#though ​sometimes its hard to be grateful for that when its 2 degrees out and I’m still half asleep

[i-heart-hxh]

i want to thank you for talking about the doomery takes about Gon and Killua's separation with the level of patience & respect you do. i think people sometimes believe they parted on worse terms than they really did and it leads to people asking questions like "why would Killua say that to him?" or "why didn't Gon give a 'proper' apology?" with a preconception that the situation is irreparable. theyre intelligent kids who love each other a lot, so these things can feel really mean or insensitive to us because we see it as such a high stakes situation when in actuality, the characters kind of know what's happening already and can intuit each others feelings or intentions to a reasonable degree.

like, ex: Killua calls Gon stuff like an embarrassing moron frequently and Gon sees its because he's emotionally constipated and not because Killua actually thinks he's stupid. conversely, Killua knows that what Gon said to him in the palace came from an irrational place of lashing out at the only safe person in the room, and the reason why he can make fun of Gon later for it is because its clear he regrets it. they understand each other quite a bit and though the separation makes them really sad, i'm sure they both get, on some level, why it has to be like this for a bit

Thank you very much for the sweet message!

I honestly get exhausted by how many doom and gloom takes exist about HxH in general, and especially around Gon and Killua's relationship. I hope that by talking about my own perceptions of the series after spending all these years thinking about it and pulling it apart, more people can come to the side of having hope about it and being excited about what's ahead for them.

What they went through was immensely painful, and it certainly hurt those of us who love their relationship, too, but there are far more reasons to believe they have a path of healing and reconciliation ahead of them than all the angsty alternatives. They may have more to go through first before they reach that point, but in my opinion it would contradict the themes of the series for them not to have a second chance to rebuild their relationship even better.

That's a good bit of insight about them and how their interactions are much more than just what they're literally saying! I totally agree that they're quite perceptive about each other and aware of at least some of each others' feelings below the surface. There are actually several scenes where they explain things about the other with a surprising amount of insight--for instance, when Killua is talking to Wing about Gon's tendencies after the Gido match, or Gon knowing Killua will reluctantly fold to him if he insists on something when talking to Meleoron. Their relationship is complex and they both have areas where they need to improve with regards to communicating and understanding each other (especially how they see themselves and the way that warps how they see each others' feelings), but they deeply love each other and I'm sure they're going to want to make the changes needed to fix things between them and not have something like Chimera Ant Arc happen again.

The separation has a lot of layers, but it portrays them both as sad to split up even though it's what's needed for now, still hurting about what they went through but grateful for each other nonetheless, comfortable enough with each other still for Killua to tease Gon and Gon to openly mope about it, and they make it clear this isn't forever. Even with the various subtextual things going on (like Gon's use of "nakama" after Killua had a crisis about that very word and Killua saying Gon is now number 2, for instance) don't erase the overall tone of the separation. It's bittersweet and hard for them both, but not on bad terms!

HxH is a story about human connection and second chances and how love transforms people. The two characters at the center of the story epitomize these themes, so having a cynical view of their bond and future feels like having a cynical view of what the series as a whole is saying. There's nothing wrong with exploring or thinking about angsty themes, of course, and I truly love how much darkness, sadness, and trauma HxH explores throughout, but I don't believe the ultimate trajectory of the series is one of hopelessness or cynicism.

I hope those who are concerned about their future can zoom out and look at the series as a whole and see how many reasons there are to be hopeful for them.

[lemon-inferno]

Encyclopedia of Useless Facts on Unbelievable Human Beings episode 1 ✔️

I watched it late last night and I was too tired to write about it immediately. It was about 1 hour and 43 minutes long, there's a lot to unpack there, if you wish to go into details (which I won't). I just want to talk about the impressions it left on me and how I feel about it.

It's a show for nerds (so perfect for me). When I first heard the topic of the episode I thoguht it was a little silly, not at all what I was expecting to see in this show. Their conversations however took me by surprise, because I was enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I never knew that watching six people talk could be so entertaining that it didn't lose my interest even once for the entire lenght of the episode. Granted, they're all incredibly intelligent individuals and have achieved a lot in their respective fields.

Now onto brief info about the show:

⚠️ Spoiler alert. ⚠️

This is a show where six people all from different fields are gathered, given a topic which they then discuss, and all you have to do it sit and watch. How fascinating. The people in question are a musician (RM), a film director (Jang Hang Joon), a novelist (Kim Young Ha), a physicist (Kim Sang Wook), a forensic scientist (Lee Ho) and an astronomer (Shim Chae Kyung).

The first episodes's topic was "The person you want to hire as a main character, if you make a movie out of the subject (the character)." The people discussed were MiMi Aung, a NASA scientists, present by the astronomer Shim Chae Kyung. Hong Gil Dong, a historical figure that was ficitonalized by many movies and tv series, presented by the novelist Kim Young Ha. Last but not least, Charles Darwin presented by the physicist Kim Sang Wook.

On a first glance, it might not seem like something incredibly interesting. In fact, it may seem boring. It's anything but, to me. First of all, they discuss three wildily different individuals. It's incredible to see how one conversation turns around to the other, the way they personally view things. It's interesting to see the choice they all made to present these figures. It's a thought-provoking and educational show that I really enjoyed and hope I will continue to enjoy.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

To some degree, I'm angry at myself I didn't know about this show before (as in its previous seasons and variants), because I've always been interested in shows like this one. It's one of the biggest reasons why I've been studying Korean really hard. These kind of shows don't often get translated. (Yes, unless the show in on netflix, I'm a pirate watcher.) If they do, there's episodes missing or entire seasons. I can't blame people for not translating them, because it's 1) a lot of work and 2) they already do other translations out of the goodness of their heart for no profit and that alone is something we should be incredibly grateful for. I've seen so many not popular shows that seem so interesting to me, but they're not translated. I watch a couple without subtitles, but I'm far from fluent. Without subtitles I get lost, I repeat a few seconds scene a few times, because I can't grasp it. It makes their already long episodes even longer for me. Sometimes it takes me 3 to 4 days to get through a not translated episode. Okay, I want off here. I'm sorry. Let's continue with the other show.

So yes, I loved this. I can't believe they spent more than 11 hours just talking about things, but at the same time I can. For a hungry mind, there's probably nothing better to do. I wish I could take part in the conversations. I was sitting in my room, watching and I kept talking at my screen. People who know me, know that I have a lot of interests in many things. To me, to have such an experience, to just be able to sit in a room with incredible people and talk, honestly it's like a wet dream.

I'm curious though, are all episodes going to be this long or was this one nearly 2 hours because it's the first one? I don't mind if they do stay long, I'm just curious.

Also I cannot wait for the topic of next episode! I'm not into romance or a romantic person, but when it's these people talking I'm so interested in what they have to say and how they feel about it. It's truly fascinating.

Note: I did listen to '"Indigo" and I was going to write about it, but after finishing the entire album I realized there's no need to. I was never one to analyze music like this anyways. Plus it's Namjoon's music exhibition and he's doing a great job explaining it himself. I just wanted to mention that, unsurprisingly, my favorite songs are Closer, Wild Flower and Forg_tful.

[thefoolishfewterer]

one good thing about having dogs who insist on being run at the crack of dawn and right before dark is that I never miss a sunrise or a sunset

[sunderedandundone]

Possibly controversial [Dark Crystal SkekGra/UrGoh] HCs

Or I don't even know if it IS HC so much as kind of an inverse HC, in that it's a place where like 90% of the fandom seems to HC in stuff that I don't? Here we go. Please be gentle. As always, I pledge to the flag of #AllHCAreValid.

I think Gra and Goh are incredibly lonely out there in the desert, and aren't at all enjoying that aspect of their lives.

I mean, I would hope this WOULDN'T be that controversial? After all, these are characters whose very titles establish that they like to go around Thra and interact with all its lifeforms and stuff (the *form* the interaction took might've varied, but...)

And when the Gelfling show up on their doorstep, Gra is more hype than a golden retriever puppy. Mind you, we can and should attribute part of this to drugs, and part of this to the sheer pleasure of knowing one's many-trine-long shop projects were not wasted and the Hail Mary pass to save Thra and make themselves whole has finally connected.

But even given that, they just seem SO super hyped that I have to think that, y'know, birb who's had no or very little social stimulation in hundreds of trine miiiight feel a little relieved to be entertaining company. :-)

The only reason I even 'worry' this is controversial is because so many fanficcers -- and I mean from the really-great to the not-so-great -- seem to treat the half an Age the two spend at the Circle of the Suns like...almost a couples getaway? A blessed idyll? And they do this with such light, offhanded assurance, as though it's one of those things of which the Dothraki say, It Is Known.

Again, #ALLHCAREVALID, but I personally find this difficult to get...*as* someone who's been gifted with what I well know is the sheer dumb cosmic luck of living many many years with my True Love, or what's surely within a degree of the closest to true love as exists on mortal earth. Like, I am exceedingly, eternally grateful.

It's just that...and I hope I'm not bursting the bubble here...even the Truest love is still hard work, it won't last if you don't work it, and even if you really really do it can still end. And no matter how goopy goo-goo eyes y'all are in the relationship's first stages, eventually everybody but the most intro introverts is going to find that the company of one person is just not enough to make a livable life out of. It just isn't. I heartily wish each and every person who actually desires a True Love in this life to acquire one -- but just know that it's not like in the movies. It's not even going to be easier than your other less-epic relationships were. Maybe in some ways harder, in fact.

It'll just be more *worth* the agony.

Even that, you might sometimes doubt. But in the end there's something hard to describe that still makes it worth it. That's the main difference I've discerned. <--[[NB: *Does not* apply to abusive lovers]]

Being forever out in the neverwhere alone with your love for an indefinite period isn't a recipe for wedded bliss. It's a recipe for driving yourselves and each other to drink. Ask like 2/3rds of retired couples, especially the ones where one or both partners were working outside the house AND (points at this and points AT SKEKGRA) deriving their identity from their work -- and then suddenly......not.

Once more, #ALLHCAREVALID and I have seen this trope written beautifully and I have enjoyed reading those beautiful pieces, but strictly from a suspending-disbelief standpoint just...no. Also I have to admit, something in me rebels at the idea that NOTHING of what the Skeksis (AND Mystics, in my telling) go out of their way to make an *especially painful* punishment is really -- sticking around in any meaningful way. That they're just like "oh welp, like we care, what more to life is there than making puppets, smokin' that crack, and each other." To me, it kinda cheapens the sting of the whole banishment, and I feel like it should have ongoing sting. The nail is NOT self-installed, and the exile is NOT a blissful retirement to the Bahamas.

On that note:

2. I seem to be one of the very few people in the fandom who doesn't ship them in the *traditional* sense, either.

I mean, I know. It's fandom. Fandom seems, from this relative newb's perspective, to be ~70% about sex no matter what the IP. :-) So I shouldn't be surprised to find myself in a minority.

And a minority many of whose fellow occupants I find odious because a lot of them are in the "no homo" school, or else the school of "Henson was a nonsexual, anerotic, angelic being who would've been SCANDALIZED by people writing sex scenes with his characters, even though he gave the Jen puppet an entirely extraneous wang AND started *The Dark Crystal* with an Edenic scene of nude Jen saved from an R rating *only* by a literal strategically-placed leaf." Like, just in case any parents in the audience needed the warning that this was not a small-kids, fluffy movie. ^^ (Funny thing is, I took it totally in stride as a kid watching it in the theater run. It was only on rewatch as an adult that I was like "HOLY SHIT was Henson making a statement with this, and oh God no *wonder* this quasi-flopped, people surely must have thought this was weird and Inappropriate for Children -- even though I of course still think it isn't.")

Yeah, nah. Are you kidding me? This is a puppeteer who grew up in the *40's/50's in Mississippi* and then ran off to TVLand in the 60's to eventually make tons of money off his weirdness. OF COURSE HE WAS A FREAK, and you know what? I find that wonderful news. (Bro, have you even heard the Frank Oz funeral-eulogy story? *QE fucking D*.)

But then when I go to explain that I don't conceive of Gra/Goh as a conventional romance but as something that kinda transcends any experience us single beings can know, other fen think that I am dissing Mere Romance and Mere Sex as being beneath me, or beneath the characters. Again -- hell no. Good, believable, stirring romance and sex are hard as hell to write and my respect for those who can do it is very high. And romance and sex IRL? They are awesome. Five stars. <3

I'm just saying these are literally personality-instanced aliens, is all.

I am officially agnostic, though I have my private opinions subject to change without notice, about whether Skeksis/Mystics have any kind of reproductive equipment. Or anything like what modern humans consider 'erotic' feelings (physical or mental). There are valid cases for and against. And although I don't personally write such content, I don't object to the depiction of erotic or sexual activity between Gra/Goh either. Hell, IF they had the slightest capacity for it and they thought for one single instant it might help them rejoin into their UrSkek, I think it's safe to assume they 'd try it at least once for that reason alone.

I just want the dyad to be something beyond that. And again, I don't mean beyond as in superior. I mean beyond as in Other, as in alien, as in behind a paywall very few other beings can get through in their mortal lifetime. And yes, as in spiritual -- though for a third time, I'm not parsing 'spiritual' as 'better than affairs of the mere flesh.'

And I try very hard to make sure I write it *as* that -- to make sure that I'm not just doing a deep platonic friendship (as wonderful as those are) or a 'brotherly' relationship, but putting in material that sorta blurs the very boundary of the self, the definition of personality, the idea that a person can only be in one place at a time.

As I go, in fact, it's developed almost toward an idea of the Skeksis and Mystic personas being *masks* or *roles*, on some fundamental level -- a self-illusion that each half occasionally, disconcertingly, briefly becomes aware of here and there, but then almost always panics and buries. I'm talking about, you could have one of those Shakespearian SkekVar/SkekSo scenes going, and all of a sudden poor SkekVar realizes that NONE of this is actually the General talking to the Emperor at all -- it's *VarMa talking to SoSu*. Only for some bizarre dream-logicky reason, they're wearing these weird faces and playing these weird murderbird characters...almost like they're onstage in a play they somehow can't opt out of acting in. And when they want to relate to the others of their kith, somehow, it can only ever be through the filter of this mask. So they're never saying what they truly want to say to the other Twice-Nine, or even usually thinking what they want to think; instead, the *best* they can ever do is grope blindly toward each other's souls, trying to interpret the hazy signal of the other Ur/Skek through this noise of these adopted personae -- and why bother because it's all fake anyhow -- but then if it's fake, why is it all they know, and nothing they can seem to escape from?

And *that* would within about 3/4ths of a second be FAR too much for a simple birb like SkekVar to deal with. So the most signal you'd ever get from them that it'd even happened is merely ::snort:: :-D And pretty soon the episode of ego-vertigo would dissipate -- drowned in the bodily experience of the normal persona with extreme prejudice aaand probably a lot of food and booze. ^^ There'd still be mysterious moments in which, however many leagues apart, Var and Ma would briefly seem not like 'opposites' but like a resonant pair, almost as if they had some shared nature and path after all...this is something, though, that only the very few who get to see both sides (*such* as Gra and Goh --or perhaps on the longer scale, Aughra) might have any inkling of.

See what I mean though? It's hard to even articulate! Because it kinda should be, I guess. :-D I guess that's my point.

Again, #ALLHCAREVALID! This is simply what *I* *me* *personally* want to do with the opportunity that the divided-soul trope in DC represents. I enjoy giving Gra and Goh these experiences of disrupted self within my fiction. (Btw, apparently LSD &c primarily work THROUGH disrupting the part of the brain responsible for a sense of distinct self :-( #Imjustsayin #urdrupes)). And I enjoy looking through their eyes to see the selves of the other UrRu/Skeksis -- showing the personalities of the latter to be blurrier and more self-contradictory than one would have thought, as well.

And then, by contrast, the fleeting moments where Gra/Goh do experience something close to full unity -- be it achieved by a vision or a dream or let's be honest drugs -- would be way more intense to them than what you or I could possibly experience. Us being people who get to just blithely go about all day sure of our unified self, at least 99% sure of where the border between us and the rest of *idam*, this thing, All There Is, lies. (The other 1% is called either "satori" or "hallucinogenic therapy"/"ayahuasca experience"/etc. :-) )

We aren't without our times of not being sure who the hell we are or which of two completely incompatible things we want, of course. Which is why UrSkeks and the divided-soul trope writ large have relevance to human experience. We all have our times. But most of us don't have it often enough to even come close to fucking up our faaairly comfortable everyday sense of "I am this person and this is what I'm about." :-) These tree aliens are a different matter.

So it's not a problem with romance at all? ...It's more a devotion to the idea of the Otherness and alienness of the thing, because I personally feel like that's what Henson and definitely Froud were kinda trying to get at with the UrSkeks, and with what is eventually big-Revealed about the Skeksis and Mystics' true nature. (I remember that moment, too, in the theater. It was my first encounter with the trope and it was a bit mind-blowing. Like, that method of resolving protagonist/antagonist conflict in a story had honestly never occurred. ...I do have the excuse of being, what, nine or so? :-D But still. Striking. And I liked it.)

Anyway. Seemingly unusual, possibly controversial, hopefully not of such a nature though as to get anyone actually mad. ^^

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 1.

Read the prologue here

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 16th May 2021

Word count: 3 727

Warnings: mentions of trauma (nothing descriptive)

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Prologue)

Chap. 1.

Living in a small apartment close to the city center was not always convenient.

You regretted you couldn’t buy all the pretty things that you saw in stores or on Pinterest, because they’d easily overwhelm the limited space. Your neighbors constantly reminded you that they’re a few meters away from you, with screams, children’s cries, music, or chopping meat at 2 AM if that’s what a particular neighbor decided to do.

Fortunately, as the time passed, you got used to most of it and started to appreciate the small space, almost effortless to keep clean, close to both your university and the workplace, and the city center – an area that was always restless during the long days and nights that you spent watching it through your tall window, as if waiting for someone to look back at you.

Despite the comfort of living alone that you tried to indulge in, you couldn’t help growing lonelier and lonelier with every passing day. At the very least, your job and university often took the worries off your mind, and they eventually became your whole life, an existence that focused on never-ending effort in the name of better future, as though there was nothing in the present worth fighting for.

You studied finance; you didn’t give it much hope at first, but it ended up becoming interesting as you started connecting the dots and realizing how broad and important this topic was. Yet, as any newborn financier, you used your secret knowledge in the mysterious field of retail. In other words, you worked part-time as a cashier in a convenience store. Twenty four years old, on your way to getting that famous Master’s degree, already more than halfway through the process, yet – education without experience mattered nothing, as you realized the very moment you started looking for your first job, unable to keep counting on your parents. Not like you wanted to stay in touch with them, anyway.

