tiger or a dragon, roll across the dusty tarmac getting her knees scraped and dirty. One thing she always, always used to pride herself on was her fearlessness. She’d puff up her chest before the flu vaccines, the dentist, any remotely fearful situation and hit out with “I’m not scared of anything”.

Why is she so scared now? Because she’s older, and life’s big worries are no longer a needle or a tiny mirror in her mouth. She’s not afraid of anything physical, things she can see; it’s the things she doesn’t know, the things she can’t work out that scare her so much. The thought of telling A’whora that what she feels for her might not be strictly friendship any longer gives her an adrenaline rush worse than any rollercoaster she’s been on, and it’s not entirely a good kind either.

The waitress appears to clear their plates and Tayce slaps her card down against the little metal tray ready to be tapped against the reader to pay the bill, just like she’d promised. It’s funny, though, that A’whora’s lost all her gumption now the time has actually come for Tayce to follow through on her promise, and as the waitress reappears A’whora is protesting wildly.

“You honestly don’t have to pay. I was just joking!”

Tayce laughs incredulously. “Oh that was a joke, was it? Seemed like a legally binding contract when we were at the flat!”

“Shut up, hound,” A’whora sticks her tongue between her teeth as she smiles cheekily.

The waitress hands her card back to Tayce and she keeps talking as she puts it away in her purse. “Well, don’t feel bad. As I said, the next one’s on you.”

As A’whora raises her eyebrows, the waitress fixes them with a cheery smile. “Thanks so much for popping in today, ladies, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day! Is this your first one together?”

Tayce chokes a little on nothing, tries to stop her eyes from flying wide open. She doesn’t dare meet A’whora’s eye as she shakes her head. “No, uh, we’re-”

“Aw, I knew it couldn’t have been your first, I could totally tell you’d been together way longer! Well may I say, you make a lovely couple,” she continues breezily, Tayce finally meeting A’whora’s gaze and trying not to laugh. The waitress thanks them once more before disappearing, and the two girls are left in a small bubble of silence before A’whora releases her giggles, Tayce putting her hands up to her burning hot cheeks.

“Jesus, Mary and Nora, what the hell was that? The Spanish Inquisition?” Tayce babbles, and A’whora doubles over opposite her.

“Well it is Valentine’s day, Tayce. It’s not that wild to assume two good-looking girls like us with such obvious chemistry are head-over-heels in love with each other,” A’whora winks. Tayce feels her heart do a backflip at the mention of that word, and she’s got about a split-second to cover up the fact her whole body’s been rocked by a ten on the richter scale.

Just continue the joke.

“Oh, yeah. Long-term relationship, married, house, kids. The babas.”

A’whora splutters a laugh, gestures around her. “Except we don’t know where the little shits are!”

The two of them are in fits again, and for a moment Tayce could pretend that it is all real, that maybe in a different world this is a date, and they are together, and everything’s as simple as it was when she was little and not even scared of the dark.

They stumble back to the flat together all fizzy with anticipation, drunk off of one mimosa each and sheer excitable lust. The pair of them keep the joke going all the way home- they have a semi-detached house in the suburbs, their children are named Tarquin and Edith and they attend private school and go to hockey and rugby clubs, they have a live-in cleaner, they do their weekly shop at Waitrose- both of them making the story more fantastical and ridiculous with every new addition that by the time they arrive back at the flat Tayce’s stomach hurts from laughing and A’whora’s bottom lashes are smudged with mascara from her own tears of mirth.

Tayce shushes her as she turns the key in the lock of their front door, hiding her own giggles and pressing a finger to A’whora’s lips playfully. A’whora responds by opening her mouth and snapping like a crocodile, only serving to set Tayce off again as she takes her hand and opens the door, sneaking through it comically like a Scooby Doo character as they hang up their coats in the hall. Luckily, though, they don’t even need to be quiet. There’s a blast of a hairdryer from Ellie’s room which mingles with the sounds of Katy Perry behind the door, and two sets of screeching laughs that cut through the combination. Maybe Tayce and Lawrence’s plan is actually working.

Tayce feels a familiar flutter in her stomach as she pulls A���whora into her room, her anticipation building. When she closes the door she whips round to find A’whora has already dumped her bag on Tayce’s floor and is sitting on the edge of Tayce’s bed, frantically trying to unbuckle her heels. They don’t even need to discuss what’s to come. They both know it’s all the other has been able to think about all morning.

Tayce unzips her boots and sits beside A’whora, resting a hand on her bare thigh. She traces her fingers over her skin gently and presses a kiss against her neck, her heart thumping as she hears A’whora sigh gently in response.

Tayce brings her lips up against her ear as she whispers. “I think you should keep them on.”

“Fuck,” A’whora hisses, her reaction so visceral despite Tayce not really having done anything at all yet.

True to form, A’whora swivels her head around to meet Tayce’s, cups her jaw and brings their lips together in a kiss that’s eager and frantic. She can hear her breathing- heavy and laboured and shuddery as her hands push into her hair, her fingers wrapping around little sections and pulling gently in a way that makes Tayce pull back to hiss through her teeth, dig her nails into A’whora’s inner thigh in stark contrast to the way she’s been gently teasing her.

“Behave,” Tayce warns.

“You know I can’t,” A’whora murmurs, cocking an eyebrow in response. She’s got Tayce’s dark lipstick painting her own lips now and it looks too good, makes Tayce squeeze her thighs together when she thinks about the lipstick marks she wants to leave all over her bare skin.

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t behave, princess,” Tayce responds, inching her hand up her thigh and stopping just short of where she knows A’whora wants her to. She wants it too, though. She wants to brush her fingers over the material of her underwear, feel how wet she probably already is. But not giving A’whora what she wants is just as fun as satisfying her, if only to see her being reduced to liquid form in front of her, full of frustration.

“Please, Tayce,” A’whora pulls her in again, pressing kisses to her lips between snatches of sentences. “Want it so much, fuck.”

“Already? So impatient,” Tayce runs her thumb over her soft skin again. She’s burning up too but she’s not going to lose her own composure, not when the payoff of staying in control is so good. “You gonna be good for me, angel?”

“Mm-hm,” A’whora pouts against her lips. Tayce pulls away and the sight of A’whora’s half-lidded eyes with her pupils blown from lust isn’t helping her keep a handle on the situation at all.

She gently pushes A’whora back against the mattress, straddles her whilst unbuttoning her shirt and punctuating each button with a featherlight kiss, which she knows is driving A’whora out of her mind if the way she’s squirming underneath Tayce is anything to go by. A’whora’s scrabbling at the buttons on Tayce’s dress but she doesn’t have the patience or presence of mind that she does, and Tayce almost wants to giggle at the way she’s only done two buttons by the time Tayce has got her out of her shirt.

“Fuck’s sake, why did we both choose to wear things with so many fucking buttons,” A’whora growls quietly in frustration. Before Tayce knows what’s happening, A’whora has grabbed each seam and pulled, ripping the buttons of her dress off to expose Tayce in her own bra with the criss-cross straps at the back.

A’whora’s staring at her slack-jawed and Tayce can only blink at her in response. She can’t decide if A’whora ruining her dress has pissed her off or turned her on.

It’s definitely turned her on.

“Oh, you’re in a whole world of trouble for that, missy,” she narrows her eyes, pulling the rest of her dress off before moving so she can tug down A’whora’s skirt. She’s left in a matching set of red lace which she looks so sinful in that Tayce’s brain hotwires. Judging from the way A’whora’s hips are bucking against thin air, though, she’s not the only one that’s wound up.

“Jesus, Rory, lie still,” Tayce insists through a laugh. “I’m not about to try and eat you out and get a bloody pelvic bone to the face!”

A’whora whines, and Tayce watches her chest rise and fall rapidly as she stares up to the ceiling in a petulant huff. Her pout cracks, though, when Tayce spreads her legs and kneels between them, replacing her fingers with her lips as she kisses all the way up the inside of her thighs. The way A’whora huffs in frustration and grips the duvet with white knuckles makes Tayce’s core throb, and the need to touch herself is clouding her thoughts like smoke.

She already feels like she’s on fire, so she supposes it’s apt.

So Tayce decides to have a little fun, pulls back from A’whora and sits on her heels as she lets a hand flutter across her stomach and under the waistband of her underwear. She’s not going to take it too far- she’s only trying to teach A’whora a lesson- but as she brushes her fingers over her clit Tayce can’t help but give a little gasp, the satisfaction flooding through her.

The way A’whora flinches in horror and disappointment as she sits up and realises what’s happening makes Tayce feel momentarily sorry for her.

“Tayce!” she whines pitifully. “Fuck off, that’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, princess,” Tayce smirks, resting her other hand on her thigh.

“Oh my God, you’re such a bitch,” A’whora pouts at her. She knows A’whora could very easily start touching herself too, but Tayce knows she won’t. Tayce knows she only wants her, and that thought is so intoxicating that it knocks her for six a little, turning up the heat from a simmer to boiling point.

“If you want something from me, you’d better start being nicer.”

A’whora sits up and takes Tayce by the hand, pulls her into a kiss that’s so intense and full of lust it almost topples her over. When she pulls back her eyes are so big and pleading that Tayce feels bad for ever teasing her in the first place. “Please, Tayce. You know I’ll be good for you.”

Tayce cocks an eyebrow at her, but she moves her hand and rests it against A’whora’s other thigh anyway. “That’s the best begging you can manage, is it?”

A’whora smirks. “I’m not used to begging, I usually don’t have much of a problem getting what I want.”

Tayce shakes her head, mocking her as she gently pushes her back against the sheets again. “Such a spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat, though,” A’whora grins smugly, cutting herself off with a gasp as Tayce hooks her fingers over the waistband of her underwear and tugs it off.

Tayce knows she’s going to eat her out but seeing how wet A’whora is makes her consider fucking her with her fingers. It’s a tantalising thought; the way A’whora always has to clamp a hand over her mouth to shut herself up because her moans get too loud, the complete lack of self-control she has when she rides Tayce’s fingers and the way she’ll guide them into her mouth and suck her own juice off them afterwards- Jesus fucking Christ. Tayce needs some sort of release soon or she’s going to be too overwhelmed to speak.

She wants to hear A’whora beg just a little bit more, though. Wants to feel her squirm and taste her on her tongue and trace patterns over her clit that make her whimper and tremble. So she kisses up her thighs again but this time she doesn’t waste any time in brushing over her clit with her tongue, the broken whine A’whora gives at the contact sounding completely illegal. A’whora pushes a hand into Tayce’s hair needily, and Tayce can hear her breathing coming in short gasps as she licks over her slit, swirls her tongue over her clit in a way she knows is good but isn’t what A’whora wants. Tayce is being deliberately slow and lazy, everything A’whora doesn’t need.

“Tayce, please,” A’whora pleads. Tayce kisses against her, then makes a big show of licking A’whora’s juice off her lips. From the way A’whora squeezes her eyes shut at the sight, it’s had the desired reaction.

“What is it, baby?” she murmurs lightly. A’whora gives a broken sob, thuds her head back against the pillow.

“Please, fucking…I need to come, I’m gonna fucking die if I don’t.”

Tayce can’t help but splutter a laugh, one which makes A’whora narrow her eyes at her. She supposes she’s had her fun.

“God, well we can’t have that on the post-mortem, can we?” she deadpans, before dipping her head back between A’whora’s legs and running her tongue over her clit like she’d done before, only this time she allows herself to be a little more messy and unrestrained. She’s rewarded by the little gasps A’whora gives, the whining and the moaning that’s getting more and more frequent with every flick of her tongue.

Tayce pulls away a little, brings her head up to look at A’whora. She’s got one hand in the cup of her bra and the other limp by her side, her chest gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes are closed and her cheeks are red and her lips have dropped open, her breathing heavy and rapid.

A’whora’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and fuck, Tayce is so screwed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she says without thinking. She doesn’t know if she imagines it, but she swears A’whora’s cheeks grow redder.

“Does it feel good?” Tayce follows up her words, asks what she’d meant to ask in the first place.

A’whora bites her lip and nods her head. “Yeah.”

“You like it?”

“Fuck, yes,” A’whora squirms against the sheets, her frustration starting to show.

“Tell me how much.”

“Tayce, please-”

“Come on, princess. You’re being such a good girl using your words,” Tayce purrs, knowing that the praise will get a reaction out of her.

It does.

“Fuck, feels so good Tayce, so, so, fucking good…please don’t stop, please,” A’whora sighs out, then instantly cuts herself off with a cry as Tayce swipes her tongue over her clit again, gives her what she wants.

“Such a good angel baby,” Tayce murmurs against her, tracing over A’whora’s clit in circles and listening to her whimpers get more and more muffled as she bites down on her lip to shut herself up. She’s so desperate that she’s practically riding Tayce’s face at this point and it’s so hot that Tayce has to move a hand between her own legs, grinding against it as she licks A’whora again and again and surely she must be so close to the edge that-

Knock-knock-knock.

Tayce launches her head back from between A’whora’s legs so fast she thinks she’s given herself whiplash. When she locks eyes with A’whora her eyes are wide open too, the pair of them unable to do anything but look at each other, frozen in panic.

When Ellie’s voice comes, Tayce swears she’s never been closer to committing homicide. “Tayce, A’whora! We did Lawrence’s hair, you should see it!”

“Leave it, don’t answer,” A’whora hisses frantically at her. Tayce wouldn’t even be able to reply if she wanted to, the way the blood is racing in her veins and roaring in her ears rendering her motionless.

“We know you’re in, your coats are in the hall!” Lawrence’s voice comes, louder and with a hint of accusation to it.

Shit.

Tayce launches herself off the bed and throws A’whora’s clothes at her frantically as she shouts back. “Just…give us one minute!”

“The fuck are you doing in there that you need a minute?”

Tayce ignores her, trying to calmly turn her dress the right way round but it’s so inside out and jumbled up that it’s rendering the process a lot trickier than she needs it to be right now. A’whora’s in a worse situation, though- she’s got every button on her shirt to button up, and if she wasn’t able to unbutton Tayce’s shirt when she was horny she’s sure as hell unable to button her own up under pressure.

“Where the fuck is my thong? Where did you put it?” A’whora hisses at her, scrambling at the duvet in desperation. Tayce’s eyes dart round her floor, cursing herself for not having an immaculately tidy room like A’whora’s. With a sigh of relief she finds it sitting on top of a floordrobe pile and she snatches it up and throws it to A’whora quickly. She turns her attention back to her dress and can almost feel a stress headache growing at her temples. Why won’t the fucking thing turn the right way-

“Have we to stand out here all day like a pair of lemons?”

“Give us a bloody minute, Jesus!” Tayce yells back, feeling like punching the air as she finally sorts her dress out. Her blood runs cold, however, as she makes to tug it over her head and Lawrence’s voice comes again.

“For fuck’s sake, girls, I’m sure it’s not that bad, we’ve seen each other in worse states.”

The doorhandle moves and A’whora and Tayce both yell in tandem. “Nonononono!”

The door bursts open, Tayce is standing holding her unbuttoned dress in her bra and pants, A’whora’s on the bed in her thong and half a buttoned up shirt, and there’s Ellie and Lawrence in the doorway with their eyes wide and jaws slack. Lawrence, in all her freshly lilac-dyed glory, is the first to turn around, pushing against Ellie frantically as she tries to exit the room as quickly as she came in. As she’s leaving, Tayce hears the start of her sentence.

