#when i said nerd i meant it whole heartedly

[thephantomcasebook]

Asking respectully, why are you insulting the HotD actors for THEIR interpretation of the characters they portray, going as far as calling them dumb, while your entire blog is about opinions YOU as a reader got from the books?

That's simple enough to answer.

Cause HOTD isn't made up whole-cloth from nothing. There is source material, there is an author who knows every characters motivation and backstory. There is very - very - little room for major interpretations of what a character's backstory is but for micro-details from an actor's prospective. Therefore to make up major motivations of established pathos is nonsensical.

If you're referring to the incident with Olivia Cooke, I won't apologize for it.

Her takes on Alicent are purposefully ignorant and disrespectful and is meant to be inflammatory and irreverent in order to poke at and even make fun of the fanbase and the franchise. Her takes are bad - borderline mentally challenged - and all of it for nothing but a good a laugh with D'arcy at the expense of that "Nerd Shit" that Spotchnik promised would get them awards.

I'm sorry, Nonny, I've been a geek too long not to know intimately when I or something I like is being made fun of or treated with disrespect. Especially by immature, nihilistic, smug, arrogant, London trash.

There is source material, there is notes, and conversations with GRRM about Alicent ... and Cooke did not do any research, did not read the source material, she decided that HER interpretation of Alicent based on Spotchnik's bullshit premise and her own imagination was not only what she'll do but will fight for even when she's been told by GRRM, Taylor, and Condal, that her creepy ideas of Alicent sexual experimenting with Lesbianism as a young girl and Rhaenyra being her first love have never been and will never be canon. Even Emily Carey has said that Cooke's takes on Alicent make her uncomfortable and are totally opposite of what she was told was Alicent's motivations.

And I'd like to point out that Emily Carey is a member of the queer community and Olivia Cooke is not. And when both Carey and Alcock have come out and said that people - D'arcy and Cooke included - sexualizing young Alicent and Rhaenyra's relationship is gross and not cool, I whole heartedly agree.

So, the question, Nonny, remains that if the author and creator, current showrunners, and the young actresses, have all said that her take is bullshit ... why should I respect it? And further more, what is her point for continuing to push her narrative?

The Answer: Cause she prejudice against the character she's portraying.

Because, Olivia Cooke is not a mother, does not believe in anything beyond getting shit-faced and partying, and has all the lame, paint-by-number, luxury politics, of the normal white female upper-class Londoner, she can't get into Alicent's head space nor understand the character's motivations - cause she most likely looks down on women who think and believe the way that Alicent does in real life.

Like all white liberal women, her feminism and activism only extends to the women who think and act like her ... the rest don't exist and aren't considered women in their mind.

Therefore, she has come up with some weird, extra creepy, headcanon that reflects her world view and her values in order to play a woman that Cooke can't get over her own ego and brainwashed world view to understand or research, to walk a mile in her shoes. Cause, that is asking too much of someone who is here only for awards and to make fun of the nerds with D'arcy.

Look, Nonny, I've always thought that Cooke is a great actress. She's got great emotional instincts. She is both pure talent and uniquely beautiful. But I've known plenty of vapid narcissists in London and Los Angeles who are both ... and I've learned long ago to separate the art from the artist.

Alicent is a character I adore and have grown incredibly attached too. Olivia Cooke's talent and pathos as an actress is a huge reason for that. But that doesn't mean that I can't or won't be critical of someone who I have diametrically opposed view of the world and whose intentions are not only purely mercenary but are borderline purposefully malicious toward not just the material but the fans.

It's a paradox, but one that is very human, and most people live with everyday.

[plinkcat-gif]

Yes hello pls do tell abt ur flower symbolism thoughts 👀

Like, which flowers do you associate with which Naruto characters and why?? What flowers do you think reflect your fav relationships (platonic or otherwise) the best?? AUs??

Honestly homie I’ll take anything just go off abt flowers I am starving for more symbols & secret meanings here…

jesus christ i went off i’m so sorry but enjoy i guess

kks:

- belladonna (silence)

i briefly explained this before but this applies to kakashi in his silence about,, a lot of things, really. he’s been so influenced by what broke him and he obviously doesn’t know himself, and the easiest way to get through life without knowing yourself is by following orders blindly. therefore, he never told naruto about his parents because the hokage said so. he never fought back against the nickname friend killer because of a multitude of reasons, but one would probably be the lack of authority in the situation. kakashi sure isn’t gonna be the authority and tell them to stop unless authority tells him to be authority. same with the rumors about his father.

he was also silenced by force as well, most notably in his ANBU years. i think as a shinobi, there’s a sort of silent oath taken that hey, maybe don’t go blabbing about your traumatizing missions to your civilian friends, yes (which also reminds me that fun fact: a lot of firefighters don’t talk about what happened on calls and stuff with their s/os because they’re so traumatizing and their s/os can’t relate to that. it’s why firefighters talk to each other ab it and cope through dark humor ANYWAY tangent much girl??) but also, in ANBU and ROOT, you don’t talk about anything to anyone ever. recap it once on the report and you’re done.

he never told anyone about rin or obito until,,, god, like naruto? when he showed them the KIA stone and even then he didn’t mention obito explicitly he was just like “idiot child don’t end up here.” so yeah. lots of metaphorical-turned-literal silence in that bit.

to the victorians, belladonna may have also been taken as a meditation on the nature of good and evil, which is particularly interesting to me. in the original post i mentioned that goodness is measured by society, and kakashi’s goodness changed throughout the series. he’s always hailed as a hero for story purposes, but i think digging a bit deeper here, it’s interesting to see the difference between his child and anbu self and his hokage self. as a child and in anbu, he was Good. good at everything he did, efficient and reliable. he was good because in the middle of a war during their time, killing people was necessary to keep the village safe. hence, kakashi’s amazing. he’s a feared hero; a legend. but his self hatred is ever-present and it grows, especially in his anbu years. it never disappears. once he’s hokage, he can essentially bend society to his will. and with naruto as the future hokage and village hero, who’s the opposite of kakashi in nearly every light and shadow, who hasn’t killed anybody…well. it’s easy to redefine the definition of good as somebody who makes peace with words, not violence. voila, justice is served and kakashi’s self hatred is justified, naruto (and his delusional version of obito) are worshipped as heroes and the model idol.

- butterfly weed (let me go; dignity)

honestly. kakashi needs to let tf go of his regrets and his guilt. i imagine that obito and rin would be giving him this of course, but mainly rin. kakashi only idolizes obito so desperately after he’s broken his promise to him, and he needs to forget that and move on to build himself, instead of taking pieces from other people and stacking those on top of one another to make some amalgamated ideal version of himself.

but in another sense, i think kakashi would also very much be the type to want to be forgotten in the afterlife. he sees himself as so insignificant to other people (before given the responsibility of three developing preteens of course) and he wouldn’t want people to cling to him like he clings to rin and obito. he would want the people close to him to keep the dignity that he couldn’t. i also think he knows his obsession with rin and obito is unhealthy, but it works and it satisfies and so he doesn’t really care to stop.

- orange lily (hatred; disdain)

the self hatred is strong in this one. nobody gives this to him of course, i’d b throwing hands if somebody did that, but i think that he’d actually give this to himself (hence why he holds it in the original post). he hates himself so much for the things he’s done, especially when he has the power to redefine society and he can guilt trip himself because of that as well. what would obito think, seeing him sitting in that chair, making a better world? he doesn’t deserve that. he doesn’t deserve that ability and he shouldn’t be able to shape such a thing with these bloodstained hands.

- zinnia (thoughts of absent friends, lasting affection)

literally all this man thinks about is rin and obito he like. has a crush or smth idk.

lasting affection applies to what i see as his affection for obito bc hi, kkob shipper. there’s obviously affection after the kamui battle, and i imagine a lot at the memorial stone when he drops off dango and flowers and treats. pretty simple, but i think it means a lot, especially when phrased as “lasting affection for absent friends.”

obito:

- anemone (forsaken (abandon))

so obito’s are more centered around the world because that’s what he built his ambition off of (the opposite of kakashi, who built his on the people around him. could write an essay on this).

obito so obviously forsook the world when rin died. he decided then and there that it wasn’t worth it anymore—not because rin was dead, but because rin was dead. i will always say obkkfkr’s post about why obito started a war for this lol, but essentially, the world just kept on taking and killing and breaking and all that was left behind were people like kakashi, who brought dango to a grave for somebody he supposedly never even liked.

obito abandoned the world and its ideals, which is why he never returned to konoha. konoha was killing its people from the inside, and the same applied to all the other villages. the best way to get rid of that is to destroy them all.

but i also think his resolve is rather weak. the second naruto talk-no-jutsu’d him, he was abandoning ship faster than you can say “infinite tsukuyomi.” he quit the plan and said “nah. this is dumb i’m sorry” and helped save the same world he tried to destroy instead. i sk probably has something to do with abandonment issues that developed after he was left alone in a cave with an old man forever lol idk

- black-eyed susan (justice)

oh boy. justice to the shinobi system. obito was the judge, jury, and executioner in this whole plan. he wanted to bring konoha and the hidden villages to justice so badly that he hid his identity for twenty-odd years and manipulated things behind the scenes so effectively. it was his goal and why he started a war—justice for rin. justice for kakashi. for itachi. for all the shinobi who were forced to fight and kill, injuries and psych evals be damned.

- edelweiss (devotion)

this one’s pretty obvious, i think despite his quickly-changing-allegiance, obito’s very devoted to whatever he does. as a child, he was set on being hokage and that stayed unchanging until rin’s death. then he spent twenty years carrying out madara’s plan, unchanging until naruto talked to him, when he returned to his roots and helped the shinobi alliance win the war. he’s very devoted to his beliefs and to the people he loves, hence why he stuck with madara’s plan for so long.

- orange lily (hatred)

that being said, obito’s love is interesting to me. i think in canon, it’s so influenced by the hatred he feels for the world and for certain people (hiruzen, danzō, etc.) that his love is more twisted. because obviously he doesn’t really love rin, i don’t think. he harbors a more childish love for her throughout his life, but that ends up tainted when he tries to brainwash the whole world in an attempt to make it all better. he doesn’t really love kakashi until after their kamui battle, but that’s tainted by his and kakashi’s self hatred (hence why i don’t ship them in canon—unrequited, if anything). his obsession and his love are two very different things as well, which is why i don’t think he actually ever loved kakashi until he was brought back from the Dark Side.

also obito in general just harbors a lot of hatred for himself and the way the world treats people, so yeah.

as for kkob flower, i would say zinnia. whether in canon or in aus, these guys have always lost something. there’s always something to lose, whether it be each other, sakumo, rin, or the village, or whatever it may be, but they always center their lives around what they lose. in different ways, that is.

i mentioned this is the replies of one of bluefisted’s post but basically what i think is that obito centers his sense of self around the world. he blames his problems on the world, he hates himself because he can’t fix it. how the world affects the people he loves, basically.

for kakashi, he centers himself on the existence of other people, how he affects them and how he can help them. he doesn’t care about the world nearly as much, because he’s accepted that they all have to live in it. so he’s going to help his friends to the best of his abilities, because that’s in his control. (moments where it isn’t and hasn’t ever been, like when he faces obito in the war, are times where he panics and breaks down ;))

and so yeah their affection for absent friends is strong and actually really interested if we ever went past “heehoo angsty guys love each other a lot” (*shoves all my fics off a cliff* we’re not using those as examples)

ok i’ll do these for more characters if y’all want but fair warning: i literally did not care about another character in naruto i took these two in hand and said “you will be my special interest” and i haven’t let them go since SO. maybe yamato and gai can b next i like them a lot as well. and rin.

[nona-piccolo]

Obey Me you say ?? Oh HECK yeah, I’ve been thinking of a bunch of stuff ! Feel free to just respond to ones you enjoy, and I wish I had a preference of the brothers or others but that’s also really just up to you! The gender neutral pronouns are amazing, thank you !!! Now that that is out of the way, on to thoughts and questions!

How do you feel the brothers or others would react to a very blunt and honest MC? Like one that is nice as heck, but will not hesitate to tell you their actual thoughts on things- for example the constant bashing on Mammon or maybe helping Solomon out in the kitchen with friendly suggestions kinda vibe !

How do

Oh I love this one! A part of me thinks that the brothers truly need a blunt MC in their lives, especially with how they treat Mammon and such sometimes LOL Because there is no preference, I decided to only do the brothers for now. But I do feel bad, because my Asmodeus, Beel, and Belphie ones appear to be much shorter… Thank you for the request though, I really hope you enjoy the answer 💗

How the boys react to blunt MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Reader: gn!reader

Warnings: none :)

Lucifer

I think it’s well known that Lucifer is not the softest guy when it comes to words.

Not only does he say whatever is on his mind, no matter how harsh it may be, but he also doesn’t care at all whose feelings he hurts in doing so. And yet there has never been anyone else to try and voice their opinions fullheartedly towards him.

So when he first begins spending time with you, truly, he was lowkey shocked at how blunt and honest you were.

Especially when it was towards him.

“Lucifer, did you just hang Mammon from the banister… again??” you ask, barging into his office without knocking. He was quite used to this however, and the demon had long since given up trying to scold you for it; it was no use, you would just keep doing it.

It’s not like he minded though. In fact, your presence made his head feel light after the many hours of paperwork he was going at.

“Yes, I did actually. Why do you ask?” he replied, glancing up to see you situated in front of his desk. You had your hands on your hips, obviously looking displeased. For a second, he thought your irritation was directed towards him.

“Why do I ask?” you replied back, no hesitation in your voice. “This is the third time this week. Mammon clearly hasn’t learned to fix his behavior after the first few times, and it’s obvious that hurting him won’t solve a thing!”

Oh… your irritation was directed towards him

Lucifer blinked up at you, his red eyes trying to read your face. No one ever had a problem with him punishing Mammon in the creative ways he could find; in fact, his younger brothers appeared to love watching Mammon suffer.

Apparently… you had not.

“Y/N, I-” Lucifer sighed, hell bent on just straight up telling you that Mammon will never learn.

“No. Stop doing it. He doesn’t deserve that.” You cut him off, the frustration still showing on your face. And before the demon could reply, you had turned around to whisk yourself out of his office. 

The only thing left in the room was him and his thoughts--- and the sound of his pen slipping from his fingers to bounce onto the desk.

Ohhh boy, Lucifer had never had someone stand up to him like that. It wasn’t even like you were trying to be mean, or be the more ‘dominant’ one… you were just saying what was on your mind. And Lucifer wasn’t blind.. He knew how much his other brothers meant to you, so for you to care so much as to voice your opinion to the very avatar of pride himself--- maybe, just maybe, he could give Mammon a break from punishments.

Even though people like to portray Lucifer as someone who is super strict and would want to be around I guess more ‘submissive’ people who would obey him, I think he would certainly not like an MC who allows people to walk all over them. You are the perfect balance between kindness and honesty, making you a trustworthy companion.

And a good ol’ honest comment could never truly hurt Lucifer’s feelings. His skin was as thick as bone, so to finally be around someone who isn’t intimidated to speak their mind around him… it’s almost relieving

I guess you could even say he finds it attractive….

Mammon

Mammon had always enjoyed spending time with you

From the moment he met you, you had always given off a fun and compassionate aura, and so the demon was ecstatic to finally have a partner-in-crime!

Ehhhh… it wasn’t like that though

Although you found humor and joy in going along with his harmless schemes, there were some where you put your foot down without a grain of hesitation.

When you first voiced your opinion on how bad of an idea it was to try and snap a picture of Lucifer when he was sleeping, he instantly thought you were a debby downer with a goody-goody type of attitude. Mammon had groaned out in frustration as if he was a 3-year-old child.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! It’s not like Lucifer will even see ya coming,” he responded, pulling out his phone to text Satan and Asmodeus his plans.

You had stared at him after that for a solid minute, your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed as if you were thinking. It wouldn’t take a genius to recognize how bad of an idea that was.

“Mammon, you’ll probably be punished again. Respect Lucifer’s privacy please. Besides, I think it’ll be more fun if we watched a movie tonight! What do you say we rewatch the TSL series together?” you had brought up an alternate solution to keep him out of Lucifer’s wrath, hands folded together and eyes wide as you hoped he would agree and listen to you. Mammon was just confused though, looking at you as if you were crazy.

You’d rather watch that series all over again instead of trying to cause trouble for Lucifer??

Ugh… but look at your expecting face… he couldn’t just let you down.

Surprisingly, and begrudgingly though, he had agreed.

And guess who wasn’t thrown from the banister that night?? Mammon.

Your honesty doesn’t just stop there though.

As the family punching bag, Mammon was so used to taking the hits for his stupidity and then moving on. He never fought back. So when you decided to voice out how ridiculous it was that he was being called “stupid” and how ironic it was that Asmodeus was calling Mammon an “attention-seeker” or that Satan was referring to Mammon as an “asshole”, he was whole-heartedly surprised. 

Apparently so were his other brothers.

Everyone just sort of sat there in silence as you shot comments back at them, scolding them for treating Mammon like he was dirt. It wasn’t just one instance either; Every. Single. Time. You told them to knock it off.

And just like that, the harsh insults towards Mammon began to disappear, especially whenever you were around.

The avatar of greed never had anyone to stand up for him in the ways that you had. And he feels his heart swell up with warmth as you berate Lucifer of all people for hanging Mammon upside; the fall causing his sunglasses to slip and break, much to his disappointment.

