#Actually I hate planning my mind is too hyperactive.

[uniforestchan]

Initially, I wanted to draw in the style of traditional art with a depressive message, but I drew a semi-realistic grox-boy standing in the rain. Why🧐

[persephoneflouwers]

Hello Angie!

I hope you don’t mind the novel but hey you wanted to share thoughts so here I am!

Rationalize is a big word but me thinks this is happening for various reasons, you tell me what you think about these options:

- Louis has this persona of “not wanting to grow up” so a younger girlfriend fits what everybody knows about him. She also seems to be tailored to the het audience who wants to “date him” and might identify with her. You know, sort of what El 1.0 was in 2012, the girl next door sort of thing but still “a fashion model” (who does no modeling, lol). But these pap pics feel precisely planned to make her look like a fan, so the message seems to be if she can date him, all fans can too! He’s a normal dude dating a normal girl who looks just like you! Buy tickets to his concerts and you might get lucky (because I can pretty much guess she’s gonna disappear real quickly and he’s going to be *available* and party boy during tour 🥲)

- There’s extra gayness in the documentary so having a son wasn’t enough. Seems unlikely but who knows? Rainbows can’t be erased from his tour shots, so I guess it’ll have to be addressed in some way.

- Also having a new romance in general helps with publicity, so for him to be talked about before the doc release. I still would have picked a higher profile, maybe another musician girl, if you really needed to sell a certain image AND benefit Louis and expand his audience, but again let’s be real I think his PR is incompetent. If I have to give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe the fan, down to earth girl angle is what they actually wanted to achieve with picking a good-looking nobody (back to point 1). It’s clearly benefitting her more than him (she went from 5K followers this morning to what, 35K now?)

- last wild though, maybe there was something with Eleanor wearing his clothes and still posting from his house that didn’t sit well with someone? So they needed to make a point? Wild but we’ve seen worse so keeping all options open.

I genuinely don’t know, but a mix options 1 and 3 seem the more rational. What do you think?

Last thought: I really hope she was ready and well informed before agreeing to this, but the whole shitshow with the Pinterest pins and Spotify playlists tells me there was a level of naivety on her end which is alarming. She was probably guided into this by a reckless agent with who knows what promises and it scares me. I don’t mind the age gap (my parents started dating when she was 18 and he was 29), but I do mind the fact that she’s likely too young to handle the hate she’s getting, regardless of the economic gains she’ll get from this it’s going to be traumatic if you don’t have the right support to handle it/maturity.

Hello, angel! Thank you for sharing <3 I will slowly go through your thoughts and explain what I think.

1. The forever young boy is interesting, bc Louis comes off as the loud hyperactive guy sometimes. Unfortunately I think they burned this option out when they gave him a fake kid lol

2. I think feeding such a dream to his fans is a huge underdevelopment, but it’s loyal to his fanbase origin. Still. It’s so cringe for me that a 31 yo man with a kid goes out with a young girl who pins tiktoks and random tattoos researches on Pinterest. It’s counterproductive, dumb and lazy. I don’t look at them as examples and I don’t expect them to do smart shit. we’re talking about rich people growing up as completely detouched from normal world since they were teenagers. Me and them, you and them? We’re not the same as them. I hoped he was smarter than this tho. Of course this can be useful as promo for the doc… will it tho, we know how his team and the media treat his content and projects, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t get any coverage not even with these pics. I don’t think that’s how you expand a fanbase or get more people curious in his work.

3. I think Eleanor simply wanted to be out for whatever reason. I think they replaced her with a new one bc E wasn’t going to engage with bg. She has never and she won’t (so far). I hope this new girl did her homework because fandom is hard to manage.

[asscrackcreed]

don't mind me spam liking bcs i need more French Frye stuff lol. anyways got any French Frye hc in ur head? spill em out!

jacob eats arnos leftovers

they both sleep topless a lot, arno tends to draw on jacobs back and it often leads to them falling asleep

jacob takes the blanket a lot which leads to a tug of war contest with arno whilst jacob sleeps

arno likes iced tea, jacob hates it and will complain while making it

jacob purposefully does cheesy stuff to get a reaction out of arno who always rolls his eyes before giggling and joining jacob i.e eating spaghetti together which leads to a kiss, pepper kisses up his arm to his face

it’s! too! hot! and yet jacob still wants to cuddle

jacob has slipped in the shower before and arno didn’t laugh

however arno has slipped before and jacob… definitely didn’t laugh… he swears he wasn’t laughing

jacobs slightly taller than arno maybe by an inch and he’d still call arno short

jacob loves arnos a s s and thighs

jacob has a folder on his camera roll labelled arno and it’s just the ugliest slips of him or of his ass (naked and clothed)

alternatively arno has a folder of the sexiest pics of jacob sexually and non-sexually, they’re just so aesthetically pleasing and so hotbsidowjdjak

jacob sends arno loads of tiktok’s of weird and funny shit, arno sends some too but it’s also a lot of art and fun things to do in the city type of stuff. jacob hears a lot of ‘we need to do this!!’. jacob ends up planning it as a surprise date which makes arno melt

jacob to edward: man my boyfriends the best

edward: listen i get it but you’ve been saying that every minute for the past half an hour

and

arno to edward: jacobs so sweet and thoughtful i-

edward: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST-

jacob has the best thighs to sit on

when they’re shopping and arno gets excited jacob can’t take his eyes off of him

a lot of face burying into necks

hyperactive gremlin boyfriend x aesthetic loser boyfriend

finishing each other’s sentences, somehow telepathically connecting e.g ‘i forgot what i was gonna say…’ ‘was it about a tiktok you were thinking about?’ ‘omg it was how did u know??!’

jacobs quite thicc round the torso and it makes him the best teddy bear but also a radiator

‘arno! i can’t find- oh thank you :)’

jacob asking arno to reach for smth just to see him stretch and stare at any exposed skin

thot horny boyfriend x thot horny boyfriend

‘omg arno… our 1 year and 8 month anniversary is next week…’

‘do you intend on celebrating every month?’

‘yeah?’

‘actually that’s not a bad idea’

jacobs always thinking of ridiculous shit and it doesn’t phase arno at all:

‘if we get married who’s wearing the dress?’

‘if you want to wear a dress just say that’

‘yes please’

jacob is also the type to say ‘if i was a worm’

‘jacob go to sleep’

‘not but if i was a worm’

‘if u don’t stfu the answers gonna be no’

[katmoonz]

My Little Masterpiece

Pairing: Artist!Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: fluff, mention of reader feeling aroused, hints of sexual activity after this story but none included in the writing, pure fluff, use of pet names (if I’ve missed anything out feel free to let me know x)

Notes: this is different to what I usually write so it may be a little shorter than usual, I have an idea for another Artist!Sirius fic that I’m going to start writing in the next few days, (warning though, it’ll be pure smut)

“Grrrr” you hear, a paintbrush flies past your head. Sirius lets out an annoyed sigh and he starts to pace back and forth across your small apartment, his hands tugging on his hair in frustration.

You lower the book that you’re reading looking up at him from below your lashes. It wasn’t unusual for Sirius to end up frustrated at his work but it was rather odd for him to start throwing things. It takes another growl from your frustrated lover for you to put the book aside. 

“Baby” you call from the couch, he doesn’t seem to hear you as he starts to rummage through his art supplies. you make your way over to him, standing behind him you put your hands on his shoulders, he jumps and turns to face you.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to get angry” he apologises, Sirius never likes to show anger around you as he wants to be your protector and not a feared figure, god knows he’s had enough of those for one lifetime.

Sirius wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, he rubs your back gently. 

You relax in his embrace, closing your eyes and letting out a relaxed sigh. You feel Sirius above you start to calm down, you reopen your eyes and look up at him. “Why were you so upset?” You ask.

Sirius pulls away from you, he wanders over to where his brush landed and picks it up, twirling it around his fingers he sits on the floor, his back against the couch. After a minute of silence he looks up at you, he pats the floor next to him signalling that you should sit next to him, you do so and lean against his shoulder.

Sirius lets out a sigh, he stops twirling the paintbrush and runs a hand over his face. “I’ve run out of canvases” he explains, “I could’ve sworn I had a spare but I can’t find it and it’s too late to go out to buy more”

There is a frown upon his face and you can’t help but feel sorry for him. Being as hyperactive and emotional as he is, he uses art as his outlet, if he doesn’t have that outlet it feels like his world is crashing down around him.

You try to think of a way to help him, he is right though it’s currently midnight and all of the art supply stores would have closed several hours ago.

As you desperately wrack your mind you think back to something he said a few days ago. You were coming out of the shower and hadn’t bothered wrapping a towel around yourself, Sirius being the sweetheart that he is had put down his sketchpad to pull your naked form into his lap, “mmm” he hummed into your neck, “you’re beautiful puppy, you’re a fucking masterpiece, I wish I could have you on display like this all the time”

Turning to look at Sirius’ lost face you make a decision, “I have an idea” you exclaim excitedly straddling his lap. He chuckles at your enthusiasm, “what baby?” he asks.

“You don’t need a canvas to paint on, you can just use me” 

Surprised at your proposition he raises a brow, “Are you sure baby?”

You nod excitedly “please, I’m really bored and I hate to see you upset”

Cupping your face in his hands he places a gentle kiss on your lips “You’d have to lay on the floor love, I don’t think that paint on our bed is a good idea”

“That’s okay, I love watching you work so I don’t think it’d be that uncomfortable” 

“Okay my little masterpiece” he pats your butt moving you off his lap before standing, he walks over to his paint before looking over his shoulder at you. “C’mon puppy strip”, you start to remove your clothes as Sirius gathers his supplies, he watches as you remove your panties and finally stand naked before him. 