“What possible heterosexual explanation could there fuckin’ be-”

Tayce can only look at A’whora, whose head is in her hands in embarrassment. Her heart goes out to her and she crosses the room and sits beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her knee to comfort her.

“Well. They know.”

“And so will the whole flat in about five minutes’ time,” A’whora deadpans into her hands. When she pulls her head back her face is beetroot red, and even though Tayce is embarrassed too she can’t help but laugh at the state her friend is in.

“Fuck’s sake,” Tayce shakes her head as she giggles, resigned to the fact their secret is out. There’s a pause of silence before A’whora frowns.

“I’m sorry.”

Tayce frowns back at her affectionately. “What’re you apologising for! It’s not like it was either of our faults.”

There’s a silence again in which A’whora brings her knees up to her chest and hugs them.

“Do you still want to…you know. Do you still want to keep doing all this? Now they know.”

Tayce nods quickly. A thought occurs to her and she frowns. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No! No, I still do,” A’whora insists, a shy smile growing on her face that lifts Tayce’s hopes a bit.

Tayce pokes A’whora’s arm, slyly grins in realisation. “Well. Guess if the whole flat knows then there’s no real reason to be quiet from now on, is there?”

When A’whora meets her eyes there’s a spark between them, and when they fall against the mattress together in a kiss then Tayce thinks maybe the others knowing about the pair of them won’t matter a single bit.

As long as they get to keep doing this together.

[anon-rebel-writes]

Of Pink Fairies and Teenage Boys - 2

Hi everyone! I hope your day has been going well!

The second chapter is finally here! I’m really sorry for the long wait! I found myself writing the future chapters instead of the chapter that I needed to upload XD

This part is a bit shorter than what I wanted it to be, but I still like it! I hope you enjoy it too!

It begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft humming pulled Luka out of his sleep. He turned his head towards the sound and saw Marinette floating around, cleaning and tidying his room. Marinette, the fairy girl, because his life totally needed more chaos than normal.

She must’ve heard him shuffling around because she whipped her head to him and flew up to his face. “Good morning, Monsieur Couffaine! How was your rest?” Luka managed to sit straight and wiped his face quickly to help wake himself up. Usually he would wake up with his back feeling strained, but surprisingly he felt pretty good.

Well maybe not surprisingly, Marinette probably had something to do with his relaxed body, seeing as her magic is what made him fall asleep. But he couldn’t help feeling bad about it all, this poor girl was using her magic on him. Suddenly his mind filled with cloudy thoughts, he was supposed to help people, not the other way around.

Taking a deep breath, he plastered a smile on his face for her. “It was great! I’m feeling a lot better now. I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already have, so you can leave if you need to.” Marinette gave him a big pout for her little body, her hands landed on her hips as she glared at him.

“Monsieur Couffaine, I’m not leaving you. I can feel how unhappy you still are. Fairies can detect emotions very easily, especially human emotions, you’re all so transparent with your feelings.” His facade disappeared and he ran his hands through his hair. “Right. Sorry, I just don’t like bothering people,” he looked down at his lap and let his hands play with the fraying hem of his shirt.

With his head down, he couldn’t see her pout disappearing and a sympathetic look took over. Before she could give him encouraging words, loud groaning came from the other side of the divider. Luka’s eyes flew wide open and he tried to grab Marinette to hide her. “Miss Fairy! You have to hide!” The divider flew wide open and a very dazed Juleka appeared, “What did you just call me?”

Her sluggish eyes pierced through him as she scowled, “I’d be offended, but I’m honestly way too tired to care about it.” Luka’s eyes flew to Marinette but she set a finger on her lips and winked. He stared at her a little longer before Juleka walked over to him and the tiny fairy fazed through her body. “Dude, are you good? You’re acting weirder than usual, and you’re usually pretty weird,” Juleka squinted and leaned towards him. “You seem off.”

This was crazy. Yesterday Luka learned that fairies were real, now his fairy (his fairy, wow that sounds insane) could faze through people? And Juleka couldn’t see her? Maybe this was a dream and Marinette wasn’t even real. While a huge part of Luka wanted to scream from the utter chaos that was running through his mind, a tiny part of him was hurt.

He’s been off for a while, didn’t she notice that before? He tried to push the bad thoughts out of his mind and faked a smile for her. “Sorry, Jules. I just had a weird dream. Don’t worry about me, okay?” Although Juleka didn’t seem convinced, she also appeared too tired to argue.

She scanned him over one last time before shuffling out of the room. Once they were sure she was gone, Marinette popped in front of Luka. The bright smile on her face completely contrasted Luka’s disoriented expression. “Yeah, uh, what was that?! She can’t see you?! Are you even real?”

Marinette rolled her eyes playfully at him and sat on his shoulder. “You’re not crazy, Monsieur Couffaine. I’m hiding myself from other humans for my own safety.”

Luka narrowed his eyes at her and lifted a hand to catch her. She moved into his palm and he brought her to his face. “Hey, why do Fairies wanna help humans anyways? Didn’t you say humans were known to attack you or something?” Marinette sighed and began running her hands along the lines of his hands.

“Fairies get our magic from emotions. Human emotions are strong and powerful, so we come here to feed off of them. Negative emotions happen to be the strongest, so we come by whenever humans feel depressed. It’s a symbiotic relationship! We get the magic so we can stay alive and healthy, and you end up feeling better!”

“So if you take my negative emotions, I don’t have to feel sad again?” Luka sat back down on the bed and let her lay on his lap. He was beginning to understand the situation. She shuffled to get a better seat, “No, we don’t take the emotions away. Just- oh! Think of it as a pond with lily pads!”

And he was lost again. “Your emotions are the water, and the lily pads are the magic you give off. You’re a fish living in the water who can’t use the lily pads. So we fairies take them off the water and it helps bring light into the pond. Make sense?”

“Other than the fact that you compared me to a fish? Absolutely.”

Marinette giggled and flew out of his lap. He watched as she dove into his dresser and pulled out a pre-planned outfit for him. It was a simple t-shirt, one of the few ones he had that hadn’t been ripped, and some simple blue jeans. Luka lifted an eyebrow at her, a smirk tugged at his mouth. “You’re planning my outfits too? A fairy who loves fabric and plans outfits.”

Marinette’s face lit up and she threw the outfit at him, moving to sit down on his amp. “Looking good means feeling good! I don’t know if you could tell, but I always look good.” She pressed her hands together and gave him a little pout, “Please trust me, Monsieur Couffaine? I think the outfit looks nice...”

Her pout made his stomach do weird flips. He sighed and laid the clothes on the bed next to him. “You can call me Luka, y’know. ‘Monsieur Couffaine’ is way too fancy for me- and please don’t say that ‘Sounding Nice means Being Nice’ because I promise you, I’ll find a way to make it awkward.”

She gently shook her head and waved her hand at him. “Fine, ‘Luka’. I’ll call you whatever you want. But I’m still trying to get a feel for you, so if you don’t like the outfit, we can find something better later, okay?”

While he knew he would like it, considering how simple of an outfit it was, he still was thankful she was willing to be patient with him. He finally stood up and began fiddling with his shirt. “Just - um - Look away please?”

Marinette quickly nodded and fazed through the wall to give him privacy. But Luka was sure that her glow seemed a little brighter than normal, although it could’ve just been his imagination. Honestly after finding out that fairies were actual creatures, he wasn’t sure what was real anymore. He was still doubting Marinette’s existence.

After changing and letting Marinette inspect the outfit to make sure it was perfect, he quickly waved goodbye to Juleka and began to head out the boat. The fairy sat on his shoulder to keep up with him.

“So where are we going next? Oh, let me guess! School, right? I’ve heard about human schools. They seem so fun! I’ve always wanted to go into a school and pretend to be a human! ‘Hello my learner-person. I am a human girl, Marinette! Give me my learning please!’ How was that?! Convincing?” She was so enthusiastic about school, honestly it made him feel a little bad that he wasn’t going there.

“Very convincing. With a little more practice, you could...totally pass for a human?”

The way she wiggled her feet in delight made his cheeks burn. He couldn’t help but imagine her reactions to other human things, everything about her was so cute. “Thank you! But I don’t think I could ever actually be a human, being a fairy is way better. I’ll leave the humaning to the humans.”

They shared a small laugh before he began riding his bike to pick up his deliveries for the day. “But um- We’re not going to school. It’s the summer, school is out. I’m actually going to my job.” She hummed an acknowledgement as she held tightly to his shirt.

After collecting his first round of pizzas, he decided to let her sit in his basket. They rode in silence for a while, with the occasional gasp and excited shriek coming from Marinette as they passed some interesting humans.

“So...how long are you supposed to be with me? Not that I mind- I mean, you’re cute- Or uh, fun. Sorry, I never usually stutter like this. Not that there’s anything wrong with stuttering- wow I suck at words…” Marinette looked up at him and gave him an easygoing smile, which used to be his thing but clearly life has been against him lately.

“Well that kind of depends on you? However long it takes you to become happy, that’s how long I’ll be around. Hey, speaking of happiness and jobs and happiness for jobs, how does your job make you feel?”

Luka looked at the basket filled pizzas and the little fairy. While she was adorable, it was clear she wasn’t much better with words than he was, which comforted him a bit. Luka obviously wasn’t a huge fan of deliveries, but he needed the money. More specifically, his family needed the money. “I mean... it’s a job. I don’t think anyone’s job makes them happy. Especially not when they’re my age, most people would rather never work again, right?”

The fairy stared at the sidewalk they rode on. She seemed stuck on contemplating his question, her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes seemed distant. “Yeah, I guess so.” Luka wanted to ask what she meant, but they reached his first delivery, a simple apartment complex. He grabbed the order and let Marinette sit on his shoulder.

Walking to the specific apartment, she stared at everything they passed in awe. She made small comments on a few people they passed and a few pictures they saw on the wall. As they got to the specific flat, they waited for the person to open the door.

“So what're your career goals?”

Luka looked at the girl and raised an eyebrow. “You’re still thinking about that?” Her eyes brightened and she quickly nodded her head. “Of course! I’m very interested in you! I mean- not interested! I am! But in a professional way! Not in a weird romantic way! Oh gosh, imagine! It’d be another Adrien situation-!” Marinette covered her mouth as she realized what she said.

His brain felt like it shut down. Interested? In me? He tried to shake away those thoughts and focused on something else she said, “Adrien situation? What’s that?”

Before the fairy could answer, the door swung open. After a quick exchange of pizza and money, they made their way back down the apartment building. “So… how about those career goals?” Luka looked at Marinette and saw she was obviously trying to avoid the previous topic.

“Well...I’m really curious about the Adrien situation. If you can’t talk about it, I understand, but I would love to know?”

Marinette grew quiet for a bit. He grew nervous that he overstepped his place. “Sorry-” “He was my friend.”

Luka sat her back down in his basket as he began riding down the sidewalk. “Friend?” She looked up at him then moved her gaze to the path ahead of them. “Well, he was more than my friend. I...might’ve had a huge crush on him...”

Fairies having crushes was definitely a strange concept, but he supposed that it made sense. Since their magic had a lot to do with emotions, it seemed reasonable that they felt love too. Although for some strange reason, his heart felt like it was tightening.

“He never felt the same way. Which was fine! I didn’t mind. But he ended up falling in love with a human girl, I think her name was Kagami? He was so...in love.” Her demeanor turned bleak as her glow dimmed. Luka was about to stop her before she started weakly laughing. “That’s okay though! I’m happy for him, really. But because she was a human, that meant he couldn’t be with her. So he gave up his powers to live in the mortal world.”

Luka made his way to the next stop, a small, cosy house. He stopped his bike and waited in front of the residence while she talked. “You can do that? Fairies can just...give up their powers? Can you get them back?” Marinette shook her head. She quickly looked around and noticed that they already made it to their next destination. “But that’s fine! Like I said, I’m happy for him! Come on, Monsieur- I mean- Luka. We should continue your job! Then you can tell me more about yourself!”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and began moving the pizzas to get this next delivery. “Y’know, I may not be a fairy and magical like you, but I’ve heard that I’m a good listener. If you ever wanted to talk- Or not, I mean you don’t have to.” His hands felt a bit clammy. Why was he feeling so strange? His chest felt like it was being pushed down, was it her magic?

Marinette flew up to his face and gave him a sweet smile. “Luka, it’s my job to make you happy. Not the other way around. Come on, let’s go! I wanna get all your sad juices outta ya!”

She flew ahead of him towards the door, completely ignoring how her words made his face change colors drastically.

The rest of the day went fairly normally, aside from a few strange stares from people they passed by. This confused Luka until he remembered that he was the only one who could see the tiny floating girl in his basket. By the time they got home, the sun was starting to set. He made his way into his cabin, seeing as his mom and sister weren’t home yet.

Once they entered his room, Marinette flew into her hoodie/bed and stretched as she snuggled into it. “Today was fun, I love learning about humans… especially about you. Your life is so fun…” Her words slowed as her glow dimmed. She seemed to be falling asleep already.

Luka rolled his eyes at her playfully before laying down on his bed himself. “Yeah, I love having you around. Having a fairy friend is pretty cool. It’s nice having someone to talk to.” Her eyes opened slightly as a lazy smile took over her face. “Fairy friend?”

He chuckled at her and pulled the hoodie a little more over her body. “Yeah, Fairy Friend.”

[wolf-heart1197]

MASS EFFECT DS9 CROSSOVER PLEASE SHARE SOME THOUGHTS

You have. Opened a can of worms, friend.

WELL.

Ok so as far as set up i was picturing like. Wormhole/space magic shenanigans bringing the Normandy to DS9, set somewhere during that little window after Shep and Co. return from the Suicide Mission at the end of 2, but before Shep turns themself in to the Alliance.

The Normandy, badly damaged, limping up to this mysterious space station theyve never seen or heard of before, don't even recognize the outline or architecture, but hey at least they seem to be friendly? And they're offering to help fix our ship and get us back where we need to be so I guess they aren't all bad?

So then Shep and crew are stranded on DS9 for at LEAST a couple weeks while they try to get the Normandy fixed up, and allllll the shenanigans the respective crews get into, especially once they start interacting with each other

-There's the obvious of course, Shepard and Sisko would get along fantastically, I think. Both the leaders of crews of mixed bags, sometimes trying to get them to work together is like herding cats. Strong cats with guns and opinions, but at the end of the day they really are kind of a family, aren't they?

-Both are able to understand what was supposed to be one (relatively) simple mission turning into way more lives at stake than they signed up for (Shep with. Well. The entire events of the trilogy, but then Sisko too. Bring Bajor into the Federation. Thats it, that was the mission, but suddenly we're at war with a frankly stronger superpower from another quadrant and suddenly one station is supposed to be the head of it all? The pressure. The lives at stake if they fail. Yeah.)

As for the rest of the crew:

-The next obvious, I think, would Grunt and Worf. Very different methods and cultures, obviously. I'm not saying they'd necessarily GET ALONG even, but there'd be a mutual respect there, I think. Both coming from warrior races, fighting is in their blood, its what they know. And theyre both outsiders to their own culture, being raised primarily if not exclusively by Someone Else, having to fight for their right to have a place amongst their own people. There's a shared strength in that.

