#with a side dish of other sad nonsense that more than anything just makes you panicked and tired

[lucky-clover-gazette]

i would like to not wake up wanting to cry. like can we maybe not start the day like that as a default, brain. can we do that.

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[fieryhonesty]

Genshin drabbles filled with sadness - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao

“What have I done? Why did I write such angsty stuff? I feel horrible for hurting the boys. Maybe I should have delete this...”

prompts: loosing their s/o for whatever reason, f!reader

Genre: angst 

Warning(s): nsfw (alcohol consumption, mention of blood) don’t give me that look you don’t want to read this at work, depression & mourning, reader’s dead (no violent or detailed description the boys just lost their girl)

Kaeya has poured two glasses of wine. One for him and one for the woman sitting next to him. She was smiling with the most genuine smile. Pointing up at the sky. The moon and the stars were shining bright. He didn't need any other light source to see her beautiful face.

Just the two of them sitting at the balcony of their shared house. Silently observing the beauty of the night. Drinking from his glass, the sweet-bitter taste was dancing on his tongue. It was as beautiful as the woman he was spending the time with. 

"You know, you are really beautiful tonight, y/n. How about I take a day off tomorrow just to spend it with you?"

No answer.

"We could go on a walk around the city or perhaps go outside the city's walls?"

Yet again, silence.

Kaeya finished his glass with one quick motion. Pouring more wine. The burning sensation in his throat was slowly reminding him something.

"Hey, Dearest. Why don't you talk to me?" 

Silence. 

"Ah, you are right. I'm... a fool."

He starts laughing. It's not a laugh a happy man would have, it's quite the opposite. Kaeya's in pain. His chest hurts, he knows why but dares not to admit it.

Removing his eye patch and tossing it on the table. Looking at his smiling companion. Why is she so beautiful? He is such a lucky man, having somebody like that. So why is he feeling this pain in his chest? Why does he feel like his heart will burst?

The glass with wine shatters. The shards are covered in the red liquid. He closes his eyes. Trying to force the tears to stop forming. Biting his lips. It hurts so much. His hazy memories are slowly reminding him what's going on. 

Just like a movie it all flashes back in the moment you were standing between him and the enemy. Blocking the hit for him. Falling to ground with a painful scream. But before that you managed to look at your beloved. He is safe, you did well. 

He stares in horror at the scene. Wishing it's just a bad horror he is watching. This can't be happening. You didn't waste your life for him, did you? If there was somebody supposed to die it's him. He made a mistake. A mistake which cost him you.

Kaeya is silently sobbing, one hand hiding his face while the other is gripping his attire at chest area. He is sure nobody can see him, yet he still feels like to hide. He might be drunk but he knows the woman next to him is just an illusion created by his own mind. There's nobody at all it's just him and the wine. 

You are no longer alive. It's all because of him being cocky that day. He was full of himself and so sure he will keep you safe. In the end he lost his remaining pride and you...

Diluc is walking in circles. Biting his thumb while doing so. It hurts, he can taste blood but nothing hurts more than his heart right now. Sweat is forming on his forehead as he is trying to suppress his tears. His shoes are making loud thumbs against the wooden floor. The sounds can be heard in the room under his. 

Everyone is silent in the room. Elzer, Adelinde, the old man Tunner and a few more. Listening to noises from Master Diluc's room, yet nobody dares to let him know he is loud. It would be more than rude. Especially now when he has to deal with yet another painful experience. 

First he lost his father and several years later he lost his wife. He was finally happy. Having you by his side was a blessing. You were there for him whenever he needed and he did the same for you. Feeling down? He'd be there cupping your face, planting butterfly kisses on your face. Snuggling you close into a protective embrace.

You did something similar. Playing with his hair when he was snuggled to your neck. Brushing through them, tucking them behind his ear. Saying soothing words. He would fall asleep like that.

But now? You are gone. Your sudden passing away affected the whole manor. You were liked among the maids as you often joined in small talk or offered to help them. Despite their protests it's their job. You didn't mind it.

Old Tunner and folks from vineyards remember how you often walked around. Caressing the grapes or bringing some snack.

Simply put. You were the star which was shining bright for everyone. Lifting their spirits and now you are gone. Everyone is mourning you but none can think of how much he is hurt. 

When Diluc heard about your critical condition he rushed to see you but doctors didn't let him. You needed to rest but your body was weak, they knew you won't make it. In the end allowing him to see you for the last time. Holding your already cold hand. 

He sat there for minutes, until you left him all alone. He didn't move, doctors had to lead him out. Somebody had to pick him up and bring home. He laid on the bed, one hand over his face. Trying to keep his tears away. 

Nobody dared to knock on the door. Not even Elzer who always worried about his young Master. Trying to offer some kind words. He knew his words would be useless now. All he can do is just wait. He knows if he goes his Master will be out of control and won't listen to anything. 

It's just another painful hit for Master Diluc. He thought he would be happy finally. Already had plans for the future with you. Everything is pointless now. Why does life keep taking his beloved ones from him? How much more he has to suffer…

Xiao is silently sitting at the top of Wangshu Inn. The cold wind is caressing his hair. He is observing the distant horizon, how the moon is slowly going up. His mind is blank. If he were a mortal it would be probably clouded by negative thoughts. 

He has no feelings or need for them. He is one of the mighty Adepti, there's no room for stupid things like feelings or emotions. At least that's what he tries to keep repeating to himself. 

Mortals come and leave out of his life. Which is only natural for their short life span. He wouldn't be bothered with it at all. But there was a woman who managed to change him. Showed him what those odd feelings in his chest are. She proved to him he has feelings and emotions. He was just suppressing them his whole life. 

Perhaps it was all for the better. He feels lonely. Usually it would be the two of you sitting here. You would be nudging him about random things. Snuggle onto his shoulder, whispering some nonsense. He would look at you and see those shiny, beautiful eyes of yours. 

He remembers when you fed him with his favorite dish. He was confused at first why would you do it. Explaining to him it's something people in love would do for their partner. Take care of them. He tried to feed you too, it was a clumsy attempt. But you appreciated his efforts.

You showed him so many nice things he could see only from mortal's eyes. He understands some things he couldn't before. All because of you. But what's this feeling? Regret? No. He does not regret letting you enter his life. He regrets being too late. 

Before he could do something you were already gone. The demon which attacked you. That sneaky bastard avoiding his watchful gaze. It dared to assault somebody he thought of as a close person. Taking you from him just as if bonds are nothing. 

When he arrived you were possessed by the demon. Its power went out of control, destroying everything around. He tried to talk to you but there was nothing left, just agony and darkness. He could see the suffering in your face. You didn't want to. You never were a violent person, yet now you are destroying everything. 

For the first time in his life Xiao felt anger was taking control over him. He wanted to eradicate all demons. For what they did all those millennials, for what they did just right now. He knew you will eventually die and leave him, he was fine with that. But he never thought of losing you like this.

He has to do his duty as a Yaksha, the Liyue's protector. Pointing the tip of his spear at your throat. He stopped only because you tried to talk. The words coming out of your lips were just gibberish. 

"Farewell, y/n. I'm sorry."

Ending it just like that. Watching how the blood was leaving your body. Feeling sick from the sight of it. He released you from the agony the demon was causing you. Banishing it as it tried to escape from your dying body. There's no demon safe, not from Xiao. He will continue his duty.

But one thing is certain. He will always feel lonely at night as he got used to your presence. You will remain in his heart forever. Always will have that special place as a foolish but lovely mortal, daring to approach him despite all of his fame as a Yaksha. The cold he feels right now bothers him. Just if you could be there...

[hualianff]

Distant Faces

The Lonely (Instrumental) – Christina Perri

After much deliberation, HC finally decides what to give XL on his birthday: a painted portrait of XL and his parents during Xianle’s most prosperous days. Even though HC tries his best not to remember his life during those times, he knows XL loved his parents despite how everything turned out. 

It’s been over 800 years, after all. 

XL had offhandedly mentioned he can’t even remember the details of his parents’ faces anymore. The way his mother’s eyes shone chocolate brown in the sunlight; the way his father scowled in disapproval but never in a malicious manner. The way his mother held him when he felt sad, let him cry on her shoulder. The way his father looked proudly upon XL as his son.

Admittedly, XL had a complex relationship with his father. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye, especially towards Xianle’s inevitable deterioration. XL can cry because he misses his mother, but with his father, it’s more than that.

It’s regret.

It’s shame.

It’s anguish for the tension that kept his father at a distance that now seems insignificant.

But being the kind of person XL is, he’d rather remember the positive aspects of his relationship with his parents than the hardships.

Especially because he feels like he failed them in the end.

HC cannot relate to XL’s experience of having loving parents who genuinely cared for him, much less the loss of such parents. An abandoned child like himself had to bear the burden of living from a young age. HC did not grow up nurtured or fawned over; HC endured his cruel existence by looking after himself. 

After meeting XL again after his third ascension, HC now knows what it’s like to be loved–fiercely and unconditionally. To imagine losing XL gives HC a palpable semblance of what XL felt when he woke up completely alone on the day his parents passed. Over the decades, XL has briefly talked about that day, though never in full detail. Partially because XL’s mind has blocked out the trauma, but it is also simply too painful to remember.

Originally, HC heavily debated whether gifting his husband the portrait was even a good idea. The last thing he would want to do is upset or offend XL. HC wasn’t even sure he could properly replicate the king and queen’s faces.

Ultimately, HC decided to go through with his plan. He hopes that if anything, this painting can help XL recall his parents’ faces and the fond memories he had with them. Perhaps it could serve as an outlet for healing from the years XL suffered on his own. Everything HC does is for the happiness of his husband.  

After going through one of his earliest memories via his butterflies, HC spent days sketching, outlining, and painting the portrait. He miraculously managed to portray the details as accurately as possible—MQ and FX themselves confirmed. The two heavenly officials failed to hide their teary eyes, MQ abruptly turning away while FX furiously rubbed at his cheeks. It’s one of the few instances HC holds his tongue when around the two martial gods.

There is no shortage of people who celebrate XL’s birthday when it arrives—heavenly officials, Ghost City, and worshippers alike. HC spends the entire day by his husband’s side, visiting as many festivals to witness the joyous ceremonies. Worshippers place extra lavish offerings on their altars while XL’s friends personally deliver their gifts at Puqi Shrine. (The designated location for heavenly officials.)

Once it’s evening and the festivities have calmed down, only two remain inside Puqi Shrine. HC has taken the liberty to cook a quick meal for them to share. He ladles soup into XL’s bowl, then scoops rice topped with fried fish onto his plate. 

“Thank you for making us dinner, San Lang. It looks delicious,” XL says, eyes sparkling. HC smiles warmly.

“I would be a fool to not spoil Gege with wonderful food, regardless if it’s his birthday or not,” HC solemnly says. “Though I do hope he enjoys the fish and soup.”

“There are no doubts about that,” XL replies before eagerly spooning some broth into his mouth. His eyes visibly widen as he sputters a bit, spoon lowering back into the bowl. “Oh, that’s hot!”

“Careful, gege. Allow this dutiful husband to blow on it.”

They finish eating with satisfied slurps and chewing, keeping casual conversation between bites. Before XL can get up to clear off the table, HC snaps his fingers, every dish already washed and placed back in the cabinets. 

They are finally alone, energy spent and stomachs no longer empty. HC’s eyes shift to the corner of the room where a covered, flat object is propped against the wall. 

“Gege, I have one last present for you.”

“That’s been here this whole time? Wow, it’s so big!”

HC doubts himself even as he hands over the wrapped gift. He watches with bated breath as XL carefully works open the covering with nimble fingers to reveal what’s inside.

Once XL sees the entire painting in all its glory, his hand flies over his mouth. His initial excited smile upon tearing away the wrapping paper is replaced with a tense frown, the type when someone is trying their best not to cry. 

A ragged sob escapes his lips.

XL can’t stop staring at their faces—his parents’ faces—who he hasn’t seen in centuries. Who he never got to say goodbye to. He touches the canvas, paints dried and glossed over with a finishing product that gives the image a sleek sheen. He touches their familiar faces, pleasant smiles etched onto their lips, and then his own, placed between his father and mother, smiling widely: happy.

XL hugs the canvas to his body, closing his eyes, and cries his heart out.

HC’s heart shatters at the sight of XL breaking down, though it was almost a guaranteed reaction. He doesn’t hesitate to rush forward to embrace his beloved from behind, nuzzling against XL’s temple as his smaller body trembles uncontrollably. But before HC can express his pitiful apology, he hears quiet, repetitive mumbling among XL’s broken sobs.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Gege-”

“Thank you.”

“-breathe, my love.”

“Thank you.”

Over and over again. Nearly nonsensical through ragged chokes and desperate gasps for air. HC shakes his head as tears wet his own cheeks, as if to say a thank you was not needed. He rubs up and down XL’s arm, occasionally pausing to massage his neck, anything to comfort him in his sorrow. XL suddenly grasps onto HC’s wrist, an anchor from the barrage of overwhelming emotions washed over him over the last few minutes.

HC eventually rasps out a remorseful, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what for exactly. For triggering XL’s tears. For the death of XL’s parents. For the loneliness and grief XL has experienced and never had the proper closure to.

XL continues weeping without a sound. For the fear of ruining the portrait with his tears, XL carefully places the painting on the table. He gives the painting one last lookover, lower lip wobbling. XL bites his lip to suppress the whimper threatening to erupt from his throat. 

How could he ever forgive himself?

“Me too,” a son whispers to his parents. 

Half an hour later, XL and HC are situated in their bed at Paradise Manor. Per XL’s request, HC skillfully hung the painting up next to their wedding portrait. Two pieces juxtapose two different eras; one, a window to the past; the other, a relic that will remain timeless.

Someday in the future, XL will have the strength to commemorate his parents with more than just a fleeting prayer. He will describe them with words and stories that do them justice. He will honor their legacy not by following in their footsteps (for they have long disappeared against the force of time), but by practicing the values they bestowed upon him while simultaneously learning from their faults and mistakes.

However, for tonight, HC wraps XL in a snug blanket burrito, holding XL from behind as the former prince mourns in silence. HC doesn’t push his beloved. He merely squeezes XL’s hand to remind him he has someone to listen to him. The last thing XL requests before falling asleep is another portrait of his parents, this time with both him and HC sat in the middle. 

“Father...Mother...if you could see me now...see how happy I am,” XL tiredly thinks, sleep beckoning him to surrender to the darkness. “You guys really...would have loved him.”

(Special thanks to @no-one-says-hi and @iaintnosidekick for listening/helping)

(Inspiration)

[inupibaldspot]

金継ぎ | KIN-TSUGI [ A Fruits Basket Fanfiction ]

Chapter 9

Tsubaki locked herself in her room for days. Akito would sometimes bang into the door as she cried for Tsubaki to open the door but there was no answer.

Often inside the room, the maids would hear Tsubaki coughing and sometimes moaning in pain, this was the impact off the curse of the servant who was denying her master.

However deep into the night there would be a knock on the door which was answered. Tsubaki only responded to Kureno and no one else. When he entered in room, Tsubaki would embrace him as he whispered comfort into her ear while wiping her tears, as she would then fall asleep in his arms.

However there was one night in particular which was different. Tsubaki was leaning against Kureno's shoulder as she felt a sudden emptiness making her turn her head to look at Kureno.

"You're here with me right now, right Kureno?" Tsubaki cupped his face as her voice trembled. No doubt someone left.

"Of course..." Tsubaki slowly turned away. The feeling she got right now was something she felt years ago, it was when Kureno's curse broke. She closed her eyes as a tear slipped. There was a pain within her as if her heart was ripped apart.

Kureno looked at her as pulled on his shirt, wiping her tears. "What's wrong?" Kureno's voice was gentle.

Tsubaki hesitated to speak but then she leaned into Kureno's chest. "How did you feel when the curse broke?" Someone's curse broke... but unlike Akito, Tsubaki did not know who until she saw the person face to face.

"It felt empty... Till that day I felt someone with me but all of the sudden I felt so alone." Kureno smiled looking at Tsubaki, playing with her hair. "I did not know whether I was sad or happy...frustrated or relieved."

"It is too complex for me to describe..."

"I see...."

 .....

 Tsubaki opened the window to her room. She sighed as she let the fresh air in as she then rested on the window sill.

She was yet to meet Akito or anyone else for that matter. However Tsubaki trembled as she imagined meeting Akito, for now she feels disappointed and hurt at Akito but if she were to meet her personally, Tsubaki knew all of these feelings will dissolve and be replaced with simply affection for Akito. That scared her.

Tsubaki listened to the gentle rustle of the leaves and the gentle breeze on her skin when all of the sudden she heard a commotion.

As much as she didn't listen, it was human nature to pay attention to the noise when an environment is otherwise silent. There seemed to be shouting, Tsubaki wondered if it was Akito.

Did she get into a fight with another zodiac members? Or is she simply throwing a tantrum... Tsubaki thought. Either way she did not want anything to do with it.

However her body betrayed her. Before Tsubaki could even register, she was walking towards the noise and there were continuous whispers I her mind. What if Akito gets hurt?

The scene which was in front of her horrified her. There was Ren who was holding a knife pointing towards Akito. Kureno and two other maids were also present.

Ren's hand shivered as she shouted. "I don't know what of Akira-san's you’re holding but give it back!" Her voice trembling. "It’s mine! Everything of Akira-san's belongs to me."

Tsubaki looked at the object she was referring to only to see a small box in Akito's hands. She vaguely remembered that box was given to Akito by the head maid to comfort the small child when Akira passed away. The head maid said that it contained Akira's soul.

"Mother, Calm down." Tsubaki stepped in. "We can talk this through-"

"Don't come in between me and Akira!" Ren shouted as she pointed the sharp object towards Tsubaki preventing her from taking another step in.

Kureno quickly grabbed Tsubaki as pulled her behind him. "Stay behind me..."

Akito sighed as she pulled a condescending smirk as she walked towards Akira. "If you really want it, I’ll give this stupid thing!" With that Akito threw the box up in the air.

Ren ran towards the box which was on the floor as she eagerly opened it. Her face then turned into a blank expression. "It’s empty..."

"That's right..." Akito smiled as tears slipped from her eyes. She looked away. "It has always been empty-" Akito swiftly turned as grabbed the knife, which was on the ground, as she raised it to stab it into Ren.

Akito suddenly stopped her action as she quickly faced Tsubaki. Tsubaki also had a similar expression. Once again there was a sudden feeling of emptiness. Someone's curse broke... Another end had come.

Ren looked at Akito, who stopped moving all together. "What's wrong? Weren't you going to kill me?"

"Shut up!" The head maid shouted, furious. "Why did you even bring a weapon here?" This caused another fight to break out between the two maids.

Akito slowly walked away leaving the room, looking weak. And when Ren and her maid left, there were only Kureno, Tsubaki and the head maid alone.

"Kureno-san please go to Akito." The head maid requested. "I want to talk to Tsubaki alone." The man gave a worried look but nevertheless agreed.

"Remember Tsubaki! You're supposed to serve Akito." The head maid starts as she looks at Tsubaki.

Tsubaki looked oddly unresponsive and empty. Her mind was still in daze but that did not stop the maid from continuing. "You all are bound by the bond and if you don't act properly you are no different from that monster cat-"

"I want to leave..." Tsubaki spoke.

The head maid gasped in shock. "What type of nonsense are you speaking Tsubaki-san?!"

"I'm honestly very tired..." Tsubaki spoke in a low voice. "Ever since I was young I followed what you taught and did whatever Akito said as if it was a law."

"But then when I was alone in the room for the past few days my mind went everywhere as I imagined all sorts of things." Tsubaki smiled. "I wondered if I had been born into a normal family, I would have known parental love. Spending mornings having breakfast with parents, doing the dishes and even having family outings at time. I always wanted to have something like that."

“I have realized that I have a person I love possibly more than I've loved Akito." Tsubaki wandered her mind to Kureno's gentle smile. She wondered if she left, he would go along with her. "But now I want to move out. I'm far too late for those experiences of my ideal family now but I can give that to my future children... I want to be my own person and build my own family with a person I dearly love...."

"B-but..." The head maid's voice stammered as she hands shaked. "If you were to leave just like the previous people who were bound was the servants you might die!"

Tsubaki turned away as she walked away. "I think...If I were to die while fulfilling that wish, my last thoughts would be 'I'm happy that I'm surrounded with people I love'."

Walking away Tsubaki noticed that it had started raining. The weather made the atmosphere quite dark.

Entering the hallways, she saw Kureno and Akito. They were embracing.

Ah... I forgot. Tsubaki thought as she felt her heart hurt at the sight. Even if I and Kureno were to love each other, we don't belong to one another. We belong to Akito.

Just as Tsubaki was about to walk away from the two Akito suddenly pulls out a knife, the one Ren had brought, as she impaled the object into Kureno's back.

Tsubaki brought her hands to cover her mouth from shock as her whole body went cold.

"Your kindness that half saved and half rejects me...Has been killing me!" Akito pulled away as she shouted. "So take responsibility and pay for it!"

Akito then walked out of the house and into the rain. "Atone with your death!" With those words she runs away.

"Kureno!!!"

Tsubaki rushed to his side, as he limped towards Akito. "Tsubaki... Forget about me. Go to Akito..."

Tsubaki stripped off her outer kimono as she placed it on Kureno's injury to prevent the blood from flowing out. "Don't be stupid!" She shouted as her lips trembled. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Somebody! Is anyone near?!" Tsubaki shouted.

Kureno looked at Tsubaki. The girl was crying as she kept turning her head around to search for the presence of other people. It's seemed as if Tsubaki seemed to be crying a lot these days. He disliked that.

Kureno weakly raised his hands as he cupped her face. "Are you crying for me?" He smiled at his own joke.

"Are you an idiot?! Who else is bleeding in my hands?" Tsubaki shouted. "Of course I'm crying for you."

"I'm happy...." Kureno left his conscious slowly drifting away as his vision started to blank. "Don't worry... I won't leave you... I already planned my future with you..."

Kureno knew he was never Tsubaki's top priority. She always priorities Akito.

Kureno knew Tsubaki's first love wasn't him. It was Hatori.

Kureno knew Tsubaki's kindness towards him. She was kind to all of the zodiacs.

But then more than other zodiacs she loved Akito. She never acted to have a relationship with Hatori even though they clearly loved each other when they were younger. She made sure to crush her feelings for Hatori because she knew Akito would never allow it.

Despite all that, Tsubaki finally turned to Kureno. She knew Akito would hate it yet she accepted Kureno's embrace. Even though she gave up on her love for Hatori, she expressed her love for him, Kureno. Even right now rather than Akito, she chose to stay by his side. Kureno was happy Tsubaki finally picked him over everyone.

 .....

 Tsubaki opened the door to Kureno's hospital room. She stayed there until Kureno regain consciousness after his surgery but was later forced by Kureno and Hatori both to go back home and rest for a while.

Going back home she took a bath, a small nap, made some food and even packed some to later feed Kureno.

Tsubaki noticed the man was lying in bed, his eyes closed. She smiled as she tried to walk as quite as possible as she placed the packed food on his table.

Walking towards Kureno, she took in his appearance. His brown hair which was quite messy and his face which looked a bit paler than usual, nevertheless she couldn't deny he was indeed attractive.

Rasing her hand she placed cupped his cheek as her thumb moved gently. Kureno shifted slightly as he tilted his head slightly. Tsubaki giggled at his actions. "So you're awake."

Kureno let out a small laugh as he opened one of his eyes. Tsubaki walked away with a smile. "Wake up. I got you some food." Making Kureno sit up as he leaned on his back.

While placing the food in front of Kureno, Tsubaki started. “I went to visit Tohru as well. It seems she has been recovering well."

"I see..." Kureno said as he picked up his chopsticks and picking up some rice from the bento box. "I glad that her injuries weren’t too serious."

"She kind of reminds me of you." Tsubaki laughed as Kureno gave a confused stare, his cheeks filled with food. "Both of you are incredibly kind and maybe abit clumsy... but I like both of you."

Kureno continues to eat his food before he starts speaking, his tone tense. "What about Akito? How is she?"

Tsubaki sighed as she looked outside the room. "Akito... Akito changed after meeting with Tohru. She has become calmer and gentle."

