#why did i write a whole fanfic

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[theprinceandthewitch]

TOH is so incredibly fanficy, despite being an original show.

I really won't get over how they made Huntlow a thing and wasted a full hourish episode to make it happen.

Frankly, it's nbd for Willow to date someone by the time the story ends. Her dating someone doesn't kneecap her story. But Hunter dating her definitely kneecaps his, because Willow is not relevant to the whole Caleb/Evelyn and Philip drama like Luz is.

It makes no sense, from a narrative standpoint, to have Hunter like Willow. It feels like they really wanted to give Willow a love interest and Hunter was the only option they had to work with.

With Hunter it's like... him getting a witch love interest is something that pretty much needs to happen from a narrative standpoint.... but Willow isn't that LI. The only character who fits Evelyn's themes is Luz. He and Luz are the "Caleb" and "Evelyn" in this story - no other character's fit these roles like they do.

"But TOH is a tragedy -"

"But TOH is a subversion of romantic-"

TBH I really don't want to hear how TOH is a romantic tragedy or a subversion of romantic expectations because... it isn't. I have read romantic tragedies and subversions and this isn't paced like either. They also put a whole ass Lunter kiss in a spoiler episode, so I really don't think they were planning on making TOH a subversion of romantic expectations or writing Luz's and Hunter's romance as a tragic one.

See, this pairing is extremely confusing to me, because if they actually were planning on Hunter and Willow being a thing from the beginning and not Hunter and Luz, then Willow would have been written into all of Luz's and Hunter's episodes - which just so happen to be his important character arc moments [ST, HP and HM].

But... they don't do that, like at all lmao. I'm also not a fan of Hunter's friendship with Willow and Gus, but that's a discussion for another time.

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[shwoo]

I will die on the Bugsnax hill of "there's no indication that Clumby particularly wants you dead". If getting you killed was her plan from the beginning, why would she spend so much time slamming her desk about what a bad idea the trip would be? And why does she get so much more subdued when she tells you should go?

It's not clear why she tells you to go and then secretly fires you anyway, instead of just firing you from the beginning, but I still think it's because she realised you'd go either way.

She's obviously angry at you in the opening, but I think there's a gap between being upset about your subordinate's inability to fact check, and wanting your subordinate dead over their inability to fact-check.

[brsb4hls]

Oh look, here's why season 2 sucks:

[undefeatablesin]

Have a collection of extremely self indulgent scribbles ft. Good Hunter Lady Ruza and her beloved Arianna lol 💙

[starstruckodysseys]

*gripping the sink and staring into the mirror* i don’t have to write 7k word stories in order for them to be good i don’t have to write thousands of words to tell the story i don’t-

[gourmet-trash]

i know i'm not the first person to say this, but i've been seeing more of it than usual lately so it feels like it bears repeating:

don't put things like "this is so bad" or "i suck at summaries" or "sorry this is terrible" in your fic tags or summaries.

even if you FEEL like what you've written is bad, don't advertise that! even if you think your summary isn't good, don't call that out! you are convincing people that's the truth before they have even been given a chance to make that decision for themselves!

something i learned in a few public speaking courses/workshops i've been in over the years that i find oddly relevant to this topic is: do not apologize. specifically if you're giving a presentation and you say something incorrectly or you skip a data point - don't apologize! when you notice it, just calmly correct yourself or go back and cover the point you missed. you shouldn't say "sorry" if you can avoid it.

why? because people don't NOTICE that you've flubbed a lot of the time UNTIL YOU CALL IT OUT. they don't even think twice about it unless you make a big deal out of it. but when you make a big deal out of it, then it becomes A Thing. then that's something people remember about your presentation.

when you highlight that something is wrong or needs to be apologized for, you're putting that frame around the situation. saying "this is bad" out the gate primes someone to agree with you. saying "this is OOC" tells someone to be looking for the things that are OOC that they may not have really noticed at first.

i know for a lot of people who are new to writing, getting some positive feedback or a little validation on their work is the thing that makes you want to KEEP WRITING. but tags like "this is awful" make a lot of people automatically scroll past your story. you are depriving yourself of the opportunity to get that motivation if you're shoving your readers away before they ever show up! and you're steering away people who may genuinely enjoy your work by convincing them before they've even started reading that it isn't worth their time.

stop fucking doing that, little writerlings.

and if you're REALLY worried about it?? you're REALLY afraid people are going to hate what you wrote and leave flames in the comment box (i am so fucking old)?? make a burner account. post that shit anonymously. you might be surprised by the feedback you actually get.

[queen-of-the-queers]

I'm not sure if this is an unpopular opinion (since I haven't heard anyone talking about it yet) but I really hated the way they completely erased Jughead's deafness. Every day real people deal with hidden disabilities like his and I'm sure someone, somewhere was really happy to see themselves represented in such a popular character. So the fact that the writers had the audacity to make him deaf and tease a fleshed out, meaningful plotline surrounding it- then give him powers to make up for it, forget about his predicament and then pretend it doesn't exist makes me really sad.

[whatever-the-fucky-i-reads]

My Current Mood...