-Mordin and Garak, and their shared past as spies. Garak's penchant for lying with every other word out of his mouth vs Mordin's tendency to only say about half of the words in his sentences, each trying to weasel the truth out of the other. Each at the very least recognizing that theyve done horrible things in their past, but not necessarily having regrets for them. Well, no regrets they're willing to admit to.

-BUT THEN ALSO Mordin and Jadzia, really just. Best Science Bros. Mordin can be extremely focused, which I think might turn Jadzia off of him at first, up until she catches him singing under his breath while he works. And once their discussions start trending more towards the importance of art and culture alongside scientific advancement is when they really start to shine together. Also I think Mordin would be absolutely FASCINATED by the Trill, the symbiotic relationship and the symbiont carrying memories across hosts, how the symbionts and hosts merge, etc. Nothing like that really exists in the ME universe

-Julian and Dr. Chakwas could talk some about medicine, certainly, barring nothing else about the differences in their respective medical technology. But I think ultimately she would get tired of his attitude, and he would decide she didn't really have anything new to teach him.

-Julian, I think, would be much more interested in spending time with EDI and Legion. I mean, consider how he was in the one TNG episode, when he got to meet Data? He would be over the moon especially for a chance to study legion. The Geth Collective is genuinely an interesting idea, and I think he would be fascinated by the varrying levels of simulated intelligence, but without individuality. EDI would be an interesting study, because this would be before she got the mech body, so she would still for all intents and purposes "be" the Normandy. A ship as a living entity? With emotional attachment to the crew inside? Absolutely fascinating. And if it were a bit alter on that this happens? She has wants! And fears! Absolutely fascinating!

-Dr. Chakwas, on the other hand, would probably end up spending her time with Keiko O'Brien. Swapping stories about their times being forced to be on the relative sidelines, having to watch all the horrible things their loved ones are constantly dealing with and only being able to do so much. Keiko's exasperation with Miles and Chakwas' with Joker. (And Shepard). Plus really i just like to imagine them having tea together ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-Kira Thane and Mordin I can picture spending hours upon hours deep in discussion, about ethics and morality and religion, and how the hell you're supposed to reconcile it all when you have so much darkness in your past.

-Kira and Thane, especially, have a lot to talk about. Kira fighting in the resistance her whole life vs Thane being raised as a living weapon, both deeply spiritual and refusing to believe that their respective peaces are denied to them, that they can still find their own redemption and make up for their pasts.

-Joker would spend a lot of time trying to avoid Julian, who I think would be very insistent on wanting to study his Vrolik's syndrome, and possibly trying to cure it. Joker really Does Not Like Him.

-Tali would inevitably spend a lot of time together with Miles, because assumedly they'd be working on fixing the Normandy together (when Miles isnt busy trying to fix one of DS9's 50 million other problems). I don't know that they'd honestly have much in common aside from engineering-related stuff, but they're both geniuses in their respective versions of their fields and comparing the 2 universe's technologies alone could take more discussion time than they would have.

-I don't think Jack would. Actually try to get along with anyone. I see her spending the vast majority if her time camping out in a holosuite trying to program it to let her kill simulations of everyone she's pissed at.

-Miranda and Julian. The two genetically engineered kids. Yeah there'd be a lot to talk about there. Parent drama? Feeling like you have something to prove?? Trying to find the "you" underneath the genetic tampering??? Yeah they'd get along.

-Ok hear me out on this but. I really think Garrus and Garak would end up having a lot in common. I mean, think about it: Cardassian military/goverment/cultural structure compared to the Turians? Love of state above all else, everything is for the State (but then family above even that). And on a more personal level? Getting into a profession, a LIFE, to impress your father and then it still isn't good enough, nothing will ever be good enough, so you keep trying and going to more and more extremes to be good enough and still nothing matters. And you haven't given up on your people, no, never, but they sure have seemed to give up on you, in a way, haven't they? Exiled (Garak), ignored at every turn (Garrus), but hey, here's this one human at least that'll listen to you, and maybe even help you where others won't, so maybe things aren't all bad? Garak lies through his teeth at every turn, Garrus knows this, but he knows where to pick up the specs of truth, too.

-Jacob, bless his soul, gets roped into "babysitting" Jake and Nog. Jake distracts him by taking advantage of his chill exterior, just long enough for Nog to set off chaos halfway across the station. Cue montage of Jacob chasing the boys up and down the Promenade.

...that's all I got I am. Definitely willing to discuss more/get add-ons to this/hear other people's ideas!!!

Man this got long ajxhahavxhs

[discnchant]

Despite coming from another realm entirely, there were some faeries which preferred to make Auradon their permanent home, a concept that Sevastyan Petit found to be quite weird. Sure, the more time he spent in Auradon, the more he understood its charm and draw, but overall he found it wanting in comparison to the home land of the faeries. He didn’t understand how someone could trade a magical world of such splendor for the far more dull and mundane Auradon, their chocolate confections aside. But no matter what he thought, it was becoming more and more popular for some of his people to build forever homes and form symbiotic relationships with the people of Auradon. One such well known solitary faerie was the Fairy Godmother Ms. Dee, whose magic had helped the meek and timid Cinderella rise above her abusive family to become a royal. Everyone from across the human and faerie realms were familiar with such a story. But it wasn’t the Fairy Godmother which piqued Sevastyan’s interest.

As he stood in the parlor of the Godmother’s home, the faerie prince plucked a book laid out, pulling it up and slowly turning the pages as he leaned back on the couch. Magic spells lined every page, each one more complicated than the previous. He let out a low whistle as he read about the transfigurative charms that he figured Godmother used to change a pumpkin to a carriage for Cinderella’s trip to the ball. Fascinating. He was quite engrossed in the book that he’d almost missed it when the door to the parlor opened and in came the person he had actually called upon. Daphne Dee, a most curious creature. When he’d heard that the Fairy Godmother had had a protege, a relative who was also learning faerie magic, he was shocked to say the least. Not by the notion — it had made sense for one of the most notorious of their kind to have a pupil to follow in their footsteps. It wasn’t that at all.

Rising and bowing in greeting, Sevastyan stood to his full height and observed the part-faerie before him with bemusement. “Miss Dee, am I correct?” He asked with a raised brow. He set aside the book he’d borrowed and crossed to where she stood, half listening if she was greeting him back and walking a slow circle around her. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other hand stroking his pointed chin. “How interesting,” he commented as he walked about her and came to face her front again. “No wings... unless they are quite well bound beneath your dress,” he’d spoken his thoughts out loud, not exactly addressing her with his commentary. It was definitely rude and not like Auradon custom to appraise someone like this but the faerie prince was very surprised by the person before him.

“Please forgive my rude manners. It is a poor habit I learned from my mother, or so my father says. She stared at him rather funnily when they first met. She hadn’t realized she was faerie herself, you see. Imagine one’s surprise at being the only tiny person they knew their whole life and suddenly meeting a tiny man with wings. Very peculiar indeed,” he said with barely rosy cheeks and a lilting laugh. “I didn’t know it was quite possible for a faerie and a human to join together and create a part magical being. Though I suppose that if gods of Olympus can have demichildren with mortals then so can we. But, my, isn’t it fascinating. You are a very rare creature, mademoiselle.” He laughed easily, shaking his head.

“I promise I did not come here to question your lineage or appearance or anything. I like to make it my business to befriend the faeries that live within the Vale or Auradon, if they so choose to make a permanent residence of the latter, and as I understand it you are natural born of this kingdom, am I correct? If that’s the case then I feel it my duty to make sure to introduce myself and make myself at your disposal, as a good prince would do. Miss Dee, I am Sevastyan Petit, the crown prince of the faeries. And as your...Grandmother? Grandrelation?” He wasn’t quite sure if he knew the proper idea of her relation to the Fairy Godmother, though he was sure they were blood related.

“As the Fairy Godmother is a rather important member of our court, I felt that we should become better acquainted. I believe we may come to work closely together in the future. So in the spirit of this ‘social season’ and its many traditions, I wondered if you may be willing to take a turn in the ton with me? I‘m afraid I’m still quite new to this land and admittedly have a tendency to get lost in this great city. They sure did built it to be rather confusing. I think it’s best to get lost in good company, wouldn’t you agree?” @daphne-dee

[bisluthq]

hi I’m that RPF anon and first of all thanks for being polite and not completely obliterating on me on sight. I’ve raised this point in the past with other people and t’was a fucking mess, I tell you

In terms of your point, I think I understand where you’re coming from. The whole schtick with celebs purposefully marketing themselves as sexual beings/fantasies and thus, inevitably giving their fanbase the ammunition/material to concoct their fantasies upon. I suppose I’ve never thought of it from a capitalist point of view but it makes much more sense now.

Re the swiftwyn fantasies: idk if I’m being a prude/cupcake but it still seems weird to me. Like, Yh Taylor’s screaming from the rooftops about how she’s getting dicked down on the regular (truly iconic and jealousy inducing in this panoramic if you ask me) but going out of your way to write that up is...not something I completely understand??. But it’s clearly yours (and quite a few people’s) on this blog and given you’re not actively harming anyone, have fun I guess?? It’s confusing to me but so long as the people indulging in it are sane and acknowledge it’s a fantasy (just like any other work of fiction)...no harm done.

But with Joshlie, i do think it’s a bit strange as josh doesn’t market himself as a fantasy? Esp not a sexual one. Like I don’t think it’s fair to say wanting fame = marketing yourself as a sexual being because I don’t think he does that - the two, imo, can be mutually exclusive Also, WHO HAS THE HOTS FOR JOSHUA KUSHNER? pls, like Karlie I get - she’s the smoking hot thirst trap and half of this couple but josh on his own? Nah, he’s just hot by extension/association with Kar sorry not sorry

Now regarding After - I still view After as low-key problematic (the OG books far more than the films) because of how HS was portrayed. He’s supposed to be this mysterious playboy that his fans are meant to thirst after (which is fair and not completely unfounded) but he’s written as a toxic, abusive, gaslighting asshole because the author (she’s a whole diff can of worms to deal with, yikes) decided to just give him a new (v. inaccurate and harmful to young girls) personality.

And it’s not just After that I’ve seen this with, it’s a bunch of fanfiction, RPF and fictional stuff alike. But I suppose that’s again a whole separate problem (problem being the constant romanticisation of abusive behaviour, particularly when helmed by the pretty face of a celeb) to deal with in general.

And in terms of saying, ‘well the movie made bank and so did the people involved so it’s okay’ doesn’t sit right with me because as far as I know, HS didn’t make money off of this? If anyone has info on this please correct me but to my knowledge, the name was just changed to avoid legal problems but I could be wrong. And so jumping off this point, I don’t see how this movie is okay - everyone knows that this is HS fanfic but it’s also a shitty fantasy for young girls to indulge in because it is harmful imo. And tbh, as I’m writing this, world tiniest violin for HS’s image technically being exploited and repackaged without him being able to capitalise on it but the franchise as a whole, imo, is garbage and has a net negative effect. This is complex stuff and, as you can probably tell, I’m kind of on the fence here. Feel free to chime in on what you think ✌🏼

Yeah as I said this is a huge discussion point and one I find very, very interesting because I do see the “EEK NO” angle and was on that side of the fence for this debate for multiple years, so it’s not like I’m purely like, “Oh fuck it don’t be a prude” (well I do say that to people who’re like “HOW DARE YOU WRITE SOFT PORN ON THE INTERNET” but not to like a “is this ethical” debate). 

Re Harry making money off of After - it’s not that he got paid for it per se, but it being fanfic about him defs had people listening to his shit and looking him up more. It’s a symbiotic thing. Same as Idea of You - which has yet to become a movie - definitely leads to an increase in streaming. To me both projects have benefited Harry financially and in terms of growing his fanbases. Is it how he would necessarily want them to grow organically, like if he could choose? I’m not sure, I’d be fascinated to have a discussion with him about it, but I also think he wouldn’t pearl clutch about shit like that because in the end it does benefit him. 

Now we get to like “is this a positive portrayal or not?” which is another thing I personally feel strongly about and why, although I’ve - recently, like this blog is my first venture into this territory, my smut before has been fictional fanfic or original - started writing RPF I wouldn’t write an AU/crack pairing and I wouldn’t write about people who I didn’t think were in a healthy loving relationship. But that’s a moralistic judgement. Like personally I wouldn’t feel comfortable portraying anyone I was writing as an asshole. But.... would me portraying them as an asshole affect their lives? No. After blowing up is bad for young girls who’re being role modelled bad behavior but that’s not the result of it being RPF inspired, like it’s just a bad plot.

As I’ve said, in many ways Taylor has invited fans to imagine her and Joe fucking. Like she’s put out multiple explicit sex songs and yeah we’re allowed to think about that. While Karlie hasn’t, she has shown off her husband and my vibe is... the people on this blog - real people who get comfort from reading shit here and just vibing - find her and him hot and want to imagine them fucking. Even if he hasn’t really invited that, he’s very much featured as her husband in many of her videos and in her public life. He’s a ~presence. My Joshlie fic didn’t say aaaaanything negative about them, like it was based around a public event that we know he left drunk, and then they have fictional sex in their hallway. Is that true? Of course not. Idk. It’s a fantasy that people wanted to indulge because they find them hot. 

Then we also need to zoom out and look at the history of this type of shit because y’all know me I’m all for nuanced views and my obsession with the entertainment industry and the concept of celebrity and the histories thereof and such like... define me. If we think about how showmances and PR relationships started up - thinking in terms of the studio system - there’s a huge element of transference and fantasy. People wanted to see couples on screen be dating in real life. Why? Because then they could imagine their whole lives together, they could project the characters played onto the celebs in question. And that worked both ways, like if a couple was dating in real life, people wanted to see them on screen. That’s RPF. People were obsessed with Burton and Taylor acting together because they wanted Burton and Taylor not because they gave a shit about the film in question.

I think it’s very natural to fantasize. I think there’s a long history of that. And while I understand being like, “Eh I don’t like this” I don’t know how different the logic of going “here’s a short story imagining these famous people in bed” is from “hmmmm I really think Gaga and BCoop fucked because LOOK AT THE CHEMISTRY.”

We can say both are wrong but I also think we need to live in reality, we need to look at what’s profitable, and we need to look at history. And to me at this point it’s just... no big deal. 

I will say the Joshlie stuff would probs make them far more uncomfy than the Swiftwyn stuff would make Swiftwyn but at the same time there are weirder things written about all of them on the internet than me being like, “Here’s a sexy consensual scenario between two people who adore each other” and again people walk away from my blog as bigger fans of all four people by and large and ergo spend money on their shit so eh I’m not feeling like I’m crossing any lines.

And obviously like any smutty RPF scenario is fucking fiction.

Obviously.

[ckret2]

Eddie Eats A Map

Written for @symbruary Day 11: "romance". Featuring Morbius again because I've been meaning to bring some Venom/Morbius into the world for forever.

Honestly this is less "actual romance" and more "being friends and also there's secret attraction that might be one-sided" but like... it's pre-romance. Also Eddie mentions being married to symby so there's your romance. Also this was supposed to be two scenes and the second scene was going to have more romance but then this got long, I'll use my Free Space day to write the second scene or something.

My friends, I've never read an issue actually set in Monster Metropolis, my description is based off the wiki and posts I’ve seen other people make on it. Please forgive any inaccuracies.