“Fuck” he whispers staring at your naked form, “would it be a cop-out to say that my painting is complete?” He asks

You giggle stepping forward and kissing him “I love you”

“I love you too pup, c’mon lie down for me” he points to a clear spot on the floor. You lay yourself down on the floor in your living room, Sirius stands over you with a palette in one hand and a brush in the other, he has a spare brush behind his ear. Biting his lip, he looks down at you before getting down to your level and straddling your waist. 

His eyes scan your body for a second before he dips his brush into some paint and brings it down to your breast. The brush is cold and wet, you flinch at how unexpectedly cold the paint is, you quickly become used to it and you watch as his brush dips into the different colours. Your breath catches in your throat as the brush swirls over your nipples.

Instead of looking down at what he’s painting you watch his face. Sirius’ tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, he looks so calm and relaxed while running his paintbrush over the curves of your body. Out of your peripheral, you see flashes of blue.

The feeling of Sirius sitting on your waist pressing you down with his weight is very arousing, you feel your pussy start to dampen. Sirius’ curls are pinned up in a bun, a few strands have fallen out and they surround his face.

Sirius moves back, shifting so that he is now straddling your knees so that he can paint on your pelvis. Your pussy starts to throb slightly, you slightly move your thighs together to try and relieve the ache, he tuts “Don’t move puppy, we’re almost finished”

Sirius starts to bring the brush to your vulva, your breath starts to get heavy, staying still taking its toll on you as you want nothing more than to move his hand lower to play with your clit.

“Done”, Sirius leans back to admire his work, the soft glow of the overhead light is shining upon you as if you’re on a wall in an art gallery.

“Do you wanna see pup?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. You nod enthusiastically, “yes please”

“Okay, give me a minute, I need a picture of my angel looking like a complete masterpiece” he walks back to his desk to grab a camera, standing over you being careful not to catch his shadow in the shot he takes a few pictures of you”

After returning the camera to the desk he leaves to wash his hands, before returning to you to get you off the floor.

Sirius stands over you and reaches out a hand to one of your own, he helps you get up off the floor before turning you to face the bathroom. Standing behind you he places his hands over your eyes and tells you to walk.

“C’mon baby, just a few more steps, no peeking” he guides you into the bathroom to stand before the mirror.

“Are you ready?” He asks excitedly. Without waiting for a reply he starts counting down “3...2...1…” he removes his hands and watches your face in the mirror as you take in his work.

“So?”

You gasp as you take in the different shades of purple and blue that have been carefully blended into your skin, he’d painted the night sky with a couple of different constellations. “it’s so pretty” you say in awe.

“Not as pretty as you m’love” he replies still watching you in the mirror

You turn around to look into his eyes, “no seriously, it’s incredible if only you’d done it on an actual canvas so that it could be put on a wall”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that, my masterpiece on a wall” he looks down upon your still naked body. “Y’know we might not be able to display it but there’s still a way to get it on a wall”

“How?” You ask, wondering what plan he’d come up with

Sirius presses a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling back when you try to deepen it. Grabbing your waist he turns you around to look at the shower, he leans into your ear to whisper “we need to wash the paint off and you deserve a reward for being such a good girl”

Tags: @padf00ts-l0ver @divanca2006 @crystal-dee @pottahishotasf @heartbeats-wildly @sprucewoodlover

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[wattpadscapcons]

i actually listen to blackpink since they're like my second group to listen to. anyways thanks for answering my request!💖

if you don't mind, can i request some headcanons of leon from pokemon with an s/o from the real world? like they were travelling or something and feel asleep and then woke up to the pokemon with only their phone and bag and leon was the one who found them.

this is a very weird and specific request 💀 so im sorry for that. blame my hyperactive since they function differently when it's night lmao. also im nosey anon btw!

There's nothing really wrong with your ask, if anything the subject of jumping from your world and into a video game is something I thought about a lot.

I may just have to write this a little differently though? Because jumping through worlds is fine and all, but the establishment of a relationship is a little harder to establish with Leon's personality. He's helpful and compassionate sure, but most of his time is focused on securing his spot at the top as champion.

And the issue is where and how to explain the beginning of the story really. Do I start with the reader waking up in the game and just time skip like usual or do I have to go into detail of the establishment of a relationship with said character? Decisions decisions....

There could also be some kind of connection prior to the portal jumping that already has them in some kind of romantic relationship, like a dating sim dlc patch? I kinda like that idea....

ALSO THANK YOU FOR PICKING SOMEONE NEW! I love N to bits but the other characters deserve love too!

Edit: Hope you like ✨drama✨!

=

Leon w/ Real World S/O

- It's somewhat strange just how comfortable you've got being here, with him

- How are you not freaking out right now? You literally just jumped from the real world to a video game overnight

- The fact that him being the one to find you also seemed almost...planned out?

- Maybe downloading that Dating DLC wasn't a good idea after all, but you're still happy!

- "Y/N? Are you ok?" "Yeah." "You were spacing out again." "Just thinking." "About?" "How I actually got here..." "I've thought a little bit about that too.. Didn't come up with any good answers." "I'm just happy that you didn't let the fact that you're apart of a game bother you." "I mean if my presence is enjoyed by millions around the globe, then that just makes me happy."

"Do you think the dating dlc caused this?" "Y/N, I really...don't understand that part. You downloaded a dlc on a video game that was already out. Why?" "I plead the fifth for that answer." "You just wanted to be with me huh?" "Maybe..."

- He realized half way through you being here that everything he knows is just fabricated, and still seems to smile about it

- "Please don't tell Hop the truth. I'd rather see him continue on his journey happily instead of looking for a way to escape." "Leon, I would never want to cause harm to you or your family like that...I know that he's gone through way too much as is to get to where he is now." "You <played> as his rival. Throughout all of this... He really respects you."

"I....don't look like Gloria/Victor. I don't think he'll recognize me now." "It's ok if he doesn't. He can just get to know the real you, as Y/N L/N, instead of his programmed best friend." "Heh...the age gap is different too. I have no idea what to do as champion since "they" left. I'm so used to being in control of them." "I'm upset they're gone too, I have no idea what to tell Hop."

- You, your Pokémon, and Leon all end up trying to figure out how to explain some things to Hop without him getting upset for a little while, before going back to the beginning again

- "I feel asleep on a plane and woke up here. I didn't even have my Switch with me. I only had my bag and my phone when I woke up. Sort of like Gloria/Victor. Do you think that the code of the game is just having me replace them?" "I don't know. I'd hate to think we'd never see them again, even if they were just your placeholder. Have...you actually tried to call home?" "Yes. And I even looked through my contacts. They've all been altered."

"So, you're stuck here with me." "Is being champion as easy as it was out of the game?" "Huh?" "I'm the champion Leon. What am I supposed to be doing right now?" "Training I guess. You should probably take it easy for a while though, things do work differently here." "I remember the rules Leon, believe me."

- You actually checked to see whether or not that Gloria/Victor was at home by chance, their mom addressed you by name with a "Welcome home Y/N!" It's true, you really did end up replacing them

- Bede, Marnie, Hop and your pokémon all recognized you. Hop was the only one to notice that you were different now though.

"Y/N, you....look different now. I can't really tell what's changed...but somethings off. What did you do?" "Um... I changed my hair and eye contacts, as well as my clothes. I just felt like reinventing myself a little y'know?" "That's not what I meant...are you taller? You also...look older now.... What happened?" "Hop...I can't tell you. I'm sorry. But you're right, I have changed. I am older than you think I am." "I don't- I don't understand..." "It's ok, I didn't either when I woke up. It's just one more thing for all of us to get used to."

"I'm...I'm going to go talk to my brother...see you later Y/N." "....."

- Hop ended up going to Leon, very distraught, and asking about you. Leon did his best to explain (lie) and just told him he had no idea what happened to you. In the process, he told him that you two were an item now. To which Hop blew up on him, almost crying.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!?" "Hop please calm down." "Do you have any idea what I FEEL for them? DO YOU?!" "Hop, I'm sorry. I know I'm being selfish. I don't expect you to accept it either. Please believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you..." "I'm always going to be in your shadow Leon... When does the competitions stop...?"

----

"Guys!" "Y/N?" "What's with all the yelling? Hop?" "I'm...I'm fine. I'm just really upset right now....I need some air.... I- I can't stand being in this room right now... I'm sorry."

-------

"Leon?" "He blew up on me. I lied about knowing you've changed, but told him the truth about our relationship. He apparently had feelings for you as well." "Leon you couldn't have known." "I know...I don't pay enough attention to one of the most important people in my life. I...need to work on being a better brother."

"I really hate to say it this way but, Hop will move on. Ok? Don't feel bad, if he really wanted to be with me he would've said something." "I know, I know. Let's just...try to rest for today alright babe? I'm already exhausted..."

[shushiyuii]

Atlantic Runaways (Part 3)

Lol we got part 3, which is mainly just a lot of fluff and plot developement uwu

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, vore, trauma? Swearing.

Words: 1.8K+

He rolled in bed as his alarm went off, the familiar tune of the able sisters calling him into awakening. Much to his displeasure. How dare this alarm tell him to get up when wait- shit! He had a job!

He came to his thoughts as he shot out of bed, checking his phone to see that the alarm was late. “SHIT!”. But then stopped for a minute, he remembered it was a Saturday. Why would his alarm be going off on his day off?

Then he realised he was going too late for his meeting with Tubbo.

He grabbed his hoodie, rushed downstairs and ran across the street to the nearby park that he and Tubbo would meet up in.

As he ran his best friend came into view, with an unamused face of course. “Tubbo! My man!”. He managed to get out as he came to a halt, panting his lungs out. “About time, you dickhead!”.

“Sorry! Sorry! A lot of things happened yesterday…”. It came out almost abrupt but confusing as the reality of yesterday’s events were finally hitting him. No wonder he overslept, he was exhausted.

