#you aren’t Catholic if you don’t LITERALLY BELIEVE THAT AT THE MOMENT

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

i’m here to put ideas in your head… steddie and catholic reader… steve thinks he’s only fucking reader until eddie shows up and he’s very apprehensive at first but eddie guides him into it and and and-

ANGEL OMGGGG 😩😩

i have an image in my head of eddie literally barging in on them. eddie wouldn’t be all that surprised to see her with steve; he already suspected that she was fucking other people for the time being. after all, she didn’t put a label on their relationship. to her, eddie was all a bit of fun, a bit of sex, her fantasies come to life. steve, however, would take it very personally. “what do you mean you’re fucking eddie, too?” “what do you mean i’m not the only one?” “what do you mean you don’t have feelings for me?”

steve would want to leave. he would be extremely apprehensive about the whole situation, and would be stunned that she would lead him to believe he was the only one. eddie, though, wouldn’t let him go that easily. he would sit on the edge of the bed, kissing her hotly first, before turning to steve. he would have a proposition for him: the three of them could fuck, and if all went well, the three of them could be fuck buddies. together.

steve isn’t sure, but eddie is a charmer. she always thought eddie could persuade a snake to buy a pair of boots, and that charm seemed to be softening steve up a little bit. soon, eddie is naked as well, and he & steve are making out horizontally on the bed. she watches them, curious and interested, but also feeling a bit left out. and, as if eddie were reading her mind, he pulls her in for a long, hard kiss. she moans, reaching for steve to kiss him next. eddie’s lips are on her shoulder, and she can feel him smiling against it as he pulls her away from steve.

“so greedy,” he says with a tsk. “this is all about steve right now, baby.”

she whines, trying to reach for eddie’s massive cock before he slapped her hand away. “but eddie..”

“here,” he says, taking her hand and wrapping it around steve’s semi-hard cock. “touch steve.”

she giggles, starting to jerk him off as eddie kisses him. steve moans against his lips, and she leans in to kiss steve’s neck in the place she knows he loves. he mewls, reaching for her and pulling her up for a kiss. they make out while eddie watches them for a moment, her hand still working steve’s cock as steve gropes her tits. steve reaches down to touch her pussy, but eddie grabs his hand to stop him. they pull back from the kiss to look at him, and he’s smirking.

“let me tell you how to do it the RIGHT way,” eddie says. “you’re gonna do both of us at the same time.”

she giggles, and steve just gapes at him. “i’m sorry, what?”

“you heard me,” eddie says, grabbing his jaw and bringing him in for a hard, hot kiss. “you’re gonna finger her while you jerk me off.”

“and we’re both gonna make you feel so good,” she says, running her hands over steve’s hair-covered, toned chest before pinching his nipples. “aren’t we, eddie?”

“yes we are, princess,” he says, slapping her ass as she laughs. “I think the best way to do this would be if she rode your fingers, while I lie next to you.”

steve lies back, and eddie takes his place next to him. she gets on his other side, lowering herself onto his ready fingers with a moan. steve moans as well, feeling her tight, slick cunt hugging his fingers beautifully. he wraps his hand around eddie’s massive cock and starts to jerk him off, curling his fingers inside of her as she moves her hips along them. he watches her breasts, licking his lips as he ached to touch them, suck them, pinch them. as if she were reading his mind, she moved closer, stopping when her breasts are right in his face.

“touch me,” she begs.

steve latches his lips onto her nipple, sucking generously as she moans. she clenches around his fingers, and eddie moans as steve begins to jerk him off even faster. eddie shifts until he’s on his knees, leaning over steve to take her other nipple into his mouth. she grabs both of them, her head falling back as she gets lost in what they’re doing.

after a moment, eddie withdraws and goes back to his position. he takes steve’s hand and places it back on his dick, already leaking precum as it oozed down his long cock. steve continues to work both of them, bringing them to the brink of orgasm before eddie stops him. he removes his hand from his cock, and slaps his other one away from her pussy. steve looks at him, puzzled, before eddie kisses them both.

“we’re gonna try something else now,” eddie says. “how about you eat her out while I finger you?”

“that sounds like fun,” she says eagerly, looking at steve. “i mean, if you’re up for it.”

“this is so weird,” steve says as he shakes his head. “but what the hell. yeah, let’s do it.”

she spreads her legs and lies on her back, while steve kneels between them. he hooks them over his shoulders, starting to devour her as she moans loudly. eddie gets behind steve, popping open the lube and coating his fingers with a generous amount. he searches for steve’s permission, and inserts one finger slowly when he gets it. steve moans against her, bucking his hips back toward eddie. she moans as well, one hand planted in steve’s hair as she tries to grind against his face. eddie praises steve, telling him how good he’s taking him as he starts to pump & curl his finger inside of him. soon, he’s adding a second finger, and steve is moaning so much that he’s barely eating her out anymore. she starts to touch herself, and eddie growls and smacks her hand away when he notices.

“stop that,” he warns.

“but he’s barely doing anything anymore,” she says.

“steve, be a good fucking boy for me and eat her out,” eddie says, slapping his ass with his free hand. steve moans, and eddie grabs him by the hair and rubs his nose against her pussy. “are you deaf? i said eat her pussy, man. now.”

“fine, jesus dude,” steve says, going back to eating her out. he presses his tongue inside of her, fucking her on it before incorporating his fingers. he slides two inside of her, pumping them quickly as eddie’s fingers work his ass. he laps at her pussy, groaning as her taste floods his tongue again. “god, you taste so good, baby.”

“she has the sweetest, wettest pussy in the whole world,” eddie says. “i should know; ive seen my fair share.”

“fuck,” steve breathes, continuing to eat her out as hard as he can. he fucks her hard on his fingers, while eddie does the same to him. his free hand comes around to jerk steve off, his teeth nipping at steve’s shoulder blades. “oh, god, that’s so good…”

“if you play your cards right,” eddie says, curling two fingers against steve’s prostate as steve whines against her cunt, “then maybe i’ll fuck you. think you could take me?”

“I can take him,” she says with a giggle, moaning as steve starts sucking her clit & squeezing her breasts. “all of it.”

“she can,” eddie says happily. “she’s better than most of the actresses i work with. i told her she should get into porn.”

“I might,” she says, grinding against steve’s face. “but you have the biggest dick out there, or one of them. all the others would just be mediocre.”

“am I mediocre?” steve asks, moaning as eddie pounds him with his fingers.

“no,” she says, grabbing his hair and pulling hard. “you know how to eat pussy, and your dick isn’t exactly small.”

“yeah,” eddie says, stroking steve’s cock expertly. “you’re almost as big as i am.”

“thanks,” steve says, sucking on her clit generously as she cries out. “i think i could get used to this.”

“that’s good to know,” eddie says with a smirk. “because you might have to. i think we wanna keep you. right, baby?”

“mmm hmm,” she says. “I would love to have two hot boyfriends.”

“one dick isn’t enough for you, huh?” eddie teases.

“no,” she says. “besides, it’ll be fun to watch you both fall all over me.”

“you think so?” eddie asks.

“i think steve is gonna fall over both of us,” she says, winking.

“i think you’re right,” steve says, his own cock beading with precum. “i also think i’m about to cum.”

“not yet,” eddie warns, slapping steve’s ass before withdrawing his fingers. “not until you fuck her, and listen to me on how to do it. let me guide you.”

“you’re gonna tell me what to do?” steve asks as he looks back at eddie. “ive fucked her before, though. i know how it works.”

“not the way i do it,” eddie says, sitting on the bed and gesturing toward her. “get on top of her, and throw her legs over your shoulders.”

“won’t that hurt her?” steve asks.

“no,” she says, pulling steve up and guiding him on top of her. he did as eddie said, and she grins up at steve. “that’s it. good boy; you’re doing such a good job.”

“condoms?” steve asks.

“nah,” eddie says with a smirk. “you’re going to creampie her.”

“really?” steve asks, his eyes wide. “you don’t mind?”

“i won’t get pregnant right now,” she says, guiding his hips closer to hers. “do it, steve. fuck me.”

he pushes inside of her, both of them moaning loudly as eddie watches them. steve sets a slow pace, but eddie is rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “nah, man. pound her; none of that slow bullshit.”

steve does as he’s told, delighting in the moans it elicits from her. “shit, you’re so hot. you’re so fucking hot.”

“so are you,” she pants, grabbing onto his back and holding on. “please don’t stop.”

“angle her hips up a bit and rail her,” eddie advises. “you can make her squirt easily if you do that.”

steve does so, and she begins to cry out. “steve! fuck, please…”

“come here,” eddie says, moving closer to her and reaching between them. he starts rubbing her clit, pulling her in for a sloppy kiss as steve pounds her. “that’s my good girl, baby. you’re such a good fucking girl for us.”

“want you to fuck me, too,” she says. “i need your dick so bad right now.”

“later,” he promises. “let steve have his turn first.”

“I was actually thinking you fuck my throat while he fucks me,” she says. “please? you can still boss him around that way.”

eddie laughs, but stands up and guides her head to the end of the bed. “alright, open up, baby.”

she does so eagerly, and eddie pushes inside with a groan. she gags when he’s two inches shy of fully seating, and he begins to slide slowly in & out of her mouth. steve offers him a smug look, but eddie just rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively.

“yeah, yeah,” he says. “just go back to fucking her.”

steve was in no mood to object.

———————-

mini taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @mothball-munson @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @happylilthought @sunkillerdreamer @keikoraven @hideoutside @findapenny @munson-magic @alovesongtheywrote @nailbatanddungeon

[stickylittlespringleaves]

(tw: very slight mention of gore)

i have been thinking about the crystal palace in notes from underground and the inquisition in the brothers karamazov, and how they are very similar.

they are like classic dostoevskian doubles, mirror-image edifices where commitment to theoretical reason has taken the place of faith, and by doing so has totally destroyed the free will of humankind.

but they do so differently: the crystal palace doesn’t really exist, and instead represents a dystopian philosophic vision of a world where all choices have been plotted out on a table, and the most rational of these calculated and predetermined. and though living by the table will bring about the maximum happiness, the cost of rational, tabular happiness is freedom. the inquisition never truly exists in the novel either, and similarly represents a theocracy which derives its rational basis from the calculation of the happiness of “thousands and tens of thousands” versus the suffering of “millions and hundreds of millions”. and to save that latter group, the inquisition enslaves them; they will not be free, but they can at least be happy for a short time.

one is reason-based false utopia. one is the roman catholic church. in both, free will has been usurped (philosophically or literally) by reason’s calculated preference for happiness.

how do the characters react? the underground man rages, contemptuous and hysterical, and cannot accept the total obeisance of humankind to reason. for him, "the whole human enterprise seems indeed to consist in man's proving to himself every moment that he is a man and not a sprig", even "with his own skin", even "by troglodytism". he has seen the vision of total triumph of reason over freedom, and his human feeling tells him he must reject it, even at violent and self-destructive cost, and in fact only possible through self-destructiveness, because anything else would fall short of truly rejecting 'profit'.

so by the end of it all, he’s definitely not very happy. has he at least asserted his freedom? i don’t know. i’m leaning towards no. if it’s freedom he’s got, it doesn’t seem to be the same variety of freedom that dostoevsky’s jesus chooses.

ivan seems okay. he is not obviously shaken (at first) the way the underground man is. ivan fictionalises his vision and dumps the burden on the grand inquisitor, so that while the grand inquisitor does the fighting with jesus, ivan is able to assume a facade of indifference—”what do I care?”—this heavy and eternal question is nothing more than a silly poem by someone who has never written two lines of poetry, and he’s going to smash the cup when he’s thirty anyway, alyosha, “why are you taking it so seriously?”

and though whether ivan is actually okay is very doubtful, there’s also lise, whose reaction is much closer to the underground man’s. at some point, lise is acquainted with ivan’s vision, and is radically changed by it. the truthfulness and rationality of his universal dictum that "everything is permitted" is so convincing and irrefutable to her that she literally sees the devil in her dreams. but although nihilism tells her she may do anything for her self-interest, she doesn't want to obey nihilism, nor reap its profits. aghast by ivan's vision, but unable to convince herself it isn't true, lise rebels in the crudest, purest way she knows how: she crushes her finger in the door.

like the underground man, she rejects the happiness that has been calculated for her (this time not in a table, but by the grand inquisitor). is she free? i think in TBK’s framing (and this is different from notes’), you can’t really make yourself free or not free. depending on the state of “the other world”, you are or you aren’t, and you believing one way probably doesn’t make a difference. so, because i think TBK’s world seems to be one that admits jesus, i also think lise is free, regardless of what she does or feels.

but anyway, that’s not the point; the thing i find interesting is that she is horrified at the idea of not being free, and she rages against it by denying the happiness that it has been traded for. which as a reaction seems unexpected but also very human somehow.

[hecksupremechips]

Random catholic school moments that actually happened to me cuz I’m having one of those days:

My principal/science teacher said that women were garages and men were tractors and men need to be careful about how he parks inside her. Literally THE most Kentucky way of describing sex

There was a gay orgy in the bathroom during a pep rally and after that we weren’t allowed to use the bathroom during pep rallies. There was also a rumor that I was a part of a gay orgy with other students rumored to be gay but that one never actually happened obviously

I got yelled at by the principal for loudly singing S&M by Rihanna with my bestie and I cringe about it to this day but also I slayed in that moment

On good Friday (the day when Jesus was crucified) we had to do a stations of the cross mass (essentially just going through each part of Jesus’s trial, crucifixion, and resurrection like a book) and it was notorious for having kids pass out. We would have to stand the whole time and it was an extra long mass, plus more crowded than usual so it’d be stuffy. Like one year 5 kids passed out one after the other. And the staff never did anything about it either, in fact they were mad kids would pass out or get sick as if that’s a thing they could control???

The principal very truly (unsurprisingly) believed that women were incapable of anything other than cooking and childcare. He wouldn’t even let girls carry empty cardboard boxes and threw a temper tantrum once cuz the most athletic girl in school wanted to participate in a sports mini tournament that was on the last day of school. All the guys were required to be in it but no girls were allowed

My mom was the middle school math teacher (she moved to a different school years ago thank fuck) and honestly she was such a girlboss. She was the only teacher not afraid to say shit like hey, maybe women aren’t worthless and deserve rights and we should work to make that happen. She was also the only teacher that would stick up for noticeably queer kids. Like the staff would literally lose their shit if a boy was friends with girls and talk about how it’s ruining him and whine about the gays taking away toxic masculinity and my mom was just like. Can y’all shut up and let this kid be happy??? Slay. My mama is far from perfect but she’s still so cool

Going off that last point it was like forbidden for a guy to sit at the "girls" table and vise versa. It didn’t matter if a kids only friends were the opposite gender, they were forced to "stay in their lane". If a kid was caught breaking this rule the principal would literally get the microphone and yell and the kid in front of everyone and force them back to the other table. It was also forbidden for students in different grades to sit together. Fortunately I never had to worry about the gender thing cuz I sat at the outcast table and they couldn’t touch us for that one aha!

We had to do confession once every quarter and the only perk was that it would take a while and we would miss more class that way. The shitty part was you literally had to do your confession in front of the whole school. Like the priest would be whispering but you could still hear him talking, you know? Even without that everyone could just watch you as you’re up there and I don’t like that one bit. One time there was an unfamiliar priest there and he was like, grossly rubbing each kids’ arms and so yeah the whole school had to watch that too.