"Kureno, I feel like you might not want anything to do with Akito anymore." Kureno nodded when Tsubaki looked at him asking for confirmation. "But when I talked with Tohru...I realized that Akito was all this time very lonely. She has been raised with everyone around her telling she is special and nothing she does can be wrong..."

"I said those same things as well but now after seeing her again I want to rebuild my bond with Akito." Tsubaki bit her lips as she hesitated continuing. "I no longer want to see her as my master but rather treat Akito simply as my dear sister."

"There are many things she doesn't know about the outside so I hope that I can teach her and be by her side." Tsubaki looked into Kureno's eyes. "If I said I don't want to leave Akito yet stay with you... would you leave me?"

Kureno smiled as he placed a hand behind Tsubaki's head as he pulled her into an embrace. "I got you after so long, there is no way I'm letting you get away." Kureno kissed the top of her head comforting her. "Indeed I don't really want to personally be in contact with Akito now... but then I have nothing against you wanting to be with your little sister. I'll support whatever you want, Tsuabki..."

"Thank you-"

Tsubaki suddenly stopped speaking as she left something  leave her, all of her senses completely heightened as she turned around to see what was causing it.

Behind her stood a man, he resembled a Shinto priest, who was looking at her as he stood by the window. A gust of wind flew into the room as a dragon gracefully flew towards him.

The man spoke, his voice was so gentle and elegant. "Thank you for taking care of her till the end." By her, he probably meant Akito, their God.

As he then held onto the dragon who pulled him from the room as they flew away. Back to their God.

Tsubaki suddenly remembered every time Hatori and she were seen together, the people would gush saying how it's was nice for the souls to be reunited. As according to the ancient story and their past self’s, the servant and the dragon loved each other dearly, sometimes as friends sometimes as lovers.

"Tsubaki?" But the one she loves now is him.

Kureno’s voice brought her back into reality as she finally turned to look at him. "The banquet has... The banquet has finally ended." Tsubaki's voice cracked as tears continued to fall.

"It feels so complicated. I've always lived with this but now that it's gone so suddenly... so abruptly I-I..." Kureno pulled her into an embrace.

Her then cupped her face as he placed a light kisses on her forehead. "I understand..." Kureno spoke. "But then it means you're free, my love. With this I want to take this opportunity to say I'm going to dedicate all of my being to you..."

Kureno looked at her. Tsubaki could feel his gaze simply full of affection towards her. "Let's make a new bond...just between me and you. A bond which will make me the happiest person alive."

"Will you till accept me even..." Tsubaki kept crying but this time to was full of happiness as she held Kureno’s hands. "Even if I have nothing to give you other than my broken self" She has done many things wrong in her life which hurt many along the way, all because of her coward-ness and insecurities.

Kureno laughed lightly as he peppered her with kisses all over, her eyes, cheeks, forehead and finally her lips.

"That's all I ever wanted. I'll always be with you picking up all your pieces and make sure to fill you with nothing but my love."

 .....

 "Akito."

Tsubaki looked at Akito was sitting down looking at the garden outside, beside her was a small package, a golden glow from the outside making her look so beautiful.

"Tsubaki..." Akito turned slowly as she looked at her. She opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it, only to suck in a deep breath. "I thought you won't come back?"

Tsubaki smiled. She is certain now. When she stayed away from Akito, Tsubaki wondered if she loved Akito simply due to the curse, but the way her heart warmed at the sight of Akito, what Tsubaki felt was genuine love. "How could I?"

"Tsubaki there is something I want to say..."

"What is it?"

"Can we start over?" Akito said, her voice barely audible. "I know the things I did to you were wrong and you might never forgive me...But still I want to see me grow into a better person..."

Tsubaki smiled as she cupped Akito's face. "Only if you call me onee-san... Like how you did when we were younger."

Akito's eyes glistened as she closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her chest in relief as she nodded her head.

Tsubaki turned to look at the package beside her. "Is this the gift Shigure bought?" Akito nodded. Truth is Tsubaki wanted to buy Akito a kimono as well, a gift for Akito who will embrace her true self from now on but it seems that Shigure was one step ahead of her.

"This is my gift for you..." Tsubaki pulled out a small rectangular box as she then opened it. It was a hair pin, beautiful sculpted as a red flower which would go well with Akito. Red always suited her.

Tsubaki smiled at Akito, which such a gentle yet doting expression. "Shall we get ready for the final banquet now?"

Tsubaki could hear loud voices from the room the door away connected. She turned back to look at Akito once more. The woman was dressed in a beautiful kimono even with light makeup adoring her face. Her gifted hairpin placed on one side of her hair.

"Akito, you look really beautiful rights now."

With that Tsubaki opened the door as she stepped in. "Good evening, everyone." Tsubaki bowed, when she straighten up she put on an elegant smile. "Akito is ready..." She then walked in and behind her Akito walked.

With Akito's entrance, everyone turned silent undoubtedly shocked at the reveal. "Hatori, where is Shigure?" Akito questioned.

Hatori snapped out of his daze as she shook his head. "I don't know..."

"Akito-san, don't tell me we have the same cross dressing hobby?!" Ritsu exclaimed in shock.

Akito's expression soured at the assumption. "No." She sternly denied as Tsubaki laughed. Akito never really was good with dealing with Ritsu and Ayame.

Akito elegant sat down as she faced the zodiac- no, former zodiac members. "Just as all of you were able to return to who you are, I'll return to my true self." Akito spoke. "You all are free..."

"I know I should have said something sooner but..." Akito bowed her head. "I apologize...." Besides Akito ,Tsubaki also bowed as well.

You don't have to forgive Akito but please do not let the past prevent you from having a future we always dreamed of. Please smile, please laugh, please experience love which we were not able to get when we were younger. Tsubaki thought.

Please have a happy future...All of you.

 .....

"Mama!"

A woman turned around to look at a small girl who was clinging into her apron. The woman smiled at the tiny girl, who had glowing brown hair tied into a twin tail. "Are you done eating your pudding, Kaede?" She bent down.

Kaede smiled when her mother wiped the crumbs left on her cheeks. "Mama." She said once more. "I want to go visit Shiki-chan!"

The woman tiled her head as she smiled. "Do you love Shiki that much?"

The small girl nodded quickly as she raised her hands. "I love him thiiiiiis much! I love Hajime and Mutsuki as well! They told me Kaede is like a princess! "

Her mother laughed. "Let's not say that to papa, okay? I'm sure he'll faint if you say that."

The mother then hummed as she placed a hand on her face. "But I don't think we can go visit them if Kaede doesn't do her homework." She faked a pout.

The girl flinched as she took a step back. "Kaede will go do it right now!" With that the tiny girl ran away with sounds of tiny steps accompanying her.

The mother then walked to the living room, and in there she found her husband who had fallen asleep on the sofa. Smiling to herself, she raised her husband's head and placed it on her lap.

Noticing crumbs of the pudding on his cheeks as well just like Kaede, she smiled as she wiped them away. So clumsy… Her husband receiving her touch, leaned in. "You're not even asleep, Kureno. Stop acting."

Kureno slowly opened his eyes as he smiled looking at his wife's face. "Where is Kaede, Tsubaki?"

Tsubaki smiled. "She went to do her homework. Apparently she wants to visit Shiki."

Kureno sighed, disappointed. "Does that mean you're going to go away?" Kureno pouted.

"That's right." Tsubaki subconsciously started playing with Kureno's hair. "I heard Tohru is visiting as well so it's perfect."

"I'll miss you." Kureno smiled as he raised his hand and placed it behind Tsubaki's head. "Do come back quick." He said, as he pulled Tsubaki towards him, as he then kissed her. Tsubaki smiled as she leaned in, deepening the kiss.

"Ah!" A small voice exclaimed. "Papa move away from mama!" The girl rushed in as she started to pull Kureno away from Tsubaki.

Kureno started sobbing as he pretended to be pulled by Kaede’s strength. "Ehh? Why are you so mean to me?"

The girl huffed. "Because Mama is mine! And we are going to visit Shiki-chan!"

"Papa is sad that he'll be left alone."

Tsubaki's heart warmed up at the sight of her husband playing with her child. A scene she could have never have imagine when she was younger was reality now. From the bottom of her heart, she was happy.

A new bond which was accompanied with happiness and love embraced so gently which would remain for all eternity.

 -The End-

 masterlist

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Creation”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Oh man, oh man, oh man. I think I'll need to steer clear of the general RWBY tags this week, simply because I know the sort of responses I'll see to this episode. From smug celebration at Ironwood's downfall, to bad takes about what makes us human, this episode is a petri dish of sensitive material handled insensitively.

Let’s unpack it, shall we? 

We open on an action that feels like a summery of the last three volumes: a grimm attacks an airship from the front, no doubt killing its pilot, while the other grimm conveniently ignore our heroes, no masking in sight. The group looks a little sad at the destruction around them, but ultimately ignore it because they have bigger, heroic things to do. I could write a whole, additional essay on how the huntsmen code — to protect the people — has been warped and abandoned by our protagonists in their effort to do what they think is right. It's a tale that might have been compelling if only RT knew they were writing it.

We get a shot of Atlas drones unloading the bomb before one is taken out, presumably by Qrow and Robyn. Segueing to Ironwood and the Ace Ops, they're waiting for Penny to arrive, the former carrying a massive gun presumably capable of capturing her. Despite the horror we saw on their faces last episode at the realization that Ironwood would kill Marrow for speaking up, it seems that now the Ace Ops are entirely in agreement with these measures. A week ago the implication was that they fell back in line out of fear, but now Harriet talks passionately about "putting down" the group if they were stupid enough to accompany Penny. "The General gave his terms." Vine sighs at this, but doesn't actively disagree. He's just "retracing the steps that led us here."

So, congratulations on introducing four new characters, not bothering to develop any of them, killing one off while ignoring Qrow's hand in that, and having the other three become all, "Yeah! Mass murder is a perfect solution!" off screen. Marrow is the only one with something resembling development and, as covered in these recaps, that's been pretty badly executed too.

Ironwood sends them to deal with Robyn and Qrow after Winter reappears to "assist" him. That gets quotation marks because most viewers at this point have realized that she's who our two birbs spotted in the elevator. Winter isn't on Ironwood's side anymore, she's just skillfully clearing the field for the final attack. Indeed, we get a moment where she hesitantly brings up the bomb and Ironwood responds that he hopes she's not going to try and talk him out of it. No. Winter doesn't think that's possible. This was her final attempt at peace.

One of the reasons why I think I'll stick to my own blog for a while is because the fandom has a tendency to paint broad personality traits as evil when applied to some characters, yet simultaneously heroic when applied to others, when really it's about how that those traits are used. What I mean is, I've seen a lot of Ironwood critical posts that emphasize how stubborn he is. He thinks he's right and he won't back down. He wont listen to others. He's going through with this plan and if anyone tries to stop him? That's their mistake. Totally evil, right? Except, this is the exact same behavior Ruby displays, particularly in Volumes 6 and 7. She was stubborn about stealing from Argus and continuing the fight to the point where it endangered her and her teammates, to say nothing of the rest of the city. She refused to listen to Qrow, or Ironwood, or the Ace Ops, loudly announcing that she was right about, well, everything. If they didn't agree with her, the options were to leave the group entirely, or fight her. The actual difference here is that the writers have taken Ironwood to an extreme, one that's incredibly easy to understand as bad because it is bad: bombing Mantle has no defense. Ruby pulls the exact same nonsense, it's just not to that same extreme and her actions are followed by scenes that are meant to make us forgive her: a sad look because she didn't mean to get a city attacked by a leviathan grimm, a cry on the staircase because she didn't mean to risk the lives of an entire kingdom... even though she did. Ironwood is the bad guy because he's been written to take specific, OOC actions like shooting unarmed kids. He's not the bad guy because when other characters go, "Don't do this" his response is, "I have to." Because that's been Ruby's motto ever since she "had" to use the Lamp to rip Ozpin’s life story away. RWBY introduced those extreme actions of shooting the youngest in the group (for no reason) and threatening to bomb a city (for no reason) or shooting a councilman (for no reason) because when you remove those you've got a man who looks exactly like our hero. Ironwood's arc has been peppered with these confusing, unpersuasive actions because if you just keep the story as him stubbornly keeping to a plan he thinks will save the world, you're left with the reminder that all Ruby has done lately is stubbornly keep to plans she thinks will save the world. This moment with Winter just highlights how ill thought out Ironwood's descent has been because he does everything Ruby does... with a few, tacked on, “and randomly shoots people!” moments to ensure we understand that he’s definitely evil. No comparison to our heroes here, folks! 

Ironwood is a bad guy now. That’s certain, but he was made that way so the story never had to grapple with the question of what that means for Ruby if we really start condemning things like lying, secrets, stubbornness, or endangering others for the greater good. Well then damn, if we strip away the hypocrisy then she might not be a good person after all. Or the people she’s simplistically labeled as bad might not be the devils Ruby claims they are. 

But that’s a level of nuance RWBY would rather pretend doesn’t exist. 

All of which is highlighted by Ironwood’s reaction to "Penny." He sighs and sags over the gun, immediately putting it aside. With his hand on her shoulder, Ironwood tells her she's "done the right thing." Precisely the same way Ruby would lower Crescent Rose and give someone a smile when they decided to fall in line with her.

Which, of course, is the moment when Emerald reveals herself, dispelling the Penny illusion and revealing Team JNPR The Second behind her. She gives a quip about it feeling "weird" to do the right thing before disappearing.

From there the action picks up fast. I really enjoyed this battle simply from a choreography and energy standpoint. It gets the blood pumping, Ironwood's hand-to-hand is spectacular — especially that moment against Ren — and the group actually displays teamwork for the first time in what feels like forever, all of them needed to land a hit on Ironwood. As always, out of the context of the rest of the show it feels and looks great. My primary issue is that we get this fantastic fight against Ironwood. Not Salem, not Cinder, not Watts (like last volume when Ironwood was still a hero), not even Emerald as a means of transitioning from murderous villain to the group's best bud. No, what's arguably the best action sequence in the volume thus far goes to beating up the guy they betrayed from the start. There's no catharsis for me here, only frustration as we watch Ironwood stand in shock as Winter powers up Nora — who's fine now, I guess — and she slams her hammer into his face. 

It never should have come to this and when a good character is done so dirty, their downfall doesn't evoke the emotions the writers are looking for. Watching Ironwood fall doesn't generate feelings of victory, or even tragedy at a course of events others were powerless to stop. It's just frustration at watching years worth of bad writing, sprinkled with fantastic ideas that never go anywhere.

Oscar gets a few hits in, Ironwood snatches his cane, and just as he's about to throw a punch, Winter arrives with the most dramatic sword slash I've ever seen.

Ironwood's aura breaks and he falls, unconscious. We cut to an image of a droid's head separated from its body, one of Robyn's arrows through its skull. That doesn't have meaning or anything.

I suppose I should be grateful they didn't rip Ironwood's arm away during the fight, or outright kill him, though I'm still expecting him to die before the end of the volume.

Hmm. Wouldn't that be something? If after Salem's arrival, freezing cold, a Hound attack, grimm soup, a giant whale, a massive army, and a hack ending in self-destruction, the one character who actually dies is Ironwood. 

It's looking more and more likely.

Honestly, beyond all the obvious, what's so frustrating about this fight is that characters are only now using their impressive abilities to their fullest. Emerald creates an entire fantasy of what's happening and then straight up disappears, but she only does a half-assed version of that when fighting against Penny. (And really, she put more effort into helping the heroes she just joined over Cinder, the woman she's been obsessed with since the start?) Marrow refuses to use "Stay" against a group they wanted to peacefully arrest because that's just too horrible an act, I guess, but he'll do it on his own teammates the second Qrow and Robyn don’t want to fight.  

This is what I mean when I say the rules of the world bend to assist the protagonists in absurd ways. It's not nearly as egregious as Amity suddenly being up and running, but the fact that characters become substantially more powerful while fighting for the protagonists than they do against them is still a significant problem.

So Ironwood is down and out. As much as I hated watching that and didn't necessarily want more, am I the only one who felt like it was... a bit lackluster? I mean, the action was great, yes, but relatively short. There was no dialogue, such as another delve into the moral questions that led to this fight in the first place. There certainly wasn’t any hesitance against fighting a former ally. (Again, we’re meant to believe that the Ace Ops won because they just couldn’t bear to fight the group seriously, but every former ally here is capable of wailing on Ironwood without a single pause or pained look?) Ironwood just skillfully blocks for a while, is blindsided by Winter's betrayal, and then falls unconscious. Given that we learn he and Jacques will be evacuated after the rest of the kingdom, it's possible he'll escape somehow and we'll get a fight 2.0, but if not that feels like a rather tame end to the guy forced into the antagonist seat. Plus, what was the point of having Qrow frothing at the mouth to kill him this whole volume? I never wanted that to happen, I'm glad it hasn't, but I'm nevertheless left to ask why we bothered with that eleven episode side plot if we were going to erase it with one sentence from Robyn about Qrow being better than this. If that's all it took, let them work through Qrow's irrational anger while sitting around in a cell.

Winter tells the group to move onto "phase two" which is when we're treated to a flashback. We return to the ending of the last episode, with Ruby realizing that opening the vault is an option. Jaune, all smiles, goes, "We never considered using what's inside!"

This is what I mean about no consequences! This is what I mean about it all being a meaningless circle that ends with undeserved praise for the group! We started this horror show with Ironwood going, "We don't have a plan to protect the people, so I'm going to take what people we do have to safety" and the group going, "We don't have a plan either, but we're going to stop you implementing your plan because it's not perfect, risking a kingdom's worth of lives in the process." Now, the group has used two plans, one of which two characters knew about at the start and another they could have devised with the information they had. Oscar and Ozpin's, "We have an all powerful magical blast in our cane" and the group's "What if we used the Staff for something other than raising Atlas?" are both things that could have come up in the office debate. These were both always on the table! Instead, Ruby grew furious over the mere thought of cutting their losses, betrayed Ironwood again, attacked his people, denounced him to the world, and then two days later goes, "Oh wait! We could do something now that we could have easily done before if we hadn't made a needless enemy!" 

Everyone realizes how much worse they made things, right? Turning against Ironwood, bringing everyone left in Mantle directly under Atlas, sitting around while an army was devoured, drawing it out until Penny was hacked... all of it would have been avoided if the group had thought and discussed things for a few minutes, not jumping straight to violently resisting what Ironwood came up with first. "We never considered..." Ruby says. Yeah, you didn't, except that's not something to smile about. The group made the situation a thousand times worse with their reaction when they could have just magically evacuated the kingdom from the start. “Maybe we could use it to save Penny and get everyone in Atlas and Mantle back to safety." Nothing has changed! They had this ability the whole time! Nothing about the last twelve episodes led them here, they just randomly thought of it after RT had padded the volume with needless drama. Considering that they're heading to Vacuo now, we could have just made this the finale of Volume 7 instead: big fight with Ironwood, revelation, get everyone  evacuated while Salem attacks, leave her behind, then Volume 8 begins in Vacuo with the group knowing Salem is out there looking for them. This entire volume has been pointless. What did they accomplish?

Oscar got kidnapped and beat up, Nora was scarred, Ruby and Yang realized horrible things about Summer, and the whole world is panicking about a witch. Good things are... Ren and Ruby unlocked some semblance stuff? Weiss loves her brother again after he proved himself useful to her? Great work, team.

So this one moment makes everything they've done up to this point useless and, of course, once thought up the plan goes off without a hitch. Note that the summary of this episode says, "It's risky, dangerous, and nearly impossible — but it's the only plan they've got." Nearly impossible? That's a whole lot of talk for a plan that was implemented perfectly.

There is, admittedly, one snag, but one that is likewise made meaningless just seconds later. We'll get to that.

We see Winter call Weiss who also smiles at hearing from her sister. Obviously interactions like the group's with Emerald are the bigger concern, but it's still an issue that no one reacts as they should to people reappearing in their lives. Rather, RWBY continually confuses audience knowledge with character knowledge. We know Winter is on their side now, but Weiss hasn't a clue. Last she saw, she and Winter were agreeing to head down different paths. She has no reason to think her sister isn't loyal to Ironwood, so why isn't the group treating this call with suspicion? What if it's Ironwood trying to mess with them through a presumably safe party? I swear to god, with any consistency in the story this group would be dead ten times over because their decisions are so stupid. Oscar decides to believe in the guy currently beating him to a pulp, the group decides to trust a villain over a flawed ally, and now they see Ironwood’s second calling and are like, “Great, big sister Winter is checking in!” There’s a difference between a hopeful story filled with second chances and characters whose reliance on the narrative bending to assist them makes them come across as insanely naive. 

None of which even touches on characters forgetting that other characters are presumably dead. Ironwood shot Oscar off the edge of Atlas, but doesn't react to learning he was kidnapped, or when he shows up to the fight. Thanks to Marrow's comment, Winter thinks YJOR have perished in the whale, but also has no reaction to them appearing to help with this plan. Absolutely nothing is followed up on.

We then get a flashback within the flashback (fun) of Winter — shock — not arresting Marrow. It's precisely as I assumed, with Marrow angrily asking why she hit him and Winter responding with, “Because you were about to get killed if I didn’t do something!” As I said last recap, I feel like I should let the marginalized groups lead this discussion, but I do want to add that no matter how well intentioned — or strategic, as I mentioned last time — the imagery itself is still harmful. No matter the context, we were still left with white woman Winter putting her knee on black man Marrow's back to arrest him, and it’s an image that everyone in the U.S. should be familiar with the horror of. Far more of a problem than the (presumed) ignorance of this scene is, I think, the choice to make Winter entirely unrepentant. I think some of this discomfort could have been alleviated if RT had written Winter as apologetic, contrite that it came to that and asking Marrow to understand that she only did it as a means of assisting him. Asking his forgiveness. Instead, we get this

So what, the only emotion we have room for is gratitude that Winter beat him up? Yikes.

As a lighter side note, I find the animation here unintentionally hilarious. Winter's assistive device makes her shoulders look too high, making this gesture more, "Woman exaggeratedly pouts about not getting ice cream for dinner" and less, "Woman sternly closes off during a disagreement about saving lives and betraying their general." Gotta find our humor where we can, right?

What's intentional, but far less funny, is the needless animation to show us that, yes, Marrow is peering at Winter calling Weiss. Oh, the shenanigans. 

The elevator opens where Qrow and Robyn spot them. "Speaking of help," Winter says, as if she has any reason to believe Qrow didn't kill Clover. He and Robyn lower their weapons a bit, as if they have any reason to believe Winter and Marrow aren't still loyal to Ironwood. Would it really be so hard to have Winter immediately throw up her hands in the face of their almost-attack, blurting that she's not their enemy and needs their help, please listen? Again, RWBY can't remember which characters know what, let alone what their motivations and reactions should be.

We then enter the third part of the flashback where everyone piles into the Schnee dining room and discusses doing the things they could have done from the start. I'm metaphorically banging my head against that table. In RWBY's favor though, we also get a long shot of Jaune continuing to boost Penny’s aura.

Though it's only one of many issues, just the other day I asked, "Hey, why has Jaune always needed to hold onto the person he's assisting, but now suddenly he can touch Penny once and the boost remains?" It still doesn't explain why he was letting go before/why him needing to boost her continuously didn't put a hard time limit on their plan — not that Mantle's hour limit meant a thing — but at least they're showing more of that here.

Oscar notes that Atlas has enough gravity dust that it won't fall immediately when they use the Relic, but they will have to move fast to ensure no one is underneath. Yeah, like all the civilians you put there. He also cautions that the Staff isn't a "magic wand" that they can just wave to make all their problems go away... even though that's precisely what they're going to do. Ozpin gets some lines that aren't apologies or followed by attacks — hallelujah! — about how the Staff's spirit is a "character" and requires that you be able to precisely explain anything you want him to make. Blueprints, examples, a firm knowledge of how this will be accomplished — all of it is required to actually get what you're after. That's a cool limitation. It's just too bad we didn't know about it episodes ago, forcing our heroes to find ways to meet those requirements. Instead, they already have everything ready to go the moment they learn about it: Penny has her own schematics and Whitley apparently has knowledge of the entire kingdom after sending some ships out. Normally I'd go, "Really?" but I'm still just struck by how much good he's done compared to everyone else in this room. Your show is seriously broken when the side character the writers didn't even want the audience to like until a few episodes ago is more active, mature, and sensible than the heroes.