###

Eddie studied the crude map.

"I'm trusting you with this," Morbius said solemnly. "Both not to abuse this information and not to let it fall into the wrong hands. Memorize and then destroy the map—"

Without bothering to check if anyone else in the 24 hour diner was looking their way, the symbiote stretched Venom's mouth across Eddie's face and they stuffed the map into their maw.

Morbius froze mid-sentence, mouth open behind his disposable face mask.

Venom slurped down the fang-shredded paper and then grinned at Morbius for just a second before their fangs receded back into Eddie's face and their skin melted and oozed back into Eddie's pores. Eddie wiped some green slime off his chin with his thumb and took a sip from his mug of hot chocolate, smirking.

Morbius glanced around the diner to make sure nobody noticed—the whole point of Morbius's wearing a mask and Venom's keeping their slimier half stored on the inside had been so that they could meet on the street level without immediately being pegged as monsters—but the other three late night/early morning diners looked half asleep at their tables and the waitress was boredly watching her phone. Morbius turned back to Eddie and stammered, "Yeah, that—that accomplishes the task. But you shouldn't do that again."

"You were saying?" Eddie prompted, digging into his omelet. "About Monster Metropolis?"

"Right." Morbius tried to collect his thoughts. "This city has already suffered more than its share of traumas. Just a few years ago it was nearly destroyed. I know all you've done to help and protect the dinosaur-people—the Moloids have brought a couple to the metropolis and they speak very highly of you. I know you can keep this metropolis secret as well."

Eddie nodded, slowly lifting a bite of omelet to his mouth. He didn't comment until he'd swallowed. "I’m not sure we like how you say 'can,' there. Like you know we can but aren't sure we will."

Morbius hesitated. "Not everyone in this metropolis is what you might personally consider 'innocent.'"

"Ah."

"But we protect them anyway," Morbius insisted. "Not from the consequences of their actions, but from the persecution based on their nature that they would face on the surface. When they cause trouble, we handle it internally. We won't have our city exposed to the surface world again and its cruelty again. I'm asking you to agree to that much."

Something in Eddie's expression shifted at the word persecution. Morbius was sure he had his empathy then—hopefully the other's, too, although it was hard to tell. In all the times Morbius had overheard Venom talking to themself, he couldn't recall ever hearing them disagree with each other; but surely it had to happen; and he was well aware that, as often as they agreed, their thoughts weren't identical. Why would they need to talk to themselves at all if they were?

And every once in a while Eddie said something in a slightly different voice—it wasn't as obvious when Venom spoke, but it was when Eddie spoke—and Morbius got the impression that he wasn't sharing his own thoughts so much as conveying something his other had asked him to say. He didn't think in those moments the alien had actually seized control of Eddie's vocal cords to speak its on mind, just asked Eddie to speak for it; but the difference was still audible.

When Morbius was around Venom, he had long since gotten past the eerie feeling that an uninvited third party was listening in on a one-on-one conversation, and instead moved on to the entirely new eerie feeling that he was having a conversation with two people but one of them was dead silent except to occasionally whisper in the other's ear.

"We notice you gave us the map before checking whether we'd agree to your terms," Eddie said. "And you're not getting the map back. Why the show of trust?"

Morbius had been hoping Venom wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth. But, since they'd asked... "For three reasons," he said. "First... if I'd been considering this a few years ago, before you two..." He puzzled over the appropriate wording for a moment. "Separated?" He thought broke up might sound too intimate.

But Eddie nodded in confirmation. "Temporarily separated to work on our marriage."

Marriage. That word hit heavily. He pushed his own reaction aside. Oh, okay, he should have leaned toward more intimate. Talking to Eddie and his other was a constant exercise in reminding himself to underestimate the nature of their relationship a little less. "Before you temporarily separated, I wouldn't have given you the map. But the person—people?—that you are now, I believe I can trust with it. But I'm having to take it on faith that you're going to keep being who you are now rather than who you were then. If you get my meaning."

Eddie smiled tiredly. "Believe me, that's what we want, too." He sighed. "All we've ever wanted—before and after our separation—is to be a hero together. It's... just been a process getting there. You know," he shrugged, looking down at his half-eaten meal, "had to work on ourselves a while, had to work on our relationship..."

Morbius nodded, trying to look less mystified than he was from wondering what an alien goo had to work on. He supposed anything with sentience and emotions must have personal issues worth working on—he just couldn't imagine what they actually were. That silent third participant in the conversation he knew so little about. "The change is evident. Both from seeing you in in the news and from talking to you."

Eddie smiled sheepishly. It wasn't a common look on his face. "I'm going to take that as approval of where we are now rather than as an indictment of where we were then."

"That's how I meant it."

"Good."

"And second," Morbius said, figuring they were probably more than ready to move on from even this relatively gentle critique of their (comparatively) wild days, "Monster Metropolis is, first and foremost, a haven for the nonhuman people that humanity considers monsters. And your other is nothing if not seen as a monster. If it ever needs somewhere safe to run, I want it to be able to find the metropolis." Morbius didn't know a lot about what Venom was doing when they weren't in the news—and even then, their newsworthy appearances were less in-depth interviews and more cryptid sightings—but he got the impression Eddie and the symbiote spent more time than either would like getting violently separated and scrambling to reconnect. That wasn't easy when you had to live a life restricted to dark alleyways and deep tunnels. Maybe Monster Metropolis could make it easier for them to find each other again—or at least give the symbiote a haven where it could hide and a community that could help it locate its missing home/partner. "Of course, you're welcome there too, Eddie, I don't want to slight you—but Monster Metropolis does primarily exist for the monsters."

At first, Morbius thought Eddie had flinched; then realized it was more of a ripple, his very skin itself—or something under his skin—stirring.

"What is it?"

"Was that visible? Sorry." Eddie picked up his hot chocolate again, noted it was empty, and picked up Morbius's. (Morbius had thought he should order something to look a little less strange, and Eddie had told him he wouldn't mind a second drink.) "You uh, surprised us—particularly my other. It's not used to it being the one to receive the invitation and me being its 'plus one' guest. In fact, it usually only happens when someone in a lab coat wants to prod it a while and hope that a superpower falls out." Eddie had that voice on—the one Morbius thought meant he was reporting the symbiote's thoughts rather than his own. It sounded just slightly more professional—like a journalist reporting a paraphrase of someone else's statements rather than giving his own opinion. He took a sip before giving Morbius a wan smile. "You got a Nobel for some kind of biochemistry thing, right? You wouldn't happen to be doing any kind of research that might benefit from an amorphous alien that can alter its host on a cellular level, would you?"

Morbius would be lying if he said he'd never wondered if there was a distant chance the symbiote might be able to help with his own condition—but he certainly wasn't wondering it right now. "I'm inviting you as a guest, not as a test subject." He meant that comment directed to the symbiote, not to Eddie—would that be obvious to them? Was it even appropriate for him to speak directly to the symbiote? It was much easier, psychologically speaking, to direct comments to the person visibly sitting in front of him as though asking Eddie to pass the message on; but the symbiote was sitting in front of him too. Why should he speak to Eddie instead of to it?

Eddie twitched in surprise again. For a moment, the surfaces of his eyes were covered in porcelain white and his grin was filled with sharp teeth. Message received, apparently. "Every once in a while, we meet a scientist we can trust. We think you're probably one of them."

"Thank you. I'd like to be."

Eddie's face was back to normal when he returned to his omelet. "So what's the third?"

"The what?"

"You said there were three reasons you gave us the map?"

Oh right he had said that. He shouldn't have said that.  "Yes—right," he said. "Third. I've found that I... Your company is pleasant, when we cross paths." He was careful to understate just how much he'd found himself growing fond of their infrequent meetings. He wasn't sure how welcome a full confession would be. ("Our marriage," Eddie had said. How literal was that? Morbius had already assumed Venom came as a package deal—Eddie and symbiote both—but the word "marriage" implied a certain level of unavailability, didn't it? Not that his hopes had ever been high—nor his expectations even fully conceptualized—but...) "But we only cross paths rarely—and usually only when one crisis or another has driven us outside our usual haunts. I thought it might be nice to... hang out outside of work, as it were?"

Eddie snorted. "You don't look like the kind of man who tends to 'hang out,'" he said. "You don't even look like the kind of man who says the words 'hang out.'"

"You—don't look like the kind of man who drinks hot chocolate," said Morbius, stupidly, mainly so that he had some kind of retort.

Eddie considered that, then shrugged, as if to say fair enough. "You like our company enough that you're willing to risk your monster sanctuary over it?"

"No," Morbius said sharply. "I'm willing to risk it for the first two reasons. Still, your company is... a contributing factor."

"Huh." Eddie drank down the rest of his hot chocolate. "Flattering."

Morbius grimaced. (He was glad for his mask.) He thought that could have gone over better.

"Guess we'll have to make a visit soon then. Are you going to be around in the next few days?"

That had gone over better than he thought. "I don't have a set schedule, but I try to visit the metropolis at least a couple times a week."

"Sounds like our schedule. The hard lives of busy heroes, huh?"

Morbius wouldn't have picked heroes as the first word that fit the three of them—monsters, more likely—or freaks—but there was something comforting about the fact that Venom did. Even if their history with heroism was somewhat checkered. "Afraid so."

"Well, we'll keep swinging by when we're free. Eventually we'll both be around at the same time, right?"

"Eventually." Morbius was well-known enough in Monster Metropolis that Venom would be able to just ask around to find out whether he was in town; and Venom stood out enough, even among monsters, that Morbius would be able to just as easily ask about him.

"Sounds like a plan." Eddie turned and waved his hand, catching the waitress's eye. "Hey. Separate checks, please."

"You want me to pay for the hot chocolate you drank?"

"You ordered it," Eddie said, smirking. "We're halfway to broke and we're also paying for an omelet, you can cover a hot chocolate."

Morbius gave him an affronted look. But he sighed and dug into his pocket for his wallet when the waitress dropped their checks off.

Once she was out of earshot again, Eddie asked wryly, "Regret saying you want to hang out with us yet?"

"No," Morbius said, "although you do a fine job of trying to make me regret it at least once per meeting."

Eddie smirked again—this time, the fangs were back. "I guess we'll have to keep trying."

###

Like I said I planned two scenes but uhhh, it's late. Next one in the next few days. Anyway this is a fine standalone piece, enjoy.

Crossposted to AO3, link in my description. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog.

[echoeternally]

For Blunder or Worse

Gosh, how long has it been since I updated a one-shot related to my Pokemon stories? Been a minute, hasn’t it? Welp. Let’s fix that!

I wanted to get a story written up and out to provide some shenanigans for Poliwrath and Politoed, since I wanted them to have a silly little story of their own, considering that, well...you know.

So, something lighthearted for them to walk away on instead!

And by that, I mean the two of them absolutely whaling on each other instead, as they drag the Empire down with them. Such fun!

Loosely based on an old ask that I got on my askblog. It takes place before the fanfic story, Melting Gelid Roses, however. 

Plus it gives a cute little inside look to earlier days of the Iceberg Empire as well, or at least, a brief visit to some familiar faces with the two.

Just some silly fun to explore the two that I’ll eventually be adding onto the Scattered Petals collection on the archives as well.

The story is below the cut, so please click it and read on to enjoy!

...

...

Along the bridge outside of the Iceberg Palace, General Abomasnow inhaled and held a breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them back up. Splashing and smacking sounded from below him in the waters. Two frogs battled with one another, swinging their arms and flailing about the moat.

 “That was clearly meant to be for me,” snapped the round green toad, slapping a spray of water at the other.

 “In what world, you nitwit?!” The bulky blue frog hammered down one the water, as the green one swam back.

 Abomasnow heavily exhaled and slouched, rolling his eyes as the two squabbled before the bridge.

 “The markers were obviously white, Poliwrath!”

 “No, it was silver, which was for me!” Poliwrath waved a finger back and forth. “Clearly, you need to pay more attention, Politoed.”

 “Are you blind?!”

 “You’re just mad because I got more targets.”

 “Blind and delusional!”

 “Enough,” boomed Abomasnow, as he folded his arms. “You two were supposed to be cooperating to complete this training session.” He surveyed the floating targets in the water, some broken, but others still standing. “This is your fifth row with one another today. How can it be that you both can sometimes work together decently, but the rest of the time you just blow up on each other?”

 “Because Politoed clearly doesn’t know how to follow your instructions, sire,” mocked Poliwrath.

 “What?! You’re the dolt that couldn’t even follow your own targets!”

 “Did you just call me a dolt?!”

 “Duh, you are one,” fired off Politoed. “And you called me a nitwit anyway!”

 “You absolutely are one!”

 “Not as much as you are!”

 Bickering and swinging at each other again, the frogs battled with each other again. Abomasnow deflated as he buried his head and shook it.

 “Brothers…”

 He picked himself back up and walked off, not bothering to listen to the remainder of the quarrel.

 Twenty minutes later, the twins dragged themselves from the moat and stormed back inside the palace, still hissing at each other as they marched in. Three bears sat on the stairs, watching the two escalated their argument back and forth, rapidly increasing in volume as they carried on.

 “Do they ever stop?” Beartic leaned back on the steps. “It’s been like this all day.”

 “Makes sense why Abomasnow was ready to rip his roots out,” joked Pangoro.

 “Maybe we should go get some snacks before the Emperor shows up,” suggested Ursaring, pulling himself up on the railing.

 “Sounds like a plan!”

 “Yes, we’d better.”

 From behind the stairwell, however, doors from the throne room slammed open. Each of the knights jumped and fumbled in place, struggling to get themselves at attention.

 “Uh-oh,” uttered Ursaring.

 Emperor Empoleon strode around the corner and glared down at Poliwrath and Politoed, who flailed about before bowing down before the large penguin.

 “Emperor!”

 “Sire!”

 “Oh, don’t bother with formalities at this point,” thundered Empoleon. “Just what the blazes have you two stormed into this time?!”

 “Sir, we were training—”

 “Yes, I had General Abomasnow vent to me not even five minutes ago,” informed Empoleon. “He’s beyond fed up with trying to work with you two, as you’re near incapable of even tolerating one another.”

 “With all due respect—”

 “Now you want to bring that up?” Empoleon forced out a sharp laugh. “You’ve hardly respected your superior all day, and now you’re looking to address it? Nonsense!” He stomped down as the brothers fumbled back and clung to one another. “Honestly, you both need to be capable of cooperating with your fellow knights, and that most definitely includes each other!” Empoleon lifted his wings to his head, massaging his temples with his claws. “All that your arguing has left anyone with is a pounding headache! I’ve important research to attend to, and I haven’t the time to waste lecturing my knights instead!”

 “We’re sorry, sire,” mumbled the twins.

 “Hmph. I should hope so.” Emperor Empoleon shook his head. “At least attempt to better yourselves soon, or I shall have to think of new ways for you two to serve me.” He narrowed his gaze over them. “Clearly, if you’re not capable of developing a symbiotic relationship with one another, you won’t work well with others overall. But I’ll see to that later.”

 Striding past the two and making his way for the stairs, Empoleon folded his wings behind his back, as the three bears scrambled from his path. They bumped into the railing and bowed down as Empoleon briskly marched upstairs, making his way to the palace library.