WHY THE FUCK IS THERE NOT MORE HARVEY SPECTER FANFIC

Like DEAR LORD! The man is hot, sassy, and a badass... did I already say HOT??? Not to mention the dude has some damage

Like, not to beat a dead horse or anything, but I’m pretty sure Tumblr loves hot men with emotional damage

And I have just literally spent the last few hours scouring the internet for all the Harvey/Reader or Harvey/OFC fics I can find, and I have reached the conclusion that there is not nearly enough of it

I know I’m late to the bandwagon, but c’mon!!! The man deserves more fanfic love, and this is an injustice I cannot stand for

[secretmellowblog]

Random, but. It’s fascinating how “Valjean and Javert written by someone who thinks cops are Good” is so radically different from “Valjean and Javert written by someone who thinks cops are Bad.”

Like, for me the number one Thing that will determine whether I enjoy someone’s take on Valjean and Javert are whether they realize that the police/prison as an institution destroyed both of their lives, and is the villain of both of their stories XD.

But yeah it’s really fascinating! Both in adaptations and in fanfiction, the tone/interpretation with which the plot beats are handled can change so much about the characterization. All the adaptations/fic start off with the same basic plot beats but so much can be changed and colored (for better or worse) by the way the author chooses to interpret them

[ferniliciousness]

One of my favorite things as a writer is when you make yourself laugh with your own writing.

Like, hehe, I wrote that.

*Then proceeds to spend the next five minutes giggling like a madman as you reread and think about the one funny paragraph*

[bookwyrminspiration]

“how did you even get sick? you look ugly. come here.” For Keefe and Tam? Can be platonic or romantic if you want to do anything for it :). Maybe with cuddles because I, personally, am craving the skin

I love your writing btw please write a book one day <33

That's very sweet of you--I'd love to write several books someday! I've got some concepts up my sleeve already. Also, the way I set up their dynamic (a self-inflicted personal hell) the cuddles aren't as prominent as I would've liked to give you, but hopefully the rest of the fic makes up for that <3

idiot boys and stupid feelings <- ao3 link

warnings: sickness, brief reference of the twin's time banished and all associated troubles, but that's really it!

word count: 6.1k

Watching the sun wallowing, meekly disappearing before an unforgiving horizon as it trailed reds and purples and loud oranges in its wake across the sky was a conflicting sight for Tam, who observed unimpressed from the balcony.

Of all the sunsets he’d witnessed, the view from whatever place this was--Mr. Forkle had told them, but he hadn’t bothered to listen to that part; he’d been more focused on words like “resurgence” and “outbreak” and “victims,” the more important things--wasn’t one to stand out. A simple skyline, typical colors. The sun could do better.

A frown started to surface, but instead of letting it breach, he reached to tug on his bangs instead, the one habit he could never seem to break.

Cool air washed over his face, chilling the drying sweat sticking to his skin, a remnant of the efforts he’d exhausted, that they were all exhausting.

Over an hour ago, their group had dispersed to their various assignments, each to return to Wherever-the-hell once they’d finished their parts; he’d been done first, and was now alone in the hideout--as alone as one could be when they were always watched.

The balcony sat perched over a tumbling, mountainous expanse, sloping down into the night, a twisted metal railing decorated with florals and feathers encasing it. The wide doors were fully open behind him, allowing the light from the room beyond to spill into the creeping night and the cool, fresh air in.

As he stood there, he pretended he couldn’t feel the eyes of this place, examining his hand for traces of shadow, darkness caught under his nails, averting his gaze from that uninspiring sunset. From the memories they stirred.

Another sunset meant another day survived, but another night to face. Time without reliable warmth, with impaired sight, things moving in the night, fitful sleep.

Tam’s mouth twitched, more of the frown slipping out, shoving those thoughts aside and finding the nearest other to latch onto and distract himself.

Which landed him on blonde hair, pale eyes, bags creeping beneath them, charcoal smudges on fingertips.

And something…off.

Of all the people to think about, he didn’t have to settle on Keefe, how he’d seemed…fuzzy, ill-alert, at their “meeting” earlier. There were over a dozen people in the room, and he made it his business to watch each and every one of them, to be prepared just in case--

But, regardless of how many people he observed, his thoughts snagged on Keefe. There was something unspoken about him, something festering, something that had made him want to leave him behind. Give his piece of the assignment to someone else.

Instead, he’d decided that, with the least important piece of their puzzle, Keefe was the least of his troubles.

It had been a surprise, actually, to return to the hideout and find himself the first one back, he’d been so sure that with such a small responsibility Keefe would be impatiently pacing the place, about the track someone down to join them instead of waiting for them all to reconvene while complaining about how miniscule his job had been.

Tam’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft, dragging sound of approaching footsteps.

He stilled, darkness staining his fingers like charcoal as he tilted his head to the side, listening.

They came from somewhere around the hideout, outside, only audible because he, himself, was outside.

Shadows traveled further up his arm, a tactful, slow acclimation to the darkness falling further with each second the sun acquiesced the sky.

The footsteps paused, and in their place a door handle jangled; stone-like, Tam turned just enough to peer over his shoulder, to watch as the door swung open and a particular pale-eyed blond stepped through, hand pushing through his hair, eyes scanning across the room, the empty couches facing each other, barren counters, untouched chairs with throw pillows still dented from over an hour ago.

His eyes missed Tam, skipping past the balcony sheathed in unnatural shadow as he swept the door shut behind him.

Immediately, his facade crumbled, and if Tam said he was surprised he’d be lying.