Adulthood was difficult; the small apartment, due to its location, costed more than your whole family’s used to in your hometown. A small scholarship kept you set up with electricity and water fees, but for WiFi you needed to depend on a close-by library with a good signal; it turned out to have the connection good enough to reach from at least one place in your apartment, the one you coincidentally used for occasional observations. You weren’t sure whether you discovered the WiFi while sitting or if you developed the observing habit upon having to spend your time there over any other place. The only downside of this solution was that some sites were blocked after a scandal over men in the library performing actions other than polite studying, with the help of library computers. The event was outrageous to some, but primarily it became an object of jokes and memes all thorough the city, and maybe even country-wide to some extent. Either way, in times of need, your phone still had its meager data transfer. Good enough.

It was Saturday now; Saturdays were good but busy, because you worked at nights, then slept the shift off, and after you woke up, you could go and study all that you missed throughout the week, if for any reason the classes didn’t sound appealing enough or something else happened, distracting you from them. You spent Saturday afternoons either by the window of your room (where the WiFi reached) or just went straight to the library – a place way more spacious than your own apartment, and quieter as well. The only issue was, that you couldn’t snack in there and you ought to stay quiet. You decided to go with the latter and set foot towards the library.

Therefore, when your phone suddenly rang there, a few faces snapped towards you in obvious disapproval; you cursed internally, before you even managed to pull the phone out of your pocket, because you panicked so much that your hands shook at the initial attempt to do so. You got up from your seat and quickly disappeared between the bookshelves, where the people staying by the tables wouldn’t hear you so well anymore.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone.

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

Your heart dropped as you recognized the voice, although you weren’t completely certain if you recognized it well, it sounded a bit different through the phone. The number was unknown on your phone, but there was only one person that could be calling you today.

You took a few seconds to compose yourself; less than you actually needed, but just enough so that the silence would not turn awkward.

“Um… I can’t talk loudly, but that’s okay.”

“I can call you later.”

“N-no need to, I’ll just whisper.”

“Okay, then.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but you heard some shuffling on the other side. “Do you have time tonight?”

The question was sudden, so you weren’t completely sure, if you did. But your mind felt too empty to figure that out, anyway.

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, I meant I don’t have plans. So, um, yes, I’m free.” This didn’t sound professional at all. However, you heard quiet laughter on the other side and exhaled almost audibly in relief; it was the first time you heard him laugh with you, and it served to calm your nerves like a wave of calmness coming over you.

“Well, do you want to meet? I’m going to a museum and I don’t feel like going alone. What about that?”

“A museum? That… sounds nice.” When was the last time you’ve been to one? What a perfect opportunity to make a fool out of yourself. “What time?”

“Around six? If that’s okay with you.” If you remembered well, it had to be around three now.

“Sounds alright, where should we meet?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. Thank you.” What were you exactly thanking him for? Hard to tell. But you heard him laugh again; you felt like he’s mocking you, but you quickly realized it couldn’t be the case – a warm voice like this couldn’t be ill-intended.

“Sure thing, you’re welcome. We’re set up, then?”

“A-actually, I have a question, if it’s not a problem.” You bit on your lip, knowing than in less than ten seconds, you were going to probably embarrass yourself in front of an educated and serious adult.

“What’s the matter?” he asked politely.

“So, um… What should I wear?”

* * *

You were grateful for the few tips given by Byun Baekhyun at the end of your conversation, because otherwise you’d either be underdressed or overdressed. You ended up wearing a more elegant university attire, something you usually wore for exams, but which didn’t make you appear too formal; a long, woolen skirt that was your private treasure due to its ability to keep you warm even in winter (and it was still spring; the weather was questionable), as well as leather shoes, a beige shirt and a thick, knitted cardigan. You felt quite modest; something told you that it wasn’t a regular date. You didn’t feel a need to reveal anything, or to focus on your feminine attributes. You just felt like it wouldn’t serve any purpose. As long as Baekhyun was concerned, you had an impression that he’s more interested in your mind than in the way you look – the clothes you wore last time, just a little bit revealing and suggestive, had done nothing to save you. You wanted only to look appropriate, and you were sure you managed to achieve at least that.

As you found out soon enough, he wasn’t particularly dressed up, either. A button-up shirt without without a tie – bow or neck type – and jeans, made of high-quality denim, not like the ripped through or worn out ones people sometimes wore. And a suede coat. Although he wasn’t dressed up to look attractive, it would be difficult not to feel attracted to him. Byun Baekhyun had his own aura of independence and considerate distance connected with subtle proximity, and this time, you had the chance to appreciate this harmony, working perfectly for him, highlighting his soft masculinity. Even more so, when you noted a small, gentle smile that appeared on his lips when he spotted you leaving your apartment block.

“Hi there” he spoke.

“Hi there” you replied.

“The museum is nearby, so I didn’t take the car, is that okay?”

It was probably too late to change the means of transport anyway, so the question was pointless. But no, you didn’t mind.

“It’s okay. What museum are we going to?”

He put hands in the pockets of his coat and tilted his head to the side, observing as you approached. You crossed your hands over your chest; it was a bit colder than you expected, and the skirt only warmed you up at the bottom, the wind still reached the top.

“You should put on something warmer. It’ll get even colder on the way back” he spoke. “Go back and get yourself a jacket, I’ll wait.”

You wanted to oppose and say it’s alright, but you didn’t; it didn’t feel right to argue with him. You only nodded and went home to retrieve a better outwear; you were back in no time.

“So? Which museum?”

You looked up at Baekhyun: the man walked by your side, or – in fact – you were walking by his; he stayed in control of the situation, but resonated with warmth and peacefulness rather than the coldness and stillness you experienced last time. And especially as he spoke, you found yourself easing into the conversation more naturally, and your initial fear quickly turned into innocent shyness upon the older man’s presence.

“A complex of museums nearby. There’s everything there, a historical museum of the region, one about the history of mining worldwide, and an art museum. I wanted to see the last one, I heard they unveiled a few new pieces since the the last time I went. You’re not local?” He glanced at you with polite curiosity.

“Not really. I moved here to study” you explained. “I know the nearby area, but I’m not too… um, social. I only know where to do the cheapest groceries and where they sell the best bread.”

“Where?”

“Behind the river, by the intersection with the highway. It looks small but really, you should try it out. Especially their cinnamon rolls.”

Baekhyun hummed.

“That sounds nice. I can recommend the best pizza in return.”

“You eat takeouts often?”

“Yep.”

“You’d save money if you cooked for yourself. Pizzas are expensive.”

Another warm laugh reached your ears, and through them, your heart as well.

“I’ll save money if I spend the time for cooking on working instead.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point. But homemade food is healthier.”

“Depends on where you buy your takeout.” He seemed to have an answer to your every doubt. “I wouldn’t trust just any restaurant, you know? It’s basically what my diet consists of.”

“Variety is also important. Don’t argue with me on that.”

“I won’t. But I won’t take you for a pizza, if that’s your stance on that.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want it” you remarked right away; he replied with laugh, which you found yourself copying naturally.

The conversation flowed smoothly, reaching more or less unimportant topics: the city life, current events, your university, possible career, Baekhyun’s interests – you found out he likes music; it’s too sad to work in silence – and the museum you were going to.

The place you felt initially quite neutral about, brought you more peace than you expected it to. It looked harmonious and the lights were soft. No one hurried through the gallery, and the paintings, although not so interesting at first, you soon learned to appreciate, trying to catch onto small details that, you could tell, Baekhyun already knew by heart, but he smiled every single time you pointed at something specific that caught your attention, even if it was as silly as matching colors, or realistically portrayed lights – these were your favorites.

And, slowly but surely, you got accustomed to the pretty sights, excitement turning into relaxation, and even Baekhyun himself seemed more content than you thought he’d be in your presence.

“You’re different,” you spoke as the two of you sat on a bench in front of one of the tall, monumental pieces; this one was a modern painting full of splashes and mixed colors, soft browns, yellows, and greens, so big that it definitely wouldn’t fit in your bedroom – the first thought you had upon seeing its size.

Despite the painting being in the very center of the gallery, you were the only ones watching it now.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re different today than you were yesterday” you elaborate. “Less… intimidating” you tried to put your thoughts into words.

Baekhyun laughed in response; the laughter was soft and warm, which made you exhale in relief – you feared that he’d feel offended at the remark.

“Yesterday was different. I needed to test you.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at the painting as he leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees and shifting a little bit, probably thinking how to say the thing he had to say, without causing misunderstandings. You stared at him, completely having lost interest in the painting by now, ready to hear out whatever was to be spoken.

“People often come to me because they’re attracted to me. Well, not blaming them” he grinned; you rolled your eyes a little, but it did relieve the tension, most likely according to his own intention. “However, I’m not interested in romantic relationships. If you come to me expecting a date, you’ll get disappointed. And you won’t be able to handle what it is truly about, if I’m the only thing keeping you interested. It’ll be a hassle for the both of us.”

He glanced at you only briefly, ensuring that you’ve heard him so far before shifting his eyes back forward.

“So I’m always like this at first, just to see how determined you are, and how you behave under pressure. Then I leave you for a few minutes so you have the time to reconsider and leave if willing. That’s a safety measure for you.” He stopped for just a few seconds. “And you – all of you – always check what’s on the other side of the sheet. That’s a safety measure for me.”

“Safety measure?”

“Trust is the basis of the whole deal. If you don’t admit, that you looked at it, it means you’ll keep hiding things later on as well, and I can’t have that.”

“So if I…”

“Yes. If you didn’t correct your statement, we wouldn’t be here right now.” The words sounded ominous even despite the calm tone that Baekhyun used.

“I understand.”

You actually did; the strange aura of yesterday’s meeting finally started to clear out, leaving the simplest facts that all fit into the bigger picture. Yet, you still didn’t know enough. There were more things, more questions, each of which demanded an answer of its own. However, you were still unsure of your stance, and of what Baekhyun had planned for you – for the both of you.

“Will you accept me, then?” you asked finally, breaking through the silence.

“I don’t know yet” he replied in an honest tone, finally reciprocating your gaze. His features were soft, you could tell, he tried not to hurt you with his words. “You’re a nice girl, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out. I need more time. Primarily, I need to get to know you better. And I feel like you need more time, too.”

You nodded slowly.

“Could you, um… tell me more about it?”

“About what I do?”

“Yeah. You didn’t tell me much last time. You mostly only asked questions.”

“True. I may answer some of yours, if you’d like. What are you interested in?”

You cleared your throat; some questions seemed more intrusive than the others and you preferred to leave them for later.

“What would you want to do with me, if we set up a um… a scene?” Is that how you professionally call it? You didn’t remember all that well; you were, in fact, with no experience, only the Internet and your own curiosity to lead you forward – the temptation to explore your interests had been progressing in silence up until now.

“Well, depends on what would be suitable. I do different things with different people. Sometimes, it’s about what they like, and sometimes about what I like, and, the most often, it’s about what we both like. Everyone needs a different approach. I enjoy finding the right approach, and exploring it. It’s different when you start with a virgin, different when you start with a brat, different when you start with someone experienced, different when you start with someone with trauma. The last type is a person I don’t like engaging in. It’s a vulnerable ground and the person often seeks relief instead of therapy. I’m not a therapist. I’m a dominant.”

You took your time to analyze his words and put them all together in your head before you spoke again.

“You wrote something like that on the sheet. That I may have trauma.”

“That’s different,” Baekhyun was quick to elaborate. “Everyone has trauma of sort. Childhood traumas are more common than you think. I meant specifically trauma that comes from similar ground as the one I’m on. It’s not the case for you. According to what you said, you’ve never had any experiences like this and never engaged sexually or romantically.”

Pointing that out hurt a little; yes, so what if you’re 24 years old and a virgin? You had the right to choose your pace. But, you quickly realized, it was your own insecurity poking at you, because Baekhyun sounded anything but judgmental. He didn’t seem particularly impressed either – and you were thankful for that as well. You’ve seen enough men sounding excited when a woman was discovered to be unexperienced. You hated that even more than those who made fun of you; and in the long run, you just learned not to overshare. Telling Baekhyun this truth wasn’t the easiest, so having him say it so casually was definitely weird in your ear.

“However, that’s also a vulnerable point. You don’t know what you’re getting into. It looks different on the screen or in the books than it is in real life. I’m not going to reject you just because you’re new, because everyone’s been at some point. But you must understand, it’s a responsibility, and I don’t want to take one I’m not capable of handling.”

“Have you ever been with someone else like that?”

“With a virgin?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yes. Once. But I didn’t handle it too well back then.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun rubbed his chin, pressing his lips together in slight uneasiness. But you didn’t revoke your question – maybe you should have, for the sake of his comfort, but you felt that the answer wouldn’t be meaningless to you.

“She wanted to be exclusive,” the man finally answered. “I tolerated her for too long. I should have broken the deal as soon as I started seeing red flags, instead of ending up sleeping with her. It made everything only worse.” He spoke quietly, making sure people passing by at times would hear no word. You heard everything clearly, though. “That’s why I’m more picky now. Breaking the deal is not a good thing if it comes from one side. It may leave the other devastated, that’s why I’d rather reduce the risk in advance.”

He looked at your face, seeking understanding and acceptance. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. You didn’t want to add to the pain already displayed on his own. But you appreciated his transparency.

“Does it mean that sex is not always involved?”

“With me, it rarely is” he admitted patiently. “I’m not against it, but I usually do other things. People rarely expect it, and I never pry. Mainly, because in this particular case, I do expect exclusivity. So, as long as no sex is involved, I know some of my subs are dating other people, or even engaging with other doms. However, for safety reasons I demand health checks prior to intercourse, and so on. Not just for me, but because I’m not exclusive myself.” You wondered if his choice of vocabulary was meant to make things less awkward. “However, actual sex is only one of the possibilities. Sexual pleasure that doesn’t involve direct touch may be used as a tool for training, for rewarding and for punishing, even as entertainment… not necessarily to the person it influences. As I said, it depends on who it’s done with. And it may take different forms, too. What’s your stance on that?”

“I don’t feel like I’d be able to as much as undress in front of someone who’s not my doctor” you answered almost instantly, the answer obvious to you, a matter you’ve thought about enough. “Although… well, I suppose it takes time. I’m not against the idea, just… you know.”

Baekhyun only nodded; you glanced at him, feeling a need for any reply that’d soothe you a little.

“I understand. That’s okay.”

You figured it out now; using more formal language made it less embarrassing to listen to. It’s like he tore the words off emotions and left facts only, and you found yourself easing into saying more and more, your embarrassment dissolving as well. No judgments were made.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“A lot, to be honest. But I think I know enough for now.”

Right as you said the last words, a sound echoed in the museum, in a soft female voice saying that the museum will close in fifteen minutes.

You took one last glance at the huge painting in front of you, but you felt like, at this point, you wouldn’t find anything new among the random stains and splatters. Baekhyun got up from his seat on the bench and so did you. You spotted him hide a small yawn behind his hand.

The day was coming to an end, and so was your small date – as un-date-ish as it could be.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: hope you're enjoying it so far! Trying to give it a bit sense before more things happen, and, hopefully, this chapter clears it out a little bit. Feel free to talk to me if anything is unclear!

Next (Chapter 2.)

[zuzuslastbraincell]

mai & the rest of the gaang:

mai & aang: a bit awkward, at first? not on aang's end of course, he's totally unflustered and in fact quite keen to get to know zuko's girlfriend and I actually think mai doesn't know what to do with this attitude, given she spent six months or so trying to hunt him down, and that's very present in her mind. hanging out with aang is a very pleasant culture shock in how he casually diaregards half the norms she was raised to strictly follow, speaking with warm enthusiasm and genuine curiosity to all, be they dish washers or tea servers or the Fire Lord's girlfriend, disregarding barriers of social class that are so carefully upheld in the Fire Nation. It's refreshing as it is bewildering. I think mai does develop a fondness for aang - although she can find him and his antics a bit much at times - and deeply respects and cares for him if only for how valued his friendship with zuko is. she claims to tolerate his goofy antics but she enjoys them far more than she lets on (his flying marble trick does elicit a rare smile, although it only appears for 0.02 seconds before returning to the most deadpan expression). I think mai respects him most politically actually - aang grows up to be an excellent diplomat, an excellent mediator who does not lose sight of the importance of various different perspectives, especially those who are forgotten or maligned, even when in circles of power.

mai & sokka: as discussed, they have a rocky start. sokka, my darling beloved sokka, has a tendency to be a bit abrasive, if we're honest, in that his humour and his puns are a little in-your-face, he has a bit of an ego aboht being the funniest/smartest person in the room, and he can take it personally when people don't like it. mai doesn't have much time for that. mai doesn't care much for sokka's jokes if only because they're attached to this ego, but also and finds the puns a bit flat (whereas she finds aang's mischief making genuinely funny, though she tries to hide it), and sokka takes this deeply personally and tries really hard to elicit a laugh from her. this just ends up with him aggravating her more. I think mai has little time for sensitive male ego games and that's partially why her and sokka clash- she won't blunt herself for him, even if he is one of zuko's closest friends. I think sokka, to his credit, doesn't dismiss her as a 'bitch' and keeps trying - in fact, the reason he comes on so strong is because he actually really wants her to like her - and i think that's because of boiling rock, and because of that alone sokka deeply respects mai on many levels (and was extremely surprised by how all that played out, and knows from that alone that mai is a layered and complex person who contains multitudes). I think what might cause mai to warm to him is politics - sokka's a pragmatist, who is skeptical of idealism without material backing and is refreshingly realistic for one of aang's friends. he keeps the fire nation on its toes at the negotiating table but he's also the first to point out when a potential proposition - when anyone's potential proposition - has more logical holes than a piece of honeycomb. i think mai appreciates that perspective. and i think they could slowly and gradually go from personality clashing to building this begrudging friendship where mai will never openly admit that she likes him, where sokka will still grate but in a way that becomes almost familiar and comfortable because of that, and where - especially in a situation where they have to work on a project together - they're a formidable team. a difficult friendship but eventually could be a dear one.