 The brothers and the bears looked to one another, as they slowly relaxed from their enraged emperor’s outburst. Each of the bears smirked as the brothers glanced down and wandered out of the room, not wanting to hear any mockery that the trio thought up.

 Entering the next corridor, the brothers shoved the door shut behind them and sighed.

 “Hmm…sounds like you two really annoyed the Emperor…”

 Jumping at the interrupting voice, the twins settled as they spotted Quagsire, who licked his lips and then yawned.

 “Yeah, we did a pretty good job of it this time,” murmured Politoed. “Though we were hoping to avoid getting into it anymore…”

 “What are you doing here anyway, Quagsire?” Poliwrath folded his arms. “Thought you’d be napping at this point.”

 “Ah, I was on a break to have a snack,” revealed Quagsire. He patted his stomach. “Pretty sure that at least Ursaring will want some too, so I made plenty…”

 “Huh, well, that was nice of you,” noted Poliwrath.

 “If my stomach wasn’t tied up in knots right now, I’d want something to eat,” piped up Politoed.

 “There’s plenty; made a cake and some fruity desserts to go with it.” Quagsire yawned. “Wish I could go nap now…”

 “Why don’t you?”

 “Didn’t finish helping out.”

 “Helping with what?”

 “Mmm…this way…”

 Pivoting around, Quagsire wandered down the hall. Poliwrath and Politoed looked at one another, shrugged, and then hurried down the hall after the sleepy salamander knight.

 As they rounded the corner, they listened to another conversation going on.

 “…It’s been two hours already,” insisted the first voice. “We’ve tried, but we should really take a break too.”

 “Please, it’s really important that I find it,” begged the second. “Isn’t that Shell Bell of yours important too?”

 “Of course it is, and believe me, I definitely know what you’re going through.” The brothers peeked around the next corner, and spotted a blue sea turtle rubbing behind his head. “But Quagsire went to take a break more than twenty minutes ago. We should do the same, and then we’ll be recharged to keep going.”

 “Well…maybe…”

 Both Politoed and Poliwrath tightened their grip against the wall, eying the purple and white stoat that stood opposite to the turtle. They started cackling and slid back behind the corner, while Quagsire tilted his head and studied the two.

 “Wow, that’s the new knight!” Politoed clasped his hands together and wiggled around. “She’s so cute and pretty!”

 “…Uh…huh? She?”

 “Yeah, we have to go talk with her this time!” Poliwrath rubbed his hands together. “I feel like she’d be open to chatting and then some!”

 “Um…”

 Before Quagsire could add anything else, the brothers bounced from behind the wall and hurried down the corridor to the debating pair.

 “Carracosta, if we can just search five more minutes—”

 “Hey, hey, you’re the new knight around here, aren’t you?” Poliwrath lifted his fist to his chest, straightening up more as the stoat blinked and the turtle turned.

 “Ah…yes?”

 “It’s so nice to stumble upon you, ma’am!” Politoed held out his hand as the stoat frowned. “My name is Politoed, pleasure to reacquaint with you!”

 “What?!” Poliwrath smacked his brother. “Don’t you cozy up to her so quick!” He slid in front of his brother. “I apologize, miss; my brother can be so dense. I’m Poliwrath.”

 “Neat. I’m Mienshao and I’m not a lady,” muttered Mienshao, as he placed a hand on his hip while Carracosta rolled his eyes. “When are people going to get used to that? I’ve been here over a week already.”

 “Huh?” Poliwrath blinked. “…Now that you mention it, and listening to you a bit better, that does make more sense…”

 “Can you believe my brother? Such a fool.” Politoed bumped past Poliwrath and pushed him back. “My apologies sir, but you are quite the charmer to throw either of us off.”

 “I—what?”

 “Get lost!” Poliwrath shoved Politoed aside. “He’s clearly not into you, so quit acting like you got him smitten!” He dusted himself down a bit. “Sir, it’s my delight to get to know a gentle lord like you better.”

 “You can’t just take over like that!” Politoed jumped up and slammed his foot down onto Poliwrath’s.

 “Ow! You miserable little—he’s just getting into me!” Poliwrath lifted his fist and bopped Politoed’s head.

 “Good gods, give us strength,” murmured Carracosta.

 “Hold on, neither of you are deterred…but you were just flirting because you thought that I was…” Mienshao blinked and shook his head. “Will you both quit arguing already?!” Both frogs returned their attention to him and shoved away from one another, straightening themselves up once more. “What even came over you two?”

 “These brothers love to bicker and battle, especially with each other,” reintroduced Carracosta. “Just pay them no mind and let’s get back to the search.”

 “Hmm? Didn’t you want a break for a bit?” Quagsire ambled over to the other four. “You seem like you could use one, Carracosta.”

 “Quagsire, finally!” Carracosta relaxed and smiled. “I’ve been hoping that you could relieve me from this wild, ah…treasure hunt.”

 “Treasure?”

 “Sounds cool!”

 “Please don’t call it that,” complained Mienshao. “You make it sound like we’re pirates.”

 “To be fair, we do tend to seek out different kinds of treasures ourselves,” brought up Carracosta. “Not that it matters, since we need to find your necklace anyway.”

 “Pendant.”

 “Does it go around your neck?”

 “…Yes.”

 “Then it can be a necklace.”

 “But it…” Mienshao sighed and sank down. “Oh, very well.”

 “We can help you search for it!” Politoed clasped his hands together. “I’d be honored to help you find your jewelry!”

 “It’s not just…” Mienshao rolled his eyes up and dragged his hands over his face. “Actually, I suppose it is that too.”

 “You can have my brother’s help, but you will definitely have mine,” insisted Poliwrath. “I won’t rest until it’s found!”

 “Don’t go off acting high and mighty,” snapped Politoed. “You don’t even know what it looks like!”

 “Well neither do you, and yet you’re going off like you do anyway!”

 “My pendant is from the temple I used to reside in,” intervened Mienshao. “It’s one of the few pieces that I was able to bring with me before its collapse into ruin.”

 Everyone quieted and silently stared at Mienshao, as he rubbed his arm and gazed out a window, observing snowflakes that gently descended outside the palace. He shook his head and turned back to the group.

 “Normally I keep it shut away, but I had to get it cleaned,” he disclosed. “But, I must have misplaced it from there and on my way back to my room, and I haven’t been able to find it since last night.” Mienshao tugged on his whiskers. “I can’t even practice my calligraphy without panicking about it, and that normally calms me down all of the time.” He forced himself back upright. “It’s a five-colored jewel that rests in a gold case with a silver string. The five colors are meant to be emblematic of the four kingdoms and a meeting point between them. Legend from the temple claimed that it came from the center of the continent, but that’s besides the point.”

 “So it looks really pretty and is found with silver and gold around it,” determined Poliwrath. “Got it!”

 “Way to break it down to the dullest details,” deadpanned Politoed.

 “As long as you two are willing, I would really appreciate the assistance.” Mienshao bowed his head to them. “I’m desperate to find it, if only for the nostalgia it provides.”

 “Sure, important stuff is always, uh, important,” persisted Poliwrath. “Leave it to me! I’ll see that it’s found!”

 “And when he fails, you can rely on me to find it.” Politoed smirked. “Your attachment makes it valuable enough, and I won’t quit until it’s found.”

 “Thank you both.”

 “Perfect, you’ve got new hunters for yourself.” Carracosta smacked his flippers together. “Well, you’ve got greater odds of finding it, so I’ll take my leave for now and join in again later.”

 “Hmm?” Quagsire tilted his head. “Do you really need to go?”

 “Truly, yes, I do. After all, I do have to meet with my, ah…” Carracosta rubbed behind his head. “Ah…it sounds odd to call it ‘my appointment,’ ha. Uh, actually, it’s someone that I need to speak with about…funny enough, a treasure that he found.”

 “Wait, you’re leaving from one treasure hunt to go to another?” Quagsire drummed his stomach. “That seems silly.”

 “Except this one was found, and my, um…we’ll call him a friend,” shakily decided Carracosta. “Ah, anyway, he needs my help with that and something else that I still don’t know about, so I must see that attended to.”

 “You have a friend in the city?”

 “Yes, yes, shocking that any of us have a social life outside of the palace walls, I know.” Carracosta huffed and strode from the group. “Now, unless anyone else has more interruptions, I should take my leave. I’m already late enough as it is.”

 “Sorry about that.”

 “Mienshao, it’s fine, really.” Carracosta sighed. “Look, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t mind having them wait, but this one…I can’t keep him waiting.”

 “I understand.”

 “Promise I’ll be back to help if you’re still searching later,” offered Carracosta. He smirked and added, “Pirate’s promise!”

 “Ugh.” Mienshao smacked his forehead. “Forget it, get lost so we can find it without you.”

 “And split the rewards without me?! After all of my help?!”

 “Aren’t you late?”

 “Ah! Yes! I’m off, farewell!”

 Hurrying from the hall, Carracosta disappeared around the corner and from the others. Politoed and Poliwrath looked to one another and shrugged.

 “Wonder who he’s meeting with that’s so important,” murmured Quagsire.

 “Curious as it is, that’s a different mystery to solve.” Mienshao twisted back to the brothers. “We’ve explored most of the western sides of the palace, but I can’t seem to find it there. Honestly, I’m not positive where I was last night, since…well, I’m still getting familiar with this place.” He scratched at his cheek. “Come to think of it, the bedrooms are on the east side, aren’t they?”

 “Yep.”

 “Great.” Mienshao dropped his head. “Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong places to begin with.”

 “We’ll start again and figure it out,” suggested Quagsire. “And now we have more help.”

 “That’s right!” Politoed bounced up. “We’re ready to help, Sir Mienshao!”

 “Send us off where you need us, we’ll get it done.” Poliwrath pumped his fist up.

 “Not to return you back along the path from whence you came,” started Mienshao, as the brothers blankly stared at him. “Ah…just head back to the east side. Quagsire and I have been combing this side of the palace already, so you two should start over there.”

 “Hopefully that’s not the way that the Emperor went,” brought up Quagsire.

 “It is.”

 “That’s unfortunate.”

 “Why does that matter?” Mienshao rubbed his head, while Quagsire chuckled.

 “They got yelled at just a little bit ago.”

 “Oh.” Mienshao frowned. “Sorry.”

 “It’s fine.”

 “We’ll still handle it for you!”

 “Thank you both again, then.” Mienshao turned to Quagsire as the twins started off. “Have we tried everywhere yet? Should we find a way downstairs?”

 “Only if you want to get lost in old lower levels that were abandoned ages ago,” warned Quagsire. He yawned and patted his cheek. “Unless you dropped it down a pipe, we’re probably better staying up here.”

 On their way back to the main hall, Politoed slowed and stared at the door to the dining hall. Poliwrath spun back and poked at him.

 “What are you doing?” He poked at his brother again. “We’re supposed to be going to the east. Quagsire was just eating in there.”

 “Right, but I just want to make sure that those bears are in here instead of out there,” reasoned Politoed. “That way, we can just sneak by and off.”

 “But what if they’re already sitting and eating? They’ll see us.”

 “No way.”

 Sure enough, as Politoed gently pushed the door open, vexed gazes from three feasting bears met him and Poliwrath. The brothers sighed as Poliwrath shoved the door completely open. Beartic sank down and rested his head against his paw.

 “Three, two, one.”

 “Had to do it,” complained Poliwrath. “You just had to open the door.”

 “Shut up,” snapped Politoed. “You act like you’ve never made stupid choices!”

 “Not as bad as yours.”

 “As if!”

 “And there they go,” murmured Beartic, lowering his eyes as Politoed and Poliwrath started batting at each other.

 “Can’t you not make poor life choices for once?!”

 “Like yours aren’t just as poor?! You live with me!”

 “Yeesh, didn’t they get enough from the Emperor before?” Pangoro snickered. “They’re basically asking for more punishment, right Ursaring?” He turned to the brown bear, as he struggled with a jam jar.

 “Nitwit!”

 “Dolt!”

 “Yeah, definitely,” grumbled Ursaring. “Just…how tight does Quagsire seal these?”

 “Keeps them fresh.” Pangoro took it from Ursaring. “See, you just need to apply…some force…” He grinded his teeth as he twisted the jar, failing to get it open as well. “What the hell?”

 “Not so easy, huh?” Ursaring smirked as he lowered his eyes on the panda.

 “Wait, I can…this thing isn’t…seriously, what?” Pangoro gawked at the unopened container.

 “That’s why mom liked you less!”

 “Well dad liked you less too!”

 “Hang on, let me try,” offered Beartic, taking the jar from Pangoro. “It might be a bit frozen, so…hmm…just the right…turn…” He shifted away from the table and tugged harder on the lid, failing to open it either. “What gives…?”

 “Right? It should’ve come off easy!”

 “It’s not even full,” pointed out Ursaring. “It should just pop off.”

 “Very strange,” agreed Beartic, as he held out the jar to study it. “Maybe if we take turns with loosening it.”

 “You’re a walking eyesore!”

 “Well you don’t have any brains!”

 Shoving Politoed back, Poliwrath’s glare vanished as his brother swung his arm out, smacking the jar from Beartic’s hand and into the table. It smashed at the angle, and broke the top open as it dropped to the ground. Politoed gawked at it, and then twisted back to Poliwrath.

 “Look at what you did!”

 “Me?! You knocked into it!”

 “That’s exactly what you would do to blame it on me—”

 “Come off it, that’s you never owning up to problems—”

 Still shouting and swinging at each other, the brothers stormed from the dining hall, leaving the three bears to quietly watch them take off. Bending down and scooping up the jar, Beartic blankly stared at the broken jam jar: the top had shattered open, but no glass got on the jam that remained inside. Breathing a bit of icy breath around the top to even it out, he placed it down before Ursaring.

 “Problem solved,” determined Beartic. “Let me get the glass next…”

 “That was my next idea,” muttered Pangoro.

 “Huh. Whatever works,” settled Ursaring.

 Departing from there and to the main hall, Poliwrath and Politoed nudged and shoved one another back and forth. They forced themselves apart from one another and glared to each other.

 “Fine, let’s really settle this then,” decided Poliwrath. “First one to find that necklace pendant jewel for Mienshao is the better brother and gets to ask him out!”

 “Ha, like you’d be able to handle that anyway!” Politoed waved him off. “Just try and keep up with me, and don’t cry when you lose.”

 “Oh, I won’t, but you can feel free to when you do!”

 “Dream on!”

 “Ready?”

 “Let’s go!”

 Racing off with one another, Poliwrath and Politoed stormed through the eastern side of the palace, charging upstairs and through the corridors. Zipping through the bedchambers, they tore by the rooms, glancing within and hurrying along when they found nothing. Once finished, they raced onward.

 Further down the palace halls, Abomasnow opened a closet, only to be whacked in the head by a broom. Groaning, he leaned over to pick it up, and grunted while grabbing it, reaching around at the light cracking.

 “Ooh, my back…where is that damned knot…ah, blast it all, I can’t be getting that old yet,” he griped. Abomasnow held the broom up and glowered at it. “Hmph. It shouldn’t even be me getting saddled with all of these chores. I should get the knights to do them if they screw up training, and not…hey, that’s not a half bad idea.”

 Propping the broom up, he fumbled around trying to keep it lined with the others in the closet. Hearing yelling from down the corridor, Abomasnow jerked up.