Keefe’s shoulders drooped, carefully curated carefree expression melting into bland nothing, fingers coming up to hold his temples, traveling back to poke gently at the base of his neck like it ached.

Shuffling, dragging footsteps took him to one of the couches, where he lowered himself as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders.

Tam only watched, squinting to see better.

He wondered how long it would take Keefe to realize he was there, if he even would at all. The thought of how long he could probably get away with it amused him, but slipped from his grasp at the sound of a sniffle.

His muscles tensed once more, ready to make himself known and gone immediately if Keefe was about to start crying, but the sound repeated, and with it, everything from that evening clicked into place.

“How did you even get sick? You look ugly. Come here,” he said, turning fully as he did so, facing his back to the memory of a sunset and inclining his head as he learned against the railing, looking Keefe over from the better angle.

With that angle, he got a good view of the way he jumped, spine straightening and eyes widening, showing the whites all around.

His hands dropped from his head, falling in his lap as he shook himself off, a few precious seconds passing before he had himself sorted. “Were you just watching me? Dude, that’s so creepy.”

Tam ignored the question. “Drop the act, I can see right through it.”

Keefe’s shoulders tightened, and he opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted.

“Don’t even bother to try and lie to me right now. You’ve been off all evening. Now, like I said, come here.” Tam jerked his head towards the spot beside him.

His posture shifted, softening ever so slightly as he glanced between him and the door, as if there was someone else to see. Perhaps waiting for Biana to leap out of the shadows and accost them.

“Why?”

“Fresh air.”

Keefe frowned, leaning back further into the cushions, a slight grate to his voice. “But I just got all that fresh air running around scouting, looking for nothing.”

Tam shrugged. “Fine. Don’t, then.”

Silence fell for only a few short moments before Keefe grumbled something Tam couldn’t pick up, not even with all his practice, pushing up off the couch and stalking over to the balcony beside him, leaning facing out.

At least, Tam thought that’s what he was going for; instead, his feet dragged across the floor and his path swayed, Keefe unable to keep himself moving straight until he slumped against the banister, breath shaky--though he tried to hide it.

“You’re a mess, where’d you even catch…whatever that is,” Tam eyed him up and down, from the wan pallor of his face contrasted with the unnatural flush on his cheeks to the uneven rise and fall of his chest to the unsteady stance of his feet, relying on that railing for support.

Keefe huffed out what might’ve been a laugh. “Wow, thanks. Real supportive. I feel so cared about.” A low sighed rolled between his lips, laughter fading. “I think I caught it from Fitz. He wasn’t feeling great, but I ignored that and insisted we hang out anyway, and now…wait, earlier, did you say ‘all evening?’ Like you’ve been watching me all evening?”

It took Tam a moment to follow Keefe’s disjointed thoughts, lips tightening as he recalled the exact words he’d spoken.

If his cheeks felt warm, it was all the layers, all the black, nothing else. He scowled. “It’s not my fault you’ve had that funk around you all day. It’s hard to ignore.”

It wasn’t, actually; he had more than enough experience curating what, exactly, he paid attention to and was aware of. Pushing Keefe and the haze around him from his mind would’ve been simple enough.

In fact, it took more energy to pay attention than to let his gaze skip past that concealed fog around him. And yet he’d paid attention anyway.

“I think you just like me,” Keefe said, grin pulling at his lips, lifting his head enough to turn and peer at him. The unhealthy flush spread across his cheeks had starting fading to a lighter pink in the cool air, his eyes still dimly alight with fever, he noticed.

His eyes scanned scarred, warm skin, mussed hair, a silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the room beyond, the silence stretching on, his statement unanswered.

Keefe shifted, pushing off the railing to stand straighter, the two of them almost equal in height, though Keefe stood slightly taller and shamelessly used it to his advantage. “We’re alone; you can admit it, you know.”

That was…much more forward than usual.

Tam rolled his eyes. “All I have to admit is how much more annoying you are than I let on.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re aren’t thinking clearly.”

Keefe shook his head, looking down the few inches he had on Tam, leaning in closer, unconscious of the movement; Tam was very conscious of it. “Uh uh, I may be fuzzy”--he tapped at his temple, blinking as though fighting to keep his eyes open--”but I noticed. You were thinking about it, weren’t you? You’re always thinking about something.”

Tam’s lips pressed together, averting his eyes, scowling. His gaze flickered to the door, fragments of shadows skittered along the edge of the room in tandem. They were alone, but for how long? How long until the rest of their group finished each of their individual scouting missions, returning to catch them too close in the dark?

He’d spent his life with it as his defense, and yet now its charged silence threatened to turn on him.

“You’re doing it again,” Keefe interrupted, the words fumbled, exhaustion creeping its greedy fingertips around the edges, digging its claws into the vowels.

His voice drew Tam’s gaze back, piercing through the dark. Had Keefe gotten even closer?

How had he missed it?

Tam’s body went rigid, the cool air doing nothing to combat the turmoil stirring in his mind, leaving him to fend for himself. “What--what are you doing? Cut it out.”

Brow furrowing, the words took a moment to pierce through Keefe’s thick skull.

When they did, he took a step away.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again, instead letting out a breath, one hand unconsciously rising to rub at the base of his skull, poking and prodding at what he was now certain was a headache.

