#APART from this worm one which DOES NOT MISS

[lotrmusical]

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 5] Evening Off

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“Mommy…” Ren taps your face. Lately he’s picked up the bad habit of waking you up earlier than you’re supposed to, and it’s getting on your nerves. The first morning was because he was hungry, but lately it’s because he’s bored and wants to spend time with you– You understand where he’s coming from, you two barely spend time together and the early morning is the only time you can actually do something, but you barely sleep and you appreciate every minute of rest.

“Let’s sleep some more, buddy.” You tell him, wrapping your arm around him and cuddling him. You need to save up all your energy for tonight, after all, you’re going out with people you don’t want to go out with. You talked to your mother to take care of Ren since she’s feeling better, you also wanted to give the nanny the night off since she has her own family to take care of. 

“I’m not sleepy, mommy.” He answers while your hand begins to pet his hair. You hope that it’ll help him sleep, but once Ren wakes up, it’s hard to get him to go back to sleep. He gives you around five minutes– Five minutes in his mind, but it’s actually a minute of extra sleep before he says, “Can we play, mommy?”

“Baby, I’m so tired.” You whine, and he worms out of your embrace. You hear him walk away, and just as you’re succumbing to slumber, you hear a squeaky toy in your ear. You finally open your eyes, and you look at the little boy who looks at you with doe eyes. He just really misses you and wants to spend time with you. You get up and you begin to walk to the bathroom, “Brush your teeth before anything, Ren.”

“Okay!” He yells before he runs behind you to brush his teeth. And like that, your day gets started.

You eat breakfast, play a little with Ren, then you make lunch for the two of you, and after you play a little more, and by a little more, you mean for the rest of the day. You’re tired of playing, but he’s just so happy while he plays with you. When you finally get him to watch a show and relax, there’s a knock on the door and then someone rings the doorbell; you know it’s your mother, meaning that it’s time for you to start getting ready and actually start your day. 

You open the door, and your mother engulfs you with a hug. You hug her back, a smile coming to your face as you feel her arms around you. The smile fades as you remember that you have to go out. And your stupid self agreed to go out clubbing with them afterwards. Maybe you can cancel last minute, but you’re not sure that Mrs. Gojo would be too happy with you.

She walks inside, pulling away from the hug. She calls out Ren’s name, and the little boy goes running to his grandmother. He hugs her, and you smile as you watch the exchange. You close the door and you tell them, “I’ll start getting ready.”

They ignore you as you walk to your room and to the bathroom to take a shower and begin getting ready. You try not to spend too much time getting ready because you tell yourself that you’re not trying to impress anyone… But you are, and even though you try not to spend too much time on your makeup, you do. You take too long picking out an outfit and matching shoes. You’re not even going to comment on accessories– You don’t have a lot to pick from, yet you struggle with which ones to put on.

While you decide on the earrings, your mother walks into the room. You don’t notice her, focused on your reflection on the mirror. You’re startled when she says, “This is a nice apartment.”

“I know. I like this better than staying at her house.” You share, and she chuckles in response.

“I can only imagine the nightmare she is. Worse with age.” She responds, and you hum in response. You finally decide on the earrings and you put them on.

“She’s not so bad with Ren. Absolutely adores that boy, that I can say.” You tell her. You finally turn to look at her, a sigh leaving your lips before you roll your eyes just thinking of Mrs. Gojo. “She wants to make my life miserable though. I have no idea why she wants me to go out with her son and friends. She probably just wants me to be miserable.”

“‘Her son’ like he isn’t Ren’s father.” She quotes, and you two are so focused on your conversation that you miss the little boy that stands behind your mother, one that walked out of his room and wondered where his grandmother went. He makes his presence known when he hears the word father.

“Daddy? Are you going to see my daddy, mommy?” Ren speaks up, and you both freeze as if you had been caught red-handed. As Ren grows older, he asks more questions about his family. Thanks to what he sees on television, he knows that he’s supposed to have a father. It also doesn’t help that he sees his friends’ fathers, and he slowly realizes that he’s supposed to have one as well. Your mother turns around and smiles down at the young boy.

“How about we get some ice cream.” She offers, completely dismissing the question. He completely forgets about what he was talking about at the offer for ice cream, and you watch as he nods excitedly, a big smile coming to his face. You watch them walk away and go to the kitchen, and you end up sighing. Each day you wonder how you’ll answer the inevitable question of who his father is and where he’s at; he doesn’t know about you doesn’t seem like a good enough answer. 

You arranged a ride to take you to the restaurant that you were supposed to go to. You weren’t expecting anything fancy, just a small restaurant to eat something before getting the night started, but you’re proved wrong. Of course you are. They’re not going somewhere cheap to eat, even if they have other plans after. You’re not sure if you’re dressed right until you see Shoko who dresses in the same style. She holds a cigarette between her lips, and she throws it on the floor when she sees you walking over.

“Are we underdressed or…?” You begin and she chuckles before she pulls out the phone to look at the time. “I was expecting some cheap place… I mean they do have plans to go out afterwards right?”

“It’s funny you think that they’d step near a cheap restaurant.” Shoko responds, and you two begin to walk into the place. Shoko tells the hostess Gojo’s name for the reservation, and she walks you to your table. You find that you’re not the first ones there since Suguru is sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone. Shoko rolls her eyes before saying, “It’s a surprise that you’re here early.”

“Why do you sound irritated by that?” Suguru says, raising his brow as he look at Shoko. The man stands up from his chair to walk over to you and give you a side-hug. When he does so, he walks back to his seat, and you take a seat as well. “Did you two come here together or…?”

“We just met outside.” Shoko answers. Your leg begins to bounce as you think about what’s coming up next. Shoko notices and she’s about to ask why the hell you even decided to show up, but she puts two and two together and it all goes back to Mrs. Gojo. “How long do you think it’ll take for Sayo to realize that they were together for a bit.”

“Who?” Suguru asks, genuinely confused but then he looks at you. Suguru then chuckles before shrugging. “I mean… They are so awkward around each other, she’s bound to know something is up.”

“I’m right here. Change the topic.” You tell them. “I don’t want to talk about the Gojos. I already have enough dealing with the mother daily, I don’t want to talk about the son nor the wife.”

“How did you even end up working for her?” Suguru questions, and that’s something that Shoko also wonders; she knows that you had a son, but that’s about it. What prompted you to seek out help from Mrs. Gojo.

“A lot of bills, little money, barely any help.” You keep it vague. “What can I say? She might be a total bitch but the woman pays well.”

And just as you say so, the couple makes their presence known. Your face gets hot immediately, thinking that they heard you call Satoru’s mother a bitch. Sayo and Satoru greet everyone at the table before taking a seat. Your eyes look over Sayo, and you feel… Inferior. You know another person’s beauty doesn’t take from your own, but as you look at her, you feel as if she’s sucked the beauty out of you. She wears a white silk dress that accentuates her body, a ruby necklace around her neck with matching earrings, and red lipstick on her lips– She’s not dressed  to go out clubbing.

She looks at you and smiles. “It’s so nice to see you here.”

“How’s your cat doing? I hope he’s not too bummed out that you’re here.” Suguru mentions and you end up chuckling. Dinner would’ve been fine without Satoru and Sayo, but that’s not the reality. They’re there so it’s all too awkward, even if you try to converse. Sayo is pretty much the only one that speaks, occasionally, Suguru helps her out.

You do find out that she’s your age, of course from a wealthy family, and she’s currently a stay-at-home wife, and she’s planning on keeping it that way. She’s into painting, yoga, horseback riding, and whatever rich pastime one could think. What you find the most interesting is that apparently Sayo and Satoru met once before in their childhood: a winter that the Gojos went to Switzerland. They have a picture together from years ago. It made you comment,

“Wow, it’s like you two are soulmates.”

Sayo chuckles while Satoru’s eyes wander around. He can’t look at you straight, you don’t think he ever will again. Sayo tucks a strand of her long black hair behind her ear before she comments, “I don’t believe in soulmates, and Satoru doesn’t either.”

“Really?” You furrow your eyebrows then you look at Satoru. He would always call you his soulmate but apparently he’s changed. Or maybe he doesn’t want to admit something so foolish to his wife.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” She asks and you end up nodding. She then proceeds to ask, “Do you think you’ve met your soulmate?”

“I don’t think I have.” You answer, and you glance at Satoru who finally looks at you. You look away and your eyes land on Suguru. “How’s your residency going?”

“God, let’s not talk about that because I’ll rip my hair out.” Suguru responds, which makes Shoko say,

“Oh my God, let’s talk about it then.” She smirks while looking at Suguru, and Suguru rolls his eyes. The pair used to get along but now Shoko seems like she can’t stand Suguru.

“You’re just mad because your parents didn’t let you study medicine.” Suguru comments, and she end up scoffing. Sayo takes over the conversation before they continue bickering.

Shoko drives you and Suguru to the club that you’re going meeting Satoru and Sayo at. You’re more excited about this than dinner because you actually have the chance to get away. You’re able to let loose for the first time in five years. Of course, you’re in a private booth of the club because apparently Sayo and Satoru don’t like to be close to other people, but it’s fine. You and Shoko still get away.

You do a round of shots with Shoko, which didn’t take too much convincing from her part, and then you dance with her. You’re having fun with her, until you feel a pair of hands on your hips, and you tense up. You turn to look at who it is, brushing their hands away. You bite down your lip, holding back a smile as you put Suguru’s hands back on your hips. You begin to dance together, and when Shoko notices, she walks away not wanting to witness whatever the hell is happening.

“Why aren’t you two dancing?” Shoko asks, raising her voice so it can be heard over the music, walking back to Satoru and Sayo. She’ll sit down for a minute, have a drink, and then go back to dance. Satoru has his arm wrapped around Sayo, just looking around while she sips on her cocktail.

“Sayo doesn’t like to dance. What about you? Are you tired already?” Satoru replies, raising his voice as well, and Shoko chuckles.

“Suguru started dancing with her and I needed to get out of their way before they started making out in front of me.” Shoko says, which makes Sayo laugh while Satoru shifts in his seat. His eyes look around for you amongst the crowd of people and he finally finds you, grinding on Suguru. 

“Does she like him?” Sayo asks, and Shoko shrugs.

“I know that he likes her! Ever since we were teens!” Shoko responds, and maybe it’s the dim purple lighting that makes her eyes see things, but she swears she sees Satoru clench his jaw. She acts as if she didn’t see anything, playing it off as her own faulty eyesight before she stands up to get herself another drink. She doesn’t want to stay with Satoru and Sayo for too long; she feels too awkward when she’s alone with them.

“I’m gonna get something to drink! Will you come with me?!” You tell Suguru and he follows behind you when you grab his hand instead of letting go. And even though you came here with the Gojos, you’ve completely forgotten since you’re having fun. You finally let go of Suguru when you spot Shoko, and you hug her from behind before resting your chin on her shoulder.

“Are you drunk already? You’ve only had one shot.” Shoko comments. “Did you become a lightweight after having a baby or what—”

“Huh?!” Suguru’s eyes widen. Did he hear that right or is the music so loud that he’s mishearing things?

“What?!” Shoko turns around, and you let go of her. She acts as if she didn’t say what she just said, and she’s able to convince him that he heard wrong. And instead of getting the drink that you originally had in mind, you do another round of shots with Shoko but this time, Suguru takes one with you.

You go back to dancing with Suguru, and you try to drag Shoko with you, but she doesn’t want to join you. The next time you do see her, she’s with Sayo which you weren’t expecting. But you don’t pay much attention to them.

You’re focused on having your own fun with Suguru.

“Uhh…” Suguru’s neck hurts. He slowly opens his eyes, feeling something poking his cheek. He doesn’t remember much from last night– Just dancing with you, and maybe having a little too much to drink… Did he drive himself home? No, he’s not reckless nor irresponsible. He didn’t even take his car– Maybe it was Shoko. His head is killing him, and he wants to go back to sleep, but something keeps poking him.

He opens his eyes and the place is too bright. This has to be Shoko’s apartment because it certainly isn’t his. He sits up, and begins to look around. The poking on his cheek stops, instead it transfers to his ribcage. And he finally looks down.

His eyes widen at the sight. Is he still sleeping? He has to be because he’s seeing a four-year-old version of Satoru; he doesn’t remember taking any drugs last night. Suguru just stares at the little boy.

He fully wakes up when he hears,

“Are you my daddy?”

🏷 @yeagerfushiguro @luckimoon @uhremmi @conniesbbymama @mykyoon @prettyiolanthe @mc-reborn @the-loneliest-girl @cloudsinthecosmos @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @blinkingsuns @oi-loverboy @neireav @lilith412426 @misshale21 @rivaiken @q-the-rockaholic @merlinssassybeard @ikilledsparky2 @mimizsworld @lily3847 @Teslumieres @floralsightings @Mocha-plxnet @idreamitski @creolequeen11210@jooaannnnaaa @enthusiastiics @lovinkiri @abdce12345 @bkgnotsuma @kariito-art @beelzmunchkin @satosuguswife @kurome-ga-kill @hoonberrie @mittypops @suhaaaefre @AZE107 @ackerstein @sweetshawty @saiewithakatana @psychopotatomeme @innocxntdexth @4-morant @shan-nein @marymosaa @Ditzyberry @purpleguk @basically-an-anime-stan-acct @bomjug @idkbutokaylol @rosieee491 @ieathairs @simpfully-heartbroken @witchbybirth @ddalgisworld @pinksilk @torutoji @notarshia @filmreelononescreen @Anemicjaguar @kurookinnie

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey I have been looking for Dark Dean and Castiel fics where Dean is OBSESSED with Castiel do you have any recommendations?

Hey hey! Sorry for the delay, but I hope these recs are welcomed now just in time for Halloween.

A bit of a warning though -- some of these fics get really dark and involve very intense subjects so pls mind the tags before reading these.

all that’s sacred comes from youth by fullvoid (Mature, 8k words)

Teenage Dean has a dark, possessive streak he hides well. But when he and Cas agree to get married at age 35 if neither of them has by then, he finds he can't quite just leave it at that and spends years stalking Cas from the shadows and sabotaging every relationship he starts. Or Dean, in love with his best friend Cas and obsessed with a pact they made when they were 17 years old, gets rid of his boyfriends one by one through escalating means.

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos (Explicit, 53k words)

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome… and there will certainly be hell to pay.

CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse by Mayalaen (Explicit, 441k words)

Castiel Novak is a Cleaner. One of the agency's best. He and his Handler, Dean Winchester, have a high success rate in a world where the worst criminals aren't imprisoned for their crimes, but instead are captured by licensed serial killers who dispose of them, doing what they do best while getting paid for it. Cas doesn't form attachments, doesn't leave himself open for a risk like that, but Dean wormed his way into Cas' life and into his house. Does Dean realize what falling in love with a serial killer really means?

Do Anything For You by ImYourHoneyBee (Explicit, 7k words)

“How’re you feeling?” his earlier worry and fear have faded into the background because of how freaking good Jimmy looks right now, but that’s the thing to ask. Besides, even if he was planning on killing him soon, propriety has to be observed. Dean has a reputation to uphold as a fine, upstanding citizen in this city. Patrick Bateman wishes he was as smooth as Dean is. “Better than the guy who hit me,” Jimmy tells him with uncharacteristic bluntness, nodding toward the curtained-off bed, “I overheard the doctors saying he flatlined around the same time I did.” “Oh shit,” Dean says, glancing over to try and mask the sick roil that sets up shop in his stomach. “He make it?” The ghost of a smile plays over Jimmy’s chapped lips, “He’s in a better place now.” x The one where Cas's soul takes over Jimmy's body.

Free to Be You and Me by jhoom (Explicit, 49k words) --- This says incomplete but it's a satisfying ending so we think the author just didn't close it out.

Dean lost his parents in a fire when he was younger, and he’s never been the same since. Based on the prompt: "I was ten years old when I witnessed the murder of my entire family. The police told me that the person I saw commit the crime was a figment of my imagination - a result of the trauma - but I couldn’t let it rest. In a strange way, they saved me - with everyone else gone I might have gone to pieces, but I HAD to find the killer, so I held it together, I got through school, I rose through the ranks of detective, and now finally, finally, I’m on their trail. I have to find them. I have to meet them. I have to tell them that I love them."

Hello Night by almaasi (Explicit, 11k words)

Demon!Dean/Priest!Cas AU. Castiel summons Dean to the crossroads, and he only wants one thing: him.

Make Me by saltnhalo (Explicit, 4k words)

A beautiful man on a motorbike shows up at Castiel's business with a t-shirt that says Make me and a smirk that could put the devil to shame. How is Castiel possibly meant to resist?

Monsters by Miss_Lv (Explicit, 11k words)

Castiel prayed to God, to help them, to save them. God never answered. But Dean did. It was the monster who saved Castiel, not God.