From there we see the group implementing the plan. They fly up through the hole Oscar left, straight to the vault. Penny opens it without any trouble and Ruby uses her speed to grab the Relic and stop time, halting her self-termination. I do like that combination of skill and their knowledge of how this magic works. That felt like a smart move. What's interesting though is that the Relic appears to stop time in the entire kingdom. We see people in Mantle and Atlas slowing to a halt too. I assume no one remembers that happening after time restarts, otherwise people would be freaked out by suddenly being frozen in place.

Wouldn't that have been cool though? The group often takes a while to use the Relics, either deciding what they need, or watching Jinn's information, so what if you had a population that blinks and suddenly, from their perspective, half an hour has passed? How long might Ozpin have sat on his knees after Jinn told him he wasn't able to defeat Salem? How long was that space frozen? We could have had a world built around rumors and fairy tales. Not the random stories Ozpin brings up to make a point and that we never hear about again, but tiny details that foreshadow these revelations. A Beacon where the kids tell each other spooky stories of people suddenly losing time, once a whole day. The wives, sisters, daughters, and nieces who disappear, or wake up one day with horrifying, unnatural powers. We see magic influence the world around it, but we've seen very little of the world reacting to that influence. The one time I can think of is Blake reading a book about "a man with two souls," the fiction clearly inspired by knowledge of Ozpin. And indeed, it felt great to recognize that as a significant detail and then be proven right years later as the lore was revealed. We could have gotten so much more of that if RWBY was better planned out.

I'm getting off track though. As time stops we see a series of images: Ironwood being led to a cell with Jacques, Penny succumbing to her hack, Team JNPR The Second preparing to contact the kingdom about what's going on. Then everyone is distracted by the giant, blue, buff Ambrosius who comes out of the Staff.

...there's a lot of innuendo in that last statement lol. At least RWBY is committed to the crazy design they chose? I was never particularly comfortable with the image of characters gaping up at a giant, naked woman in chains, so it's nice to balance that a bit with an equally giant, naked dude in chains.

From here things get confusing. In all honesty, I'm not sure if this is another moment where RWBY is trying to pass off a retcon as the group being brilliant, or if I, as an individual, simply didn't follow the logic. I won't bother to rehash the slow, meandering way that Ruby reveals their plan — that certainly didn't help with the clarity. Not in an episode where we didn’t even know these rules ahead of time — but it boils down to this:

The moment they have Ambrosius create something new Atlas will start to fall. Two of his creations can't exist at the same time.

He needs clear instructions about what he's making in order to create it.

The group has brought him Penny's schematics so that he understands how she's built.

They want, specifically, "a new version of her... using her exact robot parts."  

They can't just create an exact duplicate of Penny because that would carry the virus with it.

They can't create an exact duplicate without the virus because that Penny would cease to exist as soon as they used Ambrosius to make an evacuation plan instead.

So they essentially want Ambrosius to create a new Penny by removing all the robot parts from the Penny that currently exists, carrying the virus with them, and leaving only the human parts of Penny behind: her aura/soul. Then, the purely robot version is destroyed when Ambrosius creates something new.

Except... this new Penny, this human Penny, still needed a human body. That's what Ambrosius created and that's the snag I don't understand. They want a version of Penny that's just her aura, just her soul, but that soul still needs something to be housed in. Ambrosius himself notes that. At first I thought the group would just have some wisp-like version of Penny they'd have to find a new body for — perhaps leading to a new one for Ozpin too — but she's just... given a human body when he takes the technology away, something she absolutely didn't have before. That is Ambrosius' creation. That is what should have disappeared along with the removed parts of Penny, leaving only her soul — what Ambrosius didn't touch — behind. Instead, the plot oh so conveniently has Penny get a new body for free and it's untouched as they move onto the next task.

Ruby drops a casual line about Ambrosius not being able to kill, or destroy, or something, which I think is meant to be the justification here. The rule (which, again, we JUST learned) about not killing anyone supersedes the rule of two creations not allowed to exist, allowing Penny to stick around. But even if that’s true, it’s a load of bull. What, does the magic think no one in an entire city might die if the floating mechanism is removed and it plummets to the ground? Ambrosius didn’t say, “Sorry, can’t stop floating Atlas because thousands of people are still here and they’ll die if I create something new,” but we’re supposed to believe the group skated by on, “Sorry, can’t destroy the last creation like everything else because there’s a single person still using that body and she’ll die if I create something new”? 

Seriously, did I miss something? Or is this another, "Amity is ready because the group needs it" situation? The rule of creations ceasing to exist is bent because the group needs to have their friend around. Ambrosius is certainly enthusiastically complimentary, saying how "smart" the group is and that they've "done their homework," but I'm not so sure. It feels like a moment where the show is (once again) insistent that the group is far more talented and brilliant than their actions actually imply. It's only the rules of the world twisting and turning that allows for their success. To say nothing of how the episode dropped all these rules on the viewer in a ten minute info dump, ensuring we didn’t have any time to think about them before the deed was done. 

It doesn't add up for me and honestly, even putting that aside? I hate this. I absolutely despise it. Look, if it turns out this really does make sense then props to the group for coming up with that plan. Our snag aside, the rest is a legitimately well thought out wish. I don't have a problem with the execution so much as the message. I've been saying since Volume 7 that RWBY has done Penny a disservice in terms of her "real girl" narrative. Whereas before we had a firm message that you don't need "squishy guts" to be human, to be real, Volume 8 continued to carry us further and further into the idea that it is necessary. That Penny's body is entirely inhuman, something to hate, but at least her soul is human and good. That's what the virus arc taught us: your terrible, technological body might be betraying you, but hold onto the parts of you that are really human. I hated that too, but I never thought RWBY would go this far. They made Penny fully human and went, “THIS is the version that always should have existed.”

And this isn't just me reading into the implications. It's right there in the text. Blake says that they're looking for “Penny, the girl who’s always been there underneath." Meaning, underneath the metal. The girl exists trapped in the robot body. Yang holds up her arm and says that the metal is only "extra," it's not really who you are. 

That gets into two perspectives on disability that RWBY just doesn't have the nuance for: what's an integral and celebratory part of one person's existence can be seen as something separate and discomforting to another. Though there are many people with disabilities who would happily cure themselves with a magic Staff if given the chance, there are just as many who say no, this is a part of my identity. I don't want to change, I just want the world to accommodate my existence. However, RWBY takes a hard stance here, saying that any metal in your body is intrinsically bad. We didn’t use to have this take, but now the show has embraced it. Blake says the real Penny is trapped in there. Yang's words implies that she'd get rid of this "extra" bit of her if possible. Mercury with his metal legs is the enemy. Ironwood with half his metal body is the enemy. Whereas once difference was truly accepted, now it's shunned and fixed whenever possible. Those who can't be fixed, like Yang, must simply deal with the lot they've been dealt, reassuring themselves that the metal isn't really them. But Penny? Penny they can fix.

So they do and the very first thing Penny does is hug Ruby, exclaiming, “Do hugs always make you feel this warm inside? Wow. More!” and proceeds to hug all the others. 

What's the underlying message there? Penny didn't understand hugs before this moment. She never experienced the "warmth" of them while an android, despite the fact that here warmth is entirely metaphorical and has nothing to do with a literally cold body. RWBY really went and said that the "real girl” android was never actually real at all — not as real as she could be — because it's only when she's given "squishy guts" that she understands the true happiness of a hug.

Wow.

I mean seriously, wow. 

Never-mind that, you know, we've seen that happiness and warmth since she was first introduced.

RWBY is really rewriting all the core themes introduced in Volumes 1-3 and it sucks. The show is absolutely the worse for it.

To say nothing of all the other disservices to Penny's character here. There's all this buildup about whether she'll still be the same Penny once the wish is complete, but of course she is. We wouldn't want to have Penny struggle when she becomes something other than what she's always been, would we? After all, it took Yang an entire volume to work through the shock of a metal arm, but taking away a metal body for a human one is in no way traumatic. Having a normal, human body is intrinsically a good thing! Of course Penny accepts it with nothing but smiles. Becoming human is celebratory, but becoming more machine is a horror.

She gets to watch her body self-destruct, glitching out and collapsing in front of her. But again, nothing to unpack there that can't be covered with a hand over her mouth.

There's no discussion of whether Penny still has the Maiden powers, or whether a wish like that would mess with the transfer in any way. How did the group know this action wouldn't register as a clear-cut death, forcing the power out of her and into someone new? Obviously they couldn’t know, but no one even thought to bring it up? 

And the entire time they're formulating their evacuation plan, there's no talk of whether these portals will appear before everyone currently alive in the kingdom. I mean, if they do then Ironwood and Jacques can just waltz through and escape into Vacuo. If they don’t, then Maria and Pietro don't necessarily have a way out. We still don't know if they're stuck floating in Amity, or if Amity crashed, or if they made their way back to Mantle or Atlas. More importantly, the characters don't know. I have no problem with RWBY keeping that a surprise until the finale, but I absolutely take issue with Pietro's daughter walking through a portal, seemingly not to care whether her father is going to make it out too.

It's been the same with Qrow and his nieces' relationships. The show is good at insisting that these families love each other because they hug and smile while on screen together, but when shit is actually going down, none of them care about pesky things like disappearances, arrests, or “The last time I saw you, you were with an old woman on a damaged station after a villain attack, potentially stranded in deadly cold if life support failed.” 

So yeah, this entire arc with Penny has been a disaster. From throwing away her framing subplot, to giving her a virus that did absolutely nothing, to giving her the Maiden powers which she's also done nothing with, to erasing her android status for a “She's really human now” message, Penny has been done dirty by the show these last two volumes. Not nearly to the extent Ironwood has, but still. At this point I wish they'd just kept her dead dead. Why do I want her back when that resurrection produces no reaction, her conflicts lead nowhere, and one of the core things that made Penny Penny has now been magically erased?

I've been saying for weeks that killing Penny off and keeping Penny around each had serious downsides attached, yet I never expected RWBY to do BOTH.

Also, I'm warding off any, "But Pinocchio was made into a real boy too" defenses. RWBY is not Pinocchio. Penny is not Pinocchio. I thought the allusion was going to be the Pinocchio inspired girl heading into the whale, not the show forcing the exact plotline  —  down to a blue, magical creature — onto a character whose entire journey has been about accepting herself as an android. Congratulations, RT. You just obliterated years of work.

Again, if you'd like an example of how to do this far better:

As Penny's character falls apart, Atlas shakes, alerting Jaune and the other that a new wish has been granted. Jaune pecks at the screen and realizes "That did, uh, something…?” but doesn’t realize that there's a giant, red "LIVE" up in the corner.

Jaune tries to warn the entire kingdom about their plan, but what he actually says is

“Atlas is falling, but — !”

And then the communications cut out. 

Watts, perhaps?

Our heroes are really good at saying things that make large populaces panic, huh? This is the one (1) snag in their "impossible" plan, but as said above, it doesn't amount to anything. We get a shot of Nora, horrified at the thought of kingdom-wide communications being down, but literally seconds later Team RWBY has made portals appear that everyone can walk through. So... why do we care about communications? More importantly, why does the show try to make us care? So much time is spent getting the viewer invested in problems that never come to mean anything. 

Including the problem of Salem herself.

Because the group successfully creates that evacuation plan. This is it. Everyone is leaving while Salem still reforms. 

Yang asks if they can use the vaults themselves as a single point for everyone to go to and Ambrosius agrees. So everyone is going to pile into the Vacuo vault that can only be opened by an unknown Maiden? They're going to put an entire kingdom's worth of people, including their enemies, into the vault where the Relic of Destruction is? Yeah, that's great. Prior to this — like if this had been the plan at the end of Volume 7 — I would have 100% agreed that these risks are better than death by Salem/grimm/cold. Now though, Oscar as axed Salem for an unknown length of time, the cold is having no impact on the civilians outside, and the grimm only attack background military personnel that supposedly no one cares about. They couldn't have spent another few minutes (especially with time stopped!) to figure out a means of getting to Vacuo that doesn't involve revealing and providing access to the location of a super secret vault? To say nothing of what they're going to do if Salem wakes up and snags one of those portals for herself. Two kingdoms for the price of one!

But that's what they're going with. Weiss gives Ambrosius a schematic of the kingdom, I guess, and he makes branching pathways appear with numerous portals for everyone to step through. They'll enter through one and, when they exit another, will be in Vacuo. Easy peasy, right? Especially since Ambrosius doesn't seem to have any limitations about how often his power is used. Is it three creations every 100 years like Jinn? We're not told, at least not to my recollection. However, I was expecting there to be a waiting period, that they'd fix Penny, go to evacuate the kingdom, and learn that sorry, I can't make another creation just yet. It feels like the sort of shit move these beings would pull — "Don't cry to me when it's not what you wanted" —  it would have been another commentary on the group's insistence on putting friends over the people's safety (like demanding the Ace Ops not bomb the whale because of Oscar), and crucially, would have kept the action in Atlas. Isn't that what this volume is? The battle for and potential destruction of the Kingdom of Atlas? We have two episodes left and, unless something unexpected happens, we're moving that action to Vacuo. Why? 

Meanwhile, Penny's corpse is just chilling in the background 😬

While all this is going on, Winter reassures Jacques that he and Ironwood will be evacuated too, though she makes it clear saving him was Weiss' idea. It checks out, considering Weiss is the one who turned her father's arrest into a joke last volume. Winter still takes his abuse seriously.

The group prepares to leave with a celebratory, "We did it!" from Weiss. I'm still banging my head against that dining room table. Before they can pass through the portal though, Ambrosius leaves them with one, dire warning: "Do not fall." 

In any other story a line like that is a neon sign announcing to the audience that someone will absolutely fall, and maybe they will, but RWBY has dodged consequences so often I wouldn't be surprised if this was merely another way to string us along. Remember all the hype surrounding Salem? The cold combined with her army and magic? How she was going to decimate Atlas and leave our group broken in a Fall 2.0?

I mean, we still have two episodes left. Forty minutes of content. Salem might still decimate them, especially since something has to happen in the finale. But god, it's a problem that we've come this far without a payoff. Salem randomly decided not to attack anyone, was stopped by a weapon added in solely for this purpose, and now the whole kingdom is being evacuated with a plan the group could have used at the start. This volume really is meaningless. 

“We go to vacuo and hope we’ve thought of everything” they say as the camera zooms in on Cinder's smiling face. For the second week in a row.

Bingo time!

Winter betrayed Ironwood, the group used the Staff of Creation, and I'm axing Maria on behalf of Pietro. You can't have the guy's daughter become human — after he was killing himself to give her his aura?? — and magically walk to Vacuo, not knowing if he's even survived since she last saw him, and expect me to think he hasn't been forgotten. Same with Maria. Has the group mentioned her since Amity cut out, notably for reasons they couldn’t explain? Of course not. Did they care to find out what happened? Of course not. I have no doubt they'll both re-appear in the next two episodes, Pietro crying over how perfect his girl is now and Maria congratulating the group on their actions, but we're still marking it.

This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever created, I hope you all are enjoying it :D

Another week, another couple feet added to the hole we’re digging. I know I keep saying I have no idea what's going to happen next... but I have no idea what's going to happen next. A Vacuo ending was not in the cards, not outside of them miraculously showing up in ships. Maybe they have been on their way to Atlas (somehow...) and will arrive precisely when everyone has left! Anything is possible at this point.

See you next Saturday, everyone. Hold on until then lol. 💜

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

[stephthenewgirl]

AGTAW — I: Twila Gilbert

“Twila, did you take my dark blue leather jacket?!” Elena Gilbert strides into her sister's bedroom without a simple thing as a kick. She halts upon laying her doe brown eyes on her sister; her mouth parted and her thin brows furrowing. There her sister stood in only a bra and panties but that's not what shocked her, it was the fact that Twila was in her underwear with a boy in her room. He sat at the edge of her queen-sized bed that was covered in gray and black sheets and heavy blankets. His elbows pressing down on his lap and his back hunched over. His deep brown eyes moved to the elder Gilbert twin.

The later twin — Twila — with celerity wheeled her body around, her large hazel brown eyes aimed at her sister sharply. Her body hiding the boy behind her midway. And the somewhat naked girl's medium brown hair that fell into a sepia reddish-brown moved sweetly and nimbly stroke her neck. A rainbow stripe shirt held between her fingers — a shirt she was about to put on before Elena intruded her bedroom.

Twila briskly put the rainbow shirt on, after she tugged the shirt down, stretching out slight folds on the fabric and she stomped her way towards the elder Gilbert. Elena's doe eyes stayed fixed on the boy that sits peacefully on her little sister's bed. She disliked this — and she disliked it even more that the boy who looked so peaceful and unbothered had no shirt on.

Why doesn't he have a shirt on? Elena query herself.

“Don't you know how to kick?” Twila asked heatedly. Elena's eyes fluttered to the younger twin.

“I-I. . .” The words just wouldn't come out. Her eyes wandered to the boy on her sister's bed. Elena wanted to say ''no boys allowed in the bedroom'', she wanted to ask why Twila had no clothing on and why was he shirtless, what was happening. Elena gasped as the boy known as Clarkson sent a wink to her then frowned.

Twila pushed Elena out of her room, slamming the door in her face.

“No boys in the room, Twila!” Elena finally found her voice.

“You're not my fucking mother, Elena!!” Twila waits to hear the footsteps of her sister walking away. It did not take long. Today, Elena had no energy to lecture her. Twila was grateful. She twirled back around, walking towards the end of her bed.

“Will, that was a show.” Clarkson Forsyth spoke, a lopsided smirk on his soft pink lips. Twila mocked smiled at the boy, picked up his black tee off her bed then threw it at him, hitting his face.

“Yeah, you would think that.” Their giggles bounded off the four walls. “Hurry up. Martin and Vera are picking us up in sixteen.” Twila told the boy as she made her way into her closet and yanked a pair of pants off the hanger.

“So should I hop out the window and wait for you outside?” Clarkson said, standing from the bed, the black shirt in his hold as he goes. He flipped the shirt over and slid his arms in the sleeves then pulled the shirt over his head and pulled it down over his body. Twila stepped out of the closet wearing dark blue loose jeans and held two pairs of black sneakers in her hand. She walked towards her bed, displaying a frown on her face.

“What? No.” Twila sits down at the end of her bed and pulls out the socks she tucked into her sneakers. “I'm fucking hungry, and I know you are too.” Twila slipped the sneakers on her feet and tied them up.

“I just don't want to start—” Clarkson started, taking small steps towards the Gilbert girl.

“Clark, you've been my best friend since kindergarten. My family knows you and Aunt Jenna is cool, and she likes you. You're not going to start anything. . .” Once she finished tying her shoelaces, Twila looked over to the obsidian hair strong-jawed boy. “. . . Okay.”

Clarkson chortle. “Yeah, okay.”

Twila nods slightly with a smile. “Okay.” She pushed herself off the bed. “Don't mind Elena, she's just being a prude. Elena's been all big-sister ever since mom and dad passed. The girl is only four minutes older than me but that is a mile for her.”

Clarkson cracks a tiny smile. “How are you feeling, anyway?”

Twila was quiet for a second, thinking of what to say. She looked up at her best friend and greeted him with a sad smile.

“Getting better. Can't do anything but get better. The world goes on.” Twila gives him a longer smile that forcefully reaches her cheeks. Clarkson pulls her into a hug. It took a while for Twila to react back, but she did; wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Thanks — for being here for me. I didn't know what I would have done without you last night.”

It was late at night when the boy called, gasping with sobs and in need of his best friend. Twila immediately told him to come over. She sat up on her bed and rubbed her sleep away, awaiting his arrival. Finally arriving at the Gilbert home, Twila hugged him and listened to his recent problems with his father as he cried on her shoulder. Twila did not mind — Clarkson was there for her when her parents passed; even invited her to crash in his room when she did not feel like being at Caroline's. After his tears dried out, they watched Buffy together on her baby-blue-covered laptop — forgetting about the sadness as they laughed away.

“Of course, Clark. I will always be here for you.” Twila pulled from the hug, her hands clasping his biceps tenderly then she gave him a fast smile. “Now get off of me,” She pushed him jocosely. “C'mon, I'm starved.” Clarkson chortled with a head shake; the two grab their belongings and head downstairs.

Twila and Clarkson dumped their belongings on the sofa before passing the threshold into the kitchen. The gold sunlight streamed through the square window; the silhouette of the window slept on the kitchen Island and kissed Jeremy's naked arm.

“Good morning, Gilbert family!!.” Twila smiled wide at her family that was diffuse around the kitchen area.

“Morning, Twila,” Aunt Jenna says softly, tipping her head back from the refrigerator door, welcoming Twila back with a duplicate smile. Her eyesight moved to the boy beside her niece. “Oh, hey Clark. I didn't know you were here.”

“Yeah, I hope you don't mind. Just needed my best friend last night.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Jenna waves him off. “You are welcome anytime. Would you like some toast?”

Twila's eyes instantly widened, jerking her head from side to side, “Oh, no. I'm making waffles. Don't need you having us eating rocks, Aunt Jenna.”

“Not rocks, Twila. Just burnt toast.” The kitchen erupted with laughter for everyone's lips — even Jeremy's. The boy who had been in the dump all summer, spending his time with Vicki Donovan and drug heads. Both Gilbert twins were happy to hear him laugh again; they haven't heard it in a while. Elena shook her head in the corner with a smile and a mug in her hands. After, she pulled it closer to her lips, taking a sip. “Who needs lunch money?”

“Here!” Both Twila and Jeremy raised their hands, shouting.

“Elena?” Jenna walked to her bag that sits on the chair at the dinner table.

“No thanks, Aunt Jenna.”

“Okay.” The strawberry blond rummaged through her bag, pulling out three twenty-dollar bills. “Here you go.” Jenna handed Jeremy and Clarkson each a twenty.

“Oh no Jenna, you don't have to,” Clarkson says, declining the money.

“I know, I want to. So take the money.”

“Take the money!” Twila yelled, not sparing a glance over her shoulders. Her eyes were fixed on the waffles, she didn't want them to burn like Aunt Jenna does every time she cooks something.

“Yeah, or I'll take it.” Jeremy playfully stood up acting as if he was honestly going to, Aunt Jenna pushed him back on his seat.

“Sit down.” She told the boy. “Take it.” She utters to Clarkson, pushing it at his crest.

“Okay, okay. . . Thanks, Jenna.”

“No problem. Twila, yours is on the table.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

“Don't you have a big presentation today?” Elena reminds the young caretaker.

“I'm meeting with my thesis advisor at. . .” Jenna glanced down at her watch and freaked, “Now. Crap!”

“Then go. We'll be fine.” Jenna nodded at Elena, she quickly put her hair up in a ponytail with a rubber band then grabbed her bag, and dashed out the side door.

Twila plopped the last waffle on top of the rest. Elena walked towards her sister, standing beside her.

“Why was Clarkson in your room?” Elena inquired.

The sepia brunette twisted her neck to her twin. “Because he came over last night.”

“Why?”

“Because he needed a friend, Elena. You know, like how Bonnie comes over when she needs you.”

“Bonnie's not a boy.”

Twila's brows narrowed down and her eyelids batted. She can't believe what Elena was saying to her right now. She angles her body, facing her sister.

“Elena, you know Clark for as long I've been friends with him.”

“Doesn't mean he's not a boy.”

Twila turned away from Elena; grabbing the pleat of waffles, she was done with this exchange. Before she walked off she targeted her big brown hazel eyes at her sister once more.

“I don't know when you've become such a wet blanket but stop with the mothering act. I can have whoever I want in my room.”Twila let Elena know, leaving her there speechless.

Twila was wordless while she ate her waffles, Jeremy and Clarkson on the other hand talked as if they were in a club meeting. The conversation with Elena left a sour taste in her mouth, she still enjoyed her waffles of course, but she was upset. Her big brown hazel eyes glared at her twin as she asked Jeremy a simple question: if he was okay. She snickers at Jeremy's response and rolled her eyes when Elena glanced at her with a confused pouty face.