I sneezed on one of my biggest bullies’ head while waiting for confession and it was honestly the best moment of my life he was so pissed

I can’t emphasize enough how awful my last year there was. Every single day all the teachers made it known that they hated us, me and my best friend in particular, and that we should feel guilty for existing. I can’t even get into what made them do this to us cuz it’s hard to say the exact causes but there was literally a month period where in each class every single day we would get a lecture about how worthless we were. And it obviously weighed down on all of us and we were depressed and failing and the teachers then yelled at us for being upset that they constantly told us how awful we were. I think the only reason I didn’t absolutely lose myself that year is cuz I knew there was an out of the place soon but if it happened the year prior like. Absolutely not

The place was very cult-y like if anyone transferred schools for whatever reason this place would riot and bitch and moan about how this "stuck up piece of shit" 12 year old thought they were too good for us. They did this with everyone who transferred like, even kids who moved away???? A very close friend I had at the time transferred out and she was literally called slurs for leaving

The priest at the church who was there when I was in middle school was such an autistic king me and my bestie were OBSESSED with him. He would often come visit in the middle of class and like god. This one time he was dragging this plastic cat skeleton across the floor on a leash and he was like hey y’all I was just walking my cat here and thought I’d drop by. The bone cat had nothing to do with anything I think he just really liked it and wanted to show it off. He also had a sermon once where he was like "you kids know Count Dracula? Jesus was more like count forgive-you-la!" and i literally sobbed right there in that church I had to protect this man from the mean middle schoolers who would bully him

The infamous slave roleplay teacher would need like an entire essay post to cover her so I’ll just share a random story about her. She was so creepy around the popular girls like she was trying to relive her teen years, and she was like. Ughhh. She like had crushes on the popular boys. Like we were learning about map making once and she put this one boy on the spot with this WHOLE ASS SCENARIO where she was at [girl student] house, she spilt water on her shirt and she had to take it off without the girl’s brother seeing. And idk she was asking the boy how she should navigate that situation and that was how she decided to teach about maps and navigation. Even as a naive 12 year old I was like 🤔🤢

That’s all for now, stay tuned for part 2(?)

[littlefireofhestia]

hi! i'm sage and i was going through the "hestia devotee" tag and found a post of yours that said you were open for questions about her. i don't know how old that post is or if you're still taking questions, you can ignore this if you're not, but since i'm here i wanted to talk/ask about something.

i'm a baby witch (like the babiest of babies, almost a new born) and most of my experience is through reading and watching since i don't currently have time or resources to do any practice other than lighting incenses or candles or working with crystals. and i definitely don't know any form of divination, like tarot or pendulum, that would allow me to do actual deity work and properly communicate with them.

the thing is, i've researched deities from multiple pantheons multiple times, mostly out of curiosity, but the moment i came across a prayer to hestia my heart skipped a beat and i immediately felt a kind of comfort. it could have been nothing, but i still researched all i could about her and just. i've never felt this drawn to a deity before, much less felt a pull to actually worship one. but i feel very much that way about her.

i looked up ways to honour her and i'm genuinely shocked at how happy it's been making me. i'm finding joy in domestic activities i used to loathe, like washing the dishes or helping with house cleaning. i tried baking a cake all by myself for the first time and lit an orange candle for her while doing it. it turned out absolutely delicious, i discovered i actually really enjoy baking and even started my own cook notebook with some of my grandma's old recipes. i make a point to always tie my hair back when i'm doing something that makes me think of her or in her honour, like making tea or baking or making dinner for my family or cleaning, because i saw people talking about how she appreciates veiling but i don't know how to do it so i just tie my hair in a bun instead of putting on a scarf. and i used to hate tying my hair, but now i feel very good about it!

i've always struggled with feeling connected to religion and never really understood how that could bring peace to someone, but i haven't felt this grounded or loving towards my family and pets or in peace with myself as much as i have since i started doing things as acts of devotion to hestia.

now, on to the actual problem: i'm scared it's all in my head. i'm worried i'm not enough of a witch to worship a deity yet, since i'm still trying to learn ways of communication and can't directly ask her if she's with me. i'm scared that the little things i'm doing aren't enough and the comfort and faith i feel while doing them are my imagination and not actually her watching over me and appreciating my effort.

anyways, i'm really sorry for dumping these worries on you but i didn't see many hestia related blogs and i really needed to ask someone about this. is what i'm doing enough of a worship right now? do you have any tips on how to worship her better? thank you!

Hi Sage! I don’t know when you sent this ask so I’m sorry if it’s been a while since you sent it and my response is late. When I read this ask for the first time I nearly cried tears of joy. Before anything I do want to say that you’re doing amazing sweetie!

I’m always open to questions about Hestia.

First off, there is no prerequisite to worshipping deities. I am admittedly not a witch and worship the gods exclusively for religious reasons and not for witchcraft. I have not learned many divination methods yet (although I have used the very handy Greek Alphabet Oracle a few times) and my rituals are still relatively basic, mostly not even occurring on an altar. But I have felt Hestia. I have been in her presence. I have received dreams from other deities and signs. None of this is required to happen to believe in or worship the theoi, but I just want to assure you that beyond doing some research to figure out who you want to pray to and how to do prayer and ritual, there are no prerequisites to worship. My first prayer to Hestia was literally me throwing a scarf over my head and talking to her in the dark with a flashlight to represent a flame. No formal structure. Didn’t even know how to correctly hold my hands yet. And still she accepted me.

The vibe you get from Hestia is very much similar to my experience. I’ve been drawn to her for YEARS but didn’t know I could worship her. But she’s always felt like home and comfort and just right for me. I never ever had a reason why she was my favorite deity before becoming pagan. She just was. My connection to Hestia has been a fact for over a decade that I just didn’t know was religious until a year and a half ago. Me wondering if I could worship her is the reason why I started researching Hellenic Polytheism in the first place. She brought me to this faith and I am so thankful to her for that.

You finding joy in domestic activities you used to hate is something I’ve discovered through Hestia too, although it’s still a journey I’m early on due to depression and physical disability and having a lot of work to do on figuring out how to make things accessible for me. I’m excited to go further for and with Hestia.

I understand the thought about it being all in your head. I had those thoughts early in my practice too. Basically, belief is a process. It takes time to switch from whatever religious thought (or lack thereof) that you grew up with to polytheism and worshipping a variety of deities or even just one deity, and from there to truly believing in them. I’ve been practicing for a year and a half and it probably took me at least nine months to truly feel secure in my faith in the theoi. Research, pray, do ritual, devote acts to the gods, think about the gods, notice the influence of the theoi in your daily life, and gradually that belief will solidify. You may or may not receive signs, which may or may not speed this process up. I promise, if you want to believe in the gods, in Hestia, it just takes time.

Also on feeling that you aren’t doing enough, the video at the bottom of this post (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odhRRYqQo8Y) might help. And I promise: you are doing enough, you are enough, just as you are.

Now as for worship tips. You are honestly doing great so far. Thinking of her while doing household chores and tasks or dedicating those tasks for her is a great way to worship her. I’d also recommend checking out her Homeric and Orphic hymns, one translation of which can be found here, and a copy of the Homeric hymns can likely be found at a local bookstore or definitely through online ordering. The Homeric hymns can also start to teach you some stuff about prayer structure, but prayer doesn’t have to be formal. Sometimes I just sit and talk to Hestia, or to any of my other deities. Tell them about my day, thank them for things in my life or the world, and sometimes asking them for things (although I find that I ask for aid much more rarely than when I prayed as the Catholic I was raised to be). I also have perpetually in progress playlists I have made for my deities, and if I want to spend some non-ritual time just focusing on a deity I’ll put on their playlist and read something religious or talk in religious discords. I actually had my most profound spiritual experience with Hestia while doing this.

Last but not least, worshipping Hestia, or any other deity, is something you have your whole life ahead of you to do. Take it at your own pace. Faith is all about the journey. The destination is irrelevant. There is no deadline or leveling up system, no authority checking your progress. As I have experienced time and time again, the gods will very much meet you where you are. A few months ago I was in a deep depression and did not do any ritual for several months. When I finally did a ritual again, I felt Hestia’s warm hand on my shoulder, as if to say “I miss you, welcome home”. I promise, Hestia will always welcome you home.

P.S. I know this ask is anonymous but Sage, feel free to message me with any additional questions about Hestia or worshipping deities in general. I’m here if you need any more help.

[scholarlypidgeot]

Ren smiled a little, his hand over Miriam’s. “That was a good day, wasn’t it?”

“I thought so, at least.” She tapped her other hand on the table as she let him intertwine his fingers with hers. “It...it felt like freedom. I don’t know if we’d ever felt that before.”

“I hadn’t, at least.” Ren’s eyes were distant, and his smile faded. “There aren’t any festivals in Aurbea, not really. There are public celebrations, days of rest, those kinds of things. But- if everyone I knew could have experienced the moment of happiness I found in that little gift-”

“And it really wasn’t anything to me,” Miri interrupted. “Like I said- a scarf was well within the budget Todd had given me. I hadn’t even thought it through. I just saw it and remembered you said you liked mine.”

“It doesn’t change that it meant the world to me.” He shook his head. “I’d never been given a gift before. It was- quite literally- the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn’t know what to say.”

“It was the most emotion I’d ever seen out of you,” she recalled. “You actually stammered. I was pretty sure I’d broken you.”

“It didn’t help that your first reaction was to hold my hand, either.”

“I felt like you wanted to get away from there.”

“I wanted to get away from everywhere,” he laughed. “All I could think about- once I could think coherently again- was what the Princes would think if they found out I’d let my guard down over a scarf.”

“I would’ve been sure I could protect you.” She beamed. “From them, and from anything else.”

“Good thing age has made us more humble, then.”

Pat let a little snort slip through as she wrote that down. The three of them laughed for a few moments, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the boys. As it died down, though, Ren sighed.

“Even then, I wouldn’t have guessed we’d end up here.” He closed Miriam’s hand in his own, with something like a smile. “I still have trouble believing it sometimes. I feel like- like I’m going to wake up at any moment in Aurbea, and nothing has changed.”

“I don’t think we could’ve even dreamed about this kind of thing, as kids. We didn’t even know what a good day was, let alone a good life.”

“We know better now.”

“Sure do.”

--------

Word goal: 350

Word count: 409

Behold, a soft Eva/Ren moment! I don't just hurt them. I just do it a lot. (Ignore that this isn't an actual answer I made a mistake)

@a-beautiful-crow @bespectacled-ghost @borgesperovago @distance-does-not-matter @irishironclad @lilbutterf1y @mad-ad @ps-im-blind @that-catholic-shinobi - if you'd like to be added to/removed from this list, please let me know!

Thanks for the ask! Here's the song:

[chrispevanss]

Sinful Intensions

A/N: A smutty, smutty, filthy, Priest!Bucky AU. I’m not a catholic, and I had to google a lot of this, so if I messed up, don’t come for me. 

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Unprotected Sex (remember: no glove, no love), Blasphemy

I don’t own or claim to own the pictures used below

Your fingers slid across the crucifix that hung from your neck as you slowly approached the old church. You hadn’t been there in years, but at your mother’s insistence you decided your niece’s christening was the exception. 

The instant you walked into the church your nerves fired up, little pin pricks that made your skin crawl. You weren’t sure if it was God smiting you from above or the old school nuns looking condescendingly at your slightly too short, and definitely too low cut dress that clung to your figure. 

The old pew creaked as you sat down, the cool wood pressed against your thighs and you shivered slightly. The church smelled musty, old, but familiar. Your mother’s eyes caught the hem of your dress and she twisted her mouth in disdain. 

“You didn’t have anything else?” She whispered “This isn’t the club, you know. This is God’s house! You aren’t supposed to be parading around on display like that,” she spat. You smoothed the material down your thighs, willing it to somehow grow longer. 

Before you could brace yourself from the same barrage of words you were sure were going to come from your father as well, mass had started. A man stood up at the front, your brother and his wife cradled their newborn baby girl in front, her godparents sat to the side. You knew you should be focusing on your niece, it was her day after all, but when you looked up and caught the eye of the celebrant, it all went out the window. 

He had dark hair, closely cropped, steely blue eyes, and even though he was cloaked in an oversized vestment, you could see that he treated his body like the temple he preached it was. Thick fingers wrapped around the Bible in his hand, a kind smile lit up his face as he spoke of the blessings of parenthood. The joys of raising a child in the church, to walk in and live in Christ. Verbiage you had heard hundreds if not thousands of times growing up. 

You unconsciously shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together to stave off the warmth that began in your toes and traveled north. 

“May almighty God, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, bless you.” His voice washed over you, pulling you from your less than holy thoughts. 

“Amen,” You muttered with the congregation. You stood up, eager to shake the uncomfortable feeling this church gave you. You silently waited as others passed you, searching hopefully for a break in the crowd, when you were stopped. 

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, I’m Father Barnes.” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up and met the very eyes you had spent the entire mass getting lost in. He held out his hand and you shook it with a kind smile. 

“Y/N. My niece was the one you baptized today,” You slipped your hand from his grasp. He pressed up against the edge of the pew as your great aunt, Agnes shuffled by. 

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you at church before. Your parents are William and Cindy, correct?” You nodded and stepped out of the pew, following the young priest as he began to walk up the aisle. 

“I, uh, church is complicated.” You breathed out, wringing your hands. You half expected him to tell you he was different and to give the church a chance. 

“I understand. We all have a relationship with God, some choose to have that relationship in a church, some choose not to.” Father Barnes unlocked a large wooden door and pushed it open, gesturing you into his small office. 

You took a seat in an overstuffed, puke green, crushed velvet chair. Gasping as you leaned back a lot farther than you gauged, your knees practically up to your chin. Father Barnes chuckled softly and pulled open a small closet door. 

“Why aren’t you judging me for not coming to church and not being on 7 different committees, and basically being the polar opposite of my super fu-super religious parents, Father?” You chewed on your bottom lip at your almost swear, wishing you could sink back even further into the chair.

The young clergyman didn’t answer you as he slipped his white vestment over his head and hung it neatly in the open closet. You stole a glance at the way his black dress shirt clung to his body just so. The way his slacks molded to his ass and thighs. Father Barnes was, in a word, delicious. He moved to stand in front of you, leaning against the old desk, hands planted firmly on top. 

“Because I was like you once. Fresh outta high school, I joined the Army with my best friend. Before that though I hadn’t been to church in years, didn’t even know if I believed in God. And then I spent 6 months in Kuwait. After seeing all that death, seeing friends die, I found comfort in God. And when I was discharged a few years later, I joined the seminary.” He looked down and unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows. Heat spread outward as his tattoos peeled out from underneath the shirt he wore, something about the move and his look feeling much more sexual than it should have in front of a priest.

You gasped softly as your eyes trailed up and down his forearms, admiring the work of art his body was. Literally. 

“See something you like?” Father Barnes smirked and grabbed your chin in between his fingers, forcing you to stare into those steely blue eyes of his. 

“I, uh, um…” You started and he chuckled softly. 

“Cause I sure do.” He winked and released his hold on your chin as your mother rounded the corner. 

“There you are!” She huffed, walking into the small office, standing next to you, her eyes bore holes into your skull as you sat there. 

“We’re all heading over to the house for lunch, if you’d like to join.” She practically sneered. You gulped, and pushed yourself out of the chair. 

“Yes. I’ll meet you at the car. I was just talking to Father Barnes about rejoining the congregation on Sundays. You met Father Barnes’ steel blue eyes, his gaze sent a rush of heat through your body once again. 

“Alright,” Your mother conceded, turning on her heel and walking back up the hallway, exiting through the large door at the end. 

“So, see you Sunday?” Father Barnes raised a brow in your direction and you couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Front and Center, Father.” You purred, stepping closer. You could hear a groan bubble deep in his chest as you let the scent of Pine and Musk overwhelm your senses. 

Before Father Barnes could form thoughts that were appropriate for a priest, you had gathered your purse and coat and were standing at the door. 

“See you Sunday,” You blew a kiss and winked at the stunned priest before making your way down the hall. You could feel his gaze follow you, and you wiggled your ass just a little, teasing him. 