Seven Heavenly Virtues by Strixes (Explicit, 108k words)

The Mark of Cain turns Dean into a demon once more. Dean is adamant that this time he's found a way to keep the mark under control but it's clear to Castiel that Dean needs help if he's going to fight the mark's influence until they can find a way to get rid of it. More than anything Castiel wants to save him, but if anyone needs to be saved it's Castiel as he tries to navigate where Dean ends and the Mark of Cain begins.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

These Violent Delights by SomethingBlue42, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 43k words)

Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak notorious serial killer and cannibal given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don't tell him anything personal. But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.

This Tainted Love You've Given by LazarusRose, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 17k words)

Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

Happy Halloween!!👻🎃

[abiiors]

birthday surprise - matty x reader

part 2 of matty's birthday weekend a/n: this is scheduled. by the time this goes up, i will (hopefully🤞🏼) be on a beach somewhere, day drunk 😌 cw: vomit (because hungover), dramatic (because sad), once again vague descriptions of depression. some kissing and suggestive stuff. idiots friends to lovers wc: 3.1k

george’s massive hand rests on matty’s back while he retches into the toilet. 

his head pounds mercilessly, the sunlight streaming in through the window is barely helping and the soured wine churning in his stomach comes back up once again, leaving him gasping for air. a loud splash echoes in the bathroom and matty groans, gagging a bit more. 

george is a good friend. he lets matty lean on him and holds the glass of water so matty can slowly sip from it.

it barely works though. he feels like shit regardless, and none of it can be cured by water or food or painkillers. 

george helps him get back to bed once matty feels slightly better. the whole time neither of them say a word. matty doesn’t know how much of last night has been told to his friend—does he know the precise way in which matty fucked up? did he see matty in the act? overhear the conversation accidentally? 

george’s face looks completely blank. he does all the right things—sets a glass of water and a few painkillers next to matty, grabs him a bucket, draws the blackout curtains. he even offers to get breakfast.

“fry up from that small cafe down the street,” he says in a hushed voice. “come on, greasy food’s good for hangovers.”

matty mumbles something like a vague yes, if only so george would step out of the house for a bit. once he’s out, matty searches for his phone, wedged somewhere between the mattress and the headboard. the sudden brightness makes him wince but once he manages to open his eyes, he checks for messages and missed calls. 

apart from one missed call from george and one from jamie, there’s nothing. 

nothing from her. 

not one message. 

the last message he’s sent to her sits at read—it’s nothing special, just the address to the pub they were going to meet at. and then… yeah, matty remembers how well that went. 

he remembers the last look on her face before she stormed off. 

then it’s just a fog.

his throat feels clogged, his eyes sting but no tears come. matty just lays there, curled up like a pathetic worm, clutching his pillow until seconds or minutes or hours later george re-enters his room. 

“right, come on,” he flings the covers off matty, making him feel a sudden draft of cold air. “i’m not getting you breakfast in bed, mate. you’re hungover, not an invalid.”

“‘m not hungry,” matty mumbles. his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts—probably the vomiting—but it’s nothing in comparison to his head. a delayed realisation hits him that he never took the painkillers. 

george huffs. “don’t be a diva.” and if matty had any strength he would absolutely be offended by that. then again maybe george doesn’t know the full extent of last night. 

“seriously george—”

“matty. you’re going to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. we are going to eat and then we are going to talk about last night.”

well… there goes that. a stubborn side of him wants to be an absolute ass and dig his feet in. say all sorts of mean things to george just so he’d leave. but isn’t that what got him here in the first place? he really isn’t in the position to hurt more people in his life. 

like a small child matty drags his feet the entire way to the kitchen, turning his nose up at the food on the table. (even though it looks really good and his stomach does growl now that he can smell the food) george doesn’t egg him on any further. he just motions to the chair and slides a mug of coffee in front of him.

“you said what?” 

it’s the eerily calm edge to george’s voice that makes matty shrink in his seat. he does feel better with some food in his stomach, physically at least. but the way george stares at him—eyes cold, lips pressed in a thin line—makes him feel sick to his stomach all over again. 

“i said– i– i said it was the first of april, i told her it was a joke.” his voice is a pathetic whisper, words drowned by shame and guilt and self-hatred. matty wishes he could go back in time and undo it all. he won’t say any of it. 

he won’t even touch the wine in the first place. 

“right after you said i love you.”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

easy for george to say that. it’s not his love life blowing up in his face right now. matty stabs the tomato next to his half-eaten toast, watching it spill its guts onto the plate. red. just like last night. 

he remembers that part of it. 

“what happened after? how did i… get home?”

george goes a bit silent for a second, not meeting matty’s eyes which sets alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“do you really not remember?”

when matty shakes his head, george just sighs and then softly says her name. “she called charli, crying a lot and i figured something went down. i called you–don’t you remember that?” when matty’s blank face gives him the answer, george continues, “you sounded really awful like… you were gasping for breath. i could barely understand you. so i thought i’d pick you up and get you home. i’m glad i did.”

in all of this the only part matty focuses on is her. and that she called charli crying a lot. of course, he thanks george but it’s only half-hearted, distracted. he can’t get the image of it out of his mind—her sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to get a word out. it breaks his heart all over again. 

he did that. 

this is all his fault. 

“matty… you have to make it right.”

that’s the biggest problem of it all—he doesn’t know how. what is he supposed to do, call her up and say: hey, so you know how i drunkenly said i love after which i assumed you looked at me with disgust and then i said it was all a joke and you stormed off? well it was not a joke i am seriously in love with you and i don’t know what happens to our friendship after this. 

yeah. there’s no way to put it any better. 

so he just nods. at least, that way he doesn’t have to answer to george right now. he’s figure out a way to do it later, once he doesn’t feel like a raisin. he’ll figure out a proper plan, build up the courage to call her. 

for now matty can only swallow the rest of the now-lukewarm coffee and hope that he can just sleep the rest of the day off. 

for three days after that, his messages stay on delivered. 

it’s a harrowing process, to pick up his phone and dial her number only for it to go to voicemail after the second ring. almost like she’d stabbed her thumb on the glaring red reject button. 

all his messages went unanswered too. all the—

hey

can we talk please?

please!

i just want to say sorry 

just hear me out

—all of them ignored, like all his other efforts to reach her through her friends. 

day four charli shows up at his doorstep, face twisted in a scowl, eyes like embers ready to singe him if he stepped one toe out of line, mayhem in tow. 

the puppy is his last straw. the fact that she sent mayhem back with charli instead of dropping him off herself… matty doesn’t even want to think what that means for him. for them. 

he mumbles a quiet “thanks” to charli, afraid of speaking anything louder. 

“if it weren’t for george—” she starts and swallows, as if she’s literally swallowing her anger. “nevermind. forget about it.”

and then she leaves him standing at his doorstep like a loser, mayhem’s leash in hand. 

much later he realises that the collar is different now, it’s no longer the slightly frayed old brown collar from before. this one is new. 

this one is green. a green that matches her hair… 

the thought of it makes his throat clog up with tears once again. when had she even had the time to go buy him a new collar? one to match her hair so perfectly? was it before or after he fucked up? matty scratches mayhem behind his ears who lets out a soft little whine and nuzzles him in return. maybe the puppy is sad too, maybe mayhem prefers being with her instead of being with him. 

the next few days he spends like a pig in a pigsty, surrounded by his own filth of food cartons and cigarette butts and coke cans. he makes it a mission to call her once every day—all of them go unanswered anyway so what’s the point?

by the time the seventh of april rolls around, matty doesn’t even bother thinking about his birthday anymore—there’s no pointing in celebrating it, he’s not even in the mood right now. one failed celebration is enough.

his friends, of course, have a whole different plan in mind. 

jamie shows up at his house the evening of the seventh, not ready to take no for an answer. it’s just a small dinner, he says, only friends and family. (matty knows that’s not true, knows it’s going to be a whole surprise party) but every “no” is met with a gentle refusal to accept it and so ultimately, he gives in and dresses up in his cleanest, least sad shirt. the one that least screams “i took my first shower of the week today”. 

jamie, to his credit, tries engaging him in conversation. matty, to his credit, tries not to answer in one syllable words. it gets exhausting real quick though, so they end up spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

everything that happens after is a blur in his mind—the pub looks ordinary from the outside, inconspicuous. everyone yells “surprise!” much like he predicted. matty smiles, cheery and fake. someone hands him a drink, which he tries to refuse but the person is too far away to hear him over the music now. his stomach roils at the thought of being in another pub, in the middle of another birthday party. 

he just wants to go home and curl up onto his bed and never move again. 

except…

matty’s heart stops when he spots a green head. 

he blinks rapidly, about to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t hallucinate. maybe there are drugs in the air, maybe the (untouched) drink in his hands is actually spiked. 

but the green head moves and she steps away from behind george, a glass of some dark cocktail in her hands and her eyes trained on him. matty staggers to a stop, about to drop the glass in his hands. 

“hey…” her voice is hesitant, unsure when she first walks up to him. from behind her, george throws matty a look, his brow raised as if to say one chance, matty. better make it right.

of all the things that have happened today, this… this is the real surprise. 

matty stands there like an idiot, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, unable to come up with a simple “hi”.

“should we… uh, head outside?” it’s when she points vaguely behind her, to the smoking area, that he realises just how loud it is inside. the consistent beat of the song thumps through his chest, making him feel more anxious than ever. in a daze, he nods and then dutifully follows her outside. 

as soon as the door to the smoking area closes behind him, she whirls around, arms crossed in front of her chest, brows knit in an indecipherable expression. “talk.”

oh.

well, that’s what he had said to her hadn’t he? in all the text messages he had sent. that he just wants to talk. he just wants one chance. and now that the chance is here, his mouth's as dry as a desert. 

“i was… an idiot, no forget that, i was a real cunt to you. just like you said, i’m so sorry for the awful shit i said, i…” his words come out stilted and awkward. he has no idea where he’s going with this, he only knows he needs to earn her forgiveness somehow. 

even if he has to get on his knees. 

“i got drunk an–and cruel and said things i didn’t mean—”

“what things?”

“w-what?” 

“the things you didn’t mean,” she clears her throat, “what things were they? the part where you said i love you or–or the part where you said it was all a joke?”

matty’s insides feel like jelly all over again. it’s like he’s back where he was a week ago—just a boy, standing in front of the girl he loves, about to say the stupidest thing in the world. 

“well?”

“i didn’t mean it as a j–joke.” his voice comes out as a cowardly whisper, high pitched and barely audible. that’s no way to say the things he really wants to say! 

gathering all his courage, matty steps closer to her. to his utter surprise, she doesn’t step away. 

“it wasn’t a joke, what i said to you. i—” he chokes, nervously running a hand through his hair, wondering what the slight widening of her eyes means out of the million possibilities his brain’s already conjured up. 

“i know i was drunk and barely making sense but i meant it… i meant all of it.”

slowly, she uncrosses her arms, letting them dangle at her sides. the crease between her brows relaxes too. suddenly, it’a her taking a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe and she has to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes. the moonlight shines bright on her face, the glitter gleams on her eyelids, and for a moment matty is completely awestruck. 

how is he meant to find words when she leaves him so completely tongue-tied?

“and what’s ‘it’, huh?”

the faint ringing in his ears starts up all over again and music from inside the pub floats through the walls, mellowed and somehow peaceful. this is it, he thinks. he fucked it up once, he absolutely cannot do it again. 

“i meant i… i love you. not as a friend. i mean n-no, of course, i love you as a friend but i also meant it as something more. not that you have to reciprocate! i just–it’s just what i feel—”

the rest of his words die on his lips. get cut off by someone else’s lips more like it. her lips. against his. 

matty’s eyes resemble wide saucers until her arms wrap around him, fingers tangling into his hair. her nails brushing against his scalp is what makes his body relax and suddenly matty’s kissing her back. 

tenderly, he holds her cheek, tucking away stray hair behind her ear. his other hand rests on her waist, too hesitant to grip her tightly but too scared to just let go. as if once he lets go of her, she’ll float away, far away from him again, out of his reach. matty’s sure she can feel his heart hammering in his chest. he’s not super proud of it but the kiss makes him forget all about being embarrassed. 

the feel of her tongue lighting teasing his lips is all that matters. 

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, almost a… moan and pulls away abruptly, looking shy all of a sudden. 

matty touches his lips with trembling fingers. 

“was that too—”

“are you joking?!” if he though his voice was breathy before, it has nothing on what he sounds like now. the sound that comes out of him is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe and it’s making him feel dizzy. the good kind of dizzy. “so i fucked up, majorly, might i add! and i get rewarded with a kiss?!”

she giggles, all anger from before melting away right in front of his eyes. “it was more to shut you up honestly, you would have been here all night. rambling.”

for the first time in a week, matty can finally breathe, can finally feel the blood in his veins flow again. for the first time in a week, matty feels like a person again. “it wasn’t a reward. just because you’re pretty and a good kisser doesn’t mean i’ll forgive you so quickly.” 

matty grins, “you think i’m pretty?” and promptly gets punched in the arm.

it takes them a moment to stop giggling, but when they finally sober up, she turns serious again. “seriously though, matty, it hurt me a lot, what you did. i think… i think i can set it aside for tonight but i’m going to need some time to figure things out. 

matty nods. of course, he knows the impact his words must have had. shame and guilt blooms deep within him, strong and acrid. 

“don't forgive me yet, love. forgive me when i earn it. forgive me when you think i’m worthy of it.”

when she kisses him again, it’s deeper than the last time. her entire body is pressed against his, so warm and soft in arms, exactly like he’s imagined countless times before. he can’t stop himself—can’t stop him from finally holding onto her waist, hand sliding down to her ass. can’t stop himself from pushing her back till her back hits the wall and a soft gasp leaves her mouth. every nerve ending in his body is on hyperdrive. everywhere she touches, electricity zings through him. 

matty slides his tongue in her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and soothing the sting away with his tongue. every time he feels her shiver, matty presses further into her. he just wants more and more and more—more than he can do here and now on this balcony. 

all his friends are inside for fucks sake. 

“you can start now,” she teases, smiling roguishly against his mouth. “you’d look quite nice on your knees, i think.”

blood simmers under his skin, rushing south all at once and this time it’s matty who shivers, struggling to stand upright. 

“yeah? that what you want, sweetheart?”

“take me home, please,” she says. and matty agrees in a heartbeat. 

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[batsyforyou]

Random Pet Peeves: Feanorians Edition

Tags: Pet peeves (things that annoy people)

Pairings: None

Author's Note: I have Eonwe coming up as well as the pokémon one. Just thought to post this while I was at it.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

Curufin 

Fidgeting. He hates it, between the noise it can bring and the constant movement it drives him insane and causes him to lose focus. Like when you're on your last nerve and someone keeps making McDonald straw music insane. Like just stop already! 

Maedhros

Jokes about his height and comments about his missing hand. The 'How's the weather up there?’ jokes and the constant questions about his hand from those less informed drives him crazy. I mean honestly, how many times can you hear the same thing before it gets old? Now imagine being an elf with centuries of experience with these things. 

Celegorm 

Open mouth chewing. Most of the time Celegorm doesn’t care about anything anyone does but when it comes to eating and everyone is at the dinner table it's gross and noisy and he is sometimes convinced that their saliva food spatter somehow got in his food. Which he will promptly make a scene for and refuse to eat. 

Even worse is when he is feeling overwhelmed and stressed and chewing noises begin to drive him nuts like, oh my word, I’ve been there.  

Caranthir 

Mud and dirt tracked all over the floor. Especially if Celegorm is the one who couldn’t be bothered to take his shoes off before coming inside. 

Maglor 

When someone touches his stuff. Most of the time he can handle it with grace and be completely chill with finding his harp being moved into a different room. Because while it is annoying it isn’t world ending. So he’ll just roll his eyes, sigh and politely remind the culprit *coughs* Celegorm *Cough cough* to not move his things around. 

But if you really want to get his goat do what parents (and some absent minded friends) do best. 

When he goes to show you a journal with his music notes and ideas, flip into the area he didn’t show you. Like when you show someone a photo and they start SCROLLING THROUGH EVERYTHING. 

That will get him raging mad lol. 

Amrod and Amras

They both hate it when they get called by the other's name. And I don’t mean like when a stranger, like a servant, just makes a mistake (they are very understanding about this) I mean when they’ve known this person for literal years and they still can’t tell them apart. 

They also can’t stand it when family members confuse their hobbies with the other twins. While it isn’t big it doesn’t really feel good and can really upset them on days they aren’t doing well mentally. 

Celebrimbor 

When someone refers to his family as the monsters under the bed and uses them as scary ghost stories. Yeah, his family did kinda do it to themselves but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying. Especially when they get the details wrong like, “No, Maedhros didn’t have dark hair. His hair was red and curly.” Like if you're gonna try and scare people using real life people at least get the basics right. 

It also sucks because people will also turn him into a story character as well. Coming up with different assumptions and making weird rumors about him eating worms or something. It can be really bothersome and isolating. 