Tam latched onto it like a lifeline against the sudden silence, the retreat he’d asked for and dreaded. “Have you--hailed Elwin? He always fixes you up.”

Keefe let his prior comments drop untouched, as though they were never there, snorting, “Elwin’s got enough going on with the gnomes and all the councillor visits. I’m not going to bother him with just a”--he gestured at himself--”cold or something. Whatever it is.”

“He’d want you to,” Tam reminded him, trying to be less…whatever it was about him that had Keefe stepping away. Even though he’d told him to.

Keefe had slumped over the banister again, forehead practically pressed to the railing, goosebumps raised across his skin, shivering now instead of overheating. He didn’t answer.

A few shadows slipped forward, invisible against the descending dark, hedging around the edges of Keefe’s shape, hesitating.

“Keefe.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” It was more exhale than speaking, the words happening to tumble out at the same time, by chance rather than intention.

Tam frowned, only for a moment before he schooled his expression. “What are you even talking about?”

“When everyone else gets back, are you going to tell them?” Without any force, he gestured to himself.

“That you’re sick? Tell them yourself. Probably won’t even have to, one look at you and it’s obvious.”

Keefe sighed in what might’ve been relief. “Thanks.”

Tam crossed his arms, looking away, eyes scanning over the empty room, shadows creeping through the door searching and searching for others, but there was no one to break the silence that fell once more. They truly were alone, just like Keefe had said.

Why? They weren’t supposed to be. Where was everyone else? Why hadn’t they come back yet?

“You,” Keefe started, though he stayed with his head pressed to his arm against the railing, “are one to talk about funks when you’ve got your own all over you.”

“What?”

Keefe waved a free hand, nonchalant. “You’re so worried I can feel it, and I’m not even touching you.”

Tam glanced down to Keefe’s hands, where they rested against the railing. Close enough that they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted to.

He looked away.

“Did I successfully distract you with my charming personality?” Keefe asked, shifting his head so he could look at Tam, the hint of a smile on his mouth. But…less so. Not as wide as he’d been smiling earlier.

“You talk too much,” he scowled, reaching up to tug at his bangs, the scratch of metal against his fingertips comforting.

Keefe made an indignant noise. “You’re the one who started this conversation, creeping on me from the shadows and telling me to ‘come here.’ This one’s on you. If you didn’t want to talk to me, why ask me to come closer to you? Hypocrite.”

Now it was Tam’s turn to be indignant. “You were feverish, I told you to get over here to cool off--and so you wouldn’t infect the room.”

“Nice to know you care.” Keefe mumbled, eyes rolling.

“Of course I do,” he hissed back, then clamped his mouth shut.

Keefe stilled beside him, but Tam refused to move his gaze from where it bored a hole into the far wall, that frown from before resurfacing as his fingers dug into the railing he leaned on, bones and muscle turning to stone.

Silence screamed for long enough Tam was nearly convinced neither of them would ever speak again, and then--

“You’re gonna pass out if you stay so rigid. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to loosen up once in a while?”

Internally, he flinched, but his body remained impassive. He shot Keefe a glare. “You have to make everything into a joke, don’t you?”

It was Keefe’s turn to flinch, scowling as he looked away--but it lacked any real conviction, lethargy dimming the edges as he sniffled, a slight shiver running through him.

Tam’s frown deepened.

He watched--though if you asked if he’d been watching, he’d deny it--as Keefe’s attention snagged on something he couldn’t see, eyes distant as he flexed his hand over and over.

Flashes of cold nights and running noses, flush cheeks and wondering hoping begging Linh to wake, to be well, to push through the haze and find him again passed through his mind. Searching for herbs but not knowing what to look for, never enough supplies, coughs and setting suns and days stretching into weeks into months into eternity as Keefe faded further and further into that haze, away from him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “What?”

Somehow Keefe found a way to slump down even further, resting his head on his arm, squished cheek distorting his words as they spilled out, filter breaking like a dam under his exhaustion. “I don’t get you. You say you’ve been watching me all evening and tell me to come stand next to you, and then get all defensive and upset with everything I say. You’re feeling something strong enough I’m picking up flashes through the air, but I’m not touching you and I can’t think straight so I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel great. You say you care and then snap at me, what am I supposed to make of all that?”

Outburst over, Keefe stopped leaning on the rail entirely, instead lowering himself to the ground as he rubbed at his neck, still sniffling, staring off into the dark, sun long since gone.

Tam couldn’t help the lurch in his chest at the sight.

Keefe or the darkness, he couldn’t tell, but the jolt was there all the same.

“You must be worse than I thought if you’re getting all emotionally aware on me,” he peered down at him, trying to distract himself from the stone sitting in his chest.

“Seriously? You were just getting on my ass about making jokes out of everything.”

Shadows pulsed under his palms, swirling with an unidentified heat he didn’t want to think about. “Fine. You have a point there. I…sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Keefe made a dismissive gesture up at him, other hand still flexing, eyes closed now as he rested his face against the railing, legs crossed beneath him. It didn’t look comfortable.

After a few terse moments of debate with himself, both sides screaming adamantly, he huffed out a breath and lowered himself down hard, not giving himself a chance to second guess any longer.

“Do you want to read my emotions?”

Keefe sat up in surprise, looking over at the hand extended in offering.