“You okay Toms?”. He snapped out of his mind and looked to Tubbo, “Fine! How about we grab some coffee from the café?”, “Sure, but I’m not grabbing coffee. I’m getting hot chocolate!”.

…

“Tubbo, it’s the middle of fucking summer…”, “THAT WILL NOT STOP ME FROM CONSUMING AND ENJOYING MY CHOCOLATEY BEVERAGE!”.

The two made their way to the café in the middle of the park, it was quite a famous public area so many people frequented the place. They took their orders, the hot chocolate and coffee with a side of biscuits. Because Tommy didn’t have breakfast.

The two just sat on their phones for a moment, the atmosphere of awkwardness raising, it was apparent to Tubbo that something was off about Tommy, he was normally more hyperactive, talkative, and well, energetic. Something was clearly on his mind, and he didn’t want to talk.

But Tubbo was determined to get answers. The drinks soon arrived and Tubbo put away his phone, sipping at his hot chocolate. Ignoring the boiling temperature in favour of looking dramatic. He looked at Tommy with narrowed eyes, but his attention was focused on his phone.

“So…”. Tubbo spoke up, Tommy’s attention went from his phone to Tubbo. “What’s up?”, Tommy asked while furrowing an eyebrow, Tubbo was acting differently.

“What’s going on? You’re acting differently.”. Tubbo usual tone is gone, replaced with a serious one. Oh god, it was a serious one. Did he do something? Was he suspicious? He didn’t really want to tell Tubbo what had happened.

“Uhh, nothing?”. Tubbo slammed his fist on the table. “Okay! Okay! Maybe almost got murdered yesterday at work?...”. Tubbo always held a level of intimidation so Tommy couldn’t help and spit it out, much to his displeasure.

“What?”, Tubbo spoke quietly, not wanting to get more attention from the customers that were already staring at them.  “Okay, let’s finish this outside.”.

The two then quickly ate their biscuits and finished their drinks, Tommy grabbing a can of Coca Cola on the way out. The two then made their way to their usual bench, secluded from the rest of the park.

“So, what do you mean you almost got killed?!”, Tubbo asked the moment they sat down. Tommy almost choked on his cola. “Right uhm…”. He tried to find a way to put it.

“Basically, you know that trainer guy who was really sketchy?”, “Yeah…”. “Basically, he threw me into the water with a dangerous Mer? Well, not really dangerous now... But-“. Tubbo slapped a hand over Tommy’s mouth and pinched his own nose and sighed. “Slowly.”.

Tommy in turned sighed when his mouth was released, he was going to have to go into more detail. “Trainer guy I was working under was treating Wilbur like shit, course me and Wilbur weren’t on the best of terms but that isn’t a right to treat a creature like us like total shit! So, I stood up for em’ “.

He continued, “In turn, he got mad and pushed me into the water. As you know I’m not the brightest out there and I didn’t manage to suck in any air. So, I was drowning…”. “That’s how you almost died?...”.

Tommy looked down and nodded, his arms hugging himself. Tubbo comforted him with a hug, rubbing his back as Tommy leaned into the touch. “Mhm…”. He mumbled. The two stayed there for a moment, in comforting silence.

“How did you get out?” he asked once Tommy had calmed down. “I- Wilbur saved me. I don’t know why but he did, he fucking ate me while doing it too!”, “What?!”.

“Turns out some Mers have what’s called a brooding pouch, a place where they store young. Wilbur put me there for a while”. “Wait- Brooding pouch?! He ate you but didn’t eat you?”. Tubbo said in confusion to which made Tommy laugh.

“Yeah, turns out he can speak too! So, now I can actually talk to the bitch! And now we’re friends, I guess? Well, that and he actually comforted me after what happened, so after all that I walked home at whatever time it was and fell asleep.”.

Tubbo went straight into protective mode, hugging Tommy with a lot of strength, “I’m glad you’re alive! But Wilbur, you think you guys are friends?”. “I guess so, he seemed rather friendlier than usual”.

“Whatever it is, be careful. He could still be dangerous!”, “I will don’t worry! I just, I feel bad for Wilbur. I’m gonna try and do whatever I can to help… Wait- how come you’re okay with all this?”.

“Because I know you Toms, and I know I won’t be able to stop you even if I tried so you have my support, okay? If you need a hand lemme know”.

The two did their usual antics after that, playing around and such like they have since childhood and after all that he went to bed.

…

The next day went by quickly as he was mainly playing games and stuff. He tried to think of plans, something of what he could do to help Wilbur.

…

He woke up with a lot of energy that morning, he had plans and he knew that work is going to be absolute chaos.

The moment he arrived at work that day there was a sort of rush of anxiety and excitement, he was excited to see Wilbur again but also scared of the fact of how Wilbur would react.

He walked past the halls and into Wilbur’s containment. There stood the trainer, sitting on a stand, smoking his darn cigarette.  

He heard the door open and looked over to see Tommy. His eyes widened in shock, coughing as he clumsily inhaled his cigarette. “Y-you’re!”. “Yeah, I’m alive. Shut it”.

The man opened his mouth and stood up, approaching Tommy menacingly. Tommy’s confidence faded as he brought up his arms to shield himself from the man. But the man didn’t even stand a chance as water splashed around the two.

And there was Wilbur, barring his sharp teeth, his eyes dilated as he saw the man staring down at his trainer. The trainer immediately backed off when he saw the Mer, running away cowardly out of the room. Leaving him and Wilbur alone.

Tommy looked nervously to Wilbur whose harsh expression turned softer as he looked down at Tommy, he leaned down to Tommy’s height. “You, okay?”. “Yeah, fine. Thanks Wil.”.

Wilbur smiled as he brought out his hand, offering it to Tommy to which he looked down at it in confusion, to which Wilbur responded by just picking him up completely. “Glad to see you’re okay, I’ve been worried”. He nuzzled Tommy.

“Oi, stop it bitch!”. It made Wilbur laugh. “Why are you so cuddly?!”, “You should know this, it’s common knowledge for mers”. Tommy took a minute to understand what he meant then the realisation hit him.

“Right, you bitches get attached to things easily”. And in response, Wilbur brought a claw to gently rub Tommy’s hair. “Right there, gremlin boy!”. “I am no gremlin!”.

The two then settled down with Wilbur swimming around in his small pool, which honestly made Tommy cringe with how small it was. “You hungry?”, he yelled out as he pulled out a heavy bucket towards the pool, it was filled to the brim with fish.

Wilbur popped his head out of the water, “Always hungry, honestly”. He swam towards the end of the pool where Tommy was, “Right”. He brought the bucket to Wilbur, to which Wilbur opened his mouth wide.

Tommy could make out the many sharp fangs, he could easily be swallowed whole. It freaked him out, he shrieked and stepped back. Wilbur closed his mouth and tilted his head in confusion at Tommy’s sudden yells. “What’s wrong?”.

“N-nothing, just you kinda scared me for a second “, “Oh! Sorry! Just thought you’d feed me like that”. “O-oh…”. Tommy then took a breath and came back close to Wilbur, Wilbur picked up on what Wilbur was doing and opened his mouth back up.

He then threw the bucket of fish into Wilbur’s mouth, who immediately swallowed the fish. Although not normally a part of a whale mer’s diet, it was the only thing that he could really give Wilbur to eat out here.

Wilbur then went back to swimming whilst Tommy laid his feet in the water and surprisingly, Wilbur didn’t mind it.

“So. Uhm- you okay Wil?”, “Just fine, Tommy” he answered as he swam. Fortunately, Mers could hear just as well from above the water, even if they were underwater. So, the conversation would be rather normal.

“How are you feeling after that day?”, “Fine, I talked to a friend about it. Got it off my mind and shit.”, “You told somebody about me?”, his tone changed. Tommy looked to Wilbur, “Y-yeah, I hope that’s okay!”, “Are they trustworthy?”, “Yeah!”, “Okay.”.

There was another moment of silence until Tommy spoke up, “Wilbur, don’t you hate being here?”. “Yes, I do, I absolutely despise it here. I hated it the moment I got here”, “Do you wanna go back to the ocean?”.

…

“Yes I do, but that isn’t possible.”.

“What if it is though?”.

“Tommy, you’d have to be a maniac in order to pull off an operation on your own”.

“Well I am a maniac, I’ll do it!”.

“Toms-“.

“Let’s run away Wilbur!”.

…

 “Tommy!” Wilbur pinched his nose and sighed, “I get it, you wanna help and I’m all up for it. But it’s dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

“It’ll be fine Wilbur! Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?!”. Wilbur looked to Tommy who had determined eyes, he couldn’t help it, he found them adorable. He sighed again, “Finee, but we’re going to be really careful about this okay?”.

Tommy smiled and stood up, reached out for Wilbur, Wilbur happily hugged him back with his hand. It made Tommy laugh, which brought a smile to Tommy’s face.

“We’ll run away!”.

[theworldinclines]

Title: a firm foothold Pairing: Pitch/Bank Excerpt:      Pitch looks at the way Bank bites his lip, his fingers holding tightly to the hem of his shirt, and asks, “Bank, are you… okay?”      “Yeah,” Bank says, but sighs when Pitch raises his eyebrows. “Not really.” Ao3 link

Read story under cut.

     “As if we’d leave!”

     Sky shakes his head. His frustrated, overwrought expression has stiffened his features and Pitch doesn’t want to imagine the kind of fear he’s enduring right now. “We won’t know anything until tonight, if that,” Sky says plainly. “And anyway, they’ve already said he can’t have visitors until they’re sure he’s more stable, so there’s no use in all of us hanging around.”

     “So you’ll be going home too then?” Bank deadpans.