——

Sunday came all too quickly, and at the same time, not quick enough. You swiped on a layer of lip gloss, and adjusted the top of your romper. You wanted to give Father Barnes a tasteful glance at your cleavage, not have your tits on display for the congregation. It was still a church after all. 

Your gold crucifix laid delicately against your cleavage as you slid in the pew next to your parents. Father Barnes had already started service, and you smiled softly as he grabbed your gaze. His eyes grew wide at your choice of outfit and you smirked as he stumbled over the Bible verse he was reciting. 

You bowed your head, your eyes closed as you attempted to look focused on the Homily. But as interesting and attractive as Father Barnes was, sermons were just as uninteresting. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep yourself from slipping over the precipice of sleep. 

As the Homily came to a close, you found yourself shuffling along the worn carpet to the front of the chapel for communion. You followed your parents, almost obediently, keeping your gaze cast down to the floor until you approached the front of the line. You looked up at Father Barnes, feigned innocence clouded your eyes. You opened your mouth and accepted the small wafer, winking as he swallowed thickly. You whispered a meek, “Thank you Father,” as you retreated back to your pew. 

As the service came to a close, you found yourself hanging back, almost hopefully, as the chapel emptied. Father Barnes approached you, you couldn’t quite put your finger on the look in his eyes, but it excited you nonetheless. 

“Y/N, So good to see you!” He beamed, clutching his old, well-read bible to his chest. 

“The service was great today, Father,” You smiled back, following him up the aisle to the doors. “Do you have a moment that I could talk to you, privately?” You whispered. 

He nodded, opening the doors into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him to that same cramped office as before. 

“For you? Always.” He unlocked the door, setting his bible and service notes on the massive desk. He moved to the closet, slipping off the white vestment to reveal that same, all-black outfit that made you weak. He carefully hung it on a wood hanger and turned to face you. You shook your head, trying to clear it, and swallowed thickly. 

“Everything alright?” Father Barnes leaned against his desk. You hadn’t moved from the doorway. Your eyes met his and you nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Just distracted by some personal stuff I guess,” You laughed softly and sat in the same overstuffed chair as last time. Father Barnes unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began rolling them up his arms, revealing the beautiful, intricate line work of his forearms. 

“Alright. What did you want to talk about?” Father Barnes shuffled through his notes from the service. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, pushing the dark tendrils back. You chewed thoughtfully on your bottom lip as you stood up. 

Father Barnes’ gaze met yours as you approached, standing close enough he could smell the sweet coconut of your shampoo. A scent that sent a shot of arousal straight through his body. You swallowed thickly as you played with the edge of his collar. 

“Wh-What’s goin on?” Father Barnes chuckled uncomfortably, taking a step back. You followed him and cupped his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. His lips stilled for a moment as yours moved insistently against his. You slid your hands to his hair, knotting the chestnut locks in your fingers and tugging softly. Father Barnes groaned softly and wrapped an arm around you. You gently licked at his lower lip, prodding him to open, he complied and you moaned as his tongue met yours. It was electrifying, the thought of doing something so taboo with Father Barnes. It made you feel alive. 

Your hands slid down the front of his black dress shirt, and tugged it from his slacks. You were desperate to feel every inch of him. But he stilled. You pulled back, panting slightly, a smirk danced across your face. 

“What is it, Father?” You whispered, a hand reached up and twirled some hair at the base of his neck. 

Father Barnes stepped away and scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“We-I can’t.” He sighed. Your face dropped, your eyes cast down at the worn burgundy carpet. The clock ticked as the two of you stood in uncomfortable silence. 

“You should go.” He finally broke the silence. “We shouldn’t meet like this anymore, either. We can’t. I’ll see you on Sunday.” 

You swallowed back the hot tears of embarrassment that pricked at your eyes. You quickly gathered your purse and started for the door. 

“See you Sunday,” Father Barnes called from his desk. You nodded softly and walked towards the large doors at the end of the hall. 

————

It was three weeks before you dared go near the church again. Confessional was held on Saturday night, you tentatively approached the church, stepping inside, your stomach churned. 

The familiar smell of old wood, and must filled you with comfort as you stepped towards the confessional booth. You let out a breath, before speaking. 

“Bless Me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was..” You paused thoughtfully, almost laughing when you couldn’t remember. “Many years ago..” 

“I see,” The priest mumbled from his side. And you drew in a shaky breath. 

“See, I’ve been having these thoughts about a man I considered a friend and a confidant. They have been incredibly impure thoughts, and I acted on them a number of weeks ago. He didn’t return my affections, and I haven’t been able to face him since. He was the first one in a long time who understood why I fell away from the church, and he helped me. A lot. Both personally and spiritually. I saw how good of a person he was and it made me want to be a better person.” Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffed softly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

“Is there anything else you wish to confess?” His voice filtered through and a fresh wave of tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. 

“N-No Father. That’s all.” 

Father Barnes swallowed thickly before he broke the silence. 

“I see you are remorseful. But you did commit a sin in the eyes of our Father and must do penance to receive his forgiveness.”

“Yes, Father,” You whispered meekly, wringing your hands. 

“I require of you 3 Our Fathers and 5 Hail Marys. As well as regular church attendance.” 

Before you could open your mouth, he had already exited the booth, the door slamming behind him. You tentatively pushed the door open, hoping to spot him. But your stomach sank as you realized you were alone. You spent the drive home in silence. You didn’t sleep that night and were nearly late to mass the following morning. 

You slid into the pew next to your parents as Mass began, breathing out a sigh of relief. Father Barnes looked haggard this morning. Dark circles under his eyes, and when he spoke, he didn’t have as much enthusiasm or that usual sparkle in his eye. 

Communion came and you shuffled up to the front. Your eyes didn’t meet, Father Barnes’ and you held out your hand for the small wafer. The feel of his fingers touching your skin as he placed it gingerly in your palm was electric. You heard him stiffen as you placed it on your tongue and walked back to your seat. You spent the rest of the service with your eyes cast down, your hands in your lap. 

“May almighty God, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, bless you.” Father Barnes’ bible closed with an audible thud and you glanced up. 

“Amen.” You muttered with the rest of the congregation. You stood up as soon as the hymn ended, eager to leave the building. 

“Can we talk?” A shiver crawled up your spine, and embarrassment reddened your cheeks as you turned to face the man behind you. 

“Good Morning, Father.” You plastered a fake smile on your face as you greeted the clergyman. 

“Can we talk? In private.” Father Barnes restated his question before you could put a thought together though, you had already agreed. You followed him out of the chapel to that same office. That same offending office you had been in three weeks ago. 

You sat timidly on the edge of the puke green chair and watched as Father Barnes shut the door and began moving around. He removed his vestment, hanging it in the closet, and set his well-read bible and notes on the shelf behind his desk. 

“Father, I-if this is about confession last night, I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just wanted to say I was sorry for what happened a few weeks ago but I couldn’t bring myself to face you and tell you.” Your head snapped up when he chuckled softly. You scowled at him, how dare he laugh when you’re here pouring your heart out! 

Father Barnes didn’t answer, he simply followed his routine of rolling up his sleeves and leaning against the old desk in front of you. He smiled gently and tucked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“First, call me Bucky, when we’re here, I’m a friend, not a priest. Second, well..” He leaned forward and took your lips in a gentle, passionate kiss. You whined softly as his tongue traced your lower lip. He licked into your mouth as he pulled you out of the chair to straddle him. Your knees dug into the edge of the desk, the uncomfortable pain was the last thing on your mind as his hands ran down your back and grabbed 2 handfuls of your ass. 

“Fuck,” You whispered as Bucky broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the chestnut tendrils as a wanton moan escaped your lips. You ground your still clothed core over the bulge that was beginning to form in his slacks. Bucky stilled for a moment holding your hips in place. 

“Fuck, doll, if you keep doing that I might not last long and believe you me, I wanna feel that pretty little pussy wrapped around my cock.” He nipped your earlobe, your hands trailed down his front, unbuttoning the black dress shirt, pushing it down his arms. He let go of you for a moment, only to toss the offending material behind his desk. But then his lips were back on your neck, hungrily kissing and sucking at the already tender skin. 

Bucky stood up and carried you over to the couch next to the door. His hair was mussed, his lips, kiss swollen as he laid you down and slotted himself between your legs. 

You started unbuttoning your sundress, when he stopped you. 

“Let me,” His voice was gruff but his actions were gentle as he pushed each button through the hole, slowly revealing your body to him. When you were clad in a simple white bra and plain cotton panties, Bucky sat back on his haunches to admire you. 

“God, you’re like a fuckin work of art, babe.” He grunted, leaning down to kiss you, dropping your dress on the floor. Your hands reached down, desperately seeking his belt buckle. You groaned softly when you felt the leather slip from the metal buckle. Bucky’s hands met yours and he quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants letting them fall to the floor with your dress. 

“Someone’s a work of art,” You muttered as you trailed your hand down his chest and stomach, marveling at how toned his whole body was. You traced a nail across the linework of a tattoo that sat right on his left pec before dragging your hands back down and toying with the edge of his boxer briefs.  

“You just gonna tease me all day, doll? Or are we gonna do this?” Bucky canted his hips forward, nudging your still clothed clit. You whimpered, biting your lip as a fresh wave of arousal shot through your body. 

“Buck. Please.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, and you moaned against his neck as he repeated the action. 

“Been thinkin’ about this pretty little pussy since I first met you,” Bucky drawled in your ear, he dragged his fingertips down your body, stopping when he reached the band of your panties. 

“You gonna do something about it?” You mocked his earlier argument. His fingers curled around the waistband of your panties, bunching the thin cotton between his fingers. Before you could protest, he ripped the material, discarding it on the floor. 

“Come here,” Bucky growled, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you to him and kissing the sensitive skin. Breathy moans escaped your lips as he continued his ministrations. 

“Oh fu-mmmm” You grabbed Bucky’s hair in between your fingers as he gently kissed your clit. 

“Fuck, Princess, you’re so wet.” Bucky slid a finger inside your waiting heat as he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit. You nearly screamed at the sensations overwhelming your body. 

He added another finger, scissoring you open, his mouth never leaving your clit. You thought you had died and gone to heaven when the coil in your belly snapped and you came all over his fingers. 

“That’s a good girl,” Bucky smirked, licking his fingers with an exaggerated pop as he crawled back up to kiss you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as he licked into your mouth, usually, you’d find the thought of tasting yourself a complete turn-off, even gross. But something about tasting yourself as Bucky’s tongue explored your mouth turned you on even more. 

You hooked your feet into the elastic waistband of Bucky’s underwear and pushed it down, freeing his strained erection. You gasped softly, he was bigger than you had imagined, thick, the tip dripped with precum as you slid your hand up and down his shaft. Bucky’s cock was, in a word, beautiful. 

His large hand covered you and he kissed your cheek chastely before moving to whisper in your ear. 

“I’d rather cum inside you, than on you.” A shiver ran up your spine, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. 

“Do it, then,” You challenged him. 

Bucky sat back on his haunches again, spreading your legs as far apart as they would go. He tenderly dragged the head of his cock through your wet folds, both of you moaned at the sensation. And finally, ever so slowly, he sank into you, filling you up, making you feel like you were about to burst. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as Bucky bottomed out, stilling his hips for a moment, his lips met yours tenderly. He rolled your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he began thrusting. Your toes curled and you gasped against his mouth. 

You whimpered a meek, “Faster. Harder.” 

Bucky grabbed your calf and lifted a leg over his shoulder. The angle made him feel so much bigger, so much deeper. You were almost positive you wouldn’t walk out of this normally. Bucky’s hands dug into your hips as he thrust into you, almost animalistically. You cried out, fingers tugging on your nipples. 

Your head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. 

“You’re so fuckin tight, Princess. God, squeezing my cock real nice,” Bucky panted above you. A thin sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies when he pulled out suddenly. You protested at the loss of sensation until he flipped you over, one leg propped up on the arm of the couch as he slid back inside. 

“B-Bucky!” You cried out, tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks as you neared your second release. 

Bucky’s hand traveled around your hips, the roughened tip of his pointer finger began rubbing your clit in time to his thrusts. And that’s when everything exploded. You swore you saw stars as your walls clenched down around him. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch and you couldn’t contain the shout that escaped your throat in a fit of passion. 

“Ah fuck, baby, just like that,” Bucky cooed in your ear, his arms wrapped around your front and held you up as he found his own release. You moaned at the warmth that filled your belly, Bucky kissed your shoulder softly and helped you lie down on the couch. He lay behind you, cock still firmly tucked into your pulsing cunt. 

“Holy shit,” You laughed, reaching down to Bucky’s hands on your stomach and lacing your fingers with his. 

“Yeah..” Bucky chewed thoughtfully on his lip. You didn’t want to intrude, but the words left your mouth before you could think. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, you rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. 

“I don’t think I can be a priest anymore, and after meeting you, I don’t know if I even want to.” Bucky squeezed your hand in his, taking your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Wanna go on a date?” Bucky chuckled softly. You laughed, rolling over on the couch to face your partner. 

“Only if you shower first, you smell like sex,” You chided playfully. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you giggled through his assault of neck kisses.

“And then after, we can run away together, and live on the beach, and be naked 24/7, and fuck like bunnies,” Bucky muttered against your neck. You sighed in contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I like that. A disgraced priest, and his sinner girlfriend living on the beach, naked and fucking,” You laughed as Bucky placed another kiss on your lips, pulling you closer to him. 

[kiefbowl]

Ok I have a topic. What was your bisexual awakening? Mine I’m ashamed of and I hope no one irl asks me how I found out :/ unfortunately through Adult Videos shown to me way to young. I don’t know what a “normal realization” is or would’ve been. (Apologies if this is weird). Maybe it’s a modern day thing.

I remember exactly. I was in a class in college and it was boring and so my mind wandered and I started imagining eating my extremely hot friend out and I totally spaced out and then came to my senses like whoa! that got vivid and hot! ah!!! what’s wrong with me why does this keep happening

and then I had this lightbulb moment of “babe you keep imagining boning your friends since high school because you aren’t straight” and I was like oooooooooooooh. OH. Oh it’s not my brain being funny, its me being BISEXUAL. all those times I thought my friends were pretty and lovely and I thought about boobs and was extremely fascinating by beautiful female celebrities when I was young is because that’s what happens when you are attracted to them.

I had read things growing up from teen books and magazines that were basically gay panic passages of “don’t worry if you have homosexual thoughts!!! that’s totally normal :) doesnt mean you are gay” like I remember a teen magazine answering an ask from a teen asking if it was weird she had a sex dream of her same sex friend and the response was basically like “no need to fret, that can happen even if you’re straight” and I think I really internalized those messages, because if you are bi you also are attracted to boys and men, so you have a reason to believe that’s true.

so I would literally fantasize about women and find women attractive, but go “brain being straight again! silly brain, get back to boys” and i would push those feelings way down into the abyss. it literally took me drooling about a hot friend when I was like 20 like really going to town on her to finally go…okay maybe actually you have these thoughts because you are not straight. and once that happened the floodgates opened, and I would actually pursue my same sex thoughts and of course where would it lead me to? very vivid fantasies of love and sex. Cha Ching baby. bisexual. Catholics fucked me up. I was at an all girls school the Things I could have been doing!!!! But w/e can’t look back only look forward

[gebtoons]

my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably) 

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk. 

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense. 

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow. 

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.  

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on. 

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on. 

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again 

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen). 

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail 

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on. 

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so. 

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying) 

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense. 

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on. 

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me). 

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go. 

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it. 

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason. 

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me. 

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?) 

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it. 