Elena folds her arms and walks off from the three teens, not soon later Twila's phone buzzes. A text from Vera telling Twila she and Martin were outside. A small smile pulls at her perfect lips as she stares at the screen. Twila slides the phone back into her pocket and sights her eyes on her brother and best friend.

“Vera and Martin's outside.” Clarkson got the hint. He hopped off the stool, grabbing his pleat and then Twila's. She gave him a soft thank you. “Need a ride, Jer?”

“Sure.” Jeremy got off the stool taking his dish, going towards the sink. Clark and Jeremy end up in a —you go first, I go first— situation. Jeremy stepped aside letting Clarkson pass. Clark smiled up at him shyly. Twila looked at him with a knowing smile, and he ignored her smug look while he walked to the living room area grabbing his book bag on the sofa.

Twila walked up behind Clarkson, playfully bumping into him. “Oh, I'm sorry. You first. No, you go first. I go left, you go right? Oh, um. . . okay.” Twila laughed at her dramatic imitation of Jeremy and Clarkson's exchange in the kitchen.

“Ssh, shut up. He could hear you.” He whispered to the girl over his shoulder.

Twila rolls her eyes, “Oh, please.” She grins and moves from behind him, going to grab her book bag also. Clarkson shook his head, letting out a stressful sigh. Hoping Jeremy didn't hear his sister mocking.

“Come on, Jer!”

“Coming!” He placed the wet dish on the dish rack and rushed his way out of the kitchen grabbing his book bag on the chair head. “Hey Vera, Martin.” Jeremy greets his sister's two best friends. Vera is a square face, soft beige skin brunette with deep-set dark brown eyes. Her brows were black-filled and straight. Her hair was black and short in a pixie rat tail cut, her bangs were cut right above her eyebrows, and two long strips of black hair fell just under her chin on each side of her face.

“Hey, Jeremy.” Vera greeted back.

Martin was an almond skin boy with long brown hair and a handsome diamond-shaped face. His eyes are hooded, small, and brown. Martin is Vera's half-brother and was Twila's boyfriend of two years, now ex-boyfriend but still great friends.

“S'up, Jeremy. How's it been?” Martin made conversation.

“Okay. How about you?”

“Fan-fuckin-tastic. I got this new skateboard from my dad. It—”

“Please, stop talking about the skateboard. No one cares, Martin.” Vera twists her head briskly at her brother before aiming her sights back at the road.

“You're just mad I'm better than you.” Martin retorted.

“Ha! Better than me? Jokes. . . That was a funny joke.”

“You—”

“Please, can you turn on the radio? Don't need to hear your brother-sister bickering.” Jeremy and Clarkson chuckle at Twila's insult. Vera rolled her eyes yet she did what was told and made a turn; passing The Mystic Grill. The song WANNABE by Spice Girls blasted throughout the dark blue color car.

Vera, Clarkson, and Twila belled along with the song. Martin and Jeremy had no choice but to tolerate the ordeal of their boisterous singing.

“So, here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face.” Twila bells.

“You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady. And as for me?” Vera follows.

“HA, YOU'LL SEE.” The three teens yell from the top of their lungs like a banshee's cry.

“C'mon guys.” An annoyed Jeremy wailed.

Martin's eyes traveled from the backseat to his sister. “Yeah, guys cut it off.”

“Slam your body down and wind it all around! Slam your body down and zig-a-zig ah!” They laughed at how irked the two boys were.

Twila pushed herself off her seat, her lips went to Martin's ear. “If you wanna be my lover!” Twila ear-splittingly sings.

Martin slapped his hand against his ear, “Twila, what the fuck!”

“You gotta get with my friend!” Vera sings.

“Friendships last forever!” Clarkson followed along.

“Friendship never eennnnds!” The three belled.

“That's not how it goes.”

“I don't give a shit, Martin. Now, get out of my car. We're here.” The long-haired boy rolled his eyes and pushed the car door open; he stepped out. The four other kids in the car followed shortly after.

“So — the boy had to sleep with her friends to be considered her lover?” Jeremy queried his eldest sister.

“That's not the message of the song, Jer.”

“Well, that's what it said.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey, Jeremy.” Vicki Donovan smiled making her way to Jeremy.

Jeremy copies and greets her back. “Hey, V.”

“Twila.” She uttered, moving her eyes to Twila.

“Victoria.” Twila gave a faint smile. Vicki and Twila were once good friends. They got especially close when Elena and Matt started dating but had a fallout this summer when she started to use her baby brother for his prescription pills and sleeping with him to avoid her own screwed-up life.

“Okay, let's go bitc—” Vera stops when her eyes set on Vicki Donovan. “Speaking of bitch.” Her hip cocked out, her fingers tucked into the back of her blue denim jeans pockets.

Vicki's mouth agape and her brows knitted. Her lips hastily retrieve with a curl and a scoff. Vera took hold of Twila's wrist, pulling the girl away from Vicki.

“See ya, Jeremy.” She said as the group of friends part ways from the young boy and ex-friend. “I still can't believe you allow him to be around her.”

“There are certain things I can tell Jeremy to do and certain things I could. He's hard-headed like that.” Twila explained with a shrug.

Lunch came fast for Twila. She had six-period lunch and had Mr. Tanner after. She was tired and glad the school day was almost over. Then she remembered she had to help Caroline with picking out some fresh faces for the new year try-outs after school. Great. She sighed.

“You look exhausted,” Vera slid, sitting down on the curved seat. She set her tray on the round cafeteria table. Today's lunch is a ham sandwich, chicken nuggets, apple, and a side of salads with a dressing of your choice and beverage. The food at Mystic Falls High wasn't so bad.

“I am.” Twila pushes her hair back, fingers gripping her hair softly. “I just wanted to go home after school and have a nice bubble bath, but I have try-out picking to do after school.” She wailed and pouted. Twila felt like sobbing, she truly needed and wanted that bubble bath.

“Aww, don't be so down, Twila. I'm sure you'll be fine.” Vera grabs a hold of her sandwich, taking a big bite.

“Let me detail it for you.” Twila leans forward, her hair falling as she moves her fingers and locks her big eyes with Vera's deep-set ones. “I'm try-out picking after school — with Caroline.”

“Ohh. . .” Vera sees the problem now.

Twila smiled tightly and her eyes squinted a bit and a little hum leaving her lips. Her smile says: now you get it. “It's going to be hell.”

“Aww, Twila. I'll be there for you.” Vera's mouth was occupied by food, she kept her teeth locked while her lips moved. The words came out muffled. Twila smiled anyway.

“You will?” Twila's lower lip pushes out.

Vera nods and speaks after swallowing. “If you need me, of course.”

“Aww, thanks,” The short-haired brunette joined her palm on top of Vera's hand. “But I can't do that to you.” She removed her hand, stealing Vera's apple. “I'll go through the belly of the beast on my own.” She takes a bit of the apple. Vera laughed.

“The belly of what beast?” Clarkson arrives, taking a spot next to Vera; Martin follows beside him.

Vera's eyes travel to the raven-haired boy. “Caroline.” She informed him.

“What about Caroline?” Martin questioned.

“I've got some fresh cheerleaders to pick out with Caroline after school.”

“Oh.” Clarkson and Martin mumble. Twila nods at the boys, chewing through the green apple.

Martin swallows down his food with water before speaking. “Aren't you co-captain? Can't you just do it another time?”

“No.” She placed the apple down on the table. “I'll just get it over with.”

“Clarkson, where were you last night?!” Barbie Forsyth asked, approaching the small group. Clarkson eyed up his sister. She stood with her hands at her hips.

“At Twila's.” He answered honestly. Barbie's eyes went to Twila; they had a squint to them.

“Of course.” She scoffed, shifting her eyes back at her brother.

The bottled blonde — Barbie Forsyth — never had a good relationship with Twila Josephine Gilbert. Ever since Twila ruined Barbie's gingerbread house in elementary school; just because she wanted a piece. And the other time they were partnered up in a history project. Barbie had done all the work and Twila just plastered her name on the paper. But those weren't the reasons why Barbie didn't like the big-eyed Gilbert all that well. For as long as she could remember, Clarkson and Twila were inseparable. She always felt like Twila was more of Clarkson's sister than she ever was.

“Why were you at her house?”

“I, uh. . . I needed someone to talk to.”

Barbie's head jerked forward. Unbelievable, she thought. “You could have talked to me.” Her light green eyes stayed on her brother; it made Clarkson feel guilty the way they were intensely piercing at him. Her eyelids blinked and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I wanted to speak to you last night.”

“Okay. . . What?”

Barbie glanced at Twila, who like everyone else at the table was focused on them. Barbie looked back at her brother. “Not here in front of her.” She yanked the boy, pulling him off his seat and away from the group.

Vera chortle, aiming her sight on Twila. “I'm guessing she still hates you for not doing the history project in middle school.”

“Ha, guessing?” Martin uttered. “It's a known fact she does.”

Twila laughed along with her friends, brushing down the fact that deep down she felt awful that her best friend's sister hated her for something she did in middle school. Not knowing that Barbie didn't dislike her because of some petty school project issue, the bottled blonde felt like Twila took her brother from her.

“Once our home state of Virginia joined the confederacy in 1861, it created a tremendous amount of tension within the state. People in Virginia's northwest region had different ideals than those from the traditional deep south. Then Virginia divided in 1863 with the northwest region joining the union.”

In the back corner of the room, Twila sat near the large windows. Mr. Tanner's voice was inaudible to her ears as she doodled in her history book. Through the windows, the evening sun rays hit the desk of students and the classroom floor. One golden glint shimmers comfortably on Twila's hair. A rainbow hues sat at her open history book, making Twila stop her hand movement. She admired the reflection of the colorful lights. Rainbows are one of Twila's favorable things about nature. Rainbows and heavy rain on a lazy afternoon, but she always hated the after smell. It always smelled of wet soil and moist greens.

Her large eyes wandered to the windows, it landed on the tree just outside Ms. Tanner's classroom. A crow sitting perfectly inanimate, as if it was a statue.

It was larger than most. Its feathers pitch as black but the little sunlight that hits its feathers shine a rainbow on it. It was sleek and had greedy dark claws and a sharp beak. Its black eyes glittered, and they were fixed on Elena; the brunette that sits two rolls down from Twila.

Twila watched the crow leer at her twin with this inclination in its eyes. Like how boys' eyes linger on a girl wearing tight clothes; those tops that pop out their cleavage or dresses that outline their bodies.

It was creepy, to say the least.

Then its dark eyes blink at Twila. The girl flinched back a bit, her eyes got broader, but they stayed on the bird. It was like the bird was challenging her; playing with her. A game of who would look away first.

The school bell boom, Twila flinched once more. Her eyes flutter to the front of the classroom seeing everyone packing up.

She lost.

Twila stood up, grabbing her book bag along, and followed her way out the room behind the crowd of teenagers. The short brunette sauntered her way through the crowded hall; she made a right, passing four classroom doors before reaching the staircase. She walked four flights of stairs down, landing on the first floor she went to her locker, putting and taking some of her things then — to Caroline she went.

Twila walked through the football field towards the concern the school gave the cheerleaders to practice. Her eyes gazed at the wannabe cheerleaders of all ages and sizes perfecting their moves. It brought a smile to her face.

Until Caroline spoke.

“Ugh, there you are.” The blonde's voice reached Gilbert's. Twila rolled her eyes. Always Caroline, the extra control Queen.

“Hello to you too, Care.” Twila drops her bag on the green cut grass. “Let's get this over with, shall we?” Some in the flock of wannabe cheerleaders chortle.

Caroline narrows her light bluish-green eyes before throwing Twila a mocked cheesy grin. The blonde pulled the sheet of paper to her eyesight. “Okay, first off you are going to be asked some questions — okay.” The group nods. “Okay, any of you guys have experience with cheerleading? Like gymnastics, dance, or have ever cheered before? If you have, raise your hand.” Caroline nods and marks it down. Caroline glanced to her side, “You want to say something, or are just going to stand there. Co-captain.”

Twila steps forward with a smirk. “All who have experienced step forward, those who don't. Please take a seat at the bleachers.” They followed their orders and Twila continued. “Now I want you all to show me what you've got. Jump, tumble, split, dance? Whatever you've got.”

The fourteen that step forward show Caroline and Twila what they could bring to the team. Both girls watched with sharp eyes. Twila had nicely commented on one girl who intended to do a cartwheel backflip after Caroline rudely told her she shouldn't try it again.

Twila told her she should. She did and succeeded. It was much better the second time around.

Throughout the try-out, Caroline rolled her eyes, scoffed, and scored the wannabe cheerleaders. Twila on the other hand praised and nicely Judged their performance. But she had snickered here and there with the blonde.

“Okay, we are done.” Twila was glad. “Those who made the team will be getting an email in two days and those who didn't,” Caroline sucked air through her teeth. “Too bad.” She shines her big smile, “Okay, bye.”

It was late afternoon and the sun cast a golden shadow upon the sky and Twila didn't care that it was four something when she got home, she was just happy she got her bubble bath. Her arms rest on the top edge of the tub and her hair held up by a black hair claw. She relaxed peacefully in the warm water and the smell of cinnamon, she bathed in the quietness. That was until Elena ruined it.

“Elena!” Twila shouts at her sister that breaks into the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Elena says. “Bleeding.” She put her foot on top of the toilet cover and rolled the bottom of her jeans up.

Twila looked down seeing the dry blood, “What happened?”

“I fell in the cemetery when I was running from a crow.

“Running from a crow?” It's brought a chill down Twila back. Her mind wondered if it could be the same crow watching her from the tree outside Ms. Tanner's window. No, she's just being paranoid.

“Yes.” Elena rolled down the leg of her jeans after cleaning the scraps on her leg and putting on a bandage.

“What were you doing at the cemetery?”

Elena put her foot down on the bathroom ground, sighed, and sat down on the bath cover. “I went to see mom and dad.”

Twila rolled her pretty eyes. “But you didn't see them, did you? You went to see a stone with their names plastered on it.” Twila's fingers wave in the bubble, playing with them. It was stupid for Elena to go see a piece of rock with their parent's names on it. It wasn't gonna bring them back, She thought, nothing was gonna bring them back.

Elena sighs and brushes her hair back. “I'm going to the grill, you want to come?”

“No thanks,” Twila looks over her shoulder. “I had a long day, I'm just gonna relax at home.”

The elder's twin nods, “Okay.” Elena left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Twila fell back to the bath and relaxed once again.

A.N— Maine focus characters & Twila's outfit

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[florenceandthemachine]

The last meet-cute I asked you for was so good and I saw this prompt on someone else’s blog so if it sparks anything: “We’re both hiding in the garden furniture section of IKEA”

do you ever see a prompt and just have a full fucking fic pop into your head? just me? ok. 

here’s some fluffy-trope-y-nonsense! also saw you just had lasik sorry if reading this unedited nonsense makes you go blind again xoxo

When it came to IKEA, Eddie was typically a messy person. Normally, he relied on one of two things if he needed to stay focused; a thorough, detailed list, or Christopher, who had absolutely no patience for Eddie wandering through a literal warehouse of crap, designing for a home he didn’t buy.

Which was rough, considering his current mission—buy some new furniture for Chris’s room for his birthday. Which meant he had no list, no sense of direction, and no Christopher to keep him on track. That would normally spell a recipe for a distracted disaster—but he was so focused, so determined to get this right, that he was confident in his shopping abilities for once. He had to be, he only had two hours until Carla brought Chris home, and two hours wasn’t enough for an IKEA visit on a normal day. So he had to be focused.

He’s so focused, in fact, that as he passes by the Poäng’s and the Fjällbo’s, he almost doesn’t notice the man in the plants.

And no, that isn’t something that he can clarify. 

There is a man. In. The plants. 

What?

He tries to walk away, but the image of a tallish, blondish, beefyish, honestly pretty cuteish if Eddie is being honest, fully grown adult hiding in the plastic bamboo is a bit too much for him to ignore.

“You know, those plants are fake. If you’re trying to check the soil, they’re definitely not gonna need water any time soon.”

He tries not to laugh as Plant Man immediately stumbles, nearly knocking over a Smycka, a Fejka, and a whole case of hanging planters as he turns around. It’s cute. Kinda sad, but cute.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I kind of figured. I mean, they’re realistic looking, but definitely fake. No, I’m—I’m hiding.”

Hiding? This was an IKEA, a place where you could get lost without even trying. 

“You’re hiding.”

“Yeah. My ex is here.”

Oooooohh. That, Eddie could understand. 

It was easy enough to spot who he thought was the culprit, if the harrowed look on her face and half empty yellow bag was anything to go by. 

“Shorter, redhead, kind of sloppy smokey eye, looks like she would stab someone with a high heel?”

Plant Guy laughed, but the sound didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, that’s Taylor.”

Eddie pretended to be engrossed in his phone as he looked over to the stranger again, tilting his head to the side. 

“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you agree to help me load what I buy into my truck, and get me a plate of meatballs before we leave—the full size plate, by the way, I’m not settling for less than ten meatballs—I’ll help you get rid of her for good. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I’m Buck.” Plant guy—Buck—looked like Eddie had just handed him a goose that laid golden eggs. “For good? No, way. You can really do that?”

“I can.” Eddie said seriously, extending a hand to Buck. “But you have to trust me. My methods may be extreme, but I can almost guarantee results.”

A bit dramatic, maybe, but he still found himself smiling as Buck easily took his hand, taking a moment to savor the warmth. A sharp tug was all he needed to pull Buck up and out of the plants, making a sort of yelping noise, stumbling over a row of Boysenbär pots as Eddie put a hand on his hip, helping him steady. 

The effect was instantaneous—while the noise wasn’t loud, it was just enough to draw the attention of anyone who happened to be searching through the warehouse already. 

Eddie could feel the redhead’s eyes laser lock onto him as he steadied Buck’s hips, his opposite hand coming to cup Buck’s cheek. 

“Sweetheart, you okay?” He plastered what he hoped was a look of concern on his face as Buck turned bright red, something that thankfully could be attributed to his stumbling, and not the fact that a near stranger was calling him ‘sweetheart’. He was mercifully quick on the uptake, at least, a smile blooming over his face as he chuckled, ducking his head, pressing into Eddie’s hand a bit more, and oh, wow, that was fucking adorable.

“Yeah, I’m good, sorry, I just… thanks, baby.”

Eddie chuckled as he dropped the hand from Buck’s face, the hand on his hip lacing with Buck’s instead, tugging him along. “C’mon, I want to look at a new lamp for the living room. We need something brighter, and as much as your smile lights up a room, I’m tired of stubbing my toe in the morning.” Eddie said, pulling that story directly out of his ass, hoping that he was selling the ‘teasing boyfriend’ aspect as he pulled Buck along.

It was purely coincidence that the route to the lighting section of the warehouse was only a row away from the redhead that was currently glaring daggers into Eddie’s back. 

Once they turned the corner, Eddie let his hand slide out of Buck’s easily, the air a little cooler than he was expecting after being so close to someone so hot something so warm. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing.” Buck blurted out, looking at Eddie like he hung the moon, and yeah, Eddie could admit, he preened a little under the admiring gaze.

“There you go. You’ve just earned yourself a harassment free shopping experience.” Eddie said proudly, winking as he took a few steps back, snatching up a yellow bag and tossing it over his shoulder easily. Buck still looked a little flustered, and honestly, it was cuter than anything Eddie could have hoped for—but the tick of his watch brought him back to his mission. “Hey, I hate to scare off an ex and run, but I gotta make some quick choices, so...”

“Oh! Oh, uh, for sure. Thanks again, Eddie.”

“No problem. Good luck, Buck.” Eddie winked for good measure as he turned around, feeling warmth pool in his stomach. He hadn’t had that much fun flirting since before he was married, and while he worried occasionally that he lost his touch, the blush on Buck’s face begged to differ.

--

Eddie was making good time. He had narrowed it down to two potential presents—it was either a Vitval bunkbed / loft, complete with a desk and a physical-therapist-approved ladder, and Eddie knew that Chris had been dying for a bunkbed for forever, but... on the other hand, there was the Phal workspace, with plenty of drawers, shelves, and surfaces for Chris to completely drown with his pictures, Legos, arts and crafts. 

He had been stuck between the two—literally, standing between both display models—when he felt a hand slide into his own, blinking in surprise, a low voice in his ear before he could turn. 

“Sorry, uh, she followed me out of textiles. I’m so sorry, this is super weird, I just can’t shake her off, and—”

“Phal or Vitval?” Eddie asked, cutting him off, raising a brow as Buck just blinked.

“Uh, gesundheit?”

“Very funny.” Eddie said, squeezing Buck’s hand, tilting his head between the two. “I’ve been stuck here for like twenty minutes, and you’ve been no help, leaving me just so you could get your...” A quick peek into Buck’s bag told him everything he needed to know. “...artwork and lightbulbs. Which should we go with? Phal or Vitval?”

Buck blanched at that and Eddie let himself chuckle, shaking his head as Buck groaned. “Come on, Eddie, you know I’m no good at making decisions. I don’t even remember which toothpaste I like, I rely on you for things like that.” he said, and Eddie had to admit, he was impressed with the little tidbits of information Buck was throwing into their faux-relationship so easily. If this Taylor chick was still in earshot, Eddie would have bet that she was just plain pissed by now.

“I know, I know. You really are hopeless, aren’t you?” Eddie said with an exaggerated sigh, bringing their linked hands up to his cheek, pressing Buck’s knuckles against the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t intimate enough to be a kiss, not really, but to the casual bystander it would have looked like a simple show of affection, kissing his boyfriends knuckles in the middle of an IKEA. 

As he pulled the hand back, he did a quick scan around them—no redheads in sight. “I think your coast is clear—is she still hanging around?”

Snapping himself out of what looked like a trance, Buck blushed again—Eddie could get really used to that—and looked around, shaking his head. “No, I think she’s gone, um. Thanks again. And sorry. Again.” he said, their hands falling free again. Buck was the one to retreat this time, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh, probably go back and grab the dish set I had to ditch, but If you want my opinion, you should definitely go with the Flem.”

“Buck,” Eddie started, trying and failing to keep the smile off of his face and the laughter out of his voice as Buck turned away. “That was not an option!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you! Go with the Flem!”

--

In the end, Eddie had wound up buying both—Chris was turning ten, damn it, Eddie was allowed to treat him—and finished up ahead of schedule, swinging by the restaurant to make sure he had everything before he started the trek out to the parking garage. He was double checking his receipt when a tray clunked down across from him, two plates of meatballs sliding his way as his brows rose up into his hairline. 

Buck sat down shortly after, looking incredibly too apologetic as he handed Eddie a fork. “Sorry, she kind of followed me away from the register, and I saw you here, and... I did promise you meatballs, right?” he offered, and Eddie actually laughed, resting his head in his hand as he took the fork Buck offered, raising a meatball to Buck’s lips to help keep up posterity—and immediately stealing one from Buck’s plate for himself afterward. “So, Buck. What do you do when you’re not hiding in fake bamboo?”

It was incredibly easy to talk to Buck, Eddie found, dangerously easy. They had a fair amount in common, turned out—both had older sisters, Buck with one while Eddie had three, both spent a good amount of time at the gym when they weren’t at home, and Buck had spent some time with the SEALs while Eddie was in the Army.

They even worked together, in a sense—Buck was a firefighter with the 118 while Eddie was a paramedic with Station 6.

“...though I promise, I did not come to IKEA to enlist the help of a handsome paramedic in avoiding an ex girlfriend that literally might be Satan in disguise. I just needed some art to cover a drill hole in my wall before my landlord kills me.”

Eddie almost swallowed his fork, feeling a certain thrill build up inside of him—Buck was flirting. Flirting with Eddie! Eddie hadn’t been flirted with in an age and a half, but as much as he wanted it to continue, he knew that it would be unfair for him to let it continue without addressing the childs-bunk-bed-sized elephant in the room. “Well, much as I hate to admit it, I didn’t come to IKEA today to help a firefighter run away from Satan either. I’m here today buying some furniture for my kid. It’s his birthday next week.”

Eddie squared his jaw, watching Buck process the information, ready for the easy let down. “You have a son?”