mai & katara: another personality clash that becomes a really fascinating friendship. katara wasn't there for boiling rock and is perhaps a bit cool towards mai even understanding what she did there, and the grounds where they most often meet is politics, and they largely are at odds there too. they're interesting parallels, in terms of role - both partners of powerful world leaders, but while mai positions herself as a vital support and power behind zuko's regime, furthering that goal, katara loathes to be associated with aang simply because of their romantic relationship, and does not envision their relationship to be a political one: aang and katara stand independent, but with shared values and goals (and perhaps katara simply does not understand why mai takes the position she does regarding politics and relationships). their actual political approach wildly differs, with katara being an impassioned idealist who is the most radical out of the gaang, whereas mai is a pragmatist - much more concerned about the feasibility of the radical ideas proposed and sees herself occupying the role of a much needed skeptic who asks 'okay, but how are we going to do this?' in a group of radicals. this does lead to some fierce clashes actually - some of katara's proposals appear outlandish to mai, and katara interprets this as fire nation indoctrination and ideological conditioning limiting her perspective (and honestly neither are completely wrong - mai can be on occasion perhaps too conservative and cynical and that is often because her upbringing has limited her scope, and katara sometimes isn't fully aware of how feasible her ideas are and leaves practical concerns to others). I think despite this they have such a deep respect for each other - and that's in part why their arguments are so impassioned, because they both fundamentally know the other comes from a good place. mai saved katara's brother's life at boiling rock, and katara saved mai's partner during the final agni kai - they have both proven to each other the extent of their commitment and cared for another they care about deeply. they're the biggest idealism vs. cynicism clash but honestly over time i think the respect only grows over time despite periods of hot and cold. I'd like to think if katara ever has relationship difficulties with aang, after her gran's, it's mai whose advice she might respect the most - after all, it's mai who understands what it's like to date someone who is a world leader, and mai absolutely believes in having firm, healthy boundaries and little tolerance for sufferring for men in relationships. I think given their positions they're often in dialogue and in conversation and end up building the most unexpected but also rock solid friendship. they *would* take a bullet for each other, i am sure of it.

mai & toph: i love these two. an incredible friendship. mai takes to toph the quickest out of aang's friends. it makes sense - toph comes from a similar class and upbringing as mai, albeit has taken a different life path and expresses herself completely differently, and i think while surprised and thrown at first by toph's bluntness, mai sees that and not only respects but honestly just loves how toph is a little crass, and doesn't hold decorum as the be all and end all. I think the age difference here actually makes a difference - mai very much sees toph as a younger peer (and eventually, much like zuko, a younger sibling), and while it can be sad to see someone from a younger generation express themselves freely in a way that mai feel she can't, i think her joy at seeing that takes precedence here over any mixed feelings. mai pretends not to be amused at toph's antics (but quietly delights at them) and absolutely is the person who will get the authorities that be in the fire nation to look away from whatever misdemeanours she's committing at any given time (indeed, mai as often been a partner in crime - actually, speaking of, she's been surprised before to see katara also partake with toph, and it was an ice-breaking moment for them, probably one engineered by toph). that said, mai absolutely does not patronise toph, gives it to her straight, will also tell toph when she's going too far or pushing the limit, something toph deeply respects and values. mai can see toph's wisdom and her strong intuitive understanding of how others feel, and admires that, as well as the kindness toph shows (i would not be surprised if mai looks at toph and wants to be a little more like her). I also think mai's sardonic and biting sense of humour is best appreciated by toph out of aang's friends (sokka also finds it very funny, but sokka is also trying hard to get mai to like him, as aforementioned). mai and toph vibe together *so hard* and *so well* (something i think zuko is quietly deeply grateful for, since mai hasn't clicked as well with the rest of the gaang, but also because he views toph like a little sister too).

mai & suki: right! so this one is complicated. mai does not see suki as often as the rest of the gaang - she sees katara and aang often for political reasons, at summits and keets and so on, sokka keeps in touch often and is constantly sending letters, and toph will just turn up unannounced and will stay for several weeks to "relandscape" the fire nation gardens (so she claims) every year or so. I am sticking to show canon here but reject the comics canon - there is no way in hell suki ends up as a bodyguard for zuko, the kyoshi warriors have better things to be doing. so! while mai absolutely saved the teal at boiling rock and suki knows this, the fact that they see each other relatively little mean things are a bit... cool between them? Not quite cold, but there's a degree of awkwardness that mai works past with the others that takes longer with suki. I honestly don't know if suki knows how she should feel about mai? like ty lee not only helped at boiling rock but then went on to work with the warriors and suki very much sees someone who wants to prove herself and right those wrongs in ty lee (as well as someone who is running away but. that's another post). mai completed step 1 and 2 with boiling rock, but hasn't... done anything after that. and on paper they're cool and she knows it but... idk if she knows how to feel? it's a bit weird. a bit awkward and weird. it's possible suki holds more of a grudge than she's willing to admit (she's been most directly wronged by mai and ty lee after all) and the fact that mai has returned to the fire nation, and been, according to katara, disappointingly conservative at times, makes her question what boiling rock meant. suki is cordial and professional around mai but doesn't really know her that well and doesn't trust her as much as the others. mai doesn't particularly care either way and will take or leave friendship with suki (though mai, to be clear, does respect suki immensely as a warrior). the key factor here is ty lee, honestly. i think the two of them could have an excellent relationship if so inclined but it would apmost definitely be due to ty lee trying to prod them into getting along and hanging out and getting to know each other - because i think they're both practical minded, no-nonsense girls who are exceptionally skilled in martial arts and if nothing else they could bond theough sparring sessions, but i think they'd also just get along splendidly if they had the chance. suki just doesn't quite trust mai and mai making those personal amends isn't a priority when she's trying to stop zuko running the fire nation into the ground.

[mariska]

idk if anyone on here is good at/interested in computer repair type stuff but im pretty much out of options on my end with my gaming pc that don't involve sending it anywhere and having to spend an unknown amount of money to be able to use it again so if by any chance anyone who sees this can help or has any advice for me i would be so so so grateful;

about a week ago my pc started completely freezing out of nowhere at seemingly random moments (its made by the brand 'CyberPowerPC', its a 'model C' series from 2020), and i've spent every day since trying everything i can think of to troubleshoot what the problem might be to no avail and meanwhile the freezing has gotten slightly worse.

when it freezes it does it completely, so no matter how long i wait and try to let the computer like, figure it out on its own, no buttons or keys or special number/letter combinations that usually bring up troubleshooting type screens do anyhing at all. a few times the pc has seemingly reset itself at random but when it has done that it can't re-connect to my computer monitor again (they're separate & plugged in to work together) until i step in and do the force-power down holding down the power button.

until like two days ago it was at least somewhat manageable even though it was extremely annoying, but i would let the pc run for a few mins after i turned it on (a few times it did freeze on just my desktop screen having done nothing since turning it on) and usually if i had any program at all, regardless of what it specifically is (like for example i tested out non-video games to see if the pc froze while those were in use instead of my games and it did still freeze, like google chrome and firefox), it would do the complete freeze after maybe 10-15 minutes, i'd force-shut it down because thats the only way it could be reset, and then when i turned it back on it usually didnt freeze again and i could use it for whatever i was trying to do (but it was also taking anywhere from one post-freeze turn on to like 6 or 7 attempts to turn it back on sometimes. once it was back on after freezing completely it would work without issue though).

now as of the past couple days it's just becoming un-usable and keeps doing the complete freeze constantly regardless of how many times i manually turn it off and back on again. the other day i spent all my time awake going through multiple big lists of troubleshooting ideas i'd found online, from windows 10 users to CyberPowerPC users to gaming pc users in general who just know way more about the technology parts of this stuff than i ever will; all of that work resulted in me thankfully having, now, a fully up-to-date pc (to such a specific degree that i had to learn what a 'BIOS' is and how i had to update it for my specific pc model/hardware/etc by placing the specific and correct-to-model BIOS update file on a flash drive that one of my moms went out to buy for me and then pressing like F2 when my computer booted up to do this whole flash drive update installation thing on that pc build-brand troubleshooting/info screen. which was. a nightmare. for me personally. but i did do it correctly!) BUT. it was still completely freezing randomly after all of that work to make sure everything was updated, clear out extra space on my hard drives (there are 2 in the pc build, one is like 900-ish gb and the other is like. smaller than that. idk the specific amount off the top of my head rn but they both have plenty of space to operate properly), update Nvidia graphics drivers, do any and all windows updates and triple check to make sure all of those regular drivers were up to date in the windows specific hardware list page thingy, im just. im at a total loss and i just dont know what else to do from here. this pc is probably the most expensive thing i've ever owned in my life and until a few days ago it was working perfectly for almost 2 years, its not something me or my moms could financially replace and i very highly doubt its something we could even financially get repaired if there is a necessary repair just because it is a really great high-power pc and i'm terrified of what even a hypothetical repaie bill would end up being for it. i also use it for making digital art, which as of right now is not a necessity for me because i dont have any job or requirement to make digital art for, but like. i just got back in to having enough motivation to practice again with that after months and i'm so bummed out about all of this stuff.

anyways, sorry this is a huge wall of text, but if anyone has any advice at all or has experience with this issue or similar issues and can help me out i would be so appreciative....i'm permanently disabled and very high risk in regards to the multiple pandemics happening at the same time in the US and i have not been able to leave my house for things other than drs appointments, therapy, and an occasional car ride with my parents for almost 3 years now. i just don't have a life outside of my home anymore unfortunately because it's inherently life threatening for me to take a risk and visit a store or go to a theater to see a new movie or anything....the things i have in here are my only life right now and i'm so stressed and anxious worrying that the One Good Gaming Pc that i've ever had is just broken and i won't get to replace it. idk if there even is anything i can do on my own aside from a total pc re-set and i'm not willing to risk that with my paranoia and lack of any technical skill. :(

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

[starryeyedrogue]

mental health & vent

again, a long one. please stick with me here.

tw: depression, anxiety, ptsd, epilepsy diagnosis, suicidal thoughts mention

hey everyone, like I said in my last post, I won’t be as active on here. this doesn’t mean I’m quitting by any means, I’m here for the long haul! I just need a break for a little bit. 

side note: I am not in any way suicidal or practicing self harm. this is just to vent and act as a PSA for my mutuals/followers.

now onto my main message. 

I’ve seen lots of posts about mental health lately, and I’m so incredibly proud of those who have spoken up. They’ve inspired me to make my own post, actually. normally I’d keep it to myself, but this time has been rough and I want to get it off my chest. I’ll probably delete this later, but still. 

I’ve been depressed. 

long story short, I had a very traumatic experience a couple years ago with an ex boyfriend (not going into it on this post, for details just dm me. not something I’d want to post publicly, this is just an explanation) and I was deeply depressed. I was never diagnosed “officially” because I was afraid to speak up, as this would expose what I was going through. I had really bad anxiety at that time too, and I still do. I also have PTSD flashbacks from it now and again. none of this was diagnosed, and I still don’t want to bring it up to my doctors/family. my irl friends don’t even know, at least not most of it. 

I have monoclonic epilepsy, which means my seizures are fairly small. my arms, legs, feet, hands, and fingers twitch, and I lose control for a few seconds. it doesn’t hurt, and sometimes I don’t even notice or remember it happening, but my family does. epilepsy in general runs in my family, and it can be triggered by a great deal of stress, lack of sleep, and of course flashing lights. in my case, I never “had” epilepsy or seizures until the “experience” I mentioned before, as it caused massive amounts of stress for about 2 years straight. it’s gotten better, as I now have medicine and am out of that situation, and I haven’t had a seizure since September, which is amazing and a huge blessing.

writing has helped with my depression and anxiety a lot, as I can write out what effects me the most. honestly, some of the characters are based off of myself (before vs after) and the person from the “experience.” this is just for therapeutic reasons, as I don’t really want to go to real therapy (I’d be too embarrassed to ask for it or talk to someone anyway, though I probably need to go eventually and plan to when I’m on my own). 

however, when I stopped posting it, I started feeling bad again. I didn’t think I needed to post my stories to feel better or to make a childhood dream into reality, but not posting it made me feel somehow worse. I’ve stopped writing as much, and I’ve lost motivation to do just about anything. I’m working on a couple things to help myself get out of this “funk,” but any tips would be greatly appreciated! 

this may seems stupid, but I’ve been depressed and very anxious about my schooling. I started in cyber security and got about halfway through, but I became depressed and had other issues so I didn’t finish the degree. now I’m starting in psychology, after praying for months and months for help with figuring out what to do for school. I finally got an answer, and that answer was to be a Christian counselor! I want to help as many people as I can, especially since I know how it feels to be anxious, depressed, and have PTSD. 

I’m dealing with a lot of changes right now, as I’m selling my first car, might have to move out of my first house/childhood home, and just a bunch of other stuff. this sounds trivial, but I hate change. it seriously stresses me out. my neurologist told me that if I have any more seizures, I won’t be able to drive for 6 months to a year to be safe (as I could have an “episode” as I call it while driving and hurt myself/others in a potential car accident). trust me, trying not to be stressed while being stressed, anxious, and depressed is not easy. 

on top of all that, my irl friends have all but abandoned me. I never hear from them (all but one, she’s the best!), and when I do they ignore me or pretend to listen when they obviously aren’t. I try to make plans with them, but they ignore me or just say “definitely!” but never try to set up times to hang out. It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen them all together. I was able to hang out with the friend I mentioned earlier to go to another friend’s recital, but that was it, and that was months ago. I totally get being busy, but I miss them and I don’t think they miss me, which really hurts. one friend ditched us on graduation day and we haven’t talked to her outside of “happy birthday,” or “@___ look at this thing I know you like,” which she never responded to. graduation was 4 years ago. I miss them all, even if they aren’t really my friends. I miss familiarity and their chaotic personalities. I’ve known them my entire life. honestly, I haven’t made any other friends irl, even though I’ve tried (I’m very introverted and a lot of people don’t get my humor/personality. I’m very much a mischievous old lady that uses weird wording (li.e. using uncommon words for my generation mixed with modern stuff, basically I sound like a vampire that’s been around since the 50s and mixes the eras together in some unholy mixture) at heart and I have very niche interests that I cling to like they’re my last hope). basically, making friends and meeting new people is hard for me for various reasons.

tumblr is different though, which I’m seriously grateful for! the people I’ve talked to are all so nice and really fun to talk to, and they’re part of why I’m posting this. @elvish-sky gave me the courage to post this and @hey-its-nonny and @padawansofthejediorder have been amazing and super nice to me, and I couldn’t be more grateful. the reason I’m posting this is to let them know what’s going on if I don’t respond to messages for a while, and to let them know what wonderful people they are and how much it means to me that they care about me, even if we’re just tumblr mutuals. I love you guys, thanks for being here! it means more than you know.

my mom and dad both had health scares recently, which made me spiral even more. I honestly don’t know what I would do if one of them died. they’re literally my world and my best friends, as ridiculous as that sounds. my mental health was so low I honestly thought I’d die too. they’re both fine now, which is truly a blessing and a massive relief. when I say I thought I’d die too, I don’t mean I wanted to commit suicide, but I honestly can’t imagine a world without my parents, especially my mom (hers was the main health scare, it was a case of reaction to a new medication for her migraines). we’re insanely close and she’s my best friend, as cheesy as that sounds. I don’t know what I would do without her. it’s making me teary just thinking about it. 

long story short, please be patient with me. I’m dealing with a lot right now, and I need some time to take a deep breath and focus on my mental health. if you have any suggestions/tips for dealing with depression, anxiety, and PTSD flashbacks, please let me know! 

for those I’ve tagged, you don’t have to reply or even read this whole thing if you want, I tagged you because I thought you’d like to know about this and/or I wanted to show my appreciation for your kindness!

I love you all, thanks for sticking around and listening to my rants. <3

[avversiera-writes]

try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - EPILOGUE

Chapter 10: Epilogue - The World As He Fixed It

Summary: A new member is added into the Senju family, and you finally find out what your husband is up to. 

Word Count: ~5k

also available on AO3. 

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now | Chapter 4 - Then | Chapter 5 - Then | Chapter 6 - Now | Chapter 7 - Then | Chapter 8 - Then | Chapter 9 - Then | 

“We do not have to go,” Tobirama says quietly as he shuffles around behind you, as you put each clothing material you have under scrutiny. 

 You whirl towards him in confusion. “Why not? This is concerning your nephew. And your newborn grand-niece .” 

At that, your eyes perk up in excitement for him. Tobirama has actually long lived enough to witness a new generation of his family, and his brother’s grandchild, and you reckon there will be more to come. 

 You step closer to him, and he watches you intently as you do. “You are now a grand-uncle.” 

Tobirama’s hands come up to your elbow gently. “You know why I am thinking twice about visiting.” 

 Your eyes wander down to his collarbones and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Tobirama, I will be okay. I am happy for you.” 

Tobirama’s hands fall away, and you turn away from him to look at your clothes once again. You can feel his eyes poring over you, but you shrug it off. 

 “Besides, they are your family,” you say to him, and then, the two of you leave it at that. 

The walk towards Tobirama’s nephew’s home is peaceful, but you walk with trepidation. You are not sure how you will react once you finally get to meet Tobirama’s grand-niece, though you have been managing quite well enough until that day you passed out in the street. Sometimes it is hard to control what enters your mind or what your body decides to react to. You are not the fortitudinous shinobi you once were anymore, even if you have kept close to its principles. Your thinking has changed, and despite the painful reminder, your body has never been the same as before either. 

 However, in every breath you take, a will so resilient keeps you going. 

“You know,” you start, your mind making up the words to say as you speak. However, you keep going and it feels just right. “There are many civilian families that have shinobis as their family members, and are unbelonging to any clan. I think we must...do better in supporting them.” 

Tobirama glances at you, letting you know that he is listening. 

 “What I mean is. I know that we cannot replace lives, but we must offer some relief to those who have lost their children, their parents. We must do better. I know that I no longer serve as a shinobi, and I may never get to know what our people go through, but we must start somewhere.” 

 Tobirama nods, and you can practically see his mind brainstorming for ideas, but then he stops and he gives you a small smile. “I think that it’s brilliant. Since it is your idea, I will help you instead. You can take the reins on this one. All the directives are yours. I only serve to make your vision happen.” 

 You look at him in surprise, but it is fitting in a way. Tobirama has always been the one with the plans and the oversight to everything, but this, giving you this to work on, is a bigger step closer to share his ambitions. Even if you have been helping Tobirama as Hokage, there are times where you cannot do so, but this is different. This new goal requires Tobirama to step back a little. 

 Tobirama is doing something for you that he once solely reserved for his brother, and maybe, maybe, despite all these years of serving the village, the two of you can finally do something for each other.  

You cannot help your smile widen in excitement. “Thank you. I will blow your mind!” 

 Tobirama narrows his eyes at that. “Not exactly the words I want to hear. A thank you is enough.”

 You roll your eyes, and nudge his arm with your elbow. “Have you no faith?” 

 Tobirama raises an eyebrow. “Well, for one. You are quite disorganized sometimes.”

 “Okay, okay,” you let out a chuckle. “But I have learned a lot from you. There is order to my chaos, too, you know.” 

 “Tell that to my alphabetized files in my office,” Tobirama immediately retorts. “And my color-coded books and scrolls. My labelled drawers and boxes.”

 “I get it, my gods, you and your drive to just be the best at everything!” 

Tobirama had the nerve to look smug. 