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

[fitzefitcher]

honestly i've been seeing bastion as like a Buddhist-ish place with ancient greek aesthetics, bc letting go of your earthly attachments to be enlightened is pretty Buddhist. 'If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill the Buddha. If you meet your father, kill your father.', that kind of thing. i haven't thought of it as a Light place at all, though i can see why others do.

so there's. a lot of things I would like to cover in answering this, and I'm honestly dreading it a little lmao buuuuut I will do the best I can. I have a lot of thoughts about Bastion, and about the Light, so I'm going to take this as an opportunity to explore that. so: content warning for discussion of religion and religious trauma, esp in regards to identity erasure.

full disclosure: I'm an american queer that was raised roman catholic (specifically, roman catholic within the confines of a heavily irish-italian community) and currently identify more as like. an agnostic apostate, would be the closest thing to describe it, I think. generally, while I'm not really crazy about organized religion as a massive institution capable of doing absolutely wretched things to the people it alleges to helping (and by no means am suffering under the delusion that it hasn't and won't continue to do these things so long as oppressive systems of power are in place, just like it would be in any other area, not just religion), I also acknowledge that there's a lot of good in it, too, and it's the cornerstone of many people's community, culture, and identity. ultimately, my opinion is that religion is a tool, and whoever's holding that tool decides its purpose and intention. it's. a complicated matter lmao.

I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert on buddhism, here. obviously this was not the religion (or any of the many cultures its beliefs are centered in) I was raised as, and honestly even the research I've done for this feels like it's barely scratching the surface. so, rather than try and argue or explain something that is really out of the realm of what I'm familiar with or have experience with (esp. something that's not really mine to claim), I will try and explain things from my own experience as a queer AFAB person raised as roman catholic. and speaking from that perspective, it is very incredibly obvious to me how much of bastion was lifted from christian theology. not just the aesthetics of it, all of the weird identity conformity shit, too. the way that kyrian ideology is being used here, is as a tool to enforce this conformity.

same with how the Light as a concept has been developed in recent years- there are no longer any significant differences between the way individual factions use and interact with the light, even though as cultures their views on it should be radically different, or at least different enough that they don't feel like homogenized versions of each other. like, there's no real difference between how the humans view the Light, and how dwarves view the light, and how gnomes view the Light, and it doesn't really feel like there ever was. Nelves' view on it used to be characterized pretty strongly and differently, as did trolls and draenei, but the longer the years go on, the more that they sort of blend together. to get back to your statement, "I haven't thought of it as a Light place at all," I find that very difficult to parse as a statement, as Bastion as a whole has been developed from base concepts of the Light. Like, Kyrians were designed from spirit healers, spirit healers are now confirmed to be Kyrians (for some reason), and all of the aesthetics of their magic, their clothing, their environment are all heavily priest, paladin, and light-inspired. everything is golds and marbles and sky blues, when they become "corrupted," they suddenly become shadow-themed, like all greys and blacks and purples, their wings turn black, etc. but the similarities, and all their short-comings, go much farther than that.

so the general story thread of each area of the shadowlands in this expansion is that things aren't as they seem, right? that their individual systems are beginning to fall to internal corruption and are crumbling under their own weight. and we see this in each of the trailers- the houses of maldraxxus are starting to eat each other, ardenweald is slowly starving to death, revendreth's citizens are being choked with heavy demands from the aristocracy, and bastion is struggling to adjust in the face of new, unprecedented problems, unwilling to change their ways, even when it's explicitly obvious how badly they need to change. like, I've talked about this a little bit before- the trailer and the way it's structured led me to believe that we, the players, are meant to be hanging out with Devos and Uther, trying to help them convince Devos' boss that very obvious bad thing that's happening, is happening. And this is about how it goes for the other trailers- we learn about the betrayal of Draka's house in maldraxxus, and the maldraxxus storyline is centered on helping her figure out what happened and pick up the pieces. We learn about Ardenweald's rapidly shrinking resources and dying environment, and the ardenweald storyline is centered on figuring out what the cause of this famine is. We learn about Revendreth's aristocracy and how they're demanding more and more of the common people, and the revendreth storyline is centered on overthrowing the increasingly tyrannical cruelty of their current leaders and helping the common people, with the help of a leader favored by the common people. And I feel like, given the state of things, and how the IRL world as a whole has been going the past couple years, helping Devos and Uther get to the bottom of this, maybe even helping Bastion adjust and change in the face of these new challenges, would have been a very good, insightful storyline, and very appropriate for the times we're in.

This, clearly, is not what happened lmao. Whether or not they'll decide to develop bastion further, at least in terms of addressing its failings with its own people, is up for debate, but based on WoW's previous history of similar stories, I'm not very confident lmao.

so I will touch on that statement of bastion being a "buddhist-like place" for a moment, I did look into buddhism a bit, and while I very quickly realized that there wasn't really a way that I could discuss this at length in a way that's fair (esp. with how many variations and cultures there are centered around it, again, I am not an expert, I am doing the best I can with the information I have), the very very bare bones basics of buddhism that I can find more or less boil down to, yes, letting go of earthly attachments to attain enlightenment. but this is not really a nuanced assessment of buddhism, and tbh, isn't really the goal of the kyrians' purification rituals. sure, at first glance, it seems to line up- shedding the burdens of their mortal lives in order to achieve ascension- but ascension here, is not enlightenment. buddhist enlightenment, from what I can find, seems to be the act of breaking free from the cycle of death and rebirth and from mortal suffering. kyrian ascension is the act of, not breaking free of that cycle, but tying yourself to it for an eternity of service. and living your life (even  an eternal one- especially an eternal one) in the service of others is a really strongly christian concept. and the kyrian's concept of virtues only strengthens this. the fact that kyrians have virtues at all is heavily christian-coded, and on top of that, the virtues they have feel like they've been lifted directly from christian beliefs. also like. they're literal fucking angels, trying to earn their wings. like. there's not much else I can think of that's that heavy-handed lmao.

let's talk more about those virtues, though.

the kyrian virtues are as follows: purity, humility, courage, wisdom, and loyalty. There are a number of variations on christian virtues, but here are two of the main sets: one set lines up as the ideological opposite to the seven capital sins (or seven deadly sins if you're an FMA fan lmao), and the other is more-or-less what is accepted in contemporary belief. This is what I was taught in sunday school/CCD, so this is what I'm a little more familiar with.

so set 1, the heavenly virtues, are: chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility, and set 2, the contemporary virtues, are split further into 2 groups: the cardinal virtues, prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance, and the theological virtues, charity, hope, and faith.

So humility, courage, and wisdom, are pretty straight-forward in terms of what they represent, and line up pretty neatly with humility (lol) from the heavenly virtues, and fortitude and prudence from the contemporary virtues. To touch on those briefly, humility is exactly what it says on the tin, and acts as an ideological opposite to the capital sin of pride, fortitude is bravery and endurance as well as patience, and prudence is reason and self-discipline, esp in terms of handling yourself and how you interact with others. And these are perfectly fine as principles. the ones that set off alarm bells for me, though, are loyalty and purity.

as kyrian virtues, they don't really line up to any christian virtues from either set. but tbh, this is beside the point- the fact that purity and loyalty are considered virtues, at all, especially in combination with each other, at best feel very suspicious, and at worst openly hostile. and the way this is covered in game only enforces this. purity is only obtained by sloughing off pieces of yourself that the kyrians consider obstructive to your ascension and how you can serve the Purpose, and questioning this or any other aspect of their ascension ritual gets you sent to the temple of loyalty to, ostensibly, stay there until you Get Your Priorities Straightened Out lmao. Like, there's no exploration of why these purity rituals are being questioned to begin with, there's no examination of why the rituals are necessary to begin with, and seemingly, prospective kyrians are punished for even asking. like, for a faction that seemingly prides itself on helping their members becoming their best selves, it feels strange that the reaction to their unsure members is punitive instead of therapeutic.

at this point, the link between the kyrians' beliefs and christianity should be readily apparent. it's no secret that over the centuries, christianity has used as a tool for oppressive systems to dominate marginalized groups, both within its ingroup and without. "purity" in christianity is less a virtue and more a heavily enforced, wildly contradictory idea, hiding itself in mealy-mouthed platitudes about being a Good Person or Becoming Your Best Self while simultaneously, stringently punishing its own members for daring to step a toe out of an extremely arbitrary line. like, I remember going to church growing up, and in the same breath that the head priest said to pray for various members of the community (thoughts and prayers, lmao), pray for [insert local sports team here] to win for their upcoming game, he also said that yes, democrats are corrupting the country. yes, homosexuals are going to hell. mass was an exercise in enduring misery most of the time, and a big reason I stayed closeted from my family for the majority of my life is because of this, and I still am, in many ways. I still have to divvy myself up in bits and pieces to become Socially Acceptable enough to appease my extended family, and there are certain family members that I will go to my grave never having come out to them, because I know they will never accept me for who I am, truly. so to have purity be a kyrian virtue with no further examination, no trace of irony, and to have loyalty as a virtue to back it up, feels, at best, extremely tone-deaf.

when you quest alongside kleia and pelagos, you see these purity rituals, and you see how large a toll they take on them. you see pelagos struggle, and you as the player help him overcome the difficulties he faces- difficulties he could not overcome himself. you see kleia, over time, becoming more and more disgruntled with bastion's governing body as a whole, and finding more and more cracks in the kyrians' concept of purity. but no lessons are learned, from either of these. nothing is examined further, and I have doubts that it ever will.

you, the player, see other kyrians, who previously were orcs, tauren, trolls, draenei, all these non-humans, being stripped of their identity, ostensibly for the reason that it will make them more just and fair a judge, a concept that rapidly falls apart the longer you look at it. the idea of all these sentient creatures from all these walks of life, particularly the ones heavily coded as BIPOC, are to be stripped of their cultural identity and made into Homogenous Standard (white-coded) Blue Human is so intrinsically malicious that it is genuinely baffling that it was even seriously considered as an idea, let alone greenlit and put into the game. prospective mortals are scouted to be kyrians theoretically for the lives they lived in service of others, in justice and kindness and wisdom, and then they are made to give up more and more pieces of those lives, rendering whatever they've learned, whatever experiences they've gained, that made them this person that the kyrians sought out in the first place, an utterly pointless and redundant endeavor. things like kindness, wisdom, courage, are not inherent qualities. They are things that have to be learned. They are things in which the context of them is paramount to how they will be measured. So to say that it is Necessary to do this, to make them Fairer, to make them More Just, feels both stunningly nonsensical and just pointlessly, nihilistically mean.

so what does this have to do with the Light?

well, in recent years, it seems to be steering more and more towards the idea that only correct religion within WoW is the Light, and there's only One Way to be Light. Early on in WoW's development, it was established that yeah, shadow has a bit of a reputation and can certainly be misused, but nobody's arguing that the Light can be misused, too, and that neither shadow nor light are inherently good nor inherently evil- they just Are, and each serve their own purpose in this world and its way of things. I had written a post about this like. several years ago, and a lot of it hasn't aged very well (I will not link to it bc woof, it was Pretty Rough to look at again after seven years lmao), but the gist of it was that Light and Shadow, are less like good and evil, and more like the Force from star wars. Well, a more nuanced force- again, Light is not Strictly Good, Shadow is not Strictly Evil. They are merely opposite sides of the same spectrum, but they are not inherently antithetical to each other. It was less a religion/belief system with an established deity, and more just reverence for the universe and its workings as a whole. Yes, it has the markers and drapings of christianity, particularly in its aesthetics, but the actual belief system didn't really lift anything from any particular christian belief system, and didn't really match up to any one of them, besides, again, the aesthetic of it. The Light now, however- now it does have a lot in common with christian beliefs. or at least, it and the church of the light have a lot in common with the mentality of those with strong christian beliefs. Which is to say, again, there is only one Correct Religion, and it's Light, and there's only One Correct Way to be Light. other religions within wow are either condemned, painted as savage, violent, heretical, or watered down so much that they either don't matter or function as mere Extensions to the light.

last summer, when I was reading the "before the storm" novel as research for my sylvanas essay, one of the many, many things that made it a difficult read was how like. unintentionally, thoughtlessly intolerant Golden had written it. Anduin, one of the main characters in it, despite having a history of kindness, compassion, curiosity, and understanding, is kind of shunted into being a 1-dimensional Good Christian Boy(tm). Like, he struggles with interacting with the forsaken, despite them having been in existence for over a decade at this point, and more than half his lifetime, and despite having dealt with them before, and orcs, and tauren, and a great number of other non-human creatures, while still treating them with grace and dignity, and respecting their perspectives, experiences, and beliefs. like, he's painted as thinking that the netherlight temple would be an alliance-only, church of the holy light only affair, and is really surprised, even stunned, at the thought of having to interact with non-alliance, non-light priests. and something that really really stuck with me while reading this, was that Anduin, this compassionate, intelligent, understanding person, could only learn to interact with priests of other factions and species, despite having already done this before, many, many times in his life, on the basis that They, Too, Are Servants Of The Light. and there's just. no examination in this. no irony. Light is Right, Others are Not. No lessons were learned.

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[vislorrturlough]

Scaramouche!

"Of course, this assumption of responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically, culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."

- Paulo Friere

For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.

When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.

“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”

The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.

“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.

“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”

He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.

Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”

--

Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.

Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning. 

“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”

“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.

“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”

Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”

He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”

She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”

“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”

Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.

—

Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself. 

Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.

Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music. 

Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.

The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.

Loki bumped into someone.

“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as  her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”

He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”

“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.

He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.

The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”

“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”

“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”

Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”

“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”

She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”

“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”

She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.

“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”

Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.

She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”

“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”

They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist. 

“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”

“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.

Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”

“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”

“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”

“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.

They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.

“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.” 

Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.

--

Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons. 

1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.

2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.

He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door. 

“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.

He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.

He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.

“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”

“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”

“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”

“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”

Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”

“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”

Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.

“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”

“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”

“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”

“As if she’d sleep with you.”

“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”

“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”

“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”

“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.

“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”

“Which she can’t.”

“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”

He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.

Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s. 

“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?” 

“Ew,” she called back. “No.”

He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.

He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”

“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”

“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”

“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”

“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV. 

“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”

“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”

“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”

“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”

“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”

He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.

--

Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.

He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.

“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.

“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”

Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”

“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”

Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”

Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”

Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him. 

He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.

“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.

In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”

In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.

“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”

Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.

“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”

Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”

It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.

It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened. 

Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”

“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”

Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.

“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”

“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”

“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”

Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”

--

The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.

She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”

She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.

With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.

“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”

She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”

“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.

“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”

“In English?” 

The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”

“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”

“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”

“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”

“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”

“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”

“Hey, fuck you-”

She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).

But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems

--

Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.

Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying. 

Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.

He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.

Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.

He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts. 

--

Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.

Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.

Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.

Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.

Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.

He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.

Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!

His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.

He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.

Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.

“...What the fuck? Loki?”

He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.

Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.

“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.

He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”

Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.

If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”

A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.

“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”

“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”

Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”

“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I’ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”

Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.

—

Received FRI 2:08

Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what

Verity: im assuming ur working

Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!

Received FRI 11:02

Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok? 

Verity: call me if you get the chance ok

Received MON 15:47

Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried

Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious

Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed

Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace

Received WED 23:21

Verity: please call i’m worried

Verity: please

Received THU 18:54

Verity: you’re a fucking idiot

Verity: I hate you

Received THU 19:02

Verity: i didn’t mean that

Verity: sorry.

Verity: please do call. please

--

Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?

All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.

Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest. 

But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.

There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.

Huh.

--

He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.

The lights switched on. “Loki?”

He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.

Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.

She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”

By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.

“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Wherever you want to?”

He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.

“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”

Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.

“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”

He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”

“Would you?” she asked.

A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”

She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.

Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”

He squinted at her in confusion.

“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.

“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”

He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.

“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”

--

His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.

No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.

“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.

“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”

“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.

“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”

“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”

“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”

“Everything I am is just a mask.  A mask that you put on me!”

“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.

“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”

He paused, and stared her down.

“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”

Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.

--

“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him. 