Besides all that he still loves his family and remembers them more as people with troubled pasts rather than monsters that hide under beds.

His Uncles and Atar are way too big to hide under beds anyway. 

Feanor

When someone questions his work and decisions. Not just once out of curiosity but over and over again. It grates on his sanity. 

Nerdanel

When someone talks about her children and husband leaving and doing all those horrible things. Like honestly can’t they have some class and not shove it in her face? Or even when someone asks her how she didn’t see Feanor’s behavior change or why she didn’t try to stop him sooner or the classic, “What did you ever see in that elf?” 

She loves her family very much and hates when people act all snotty about things.

masterlist

[shartletswritings]

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 4: Kirranari

TW: Minor violence (honestly nothing compared to arcane) This chapter was so much fun to write omfgggg I hope that you guys enjoy!!! It was NOT beta read, so warning for that. We die like men or somethin like that (i was too impatient and wanted to get this out for you all and I will probably be editing any typos I missed over the next few days) I also had NO intention of making it over 8000 words, but here we are 0.0

You try to not let it get to you. You really, honestly try to not let that brooding, stupid, big eared man get to you. You try to forget that he let you pin him down. That he stared into your eyes for longer than a regular person would. Who cares if he smells like flowers. You certainly don’t, that’s for sure.

            If nothing else, it gives you a necessary distraction from the letter left in your apartment. That is a… problem. But what the hell can you do about it? Tell Ekko? From what you’ve seen, the man will probably take you on as his own personal mission; desperate to find a way to free you from your demons. You don’t want that, not even a little bit. What you want is to leave every part of your life behind and start fresh with the Firelights.

            Chross found your apartment, he didn’t find you. He’ll have no reason to think you’ve started working with the Firelights, so your safe. Er… mostly safe. As safe as you can be from a man who has a whole goddamn army of soldiers hired for the sole purpose of gathering intel on people. And you’re clearly a bigger target than you thought you were. Maybe it was foolish to think he’d let you leave; Chross isn’t one to let his ‘possessions’ slip from between his shriveled, boney fingers.

            You pick yourself up from the floor of the training room. Everything is fine, you tell yourself, desperately clinging to the mantra like a learned monk. Besides, there isn’t anything you can do right now. Except get my mask. Right! Jordyn said they’d be finished today. That’s a perfect distraction from both the Hush Company and your current chirean-shaped problem—you aren’t sure which is more pressing, honestly.

            After a quick shower, you dress yourself in your own clothes, finally. You had forgotten how nice it was to wear something that was both clean and your own. Your sweater may be ratty and stained but it’s your sweater dammit and you slip it over your head with a sense of pride. What have I become? Someone who’s proud to wear their own clothes? Jannah help you. You run a comb through your hair and walk back to the courtyard towards Jordyn’s tent.

            They smile as they see you approaching, hopping off their workbench with a thump. “I was wondering when you’d be gracing my presence this morning. How did it go at your apartment this morning?” You can tell they’re toeing around the more obvious question: Malia told me you pretty much shut down out of nowhere and said nothing the whole way home.

            “It was fine, a bit weird being back for the last time, ya know?” You can not open this can of worms right now.

            They eye you from the side as they reach to grab something from the table but don’t question you. “Right. Anyways, I’ve got your mask all ready for you. Let’s see it on.”

            They take that widened stance again to get down to your level, gently slipping the mask over your face. You do your best to not dwell on the way their hand grabs your jaw to tilt your head up a few inches.

            The mask fits snuggly over your face and you’re pleasantly surprised that you still have a full field of vision. “It feels good, does it look okay?” Your voice comes out distorted and echoed—must be the voice box Jordyn was talking about yesterday.

            “Ya look great,” they smirk down at you, standing back up, “here, take a look.” They hold up a small mirror in front of you. The face of a white rat with large, dark eyes gazes back at you, and you… fucking love it. It feels right; all the nights you’ve spent sneaking in and out of small spaces, you find yourself surprised you’ve never thought to identify with the animal before Scar brough it up as an insult.

            “Jordyn, this is amazing.” You slip the mask off.

            “I didn’t wanna say anything, but in the moment a rat felt like a… er… bad choice. But it suits you, pip squeak.”

            You bristle slightly, furrowing your brow at the nickname, “Pip squeak?” You aren’t that much shorter than them.

            Jordyn laughs, “Yeah, my sister had a pet rat named Pip Squeak when she was a kid, fits you pretty good if you ask me.”

            You cross your arms, letting the mask dangle in your hand, “I guess.” You mumble.

They put a hand on your shoulder, attempting to suppress a chuckle. “It’s affection, newbie, I’m not bein mean, promise.” Their face lights up as though they just remembered something. They mutter over their shoulder at you as they turn back to their workbench and fumble around, “I almost forgot. Lemme get you the clip.”

“Clip?”

            “Yeah, for your mask. Gods damn it all, I just saw it.” They fumble for a few more moments before turning back, holding a small silver clip triumphantly in their hands. “Here, I’ll put it on.” You look down at them in abject horror as they kneel in front of you to fit the clip onto the waistband of your cargo pants. “It’s magnetic,” they continue, “If you slide your mask down on it, it’ll stay on till you slide it off. Designed it myself.” They wrap their large hands around your waist to pull themselves back up to standing, only letting go once they take a step back. “There, try it out for me?”

            Unable to piece together a properly witty remark, you follow their instructions in silence. Despite your discomfort at their brazen proximity, it is pretty cool; the mask hangs securely off of your pants. You nod approvingly and muster up a smile. “It’s great.” You pause, completely unsure how to end this interaction. You eventually settle for, “Well, I gotta get to dinner.”

            While you don’t actively slap your forehead with your hands as you walk away, you come pretty damn close. As if everything that happened today wasn’t enough, now you have Jordyn to deal with. Don’t flatter yourself, you scold, that’s just probably the way they are, right? You add it to the growing list of things you force yourself to not think about and walk into the mess hall.

            Apparently, you’re late to dinner; nearly every table is full of Firelights. It is easy to forget just how many people live in this community, and how few of them are soldiers like yourself. A table of children catches your eye and its another good distraction. Ekko’s righteous speeches are beginning to worm their way into your brain, despite your best efforts to prevent it. Everything you will do for the Firelights is ultimately for these children, so they can grow up in a world that isn’t eating itself alive. Two days in and I’m already going soft, you think as you fill a plate up and sit down at a table of fellow soldiers.

            You are so lost in your own thoughts when you sit down that you don’t even notice the argument until Scar’s drink is knocked onto the ground. He snarls at a soldier across from you and stands up.

            “Scar. Sit back down.” It’s Ekko, the strength in his voice surprises you. It’s easy to forget how much of a leader he is.

            To your complete surprise, Scar’s response is even harsher, “Don’t fucking start.” He storms out of the mess hall, leaving your whole table in stunned silence. You’ve seen him upset, sure, but never directed towards Ekko. Whatever happened must have been bad. Was it you? No it couldn’t be…

            “What the hell is his problem?” You ask Ekko once the emotional temperature begins to cool.

            “I wish I knew. He’s been in a shit mood evening.” He responds, his voice back to its normal cadence.

            You chance a look at the man Scar was arguing with. You can’t blame him, you currently wanna yell at the big bat-eared man yourself. He has that way about him; that awful, innate ability to get under your skin without trying. Still, to see him this visibly upset? In your experience he is more of a quiet loathing type of angry as opposed to whatever it was he just did.  

            Conversation eventually returns to normal: discussions of raids, population growth, shimmer levels. You tune most of it out and continue eating your meal when your name draws you out of your reverie. It’s Ekko again.

            “That sound okay?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

            “Hmm? Sorry.”

            “The briefing. Tonight, in my workshop.”

            You fumble to put his words to meanings in your brain. Right, tomorrow’s raid. You can distantly recall being told you’d be going on your first job on the way back from your apartment this morning, but you weren’t exactly in the headspace to take in any information.

            “Yes, I’ll be there,” you finally respond.

            Ekko smiles, “Glad to hear it.”

            It is a small group gathered in his workshop, waiting for Ekko’s game plan in the quickly setting sun. Everything is coated in a soft pink hue, and you find yourself watching a small bug walk directly into a fly-eating plant, the jaws closing so slowly that the fly doesn’t even realize it’s being devoured. A shiver crawls down your spine as it finally closes shut.

            You can put a name to every face you see in the room, which isn’t really that impressive considering there’s six of you waiting for Ekko’s arrival, but you give yourself the small victory. Scar is, as usual, leaning against a wall and looking like he’d rather be doing anything else. Malia and Eve are chatting in front of you and the other two soldiers are standing in silence. Everyone turns when Ekko walks in, giving him their full attention.

            “Good to see you all here,” he looks around at everyone, eyes finally landing on you. You shift. He pulls out a floor plan and spreads it on the table in front of him, waiting for you all to gather around him. “We recently got a tip of a shimmer factory in the wharf district. It isn’t a huge operation so taking it down won’t be difficult.” He points to a door on the side of the building. “They stop production around midnight, and this is the only active entrance after they close down for the night. From what we can gather, it’s pretty understaffed, so getting in and out shouldn’t be a problem.”

            One of the soldiers behind you speaks up, “How much are they producing. Like, how large of an operation is this place?” He points a finger to the map. “This building is massive.”

            “Actually, not that much.” he looks at Ekko curiously. He continues, “but we do know it is a central hub for transfers out of Zaun and into foreign markets. Not only that, but we have reason to believe it is also used as a storehouse for other factories, meaning it’s connected.” He looks up at you, “If we can get any information out of this factory before we burn it down, we could get the location of several other factories around the undercity.”

            “You want me to get into the overseer’s office?” You interrupt and the rest of the group turns to look at you. “Er… that is why you want me on this job, right?”

            Ekko smiles that mischievous smile you find yourself growing to love, “That is exactly what I want you to be doing.” He turns back to the others. “The rest of you should focus on clearing the building out and getting rid of all the shimmer you can, let her handle the office. That okay with you?” You nod. Of course it’s okay with you, this is what you do best.

            “And if the overseer happens to be in and decides to send out an alarm as soon as they see her?” Scar says. You glare up at him. He doesn’t even spare a glance towards you.

            “Then I’ll handle it.” You bite back. Ekko glances between the two of you but says nothing.

            “Right, well… You’ll head out tomorrow around 11:30. Does anyone have any questions?” Everyone shakes their head. “Great,” he claps his hands, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

            You turn to leave with the others, but Ekko calls your name. You bite back a groan, not in the mood for a lecture about Scar. “Are you comfortable with this? I’m sorry I put you on the spot back there. I know you’re used to stealing shimmer, so I assumed you would be okay getting documents instead. If you don’t think you can handle it, it’s okay.”

            You stare at him for a second before answering, “What? Oh no. This is what I’m best at.”

            He arches an eyebrow at you, “It is?”

            “Yes… Er… how hard can it be right? Just some papers.” You purse your lips.

            “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” He asks. It isn’t accusatory like you were expecting. He phrases it as any other question.

            “Yes.”

            “And you aren’t gonna talk about it, are you?”

            “No.” You really, really don’t want to, “Unless I need to.” Fighting the urge to scratch at the branding, you cross your arms.

            “I won’t force you, it just… might be nice to get some things off your chest is all.” If only he knew the half of it.

            “Well, when I need a therapy session, I’ll be sure to come to you.” It is harsher than he deserves but you can’t really help it. His smile falters and he looks almost hurt. With nothing left to say, you turn and walk out the door, heading straight to your room. It’s been a long fucking day.

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

            You’re in a much better mood the next morning. The sunshine in the courtyard that hits your face as soon as you walk outside helps exponentially. As does your warm cup of tea and bowl of rice porridge. You can make this a good day. You’ll stick to your mental list, kick ass tonight, and go to bed a better person than yesterday, right?

            You walk back into the courtyard after finishing your small breakfast to see a gaggle of kids sitting in a circle in the dirt. You had no intention of going up to them—you meant to go back to the training room. It isn’t that you don’t like kids, they’re… fine. You just don’t really know what the hell you’re supposed to say to them, always worried you’ll say something too violent without meaning it. Especially with these kids. Growing up with the Firelights is a hell of a lot different from growing up in the undercity.

So it comes as a surprise when a young girl who can’t be older than 4 runs up to you and tugs at the sleeve of your shirt. “You’re the new lady, right? My ma told me about you.” She smiles up at you, golden brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Damned kids, they’re like vultures. Little, adorable vultures.

            “That’s right,” you answer. Your voice isn’t exactly harsh… just uninterested.

            “Come meet everyone!” She tugs at your sleeve to lead you back, and you let her despite yourself.

            You crouch down to get eye level with the group that soon surrounds you. A small redhead looks at you with what must be the largest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I heard your name is Pip.” A girl next to him snickers.

            “And who told you that?” You already know who it is. Damned Jordyn.

            The kid slaps his hand to his mouth to try and muffle his laugh, “I’onno,” he says, feigning innocence.

            You furrow your brows at the kid and he shrinks back a little. It twinges your heart to see so you stick a tongue out at him and his smile returns slowly. “Alright! You got me! My name is Pip Squeak. But you can’t tell the adults alright? I’m trying to work on my tough guy persona” You puff out your chest and flex dramatically. He laughs and the sound is like music to your ears. You reach out and grab his sides to tickle him. The kids around you erupt into hysterics.

            “Get her!” one cries.

Suddenly, you find yourself completely swarmed by young children. You let them wrestle you to the ground. A girl with curly, blonde hair jumps onto your stomach and does her very best to tickle you back with her chubby, ungraceful fingers.

You gently push the kids off of you and stand up at full height, letting out the best monster noise you can manage. The kids scream playfully.

You sit back on the ground and they surround you with wide, curious eyes. “Well? You all know my name. It doesn’t seem fair that I don’t know your names.” The kids consider your request very seriously, murmuring and glancing between one another. Finally, the redhead speaks up. They go around the circle and rattle of their names in varying degrees of clarity. As you listen to them, that increasingly familiar pang of envy begins to gnaw at your gut. These kids don’t know how lucky they are, and you pray to the Gods that they never figure it out.

            A young woman comes out of the door to a small wooden hut built into the wall. She walks over to your group holding a small bundle of fabric. “Alright kiddos, it’s nap time,” she says, her voice soft and melodic.

            A collective groan erupts from the children surrounding you. One small voice speaks in protest, “Nooooo but we wanna hang out with Pip!”

            The woman looks at you suspiciously, “Oh. Pip you say?” Her voice is playful. You can’t recall the woman’s name, but you’re certain you met.

You shrug your shoulders at her and ruffle the hair of the girl clinging to your leg. “How about I come with to get ready for your nap. Whaddya say?” This answer seems to satisfy the kids, and your group makes its way back to the hut. Inside you see what seems to be a nursery; toys and books fill the shelves lining the walls and a row of small cots are placed off to the far side of the room.

The woman turns to you as the kids begin to settle into their individual cots. “My name is Jess, by the way. I know they can be a handful; I appreciate you giving them your time.”

            You shake your head earnestly, “Not at all!” You look down at the bundle in her arms and realize it’s the baby you saw Scar holding on your first morning here. “Is that Scar’s kid?”

            She nods, “Yeah, this is Aster.” She looks down at the sleeping child and smiles. “Hey, I don’t mean to throw even more at you, but do you think you could hold her while I get the kids down for their nap?”

            Before you can even answer she is placing the baby in your arms and walking back to the toddlers in their beds. You freeze, staring down at the creature in your hands completely unsure what to do. You don’t think you’ve ever held a baby before. Aster shifts at the sudden change but settles quickly in your arms. You go through what you think a baby needs while it’s being held: head is supported, she’s not upside down, you’re pretty sure she isn’t going to drop out of your arms. You can do this. You’ve killed people dammit, sold shimmer, run from enforcers. You can hold a baby for a few minutes while that poor, overworked woman deals with the kids she needs to look after—you aren’t really sure she’s overworked but you know you would be if you had five toddlers to take care of and a baby.

            Aster begins to fuss in your arms, her tiny, chubby face contorting and she begins to whimper. You can handle this. You try to think what people do with babies. You remember Scar rocking her, so you do your best to rock back and forth, throwing in a “shhh” for good measure. By some miracle it works, and Aster begins to settle, her face relaxing and her quiet, pitiful whimpers subsiding. You smile down at her. She is really fucking cute. Like… sure, every baby is ‘cute’ but this kid… Wow. You realize, the longer you hold her in your arms, that she smells familiar. It takes you a second to place it and then it clicks. She smells like flowers. She is the reason Scar smells like flowers. You don’t really know how to process this information, but it makes your heart do funny things that you don’t like one bit.

            You don’t even notice that Jess has tucked the kids in. “She’s a little angel, isn’t she?” Her voice is soft and quiet as she looks down fondly at the sleeping infant in your arms.