“Wow!” You exclaim sarcastically. “You are liking this, aren’t you? Bragging about yourself? Your ego knows no bounds.” 

 “Well, I am the best at everything. That is a fact, my darling,” Tobirama mockingly says, and you freeze at the endearment. 

Tobirama rarely says these things, and it has caught you off guard. He keeps on walking ahead, widening the gap between the two of you. 

 “Do you see me right now?” You yell towards him. “I am shaking my fist at you!”

 “Get in line, my love,” Tobirama says again and your mouth drops, aghast. 

 “Who are you?!” You cry out. You jog towards him lightly to catch up. 

Tobirama actually laughs, the sound small and a little rough, but it sends you to roll your eyes. 

“Gods, you have changed,” you comment under your breath. 

 Tobirama shrugs, and then he bumps his shoulder against yours. “In more ways than one, but we are always evolving. We never stay stagnant for long.” 

 You spot the house of Tobirama’s nephew, and for once, you do not feel like something is pressing on your chest to make it cave in. Maybe Tobirama had used this moment to lift your spirits up in the way he knows how. 

 You are grateful for it. 

//

When the two of you had arranged your slippers just outside the door to the main living room, the two of you immediately heard Hashirama’s booming laughter. You share an amused look with your husband, and together, the both of you made your way over to them. 

 You see Hashirama holding his newborn grandchild, and you cannot help the smile spreading across your lips. The wonder in his face is infectious, and the room lights up in excitement, as Hashirama beckons his brother to come closer. 

 Tobirama hesitates, but when he gets close enough, Hashirama reaches over and pulls his hand, and proceeds to deposit Tsunade into his arms. 

You watch as Tobirama’s eyes widen a fraction as he stares at his grand-niece in his arms. He touches her forehead gently with a finger, and he immediately looks at you. His face may look indiscernible to others, but you can tell that he is excited. He beckons you to come closer, and you do, and the two of you look at the new addition to the Senju family. 

“She is beautiful,” you comment quietly. 

 You are aware that others look at you with some degree of alarm, but you pay no mind. Of course, they are allowed to feel that way, given that you had moments where you freak out, but you are completely calm now, and you are just happy for your husband and his family, even if there is a tone of bittersweetness catching at the back of your throat. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Hashirama inquires, as you place the back of your hand on Tsunade’s cheek. 

 “Maybe later,” you reply, seeing how taken Tobirama is with his grand-niece. 

After meeting Tsunade, the rest of the family gather at the dining table while the parents attend to their newborn. Tobirama excuses himself, having to run to his Hokage duties for the rest of the day, and after chatting with Hashirama and Mito, you also leave to get home, suddenly feeling exhausted from the many interactions with people. Usually, you are able keep up appearances in long social events, but now, every word you utter is exhausting. You wish that you can go back to how you were, and you hold on to that, trying your best to pull up the charisma you once wielded, and while you are victorious in putting up such a convincing facade, you cannot control what seeps in through your wall. 

 When you step inside your home, it is quiet. It is the kind of quiet, where you know that you are totally alone. There is no breath of a sigh, no footsteps, no doors sliding open and close. You stare at the winding hallways of your house as you pass by them, noting how undisturbed they look, how blue and cold. 

 Then you head upstairs, taking it step by step, until you are passing by your bedroom, and towards the room designated to your firstborn. 

You stop by the door, and when you finally enter, the sight immediately brings tears to your eyes. The folded blankets, the stuff toys, the crib, the rocking chair, and the books in the room remain untouched, and they have been gathering dust for a while. 

 Your palm grazes across the surface of the crib, and rests on the tiny pillow situated on one side of the crib. The mobile that hangs above the crib, filled with dangling cranes and dragons spin aimlessly and without sound. 

You let out a sob that you have been holding, but they are not from anger or bitterness. They are to mourn what could have been, what you have lost. 

 You let your tears run, and you let it go and course through you. You feel more of what you have been trying to run away from, because you know that sooner or later, you would have to face it. 

 The pain does not let up, but you feel something . It burns and soothes you at the same time, picks at scars but slowly heals it, with time. 

Your eyes go around the room, where dust motes swirl where the light rays are beaming upon a surface. You spend a few more minutes in the room, but when you begin sneezing, you finally decide to leave it and opt to study up on the new project you proposed to Tobirama earlier. 

 You want to give your all on this one, and besides, you know you can use the work. You need to pour your effort and your restlessness into a new direction, because you never want others to feel as you do, as Kimiko does. 

Maybe in a way, you no longer know what goes on in the lives of those who go into the field, but you were there once, and you understand the difficulties of just trying to make it out alive. 

 It is always life we cling to, and what makes us driven to preserve it. It is our silent prayer, even at the brink of death. 

//

After jotting down your ideas and the beginnings of a plan for this new project of yours, you take a break to wander around the house aimlessly. You go into the connected rooms where you and Tobirama are currently building an extensive library and a personal museum for arts and Tobirama’s inventions, taking mental notes on what you ought to change later, when the two of you get the time to uncover more of the artifacts that your husband and his clan has collected over the years. 

 There are some weapons and supplies gathered in the last room, since the two of you shared the obsession of collecting them and learning how to use them. 

 Then, you make your way to your husband’s study. You stop by the threshold, not really stepping in just yet. 

 This room definitely speaks for Tobirama. It is neat and clean, and just as he had bragged, his books and his scrolls are all organized, and in alphabetical order. The files are labelled with his best handwriting, since he has a gorgeous penmanship. Better than yours, in fact. 

 You smile at that little detail about him. Even now, you are amused by all the qualities that he has. You should be used to him by now, but every day is a new day with him; re-learning him is not exhausting to you. 

You opt not to go in, and instead, you go back for your things downstairs, and take it up to your bedroom to work on. As you lie on your bed and draft your official proposal for this project, your eyes flit to the ceiling and the papers around you. The day feels slow, and the heat of the afternoon sticks to you like a daze, and the next thing you know, your eyelids are feeling heavy, and your limbs give to your side, wrinkling a few papers. 

//

Tobirama stares at the corpse in front of him, covered in tags that are marked by his own handwriting–they are his seals, and they are intricate and sprawling across the tags. They fan out, connecting to the next seal, and to the next one, until it is covering the whole corpse. Tobirama takes a deep breath, and he releases it slowly, focusing his chakra. 

 He closes his eyes, willing this to work, because it has to. 

 He takes the DNA of the corpse and smears it to a scroll, and he brings his hands together and begins to the weave signs. 

 However, when he puts a hand on the scroll, nothing happens with the corpse. He waits, because it is what he does a lot whenever he is doing his experiments, but nothing happens. His patience has run thin, and Tobirama lets out a shout of rage and brings a fist down on the table under him. It gives, along with the corpse and the papers and chemicals situated upon it. 

Tobirama racks his mind. Something is still missing. 

By now, he has figured out that he needs a soul and the dead body’s DNA. For this past year, he has been doing his best to reconstruct the corpse into a tangible body, preserving it to this very moment. He has taken limbs and other body parts to make it look human, and it has come down to this moment. 

 And still, there is nothing. 

 Tobirama needs to finish this. He needs to see this to the end, but he is stuck. He does not know what else he can do. Hell, he does not even know where to begin now. 

He sticks his hand backwards, feeling out the wall, and when he comes in contact with it, he rests his back on the cold wall of his lab and he slides down. 

 He stares at the mess in front of him, feeling like a failure–a feeling that he detests so much but it hangs on him like a death sentence. 

He has been losing sleep, missing out on his life and his family for this, and yet, it yields him no results. 

Tobirama is tired, but it is not his time to rest. 

 He runs a hand down his face, feeling haggard, but an idea sparks to his mind that it almost makes him laugh. 

Of course, this did not work because he is attempting to summon something from another plane of existence, the afterlife. 

 He has been going about this all wrong. No, he does not need a dead body, nor all the seals that he has made for it. He just needs their essence, and a sacrifice. A living one. 

 Tobirama actually does laugh this time, but it is not a jolly sound. It is metal grating against metal, it is low, sinister and more of an outburst–a response to all the troubles that he has been keeping inside for a long time. 

 He presses his palms to his eyes, and he digs it in, until his eyelids begin to look white. His body shakes, and his heartbeat hikes up until he feels it bounding on his neck. 

He has his answer, but why does it make him like he just lost? This should be his victory. This is something good. 

 Right? 

 He has been telling himself that this is the right thing to do. The only way to do the right thing. Yet it fills him with emptiness. 

However, he feels himself descend into this emptiness. He dives into it, face first. His hand reaches for the first paper he can touch, and a pen that happens to roll closer to him. 

He writes down his thoughts about the Edo Tensei, about his assumptions and what he can test. He knows that he cannot use the living, because this village will take notice. They will have to be enemy shinobi. His thoughts disgust him–because he is only inconvenienced by the fact that he cannot use the people around him, and he has to look for a sacrifice somewhere else. 

 The thin line of what he can and cannot do begins to blur and Tobirama feels the madness that he is engulfed in. There is no difference between him and his enemies, as there are no bounds to what he will do to preserve what he has. He believes to be fighting for the good side, yet his enemies will claim to be doing the same thing. 

His mind jumps from one thought to another, when he thinks of the underground prison that holds Kimiko and where other prisoners from outside the village get detained.

Tobirama’s hands begin to shake, but he wills them still. Then, he stands up. He feels his success spread through his chest, and he pushes back against what is telling him to stop. There is no stopping. 

 He rushes there, the door to his lab slamming open as he flies through the dingy, underground hallways. 

The lights are dark green, and the walls are black, the paint fading and peeling away; they curl at the top and they look almost like fingers clawing against the wall. The air is thick with moisture, and his steps echo loud in his ears. 

 Finally, he arrives in front of Kimiko’s cell. 

He hears Kimiko’s foreboding laugh. 

“Come to finish the job, Lord Nidaime? Like you have done with the other prisoners?” Kimiko says, her voice raspy, like nails against a blackboard. 

Tobirama grits his teeth. This scene is almost too familiar to him. 

“So it didn’t work?” Kimiko asks in a hushed voice. “With all the bodies you have added to your kill, you still cannot turn things around?” 

“I know what I have been doing wrong,” Tobirama drones on, his voice sounding cold and detached. It does not even feel like his own, but it sounds like his. 

Kimiko approaches the bars of the cell, her appearance exactly like a corpse. 

 Tobirama looks her stone cold in the eye. “Miura Kimiko, as the Hokage, I hereby sentence you to death.” 

//

You wake with a gasp, and the papers on you fall to the ground. You are covered in sweat, and it soaks the front of your shirt, like water has been splashed on you. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and you stare at the space in front of you. You let out a sigh, and you glance at the space beside you. 

 No Tobirama. 

 And the nightmares are back. 

Your heart squeezes, and you swing your legs over the bed, deciding to get some fresh air. 

For a while, you stand on the engawa, looking at the night sky and the low-hanging crescent moon. A howl hoots nearby, but other than that, it is quiet. You watch the streets from your house, as you can see it from where you are standing, but there is no sign of Tobirama coming home. 

 You cross your arms. It is very late. You wonder what is keeping him at work. You know that Tobirama rarely sleeps these days, and when he does, the hours are short and far in between. 

Suddenly, there is knocking on the front gates and you rush to open it and see who is behind them. It cannot be Tobirama, since he has a key. 

When you pull the gate open, you find Mito behind it, and you step back with wide eyes. 

“Where is Tobirama?” She asks, a perturbed frown etched on her elegant, pristine face. 

 You shake your head. “Not here.”

 Mito takes a deep breath and she composes herself. “I apologize for coming by so late. Hashirama has gone missing again. He is not in the village.” 

 Even though Mito is calmer than the ocean, you can sense the urgency behind her words. She never really loses her composure. 

 Your vision gets faraway for a second, and then it focuses on the dark streets of the Senju compound, which leads to the village. 

“Us and our missing husbands,” you try to joke, but the tone of your voice sounds dead. 

 Mito’s eyes flash to you with concern. “I can come with you, if you’d like.” 

 You turn to her slowly, a sense of vertigo hanging on the center of your forehead. It takes a moment to process her words, but you shake off your stupor. You want to brave through your fears. 

“I can manage, thank you, Mito,” you say. “If Hashirama comes back, it is best he finds a comforting face.” 

 Mito stares at you, but she does not object. “Be careful.” 

You give her a wry smile. “Our Senju husbands are a handful, aren’t they?” 

 Mito sighs, and she reaches for your hand. “Thank you.” 

//

The whole walk towards the Hokage office is filled with your uneasiness, and the paranoia that the shadows are about to jump at you, but you get there nonetheless. The first thing you notice is that the Hokage mansion is quiet. There is no one here, and when you get to the office itself, Tobirama is not there. 

 You stand outside the office doors for quite some time, until you finally get your legs to walk you towards the direction of Tobirama’s lab. 

 You hate going in there, as every aspect of the lab seems like a danger to you. It is the place where Tobirama spends the most time conjuring up jutsus, his very own controlled environment, that sometimes blew up because of his doing. It is suffocating in there and no light is permitted unless Tobirama puts up lanterns. 

You sigh, as you step through the winding underground labyrinth. This place gives you more chills, since you know Kimiko is also here. 

 Come to think about it, this place is too quiet. There are no signs of life. Not even the rush of labored breathing. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you tread cautiously towards Tobirama’s laboratory. 

 As you get closer, you hear sounds of struggle and of things getting broken and slammed from impact. 

 You snap alert and you hurry towards the door. You pry it open, and just as you find Tobirama, you see him take his kunai and lodge it against his enemy’s neck, and through brute force, his kunai digs deep into the neck and through it, severing the head. 

You stop in your tracks, and you watch Tobirama step back to observe what he did. You begin to taste bile at the back of your throat. 

 The body that he decapitated did not spray blood nor crumple to the ground, but it begins to be made whole. Ashes fly to it, remodelling the original form until it looks human. 

You gasp, and Tobirama whirls around and sees you. 

“What are you doing here?!” Tobirama demands. 

 His voice makes you step backwards. 

The being regards you, and probably from the animosity of Tobirama’s voice, it reacts by charging towards you. 

 You let out a strangled scream, and your instincts make you step to the side, but before it can go near you, it is dispersed and a crumple piled of ashes fall to the ground. 

You feel the burn of acid go up the back of your throat, and before you know it, you turn to your side and you begin to hurl your insides. 

 Your mind draws blank. 

When you are done, you wipe the corner of your mouth and you look at Tobirama, who is regarding you with a cold expression. 

“What is this?” You rasp out. Your eyes feel cold, and your hands are numb. “What did you do?” 

Your gaze wanders through the lab, and you see corpses on the examination table, papers strewn on the floor, unraveled scrolls spread out over desks, and another corpse on the floor, covered in tags. 

“Tobirama…” You trail off. Your heart drops heavily to your stomach. 

  Your husband dwells in the dark, my lady, and in the shadows, he plays god with the dead . 

 Tears begin to gather in your eyes, and your vision gets blurry. 

Why don’t you just die and see what I mean? 

“Did you...did you bring me back with this? You said I died…” You murmur in disbelief. And hurt. 

 Tobirama can see how repulsed you are and with that, he swallows back his emotions. 

“Tobirama,” you snap, this time with anger. “What the hell is going on?” 

Tobirama stares at you coolly, and you hate that expression of his. It is like he is in battle and he is analyzing the fight to come up with a brilliant strategy. 

 “I created a new jutsu,” he replies. “It is our safeguard. This can help us at war.” 

Your eyes widen in horror and you step towards him. “Help us? At war? There is no war! Isn’t it our goal to have no more wars? So we can stop fighting and go home alive ?!” You practically scream at him. 

 Tobirama is eerily calm and you loathe it. You know that he is shutting down. However, his words do not match his expression. 

“Elder brother is dying,” he says quietly. “This is the only thing I can do.” 

 “No!” You shout. 

 “This jutsu,” Tobirama starts. “This will ensure that no more lives will suffer. This jutsu raises the dead to create an unstoppable army. Now tell me if that is not a good thing.” 

You press a hand to your eyes, trying to drive away the images of the corpses around you. 

“They are just dead bodies,” Tobirama says, detached. “They are dead . I can control them.” 

 “No, shut up!” You snap. “What did it take? Huh? What did it take for your good thing to happen?” 

Tobirama’s eyes narrow. “If you are disgusted, then you are free to leave.” He crosses his arms. “When Hashirama is gone, this village will be vulnerable.” 

 “Your brother is dying, and this is what you do? Make a solution to bring him back alive?” You step closer to him, and Tobirama backs off in surprise. 

He expects you to run off and to leave him. 

 “There is no cure,” he finally snaps. He wanted you to go because it is easier to deal with what he has done without you. 

 “Then why do you spend so much time with the dead? Why can’t you go and spend time with him? For the gods’ sakes, he is out there!” You put your hands on him and you push him back. “Tobirama, do you even hear how insane you sound? How can you rationalize this? Are your dead brothers just dead bodies, then? Our baby girl? My late students?!” 

Tobirama takes it, and his face breaks open with the emotions he has been holding back. 

“This is the only thing I can do! The only way to make sure this village is protected! If my brother goes, then the world becomes our enemy!” 

 “Senju Tobirama!” You scream on top of his voice, and it silences him for a moment. “Is there no end to this?!”

 Tobirama glares at you, and you cannot unhear how broken he sounds. He finally loses it. “THERE IS NO END!” He explodes, and his voice rings in the room.

You take your hands and you slam them against his chest, once, twice, with you biting back your tears. The two of you are breathing hard, and you feel Tobirama’s heartbeat underneath your palm. You ball your hands into a fist and you slam them against his chest again, unable to say anything else. 

 “Why don’t you go?” Tobirama pleads. “Please, just go. Leave me alone, leave me be!” 

You let your tears fall from your eyes. “You, Senju Tobirama, have no faith in yourself, and you are breaking my heart. You set up this world, you made it so that we can have peace, and we will continue to work on that. Peace is not all about strength!” 

 You meet his eyes. “You are wise. You are brilliant, and all the good things a shinobi must be!”

 Tobirama shakes his head, feeling his eyes prick with tears. His chest tightens painfully. “I have not done enough!” 

 You grab the front of Tobirama’s shirt and you clutch it harder. You feel like if you let go, you will lose him to this madness. “Nothing will never be enough, not in this lifetime or the next!”

Tobirama grabs your wrists. “How can you say that?” 

 “Because we will never know what happens next! We are only humans, Tobirama. If you are a god, then by all means, raise the dead, bring back our dead child, control everything you can control.” 

The two of you fall into silence. 

 Tobirama wanted you to turn away because he does not know how to handle the grace you are giving him. He did not want to deal with your disappointment, so he wanted you to feel repulsed. 