Loki smiled. “Naturally,”

Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?” 

“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”

“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”

Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”

Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.

Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.

He looked back at Heimdall.

“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”

With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.

[alarriefantasy]

Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction. 

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

[intrulogical]

Enough

author’s note: remember when i said i wasn’t going to write ever again? well, i lied. here’s another long fic about remus and logan being personally attacked by the other sides, lmao. this is a somewhat sequel to my fic worthy and reading that would help me a lot because some stuff in this fic is only explainable if you read that one first. anyway, this fic is more romantic, softer, yet angsty all at once, and i hope you enjoy it. special thanks to the logang discord for your help again, especially to orb, aj, jem, remy, kei, el, anders, lo, rem, and raph! (to those i didn’t mentioned, i still love u ok <3)

pairings: Remus/Logan (this time it’s more romantic)

warnings: remus typical stuff, swearing (remus says fuck a lot), religious talk (remus and logan do not have good experiences with thomas's catholic upbringing and i'm self projecting), morally gray light sides (they do not appear but logan and remus dislike them), light sides negativity (again, logan and remus hate them), self-esteem issues, and slightly nsfw comments coming from remus.

word count: 7242

summary: His relationship with Remus was difficult to describe, to say the least. Logan recognized that Remus was probably the closest thing he had to a genuine friend in this hell of a Mindscape, but at some point, there was a definite shift in their relationship, and Logan couldn’t find a proper word to describe it.

But even if they were close friends, Logan wasn’t sure if he was able to provide everything a stable friendship needed. He just wasn’t used to it. Moreover, his inability to defend Remus during the argument earlier just proved that he was— dare he said it— a worthless friend.

Logan picked up the pace of his mug-tapping as he buried his face further onto the table, his arm resting underneath his head. 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

or,

After an argument between Thomas and the "Light" Sides, Logan and Remus seek comfort in each other. Plate throwing and discussions of their relationship ensues.

(ao3 link)

Logan numbly prodded on the mug he borrowed that stood useless on the kitchen’s counter. 

(He was literally able to prepare the hot chocolate with jittery palms, but how come every time he tried to take a sip, his glitches decided to betray him and let the hot liquid spill onto his shirt?)

Grumbling to himself, he clenched his hand as certain parts of his palm began to twitch and dematerialize, transforming into odd shapes of flashing colors. Logan knew digging his nails into his palm wouldn’t have done anything to make the glitching vanish, but at this point, he was so frustrated in himself that he didn’t really give a fuck.

He was just so foolish for believing in Thomas, so foolish for thinking that Thomas would have stopped ignoring him. Thomas has neglected him continuously for the past thirty years and Logan was just so tremendously stupid for thinking it would have all ceased now. Admittedly, Thomas was peer pressured into agreeing to the other sides’ reasoning over Logan’s during the argument earlier, but Logan still felt immensely infuriated that Thomas didn’t acknowledge his points despite being presented with multiple facts coming from Logan.

Logan should have just remained pessimistic from this point onwards. Thomas’s neglect for him has never changed and never will, and it would have endlessly persisted if Thomas’s unconscious bias for the other three “Light” Sides remained.

With Thomas’s growing neglect, Logan’s dilemma would have only worsened further. Initially, Logan’s glitches would have only been triggered if he was in his room, but the situation has gotten so severe that Logan didn’t even need to be in his room to experience them. Logan considered discussing the issue more prominently with Thomas, but there was a niggling feeling inside of him that made him hesitant to approach Thomas altogether. Logan abandoned the idea of discussing it thoroughly with the rest of his “FamILY” as well, as they have openly shown their distaste towards him constantly. Logan even feared that the others wouldn’t even be concerned about his wellbeing unless he has reached rock bottom, but he really didn’t want to imagine a corrupted state of himself that was overridden with glitches and errors.

This left Logan in a figurative loop where he will constantly be disregarded which, in consequence, would have worsened his glitches, and that cycle would’ve been repeated until he would be stripped of the “Light” Side title. Logan from the past would’ve been fearful of being pushed into the darkness, but as he lamented about his problems daily, he exasperatedly accepted his inevitable demise.

The “Dark” Sides had a more stylish interior anyway, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. After all, he was currently staying in their kitchen to escape the chaotic, sporadic glitches that have invaded his own room. 

(But he also was there for another reason, of course.)

But even if he had grown accustomed to the idea that he was becoming a “Dark” Side, he was still uncertain if they were going to accept his presence with open arms. He and Orange still loathed one another to an unhealthy amount, while the friendship he shared with Janus was extremely… odd. They had moments where they were fond of each other’s company (poor Janus has been living with lunatics for most of his life) but at times, Janus gave him the cold shoulder, and Logan was unsure if it was him simply joking around or being genuine.

And Remus. 

Logan tapped nervously on the mug as he thought of the boisterous yet lovable maniac.

His relationship with Remus was difficult to describe, to say the least. Logan recognized that Remus was probably the closest thing he had to a genuine friend in this hell of a Mindscape, but at some point, there was a definite shift in their relationship, and Logan couldn’t find a proper word to describe it.

But even if they were close friends, Logan wasn’t sure if he was able to provide everything a stable friendship needed. He just wasn’t used to it. Moreover, his inability to defend Remus during the argument earlier just proved that he was— dare he said it— a worthless friend.

Logan picked up the pace of his mug-tapping as he buried his face further onto the table, his arm resting underneath his head. 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“Fuck,” he heard a voice coming from the staircase behind him, “Hey asshat, sorry I’m late!” the voice continued, sounding partly enthusiastic and partly exhausted as they hurriedly descended the flight of stairs. 

“Remus, you’ve dubbed these little meetings ‘Late Night Hangouts’— they’re supposed to be late.”

“Hardy fuckin’ har,” Remus replied as he shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets while approaching the kitchen. Despite looking incredibly ragged (to be fair, when was he never?), he still managed to maintain his flamboyant saunter. “Okay but, seriously though. Orange was being such a fucking prick, and that argument earlier wasn’t helping. I just— I’m just fucking—” Remus inhaled sharply, “God. Tonight was too fucking much.”

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together worriedly as he eyed the green-clad side, “I… apologize. I should’ve been able to mitigate the situation earlier but I foolishly allowed my temper to cloud my thinking.” Logan said with a guilty expression as a constricting feeling wrapped around his throat. Remus responded with a confused look as one of the tentacles that protruded from his back began rummaging through the cupboards. Logan assumed he was getting a drink for himself as well.

“Ironic how those bastards wanted you to show your emotions but when you finally get to do it, they get pissed.” Remus said exasperatedly as he took a seat on the kitchen table rather instead of grabbing a stool for himself, “It’s like that one episode with the puppets where they act like everything is your fault when you literally aren’t one to blame—“

“But I—“

“—’But I handled the argument badly, yadda yadda,’. Yeah, no, Logan, this isn’t your fault.” Remus said sympathetically as one of his tentacles rubbed Logan’s shoulder to provide comfort. 

“‘M still sorry,” Logan said faintly and Remus’s eyebrows knit together.

“Hey, it’s alright, dork,” Remus said calmly, “I know you won’t stop apologizing, so I’m gonna make this loud and clear— I forgive you.” Remus said, enunciating the latter part of the statement dramatically, causing Logan to snort. Remus grinned at the logical side, proud at himself for being able to make Logan crack up. He then added, “It’s not all your fault anyway— I should’ve grabbed my morning star and popped in before Janus had the chance to pull me away. Fuckin’ Janus,” 

Logan chuckled before replying, “To be fair, Janus was probably correct for restricting you from participating. Judging by your sullen cheeks and reddened eyes, I predict you wouldn’t have lasted long arguing before you break down sobbing in front of the others.”

One of Remus’s other tentacles slammed a mug on his side while another started mixing in the instant hot chocolate powder and the hot water from the pitcher. Logan could only quirk an eyebrow at him, “Hey, I thought you were here to be my source of comfort, you traitor.” Remus replied with a pout.

Logan let out a smirk, “I still am, and I’m saying that you listening to Janus’s advice was a commendable move, so you're not the one to blame.” Logan said, earning a huff from Remus, “But are you okay now?” asked Logan.

Remus pursed his lips before replying, “Better now, but I don’t think my state isn’t as bad as…” Remus gestured at the glitching particles surrounding Logan, “...that.” Remus continued, and this time, it was Logan who huffed.

“Believe me when I say that I’m completely fine,”

“Yeah… no, you look terrible.”

“Same as you.”

“I aim to look like trash anyway, so…” Remus retorted but Logan looked at him incredulously, “What, do you want me to vent?”

“I believe it was you who said, ‘Venting’s like blowjobs, Logan, it makes you feel good and have some sort of release’.” Logan stated, giving a scarily accurate impersonation of Remus, which consequently made the impersonated side cackle loudly, “You seemed to have encountered an issue with Orange right after your talk with Janus, so I am certain you still have some bottled up frustrations within you.” 

Remus took a sip of his hot chocolate and rolled his eyes, “Fine, okay, you’re right. Frankly, I am still pissed at S— Orange,” Remus quickly corrected himself, “But if I vent, do you promise on your dead body to open up to me as well?”

“I assure you I’m—”

“Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders,” Remus said scoldingly, “You act as if I totally did not hear your outbursts a while ago. Moreover, I thought we were over the whole ‘keep secrets from one another’ thing? I admitted to you that the snake infestation in the Mindscape was entirely my fault and not Janus’s and— and I also told you about that time I decided to be a bit cynical and bury my beating heart under the floorboards just to scare the shit out of Virgil and Roman, so it’s unfair if you keep any secrets from me when I could literally be arrested for confessing all of my crimes to you! If, y’know, this was real life, but whatever, you still understand what I’m saying here, right?”

Logan sighed tiredly, “I suppose you’ve a point.” Logan said, and Remus looked pleased for a moment until Logan continued, “But, while I still insist that I don’t have much to— er, ‘vent’ about, I will only do it if and only if you go first.” 

Remus immediately looked annoyed by Logan’s offer but merely sighed in acceptance. Logan, on the other hand, smiled at him smugly. “Fine, whale penis,” Remus said, taking a dramatically long sip of his beverage, “You promise?”

Logan nodded, “We aren’t children, Remus, but yes, I promise.”

And with that, Remus set his mug aside next to Logan’s unused one and rested his hands on the table. He gazed upwards as he seemed to ponder where he was going to start as Logan merely stared at him intently. Eventually, after much pondering, Remus began, “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if Orange hates me.”

“What makes you think of that?”

“Well, we both know he represents Thomas’s beliefs, right? Superstitious, religious, supernatural, whatever, but let’s focus on the religious part of it.” Remus explained, “When Thomas’s Catholicism is ever discussed, he gets so weirdly aggressive and powerful and blunt about his feelings. Like, I love harsh honesty as much as the next person but he literally won’t shut the fuck up about how disgustingly ‘sinful’ I am.”

“That’s a bit… rude.”

“I know right! Beyond rude!” Remus exclaimed, “And most of the time, it doesn’t bother me, but that mixed with Thomas and the other three White Sides—”

“It’s ‘Light’ Sides—”

“Whatever, white people suck and they suck too, so technically, I’m not wrong.” Remus grumbled, earning an amused half-smile from Logan, “But back to the point— I just don’t understand why people like to— uh— like to paint me as—” Remus took a sharp yet shaky inhale, “—as a villain. I mean, yeah, I know I’m gross and lewd and everything God would condemn, but it wasn’t— it isn’t my fault that I’m like this. Do they…” Remus swallowed thickly, “Do they understand how cruel the first ten years of my life are? The hate they have for me does n-not compare to the hate I had for myself for most of my life. Even now, I— sometimes I—” 

Remus wasn’t able to finish his sentence as lip trembled harshly. With Remus’s eyes becoming glossier by the second, Logan decided to muster enough courage within him to raise his hand and put it atop Remus’s, thumbing soothing circles in the hopes that it’ll provide him some comfort. Remus blinked twice before intertwining his fingers with Logan instead, holding it dearly as if it was a lifeline.

“Why is it so hard for them to understand that while Thomas’s Catholic upbringing could be good, it’s also so…”

“Detrimental? Harmful?” Logan offered.

“Yeah, that, thanks.” Remus said, chuckling at Logan, “And even if they wanna defend it, why do they have to drag me into every damn conversation? I’m not the side that represents sin, thank you very much. Sometimes they all just act like Karen’s to me. What’re they gonna do next, blame me for Thomas being vaccinated? I bet Patton is this close from forcing Thomas to drink some radioactive mushroom-citrus essential oil.” Remus joked with a broken smile, but with one stern look from Logan, he reverted back to what he was originally rambling about.

“Sorry, I just— do they not understand the fucking work I do so that Thomas wouldn’t experience intrusive thoughts 24/7? Do they forget that without me, Virgil or Roman or, shit, even Patton could have their fair share of intrusive thoughts? Why do people think that all I do is fuck everything when I’m so much more than filthy jokes and violence? I just wanna— I just want to be viewed as their equal, is that too much to ask?” Remus finished his rant with an extremely peeved yet heartbroken expression, his lips forming a thin line as his nose crinkled sourly. Despite the tone of finality, Remus’s fingers still had not stopped fidgeting within Logan’s grasp. 

Logan understood that Remus also had his fair share of troubles concerning intrusive thoughts— Logan even thought that Remus’s dilemma was vastly more horrendous than Thomas’s situation. One visit to Remus’s room was enough to convince Logan that Thomas’s situation was absolutely nothing compared to Remus.

Logan also understood that out of all the other sides, Remus was the most misunderstood; it’s something they both have in common. While Remus is described to be naturally uncaring and crass, he understood there was much more to him than what meets the eye. He was relentlessly vigorous, but he was also fragile and delicate. He was described as stupid and excessively foolish, but deep within, he’s brilliant and passionate, yet no one seems to credit him for that. 

Lastly, Logan also understood that Remus was the only side that saw something in him. He had a genuine fondness and affection for Logan, and while they didn’t like putting labels on what they had, Logan cherished it nonetheless.

(And Logan also knew that while he was content with where they were now, moments like this reminded him that he also feared about not being enough for Remus. But of course, he didn’t want to say that.)

“Remus,” Logan said, “One or two?”

Logan developed a helpful method to use whenever one of them is feeling low. It was simple: one meant you’d want the other party to say something to comfort you, and two meant you didn’t need to be told anything and you just needed the other’s presence to help you calm down.

“One and a half.” Remus said unhelpfully.

“What?” Logan said, getting caught off-guard, “Rounded off, that would be two.” 

Remus pouted, “Nerd.” and Logan shrugged as if he was saying ‘and what?’. “What I mean is, I’d prefer one, but like, a bit toned down? I don’t need an entire powerpoint presentation like what you did last time.” 

“Then you should’ve said zero point five, or simply referring to it as one-half would do as well.”

“I’m gay, Logan, I don’t fuck with math!”

“We’re both gay, Remus.” Logan retorted. “But back to the topic at hand: you’re valid for who you are, Remus. What the others say about you doesn’t matter at all when they literally don’t have much evidence or experiences to backup their claims. You are generous, caring, and quite frankly, tremendously fun, and while I cannot specify every occasion to support this claim because you wanted me to be as concise as possible, you know you should believe me more than any other side in this Mindscape. Besides that point, words cannot describe how grateful I am for you. I wouldn’t exchange who you are now for anything else.”

While desperately trying to compose his sudden quickened heartbeat, he chanced gazing at Remus’s direction. Remus appeared to be less crestfallen but the glossiness in his eyes returned for a different reason. The hand that was gripping Logan’s tightened as Remus raised one of his tentacles to wipe a tear that escaped his eyelids.

“Remus… are you alright?” Logan inquired, and Remus rapidly nodded his head with bubbled cheeks in an attempt to restrict more tears from falling.