Mammon made it a goal to always be near you when he voiced his opinion around others; because not only would you acknowledge what he said, but you also made sure the others wouldn’t shoot him down for simply being himself

It was like he could breathe when he was around you. Like every single thing he said wasn’t nitpicked apart and thrown away as a stupid thing. You were different. You told him what was wrong and gave him constructive criticism.

BUT-- that honestly doesn’t protect him from himself

No one is safe from your blunt persona, not even Mammon.

I think this is what he truly needs in his life though; because I believe honesty and bluntness comes from a place of love and comfort. You are blunt because you want Mammon to be the best that he can be, you are blunt because you want to see Mammon succeed, you are blunt because you care about him.

Every honest thing you say about him is to protect him.

So whenever Mammon sneaks into Leviathan’s room at night for a limited edition figurine, or slips down Diavolo’s corridors to try and snatch a vintage portrait that could make him some potential money… he always pauses to think of your reaction to his late night greedy urges. So that when he hesitantly puts down the portrait, he can sleep comfortably knowing that you’d be proud of him.

Leviathan

To be honest… I think it would make him very nervous when he observed that you were an honest person

Even though his brothers are equally as harsh to him-- for example, they don’t hesitate to call him a nerd, or a weeb and otaku-- he doesn’t seem to mind it anyways, since Leviathan has fully absorbed and accepted his otaku persona.

But this situation is a bit different… because even though Leviathan is used to his brothers being honest with him, it’s a whole different thing when Y/N does it.

Someone out of his family circle telling him that he’s a weirdo??

Yikes, he doesn’t think his heart could handle that.

So to cope he’ll at first just stay in his room… far away from you… so he could get to his usual activities.

He is already so used to being locked up in his room away from prying eyes and others’ opinions, so as soon as he takes notice of your blunt tendencies (especially when you had first voiced your thoughts to Lucifer), Leviathan shies away from being close to a normie like you. Besides, he doesn’t even need to leave, right? He has an emergency built stash of food for when he needs to eat, and he could just do school work on his own computer.

He has this whole imaginary field of comfort that he had built up for years and years; a room full of figures and merchandise-- his own personal utopia.

Leviathan doesn’t want you to judge him; he doesn’t want you to think that he’s weird or a loser. His poor introverted otaku heart couldn’t handle it

Clearly, he didn’t understand you at all...

That doesn’t stop you from hanging around him either. You insist he shouldn’t have to wait up all night alone for tickets on Zaramela’s new worldwide tour, and you had dragged Mammon along with you to give Leviathan some company.

He felt cornered, deciding to let you in to stay up late with him. And while Mammon had fallen asleep (much to Levi’s anxiety), he was left to try and entertain you to the best of his ability.

Leviathan hesitantly hopped onto his gaming console, turning on a classic favorite of his. It was simple, it was easy, and he was very familiar with it, especially considering he had played it and completed it over 25 times.

Perhaps his movements will be more shaky and unsure, however. When you sat down to watch him play his video games, he may mess up more often, to his dismay. Your distance to him was decent enough, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him begin to get absorbed into the game.

“You know, you’re very good at the game…” you mutter, looking down at his fingers flying across the controller. You wonder for a moment how Leviathan can even stare at the bright screen for so long without any permanent eye damage.

Apparently he took your comment as a sarcastic one, lightly scoffing. “Okay I get it… we can do something else… like uhh..” his eyes flitted down to a random CD he had discarded on his floor a while ago. “We could watch The Girl Whose Grandparents Travelled Back in Time to Tell Her She Was a Princess,” he casually brought up airily; already in the process of turning off his video game. He reached over to grab the CD, realizing too late that this was one of the animes he didn’t really like...

You were a bit confused at the offer though. “Um no thanks. It’s a total rip off of The Girl Whose Parents Time Travelled To the Past to Tell Her She Was a Princess.” Your response was automatic, looking at the CD as if you were bored.

Leviathan paused. “What?! Y-You noticed that too??” he questioned, tossing the CD back onto the ground where it originally was. “Finally someone who understands!! The heroine was almost a complete carbon copy, I can’t believe the studio got away with that!”

You nodded your head, a serious expression on your face. “What a let down. Besides, the original had a better soundtrack 100%.”

Leviathan almost jumped on you with excitement.

Apparently not even Leviathan knew how harsh of a critic he himself was. All that harsh judgement he does on animes and video games… Perhaps you being just as blunt would be new to him. You were somehow both one in the same.

All in all, Leviathan didn’t understand how much of a blessing having an honest person in his life could be. Especially as someone who doesn’t judge; your honesty never crossed the line into personal territory. 

Instead, you gave him an opportunity to gain feedback on animes that you two binge watch together

And for the first time in forever, Leviathan felt like he had someone to indulge in.

Satan

He really really enjoys this

Satan pegs me as the type of guy that would find humor in hearing your honest opinions--- and you notice that whenever you speak your mind towards Lucifer, you can briefly hear a quiet chuckle escaping Satan’s lips.

Of course, as mature as Satan is, it’s not that he actually finds what you say humorous; he just never thought he’d see the day where some mortal human would stand up to a group of demons as intimidating as they could be.

You remind him of himself in some ways… both of you unafraid to speak your minds and both of you able to stand up for what you truly believe in.

And because of this, he registers the fact that instead of going to Solomon or Asmodeus for opinions on his books or feedback for his many essays, he goes to you.

Especially when Satan needs proper and honest feedback from someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it. And unlike Leviathan, Satan relishes in some proper assessments.

Satan feels more drawn to you than the rest of his brothers, coming up to you for some of his more diabolical actions--- like the many pranks he kept under his sleeve for Lucifer

“Do you think Lucifer will see this one coming?” he asked you casually, sliding you a piece of paper containing a scribbled down--- yet well thought-out and detailed scheme to cause trouble yet again.

You quirk up an eyebrow, glancing away from your phone and down towards the sheet of paper. With a small sigh, you decided to give in and at least entertain the idea. He just didn’t give up, huh?

“Hmmm… didn’t you try a plan like this similar to before?” you replied, eyes raking through the pencil marks.

“Have I?” he mumbled, leaning in to feign involvement. “Yes,” you answered, dropping the paper and acting like you didn’t need to see any more.

“And it didn’t work that time. I don’t think it’ll work this time either Satan. Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he grinned.

It’s not like it was just Satan who enjoyed your presence; you would grow increasingly more and more comfortable about voicing your opinions around him. There’s only one thing better than a straightforward honest person--- and that is someone who can actually appreciate the honesty

After you recognized that Satan truly does not get bothered by whatever is on the tip of your tongue, things only got better.

I can imagine late nights where you and Satan would stay up until your eyelids became like lead and you couldn’t continue without sleep. Those nights were filled with honesty and intelligence. He thought you had a beautiful mind. He wanted to hear every opinion that popped up in your head

Asmodeus

Hmmm… Asmodeus is a bit trickier. 

As an outward and bubbly extrovert, Asmodeus was bound to hear all types of opinions from all types of different people. And judging by his insane amount of confidence, he doesn’t let any of that negative energy affect him (He says it’s bad for his skin).

It’s not like you’d say anything mean to him to begin with, especially purposefully--- but I feel everyone takes criticism differently, and some take it to heart more than others

Considering you don’t fall for Asmodeus’s mind-controlling charm, your honest and blunt nature just adds the cherry to the cake on what kind of person you are. This just makes you more natural and pleasant to be around.

So instead, he makes his use of it, making sure to drag you along with every one of his shopping sprees around town.

You wouldn’t suck up to him, or brush off his hyper enthusiasm by simply saying ‘yes’ to everything--- much like his brothers do to him

“Y/N, Y/N, do you think this color will look good on me??” Asmodeus excitedly asks, holding up a beige scarf to his neck. Both of you couldn’t care less about the wandering eyes that followed trailed towards the loud demon of lust. “I think this color looks good on me, but definitely not with the outfit I’m wearing currently.”

You smile at his animated gestures, nodding your head in agreement. 

“I do think the color suits you, but didn’t you get a beige outfit a week ago? Maybe a cream color will look better,” you mention, shifting through the scarves on the rack.

Asmodeus pauses to pose in the mirror that was conveniently placed on the store wall. “You could be right~ I heard cream is more in style right now anyways. Thank you darling 💗.” 

Beelzebub

Beelzebub doesn’t even notice you’re more blunt and honest; like, he doesn’t isolate that as your special quality

Instead, he just thinks that that is how you were as a person.

Honestly, it’s quite cute.

Whenever he eats off of the plates of others, or realizes that he just vacuumed down the cookies that you were supposed to deliver to Luke, you don’t hesitate to voice your disapproval. 

“Beel, please don’t eat other people’s food. It’s not nice,” you reprimand gently, noticing that no other brother on the table was going to say anything to reprimand him.

He quietly gulps down the rest of the food that he had finished chewing in time. “Oh… sorry,” Beel mumbled, wiping the remaining crumbs of the cookies that he knew you worked on for Luke.

He didn’t even realize he reached over to take the food.. One moment his stomach grumbled hungrily, and then the next moment he smelled the cookies you had spent all morning baking.

Whenever he ate his brothers’ food, they would always sigh and complain to Lucifer about it---which in turn caused Lucifer to tell them to just grab some more.

He really really didn’t mean it…

You sighed quietly, grabbing a napkin off of the table to aid in ridding the crumbs all over his shirt. “It’s okay Beel. Try not to do it again, kay?” It looks like you needed to throw together another batch of cookies in order to get them delivered to Luke before it got too late.

You glanced behind you, watching as Beel followed you to the kitchen again. The redhead noticed your questioning glance, and he only grinned in reply.

“I’m going to help you make more. It’s the least I can do…” he said.

The gesture must have made you happy, because he could see you return the grin instantly.

Beelzebub also happens to be lowkey blunt in his own way, because while he may hold back in speaking a lot of the time, much of what he does say (besides things food-related) is actually quite honest. He isn’t afraid to tell people what he thinks about them, but on a much lower scale than you.

I think this mixture of two similar people is wonderful--- 

Remember how I said some people take honesty and criticism to heart more than others?? Well… Beel takes to heart what you say and attempts to fix anything he can within his power.

Belphegor

Ha ha ha… ahhh Belphegor. Okay correct me if I’m wrong, but he’d totally be the type to purposefully do things that would make you snap at him or cause you to be more blunt.

He always knew you were kind-- I mean, you were the one to help get him out of the miserable attic. You were also the one willing to deal with Mammon, so… ya know.

But his level of respect for you rose when the demon took note that you were no welcome mat. 

No one could step all over you, and for a human, that was damn impressive to him.

For example, the first time he had fallen asleep in a weird position in front of you was when you, Beel, and Belphie decided it would be fun to bake some muffins for everyone. He was assigned the role of mixing together the mix and well… he fell asleep.

While standing…

You quickly snapped him out of it, voicing your opinion on how it was not the time to be sleeping--- especially if these muffins were to be done before dinner

He liked getting your attention in that way though

Belphegor was another demon with thick skin, and yet another demon who also happens to be blunt and honest (probably one the most in the family)

“You look like shit,” he mumbled into his pillow, watching you trudge into the room tiredly. You had dark under eye circles, probably due to the lack of sleep you had within the past two days, and your hair was unkempt. The strands thrown about your head like a cyclone just hit you. Belphegor had heard that you were taking extra magic lessons with Satan and Solomon, and he only assumed this was a result.

You grunted, flopping down onto the bed right next to him.

“Well, you don’t look too good yourself. But I guess that’s what 10 hours of sleep will do to you,” you bit back, the words were a bit slurred and muffled due to your face plant on the bed.

He chuckled lightly, scooching over to toss his blanket over you.

Belphegor would ask about your little magic experience later on; the loads of opinions you probably had would make due for an interesting listen.

[sunjaesol]

serendipitous encounters

juke | human au | fluff

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"I think I met my soulmate!" Luke shouted as he barrelled through the front door, announcing his presence.

Alex, cuddled up with Willie, groaned from his place on the couch. "Not this again. Luke, soulmates do not exist!"

"Well, I'm curious," Willie joked. "What happened?"

Bouncing through the small living space, he propped himself on the coffee table. His eager lips spouted everything he knew so far. "Her name's Julie and she's beautiful and she drinks lattes with caramel syrup."

The two boys blinked at each other, an amused smile growing on Willie as the scowl deepened for Alex. Yeesh. How did these two work?

The blonde tried keeping composure. "You think... you met... the person you want to spend the rest of your life with... in a coffee shop?"

Luke nodded. What was his point?

Luckily, Willie was on his side. "Did you talk to her?"

Sighing, he slumped to the floor. "No. But I'm telling you, it's her."

"This oddly feels like that Zooey Deschanel movie," Alex mused.

"No! She's not some fantasy! She-I can't explain it." Dreamily looking up at the ceiling, he added. "She's it. I'm calling it."

"I think you're horny," Alex deadpanned. Willie snickered.

He rolled his eyes and swatted their legs. "Very cool, you guys.”

The doorbell rang. Jumping up and saving himself from further embarrassment, Luke went to open it.

And it was her. Holy shit.

She smiled up at him, holding up his trusty songbook.

"Hello. You left this journal on your table at Starbucks? It has your address inside."

Gobsmacked, Luke stared at her. Holy fucking shit. Because of his whole daydream about her in Starbucks, he forgot his book and then she took it upon herself to find the rightful owner. That was fate, right? Take that, Alex!

Stammering vowels, he plucked it from her grasp and let out a breathy laugh.

"Y-Yeah, thanks, that's- yup."

An amused smile pulled on her lips, nodding. "No problem. Have a nice day!"

Her goodbye snapped him out of his stupor, calling out for her with a raised hand.

"Wait! I didn't catch your name!"

She turned around, the girl looking so foreign in the grimy hallway of the apartment complex.

"Why do you need my name?"

Cause he knew it already and didn't want to seem like a creep.

He shrugged. "I want to thank you."

"It's Julie," she said after a beat.

"Thank you, Julie." His grin must've been comically wide, heart beating a mile a minute as he was still convinced she was his freaking soulmate.

And then she left. He was certain he'd see her again. In a non creepy way, that was.

— — — — — —

It was wholly coincidental once more. 

It was an early Sunday morning, Luke donned in sweatpants and a ratty cut-off and bedhead, as he meandered in the the shop of a tailor. Reggie owed him for this. 

The bassist loved buying vintage clothing, but never stuff that quite fit him. Hence, a tailor. His name was Peter and basically Reg’s best friend at this point, based on the disappointed look the man gave Luke as he handed him the the slip. He could hear the question on his tongue - “Where’s Reggie?” - and was happy when he didn’t ask. 

One, cause that was fucking rude. 

Two, cause Reg was currently fighting for an exclusive comic book on the other side of Los Angeles with a hurdle of other nerds. 

As Peter was sifting through the clothing racks, searching the order, the bell jingled behind him. 

“Oh, Journal Boy?”

He stilled. Holy shit. 

Whirling around, he came face to face with Julie. Just as beautiful as a week ago; maybe even more disarming in sandals and her curly hair up in a messy bun.

“Hi,” he breathed, unsure if he wasn’t just imagining her. It was a pretty hot day. It could easily be a sun stroke. 

Her smile widened. She was probably amused by his goofy behaviour, but he couldn’t help it. What were the odds he’d see her again, in a different location, this early after the first encounter? What was the statistical probability of meeting his soulmate twice? 

Before he could say anything else, Peter appeared from his rack and placed a leather jacket on the counter. Their attention diverted, Luke couldn’t help but feel heat travel up his back from having her so near. 

— — — — — —

No, he didn't want to go to silent disco.

Alas, Willie and Alex were that quirky type of couple that always liked to do the weirdest shit, including the most impersonal activity ever: a silent fucking disco.

They told him to bring a date, as Reggie was bringing his Tinder match Kayla, but he wasn't feeling it. One, because he still couldn't believe he saw Julie again at the tailor-

("It's Luke, by the way," he added.

She smiled and tasted the name. "Luke. Haven't lost your journal again?"

His name sounded heavenly on her tongue. Keeping the blush at bay, he nodded with a grin. "Yup. Uh-"

And then the man came back with her stuff, and that was that.)

-two, cause he wanted to win from Alex. Soulmates did exist and he hadn't lost hope it was her.

So there he was, in some old factory turned disco, with hundreds of idiots wearing headphones as they danced in a frenzy to whatever song was playing. The whole point of art - connection - was lost. Luke wanted to die.

Until he saw Julie from across the space. Again. And she saw him.

They smiled and waved and suddenly, this whole thing wasn't so bad anymore.

— — — — — —

There were about a 130,000 people living in East LA. It had sprawling neighbourhoods and hundreds of communities and subways that connected it to the other parts of LA. She could’ve been anywhere. 

And yet, he found her again. 

Even though he was still sticking to his guns that Julie was someone special, he also had his own needs. Which was how he found himself slipping out of a redhead’s bed at seven in the morning, dazed from being in an unknown place, and pulling his clothes back on. He was pretty sure her name was Meredith, though that could also just be entirely false. It was a weird, albeit good night. 

She mumbled in her pillow he could let himself out, waving half-heartedly and rolling on her side. 

Softly closing the door behind him and cracking the knots in his neck, he didn’t notice how he bumped into a person. 

Into Julie. 

His eyes widened in shock, the two letting out a surprised yelp. Her hand clutched her chest and took a step back. 

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Sorry!”

Her mouth opened and closed in confusion, about to say something, when her gaze trailed past him to the apartment he just left. She cleared up. 

“Meredith? Good choice, she’s nice.”

Luke flushed red. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? 

Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he drawled, “Uh, yeah... what’re you doing here?”