 However, he is met with understanding and compassion, and he cannot wrap his head around that. He wants to flee.

Tobirama’s forehead falls to yours, and you feel his tears on your cheeks. “ Elder brother is dying,” he finally says, but it is with acceptance. “He’s...going to leave me.” 

 It breaks his heart. Nothing can ever prepare him for Hashirama’s death. He still needs his elder brother. They are one hell of a duo–there is nothing in this world they cannot accomplish. He does not want to be alone, or be left behind. No matter how much he isolates himself, he values his family above all, and there is nothing in this world that he wants other than for his family to thrive and to be happy. 

“Yes,” you tell him quietly. “But he is out there.” 

You grab Tobirama’s face, and you make him face you. “And he needs you to bring him back home, alright?”

 Tobirama stares at you, looking painfully lost. It is a rare sight to see him so vulnerable. “I do not know what to do. I do not know. I have spent all my life knowing, and I don't-I don't know anymore.” 

You feel his exhaustion in his body and his words, the way your touch makes him lean further towards you and give in. 

 “Yes, you do,” you reassure him, and you caress his high cheekbones with your thumb. “Yes, you do. So go to him.” 

 Tobirama shakes his head, and he places his big hands over yours. “I am sorry.” 

You know how heavy the crown Tobirama wears, how it bears down on him that it drives him insane. It is not like his fears for the future are unfounded. You understand where he is coming from, but you cannot stand here and let him waste away giving his life effort among the dead. You understand so much that it hurts. The pain of being on fire pales in comparison to this. 

You wipe his tears away. “And...I love you. No matter what.” 

 Tobirama squeezes your hands, but he is still looking down at the distance between the two of you. “That is terribly naive of you.” 

 “Well, you know me,” you whisper. 

 “Thank you,” Tobirama murmurs, and finally, he feels a kind of peace settle over his shoulders. It is a comfort that he will spend the rest of his life with you. 

 He knows that he cannot waste your grace, and he will do whatever he can to be worthy of it. 

 Tobirama kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes as he pulls you into his arms. When you open them, you are back in your own home, and he takes off to go find his brother. 

//

You wait for Tobirama’s return in the engawa, the cold morning air of near dawn making your nose runny. It smells of dew now, and the sky is beginning to turn into a lighter shade of blue that makes you see the green of the grass and the leaves of the trees. You stare off into the distance, worrying for him, but you know that he will be back. He has always made good on that promise. 

 Finally, the gate opens and you see Tobirama walk in. 

He pauses from where he is and he looks to you. You see the shadows on his face that cuts his features into sharp details–the way his cheeks hollow and his jaw juts out like a knife–he is always beautiful, no matter what. 

“I told my brother about the Edo Tensei,” he tells you the moment he gets closer. “We are going to seal it away, and make it a Forbidden jutsu.” 

 “That, you should,” you reply wryly. It has been a very long night. “It cannot fall to the wrong hands.” 

 “Yes,” Tobirama agrees. 

The two of you make your way towards your bedroom, and once you are in the confines of your bedroom, your walls fall away. Tobirama walks to the corner of the room, his back to you. The two of you let the silence settle, and you approach him, and quietly slide your arms around his waist and lean your head on the space between his shoulder blades. 

 Tobirama lets out a long sigh, and he rests his arms over yours. 

“What do we do next?” Tobirama asks quietly. 

 “We don’t have to do anything just yet,” you reply, and you plant a kiss on his back. 

Tobirama turns to face you and slides his arm around your waist and sidles you up against him. Tobirama’s tired eyes pore over yours, and the hardness of his stature fades away. He melts into you, and he finds your lips against his. 

 Tobirama pulls away, and he grazes a thumb over your cheek. “Okay.” 

 “Okay.” You blink at him. 

Tobirama leans towards you again, and he kisses you softly. Slowly, he walks the two of you to the bed, and he gently lays you down on your back. 

 Your fingers trail down to the hem of his shirt, and you draw it towards you to take it off. Tobirama tosses his clothing aside, and he leans over you again, his naked torso pressing against yours. 

“You cried,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the bone over his eyebrow. 

 “You did as well,” Tobirama murmurs. 

“Don’t you ever ask me to leave you,” you rest your palm on his cheek. “Then, I will really cry.” 

 “I told you not to cry over me,” Tobirama rolls to his side, bringing you along with him. 

 “How could I not? Quit asking me for impossible things.” 

Tobirama stares at the ceiling, unsure of what to say next. He clutches you to him like an anchor locking its ship to one place. 

 “I want to do right by you, and my brother, and this village,” Tobirama starts, his voice low in his chest. “But I get lost in it. This world is too harsh, and sometimes it takes a mile to move an inch.” 

 “Will you still stand by me, after everything?” Tobirama glances down at you. 

You hold Tobirama and you press your cheek against his shoulder hard. These words are binding, but it is your vow with him. Come what may, but it is with readiness you face these challenges with him. You see him clearly, and you are only beginning to get the scope of what he is prepared to lay down to protect those he loves. He is flawed, and you acknowledge that. You know that your husband is capable of making the hardest moves even if the world will hate him for it. You will not always agree with him, but you believe in his vision and the way he hopes the world can be in the future.

And that makes him human. Perhaps more than anyone you have ever met or have known in your life. 

 The thing is, there is no black and white in the lens that Tobirama sees the world in. You have learned that not everything is simple, that some things just cannot be fixed no matter how hard you search for answers. 

 The two of you need to accept that in order to move on. 

“Until death do us part,” you whisper to him. 

 END.  

coming soon: “touch your heart” (their first meeting and how they fell in love)

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/9

Additional Notes: Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick"

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Excerpt: Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

Despite last night's promise, Janus was different. Or rather, he was the same: flashing only a token smile at Patton as he draped himself artfully over the kitchen island.

From the moment Janus had set foot in the kitchen, Patton could feel the regression. It was written in the gentle boredom resting atop Janus' features, in the way he made a show of fussing with his capelet. Like he had better things to do, and anything, even the drape of his clothing, was higher priority than Patton.

It hurt, but Patton swallowed it down because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and did his best to make Janus feel welcome.

"Morning!" he said brightly, already reaching for the coffee pot. Despite last night's lack of sleep, he had awoken to his natural rhythm (which was, much to Logan's curiosity, separate from Thomas' own), and immediately set about consuming as much caffeine as he could get his hands on. It had worked its magic, to a certain degree, and Patton found the day much easier to face. "Coffee?"

Janus nodded without making eye contact, glancing instead over his shoulder, then leaning forward to look into the white fog where the hallway turned back into the subconscious. "Don't tell me the others are still sulking?"

That stung. Patton tugged at one of the friendship bracelets encircling his right wrist, reminded himself to be patient. "They're allowed to be upset," he said, polishing his tone to a gleaming, brassy shine.

"What about Virgil?" Janus asked. Patton frowned, remembering how distant he had been, and turned away from the coffee pot to face Janus.

Patton wasn't sure what he'd expected. Janus' face gave nothing away, but... could he be worried about seeing Virgil? Why else would he ask? "Virgil might wander in," Patton said cautiously. "He's a late sleeper."

Janus nodded, studying his nails with a nonchalant expression even though he was wearing gloves. Patton squinted, opened his mouth to speak, remembered something. "Right, coffee." He took a mug down from the cabinet by the refrigerator, choosing a pale blue one with a pink heart on it. They had lots of mugs because that was how a home should be. Extra everything for guests and travelers and family.

"I had forgotten about Virgil," Janus said quietly. "So he's still practically nocturnal?"

"Only sometimes," Patton admitted. Hopefully Virgil wouldn't mind his saying so. It wasn't like Janus was a stranger, after all. "Milk in your coffee?"

"I'll take care of it," Janus said. He was smiling and sitting up when Patton turned to hand him the mug, and although he was no longer draped over the kitchen island, he seemed more relaxed, somehow.

Patton sighed, relief coursing through him at the return of this Janus. His Janus. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," Janus said, and Patton wasn't sure whether to believe him. He was so guarded all the time. He never seemed to give anything up by accident. "I suppose you did as well?"

"Actually, I did," Patton said. He leaned over the kitchen island so he could face Janus, who had put his head down, staring fixedly into the shimmering black of his coffee. The set to his jaw was familiar, the refusal to look up. He looked embarrassed, although Patton couldn't fathom why. He decided to continue talking, to make the space more comfortable. "Yup, I fell asleep pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. Guess you could say I was frog tired." He winced, grateful that Janus wasn't looking at him, and pressed on. "Anyway! Want me to make you breakfast? I can do happy face pancakes better than Denny's."

"Better than Denny's?" Janus said, finally looking up. All traces of embarrassment were gone from his face; he turned his human side to Patton and gave a crooked smile. "Why, Patton, are you boasting?"

Reflexive shame warmed Patton's cheeks at the call out, but Janus was still smiling. Oh. He was teasing. "Better than Denny's," Patton affirmed. This was new territory, but it felt safe, somehow. Janus was being… Well, nice. Smiling and relaxed, he looked as at-ease as any of the others would. Like he belonged here.

"Who could say no to that?" Janus said. His snake eye lit up when he smiled, Patton noticed suddenly. It wasn't the same as the human side, but then, it was probably hard to get any expression at all out of the left side, what with the scales getting in the way.

Patton smiled, too, and for a moment, all his troubles seemed like distant things. But the respite didn't last and guilt turned in his stomach. He would make enough pancakes for everyone, and deliver them to Roman and Logan if they didn't show up. None of them technically needed to eat, being imaginary; none of them needed to do anything at all. But Patton liked to cook, and the thought of Roman and Logan sitting alone with nothing made his breath hitch. Yes, he would make enough for all of them and then some.

Neither Janus nor Patton made any attempts at conversation while Patton got all his ingredients together. Logan had told him the name for that, some Italian phrase, or maybe it was French. That sounded right. "Hey, Janus?" Patton called over his shoulder, tossing a bag of butterscotch chips onto the counter.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what this is called?" Patton asked, already transitioning to the fridge for the whipped cream.

There was a pause. "...The kitchen?" Janus said.

"No, no." Patton set the whipped cream down on the kitchen island and popped the cap off. "When you get all your stuff together before you cook. I think it's French?"

"Oh," said Janus, his face growing thoughtful. " Omelette du fromage."

"No!" Patton turned away to laugh, one hand still on the whipped cream canister.

"Scout's honor." Janus held up his gloved right hand, facade not cracking for even a moment.

"It starts with an M, I think," Patton said, twisting up his mouth as he tried to remember.

This bubbled over into laughter when Janus said, deadly serious, " Momelette du fromage." That was when he finally lost it, and hid his mouth behind his hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

His palm began to ache with cold, and he realized he was still holding onto the whipped cream. Remembering his idea, he waited for Janus to surface from behind his hands before brandishing the canister. "Open."

"Shut," said Janus, eying him with obvious doubt.

"Open!" Patton insisted, shaking the can a little.

"Absolutely not!" Janus said. "Here." He finished his coffee in a few swallows and held the empty cup out to Patton. "They do this for dogs at drive-throughs, you know."

"A puppaccino for you," Patton said, filling the mug with whipped cream. He was just about to tilt his head back and spray some into his mouth when Virgil rounded the corner all cloaked in shadows, with his hood up like the Grim Reaper. Patton flinched so hard it almost hurt. "Virgil! Good morning, kiddo!"

"Not with him here," Virgil said, jerking his hooded head at Janus.

The change was nearly instantaneous and it came down in front of Janus like heavy iron bars. He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on the back of it so he could toy with what few strands of hair peeked out from under his hat. "Now, Virgil , is that polite?" he asked, affecting shock and offense. His eyes flicked to Patton, but he stopped short of making eye contact and directed his gaze downward instead. "Here I am talking with my friend--" a pause-- "and you come in here and insult me."

“Seriously.” Virgil looked at Patton. “What is he doing here?”

“Sitting,” Janus said before Patton could even think. “Is that allowed?”

"Uh, since you're asking my permission, no. It's not allowed. Get lost."

"Yes, that obviously wasn't a rhetorical question. You're so clever."

Panic welled up in Patton’s throat and he couldn’t control it-- they were just bickering now, but it would spiral and someone’s feelings would get hurt. He didn't even realize he was backing away until he hit the wall behind him. Oh, god, he wouldn’t have to choose, would he? He couldn’t. Just the thought made his breath hitch like croaking in his throat and no no no--

"Virgil," Janus said, a touch too loud. "Truce."

Patton looked at him, panic falling away in the face of his confusion.

"What?" Patton watched Virgil's posture open a little, shifting from defensive to something a bit more neutral, versatile. "What are you trying to pull?"

Janus waved a hand, flashing yellow in Patton's peripheral vision. "Patton can fill you in the gory details as he sees fit. Here's what you need to know: I'm in."

"You're in?" Virgil repeated.

"I'm in," Janus said again. "Quid pro quo." He paused in between each syllable, his gaze intense and never wavering from Virgil. "I gave up my name--"

"You what?"

" Please interrupt me; that will make this go so much smoother." Janus paused, but Patton and Virgil remained silent. "I gave up my name, and in return, was given a voice." He turned his face downward and began to fuss with his right glove, and it took Patton a moment to realize that he was taking it off. For what? Another vow? What else could he possibly have to swear to?

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked, drawing back as Janus stepped away from the kitchen island and approached him.

Janus held up his bare right hand like a magician at a street show, then held it out for Virgil to shake. "Truce, Virgil. You don't like me, I don't care about you, blah blah blah. That doesn't have to change. But for Patton’s sake, for everyone’s sake, we can at least be civil."

Patton watched them in wide-eyed silence. For his sake? Janus was doing this for him?

The silence stretched on.

"Look," Janus said, clearly losing patience. "There's nothing I can do to make you trust me--"

"Uh, you could start by losing the attitude," Virgil sneered. Something clicked in Patton's head, but he had no time to pursue it as Virgil turned toward him with a hard look in his eyes. "Patton."

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"What's his name?"

Patton pressed his back harder against the wall, letting it take more and more of his weight. That was all he wanted, someone to hold him up for a while. But he had nothing, nothing but the turmoil before him and the cold, white wall behind his back and friendship bracelets like circles of fire around his wrists. "It's Janus."

Virgil scoffed, and something akin to a smile flashed on his lips for just a moment. And then, to Patton's surprise, Virgil shook Janus' hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway sounding as cold as the air around them, though Patton was reasonably sure that was poor Roman’s doing.

“‘Morning, Teach,” Virgil said, withdrawing his hand from Janus’ and shoving it in his pocket. “You’re not interrupting anything. What’s up?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” The words left Patton’s mouth in a frantic yelp, all high-pitched and desperate. He didn’t care. He just needed Logan to be okay; it was his job to make sure Logan was okay.

"No, thank you," Logan said firmly. "I only came to invite you to a meeting." He lifted his head and looked at Janus. " All of you."

"What kind of meeting?" Patton asked.

"A meeting regarding Thomas' functioning from this point forward. I believe we have cause to reassess some matters and re-examine some notions that were previously regarded as truths," Logan said "Please meet me back here at precisely 9:30. That is one hour and 23 minutes from now. I am telling you this now so you have adequate time to prepare and do not keep me waiting." Logan turned to leave.

"Wait!" Patton said, throat aching with the urge to cry. "Don't you want-- I can make toast or, or you can put Crofter's on the pancakes. The batter’s almost done."

“No, thank you,” Logan said, just as firmly as he had turned Patton away last night, before he’d gone to see Janus. And he turned and walked away.

“Jeeze,” Virgil said, his face still half-hidden under his hood. “What happened to him?” So Patton told him what had happened the night before.

And when he was done, Virgil had knocked his hood back, angry tears glimmering in his eyes. He rounded on Janus, practically shouting. “That was completely out of line!" Janus was silent. "It wasn't enough to completely shatter Roman's trust in himself, no , you just couldn't handle the insult to your precious pride , could you? God, you're such a jerk. I should drag you down to Roman's room right now and make you apologize, you-- you snake. "

"Virgil!" Patton interrupted, feeling the shards of his broken heart shatter into smaller pieces. "That's not fair."

"Not fair ?" Virgil repeated. He had gone bright red, both his hands clenched into fists. "What's not fair is that Roman's all alone in his room thinking that Thomas doesn't care about him!" He rounded on Janus again, angry tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes, "It should be you; I wish it was you. You just fucking break things, don't you? You keep trying to tell us you're not the bad guy, so why is it that everything you touch ends up like this, huh? Why can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

“Enough, Virgil,” Patton said, shooting an apologetic look at Janus. But Janus seemed unperturbed, standing with his arms crossed and a pitying expression on his face, like Virgil had just made a gaffe at a dinner party.

For some reason, that only made Patton feel worse. He was supposed to be their shepherd, the light to unite them and guide them through troubled times, and all he had done recently was cause fights and make people miserable. He would have to try extra hard at Logan’s meeting. They could all be friends again, for Thomas’ sake. They just had to work together.

--

"Aww," said Patton, desperate to break the chilly silence the only way he knew how. "It's nice to all be together, isn't it?"

He scanned everyone's faces for some trace of happiness, grasping for something, anything. Eye contact, half a smile. Just some hope that he hadn't broken things beyond repair.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, which was… Well, it was something. It was more than Logan's sickening lack of expression, it was more than Janus' closed-off scowl. Roman made a noise that Patton recognized at once as a choked sob, and continued to stare into middle distance.

Logan had gathered them into a conference room, evidently of his own invention; Patton had certainly never seen it before. Sitting down felt wrong, since they usually had these conversations standing and facing each other, but there wasn't really anywhere to stand. So they all sat in the high-backed leather chairs, spread out around a massive wooden table so varnished and clean that it reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

Patton, not Logan, sat at the head of it. He hadn't noticed, at first, until they were all seated and everyone had turned to face him. The ensuing case of nerves made his stomach turn. What did it say about him, that he had taken the seat at the head of the table without even thinking? No one else had gone for it… Had Patton trained them all so well, manipulated them into being obedient for him?

Over to Patton's right, Janus planted his elbow right on the lacquered tabletop and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Alright, let's see Paul Allen's card."

From Patton's left, he heard Virgil snicker and clear his throat, but when Patton turned to look, he had gone back to glaring at Janus.

"American Psycho?" Janus continued, evidently unbothered by the lack of response. "No? Tough crowd."

Patton frantically tried to think of an American Psycho quote to answer back with, but he hadn't been paying attention when Thomas had watched the movie. All the blood made him feel queasy, not to mention the drug use and sex.

He was paying for it now, with no way to support Janus. Not that Janus seemed to mind; he was lounging in the stiff leather chair like it was his own personal throne.