Here it comes. Oh, well it was nice meeting you. Oh, well thanks again. Oh, enjoy your day, Oh—

“Do, um. Do you have pictures of him? I love kids.”

... oh. 

Any hesitation Eddie might have felt melted way as he brought his phone back up, easily scrolling through endless pictures of Chris, paying painful attention to the way Buck’s eyes grew wider than his smile.

Oh, no. 

Buck wasn’t just hot, he was cute.

--

Eddie had to admit; after Buck helped him load the furniture into the bed of his truck, true to his word, and Eddie had scribbled his number out on Buck’s hand with a hot pink marker (the hazards of sharing a vehicle with a kid), he wasn’t sure what he should be expecting. What he definitely wasn’t expecting was a message to be waiting on his phone as soon as he started his truck.

Unknown Number, 11:01 AM: so maybe i have a confession to make

Sent, 11:03 AM: Maybe?

Eddie couldn’t deny the spike of curiosity he felt with that, taking a moment to save Buck’s number in his phone as the three dots appeared again.

Buck, 11:05 AM: yes, maybe. taylor maybe actually left when you pulled me out of the plants

i didn’t see her again for the rest of the day

i was just kind of... being self indulgent after that

wow this sounds way creepier than i thought i am so sorry

Literally laughing out loud in his car, Eddie let himself reread the message twice, a smile growing on his face as he typed out a response.

Sent, 11:09 AM: Tell you what. You help me build these monstrosities, maybe bring over a beer, maybe let me kiss you goodnight, and I promise I won’t hold your awkward flirting against you.

He felt another thrill race through his stomach as he sent the message, putting his truck in gear, not trusting himself to look down as his phone buzzed again until he was safely at a stop light.

Buck, 11:11 AM: it’s a date :) :) :) :)

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Six

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality. platonic dukeceit, creativitwins, and dlampr.

Yet again there are no italics. its new years eve sue me. oh also happy 2021 nobody question my priorities thanks <3

Warnings: so much softness, implications of self-isolation, swearing, Lots of Feelings, sympathetic everybody, descriptions of the sides having non-human features.

Word Count: 3,962

Something Remus came to realize was that he, a bit paradoxically, was not used to people being in his space.

It was weird. Not weird in the way that people usually felt when he was the one interrupting- he wasn’t scared by it, or disgusted, or even really annoyed. It was just… surprising, to have somebody else hanging around him, unprompted by anything. 

Remus wasn’t known for having boundaries- or respecting them, for that matter- but he’d at least been attempting to restrain himself just a bit after being accepted by the others. Out of courtesy, if nothing else. 

And apparently he didn’t need to. Not after what happened with Patton, anyway. Now that Patton had deemed the two of them ‘close’- something he was absolutely happy to agree with, for the record- Remus’ world had flipped sort of around. Back to no boundaries, only he wasn’t the one crossing those lines, and nobody was running screaming. Least of all Patton!

Remus ran the thoughts over in his head, feeling like that day was shaping up to be a great example of the change:

He and Patton were sitting side-by-side in the living room, content, with the rest of the sides spread around in different seats and configurations just the same. The unlikely pair were at the fringe of the circle, close enough to be part of things but far enough to zone in and out at will (as both were prone to do). It was nice, amiable.

 But minutes before- forty of them at most- Remus had been up in his own room, happily dissecting some gooish creations and only vaguely aware that there was a meeting that day. His attendance to group meetings varied from week to week- sometimes he was bored and could use an argument, and other times he was having fun on his own and knew that it wouldn’t be all that important if he ditched. He joined more often than he used to, sometimes he was even asked for, but he was optional still. A favored option, suggestions taken now, sure- but still not mandatory. 

He was going to stay upstairs for that one, but Patton had come to get him. Had dragged him down in that sweet, puppy-dog way of convincing that worked so well and, knowing him, was totally unintentional. And even if Remus didn’t care about arguing his way through content production right then, Patton had promised that it was important for him to be there.

That was the word he’d used for Remus. Important.

How the hell could Remus say no to that?

At least the meeting was going by without a hitch, for once. He assumed it was- Remus was honestly paying very little attention- but the lack of anger or tension was practically palpable. These things were usually so spiteful that even Remus, renowned lover of chaos, could almost taste his headache when everybody started shouting and hissing and fighting. It just got sad.

But not that time, apparently.

As Logan went on his third ramble of the evening, smiling widely at a surprising lack of interruption, Remus turned to Patton. He whispered:

“Okay, when are they gonna snap? Did they all finally get lobotomized?”

Patton frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean where’s all the screaming and crying? Specs and Prince Priss haven’t had a single one of their horny yelling matches, what gives?”

Patton smiled in a way that said he was trying very hard not to laugh, rolling his eyes.

  “These meetings have calmed down a bit, I guess,” he shrugged.

Remus glanced around the room with narrowed eyes. While that certainly seemed like the truth, he couldn’t buy it. 

“Yeah, I give it until one of them vaguely insults the others,  and then everybody’s gonna shut down for the next week. That kinda tension doesn’t just go.”

Patton didn’t say anything. Half-gazing at the carpet, he didn’t look like he’d even heard. He was smiling, but it was one of those jumbled up expressions, the type that tried to span a hundred different feelings. He had so many expressions like that, that seemed bottomless and swirling and so intricate on a humanoid face that, in reality, wasn’t built to display something like that. It was uncanny- not like an eerie doll, but like something with unearthly beauty. This face, though, had tones of upset.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around everybody,” Patton said.

It wasn’t a question and it didn’t need to be. While Remus wasn’t exactly known for keeping to himself, he couldn't be called sociable either. He dropped in to say something, usually random, and then he was gone as soon as he’d visited. Even before the first Patton incident, fuck, it had been weeks since he’d actually stuck around through something.

Since The Acceptance, now that Remus thought of it, he’d been spending more time alone than ever. Not all of  his time- he remembered being surprised at Logan talking to him, willingly, like friends, and after that had even come Virgil and Roman. He saw people, talked to them, yeah. The time spent was friendlier, more welcoming, but it was so much less. 

Well, it was obvious why: they visited him, but- like he’d mentioned, he’d been trying to give them some space.

“Sure, it's been awhile,” Remus admitted, “But I never expected shit to change so much around here, still.”

The haze on Patton’s face thickened like fog on the moors, a soft and sympathetic mist over his eyes that Remus knew was aimed at him (even if it was pointed more to a sort of middle distance). 

“I don’t think I did, either,” Patton’s mouth barely moved, his voice less of a whisper and moreso a fragile breath. “I was hoping for it, but… I’m still trying to get used to stuff being allowed to change, you know?” He picked at a loose thread along the seam of the couch. “I haven’t done this stuff in a while, either.” 

Remus’ head shot up, and he almost forgot that they weren’t the only two in the room. Somehow, he stopped himself from shouting:

“You- it has?”

A tiny smile. Something built up behind Patton’s eyes; a wave, dark and lonely and filling his bright blues with cloudy gray. “I just needed some alone time, after everything changed so much so fast. I still feel, I dunno, weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- but…” he swallowed, his head lifting. “I’m really happy for them,” he was staring- so very loving- first at Logan, then Roman, then Virgil and Janus. It was a wonder none of them felt his gaze on them, Remus thought, because he was sure if anyone looked at him that way, he’d burn up like a fae upon iron. “They deserve it so much. I know that not everything is perfect still, but, I’m just so proud of us anyways. I- I think maybe-”

He cut himself off, blinking rapidly. Remus gave the room a quick once over to make sure nobody was looking their way- and nobody was: Virgil was very resolutely trying to get everyone to stay on topic despite Janus and Logan’s continued tangenting, and Roman was scribing furiously on several different pieces of paper- before he inched close enough to curve his arm around Patton. Touching like that had steadily become familiar to both of them, and it didn’t take long for Patton to fall untense against his side. He leaned into him, muttering: “I mean, they’re all doing a lot better than me, that’s for sure. I- I don’t even know what I’m for anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve been… ditching, really.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. There were so many things he could’ve said and done, but all of them loud and fervent and definitely not subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone. So, for the sake of Patton’s privacy, he settled on this:

“That makes two of us, Morey.”

 The meeting that was planned to take two or three hours took the entire day, just as always. Hours and hours were spent in a room filled with excited conversation, of which the subject oscillated wildly between relevant topics and complete nonsense- which Remus and Patton did, eventually, tune back into (and contribute to as well, mainly in the nonsense department). Eventually, even Virgil gave up on trying to keep anything in order. 

But the meeting ended on a good note anyway. Lots of good notes, actually, if the stacks upon stacks of paper they’d scribbled up were any indication. Mess, the sides had come to believe, was usually a measure of their productivity: if crumpled pages were strayed across the room, if forgotten pens and pencils balanced on every surface from coffee table to TV stand, and if- in the process of snacking- they’d accumulated enough dishes to fill the sink for days on end? Shit. Got. Done.

Remus stared over the chaos with unfocused eyes. He felt distantly proud of the stormish state the living room was in. Draped over the back of the sectional, he gnawed idly on a wood pencil, stripping its yellow into beige. The paint fell off in bitter chunks, and the taste made him think of grabbing some non-acrylic dinner before closing the night off. Maybe he’d steal some of whatever saccharine sweet Patton usually made in the late evenings, and then spend the rest of the night with him, anyway. Remus debated what would be the most fun (or if he was tired enough to sleep yet), partially aware as he did so that he’d chewed and swallowed the metal-eraser end of his pencil.

“Ugh,” a drawn out groan broke his thoughts, petulant and whiny. “Do you have any intention of helping us clean up this, the common area?” 

Roman was kneeling beside Janus on the carpet, the pair surrounded by papers and binders and trashbags, the former of which they were sorting into either of the latter two, depending on how useful each page was. Roman had stopped working, however, to stare up at Remus indignantly. Remus glared right back.

“I’ve never had an intention in my life,” he answered.

Janus shrugged, smiling in that I-told-you-so way at Roman. But Roman, ever the nuisance, wasn’t letting it go. 

“Come on! It’s not like you’re even doing anything!”

“I’m doing something,” Remus’ words were wide and wobbly as he stripped another line of paint off the pencil, breaking some splinters off into his teeth.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” another chunk of wood, down the hatch. “I’m flaying all these leftover pencils until they’re lead-sticks.”

Roman hopped up from the floor and dropped himself onto the couch, shoving himself into the way so jarringly that it reminded Remus of himself. 

“Well, now you’re going to help us clean.” 

Janus rolled his eyes, not even glancing up. “Roman, just leave it alone, we-”

“We are all parts of this whole now, including him! Remus-” Roman rounded on him again, “If you’re going to come down here and help us make all this mess, with all of your numerous contributions that we have to write down, you’ll help clean it like anybody else. Do you think that I like any of- of-” he gestured, flamboyantly, at the room, “This? Ugh, please, I’m a prince! But, fair is fair, and fair means everybody.” 

And that was the point of the conversation in which Remus would cackle, push Roman backwards off the couch, and proclaim how much it’d go against his very being to clean a mess instead of cause it. He’d tell Roman how funny it was that he thought he could boss him around, because it always had been- that full-of-it Older Brother kind of attitude that had never worked. The Prince had never once managed to get him to do anything, and each attempt only got funnier than the last. 

He didn’t say any of that, though. 

Roman was bitching at him, not to go away this time, but to stay. Stay and help the group, because he was a part of said group. So he was asked to help them, the group that he was a part of, because he was part of it. That group. 

“Okay,” he blurted, “Okay, I’ll- alright.”

Roman blinked at him, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “You- oh!” he smiled, utterly baffled. “That was- very easy?”

Janus, too, was looking up at Remus with bewilderment, his task of paper-sorting all but forgotten. Remus couldn’t blame either of them, but he still huffed, trying very hard not to be embarrassed by that whole… moment.

He shook it off, rolling off the couch and standing up, jittery. 

“Whatever, just- tell me what to pick up, okay?” 

They seemed not to hear him, the gawking continuing on until he started working unprompted, and longer than that still. Each time he (begrudgingly) shoved something into a trashbag, it earned him another Exchange of Glances from the pair. 

They got over it eventually, though, because there was a fuck-load more to clean than there was room to stare. So they cleaned.

Remus thought it would get old after a minute, and he’d finally gather up the guts to bail on them, but it just… never happened. It felt unnatural to be getting rid of a mess- like an animal having its fur brushed the wrong way, continuously- but by some point the sensation was distant. The rest of him was still busy processing, experiencing, maybe possibly overthinking this kind of recognition he’d never gotten before. It was handed to him now like it was something normal. The three of them worked together, and it was normal. 

Acceptance, as it turned out, wasn’t synonymous with ‘soulless assimilation’. In fact, it was pretty fucking great, getting to watch his brother and best friend find documents from the floor with his ideas on them, then tucking them into a binder marked important, instead of a trashcan marked to burn. It was… surreal. 

But the tidying was over in just an hour and a half- oh wow, never in a million years would Remus have thought an hour and a half of cleaning would be too little for him. He made a note to absolutely destroy something big and important later, to balance the universe out again. 

Roman sank through the floor as soon as they were done, complaining loudly about how very exhausted he was. Remus teased him on his way out, but it was just for the habit- he was way too mushy to think of anything properly mean at the moment. 

Janus watched him go, silent. He sat beside Remus on the couch, and despite his obvious tiredness, he waited a good few minutes before saying anything. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

Remus shivered. Janus pulled him up into a hug (one that maybe dragged on for a little too long, but who was counting?), and it spelled out all the pride and care that he’d never been good at verbalizing. With that, he gave Remus a short nod, and then was gone as well. 

Which made everyone else upstairs, probably in their rooms and halfway asleep. Then there was Remus, antsy in the living room, itchy with feelings. 

Everyone but Patton, of course, who could still be heard humming in the kitchen; who never went up until he knew everyone else was in their rooms, true to the protective parent persona. Remus suddenly didn’t think he wanted anything else but to see Patton after what had happened, to talk to him, to… 

He walked to the kitchen.

“Pat.”

Patton looked over his shoulder at Remus, up to his elbow in sudsy sink water. A smile fell naturally across his face.

“Hi,” his voice was low, delicate. “You about to head up?”

Remus watched his friend work, trailing into the room slowly.  He grinned, “Are you kidding? I could stay up all night, if I wanted.”

“Do you want to?” Patton asked him.

Remus thought on it for a moment. He shrugged, iunno, leaned against the counter by the sink. Patton turned away again.

It was so quiet. No wind. No footsteps. Not a muffled voice upstairs, even- just the sound of water and ceramic hitting ceramic. Everything was still.

Remus hated it. Silence was fragile, and he crawled with the need to break it. He felt it get tense as it stretched out, and he just wanted to tear the air apart with sound. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, when peace was so easily able to drown it all out. Cold and alone. He hated it.

Sometimes, Remus imagined that if the silence went too long, he’d never be able to make a noise again. There were few things that made him so unhappy, but the quiet… 

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asked.

Remus jolted. Patton was staring, concern gathering in his eyes the longer he did. Remus took a deep breath- he remembered something, something small and unimportant that Janus had told him once. 

When one is so intensely happy, they can fall to agonizing upset even quicker than if they’d been mildly perturbed in the first place, because of the ferocity of the feelings. Something like that. 

“A lot more than I’m willing to throw on your shoulders, Pops.”

Patton pouted. Actually. Fucken. Pouted. The worst part was, his puppy-face was actually working.

“Ugh,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Just- could I- I dunno, have a hug, or some shit?”

If Patton was surprised, he hid it well. God knew, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Remus would ask for. He almost never asked to get attention- taking it was much easier, and much more entertaining. Besides, if he’d ever asked before that point… well, he already knew what answer he would’ve gotten. 

Patton’s smile only widened, until it was positively melting. “Of course you can,” he shut the sink off. “Of course.”

He reached haphazardly for a hand towel, to dry his arms. Remus, riding the high of that enthusiastic permission, absolutely could not wait that long. He latched his arms around Patton’s middle before the side had even finished talking, burying his face between his shoulder blades and hugging tight. 

Patton went still, like he didn’t know what to do. After it became clear that Remus had no intention to move, Patton laughed, dreamy and soft, and shook his hands as dry as he could. He patted Remus’ forearm; bead-bracelets clattered under the Duke’s sleeves. 

“Hey,” Patton said.

“Mmh?”

“Not that this isn’t lovely,” he laced his fingers with Remus’, squeezed them, “But I’d like it better if I could hug you back, ya know?”

Remus let go, reluctantly. In the true fashion of intrusive thoughts, there was a second he was so convinced Patton would run, now that he was freed. Make an escape from him, an escape from his claws.

He didn’t. He spun right around and pulled Remus against his chest- one arm linked around his torso, the other winding into his tangled hair. Anyone, at a glance, could see that Patton was huge- but up close the difference was dizzying: his wide chest, encircling arms that seemed to be made of nothing but muscle and padding, and that height, all made him so… comforting. Big and strong, a body that disguised power in soft edges and fat. If he squeezed just a little too tight, in fact, Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Patton could make splinters out of his bones. Which Remus definitely, definitely wouldn’t mind, but the knowledge that Patton not only could do that but also wouldn’t ever do that- that was what really did him in. 

And he’d hugged Patton before- months ago, and somehow Patton had seemed so small then, when everything had started- but being hugged? Properly, too, not underwater while one of them was drowning- it was a world of difference. No panic, no breakdowns, just a real, solid hug.

He could just ask for this and then have it. He could smell sugar cookies and candle wax, and feel somebody- a willing body- pressing in. It was weird. He thought that someday, he might get used to it. He wanted a chance to get used to it. 

“Do you wanna talk now?” Patton prompted, forcibly reminding Remus that he had a bloodhound’s nose for emotional distress. 

“I don’t know.”

Patton hummed, his fingers scratching through Remus’ hair. “Today went better than I thought it would.”

“You didn’t have to bring me, if you thought it was gonna be bad.”

“I wasn’t worried because of you! I was worried because of me. Things have been… a lot for me, lately.”

“Oh,” Remus angled his head to the side, looking up at him. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

“But they were all so much more patient, weren’t they,” Patton’s eyes went a little misty, the way they always did when he talked about his family. “Everything’s different now, and I guess that scared me, but I think that now… it’s a good different, you know?” 

“Like us, right?” Remus laughed, “This is the craziest difference, if ya think about it.”

Patton chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest so that Remus felt it more than heard it. 

“I don’t think I would’ve gotten through with today without you, you know that?” 

It was deeply honest. There was a beat. 

“I-” Oh fuck, Remus was choked up, when did that happen? “I wouldn’t have even had a day like today, without you, so. Do with that what you want.” 

Remus buried his face in Patton’s sternum, just to avoid the sad understanding in his eyes. 

He- he wasn’t exactly made for the care he was getting, not the kind of softness in that face. Not when Patton was still patiently untangling his matt of hair while they hovered in the stillness of the dark, empty kitchen, and Remus desperately didn’t want to cry. 

Patton gave him a minute to breathe, at the very least, before:

“They like you, though. Janus loves you.”

“Yeah, okay, but it’s not-”

“I know how you feel,” said Patton, and did. “Like they couldn’t actually care about us, even though it doesn’t make sense for them not to. It’s one of those things that’s easy to forget,” Remus could hear the smile in his voice. “So it’s good we have each other, when we need to get out of our own heads. At least, it’s like that for me, I don’t know if you even-”

“No,” Remus curled his claws in the back of Patton’s shirt, something dark and emotional flooding like tar through his chest. “Nah, you’re right, Morey. This is good for us.” 

Remus shook his head at nothing in particular. He forced his hands unballed, pulled back, and wormed his way out of Patton’s hug after way too long. 

His skin felt like paper from the affection, like he’d been electrocuted, and while that was fun- was amazing- for a while, he didn’t think he could handle much more in one sitting. 

Patton let him go, smiling warmly, leaning back against the counter. His eyes were shiny and wet, but he was content. 

“Thanks,” Remus said.

“What for? The hug?”

“No- I mean, that too, but I was saying ‘thanks, for caring’. For giving enough of a shit about me to try and help.”

Patton smiled, solemnly.

“I told you so,” he breathed, “I promised I would like you when I got to know you, and then I did. I do!” 

Remus felt a grin returning to his face, sliding across his lips more naturally than anything else he’d had to deal with that night.

“Yeah. You aren’t too bad yourself, Pat.”

Chapter Seven

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls  @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[snowdice]

But What Does It Mean (Part 10 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton, Logan & Virgil, Roman & Patton

Characters: Patton, Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remy

Summary:

Virgil sunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands. “I have no fucking idea.”

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie

This is my favorite part. I don’t know why. I just love it.

This is the tenth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

“And There is a Question”

“Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

“And There is an Answer”

To say Roman was surprised when, after Logan fixed the front door Remy had kicked in, Roman and Remy hadn’t end up tossed out on the other side of it was an understatement. He had done his best to apologize to Logan about the incident, but Logan had blown him off, not seeming to want to talk about it other than to tell Roman that he and Remy were to stay downstairs. He wasn’t sure how Logan could stand to look at him, let alone let him set up camp in his living room after what he’d done.

Roman felt horrible. That was probably the worst thing he’d ever done and Roman had had to do a lot of horrible things in the last couple of years.

How had he been so stupid? Sure, Patton had been kind of dull eyed and reacted to the whistling thing, but he should have listened to Logan and made absolutely sure before he pointed a fucking gun at the poor thing. What was wrong with him?

Thinking about it again, Roman felt his stomach clench and he set his head down on the kitchen table.

It had been hours after Logan took Patton upstairs that Logan had finally reappeared. His friend, Virgil as he’d later learned, hadn’t even come back down but stayed upstairs with Patton. Despite the invitation they had been given to eat macaroni from Virgil, neither Remy nor Roman had felt comfortable with that and had eaten some of their own food instead.

Roman had expected to get kicked out then and there, but instead Logan had shown them the living room and the study, told them they could sleep in the living room, and headed back upstairs with barely a mention of Patton. Somehow their tenuous relationship from before the apocalypse was enough for Logan to look past the very rude way Roman had introduced himself to his boyfriend. It was very kind of him and very lucky for Roman and Remy because Logan had an unbelievably well put together house. He had a fucking microwave. Who the fuck had enough electricity for a fucking microwave in the apocalypse? It was like stepping back in time two years standing in this house. It was almost eerie. Of course, he’d only been here two days. Maybe he’d get used to it eventually.

One of the many perks in Logan’s house was coffee, especially when it was 3am (according to the clock on the aforementioned microwave, and wow, having electricity again was such a trip). Roman had made himself a pot around 20 minutes ago and he took a sip of the still slightly warm liquid once he managed to peel his head back off the tabletop.

He’s been scratching out poetry in his journal for the past hour or so after waking up from his nightmares. After all this time, he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep after that. The coffee made the night just a bit more pleasant.

He heard a door open and close upstairs and paused to listen as light footsteps padded across the hall and down the stairs. The footsteps trailed to the kitchen doorway and Roman froze when a presence joined him in the room.

It was Patton.

“Er… hey there,” said Roman. The man made a grunting sound and lumbered straight by him, directly to the coffee machine. Roman puffed out an amused breath. “Valid.” He turned his eyes away and started chewing on the back of his pen as he heard the man grab one of the mugs nearby and pour himself a cup of coffee. He glanced up to see him take a long drink of it.

Patton set the mug down when it was drained and stared at Roman for a long moment without blinking. He did not speak at any point. Instead, he turned to the kitchen cabinets and grabbed a pot.

“What are you cooking?” Roman asked.

He didn’t respond verbally, just grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese out of the cabinet.

“Ah, I see,” Roman responded. He watched as Patton started filling the pan with water and set it on the stove to boil.

When the dry pasta went into the water, Roman bit his lip before he spoke back up. “I am, uh, sorry about the whole insisting you were a zombie thing,” he said quietly. “I was out of line. It’s just, you know, a bit of a stressful time and I… I’ve seen a lot too. I’m pretty sure I have a major case of PTSD by this point.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave a half smile. “I mean, I guess we all do, huh? Mine just comes out as being a prick and yours comes out as freezing up. So, yeah… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry if my behavior hurt you more. It wasn’t my intention to do harm.”