            “Yeah.” You look back up at her, “I don’t know where she gets it, probably her mom. Can’t be from her dad.” You don’t even think about what you’re saying before the words leave your mouth. Oops. You bite your lip.

            She laughs, “No, Scar is really great with her. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he gets a little misty-eyed every time he drops her off in the morning.” You look at her incredulously, of all the things you could picture Scar doing, crying is just above apologizing.

            “Who is her mom, anyways?” You finally risk asking the question that’s been on your mind from the moment you saw Scar with the baby. Purely out of curiosity, you remind yourself, not for any other, more personal reason. You force yourself to remember the list. Not that it matters anyways, if anything you should feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with Scar.

            “She… isn’t around anymore.” Jess’s once relaxed and open demeanor seems to shrink back a bit. You make a mental note to not push that anymore, with anyone.

            You sigh gently, looking back to Aster. You need to leave and get ready for the day, but you find yourself wounded at the thought of leaving her. What the fuck is happening to you? Jess seems to notice your hesitation, “You can come visit whenever you want. I won’t tell Scar, Pip.” She uses the name affectionally and another part of you melts. Maybe I do like kids… who’da thunk it.

            After prying Aster out of your arms and back into the much more experienced care of Jess, you return to your original goal of the training room. It is empty when you walk in, which you tentatively take as another good sign for today.

            The punching bag seems to be mocking you as it sways lightly from its chains, so you resolve to show it no mercy. It is your kicks this time, not your punches, that takes the focus of your workout. It isn’t like you’re planning on fighting Scar again… but it would probably be good to be able to throw a few kicks without getting your ass handed to you.

            By the time you finally leave you are dripping with sweat and exhausted, but you feel good, damnit. And no one came to interrupt, which is even better. You take a cold shower and spend the rest of your afternoon mentally preparing for tonight’s raid.

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

            Malia and Eve are already waiting near the hideout entrance when you make your way down. Malia smiles at you and Eve puts the butt cigarette she was smoking out on her shoe. “Didn’t know you smoked,” you say.

            She shrugs and says nothing, silently offering you one. You shake your head, and she shrugs again, pulling a fresh one from her pocket.

            You adjust the straps of the bag slung across your back. This actually feels pretty natural for you: waiting to break into a guarded facility. If you weren’t with the Firelights, this would feel exactly like any other night. You’re wearing your usual uniform of black, skintight clothes and wearing a bag big enough to put whatever you find away safely. The knife attached to your hip is a welcome, familiar weight. Really, it’s ironic how full circle you’ve come: stealing information to stealing shimmer and right back to stealing information. You laugh out loud, and Malia looks at you, you say nothing.

            Ekko walks up with the rest of the soldiers to see the six of you off. He looks you up and down and a flash of concern ghosts over his usually bright eyes; you should apologize for how you acted yesterday. Not in front of everyone else, of course, but you make a mental note to talk to him later.

            “Everyone feel ready?” His tone is normal which makes you feel a bit better—not that you thought he was one to skulk. You all nod in agreement. He goes over the plan one last time before opening the door and watching as the six of you walk away.

            The sounds of footsteps echo down the stone tunnel as you walk. Your torchlight illuminates Scar as he leads the group down the tunnel, his large back blocking most of your vision. It feels wrong to break the quiet, but you can’t stand to walk in silence and resolve to making small talk with Malia who walks besides you.

            The wharf is close enough that you don’t take hoverboards—which you would have much preferred even just to show off your improvement—and it only takes a few minutes by foot before you are standing outside of a massive building. The smog of the city always mixes eerily with the mist rolling off of the water and the red lights glowing outside of the factory adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

            “Can’t believe this was under out noses the whole time,” Eve’s voice is distorted slightly from her mask, and it reminds you to slip your own over your head.

            “We can’t go around checking every building in Zaun,” says the soldier wearing a cat shaped mask behind you.

            “Still. I’ve probably walked past this godsdammed place a thousand times and they’ve been shipping out shimmer the whole time. Pisses me off.”

            “Will all of you shut up?” It’s Scar’s voice. You had forgotten how fucking sinister he looks in his own mask—not that he isn’t terrifying without it. “Malia, you take out the guards at the door. The rest of us will follow in once they’re down. You,” he looks at you now, “don’t fuck it up, got it?”

            “I can handle myself,” you hiss. This fucking asshole.

Malia is already walking towards the guards, her demeanor completely different from her prim, postured norm.

            She stalks over towards the two guards sitting outside of the door, keeping low to the ground. They don’t notice her until she lets out a long, low whistle. One of them picks his head up and calls out into the night. Malia says nothing and continues her slow advance, this time standing up straight.

            The other man notices her finally and flicks his cigarette onto the ground. “You better turn around and go back to where you came from,” he calls menacingly.

            Malia snaps her head to a harsh angle, staring the man down, almost like a crow. Right, duh. Makes sense, that’s her mask.

            Suddenly, faster than the men can react, she rushes them and plunges a knife into each neck. They don’t even have a chance to yell before they topple to the ground, choaking on their own blood.

            Your group begins to advance slowly. Sure, you could follow them into the main room, wait for them to clear out any goons, before finally being allowed to go into the overseer’s office once they’ve made sure its safe for you, like Scar would probably prefer. Or you could do it your way. You like the second option much better

            Breaking off from the group as they enter the now unguarded door, you scramble up a low wall and onto a small window ledge. Gently, you pry the window open and drop into the warehouse, silent as a cat. You find yourself on a high balcony overlooking the factory floor. Barrels of shimmer sit in rows below you. You take a moment to situate yourself from what you can remember of the floorplans you looked at last night. If you’re here… then… Right. The door at the end of the balcony must be the entrance to the hallway that leads to the office. This is child’s play, you think.

            You walk down the balcony, keeping yourself low to the wall. Footsteps around the corner catch your attention. You duck behind a pile of boxes, and you silently pull your knife out of your belt, just in case. You don’t exactly like killing people, but you’re not against it if the situation demands a bit of violence. Luckily, the man rounds the corner and keeps walking, completely oblivious to your presence. You wait a moment for him to be out of earshot before slipping from your hiding spot and continuing down the balcony.

            Carefully you open the door to the hallway and slink inside. The door at the end of the hallway must be the office and a rush of confidence surges through your veins.

            Getting inside is painfully easy, the damned door isn’t even locked. The room is nice, you suppose, but you’ve seen better; this factory is pretty clearly a low-level supplier. Finding the information isn’t too difficult either. Once you make it inside of the pathetically locked filing cabinet, you are rewarded with several folders full of papers and a quick glance at them confirms that they are, in fact, records of dealings with other factories and warehouses. Ekko’s information was sound.

            You turn to leave, feeling very smug, when a small, locked case above your head catches your eye. It is slightly out of reach, so you hop onto the filing cabinet to pick the lock. It is harder to crack which makes you even more intrigued; whatever is in here must be worth safeguarding. Just as you click the final pin in place, Scar’s sharp voice catches your attention.

            “Kirranari!” You whip around, nearly falling off the cabinet. “You were supposed to stay with the fucking group,” he bites from behind his mask.

            The door to the case opens before you get a chance to ask him what the hell he called you. You turn back to see what it is you gained access to. It’s a case full of… alcohol? That’s what this overseer was so intent on keeping safe and not the pages and pages of confidential dealings?

            You are about to tell him off when the same man you saw on the balcony rounds the corner. He startles when he sees the two of you and whips out a pistol from a holster along his chest.

            You know you should jump out of the way, or duck, or something, but you find yourself frozen. His face… You didn’t see it before, but there is no mistaking it. The harsh angle of his once broken nose or the scar running down the side of his face; this is absolutely one of Chross’s enforcers. You can recall so clearly the smarmy grin on his face whenever you were brough into his office for one of your many fuck ups. Your stomach churns uncomfortably. What the fuck is he doing here? I thought this was one of Silco’s factories.

            A bullet fires from the pistol, and you don’t even react until it wizzes past your ear, imbedding itself into the wall just a few inches from your head. The man is dead on the ground before you can think to move, Scar standing over him, bloodied spear in hand.

            He whips around and walks over to you. Heavy hands coming down on your shoulders brings you back to reality, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You don’t have an answer.

            Once again, bile threatens to spill up from your gut. You force it back down. “S-sorry, I just… wasn’t thinking.” Your voice is much weaker than you want it to be.

            “You could have fucking died and all you have to say is that you weren’t thinking?” He shakes you, claws digging into the sides of your arms.

            He’s right, you think, bitterly. The letter has you jumpy. For all you know, the guy stopped working for Chross after you left. And even if he still did, it’s not like he could recognize you under the mask. Pull yourself together.

            You let out a long, low sigh, still looking up into Scar’s mask. “I found booze!” You say, bringing an arm up as far as you can with his hands still holding you in place—as though that negates what just happened.

            He snarls and lets you go with a shove. “Don’t fuck around like that again,” he says before walking out of the office and back towards the balcony, stepping over the body in the hallway.

            You will yourself to snap out of it as you place the bottles into your bag alongside the folders. You don’t know exactly what the alcohol is, but it looks strong and expensive, which is exactly what you need.

            You are met by the other soldiers on the floor of the factory. “Any luck?” Malia calls when she sees you approaching. Scar must not have told her.

            A nod, “Yeah, tons of information. I’ve got it all in here.” You throw a thumb back towards your bag and she gives you an approving thumbs up.

            They make quick work of sloshing cans of gas around the factory and once everyone is our, Eve lights a match from her pocket and tosses it into the building. Fire catches immediately and it isn’t long before flames begin to lick at the sides of the shimmer barrels. No one remains long enough to watch it blow especially knowing the crowd such a large fire will attract, and you are all several meters away when an explosion sounds.

            You gnaw on your lip beneath your mask the whole trip back, reducing it to a bloody lump. I need to figure my shit out, now. This stupid anxiety is beginning to become a serious problem. Private panic attacks you can handle, but nearly dying in front of Scar? Really, being in any state of venerability in front of him is a problem, regardless of whether or not it’s life threatening.

            You adjust your bag without thinking and clinking of bottles in your bag drags you from your thoughts and Eve shoots a look back towards you. “Doesn’t sound like papers in there.”

            “She found alcohol in the office,” Scar says, not turning back as he leads your group through the mazes of tunnels.

            Malia perks up, “Oh shit really? Is it any good?”

            “I couldn’t really say, but it was locked up like it was.” You say, reaching into your bag and pull a bottle out, handing it to her.

            She adjusts her light onto the label, “Holy fuck. This stuff is really expensive. Good find, Pip.”

            You groan, “Not you too.” Fucking Jordyn. She shoots a masked look back at you and giggles, jogging off to show the man in the cat mask, who hums appreciatively.

            Most of the hideout has gone to bed by the time you return, but you’re greeted with a small welcome party. You slide your mask back onto your belt and smile at them, desperately trying to put the last few hours behind yourself. Sure you almost died, but you got what you needed from the factory, that’s something, right?

You pull the folders out of your bag and hand them to Ekko who flips through them quickly. “Holy shit. This is huge, I can’t thank you enough,” he says and hands them to a woman next to him, asking her to take them back to his workshop to look at later. Malia calls you back to the group and you oblige.

You see Scar pull Ekko aside. The conversation looks heated, but you don’t have the energy or the drive to try and listen in. If Scar has a problem with you, he can say it to your face.

            Once greetings are finished and Scar and Ekko have rejoined the group, you pull a couple bottles out of your bag and hold them up for everyone to see. “Anyone up for a bit more?” Not a single person denies your offer and a few minutes later everyone is crowded around a table in the empty mess hall.

            Jordyn emerges from the kitchen with a tray of assorted, unmatching cups and you begin to pour out healthy servings of the alcohol into each. You give Jordyn a questioning look with an arched eyebrow, pausing at the cup in front of them. They smirk and nod wordlessly. So much for not touching anything.

            Ekko holds his own cup up and everyone looks at him expectantly, “To a job fucking well done.”

            Cheers erupt around the table, and everyone takes a drink. You down your drink in one gulp and—to your surprise—so does Scar. Malia wasn’t lying when she said this stuff was strong and you wince as it burns a path down your throat and into your belly.

            You don’t intend to drink as much as you do, but as soon as Jordyn pulls out a deck of cards and proposes a drinking game, you know you’re done for. The rules don’t make sense even after they are explained several times to you and you find yourself losing more than anyone in the group, which doesn’t help in your confusion.

            After about three shots too many you realize it may not be the worst idea to get some food in your stomach—anything to soak up the alcohol. As soon as you stand, it’s as if all the alcohol you have consumed throughout the night finally decided to kick in and… woah. You can’t remember being this drunk. Come to think of it… you can’t remember much of anything.

            You stumble towards the general vicinity of the kitchen and begin rooting around for something to eat. Once the door is closed, the laughter and conversation from the table is muffled and you take a moment to drunkenly enjoy the silence. Only one light is on over the sink and it’s just so peaceful in here… what did you come here for again?

            Food! Right.

            Coordination, you find, is extremely difficult and it takes you three tries to get your hand on the cabinet door. You yank it open triumphantly and—not realizing how close your face was—proceed to smack yourself directly in the nose. “Owwwww,” you groan out, a hand going to clutch your aching nose.

            A barking laugh startles you and you jump around, a yelp stifled under your hand. Scar is leaning against the counter looking annoyingly sober. “What the fuck do y’want?” Your words are slurred, and you struggle to keep him in focus, making your glare look more like a confused stare. Fuck, I’m wasted.

            “Wanted to watch the show.” He folds his arms across his insanely broad and muscular chest. Damn. Has he always been this hot? You blink. Where the hell did that thought come from?

            “Ya know… I should pro’bly thank you… for uh… savin my life.” You look up at his stupid, handsome face.

            He angles his chin up and looks down at you. “You should.”

            “But I won’t,” your giggle is light and hysterical and if you were sober in this moment you’d be kicking yourself for acting like a teenager. Get a grip, but your drunk mind refuses to heed any warning. You think you can remember having a list or something… what was it again? The memory is a blur, and you give up.

            He rolls his eyes but doesn’t snarl at you like you were expecting. You turn back around and pluck a loaf of bread from the cabinet, shoving your hands into the bag and pulling a couple of slices out.

            You turn around and hop up onto the counter to face Scar who is still standing there. Why is he here, anyways. He stares intently as you take a mouthful of the plain bread, chewing intently as you look back at him. Your brows furrow, with a mouth still full of bread you ask, “Why d’you hate me so much?” The question isn’t harsh, you genuinely want to know. “I mean, I know we got off on a bad foot or whatever,” your legs swing from under you, bouncing your heels against the base of the counter.

            “I don’t hate you.” He sounds uninterested but not bored.

            “You act like you do. You always have tha’stupid snarl on your face,” you take another mouthful of bread. Scar says nothing. “I just think you could stand to be a l’il nicer, s’all.”

            The door of the kitchen opens and Jordyn pops their head inside, smiling when they see you. “Pip, I was missin you. Come on back.” They sound about as drunk as you are. You hop down from the counter and, after taking a moment to get your balance back, walk back into the mess hall.

            The group is slightly smaller than when you started. Ekko has already left with Eve and a couple others, leaving only you, Jordyn, Scar, and the two other soldiers that came on your raid today. You plop down on the chair next to Jordyn and feel their arm fall over your shoulder. Maybe you should care, but it’s nice to have someone close to you. Especially as muscular as Jordyn. You’re pathetic. Scar would feel better. Bet he’s warmer. He was practically on fire yesterday in the gym.

            The memory of the gym twists something strange and deep in your gut. You push your hair out of your eyes. Your clothes feel too tight, and the air around you feels too hot. You need to leave, to get some fresh air. Jordyn, mercifully, doesn’t react when you jump out of their grasp and stumble for the door. “M’ goin to bed,” you mumble before pushing out into the cool of the night.

            You practically moan at the feeling of the night air on your skin; this is exactly what you needed. To be out of the noise and the heat and the people. It isn’t enough, you realize, you need more. Practically tripping over your feet, you make your way to the hoverboard that has been left out near the entrance to the mess hall.

            “Don’t.” A familiar voice behind you calls, “you’re gonna snap your neck.”

            “Am not,” you bite back to Scar, not realizing how fucking childish you sound. You place the board down and step into it.

            Right before you can start it up, a hand wraps around your wrist. “I said don’t. I saved your life once today, don’t make me do it again.” A shiver rolls down your spine. What is this man doing to me?

            “I-” words fail you as you look up into those green eyes. “M-maybe yeah…”

            His brows furrow at something, but before you can ask, he is lifting your arm up and pushing your sleeve up. Your heart tuns to ice and your stomach clenches painfully as he gazes at the branding in your flesh. This is it, you think in a drunken, terrified blur, they’re gonna think I’m a spy, or untrustworthy, or even worse: pathetic. Gods, you don’t want that. You can’t bear the thought of pity.