"Let's begin," Logan said. He was sitting straight upright in his own chair, all the way down at the other end of the table. He sat across from Roman, the two of them as far from Patton as they could possibly be. "As you all know, Thomas doesn't know what to do in his immediate future. He is currently lying in bed staring at the wall, a behavior which was previously considered unacceptable. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how we should guide Thomas through this… fraught time."

Logan stopped speaking, and what Patton had thought would be a pause stretched out into an awkward silence. "Uh, don't you have any suggestions, Logan?"

"No."

"Well, um. Shouldn't he get up and make breakfast or something?"

"If you feel that is the best course of action, I will write it down." A legal pad and a pen appeared before Logan and he began to write.

"Roman?" Patton said. "Anything? Maybe he could watch Parks and Rec while he eats? Or, uh, something else. Whatever he wants to watch."

"I don't care," Roman said in a hoarse, ragged voice.

"What?" Patton's heart wrenched, and the sensation was painful enough to make him twitch.

"I don't care," Roman repeated. "Whatever you say."

The scratching of Logan's pen seemed to echo in Patton's ears and he swore he could feel a physical weight on his chest. "Wh-whatever I say?" This wasn’t right; they were supposed to contribute… They were supposed to help...

"Oh," Janus' voice cut through the fog. Patton focused on him, the only light in this storm. "You've got to be kidding me." He laughed, all his features lighting up in a parody of mirth. " That was your takeaway from last night? That Patton should be in charge of everything?" He lifted his head and shifted in his seat, bringing up his hands in tandem like an orchestra conductor. "I'd love to know what factored into that decision. Was it the part where he cracked under the pressure you already put on him? Because that makes perfect sense. What do you do when a bridge is collapsing? Put more weight on it, of course! How very logical!"

"And I'm sure you'd prefer it if we all put you in charge?" Virgil snapped. Patton turned his head to look at him, not wanting to be rude, but Virgil didn't seem to notice. He had somehow found space to draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. Only his eyes peeked out from behind his legs, and his gaze never wavered from Janus.

" Yes , Virgil, that's my point! Take all that pressure off Patton and put it on me, that's exactly what I want. Congratulations, you uncovered my evil scheme to work myself into a nervous breakdown. I wonder what video game character I'll turn into."

"Like you haven't been aiming for a total takeover this whole time! Patton's probably your next target."

Janus actually laughed at this, which Patton almost couldn't conceive of. How could Janus laugh when Virgil was throwing such terrible accusations at him? They were both being so-- so ugly . The idea that Virgil might be right-- No. Patton couldn't even consider it. He had made the choice to trust Janus and he had to stick with it, right or wrong.

He slammed his palms onto the tabletop, marring its spotless surface with his touch. "Just stop! Stop arguing!" Great, everyone was looking at him now. "I can't be in charge of Thomas all by myself. Please help me."

Roman planted his forearm on the table and buried his face in it. Logan made a note on his legal pad. Patton had never been a violent soul, but for a moment he was nearly overcome by the sudden urge to grab Logan's rollerball and snap it in half.

"Patton," Virgil murmured.

"Just help me," Patton repeated, staring at the smudges his palms had left on the lacquer.

Janus stretched one arm across the table and stole Logan's legal pad and pen. He tore off the first page and began to write, speaking aloud as he did so. "Breakfast. Cereal, something easy. Parks and Rec. He gets three episodes, then he's getting up to brush his teeth, then going for a walk around the neighborhood. With headphones."

"Without," Virgil said. "In case someone tries to sneak up on him and jump him."

Janus paused in his writing and stared at Virgil. Then his gaze flicked to Patton and, to Patton's surprise, he nodded and went back to writing. He was honoring the truce after all. "No headphones." He pursed his lips, as though physically holding back whatever comment he wanted to make. After a moment's pause, he added, "In fact. He's putting his phone on 'do not disturb.'"

"But what if--" Patton blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hand until he noticed Virgil glaring at Janus. He shook his head at Virgil and dropped his hand. "What if someone needs Thomas?"

"And they think he's ignoring them," Virgil added. "And they get mad and stop trusting him."

"Any point on this list is negotiable," Janus said, and Patton had known him long enough to tell that Janus was only setting up the pins for the sake of knocking them down, "but only if your argument is reasonable. Hypotheticals are not reasonable arguments."

"Told you so," Virgil said to Patton. "He wants total control."

Janus slapped the pen down on the table with an unpleasant crack and pushed the legal pad toward Virgil. "Behold! My nefarious agenda."

Before Virgil could move, before Patton himself could be tempted to look, he flipped the legal pad over and slid it back to Janus without reading a single word. "I believe you."

"Patton--" Virgil protested.

"We can work this out like adults," Patton said.

"Well," Logan said frostily, standing up from his chair. "It appears as though you have matters under control without the need for my further involvement." He sank out before Patton could even start thinking of something to say.

Roman lifted his head, revealing tired eyes. At least he hadn't been crying at the table, Patton supposed. "I'm going to go, too," he said, and sank out without another word. The temperature rose noticeably, but remained uncomfortably cold. Poor Roman. It wasn’t often that he got so upset that he lost control of his imagination.

"You next," Virgil said to Janus. "Me 'n' Pat have got this handled. We can do this on our own." He looked expectantly to Patton, gesturing with his head for Patton to dismiss Janus.

Patton sighed. Why was Janus the only one who didn't seem to want something from him? Janus, who Patton even a day prior had suspected of puppeting them toward some bleak apocalypse, was the only one not trying to get him to do anything. Patton almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Everything was wrong.

"I don't think I can do this," Patton murmured, staring at his palm prints. Even after his colossal screw-up last night, they were all looking to him. He had failed, let them all down. He was the one who had manipulated everyone into seeing him as a good person, a leader, a father . And even after watching him fall, they all still trusted him to make it right.

Everyone except Janus.

Patton never could have guessed that the idea of not being trusted would be so comforting.

"You have to!" Virgil said.

"I know."

"Anytime you want to wrap up this little soap opera," Janus said. He was lounging in his chair looking supremely unbothered, spinning Logan's pen across his gloved fingertips. "We need to decide what Thomas should eat for lunch. He just bought a bag of granola--"

"No!" Patton and Virgil shouted in tandem.

"Don't we have to worry about, like, nutrition or whatever?" Virgil continued, smoothing his hair back.

"Logan would know all about that," Patton said, staring at Logan's empty chair. "I wish…" He let the sentence go unfinished. It didn't matter.

" One day of mindless self indulgence isn't going to kill him," Janus said. "See what I did there?"

"Read the room, dude," Virgil said.

Patton let them bicker for no other reason than that he no longer had the mental energy to tune in. They were only arguing, after all, and he was here if they needed him.

He really hoped they didn't need him. That ugly desire dominated his mind, the sudden, selfish urge to be completely unavailable. It was wrong . It was wrong to be selfish, it was wrong to shut down like this when the others were depending on him.

Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in. He wished Logan had included some windows or something, some decor. Anything other than this sickening seafoam green paint.

"Thomas can put his phone on 'do not disturb,'" Patton announced. He wasn't sure if Virgil and Janus were even still arguing about that, but they were definitely arguing about something.

"What?" said Virgil. "You're seriously taking his side?"

Janus said nothing, but the splotches of yellow and black in Patton's peripheral vision had gone very, very still.

"Virgil, I need you to understand, I'm not taking anyone's side. It's just that… Well, you heard what happened when I tried to guess the right answers."

"But you're--"

"Fallible," Janus interrupted. "As are we all."

"Except you, right?" Virgil said.

"When have I ever said that?" Janus demanded.

"It's obvious! You don't have to say it. Every time you come waltzing into one of our discussions, you just bring it with you."

Patton sighed and sat back in his chair. He couldn't fix it. Everything he said and did was wrong . Everyone was at odds, and it seemed they all wanted Patton on their side.

He stared at the legal pad and thought,  seemingly out of nowhere, of the Judgement of King Solomon. "We'll do it half and half," he said.

"What?" said Janus.

"Virgil decided that Thomas won't listen to music when he goes for a walk. Janus gets to decide whether Thomas puts his phone on 'do not disturb.' Virgil gets the next decision. And so on."

"Fine," Virgil said. "He's going to have salad for lunch."

"And then he's going to take a long shower and sing as loud as he wants without worrying if anyone can hear him."

"Fine, but then he's going to watch true crime videos and start working on a strategy for what he would do if he ever ends up getting interrogated by the police."

"He's watching cat videos afterward to cheer himself up."

Patton sighed, seeing that they had forgotten about the legal pad, and started writing.

The plan they settled on was a lazy one. If Thomas stuck to it, he would ultimately accomplish nothing with his day. But Logan wasn't there and Roman wasn't there, and Patton barely had the will to advocate for himself . He just wasn't strong enough.

He wondered, briefly, if there was some way he could split himself up, and give a little bit of support to Roman, to Logan, to Virgil. They really seemed to need it, and it had to be hurting them that Patton wasn't there. And the rest of him, whatever was left, could seek comfort in Janus and his total lack of expectations. What else was he supposed to do?

"That's a wrap," Janus said, pulling Patton out of his morbid fantasies.

"Good job, you two," Patton said, and the praise sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Great teamwork."

"Don't get used to it," Virgil said.

Janus stood, sending his chair rolling back until it bounced off the wall. "I'll be going, then. Virgil, it was a pleasure ."

"Wait!" Patton yelped, suddenly panicked. "I wanted-- I…" He faltered and looked at Virgil, who was watching them closely. "I want to talk to you."

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with him," Virgil said, and Patton wasn't sure whether Virgil was addressing him or Janus.

"It's okay, Virgil," Patton said.

Virgil shook his head, and Patton's heart dropped when he noticed that Virgil was shaking a little, his breaths coming shallow (but thankfully, even). "It's not okay. He's dangerous, and I… I couldn't protect Roman. I couldn't protect Logan. I can't let him get you, too."

Patton thanked all the stars in the sky that Janus had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not wind Virgil up when he was clearly upset. "It's okay, kiddo. That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And… I know you don't trust Janus, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

"I-- I guess so." Virgil bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something else. He dropped his voice to a murmur, so much that Patton had to lean in to be able to hear him. "I just want to help. I spent so long causing problems; I just want--" he sighed "--to be good."

"You are good, kiddo," Patton said, reaching out slowly. Virgil didn't flinch or shake his head, so Patton put his hand on Virgil's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But if you really want to help out, maybe you can go try to cheer up Roman? I haven't had much luck with him, but he might listen to you."

Virgil nodded. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I'm never gonna forgive myself if Janus hurts you."

"Ah, your ol' pop star will be just fine," Patton said. "Better than fine! I'll be gay-OK."

Virgil didn't smile, exactly, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a little and that was good enough for Patton. "Alright. I trust you." With one final dirty look over Patton's shoulder, he stood and sank out.

Patton turned around slowly, suddenly nervous. Part of him knew it didn't make sense. Logan had created this space; he and Janus were on neutral ground here.

"Parley?" Janus asked from the far end of the table. He had summoned up a chessboard and was evidently playing a game against himself.

"If we're gonna parley, should we do it in a par- lor ?" Patton joked, chuckling weakly.

Janus' smile was crooked and Patton couldn't tell if it was sincere. "You're absolutely right." He vanished the chessboard with a wave of his hand and stood up. "Follow me."

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Any tips got people starting their creative writing degree in September? Xxx

oh this is a great question!! sometimes I forget I will literally be an upper year next year :) how did this happen :) still feel like I’m in grade 9 :) lol! but I do have tips!

1. Trust in the process

Okay, this sounds a little gimmicky, but what I mean is, let things happen the way they’re going to happen. I was extremely prepared when I entered first year, and even more prepared for second year, and I’m not saying this is a bad thing--in fact, I recommend having something small (even an idea) at the ready, just in case of emergency writer’s block, time constraints, etc, but I’d love to go back in time and tell myself to chill! I wanted so badly to experience the idea of the Ideal Writing Degree Experience, and so kind of missed out on the actual (great) experience I had in front of me! so let it happen! Take creative risks! stray from your plan if your gut is telling you to!

2. Get involved

In first year, I found it SO helpful to get involved in writer events, or clubs on my campus. I joined my department’s lit journal (which I shall be managing in the fall!) as an intern, and made sure to attend most, if not all the writing events they had on campus, including general fine arts mixers. Though I am a super introverted person, it was actually super fun to make connections, and even so, just make memories of faces that I could later recognize on campus. This is also super helpful for getting to know people in your program! On orientation day, I really tried to huddle with some other Writing undergrads, and that was super fun because we just chatted about our writing backgrounds, etc! If you’re anxious like me, coming up with literal talking points could be helpful the night before, kind of like an “About Me” refresh?? Like, oh my name is Rachel and I write literary fiction, also I am from Toronto, would be what I would say in case someone asked (usually people were very excited to hear I was from out of province lol so this worked as a great talking point!). ALSO!! off campus events! go to readings! Readings are 100% more accessible to attend where I go to school versus where I live at home, and so I def took advantage of this by making sure to go out to multiple literary events! It’s nice to make connections, chat with the readers, or even other audience members! Usually people asked me if I was a student and what program I was in, etc, and because being a Writing major is kind of a Fun Thing To Be at a reading, this was always a great talking point!

3. Remember your writing degree is still work

I know a lot of creative degree pals give this advice to remind undergrads that their creative work for school is still work so they should sit down and do it rather than leaving it to the last minute, but I kind of like to flip this idea on its head by saying: it’s okay to prioritize your “non-academic” work versus your “traditionally academic” work! For example, I took many, many English classes this year, and put about 20x more of my time into those classes than my literal writing classes. I am a writing major?? lol! I could’ve gotten an English degree closer to home?? I did not come here for this?? I think it was easy for me to write off putting time into my writing classes because I was “good at that” and “needed to focus on my academic work” (whatever academic even means), but if you’re there for writing, don’t be afraid to actually... do your writing?? Fighting internalized stigma about my own degree is something I still work on! It’s still work! Which means it’s hard, and you should take breaks (and extensions if necessary/if you can) just like with any other work.

4. If you want to, prep a little

Like I mentioned above, this could be a helpful thing to do, though I do caution over preparation because that was me!! and I feel like one may learn more if they have more room to fail (which sometimes preparation reduces?) but this is also dependent on the type of person and student you are, so disregard if necessary! When I entered first year, I didn’t prep actual work, but made sure I knew what was expected of me so I could mentally prepare myself, haha. I knew there were 5 assignments for 5 different genres (because of COVID they actually axed 1 genre which I am GRATEFUL for rip playwriting), so I kept this in mind throughout the term. If I got an idea for a poem but knew we wouldn’t be doing poetry for the next term, I’d write the poem in advance, or write down the idea. A little bit of prep can help alleviate stress especially if you’re transitioning out of high school, but I do tend to overdo it!

5. SUBMIT your work!!!

This is also totally okay NOT to do if you don’t want to publish your work, but if you are interested in curating a portfolio, it doesn’t hurt to start submitting your work early to literary magazines! I know some people are too nervous to send out their work in first year, but if you’re comfortable with it and want to, go for it! I submitted my work for the first time in first year, and got 2 stories published. If you want to be published, you don’t have to wait for upper years to put your work out there! If you have a piece you like, send it out! This also includes on-campus writing contests if your school runs these. I entered one not thinking anything of it and won first place (HOW), and these experiences were fantastic in shaping my experience in the program and also showing me submitting your work is not so scary!

6. Talk to your profs and TAs

Y’ALL I did not realize how much I talk to my profs and TAs and how much the pandemic took that away from me! It’s so critical to form relationships with the people who are teaching you, not only because they’ll help you to shape your work, but also because they’re a great start to networking! In first year, I sat down with my TAs or prof for literally every single piece I wrote, and the amount I learned is astronomical. I guess this depends on your program, but generally, writing programs are generative based rather than super lecture heavy, and you learn by doing hands-on work (workshops, etc). I learned so much (sometimes, even more) by talking to my teachers. They want to help you and it’s a great way to get to know them. I only attended office hours once in COVID (and it was Zoom office hours), and I certainly feel a difference in my experience. Reach out! When I took an intro journalism course, my prof line-edited every one of my pieces by hand, and while it was nerve-wracking because she is a fantastic writer and a tough critic (and literally right in front of me), it was so rewarding when she’d point out where I’d improved. She was also great at taking her time to explain how I could better my piece. You can’t do that if you’re sitting in a 200 person lecture, but you can if you take some time for a one on one! Highly recommend if you can (coming from someone with social anxiety)!

7. Make friends

I will admit it! I still have not done a great job at this lol. But if you can, try to reach out to your peers. You’re all there to learn, and it’s actually so fantastic to meet likeminded people! My peers are incredibly talented, smart individuals, and when we’re in person, I’d love to chat with them more! In first year, it can be scary to reach out, which is why I did this minimally, though I still made an attempt to jump out of my comfort zone whenever possible. It’s nice to recognize faces on campus and wave at people/have a short conversation before you head into class. Like I said, I interned for my on campus lit journal in first year, so I had to reach out a few times to my classmates to participate in events etc, so this was actually kind of easier for me since I had a lil ~motive that allowed me to muster the courage to chat with people! It could be as easy as joining in on a convo of a subject of interest (for example, a lot of people at my school especially in my program, love D&D. I have no idea what that is/how that works, but if I did, this might be something to talk about if you love it also)! Also - follow people on social media if you can find them, or start a group chat!

8. Don’t be afraid to speak up for your needs

This will be my last tip, and it might be the scariest tip of all, but if you are not happy with how something is going in your degree/classes, speak up about it! If something is not accessible to you, don’t be afraid to speak out about that. Idk if it’s just me, but I’ve been advocating for the betterment of my education since elementary school (why am I like this loooool), but especially in university, you’d be surprised by how receptive some people can be! Shoot your prof or TA an email if you have concerns, and see what they say. Rarely, they can be assholes, but most of the time, they’ll try to work with you to make your class experience better. This is why I also recommend filling out your course evals. Most great profs really want their students to enjoy their classes and succeed, so don’t be nervous to speak out about your needs if xyz isn’t being met.

hope that helps!

[toshis-puppycat]

Gift Exchange

A/N: I actually already shared this for a gift exchange, so this is dedicated to @olsenholic, I'm really glad that you liked it when I was able to share it!! Happy Holidays everyone!

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple gift exchange, but well nothing goes to plan when you’re crushing on your boss and finding out he feels the same.