“What? You’d let me?”

Teeth grinding, words slow, “You said you couldn’t tell through the air. Wouldn’t this help?”

Keefe searched his face as though making sure he was serious, and Tam fervently hoped there wasn’t anything to find as he reached to tug on his bangs. “Make a decision before I change my mind.”

That was all the encouragement Keefe needed, gaze sliding down his body--Tam swore he could feel its weight against his skin like static--to his hand, wrapping two fingers around his wrist as though taking his pulse.

Keefe’s eyelids fluttered as he inhaled, sudden and deep, grip tightening, a furrow between his brows as he pushed through his fatigue and into the maelstrom of emotion he’d been complaining about.

Trying not to squirm beneath the scrutiny, all he could do was watch, entirely unaware of what, specifically, Keefe was finding. What he’d learn.

Was this what it felt like when he read people’s shadow vapor, the sitting and the waiting?

Why had he agreed to this?

Why had he even suggested it?

A small, rebellious voice in the back of his head knew why, but he shoved it away before it could put voice to those thoughts.

“What--” Keefe made a face, scrunching up his nose, soft confusion in his tone, “what are you afraid of?”

Tam started. “I’m not--”

“You do realize you can’t lie to me, right?”

Keefe looked at him with an intensity that made him want to knock the look from his face, to turn around and walk into the night.

He settled for pulling his arm away, breaking the connection--or at least, he tried to.

As his wrist slipped from Keefe’s grip, he caught his hand, fingers brushing against his palm as he squeezed tight.

“Wait. I’m…sorry.” Keefe looked lost, fumbling for words, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “I…didn’t mean to push you. It’s just a really strong feeling. It surprised me. Is it the thing with the gnomes? Because we’re going to figure it out and fix it.”

“I know that.”

“Then what…?” Keefe trailed off, looking lost, brows furrowing as he tried to think through the fog in his mind.

Tam’s grip tightened involuntarily, memories from his and Linh’s Exillium days flashing through his mind. “I don’t like sickness.”

Keefe nodded, still not quite following. “Well duh, no one does, it sucks--”

“It’s not the same for you,” he interrupted, looking away, leaning back against the railings, peering into the night sky as his stomach clenched. “When you’ve been sick, you’ve always been able to call on the best care your world has to offer, just a hail away. All the supplies you could ever need readily available. You’d be better by the morning as though it’d never even happened, just a slight discomfort, comfortable knowing you’d be just fine. You could take a day off, even. You never had to wonder if there was enough to treat you, if you could find what you needed, not sure when she’d get better and if she’d be okay to go to school, or if you’d have to leave her alone to go and get your beads, hoping you wouldn’t catch it because there wasn’t enough to treat the both of you and someone had to get the beads otherwise you’d be left behind.”

Tam cut off, biting his lip, for once not even caring what Keefe picked up on his palm, too distracted as he tried to get the images of Linh’s flushed cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her fingers as she propped herself against the wall, out of his head.

“Linh got sick,” Keefe whispered, more statement than question, but he decided to answer it anyways.

“Bad. It’d started out just a mild cold she must’ve caught from another wayward--fever, sniffles, headaches,” he glanced at Keefe’s flushed cheeks, blinking uncomfortably as he rubbed at his neck, both all too aware how it matched up with his symptoms, “but it didn’t go away. And we didn’t have anything to treat it with. And it got worse. A lot worse. I hated watching the sun set because she always shivered so badly without the sunlight’s warmth, no matter how hot I made my body. But the worst part was the only reason it got that bad was because we didn’t have any elixirs or treatment--but they exist. We just didn’t have access. And yet you do and throw it away,” he added at the end, bitterness coating his tongue.

Keefe swallowed, thumb pressed into the back of Tam’s hand. “I…guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“No shit.”

For once, Keefe let the attitude slide, an incredibly unsettling phenomenon, because instead he was looking directly at Tam. He was suddenly reminded that with their hands still linked, he could still feel every single one of his emotions.

“What if--what if I promise to take something myself then? I still don't want to bother Elwin--the gnomes have him busy enough--but…you don’t need a physician to take elixirs. There’s probably something somewhere in whatever-the-hell this place is called--I wasn’t listening when Fork man said the name.”

“Me either,” Tam admitted. “It’s probably something stupid. Do you really plan to take something, or are you just saying that?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism in his voice, but Keefe would’ve felt it anyways.

Keefe made an offended noise. “I meant it! I’m trying to make you feel better about your sad life, because Foster keeps getting on my case about being nice to you and she’s so stubborn about it--and maybe I just like you, you ever thought about that?”

Unlike Tam, Keefe didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by the confession, grumpily playing with Tam’s fingers in his hand, poking at the veins beneath his skin. Though maybe he hadn’t thought through the consequences of saying it, or was too tired to.

“Do you?” Tam asked, quiet, braced against the answer.

Was he worried he’d say no?

Or that he’d say yes?

“I do,” he said, eyes on their linked hands, “more than I should.”

A heady rush passed through him, spine tingling as his stomach dropped--relief? Fear?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keefe’s already flushed face reddened further, as his brain started to catch up with where the conversation was headed, pressing his lips together as though he could stop it. But there was no way Tam was letting him walk away without answers and Keefe knew it; he’d opened the floodgates, now he had to ride out the wave. It was his own fault, really.