            Scar, seeming to notice the fear in your eyes, says nothing as he pushes the sleeve back down. “You need to get to bed.” His voice is soft and lacking its usual sharpness. You suck a breath in as all the tension leaves your body. Fuck. Your knees go out and you feel yourself tumbling towards the floor. He grabs you again, wrapping two large hands under your arms and hoisting you back up. “You’re wasted.” He sounds unamused.

            “Nuh-uh.” Even you know it’s a lie. He just… looks at you. You push yourself out of his arms and start to walk back through the courtyard and to your room. You get about two steps before you stumble again and this time there is no large chirean to catch you.

            He walks over and peers down at you. “You gonna let me help you? Or did you plan on crawling back to your room?”

            You scowl at him. “I don’ need your help, pretty boy.” Gods damn it all, did you say that out loud? From the way his lips twist, you did. You slap a hand to your head, dragging it down your face. “Fine…” you mumble, cheeks burning.

            Tentatively, you reach your hands up, expecting him to pull you back to your feet. So it comes as a complete surprise when he bends down and wraps one arm under your back and another under your knees to lift you completely, as if you weigh nothing. He must know what he’s doing, right?

            You struggle in his arms for a moment—whether it is out of a genuine desire to be put down or simply to save face you don’t really know—and he only tightens his grip. “You couldn’t walk two steps; I don’t have the patience to watch you stumble all the way back. Now quit squirming.” His tone is surprisingly gentle, you stop resisting, leaning your head against his shoulder and take in his smell for the second time. It is still just as irresistible.

            You’re quiet for a while and you realize that it is almost… nice? It’s nice to be carried by him; despite how absolutely insulting it is to your agency. You feel safe—which is not an experience you take lightly. “I met Aster this morning,” you finally say, voice quiet in the night air. He looks down at you for a moment but doesn’t stop walking. “I don’t really like kids but… she’s pretty sweet. An’ she’s lucky to have you as her dad… I guess.”

            He lets out a woosh of air that could almost be considered a laugh. “Glad you think so.” You close your eyes and stay silent for the rest of the walk back to your bedroom.

            He lays you down in your bed with a surprising amount of gentleness and you flutter your eyes gently open to see him staring down at you. There is a look of… something in his eyes. He turns to leave and you feel a pang of sadness. “Scar,” you call almost inaudibly. His ears twitch and he turns back towards you, “please don’t tell Ekko…”

            You see in his gaze that he understands what you mean. The branding. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Kirranari.”

            “Wait,” he stops and turns back to you, looking only slightly exasperated, “wha’s that? Kirranari? Ya said it back in the factory… I think.” The word stumbles from your lips in a butchered pronunciation compared to the way he says it, which is almost… reverent.

            You can’t read his expression, “’One who sneaks’. It’s chireanai,” he rolls his eyes at your lack of comprehension. Hey, I’m drunk, not like it’s my fault. “It means ‘rat’.” He closes the door without waiting for your answer.

            You fall asleep with a stupid, drunken smile on your face.

I knowwww chirean’s don’t technically speak with words but indulge me. I love sweet, soft Scar so bad guys. He’s my favorite DILF. Ok, gonna go write chapter 5. I love you all so much, thank you for sticking with me for this silly little story that I have put way too much of myself into. Oh well!!

Tag List: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist @calciferthelivingfire

[mochiwrites]

Any thoughts to share about the secret husbands reunion? It's giving me such brain worms, they're so soft!

ofc!!! :D

so after they reunite on mumbo’s redstone world and catch up, grian stays there for a few days with scar Constantly visiting. and honestly I think it’s an opportunity for mumbo and scar to become better friends as well! the three of them spend a lot of time in each others company after all. but mumbo does try to give scar and grian some space (I think mumbo is one of the first to notice they’ve got feelings for each other)

he also gets a front row seat to scar becoming his normal self again. the man can’t stop smiling, and he’s like a bouncy ball with how much he’s just moving around and cheerful (mumbo catches grian looking at him with a terribly fond smile Very often)

grian probably stays with mumbo for hmmm two weeks? maybe a bit longer? after crashing into his world? it gives them a lot of time to get to know each other (they get along extremely well — just like scar thought they would) and while grian doesn’t tell him Every little detail about the watchers, mumbo does end up learning about what happened and is one of the only people who knows the most

when scar isn’t with them, he’s back on the season five world hatching a plan to sneak grian onto hermitcraft

said plan is foiled Very quickly when it’s found by cub and xisuma himself. they laugh about it because “scar you could’ve just asked us to invite grian” and scar is rambling because he knows it has to be a unanimous vote and what if not everyone agrees and he’s just gotten grian back x :( he can’t be separated from him again :(

to which cub just sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him it’ll be fine (scar brings it up at the next meeting and everyone is enthusiastic about grian joining them. scar cries. a lot.)

and when he and mumbo pop into mumbo’s world again where grian is, they drop the news on him (no scar did Not tell grian about any of this beforehand) and maybe grian gets a little teary eyed too

scar stays in the world that night, curled protectively around grian and they whisper to each other about hermitcraft, the sort of server it is and the people in it. and he’s quick to reassure grian of his place in it when grian is doubtful

after grian’s injuries heal up enough mumbo lets him have his own lil plot in the world to practice his building again. it’s been so long that he’s… nervous about doing it again. what if he’s no good anymore?

when scar comes to visit he’ll sit and watch grian build, introducing the new blocks and colors and oh he’s greatly missed the way grian’s eyes sparkle with interest or when he’s got a new idea for a build — sometimes they build together, and sometimes mumbo joins them, learning some things

(he’s kind of in awe, watching the two of them work together. it’s very inspirational)

sometimes they do a build competition, with little prompts and everything. they take turns on who judges the build/gives the prompt and who actually builds

and when it’s time for season five’s ending, grian is alone in mumbo’s world for a bit while scar and mumbo wrap up whatever they need to. it’s… hard to be alone, but he comforts himself by looking at the reminders of scar (and mumbo) and he gets through

scar gets a bear hug when they return though. and then mumbo too, just so he doesn’t feel left out <3

then finally… scar brings grian home. and they’re both very emotional about it. grian sees jellie and she’s glued to his side despite his fear she wouldn’t remember him. she is extremely adamant about sleeping On grian at night, and scar teases him about stealing his cat. “our cat,” grian replies with a big grin. though scar says something about jellie missing him just as much

(I think on those days when scar would stay at their hypixel apartment in hopes grian would come home, jellie went with him. and at night she’d curl up on grian’s pillow a lot. her favorite toy would be on his side of the bed, always. scar would hold bring grian’s pillow in close with her on it and cry)

while waiting for season six to start they spruce up the apartment a bit !!! they try to get back into the swing of their routine while accounting for the new things (grian’s wings, his fears, his nightmares, the powers they gave him)

it isn’t easy, but they get through it. and when the season properly begins, they spawn in, and grian goes off on his own to adventure and meet everyone. he’s… a little awkward and shy (very unlike him, he knows) but ironically ends up right by scar and mumbo and he’s so relieved (I think scar and grian talked about basing near each other before the season began)

and yeah :D

[ewingstan]

Halloween and cringetober may be behind us, yet I remain, coughing this up onto your back porch. Alec Lisa and Aisha were the only ones who enjoyed the costume party. Individuals and costume explanations below the cut:

Aisha and Brian: Power and Aki Hayakawa Chainsaw Man

This one goes out to the nine-year old I work with who wore a Denji costume for the school Halloween parade. Shoutout to you guy I don't know how you're allowed to watch that its the blood and sexual fantasies show.

I feel like miss suiciding-baiting-people-on-4chan would like Power. Aki works for Brian as they carry the "supposedly normal responsible one of their batshit group who very clearly has something wrong with him" niche of their series.

I feel like CSM is something that Brian and Alec would put on in the background when they were hanging out together. It's not really either of their thing, but it good pizza night fodder. Brian freaks out when Aisha mentions watching it.

Brian agreed to be Aki after he learned he could just wear a suit instead of making a real costume. Brian obviously likes objectively ridiculous costumes but it has to be something strained through 5 layers of machismo and a 17-year-old's idea of professionalism. He'll dress like something that gets painted onto a van but if there's too much whimsy or fun he'll start to freak. So halloween costumes would be weird for him. Aki just wearing a suit and a sword seemed like a good solution for this right up until the point where he had to explain what it was. Its from, hm, y'know, uhhhh this anime that my sister likes I'm just here to match with her.

Whenever he pulls the "I'm just in costume for my sister" thing Aisha makes everyone forget she exists. No escaping the weeb allegations for you Brian.

Taylor and Lisa: Madoka Kaname and Homura Akemi, Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Don't know if I need to explain this one, Worm/Madoka comparisons are almost cliche at this point

The costumes were Lisa's idea. Obviously.

The costumes were also Lisa's purchases, and enough was spent on them to make a veteran cosplayer weep. Her refusal to die her hair black would also make them weep but for different reasons.

After taking a look at herself Taylor enveloped herself in a particularly dense bug swarm for the whole night.

She eventually retreated to some side-room she found Brian hiding in and chatted with him for the rest of the party. On the condition that he make a darkness cloud for her.

She started choking on a prawn half an hour in after remembering he could see through his darkness clouds.

Rachel and Alec: Jade Harley and Dirk Strider, Homestuck

They are not going as a matching pair. Rachel does not know that she and Alec are wearing costumes from the same comic. She does not know what Homestuck is. This is one of the many ways she's better than us.

Rachel thinks she should've just been able to wear her usual dog mask for this party. Its a costume. What do you mean it doesn't count.

And why is her usual mask not enough, but the dog ears Cassie was really excited to loan her are fine? Aren't ears less costume than a full mask?

Admittedly apart from the pseudo-mind-control Alec and Dirk don't have a lot in common. Alec probably thinks he's more like Dirk than he actually is.

Dirk is if the concept of being in your own head was a guy, nay several guys, while Alec literally has to outsource getting in touch with his emotions to other bodies. Honestly the closest worm character to Dirk would probably be Krouse, considering the whole "chessmaster-manipulator who puts everything on himself and overmanages all his relationships while self-identifying as the person who can handle being the bad guy" thing, which Alec doesn't have going on at all. However:

It let me put Alec in a silly little fancylad outfit.

(Also they're both SB&HJ fans, so honestly I think its the perfect choice).

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Various Storms and Saints- Prologue

"You still haven't told me if he's cute or not."

Scully sighed and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck. Nobody could make her regret bringing up a subject as quickly as her sister when she put her mind to it. "No, Missy, I haven't," she allowed. "Because it's irrelevant. Mulder's good looks aren't the reason I miss working with him."

"So you admit it? He is cute?"

"Missy. Can we please have a serious conversation, for once?"

"Fine, fine," Melissa acquiesced, though her tone made it clear this point would be revisited in the future. "Tell me why you miss working with him, then."

"Well... part of it is the cases we tackled together," Scully said. "The autopsies I'm stuck doing now that the X-Files are shut down seem so boring in comparison to murderous clones and mind-controlling worms in the Arctic."

Melissa whistled. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a little bit of a come down. What's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said the cases are part of the reason. So what's the other part?"

Scully closed her eyes. How to define this most indefinable of relationships, especially to Melissa, who so often seemed to think every person in her life fit into a neat box? "I miss the way he spoke to me," she said finally. "He never talked down to me, not even when he was standing so close I practically had to break my neck to meet his eyes. He made me feel like the things I have to say are important... that they carried real weight with him, even when he didn't agree with me." She chuckled ruefully. "Which was most of the time. He's always shown me a respect that I don't get that often, being surrounded by men in positions of authority who all love to hear themselves talk."

"That does sound like it would be tough to leave behind," agreed Melissa. "Couldn't you... I dunno, lobby to be his partner on whatever assignment he's on now, though? Then at least you'd still be working together even if it wasn't in the X-Files."

"He's working with someone else," said Scully darkly. "At least he was on his most recent case. I don't know if they're officially partners or not."

"And you don't like whoever it is," said Melissa knowingly. "I can hear it in your voice." "I don't really know anything about him," Scully admitted. "But... there's something strange about him, you know? He just makes me nervous." There had been something about Alex Krycek's fresh-faced innocence that had seemed less than genuine, even if Scully couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Bad vibes, huh?"

"Maybe." Scully sighed. "For all I know, it's just my jealousy getting in the way because I want to be the one out there with Mulder."

"See, I knew you liked him," crowed Melissa, and Scully groaned, exasperated.

"Melissa. It's not like that."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Melissa huffed. "Hang on a sec, okay?" The phone was muffled, as though Melissa had put her hand over the receiver. Someone's voice asked a garbled question, Melissa gave an equally garbled response, and a moment later, she was back. "Hey Danes, I gotta go, okay?"

"Wait, Melissa, what's your--"

"There's a meditation session I'm supposed to lead and they're waiting for me. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"But Melissa, where are--" There was a click, and the line went dead.

Scully dropped her bedroom extension back into its cradle on the nightstand and sank back onto her bed with a sigh, snuggling into the cardigan she'd pulled on over her work clothes when she'd walked into her apartment. She'd come home from work for lunch, having finished her morning teaching session a little early, and had been available purely by chance when Melissa called for the first time in two months. Phone conversations with her older sister, while always welcome, tended to be exhausting these days. She hadn't seen Melissa in years, not since the day after her graduation from medical school. Melissa hadn't made it to the event itself, but she'd shown up at the party her parents had thrown her afterwards. Melissa hadn't understood her sister's disappointment, and Maggie Scully, as she so often did, had defended her elder daughter to her younger.

"You know big ceremonies aren't really your sister's thing, Dana," she'd said, patting Scully's shoulder consolingly. "She barely sat through her own high school graduation. Just be thankful she's here for the celebration, all right?"

Sitting through a graduation ceremony was boring, to be sure, but that hadn't stopped Scully from doing it for all three of her siblings when they'd finished high school, plus for Bill and Charlie when they'd finished college. In her opinion, it had nothing to do with how exciting or boring the ceremony itself was, and everything to do with showing up for the people she loved when their hard work and accomplishments were recognized.

Showing up. That was something Melissa had traditionally had difficulty with, when it came down to it.

They hadn't even had a working phone number for Melissa last Christmas when Ahab had passed. Scully, tasked with handling everything while her mother waded through her initial shock and grief, had called every friend of Melissa's she could think of, trying to locate her sister, and had failed. She'd been reduced to sending a letter to Melissa's last known address in hopes it might get correctly forwarded. But it never got to her, as was evidenced three months later when Melissa had called home, chatted with Maggie cheerfully about her recent travels, and then had asked to speak to her father and had been completely lost when her mother had burst into tears.

"Free-spirited" had always been how the family had described Melissa. But deep down, in her darkest and most shameful thoughts, the word Scully sometimes landed on was "selfish."

Scully's cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She half-expected it to be Mulder, begging her to do another autopsy he couldn't trust with anyone else, but it was Roy Seekamp, a fellow FBI pathologist whose office in the Hoover building was next to Scully's.

"Where are you?" asked Roy. "One of the AD's came looking for you but your office is locked. Skinner, I think his name was?"

"I came home for lunch. What's going on?"

"Something big is going down in Virginia," said Roy. "Some hostage situation with an escaped mental patient."

Scully frowned, confused. "Why would they need me for that?" she asked.

"I don't think they actually need you or anything," said Roy. "The AD was just looking for you to let you know your old partner is there on the scene."

Scully's heart skipped a beat. "Mulder is there?" She got off the bed and raced out of her bedroom, tearing off the cardigan and snatching up her bag. "What's he doing there? He's not a hostage negotiator!"

"No idea," said Roy. "I think AD Skinner just wanted you to hear it from him. You coming back to the office?"

"Yes," Scully said, pulling on her shoes. "Be there soon." She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her bag, then looked down and realized she was still clutching her cardigan. She folded it in half and draped it over the back of her couch on her way out the door.

It stayed there, untouched, for over a month.