“Yes, one hundred percent, doing absolutely fine.” Remus replied, “You’re such a fucking sap that I could literally eat you alive,” added Remus, gaining a bemused look from Logan.

“I am unsure of whether to be terrified or flattered but thank you…?” Logan replied, “I wasn’t aware I was being a sap— I was simply being intellectually honest with you.”

Somehow, that made Remus even more emotional. Logan internally panicked, thinking he had done something incorrectly, but then, one of Remus’s tentacles wrapped around his neck, slowly pulling his head closer to Remus’s chest. As Logan’s forehead leaned against Remus’s hoodie, he smiled fondly at Remus’s sudden affection. Even Remus’s tentacles couldn’t help themselves as they began combing and playing with Logan’s hair tenderly. “You’re too precious, I can’t believe you.” Remus said.

“Well, you’re quite welcome, Remus.” Logan replied, “I’m not quite sure what I said in particular that would elicit this sort of reaction from you. While I do know you are a touchy-feely kind of person, you do not typically get this affectionate with every conversation…” Logan paused, “But I do like it. Keep doing it.”

Remus laughed at Logan, somewhat impressed by his appreciation, “You sound like you’ve never been hugged before.” 

“Well… I receive them, but just rarely— Patton and Roman used to be my main sources, but they’ve barely given me any offers nowadays. On the rare occasion that they do, their offers would come off as disingenuous, so I usually decline them.” Logan explained, trying to disguise the hurt he was feeling. But somehow, Remus saw through it, just like he mysteriously, always does.

“Sounds like you have something you want to talk about.” Remus said, slowly releasing Logan from his tight grasp. Despite the loosened grip, Logan still willed to remain physically close to the other side. Something about Remus provided him with an unfamiliar yet soothing feeling of warmth and ease. If Logan were to be ‘sappy’ like how Remus dubbed him to be, he would have described Remus as a figurative atom as Logan would’ve been the electrons surrounding him. There was something so compelling about him, something so magnetic, and Logan couldn’t help but be pulled closer to him, couldn’t help but revolve his entire being around him.

(There was also a meddling feeling within him that nagged that this metaphor meant Logan was also someone who was “negatively charged”, but in Logan’s defense, this was the first time he ever tried using a metaphor— cut him some slack.)

“Well, sorta kinda,” Logan replied, not letting his thoughts distract him. He sighed before continuing, “I mean, mentally, I think I’m utterly drained.”

“We been knew, sis,” Remus replied.

“Is that— what does that mean?” Logan’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, uh, it just means like, ‘we’ve known that for a long time’.” Remus explained, “I forget that you’re literally the most boomer person I’ve ever met, but nevermind that, just go on.” 

Logan sighed and continued, “It’s difficult for me to recognize if I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown, mostly because I have not allowed myself to be thoroughly acquainted with my emotions, but ever since you’ve assisted me in understanding how my feelings work, I’ve suddenly realized that I have… not been okay for most of my life. Despite having your support, I still feel deeply terrified because I am usually uncertain of how horrendous my problems have gotten.

“And the fact that the others dismiss me nonchalantly doesn’t ease my troubling thoughts either. I don’t know if I’m overthinking, but I’ve noticed that their interactions with me are borderline manipulative. At times, they like to coax me into thinking that they know what’s best for me, or they accept me for who I am, but then a few moments later, I learn that they’re only being courteous because they want to utilize me for a certain issue they want to resolve.”

While fiddling with his fingers in an attempt to alleviate the unsettling emotions that arose within him, Remus spoke up, “Is that what happened a while ago, and why you got all pissy at them?”

Logan nodded with a disheartened expression, “It isn’t the first time this happened, so of course I’d be pushed towards my breaking point. I practically had to voice out my frustrations even if I know that they won’t listen to me anyway.” Logan stated, quite agitated, “It also distresses me to no end that they frequently add Thomas into these conversations. I know Thomas’s intentions are pure but when being told something repetitively, Thomas would eventually believe in what they say over what I say.”

“But doesn’t that, y’know, worsen…” Remus gestured to the flickering polygons encircling Logan, “this?”

Logan hummed, “While it doesn’t bother me as much as it did the first time around, it unfortunately delays my work schedule. Moreover, the others are still oblivious to my dilemma, and I’m… scared to confront them about the issue. There’s really no telling with them, especially if I confess that I’m on the cusp of becoming a ‘Dark’ Side. They’re going to paint me as a villain, similar to what they did to you, and I don’t— I don’t think I can handle hearing all of that.”

“I already have… an abundant amount of insecurities that I cannot seem to rationalize and it’s only worsening for… obvious reasons. You already understand I’m quite the perfectionist, so when someone informs me that I’m ‘mistaken’ or decides to disregard my contributions entirely, I feel— I feel like—” Logan shakily inhaled before continuing, “I feel worthless. Pointless. No matter what I do, it will always be deemed as useless, and I can’t help but hate myself for it.”

“Hey Logan?” Remus said softly, raising one of his hands to cup his cheek. “Breathe for me.”

Logan didn’t realize how quickened his breath had become until Remus pointed it out, and as he tried to ignore the suffocating feeling that was crushing his chest, he followed Remus’s instructions obediently. They breathed together silently, Logan attempting to not let himself cry embarrassingly in front of Remus once more. 

“Hatsune Geek-u,” Remus spoke, “one or two?” Remus asked, lowering his hand.

Logan averted his gaze from Remus, thinking before he should’ve replied to his question. “Uhm,” Logan said, “While I’d like to say I’m leaning more towards two, I still feel unexplainably frustrated for some absurd reason.” Logan said wearily.

“So… a one and a half?” Remus replied comedically, and Logan failed to suppress a snort.

“Dick.” Logan rebuts, causing Remus to gasp audibly.

“Logan, this is a Christian household, don’t be a sinful little bitch,” Remus whined and Logan delightedly laughed at him.

“I didn’t realize we were holding a ‘Who can impersonate Patton the best?’ competition.” Logan joked, but then he returned to the main topic at hand, “In all seriousness, I still cannot comprehend why I feel so aggravated. Venting usually uplifts me but I suppose everything, even certain coping mechanisms, will stop working after a certain point.”

“There are other things we can try out.” Remus explained, “Before we were friends, there were a lot of things I did in my room and in the Imagination that helped me calm down. Not every problem of mine could find a solution through venting so Janus recommended that I should channel my emotions into doing something physical.”

“That actually… makes a lot of sense— considering you’re a very active and energetic person and all.” Logan said, “But I’m vastly dissimilar from you in a physical sense, Remus. I can barely lift a single Encyclopedia book without toppling over.”

“God you are a weakling, but that doesn’t matter! I’m not your gym instructor, dork, I’m still your local rat bastard and I have some… fun plans up my sleeve.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What are you suggesting?”.

“Okay, hear me out—”

“Oh God.”

“It’s going to sound a little weird—”

“That was to be expected.”

“But hear me out.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Plate throwing.” Remus suggested, slightly starry eyed as if what he said was the most magnificent thing on earth. Logan, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern as his lips thinned in disapproval. That didn’t dissuade the more chaotic side from summoning multiple sets of plates on the table, all stacked neatly, ready to be used.

“Remus,” Logan spoke sternly. “It’s late.”

“And?”

“We might disturb Janus and Orange.” Logan explained, “Considering Orange’s unhinged state and how exhausted Janus must be, I don’t think it is the smartest idea to throw plates.”

“I promise you, the other two won’t care.” Remus told him, “Orange literally plays Catholic praise songs all the fucking time— he won’t notice anything that’s going on outside of his room. And Janus? He soundproofed his room because… well, there’s this one time I did an experiment with horny foxes and lemme tell ya— he did not like that. After that, he literally wasn’t bothered by anything else. I once decided to test how soundproof his room was by blasting Megalovania on ten thousand speakers but he didn’t hear anything. Nothing at all. Zip. Zilch. Nada—”

“Okay, okay, I understand.” Logan said, still quite reluctant to participate, “Why do you even have these plates?”

“Well, remember the art project I was doing where I decided to make a replica of the town from that horror manga using weird materials?” 

Logan’s eyes lit up, “The one of Junji Ito’s Uzumaki?”

Remus snapped his fingers with a grin, “Bingo.” he affirmed, “I’m almost finished with the thing save for this entire area with like, bones and er, I can’t really explain it well but imagine human bodies made out of concrete.”

“A very comforting image.” Logan remarked sarcastically.

“I know, right?” Remus replied jestingly, “I thought broken, ceramic plates would be a fun material to work with— not because it seemed like an appropriate material for the rubble but I just thought breaking plates would be fun to do. I was going to do it on my own but it seems like you’re willing to break a few plates for yourself. Y’know, as a release.”

Using one of his tentacles, Remus chucked a plate at Logan who caught it accurately. “Remus, you know I love you very much, and I do want to help contribute to your wonderful art project, but this is somewhat too childish for—”

Interrupting Logan’s spiel, Remus snapped his fingers loudly. Logan blinked twice in bewilderment, unsure of why Remus did that in the first place, but then, he noticed that something behind Remus had changed. The dark hardwood cupboards had some pinned banners on them with each depicting one of the three “Light” Sides. What intrigued Logan the most were the giant red circles that surrounded their faces; Logan guessed that they were painted on by Remus. The circles that enveloped the sides made it seem like Logan was supposed to target them as if they were—

Oh.

Oh.

“Remus,” Logan spoke.

“Yes?” Remus said chipperly.

“Am I supposed to—?”

“Go for it.” Remus insisted, giving Logan a nod of encouragement.

Logan glanced at the plate he carried in his glitching palms, noticing how his fatigued expression was shining back at him due to how clean the plate was. Like always, his eyebags were incredibly pronounced, and it seemed like a new wrinkle had developed on his forehead. And… were those white strands of hair tucked behind his ear?

Logan grimaced— how long has he been this tired?

He raised his head and looked at the three pictures of the other sides. All three pictures developed a sense of dread within him. Besides the fear that was eating him from the inside out, there were several other side effects like the sweatiness and unsteadiness of his palms, the dryness of his throat, and the sudden urge to rip the banners off the cupboards and tear them to shreds. 

Logan bet Remus deliberately made each picture show the others at their highest, all of them smiling and laughing mockingly at Logan. At weak, frail, useless Logan. 

Logan looked down at his plate again. The same weary expression stared back at him.

And when he looked back at the cupboards, each of the sides were still smiling in blissful ignorance. They fucking knew Logan was exhausted, they knew he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

And yet, they laughed anyway.

Just like that, something buried deep within Logan cracked. Raising the arm that was handling the plate, he ferociously hurled it towards the cupboards. The suppressed wrath he has forcibly ignored for years seeped out all at once, and for the first time, Logan let it happen, he let himself be angry. 

And honestly, with how many times they viewed Logan as a controllable utility, with how many times they’ve figuratively stabbed him in the back, with how many times they’ve dumped all the responsibilities on Logan without asking if he was alright— Logan deserved to get outraged.

An earsplitting, loud crack was heard, its sound reverberating across the “Dark” Sides’ living room and kitchen. 

The plate precisely hit the cupboard with the picture of Patton, its pieces exploding right at the center. It was incredibly scary how Logan was able to execute a perfect and direct shot at Patton despite how his glitches made him constantly spasm. 

“Holy—“ Remus spoke as Logan withdrew his hand. Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, quite astonished at his accuracy. “Holy shit.” Remus remarked proudly, the large grin on his face suggesting that he was extremely impressed by Logan.

“Holy shit indeed,” Logan murmured, similarly as stunned as Remus. “That was… surprisingly exhilarating.” Logan stated, a smile creeping unto his face. 

“Fucking yes,” Remus grabbed two more plates from the stack, “I feel like a proud mother watching their child graduate,” Remus remarked, and before Logan could have commented on how strange Remus’s statement was, Remus aggressively chucked the two plates he carried towards the pictures of Roman and Virgil. His movements were so quick that Logan could’ve sworn he felt a cool breeze brush past him when Remus threw the plates.

“That’s what you get for abandoning me, fuckin’ assholes!” Remus hollered, emitting an impressed laugh from Logan. 

“I think the best word to describe what I feel is ‘Mood’.” Logan responded, snatching a handful of plates for himself. 

“Glad you understand, but if you really do relate, then you should keep throwing your plates, Invader Simp.” Remus stated, “And whatever you do, do not hold back.” 

Logan didn’t need to be instructed twice before chucking his plates mercilessly, unleashing all the rage and energy he possessed within. Every time he heard a vicious crack or the sound of the ceramic pieces colliding with one another violently, an overwhelming, thrilling sensation washed through him. Remus wasn’t exempted from this feeling either, his face expressing pure ecstasy and enjoyment, and that only increased how entertained Logan was.

Additionally, the countless insults and jabs they had for the other sides only enthralled Logan more, making this experience oddly therapeutic.

“Quite unfair of you, Virgil, that your asshole demeanor is always glossed over by Thomas and his fans when you’ve threatened to cut my air supply on camera. Oh, but of course Patton insists you’re a sweet, harmless, angelic—”

Another crashing noise, “To be fair, Patton’s pretty fucking stupid.” Remus interrupted, throwing another plate at the worn out picture of Patton, “Plus he has ten Minion posters in his room.”

“Eugh.”

“At least he isn’t like Roman. Stupid Roman who acts as if everything Thomas does is his doing.” Remus grabbed an excessive amount of plates, throwing at Roman’s photo, “Last time I checked, it was me who helped Thomas when he was cast in Heathers—”

“And it was me who helped Thomas schedule all his auditions.” Logan commented irritatedly, “They act as if I didn’t contribute anything to Thomas’s theatre career, act as if I’m the villain, when it was me who had to adapt to a sudden change in Thomas’s career. They say they hate me for wanting a different future for Thomas when they were the first ones to change Thomas’s life plans without my permission!”

“Say it louder for the people in the back, sister!”

“Wait, ‘people in the back’...? Is someone watching u—”

“Shit, wait, I forget you are a literal boomer, sorry,” Remus said, “What I mean is, you’re abso-fucking-lutely right.” he added, and while doing so, he decided to put some of his tentacles into good use. Picking up an entire stack of plates, he tossed them one by one at each picture. The table was getting emptier now, with only one stack of plates left, “All of them are massive hypocrites and it’s starting to piss me off.” 

“Agreed,” Logan affirmed. Slightly jealous Remus was hogging all the plates to himself, Logan challenged his physical strength by grabbing the entire last stack of plates for himself to throw. While this earned some concerned look from Remus, Remus didn’t protest against Logan’s decision. This was enough encouragement for Logan to hurl the dishes relentlessly against the cupboards, creating a clamorous noise as every single plate shattered into uneven pieces. 

“Woah,” Remus said in awe as he casually chucked the last plate he was holding, “I would like to see this feral side of you more, Logan.”

Logan cracked his knuckles, feeling oddly satisfied after that session of plate throwing, “Thank you,” Logan told Remus, “I’m thinking you’ll get to see it more when I have fully converted into becoming a ‘Dark’ Side.”

“Oh, it’ll match with the ‘Dark’ Side aesthetic we have, I’m sure of it.”

“Good,” Logan said.

There was a comfortable silence exchanged between both sides as the adrenaline began to wear off. It was only at this moment they realized how much damage they’ve created outside the broken plates as the cupboards are now embellished with multiple scratches and chipped off wood. Additionally, some of the broken ceramics were scattered on the other countertops, and it seemed like some of the appliances nearby were also caught in the crossfire. Logan should’ve known that once the banners have started ripping, they should’ve halted their plate throwing to examine the safety of the other equipment in the kitchen.

Ah well. He still didn’t regret participating in the activity anyway.

“This should be enough.” Remus said, sweeping the plate remnants up with his tentacles. Each appendage was seen efficiently picking up the fragments, dusting off specks of dirt found on them, and delicately placing the pieces on the countertops. Logan doesn’t understand why Remus decided to choose the countertops over the tables, but he doesn’t make an effort to inquire about the matter.