Sighing, he made a non-committal gesture as though that would explain everything. “We both know it would be better for both of us if…if no one had to put up with me. If I could just keep all my problems and feelings to myself instead of everyone else having to deal with the mess.”

Tam made a face, snapping, “You don’t have any right to say what would be better for me. Don’t make that choice for me.”

Starting back a little, Keefe tilted his head to the side, mouth falling open a touch, glassy eyes searching Tam’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to decide what is and isn’t worth my time.”

Keefe’s breath caught, tongue between his teeth as he ventured, barely audible, “And me? Am I…?”

Tam didn’t answer for a moment, heartbeat screaming in his ears loud enough he could barely hear himself say, “You’re the empath, you tell me.”

A few moments passed, Keefe’s shaking fingers pressing against the lines of his palm with intention this time.

As the shaking spread, Keefe’s eyes widening as he glanced between him and his palm, Tam added, “Why do you think I invited you over here?”

“...Fresh air?”

Tam rolled his eyes, but tried to keep his voice gentle as he stared ahead. “Because…I wanted to keep an eye on you. Because I care and its--fuck it, its worth my time, alright? Don’t make me say it again.”

Against his better judgment, he glanced at Keefe, only to see a shit-eating grin starting to spread across his lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” Tam grumbled, shifting as he reached for his bangs with his free hand, fingers flexing in Keefe’s grip unconsciously.

Keefe nodded, smile mellowing, lingering until it turned into something uncertain. “Where…where does that leave us?”

Tam didn’t have an answer.

“Us?” he repeated instead.

Reddening, Keefe tried to backtrack, though he still didn’t let go of his hand.

But he was all out of words, quickfire mind finally exhausted, nothing left to shield himself as his mouth gaped and closed, nothing to save himself.

As if he’d ever need saving from Tam.

Scowling, he cursed idiot boys and stupid feelings, shaking his head, pressing his palm firmly against Keefe’s, deliberately thinking the words he didn’t know if he could voice again, bringing the feeling to the forefront of his very self.

I care.

Keefe hissed in a breath through his teeth. “I--oh.”

“Oh?”

“Us.”

It was all he said, but it was all he needed to say in that moment, because suddenly it was no longer a question.

It was an undeniable certainty.

“Alright,” Tam said, nearly lightheaded, “us.”

He didn’t think he minded his hand in Keefe’s anymore, whatever he’d find.

He’d already found exactly what Tam had wanted him to, what he’d been unwilling to admit he’d been hoping he would.

A shiver crawled through Keefe’s body, and for a moment Tam became the empath between the two of them. Unimaginable lethargy pulled at his bones, breath labored through narrowed airways, a fog in his mind trying to drag him into darkness.

They’d left his illness unspoken for a moment, distracted by their…whatever that conversation was, but no longer.

“You need to rest,” Tam instructed, gentle, but firm. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but Keefe wouldn’t make it easy.

That, as expected, sparked something in Keefe, some last ditch effort to pull himself together. “No, there’s the resurgence, and we still have to reconvene with everyone--” “Please.”

The word surprised them both, stopping them short.

That…wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

But something in Keefe looked uncertain, lost, so he said it again. “Please, Keefe.”

“I…okay,” he deflated, words barely a whisper as he gave in, the bravado he’d put on slipping away, leaving him hunched over, sniffling, chills coating his bare arms on the now cold balcony, washed in the light spilling out from the room behind them.

Tam looked him over, nodding to himself--he believed him, that he’d listen for once in his life, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Keefe. “I’ll find wherever their stash of elixirs is and bring them to you--why don’t you sit on the couch, get out of the cold?”

Another tremor ran through him as he finally let Tam’s hand slip from his as the two pushed to their feet in tandem, one much steadier than the other.

And even though their hands didn’t touch, not even the barest of brushes between their fingers, a silent electricity hummed between their bodies, tingling along his skin as they split. Keefe collapsed face first into the couch, groaning, and Tam moved to search the rest of the place in the quiet that followed, haunted by the hollow feeling of skin that hadn’t been touched, but nearly had been.

It didn’t take long for him to find a small, but well-equipped supply of medicinal elixirs, balms, and miscellaneous assortments for small injuries and ailments. He grabbed two he thought would help, shutting the doors behind him as quietly as possible, but they still echoed in the silent place--seriously, where was everyone else?

Had so little time passed that no one else had returned?

He could’ve sworn lifetimes had come and gone on that balcony.

So brief, and yet now the scope of his world had changed, new, undefined tethers drawing him to a certain troublesome boy with no sense of self-preservation or risk sprawled across the entirety of a couch.

Leaning over the back of it, peering down at him, Tam tapped the two vials he held against the back of Keefe’s head, smiling to himself as Keefe swatted half-heartedly at him.

“You already agreed, you don’t get to take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to!” he protested as he shifted to a propped up position, though it had less force than he would’ve expected. “I told you I meant it. I know everyone’s always telling me off for being stubborn, but I don’t always push back. I can make smart decisions.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

Keefe grabbed the vials, uncorking the first.

Tam blinked as he downed the contents and studiously avoided his gaze. “You’re holding something back.”