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Word Count: 2,043

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It hasn’t been very long since you’d started here. Everyone seemed to be nice, you liked it here. It was weird though. Sometimes you’d never see your boss. In fact you thought the first time you saw him was when that U.A student came by as his intern, then again for work studies. You knew he taught him that he could fly with his quirk. You could sense it actually. So it was weird when by the time December rolled around he just announced that you all would be participating in a gift exchange. “It’s supposed to promote team unity.” You remembered him saying. ‘But just why… Why did he also have to participate?’ It wasn’t weird but you did just start and oh god how on earth were you supposed to know what he even liked? Since starting at Hawks Agency you had seen him a total of 5 times, and that was when he was with the U.A. student. Tsukuyomi was his hero name if you remembered correctly. Other than that it had been a long time since you’d seen him at all since you started. Even the work studies had passed. Whatever you knew was essentially what your coworkers would complain tell you in passing. “He sometimes skips out on the paperwork” or “He works too fast for anyone to keep up with him” or even “He likes food, there’s never a moment I don’t see him spoiling himself with something to eat.” and that’s just embarrassing. Only knowing his work ethic and that he likes food to an abnormal degree (according to your coworkers at least). Well the other thing you knew would be that Hawks ‘Hes really handsome.’ That was your first thought when you saw him for the first time. Before you even started working you knew he was handsome. And now you had to get a gift for him (and preferably get him while he was alone or something because you just didn’t want anyone to know). He was hard to get alone though, so you had to be smart when you figured out what to get him.

“Did you hear Hawks say hes a huge fan of Endeavor?” You heard a coworker ask someone. Your ears perked up. “Turns out our boss loved him as a kid!” Loved him? Endeavor himself was… well in your opinion a giant asshole. You’d actually applied to work at his agency at first, thinking you would fit in well but… your application was rejected on the basis of someone else had filled the minor position. But you felt it was slightly because of your quirk being weak in comparison. Even though you’d mainly be helping with the paperwork not the hero work itself. But you were kind of grateful, it gave you a slight change of pace you supposed. Hawks was overall fast, he didn’t like doing his paperwork sometimes (or he procrastinated), when he was present he would attempt to spoil his employees with food and ensure good benefits, he made sure his employees were comfortable in their working environment. Hawks might have everything related to Endeavor already but it wouldn’t hurt to try and get him something related to the flame hero. 

You actually did find something related to Endeavor eventually. It took ages to actually find. It was a recording of his own time at U.A. During his first sports festival. U.A. thankfully wasn’t secretive when in reference to the Sports Festival. You remembered watching the recent one on the news. One kid really freaked you out actually, because he fought Endeavors kid and absolutely annihilated his own arm when fighting. But actually finding one from Endeavors time? One that actually showed him? An absolute miracle that you were able to save it. One you were going to take full advantage of. 

The day to actually exchange gifts came up pretty quick afterwards. He wasn’t there when everything began. Which internally made you want to scream. At this rate you’d have to give him his gift in person. What was even weirder was you hadn’t even gotten your gift either. God you kinda hoped that he didn’t get your name too. That’d be a little awkward. Would it? Getting a gift from your boss for a random gift exchange. Almost like you were meant to be. You shook the thought away. Meant to be? That's a fairytale. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

When he brought up the idea for a gift exchange, he didn’t think too much of it at first. Then he actually got a name. How he forgot that he threw his own name in there amazed him. A name of an employee who worked at his agency, not even one who was provided by the Hero Commission. Just hired on what kind of felt like a whim. You were efficient, a hard worker. He knew you were one because you applied for Endeavors agency before his, and well if you knew you could handle Endeavors temperament you could definitely handle working at his agency. You were… how could he even put it? You were really good at your job, you didn’t complain, you listened and it seems like you really enjoy working at his agency. Which was a plus for him, because despite him wanting to avoid paperwork and not spending much time at his agency itself, he actually really enjoyed everything having to do with it. He liked being able to make sure his employees have a good pay, good benefits and well good everything. He didn’t want anyone to ever deal with what he did in any point of their lives. Finding out what you liked was really simple actually. He snooped listened, and paid attention whenever you were even slightly mentioned. He also maybe sort of looked up anything he could about you. It wasn’t very hard to do so, but it was hard making sure no one knew it was him doing anything related to you. He was the Number 2 Hero, and while it came with perks, it also came with certain dangers as well. He didn’t want his employee targeted for anything (although he highly doubted that the League would actually go after you for anything, he was good at his job thank you very much and there was no way they could actually find one of his cute efficient employees). You were kind, efficient, beautiful, knowledgeable and he just had to get your name for the gift exchange. He didn’t know who got whos name but he would’ve hoped it would’ve been obvious who got him. Unfortunately, for him all of them were stone faced when they picked up the names. Even you. But it would be sort of… romantic if you also got his name wouldn’t it? Like you two were meant to be? No no. He didn’t. He couldn’t be interested in one of his employees. But damn did you fall into his category of attractive. He was able to find a suitable gift just before he had to give it to you at a really good time for him. Now all he had to do was make sure that you’d be alone. 

Turns out, its really difficult to get someone alone. His other employees crowded him, and you seemed to just stay away from him. But no one gave him a gift yet either. God he sort of hoped it was you. His palms felt a little sweaty, his heartbeat was a tad out of control. Was it like that because he liked you? Or was it because he wanted to leave? He took the safe route of leaving just in case, sneaking away from everyone. He didn’t even notice that you were following him.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Hawks was leaving! This was your chance! You quickly made your escape to catch up to him and give him the gift. No one stopped you, thank god no one noticed you at all. It didn’t even look like he noticed you! Perfect! Turns out you have a huge crush on your boss, no biggy you’d just bury all of your feelings and ignore everything perfectly fine and dandy. How did you even find out? Well turns out already listening in for information about your boss and getting excited about giving him a very personal slightly personal gift, your heart beating out of your chest and having sweaty palms all equated to you feeling excited to see him know it’s you, you’re his secret santa. You weren’t even paying attention when he stopped walking, then suddenly you were slammed against a wall, and Hawks was in your personal space. He looked angry for a split second but then he backed away almost embarrassed. 

“Haha, sorry kid. Felt that I was being followed and well, it never hurts to be cautious.” He said and you let out an awkward laugh. 

“Its alright, sir.” You said, biting your lip. You didn’t notice how his gaze flickered there for a split second. “Ah, well I understand you left to get some alone time but uh, well…” you trailed off, reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out the CD. “Merry Christmas, sir. I was uh, well your Secret Santa. He looked at you shocked and gave a little laugh. 

“So you were my Secret Santa?” He smiled at you. As you gave a nod to answer his question. “That's really somethin.” He said, reaching out to grab the gift. 

“Well, uh. That was all, sir! I hope you enjoy it!” You said awkwardly, moving to go away from him but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. 

“Ya’know, it’s real funny you had me, kid.” He said, and you gave him an anxious look. You weren’t scared but you didn’t want to intrude on him. He sighed and gave a small smile. “I actually had you too.” Everything sort of just stopped. Your boss had your name for this? What kind of Romcom nonsense? You looked up to avoid his gaze, you did not want your boss to notice how flustered you got from him grabbing your arm, your eyes slightly widened. Was that a… and it was. A mistletoe was just there above your heads and you felt like your face was giving away everything in that moment. Hawks looked a bit shocked at your expression, then immediately looked up and also… saw… the mistletoe. Fuck. His arm moved, wrapping around your waist, his hand let go of your arm, and he just looked at you. “I stayed awake owl night thinking about you.” It took a minute to even register what he said, and you just started laughing. 

“Owl night?” You giggled. “Bird puns, sir?” 

“You looked a little panicked, kid. Give me a break here.” He said, grinning at your relaxed expression. “So. Secret Santa.” He said, the playful gleam still in his eyes. “Can we honor a tradition?” 

You give him a nod and it was all he needed before giving you a tentative kiss, like he was unsure of himself. It wasn’t even that long before he pulled away, his cheeks slightly dark at the dazed expression you were giving him. You pulled him in for another kiss. This holiday was much better than any other one you’d ever experienced. You even got to experience a kiss under a mistletoe. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Hawks wasn’t your boss for long after that kiss gift exchange. He wanted to actually see you. Like romantically. And well, you really really wanted to give it a shot too. And you didn’t regret a single thing after that. Four years down the line already, you were in a relationship you never thought would ever happen, you knew his name. Kegio. Your heart still fluttered whenever you two would spend time together, and tonight you knew he had something planned. (Of course it didn’t register to you until much later that it was the anniversary of your first kiss with him, and he was a hopeless romantic) You just didn’t know it would involve you being able to take his last name. So when he asked, of course you said yes.

[cubeswhump]

Something Feels Familiar

Levi before he was Levi. If anyone wants to be tagged in Levi fics, let me know.

Warning for institutionalized slavery, abuse, burns, drug abuse, working in retail.

This isn't what I wanted.

What? Where did such a thought come from? What wasn't what 262847 wanted? Maybe he wanted something else when he signed up. Was that it?

No. This was perfect. He wanted this.

He had a comfortable bed. The other boxies never told on him. They got to eat the food that didn't sell and would otherwise be thrown out. But once, a customer was watching videos on her laptop, and 262 snuck glances when possible. There was an ad showing a boxie and its owner, and the owner was so tender and loving. 262 wanted someone to hold his hand, stroke his hair… 

He slapped his own face hard. One of the two box babes stared at him.

None of them had actually met their owner, who worked way up in corporate. A huge package deal of several hundred boxies trained to be the perfect employees, several placed at every location in the UK. The managers,  -- hired employees rather than pets -- were the ones who kept them in line, and though 262 would snatch up whatever positive attention he could get, it wasn't enough.

Yes it was. He was a pet and he would be happy with whatever he got. He was grateful.

A little voice in his head said it was weird to have a coffee shop boxie. But it made sense, right? His owner was so smart. His owner knew they would save money by having pets rather than employees, as pets could work longer shifts and didn't get paid. Smart.

262 nudged the other boxie at the counter. "861."

"Piss off," the girl mumbled.

"861, what's coffee shop AU? It just popped into my head, and…"

"I don't care. Stop talking to me."

He talked too much. The handlers couldn't beat it out of him, but it suited him well in such a role. The boxies arranged amongst themselves that 262 would always be at the front to deal with customers directly as the others tended to freeze up if a customer went off script and said something they weren't prepared for. 262 even did well dealing with those who hated corporate boxies.

"It's so unfair. They buy a bundle of you freaks and put us all out of jobs!"

And 262's eyebrows would furrow, head tilting to the side. "Gosh, really? Oh no, I'm so sorry."

He'd listen while the customer ranted their heart out, nodding along and sometimes giving shocked apologies. And he'd often sell them a cup of coffee or muffin. 

It was one of these interactions. The customer ranted, called him all sorts of names, but eventually wanted a caramel macchiato with no foam. No foam, always no foam. Do they even know what a macchiato is?

He forgot to strain the milk. He took a small spoon and started flinging foam into the sink until 476 told him to "stop being an idiot" and that he was "gonna get us all in trouble."

Good enough. Just thinking those words nearly made him double over at the pain in his head.

There is no such thing as good enough. There is only perfection and failure.

Yet he found himself handing the woman her drink. She pulled the lid off as he turned to the next customer, smiling. 

"I said NO FUCKING FOAM!"

The coffee shop blurred. He screamed. 

The customer continued to shout. 476 didn't pause from tending to another customer. And fire licked at 262's face. At least, that's how it felt.

Mister Evan, the assistant mansger seemed to appear from nowhere, going "I'm so sorry, Ma'am. 262, stop that blubbering and apologize now. We'll fix that for you."

Within the hour, 262's skin was scarlet, cheek and jaw swelling, right eye unable to open. The tears kept trickling. Evan had him sit out in the employee break room, out of sight. 262 was terrified to step foot in such a place. Boxies don't get breaks. The light overhead flickered. There were no windows. Looking at the posters on the wall made 262's head pound as the letters danced. 

A millenia seemed to pass. Then the door opened. Miss Donna, the manager, stood in the doorway and gasped. 

"Evan, you didn't tell me tmit was this bad!" she cried. 

And that made 262 start crying too. 

A heart-sinking to a pet-friendly hospital in Miss Donna's own car. 262 was such a nuisance. She had better things to do. 

She sat with him through hours of tests, picked him up the next day when he was discharged, picked up his medicine. Bad pet. Burden. 

Second degree burns on more than half his face. Burned cornea and the start of a corneal ulcer. Lid edema, whatever that meant. He had to wear a patch over his eye for two weeks and then they'd know how his vision was affected. 

Ointment. Eye drops. Pills. No one told him what they were, just apply ointment three times a day. Apply eye drops five times a day. Take one pill once in the morning and once at night -- Miss Donna changed that to only take it before bed so it doesn't impede on his performance at work. May take over the counter painkillers every 2-4 hours.

He couldn't make out most of the labels. He was pretty sure the ointment was silver something, but the second word was a doozy. But at night, when it was meant to be lights out, he holled up in the bathroom and squinted at the label. The words grew clear: OXYCODONE 20MG.

861 was brushing his teeth. 581 was waiting to use the loo. 262 just wanted them all to go to bed, leave the bathroom to him. 

You're meant to take the tablets whole. Don't lick or get wet in any way. don't crush, don't break them or it releases the compound too quickly. He wasn't sure how he knew that.

Everyone was asleep, or pretending to be. 861 definitely was asleep, his snores echoing off the walls. It surprised 262 that they didn't get rid of that in training. But the girls said 262 snores even worse.

He carefully shut the door behind him and got the bottle out of the drawer. He took out one pill, two pills, and set them on the counter. There was a tub of face moisturizer in one of the drawers, as management wants the box babes to stay pretty. He tapped it on the counter, ensuring it was hard plastic and not glass. Then he crushed the pills under it and scraped the dust off. 

He smuggled a plastic straw from the shop and cut a small piece from it earlier. At the time, he hadn't known what he was doing, but his body worked on his own accord. The pieces clicked into place. One end went in his good nostril and the powder was sucked through the other end. He closed his eyes in bliss.

Something pushed at the fog in his brain, but he didn't dwell on it. He needed to savor this feeling. 

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

First I wanted to say that I binge read a lot of your fics and I love all of them! Thx for sharing your amazing work with us 💜 I wondered if I may request a fic with J and a reader who's insecure about her body because she's a little bit chubby (really only a little bit). But she was mocked in her past, and now she hardly wants to show anything of her body, e.g. even in summer she never wears shorts etc. Fluff would be great 💚 Feel free to ignore my request if you don't like writing about it.

Hello, anon!! I’m back with your fic! Thank you so much again for your request 🥺💕 I hope you see it and I really hope its what you were looking for! It’s a very fluffy comfort fic with a very soft version of J. A girl needs some comfort sometimes!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, comfort, fluff, fluff fluff

Word count: 2, 574 🙈

Warnings: body issues/low self-esteem, anxiety, triggers involving removing clothes, not quite NSFW but clothing is taken off

Heat

Sweat beaded on your forehead as you reached to turn on the fan by your window. The artificial breeze did little to relieve your discomfort brought on by the sweltering heat wave blanketing Gotham.

Summer decided it wasn’t finished yet and the temperature suddenly soared this late September evening with no sign of cooling down, even with the setting of the harsh sun. You hated the summer. Sweaty clothing sticking to your skin, the humidity in the air making you feel sluggish. Everyone walked around in shorts and tank tops, soaking up the sun’s rays at parks and on patios, or cooling off in the waves at the shore, comfortable showing their skin. You weren’t.

This time of year was hard for you. You didn’t want to show your body. Long pants and shirts with enough fabric to conceal your torso, thats all you wore, even when you were by yourself. People would see you walking around in jeans and a zip-up hoodie in ninety degree weather and look at you like something was wrong with you. There wasn’t anything wrong with you, well not in that way. You’d been mocked for your appearance so much during your life, especially when you were young, that if you spent too long in front of a mirror you’d find plenty of things. You’d look at your reflection and lament about the little extra weight you carry, your smaller bust, this crease, that stretch mark. People are cruel. People are shallow. If you don’t have a body that meets their standards, they’re sure to tell you.

Part of what attracted you to Joker was the fact that he couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks of him. His clothes were loud, his face was one that no one can ignore, his presence commanded attention. He basked in it, reveled in having eyes on him, but had no interest in their opinion. As long as he made a lasting impression, he was happy. Of course he knew that he would, no one forgot him.

You certainly didn’t. You saw his face and were instantly mesmerized. His eyes drew yours in and held them there with an invisible force. Of all places to find yourself, it had to be at Gotham National Bank that morning. Everything happened so fast. Fear turned into fascination and fascination turned into an unlikely new job for you. When he didn’t scare you away, curiosity flashed on his face. You couldn’t look away. He let you go on one condition, you worked for him now. You were his eyes and ears, a little birdie, listening for rumors and word of mouth from around the city. He found your inconspicuousness useful.

You managed to keep your feelings secret for awhile now. You couldn’t help your attraction to him, he was so enigmatic and charming. His charm was undoubtedly a tool he used for manipulation but with you, it felt different. He didn’t try to scare you. He towered over your shorter stature but you liked it, when he stood over you he was all you could see. He started calling you names like “doll face” and “kitten”, even “my little bird”, making your heart flutter every time he said them. You never saw him interact with anyone in a romantic way, but you had a feeling the ability was there, hiding. There was a softness in his hands that you could see. He always said his scars scared people, not you though. You wanted to run your fingertips over them, kiss them, love them. You felt this emptiness, a lack of intimacy, that you wanted him to fill.

But you couldn’t do anything. You didn’t feel like you were good enough for him. He’s the Joker, how could you be good enough for him?

You apartment door swung open and you jumped from your chair, scrambling to your feet.

“Jump-y little bird, aren’t ya?” Joker chuckled.

Your widened eyes narrowed at him before sighing and flopping back into your seat. “Well someone suddenly bursting into my apartment is a little startling, yeah.”

Joker grinned and giggled again, he always seemed to have fun getting you riled up so you’d be snarky with him. “Ahh what’s got your knickers in a knot, hm?”

“Its… its just so hot out,” you answered, your face darkening at his mention of your underwear.

It was so hot out he was without his trademark purple trench and suit jacket, even his vest and tie were missing. The sleeves of his hexagon shirt were rolled up so you couldn’t stop eyeing his bare forearms. He cocked an eyebrow as his eyes studied your attire. “Uhh it would prob-ably help if your weren’t dressed for a, ah, snow storm, doll.”

You smirked and huffed a giggle at his joke like you always would, trying to hide that the subject of your appearance was already starting to grate at your nerves.

“No! Not a snow storm! I just, um, I like to be comfortable,” you lied with a smile on your face.

But you couldn’t fool him. He saw right through your phony casual demeanor, tilting his head to the side while he stared at you, waiting for you to tell him the truth.

You still tried to change the subject. “S-so, uh, I heard something about Batman today.”

Of course he knew you were lying. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, the way your brow was slightly furrowed, your nervous fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your shirt.

“Nooo you didn’t,” he said in a deep voice, his tongue flicking over his lip. He continued to wait with his eyes on you, breaking down the façade you were attempting to build in front of you.