It was then that he noticed she had athletic wear on, duffle bag around her shoulder and keys dangling between her fingers. She confirmed his suspicions when she replied. 

“I, uh, live here.” She laughed. “So... have a nice rest of the day?”  

He wanted to say a lot. He wanted to ask if she wanted to grab breakfast, that Meredith wasn’t his girlfriend, that he had this crazy feeling they were always meant to meet - again and again and again ‘til they got it right. 

But he couldn’t. He’d sound insane. Hell, it was insane. Instead, he wished her a nice day as well and scurried out the hallway. He didn’t look back, but he did wonder if he was imagining he felt her eyes on his back. 

— — — — — —

Luke was typing on his laptop, the hustle and bustle of Starbucks at three in the afternoon and the methodical tap tap tap of the keys lulling him into a fast-paced trance. As always, he procrastinated some work for Pitchfork and had to get it done in two hours or else his boss would be yelling in his emails.

The bell jingled, Luke looking up automatically and almost rolling his eyes at the sight of her. This was getting insane.

Julie saw him too, changing her course from the register to his round table with a confused grimace twisting her features. As always, she looked pretty; the girl never looked bad and it was kind of messing with his head.

"Alright, fess up," she exclaimed, slipping into the seat opposite of him. "Are you stalking me?"

He snorted and leaned forward with a wry grin. "I can ask the same about you."

Her lips pursed, assessing him for a beat. With a sigh, she mellowed down. "I guess... we live in the same neighbourhood..."

"Still kinda crazy though," he mused. "East L.A. is big."

She nodded, pensive, and then looked over her shoulder to the menu board. "Is it okay if... I sit with you? I was going to grab a latte to go, but since you're here..."

But since you're here - rang in his ears, a careful smile blooming on his lips. Fuck, he really needed to work, but Julie wanted to sit with him, hang with him, be friends with him, outside of all the coincidental meetings they've had.

He wouldn't call it a date yet. He wanted to properly ask her when that day came.

"Sure," he mumbled, biting down the smile from becoming bigger.

His reply satisfied her, the tendrils dancing around her bright eyes as she matched his smile and stood up to make an order.

— — — — — —

Weeks passed with quick meetings here and there, Julie slowly bleeding into his life with laughs and smiles and whirlwind stories about her life. She was always on the go, always bright-eyed and easily matching his energy. He knew his enthusiasm could put people off, but she was never taken aback.

Wit against wit. Snark against snark. A dumb joke met with an amused roll of the eye. It worked. For a while, he even settled on the fact that hey, they might be platonic soulmates. Julie was a great friends and sometimes he felt his emotions fleeting. If they remained friends, he'd be perfectly content.

But then she closed gaps and barriers that had pointedly been kept before. After they got boba, her hand wrapped around his bicep, stretched on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. Before he could register it, she was back on her feet waving him goodbye. Luke had a dopey look on his face for the rest of the day.

She kept up cheek kisses, he let his warm embraces linger, their short hangouts turned into hours.

Then one night, she kissed his cheek after they got ramen and he shifted his face 'til their noses brushed. Julie held her breath. Tentatively, their fingers curled together - the simple touch sparking lightning up his arm.

"Is it weird that I've dreamed about you?" he asked, cautious, looking at their joined hands.

Luke wanted to tell her about his initial gut feeling; that he saw her and he knew. But it was too insane and he didn't want to scare her off. But he knew. He's always known.

"No..." Her mouth ghosted his. "I've dreamed about you too."

Luke closed the little space between them, lips slanting together and instantly deepening as one hand came up to cradle her cheek. His heart was bursting with euphoria. It felt as if his body sighed in relief, like it had finally come home. And then he did: he sighed and grinned and giggled when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Oh, man... he might already love her.

— — — — — —

Nothing definite happened afterwards. Though this is what he wanted, he felt weird confirming their relationship when he had always somehow ‘known.’ It had to come from her side, the more level-headed person in this situation. 

So, it was casual, even though he was anything but casual. 

It was pretty great though, walking past Meredith’s door towards Julie’s, having her yank him inside and kiss him like she’d been waiting for years. Kissing Julie was fucking heaven. 

Besides that, they were the same Luke and Julie as before. They got boba or ramen or any new spot that opened up like weeds. She listened to new music with him, sharing earbuds, for his Pitchfork articles. He watched her sing and play the piano at music clubs, becoming more and more enamoured each time simply by the sound of her angelic voice. He built a shelf for her. She taught him how to make friendship bracelets. He met her best friend Flynn. She stayed over for dinner with the guys and got drunk on white wine, giggling along to the jokes.

They fit. But they weren’t exclusive. He had no clue if she was also seeing someone else. He presumed she didn’t, the two constantly revolving around each other, but he couldn’t be certain.

Alex was gobsmacked the first time he properly met her. Stunned that Luke had been right, that it worked out, that East Los Angeles was apparently nothing more than a small town. Luke reckoned he was just jealous he didn’t have to meet his person by getting maimed on the street - ha! 

His finger trailed along her sleeping silhouette, gently and drowsy, observing in awe how a smile subconsciously quirked on her lips and shifted closer to his touch. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose in the back of her neck. There were worse ways to wake up. 

— — — — — —

Eventually, Julie simply decided for him.

She was moving apartments and he was helping her pack, move furniture, throw shit out, the whole nine yards. For one person, she had a lot of stuff, her cabinets an endless supply of decor, souvenirs and memories.

They were whirling around each other like clock-work, never bumping and smoothly handing things over. Rap music was playing from the stereo, its sound drifting from her opened front door into the hallway.

One of her neighbours popped their head in.

"Oh!" The old man perked up, surprised. "You're moving, Julie?"

She looked up from rummaging through her CD collection to shoot him a tired smile. "Yeah," she puffed, "my lease is up, so..."

"Change of pace, I get it. That's wonderful," he nodded, gaze shifting to Luke walking out of the bathroom. "Hello!"

Luke smiled at him, waving with the box of oddly shaped soaps Julie had for some reason. "Hi."

"This is Luke, my boyfriend," Julie introduced, Luke freezing in his tracks all at once as the words utter from her lips. Boyfriend. Holy shit. It didn't faze her, smoothly babbling more than he wasn't processing.

Boyfriend. Which meant that she was his girlfriend. Which meant that now, he had to threaten the guys to not say a fucking word about how mentally deranged he was the first week after meeting her. This wasn’t planned. This was fully her. This was past fate and serendipity - this was by choice. It felt better than he thought. 

The man bid goodbye and left. Luke dropped the box on the coffee table, sliding towards her with a shit-eating grin.

"Boyfriend," he drawled exaggeratedly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. ‘Cause you are. I know you well enough to know you can only do exclusive."

"Can you?"

"I said you were my boyfriend, didn't I?"

His smile widened, leaning in to kiss her. She met him halfway, loose curls tucked behind ears before her arms were slung around his waist. I love, I love you, I've loved you forever.

And then the truth tumbled out. Part of it, at least.

"I, uh," he gulped, looking at her through his lashes. "I saw you, that first day, and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Her face turned tender, a pout jutting from her lip as she gauged his reaction, like she was waiting for him to make a joke. He wasn't.

"Really?" she whispered, voice so small it took him aback for a beat.

His thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, withholding himself from saying anything more. This was enough. It was the truth without the crazy - being with her was crazy enough. Luke settled on a simple nod.

Her head tilted, shy amusement lilting her tone. "Good thing I'm moving closer to your neighbourhood then."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @willexx​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​ @unsaid-emily​ @ourstarscollided​

[alderaani]

Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

-

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

-

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[jpegjade]

If I Believe You - Spencer

Welcome to another fluffy story! This is the unplanned story I mentioned bc I was feeling down last night and I needed to just write something. 

Warnings: It’s a lot of fluff but it does deal with a few signs of depression. There’s nothing graphic and it’s mainly talking. so if you’re not up for that, i have other fluffy stuff that might fit better! don’t push yourself!

____________________________

“Y/n, I’m home. I got groceries!” Spencer called. 

You spent the weekend in bed. What else was there to do? Spencer was gone and you had a complete loss of interest in the world, especially your world. It was just better to be in bed all day, whether or not you were able to sleep.

“Hey.” You said, half heartedly. Your voice felt like it didn’t work. 

“You turned over!” He said, smiling. 

He was right. Earlier in the day, you turned over from being on your right side, which gave you the best view of staring at Spencer, to your left side, where you could charge your phone and use it at the same time while it was connected to your nightstand. 

“Stop smiling. I didn’t do anything.” You said, putting your phone down on the nightstand. 

Spencer walked over and kissed you on the forehead before going to change into his pajamas. You still didn’t move. Everything inside hurt, you were so heavy, and all you wanted to do was be anywhere but alive. 

When Spencer came back, he climbed into bed and scooted himself all the way to you. You rolled back over, feeling like it took all of your energy just to move that much. You groaned the whole time and made Spencer smile. 

“You turned over again. I’m so proud of you.” Spencer said, tapping your nose. 

“You’re such a nerd, you know that?” You smiled just enough to bring out his full smile. It makes him so happy that in the middle of your worst depression symptoms, he could make you smile. 

“Yes, I have been told by you, repeatedly.” He smiled. 

Spencer just stared at you, watching you breathe. Your heart rate was steady and he was just thinking about you. You were so quiet and it was hard for him to watch. He was used to you talking, asking him about his day, wondering what was on his mind. But right now? All he could wonder was what he could do to help, what he could do to lift your spirits in the slightest. 

“Have you eaten today?” He whispered as if it was against the rules to speak normally. 

When you struggled like this, it just seemed like it was easier to stay close, keep things intimate. 

“I’m not hungry.” You said, voice barely audible. 

“Come on, y/n. You have to eat today. I let you slide with a granola bar yesterday but I need you to eat today. Real food.” He pleaded with you just a little bit. 

“Spencer, I don’t want to eat. I’m so tired.” You sighed. Of course he was going to try to do this. 

“I know, sweetie. But you have to eat.” He said, still quiet. 

There was a patient silence between you, almost like a standoff. You were determined to hold out and Spencer was determined to not give in. You didn’t mind the silence, you didn’t have to talk. Meanwhile, Spencer just wanted to talk to you. You lit up his day and all he wanted was to take a moment to brighten yours. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” He started. “You eat some food and I’ll eat you.” 

“Smartass.” You smiled at him, a small smile but a smile. 

“I got you to smile. I love you.” He kissed your forehead and scooted even closer to you. 

“But you have to eat. Severe depression has decreased your appetite significantly and it’s going to lead to malnutrition soon if I can’t get something in you that gives you enough nutrients to sustain your body. Malnutrition can lead to a multitude of additional health problems, if you would like to hear about them.” 

“Spencer, just because I’m not hungry, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be malnourished. It just means I’m sad today. And yesterday. And the day before. Need I go on?” You asked, followed by a sigh. 

“Why are you sighing?” He asked, knowing it was related to something. 

“I’m so tired of being this way. I’m tired of knowing that in the end, I will always be this way. It will always come back to being down and I don’t want the cycle to continue. If I could, I would make it stop.” A tear escaped and you angrily wiped it off. 

Spencer was speechless. He didn’t know what to say because you were right. It was chronic and while manageable, it wasn’t going to be fixed. He wanted so badly to fix it, to help you. But this isn’t a case. He can’t help you like he couldn’t help his mom for all of those years. But he has gotten better, he built a better relationship with his mom. He has gotten better at caring for you because he became more attentive to you rather than the statistics and numbers. 

“I can’t say that it will get better soon. I can’t say that you’ll feel better. But I can say that you will eventually feel better, a little bit at a time, okay? I can say that I will be right here when you are ready to do the smallest things, like eat some orange slices. Or apple slices. Or some kind of easily edible, nutrient filled food. I can say that I won’t stop talking, whether or not you end up hating the sound of my voice or me or love the sound of my voice and me. I can say that you will see the sun again, loving it as if these tough times never happened. I can say…” 

“Spencer, shut up and get me the damn orange slices.” You said, rolling your eyes. 

He knew the eye roll was sarcastic but he also saw the smile you tried to fight. You failed and ended up giving him what you could manage. Spencer hopped out of the bed, nearly skipping to the kitchen area. He was so happy that you were going to eat something. 

You groaned because it was freezing cold in the apartment and Spencer getting up meant that you lost another body of warmth. You sighed, preparing yourself to sit up by the time Spencer came back. If you did it before he got there, he would be really proud of you. You liked when he was proud of you, no matter how down you were. It made the smallest difference in your day because you loved him. 

But, at the same time, it can be hard to love someone when you don’t want to be alive. It can be difficult to love anything when you don’t want to be awake. But no matter how much you had to fight to keep your eyes open, Spencer was there when he could be. He volunteered to work cases with Garcia as much as he could so he could make sure you were alright, he didn’t spend late nights at the office anymore, and of course, he spent more time caring for you. And this made you feel even more horrible. 

“Y/n? I got the orange slices!” He was still upbeat. You liked that he could be so… Optimistic yet realistic at the same time. He was optimistic that you would get better but realistic about it taking a lot of time and effort. 

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled as much as you could but it felt so empty, forced. 

He was staring at you with such adoration as you as you ate your half of the orange while he ate his half. 

“I’m so proud of you right now.” Spencer scooted over to sit right next to you, leaning his head over so you touched shoulders and his head was on top of yours. “You did it. You ate something today. We’ll try again later but do you want to cuddle? If not, that’s okay. We can nap. Or not nap. We can… Oh, I can read to you. You don’t have to listen.” 

“Spencer, can you kiss me, please?” You asked, watching his eyes light up. 

It had been a while since you wanted a real kiss. He had settled for giving you kisses on the face and your hand and wherever else he had access to because you just weren’t up for making out or anything that might lead to it. 

This kiss was special, gentle. He was hesitant but it was okay because that was what you needed. You just wanted to show him that you appreciate him and everything he does in his love language, which was touch. He loved touching any body part possible, just knowing that you’re there with him. Sometimes, it’s what kept him from falling apart. You may not know it but you kept him from falling apart. 

“Why did you do that?” He asked, face still close to yours. Your noses were touching and he was whispering again. The moment was so fragile, he didn’t want to pull away. 

“Because I just wanted to remind you I love you. You do a lot for me, I figured I could do something for you. You like kisses so… Just thought I would give you one.” You said, wanting so badly to lay down but you didn’t want to disconnect from Spencer. Not right now. You needed this little thing, whatever it was.

“I love you. And nothing will change that. If I could, I would…” Spencer stopped. He knew how you felt about when he said he would take it onto his own shoulders if he could. 

“It’s okay.” You said, quietly. A tear ran down your cheek, followed by a tear down his face as well. 

“Can you read to me? I’m tired again and I just want to hear your voice.” You said, breaking away from Spencer to wiggle back down, completely under the blanket.

“I’ll go get a couple books.” Spencer started to move but you stopped him.

“No. From your memory, just pick a book and read. I don’t really care about following along. I just...Need you right now.” You said, followed by a yawn. 

“Okay.” Spencer got back under the blanket completely, holding his arm out for you to come closer. 

“If I believe it will get better, will that make the emptiness stop? I want to believe you so badly. And I need to believe in something because I can’t just believe in nothing...” You whispered, another tear rolling down your face. 

“The emptiness won’t go away, y/n. It will always be there. And I’m sorry I have to say it but it’s true. My emptiness doesn’t go away, either. But it gets easier, you can fill it with some things to make it easier to handle. You can feel it less at some moments and more at other moments. The emptiness will be there but the loneliness won’t always be there. The feelings of despair won’t always be there. The hatred for being alive won't always be there. You know why? Because you won’t always think that way. You won’t always be down. You won’t always feel the worst feelings you can possibly imagine. If you believe me, then you’ll see we’ve got a lot of joy to find. And happiness. My mom would say we’ve got ‘adventures’ to go on.”

And with a few more tears running down your face, you smiled what you could manage before closing your eyes and letting spencer talking send you back to sleep for the day.

[fizzychocolatemilk]

Totally Normal...You Know Until (Part 1)

A little late, but now it’s here! Enjoy and leave comments (if you’re comfortable)! Part two will be out here tomorrow...or you can read the whole fic on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33074071.

The day had been relatively normal. Katsuki had been put on patrol with Deku, since they had begun branding themselves together in anticipation for their upcoming graduation. To be honest, despite how far he and the shitty nerd had come in the three years since they started at UA, he still wondered what he did to get a (technically future) hero partner as good as Deku. Of course if the nerd heard that line of thought, Deku’d surely smack him and call him an idiot, then say that stupid “Kacchan sugoi!” crap that made Katsuki’s face get hot and his palms sweat more than usual.

He was secure enough at this point of his life to admit that he had more than platonic feelings for Deku, and if it were anyone else Katsuki would surely act on those feelings, ask the nerd out on a date, maybe to that pre-quirk era hero museum that opened recently near UA. However, because it’s Deku, Katsuki planned to take all those left unsaid feelings with him to the grave. He wasn’t going to be the jackass that ruined everything he and Deku had worked for years to get back, but really, it all comes back to the point that Deku deserves way better than what Katsuki can give him. Deku asked to be his hero partner, so Katsuki was going to be the best damn hero partner the shit nerd could ask for, which meant he wasn’t going to get greedy and ask for more than the stupid, self-sacrificing nerd could (or wanted to) give.

So the patrol was relatively normal. Deku was being his smiley, chatty self and talking Katuki’s ear off about some rookie hero that had debuted in the past week. Katsuki was trying to not get distracted by how cute the nerd was when he got into his shitty rambles when the kid ran into him.