 “Oh no, not them again…”

 Before he could prop the broom back up properly, Abomasnow was shoved into the closet as Politoed shoved Poliwrath into him, roughly knocking into his back.

 “Gods, now look at what you did!” Poliwrath hopped from the general. “You made me shove him into the closet!”

 “That’s your fault, you went too far to the left!”

 “Bah, will the two of you knock it off?!” Abomasnow’s thunderous voice scared the brothers back into chasing each other off. “Honestly, with how much chaos they cause, they’ll make my back pains distant…memories…huh.” Abomasnow rubbed his back and blinked, blankly staring off as he slowly smiled. “Hey. That actually feels much better!”

 His smirk faded as the broom dropped out from behind him and smacked down against the floor. Abomasnow sighed and rolled his eyes.

 Around the corner for the next hallway, Poliwrath shoved into Politoed, who pushed right back into him. They stuck together and charged down the hall, pushing one another along while rushing through.

 After nudging back and forth, Politoed shoved Poliwrath into a door, as his brother yanked him into it with him. They fell through and crashed down the steps into the library, where Empoleon sorted through his notes. He jerked up and whirled around at the brawling brothers, as they dragged their fight closer to his work.

 “Dastard!”

 “Asshole!”

 “Not now, the two of you are interrupting,” snapped Empoleon. “Just settle down for a minute, and don’t—”

 Neither heard him in time, as they tackled into each other and rolled across the room, bumping the table and knocking the papers around. Empoleon gaped at the mess his work was turned into, and gripped at his head. Shoving each other as they rose up from the ground, Politoed and Poliwrath finally focused on Empoleon, as he turned his dark glare upon them. Both jolted up and darted off.

 “Get back here,” bellowed Empoleon. “You two have caused me considerable confusion and delay! This work is supposed to…!” Empoleon blinked and studied the messy pile of papers before him. “…Wait a minute…” He shuffled the papers around. “This, here, that’s the piece of the legend…ah, here!” Empoleon giggled as he excited scoured over the lines. “The ‘valiant heart,’ ‘strong convictions and morals,’ this is the piece that I was looking for!”

 Glancing up and around the library, Empoleon cleared his throat, dragging his chair back closer to him and quietly sitting down with in, returning to his research.

 Bursting from the door leading outside to the palace’s walkway, Politoed broke away from Poliwrath and stumbled back against the railing. Poliwrath growled and charged at Politoed, knocking him over the side of the railing, as both plunged down into the moat below.

 Paddling up to the surface and panting as they dragged themselves back onto the bridge, Poliwrath and Politoed glared at each other, struggling to catch their breaths.

 “You’ll…never…find it…” Politoed brushed his mouth in between his breathing, wiping the water away.

 “Ha…you’re…the one…that won’t…” Poliwrath rolled his arms and struggled as he steadied himself.

 “Um.”

 Blinking at each other, the twins twisted around as they spotted Quagsire and Mienshao on the opposite side of the bridge. Mienshao wore the missing pendant around his neck, arm wrapped around Quagsire as he rubbed his cheek. Poliwrath and Politoed deflated as they gazed ahead.

 “We found it already.” Quagsire pointed back behind him. “It was in the main hall, but on the lower floor of the eastern side,” he revealed. “You guys probably past it when you went along.”

 “It was because we heard something smash in the dining hall that we went looking out that way at all,” enlightened Mienshao. “We thought we were going to find you two, but Quagsire spotted my pendant instead. It was a nice surprise!”

 “And then we heard you two splash down out here,” finished Quagsire. “…Are you guys ok?”

 “Us?” Poliwrath blinked and then laughed. “Ha, yeah, we…we, uh, slipped. From the top. Over there.”

 “Yep, that’s…that’s what happened.” Politoed chuckled weakly. “Glad that you, uh, found the pendant, Quagsire.”

 “It’s just nice that Mienshao has it back,” decided Quagsire. “Happy to help…”

 “You were so quick to find it too!” Mienshao hugged Quagsire. “Thank you so much for all of your effort!” He pulled off and turned to the brothers, nodding to them. “Thanks to both of you for assisting as well.”

 “Sure, yeah…”

 “You’re welcome…”

 Rubbing away the green glints from their envious eyes, Politoed and Poliwrath sank down as Mienshao and Quagsire strolled back inside of the palace. They glanced up at one another and shrugged.

 “Maybe we should take this as a note to change,” suggested Politoed.

 “True, maybe we need to clean up our act a bit,” concurred Poliwrath.

 “Oh, you two certainly have some cleaning up to do.”

 Both jumped up and stared across to Abomasnow, who had marched out in place of Mienshao and Quagsire. He lifted mops and a bucket.

 “We’ve got some recently messy halls that need to be tended to,” thundered Abomasnow. “And I know just the duo that’s eager to help!”

 “…This is all your fault,” hissed Poliwrath.

 “My fault?! You started it,” snapped back Politoed.

 “Personally, I don’t give a damn whose fault it was,” overtook Abomasnow. “Both of you are cleaning it up, and you’ll do it straight away or I’ll make you two a punishment much worse than that!”

 “Ah, yes sir.”

 “Right away, sir.”

 “That’s more like it! Maybe you’ll learn how to cooperate better by the end of the day after all.” He dropped the bucket down and propped the mops against it. “Now then, both of you: get to work!”

 Abomasnow lumbered back inside as Poliwrath and Politoed groaned, trudging over and scooping up the mops. They shot each other wicked glares as they shoved the doors for the palace back open and dragged themselves back inside through the halls.

 When Carracosta returned later, he was rather surprised at how neat the palace halls looked. Though once he found Poliwrath and Politoed to ask them about it, he only watched as they slumped down near a closet and knocked out.

...

...

Shenanigans were had, and chaos ensued. Hooray!

Just something to hold over readers that might be waiting on the coming conclusion of Melting Gelid Roses, since I’ll be getting to that finale later on in the coming months.

And this gave a bit nicer of a send-off for Poliwrath and Politoed, who didn’t get as much limelight for their time in the story. (Doesn’t help when you’re not quite the main characters.) It’ll be added later to Scattered Petals, like I mentioned above, since that’s the one-shot collection for these types.

It was also fun to have a few other characters with earlier routines: Mienshao’s actual newbie status to the Empire, Carracosta still new to hiding his personal life, the bears actually being around, Empoleon’s research, Quagsire’s sleepy demeanor masking his chef skills, and Abomasnow becoming...more of himself!

Plus, there were some fun references that I tossed in that hint at the later events of the main story. They’re not very obvious, but if you browse through the chapters, you might spot a few things between here and there.

Anyway, that’s all for them! Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading!

[wiredandrewired]

This got too long and I put it below a cut, screw it.

So I have a whole lot of stuff about Quintessence sitting in files and folders and on sticky notes around my desk.  Both VLD’s use of Quintessence and like...actual alchemical Quintessence (using the exact word and also similar or related terms) and places I semi glued them together.  I just.

I have whole huge SWATHES of this that’s not ever going to get out of my personal notes and whole huge SWATHES of it that is going straight into Project ReVolt when that starts going up.  But the other day I started derailing at @quixotic-quetzalcoatl in the comments for her fun pre-oldadin Altean revolution fic about robotic laws and their universality and also how once a species goes interstellar you have to scale up all their qualifiers for ‘worthy of rights’.  Because as we all know, at least here on Earth, it has always taken TIME for ‘basic rights’ to actually be granted inclusively to everyone.  And we still don’t grant them outside our species because, haha, that’s silly.  Even though we know there are, say, intelligent emotionally complex species on earth like octopi and also that we eat them, because they are delicious and we can’t communicate with them in a meaningful way and they lack a visibly structured society or any kind of culture.  ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ is cool and all, but it only extends as far as we’re able or willing to parse sentience and I SWEAR TO GOD I am getting back to Quintessence here.

And anyway I have been thinking about this ever since that conversation, and cannot contain it until ReVolt goes up.  And I’m kinda curious where people (especially the Alteans Were Not Inherently Good crowd) stand on it.  But I mean.  Let’s face it, that should be everyone because no culture is ‘Inherently Good’, that’s an oversimplification and a form cultural fetishization Lotor definitely thought of Alteans as Inherently Good Allura definitely thought of Alteans as Inherently Good that is not the basis for a healthy relationship y’all

So.  Quintessence.  I’m not like gonna break down all the rules and laws of it or anything, or get into distillation and the implications thereof, because this thought is not about that.  But the short and simple version is that alchemically speaking, Quintessence--undistilled into form--is like gravity: EVERYTHING has at least a little, and things with more exert force on and can affect things with less.  

A simple living thing (a plant) has a more than a non-living thing of the same mass (a rock), and a complex living thing like with a soul and everything (a human) has a lot more than a simple living thing of the same mass, as they also have that ‘metaphysical mass’ going for them.  So by this token, in Voltron a Balmera--a complex living life form--has a LOT more Quintessence than a similarly sized moon or even planet, even though it might have less actual mass, being hollowed out and all.  We also know that some Alteans (Sacred Alteans) can use the same non-physical communication methods that Balmera do with the smaller lifeforms living on them (meaning it’s a form of nonverbal communication fully compatible with something they already do), and also that those same Sacred Alteans can exchange some of their own ‘life force’ with the Balmera after taking a crystal from them.  They have a whole ritual for it.  I am gonna have fun with this in ReVolt  Sacred Alteans also are the ones who do neat things like healing people when they’re ‘dead’, transferring ‘souls’ (have I mentioned I have THEORIES related to the body/metabody model on why the Rift hits people like it do?), opening wormholes in the fabric of space and time... Other things that, once you sit down with even a basic rule model, obviously have to do with exerting their personal Quintessence Gravity on people and things around them.

What this tells me is that the amount of Quintessence that a Sacred Altean contains, for whatever reason, is HUMUNGOUS for their size.  To be able to exert that kind of ‘gravity’ on the world around them, on complex lifeforms around them.  And there clearly has to be some kind of ability to them to...I guess ‘perceive’ it for lack of a better word?  Because things like the wormholes is really precision work (and it works with MULTIPLE Quitessences is the thing, given the whole ‘scalturite comes from a living thing and therefore has the relative Quintessence appropriate to that’ bit). Things like fishing one soul out of another and carrying it and then fishing it out of entanglement with your own metaphysical non-mass?  Precision work.  It’s balls-out crazy, guys.  They’re like the dudes in FMA using handclaps and finger snaps to perform elaborate alchemical processes that ought to take weeks or months and tons of materials and study but without any of the sacrifice or prep work FMA props use and cranked up to 11.  (Disclaimer I never got deep into FMA).  I mean, clearly they did use SOME tools for this, especially in its most scaled-up forms, but some of it seems to be bare-hands inherent and it’s WILD.  

This also suggests some actual logic to how the heck people are ‘chosen’ to get the Mark of the Chosen and go into Oriande; it’s literally a matter of metaphysical gravity, it has nothing to do with worthiness, that’s the whole reason there are trials once you get there. 

Someone, please imagine with me the kind of impact and implications this has for them in a non-vacuum.  Both within the Altean culture itself, but also, outside of it.  Why do some of them have so much more ‘mass’ than others?  Is this something Lotor was trying to recreate in his colony/at his facility?  What effect did one’s personal ‘mass’ have on ones’ place in society?  We know those with more would have been valued, it’s baked right into their tech, but what about those with normal or even below normal levels?  Because it’s baked into so much of the tech that we see, would they have difficulty operating things on a day-to-day basis, or did this literally only effect one very small group?  Like Lotor says some Alteans are ‘less magical’, but how far does that go?  And then there’s space...man.  Okay.   Once they got off their own planet, you would have a class of people who could perceive the ‘gravity’ of other races they encountered.  They literally would have a built-in metric by which to determine whether or not something was viewed as a ‘lifeform’, and if so what kind: people, or non-people.  And this is very different than looking at a thing and simply saying ‘we can’t communicate with it in a meaningful way, it must not be sentient’ or ‘it doesn’t seem to have a culture it must not be sentient’ or even ‘this is not a lifeform that evolved in a way or from an element we’re familiar with life having, it must not be alive’.  This is literally having a universal metric, a Law of Metaphysics if you will, that you can apply to determine if something is alive regardless of whether that life seems significant or obvious.  A Balmera is not ‘obviously alive’ and is definitely not alive in a familiar way, but clearly Alteans had an at least semi-symbiotic arrangement with them, and at no point are implied to have disregarded the native Balmerans claims that their planet was a living being that spoke to them as primitive or superstitious.  Interestingly their arrangement with Weblums seems slightly more parasitic, or hunter-gatherer at best, unless those Altean Nightmare Terraformers we see on Naxela sometimes are used to kill off planets, but all this means is that from a mass perspective, it has the ‘gravity’ of a less complex lifeform.  This suggests that at least some of that might have been value-based, which okay, you have to expect.

But what if the Alteans--who aside from the Sacreds are VERY LIKELY to have a very high baseline compared to their mass all things considered--ran into a species with a lower baseline level?  Like, a fully complex, fully developed species, thoughts, feelings, culture, etc, lower than they had reason to expect?  Here on earth, we’re always running into new things that challenge our ideas about the way things work.  Did Alteans have a baseline below which a species might not have even been considered ‘alive’ by them, based on what they had experienced and studied?  Or at least alive in a meaningful way?  Alfor sure didn’t seem to take the Arusian natives into account as people when he plonked their reasonably-should-have-been-pursued castle down there in the middle of a war.  Galra show signs--a LOT of signs--of being very rapidly and very strongly affected by Quintessence around them, which would suggest that they have relatively low levels for their mass and complexity, and possibly even having a hard time repairing their own Quintessence (which is A Thing that complex lifeforms are supposed to be able to do).  Oh my god yes it’s replenishable listen Alteans in jars would be weirdly hyperefficient if they did it in shifts?  As a volunteer thing it wouldn’t have been vile Lotor smh  Catch me plugging Sacreds into stasis tubes *SLAPS TUBE* THIS BABY CAN POWER SO MANY COLONIES

And I’m REALLY curious about what people think about that, and just the implications of the whole mess, and I want to hear theories and this has gone on forever, and I haven’t eaten in like twelve hours and I’m late for my meds, and I’m gonna go get food because my brain has shorted out but like someone please tell me I’m overthinking this or scream with me about it or smth.

[bonesmctightass]

Exposed

The garlic is going to burn, Leonard. You must stir it.

"Ah, right. Thanks."

It had been a week since Leonard's meltdown on the couch. Things between them had normalized again. As much as things can be normal between a human and their symbiote. Spock continued to be overly affectionate whenever the opportunity presented itself and Leonard tried his hardest not to hyperventilate. There was still kissing. A lot of kissing. Things were moving forward slowly but surely. One night, when Leonard was feeling bold, he asked for more. But Spock wouldn't give it to him. You are not ready, he said. And he was right. Of course he was right.

Leonard was, however, ready to continue their progress. He wanted Spock. And he was okay with wanting Spock. He was even ready to show him off. Tonight was going to be important. Probably the most important night in their relationship so far. Jim was coming over.

"How much of the red stuff is supposed to go in the sauce?" He was trying so hard. Leonard could barely handle a slice of toast before Spock. But they'd been practicing and Spock was more than happy to take over and show him how to do things. Turned out to be a blessing that there was nothing but Good Eats reruns on television at three in the morning.

Paprika, Leonard. Two teaspoons.