     “He needs me,” Sky says. At Bank’s mouth opening once more, he goes on, “Bank, one of my dad’s men is already on the way back with fresh clothes for me. Just go home, eat something. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

     Bank’s mouth is set, his eyebrows drawn, and Pitch can tell he wants to fight Sky on this. It’s not hard to understand, really; they rescued their friend from a mob kidnapping only to watch another get shot unconscious. They’re standing here alive by the skin of their teeth and to leave Sky like this is the opposite of who Bank is.

     “Bank,” Pitch says, setting his hand hesitantly to the younger’s back. After a second, Bank looks at him, still frowning. “We’re covered in dust and haven’t eaten since morning. Let’s just head back for now.” He gives the slightest inclination of his chin toward Sky, a pointed look in his eyes that says they need to give their friend space, and Bank’s shoulders deflate as he sighs.

     “You’ll really tell us if something changes?” he asks Sky. “Promise?”

     Sky grins a tired smile. “Yes, Bank. I promise.”

     Bank nods once, satisfied, and pats Sky’s arm kindly before turning on his heel with a little wave. “Bye bye,” he says. “Don’t forget!”

     Sky rolls his eyes a little but nods, shooing them away. Pitch glances backward as he follows after Bank and catches the way Sky’s body has sagged forward, eyes already fallen to the floor. He needs time to process on his own, Pitch knew that, but it still hurts to see a friend going through something no one can fix.

     “I’m starving,” Bank announces, sliding into the passenger’s seat.

     “Let’s stop for a bite.”

     Bank nods immediately, then appears to realise something in looking at Pitch. At Bank’s nose wrinkling, Pitch looks down at his filthy uniform. “P’, we’re a mess,” Bank voices.

     “Showers it is.”

     Bank nods again and switches the music on as Pitch turns out of the hospital parking. It’s quiet aside from the Scrubb CD Bank had at one point snuck into the radio of Pitch’s car. He isn’t too into the band but their sound always brings a happy sort of look onto Bank’s face, so Pitch isn’t going to fight him on it.

     Pitch rolls to a stop outside Bank’s gate and looks at him, expecting him to say something like a goodbye, but Bank’s eyes are glued to the house itself.

     “Uh, Bank?” Pitch says. “Bank.”

     “Huh?” Bank blinks. “Sorry. I was going to say you can come in to eat.”

     “You wanted to clean up, I thought.”

     Another blink. “Oh. Yeah, I do.” Bank wordlessly gets out of the car, to Pitch’s confusion, and is halfway to the gate when he turns back around and says, “You can still come in though.”

     Pitch rolls down his window, sure that he’d misheard. “What?”

     “Come inside. We can shower and eat.” Bank shifts on his feet. “You’re already here, as hungry as I am.”

     Pitch waits for Bank to rescind the invitation, but he just stands there waiting. So Pitch parks the car and does as he’s told.

     Bank’s house is massive, though both of his parents being successful doctors lessens Pitch’s surprise on what they might afford. Pitch lives comfortably but this is sort of overwhelming, even for him. Bank being who he is, he likely puts on every light and the television to avoid being spooked when he has the place to himself. The thought has Pitch glancing at Bank, wanting to take his hand as they move for the staircase, but he refrains.

     Bank’s bedroom is much neater than Pitch would have imagined. Maybe it was because Bank held no qualms about jumping drunk onto a bed that wasn’t his own, but Pitch had almost assumed that Bank’s space would be something of a disaster.

     “The floor’s usually a disaster so it’s lucky I cleaned up yesterday,” Bank reads his mind, digging around the dresser.

     The room is decorated sparingly, the majority of it confined to the wall behind the bed, floor to ceiling covered in posters ranging from popular anime to bands Pitch couldn’t begin to guess the names of. Scrubb has made a home in here too; there’s one poster that has its members for some reason holding vegetables? Pitch shakes his head, resigned to just not ask.

     “Here, P’.” Pitch turns to find Bank offering pajamas his way. “It’s just a long sleeve and shorts. We can run the laundry and clean up your stuff.”

     “Thanks,” Pitch says.

     “Mm. You can use my bathroom; I’ll shower in my parents’.” Bank disappears into the hall, leaving Pitch on his own. With time to himself he takes in the room some more. It even smells clean, and like Bank. There’s a small grey sofa and more than one bookshelf besides, each littered with action figures, comics, and textbooks. Pitch can just picture Bank reading on the sofa, or complaining about something or other to Sky at the desk.

     Pitch probably shouldn’t be as oddly giddy as he is to just be standing here, but he can’t help it. Even the bathroom makes Pitch smile; it smells of Bank’s soap, and there’s his infamous hair gel.

     Pitch spots his own reflection grinning stupidly in the mirror and Pitch coughs, looking away. If he doesn’t move a little faster, Bank is going to walk in to find him still standing here like a weirdo. He’d probably laugh and mortify Pitch, and that notion is enough to get him in the shower pronto.

     When he comes out, Bank is on the sofa, head bent as he types away on his phone. The shirt he’d been planning to wear is abandoned on the cushion, like he’d gotten distracted halfway through dressing. Pitch grins and tiptoes up to the sofa.

     “The return of Ticklish Godzilla — ” he begins with a grumble in his voice, but he has time only to finish the sentence before Bank is yanking Pitch onto the sofa by his neck like a rag doll. He flips over with a, “Oi!” to land neatly in Bank’s lap, the air knocked from his lungs at the sneak attack. He must be smiling like an idiot regardless.

     “Vanquished,” Bank says, digging his fingers into Pitch’s sides in retaliation.

     “Don’t — ” Pitch squirms out of Bank’s grasp and jumps to his feet. “Don’t even try it.”

     Bank shakes his head, grinning, and with distance between them Pitch takes in Bank’s damp, loose hair. His lack of a shirt is also sinking in, which has Pitch’s skin itching even though this isn’t the first time he’s seen Bank damp and shirtless this month. He clears his throat again.

     “Are you good to eat?” he asks, wincing immediately at himself, but Bank just nods happily.

     “I ordered pizza,” he says, then frowns. “Unless you want something else. I can — ”

     “Pizza’s fine.”

     “Okay.” He tugs his shirt on as they go down the hallway, much of Pitch’s efforts pointed at not looking at the muscle of Bank’s back or arms.

     “I just messaged the girls about Sun. They’ll go tomorrow to visit too.”

     “Sure,” Pitch says. “I think I’ll head home after we eat, by the way. We could use some sleep.”

     Bank hesitates for just a second at the top of the stairs, then says, “I have every Lord of the Rings movie; have you seen them?”

     “I mean — I’ve seen some of the first.”

     Bank looks at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?” he demands, and Pitch is sort of worried he’s about to be cursed out. “That’s awesome! We can watch them tonight!”

     “Uh, aren’t they, like, pretty long?”

     Bank shrugs noncommittally but otherwise gives no answer as he bounds down the stairs like a hyperactive puppy.

     Two pizzas and a lot of soda later, Pitch is about ready to pass out. Bank seems to have more energy than ever though, so much so that Pitch doesn’t think even Ticklish Godzilla can save him now.

     “Hey, Bank,” he starts.

     “Sh!” Bank hisses. He takes these things incredibly seriously, Pitch has found. He hates when people talk during shows or movies, these times being some of the few that Bank wants total silence.

     “Bank,” Pitch tries again anyway.

     “P’!” Bank whines.

     Pitch pauses the movie on another speech given by a character he doesn’t know the name of and gives Bank a look.

     “It’s past 11,” he says. “I need to get home; I’m bone tired.”

     “But we haven’t finished it yet.”

     “I know, but — ”

     “And we still have two left.”

     “How long are these, exactly?” Pitch asks for another time.

     “Well, they’re the extended versions so they’re…” He trails off into a mumble.

     “What was that?”

     “About four hours,” Bank says louder, cheeks reddening.

     “In total?”

     “Each.”

     Pitch’s jaw slackens. “Each movie is four hours? We can’t watch them all tonight! If we have any hope of getting to the hospital before noon I can’t be awake right until we have to walk out the door, Bank.” Bank doesn’t look at him, his mouth a hard line. “We can watch them another time; I can come back — ”

     “It’s okay. You don’t have to; Sky thinks they’re boring too. I don’t actually care.”

     Pitch blinks slowly at the abrupt change. “Okay.”

     “It’s not about the movies, P’Pitch,” Bank admits after a moment.

     “What is it then?” He looks at the way Bank bites his lip, his fingers holding tightly to the hem of his shirt, and asks, “Bank, are you… okay?”

     “Yeah,” Bank says, but sighs when Pitch raises his eyebrows. “Not really.”

     “Bank, Sun’s going to be fine. And Sky can handle — ”

     “It’s not that,” Bank cuts in. “It’s not just that. I’m… I don’t…” Pitch has no idea what could be the cause of Bank’s sudden despondence, he really doesn’t. Everything had been perfectly normal from the drive home to now, hadn’t it?

     “My parents aren’t in town,” Bank says. “And my brother’s with his friends.” He doesn’t explain anything more, but Pitch can connect the dots from there. If Pitch is honest, he remembers the look on Bank’s face when they’d pulled up earlier. If Bank’s family isn’t here, Bank will have to spend the night alone, something he dislikes having to do on a good day. Compounded by their near-death at the mob’s hands, forget not wanting to sleep alone — Bank must be frightened to death that he’s in danger.

     “I know those guys got arrested but what if there’s more of them, P’?” he asks quietly. “We’re the reason they got caught.”

     “Bank, they aren’t going to come after you.”

     Bank’s eyebrows come together like he’s confused. “P’Pitch, I’m alone for one night, but you live by yourself every night. What if they show up to torture you like they did with Sky, or…” Pitch almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. Bank is scared for Pitch’s life, not his own. This stupid, selfless kid.

     “Bank,” Pitch starts again, too aware of the fondness in his voice, “that won’t happen. They wouldn’t get past me and my bat anyway.”

     “I’m not kidding around.”

     At Bank’s deadly glare, Pitch clears his throat and wipes any trace of jest from his face. “I know,” he says. “But I really don’t think we have to worry.”