“Momma! Can’t find my momma!” the child wailed. Large, watery green eyes with slitted pupils looked up at him. The child had several reptilian features, so Katsuki couldn’t really tell whether the child was male or female.

But that didn’t really matter. “Hey! Watch where you’re going kid,” he led with (because even if the kid was scared, you can’t go running around like that on busy streets). “Can you tell me your name?”

Katsuki was pretty good with little kids. They usually thought his rough temperament was funny and they weren’t annoying or clingy in the way he’s found reporters and older fans to be.

“Don’t worry. I’m a hero. Deku and I can help you find your momma.”

The kid sniffled a little bit. “M’name’s Kyo. ‘don’t remember where I last saw momma.”

That made things a little more difficult, but he was Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight dammit! He and Deku could definitely get this kid back to their mom. “Alright, Kyo. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll look around nearby for your momma, but if we can’t find her we’ll take you to the police station and they can call your mom there. That sound good to you?”

Kyo nodded, so Katuski held out his hand for Kyo to take.

As they continued down the street, Katsuki asked Kyo about his day, to which he enthusiastically responded with a long story that included a bad day at school followed by a fun afternoon out with his mother. During which Deku walked, awkward and silent, next to Katuski while he kept an eye out for a distraught mother.

Soon they had made it to the end of the street, and as they rounded the corner Kyo’s eyes lit up.

“MOMMA!!!”

A bright flash erupted from Kyo and Katsuki’s clasped hands before Kyo tore away towards their mom. Katsuki would have ran after him, but he was hit with a painful headache, one that made him clutch his head in both hands and curl into himself. He distantly heard Deku screaming his name, but it didn’t register as his ears began ringing and the world swirled before his eyes. Then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Katsuki awoke, he was on the ground with an upset Kyo hovering over his face. “Uhhhh….W-w-what..? W-what happened?” He said with a humiliating stutter. What was wrong with him?

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hero!” Kyo cried. “I didn’t mean to use it! I was just so happy to see momma! I’m sorry.”

Katsuki sat up as he processed the words. “I’m sorry. Ummm...what are you t-t-talking about kiddo?”

“Hi. I’m Kyo’s mother. I’m really sorry, sir, but he used his quirk on you,” a lady with a strong build, freckles that looked like sky blue scales, and a navy blue bob cut extended her hand to him. Assumably for him to take. He shook his head no, mumbled a barely discernible “thank you,” and stood up without the help. He felt like he was forgetting something for a moment. What was it?

“Deku!” It hit him like a freight train. He forgot about Deku. How embarrassing. Katsuki could feel his face heating up without his consent, and he slapped his hands over his cheeks to hide the growing flush. Then he looked over to see Deku sitting up on the ground with his head clutched in one hand.

“What the fuck happened?”

That was Deku. Katsuki’s brain rebooted. “Deku?! Are you okay?! You can’t say stuff like that in front of a kid! Even I censor myself!” Katsuki berated Deku as he checked him for injuries frantically.

Deku batted his hands away half-heartedly. “I’m fucking fine, stupid Kacchan! Answer me! What the fuck happened?”

Katsuki huffed at Deku and his cheeks involuntarily puffed out, making him look like a chipmunk, when the woman interjected. “I’m sorry, sirs. Again, my child used their quirk on you. So you’ll have swapped personalities for 12-48 hours. Your feelings and choices won’t be affected, you’ll just show your feelings and enact your will a bit differently. You’ll both get the bad headaches again when the quirk wears off. Sorry for the inconvenience, but thank you for returning my child to me. It is deeply appreciated.” The woman smiled at the end and sent a fond look towards Kyo.

Katsuki opened his mouth to ask for her name, but Deku interrupted him. “Listen up, lady. We appreciate your concern, but we’re gonna need your name and number. We’re third year hero students at UA, so we need to hand that information to our homeroom teacher for reference. Just in case the quirk doesn’t wear off when you say it does or has any extraneous effects,” Deku gruffed at the woman, a scowl on his face and eyebrows downturned in slight annoyance. Then he turned his head to the side and grumbled, “We’re just doing our fucking job. You don’t need to thank us.”

The woman smiled, making it obvious she heard Deku’s final sentences. She then pulled a pen and a small notepad out of her purse, scribbled something on it, then ripped the page out and handed it to Katsuki, who was standing slightly closer to her. “Well then, thank you for your work. It is definitely appreciated.”

Deku scoffed at the woman, but Katsuki noticed that Deku’s ears were slowly flushing. This in turn made Katsuki himself blush because...those were his mannerisms. So he knew Deku was feeling pleased and embarrassed, even if he still looked standoffish. How could Deku still be a cute dumbass even with his own mannerisms?! It didn’t make sense to Katsuki, but his own flush was dying down now thankfully. Katsuki turned to the woman and held out his right hand for a shake. “Thank you for your compliance and continued support. It is appreciated.” As much as Katsuki didn’t especially like most adults, he appreciated the reasonable ones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Katsuki and Deku walked back to UA after stopping in at the agency, Katsuki thought about what had happened so far. Deku’s personality was noticeably different from his own, but Katsuki didn’t hate it. It made it easier to express what he was feeling in a healthy way. From his interactions with the woman and Kyo, he definitely seemed nicer. He was just doing what he would usually do, just in the way Deku would do it, but he felt like a completely different person. It was weird. But… “What the hell are you mumbling about, Bakacchan?!” Katsuki jolted as he was startled out of his thoughts.

”Oh...ummm...I guess I was just thinking about the effects of the quirk,” he responded, but Katsuki could once again feel his face flushing. Again with the stupid blush?!

Deku scoffs again and turns his head slightly away from Katsuki before replying. “Yeah. It’s pretty fucking annoying. I’m feeling the same shit I usually feel, but I just can’t express it the way I usually fucking do. Shit’s dumb as fuck.” Katsuki snorted at Deku’s language. To which Deku responded, “Hah?! You’re just gonna laugh at me, dumb Kacchan?!” Then muttered, “Dumb Bakagou.”

Katsuki devolved into full on laughter. “Deku! You...you...hahahahaha...you’re the one bad at expressing your emotions now!”

”HAAAAH?! Say that to my face, shitty nerd!” Katsuki started running down the sidewalk as Deku chased him. The streets filled with their combined laughter and shouting as they ran all the way back to UA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa stared intently at them as Katsuki sat on a sofa in the teachers lounge next to Deku. Katsuki stared back at him, eyes wider than normal and face not in his usual scowl, while Deku was slouched next to him, dangerous green eyes flashing a glare at their homeroom teacher. Aizawa’s eyes narrowed and flashed red for a second before he rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

”Can’t you two problem children go a day without some sort of incident?”

Katsuki’s cheeks pinkened with embarrassment at the truth of that statement. While they didn’t often get into quirk accidents specifically, he and Deku could definitely be referred to as partners-in-crime. They’ve destroyed furniture during playful fights, accidentally hurt some of their classmates during a paired fighting exercise, and broken curfew together. And those are only the incidents from the past week! He was starting to realize how much more he got into trouble with Deku around, when said person nudged his arm and grumbled about him mumbling again.

Aizawa sighed again, heavier this time, and continued speaking. “Well, since this isn’t really impairing your judgement or ability to function, and since the quirk will wear off relatively quickly, you’re going to stay at UA for the duration of the effects. Your parents have been notified and have agreed to allow you to stay, but both your mothers requested that you call tonight and after the quirk wears off,” he ran a slightly annoyed hand through his hair, then continued, “This might be a lot to ask, but try not to cause too much commotion? I’ll see you both in class on Monday.” They took the dismissal and both stood to leave, but not without a grunt from Deku and a short “Thank you, sensei,” from Katsuki himself.

Deku pulled out his phone in the hallway, presumably to call his mother, when Katsuki placed a gentle hand on his arm to stop him. “Why don’t we both text our moms and do a group video chat?” Deku grunted in response, but his fingers began moving across his phone’s keyboard to text his mother the plan.

Katsuki pulled out his phone to text his mother, but then he heard Deku say, “Good plan, Kacchan,” in a low voice.

He fumbled his phone for a minute as his face flushed bright red. “Y-y-y-yeah...I-I-I just f-f-figured we could avoid a-a-a lot of the dramatics...and you know...they could see that we were f-f-fine for the-themselves,” he stuttered out. His hands involuntarily came up to cover his heavily flushed face, but the burden of his phone in his hand caused him to wrap his arms around his head and look away from Deku.

Deku scoffed, but grumbled out a “whatever,” and continued walking towards the dorms, but he now had a thoughtful expression on his face.

Katsuki panicked for a second. What was Deku thinking about?! Katsuki couldn’t help but worry that Deku would figure out his feelings if he kept being so obvious with his embarrassment. Deku was somewhat easier to read with their personalities swapped because he was using Katsuki’s mannerisms, so Katsuki could only assume that it worked both ways. Katsuki had just exhibited one of Deku’s flustered tendencies. One of his extremely obvious flustered tendencies. If he kept up this behavior, Katsuki could kiss the new, perfect normal that he had achieved with Deku (the perfect, partners-in-crime, ride-or-die, visit each other at 3am to talk about anything normal) goodbye. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t...

”Kacchan!”

Katsuki looked up to see Deku down the hallway. Waiting for him. Katsuki blushed (again), and ran to catch up. He looked over at Deku and gave a small smile. Deku scowled and turned his head away. His ears were flushed again. They walked side-by-side silently as they made their way toward the dorms.

[wordsablaze]

6. a storm raging on the horizon

your beauty hides the pain Lost on the mountain, Jaskier accidentally angers a mage who decides to curse Yennefer with his company and for once, it might actually be a blessing in disguise…

A/N: sorry in advance for the mixed signals in this one :p @random-nerd-3​ @surreal-static @10moonymhrivertam x

previous chapter

-

It’s a temple.

Of course it’s a temple.

Jaskier has been dead on his feet for a while by the time they get there but Yennefer’s makes a swift beeline to the small fountain in the centre that, unless he’s gone entirely mad, seems to be glowing, not that he has the strength to question it.

“I won’t be long, bard,” Yennefer tells him.

“If only you would be,” he mutters, half-heartedly smirking at her before she kneels by the fountain, doing who knows what.

He’s too tired to care about what she’s planning so he lets himself settle on the floor once more, leaning his head on his lute as he lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not sure if seriously debating his life choices counts as resting but that’s all he manages before the familiar tug of yennefer, get closer to yennefer, yennefer, you’re too far away from yennefer, yennefer returns to his bones.

Yennefer curses before he can even think about moving and the warmth of somebody sitting next to him fills his mind. “Jaskier?”

Humming, he opens his eyes to see Yennefer’s perfectly raised perfect eyebrow. He chuckles despite everything. “It can be considered impolite to stare, my lady.”

His stomach rumbles before she can reply and he winces, offering her a sheepish grin. She doesn’t seem amused though, and her expression morphs into confusion. “They didn’t bring you up any food yesterday, did they?”

“They were too busy trying to kill me,” Jaskier confirms.

“I thought-” Yennefer cuts herself off with a curse in a language he doesn’t recognise.

Well, at least that explains why she’d assumed he’d be perfectly fine with walking for miles. He can’t exactly blame her for misinformation, can he? Well, he could but he likes to think he’s just a little above that kind of behaviour and- ah who is he kidding, he just doesn’t want to hold a grudge against the very sexy but insane witch he’s literally stuck with until further notice.

“You could have told me!” Yennefer grumbles as if this is somehow his fault.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Yes, darling, I’m sure that would have gone well, especially after you and your chaos nearly stole my voice. You know, the usual method of seduction is taking someone’s breath away, not their entire livelihood.”

Yennefer looks annoyed for a moment, elbowing him sharply, but then she frowns again. “You could still play the lute.”

“Yes, but nobody pays for a tune without words and so a bard isn’t really a bard if he can’t sing. Or flirt. Both of which require a voice.”

He hadn’t meant to say anything particularly thought-provoking but Yennefer is silent long enough for him to think he’s said something that at least doesn’t just irritate her, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how much he likes that realisation. He does not want to go into why he likes it but he’s content in acknowledging it’s nice to exchange more than barbed words here and there.

The sun rises before either of them do.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Jaskier breathes instinctively.

Yennefer scoffs at first but then follows his gaze to the horizon just past the fountain that seems to be glowing even more than it was before and maybe Jaskier is just imagining it but he thinks he hears her gasp. And he wouldn't blame her for the dawn is truly a thing of beauty that he firmly believes anyone can appreciate.

“I was hoping this place could break the spell,” Yennefer admits eventually.

Jaskier turns to her, finally taking his eyes off the sunrise. “I take it the spell is more complicated than that?”

With a small chuckle, Yennefer nods. “There’s not a lot I can do when I don’t know why it was cast in the first place.”

Guilt blooms in Jaskier’s chest as if trying to establish its own rotten garden. “I’m sorry. Really, I know the last thing you’d want is to be stuck with me but believe me when I tell you I simply cannot imagine her reasoning either.”

Yennefer hums, then elbows him again. “You could be worse, bard.”

It takes a moment for her words to register but as soon as they do, Jaskier half-turns and grins at her. “What was that, darling? First the apologies and now a compliment? Maybe I’ll have to thank that other witch!”

“I take it back,” Yennefer mutters darkly, standing up and brushing dirt off her dress, “and I’m afraid we’ll have to walk back again until I can portal us anywhere else.”

Jaskier sighs, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. It can’t be that bad, he tells himself, and he’s definitely been on more tiring adventures with Geralt so he can totally do this, he can definitely do this without embarrassing himself in front of Yennefer.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jaskier says, slinging his lute over his shoulders. Yennefer follows the movement with a clearly sceptical hum but says nothing, starting to walk at a thankfully reasonable pace.

He manages about a minute of silence before clearing his throat. “So, what was in the box?” he asks.

Yennefer sighs loudly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“And do you often sacrifice things to temples? Well, I suppose that’d be more of an offering actually so, uhm, do you often leave offerings of mysterious payments at temples or…?”

Another sigh, but Yennefer slows enough for them to Jaskier to only be half a step behind her. “Do you always ask this many questions? It’s enough to drive anyone mad, bard.”

And it has, when he thinks about it. Not just almost his entire family and various patrons who it turns out weren’t actually interested in his bardic talents but also his very best friend in the whole world. Maybe he should stop asking so many questions about witchers and witches and write more about the sunrise or nobles who won’t mind hearing his ballads for at least long enough for him to stock up on coin.

“How is it that even your thinking is irritatingly loud?” Yennefer asks, interrupting said thinking.

He huffs. “Well it’s hardly my fault you make a habit of spying into other people’s heads. What, is yours inadequately furnished despite all that power you’re meant to have?”

“I do have power,” Yennefer snaps, turning to him with ire in her eyes, “but you wouldn’t know the first thing about being powerful even if you were anything more than just another bard.”

Jaskier scowls at her. “I’m not the one who resorted to chasing dragons with my entitled fake boyfriend because I wanted to be more than just another witch.”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kill him. And then the second passes and she just grits her teeth before continuing to walk, leaving him to groan and scramble to catch up so he doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped apart again. Gods is he getting tired of following around people who would rather he didn’t exist.

-

idk if anyone’s still reading but if you are, sorry it’s not v exciting, juggling wips is not exactly my forte. anyway, hope you’re having a good december <3

-

thanks for reading! | masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[trasky-kika]

They were never separated from each other, other than attending classes, going to the bathroom and other basic things.

But the point is, they were always together.

“They’re like a parasite,” Sero commented shaking his head half-heartedly while walking into the kitchen one day and seeing the boys scrambled on the couch in the common room.

“You’re just jealous bro!” Kirishima rebutted, following Sero. “I think its super manly that they finally worked out their differences and worked things out.”

He was right.

Coming to UA, Bakugou and Izuku were rocky, couldn’t even be in the same room as the other because of the collateral damage they would do.

Whether they meant it or not, they were almost always fighting or yelling. Either way, it was unpleasant for many.

During the Sports Festival, Todoroki went in with the intention of winning without using his father's side, at all.

Obviously, that changed when he was put up against Izuku and the green-haired boy yelled at him that it was his power.

After that, Class 1-A didn’t really know what happened.

But the three boys did.

It started when Izuku and Bakugou were fighting after the provisional license exam. Bakugou, frustrated and with his emotions bottled up, fought with everything he had, as did Izuku. After an intense fight with more explosions, screams, curses, and trying to get Bakugou to understand, Izuku was pinned under the blonde, when suddenly, Bakugou’s face was leaning closer, and closer. Izuku panted and licked at his own bottom lip, tasting the metallic ting of blood and gasped when a bit of Bakugou’s blood dripped from his chin onto his face. He looked at the red crimson eyes he’s been chasing after since they were children and saw the hurt and pain that had accumulated throughout the years. He brought his scarred hand up to the blonde's face and was surprised that rather than shove him away, Bakugou leaned into his touch. Izuku caressed his cheek with his thumb and leaned his head up a bit more, leaning back on his elbow to get better leverage.

“I’m tired of feeling like shit,” Bakugou muttered.

Izuku chuckled. “You don’t have to anymore, I’m here.”

Bakugou scoffed, at the lame line used by the person they both admired. Izuku looked at his childhood friend fondly, still caressing his cheek. Bakugou looked at Izuku through his lashes, his eyes traced the freckled of Izuku’s face until they reached the ones that were above his parted lips.

Izuku subconsciously licked his lips and looked at Bakugou. His eyes shifted from fond to determination.

“I missed you, Kachaan.”

“Tsk, stupid nerd.” Bakugou shook his head slightly and leaned in the rest of the way to kiss Izuku.