“That is… more than what I expected.” Logan mentioned, “I suppose we got too carried away with our endeavors.”

“Doesn’t mean it was a bad thing,” Remus told him, and somehow, he was holding a nail filer. Logan assumed he was going to polish the shards using the filer to precisely imitate the sculptures and skulls from the book.

“While I did admit we were a bit overwhelmed by the thrill of the activity, I did not specify it being a horrible experience.” Logan corrected him, “In fact, I actually… enjoyed it. And it’s rare for me to find physical activities like these exhilarating.” 

“See? This is why you don’t doubt The Duke,” Remus said, leaning against the table as he let his tentacles do all the cleanup work, “And you’re welcome, Elpha-bae Thropp,” added Remus, and somehow, that nickname made something in Logan’s heart swell. Swell in a positive or negative sense, he didn’t know.

“That is an upgrade from ‘Swell-phaba Thropp’.” Logan replied.

“Ugh, don’t even remind me of that atrocious nickname.” Remus said, nostrils slightly flared.

“I won’t, but the nickname has very close ties to some memories I hold dear, so pardon me if I ever bring it up again in the future.” Logan said, referencing the first time he and Remus had shared an intimate moment with one another. He was glad to see Remus’s expression soften as he seemed to have recalled it as well.

“Aw, you’re being a sap again,” Remus commented, leaning his chin against his hands as his arms were propped atop of the table. He gazed at Logan dreamily, “That suddenly made me hate the nickname less now.”

“I didn’t say it was a good nickname,” Logan retorted with a smirk.

“You hurt my pride, love, I am wounded,” Remus said, putting a hand dramatically on his chest. 

Logan almost sputtered upon hearing the nickname but only managed to raise his eyebrows. Remus typically coated his nicknames with a joke, or some kind of atrocious pun but this was something different, and Logan couldn’t have helped but feel flustered because of it. “‘Love’?” Logan murmured, and immediately, he felt the atmosphere of the room shift. 

Remus immediately looked apologetic, and Logan could’ve sworn one of his tentacles almost dropped one of the plate fragments it was holding, but Remus was quick to defend himself, “Ah, my apologies, I know you don’t want to rush things and I’m— well, I am Remus, so words just slip out of my mouth and—”

“No it’s— it’s quite alright.” Logan instantly corrected him, “I apologize too if I, uhm, swiftly dismiss your acts of affection. I know I’m not—” Logan’s voice decided to betray him and crack involuntarily, “I’m just not well adjusted to, er, romance, and anything of the like. It’s— it’s not that I don’t enjoy it, per se, I genuinely appreciate the relationship we have now,  but I just… do not know if what I’ve been giving back to you is enough to satisfy you? I understand I’m quite monotonous and stoic so I’m not always— I cannot find— I’m trying to—” Logan sucked in a breath as he shut his eyes, “I’m just… very awful at this kind of stuff.”

Logan should’ve known Remus was still going to be compassionate about his problems, would’ve still been unexplainably considerate despite how Logan is the way he is, but a single pesky thought lingered in his head, whispering how Remus might decide to just end it, how Remus might just tell Logan to forget about everything they’ve ever done. 

(Logan really had forgotten that his insecurities about being worthless to the other sides are different from the insecurities about not being enough for Remus, huh. Calming down those intrusive thoughts obviously paved the way for other ones to take over, and unfortunately, those ones all involve Remus in one way or another.)

There was a troubled expression on Remus’s face, and Logan was bracing himself for the absolute worst thing to come out of Remus’s mouth. But then—

“Logan, you know I love you, but what on earth are you talking about?” Logan stared at him blankly, thinking he misheard what Remus said, but Remus still appeared to be extremely baffled. “Logan, you do know that you can’t measure affection, and even if you do, you’re damn good at providing it.” Remus stated, leaning closer to Logan with arms planted on the table, “More than anything, I feel like I’m the one doing something wrong here.”

And now it was Logan’s turn to look perplexed, “You? Remus, you’re the more romantic and affectionate one—”

“That is exactly what I mean!” Remus exclaimed, making Logan appear to be even more confused. “What I mean is, I feel like I’m taking things too fast when I know we promised to let this… thing we have to be more gradual. I know we’re allowed to be fond with one another, I’m not that stupid, but I’m kinda scared that I’m being too gross or intrusive or quick or—”

“Remus.” Logan cut him off before he would inevitably begin to spiral downwards, “Out of everyone, you told me to love myself for who I am. And I admit, I do struggle a bit sometimes, but you need to take in your own advice as well.” Logan said while Remus gazed at the table, lips curved downwards, “You’re not gross, nor are you someone who’s ‘too much’. You’re enough for me, Remus, and I admire all the efforts you make to show your fondness for me.”

Remus then began to look up, directly gazing at Logan, and his frown softened. Like the chaotic side he is, he jumped on the table quickly and pushed himself forward to move closer to Logan. They were then in the same position they were in the first time they met tonight, Remus sitting cross-legged on the table as he loomed above Logan who leaned close to him.

“Thank you, dork,” Remus said, “I could also say the same for you, though. You can’t say you’re doing ‘too little’ when you’ve literally done so much for me. Even small things like listening to me rant about my gory fantasies make me feel happy. Or loved. Or appreciated or wanted, but you get the point. Don’t you ever think that you’re doing less than stellar when literally everything you do is enough for me. You’re enough for me too, Logan.”

“Remus,” Logan gazed at him, and this time, it was him with the glossy eyes, “I’m getting too emotional and it’s almost 3AM,” Logan told him, “but that… that means so much to me. Thank you so, so much.”

“You sound like you’re on your deathbed.” Remus said, earning a chuckle from Logan. “But you’re welcome, love.”

This time, the nickname made Logan flush crimson, and Logan didn’t last long before he leaned his forehead against Remus’s chest once again, wrapping his arms around the green-clad side like the flustering idiot he is.

“Aw,” Remus said, bringing his hand to pat the logical side, “You actually like it when I call you love.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I almost hate you.”

“And I love you too.” Remus replied, kissing the top of Logan’s hair lovingly.

And that sums up their relationship well, doesn’t it? Their insecurities forgotten thanks to their fondness for one another. A weird yet lovely symbiotic relationship that made Logan feel genuinely happy— something he hadn’t experienced much since Thomas’s teenage years. Logan always thought he never deserved experiencing joy anyway— but Remus showed him that he did, convinced him he was worthy enough. Logan would’ve never thought this gore-obsessed, chaotic trash man made his heart swell the way it does now, would’ve never thought this trash man would have helped Logan overcome his insecurities using the oddest of methods—

But Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.

[themusikabox]

Elegy for a Rat

“A strange occurrence leads to an equally strange first meeting.”

Dedicated to @gasolineghuleh, for inspiring me to get up and write for the first time in almost a decade! This is actually heavily based on an experience I had several years ago; unfortunately, this was a somewhat unhappy story, and while I’ve tried not to make it too graphic in the retelling, reader discretion is advised.

Content Warning: Animal Death

SFW, Word count 1,530

The night was warm, and the streetlights shone off the asphalt, still wet from the rain earlier in the day. You were on your way home from a raid on the local mini-mart, a pint of ice cream swaying by your side. You usually didn’t like to head out so late in the day on your own, preferring not to tempt fate, but you lived in a fairly safe part of the city, and for good measure you did not have any music playing to keep yourself that much more aware of your surroundings. Besides, it had been a hell of a week - you deserved a little indulgence, right?

The walk had been without incident so far, and you were making your way across the well-lit parking lot to your apartment block when some movement in the gutter caught your eye. As you paused to focus, you realized quickly that it was a large, brown rat. That in and of itself wasn’t so strange; racoons got in the dumpsters around here all the time, and the residents occasionally complained of mice problems, so it stood to reason that there would be rats around as well. No, what had grabbed your attention was its behavior; as it scurried up the groove of the gutter, it would leap up onto the curb for a while before leaping back down, back and forth, back and forth. Frankly, you were a little astounded - you had never seen a wild animal do something like this for no apparent reason before. Was it playing?

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to follow it (not too close, you remind yourself, it is still a wild animal after all). As you closed the gap, though, something seemed to be “off” about the rat’s movements. From a distance, it had indeed looked like it was jumping to and fro, but as you drew closer, the movements appeared more erratic, less purposeful, for lack of a better word. It started to make its way away from the gutter, and yet it continued to jump about as before, which definitely struck you as strange, given the lack of obstacles. By the time you were a couple meters away, it hit you why this looked so odd.

It wasn’t jumping; it was spasming, hard.

“Oh no…” you breathed, heart breaking at the realization. The rat’s movements were slowing now, as it tried to make its way back to the gutter again with a new, unsteady wobble. It stopped for a moment, its rapid breathing apparent to you even from a distance. One more advance was attempted before it stopped again, collapsing against the wall of the curb. It was still breathing a mile a minute, but it was beginning to slow, and you realized with horror that something dark was oozing from its mouth between shuddering breaths.

You found yourself edging closer to the poor creature. Logically, you knew this was a bad idea on multiple counts; spasms most likely meant it was sick, either from disease or from poison (a possibility that made you shudder), and coupling that with a natural instinct to avoid the large creature looming over it, the rat could very well lash out and try to bite you. And yet, a sentimental part of you didn’t have the heart to just leave it. It felt cruel, somehow, to abandon it to die alone now that you have seen it and acknowledged its presence. So you continued your advance, slowly so as not to startle it, and kept a good meter away for both your safety and its peace of mind.

“You poor thing… you didn’t deserve this at all, did you?” you murmured sadly. “I wish I had realized sooner, though I guess that wouldn’t have done you too much good, would it?”

You continued these mindless attempts at comfort until a polite cough snapped you out of your reverie. Your head whipped up with a startled flinch in the direction of the interruption. There was a man standing there, whose approach you had somehow missed even in the silence of the night. To be fair, he was clad head to toe in a black-as-night cassock, and his mousey-brown hair was topped off with what appeared to be a biretta (something was not-quite-right about its shape, but in the dim light you couldn’t put your finger on what, exactly). A priest, perhaps? You knew there was a Catholic church nearby, but you doubted there was a connection; most priests you were familiar with did not look like Vincent Price had an unfortunate liquid-eyeliner accident. He raised his gloved hands in truce - the universal signal for “I realize this is creepy but I swear I’m not trying to be.”

“Ah, scusami, I was just taking a walk, I didn’t mean to, eh…” The man’s eyes darted between you and the rat, his confusion apparent. “...Interrupt? Might I ask what you are doing?”

“Oh! I, uh…” You felt your cheeks heat as you mentally scrambled for an explanation. Deciding there really was no way to salvage this interaction without looking at least a little weird, honesty felt like the best way forward. You gesture to the fallen creature.

“I noticed this rat was behaving strangely, so I was watching him for a while, and, well…” A sweeping motion towards the macabre scene, as if to punctuate your point. “He’s dying, and I didn’t want to just leave him alone.” At this point, you’re just trying not to squirm under this man’s scrutiny.

“‘Behaving strangely?’ Strange how, if I may ask?”

“He… he was jumping about, or at least I thought he was at first, but after a while I realized that it was convulsions. I can’t believe I had thought he was having a good time,” you added guiltily.

“Saint Vitus’ Dance,” he murmured thoughtfully, almost so soft that you didn’t catch it. “A frightening way to go, if you cannot understand what is happening to you.”

“I think that’s why I wanted to stay,” you confessed. “Being able to control your own movement is pretty much the most basic free will you can have, and even that was getting robbed of him.”

After a moment of silence, he nodded (as though making up his mind - about you, perhaps?), walked closer, and joined you in kneeling a polite distance away. More silence followed as the pair of you watched the rat’s breathing slowed and, eventually, stopped completely. Your breath left you heavily as you nodded sadly at this final moment.

The sensation of your phone buzzing in your pocket ripped you out of this (oddly peaceful) moment. You checked the screen, and flinched guiltily upon realizing it was your roommate checking in on you - you should have been home ten minutes ago. You quickly tapped out a reply assuring your continued survival, then stood, wincing slightly from the strain of crouching for so long.

“Shit, that completely got away from me. I’m sorry, I really need to get going.” You glanced once more at the now-deceased rat. “I feel a little bad just leaving him there, but… he’s not in the road, so he shouldn’t get squashed, and I don’t think the local cats will want to bother him now. Maybe I can move him in the morning.”

“Are you planning on giving him a funeral?” the man asked, brows raised. His tone seemed genuinely curious rather than mocking, which you privately appreciated.

“Not exactly… This may sound silly, but it feels presumptive to bury a wild animal. I was only really planning on moving him to some grass, maybe by some trees to hide him a little better. Something nicer than concrete, at any rate. Anyway, it was… nice? To meet you, Mister, uh…”

“Ah, dove sono le mie maniere? I am Copia. Cardinal Copia, technically, but under these circumstances, I think the niceties aren’t needed.” Your expression must have betrayed you, because “Eh, not that kind of Cardinal,” was quickly appended to this introduction. You gave your own name, though just a first name for now - this was quite the unorthodox bonding experience, and while he did seem okay, if eccentric, caution never hurt anybody. To his credit, Copia did not try to press you for more information.

“Perhaps I’ll see you at the memorial?” you offered, half serious. To your surprise, this was met with a small but nonetheless sincere smile.

“I would like that very much. It’s not often that I meet one who would show such esteem to a rat.” There was something self-deprecating in his expression that suggested he wasn’t just talking of literal rodents. “A domani, then?”

“A domani,” you replied, smiling at his awkward charm in spite of yourself. A final nod was exchanged between the two of you, then you parted, heading in opposite directions.

What a weird night, you thought to yourself. What a weird guy, for that matter.

Still, when you showed up the next morning with a shoebox to transport the mercifully untampered-with “St. Vitus”, you had to admit you were happy to see the good Cardinal waiting as promised, funeral lily in hand.

[initiumseries]

CAOS Part 3 - review

Uh, okay, so I think by now, we all know this show is terrible. Netflix gives showrunners a lot of creative freedom, and I think, for better writers, you could get some really interesting content, but they just seem to keep giving these assholes who wrote the travesty called Riverdale, so many opportunities to make more shitty television, and I feel like they really deserve to be limited in their ability to create/write if not stopped completely and thrown into a well with Julie Plec.  Anyway, I’ll try to break this down as best as I can into different piles of shit and this will contain spoilers:

Characters

Prudence and Ambrose

So, to be really honest, I watch this show exclusively for Prudence and Ambrose. Because, well, look at them: 

I wish they had more chemistry because they are super hot together, and I still ship it. A young Black couple? On TV? In this sea of shitty interracial relationships? I’ll take it. Anyway, of course, the progression of their relationship is ridiculous and frustrating. Ambrose decides at the last minute, not to kill Father Blackwood because he has a weird time egg thing that they don’t really understand, also he has the twins under some weird mind control for no clear reason, so they stay their hands. It doesn’t make sense, but it becomes clear, Father Blackwood has an insane amount of plot armour and ultimately would have to serve as a vessel for Satan. Father Blackwood uses the manipulated mind of the other weird sister to sic her on the coven, and she ends up killing Dorkus, whom Prudence finds. She then blames Ambrose for not allowing her to kill FB, and they break up. Now...this would kinda make sense, if not for the fact that they trapped one of the pagan witches and forced her to change everyone back, but no one bothered to do anything about the mentally ill witch who you all strapped up for a reason? Lol ok. Seems like an oversight on your part Prudence, but...okay. Clearly manufactured breakups are exhausting, especially since [young] Black couples with no serious relationship dysfunction are now an endangered species. It’s also frustrating because we barely got to see them....*be* together, especially after they returned home. 