Keefe scowled at his matter of fact tone as he downed the second, though his hands shook as he uncorked it. “Fine. Your story about Linh got to me, okay? I don’t want to worry anyone else.”

Of course. He’d never relent for his own sake, only to prevent himself from becoming a burden to others.

Idiot.

Keefe wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, waiting for the elixirs to kick in and for Tam to say something, but he was too busy scanning the room for a blanket, frowning when he came up short. Surely a secret, underground rebel organization trying to fix fundamental problems in their world had enough interior decor sense and time to have decorative blankets somewhere.

Apparently not.

“What are you looking for?”

“A blanket. You’re shivering, but I don’t see any,” he continued, ignoring Keefe’s mouth opening--likely to protest. He always had something to say. Infuriating.

Keefe didn’t like being ignored and rolled his eyes--though he winced with the action, probably aggravating whatever of his headache hadn’t eased yet--and grumbled, “This is ridiculous. I’m not even that cold. What are you even going to do about it without blankets? Share your body heat?”

It took a moment for Keefe to register what he’d just said, but when he did his eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut as he dared a glance at Tam.

He kept his face carefully impassive, but he reached up to tug at his bangs, habit traitorously giving his frazzled state of mind away.

Neither of them spoke for a moment longer--Keefe, because while sick, had the sense to realize he’d given away much more than he’d intended to tonight, and Tam because he had no idea what to do with everything Keefe had given him.

“Careful there, someone might think you actually wanted to be close to me,” Tam deadpanned at last, fingers still in the rough metal, though the joke fell oddly. Like with whatever their new us was, it didn’t fit anymore. Like it was just going through the motions without the venom behind it.

Keefe said nothing, but his gaze flickered, away from Tam’s face--only for a few moments, but long enough for Tam to see him rake it down his body before snapping back, and he could’ve sworn it lingered on his hands.

Tam stopped short, mind going blank. “...do you?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” was the answer he got, unable to tell if his flush was from sickness or embarrassment as he refused to meet Tam’s eye.

He gave his bangs one final tug before he dropped his hands, blurting out, “When we couldn’t keep warm in the neutral territories--before we’d learned to regulate our temperatures or when we were too tired--we’d share body heat.”

Keefe’s brow furrowed, looking up at him, uncertainty on his face. “...are you offering--”

“Well if you don’t want to--”

“I didn’t say that! You…you’re warm,” he tacked on at the end, trying to find a suitable explanation, but the hesitation gave him away.

Tam stayed silent for a moment, then, “Sit up.”

“I--huh?”

“I said sit up; you’re taking up the whole couch. Unless you want me to crush you with my body weight, I need space,” he continued, but Keefe was already scrambling to push himself up, freeing up a spot that Tam slid into, breath catching as their arms brushed together.

He’d been close to people before--closer, even, usually with Linh.

But something about Keefe’s arm against his jolted through him, every hair on his body standing on end.

“I’m not going to bite,” he said, amused, watching Keefe sit stunned beside him, rigid as a statue, a cornered animal ready to bolt. “Well, probably not.”

Keefe huffed, something sounding like asshole and fuck it spilling past his lips as he shifted closer, their legs pressing together too now, the static between them building, though neither mentioned it.

Quietly, glancing at him for permission as he did so, Keefe reached out and took Tam’s hand; he felt rather than saw the tremor that rocketed through him at the influx of emotions the touch provided, but Keefe just held on tighter.

Their breaths the only sound, they sat like that, pressed together, until Keefe’s shivers had started to abate.

“How are you so warm?” Keefe mumbled suddenly, starting to melt back into the cushions beside him--whether because he was comfortable or exhausted, Tam couldn’t tell. “You’d think a shadow guy would be freezing.”

“Shadow guy?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Keefe’s eyes had fallen closed, words slurring, chest moving slow, rhythmic.

Hardly daring to move, Tam watched as Keefe’s muscles gave in to sleep, his head tilting, falling in a slow arc towards him, until Keefe’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder, grip loosening in his hand.

Tam’s breath caught in his throat, but he stayed still--until Keefe started to slip, at just the wrong angle that gravity tried to pull him forward.

Before he could fall further, Tam caught him, grinding his teeth together as he weighed his options.

Gently, he shifted, hardly daring to breath lest he wake Keefe from his much needed nap, and just…adjusted his trajectory slightly.

Instead of falling forward and off the couch, or roughly shoving him back, Tam lowered his head into his lap, hands hovering over the rest of his body uncertainly before he finally let them settle on Keefe’s arm.

A few terse moments later, Keefe gave no sign of stirring, settling into the new position, breaths even--and Tam thought his color had improved too, the elixirs starting to kick in.

There was nothing else to do in the silence that followed but breathe an easy sigh, looking around at the well furnished room--unforgivably devoid of blankets, but otherwise lavish--the steady light, the stable structure, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened next, he wasn’t--they weren’t--out there still.

That they could get what they needed, and enough of it.

They weren’t the only people looking out for them anymore.

Which brought a different problem to mind: where was everyone else?

Almost as soon as he put thought to the question, something prickled his senses, and the door across the room swung open, Biana bursting in with Linh close behind, breathless.

They stopped short at what they found as Tam tensed, Biana’s mouth falling open and Linh covering a knowing smile with her mouth.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, glaring at them, heart pounding.

The glance the two shared and the grins that followed didn’t bode well for him.