You swallowed and stared at him, the forced grin dropping from your face. He wanted to be serious. Alright, you can be serious. You always joked about things but never this. It was too personal.

“You’re gonna make me talk about this?” you asked, your heart now pounding in your throat.

Joker nodded slowly. He didn’t like to be lied to, you knew this, and he wouldn’t let it go until you talked. He stepped closer, his expression like stone while he lowered himself to sit in front of you. Your instincts compelled you to hide yourself even more so you drew yours knees in to your chest. He wasn’t going to back down.

You kept your eyes on his and look a deep breath before looking away, your hands starting to shake. “I… don’t like the way I look. I cover myself with clothes so I don’t have to see, so no one else can see.”

Tears formed behind your eyes, burning with embarrassment. Why did you say that? You’ve never told that to anyone and you just told Joker. Why? Your head started to buzz and your chest tightened. You wished that the floor would open and swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to face his ridicule.

“You care about that?” you heard him ask.

Your heart nearly stopped and your gaze jerked back over to his face. What did he just say?

“Um… what?”

His heavy black eyelids blinked at you and he said, “That’s no way to live your life, my little bird.”

All you could do was blink back, your mouth opening to speak but no words came to mind. You never expected him to say something like that.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. I wanna see. You’re gonna show me,” he said, completely serious.

Your stomach sank so violently you though you were going to throw up. “What?? No! N-no…” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, this situation was heading in an unexpected direction so fast it was making your head spin.

He reached out and gripped your wrist when you tried to stand up. He’d never touched you before. His hands were rough but also soft. His skin was so warm. You stopped and slowly lifted your eyes to meet his, your rapid breath slowing.

“I won’t force ya, doll, its not like that at all. But… you’ll feel better.”

You stared back into his eyes. They looked different. He looked at you with a sort of reverence, like you were the one that would be granting him the privilege. Something stirred inside you. He was suddenly holding the door open for your relationship to become something more. You’d always wished it so, but now you were nervous. Your pulse was racing again and you tried to come up with something to say. You didn’t think you could do it. What if he didn’t like your body? What if you disgusted him? What if…

“What if I do it too, hm?” he asked.

Your eyes widened and you almost choked as your throat when dry as a bone. You’d… get to see him too? Now you really couldn’t speak.

His eyes took in your expression before he leaned forward and slowly used his hold on your wrist to guide your hand to his chest, where his shirt was buttoned near the top.

“I’ll go first,” he said softly.

Your fingers touched his chest and goosebumps prickled your arms despite the oppressive heat. You stared at your fingertips that now touched him so lightly. You’d never touched him before either. A tingling feeling swirled in your belly and you looked from your hand to his eyes. His eyelids heavy, he silently nodded at you.

Your fingers trembled as your other hand came up to grip the fabric, sliding the button through. It was like you had no control over them as your hands continued to move down each button, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath. You looked at his skin, small scars littered over his chest as it was slowly revealed to you. Then he slipped his suspenders off of his shoulders to pull his arms out of the shirt, leaving it on the chair behind him. He watched you stare at his naked torso before kicking his shoes off and bending to pull off his socks. Without hesitation, he stood and unbuttoned his pants to let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them to stand in front of you, wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts.

Now the room felt even hotter, your blood rushing to the surface and face flushed from watching him just undress in front of you, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, his body like a magnet for them while your heart thumped against your ribs. You felt his gaze on you and you slowly looked up at him.

“Your turn, doll. Are ya ready?”

Your breath quickened and you bit your lip. Maybe he was right. You spent so much effort and went through so much discomfort to hide yourself from people. He made it look so easy. Maybe you would feel better.

You cleared your throat and said quietly, “Can, um… can you– can you do it for me?”

He nodded and put out his hand for you to take. A tingle traveled down your back and he lead you away from the windows to the privacy of your bedroom to sit you down on your bed. He caught you in his gaze once more before gently taking your arms out of your hoodie, his fingertips brushing against the skin on your arms to raise yet another ripple of goosebumps.

You took a sharp inhale when he lightly gripped the bottom of your t-shirt and he stopped. You tried to gain control of your breathing and stared at his hands. Fear tightened your muscles and all of your insecurities came bubbling to the surface. Memories of sports physicals, locker rooms, and swim class, anxiety about having to take your clothes off, flooded your mind. This almost didn’t feel real.

Then Joker let go of your shirt and started running his hands up your arms. It felt… amazing. His touch was light and gentle, comforting. It was so unlike what you’d expect. He was carefully taking in all of the bends and curves, paying attention to your details. You didn’t feel like he was scrutinizing, just appreciating. The urge to feel his hands on more of you made your stomach flutter you took his hands to guide them back to the hem of your shirt. He looked up at you and you nodded slightly.

Slowly, he lifted your shirt until it was over your head. Your eyes were squeezed shut when you felt his fingertips on your collar bone while he coaxed you to lay back. Your eyelids softened but you kept your eyes closed while he took his time tracing it before running his finger down the center of your chest, between your breasts. Your breathing quickened and he slowed down again, taking care to pay attention to how you reacted to where he put his hands. His thumbs grazed your belly when he ran his palms down your sides. You stiffened a bit as he entered an area you were self-conscious about, but you started to relax when he carefully caressed the plush skin from the center outward to follow your curves with his fingers. You sighed when he placed his hands on your shoulders to glide his fingers over your chest then down to your waistband. He gripped the button on your jeans and stopped, waiting until you opened your eyes.

His gaze was tranquil, putting you at ease and giving you a confidence you didn’t know you had. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth and you nodded again before he unbuttoned your pants and gently pulled them down. You tried to keep yourself calm as you watched your legs become uncovered, marks and lines highlighting every area you’ve spent so long deploring, wishing you could change, hiding.

Your thoughts began to revert to their typical self disparagement until Joker laid his hands on your thighs, palms flat, one on each leg. He was knelt over you with your ankles between his knees. He slid his hands down toward your knees, putting light pressure, like a massage. He hadn’t said a word since he started undressing you but it didn’t seem like he needed to. His hands rubbed and kneaded your muscles, fingers traced your shapes, and palms soothed. You even felt cooler. He continued to explore your body, rubbing your calves and your ankles, with nothing but admiration, like he was grated access to appreciate something beautiful. You felt like one of those women in Renaissance paintings, reclined on soft cushions to be venerated by an attentive admirer.

He lifted his fingers from your ankles and sat back for a moment. His eyes scanned down your body while you breathed and he purred in a low voice, “Now you, well you are a sight to behold, doll face.”

A genuine smile stretched across your face and suddenly he moved to bring his face up to yours, his hands propping him over top of you. “Feel better?” he murmured, his lips so close they nearly grazed yours.

“I… I do actually,” you said softly, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders while your heart raced.

“Good.”

His lips took hold of yours to pull you into a deep kiss, wrapping you in a different kind of heat.

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

2. Harrisco

Absolutely. This got a weeee bit long. A warning: there are mentions of PTSD and a depiction of a panic attack. So if anyone has any triggers to those things, please don't read. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! -QD

* * *

There were days when Cisco couldn't handle the sound.

It was settled there in his head, a low-grade hum that attached itself to every brain cell like velcro on steroids. It had started when his powers did, a background entity to the visions that became constant the more and more he had them. Till eventually the hum would break into his normal thoughts, his normal every day everything, resulting in panic attacks like he hadn't had since he was a kid. Except these were worse. So much worse. Because he couldn't stop them, he couldn't control them. And it usually ended in him passing out and lingering exhaustion. For the most part, he'd been able to have these panic attacks alone. He'd been through enough of them now to know when they'd hit, and could usually disappear before it happened. It seemed like everyone else knew he was going through something at regular intervals, too. They were smart enough to notice his shifts in mood, or that he'd leave work at an early hour when it happened. But he denied everything. 'I'm just beat.' He'd say. No one pushed it too far. Not because they didn't care, Cisco knew. But because Cisco wasn't making it easy.

He'd catch Harry watching him sometimes, expression unreadable and eyes glistening what he thought was agitation, like the man could tell that Cisco was keeping a secret. But he didn't say anything. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept being... well, Harry. And Harry was pretty much one of the only constants in Cisco's life that made the crazy tolerable. When the hum had first really started to affect him, it was Harry's presence that seemed to keep it in check the most. Cisco thought it was because Harry kept him focused, on track.

They worked so easily, side by side, completely at ease in each other's presence, whether they were joking or bickering or brainstorming. It was like that's exactly where they were supposed to be, and exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Sometimes, it felt like Harry was more in tune with Cisco's own emotions than he was. He would reach out and grip Cisco's shoulder when Cisco was getting tense, or he'd nudge him gently when he was unfocused. Other times, Harry would just rest his hand there on the small of Cisco's back. No reason needed. And Cisco used each of those small touches like a grounding point. Whatever the reason, it worked. And he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Caitlin was the only other one who had tried to get more out of him at one point, but he'd ended up snapping at her. He felt horrible about it the next day, after it all had passed. And he'd doted on her like a puppy for nearly a week because of it.

He made it his mission after that to work even harder to hide his unschooled emotions. And after awhile, he thought he'd gotten pretty good at it. People stopped pestering him. He got to have his crazy-ass panic attacks. And the hum continued being awful background noise in his head.

But today was different.

Today was... bad.

He hadn't had an overdose of the hum in nearly a month and a half. He was actually beginning to think maybe his brain had finally gotten used to it. Or maybe he'd just been too busy for it to register as much. But as soon as they all got back from taking on their latest meta problem, the hum was so loud and overpowering that he felt like his whole body was being crushed by it. The walls were caving in. The noise was too much. He couldn't see up from down. And he got out of the Cortex as fast as he could, peeling his uniform off in pieces as he went, desperate to breathe as he flattened himself to the wall of the nearest empty lab and let himself slide to the floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming out of his eyes as he fought the need to just scream and scream and scream. The hum was too much this time. Just too fucking much. He'd give anything for it to go away. Anything. He'd even sell his soul to the fucking devil to be rid of this.

But it wasn't the devil who tracked him down.

It was Harry.

At first, Cisco didn't even notice him. He couldn't hear anything beyond the hum and he knew if he opened his eyes, the world would be swimming in nauseating circles. So when he felt firm, warm and strangely familiar hands on his shoulders, it startled him so badly that he let out a strangled yell, hands flying away from the tangles he'd made of his hair and latching on to whoever it was.

Then there was pulling. He felt himself being moved. And for reasons he couldn't even fathom at that point, he didn't fight it. He just let this person, this tangible presence, reel him in. But his body was so tense, it was slow going. Or maybe it just felt slow. Eventually, he found himself sitting in... that was Harry. He was in Harry's lap. He knew it, now. He felt Harry's warmth, and that's why the hands had felt familiar because he would know those hands anywhere. And Harry was cradling his head with one of those hands, right up against his chest in a way that was all too comfortable and fragile.

"Ramon," his voice sounded like a whisper below the hum. But it was there. He felt it rumble through Harry's chest, mixing with something else. Something he desperately wanted to focus on. "Listen... just listen. Hear my heartbeat?" He felt Harry's fingers begin to card through his hair once it seemed he was certain Cisco wasn't going to pull away. "Just focus on that..."

Was that the-something-else he could hear, a steady and heavy octave somewhere below the register of the hum? It came to him then, the thud-thud-thudding of a heartbeat.

No, not just any heartbeat.

Harry's heartbeat. He focused on it, just like Harry had told him to. He let it become his intent, his only need. He let it push away that hum with every steady pound, every deliberate pump of the heart doing its damndest to keep Harry Wells alive. Slowly, other things began to come into focus. Little things. Like Harry's fingers so tenderly stroking Cisco's hair, or how Harry's other arm was curled firmly and safely around Cisco's back and hip. Or how his own hands were clinging to Harry like he was a life preserver.

He could hear the rushing swell of each of Harry's breaths. He could feel the cozy warmth that Harry's whole body emanated. He could smell the settled fragrance of Harry's aftershave and something else that was very distinctly Harry.

Slowly, minute by minute, the hum faded. It went back to its place of background noise and unimportance. And eventually, Cisco found himself opening his eyes. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. But he knew, without a doubt, that this was different. Normally, his panic attacks ended with his brain spectacularly overstimulated and eventually passing out. But this time...

Cisco relaxed his hands where they clung to Harry's shirt, and he lifted his head very slowly, a little afraid that moving or even not being able to hear Harry's heartbeat might make the hum come back full force. But that didn't happen. All he felt was calm and tired and... grateful. He caught Harry's gentle gaze as Harry dropped his hand away from his hair.

"You don't have to move if you're not ready to." Harry offered, his voice soft, his eyes lingering on Cisco's. He'd never seen Harry look at him like that before. Or maybe he had, to a lesser degree. Harry never completely outwardly showed his emotions, but for whatever reason he was very clearly showing Cisco everything.

There was worry there, and kindness, and affection. And it made Cisco sit up a little straighter, though he didn't dare move away. Because Harry was his focal point right now, and he couldn't lose that. Not yet.

"Harry," he managed. His voice sounded strained, like it did when he was yelling. But he hadn't yelled this time, had he? He blinked at the sound of it, cleared his throat lightly. "I'm sorry, man." He felt himself blush in embarrassment, the realization that Harry had just seen him pretty much have a mental breakdown made him tear his eyes away instantly. He should have been more careful, should have gotten back here sooner or even breached himself to another-

Then he felt Harry's hand back on him, but not in his hair this time. Harry's palm was on his cheek, fingers smoothing against his skin as his thumb stroked the wetness that still lingered beneath Cisco's eyes. He had no choice but to look at Harry.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Ever. You hear me?" Harry demanded. He sounded almost angry about it. But honestly, Cisco couldn't tell for a change. "None of this your fault." He smoothed his hand down Cisco's neck, to his shoulder and back to his side, till both arms were safely fit around Cisco's torso. "Ramon, how long have you been going through this?" He asked pointedly, brows knit slightly. Cisco swallowed and blinked.

"It's... kind of hard to explain." He nearly whispered. It was strange. After all this time trying to hide it from everyone, he actually found he wanted to explain it... to Harry. "It's been like this since... since I got my powers." Harry's brows raised in surprise and then his jaw clenched as he breathed out slowly through his nostrils. "You're mad." Cisco stated, "You look mad. Are you mad?!" He felt his chest tighten. He did not want Harry mad at him, not right now. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it. But Harry shook his head quickly and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Cisco's.

It stilled everything in him instantly. Had Harry always been this touchy-feely? Did it matter? Why should it matter? Because Cisco admittedly really needed this right now. And honestly, he couldn't picture this with anyone else.

"I'm not mad at you, Cisco. I'm more... disappointed in myself. That I didn't do something sooner." Harry sighed lightly. "I thought I saw things... signs. I tried to be close when I thought you needed it. I should have pushed more. I should have asked. I'm the one who's sorry."

"You're sorry? Shit, Harry." Cisco shuttered out, some tears escaping at the sentiment. "You just saved me from an overload of panic and passing out ungracefully on the floor. You don't have to apologize for anything, either." Harry smiled lightly, lifting his head. He searched Cisco's gaze quietly, then nodded.

"Think you can stand?" Harry asked gently. Cisco looked down at himself, at the disheveled uniform and rumpled t-shirt, at the way he fit so perfectly in Harry's hold...

"I think so. But..." He looked back at Harry's knowing gaze and cracked a light smile, "I kinda like it right here." Harry chuckled. Then did something Cisco hadn't expected. Sure, he'd dreamed about it and maybe there had been times he'd come inches away from doing it himself. But it was still surprising... in a really good way.

Harry's lips pressed to his in a soft, tender sweep, lingering as Cisco instantly let his lips attach right back. It wasn't deep, and didn't last long. But there was a comfort in that. Because he wanted to keep kissing Harry. Seriously, who wouldn't? But he also wanted a much clearer head. And it seemed Harry didn't want to take advantage of the situation. Which was downright respectful and caring.

Harry urged Cisco off the floor, keeping himself in close proximity so Cisco had something to hold on to. He didn't pull his hands away till he seemed sure Cisco wouldn't topple over.

"Come on. Let's get you home. You need to sleep. And then maybe we can talk more about it all in the morning?" He offered, taking a side step toward the door. But Cisco was focused more on how Harry's hands had fallen away, how the warmth and steadiness had gone with him. He reached out quickly and slipped his palm into Harry's, entwining their fingers. Harry looked down at their conjoined hands, then back at Cisco.

"This is gonna sound... maybe kinda childish." Cisco tentatively began, looking back up at Harry's eyes. "But... would you mind staying with me? I don't... I just... okay, look..." he attempted to explain, unable to find the words. No one and nothing had ever pulled him out of his panic attack like Harry had only moments ago, and Cisco simply wasn't ready to let go of that. Or Harry.

"Ramon," One word. He'd always loved how his name sounded on Harry's lips. "I'll stay."

And he did.

He brought Cisco home, and held Cisco all night in the quiet of his room. And for a change, Cisco didn't have nightmares like he usually did after a panic attack. The hum barely registered. And Harry didn't ask questions or push for explanations or demand results. He just let Cisco exist in that in-between place that he usually fell in after the hum had exploded in his head.

When morning came, they shared coffee, they ate waffles, they sat in sweatpants and t-shirts on Cisco's lumpy couch and talked about lighter things, laughing till Cisco's face hurt. And when Cisco felt like he was ready, he told Harry all about the hum and what it did to him.

Harry didn't tell him he was crazy. He didn't shove possible answers in his face. He didn't try to make sense out of something that really didn't have any.

However, he did open up to Cisco right back, telling him about his own panic attacks. He had them about as frequently as Cisco did, which was surprising to hear. Harry had PTSD. He'd had it for years, long before he'd come to Earth-2. And it had only gotten worse after Zoom. He'd learned a thing or two about how to handle them on his own, but it had taken far too long, as far as Harry was concerned.

"I don't want that for you, Cisco." They were sitting face to face, one of Harry's arms draped along the back of the couch, "I couldn't really let anyone be there for me. Or at least... that's what I told myself." Harry explained, reaching his free hand up to curl some of Cisco's hair behind one ear. He smiled fondly. "I'm hoping you'll let me help you. You deserve better than suffering through it alone." Cisco smiled warmly, unable to really stop himself.

And without a word, he moved forward and kissed Harry. Soundly, this time. And twice more for good measure.

"You're the only one I want to let help me." Cisco assured, and the smile they shared after was exactly the medicine Cisco needed.

Harry had always been a good listener. A fantastic bickerer. A safe and steady presence. Cisco should have let himself open up to Harry much sooner. Hindsight was always 20/20. But they were here now. And he had a feeling when the hum tried to take over again, Harry would be right there helping him through it.

Cisco could hardly think of anything more comforting than that.