—

After being treated and scolded by teachers and mentors, Bakugou and Izuku became official. But they could not ignore the eyes of a certain someone.

“Well, I mean, it’s hard to ignore his prying eyes, they’re different colors after all.”

“Kachaan!”

Bakugou and Izuku were lounging in Izuku’s room on his bed when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Izuku chimed from his spot on Bakugou’s chest where he currently laid, eyes not leaving the screen of his phone at a game Kaminari showed him earlier in the day. Bakugou grunted and shifted a bit so he could see his book that he had in his hand better.

The boys on the bed turned their heads to the sound of the doorknob turning and a dual haired boy stepping in. Todoroki walked into the room and nervously looked around. He decided to stay standing and looked at anywhere but the bed. His usual calm demeanor was overshadowed by his current slight nerves.

Izuku shot up and smiled brightly.

“Hi, Todoroki-kun!”

Bakugou stared at icy-hot and smirked.

“What took you so long, candy-cane? You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his feet. He heard rustling in the bed and suddenly, sock-clad feet were standing in front of him. He tilted his head up and looked into Izuku’s green forest eyes. Izuku smiled softly and laid his hand on Todoroki’s arm, causing the boy's cheeks to turn a bit red

“It’s okay Todoroki. We don’t mind. We, uh, kind of hoped you’d confront us,” Izuku chuckled nervously while retracting his hand and bringing it to the back of his neck and scratching it shyly.

Bakugou got up from his boyfriend's bed and walked up to the two boys. He wrapped his arms around Izuku’s shoulders and stood directly in back of him.

“So, icy hot, you in?” Bakugou asked. Izuku looked up from his boyfriend to Todoroki, smiling slightly. Todoroki cleared his throat.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Izuku reassured. “W-We both like you To- S-Shouto.” He stuttered slightly while grabbing onto Todoroki’s hand, gripping it slightly.

Todoroki looked from his hands to Izuku, to Bakugou. He felt oddly calm, given the situation, and suddenly, his nerves were replaced to a warm smile.

“Okay.”

—

Bakugou shivered slightly under the blankets. His head had been pounding all day and he was so fucking tired of it. He sniffed every ten minutes and had gone through a whole box of tissues in less than three hours.

He was sick. Was he going to admit it? Was he going to tell his boyfriends?

Over his dead body.

He was currently curled up with his boyfriends in Todoroki’s dorm. Said boy was in the middle between Bakugou and Izuku. Bakugou was freezing his ass off, and he didn’t know if it was because he was curled up to his boyfriend's cold side, or the fever was getting worse. He shifted uncomfortably and groaned silently when the small movement made his head pound even more.

He was confused. They had been together for about over 11 months, their one year anniversary coming up soon. Within this time period, Todoroki never allowed Bakugou to access his warm side or even see his flames in person. He didn’t know what prompted him to ask the question, he was so out of it and his vision was a beginning to get a bit hazy, but he asked anyway.

“Why does Deku always get your warm side?”

“Becuase I love him more.”

The three boys froze.

Bakugou’s eyes blinked and he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He hoped it was a joke, but with the way Todoroki had answered so quickly without even looking up from his phone, he didn’t care.

It hurt.

He slowly got off from his spot next to his boyfriend's right side. He pulled the blanket he was using off his slightly cold body and threw it at the two boys who were still seated on the couch with their eyes wide and mouths apart.

“K-Katsuki-“

“Kachaan, he didn’t mean it-“

Bakugou gave them a once over, his face expressionless, and walked over to the guest room, locking the door. He slid down the door and curled into himself, resting his head on his knees and hugging his legs. His headache was getting worse and he was starting to shiver more with the cold air hitting his warm body.

Bakugou cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes. He wasn’t going to fucking cry dammit. But this fever was fucking killing him. He heard Todoroki and Izuku arguing, well more like Izuku was scolding Todoroki, and usually, Bakugou would smirk and enjoy this, but today, he really didn’t give a fuck.

So, with whatever amount of energy he had left, he mustered it up and got his ass from the floor by the door and crawled to into the bed in the guest bedroom and curled up under the covers and hugged the pillow under his head. He ignored all the knocks and the whispers and pleas from his boyfriends to open the door, and he fell asleep.

—

He didn’t open his eyes when he was beginning to wake up. His headache was getting better, but he didn’t want to wake up yet, so, he kept them shut and snuggled in closer to the warm body-

Wait, this isn’t the pillow he fell asleep on.

Groggily, Bakugou opened his eyes and first saw a clothed chest in his line of view.

Okay, it’s one of his boyfriends. He concludes that its most likely Izuku, after the stunt from the day before, he doubts Todoroki would want to be next to him. (Has it been a day? He doesn’t know, all he knows is that this heat radiating off the body next to him feels so good and he doesn’t want to get up-)

Izuku is hot but he isn’t this hot.

He trails his eyes from the chest, up to the collar bone and finally tilting his head up so see the face better.

Holy fuck its icy-hot. And he’s fucking sleeping.

Bakugou shifts slightly, wanting to get up and holy fuck you fucking Canadian flag, let me fucking go-

He freezes when he feels the body next to him tighten their arm around Bakugous slim waist and pull him closer. He hears the boy next to him sigh and he holds his breath when the eyes of his boyfriend slowly flutter awake.

“Good morning.”

Bakugou releases the breath he was holding and tried again to get out his boyfriends arms.

Why was he so hot? His head doesn’t hurt anymore but he’s fucking sweating-

He looks up at Todoroki and the fucker has the audacity to smile at him.

He was laying on Todorokis left side.  

In a fit of frustration (embarrassment) he sneers.

“I thought you loved Deku more, why the fuck are you using your left side on me for?”

His boyfriends smile drops and he looks away. Bakugous surprised because he looks hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt, he hurt Bakugou-

“I’m sorry” Todoroki mutters. Bakugous brain stops for a moment as he feels Todorokis fingers run through his ash-blond hair. For once, he doesn’t care if he’s being vulnerable. He snuggled closer and closed his eyes.

“I'm still mad” he declared. He wanted to reassure his boyfriend that he was mad, but he also didn’t want this fuzzy feeling in his stomach about Todoroki finally offered to use his left side for him.

Todoroki huffed out a laugh and slowly massaged his head.

“I'm so sorry love. I don’t know what prompted me to say that. I love both you and Izuku equally, there is no competition. I love you so much Katsuki. Your playful rivalry made me better and made me realize things to make me a better person, a better hero. Sure we butt heads a lot, but that makes us stronger.” He shifts so that Bakugou is laying flat on his back and he’s hovering over him. “I love your attitude. I love that even though you yell and swear up and down that you don’t care about anyone, you make sure Izuku and I are okay and safe. You cook us heavenly meals to make sure we eat and get worried- shut up you know you do- and scold us when we do something stupid and help us heal and bandage our wounds.” At this point, Bakugou has an arm thrown over his eyes, mostly to cover the fact that he’s fucking blushing and getting teary-eyed- fuck this sickness, and Todorki begins to kiss his neck softly.

“I love you much Katsuki. I’m sorry that I upset you, baby. I love you so, so, so much.”

Todoroki removed Katsukis arm and smiled softly at his boyfriend's flushed face and teary eyes. He leans down and brushed his lips overs Bakugous.

“But you have to tell us when you’re sick, love.”

Bakugou blinked and groaned. Just then, the door opened and revealed Izuku with a damp towel and a bowl of soup. He looked at the bed and beamed brightly at his two boyfriends, knowing that they have made up.

“Ah, Kachaan! You’re awake! It’s a good thing I kept the key to the guest room on top of the door frame. When you weren’t answering we thought you wanted to be alone, but you weren’t answering at all and it was just to quiet so I started thinking things I probably shouldn’t have so I unlocked the door and then we saw you were passed out on the bed but like you were sweating more than usual so we moved you back to our room and-“

“ ‘Zuku, honey, breathe.” Todorki smiled and moved around the bed so his back was against the bed frame and Bakugou was between his legs.

Izuku smiled sheepishly and walked towards them, setting the bowl of soup on the nightstand and folding the wet towel in half. He placed the towel on Bakugous head and smiled sweetly when the blond sighed happily.

“You should let us know when you’re sick Kachaan. Todoroki was freaking out because he thought he made you sick.”

Bakugou placed his hands onto of Todorokis where he had them placed around his waist. He looked up at Izuku and gestured him to sat down next to him. Carefully, Izuku grabbed the bowl and used the spoon to mix the soup inside it, blowing on it slightly.

“I called my mother and she informed me that usually when someone had a fever, they should sweat it out.” As Todoroki said this, he let his left side get a bit hotter, just enough to make Bakugou comfortable. Bakugou hummed in his daze and leaned more of his weight into his boyfriend. His other boyfriend brought a spoon up to his mouth filled with soup and the blonde scowled slightly before opening his mouth and swallowing around the spoon.

Spicy. He thought.

Todoroki shifted behind him and nuzzled the back of his neck.

“Love, hurry and get better soon. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

Izuku grinned mischievously.

“Yeah Kachaan, I want to show you too.”

[fandom-necromancer]

648. You’re adorable and I can’t believe I have you all to myself.

This was prompted by the wonderful @smolandangry001! Thank you so much for the prompt! Loved writing overly romantic Gavin!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: soulmate AU

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

It was a weird thing to appear on Gavin’s wrist as a soul mark. It was met by overall confusion and some people were vastly disappointed at seeing it. But well, Gavin couldn’t care less. Maybe it meant he would meet someone online and this was some sort of gamertag? Well, sure, that hadn’t happened ever before but maybe he was just odd. Maybe there wouldn’t be a soulmate at all. Maybe this was some sort of car he would be very affectionate about. So yeah, where everyone was sorry for him, he was just indifferent. What was this whole stuff about soulmates even about? He had his cats, his job, his motorcycle. What more was there to be expected?

That was until androids were built. The first machines built to help the elderly, the first experiments with advanced problem solving, the first official model for the general public. He was devastated. This damn mark looked awfully similar to their designations. AC700. WK500. MP800. Oh, how he hated himself for this. His soulmate was a damn thoughtless emotionless machine? No thank you. No thank you a thousand times! Anxiously he had bought magazines about the newest androids, desperately searching for RKs. It was an obsession to the point where visitors took him for a huge nerd and were surprised when he said he hated the damn things.

It got even worse when the RK series started. RK200 – caretaker. Great. Would he get injured on the job and be long enough in hospital to lose his mind? Or worse? He didn’t want to think about it. When there was a RK800 to join their team, he was horrified and relieved at the same time. No caretaker, no life as a wounded officer that needed help to go take a piss. But RK800? That wasn’t too far from 900. Would that mean, he was to meat the guy soon? Was it even a man? Ugh, what if it was a woman? Probably not. But hey, a detective wasn’t too bad. And although Connor wasn’t at all his type with the quirky niceness, he was competent and could be a worthy opponent when provoked enough. Maybe this wasn’t so bad as he had thought in the beginning? Sure, he didn’t like the thought of having a machine for a soulmate, but Connor wasn’t the emotionless idiot that androids had been in the beginning. There was personality. Even if it was simulated, what difference did that make? There was no particular reason he liked cats, so if someone programmed a machine to like dogs, was that really that much of a difference. Oh, damn, if his soul mate liked dogs, that would be a big no. But would he? Nah, he wouldn’t be his soul mate then, would he?

He was nearly at peace with the fact that an android would be his soulmate, as the revolution broke out. Was he already out there? How would they meet? Hopefully not in a life or death situation where he would have to betray his friends and change sides. Would his soul mark simply vanish some day because the android was killed at the protests? He followed the news more thoroughly, spied on Connor’s investigation and spent hours at home staring at the black bold letters on his wrist in worry about a machine that wasn’t even build yet.

The revolution succeeded. Androids were granted their freedom. Gavin could only be relieved even if he didn’t show it outwardly yet. Hell, Connor was a good guy. Not his friend, but a good and honest officer. He deserved it. And it was better for humans too, having them as equals, not as first choice.

They stopped the production of androids. It was a terrifying event for Gavin. He stood in front of the precinct’s television with a few others, as a well-dressed reporter stood in front of a recently shut-down android-factory. He raised his hand and rubbed over his soul mark. It hadn’t vanished yet. That was a good sign, no? It meant the android was still out there, right? There was still a chance to meet him. Gavin didn’t know why he was so fazed by this. He had never cared for this whole soulmate bullshit, but now… He wanted to meet the guy. Suddenly the prospect of staying completely alone until the end of his life was… he was scared of it.

Tina hugged him from behind. The only person he had talked to about all of this. ‘Don’t worry. You will meet him, it’s fate. Nothing gets in the way of fate!’ ‘I wish I could be as confident as you are.’ He really wished.

 ‘This is your new partner.’ Gavin toyed with his zipper instead of looking up. Ever since the police had raided Cyberlife tower he was numb. No new androids. The RK series ended at 800. There would never be a 900. He would be alone with his cats. And that was okay. It had to be. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’ There was a hand intruding his vision and Gavin took it to shake it half-heartedly. Until suddenly the skin retracted under his. Surprised Gavin wanted to take a step back, but the grip was strong, and he looked down on the white chassis. Gavin Reed

He looked up and suddenly didn’t knew how to breath anymore. Connor, but not really. Tall. Grey to blue eyes. Stern look but hidden softness behind it. Gavin’s eyes trailed to the jacked, a stark white to contrast Connor’s grey. The bold letters had to be fake. This had to be a prank. RK900. Gavin found enough brainpower to suck in a breath and utter far too quick: ‘What is your serial number?’ ‘#313 248 317 - 87’, The android answered with a smirk.

‘Oh my god. You-‘ He had to take a break to get air back into his lungs. ‘You- I waited so long. And with the- with all the- I thought I would never meet you.’ ‘But you have.’ ‘Yes! I- I need a moment to process this. God, this is so awkward for a first impression. You don’t even know me and I’m over here hyperventilating like an idiot. Ugh, I’m sorry.’ ‘I already know enough, detective’, the RK900 chuckled and finally let go of his hand. Gavin already missed the contact. ‘What?’ ‘I know that you’re adorable and I can’t believe I have you all to myself.’ ‘I’m what? I-‘ ‘Could you two please have this conversation somewhere else?’ Gavin looked at the captain mortified. Phck, they were still in his office. ‘Never coined you for the hopelessly romantic type, Reed, but I don’t have to know even more than what I already heard. Get the hell out of here and give each other the heart-eyes somewhere else!’ ‘Jealous, Captain?’ Gavin looked at the android and shook his head in disbelief. ‘Out! Now!’

‘Okay, I know we are meant for each other, but I can’t wait to get to know you, tin-can!’ ‘I look forward to that too.’ The android got down on the vacant chair opposite to him. ‘Although I wonder if you are the asshole everyone described you to me.’ ‘Trust me, I am usually. But who told you?’ ‘The RK800. Connor freed me from Cyberlife tower. He was rather shocked as he saw the soul mark and I quote: you are the biggest asshole in the precinct and there was no way I would fall for someone like you.’ ‘Well, then. I always like to prove the plastic detective wrong.’ ‘Yeah, I guess you can count me in on that. I was supposed to be his replacement as a better unit. I think it’s time to rub that in... Together?’ ‘Together.’

[apathetic-revenant]

alright I have had this Doctor Who rant building up in me for years and I gotta get it out eventually so I might as well go ahead and do it

this rant is about why I stopped watching the show after season 7 and it’s not gonna be complimentary so I will put it under a cut and not in the tag so no one has to read it that doesn’t want to. 

also it is very long. 

some background: I started watch Doctor Who when I was thirteen. because I have a knack for picking the worst place to start a series, the first episode I ever fully watched was Human Nature. it was very confusing, but I was entranced. I immediately went to the internet and looked up as much as I could find about the show, and before the next episode had even aired I was already whole-heartedly in love with it.

Doctor Who was very important to me for the next several years. it was something to hold onto through some pretty difficult times. it could be quite hard to watch in the US (let alone to get a hold of merch or novels) but I grabbed every scrap of it that I could. Doctor Who was something that I found solace in when everything else seemed absolutely awful.

so it really hurt to fall out of love with it. but I did. 

now I’m fully willing to admit that a lot of what happened had to do with very personal, specific circumstances for me, and truthfully I don’t know how much of it applies to anyone else at all. but...I don’t think that makes my feelings about it entirely invalid either.

I was sad to see RTD and Ten--my first Doctor--go, but I was very excited for Steven Moffat to take over. I thought that the episodes that he had written were some of the best in the show, and I was looking forward to what he would do with more free rein. but he disappointed me in a lot of ways.