The man didn’t respond. He just stirred the macaroni noodles with his back still turned to Roman. Roman hunched his shoulders and looked away.

A few minutes later, Patton strained the noodles and stirred in the cheese pack. Then, he dished out a portion, grabbed a spoon, and slid the bowl over to Roman. Roman blinked at it. “This is for me?” he asked softly. The man just stared at him for a moment before turning away. He grabbed Tupperware out of the cabinet and spooned the rest of the dish into it before shoving it into the refrigerator. “Aren’t you going to eat some?” he asked. Patton just walked back the way he’d come. “Thanks,” Roman called after him. He looked down at the bowl of pasta in front of him. It clearly wasn’t complete forgiveness, but it was an olive branch. He ate the macaroni and cheese.

“God dammit, why does he keep making this stuff?” Logan grumbled to himself, pulling out yet another Tupperware container full of macaroni and cheese from his refrigerator in the morning.

“Oh, he actually made it for me,” Roman said from his seat at the kitchen table.

Logan drew back from the refrigerator to look at him. Virgil had for the most part tried to stay away from their new guests unless Logan was in the room. “Why would Virgil make it for you?” he asked.

“Why would Virgil what?” Virgil asked as he came into the kitchen.

“Not Virgil,” Roman said with a frown. “Patton made it.”

Virgil and Logan both stared at him for a long moment. “Patton made it?” Logan asked blankly. “How do-how do know Patton made it?”

Roman raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I watched him make it… He came down at like 3am to cook it and then must have decided he wasn’t hungry, so he got me a bowl and went back to bed.”

Logan slowly turned to Virgil. “Virgil,” he said calmly. “Have you been recently making an endless supply of boxed macaroni and putting it into the refrigerator almost every night?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Are… are you saying you haven’t been?”

“I have not.”

“Why are you two acting weird?” Roman asked. “It’s just macaroni.”

“Patton used to love to cook,” Logan said slowly. It felt like his mind was a stalled engine turning over. “But, he hasn’t done any cooking in a very long time.”

“Oh,” Roman replied sounding sad. But he didn’t know. He had no idea. “But that means he’s getting better, right?’

Logan looked over at Virgil who was frozen in place. “Perhaps,” Logan agreed.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, Logan. He doesn’t know how to open a door, Logan,” Logan whispered harshly to him in the upstairs bathroom 10 minutes later.

“Yeah, well, forgive me. I also didn’t know he knew how to make fucking macaroni and cheese,” Virgil spat, waving his hands around.

“Oh god, he could have escaped,” Logan said, bracing his arm on the wall and squeezing his eyes closed. “He could have just wandered out the front door and we’d never have found him again.”

Virgil sighed. “Well, he didn’t okay,” he soothed. “He just made macaroni and cheese. A lot of macaroni and cheese.” He paused. “W-why has he been plaguing our lives with macaroni and cheese?”

Logan snorted out a laugh. “I,” he chuckled. “I have no idea.” He started to laugh in earnest, doubling over with it.

Virgil slapped him on the back a couple of times. “Logan, you okay buddy?”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “This is fine. Better than fine. It’s good. Cooking even nonsensically still implies some sort of higher brain function. So, this is great.” His eyes started to water, and his next words were choked with sobs instead of laughter. “Why fucking macaroni and cheese? What does… what does this mean?”

Virgil sunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands. “I have no fucking idea.”

Want to read more? Click below!

One More Dance 

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“Nobody Does it Better”

I’ve had this idea stirring in my head so I decided to plunge down into indulgent hell and actually write it. I usually write this kind of thing in 1st person so being in 3rd is a little strange for me. Anyway, Enjoy!!! Also the title is a song I’ve been listening to that has violent JuLisa vibes.

Pairing: Julius x Lisa (my OC fuck you)

Warnings: None. Just them being cute as hell as usual.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

“No it’s not!”

“A nightmare...”

“Lisa-”

“A war crime-”

“Lisa!”

Lisa was one of those people who tried her best to not be bothered by little things. As someone who stood in the top levels of power in the Kingdom, she needed to be that way. But sometimes, something would get in her head, like a raspberry seed in your teeth, and it would just stew there until she couldn’t take it any more. Lisa was good at hiding it, but not from Julius. So, when he inevitably realized something was wrong and asked, she nearly exploded.

“Julius, I should definitely stay home from this party. You know all those nobles make me nervous!” The short woman paced the floor, agitated, her shoes clicking rhythmically with each step. The two were taking a break from work (one of many so far today), and Julius watched with concern from his desk as the worries continued to mount. 

“You’ve lived here for four months, you know!” Julius reminded her in an attempt to quell her fear. “They’re all used to you by now... I think-” He gulped nervously. “But! Even if they’re not, it’s not like they’re going to do anything about it. I’ll be there too, remember?”

That’s right. Lisa nodded slowly, but his words only stirred more bitterness. Of course she would be okay if Julius was there... he was always the one who took the blame for her actions, who swooped in to deescalate problems she cause. Maybe Julius was perfectly fine with being a human shield, but for Lisa, it was a little humiliating. “Right...” She paused her pacing, her gaze turning slightly sad. “I’m sorry... I’m probably going to make you look like a fool-”

“No way!” Lisa looked up to see that Julius was already on his feet, walking over to her with that usual reassuring smile. “Lisa, you could never embarrass me. On the other hand, I think I’m the one who will embarrass you!” To his relief, Lisa’s worry instantly melted from her face and she let out a little giggle. “I mean it... you’re going to be fine.”

And somehow, Lisa believed it. At least, until later that night when the party actually started.

These opulent gatherings of royalty and nobility were quite commonplace in the castle. And since Julius was popular among them as well as the general population, he was usually expected to show up for a while. And he didn’t want to go anywhere without Lisa. However, this was by far the fanciest event Lisa had ever been to. She grew up in the common realm, in a town out in the middle of the woods, working in a tavern of all places, so this type of civilized crowd was far from her comfort zone. On top of that, there was bad blood still fresh between her and the nobility; just four months ago, the King himself worked to expel her from the Magic Knights and even attempted to execute her. No mercy came from the nobles, and Julius had to step in to save her life. It was an unjust, frustrating experience, one Lisa was now fated to carry forever, but tonight was like salt in the wound.

But Julius is right. I need to get used to this. I’m an advisor now, this is my new world, so I have to get along with nobles.

Easier said than done.

Julius went on ahead, so Lisa was alone when she finally poked her head into the crowded banquet hall. Very important looking people were everywhere, laughing, chatting, drinking, gossiping, all of it. Everyone was... glittering, almost, their outfits and appearances polished as much as possible, just another way to show how they shined in this matte world. And now, Lisa was feeling very, very matte. 

Hmm, maybe this isn’t a good idea- Her eyes darted around as she silently closed the door behind her, already feeling gazes pierce her skin. Not one of these people was someone she recognized, and Julius himself was nowhere to be seen. If he was ditching the event to look for magic, Lisa wished he took her with him. I can’t do this- Maybe I’ll tell him I had a stomach ache- or a fever- She shook her head. No, that’ll never work, I don’t get sick... Despite that fact, Lisa was getting close to feeling queasy. She couldn’t do anything but stand there awkwardly in the corner, in a dress much too fancy for her body, and wilt under the increasing glares from multiplying sources.

“... look.”

“It’s her.”

And now they were whispering, loud enough for Lisa to hear.

“Wasn’t she exiled?”

“No, just kicked out of the Magic Knights. What a disgrace.”

“For assaulting the king, correct?”

“And don’t forget, that affair with Lord Julius.”

“That affair is still going, that’s the only reason she’s here.”

“Disgusting.”

“Skank.”

“How unsightly...”

“That dress, too, who told her it was appropriate to show so much skin?”

“Whore.”

Lisa was used to being strong, but each word hit her like an arrow. She stood there and took each one, in rapid succession, and the only response was the slow but sure tightening of her fist. The memories of that day, her greatest humiliation, the day she was treated as something less than human, crashed down and started to drown her.

She was helpless.

I can’t do this... but I can’t run either...

“LISAAAAA!”

That voice cut through her thoughts, as gentle as a melody yet the strongest thing in this world. The whispers immediately ceased, and Lisa looked up to see why. Julius was basically sprinting over, a bug, dumb smile plastered on his face, along with the lingering shock of seeing her here, out of her element, and yet...

“My god-”

He finally skid to a stop, his eyes sweeping over her easily twelve times, taking in every inch of her skin and dress as he could, drinking it up like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks even though he saw her just an hour ago. Finally, his lavender eyes met hers again, and Lisa felt her heart skip more beats than it had in a while.

“You’re easily the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

...

Lisa wasn’t exactly sure what to say and Julius reached out and took her hand in his, the gesture as strong and sure as anything else the Wizard King did.

...how can you say that...

“Thank you...” Lisa finally responded, trying to swallow the swell of doubt that was threatening to come leaking out of her. This is what I get for being protected so much... I forget how much it hurts for people to talk to me like this. The best she could do was distract herself and try to ignore the dirty glances. Julius was here now, after all, so maybe it would be alright. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself.”

“Hot?” Julius repeated, a light blush appearing on his cheeks as he laughed off the praise. Despite dishing out compliments at every opportunity, receiving them always made him feel a bit sheepish. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

Lisa couldn’t help but let out a little giggle, eagerly slipping her arm around his to get closer. Despite the two of them being together for more than a year at this point, being this close to him, feeling the rub of his sleeve against her skin, the way he moved under her hand...

It’s like there’s magic inside him.

“Is something wrong?”

Lisa blinked, and realized that once again she had been unresponsive. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave Julius a bright smile to quell his worries. “But I think your praise is a bit higher than mine-”

“Oh? Why should it be?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the Wizard King?”

“Oh, right... I suppose my word is law. Well, it should be law! I decree that Lisa Petalon is the most beautiful woman in this room-”

“Julius-”

“-hell, the whole kingdom!”

“JULIUS!”

Julius snickered mischievously as Lisa turned more and more red with each embarrassing word that left his lips. “Well-” she cleared her throat once she composed herself. More people were still staring at the pair out of the corner of their eyes, but didn’t dare say anything now that Julius was here. “Too bad I have to go back to my old outfit tomorrow.” She glanced down at her temporary finery. To be honest, she did look quite good in the dress, even though it was something she would never wear again. But if her normal clothes seemed dull in comparison-

“Nonsense. You’ll look even more beautiful tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Of course, Julius would never let her think that.

“That’s crazy,” Lisa chuckled, smiling and nodding at people who walked by. Julius waved and smiled as well, but his attention was entirely focused on the woman on his arm. “If my beauty is peaking tonight, I’ll have to come off of that peak tomorrow, right?”

“No, no, that’s not how that works,” Julius objected, as if he were the lead authority on beauty mathematics, “It doesn’t ever go down... it just gets compounded, you know? Each time I see you is the sum of all the moments before, plus more-”

“Julius, please-”

“Just saying!” Julius’s other hand came to rest on the one on his arm, that gentle, kind smile shining down on Lisa like the sun itself.

... I still don’t get it sometimes.

Julius could see it, the doubts that had been stirred tonight. But his mission, as always, was to make things right. “It’s all true. There’s no one else in this world I want by my side tonight.”

Despite the fact that everyone was watching, and would definitely have something to say, Julius leaned down, his lips pressing against Lisa’s forehead for just a moment, right beside the ancient magical mark burned into her skin. The feeling of his lips against it sent a barely-noticeable shiver down her body, a memory of something they shared together not so long ago.

... how can you smile at me like that. 

The worry was faint, just a breath, a memory of a whisper. But it was quickly buried beneath the warmth that radiated from the man beside her.

And so, the night went on as smoothly as it could. Thankfully, Augustus didn’t show up, which was the worst case scenario Lisa had dared to entertain. Eventually Julius was forced to split his attention between Lisa and the others that wanted to talk to him. He was a popular guy, after all, but he never once let go of her hand as he chatted and made idle conversation with the people around him. It was like a silent challenge, despite the lack of a malicious gleam in his sparkling eyes. A decree, if you will. This woman deserves to be here. As much as any of you. 

Unfortunately, Lisa couldn’t just smile, nod, and look pretty the entire time.

“Hey, let’s dance!”

...d-dance?!

By the time Lisa understood what he meant, it was too late; Julius was dragging her over to the floor, where many other couples were already moving gracefully. “Ah! Wait, Julius, you know I don’t know anything about dancing! Er- at least, this type of dancing!” Sure, Lisa could dance just fine in a crowded tavern or inn, or gallop around the room arm-in-arm with her drunk comrades from the Crimson Lions. Ballroom dancing was an entirely different beast. 

“Nonsense! I’ll teach you, it’s not hard.”

“Teach?! Julius, the time to teach is before you have to do it for real!” Lisa objected, her voice a hushed, severe whisper. Julius didn’t listen, just pulled her closer, one hand in hers and the other holding her waist. “I-I don’t want to embarrass you-”

“Lisa.”

The sound of her name on his lips was enough to make her fall silent.

“I told you... that’s my job. I’m not letting you steal my job!”

And just like that, everything was okay. Lisa laughed along with him, a little louder that a proper lady should, but she was nervous. “And anyway-” Julius closed his eyes as he continued to smile down at her. “We can ‘cheat’ a little.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Cheat?”

“Yeah... you know...” Julius pointed to his own forehead, to the empty spot next to his Swallowtail mark. “I was taught how to dance when I was a kid... I could probably teach you real quick.”

“...oh...”

Lisa couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her heatbeat picking up in anticipation. The ancient magic within her gave her the power to share magic with Julius, but that link, the dyad, was much more than that. For a brief moment, the two of them ceased to exist, their minds and souls united as overwhelming power was passed between the two of them. They understood each other completely... and even though Lisa couldn’t help but doubt, Julius never did. Not once.

Together... that’s all we’re meant to be. 

No other words needed to be spoken. Lisa leaned up, and Julius leaned down. But before she could press her forehead against his, to take the memory he wished to share with her, Julius dodged, and their lips met instead.

... you big sap. Fine.

Each kiss was like magic, each one more potent than the other. Maybe it worked the way Julius described earlier... each kiss the sum of every one before it, plus a little more. Or, in this case, a lot more. Because it was potent enough to melt away the rest of the room, to shield them from the disapproving eyes, the disapproving world. 

For a brief moment, nothing mattered except the two of them. Nobody. Nothing. 

Finally, with a shallow breath, Julius released her lips, his eyes flickering open at the same time as hers. “So... what was that for?” Lisa whispered, trying to hide how absolutely thrilling that kiss was. Sure, it was quick, shallow, and chaste... but still...

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” Julius countered, his little smirk equal parts infuriating and charming. 

“...no.”

“Good.”

His forehead pressed against hers, for just a second, and Lisa’s eyes widened. It was like a small spark of electricity, yet as powerful as a supernova. All at once, Lisa felt it... she felt like she had known how to dance her entire life.

Maybe it was dangerous to take in more of him, because maybe she would end up forgetting who she was. But that wasn’t so bad. Lisa wanted to be like Julius, after all.

“Got it?”

“Yeah...” The giddy feelings bubbled up like champagne. “I’m ready.”

The two of them danced off into the night, as graceful as can be, almost like they were extensions of each other’s bodies. As the others watched, even the most disgruntled critics had to admit...

“I suppose they look pretty good together after all.” 

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 2

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

A/N: So, I lied. I know I said that I was looking at 10 chapters, but it’s going to be a bit longer than that. I’m thinking 12-15 now! Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Just a reminder that there is a cult featured in this fic. I am in no way endorsing cults, nor am I criticizing anyone’s religion.

CW: kidnapping, food mention, inflicted blindness

~

Patton had always been, in general, a happy person. Sure, he couldn't hear. His father, however, had always taught him that a disability was only an ability with extra letters.

He'd never been allowed to learn how to read lips—it was something he'd read about, but knew he couldn't figure out without a teacher. The one time he'd asked Father, the man had grabbed his hands and pulled him into the hall closet, quickly signing to never bring it up again.

Father had homeschooled Patton—not unusual, everyone in the Haven homeschooled, but what was unusual was that they also home-churched. Everyone else went to chapel, so why couldn't they? Father never explained why.

Patton didn't see much of anyone else. As a child, he played outside with the other children in the Haven, but soon they ignored him in favor of their hearing friends. He saw people at the socials, but Father tended to guide him away from the big conversations, letting him know that what they were talking about wasn't important.

While a little lonely, life was fine. Patton had Father to talk to, books to read, and a house to live in. He had a job washing dishes in the Haven's charity hall, mostly so that he wouldn't be alone while Father was at work. Father worked at the Lab in the center of the Haven, a very prestigious job that made him well-regarded in the community. Life was fine. Everything was fine.

Until one day, it wasn't.

That day, Patton walked home from work to find Father hurriedly packing a bag, his lab coat and tie askew.

That day, as Patton tried to get his father's attention so he could ask what was wrong, the burly perimeter guards of the Haven shoved Patton out of the way.

That day, the last thing Patton saw of his father was a quick flash of his hands as they dragged him away—I love you.

-

Patton had gotten on decently for the past year without Father. He continued to go to work, continued to study the Haven's theology. He missed dinner, where the chairs would both be filled. He missed sitting in Father's room on the bed, looking over a book together. Sometimes, Father would get out the big book of maps that he kept behind the bookcase and show Patton how big the world was.

Now Patton realized how big the world was without his father to fill it.

Patton attended chapel every Sunday now, even though he had no idea what was going on. The prayers were weird, once he realized they were prayers. It was nothing like Father had taught him—there was more pounding on pulpits and angry faces then he was used to. There was much more hand-holding, much more mouth-moving. Sometimes, there was even crying, but Patton didn't know why. Still, every Sunday morning he put on one of Father's many blue ties and walked to the center of the Haven for church, just beside the Lab.

That was how they got him.

-

It started out as a normal Sunday.

The alarm clock on the his pillow vibrated, and Patton gradually woke up. He rolled out of bed and put on his nicest clothes, brushing his teeth soon after. He didn't eat breakfast or lunch on Sundays—no one in the Haven did, that time was reserved for fasting.

It still felt wrong, disturbing the dust in Father's room just to get one of his ties. He supposed he could move the ties, if it bothered him that much, but Patton couldn't bear to move what was lodged so firmly in his memories. Hardly anything in Father's room was touched, and he intended to keep it that way. He had unpacked the suitcase Father had been hurrying to fill on that last day—it was mostly food and some clothes, with a blue pocket-sized notebook that only had nonsense scribbling in it. Patton kept it in his pocket at all times, and now slipped it into his khakis (his only nice pants, he daily wore Haven-made jeans and the khakis were one of his only possessions from outside the perimeter).

Tie tied, Patton started the short walk to church.

Church was as usual, but for some reason more uncomfortable than it had been so far—which was saying something. Now, though, Patton felt as if he was being watched. He shook it off as nonsense. Everyone knew who he was, just as he knew who everybody was. The Haven wasn't very large, after all.

Patton left just before church ended—he often left during the last hymn, it generally got very confusing after that—and discovered that he was not the only one who left early, as a sack was pulled over his head. He struggled for a moment, before the woozy smell of the inside of the sack hit him and he was out like a light.

-

The first thing Patton did when he woke up was cough.

The second thing was take in his surroundings. He was in a small room, plaster walls and concrete floor painted grey. He was on a bed, and there was another pushed up against the wall on his right. A heavy-looking door was set into the wall opposite, with what looked almost like a locked doggy door in the foot of it. Other than the beds, the only break in the monotony of the room was a curtained-off segment with a toilet and sink—if you could call it a sink. It was more of a faucet sticking out of the wall, a shelf with a bar of soap beside it.

That first day, Patton wandered the room, pressing every spot on the wall, knocking on the door, pushing at the flap in the door. Nothing budged. Eventually, he retired to the bed he'd woken up in, the true magnitude of his situation hitting him all at once. He managed to retain composure until he checked his pocket—they had taken Father's notebook. Patton cried for hours.

Every day passed similarly. At first, it took Patton a long time to figure out the day and night schedule, but eventually he trained his body to wake up when the meal that felt most like breakfast was pushed through the flap. He'd been there, wallowing in his boredom, for maybe two weeks when the man was pushed in.

Patton was on the bed when it happened. The people that dragged him in wore masks, but Patton still recognized them from their hair—Brother Gracer, from next door; Brother Hadley, from the charity hall. They left the man curled up on the floor, not even sparing a glance in Patton's direction before leaving once again.

The man was dressed in Outsider clothes—a black hoodie with purple patches, soft-looking jeans. Like Patton, he didn't wear shoes—but Patton had to wonder if they'd been taken from him too, or if he'd never had any in the first place.

While he stared, frozen in shock, the man moved. He carefully stood, wavering dangerously, and on his first step stumbled and hit the floor. Patton winced, but the man got back up and tried again. This time he managed two steps before falling. He wasn't coming anywhere near Patton—he was actually facing the direction of the door—but Patton pressed himself against the wall anyway. Everyone in the Haven had an uneasy fear of Outsiders. They were rash and sinful, and would stop at nothing to drag everyone down with them.

The man seemed to realize that he wasn't able to walk, because now he was crawling, one arm outstretched and shaking. His fingers slammed into the door moments later, and the man recoiled before falling again. This time, he didn't try to get back up, instead curling on his side. It took Patton a couple of minutes to realize the man was sniffling—maybe crying, maybe cold.

Yes, it was an Outsider, but everyone got cold or sad, didn't they? Everyone needed help. A few minutes more, and Patton had gathered enough strength to slip off the bed and pad across the floor. Before he lost his nerve, he reached down and poked the Outsider's shoulder. The man gasped and reared back, preparing to attack, and Patton jumped away. It wouldn't do to make him angry. Still, though, the man looked cold, and that was something Patton knew he could fix.

He debated for a second over whether to get his own blanket or the one off the untouched bed—but that one was coated in dust, and for all Patton knew, the man was allergic to dust, so he grabbed his own.

It was vaguely reminiscent of creeping up behind a lion, Patton thought as he held the blanket out in front of him. The man was slowly relaxing, stretching a bit as he lay his head back on the floor. Before he could change his mind, Patton threw the blanket on top of him.

The man flinched, arms raised, then slowly sat up. He pulled the blanket around himself closer, but shivered still.

Patton was enthralled by this man. He'd only met two Outsiders before, both of them looking to sell things and investigate the life of the Haven. Neither of them had ever attacked him, and this man hadn't so far. Patton sat down opposite him, then reached out a hand to his shoulder.

For the first time, Patton could see his face. Before, he'd been turned away or his strangely long hair had been hiding his features. Now though, Patton could see his trembling lips, his small nose, his pale skin, his cloudy grey eyes.

The man's mouth moved, and his eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over at the slightest provocation. Patton smiled slightly and tapped his own ears. This man, strange as he was, needed a hug, a Patton was the perfect person to give him one.

When Patton pulled back, he tapped his ears again, but the man didn't seem to see. His eyes were focused at a point slightly to the right of Patton, and one arm flailed out, as if trying to find him again. Patton grabbed it, quieting the frantic fingers as his father might have when he was signing too much in public. Could the man see him?

Cautiously, Patton waved his other hand in front of the man's face, watching for any movement from those eyes. Nothing. Now that he looked closer, he noticed that what he'd first thought were bags under his eyes were bruises. The man couldn't see.

Well, they were two peas in a pod, weren't they? Patton tried not to think about how they would communicate as he pulled the man into another hug. They'd figure everything out.

~

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added!): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Come Back to Haunt You || Morgan & Agnes

TIMING: This Evening

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & Agnes Bachman (written by @chloeinbetween)

SUMMARY: The past haunts; so does family. Agnes wants this time to be different.

CONTAINS: brief references to parental abuse

Morgan felt half ghost as she cleaned the kitchen. Her fingers slipped on everything she touched, cracking dishes without her noticing. It was the cotton fog of death, partially. But it was also the weight of the last few weeks on Morgan’s soul, which pulled on her as though she was coming unglued from her body. Maybe she would simply come out of her trance and find herself floating over her bed, phasing through her life, or what broken pieces passed for her life these days. Morgan shuddered. She didn’t feel pain the way the living did, but it still dwelled in her, trapped and hungry for ways out. Unwilling to run the risk of destroying the rest of her dishware, Morgan went outside to the pool and sank her feet in the water, watching the lights along the walls dance as she kicked her feet. She had centuries ahead of her of this, if she was lucky: more mortal bullshit, more loss, more suffering. Maybe if she hadn’t been so worn out from living with Constance’s curse, she wouldn’t feel so tired. But staring down at her warbled reflection, she couldn’t imagine these last few weeks not breaking anyone.