[arsene-fixates]

Informant Really Does Care (About Family)

I got brain worms the other night so (arms stretched wide) hi everyone thanks for tuning in to yet another analysis of this guy

this one's a combination of a continuation to my older 'he cares about the townspeople' analysis and also a third parter to my analysis about his family

spoilers under the cut as always ^_^

Initially i had thought that Informant didn't truly like his family, with how dismissive he was when he first revealed himself to felix in the forest-- his words being 'i had to leave my friends, home, and family' with family being the last in the list (mild hinting at how he wasnt really a fan of them from the start)

or how when informant and felix first reunited, they had almost gotten into 2 arguments, first one due to felix almost resigning as the mayor and informant trying to convince him not to do so, which led to informant revealing that felix has never really listened to him when they were children and was always making decisions for him

the second argument being how felix wants informant to come back and throw away his life of being the informant and just live as his brother which leads to informant cutting himself off from the family

but in the scene where he decides to cut himself off from his family, he says this

but the thing is that even with how detached he acts towards felix, he genuinely does care still

like.. informant was going to sacrifice himself by becoming the wolf forever for the sake of felix, to put his worries at ease, and just before he was going to do it, he asked me to give him a locket which contained a picture of him and felix when they were young and he says this

'it reminded me of what truly matters'

or when he had to submit to the witch to figure out why he was acting so recklessly, (the thought parasite arc) the thing that calmed him down was a childhood memory and he has also kept keepsakes from their childhood. I Am Crazy

I feel like this strained behavior that he has around his family is connected to an inferiority complex he has, similarly to how he doesn't talk about himself much, he also tends to brush his own issues aside

note how he says it has a passing remark, lets it linger for a bit and then just moves on as if it isn't a big deal

"i still bring my loved ones so much trouble" and "i thought felix would be better off with me"

i think this was a product of the thing that felix had said to him just before informant disappeared

"I have no time. There's a pile of papers i have to deal with" and while felix did admit that the paperwork was more important to him than informant at the time, his disappearance was a burden on his shoulders <- his words

and reminder, informant was already a pretty solitary person (and frankly, quite lonely) before he became the werewolf, a person who had always kept to himself

i imagine felix saying this was also a blow to his self esteem. He never felt he fit in with the people around him, and now his own family is turning him away? it must be hard to have to warm up to family again after being apart for so long

he misses him, but he acts detached, arguing as if they were young and then cutting himself off from the family... Informant feels too kind for his own good if i could be honest, kind and independent to a fault.

i was absolutely fooled by him.. he truly does care...

ALSO i don't know if i mentioned this in the previous family analysis stuff but one thing i love about felix and informant is how they perceive each other's actions differently

Felix is protective of informant because he's his little brother, and by quite a large age gap too so its natural for him to feel like an instinct to worry and want the best for him but but informant perceives that as felix being controlling

and WHILE YES, THAT BEHAVIOUR ESSENTIALLY MAKES FELIX NOT QUITE CARE ABOUT HOW INFORMANT FEELS ABOUT THE DECISION MAKING, FELIX'S INTENTIONS ARE OVERALL GOOD BUT INFORMANT TAKES THAT AS NEGATIVE

and Informant wanting to take back that control of his life.. felix perceives that as informant rebelling and "not him" because informant had been obedient to him for so long and now that informant's doing his own thing felix feels apprehensive to it

blood is thicker than water but neither water or blood can account for separation from it's source. they've existed outside their roles as siblings for so long with different experiences that they're just different people at this point

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello :-) I was just wondering if you have overall thoughts now on how you feel about The Drop in series one now we’ve seen all of Louis’ perspective on what happened?

I’ve been mulling it over (and trying to separate it from the fact I find the discourse in fandom about it (Lestat) annoying). I can see why the show runners wanted to do it; it makes the relationship’s toxicity much more clear and Lestat was abusive in the books, just not as clearly as 1x05 lays it out. So I can see why they wanted to give Louis (and especially Claudia) that much more motivation. I did also find Sam’s reasoning - that it’s important to show Lestat’s underlying toxic masculinity more clearly - compelling too. But I also just don’t like that they did that to Lestat. I do think it’s something that changes who he is and what he’s capable of. But maybe I’m just too much a Lestat girl and it is better for the story and it’s actually just laying out some difficult truths about him in a way that’s not comfortable. Obviously he’s a monster, even if in the books he’s a monster that generally tries his best to help and care for those he loves. Where do you land on it?

(I totally understand if you don’t want to open this can of worms, but I’d be interested in the discussion or you pointing me in the direction of your previous thoughts if that’s easier)

Hey!

All good. I have talked about this a few times, so I'll try to... condense where I am at this moment :)

So, re that "toxic masculinity" and the arc they're aiming for... I think it's important to remember here that Akasha does aim for Lestat as her tool because she does see "everything wrong with the males" in him. So that arc makes a lot of sense for them to set up.

Ultimately this is what she misjudges Lestat on though, and why she, why her quest fails - he actually isn't, and he turns against her because he isn't.

I said it before, the abuse is in the (first) book - but not at this level. And not with the added layer of domestic violence, and I think that level will come back to bite the show in the ass again and again (and the fandom is a mess because of it), because what the show showed - and what they let stand for almost two years - is something decidedly different than "two vampires fighting". Which we're supposed to take away from it now. And which is "only" the inside part of that... fight.

The outside has been hinted at in the video with Sam you're referencing now as well, totally apart from the missing blood everywhere which makes the scene unlikely to have happened as shown, there was also the hint re... something else, that Sam caught himself on. I have theorized early on that the outside might be connected to Amel, and I do think that might hold true. Which is no excuse, btw, since Amel uses certain skills and tendencies. We'll see.

So now the drop.

I am not sure if we have seen all, tbh. There were comments about something about the "blood of Akasha" that was cut from that scene, for example. It would certainly makes sense with the tower scene. Also Lestat being so frustrated with Louis and whatever discussion they had up there to drop him? Still doesn't make sense to me, but I guess that's more or less confirmed now. Still reeks like the tower drop parallel to me (that we might get in s3, who knows).

I think there is something quite powerful they could do with the drop vs certain upcoming book canon "flying scenes". I know some fans said that they destroyed that scene with 1x05, but I actually disagree. The level of trust needed would actually only enhance where they are with each other then, but we'll see.

So. After the comments re "toxic masculinity" etc (mostly by Sam) it made click for me.

I think I know why they're doing this, I think I know how they'll spin it. But I don't particularly like it.

Still, it will likely work. In the end.

After a lot of (fandom) pains.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 30: Would You Love Me if I was a Worm?

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

After his talk with Raph and CJ, Leo has to do it all over again with the whole family -- April, Draxum, and Cassandra included.

And Mikey, despite Leo's hesitation and objections.

The whole thing goes... very well, actually.

It is tough at first, Leo having been exhausted twice already and having to ask Raphael and Casey Jr. for help explaining on occasion because he just doesn’t have the emotional (or even physical) energy to go through it all a third time.

Tears are shed. Some are Leo's. Most are actually from Splinter.

At first, Leo thinks it is because of his paternal instinct to protect them, but then he remembers how hard it must have been those first several years post-mutation... All the years he'd spent in the Battle Nexus... Splinter understands all too well what Leo is going through.

Second most are from April. She may not have won the award for the most shed, but she won the award for loudest sobs. Leo didn't expect her to be so heartbroken for his sake, but she is, and that makes him cry all over again.

But the most impactful tears for Leo are Donnie's. Maybe it's because they're twins, or maybe it's the fact that Dee typically tends to keep his tears hidden (especially when there was an audience), or bottle them up. Not that he refuses cry ever -- he just doesn't do it often, and especially not when there are so many people around. But here he is, weeping silently for his brother in front of everybody. Leo almost missed it at first, but he happened to glance over and see the stains on his twin's mask and the red irritation surrounding his sclera. So while Donnie didn't make much of a show of his emotions, Leo knows he felt for him.

Cass and Draxum might be the only two not to cry, apart from Raph and Casey -- but those two are exempt, since they'd already knew what happened and had their own moments earlier to shed tears with him. Draxum is stoic and expressionless for the most part, raising an eyebrow at appropriate intervals to show he is paying attention. Cass makes quite a lot of facial expressions, and Leo figures her eyes got watery at one point. She talks a lot, though. So does Draxum.

Everyone has something to say. From advice to give, to words of affirmation, to moments when they felt similarly to Leo -- everyone talks.

All but one, actually.

Mikey stays strangely quiet.

Not that he doesn't understand. He does. Which is one of the reasons Leo was wary to tell Mikey. His eyes go wide with shock, and he cries with the rest when he hears the news. He sits besides Leo the entire time, resting his head on his lap and mewing sadly at him. Leo strokes his head to reassure him he is okay. Though, as the night goes on, he's not certain if Mikey is trying to comfort him, or if that is now Leo's job...

Leo half expects Michael to put on a turtleneck and coke bottle glasses, and don his 'Dr. Feelings' persona to help.

But he doesn't.

The discussion is long and lasts quite a while, with compelling points made from everyone and different ways to help Leo combat the intrusive thoughts and suicidal feelings.

Leo wonders how anyone could ever think he was the hero when they were the ones constantly saving his life.

Exhausted as he is, he weeps again and thanks everyone for their love and support.

The family meeting ends with hugs and kisses and watching a movie together in the hotel room. Leo notices that everyone keeps him in the center of the group, effectively surrounded by their love.

Mikey stays glued to his side the entire evening. He's been mostly quiet the whole night, but now he seems... overprotective of him. Leo is too tired to question it. Besides, he is so grateful for the company. Mikey rests on his lap like a cat, his soft underbelly radiating warmth and his gentle breaths keeping Leo grounded and calm.

They watch movies until Leo falls asleep in his family's embrace.

.

.

.

Leonardo is entirely spent the next day. He wakes up in his hotel bed, exhausted and groggy. He doesn't remember when he fell asleep, just like he doesn't remember being carried to his room, or being given a weighted blanket on top of his sheets. The blanket doesn't even cover his entire body, they just draped it across his chest --

Wait a sec. Why is the weighted blanket breathing?

Leo looks up and blurrily sees a mass of green and yellow sprawled across his torso. He blinks, rubs his eyes free of sleep, and the blur becomes his little brother.

Leon smiles. Did Mikey stay with him the entire night? Was he worried for him? This was exactly why Leo didn't want to tell Mikey... the poor guy doesn’t need another thing to worry about. And yet, he is happy that Mikey is showing him how he loves him. And to be honest, Leo has not slept that well in weeks. Though, that was mostly due to stress from Mikey's disappearance and then camping out on his beanbags once he was home.

Leonardo strokes Mikey's head gently. He doesn't think he puts that much effort or force into it, but Mikey immediately wakes up at his touch and turns to look at him. He chirps before remembering he can speak and clears his throat.

"Hullo," he croaks.

"Hey," Leo simpers. "What's up."

Mikey hums and crawls closer to his big brother so that he's laying beside him rather than across him. He doesn't really respond to Leo, but holds onto his arm. Mikey's tail slides over Leo's knees and swishes back and forth.

"You okay?" he asks, looking over at him. "You're acting a little clingy."

Mikey hugs Leo's arm a bit more tensely. He nods.

"Mikey just... want to be with Leo today."

Leo sighs and snuggles closer to him. He can let Mikey be clingy.

"Okay. How about today is a Leo and Mikey day?"

Mikey glances up at his brother, eyes wide and bright. He chirps excitedly before once again recalling he can speak and answers him with a resounding 'yes'.

Leo is surprised how Mikey's vocal chords still sound raspy and torn. They should have healed by now. They sound better, that much is sure. He just needs a little more time.

Don't we all...

"So, whaddya wanna do today, bud?" Leo inquires. He seems to have caught Mikey off guard with the question.

"Mikey decides?" he asks, surprised. "Why not Llllllleo?"

"I can pick some stuff to do too," Leo adds. "But what do you feel like doing now?"

Mikey considers for a moment before giving a decisive nod followed by a decisive answer.

"Mikey wants food."

"Leo wants food too," he chuckles, getting up out of bed and putting on an oversized t-shirt. He leaves his ninja wraps behind, but ties the mask. Mikey watches with curious investement.

"...Can Mikey wear something, too?"

"Yeah, dude. You packed some clothes, right?"

"Big sweaters," Mikey answers. "Too hot for them."

"You can borrow one of mine, then," Leo says, digging in his thrown-together duffel bag until he finds a shirt that should fit Mikey. "Here ya go!"

Mikey catches the shirt and stares at it like it's a gift from God Himself before delicately pulling it over his head and shell.

"What if Mikey tears it?" he asks nervously. "Will Leo get sad?"

"No," Leo says, sensing that trying to keep Leo from being sad will become a running theme with Mikey for the day. "I won't be sad. You can go ahead and wear it, don't worry."

Mikey looks down at the shirt and smiles. He likes the neon blue swirls and tie-dye patterns, he likes how they contrast so brightly and perfectly with his lemon-bright yellow spots and freckles.

"Does Mikey get a mask too?"

Leo looks back at him, hope shining through his eyes.

"Did you pack your mask?" he asks gently.

"Uuuuummmm," Mikey taps a claw against his chin as he thinks. "I think Cassssssey put one in? Orange cloth, yeah?"

Leo and Mikey walk over to the other bedroom and search through the suitcase. Lo and behold, Casey Jones Jr. did indeed stash a few bright orange masks. Leonardo helps to tie the mask up into a bow behind Mikey's head. The former box turtle scrambles to the mirror and stares at himself in awe.

"I look like Leo and Raphie and Donnie now!" he exclaims. "I-I look like... like... I look like Mikey."

Leo smiles warmly at his little brother, who seems to be crying tears of joy. At least, that's what he hopes. He's smiling pretty big.

Leo helps Mikey to stand on his two feet and the duo walk out hand-in-hand, mostly to help Mikey keep from stumbling or tripping. The boys head downstairs to the free continental breakfast offered.

Mikey is completely awed by the many choices of food. They're all so spread out and numerous! Leo helps Mikey choose, since the Yokai's culinary options are a bit different than theirs, and he isn't sure if the screaming cereal puffs would be appetizing to him just yet...

He picks out a stack bright green pancakes with glowing blue berries mixed in, a bowl of warm milk with non-screaming cereal puffs, and very odd, very large slices of what he thinks is turkey bacon, or something similar to that. Mikey also asks for several fruits and baked goods as well. And while Leo's his bagel is toasting, he assists Mikey with dressing up his oddly-coloured pancakes with strawberry and maple syrup, chocolate chips, and powdered sugar. Leo is going to regret giving him so much sugar later on, but today has been declared a day for fun, so anything goes. Which means a sugar rush, sugar crash, followed by imminent diabetes on a plate, and all at 8am in the morning.

The two sit down and Mikey tries again with the fork and knife. His fingers can't get the utensils to hold still properly, and they slip and clack loudly. Mikey gets flustered and embarrassed that he's making a fool of himself, until Leo points out that the room has very few patrons -- and most of those that are attending breakfast have hooves or tentacles or claws that resemble Mikey's, so they eat without utensils. Mikey beams gladly upon this discovery, and digs into his plate with his bare face.

Leo rolls his eyes with an airy chuckle and noshes on his cheese and bacon bagel-ritto. He wonders how long it will take for Mikey to not treat every meal like it's his very first, lick every plate clean, and beg for seconds and thirds in a timid manner as though he's scared of being punished for being hungry. The good news is that he's gained some weight since his rescue; he isn't so pale and shaky and thin-framed as he was when they first rescued him.

Breakfast for Mikey is over in a flash. He nearly inhales the pancakes at a speed previously unknown to man. Leo is challenged to match the speed in an attempt to finish his food before Mikey's sugar rush kicks in. He almost makes it, too. Almost.

Mikey starts bouncing in his seat impatiently. He watches Leo scarf down his bagel and slurp up his cereal. Mikey rocks back and forth, tapping his fingers rhythmically as he hums.

"You can always go outside and I'll meet you when I'm done," Leo offers, mouth dripping with milk and chin covered in honey-nut wheat bites.

"Nuh-uh!" Mikey says, shaking his head frantically, bows flapping like they're about to take flight. "Mikey stays with Leo! I l-like staying with Leo, I like being with you it's a lot of fun let's go do other fun stuff too are you finished yet huh huh huh are ya are ya are ya hey look at that guy he looks like a rhinoceros that's pretty cool hey can you make this sound with your mouth??"

Mikey starts blowing raspberries at his brother before busting out in mad giggles.

"I'mma gonna go get some more syrup and pancakes!"

"Wooooaaaaah mister!" Leo halts him, grabbing Mikey by the elbow before he can jet off. "I think you've had enough. Raph will kill me if he finds out how much sugar I let you have already!"

Mikey yipes at that claim, instantly going to guard Leo's chair with a growl.

"N-no! No one hurts you! Don't worry Leo I'll protect you Mikey can help don't be hurt no dying I don't like that hey how about we go outside now are you finished with your food I wanna go play outside can we play is that okay is that okay I'm not being annoying am I you'd tell me if I was annoying right I don't wanna be a burden am I being weird how come everything is moving so slowly wow my hands are really shaky can we go outside now I wanna play can we play how long does it take for you to eat food let's go outside now okay???"

Leo swallows the last of the bagel-ritto and half-chokes on it before clearing his throat.

"Okay, Mikey, let's go outside and burn off all that energy, huh?"

"Yaaaaaay!!!" Mikey cheers, grabbing Leo's wrist and racing outside with him.

Leo yelps as his baby brother drags him out at the speed of light, nearly dislocating his shoulder. Mikey dodges sunbathers and resort patrons as he rushes going out towards the beach and fly through the giant magic rainbow arch.

"What should we play first??" Mikey asks, skidding to a halt and buzzing around Leo's ankles excitedly.

"I think maybe let's start with a race," Leo schemes. "Let's see how fast you can go, hmm? First one to round the island wins!"