I don’t like Moffat’s writing, not anymore. I think he did well under the constraints of only writing one story a season, but not when given control over the entire show. I think his overarching plot lines are grandiose, over-complicated, are more concerned with building themselves up than delivering a satisfying resolution, and show a tendency to think that stories get more interesting the larger they are in scale, which is sometimes true but certainly not always. I think he spends too much time talking things up--his characters, his stories--resulting in a lot of telling and not enough showing. I think the occasional bombastic reminder of how old/powerful/smart/morally conflicted/whatever the Doctor is is fine enough, but that Moffat turned the dial on that up so much that I got sick of hearing people talk about the Doctor at all, which is not a good thing for the protagonist of the show. I think he hamstrung his own monsters by insisting on bringing them back over and over on increasingly larger scales so that something that was originally scary because it was mysterious and unknown become banal through over-exposure. I think his characterization is extremely poor, resulting in characters that are either inconsistent, two-dimensional, or both. I think he relied too much on using Time Travel Rules for dramatic effect, which doesn’t work too well when said Rules were made up just for that episode and aren’t consistent. I think he has a deeply irritating tendency to extend his control not just over his own era but on the entire show: ret-conning the Time War to what he thought it should be, writing characters that are not just the most important person ever to the Doctor he is writing, but to every Doctor there’s ever been. 

but. 

all that is just writing. I think it’s bad writing, and not writing that I at all enjoyed, but just bad writing on its own doesn’t really offend me. Doctor Who has had plenty of bad writing in the past and it’s carried on quite well regardless, and even if I don’t like it, well, if other people do then that’s good for them and I can live and let live.

the problem is that bad writing is not all that I disliked about the show under Moffat’s tenure. it is not what made me truly and deeply uncomfortable with the show as it went on until I had to stop watching it altogether.

here’s where the personal bit starts to come in. see, I’m asexual. at thirteen, I don’t think I really knew that yet, but I had started to twig that there was something a bit different about me. I didn’t seem to be feeling all the things thirteen year olds were usually supposed to be feeling. I read YA books describing puberty in ways that I often felt uncomfortable with and disconnected from. but maybe I was a late bloomer, I thought--I didn’t really have a lot of other information to go on anyway. 

so when I was reading up on the show after watching Human Nature and read that the Doctor typically didn’t show any interest in romance or attraction, I didn’t exactly think “oh, it’s someone like me!” but it definitely drew my attention, even if all I thought was “oh thank god, a show that won’t spend so much time on all that weird boring stuff.”

of course, watching the second part of that two-parter made it pretty clear that while the classic series may have abstained from romance, the new series felt no such restriction. I was disappointed, but not too much, because this was pretty much business as usual and I was very accustomed to it. 

but I’ve never been able, since then, to completely disconnect my experience with watching Doctor Who with my experience of discovering asexuality and what that meant for me. not when it contained the only character I’d yet encountered who even came close to being canonically asexual. not when there was so much discussion in and around the fandom about how the Doctor should be written. not when the show itself was clearly conscious of wanting to prove that whatever had happened in the old series, the new series Doctor was not asexual.

it was little things. like the way, any time I read anything about that infamous kiss in the TV movie, the reaction to it was always characterized as being a silly fandom thing--oh these repressed nerds, fussing about how the Doctor kissing someone violates canon, just goes to show how stuffy and out of touch they are. or the discussions of ‘dancing’ in season one that scornfully made clear that of course the Doctor felt attraction because it’s such a fundamental thing that it’d be weird for even an alien not to feel it. I mean, who could empathize with a character who wasn’t interested in sex?! it was things like the way the EU in the hiatus years tended to play up the Doctor being asexual--all in the service of making him seem more alien, more detached from human emotion. it was things that I never saw anyone complain about, that no one else ever seemed to think was a problem in any way, so I thought the fault must be mine for being uncomfortable with it.

I’m well aware that this did not start with Moffat--the new series was taking part in it from the outset, and I have my own issues with that (I’ve never been able to get onboard with a romance between a 1000+ year old alien and a 19-year-old girl. sorry, I know lots of people love that ship, but I just can’t personally). but it got a lot worse under his tenure.

I watched the TARDIS--a goddamn inanimate blue box--get characterized as the Doctor’s wife, a woman, called ‘sexy’, because for some reason the connection between an alien and their biomechanical time machine needs to map nicely onto a heterosexual relationship. I watched River making orgasm jokes at the camera with a wink, and the sonic screwdriver used to make dick jokes. I watched a parade of female characters that all seemed to fall into the mold of Sexy Flirty Feisty, who all fell hopelessly in love with the Doctor, whose lives revolved around him even from a very young age. 

I remember feeling sick and stunned as I watched a scene where Amy started making out with the Doctor while he tried to get away, a scene that was clearly supposed to be funny. I watched all this at the same time that I was struggling with the idea that I didn’t think I wanted sex at all, feeling like I was weird and wrong for it, like I would eventually have to fall into the right mold and go through the motions no matter how much I didn’t want to, because there didn’t seem to be any room in the world for a person like me. 

but even then, I felt like the problem was more on me. Doctor Who wasn’t really doing anything that every other show I watched didn’t do. it felt selfish to expect the show to cater to me when I was clearly in the vast minority of people. anyway, I didn’t really expect asexual representation. I still don’t. I’d love to have it, but expecting would just be getting my hopes up a lot so they could be dashed over and over again. I know a lot of people still don’t even know that asexuality exists, or what it really is, which is becoming less and less of an excuse as it becomes more well known, but I still don’t ever expect it to be brought up in mainstream pop culture (at this point I pretty much figure I’ll just to have to do it myself). I assumed that this writing on Doctor Who came out of the same place, that they felt fine writing off any sign of asexuality in the old series as being an outdated artifact they were no longer bound to because they didn’t know there was anyone in real life who actually felt like that.

and then I read a quote from Steven Moffat, about Sherlock--another series featuring a character with a distinct lack of interest in sex or romance in the source material. Moffat said that Sherlock was not asexual because that would be boring--no fun at all--and that him intentionally distancing himself from his feelings was much more interesting.

that was the betrayal. that was when I realized--he knew. he knew what asexuality was and he chose not to put it in his work because it was boring. it was not just “I don’t see you.” it was “I see you, I know you exist, but I don’t care.”

all my struggle, my identity, my existence, willfully tossed aside because it was too boring to even think about, compared to the gripping tale of a straight dude who didn’t have time for women because he was too busy being really smart. 

in retrospect it’s not surprising. this was, after all, the same show in which a self-described lesbian falls for a man, I guess to show that Sherlock is just so appealing that women will change sexualities for him. but hey, it goes both ways--this is the same character that, according to Moffat, Sherlock only lost to in the original story because he fancied her and got distracted. obviously nothing else could explain a woman beating Sherlock Holmes. don’t worry, he corrected that little oversight in his show by having Irene have to be rescued by Sherlock, the way things should properly go. 

I guess that was the point where I lost trust in the show. Doctor Who had been there for me through a lot of rough shit, but it was not going to be there for me on this one. it was not going to make me feel more comfortable with myself, feel like I was okay just the way I was, like I could be proud in my own skin. I know it’s helped other people with that, and I am truly happy for them. but I wouldn’t be one of them. not while Moffat was in charge. I was too boring. now, another woman falling in love with the Doctor--now that would be interesting, eh?

I couldn’t trust anymore that any joke about the Doctor not understanding sex--ha ha, those jokes always seemed to go, look at the funny alien acting all confused and ignorant--would be any more than that, a joke, to be tossed aside the moment a tempting bit of lewd humor or romantic moment came up. I couldn’t trust that any female character would appear on the show--or even would have existed in the show’s history--without becoming yet another in the long line of women who fancied the Doctor. maybe the show would do better, maybe it would become something I could feel comfortable with again--but I was done waiting around to find out. 

I stopped watching the show. I went to college. I watched other stuff. I kept on struggling. I still didn’t see myself in media, in lots of ways, but I found people like me on the internet, I read niche fiction and bits of fanfic that finally described my experiences, and I started feeling better about myself. not perfect, but better. 

I wasn’t watching Doctor Who anymore, or Sherlock, but I heard things over time. 

like Moffat passing over three past Doctors, saying that despite them all being ready and capable he wasn’t including them in the 50th Anniversary because he didn’t think they’d want to “struggle into their old costumes” again, managing to simultaneously diss three great actors who’d been contributing to the show for decades and demonstrate a stunning lack of creativity for a sci-fi writer for a show with a large budget by apparently being unwilling to even try to figure out a way to work around them having aged. oh, but McGann got to come back long enough to get killed off. and we would have had Eccleston but he didn’t want to come back for the special that retconned all the work he put into his character as being based on a giant lie, I wonder why? 

like how Sherlock rewrote the ending of a story that originally had the villain finished off by a woman, because as the writers explained in an interview, it was completely unbelievable that that could happen. 

like lots of lovely little comments, about how women only watched Sherlock because they were attracted to Cumberbatch, or watched Doctor Who if the Doctor was hot enough; about how bisexual representation wasn’t needed because bi people were too busy “having fun” to watch TV anyway; about how the idea of a female Doctor was as silly as a male queen. well, fine. I’m personally glad that Steven Moffat dismissed the idea of a female Doctor because I shudder to think how he would have written her. 

I could go on, but I have other stuff to do. you don’t have to take my word for it, though; here’s a nice article to start with. 

I almost didn’t bother watching the newest season, but I made a spur of the moment decision to catch it. and I am enjoying it so far. it’s reminding me of the things I originally loved about the show. I was nervous about how the first female Doctor would be written, but watching Thirteen in action gave me a sense of empowerment I honestly wasn’t expecting. maybe someday I’ll be able to just completely enjoy the show again without having so many conflicting feelings about it. 

probably eventually I’ll go back and watch what I missed. there may be things I enjoy in there. episodes I like. I’ve gotten the impression I would like Capaldi himself. and if I just didn’t like Moffat’s writing, I would be happy to enjoy what I enjoyed and not bother with the rest. I would be willing to believe that he might improve or take a different tack that I enjoyed more. 

but after the things I’ve seen in Moffat’s writing, and the things he has said, I don’t trust him anymore. I don’t feel comfortable enough to ever fully enjoy his writing. I can’t respect him because I know he does not respect me. 

really I guess I should never have been all that surprised. like I said, I don’t really expect to see myself in most media. and plenty of works are worse than Doctor Who. 

I guess Doctor Who was just the only one that got my hopes up first. 

[vexation-virgil]

Colors (Part 10)

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Soulmate AU)

Pairings: Prinxiety, mentions of Logicality

Warnings: General angst, some cursing, mention of suicide, mention of depression(As always, if there is anything that needs tagged, let me know!)

Summary: Everyone knows when you meet your soulmate, the world is supposed to fill with color for the both of you. Unfortunately for Roman Patrick, that is not always the case.

Taglist: @pendragonqueen09 , @anaveragegayfan , @stillebesat, @anxious-but-whatever, @applecannibal, @pikachu-12, @your-username-is-unavailable, @inkblotsanddoodles , @mikasiri, @hayleycreagine , @phlying-squirrel , @insert-epic-blogger-name-here , @lollingtothemax , @emerald-and-fluorite , @fall-chemically-atthedisco , @miss-meg1710, @glamorousgizmo , @sleepyssnail , @unicornlogan , @brieflyenchantingcoffee , @nerd-in-space , @heir-of-the-founders , @logicallyanxious-morallyromantic , @illiani , @simplyoutof-somthing  , @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn  , @otaku-marijane , @virgeofselfdestruction

A/N: Have some Moxiety for the soul. The next part is going to be bumpy. Enjoy! (Also @pendragonqueen09 - frickin’ thanks for pointing out that Virge would very much love Patton’s monochrome hoodie)

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 You Are Here  PART 11 PART 12

Virgil knew there was no way he was going to sleep, even with the calming tea coursing through his body all he could do was pace around the small guest room. He was too on edge for the tea to do much except make it easier to think about all that was wrong with what happened, why he wished it hadn’t, why he wanted to disappear and never show his face again. Skip town and never show up again - as if his dad would allow that. They’d left their hometown because Virgil couldn’t stand that anymore, he wouldn’t be allowed to do that again.

But he could put it off the whole confrontation for as long as physically possible. He could skip a couple days of school and feign illness with his dad before he caught on and forced Virgil out of the house and back to school. He could probably even make it a whole week before he had to face Roman or his brother.

And Virgil planned to do just that - ignore his existence for as long as possible, pretend this didn’t happen for as long as possible. When it finally seemed like the house had settled around him, no more clinking glasses down the hall, no more muffled footsteps, no more hushed whispers, Virgil started on his escape plan. With everyone asleep, he could just walk out the front door and never look back.

Which, of course, would’ve worked much better if there wasn’t someone laying in front of the door blocking his way out. For people who didn’t know him at all, they sure knew enough about him to know he was going to try and make a break for it anyway. 

Backdoor escape it is.

The floorboard creaked below his feet as he tried to backpedal out of the little hallway by the door. Virgil tensed as the person shifted under their blankets, turning towards the source of the sound. “Whossit?” Their voice was thick with sleep and maybe if Virgil stayed quiet they’d go back to bed. His luck was working against him, he realized, when the person sat up and reached for their glasses. “Virgil?” They grumbled, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Patton, Virgil decided, stood from the floor to flick on the light and flood the small space with light.

The disappointed frown on Patton’s face made Virgil want to curl right up into a ball. “Sorry. I was just… Sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to keep looking at the older boy. He couldn’t handle that look.

“You just what, kiddo? Wanna talk about it?” Patton’s voice, though still rough with sleep, was soft and warm. Though the look he was giving Virgil was filled with disappointment, his voice showed no sign of malice towards Virgil, but maybe pity for him instead. Virgil wasn’t entirely sure he liked that better.

Patton motioned for him to sit on top of the blankets, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie to pull him down when he realized that Virgil was reluctant to join him. Patton stared at him expectantly and Virgil squirmed a bit under his gaze. “I’m not entirely sure what you want me to say,” he admitted quietly as he started to pick at the blankets.

Patton shrugged and leaned back at the door with his face still turned towards Virgil, open and accepting. Virgil relaxed a bit under the gaze. “Why you were trying to leave might be a good place to start,” the other prompted.

Virgil stayed quiet for a moment - a moment that felt like seconds, minutes, and hours all at once - before he took a deep breath starting to pick at the blanket beneath them. “You know the story. My mom… Just. Left my dad. Abandoned us without any warning. It was a lot to handle. I was twelve and my mom was dead and my dad was so sad.” He paused, wiping at his eyes as they grew wet. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of this virtual stranger. He steeled himself to continue. “The idea that there’s only one person, one perfect person for you is shitty. My dad didn’t come back from losing her, not really. I wasn’t able to get the comfort and all that shit that I needed from him - I lost her, too, but she was his soulmate. I ended up taking care of him more than he was taking care of me.

“After he finally seemed to piece his life together, I promised myself I would not go through something like that. No matter what it took. I pushed down that feeling with everything I had. Closed myself off, cut out my friends, we even moved because I wanted to. Moving here was my choice. And the universe, as some sick joke, decided that I needed to move where the supposed love of my life was going to be. Fucking Florida. I thought it would be home, in Missouri, but it’s not. I thought I was getting away with it… And I didn’t. I don’t want to do this, Patton.”

Beside him, Patton blew out a slow breath and shifted so that he was sitting up a little straighter. “You wanna know something? Roman said the same thing,” he told him. Virgil’s brows scrunched together but he didn’t look up from the blanket. “He thought he was one-sided. And you know him, you’ve talked to him. He is a romantic, through and through. He was so excited to meet his soulmate and Roman talked about it all the time while we were growing up. He thought it was some ‘sick joke’ that he met you and you weren’t meant to be his. He cried and cried when he told us.”

Virgil closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt Roman, even before he became painfully aware of Roman’s sight. He was his first friend in years and he was fiercely protective of his friends. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize. Not to me, anyway. You can decide if you owe Roman an apology or not, but you don’t owe one to me,” Patton told him. An arm snaked around his shoulder and Virgil melted into the older boy despite his best efforts. The hoodie he was still wearing was soft and warm and plain and familiar and Virgil turned his face into it. Patton hummed quietly, carding his finger’s through Virgil’s hair. “You should talk to him. Be honest about your feelings, even if it’s hard. He’s pretty patient, he’ll listen to you. He’ll do what you want him to, too, if you want space or time to think. But you /have/ to talk to him first, kiddo.”

Virgil snorted half-heartedly, tired and slowly crumbling with Patton’s touch. He nodded, face still hidden in Patton’s hoodie. He could stay and talk to Roman.

He had to.

[jo-anna-marie]

Yours, Mine, or Ours

I borrowed the idea from an episode of Will and Grace :D

Eliza came out of her room at quarter past eight and walked straight to the coffee pot. It was still warm, so John must not have been gone too long. John was a thoughtful roomie, always making a fresh pot in the morning and leaving some for Eliza.

After inhaling enough java to start her day, Eliza put on a some dark jeans and a plain shirt. No need to dress to impress for the toddlers at Graham Wiindham Daycare. She grabbed her old, stained Doctor Who tote bag and locked up.

“Geez louise. When is someone going to fix this old piece of junk!” Eliza grumbled to herself. The elevator finally opened and had only one occupant still inside. He was tall, with reddish-brown hair, and the most  beautiful violet eyes Eliza has ever seen. He smiled like some sort of freakish morning person, no coffee thermos or wrinkled attire. In fact, he looked like he was on his way to a fancy job interview. Eliza entered, subtly adjusting her sports bra and wishing she slapped on a touch of mascara.

“Hey.” Eliza said, internally face palming at her less than graceful small talk.

“Oh, umm..hey! Is that from Doctor Who? I love that show! Obsessed, really!” The handsome ginger replied, pointing to her bag.

“What? Oh, my bag. YES! I mean, yeah. I can’t wait for the new season to start. I, um..don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new?” Eliza blushed. She didn’t usually get nervous around a guy, but he was so frickin, frackin cute. And a fellow nerd!

“I just moved in. I’m on the floor above you. I’m Alexander, by the way.” He replied,unnecessarily pointing up.

“I’m Eliza. Maybe we could get together and watch the new Doctor Who. I have a roommate, but he won’t bother us. He doesn’t like that kind of stuff.” She suggested as both of them stepped out of the elevator, walking toward the exit.

“That would be great. My coworkers aren’t into that kind of stuff, either. What about next Saturday? Here’s my number, just text me the details.” Alex smiled brightly, handing over his business card.