The evening wind rippled the water and Morgan’s reflection split in two. Or not quite. Morgan squinted closer before remembering she could look over her shoulder. “Agnes,” she breathed. “How are you here? I thought Blanche’s circle sent you back to Texas. Is everything okay?” Too much. Even Morgan couldn’t sit up with that. She gave her (great-great) grandmother as much of a smile as she could muster, relieved to see her face however sad it looked. “Why don’t you come sit, or...float, I guess. There’s plenty of room out here.”

Agnes hadn’t known it would be like this to cross these distances. Her space in Texas had been hers for decades. It held her like gravity once had, but after Morgan’s visit, she’d felt pulled in two directions. Maybe there was something more here than her restless in between that had lingered over the decades. It had not been easy, but she had made her way across the continent to here. It was almost as if White Crest had been calling her. Perhaps it was Constance. Perhaps it was Morgan herself. She hovered, looking over Morgan at their shared reflections. “I do not know if everything is okay.” She sat, slowly, looking over the pool. “I felt like I was needed here, with you…. And Constance. So I came.”

Morgan watched Agnes sit. This was the kind of nonsense she’d dreamed up as a lonely kid: a kind, magical woman showing up out of the blue and sitting next to her with no reasoning beyond ‘you needed me.’ No blame, no yelling, no guilt. Just someone who gave a shit about her enough to come. To try. If Morgan didn’t have so much experience with her own mental instability, she might have suspected she was imagining Agnes. She waited a second, still staring at her, tears welling up, and then she laughed. A sad one, heavy, ready to crack into sobs at any moment. “You just...came, huh?” She scrubbed her eyes, laughing still. “I’m sorry this is just...we didn’t get to talk much last time, so you don’t know that things were already bad for me, but somehow since then, it’s actually gotten worse.” She sniffled, smiling wryly. “And uh, you are the first family I’ve had show up for me without giving me any shit right off the bat. Ever. Even counting the live family that used to know me.” She didn’t want to think about Constance. She knew she was putting people at risk dragging her feet on this magic ‘source,’ but tracking down someone worth destroying felt easier said than done, and Morgan lacked the strength to do more than go through the motions and keep the people she had left it check most days. She tried to put her thoughts of the ritual aside. “Kinda sucks that we had to die to meet, but what can ya do?” She shrugged, trying to shake the bitter angst off of her, and gave Agnes a sincere, watery smile. “It’s good to see you, Agnes...grandma, whatever you want me to call you. Not sure if there’s anything you can do, but thank you.”

Carefully poised, Agnes only shifted a little in concern as she noticed the tears welling up in Morgan’s eyes just from her presence. It didn’t occur to her that she might be the cause until Morgan laughed just as suddenly. “Morgan?” She asked cautiously, too used to being a ghost to make any offer of physical affection. “Things have gotten worse? How do you mean? Has Constance done something else?” Agnes asked, looking around in the dark. Her heart ached at Morgan’s simple admission. For all the suffering Constance had caused, she had also done this: she had slowly turned Agnes’ family into canyons and cliff faces, hard and windworn to withstand their constant suffering. Sometimes, they had become cruel to survive the cruelty, and in the end it had still not served them. 

“I am so sorry, Morgan. Agnes will do. I might be able to do something.” I need to be able to do something, Agnes didn’t say. She could neither stand by in ignorance as Constance tried to kill Morgan a second time, nor could she stand the thought of Constance being destroyed forever. There had to be something else, an option that only she could help with. Agnes was too coward to consider any other alternative. “If nothing else, I can listen.”

“Oh, no,” Morgan sighed. “I almost wish Constance had done something for the sake of distraction. If she’d been the one who’d been in charge of the last few weeks, I think I would actually stop having to convince people that I have a point about her.” She winced, remembering Agnes’ horror when she’d mentioned her plans during the seance. “Well, the ‘bad’ part before we met was a friend of mine dying really horribly, and my relationship falling apart, you know, after my closest friends decided they don’t really get what I’m trying to do with this...ritual thing. Which, apparently, requires a blood sacrifice. So that’s fun.” Morgan let out a shaky breath. “And now I just...feel so lost and tired. An amazing feeling, really, when you can’t sleep to save your life. I almost died once or twice, but that’s just White Crest for you. And I know the longer Constance is out there, the more dangerous she becomes, but I want to get this right. I don’t have much propping myself up right now, so I need to make sure this gets done right.” She smiled sadly at Agnes. “I know you don’t like it either. Maybe it’s hard, with how well you used to know her and how sorry you are about what happened. But I don’t think you deserve what she did to you. I don’t think any of us do. I’m just trying to balance what I can, you know?”

As Morgan spoke, her legs shifted slightly in the water, which in turn made tiny ripples, breaking up Agnes’s reflection as she looked down at the two of them. In so many ways, they looked alike, and were alike. Morgan’s heart was weary with isolation of her own design, but unlike Agnes she would not back down. It just wasn’t serving her any more than Agnes’s own choices had served her. The only comfort she could offer now was her company, and her quiet, patient listening as Morgan talked about it. “A blood sacrifice?” She echoed. “I’m so sorry. You should not have to carry so much in your life.” It was empty comfort, but it was all she had to give Morgan. “I have seen so much pain stemming from that fateful day. Perhaps you would understand why I might wish to avoid more.” Agnes sighed deeply, shifting closer to Morgan. She could not offer an arm of comfort around her. “I do not know that it is a question of deserve. I just wish for this all to end. I never wanted so many of you to suffer for my choices like this.” She hadn’t ever planned to have a bloodline to curse. She ought to have ended this a century ago, but then like now she had been permissive, letting others expectations and desires dictate her action. No, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? It was her own cowardice, over and over, that had lead them here. “What do you hope to find at the end of Constance’s suffering, Morgan?”

“Yep,” Morgan said, smirking humorlessly. “No pain, no gain. I guess that’s what I get for assuming that exorcisms were just like normal spells. The ‘source’ is pain, blood is traditional and best as far as I reckon. Live stuff. Honestly, this wouldn’t be such a problem if it wasn’t for Constance. The simplest and most elegant solution would be to bleed myself. I have a lifetime of awful shit to offer up. But the dead are beyond most magic. So, I need something else.” It would be easy, she supposed, to pluck someone off the street, or find out who had been most recently screamed for and rest in the knowledge that her unwitting volunteer wasn’t losing out on that much. But Morgan didn’t want to cause suffering arbitrarily. That’s what Constance had done when she took one moment out on generations of Bachmans after Agnes. It should be as intentional as the rest of the ritual. It had to be better than Constance. 

Morgan listed to one side as Agnes spoke, aching to fall against her and be held. “You made a mistake, Agnes,” she mumbled. “Hurting people you love and making them feel like nothing…” She shook her head with bitter recognition. “Yeah, it breaks you, to be on the receiving end of that, or to do that without meaning to. I know. But it’s not something that warrants what she did. If you love someone…” You hang on or you let go, was what Morgan wanted to say. But she was still trying to figure that one out. Staying in limbo, where she could punish Deirdre or not, embrace her or not, was still safer than committing one way or the other. “...You don’t do what she did. It should stay between the two of you, and nothing more.” That much, she did believe. “And, you know, I met what was left of your mother. I get being scared of what she might do to you.” It ran in the family, apparently. 

She thought long and hard about Agnes’ question, knowing that it was a rare opportunity to be understood, to make Agnes see what she was really up to. “I want it to end,” She sighed. “I want to banish some of this pain, to put it somewhere that’s not me. I already have so much now, she can afford to take on an hours’ worth of mine. She can do that much for me. And it…” Her voice caught. “It just feels so wrong, I get sick and disgusted thinking about it, it feels that wrong--to think about giving her what she took from me. I will never sleep. I will never have peace. I just...go. Maybe it makes me a bad person if you believe in those, but I will do this before I give her that kind of mercy. She’s made it so I spent my mortal life being crushed by her magic and I just can’t tell her ‘thanks, it’s okay!’ about it.” Morgan shrugged helplessly as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back as best she could, an effort at pride in front of the only family she had left who might like her.

Agnes had several lifetimes of experience of not speaking her mind. Even now, she held her tongue as Morgan spoke, keeping her thoughts tucked behind the layers of her clothes and her features. A lifetime of telling her parents what they wanted to hear, until she had said at a wedding she had barely wanted, yes in her bedroom, and then yes to her husband for the rest of her life. Yes to one child, then two. Yes to watching over them as they grew like saplings in a thornbush, destined to be crushed by Constance’s curse. Agnes was ever so good at watching the world go by without ever expressing her opinion. It was no new matter to listen to Morgan plan to set her whole world on fire. Hurting someone she deemed deserved to hurt so that she could inflict a worse hell onto someone else, losing every friend she had in this town to a cause that would bring an end to something that had tormented their family for centuries. 

Exposed to Morgan’s bleeding heart, Agnes wondered if she had made the wrong choice. One reason to stay in Texas was that she didn’t have to see so viscerally the harm the curse Constance had caused. She’d been able to ignore her own culpability. That was not so as Morgan laid out the road map of her suffering, and what she had planned for Constance. “My mother is inconsequential, now.” Was all she had to say. 

Perhaps it was that she had spent so much time looking the other way that her heart ached for Constance despite the last century. Agnes was still that romantic child, sneaking picnics in the forest and braiding Constance’s long, red locks. She could picture them walking along the streams when she looked in the ripples of the swimming pool, right next to the reflection of Morgan’s pallid skin. There was no way, any more, to prevent their deaths. It would be easier to look away. But there was perhaps something even more important for Agnes to protect. “I do not expect that you would be able to walk away. There is no forgiving her actions, no matter how much I loved her,” That much was true, “I worry that her destruction will also be yours. That in trying to bring about justice, you will taint some fundamental part of yourself that you will not get back in the rest of your centuries. Constance has taken so much from us, I do not want you to lose any other part of yourself. This blood sacrifice, especially, that frightens me. Shouldn’t that also stay between us?”

The way Agnes said the word love made Morgan’s heart ache. Agnes seemed more shadow than woman in ways that went beyond her incorporeal body. There was no wonder or surprise or excitement. In her kindness, dampened with sorrow, Morgan imagined that Agnes had seen all of this before. Or thought she had. Maybe she was so hollowed out because she’d been stuck on this cruel plane for so long, or maybe it was the guilt she couldn’t let go of, but she changed when she said that word. Morgan couldn’t decide if it gave her hope for eternity, or if it was just kind of awful that Constance still had such power over Agnes in death.

“I don’t even know what there is of me some days,” Morgan said, unable to indulge Agnes’ concern seriously. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve killed before. Not a lot, just people who were already trying to kill me. You know how some hunters are, or maybe not, but my point is--if I can just find someone that makes sense, it’ll be fine.” She didn’t know how she would go about that, still, but she shrugged as if it was nothing worth worrying about. She needed to keep up her confidence, and maybe it would get Agnes to believe in her more too. “Is that what we were to her, do you think? Sacrifices?” She asked. “Just logs to burn on her fire, over and over, til we’re just little white bits of coal and she needs another? See, that just sounds like another reason to do it. I’d bleed whoever in front of her if I could. To make sure she understands.” But without someone she loathed as much as Constance, that didn’t sound especially likely. She didn’t need to make a production of things, she just needed to get to the fucking finish line. Maybe finding the best way to do that could be her new anchor for a while; she certainly wanted it badly enough. “You don’t have to like this. I get being in love with someone just as fucked up as you are if not more. Just please don’t stop me, Agnes. You’re all the family I have and I would really appreciate it if you could just...not take this from me.” What did she have without it? What was there to do but accept she’d been screwed by a hateful ragweed of a girl and let her skip off into the sunset? Morgan couldn’t. There was enough of her life in pieces and she wouldn't let all her grief follow suit. Maybe if she did everything right, if she won, she’d feel a little stronger about facing the rest of what had broken, too. “Can you please give me that much?”

“That you have killed before in self defense is not reassuring,” Agnes replied, and briefly considered listing all the ways it caused concern, before assuming that that was also a lost cause. Morgan did not want to hear, and so it was easier not to speak. “I think… that is an apt metaphor. Her rage is almost consuming, and she has used other’s suffering to feed it. It is no way to spend one’s death. Nor one’s life.” Agnes added that last part delicately, her voice airy.  If Morgan truly believed this would serve her, who was Agnes to stop her? She could offer her descendent this much, one more thing in her lifetimes of permitting things to happen. She smiled, her grief drawing deep lines in her face. It was no longer instinct to reach out to offer the comfort of touch when she had no comfort to offer, but she still hovered her hand over Morgan’s, looking deep in her eyes. “I swear it.”

Agnes said nothing of trying to stop Constance. 

[xlady-saya]

better than a night light [fic]

Relationships: andrew minyard/neil josten

Summary: Neil hasn’t had the chance to examine the feeling of fear in a long time. He’s all too familiar with it though; from the nightmares, to the memories of a cold basement floor, he knows the feeling like the back of his hand.

But this fear is new, loaded with ridiculousness and a complete lack of reason. It’s nothing more than pixels on a screen, far away theories that can’t hurt him like his past can.

Maybe that’s why he’s beginning to not mind it as much. It doesn’t hurt that Andrew is also there to hold him through it.

Tags: neil is a scaredy cat, fluff, fluff and humor, the monsters watch alien movies

Read on ao3!

The movie poster Nicky keeps shoving in Neil's face doesn't exactly do much in terms of persuasion.

Neil stares at the bold graphics, at the text of the title that drips as if it’s oozing blood. It's got an almost static quality to it, not original, but not trying too hard to be. It's an older movie, that much is clear, so not exactly Nicky's usual taste. There's nothing there to tell him about the plot, just a few shadows and a stark silhouette standing in the center. Neil stares at the poster on Nicky's phone, then at Nicky's expectant expression, and then back.

Surely there has to be some kind of clue to tell him what this is all supposed to mean, but he's not seeing it.

Nicky does his best to show Neil a few more posters from the same movie, some restyled and revamped for the modern era, but...

Nothing.

"For fuck's sake," Nicky huffs, putting his phone away. "It's a classic horror movie, Neil, and we're watching it tonight."

Oh. Neil's not sure why he had to know that.

It's never up to him to pick the movies for movie night, mostly because most do nothing for him or bore him to tears altogether. Watching them with Andrew is typically the only time he bothers to pay attention, and that's for the commentary about the stupid characters.

Nicky is the opposite.

He and Allison fight over the films every Friday night like it's a ritual, but on the rare occasions the upperclassman are busy, Nicky takes over and tries his best to drag Neil into it too. A seasoned movie buff, he's made it his mission to find a movie genre Neil actually likes. Neil's attempts to convince him otherwise have fallen on deaf ears.

After weeks of action spy movies and no luck, Nicky's obviously decided to up his game by switching to a new theme altogether.

Neil's not sure what this will do, though. The horror movies Nicky has picked in the past only served to annoy Neil or make him laugh with their horrible effects and impractical plot points. Nicky had still labeled that as progress.

Already, Neil is rolling his eyes. Neil has dealt with real horrors; ghosts and poltergeists aren’t what haunt him. He's only seen one or two slasher films with the team, but those were just nonsensical.

It's not something he enjoys thinking about, but it's hard to be afraid of being sliced open by some fictional asshole in a mask when his childhood already made him numb to the feeling of a blade.

As if sensing the underlying truth behind Neil's annoyance, Andrew makes his presence known with a loud thump of his soda can against the counter.

Nicky jumps, but Neil turns on instinct, a small smile on his face. They have new barstools, and he swears they're a little taller than the other ones. Andrew's legs swing, almost carefree in nature, and Neil averts his eyes at the glare he receives for staring.

"I said no horror movies," Andrew says finally, flicking another page of his novel over. It's for a class, Neil notes, and beams a little brighter. Part of their pact; if Neil has to do better in school, Andrew has to start trying to, too.

With some encouragement...it wasn't a hard compromise to make.

"Technically, you said no slasher movies," Nicky says, smirking at the loophole. Andrew stares, thoroughly unamused, and Neil blinks between them. He hadn't known about that. He glances back over to find Andrew already looking at him, resignation clear on his face. It's a common expression from the beginning of their this—less rare now, but just as endearing in Neil's mind.

It's Andrew's 'you caught me caring about you, and I hate that because it's not hard' look.

Neil hops up to sit on the counter, and Andrew's gaze flicks down to his knee as if debating resting his chin on top of it.

"You don't need to baby me, those movies don't affect me," Neil says with a fond smile. It's the truth; he's not sure why, but the masked villains and their carving knives just seem tacky to him at best. He understands Andrew's reasoning though, and appreciates it more than he can say.

Andrew would never think of him as weak, and Neil can handle most things no matter how painfully they might stir up old memories. Regardless, Andrew will spare him if he can.

The look of acknowledgement passes between them, and Andrew nods.

Then: "Even still, they're bad," Andrew says, aiming the statement at Nicky. "I refuse to suffer through them."

Aaron, who up until this point has been a silent bystander on the couch, grunts an affirmative. Kevin's got his headphones in, not even listening.

"Killjoys," Nicky mutters, clutching his phone tight to his chest. He points an accusatory finger right at Andrew, and keeps it there in challenge. "You might like it too, if you would just give it a chance!"

Andrew, highly unconvinced, raises a brow at Neil. The blond and Nicky are a lot better at having actual conversations without Neil now, to the point where Neil wouldn't even call Nicky afraid of Andrew anymore. Still...looks like this is not a case Andrew has the energy to make.

Neil smiles, all too smug.

"I thought you said horror movies were overrated?" he asks Nicky, grin just the right amount of shit-eating. "And by overrated, you meant you're super scared of them and won't be able to sleep for days."

"First of all, Neil, fuck you," Nicky says without hesitation. Aaron snorts in the background. Unwilling to be defeated, Nicky holds up his hand, counting off the reasons. "Second of all, this one is different! It's an alien movie, and those don't scare me as much. I mean, they're super impractical!"

That's what's super impractical?

Neil rolls his eyes. Their whole lives are impractical. Ha.

But ah, Neil realizes. Maybe that's the reason for the weird poster silhouette. Aliens. He'd almost prefer a slasher film. He crosses his arms, blowing his overgrown bangs out of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure Jackson with his goalie mask is just as realistic."

The room goes silent, and Neil isn't too prideful when it comes to pop culture. It's clear he fucked that up. Nicky blinks at him, and even Aaron is confused enough to turn around and lean over the side of the couch.

Neil blinks back, combing his brain for the revision. Nothing.

Andrew sighs below him, long and suffering, and this time he really does put his chin on Neil's knee. He glares a hole into Neil's abdomen, but Neil suspects it's mostly self directed.

"I think he means Jason," Andrew says, closing his eyes to ground himself. Neil's always been quite impressed with his self-control. "He's just trying to provoke me."

Oh, yeah. That prick.

A small chorus of realization goes through the room as Neil smirks down at his boyfriend.

Nicky squints. "Huh? Provoke you how?"

"Don't ask about their weird flirting," Aaron interrupts, making a slicing motion over his throat. Then, after a beat, he shoots a glare at his brother, who actually meets it for once. "Though for the record, you deserve to have a thing for morons."

Hey.

"That time, I really thought his name was Jackson," Neil defends, not caring that he just exposed how sometimes he will say the wrong shit on purpose just to get Andrew...in a mood. Aaron gags, and Neil is quite done with the conversation.

He squeezes Andrew's earlobe because, well...it's right there.

Nicky throws his hands up. "Oh my god, who cares! Neil, the point is that yes, a serial killer terrorizing a summer camp? Unlikely. But if someone were inclined, they could. And at minimum, slasher movies are scary because I could actually be stabbed on any given day."

"The chances of you running into a slasher are still pretty low," Neil tries, and Nicky gives him one of those looks like he's missed the point entirely.

"I'm talking about Andrew."

Ah.

"That's fair," Andrew says, eyes closing once more as Neil kneads his ear gently.

Done with the lot of them, Nicky shows Neil the button to rent the movie on his account, and rebelliously presses it. As if that somehow traps Neil in this apartment. Like he can't just leave.

The sad thing is that he won't.

Even without the upperclassman to join them tonight, this is his family—despite all their shitty taste.

"Your point?" Neil asks, though he's fully resigned at this point.

"So, alien movies are way cooler than anything else. Plus, the effects in this one are practical," Nicky says, and Neil tilts his head. Instead of bewildered, Nicky's excitement only grows. "You know, none of that cheap computer crap. You'll see, you'll love it."

Nicky squeals lightly as he goes to make snacks, dropping a few dishes in the process. It's a chorus of curses and clanging that Neil is all too used to, and Andrew barely flinches from it. It's hard to mind anything with Andrew's head in his lap and Neil's hands moving into his hair.

Neil stares over at the television, and sees his own annoyed expression staring back from the void.

Love it, will he?

Yeah, whatever you say.

--

They're about thirty minutes into the movie when Neil realizes there's a problem.

Nicky, for effect, has turned out all the lights, and the television illuminates the whole room despite its dark ambience. Neil's perfectly prepared to not pay attention, especially when the movie starts off slow and without any of the promised aliens. Nicky scolds him for his impatience, and things gradually start to get more suspicious between the characters on screen.

Neil's not bored out of his mind, but he's yet to see the full appeal. Because it's his spot, he curls up into Andrew’s side, sharing the bag of plain gummy worms between them since Neil hates the sour ones. Neil's more fixated on that at first; sometimes if they grab the same one on accident, they'll start the contest of pulling the poor worm and stretching the gelatin until it snaps. So far, Neil has won the longest piece two out of three times.

Then, in a shocking twist, the alien shows up.

Nicky was right about the practical effects. It's a grotesque creature, animatronic and padded with a fleshy substance that looks like bile. Its limbs are coated in it, sticky and disproportionate to its thin, skeletal body. Neil can see every disgusting ridge, and grimaces at the bubbles of flesh and pus that the effects team coated it with. After a while, he stops viewing it as a product of humans, as a robot. He starts seeing it as just the creature, in all its vileness. Random limbs and appendages shoot out from it, impaling some of the unlucky side characters, and the squelching sounds make Neil want to vomit.

Neil's throat begins to feel tight, and he's not sure why.

Throughout the next fifteen minutes, the creature starts its ruthless hunt after the team of scientists which make up the main cast. Only when it disappears does the audience realize the creature can shapeshift—that it's among them, somewhere on the base.

At first, Neil thinks he might have to go to the hospital. His pulse is fast, and he's sweating a little. It's weird, and he finds himself trying to calm down his own breathing. His muscles aren't usually this tense, and there's a nausea-inducing lump in his stomach, swimming around like the goop on screen. Maybe he's sick, maybe he ate some undercooked meat for dinner. That has to be it. He tries his best to stretch out, but his ankle hits Kevin's fancy metal flask, and Neil nearly jumps out of his skin from the cold when it coincides with a character being ripped in half on screen.

"Damn, that was pretty cool," Aaron concedes from his beanbag, watching the characters rush to safety from the gore they just witnessed. Even Kevin is invested, though he's still occasionally checking Exy stats on his phone. The creature is gone again all too soon, blending in, and the scientists begin to arm themselves against one another. Nicky looks over at Aaron gleefully, triumphant for his good choice.

At this point, Neil hates to admit he's fully invested. The characters in the movie have started to suspect one another, and the focus has shifted from the gore and the alien’s origin over to pure paranoia. It does a remarkably good job of capturing that feeling—one Neil knows all too well. Neil begins to suspect some of the characters too, even the main protagonist. The theories run through his head, but the film leaves everything as vague as can be.

There's a blanket of dread over him he's never felt before, because it's not real. There's no imminent danger to his person or his family, but he wonders what he'd be feeling if he were in this situation. The idea of imposters, walking around and having no way of telling them apart from your friends, from a human...

It takes Neil awhile, perhaps a little too long given his acquaintance with the emotion, to understand the tension in his body is fear.

He's afraid.