Nick & Sabrina

So, I know from the beginning, we were supposed to believe that Nick and Sabrina had that kind of, Bad Guy, seduces the girl Good Girl, luring her into the dark side, hot, intense, passionate relationship. But their lack of chemistry and really shitty acting just made them really dry (which I get into here). I don’t believe them, and I definitely don’t believe that Sabrina would, once again, break a shit ton of rules to get Nick back. I just don’t buy that they had that kind of an intense, desperately in love, kind relationship, because they do not look all that comfortable around each other, much less in love. 

I personally find Sabrina utterly unlikeable as a main character, largely because who IS she? She has no personality, she just does whatever the plot needs her to do in the moment, and the actress makes Sabrina appear smug and unremorseful while she fucks up everyone’s lives. There is a lot of exposition of everyone telling us she’s this power hungry, manipulative character, but we never see that. She just does stuff and everyone is all “Sabrina how could you?!” and there are never, ever any consequences. I would have liked to see her push so hard to get Nick back and the struggle being, sure she wants him back, but mostly she’s doing it because she can. But that’s not what happens. 

So Nick ends up in this weird drug addiction, alcohol, sex demon spiral because he has parts of Satan still in him and it all just falls so flat and lame, because this show is SO bad at pacing, and these actors suck, so nothing is believable. The idea of him scrubbing his club foot, having nightmares, suffering PTSD, is fine, the execution was trash. Nick sees Caliban and Sabrina have one interaction and he’s like WELL, GUESS I GOTTA CHEAT. And just ends up in some S&M situation with sex demons and heavily self medicating, but none of this has any weight, and we don’t really see him...spiralling. He just immediately resorts to these things and it has no real impact on anyone or even him really, and that’s it. 

Harvey and Roz

Uh, they’re probably the most confusing match here, because there is no lead up to their relationship, there’s not suggestion, there’s no pacing. Just BOOM, we’re into each other now. BOOM, Roz is the only sexually active person in her friend group (lol of course the Black girl is sexually active. Gotta maintain white innocence at all costs), so she’s just ready to jump Harvey’s bones any second now. So of course, the show punishes her by having the pagans turn her to stone. And as if that’s not bad enough...

Which I talk about here and here, because honestly I’m just sick of this show’s antiblackness.  Theo & that other guy

So I was watching this unfold like, yeeaahh, they’re gonna make the trans guy get with the enemy aren’t they? And yes, they did. Cool, they didn’t kill him off, but I’m still perplexed at how Theo isn’t even a little upset that this guy was basically sent to infiltrate his friend group and sat by while his people harmed Theo’s friends, and also...used him? Like...we just...are gonna...gloss over that because he changed his mind? Lol ok. Sure.

Mambo Marie and suddenly Zelda?

I...I mean her name is Mambo Marie. I love the idea of Black witches finding Black spirituality and magicks through Vodun and a Hatian Priestess. But they quickly undo that, by ensuring that Mambo Marie only teaches Prudence in the presence of these white witches. And we see her...doing...an African drum circle (eye roll), only to be interrupted by the High Priestess of White Feminism, Zelda Spellman. It quickly devolves into thinly veiled racism where Zelda doesn’t trust Marie because she’s Catholic (says the woman who worships Satan, has an anti Pope and prays to Lilith with the same prayer for Mary mother of Jesus? LOL. Not even unpacking the fact that Vodun is an African spirituality having 0 roots in catholicism WHITE WRITERS). Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Marie and Zelda are a thing for no reason? After the way Zelda treated her? Why did Marie even stay? This isn’t her problem. This is a white witch problem. Okay. That’s too much to unpack. 

Plot

So, my biggest problem with almost all Netflix English programming is that they are so obsessed with aesthetics, and don’t pay enough attention to actual character chemistry, plot, story flow, details, pacing etc. Like...things that actually make stories interesting to watch. So they slap all these people together and throw them into aesthetically pleasing backgrounds, shake it up with so much exposition that nothing actually happens, and are like BEHOLD A STORY. And CAOS is *especially* guilty for this.

First of all those musical breaks were annoying as fuck. Musicals serve 2 story functions: advancing the plot or telling a story. These musical numbers did neither and were honestly ridiculously gratuitous, highly annoying and totally pointless.

What time of year is this? Why are we having pep rallies and how the fuck and when did Sabrina and Roz join the cheeleading squad, and why?

for the aesthetics and not for any real plot reason. It just seems stupid because now I don’t know how much time has passed between Nick going to hell and this, because you’re all handling it like it’s been a few weeks and is still relatively fresh, but suddenly, Theo, Harvey and Roz are in a garage band? You’re a cheerleader? For what? Since when? Why? These choices introduce more questions than they answer and serve no narrative purpose. So much wasted time on shit that doesn’t matter. 

Sabrina is supposed to be fighting Caliban (who is literally the only person she has chemistry with on this show and they killed him bc ofc they did), for her seat on the throne, and yet the trials only seem to come up when it’s convenient, and also seem to be directly related to her dealings with her coven, which is also convenient.  I’m so confused about Satan. His powers come from being a celestial being, and so, because his coven mistreats him he’s like...lol okay, well fuck you guys and goes through all these convoluted small motions to greatly inconvenience them and withdraws his powers? This is so petty and pathetic. Also, what’s the point? He could just wipe them out and start over, instead of skulking around inside FB then suddenly decides to track down Lilith. Again, convoluted. This plot is all over the place. Why does Satan need Sabrina to be Queen of Hell in the first place? He seems perfectly healthy. Why can’t he just rule it? Like...that makes no sense. What is he gonna do? Retire? WHAT is going ON?

How did Sabrina come back in time to herself stuck in stone? Is that trip to Pontius Pilate (lol) supposed to have created a loophole for her to save herself and everyone? This is giving me hardcore Twilight Breaking Dawn vibes, where, the show finally, FINALLY gets interesting, there’s real stakes, shit is actually happening instead of everyone talking about things happening (Hilda ending up killing her fiance was literally the only time I felt something watching this show because it was genuinely sad, and well acted, and Hilda coming through with that doll at the end was pretty disturbing, I’ll give them that), and ofc, Sabrina goes back in time and undoes it all. Lol. Okay. God forbid there be real consequences to anything on this show.

Final thoughts

Once again, the white feminism runs high on this show. They treat this Black Vodun Priestess Marie, like garbage, allude to her “foreign” magic, but Marie is sitting here like “we’re not men, we’re women, let’s work together.” This is why I hate white writers writing for Black characters. Black characters should have Black motivations, and a Black Vodun Priestess, should know that white women and Black women do not have aligned motivations just because they share a gender. Once they started with the bullshit right from her arrival, she should have handed Prudence her card and peaced tf out. Instead she tolerates the isolation, ostracization and thinly veiled racism...and decides to stay, and help. WHY? Marie has gained nothing by sticking around helping these ungrateful ass witches. I honestly would have preferred Prudence asking her to stay to learn more about Vodun, and them building a mentor/mentee type of relationship, especially since Prudence was the one who invited her and stepped to Zelda to defend her. I want(ed) to see that relationship go somewhere. The deliberate denial of healthy Black female friendships on tv is frustrating.

 These witches finally finding their power in their ancestors and I donno, some female creator or whatever, reminds me of white women “finding” wicca and praying to “Gaia”, (reminds me of BTVS s4 when Willow joins the wicca group) which is basically what happened but lol okay whatever. I guess they aren’t satanic witches anymore. Lol, I love how Harvey and Roz and Theo are teenagers, human teenagers, who have lead largely normal teenage lives up until this point, but see their loved ones tortured, deformed or murdered in hell, with basically no residual issues, and are all like, YES, let’s roll up on these adults with shotguns and swords and kill the FUCK outta these people!! That absolutely sounds normal! Like...what? Lol. God this is just so bad.

Also, I’m so confused by this aesthetic choice for Sabrina as Queen of Hell. Like what the fuck. Why is she dressed like a Victorian era queen, with shoulder and a broken rib bodice? What?!

This show is truly awful, this season made no more sense than the last two and now that Prudence and Ambrose aren’t together, I might be done watching. 

-20/10

[sillypandalover91]

Twitterpated

Ao3

Self restraint was surprisingly one of Angel’s stronger suits despite what he lets people to believe. Growing up gay in an Roman Catholic mob family in a time where boys were sent for “medical treatment” for looking at other boys with a little too much interest would do that to a guy.

So when he felt Alastor’s fingers worm their way under his hand during family movie night, he didn’t react immediately.

It all started when Charlie discovered Disney via a patron who had recently died and was sent straight to the hotel by her mother of all people, with a note that said There was a mix up in processing, she doesn’t belong here. Take care of her until your Uncle Gabriel can come get her New Years.

Charlie had nearly detonated fireworks inside the hotel in her excitement because an honest to grandfather heaven bound had been blessedly dropped onto her lap. It would be an absolute shame if she didn’t take advantage and pick her brain to see how she earned her halo so that she could apply it to her other patrons, specifically Angel Dust who seemed to drift further and further away from Heaven’s light.

Vaggie had told her, not for the first time either, that Angel was a lost cause but never let it be said that the Princess of Hell was not tenacious. Nor was she one to give up on her friends.  He didn’t make it easy though...What with the turf wars and drugs and booze and constant sex and...yeah.

But here in her hands, she had a way to redemption and step one was obviously-

“I remember this studio,” said Angel when the opening jingle revealed the Disney Castle. He munched on some popcorn and nodded, “I remember watching Snow White, Pinocchio, and Bambi. Heh, Pinocchio scared the shit outa me. Growin up, pops told me that boys who were bad became jackasses .”

“Explains you,” muttered Vaggie into her mug of coco, nearly spilling it when Angel retaliated by throwing popcorn at her, “Hey!”

They had worked their way backwards, starting with the classics much to Alastor’s delight. Having grown up poor, all he had was a single fairytale book that was literally falling apart. Then he had discovered radio and then developed his fascination with murdering and...Well, he was glad to have this opportunity to experience fairytales again. Angel  in particular liked Al’s eagerness for family movie night. It was cute.

That is until tonight when they were watching Bambi and they were at the part where hunters had killed the fawn’s mom. Charlie gasped from across them, turning to Vaggie for some explanation as to why this was in a children’s film. Husk sighed heavily and took a long drink from his beer bottle, Niffty quickly getting up to bring more drinks but Angel didn’t miss how she was wiping at her eye.

He glanced over at Alastor, whose eyes had become dials, and twisted his hand so that their fingers laced together, gently squeezing them and slowly raising his upper arm out to coax his friend to curl up next to him. It was a long shot that Al would allow this despite their friendship but to his surprise, Alastor fell into place and reached out his other hand to hold Angel’s lower left one.

Bambi had hit too close to home for Alastor and they needed a brief intermission shortly after Bambi’s dad took him in. 

Water splashed on face and tears were wiped away. Snacks and drinks were replenished and they all made themselves comfortable again.

To Angel’s delight and horror, Alastor dragged a blanket over and made himself comfortable again tucked under Angel’s arm with a pleased smile, tail softly  thumping against the couch when Angel rested his head on his.

Spring time in the movie lifted everyone’s moods from Charlie squealing at the cute little skunks, to Alastor’s ears perking up when Bambi fought for his doe. He felt Angel’s breath come out in a snort but didn’t question it until the movie was over and it was just them two picking up the living room.

Angel shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the love dovey stuff was a bit much.”

“I thought you like lovey dovey stuff.” Alastor tossed the folded blankets back into their basket.

“I do. It’s just that I don’t believe that it happens the way it happens in movies. It’s unrealistic if you ask me.”

“Yes, exactly! I feel the same way. Though I suppose with moving pictures, time is of the essence what with their limited time frame to tell their story.” Alastor helped Angel take the dirty cups and bowls back to the kitchen, putting the dishes into the sink and rolling up his sleeves while Angel put away the left over snacks.

“I take it that you aren’t a fan of the whole love at first sight trope either then, huh?”

Alastor grin widened, “Not at all, my dear. Though to be fair, I  can’t say that I’m a fan of love either. Besides my mother, I never put much thought into loving someone else, never mind romantically.”

Angel’s heart ached at the deer’s words but he nodded anyway, “Yeah. Love is too messy anyway.” It had a nasty habit of making you see things that weren’t there. Of course Al didn’t feel the same way. Him cuddling and holding Angel’s hand didn’t mean anything. He was just cold and Bambi’s mom dying would’ve made anyone seek comfort in a friend.

“And requires far too much work,” agreed Alastor, his heart breaking at Angel’s dismissive words. But the work wasn’t as off putting to him as he thought. Charlie and Vaggie had their moments but months of being a shadow on the wall during their quarrels served to teach him that one disagreement didn’t have to mean the end of a relationship. If anything, working through it could make it stronger.

He felt Angel move next to him to dry the clean dishes. Alastor glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “Have you ever experienced...that is to say, have you ever been in love?”

Angel didn’t slow his methodological movements as he nodded.

“Oh.”

It had been almost silent but Angel heard it. He put the dishes away and waited for Al to finish washing the last few mugs, leaning an elbow on the counter and resting his cheek on his fist, “Have you?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“Indeed.” Alastor wondered why he even bothered indulging in his confusing thoughts. The owl had described what Angel made him feel down to walking on damn air. Only thing it had gotten wrong was it hadn’t been as quickly as it had been with Bambi or Thumper, or Flower. It had been after Angel had decreased his advances and increased his willingness to simply chat with him well into the evening. How he didn’t blink twice when he’d made his famous gumbo with meat from his hunt or judged him he had walked on him snacking on fingers like they had been buffalo wings one night. As a matter of a fact, Angel had taken his cannibalism without fuss at all though Alastor chalked that up with Angel being a predator demon himself.

Then it had been the way Angel carried himself, even when he was ‘on the clock’. What Alastor had once seen as vulgar promiscuity, he now saw as hunting tactics. And if Angel had fun during his means to an end well more power to him. It was when he was off the clock, though, that Alastor found him the most endearing. When he was playing with Fat Nuggets. When he was having girl time with Niffy and Charlie, playing poker with Husk, and watching documentaries with Vaggie.

It was the way Angel smiled when he did all of this, content and relaxed, that made Alastor’s head spin and heart flutter. The way he cried if the documentary was about nature and a cute animal died. It was the way Angel was weak by demon standards but strong by human. By his standards.

“Al?”

Alastor jumped when Angel gently shook him by the shoulder with a worried frown. He felt himself smile, “Yes, darling?”

“I said that the mugs are clean enough. Give’em here so we can go to bed.” Angel took the squeaky clean mugs from Alastor and quickly dried them, putting them in their cupboard and tossing the dish towel into a basket next to the sink.

The two demons stared at each other, waiting for something neither knew the other wanted.

Sighing, Angel shook his head and offered a small smile, “Alright, I’m gonna go hit the hay. See ya tomorrow, Smiles.”

“Sweet dreams, dear.” As Al watched Angel retreat, a moment of foolish bravery overcame him and he called out to him, “Angel!”

Angel paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder, “Yeah?” He watched as Alastor summoned his microphone to fiddle with more than anything, something he’d noticed the deer did when he was nervous. Strangely enough, Alastor only did that when they were alone. It was cute.

Having found the words he wanted, or gathered his courage, Alastor asked in an unfiltered voice, “Do ya think...Do y’think you could fall’n love again?”

Self restraint was surprisingly on of Angel’s stronger suits, despite what he led people to believe. And now, he was happy it was because without it, he would’ve overstepped Alastor’s personal space and ruin whatever it was that was happening right now. Instead he lowered his lids and smiled warmly, “Yeah, I could. What about you? Think you could give being twitterpated a shot?”

“I won’t act a fool like those little animals from the picture, will I?”

“Would you care?” Angel asked as he reached out a hand.

Alastor thought about it for a second but answered Angel’s smile with a warmer one of his own and laced his fingers with Angel’s, allowing the spider to lead him upstairs to bed, “Not at all.”