“Sounds great! Well, umm...germino! Hahaha.” Eliza half laughed, half grimaced as she went through the revolving doors.

John was tired from a long day at the office, dealing with less than innocent clients and unimpressed judges. Nothing some burgers and red wine can’t fix. The doors were just about to close when a sleek leather briefcase was shoved in. The elevator opened up again and in stepped a gorgeous stranger in a dark grey, tailored suit.

“I would have held the door if I knew you were on the other side.” John smiled at the small blush spreading on the other occupant’s cheeks.

“I’m Alexander. You must be one of my neighbors. I just moved in a few weeks ago.” He said, straightening his dark blue tie.

“I’m John. Did you need help setting up your place? I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.” John laughed at his own less than subtle offer.

“I’m mostly set up, but I could use some help with my AC  unit if you know anything about them. I’m pretty useless when it comes to handyman stuff.” Alex confessed sheepishly.

“Not really, but two heads are better than one. I bet we could figure it out. I’ll bring some wine, if you order us a pizza. What about Saturday?” John said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Oh, Saturday. I’m afraid I can’t that day. But maybe Sunday?” Alex asked, holding the elevator when John reached his floor.

“Hot date, huh? Ok. Sunday, it is.” John winked as the doors closed.

“Oh, my god. You won’t believe who has scored a date with a major hottie!” John called out as soon as he entered his apartment.

“What? You too! Something must be in the air, because I have a date this week too.” Eliza laughed, sitting comfortably in her fuzzy pjs.

“Not that creepy dad from your daycare? I thought we agreed that was a bad idea.” John shuddered.

“Uh, definitely not. I’m not that desperate. I met this guy on my way to work today. Super cute.” Eliza grinned, recalling the dream boat from this morning.

“You dirty bird! Well, I met mine on the way home. He just moved here and needs a helping hand.” John laughed, dropping his case on the table and sitting across from his bestie.

“My guy just moved here, too. Weird. He’s not a Doctor Who fan with red hair and a cute butt?” Eliza joked.

“Well, I don’t know about the nerd stuff, but he is a red head and would win best ass for sure.” John answered, laughing half heartedly.

“His name isn’t Alexander, right?” Eliza asked, taking a large sip from her beer bottle.

“Well, fuck. You’ve asked out another gay guy! You just have no luck.” John said, stealing a sip of his roommate’s drink.

“He’s not gay! He asked me out. You are the one falling for yet another straight boy!” Eliza yelled a little louder than she had intended.

“Well I guess we’ll find out this weekend, now won’t we?” John huffed, storming off to his bedroom.

“Yeah! I guess we will.” Eliza called back even though the door was already closed.

Eliza and John spent the next few days making huffy commentary under their breaths and avoiding one another. When Saturday finally came, Eliza spent the whole day trying on different outfits and discarding each one. Usually John would help her dress up for her dates, but they weren’t really talking right now. Maybe she should cancel. John was probably right anyway. Guys like Alex are more likely to hook up with someone confident and flirty like John, or her sister Angelica.

“Hey, John I wanted to talk. I’m sorry, let’s not fight anymore.” Eliza said, knocking on her roomie’s door.

“John, don’t be like this. Come on!” She huffed, barging into his empty room. She didn’t even hear him leave. Oh, well. It probably wouldn’t be fair to blow off Alex this close to their date.

She put on a short jean skirt and a Dalek tank, hoping she looked sexy but still casual.

She knocked on the apartment, nervous but also excited.

“Oh, hey Eliza! What are you doing here?” John asked, laughing at the surprise on Eliza’s face. “Me? ME! What am I doing here, what are you doing here?” Eliza shouted, then quickly lowered her voice and pushed her way inside.

“Do you two know each other?” Alexander asked, looking back and forth between the pair.

“Oh, John’s my dear friend. I’ve known him for ages, you know  before the herpes.” Eliza replied.

“Joking, she’s joking. We’re roommates.” John winced.

“Roommates? Does that mean you two are, um...together?” Alex asked, laughing at the awkward tension.

“NO” both of them yelled.

“You see we have a bet. Eliza thinks your straight and I told her that you're batting for my team.” John turned his attention back to Alexander.

“Wait, that’s why you both wanted to hang out with me? I think you should leave.” Alex said, opening the door for them.

“Well, have a good night John. Don’t wait up for me.” Eliza smirked.

“I meant both of you.” Alex said, crossing his arms and locking the door behind them.

“Oh, well I guess you were right. Straight as an arrow.” John chuckled.

“What? No way! He’s totally gay.” Eliza shook her head, laughing lightly.

The two of them argued the rest of the way back to their apartment. Alexander was not amused. Well, maybe a little.

[seedserotiny]

Pyrohydriscence

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Lapidot, past Jaspis

Summary: Human AU. Lapis loses everything. Her car, her apartment, her sense of control over her own life… and then she gains a roommate.

Warnings for this chapter: none

Chapter 5

Peridot was still at work when she got home. Today was Friday, though, so the next two days would be her time off. Lapis wondered if she was going to get anything done with her roommate home. So far she hadn't had any callbacks on her applications. It was really too early to worry about that, but since she was starting to like Peridot, she felt like she should probably definitely get some money coming in sooner rather than later. She had savings still, which would cover the first month, but she didn't have much after that. The responsible part of her wanted to keep on the hunt for a job every day until she landed one.

She wondered how long it would take. Lapis had a decent resume: some college, some job experience, and, thankfully, her DUI didn't count as a felony, so she didn't have to put it on her applications. Of course, she couldn't work anywhere that served alcohol, so her options were limited. Pretty much any kind of restaurant job was off the table, for example.

She half-heartedly submitted her resume to another coffee shop. Lapis was definitely not just sitting around waiting for Peridot to get home. Nope.

The sound of keys in the lock brought her back to attention. Pumpkin scrambled off the beanbag chair and waited by the door. Lapis tried not to think too hard about the fact that she and Peridot's pet seemed to share the same level of excitement about Peridot's impending presence.

She entered behind a stack of pizzas. What a splendid human being. "I hope you like mushrooms," she called out, plopping the boxes on a kitchen counter. Lapis loved mushrooms. Now that her hands were free, she gave Pumpkin a good ear scritch, went to the fridge, and popped open a soda. "Happy Friday!" She announced, making a 'cheers' gesture and heading off for her daily post-grimey-job shower. "By the way, you owe me for one of the pizzas, free-loader!" She shouted through the door before the sound of running water kicked on.

Lapis groaned dramatically. She thought she almost heard her roommates signature nasally snicker through the walls.

When Peridot returned, Lapis was ready on the couch with Pumpkin and two plates of several slices of pizza. "Season 1 finale!!" She yodeled when Peridot joined her on the couch. She was surprised that her vertically challenged roommate had changed right into some comfy pajamas, rather than her usual post-work attire. Her pants had little aliens on them. Lapis coveted them.

"Prepare yourself. Not everyone can survive exposure to the sheer amount of talent that went into this episode," Peridot said ominously.

Lapis clenched her fists and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment as if she was centering herself. "I think I'm ready."

Peridot nodded solemnly and started the show.

Approximately 44 minutes later, Lapis sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, enraptured, shaken. "What. You mean… this whole time? And that part with Paulette, and Pierre, oh my God."

"I knoooow!"

"We must start season 2 immediately." She began to rummage for the second disc set. She smiled. This was much better therapy than… actual therapy.

"Hey Lapis?"

Oh, maybe not. Peridot's voice sounded serious, and not in the usual hammy way that meant she was playing it up for the effect. Lapis turned around. Her roommates brows were furrowed, and she looked right into Lapis's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Who's your favorite character?"

Lapis punched her in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for!"

"For being such a damn nerd. And hm…" Lapis pondered a moment. "Paulette, I think."

"What!!"

"What."

"Paulette is by far the weakest character. I don't know what Percy sees in that… sobbing magnet of misfortune."

"Well, she is kind of hot."

"Well, yeah, but they have no TRUE compatibility. It's like the writers are forcing the relationship at every turn. Percy wastes SO much of his time protecting Paulette and performing these romantic gestures. I don't think she even comprehends how much he does for her. Take, for example, season 1 episode 4, when they have the archery competition-"

Lapis tried to look like she was absorbing anything Peridot said after that. These speeches tended to have momentum; it was easier to let her finish than it was to try to stop her. Besides, Peridot looked so sad and embarrassed when she realized she'd been ranting. Lapis occupied herself by getting up and putting in the next disc. She found herself enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Yeah, she sincerely doubted she'd get a lot done this weekend.

By the time Lapis tried to return to the couch, Peridot had worked herself into a lather. She gesticulated, lying on her back, sprawled across the couch. "And then, in episode 7! Blurgh blurgha blurrgh," she said. Or something like that.

The tiny woman was somehow taking up the whole couch.

Lapis responded like a rational adult and flopped backwards onto the middle seat, crushing Peridot underneath her back in a surprisingly comfortable lounging position. Peridot gurgled and sputtered. "Hey, don't let me interrupt. Episode 7, right?" Said Lapis. She grinned as Peridot "Tiny Hands" Pumpkinmom struggled in vain to escape.

"Behemoth!" Peridot screamed, managing to wiggle her torso free and beginning to push on the side of Lapis's head and arm.

"I am 5 foot 3, you hobbit."

Peridot's wriggling and slapping was starting to disturb her lounging. Lapis grabbed both of Peridot's wrist and held them in one hand. This was the first time Lapis had ever had size as an advantage in a tussle. The power was going to her head.

Some of the noises that Peridot made in response were not quite human, but they were quite entertaining. Lapis didn't realize she was laughing gleefully until she snorted. Oh no. She just gave the enemy ammunition.

Peridot inhaled a breath, no doubt locking and loading a sick burn.

"I'll let you go if you don't say whatever it is you're about to say," interrupted Lapis.

Peridot calculated the costs and benefits of that proposal for a moment. "I accept your terms."

Lapis released her, just in time for the theme song to end and the show proper to start. Peridot settled into her usual sitting position with a huff.

Lapis pretended not to notice that they were still technically touching.

----

Yep, Lapis got absolutely nothing productive done that weekend. And she had plans for this one. The fish tank Peridot had given her was all set up now. They were definitely going to have to go to the pet store to pick up some aquatic residents. And Steven wanted to hang out too.

But for now, it was still Friday afternoon, and she still had to finish out her second session with Dr. Garnet.

"It was my fault, really, I initiated casual physical contact first. Now, between Steven, Peridot, and Pumpkin, I get no moments of peace. My space is no longer sacred. Yesterday I was reading in a one person bean bag chair and suddenly I had a rabbit and a house elf reading over my shoulder. Reading is not a team sport. She made me wait to turn the page until she caught up. Who does this?!" Lapis ranted.

Garnet chucked, "I understand completely. But, I have to ask, does this contact really bother you? Communicating boundaries is very important in close relationships."

Close relationship was a little strong. I mean, she'd known this group of people for what… 4 weeks now? Way too soon for close relationship status. For sure. "Well, I don't know, it's different than I'm used to." Honestly, Lapis was more familiar with being touched in a much different context.

"Forgive me if I assume too much, but I think it's possible you're enjoying the affection. Based on what you've shared with me, you're overdue for some healthy friendships."

A tactical strike. Lapis wasn't used to being read so easily either. "I mean, it's not… unpleasant, to be touched. I just. I don't want her to get any ideas or something."

"Hm." The head tilt.

"That just sounds like some awful drama, having to reject Peridot if she makes a move or something. We live in like… the same room."

"Hm-hm."

Lapis looked at the diploma behind Garnet's head. "Now that I say it out loud I feel silly, or like, vain. Like I expect anyone I'm around to want in my pants. God, what am I even talking about? I think Peridot would gnaw off her own arm before making me feel any negative emotion on purpose."

Garnet blinked. Maybe. The glasses made it hard to tell.

"I can't believe I actually wasted time sort of worrying about that. Why am I so uncomfortable with… comfortable situations? It's like I look for some hidden fucked up shit in everything. I mean, most of the time I'm right, but still. Steven trusts so much, and it seems to make him so happy. I kind of envy that."

"You shouldn't."

"Huh? Why?" Lapis was baffled, it didn't seem like a therapist to talk negatively about trusting people.

"You do trust."

Oh, she got it now. Well, kind of. "What do you mean?" Lapis was pretty damn sure that wasn't the case.

"You sincerely believe that Peridot wouldn't hurt you."

"Oh... Oh."

Garnet gave her a small smile.

"I don't know how to feel about that," Lapis admitted.

"Take as long as you need to process. Our session is almost over. We can continue this conversation next week, if that's something you'd like to do."

It was Lapis's turn to hm.

---

Lapis stood at the bus stop outside the clinic. For the first time in a while, she was really craving a drink. She dug her nails into her palms. She felt floaty, off balance, standing there, waiting for the bus. The shitty part of her started mapping out liquor stores that might not card her, bars she might be able to get into without flashing an ID. She wondered which bus lines would take her there. Her phone had a handy app for that sort of thing.

Her phone beeped. She thought of Jasper.

"Tell my baby angel Pumpkin I'm on my way home to him and I have baby spinach. Also hi Lapis, I guess." It was Peridot.

Lapis looked at her phone for a while. The bus pulled up. She got on and rode it home.

----

That stupid therapy session made Lapis start paying attention to her feelings. She didn't want to be caught off guard like that again. She would get so good at emotional self-awareness that that smug therapist wouldn't have anything to hm about. That's right, she would become a paragon of maturity out of pure spite.

But that whole process kind of sucked. If she hadn't been paying attention, she wouldn't have noticed things like the way she would feel a smile bubble up when something happened that she wanted to tell Peridot about later. She wouldn't have noticed how her body relaxed when she leaned into her on the couch, and how much fun she had during their many battles of wits. She wouldn't have noticed how her ridiculous outfits, the way she always spoke with her hands, and her nerdy ass hobbies were becoming sort of endearing despite everything Lapis stood for. When the interviews started coming in, despite the massive amounts of relief she felt every time she got a chance at a job, she felt agitated when they took place while Peridot was off work. Yeah, she would have much preferred to not have noticed any of those things.

She didn't know how she felt about those feelings. Periods of relaxed contentment were punctuated by periods of existential panic. Lapis felt like this all would have been better if it happened several years later, after she had time to untangle all her baggage. But she couldn't just ask Peridot to leave and come back later when she felt ready to interact with someone on a non-superficial level.

And besides, there was one feeling she could easily identify:

She didn't want any of it to change.

[choisgirls]

Request for 404! Requests for everyone (including V and Saeran) reacting to an MC who is in love with the ocean (like to the point that if they see the ocean, their first thought is to jump in) and stars!

A/N: Did you mean: ME?because holy shit just ask anyone i flip the fuck out over the ocean and E S PE C I A L L Y THE STARS *slides tons astronomy textbooks across the table* Igot the hook up ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

               -He loves the ocean too!

               -He remembers going to the beacha few times as a kid and how much fun he always had with his family, so hewanted to share a similar experience with you!

               -Everything was planned out!He’d share a nice picnic lunch with you first, then the two of you would relaxbefore taking a long walk hand in hand-

               -Except you threw that out thewindow in an instant

               -The moment you got there, youstripped your clothes to reveal your bathing suit underneath

               -(The action which was innocentbut Yoosung still practically fainted because w o w you’re a beautiful person)

               -You ran towards the waterdespite his protests

               -But he can’t actually get thatmad because watching you jump into the water made him want to get in too? Mightas well do something really fun together right??

               -Besides, isn’t spontaneity waymore fun than following a plan?? He didn’t want to turn out like /Jumin/ afterall

               -So he jumps into the water withyou! The two of you spent the whole day in the water and passed out the momentthe two of you laid on the beach towel, the picnic completely forgotten

*ZEN:

               -The Curse of the Beauty™stops him from going to the beach very often

               -But you wanted to go and he wasso ready to take you!

               -(Totally wasn’t because he wanted….tosee you…. in a swimsuit…)

               -The ocean breeze was sure tofeel amazing after all of the stress of practicing for his latest play

               -He kept trying to get you totake selfies with him but you just?? Kept playing??? In the water???

               -You looked so adorable justrunning and splashing around that he took selfies with you in the backgroundanyway

               -Totally the type to pick you upand throw you into the water, but did you like it? Yes

               -He felt really bad when you gottears in your eyes when he said it was time to leave

               -Had to carry you out of thewater while you were kicking and throwing a fit because you just! Wanted! Tostay! Longer!

               -You were adorable and he loved itbut please MC you’re going to pass out from exhaustion, you’ve been out thereall day!

*JAEHEE:

               -A day of relaxation???

               -With a nice ocean breeze????

               -Where she can just sit with youand read a book or two???

               -She couldn’t pack the car fastenough. She was Ready to Go™

               -Except she… didn’t get torelax?

               -The moment you got there, youran straight for the ocean and that scared her

               -“MC! Don’t you think thosewaves are a little.. high? Shouldn’t you come rest?”

               -She did not get to rest. Shewas worried about you the whole time. It didn’t help that you kept lettingyourself wash up on the beach hoping she’d give you mouth to mouth *wink wonk*

               -SHE WANTED TO PUNCH YOU EVERYSINGLE TIME. WHY DID YOU THINK THAT WAS FUNNY. SHE’S MORE STRESSED OUT THAN SHEWOULD HAVE BEEN AT WORK, MC, WHY

               -You even pulled her into the watera few times, against her will. She just wanted to read, MC! You felt her wrathevery time she practically tackled you into the water, though, it wasn’t reallya punishment for you?