And isn't fear a strange thing?

He tries to remember fear, and it's not hard. It's always cold, piercing. It narrows down the world so that the fear is all that exists, along with the impending doom of the consequences that come with it. For him, fear has always eventually had a result. His fear was always well-founded. But this is nothing like that fear. Real, genuine, valid fear. This is not being threatened by his mom's scowl from across the room, or being on the basement floor, seconds from death. This is a queasy, unrealistic fear. One he can't get rid of, as much as he knows it shouldn't exist. There's nothing on the horizon, nothing coming to get them.

It's a lot of what-ifs and how-comes.

Neil hates it.

He can't look away as the characters all perish, eaten alive in part by the alien, but mostly by their own suspicion. In the end, the discord between them kills them all, and the ending hints heavily at the creature's survival and spread into the outside world.

Maybe here.

Neil scoffs at his own ridiculousness, rolling his eyes. That would never happen. He knows that, it's just—

"So?" Nicky says right in his face, and Neil jumps. Luckily, no one notices, and Andrew has already moved to switch the television off. Good. He surely would've felt the jump of Neil's body.

"So?" Neil parrots, unable to keep up. He keeps looking out the dorm windows, watching the darkness for any sign of life beyond it.

"Did you like it, Neil?" Kevin asks, turning around from his perch on the floor. He's also been weirdly committed to finding things for them to enjoy outside of Exy. Neil has a feeling that's mostly Thea's and therapy's doing, an attempt to get them some distance from the harsh Raven routines of old.

Kevin's attempt at getting them into trivia had been a disaster, and he'd abandoned it quickly.

Neil swallows the lump in his throat, eyes tracking Andrew to keep himself grounded. Aliens or no aliens, the sight of Andrew is a relaxant that's fifty times stronger.

Still, all he manages is a small: "It was okay."

It's a compliment coming from him, since his standard response is to shrug whenever any credits roll, and Nicky heads off to shower for bed with an extra lightness in his step.

Neil is not so fortunate.

An hour later, they're all turning in. Kevin has already passed out while Nicky takes his time in the bathroom with his twenty minute skincare routine. Neil had done everything in his power to not be alone once the lights began to go out. He's lucky his proximity to Andrew isn't unusual, but he keeps a few steps of distance just to throw off any suspicion the blond might have about why his boyfriend’s clinginess is off the charts.

The night sky is still pitch black through the windows, and any passing noise has Neil turning around and checking on his family critically. No, no—if Kevin were a creature, he wouldn't be snoring so loud.

Right?

He feels like a child, and does his best to go about his business without reading into everything so much. Even still, he hops onto the bed so he doesn't have to stand in front of the bottom of the bunk for too long. Something could grab his feet.

Andrew, per routine, wraps his arm around Neil's midsection to pull him closer, not yet aware of what's happening. Neil usually delights in this each time it happens, though he's certainly used to it by now. The path to sharing a bed had been a cautious one, and spooning even more so, but now he can't imagine sleeping without being cocooned like this.

Tonight, however, there's a problem.

Neil stiffens when Andrew moves to scoot him closer, a stark contrast to how he usually relaxes all his muscles. It's kinda fun when Andrew drags him. Andrew pauses, regarding Neil curiously, and Neil's dry throat seems to close up even more. The dread in his veins obviously isn't apparent, but it feels that way. Paling internally, Neil says, "I want a glass of water."

He really wants a glass of water. Fuck.

But is it worth it? Is he willing to die for a glass of water? He can make it until morning. If he were smart, he would've thought about this when everyone was still in the living room and he had access to knives to defend himself.

Andrew, calm as ever, concedes with a short nod. He removes his hand and waits for Neil to get up, and that's when Neil can't hide it anymore.

See, he doesn't move. Neil just lies there, staring up at the ceiling, and feels Andrew's eyes grow more and more critical with each passing second. Neil is torn. Does he get up despite his fear to preserve his dignity? Andrew of all people deserves to know when Neil has none to spare. Neil doesn't hide anything from Andrew, no matter how ridiculous.

The truth is, he'd love nothing more than to stay here on this bed with Andrew, where it's at least kind of safe. But, if he thinks more critically, he'll never get over this fear if he doesn't venture out into the dark common area to get his goddamn water.

Also, he's thirsty.

What to do, what to do.

At this point Neil begins to squirm, his gaze flicking over to the open bedroom door. It's black on the other side, inviting him and his imagination to wreak havoc.

Humans can survive a few days without water.

The whole time, Andrew doesn't stop staring at him, and Neil winces when he feels a gentle tap against his collarbone.

He's hesitated too long to keep the secret now. Better get it over with.

"Neil."

"Uh. Y-yes?"

"Look at me," Andrew says, and Neil can't disobey a request like that. Andrew's sleepy voice is gravely and soothing, like enticing smoke from a cigarette, and Neil follows it with all his senses. He turns over, then tenses up. Now his back is to the door. Can't have that.

He goes back to lying flat, and turns his head to send Andrew a desperate look.

It's stupid, it's pathetic. But...

"It's dark." That’s all he says.

Andrew's brows knit together, searching for the truth under that statement. "It's one in the morning."

Oh, but I'm the smart mouth.

Neil glares, and jumps when Nicky drops something in the bathroom. Neil waits for a sign of movement, and breathes a sigh of relief when Nicky's routine resumes.

Andrew sends him another look, no doubt already piecing it all together, and Neil huffs to himself.

"Asshole," he says, and picks at the thread of their blanket with his finger. He tries not to think of the aliens splitting open. Quietly, he admits: "The creature in the movie could see better in the dark."

It should be helpful to say it aloud, but it's not. It should convince Neil he's being truly unreasonable, that the odds of something otherworldly coming to target him are slim. He should be more worried about real killers coming for him on any given day.

But here he is, still afraid.

Andrew, in his own Andrew way, actually looks surprised. Something swims across his features that Neil has seen before, but can't pinpoint in the moment due to his own shame. He groans, turning away.

"Shut up, I know, forget it, I'm—"

A hand comes out to grab his chin, and Andrew turns Neil's face back towards him in one firm motion. Okay, now Neil definitely knows there's something in that look, and it renders him speechless for a moment.

"You're afraid." He swears he sees the corner of Andrew's mouth twitch, and he's so fixated on it that the truth comes easily.

"Yes."

"Of the...aliens. From the movie?"

Ah, but when put that way...

Neil groans again, pouting slightly. It's hard for Andrew to ruin anything for Neil, but it's difficult to stare fondly at one's boyfriend when he's trying to wring the embarrassing truth out of you. "Yes! I don't know why, okay?"

Andrew just nods, not judging. Not yet. Taking that into account, he taps Neil's chin a few times, maybe to the beat of invisible cogs moving in his head. Then he pauses, and gives Neil's earlobe a tug. Because...it's there. "Nicky said aliens are impractical. They aren't real. You know this, I assume."

Neil glares, but doesn't refute the statement. He's familiar with Andrew's process of retracing their steps, hypothetically. Trying to understand where the fear came from, how to best help Neil push it aside.

"Neil, confirm these things for me," Andrew says, and Neil nods, counting the freckles that dance over Andrew's nose. "You have dealt with members of a deadly mafia family."

Neil, because he's a shit, takes time to think about it. It's worth it when Andrew huffs.

Neil nods. "That is true."

"You are arguably more capable than me when it comes to killing someone," Andrew points out, and Neil does his best to ignore the spark of heat in Andrew's voice from that knowledge. "In fact, you've probably killed many people without remorse."

Hm. Okay.

"Mhm." Neil hums, and while he sees where this is going...

"You could potentially be Jackson, minus the hockey mask," Andrew finishes, and Neil is only somewhat insulted. What does he want with a summer camp?

Feigning stupidity this time, Neil squints. "Wasn't he immortal?"

"Neil."

Neil's laughter dissolves into a desperate whine, and he throws his hands behind him, hitting the headboard. Dammit. "Just—I know it makes no sense," he huffs. He scrambles up to a sitting position, an explanation on the tip of his tongue, and Andrew follows him calmly. "I know they're not real but...I think that's the problem. It's an unknown. I'm familiar with killers, with knives on my skin."

Neil almost feels guilty when he mentions it; Andrew accepts all his scars and experiences, but it doesn't mean he likes that they happened. They can't change the past, but the idea of either of them being hurt never fails to put a little pit of anger in their guts. He sees it bloom in Andrew's right then, and Neil smiles gently to quell it. It's not about that right now.

"But this is so removed from any of that," Neil explains, laughing at himself. It's sort of amusing if he thinks about it—that he’s made it to the point where he has the luxury of being afraid of such things, but he still doesn't feel relief. "I know it should be stupid and ridiculous. But that's probably why it bothers me. I mean, okay, what do we really know about aliens anyways? Nothing! No road map, no weapons. We're completely unprepared."

And...his explanation goes off the rails just like that.

Neil thinks he has a good point though. Like...who is really to say aliens don't exist? And if they do, they're all pretty much fucked. Who wouldn't be afraid?

Andrew only stares at him.

At the expression of disbelief, Neil whines and does his best to backtrack, but Andrew is having no more of it. Andrew just lays back down, hands covering his face.

It's a novel reaction, considering this is Andrew. He looks so beside himself, unable to process whatever is going on in his head, but not in the bad, overwhelmed way he might be used to. Neil leans over him, and artfully pokes Andrew between the eyebrows.

"Andrew?"

His boyfriend sighs. "I don't ever know what to do with you," he concedes, removing his hands so Neil can see his pissy expression. "Alien movies. It's goddamn alien movies."

Neil's not sure what to make of that, but even in the dimness of their room he can see the reluctant fondness in Andrew's face, poorly concealed behind a facade of neutral indifference. That, and the tips of his ears look a little red.

Neil's confused as hell before he realizes what it must be. He perks up, fear momentarily put on pause. "Oh...oh, you like this," he observes, not smug, just factual. Andrew glares. "You think it's—uh..."

Not hot, at least Neil doesn't think so. But—

"The word you're probably looking for is cute." Andrew grimaces when he says it, like it's a crime for the word to come out of his mouth. If Neil's being honest, he's surprised too. Not that Andrew thinks it, but that he actually said it. Hm. That's new. Neil likes it. He always insisted to Andrew that he didn't have to try harder at verbal affection just for Neil's sake, not if he didn't want to.

Clearly, part of him does.

Andrew glares at Neil's small smile, pushing his face away. "And you're wrong, so don't read into it."

Neil ignores that advice completely. "Oh, okay. So you think it's cute," he repeats, and mulls that over in his head.

"I just said—"

"Wait, why?" Neil asks, suddenly offended. Here he is trying to tell Andrew his alien attack plan, and the blond thinks the severity of the situation is cute. "Does my terror mean nothing to you?"

"Not in this case," Andrew admits, and this time there's clearly a small smile threatening to break the mask. Neil tries (pettily and unsuccessfully) to not let it affect him. "Now quit it, and go get your water."

Shit.

The fucking water.

The source of his woes comes back as a painful reminder in the form of his parched throat, scratchier now from all the discussion.

Noticing Neil's stricken face, Andrew wordlessly gets up with him, pulling him along to the edge of the bedroom so Neil can't talk himself out of it. Flicking on the light for the living area, Andrew pushes Neil out in front of him, a silent nudge to hurry up.

The room definitely looks a lot less sinister like this, but Neil's brain is reluctant to let him relax. He walks quickly and stiffly into the kitchen, turning back halfway to make sure that yes, Andrew is watching him.

"I'm here," the blond says, despite the roll of his eyes.

Neil practically runs to get his water, moving back to Andrew faster than the speed of light. As absurd as Andrew finds it, he dutifully waits for Neil to step fully back into the light of the bedroom before turning off the living room light again, and offers to take Neil's glass back when he finishes. Unwilling to lose Andrew by making him go alone, Neil takes his turn watching from the door.

Andrew looks back—not out of fear, but just to see the way Neil tracks his every move, wary of the surroundings. Something soft escapes Andrew's mouth, a vulnerable sound Neil swallows when he gets back into their bed.

He still can't fall asleep, but at least Andrew holds him a little tighter that night, a silent reminder that Neil's not alone in the darkness.

Neil's entire being burns with embarrassment, and he can't wait for a few days to pass so his brain will forget the movie entirely.

At least then the fear in his veins will be but a lingering memory, teasing fuel for Andrew at most.

--

Except, per routine, Andrew is a giant bastard.

"We're watching this tonight," he says a week later, throwing a library DVD into Nicky's lap.

Neil doesn't think much of it as he finishes the last of his math problems at his desk, kicking his legs happily since this means he'll be done with homework and his kissing ban will be lifted.

Nicky's voice has all his expectations shriveling up and exploding like alien guts. "Aliens again?"

Neil's head snaps up to meet Andrew's gaze across the room, betrayal lining his face. The DVD cover Nicky is looking at is old school again, another classic Neil assumes. It's less detailed than the first one, with nothing but a green, glowing egg on the front.

Hell no, Neil thinks, and glances back at Andrew with a desperate look in his eyes. Maybe it's a joke.

But Andrew's sense of humor is cruel.

"It wasn't awful," Andrew answers Nicky while looking right at Neil. There's nothing amused or challenging in his features, but Neil still senses it. Andrew has weighed Neil's fear, has no doubt picked it apart and tried to decide whether or not that fear should be quelled, or if it's fair game to prod.

The conclusion is clear.

"Awesome!" Nicky shouts, unaware of the turmoil between the two of them. "Finally, we found something you don't tune out completely."

"I'll make the snacks," Aaron says, and Kevin actually seems okay with the selection. He shoots them both a weird look—which, given the intensity of Neil's stare, is appropriate. However, living with them has given Kevin enough insight to know when and when not to intervene. He walks past them, as he should.

When they're actually getting settled in to watch the damn film, Neil has switched tactics. He's refusing to meet Andrew's gaze, foot tapping impatiently against their stained carpet. As peeved as he is, the fear is starting to outweigh it. What if this movie is worse? Is he ready for another night wondering if aliens are going to come absorb him into some hybrid monster?

What the fuck does the egg mean? Aliens lay eggs?!

Neil refuses to sit by Andrew at first, and Andrew's legs are spread in such a way that his lap is wide open and inviting.

It's difficult to resist.

Eventually, Andrew sighs, and slouches into the couch a little more, leaving a perfect Neil-sized spot next to him.

"You're going to sit over there by yourself?" Andrew asks. With the rest of the group out of earshot, he adds lowly: "Aliens pick off the stragglers first."

Neil's glare would melt flesh from bone if it wasn’t directed at Andrew. The blond is unaffected by Neil's threats, though there's definitely power behind them. Just...never towards him.

An unfortunate fact, but one Neil would never betray.

Sulking, he climbs up onto the couch and fits himself snuggly into Andrew's side, head on his chest. Completing the dance, Andrew manhandles Neil to rest more comfortably against him, and Neil ignores the smugness radiating off the blond.

When Aaron walks in, he regards them suspiciously. Neil hates him for smiling that knowing, shit eating little grin once the realization hits him.

Fuck Aaron. Neil knows he's afraid of possession movies. He better be ready.

"This one is especially gross," Aaron says, offhand, but aimed at Neil entirely. "I've seen it."

Neil stares into the television again, done with all of them, and hopes his brain is over it. He hopes this movie is as boring as it can be. "Let's get this shit over with."

And they do. But no, the movie is not boring.

This film is arguably worse than the one they watched last weekend. The aliens are somehow grosser, with tar-like skin and oozing orifices. Even worse, they're more parasitic than the other aliens, and extremely hard for these idiot characters to kill. Neil sees one of the alien babies jump down someone's throat and has to look away.

He supposes it's too late to ask how he got here, to wonder why he can't get over it and understand none of it is real.

But then again, what does he know about the universe?

Neil's glad everyone else is too into the film to notice him burying himself further into Andrew's chest, eyes glued to the screen reluctantly. That's the problem with fear—it takes hold of him. He's not one of those people who can look away or close their eyes, so he just wrings Andrew's shirt between his hands into a wrinkly mess.

At a certain point, the alien from earlier bursts through the character's chest and makes Neil jump away from Andrew's, but the blond grabs Neil's head gently in anticipation of this (which means he's seen this shit already, the asshole) and guides it to rest over his heart. It should make it worse, the rhythmic beating, pumping in time with the chest burster's onslaught. Instead, it's grounding, as it always is, and he sighs.

He wonders if this was Andrew's plan all along, but would that make sense? Having to comfort a scared Neil can't be anything but annoying.

Later, when he's having a mug of hot chocolate with Andrew and Aaron before bed, and steadily getting grumpier with the thought of the sleepless night to come, he says as much.

Aaron just looks at him, as if he can't believe Neil exists. "You really are a moron."

And with that, he goes back to his own dorm.

Neil tries to get clarification, but Andrew only takes the mug from his hands. He avoids Neil's questioning gaze and laces their fingers together, pulling Neil into the room before the lights go out.

--

It's hard to look serious when he's lying on top of Andrew's chest, glare peaking out, but he tries.

It's weekend three of Andrew's onslaught of alien movie sequels, and luckily he's promised to back off from now on.

Still. Neil's gonna pout all he wants.

A sound from outside makes him jump, but it's just an extra hard downpour knocking against the windows. If Neil closes his eyes, he almost sees the alien claws tapping on the glass, trying to get in.

"Poor, frightened little bunny," Andrew states without any inflection or tone, but Neil can sense the teasing underneath.

"Fuck you," he says, but it's dampened by the way he leans over to close the window blinds.

It helps. A little.

"And risk the alien contamination?" Andrew adds, tugging on Neil's bangs for his attention. Like he has to; he somehow always has it, even when Neil is less than pleased. "Tell me, just what do you think is going to happen? Nothing's going to burst out of you just from watching that movie."

Neil feels his stomach flip flop from the thought of it, his heart taking the tower of terror through his body. He makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, and Andrew pulls him up by the scruff of his neck to get a better look at him.

"I still feel queasy," Neil says, a poor attempt at revenge. Andrew doesn't move away, isn't even remotely grossed out.

The blond just sighs, and rolls Neil over to the other side of the bed in a display of vulnerability. Instead of being pressed to the wall, Andrew's back is open to their room, to the world. Neil balks for a moment before he gets himself under control. They've done this a few times, so he closes his jaw. He knows he should be happy for these moments, not surprised by them. Because he knows they're not small. It's Andrew telling him something, it's Andrew giving. And that's nothing new.

Still, Andrew never has his back to the door, and it probably won't last long. Eventually they'll go back to their normal positions, but for now Andrew shields Neil from the world.

It's a silent emphasis, a promise.

Despite the dimness and the new tension in his shoulders, Andrew's gaze is like a spark to the gasoline pooling in Neil's body. "Neil, you're safe."

Yes. Deep down, that's the biggest truth of them all.

Neil sighs, and gently rolls them back over. It's his own affirmative, his own way of protecting Andrew—whether it be from real threats, or fictional ones. He slides over Andrew until he's on the edge of the bed, and is happy when the bits of tension bleed back out of Andrew. Much better.

"I know that." Neil curls up, and though his back is to the door, he doesn't turn away. It's another silent response. He's afraid, but he knows if an alien were to suddenly bust through the door...

Well, Andrew would let him know. "But I'm still...mph," he grunts, glaring at the blinds above Andrew, and this time, the edges of the blond's lips lift easily. Just for Neil to see.

"Scared?"

Neil rolls his eyes for the billionth time, mostly at himself. "Yes, Andrew, the stupid alien movies scare me. I'm glad you're enjoying it so much."

He won't lie; he expects a silent response, maybe the old 'I don't enjoy anything' just to make him laugh, because they both know it's not true.

Instead, Andrew grabs his wrist, tracing the veins there with his thumb.

"You're right," he admits, slow, as if he's considering taking it back. Neil waits with bated breath, and Andrew must ultimately decide that it's impossible to. "I am."

The blatant admission catches him off guard, and well...Andrew can be pretty cute too, when he avoids Neil's gaze like this. The blond fixates on where they're connected, tracing the scars farther up Neil's arm.

Neil hums. "Because you're a cruel otherworldly imposter, or because you know I secretly have a thing for when I amuse you?"

The master plan, all along.

At Neil's cheeky grin, Andrew rolls onto his back, questioning his existence. He slides Neil's hand over his chest, draping it across him. "You're a nuisance," he mutters, and Neil's grin softens at the edges. He still doesn't understand it all, but when Andrew's being so open like this he can't help but dive in. He slides his hand lower, resting it over Andrew's heart.

"Your heart's beating fast," he says quietly, nearly a whisper. "Could be a chest burster."

"Mourn me," Andrew responds, and Neil smothers his laugh in his pillow. It's got that fresh lavender scent, and reminds him that there's no way he's going to do laundry by himself this week. That room is dark.

For whatever reason, that makes him laugh more. He hears Andrew move closer, hears the stuttering breath of words kept back, and peeks an eye out. Andrew tends to look kind of constipated when he's trying to say something especially revealing, and Neil has long since stopped telling him he doesn't have to.

Because...Andrew told him it wasn't necessary.

'If I want to say something, I'll say it.'

Neil smiles; he remembers thinking it was such an Andrew answer. So now he waits patiently, letting his giggles fade into staggered huffs.

Moments pass, and then, quietly: "I like it," Andrew says, voice barely above a whisper. It hasn't lost its firmness, its inability to be argued with. "I like that you're scared of something that actually can't ever hurt you."

Neil's smile falls, but he's not upset, not in the slightest.

Andrew's statement from weeks ago feels wrong now. It's Neil that doesn't know what to do with him sometimes.

There's plenty of things Neil is scared of—things that have actually hurt him, ruined and scarred him. Those fears are more deeply ingrained and clawing, impossible to erase completely with a few nights of sleep. He doesn't have to wonder if they're real, how they'd hurt him or how painful it would be.

He knows. He can feel the ghost of a blade often, the searing scent of burning flesh whenever he's near a bonfire or when he touches his scars. He sometimes still wakes up from nightmares of being held down, except this time he's not able to get back up. He's never able to run again.

And as much as Andrew would like to, he can't go and reach into the past to stop those things from happening. The realities are so much more frightening, and that terror has no remedy. Andrew knows that better than anyone.

So maybe it's nice, maybe it's just a little rewarding, to see Neil so scared of fictional aliens and monsters instead. Those are the things that can't hurt him, that can't reach him. Perhaps it's better that they occupy his mind instead so that the other demons do not.

And that's the consideration that has Neil so at a loss; he can't do much more than echo Andrew's name in his head over and over, and scoot closer to him until he's all he can make sense of.

It's quiet, aside from the rain, but now it actually sounds like itself, calm and cleansing.

"Well, yeah," Neil whispers into Andrew's chest, then sits up. He wants to say it more firmly, with no room for doubt. This way even if Andrew doesn't believe him...he knows how Neil feels. "You protected me from all that other stuff, so those fears...they're easier now."

He's never put it into words before, but it's the truth. He'll always have nightmares about knives and guns, about fires and cold, blue eyes. But he knows any new threats that come crawling back from the mafia underworld won't have just him to deal with. He'll have Andrew by his side, fighting.

So he's not as afraid of that.

Andrew's grip around him tightens, a promise that never has to be renewed. Neil knows it's forever in place.

On the other hand...

Neil nudges Andrew sheepishly, tapping his finger right between Andrew's pecs. "I just don't know if you stand a chance against an alien hivemind," Neil admits. Though to be fair, no one does. They're all fucked.

Andrew, after a beat of silence, concedes. "For once, I think you're right."

Neil nearly feels better from that, light and warm, but then Nicky comes back into the room and turns off the lights abruptly, plunging them into darkness.

And suddenly, nothing is okay.

He scoots as far away from the edge as possible, practically pinning Andrew to the wall, but the blond takes everything with a sigh.

He deserves it anyways.

Neil still jumps from any little sound the next few nights, and yes, Andrew has to walk him to the laundry room, but that's alright. The teasing he eventually gets from the rest of the Foxes is more than worth it if he gets to make Andrew hold him extra tight.

The fear eventually fades, diluted, but if he pretends to cling to it a bit longer…no one has to know.

If Andrew catches onto Neil's dramatic, fake flinches and continued unwillingness to go anywhere by himself, well...

He certainly doesn't point it out.