     “You’re right — ” Bank agrees.

     “Good, I — ”

     “ — because you’re staying here with me.” Pitch stares at Bank, but he doesn’t look to be joking yet. “I don’t want to be on my own and I don’t want you to be either,” Bank says, matter-of-fact. “So stay.”

     Pitch knows better than to argue with Bank, so he doesn’t.

     “Alright,” he says. “I’ll… stay.”

     The tension melts from Bank’s face, a grin emerging like the sun from clouds, and Pitch can’t help smiling too. Bank goes to grab the remote, and Pitch’s smile drops. He can’t do eight more hours of these movies tonight, not even for the guy he likes.

     Pitch grabs Bank’s wrist, to his confusion. “I think we can call it for now, don’t you?” the former says.

     Bank gives an embarrassed grimace, switching off the television. “Right, P’. Let’s sleep.” Once on the second floor, Bank retrieves a heavy woven blanket from the hall closet along with an extra pillow. Pitch settles them onto the sofa without a word, and Bank doesn’t comment. He leaves the room, returning shortly with a face towel and toothbrush. Pitch thanks him with a small smile that Bank returns.

     Pitch has never brushed his teeth with another person, and it’s super weird, but he doesn’t hate it. If anything, it’s an excuse to sneak glances at Bank in the mirror and then make a dumb face to make Bank laugh when he’s caught.

     Bank shoves his bangs off his face as he undoes the bed, blowing up a little when strands remain stubborn on his forehead. His hair is dry now but as he’s home for the night he never bothered to gel it to the usual. It hangs in his face and may even need a trim, though Pitch is well aware that Bank would be afraid to alter his signature look. Maybe Pitch will get him some sort of glittery, purposely ridiculous clip to keep his hair up at night, so it doesn’t get in his way. Bank would love it.

     “Lights off?” he asks. At Bank’s nod from under his sheets, Pitch switches off the ceiling lights and heads for the sofa.

     They lay in the dark for a minute, then Bank says, “Thanks for staying.” Another few moments pass. “I shouldn’t have used the movies as an excuse to keep you here. Sorry.”

     “Why’re you apologising?” Pitch asks, reminiscent of their botched camping endeavour. He pauses to think of how to proceed. “What I mean is, you didn’t have to pretend, or anything. You don’t need an ‘excuse’ to want me here.”

     Bank is silent, and Pitch worries that he’d accidentally said way too much. He was just trying to be honest the way Bank always likes to be. Bank is so honest that it often takes Pitch aback; not just often, but always. He isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to the way Bank just says what he means, how he feels. He cares so much about every one of them, and having never experienced such a thing before makes it easy for Pitch to believe it can’t be true. So he didn’t tell Bank how he felt at the lake, or in the tent; even now Pitch feels like he’s on far too thin ice.

     But Bank walks into fights with mobsters because he doesn’t want Pitch to face them alone, so Pitch can afford to be a little braver.

     “Just tell me and I’ll… I’ll stay however long you need, whyever you need,” he promises, eyes on the ceiling, heart rabbiting in his chest.

     Pitch is about to hope Bank fell asleep and heard none of that when Bank says, “Can… can you sleep here?” Pitch’s eyebrows furrow, but Bank clarifies, “Up here, with me.”

     Pitch doesn’t dare take a breath, giving Bank a chance to change his mind. But just as the other times today, he simply waits for Pitch to answer.

     Pitch gets up from the sofa instead of speaking. Bank scoots over to make room and Pitch settles the pillow at the headboard before laying down himself. He’s holding his breath still, even while he drapes the woven blanket over himself and Bank too.

     Bank turns onto his side to look at Pitch, so he does the same. His heart has yet to slow down but he does it. The last time they’d slept close like this had been the volunteer trip, and it had ended with their backs to each other, Bank’s outline frigid and small. He’s curled up again, but his face is relaxed, arms held to his chest. He looks soft in the dark, without edges, and for an overwhelming second Pitch is furious with himself over how he’d handled that night in the tent.

     Bank had slept with the belief that he’d done something wrong, that Pitch was somehow unhappy with him. Pitch knows now how he feels, and tried to explain as much to Bank those couple nights ago, but… All he can say is that he never wants Bank to question how he feels for him ever again. For God’s sake, Pitch finds the smell of Bank’s soap endearing.

     If he’d gone home, he would have never slept tonight, the entire time likely spent thinking about Bank and if he’s okay on his own. How is it Bank seems to always know what Pitch needs before he knows it himself? Or maybe they just need the same thing.

     Pitch puts a hand on Bank’s waist, a ghost of a touch, and Bank opens his eyes just a little. He must be exhausted, even worse after having acted energetic the past however many hours, so he doesn’t say anything. He just shuffles closer to Pitch until he can hide bundled up in his arms. Pitch exhales.

     “I need you too,” he admits against Bank’s hair, and because he can’t help being cheeky, “Are you satisfied with that answer?”

     Sleepy, Bank tilts his head up with a quirked eyebrow and smirk. “Mm.” He gives a soft kiss to Pitch’s jaw, just because Bank knows it will devastate him. “This spot is better.” With that, he returns to his snug place against Pitch’s chest.

     If Pitch weren’t already half asleep, Godzilla would be having serious revenge right now.

     “G’night, P’Pitch,” Bank murmurs through a baby yawn.

     Pitch settles for holding Bank as close as he can, which is a damn good deal.

[baphomets-hairy-bonkhonagahoogs]

Okay instead of Portal 2’s humor I’m going to talk about Wheatley next instead. Because I have more fully formed thoughts about this than I do the large, nebulous, and intimidating topic that is “Portal 2’s comedy”.

So, Wheatley. An incredible voice performance, a likeable enough character who (to me at least) has a pretty logical progression from Friend to Foe. But, the more I think about him the more he irks me. Not just from a “I don’t care for him as a person/character” perspective, but from a meta writing perspective as well.

It is a major part of the story that Wheatley was literaly designed to be a moron. To be stupid. To fill GLaDOS’ head with time wasting thoughts and ideas. He is described as a tumor. However, Wheatley isn’t really that stupid at all.

Wheatley is often unobservant, takes a long time to think, and accidentally bumbles into trouble, sure. When GLaDOS calls him out by pointing out that Chell did all the work to install Wheatley into the big powerful position over Aperture, I largely agree with her. But while Chell did do all the heavy lifting and many times came up with better solutions to achieving their shared goals, Wheatley did do a good amount of guiding and planning. He made it a goal to take out GLaDOS’ turrets and neurotoxin and then he executed that plan with Chell’s help. Chell very likely would have come to the same idea herself of course but it was Wheatley who ended up proposing it. Wheatley also helped to direct Chell around Aperture. Again, Chell would have been able to find her way around by herself but Wheatley did bring that knowledge set to the table. I believe that it would have been extraordinarily more difficult for Chell if Wheatley wasn’t around to help out in the first half of the game.

He isn’t uselessly stupid. In fact he proves himself to be resourceful and clever sometimes as well! He plants the explosive trap at the stalemate button because he saw it bite GLaDOS in the ass, he got rid of (almost) everything that could have hosted a portal on it, he gave himself multiple blast sheilds because that also bit GLaDOS in the ass.

Wheatley doesn’t feel stupid to me. Often his downfall is his insecurities or luck being against him (such as the moon becoming visible for Chell to shoot at) rather than being too stupid. Which brings me to my main point. Wheatley isn’t a stupidity core but rather an ADHD core that comes free with the insecurities that often follow ADHD people around.

I myself have ADHD, and ADHD is different for everyone. I want to make that clear. I can only speak from my own perspective on the matter. But, I find myself often relating to Wheatley.

We both have hyperactive minds that spew out thoughts before we can process if they make much sense or not. We both get easily distracted and ramble in a train of consciousness style. For an example of this look towards Wheatley telling Chell about the robot myths and stories about Aperture and its history while they both navigate behind the scenes in the first half of the story. We both think up obtuse, unconventional (yet creative) solutions to problems that are at times unnecessarily and often inefficient. For an example, see Wheatley’s frankenturrets or all the ways he tries to chase the high of the euphoria of testing. I often feel stupid or like “a moron” myself when I’m forced to work within a structure built for neurotypicals and inevitably fall behind. Remember earlier when I said that Wheatley is more often defeated by his insecurities than his supposed lack of intelligence? Well that insecurity stems from his own frustration at himself or ridicule from others when he can’t succeed at what is expected of him by himself or others (GLaDOS mainly). This is painfully relatable. His rejection sensitivity is delt with my lashing out and trying to maintain a level of control over the facility (not a very healthy way to deal with it, but it’s definitely more interesting for the story’s sake). When his intelligence is insulted he takes it very hard, I’d guess seeing it as a form of rejection, and overcompensates with classical music and “reading” Machiavelli. I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting as I write this, but I hope I’ve got my point across.

Wheatley isn’t stupid, he just has ADHD symptoms. And often times people with ADHD are read as stupid, and ADHD traits are assigned to characters who are supposed to be stupid. I’d hope that it is obvious why this is problematic. And the issue isn’t exclusive to Portal 2 by any means. For example, Andy Dwyer from Parks and Rec probably just has ADHD with a big does of impulsivity.

Does all this make me hate Wheatley as a character? No actually. This is a systemic problem that I feel as though many creatives don’t even realize what they’re doing as they do it. I believe it’s ignorance in good faith over malice in bad faith. Is it okay if this makes you hate the way Wheatley is written and ruins him for you? Of course! It’s a personal thing. I simply wanted to share because if I can help other people notice it then hopefully it should stop happening.