*JUMIN:

               -He thinks your fascination withsuch simple things is amazing

               -Things you can see every night,and things you can simply just travel to, it was all so common but your lovefor it was just extraordinary

               -So he decided to mix the two.You like the ocean? You like the stars?

               -He rented and entire beachresort for the two of you fuckin rich kid

               -Watched as you ran immediatelyto the water, body guards following a little bit behind to make sure you don’thurt yourself

               -He joined you after a littlewhile, watching as you ran around, splashing, laughing and smiling like a childat heart

               -Couldn’t help but laughwhole-heartedly when you jumped onto his back and made him run through thewaves, or when you kept sneaking up on him like a shark and splashing water inhis face

               -The two of you laid together onthe beach once night fell, watching as the moon and stars started to rise

               -He watched you in amazement asyou listed off and pointed to each and every constellation. He knew you weresmart so it shouldn’t have been much of a shock but he couldn’t help himself

               -The small smile on your lips asyou explained the back stories to all of the star formations made his heartskip a beat. He placed his hand on your cheek, pulling your face close to hisbefore kissing your cheek. He could lay there all night if it meant he couldhear you talk so passionately like you have been

*SAEYOUNG:

               -Space Nerds™

               -The two of you try to outsmarteach other when it comes to anything space related

               -You’ll constantly take trips upto the mountains to relax and stare at the sky

               -That’s when the two of you havea contest on who can name the most constellations

               -You guys have even gone to theclosest planetarium enough times that the staff there knows your names

               -As often as you two get inpassionate debates, he loves to keep it going as long as possible??

               -Not because he likes arguing,but he loves to see the fire in your eyes and the smug little smile on yourface when you know you’re right

               -More often than not, you guyshave pushed Saeran out of the way trying to race each other outside

               -You love putting up glow starsin the bedroom with Saeyoung, switching the constellations every other week

               -That’s how he asked you tomarry him too, spelling it out in stars on the ceiling for you to find when youwent to bed

               -Because he knew anything thatdidn’t involve your guy’s favourite thing was completely subpar

*DADDV:

               -Taking aesthetic photos withflowers in the daytime

               -Taking aesthetic photos withthe stars and fireflies at night time

               -The starry sky is one of hisfavourite backdrops for you

               -And he’s always taking picturesof how soft and happy your face gets when you look at them

               -Always his background. Always.10/10

               -Your favourite picture of himis one where his hands are cupped around a firefly, the light glowing softlyagainst his face, thousands of stars in the background

               -When he asked you what made ityour favourite, you told him there’s three different stars and you loved eachone of them

               -From then on he made sure thatthere was always time for star gazing. He even made photography trips solely toexplore different landscapes with you, so you could see different variations ofstars and star quantities

               -There’s a whole gallery full ofyou running around, looking up at the stars, even a few when your face is asred as could be, after realizing you’ve rambled for hours about the stars, buthe loves them

               -“This gallery may be fullof stars, but this person, right here, is my favourite one.”

*SAERAN:

               -He knew you always disappearedat night for hours at a time but didn’t know where? He pretended like he didn’tcare but it actually started to worry him

               -A few nights, you would leaveand wouldn’t come back until the morning and that /scared him/

               -So one day, he followed you.Completely ready to follow you to some sketchy place, but all you did was walkto the back yard?? What???

               -He watched as you set up aladder to the roof, climbing to the top and disappearing

               -Not far behind you, he climbsup and pops his head up just far enough to see you sitting there, hugging yourknees and looking at the sky

               -“Saeran you can come uphere, I’m not gonna stop you,” you said, but you scared him so bad healmost fell off the ladder. He scrambled onto the roof to pretend it didn’thappen

               -He sat next to you in silencefor a solid hour until he asked why you were up here. You told him the starswere one of your favourite things and sometimes you just wanted to sit and soakit all in. It comforted you

               -He knew you liked the stars, healways say you reading books related to space, your space related things aroundthe house, and your nerdy space themed clothes. He didn’t know your love wentthis far though??

               -Could definitely agree that itwas comfortable up here, looking at the specs of light in the sky. He asked youabout some of the constellations and even about a few planets that were visible

               -“You don’t have to leaveme alone every night anymore, MC. I’m going to come up here too. Not becauseyou like it! It’s… nice. It’s cool. No, I said it wasn’t just because I cansit with you!”

Masterlist

[wordsablaze]

7~ i’m awake but still sleeping

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: it’s been a while bc i misplaced my motiviation (and forgot to crosspost) but heyyy...

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @blueboobutterfly @havenoffandoms @lasaga666

previous chapter

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Jaskier almost falls asleep on the way back.

Eskel feels it several times, feels the way his breathing evens out for a moment or so before he softly nods himself awake again. He doesn’t know why Jaskier doesn’t want to fall asleep but he’s not about to interfere so the two of them stay practically silent as they return to town.

Once they reach the stables, Eskel clears his throat. “Jaskier?”

Unfortunately, Jaskier had apparently just started to doze off again and starts so badly he overbalances and topples off the horse, landing with a harsh thud.

“Oww,” he moans, snapping Eskel out of his guilt.

Within seconds, he swings himself off Scorpion and offers Jaskier a hand, which is actually rather unhelpful because Jaskier has his eyes closed. Shuffling back a little, he clears his throat again. “Are you planning on getting up any time soon?”

Jaskier laughs weakly as he looks up at Eskel. “Can’t I just stay here for today?”

Eskel frowns, glancing over him. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

“I wasn’t being serious, darling,” Jaskier giggles, pushing himself up into a sitting position and crossing his legs, “but it’s good to know you’re capable of taking me seriously.”

He’s not entirely sure what that’s meant to mean so Eskel just offers Jaskier a smile and holds his hand out again. “Come on, let’s go.”

This time, Jaskier takes it, wobbling himself upright and taking a second to regain his balance before letting go of Eskel’s hand as if it were burning him. But Eskel pointedly ignores the strange sadness that flickers through his heart at that thought because it’s illogical to assume Jaskier would want to hold his hand anyway.

“Aren’t you going to secure Scorpion?” Jaskier asks, raising an eyebrow.

Eskel chuckles. “You don’t need to tell me what my job is, bardling,” he says before doing exactly as Jaskier had prompted, deciding that he can come back for their bags once they’ve had lunch.

He guesses that Jaskier feels the same about prioritising food because he doesn’t say anything until they get to the inn, at which point he straightens up a little and smiles. “Could we request a bath, lovely?”

The woman in place of the innkeeper raises an eyebrow at them, probably because they’re still soaking, but nods. “I’ll get someone to bring one up. Don’t get my bed wet.”

Jaskier nods seriously. “Of course not, we would never even dream of it,” he promises, leaving both the woman and Eskel to wonder what sort of dream that would be.

Either way, Eskel follows Jaskier up, both of them all but stumbling into their room. Jaskier makes a beeline towards the bed before groaning and changing his mind to sliding down along one of the walls, settling on the floor with his legs outstretched.

Eskel frowns at him, yet again wondering if there’s an injury he should know about. “You okay, Jaskier?”

Jaskier looks up at him with a strange expression. “Aside from the almost drowning?”

Eskel snorts. “Aside from that.”

There’s a small pause before Jaskier nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just, uh, thinking of what rhymes with ‘drowning’, and actually I might use ‘frowning’ since you’ve been doing a lot of that,” he teases.

As if proving Jaskier’s point, Eskel frowns at his words.

Which Jaskier picks up on immediately, giggling softly. “See, there you go again. Keep at it and I might have to sing about the frowning witcher’s adventures. Just a warning, though, metaphors about facial expressions are pretty challenging to get right and you’d be subject to amateurs saying things like-”

“I really don’t want to know,” Eskel interrupts, dreading to think about it.

Jaskier winks mischievously before going quiet.

As he does, an awful, bitter scent of something dark and decaying fills the room. Alarmed, Eskel makes to ask Jaskier if he’s upset about anything, but said bard grins before he can, springing gracefully to his feet. “Here, let me help with your armour.”

Eskel steps back instinctively and Jaskier falters, his smile fading. “Or I could not help you with your armour, of course. That’s always an option and I will very easily take it, no harm done. I… uh, sorry. I’m going to go… check on the bath.”

“Wait-” Eskel starts, but the door is already closing behind Jaskier, the dark scent fading along with his presence. So he just sighs and, albeit reluctantly, gets himself out of his armour, placing it in one corner as he waits for Jaskier to return.

It’s strange, he thinks, how quickly he’s taken to finding empty silence unsettling. He’s never been fond of pointless noise but a distinct lack of Jaskier makes him question how much he actually likes the silence as an alternative.

And he’s not sure exactly how long he spends questioning that but eventually, Jaskier’s voice drifts into their rooms as he re-enters, followed by two women who place a steaming bath down on one side before leaving, exchanging the softest of whispers with Jaskier before they do.

Jaskier’s smile falters again as he sees the pile of armour but he brings it back before Eskel can ask anything, gesturing to the bath. “Well, go on, darling. The water won’t stay warm forever.”

“Don’t you want to go first?” Eskel asks quietly.

But Jaskier shakes his head. “No, no. I’d burn, and a burnt bard is no good at all. The water is perfect for you so you need to go first.”

“But-”

“And of course, I need to wash that lovely hair of yours!” Jaskier interrupts, then bites his lip. Eskel resists the urge to ask anything and waits until Jaskier exhales softly. “That is, uh, if you still want me to do so again?”

If only Eskel were a bard so he could explain how much he truly wants that. But he’s not so he just nods, and thankfully Jaskier gets the message anyway.

Somehow, Jaskier’s fingers moving through his hair feel even better than last time. It’s barely past midday but Eskel could fall asleep right in the bath, that’s how soothing it is to have Jaskier take care of his hair, take care of him.

“Eskel?” he hears Jaskier whisper, promptly realising that he had actually almost fallen asleep. Again .

Slightly mortified, he clears his throat and sits upright. “Thank you.”

Jaskier makes a face. “For what?”

“For uh, for letting me use the bath first.”

But Jaskier just squints at him as if he’s being stupid. “You’re the witcher. You killed the siren. Of course you get the bath first.”

Guilt-ridden realisation pools in Eskel’s stomach.

“Wait, what?” is all he manages, staring at Jaskier in disbelief because surely he can’t think he doesn’t deserve a bath just as much as Eskel when they’d played a relatively equal part in this particular contract, can he?

But they can’t have this conversation when he’s literally sat naked in a bath so he just shakes his head and stands up to get dressed, only realising his mistake when Jaskier all but squeaks and springs to his feet, his face flushing.

“I’m going to go… soap,” Jaskier blurts, disappearing before Eskel has finished cursing.

Once more, Eskel is left staring at a closing door. He sighs heavily and gets dressed, but that doesn’t help because then he starts wondering where Jaskier is going to get spare clothes from.

When he finds his thoughts drifting back to his newfound distaste for silence, he sighs and leaves their room, hoping that Jaskier won’t hold anything against him. When he doesn’t spot Jaskier either performing or at any of the tables, he walks over to the woman from earlier. “Have you seen m- the bard that was with me?”

The woman raises an eyebrow again, folding her arms. “And why should I tell you when it took you so long to try and find him?”

Eskel inwardly marvels at how Jaskier has managed to worm his way into this woman’s heart within approximately one conversation and sighs. “I didn’t know I was meant to, he said he was going to find soap.”

She snorts. “Well he didn’t do a very good job then.”

Eskel stiffens. “Is he okay?”

Glancing over him from head to toe, she gestures behind her. “We let him stay in the kitchens, it’s not as noisy and it didn’t seem like he’d make it back to a room on his own.”

Red flags could not be flying any faster in Eskel’s mind as he frowns, heading to the kitchens himself. Most people shuffle out of his way as he makes his way to the back wall, where Jaskier is slumped in the corner.

Cursing none too quietly, he kneels down beside him, gently pulling away the blanket someone has draped over him. “Jaskier? Jaskier, hey, open your eyes for me.”

Jaskier groans, half-heartedly pushing Eskel’s hands away. “Just give me two minutes, I’ll be fine.”

“You need to tell me if something’s wrong, do we need a healer?” Eskel asks, checking over Jaskier himself and frowning harder when he finds nothing obvious. What good can he possibly be to this bard if he can’t even keep him alive and well?

Jaskier blinks himself upright and shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just- I’m just tired.”

Eskel can literally feel his frown deepen; he can’t fathom why Jaskier would insist on washing his hair if he was truly this tired because really, it should have been the other way around.

Someone makes a strange noise of disbelief behind him, at which point he realises he’s said that out loud and instantly stiffens, almost regretting his life choices. Almost, because the sleepy smile he gets from Jaskier is most definitely worth a second round of being mortified.

“Need to find more oils if you want to wash my hair,” Jaskier whispers, yawning.

Eskel’s not entirely sure if his heart melts or skips a beat or does some unholy combination of the two but regardless, he forgets what the whole concept of replying is for an entire minute.

An entire minute within which Jaskier chuckles softly and lets his head fall forward to rest on Eskel’s shoulder. “I think it was the siren.”

Pretending that he’s not positively delighted to learn Jaskier is comfortable enough to lean on him again, Eskel focuses on the siren. “Did she do anything to you?”

“Tried to drown me?” Jaskier offers, and Eskel ever so slightly wants to throw himself off a cliff for asking such a stupid question.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t a very good que- wait. She only tried . She couldn’t even get you to stay quiet,” Eskel says, mostly just reminding himself because he’s pretty sure that resisting a siren’s lure has to be incredibly taxing.

Jaskier lifts his head up with seemingly great difficulty. “I’m not very good at staying quiet. But it’d be bad for business, really, wouldn’t it? What use is a quiet bard? Well, what use is a bard to a witcher at all? But that's- I mean, never mind witchers, nobody wants to listen to a quiet bard when they’re drunk or, or… what’s the opposite of drunk?”

Eskel blinks.

It seems they have a lot to unpack from Jaskier’s exhausted rambling but there’s a time and a place and in the corner of a kitchen just after having killed a siren doesn’t tick either of those boxes. And besides, he’s far too busy wanting to deck Geralt to answer any of Jaskier’s questions.

“You need to rest,” Eskel settles for, pulling Jaskier upright with him and wrapping one of Jaskier’s arms around his shoulders so he can support some of his weight.

Jaskier hums. “I thought you were washing my hair.”

This time, Eskel glares at the few people who laugh, shaking his head when they step out of his way with guilty expressions. The woman in charge out front nods at the two of them, albeit not without noting the way Jaskier is so heavily leaning on him and raising an eyebrow for the third time.

“Thank you,” Eskel mutters, because it looks like she’s expecting him to say it.

She looks almost surprised but offers him a small smile. “Meals are free of charge if you need them before you leave.”

“Too kind,” Jaskier manages to mumble before Eskel can.

Getting up the stairs is unexpectedly easy because Jaskier seems to regain his energy for long enough to reach their room, where he hesitates. “Gonna get the bed wet. She said not to,” he whines.

Eskel sighs, unable to understand Jaskier’s priorities. “She won’t mind, you’re not really that wet anymore.”

And he’s not, even though his clothes are still an uncomfortable step ahead of damp. The blanket that’d been given to him seems to have absorbed most of the water because it looks as if he’d been caught in a light spell of rain rather than dropped into a lake.

“She won’t be mad?” Jaskier asks, leaning on his shoulder again, the lingering scent of decay weakening a little as his voice fills with hope.

Eskel shakes his head. “She won’t, I promise.”

“I just need a few minutes then,” Jaskier mumbles, all but collapsing into the mattress and proving that he definitely needs a lot more than that.

Eskel can’t imagine the sheer amount of willpower it would require to resist a siren’s words for so long and overcome them well enough to negotiate an escape. By all means, it shouldn’t even be possible, but Jaskier is unlike any bard he’s ever known.

“Take all the time you need,” Eskel replies, but then frowns. “Aren’t you going to change out of those clothes first?”

Jaskier makes a face that manages to convey how much he dislikes that idea even with his eyes closed.

Eskel finds himself chuckling at that, which seems to briefly snap Jaskier out of his exhaustion. He blinks up at Eskel and bites his lip before hesitantly clearing his throat. “Would you, uh… I mean, did you bring your bedroll this time?”

Was he meant to bring his bedroll this time?

Jaskier groans weakly at Eskel’s confusion. “What I mean, darling witcher, is to ask whether you’re- well, I’m still damp and I rather like to avoid being a nuisance because that’s a title reserved for the likes of Valdo and I-”

“Jaskier, I don’t care if you’re still damp, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Eskel interrupts, but as softly as possible because he doesn’t want to feed the awful scent that’s still lingering around them.

Jaskier smiles softly. “So would you- I mean, do I get the privilege of your company once more?”

How he’s managing to articulate so well despite his eyes drooping, Eskel has no idea. But what he does know is that he’d be an utter fool to go and fetch his bedroll. So instead of replying, he simply lies beside Jaskier, hoping he hasn’t misread things in some way.

And he hasn’t, judging by the grateful look in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Jaskier murmurs, curling towards him, already drifting into sleep.

Eskel exhales softly as their arms brush but nods. “Truly a privilege on my part, bardling.”

He’s still unsure what to do about this darker, decay-scented aspect of Jaskier’s personality but that’ll have to be addressed another time because, even though he’s not too tired himself and he was rather hoping for a good lunch, it’d be a crime to leave the room when Jaskier so clearly needs the rest and wants him to stay.

After all, delayed meals and damp clothes are an easy price to pay for being able to take care of his favourite bard.

-

i do apologise for the shady lore and ooc vibes but it's the best i can do for now :p hope everyone's had a good start to september xx

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