Leonard stopped stirring to peak over at what Spock was doing. He was manifested from the waist up, pouring red wine into the pan to reduce and chopping greens which could have been parsley but Leonard couldn't quite remember. If he hadn't been staring he probably would've missed the way the corners of Spock's lips turned up just slightly as he tasted the ingredients. He felt sort of like a lovesick fool. It seemed so… normal. Like they'd been cooking dinner together for friends their whole lives.

As much as I cherish your attention, I should tell you that your garlic is burning.

"Shit!"

Minor culinary disasters aside, everything actually turned out beautifully. Spock had showed him the article he was referencing and the final product looked just like the picture. They made a great team in more than just the vigilante superheroing sense.

Now it was time for the second obstacle of the night. Getting dressed. Normally Leonard didn't care much about what he wore. He wasn't trying to impress anybody with his wardrobe so too-worn jeans and a college t-shirt from too many years ago was typically acceptable. But he wanted this to go well. Jim was his best friend and if he didn't accept what Leonard was about to tell him… Then what?

Not that one, Spock said as Leonard held up a button down shirt, much too dressy. Surely Jim will wonder if we are trying to seduce him. Save that for your interview next Thursday.

Leonard tried another option. A simple grey sweater, clearly well worn but casual. No, that will not work. There are holes in that.

"Spock, you put the holes in it."

… I apologize.

It went on like that until they finally settled on a pair of black jeans and a brown knit sweater. He was going to make a last minute decision to shave the scruff on his jaw until Spock had interjected and told him not to because he looked handsome with the facial hair. Leonard was still flushed over the admonition right up until Jim knocked on the door. Spock took that as his cue to disappear for the night.

Remember, Leonard. You must tell him what I am saying. I do not wish to reveal myself. Not yet. Not tonight. Leonard nodded and opened the door.

Things were surprisingly easy. Jim had a tendency to do that. Make everything less complicated. He was a good friend to Leonard and had been since college. He'd been there for the ups and downs of Leonard's life. Even the rock bottoms. Especially the rock bottoms.

"So when do I get to meet the guy you've been telling me about?" Jim said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. He'd told Jim a lot of things but was still vague enough to throw him off. "You've got quite the spread here, Bones. Is he coming over?" What Leonard wanted to say was he's already here and the words were about to come out until Spock pinched him in the thigh.

Do not be so hasty. Patience. Do it right. Like we discussed.

"Uh, well… That's, uh. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

God, he was nervous. There was no good way to say hey, my boyfriend is an alien from outer space who sometimes eats people but is actually really nice and super good at making out! He stuck to the narrative that he'd practiced with Spock and prayed to whatever gods existed that this was going to work out. Leonard began with his mental breakdown in the restaurant when he'd jumped into the lobster tank. Jim paled slightly, vividly remembering the incident. Then he recounted the experience with the MRI, losing control of his limbs, surviving gunshots and car chases and Khan and slid into there's an alien in my body with as much tact as he could muster.

The sound of the fork clattering loudly into the plate as Jim dropped it was deafening. "Bones."

Do not be nervous, Leonard. We anticipated this. It will be alright.

"Look, I know how this sounds. I know it's crazy and wildly unbelievable but it's the truth, Jim. You think I'd make this all up just to drive away the one friend I still have?" Despite the comforting words in his head, Leonard was starting to cross over into that paralyzing sort of anxiety that only Spock could cure.

"Okay, okay. I believe you, I do," Jim said, holding up his hands placatingly. Leonard was so relieved that he sagged against his chair. Until Jim said, "Show me."

"What?"

"Show me." He repeated. "Let me see him so I can introduce myself properly. He's been listening to us talk about him this whole time, right? He should come out here and join the conversation. You know, so he can speak for himself."

I do not wish to frighten him with my appearance.

"It's fine, Spock. He can handle it." Leonard was starting to sweat and rolling up his sleeves wasn't going to help. "Come out."

I do not want to.

He knew he was going to have to coax Spock out. That was the only way Jim was going to truly believe him. It was the difference between acceptance and a psych ward committal. "Please. Please. Just come out. A little bit, at least. Give him something or he's gonna think I'm insane."

Very well. I will do this, Leonard, but only for you.

Leonard held his breath and Spock slowly pulled himself out. His mass solidified. Formed a head, then shoulders. A torso. Tendrils connected him to Leonard's shoulder. In just a handful of seconds Spock was out. Barred to Jim. He was strong and capable but oh so vulnerable in that moment. Leonard couldn't breathe.

"Hello, Jim."

[the-silentium]

Unsteady Pt. 5

Summary: You have never been so happy in your life. One day, though, everything changes when Eddie starts to act weird around you and starts lying to you...

Part 4      Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader, Venom x Reader

Warning: Very little angst, fluff

Words: 1980 words

A/N: Enjoy the last part of this series! Please, leave some comments!

Your relationship with Eddie has been improving every day. At first, you passed your days with each other, wanting to learn more about your new found mate. It didn’t take long for you to notice that you were deeply in love with the guy. You often wake up in the morning, all tangled up in his arms, warmth radiating from him and when you would finally open your eyes, you would see his handsome bed head that never fails to put a smile on your face. Eddie took you out on dates. Movies, restaurant, and walks in the parc. You enjoyed every minute passed with him and his symbiote.

One day, they tried to cook your breakfast, which resulted in an enormous mess in your kitchen and a burned skillet. When you got out of bed that day and saw flour on every inch of your floor, eggs on the counter, milk dripping off the said counter onto the floor and some white furry ball licking the milk puddle. Then, your gaze felt on Eddie who was standing on the middle of the mess, trying to flip a pancake without a spatula. No need to tell that Hidde got a nice breakfast this morning. Eddie’s desperation was omnipresent around him. You heard him arguing silently with Venom, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You burst out laughing, scaring the shit out of Eddie. When he turned around, confused about your reaction to him destroying your kitchen, he received a handful of flour square in the face. Then started the food war in which Venom had a lot of pleasure participating.

One month passed and Eddie got a new job. He continued to practice as a journalist and you could see the satisfaction every time he got a new case to work on. He loved this job and you fell in love with an aspect of him that you never saw before. The guy that put his whole heart in what he makes, because he wants to make a difference in this corrupted world.

Even if this job had great importance in Eddie’s life, he never returned home late. Yes, home. Because when Venom realized that they wouldn’t be able to see you as much as they got used to, he got a little mad. You were touched that he grew so much attached to you in so little time. Yourself, you got infatuated with him, so you proposed that they moved in with you. It didn’t take a lot of talking, they already passed the majority of their time at your apartment and they definitely preferred yours to theirs. So, Eddie moved in and to soothe Venom a little, he promised you this day that he would never get home late, because « nothing in my life is more important than to pass time with the most beautiful woman of the world… Scratch that. Of the universe. Venom says that even in other worlds, no one can match you. »

On Friday night, your friends and former comrades came to your house to continue the tradition. It never stressed you that Eddie or Venom may not like them, because you know that it would instantly click. In fact, it just took ten minutes for everyone to be at ease. As always, Jaya, Axel and yourself cooked for everyone while Eddie and Mike had a nice chat on the couch. Then, you all watched a new movie and ate some snacks Axel bought. You never really eat a lot, because Axel always brings chocolate and… well, Venom can’t stop himself.

Fall finally let place to winter and Venom saw his first snowflake. You were having a nice dream when suddenly a heavy weight fell on you. You awoke in panic, your heart beating hard, trying to push the weight away to allow you to breathe properly. When Venom finally got off, he didn’t let you time to calm down that he took you bridal style to the window. He opened the curtain, blinding you with the sudden light and asked one million questions about the snow. You passed the day answering his question. You and Eddie got out for a walk. Venom was still asking questions, to the great despair of Eddie, but you didn’t mind.

It’s been six months now that you and Eddie started being together. Without a doubt, it has been the best six months of your life and you planned on having a lot more. You have never been so happy, but lately, something feels off. Since the first week of Decembre, Eddie was always distracted, stressed, always running somewhere. At first, it wasn’t a bother. You thought it was just a case at his job, but with the passing weeks, you figured that you were the center of it. When Axel was visiting you, he was relaxed around him. During Friday nights, he was like the Eddie you felt in love with. You can tell by the atmosphere surrounding him, that there is something on his shoulder, but when you ask, he always says that there is nothing, that everything is perfectly fine. It never bothered you before, because he didn’t lie to you, but now, he does and it’s hurting you. You can tell that he is lying and you really want to go see what’s on his mind, read his thoughts, but you forbid yourself. You don’t want to invade his privacy, break his trust.

You manage to keep your mood up for a bit, but now, you were down. You wake up alone, a note on your nightstand saying that he went for some last errand and he will be back in an hour or so. Today is Christmas Eve and you are alone in your bed, dark thoughts sneaking a trail to your brain. Was he finally getting enough of you? Did he finally realized that you weren’t the perfect woman he always praises you to be? Did he… Before you could go further down the hill, Hidde jumps on the bed and licks your face. You feel his power flowing through you, feel his love warming you. You hug him for a while, taking all the comfort he gives you. You finally get up, wanting to thank your dog with food and goes straight into the shower.

After washing yourself, you stay under the hot water, trying to clear your head. What is happening? Everything was so perfect and now, you feel like you’ve been tossed aside, forgotten in the corner. You breathe deeply and get out. You put your dress on and start preparing some stuff for the little Christmas party. Hours pass and Eddie is still missing. Mike, Axel, and Jaya arrived and you all started to chat. You take Jaya aside, needing someone to talk to.

“Do you… eh… Did Eddie looked weird to you like, during past weeks?“ you ask, concern all over your face.

Your friend frowns at you. “No, he looked fine to me. Did something happened? “

You shook your head. “No, he just started avoiding me lately… And he started lying to me… Jay’ I don’t know what to do.“ you reply with a small voice.

She hugs you tight, stroking your back. “You know bestie, this guy loves you, that, I’m 100% sure of. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing and when you finally find what’s making him acting all weird in your eyes, you’re gonna laugh and call me.“ she pulls away and smiles at you.

You put a smile back on, feeling a tiny better. “You’re right. Thanks.“

“Everything for you.“

You return to the guys and still no sign of Eddie. It’s only at 3 o’clock that the door opened and your soulmate comes in, nothing in hands. You frown. He was supposed to be running errands for now… six hours and he has nothing. What in the world did he do? Sadness filled you. He lied. Again. There is still this nervousness around him and it affects you, weakening you. Your eyes start burning so you force yourself to look out the window. Eddie greets everyone and when he approaches to kiss you, you just walk off to Jaya, totally ignoring him. Eddie is stunned. You never did that before and it breaks his heart.

He jumps a little when Axel puts his hand on his shoulder and whispers something to him. His eyes go wide and he feels his heart tighten.

You control yourself as much as you can. Yet, no tear fall down so you are doing a good job. Jaya is still comforting you, then look over your shoulder and smile. You turn around to follow her gaze and find Eddie, in a really nice suit, walking to you. It’s fight or flight. You already flight. Now fight. You stay at your position and when Eddie finally gets to you, he puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/N I’m sorry I put you through so much pain. It’s not what I wanted.“ his voice is full of regret. He puts his hand on your cheek and looks directly into your eyes. “I’m not good at this. I.. I mean keeping secrets from you. Oh and I’m sorry for it. It hurt you and I’m terribly sorry for it. It’s just… I hope that you will forgive me this one.“

You see the loving look in his eyes, but you feel the stress from his body. “Y/N since the farthest I can remember, I’ve always wanted to know who belonged to the name tattooed on my wrist. I always thought that such a perfect name would belong to a perfect woman and I wasn’t wrong. Since we found each other, I feel complete. Waking up next to you each morning is the best thing in the world and seeing you smile is the best price I can get.“ To that, you can’t stop yourself. You smile at him, all your worries are long forgotten. His heart flutters and he gathered all the courage he has. “Love, I can’t imagine a better gift“ he let go of your cheek and take something in his pocket. He takes a step back and gets on one knee. Your heart rate accelerates and Hidde is there to back you up. He pushes his head on your hand in comfort. Eddie opens a little black box and you see it. The ring. “than to know that I will wake up every morning by your side and see you smile as my wife.“

The tears finally roll on your cheeks. You can’t believe it. All this time, you thought he had enough of you and now, he is proposing to you. You can’t talk, so you nod your head. You see the relief on his face and he gets up. He hugs you tightly and pushes back just enough to be able to put the ring on your finger. He kisses you and you feel all his love. When you push back, you finally found your voice.

“I love you, Eddie.“ He gives you a light kiss on the lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

“I love you too Y/N.“  Venom says getting out from Eddie’s shoulder and rubbing his head on your cheek.

“I love you too Ve.“

Axel grabs you in a hug and congrats you. Jaya winks at you and Mike is smiling. Today was definitely not what you expected. But you don’t mind. Because it was a thousand time better and now, your vow is granted. You’re going to wake up next to this handsome man and his symbiote every morning and enjoy what life have for you next.

Taglist: @tomhardy41 @randomshizzles101 @nightshade7117 @markusstraya @slither-in-a-half @herondalcarstairs

[glittermork]

Modern Royalty AU pt. 3

part 1 part 2

Summary: Jaemin’s mom is suing the king.

(Alternatively: Renjun and Jeno finally have that talk they’ve been meaning to get to for the last three months, and Jaemin is alive.)

Jaemin hasn’t woken up in a hospital since he was seven and his father bashed an empty soju bottle over his skull. Back then, the scar had been cool and the schoolwork he’d missed was easily made up. His mother had been by his side crying when he’d woken up. His father had given him ten bucks and the new Spider-Man comic for lying to the nurse about how he’d gotten hurt.

Roughly sixteen years later, he wakes up to the sound of someone sobbing.

“Hnnngnhghn,” he says, and the sobbing stops with a choked gasp.

Jaemin peels one eye open and regrets it immediately. Sitting on Jaehyun’s lap on the left side of his bed is Taeyong. (Fuck. Jaemin doesn’t know how to deal with people when they cry! This isn’t part of his job!)

“Oh shit, he’s awake,” he hears Jaehyun mumble, and he just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, (mostly because he suspects that it would really fucking hurt), as he struggles to sit up. Unfortunately, this is also the exact moment his body decides to let him know that there is a bullet hole in his fucking torso, and maybe he should take that into consideration when he tries to make any sudden movements.

Collapsing on the bed in an uncoordinated flop, Jaehyun smirks at him and Taeyong frowns. “Lay back down, you dummy,” Taeyong sniffles, collecting himself from his boyfriend’s lap. Jaemin would spare a thought to wonder why he’s not worried about being caught, if it didn’t feel like his entire body was on fire. He should probably stop jumping in front of bullets.

“Na Jaemin,” Taeyong begins his lecture, and Jaemin groans. “Do you have ANY IDEA how fucking worried we were about you? You almost died on the operating table! TWICE! I thought we were really going to lose you the second time! What the fuck!”

“I almost died again? Jesus,” Jaemin mutters.

Taeyong splutters. “The fuck do you mean—AGAIN?!”

“You know I had a job before this, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but—you know what? No. Shut up. I was worried! And I thought your mom was going to actually strangle my dad and—“

“Hold up, my mother is here?”

Taeyong stares back at him blankly. “You got shot, Jaemin. Of course she came.”