While I don’t believe it’s intentional, I think it ends up saying a lot about how an ADHD person ends up getting treated in an environment literally not made for them. And power corrupts, of course, so I have a hard time seeing it as a “neurodivergent people are evil or bad people” narrative. Anyone who is given so much power is gonna turn fuckin’ evil, see GLaDOS or the disgustingly capitalist Cave Johnson (Though he was pretty evil from the get go. I’ll talk about Cave more when I talk about Portal 2’s comedy). Wheatley’s only flaws aren’t his symptoms either. He’s just kinda sexist as well, this shines through in little ways like his assumption that the human who beat GLaDOS was a man. Wheatley is complicated.

In conclusion, I hope that made even a lick of sense. I’ll admit that it was difficult trying to articulate all my thoughts of this in a easy to read way, so I hope I did a good job!

[spencstan]

Six of Crows re-read

(i also did this for the shadow and bone trilogy so read that if you want to)

spoiler alert obiously

i'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS this is my comfort book (with crooked kingdom of course)

JOOST HI

oo fun fact this was my first grishaverse book and i read it with no context whatsoever except that the mc is an emo boy and morally grey

so IMAGINE my pure confusion when JOOST appeared

i was like ?????? weird take on morally grey character but ok

joost trying to figure out how to flirt with a girl is a mood

anyone wanna teach us how to???

i kinda wanna skip this part so i can see the crows..

but i won't don't worry

(won't I?

"I think Yuri may be quarantined"

aaaand?

so are we you are not special

i feel like it's very important for me to mention that i read this book in spanish first

and then i got into the fandom and i was like who the fuck is the wraith? i only know El Espectro

Heartender who??? ooo you mean Cardio

Tidemakers? nope, i only know Maremotores

for real i was so confused i had to re-read it in english (not that i mind tho)

say whatever you want about the spanish version but we have to agree that this design is pretty af

another one yay: "Retvenko was a Squaller" vs. "Retvenk era un Impulsor"

(should i also say that in my pfd english version the book is 294 pages long and in my pdf spanish version its 532????) (i think it's because in the english one the speces are way less like the lines are so close together wtf

i've decided that i'm bored so i'll be skiping this chapter

anya is super badass tho

skdgfalsdgfliaysvfascvhjl yesssssss inej

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

KAZ

INEJ

I MISSED THEM

omg now i can picture amita and freddy SDJGKASKGLASG THIS IS AMAZING

we interrupt our regularly scheduled program to watch the shadow and bone trailer once again to hear freddy's beautiful voice

ok moving on!

now hear me out i'm giving you all permission to make fun of kaz for this one: Dirtyhands = Manos Sucias

hello i am Kaz Manos Sucias. nice to meet you!

AAAAA

AAAAAAAAAA

JESPER FAHEY

JESPER LOVE HI

SJDGHFKAHSGDLAJSDFSJ,AHFLHDSGF

I MISSED HIM OMG

OMG NOW I CAN PICTURE HIM AS KIT

can you tell jesper is one of my favourite characters?

i really love the fact that kaz is pissed about the murder of that ambassador ONLY because he can´t figure out how it happen

he´s such a nerd

i can't believe one of the firts things we hear jesper say is threathen to kill someone by writing "forgive me" with bullets

AND HE CALLS HIS GUNS "BABIES" OMG

picture saying hi baby and wylan thinkin he's talking to him but actually jesper's talking to one of his guns

Jesper rolled his eyes. "It's about sending a message. What's the point of a dead guy with forg written on his chest?."

"Compromise," Kaz said. "I'm sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets."

ooo thank god we have kaz to come up with creative solutions /j /s

honestly i love how they talk about kaz's cane like it's the scariest weapon ever (which it kind of is)

nothing will ever disappoint me more than finding out that in english their gang name is "the Dregs". like i don't even know for sure what that means

in spanish is "Los Indeseables" (the undesirables?) which sounds a lot more badass

no hate tho i like the dregs

but i was confused af bc i expected it to be sometihng like "the undesirables" or"the unwanted" or whatever

and it said "the dregs"

which in the translator means something like shit or something

anways moving on:

If he'd (kaz) ever been a little boy

i love how lowkey all the crows think he was just born exactly like he is now

imagine a baby kaz all dressed in black and threatening people

cute

"No mourners," Jesper said as he tossed his rifle to Rotty

"No funerals," the rest of the Dregs murmured in reply. Among them, it passed for "good luck".

YES

YESSS

i wonder what wylan's doing right now :))

i can't wait for the next book where he has a pov

the first time i read this book i literally looked at the title of every chapter to see if he ever got one (i was disappointed to say the least :((((

Besides, she was the Wraith - the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

ma'am

marry me please

i'm gonna cry so hard once the show is out and we get to see inej omg

me simp

That Kaz had chosen Jesper to be one of his seconds was no surprise. Twitchy as Jepser was, with or without his revolvers, he was at his best in a fight, and she knew he'd do anything for Kaz.

idk why but i just love it every time kaz implies or shows that he cares or trusts jesper

it makes me soft

But every one of Inej's senses told her that was not how this was going to play out. Her father would have said the shadows were about their business tonight. Something bad was going to happen here.

underrated saying from Inej's father right there

"I'm a business man," he told her."No more, no less"

"You're a thief, Kaz."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

i-

i see no lies here

not to be annoying but i hc jesper as adhd (i mean is pretty much as canon as wylan's dyslexia) so i'm gonna write here every time i see evidence :)

jesper with adhd part 1: impulsivity

Jesper snorted. "Stomach, spine. What's next, spleen?"

"Shut it" Oomen snarled. The rules of parley dictated that only the lieutenants could speak once negotiations had begun. Jesper mouthed "sorry" and elaboratedly pantomimed locking his lips shut.

he know he couldn't speak but couldn't stop himself from making a comment (i relate way too much to that lmao)

hoestly poor jesper he had to watch hid friend get shot and kaz do nothing about it

i would've been mad too

"I like it when men beg," she said. "But this isn't the time for it"

KAHGFAHLGSFGASFLGSAFS

this is one of the best quotes in the book by far

YASSS KAZ POV

Kaz could have tol Jesper that he knew he wasn't dirty, reminded him that he'd trusted him eough to make him his only real second in a fight that could have gone badly wrong tonight.

cute

but kaz is petty af

he didn't even have a reason not to tell jesper that!

i love that kaz knows inej is following him but doesn't say anything because he wants to wait until she's ready

i LOVE the scene where kaz in in the van eck mantion /srs

idk why but it's so good

And, of course, there was the mystery of Van Eck's son.

wonder what that could be!!! /s

He grinned at her (...)

"Hmm." she said noncommittally, pretending to examine one of her knives, determined to ignore that grin.

KANEJ YESS

HE'S BASICALLY SHOWERING IN FRONT OF HER OMG

this is so funny poor inej is getting flustered

"And I'll need Wylan waiting at the Crow Club tomorrow night."

YES WYLAN OMG

One minute he made her blush and the next he made her want to commit murder

happens to the best of us :/

"Please, my darling Inej. treasure of my heart won't you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?"

if kaz doesn't say this on the show we riot

agreed?

it's so amazing how nina found a way to use her powers to get money instead of having to like steal and murder like the rest in the gang

NINA'S POV YESSS HIII

nina and inej omg

their friendship is just perfect

POOR MATTHIAS HE HAS TO FIGHT THE WOLVES

i would straight up cry

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her

i'm gonna cry damn it

this is the enemies-to-lovers we all needed

jesper has adhd part 2:

"Jesper was supposed to wait until three bells." said the pale boy

"It is three bells, Kaz." replied a small girl (...)

"Since when is Jesper punctual?" the boy complained with a glance at his watch

the time blindness come one

(btw i love the fact that kaz plans around jesper's time blindness instead of like threatening him to be on time)

i really love how every one feels the need to take the time to say/think that the masks are ugly

its so unnecessary lmao

yessss inej is a badass that kills monster we stan

and matthias is lowkey impressed lmao

as he should

"Thank you, Jesper," said Nina

"You're very welcome, gorgeous. See, Kaz? That's how the civilised folk do"

THESE TWO OMG

JESPER IS THE LOML

INEJ OMG LOOK:

She stepped aside as if she's known he was coming, languidly hooking her heel behind his ankle. Matthias let out a loud grunt as he landed on the stones

(...) "Clumsy, this one," the bronze girl said impassively.

i-

that's what happen when you underestimate her bitch

AAAAAAA

PEOPLE

PEOPLE

TIME TO FREAK OUT

WYLAN IS HERE

AND HE'S DOODLING STOP IT'S SO CUTE

ok jesper has adhd part 3 i think:

"Just how crazy is he?" asked Jesper, fingers drumming on the pearl handles of his revolvers.

ok first of all: stimming

second of all: hyperactivity

i rest my case

ok 2 or 3 things here

"I believe you know Nina," Brekker continued. "The lovely girl freeing you is Inej. (...) and this is Wylan, the best demolitions expert in the Barrel"

"Raske is better," Inej said

The boy looked up, ruddy gold hair flopping in his eyes, and spoke for the first time. "He's not better. He's reckless"

"He knows his trade"

"So do I"

ok 1: kaz calling inej lovely omg kanej

2: YES WYLAN STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF

2.5: kaz calling him the best cute af

3: honestly why do people think wylan is like an innocent soft boy or whatever. he's in a room full of murderers and thieves and the first thing he does is correct them and stand up for himself

like i wish i could do that

i would be crying like a bitch

AAAAAAAA

"Meet Wylan Van Eck"

KHDSGFALSGFIASGFAL

HI WYLAN BABY

YESSS JESPER'S POV NOW

I'M SO HAPPY also look at this it's the first thing in his pov

Jesper stared at Wylan

do i sense some wesper?????

ok everyone is being so mean to him right now

they are aclling him useless and an idiot and other shit

poor boy honestly he had to deal with this + taking part of a heist he is definetly not ready for + he has to hide the fact that he can't write or read

it so distrubing that kaz is literally the nicest one to wylan right now

"See that? Hidden depths." (...)"He's good enough at demo, and he's got a fine hand for sketching, thanks to all those pricey tutors."