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE FUN OKAY LET'S DO IT!!" Mikey screams, bouncing and vibrating in a blur from excitement.

Leo crouches, Mikey mimicking him as his tail flaps around so wildly it cracks the air and slaps sand into the wind.

"OnyourmarkgetsetGO!" Leo shouts.

Mikey is instantaneously gone, a trail of smoke and sand billowing behind him as he vanishes around the bend. Leo half wishes he'd brought his katanas so he could make a portal just to mess with him.

Mikey is back in a few minutes, zooming past him and around the bend again. Leo wonders why he didn't stop. He's back after another five minutes or so.

"Hi!" he pants, still hyped up but out of breath. "I didn't see you until it was too late the first time and by the time I realised I passed you I figured it would be faster just to run the island again hey you didn't run at all why didn't you run but I won the race anyway didn't I didn't I huh huh Mikey's the winner Mikey wins at racing I'm fast very fast look what Mikey can do!"

Mikey starts zooming back and forth and running out onto the water to play. Leo laughs and follows after him, taking off his shirt and jumping into the water to wade with his little brother. Several minutes later, Mikey slows and starts to yawn. He shudders and sits on the shore while Leo goes to get him some water and something to combat the sugar crash.

After a peanut butter and apple slices snack later, and a reluctant drink of some cold orange juice, Mikey's shakes dissipate and he takes a quick nap on the beach shore. Leo grabs some beach towels and lounge chairs for the two to relax in. He lets Mikey rest where he is, for the time being, sticking an umbrella in the ground beside him to keep him shaded.

"See you when you get up, buddy..."

.

.

.

Mikey wakes about an hour later, afraid that Leo might have left him while he was sleeping. He sits up and looks around, only relaxing once he sees his brother's signature shade of blue.

Leo is lounging, smiling brightly as he basks in the sunlight. Mikey sees that a lounge chair has been set up besides Leo for him as well.

Instead, Mikey climbs aboard Leo's chair and curls onto his lap, careful not to crush his legs like he tends to do. Mikey feels Leo's hand rub circles onto his back once he's situated.

"Hey, bud," he says quietly. "You doing okay? Need more peanut butter?"

Mikey shakes his head 'no'.

"M'kay. Wanna do something?"

"Leo's turn to choose," Mikey hums back.

"I'm kinda good to just stay here and relax."

Mikey hums and nods. It is good to relax. Mikey likes relaxing. He wasn't really allowed to relax in the labs... well, that's probably not true. They let him sleep at night and have some mealtimes. But his days were mostly tests and experiments and fighting deformed monsters. Nothing like laying back and bathing in pure unprohibited sunshine. And Leo needs his relaxation, too! He needs to feel sunshine, and rest on the beach, and enjoy the peace too. If anyone deserves it, Leo does.

Mikey watches the waves as they tumble over one another. He sees what looks like a dolphin in the distance. The sunlight sparkles across the water majestically. He's sure he's seen this before...

.

.

.

"Well, it's official. Leo is the worst," Mikey mutters.

"You mean the BEST!" Donnie squeals, rushing over to the water and jumping in excitement. "We get a beach vacay! FINALLY! I don't know about you gentlemen, but I have definitely EARNED this."

"Earned it how?" Raph asks, remembering the 'gifts' he made for them, when he tested out his tranq darts on them, how he got addicted to the Purple Game and accidentally trained a giant mech AI to squash them...

"Where exactly are we?" Mikey asks, spotting a red and white flag waving far off in the distance.

"According to my calculations --" Donnie declares, typing on his wrist tech dramatically, "-- Leo has portalled us to Tahiti."

"TAHITI?!" Raph shouts, eyes bulging out of his head. "Wha- How- Why --"

"How about we don't have a conniption," Donnie says, taking Raphael by the arm and leading him to the water, "...and instead we enjoy the serenity that is a beach vacation?"

"But what about Leo?" Mikey asks, already splashing in the waves. "Do you think he's worried? Or in trouble? Why wasn't he portalled here with us?"

"Oh I'm sure he's fine, he said with very little hesitation," Donnie states, waving away Mikey's concern. "He got us into this mess, he'll get us out of it. Now, Tahiti. Is. Ours!"

Donnie supplies the boys with flower leis and coconuts filled with fruity beverages, initiating the chillest of vibes and enticing his brothers to join in.

"Well... maybe just a few minutes," Raph agrees, taking the coconut from Donnie. "But at some point we gotta figure out a way to get home."

"Ooooorrrr we could look into finding a nice sewer here?" Donnie offers.

Raph and Mikey glare at him.

"Kidding!" he quickly rebuffs. "I was of course joking, and have not already been researching the options. It's not like there's one available for a very reasonable price just two miles away or anything..."

Mikey rolls his eyes and kicks a wave at Raph, initiating a splash war between them.

The trio enjoy the sun and surf, laughing and having a wonderful time. Mikey wishes that Leo could enjoy it with them... He's still a bit worried about what happened to his bro. He knows Leo has been feeling really low about his mystic weapon not working right. For whatever reason, he can't get it to properly portal. Mikey figured out how to use his almost instantly, and Raph has been getting the hang of his pretty easily as well. But Leo's odachi keeps malfunctioning. He could barely get a portal to open at first! Mikey remembers how he tricked them all into the minotaur maze to prove he was a champion. They were pretty mad at him, but the more Mikey thinks about it, the more he feels like Leo was hiding his insecurities. And still is.

Mikey's been working on a new persona -- like Dr. Delicate Touch, but softer. Less focused on telling the cold hard truth, and more focused on getting others to admit truths about themselves. A therapist kinda persona, to help with feelings. Hey, that could be his name! 'Dr. Feelings'... that might work.

He wonders if Leo would be willing to talk about it. Leo's pretty cagey when it comes to talking about feelings. But maybe --

Mikey's train of thought is interrupted by a burst of blue light ignites from above, and the three are sucked in very suddenly with a yell...

His stomach does a backflip as he goes from flying upwards to falling downwards, landing with a crash against Raph's back and a hard wooden surface.

"Whoah, where'd you guys come from? I mean, hey check it out! I freed you from your pirate prison!"

.

.

.

Mikey blinks and he's back from the memory. It's always weird and disorienting when he recovers a new recollection. Mostly because he doesn't recognize himself, and can't actually imagine himself walking around so easily without help or not stumbling over his words and referring to himself as 'Mikey' instead of 'I' at times, or not seeing his tail flick around out of his peripherals. He can't possibly comprehend that he was Hamato Michelangelo, and not Mikey from Project Venus of the TCRI, prisoner of the EPF.

Mikey feels Leo's hand on his shell again. He shifts around so he can lay his chin against Leo's shoulder in a lazy hug.

"You sure you're okay?" Leo asks quietly. "I know I said this, but you've been acting a little clingy. Is everything alright?"

"I told you, Mikey wants to be with Leo today."

"I get that," Leo mumbles, shifting his weight a bit so they can sit a bit more comfortably. "But why? Is it because of last night?"

Mikey whimpers quietly.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm sorry it bothered you --"

Mikey pulls away and stares him in the eyes. That was probably not the right thing to say, Leo figures. Mikey's eyes seem to search Leo's for something.

"Mikey, why are you looking at me like that? Why are you so upset? What about last night upset you?"

"Mikey want Leo happy today."

"But why?" he asks.

"Leo said he's not always happy. Leo said he doesn't love himself sometimes. Mikey... Mikey wants to make Leo happy today so Leo knows I love Leo. Mikey make everything better... Mikey helps, Mikey do good..."

Mikey starts whimpering a little and his eyes tear up. Leo reaches around him and pulls him into a hug.

"Mikey, I know you love me. It's okay, I'm going to work on treating myself better and not letting those thoughts win. It's not your job to do that. But thank you, this really helps."

Mikey sniffles and nuzzles his face into the crook between Leo's neck and shoulder.

"...Mikey knows how hard it is to remember to be loved."

Leo glances out of the corner of his vision at Mikey, not daring to let go of the hug.

"Mikey... Mikey can't always remember things. Mikey has a hard time remembering. The labs... they took everything from Mikey. Nobody loves in the labs. Everybody just hates. Especially Instinct. He hates everyone a lot. Instinct CAN'T love, he just hates. Instinct kept Mikey alive, but not happy. Instinct always says 'Don't trust them', because he thinks everyone is going to hurt Mikey. But... he wasn't wrong. And the people at the labs... the 'evil humans'... they told me... I was a monster. Instinct told me I was a monster. And I had no choice but to believe them."

Mikey slowly glances back at his brother.

"So Mikey knows how it feels to not really love what you are. Mikey knows how hard it is.... and how much it hurts..."

Leo wraps his arms tighter around Michelangelo, squeezing him and not releasing until he hears the little guy squeak.

"We've been trying our best to show you that you're not a monster, Mikey."

"I know...."

"Because you're not a monster, Mikey. Nobody thinks that. Not me, not Raph, not --"

"I bit Raph, though!" Mikey protests meekly. "A-and I attacked you, you still have the scratches on your neck and leg -- aren't you mad? Or scared??"

"If I understand it right, I think technically it was Instinct who did those things," Leo corrects. "And even if it wasn't, Raph and I would never think anything bad about you."

Mikey rests his head against Leo's plastron.

"...Leo...?"

"Yeah?"

"...Will... will you love me if I really AM a monster?"

Leo rubs Mikey's head gently.

"Mikey, I love you so much. I'd love you if you were a worm. I'd love you if you were a non-mutated box turtle. And yes, I'd love you if you were a monster. And I love you now."

Mikey wonders what Leo means by 'I love you now'. He feels some hidden meaning behind the word. It unnerves him slightly, thinking that there is something dark hiding behind the word 'NOW', something terrible that he doesn't understand. Then again, there is very little that Mikey understands.

But he understands that he's different now. Though, somehow, they act like that isn't a bad thing. Or they act like he hasn't changed at all. Mikey's not sure if it's true or not, and he isn't sure how he feels about either prospect.

Looking on the outside, Mikey is astounded by the love they show him. He imagines that he deserves that love, he has earned it. Somehow.

"...Mikey loves you too, Leo. Please remember that."

"If you'll remember that I love you right back."

Mikey nods, churring softly as he hugs Leo again, just for good measure.

Mikey hopes that, if nothing else, he really will remember that.

.

.

.

Agent John Bishop sits at a desk and types several keywords into the computer. He's not a hacker, but he's learned a few tricks from Honeycutt about bypassing codes. He gave Bishop his login username and passkey so that he could piggyback off of his server without drawing attention. He's currently looking for any information that they have on Mikey's status. They can't track him anymore, but that doesn't mean they don't have other means of finding him. Cameras and drones and sweepers, oh my...!

Bishop types another line of code and uncovers a file from Chaplin's server: a map of New York overlayed on top of another schematic. Are those sewer tunnels? No, too winding and varied, plus there are tons of open areas that don't line up with the city plumbing codes. So then what...?

Bishop peers at it before recognizing a few of the structures and symbols. That's a city schematic. So, they've overlayed NYC overtop of another city? What --

Bishop realizes what this map is of.

How have they discovered the Hidden City so quickly?? Bishop and those two idiot mercs only found it yesterday! This isn't good news.

Bishop regrets not asking Casey for his info or a way to contact them. They need to know what's happening! But then again, it's probably for the best. If the EPF were to make any kind of security check on his phone for unknown numbers, they'd immediately find Casey and their whole family would be in danger. Besides, Bishop is aware that Casey probably doesn't own a cell or even have any sort of email. Someone with no records or identification whatsoever isn't going to just have a cell that can be tracked or traced.

He keeps on scrolling, going through the restricted channels. He finds a notice for the employees discussing something about Staten Island. He finds a timetable for some sort of mission or extraction. He finds a work order given to Honeycutt for a new program titled Mechanical Iambic: Mimicry Initiative Cybernetic. 'MI:M.I.C.' for short. Bishop can guess what the program does, but not what they would want it for.

They're planning something. An attack of some kind. For Mikey. Bishop has to act. But how? What can he do...

He quickly makes a printout of the mission timetable and map overlay and logs out quickly.

He messages Honeycutt to be careful and warns him about the program, asking that he intentionally sabotage it in a way they wouldn't notice. He hits send just as he gets up and leaves the abandoned office room.

Bishop is in the elevator. Honeycutt hasn't answered back yet. He usually responds within the first few seconds, especially with everything going. Bishop presses the button for the ground floor. He waits an eternity with the papers hidden in his interior jacket pocket. He presses the button again.

The doors open on the ground floor, and Honeycutt still hasn't offered any kind of response. It doesn't even say he's read the message. That's not like him... He stares down at his phone as he crosses through the lobby.

"Hey, John," says the receptionist, waving him down with a sparkling smile. "Going out again?"

Bishop smiles back at her kindly.

"Yep, just going on a coffee run. Want anything?"

"I might like a cappuccino," a voice says from the front.

Bishop turns in surprise to see Dr. Chaplin, standing with two very large guards at the front door.

"...Didn't take you for the cappuccino type," Bishop jokes.

"Well, we all have our little secrets now, don't we?" Chaplin replies, walking towards him with a strange smile. "Like you, for instance."

He looks Bishop over, analyzing him. Bishop wonders what he's up to... but this ominous talk of secrets doesn't bode well.

"...You know, Ms. Campbell told me about the odd hacker that had infiltrated our systems a few days back. Left a message, 'leave us alone', very ominous... did Honeycutt tell you about that?"

"Why would he?"

"You two have been rather chummy as of late," he says with a snakeish, sickly saccharine smile. "I thought you might have discussed it. But in any case, I tasked Ms. Campbell to search for anything out of the ordinary in the EPF/TCRI servers. Suspicious activity, piracy, hackers, that sort of thing."

$#!%, John Bishop thinks to himself.

"And she told me about someone downloading reports on Project Venus. Looking for information. And some of the researchers and analysts gave reports of important items going missing, like blood reports and DNA samples."

Bishop stays stone-faced.

"Do you want me to look into this?" he asks, hoping that all he has is speculation and no hard evidence.

"No, thank you though. I had Ms. Campbell set up a tracing modem earlier today."

The two guards walk up to Bishop and each grabs him by his arms.

Bishop's eyes widen as he realizes what's happening.

"She tracked you pretty quickly. And not only you," Chaplin informs, his smile slowly fading. "You used your friend's IP server to carry your signal and hide your hacks. Very good, very ingenious. Honeycutt is quite clever. But unfortunately for the two of you, his creations are more clever."

Agent Bishop struggles against the security guards as they start to search him, one taking his EPF standardized concealed weapon, the other reaching into his interior lining of his jacket and pulling out the printouts. He hands the sheets to Dr. Chaplin, who tuts at Bishop disappointedly.

"What are you planning? Where did you get that schematic?" Bishop demands.

"You're not exactly in a position to ask questions," Chaplin replies drably.

"But how could you possibly even know about --"

"What, the quote unquote, 'Hidden City'?" Dr. Chaplin chuckles. "Please. That pathetic ghetto of ghouls hasn't been a secret, especially not since the incident with the mosquitos and that maniac in the baseball field. Did you really think I wouldn't know about something like this? And it's not the only Yokai city I've come across. This is what got me into the study of mutations in the first place!"

"What do you want with them?!" Bishop shouts, pulling his arm as hard as he can to try and punch his former employer in anger.

Dr. Chaplin stares at the agent as though he just asked him the stupidest question in the world.

"My dear Bishop, I want absolutely nothing to do with them. That's the whole point of this."

Bishop is tugged back, his arms thrust behind him as the guards try to cuff him.

"Where's Zayton Honeycutt? What are you going to do to him?!" he snarls, desperate to wrench his arms free.

One of the guards punches Bishop in the gut, causing him to double over. He's half-held up by the guards as he struggles to get his breath back.

"The good old professor still has some usefulness for us. I see no reason to kill the golden goose just yet. You, on the other hand," Chaplin says, leaning close to his face. "You are an expendable agent with no connections or important qualities whatsoever. And you should have known better."

Dr. Chaplin snaps his fingers, and Agent John Bishop is dragged away, kicking and shouting and struggling.

Prev || Next

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

hii I have a community question so I thought I'd reference your encyclopedia

are there any references to music that abed listens to? I know they do it for other characters sometimes (like I'm pretty sure britta said she liked the pixies but maybe I made that up) anyway I'm trying to make a playlist about him

thanks<333

hey! thanks for the ask 💯

after sitting here and scanning my brain’s database (and searching the internet) unfortunately I haven’t come up with much… I did remember about this:

which is part of the whiteboard Abed had set up in 1x21 Contemporary American Poultry, on which he says he likes banjo music lmfao

the only other things I can think of are probably not very helpful at all, but I’m writing them down anyway lmao. he participated in defending The Barenaked Ladies from Jeff’s criticism (although, the entire group does that, and it probably doesn’t speak much to abed’s specific music taste), and maybe there’s a song he put into one of his documentaries or something? although, I’m pretty sure most of, if not all, the scoring for those is the same as the scoring for the actual show itself. he also dances to Roxanne by The Police in Remedial Chaos Theory, but, again, the whole group does, and everyone knows that song. also, at the end of 1x14 Interpretive Dance, he is shown tapdancing, and Merry Happy by Kate Nash is playing. but, I don’t think he put on the song himself— in fact I don’t think he can hear it at all, I think it’s just score. so, again, probably doesn’t speak to his actual music taste. but, in my personal opinion, that kind of music fits him the best, so I might look more into Kate Nash and related artists if I was making an Abed playlist.

so, yeah… his pop culture references don’t really seem to include music lol. there’s a chance he listens to movie soundtracks sometimes? movies like Back to the Future have some more commercialized songs on their soundtracks, so maybe he’s into that. looking more into soundtracks from classic 80’s films might help you a bit.