But as Keefe shifted in his lap, sleeping peacefully, safely, recovering, skin soft against his own, he couldn’t quite remember why he cared.

[note-boom]

One of the things that confuses me most about bsd fanfics is when they place Kouyou as an overseer of the PM's courtesans.

Am I missing some information from the LNs or manga? Because if not...that kind of feels slightly sexist/misogynistic (and wikia says Kouyou’s part of the torturing and interrogation squad). And as far as I know, we haven't seen the PM deal with human trafficking, anyway. At least not those that deal with sex rings. Trading criminals, stealing powerful kids, hunting down wanted people as bounties, organ thieves....but sex (and drugs, which is confirmed) is the only crime we HAVEN’T seen them commit.

Anyway, this has been my controversial (?) take against somewhat common bsd fanfic stuff.

[advestager]

jotaro?

counteroffer:

yes/no?

[waywardsalt]

Hi! I hope you’re doing good in life! So it’s spooky season so I have an ask related to that. I don’t know if you play horror video games, watch horror movies/shows, or read horror books, but if you do, I have to ask: What is the most disturbing book, or video game or show/movie that you’ve played/watched/read? In my opinion, there is two types of horror: the ones that scare you, and the ones that traumatize you. If you can think of any book, movie, or game that really kind of fucked you up, I’m curious to know if you feel like answering. I hope you have a good day and a good life.

Hey, I’m doing good and I hope you are too!

the answer ended up being really long lol

Woof, this is honestly a pretty hard question, since I can't really name any horror (or otherwise) media that actually left me kind of fucked up for a bit, at least not to the degree where it affected me for a while. I probably haven't been really fucked up by anything since I was a kid, so I'll try and recall what a few things fucked me up back then...

Off the top of my head I know that two different spongebob episodes got me bad, the first being one with that tunnel of love thing (tho tbh i havent seen it in a while so it might still spook me today) and the one where i'm pretty sure for whatever reason squidward gets locked in some small locker and has some kind of fucked up dream, whatever that was. I remember there was an eagle in that one. the eagle terrified me. (i looked them up, and the first episode is titled 'tunnel of glove' and the second is 'squidward in clarinetland'. with how badly that second one got to me, i'm surprised i ended up learning to play the clarinet at all)

other than that, i think the courage the cowardly dog episode 'the house of discontent' got me pretty bad, too, but i think everyone who saw any amount of that series as a kid has at least one episode that got them fucked up.

there's probably a handful of scooby-doo stuff that got to me when i was a kid, but i could not name any specifics (asides from charlie the robot's original episode, christ) because i think i managed to see just about every bit of available scooby media around that time.

nowadays stuff still does kinda fuck me up, but it's usually only for brief bits of time. the most recent example I can think of is cowboy bebop's 20's episode, pierrot le fou, which is honestly some great horror, especially how it uses the show's typical format and flips it on it's head, but i wouldn't necessarily say it got to me because of it being scary, more because of the way the ending disturbed me for a bit. it was the only episode that had me stop afterwards and really look into it for anything other than clarifying a character's gender, lol.

the endings of both neon genesis evangelion and end of evangelion had me shaken, the latter more so than the former, but not really due to horror aspects, though. i did have to take a walk after finishing end of evangelion. i don't really watch horror movies, i just... read the wikipedia plot descriptions of them.

honestly, i think some of the more popular youtube analogue horror series have gotten to me worse (likely due to the fact that they can get a bit more fucked up than, say, a tv show or movie), specifically the walten files (which i did watch) and the mandela catalogue (which i just watched wendigoon's vids on), and those two and mostly because facial distortion is generally just an incredibly effective form of horror imo. a lot of the time (esp with the childhood examples) the way i was 'fucked up' was that id be in be visualizing the stuff that scared me, and both the mandela catalogue and the walten files had me doing that for a bit.

now that i remember it, i was really scared of fnaf when it first came out. i first learned of it second-hand from seeing some other kids looking into it, and the bits and pieces i put together about it really scared me.

honestly, it's usually straight-up disturbing sequences or imagery that gets to me the most, and i know my limits well enough to generally identify and avoid that stuff, which is probably why i don't have too many recent examples. i've got one or two examples of non-horror movies that fucked me up as a kid, but that's mostly because they were wildly inappropriate for someone of my age (at the time) to be witnessing, so that's a different sort of topic.

i mean, i think i generally have a decent tolerance for fucked up stuff in media, anyways, i mean, i enjoy berserk and haven't really been too upset or disturbed by what happens in it (look theres some nasty shit in there im not saying its not that bad) so there's definitionally some kind of line that media needs to cross to really get to me nowadays, or it just needs to be a specific kind of fucked up. books generally don't do that for me so i don't have any book examples. no games, either, though shadow mario and the haunted house segments in super mario 3d world scared me so much that i had to make my mom do the levels for me, and i'm pretty sure scooby doo: first frights scared me a bit when i first played it on ds.

other than that, though, I just think that, in pokemon x, the story that an npc tells you during your first trip to route 14 and then the strange office building encounter with the animation-less hex maniac creeped me out pretty bad.

yeah, it's kind of hard for me to think of anything (recent) that actually really fucked me up or anything. most stuff just scared me, never really fucked me up or figuratively traumatized me in recent years.