(...)

"There you have it," Kaz said to Jesper. "Marketable skills. Wylan is watching you, Helvar"

GET READY

ARE Y'ALL READY?

OK THEN:

"Scheming face," Jesper whispered to Inej.

She nodded. "Definetly."

THEIR FRIENDSHIP OMG

AND THIS QUOTE

I NEED IT ON THE SHOW THEY BETTER GIVE IT TO US

"Who's Mark" damn wylan (but pretty good comeback to jesper tho)

"What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?

"Knife to the throat?" asked Inej.

"Gun to the back?" said Jesper.

"Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina.

"You're all horrible," said Matthias.

tag yourself i'm jesper

KJSFGAL kaz just told wylan to tell him everything he know about his dad's company

and he said he doesn't know and kaz was like "and you never looked trough his documents????

AND THEN HE GOT SAD AND SAID HE HADN'T (and kaz believed him this is sad)

AND NOW JESPER CALLED HIIM USELESS

ok you know i love you jes but if you keep this up

idk i can't do anything you're a sharpshooter

but stiiiiiil

LMAO MATTHIAS ACTUALLY THOUGHT HE COULD BEAT KAZ

nice try

demjin

*insert spongebob voice* demjin

WE'RE GONNA TAKE A MOMENT NOW TO APPRECIATE INEJ GAHFA

BECAUSE KAZ DOESN'T

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

*ugly crying*

Many boys will bring you flowers. But some day you'll meet a boy who will learn your favourite flower, your favourite song, your favourite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.

*uglier crying*

TANTE HELLEN IF YOU DON'T GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

SOMEONE PLEASE STAB HER FOR ME

jesper has adhd part ?? (i have dyscalculia you can't expect me to remember the number):

That sound - the swift, shocking report of gunfire - called the scattered, irascible, permanently seeking part of his mind into focus like nothing else.

do i really need to explain this?

ok just in case.. an adhd brain doesn't actually have a deficit of attention(the name just sucks) it's problem with controling that attention. the brain is always looking for new sources of dopamine which is why it shifts its focus so much

i love that jes thinks of matthias as "tha giant"

like sir

have you seen yourself?

you're tall af

HE GOT SHOT

WHY DID I FORGET JESPER GETS SHOT IN THE LEG HERE

"Close your eyes!"

"You can't kiss me from down there, Wylan"

"Just do it!"

i love the energy BUT NOW IT'S NOT THE TIME JES

YESS WYLAN SHOW THEM THEY WERE WRONG CALLING YOU USELESS

inej just stabed some guy int the d

good for her!

KAZ YESSSS HI

AWWW SHE'S WORRIED HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS CANE

KANEJ FOR LIFE

oh no wylan got shot too???? (just barely but stilllll por baby)

my Wraith omggg

ok 3 things about this:

Without another word, he tipped Oomen into the sea.

"No!" Wylan shouted, leaning over the railing, his face pale, stunned eyes tracking Oomen in the waves. (...)

Jesper set his hand on Wylan's shoulder. "Let it go."

"It's not right-"

"Wylan," Jesper said, giving him a little shake."Maybe your tutors didn't cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blook and a knife up his sleeve"

1. wesper yasssss

2. wylan just argued with a mant hat had just tacken the eye out of someone. he literally called him out for being an asshole. like damn wylan is brave af i love him

3. do you think seeing kaz trow the guy out of the boat reminded wylan of when the same thing happened to him???? this makes me sad

he's brave and a good person and i just-

"Man with a knife, remember?" he said over his shoulder.

"Man with a gun!" Jesper called after him

this had no right being so funny

AND THEN KAZ GAVE HIM THE MIDDLE FINGER STOP I CAN'T

nina is the biggest kanej shiper no one can tell me i'm wrong

unrelated but if jesper had gone to the Little Palace and had studied there with nina they 100% would've had a crush on Zoya and bonded over it

like you can't tell me those two bisexual disaster wouldn't be absolutely in love with Zoya

jesper has adhd part ??:

Jesper scrubbed the back of his neck, touched his hands to his gunds, returned to his neck. He always seemed to be in motions

hyperactivity right there

and restlessness

"Do you know the best way to find Grisha who don't want to be found?" (...)

"Seems to be if they don't want to be found, you should just let them be" (jesper says this)

this conversation must be so stressful to him omg

LMAO JESPER CUT MATTHIAS HAIR THIS IS SO FUNNY

AND HE SHAVED HIM

ok you all know i love all of them but they can be sooo stupid

like wylan wrote no names on the drawing and he's excuse is that he doesn't know fjerdan?

AND THAT'S NOT EVEN TRUE he literally said he learned school fjerdan which means he should know how to write it too (we know why he can't but the tohers don't)

and even then like the excuse doesn't make any sense. why would having the original name be usefull if no one can fucking read it????

the worst part tho? NO ONE QUESTIONED HIM

THEY WERE LIKE "yup makes sense" AND WENT ON WITH THEIR DAY

i wondered how they didn't figure wylan's secret sooner but now i now

it's because theya re idiots

"I'm just doing my job. Stop glaring at me"

wylan baby let's not make the gigant mad

Jesper knocked his head against the hull and cast his eyes heavenward. "Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I'm going to get Wylan's ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost."

Brekker's lips quirked. "I'll just hire Matthias ghost to kick your ghost's ass."

"My ghost won't associate with your ghost," Matthias said primply, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.

i had to put this here i don't want to get murdered by the fandom

jesper, inej and nina have the BEST friendship

I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE JES AND INEJ TOGETHER ON NETFLIX

"I know some people don't understand, but Kaz told me ... he said it was my choice, that he wouldn't be the one to mark me again."

i love this because it happen when they had just met

he did it because he understands her trauma and he respects her not because he loves her (i doubt he did at the time)

Kaz had been impressed with the sketches. (...)

"Just learn to take a compliment. Kaz doesn't hand them out often."

I'M SO PROUD OF WYLAN

and yess kaz only compliments wylan (and inej but that's sarcastic so it doesn't count) because he's a proud dad

"And you don't belong here, either."

"I beg your pardon, merchiling?"

"We don't need a sharpshooter for Kaz's plan, so what's your job - other than stalking around making everyone angsty?"

He shrugged. "Kaz trusts me."

Wylan snorted and picked up his pen. "Sure about that?"

DAMN WYLAN DESTROYED HIM

also

"If you aren't born with every advantage, you learn to take your chances."

"I wasn't-" Wylan left off and set down his pen. (...)

aww cute neurodivergent boyfriends bonding

Wylan had turned back to his work, his disappointment obvious. For some reason, Jesper felt disappointed, too.

ajgflasjgfjagslfiuusgflgdfsgdflasdgfsd

wesper

aww jes checks on inej every morning and every night i love him

"Thank you for keeping me in this world when fate seemed determined to drag me to the next. I owe you a life debt."

Nina blushed deeply. "I was teasing, Inej"

LJFGALKGFALGA another cute friendship right there

(and i can see why people ship them romantically)

STOP INEJ AND JES ARE BONDING SO MUCH (page 127 so i can go back and read it lmao)

Van Eck writes to Wylan every week, and Wylan doesn't even open the letters

"They just said the same thing again and again: If you're reading this, the you know how much I wish to have you home. Or I pray that you read these words and think of all you've left behind."

should i kill him? anyone want to join me?

Inej bumped her shoulder against his."Then at least we're both the same kind of stupid." (...)

"You're too good for him, you know?"

"I know. So are you"

jes and her bonding over their stupid crush on a white boy

Because I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days.

jfsfdajdhmgkfutdjrgsg ok i can't blame them for having a crush on him anymore

this chapter is full of kanej i love it

"What do you want, then"

You, Inej. You forever.

jksdgfoagsdfgsdgfklasgdflaghsldfgksdgfkahgsdfghjlkf

kaz's backstory makes me sad

"When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm," said Kaz. (...)

"I´m gonna pay someone to burn my kruge for me."

Kaz fell into step beside him. "Why don't you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That's what big players do."

"You know what the really big bosses do? They pay someone to pay someone ...". Their voices trailed off as they tomped ahead, and Matthias and the others followed.

JES AND KAZ HAVE THE BEST CONVERSATIONS

i can't believe we get to see nina and matthias meet and their whole backstory in less than a month omg

"It's not natural for women to fight."

"It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand."

QUEEN

YOU TELL HIM

oh no the dead grisha

this part breaks my heart every time

"Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?"

.....i'm just gonna leave this quote right here

anyways acab

stop nina tried to kill the survivor so they wouldn't suffer but she couldn't do it

and jesper did it for her without hesitation i wanna cry

and inej didn't want to do it either i want to hug them

"Because our crime is existing. Our crime is what we are"

..........

i'm gonna leave this here again

do with it what you will

"Don't mock what you don't understand."

"My mockery offends you? My people would welcome you laughter in place of this barbarity"

i- this conversation is so important

AAAAA JES AND WY ARE A GREAT TEAM I LOVE THEM

WYLAN TROWS BOMBS TOGIVE JESPER TIME TO GET READY TO SHOOT

INEJ AND KAZ ARE A GREAT TEAM TOO

THEY LITERALLY DID THE SCENE LIKE IN THE AVENGERS (but without the shield WHICH MAKES IT BETTER)

Jesper shouldered his rifle. "Wylan earned his keep."

Wylan gave a little jump at the sound of his name. "I did?"

YES BABY YOU DID GREAT

kaz getting self-conscious for his hair is pure comedy

but nina how can you say that have you see his hair on the show???? it's perfect

"Remeber our friend Mark?"

HELP I CAN'T

"Any other impossible feats you'd like us to accomplish?"