I did find this on his twitter (if you don’t know about the twitter character accounts lmk that’s a whole other can of worms that I am happy to open with you all) so obviously he has music he listens to, but I scrolled through all his tweets and he never mentions any specific artists or songs. lame

but yeah. sorry that this was all I could do, dude. I’m gonna open the floor to anyone who has any Vital Information™ that I missed, or for anyone who just has some headcannons or opinions on what they think Abed might listen to. thanks again for the ask and I hope this was at least semi helpful o7

(also, you’re right about Britta liking Pixies! she has a poster up in her room in the cold open of the season 2 premiere, and also there’s this Jeff quote from Digital Estate Planning: “this place is twenty cat turds and a Pixies poster away from being your apartment.” she also likes Natalie is Freezing, but they only exist in the Community universe unfortunately lol. but at least those two things give us a handle on what music Britta likes. Abed remains an enigma lmao)

[kikiofthevast]

In planning Slay the Archivist I’ve been having a lot of Jon thoughts (below the cut because it got long)

Jon Sims is a character driven entirely by fear. His fear of spiders and trauma of his youth further isolates him from people, his fear of rejection and being known isolates him from his peers and Georgie, and his fear of the forces beyond isolates him from his coworkers (manifested in his short-fuse prickly skeptic persona).

Jon is a character who pushes people away before they can do it to him and cannot conceive that anyone can care about him.

Which is unfortunate, because his assistants do care about him!!! Not on an intimate level, but Jon and Tim at the very least are friends, and Jon respects Sasha!!!

Jon’s actual opinion of Martin in s1 is a bit cloudy, because it’s clear that Jon does not respect him or like him very much, but that mostly comes from the fact that Martin doesn’t do his job very well, or at least by the standards Jon expects based on his CV.

But on the other hand, Jon never expresses anything other than professional disdain, not necessarily personal disdain. Of course, it’s likely that Jon does truly hate Martin, but outside of the recordings in S1, Jon is significantly more generally relaxed (as shown in the tape about ostriches) and his professional academic persona is very much a mask that he puts on to alleviate his own nerves about the job.

That’s not to say Jon likes Martin very much in S1, but it says to me that he doesn’t outright hate him.

Then the worms happen.

Everything falls apart for Jon. His skeptic act isn’t keeping him safe, not like he thought it would, and Jane Prentiss is after him specifically.

Jon starts unraveling after the Prentiss attack.

Something is watching him. Someone killed Gertrude. He can’t trust anyone.

Most of his paranoia is Stranger-induced but it’s also equally a natural response. Of course, he takes it too far, and he neglects his relationships because he doesn’t think they mean anything to the people in question.

Jon is right to be paranoid, and his paranoia is validated by the fact that one of his assistants was replaced and Elias is passively manipulating him (and also killed Gertrude), but the issue is that stalking is a bridge too far.

He has a very strong connection to the Eye even early on because he needs to know everything and gain new knowledge especially about people.

Because Jon is bad at connecting with people, and he typically barely has the self-awareness to avoid sticking his foot in his mouth and he is NOT forthcoming about his trauma or struggles to any extent (we’ll come back to this) and therefore doesn’t really understand how relationships WORK.

So his breaks his slightly tenuous friendship with Tim, realizes that Martin is not as knowledgeable than he thought, and realizes that there’s a creature in his Archive that should not be there.

So he destroys the table, realizes that was also a mistake, gets chased, meets Leitner, and then is IMMEDIATELY framed for his murder.

So Jon is now on the run from the law, so he goes to the only person in his life he actually confided in to some degree, Georgie.

Georgie asks questions, but not many, and accepts that he won’t answer. She lets him stay with her and the Admiral and Jon tries not to get her involved, because he doesn’t want someone else to realize that he’s doomed everyone around him, and he doesn’t want Georgie to be doomed.

He talks to people, gets scars, tries to get away from Daisy, nearly dies to Daisy, learns that GEORGIE had an encounter and feels guilty that she gets involved, and then he gets kidnapped from Georgie’s house.

Nikola finds him and kidnaps him and he is there for a while. I don’t remember if the length of time is specified, but it’s a while, enough time for him to be missed.

Then Elias shows his true colors, Melanie and Basira are in the Archives, and Jon doesn’t know what to do.

He’s lost and doesn’t feel like he can trust anyone, and oh yeah, Tim hates his guts.

Jon goes to America, meets people, meets Gerry, burns Gerry’s page, goes to China, comes back to the Institute, and still has no idea what’s happening to him but he knows it’s bad, but feels good.

Because knowing puts him in control of a situation. Having that advantage alleviates some of his fear, and it gives him power.

Jon, who has not felt in control of anything since he picked up a Leitner as a child, craves that power.

And then there’s the Unknowing.

The Unknowing is a turning point for Jon, because arguably, the human Jonathan Sims dies in the explosion.

But his brain continues on, his consciousness continues on, and he exists in the dreams of people he watches fear and hurt over and over.

Martin spends time with him in the hospital, before he starts working in the Lonely, working to save his friends that aren’t functionally dead in a hospital bed, or already dead.

Oliver gives him a push to accept his Becoming, to wake up and live in his new existence.

And when he wakes up, everyone wishes he hadn’t.

Jon is functionally changed as a person. He wants to confide in people, wants to be someone people trust, and uh …

Yeah that’s not happening.

Elias may be in jail, but Melanie and Basira (and presumably also Martin, but it’s unclear) are still tied to the Archives due to Jon’s continuing life.

Jon is at a low point this season, and Melanie and Basira have complicated relationships with him.

Georgie has also accepted that Jon isn’t going to change, which is a shame for Jon, but well within her right as someone who has been trying to help Jon for years and never actually got through to him.

Melanie projects a lot of her blame onto Jon, when she can’t take it out on Elias. A lot of her rage is being amplified by the bullet in her leg, but the impromptu surgery doesn’t make Melanie any less wary of him.

And Jon pulls Daisy out of the Buried too, and the tapes become his anchor, his connection to the Archives and the Eye strong enough to pull him out.

The Eye is also strong enough to make him need live statements. Like Daisy needs to Hunt, Jon needs to Know.

It’s treated like an addiction in the show as much as it’s treated as a necessary thing, but the important thing is that Jon now needs to hurt people in order to survive.

The issue is that he likes it, he likes causing the fear and not experiencing it. He likes witnessing and knowing and archiving it, but he hates that he likes it because it means he’s not human.

(I personally think Jon can do whatever he wants forever but that’s just me)

Jon tries not to take live statements, but he cannot resist it forever. He knows so much but it’s never enough and he wants more.

(Mr. Spider always wants more.)

Jon also clings to the last bit of the normal past he has left in Martin, who he has learned to appreciate far too late for it to mean something to him, but even when Jon is in danger, he still goes for Martin, because Martin doesn’t deserve to get hurt.

They don’t know each other well beyond a surface level, but they are also the last thing that connects them both to the Normal, the Before.

They latch onto each other and clearly care about each other, but in S5 their relationship is far from ideal even though it’s the only thing keeping them both together.

They are in love, but they’re also missing a lot of development in their relationship.

(Arguably this makes it more realistic, but that’s a whole other post)

Causing the apocalypse weighs on Jon. He damns the world to horror and fear until the End and it’s not even his fault. Of course, it was preventable, but like many things in this show, it just didn’t happen that way.

Jon Knows the new world much better than the rest of the cast. He knows there’s no hope, that there’s only the perpetrators and the victims.

And he wants to be the one on top, over Jonah. He doesn’t tell anyone that, but based purely on his previous expressions of the apocalypse feeling right to him and the way his powers and knowledge make him feel, it stands to reason he would harbor that desire even if he wouldn’t express it.

And that’s why he inevitably kills Jonah and attempts to take his place, because if they’re going to continue living in this world, he wants to Know Everything and be in the Panopticon.

It’s selfish, but Jon does it anyway, because that’s what he wants. If the world is doomed, he wants to be king of it, if only to drink in the fear until the End took them all.

But he’s also grateful when Martin stabs him, on some level. He doesn’t want the Entities pulled into different worlds, but he also to some degree doesn’t want to go beyond his current state. Becoming on par with a god does scare him, to some degree.

And so Jon dies in Martin’s arms, and with love on his lips.

He’s a complicated man, one who cares but doesn’t ever know how to show it and is an insufferable asshole who doesn’t know when to stop.

Curiosity killed this cat, but satisfaction brought him back.

[blackjackkent]

Woohoo, didn't have to work late today so I can continue Rakha's adventures in the Gauntlet of Shar!

Specifically today we get to go deal with Yurgir. And hey - things are DIFFERENT than they were for Hector! Which is always exciting. (I'm assuming this is because Rakha already fought and killed ratboy.)

Things already felt a bit different because I didn't catch early sight of the displacer beast like I did on my previous run. I wondered if I'd just missed it, but walking down in the direction of Yurgir's hideout, all the merregon minions are just sort of wandering around and don't seem to take any notice of Rakha whatsoever:

Yurgir himself, too, is off his usual ambush platform and instead standing down at the front of the room near his bed made of dead bodies:

Rakha stumbles in on all this entirely by accident. She's focused on finding the library that Shadowheart mentioned, and the Spear within it - and then all of a sudden, she isn't thinking about that at all.

The room is... incredible. Appalling. Delicious. The beast squirms in her head as she looks around, taking in the piles of corpses mounded in every corner of the enormous hall. There is blood spattered on the floor, on the dramatic marble columns, in the braziers. Bodies hang from the ceiling.

Several small infernal-looking beings trot around the room; one of them sniffs at Rakha idly and then takes no further notice. At the far end of the room, next to a pile of corpses that makes the beast go from interest to open salivation, is a much larger figure - a muscular devil with a crown of sharp horns and battered armor.

Is this the monster Raphael spoke of? The infernal force lurking in the depths of this place? Rakha wants to consider him more deeply, but it is hard to focus as the beast struggles for control.

(A/N: Yurgir doesn't even start the conversation on proximity this time; I have to click on him deliberately. :O )

"Wait-- quiet!" the hulking devil snaps as their footsteps approach. He rounds on them and stares wide-eyed - not at them but past, listening intently.

Then he draws a sharp breath inward. "...It's gone. The song is gone! The contract is completed!" The tone of utter joy in his booming voice is entirely incongruous to anything around them, and Rakha blinks rapidly; this is perplexing enough that the beast settles in her head for a moment, enough for her to speak.

"Song?" she asks. "Contract? What are you talking about?"

The devil's head has tipped back and his face bears an air of wonder. "I was bid by Raphael to slay every Justiciar I found in this place," he murmurs. "The contract was a song, one stuck in my head until I finished the deed. I had to hum that blasted tune for *years.*" He looks around wildly. "But now the song has stopped. The contract is fulfilled!"

He pauses, leans forward to squint down at Rakha. It's rare enough that Rakha speaks to someone taller than her, but he has at least a foot and a half over her height. "I suppose you showing up at the same time is no coincidence..." he says slowly.

Rakha's eyebrows shoot up. Several facts about the situation suddenly click into place, fact and fact and fact, out of nowhere.

They have only seen one living Justiciar in the Gauntlet - the one who had been hiding in the form of a horde of rats; all the others have been empty armor suits.There was a book next to the ritual circle where they fought the rats - a book that made no sense. It had Raphael's name signed in it, next to the incantations that originally shattered the Justiciar apart.

This devil was given his task by Raphael, who then simultaneously orchestrated the spell that made it impossible to complete. Raphael has been playing a double-cross.

Whatever his reasons, this does not surprise Rakha at all. "There was one last Justiciar," she says flatly. "Dead now. Raphael helped him hide from you."

She feels a flicker of deep satisfaction as the devil's face contorts with rage. "That conniving sack of worms!" he roars. "I should've known! I should've ripped his tongue out before he even spoke of this contract!"

He clearly has a lot more to say on the subject, but before he can really get into full voice, there's a sudden sharp snap and a flare of flame from Rakha's right side. She jumps with a startled noise, and spins in time to see Raphael appear out of thin air, leaned against one the pillars in the ancient, decaying room.

"Here I am, Yurgir," he says with a casual smirk, deeply pleased with himself. "Tongue and all, precisely on time for a lesson in semantics. Devil's in the details, you see, and the details are in the fine print."

He pushes himself slowly off the pillar and fully onto his feet. The other devil - Yurgir - has a crossbow leveled at his chest, but he seems utterly unconcerned by it. "You were to fulfill the deal," he says coolly. "Nowhere does it stipulate you could subcontract the last kill to the first adventurers' party that came trotting along." His eyes flick pointedly at Rakha, who is standing unmoving oblique to both of them, watching the conversation play out with considerable bemusement. Then he looks back at Yurgir, and his smile widens. "In short - you're in breach of contract, my friend. Oh, dear..."

Yurgir's eyes have widened again - this time with dismay rather than relief. "BACK TO THE HELLS with what we agreed!" he roars, and cocks the crossbow with a jerk. "I have you now, Raphael. Pay the debt, and I will make this quick!"

Raphael quirks an eyebrow up and shrugs. "Consider your position," he says casually. "You are about to forfeit what reputation you have left. No contracts, no fame, no power. You'll be a streak of excrement even lemures will slither away from." His eyes narrow. "Unless, of course, you consider instead my infinite mercy. A new contract. A chance to balance the books." He peers around the blood-soaked room with a sneer. "Not to mention a welcome change of scenery."

Rakha absorbs everything that is happening and with every word her hatred for Raphael deepens. This is just like Mizora's mocking of Wyll, dangling the contract before him and the threat of the terrible punishment that comes from breaking it. This Yurgir has done what was asked of him, and Raphael is finding ways to twist it to his own advantage anyway.

One thing solidifies in the back of her mind. Astarion can not be allowed to pursue whatever interest he has in talking to Raphael. There will be no good outcome.

Yurgir, however, is already too tangled in Raphael's web to escape. "Bastard. Fine," he mutters coldly. "On one condition - no more songs."

Raphael chuckles, as if this is a joke. "What's a contract without whimsy, I say," he says blithely. "But fine. No more songs. Now off to the House of Hope for cocktails and canapes, and a brand new signature on a brand new deal. But first..."

He flicks another narrow-eyed glance at Rakha. It's obvious that he knows perfectly well that she hates him, but the unflinching smirk on his face shows equally clearly that he doesn't care. "It would be only befitting if you reward your subcontractor," he says tauntingly to Yurgir. "The greater reward for the greater hunter."

Yurgir growls low in his throat. He's trapped and he knows it and he hates it just as much as Rakha does. "Anything I leave behind is yours," he mutters sullenly. "Pick over it however you like."

And then he vanishes, and so does Raphael, and the party stands there in utter bemusement.

"Well," Rakha says cautiously. "That was unexpected." Her tone hums with irritation. She does not like to give in to the killing urge in her head... but she will not be sorry when the day comes - and it will - when she and Raphael come to blows.

[lakesbian]

i havent read worm so i might be missing something but how does arguing for a characters textual traits have anything to do with aura theory?? are they implying youre forgiving her problematic aspects because you like her vibes? or are they just saying anything

AHFSDKLHSDFH i love that we somehow have a non worm reader here witnessing this. okay so basically "aura theory" is like. this really old worm discourse from way back before i was in the fandom theorizing that canonically speaking amy fell in love w/ her sister because of her sister's superpowered aura which can have some impacts on the emotions of those around her. it's provably untrue, and i certainly in no way implied that i believe it by discussing amy's textual traits, so i have no idea whymst that guy thinks he saw it in my post. but i digress. that's what aura theory is. also for context regarding the whole amy situation. her narrative is extremely homophobic, worst predatory lesbian trope on the planet, but it also unfortunately contains genuinely interesting crit of the nuclear family + cops. and she is a genuinely interesting character bc despite the homophobia inherent to her characterization she's given a lot of depth rather than just being a one-dimensional cartoon villain. so there's a lot to pick apart & analyze there and subsequently people get into debates and or arguments about her a lot. although this one is less of a debate and more some random guy doing kind of a lame job at insulting me because he's incensed i was doing aforementioned arguing for a character's textual traits