“Your mom is, like, really fucking mad at you, by the way,” Jaehyun says. Jaemin assumes he’s just here for Taeyong’s emotional support.

“Shut up, Jae,” Taeyong groans, drying his tears on his boyfriend’s sweater. “I’m gonna go get a nurse. Play nice or I’m not putting out for a month.”

“Damn,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath, and sits back down in his chair next to Jaemin’s bed. “Seriously, though, kid, the doctor handed your mom your nipple piercings in a plastic bag ‘cuz I guess they had to take them out for surgery or some shit and she fucking, lost her mind.”

“Great! Thanks, Jaehyun! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, two minutes after waking up from a coma!”

“I didn’t know you had nipple piercings,” he continues, and Jaemin thinks this is maybe the last conversation he’d like to be having right now. He’s tired. and he misses Jeno and Renjun. “Aren’t you, like, five? I didn’t know they let toddlers get nipple piercings?”

“First of all, I’m twenty-three,” Jaemin grumbles, glaring at him. “And I’ve had them since I was eighteen, so fuck you.”

Jaehyun holds his hands up defensively. “Hey, you do you, man, all I’m saying is—“

Jeno and Renjun, of course, decide that it’s the appropriate moment to make an appearance. Seriously, fuck his fucking life. The door flies open, and standing there, in all their slightly-haggard, stayed-at-the-hospital-for-over-24-hours-glory, are the two (2) loves of his life. Jaemin kind of wants to go back to sleep.

“Fucking hell, Nana,” Renjun mumbles, and promptly bursts into tears. Jeno looks mildly alarmed but he’s also holding up his boyfriend with one arm and staring at his other boyfriend (they really need to have that talk) in a hospital bed, so, whatever. Together they sort of half-limp-drag-walk to the unoccupied side of Jaemin’s bed, and now Jaemin has to fight the urge to cry as well. So maybe getting shot is god-awful, but as long as these two are safe, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Please never do that again,” Jeno breathes, and buries his face in Jaemin’s neck. Jaemin wonders if maybe this is some sort of punishment from god or whoever the fuck is up there, for falling in love with the prince and the prince’s boyfriend. There’s no other explanation for why they’re both climbing into his bed, and crying on his shoulders and holding his fucking hands.

“Um. What is happening here?” Jaemin asks Jaehyun, who is currently taking pictures of them for his blackmail folder.

Jaehyun gives Jaemin the most deadpan look, and sighs. “There’s no hope for you.”

He’s about to make a weak retort, when Taeyong, followed by a line of medical professionals, the king, and his mother, burst into the room.

Jaemin sighs. It’s going to be a long morning.

—

“What I don’t understand,” his mother is saying, but Jaemin hasn’t been listening since she started ranting about the Pride photos again. “Is why you didn’t think to tell me that boys you were in love with were the prince that you’re supposed to be guarding and his boyfriend?”

Jaemin shrugs half-heartedly, and licks another spoonful of pudding. They’ve gone over this four times already. He wants to take a nap. He misses his. . . .charges. (Are Jeno and renjun considered his charges? Is that the right word for it? Does he need to maybe cool it with the pain meds? Yeah, probably.)

“Could you keep your voice down?” He winces, and glances out the door. It would honestly be the cherry-on-top of the bullshit-sundae, if he got fired for being in love with Jeno and Renjun after he quite literally just took a bullet for them. Maybe it’s what he deserves.

“Oh, shut up,” his mom rolls her eyes, brushing a lock of Jaemin’s hair out of his eyes, and kissing his forehead. “You know they love you back, right, baby?”

“Mom, I—“

“No, you listen to me, Na Jaemin.“ Shit, she full-named him. “Those two boys have been here since the moment you were admitted. They’ve been crying over you all night and all morning and if you think that doesn’t mean they love you too, you’ve got another thing coming, honey.”

“Mom,” he sighs, and closes his eyes. The Academy didn’t train him for this. “They love each other. I’m sure they were just worried about me because we’re friends. Or they felt guilty that I took a bullet for them. Which they shouldn’t, it’s my fucking job. I’m probably just—reading too far into things. They’ve been in love since they were, like, infants, you know? I can’t mess that up. And I don’t want to.”

His mom gives him an unreadable look, and huffs, shaking her head. “you always were too stubborn for your own good, baby,” she says, and pats his thigh.

“Mom,” he sighs, and hides his face in the sweatshirt Jeno had given him because ‘I know you get cold easily’, (Jaemin had practically swooned right on the spot). He’d looked nervously to Renjun after that comment, but the older boy was just smiling affectionately at both of them, hand easily continuing to stroke the hair at the nape of Jaemin’s neck, his other resting clasped with Jeno’s over Jaemin’s lap. The entire morning had felt unreal.

“Jaemin,” his mom sighs back in the same tone of voice, and gives his sweatshirt a pointed look.

So maybe they do have some things to work out. But he just can’t get his hopes up. He’s doesn’t know what he’ll do if they get crushed.

“Don’t give me that look,” he blushes, tugging the hood over his greasy hair, and grimacing. “When’s the soonest I can take a shower?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck replies, poking his head into the room to announce his arrival. “You should’ve thought of that before you jumped in front of a bullet, idiot.”

“Hyuck!” Jaemin grins, making grabby hands at the giant plushie Hyuck is balancing with a bouquet of sunflowers and what looks like the entire boxed set of Buffy DVDs Jaemin keeps in the back of his closet.

“What’s up, Nana,” he grins, handing his mother the flowers and setting the DVDs on his bedside table. “How’s my favorite little bodyguard doing?”

“Shut up, Hyuck,” Jaemin rolls his eyes, hugging the soft bumblebee plushie to his chest. “I'm guessing the flowers are from your other thirds?”

“Yeah, Mark said sorry he couldn’t be here, poor baby’s been arguing with the charity ball security team all morning. The plushie is from Jisung, though.”

“Yikes,” Jaemin winces, “tell him I’m sorry I can’t be there to help him. And I know it’s from Jisung, I got his for him for his birthday last year.”

Hyuck shrugs. “I forgot about your weird symbiotic relationship. Anyway, clean up is Mark’s best skill, Nana. Besides, you should tell him yourself—he hasn’t stopped anxiety-ing over you all morning.”

“Tell him the flowers are lovely, too!” His mother interjects, gathering her purse and jacket and kissing him on the forehead. “I’m gonna go get lunch and find that dumbass king of yours—“ “Mom! Promise me you won’t—“ “I’m not promising anything!” She finishes, calling over her shoulder as she swings out the door. Jaemin would be assed to stop her if he didn’t already know what a losing fight looked like.

Hyuck rolls his eyes, and peels open Jaemin’s other pudding. Jaemin just barely suppresses the urge to pout.

“What kind of shit are they feeding you in here, anyway?” He asks, licking the lid, and Jaemin slumps back onto his pillows.

“Mush.”

“Gross. Okay! I’m done with small talk, time for the real reason why I’m here: you took a fucking bullet for them.”

“Hyuuuuck,” he whines, smashing his face back into the bumblebee plushie to avoid Hyuck’s knowing gaze. “Can’t you just be a normal visiting friend and tell me I was brave or some shit?”

“Fine. You were brave! And incredibly fucking stupid! Now, please tell me how you call that ‘a little crush that I’ll get over eventually’?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Jaemin mumbles into the pillow, “it’s kind of my fucking job.”

Hyuck sighs dramatically, and plops down on the newly-vacated chair. “Hopeless,” he mutters, and shoves another spoonful of low-fat pudding in his mouth.

—

The nurses had cut him off after two seasons of Buffy, so Jaemin and Hyuck had elected to play quiet music and talk about food. A subject neither of them could ever grow tired of.

Hyuck’s not really sure how that turned into this.

There are tears streaming down Jaemin’s face. It’s only two in the afternoon. The Weekend by SZA is playing for the sixth time in a row. Hyuck is five seconds away from murdering him in cold blood. His bullet wound kind of throbs but maybe it’s just his heart breaking into a million pieces.

“You’re not a side hoe,” Hyuck groans, snatching Jaemin’s phone and turning it off.

“Fuck you,” he sniffles, leaning back on the crinkly hospital pillows, “I’m a home wrecker. And I’m ugly.”

“You’re so incorrect about both of those things that I’m not gonna even respond to that! Okay, I think that’s enough phone-time. How about we just talk, okay? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jaemin sniffs. “Maybe,” he admits, sinking slowly into his pillow pile until the only visible part of him is his hair sticking out like an unruly tree branch.

Hyuck snorts. “Do you want to go to take a nap, baby?”

“Shut up.” Jaemin replies, and promptly passes out.

“Absolutely fucked,” Hyuck sighs to himself as he tucks the younger boy in.

—

Renjun has never been certain of anything as much as he and Jeno.

JenoJenoJeno. He could talk about him for days on end. He could wax-poetic about his eyesmile and his teeth and his hands for the rest of his life. Really, he plans to. Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. The boy he’s loved for as long as he can remember.  

And while Jeno is lovely and beautiful and Renjun’s very best friend in the entire world, he has a tendency to hang off Renjun’s every word. And while that’s, admittedly, fantastic, it’s not always what Renjun needs. Sometimes he needs someone to push back. Someone who can meet him blow for blow. Someone who’s not afraid to talk back.

In other words, Renjun needs Jaemin.

JaeminJaeminJaemin. His ears, his nose, his cheeks. Renjun could think about him for hours—days—weeks, on end. He feels like the wind is knocked out of him every time the bodyguard makes eye contact with him with that gorgeous smile. That smile. Renjun has dreams about it.

And, if his suspicions are correct, (fucking hell, please let them be) Jeno needs him too.

“So,” says Jeno after fifteen minutes of him and Renjun staring at each other across the unforgiving plastic benches of the hospital cafeteria.

“I think I’m in love with your bodyguard,” Renjun blurts out, and then immediately freezes.

“Oh, good,” Jeno sighs in relief. “Me too.”

—

“You can’t sue him,” Taeyong sighs for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Of course I can’t sue him,” Jaemin’s mom rolls her eyes. “He’s the fucking king. I’d lose in a heartbeat.”

“Then what, exactly,” Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose, “was the point of you wasting my entire day?”

She shrugs, and takes a neat sip of the Diet Coke the prince had bought her after the first twenty or so minutes of arguing. “Just buying my idiot son some time to figure his shit out.”

—

Jaemin wakes up to the two people he’s most recently almost died for. It’s a pleasant surprise, considering he thought he’d be fired by now. Shit. Maybe they wanna do it in person?

“—min? You’re not listening to us at all are you?” Renjun chuckles, and Jaemin feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. So much for not being obvious. These meds are seriously fucking him up, huh?

“Jaem,” Jeno continues for Renjun, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. Despite his better reasoning, Jaemin let’s his gaze rest painfully, just a second too long, on their clasped hands, and sits back against his pillows with a wince. Apparently, it’s time to be friend-zoned by the first people he’s been interested in since he was 20. What a sad end to a short career as a professional Kevlar vest.

“Jun, and I have finally had a talk, and—“We love you!” Renjun blurts out, and then promptly buries his head in Jeno’s shoulder as the prince chokes out a laugh in surprise. “Yeah,” he nods hopefully, staring expectantly at Jaemin as he scratches the back of his neck. “We love you. And we want you to be ours. That about covers it.”

Jaemin is absolutely floored. There are very few people in the world who Jaemin considers worthy of his complete love and protection, and two of them are standing here in his room looking at him like he’s the last piece to their 2000 set jigsaw puzzle, and this cannot be real.

He’s distracted from his own frantic, rambling thoughts by Renjun’s delicate, light fingertips brushing away a tear. That’s an interesting development, he hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

Through a few disgusting, choked out sobs, he manages to warble in his stupid, watery voice, “I love you too.” And then lips—he doesn’t know, and, frankly, doesn’t care who’s—are on his like a lifeline, and there’s nothing he feels like thinking about more right now, than how good it feels to finally, finally be complete.

In Renjun and Jeno’s strong, warm, arms, it feels like home.

—

There’s something to be said about the persistence of the paparazzi. Somehow, someway, they always know where to be to make the most absolute inconvenience of themselves and to make their subjects’ lives just that much less private. Truly, a marvel of a job.

There is also, however, something to be said about the sheer terror of going head to head with Jaemin’s mom.

“LISTEN UP, YOU FUCKING CREEPS,” she yells, and Jaemin doesn’t bother listening to the rest. “That was a pretty good start, I think,” Renjun comments, happily playing with the strings of Jaemin’s hoodie. He’s sitting on Jaemin’s lap and they’re both snuggled under the hideous blanket some nurse had draped over them when they’d gotten situated on the wheelchair. It still feels unreal to Jaemin, just as unreal as the sweet kiss Jeno drops on both of their foreheads as he skirts around them to deal with even more paperwork. Who knew even the prince’s bodyguard had to sign release forms?

“I can’t wait to get home,” Jaemin murmurs shyly into the base of Renjun’s neck, receiving a mouthful of soft, baby-pink turtleneck for his efforts.

“Me too, baby,” Renjun sighs, leaning further into his boyfriend’s embrace.

*click*

Their moment is interrupted by the snap of Jeno’s phone camera, as the prince shrugs at them sheepishly. “What?” He laughs, turning back to his paperwork. “It was perfect lock screen material, don’t judge me!”

Jaemin blushes, thinking back to his own lock screen, a picture of Jeno and Renjun he’d taken on one of their many forbidden, late-night, this-never-happened adventures. Renjun is on Jeno’s back, kissing Jeno’s cheek and holding up a peace sign, and Jeno is practically beaming at the camera, eye smile in full power. It’s Jaemin’s favorite picture of them ever, and he’s certainly spent an embarrassing number of nights staring at it desperately. Oh, if only he knew what was coming for him.

When he shows Renjun, the older boy gasps, immediately shoving it in Jeno’s face. “Oh, baby, this is one of my favorite pictures of us too! But, if I’m being honest, it’s missing something.”

“Hey!” Jaemin pouts playfully, trying not to grin. “It was the best I could do with my shitty old phone! I promise I’ll take many, many more.

“He didn’t mean the photo, Jaem,” Jeno laughs, leaning over to wrap Jaemin’s slightly-shaking hand in his warm, steady one. “He meant you.”

“Oh.” Jaemin, gasps, tears welling up in his eyes. How did he possibly get so lucky?

“Awwww, baby,” Renjun grins brightly at him. “We’re just gonna have to take a million more,” he shrugs.

Jeno nods solemnly in agreement, as he takes the safety brakes off of the wheelchair. Renjun slides off his lap reluctantly, taking Jaemin’s hand and tucking his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Ready?” Jeno grins, flicking his favorite pair of baby blue heart-shaped sunglasses down from their perch on the top of his head. Jaemin makes a mental note to buy him more colors when Renjun playfully whines that he wants to borrow them.

“Let’s go, you fucking dorks,” Jaemin laughs, tugging on Renjun’s hand and leaning his head back gently against one of Jeno’s arms. Renjun squeezes back and Jeno grins down at him, leaning down to peck Jaemin’s nose, and they’re out the door in mere seconds, to the flashes and screams of paparazzi and reporters alike.

Jaemin instinctively stiffens in his wheelchair, but relaxes immediately as both Jeno and Renjun squeeze his respective hands tightly in comfort.

It’s going to be fine. He has everything he needs, right beside him.