The bearest smile flikered over Kaz's lips. "I'll make you a list."

once again jesper and kaz being besties

unrelated but nikolai and jesper would love each other

the amount of sass they have between them it's unparalleled

"Mmm," Inej murmured, taking a sip from her mug. "Maybe you're just not enough."

DAMN

ma'am marry me please

kaz fainted damn poor boy

unrelated unce again but this is so much betetr than shadow and bone

like you can tell leigh improved so much

her characters are better and their arcs are better developed

the writing itself it's better

or maybe i'm just biased because i love soc so much but i think she definetly improved

INEJ IS TRYING TO GIVE HIM SPACE EVEN WHEN SHE'S TRAPPED AND LOCKED ON THE WAGON

I JUST - THEY KNOW EACH OTHER SO MUCH

Though he'd trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with his shame.

Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. "The trick is not getting knocked down," he'd told her with a laugh. "No, Kaz," she's said, "the trick is in getting back up"

inej is smart af

Kaz was usually unshakeable during a job, but now he was on edge, and Jesper didn't know why. Part of him wanted to ask, though he knew that was the stupid part, the hopeful farmboy who picked the worst possible person to care about, who searched for signs in things that he knew deep down meant nothing - when kaz chose him for a job, when Kaz played along with one of his jokes. He could have kicked himself. He's finally seen the infamous Kaz Brekker without a stich of clothing, and he'd been too worried about ending up on a pike to pay proper attention.

ok i got a couple of things to say about this part

first of all it makes me so sad that jes cares so much for someone who dosn't deserve him. because no hate to kaz but they would never work as a couple and kaz already treats him like shit most of the time

i think this part shows who a lot about who jesper really is. a boy that grew up having to hide parts of himself, who thinks he's worth nothing but it's smart and capable, who's loyal and brave and caring but doesn't even know it himself. he's someone who feels he doesn't deserve good things and thinks he's not good enough, and that's why he unds up in all the wrong places with the wrong people. he left uni bc he fell in with the gangs, because he didn't think he was smart enough or even prepared to be in studying in the university. jesper is constantly hiding behind a mask or running from things because he's scared of not being enough

an kaz is everything jes in a way wishes he could be. kaz is secure in himself (at least on the outside), he's stable, he's smart, he's "unshakeable". and most of all, he doesn't care about others (we know that's not true but that's how he presents himself)

and that's the thing that causes jesper all his problems. because he's insecure because he thinks he's not good enough for the poeple or things he cares about. and he's always trying to do what's best for his loved ones: he went to the ice court to pay his debt for his father, he follows kaz everywhere beacause he cares about him, he offered to read to wylan (knowing it wouldn't be easy for him to be still that long).

and yeah it often doesn't work out becuase he's messy and he has problems but he tries. and he hates that. he hates that he cares so much about people because at the end of the day, that's what makes him feel like he's not good enough

one more thing and i'm done i promise

unpopular opinion but i love that leigh made jesper have a crush on kaz. 1 beacuse it's refreshing to see someone not get otgether with his first crush. and 2 because i love that it shows that we sometimes get attached to people that are not good for us, but that we can learn to move on. jesper ended with wylan who respects him and values him, unlike kaz

ok i'm sorry that was probably all bs

oo one more thing, jesper definetly has rsd (rejection sensitive disphoria), which is something most poeple with adhd have

"My father used to take me everywhere with him"

this is so sad. bc they probably had a good relationship when he was little. and then they figured he coudln't read and now his father treats him like shit

it's even worse than if he haf been horrible from the beginning because wylan knows he can be a good father. and so he thinks it's his fault and he deserves to be treated like that. i hate van eck

"You're cuter when you're smart"

(...)

"Definitely cuter when you're smart"

wesper yesssss

i love them so much

ok but why do people think jesper is stupid. like the boy just made a bunch of criminals pass out by mixing some chemicals

and he was going to the university at like 15

AAAAND NOW THEY KNOW HE'S A FABRIKATOR

amazing plot twist

also:

Wylan coughed. Flirting with him might actually be more fun that annoying him, but it was a close call.

oooo come on jesper we all know you just love getitng him to blush

and you love him

who said that? definitely not me, nope

awwww jesper misses being around animals that's cute

imagine him coming home to wylan one day with a puppy because he just couldn't resist

cute

Better terrible truths than kind lies

just leaving here more of inej's wisdom

ok this may be a reach but jesper has adhd part ???

Yellow Protocol? Red Protocol? He couldn't remember which was which. (...)

"The alarm was Yellow Protocol, a sector disturbance."

Jesper pushed at his temples. "I don't remember what that means"

a bad working memory? sounds familiar

kaz loves puzzles

it's canon

"I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue."

this part where wylan and jesper see the banner made with grisha's kefta kills me every time

I would have worn purple, Jesper thought, if I'd joined the Second Army. (...) He'd beenwilling, even eager to risk capture and execution as a thief and hired gun. Why was it worse to think about being hunted as a Grisha?

this makes me want to cry so much

another thing super sad: the fact that since his father is Kaelish and had some supersititons towards grisha, jesper grew up wondering if his own father was scared of him. he had to hide his powers and he was almost taught to be afraid of them

"Is it safe to leave them, you know-"

"Alive? I'm not big on killing unconscious men."

"We could wake them up"

WYLAN

NO

damn the boy needs therapy

it's amazing how nothing went like they planned

not a single thing

PEOPLE GET READY

ARE YOU READY?

NEITHER AM I BUT WHO CARES

"What do you like?"

"Music. Numbers. Equations. They are not like words. They...they don't get mixed up."

ok dude the clues are right there he's basically saying it

"If only you could talk to girls in equations."

There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they'd created in the link, Wylan said, "Just girls?"

Jesper restrained a grin. "No. Not just girls." It really was a shame they were all probably going to die tonight.

wylan really said a straight man?? couldn't be me

this is the definition of bi panic "jesper restrained a grin" bitch we saw that

btw i love the slow burn

like they hint something here but they don't actually start liking each other until much later and they don't get together until almost the end of ck

i also love that the fact that they both like guys is like out in the open now. bc i'm not a fan of when queer characters have a crush and there's the whole thing of "are they queer too or not?"

like they both know htey are queer. but they don't get together right away bc they have to start liking each other before. they don't get together bc they are the only queer mlm characters

matthias fake betrayal killed me

i tought it was real

I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept fom this oath.

this is just-

also foreshadowing?

YAYY KUWEI HI

There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.

She's laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

if i ever have a s/o and they don't tell me this at least once i don't want it

He needed to tell her... what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn't pull himslef together into some smeblance of a man for her

THIS

THIS IS LOVE RIGHT THERE

they are the only straight couple that matters

everyone else go home

Wylan had scratches all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming. Inej grabbed his hands and sqeezed.

so cute omg

"You can explain why our illustrious Shu scientist looks like one of Wylan's school pals along the way"

KAZ

i mean it's true but you didn't have to say it

KAZ IS SMILING OMG

EVERYONE FREAK OUT WITH ME

HE'S "grinning like and idiot" STOP I LOVE HIM

"We are all someone's mosnter, Nina"

"I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all"

this part breaks my heart and i love it

"Stay," she oanted. Tears leaked from her eyes. "Stay till the end"

"And after," he said. "And always."

i just- helnik is perfect

AWWW JESPER MISSES WYLAN

my daily dosis of wesper :)

ok but in like 2 pages jesper tought of wylan like 10 times bc he's sad wy isn't with him

Jesper scanned the empty deck. He's assumed Wylan would come up to see them off. (...)

Jesper knew he was being selfish and stupid, but some petty part of him wondered if Wylan had deliberately kept away from him on the journey back. Maybe now that the job was complete and he was on his way to his share of the haul, Wylan was done slumming with criminals.

*charles boyle's insinuating voice* and why do you care so much???

btw YOU ARE WRONG. HE'S LITERALLY GOING OUT OF HIS WAY TO BE WITH YOU EVEN THOUGH HE CAN'T SPEAK

this scene where we find out the truth about wylan hurts so much but it's one of my favourites idk why

I LOVE THAT EVERYONE IS AS MAD AS I AM ABOUT THE LETTERS NOW

"Your're a fool," Jesper snarled. "He smarter than most of us put together, and he deserves a better father than you."

YES TELL HIM

the fact that wylan just heard him say that omg

"Deserved" amended Van Eck. He blew the whislte twice.

SOMEONE BETTER GRAB ME BEFORE I KILL HIM MYSLEF

THAT IDIOT

I HATE HIM SO MUCH

I'M GONNA CRY CAN SOMEONE KILL HIM FOR ME

Jesper screamed in rage and raised his guns.

YES EXACLTY WHAT I MEANT

JUST KILL HIM RIGHT NOW

"I'm not big on bludding, am I Inej?"

"Not as a rule"

Van Eck's lip curled. "And why is that?"

"Because he'd rather cheat," said the boy who was not Kuwei Yul-Bo in perfect, unaccented Kerch.

THIS WAS PERFECT

THE BEST WAY TO REVEAL THAT

(...), and Jesper flinched

baby he recognized wylan's voice

The Shu boy held out a hand. "Pay up, Kaz"

BITCH THIS IS AMAZING

THIS BOY MADE A BET WITH A CRIMINAL THAT HIS OWN FATHER WAS GOING TO TRY TO KILL HIM

AND HE WON THE BET

A nearly perfect replica of Kuwei Yul-Bo stood before them, but he had Wylan's voice, his mannerisms, and - though Kaz could see the fear and hurt in his golden eyes - Wylan's surprising courage, too.

i love it when they compliment him

my boy deserves all the compliments ever

AND KAZ IS PROUD OF HIS SON WE ALL KNOW THIS

Wylan cuold draw a perfectt elevation. He's made a drill that could cut throu Grisha glass from parts of a gate and scavenged bits of jewellery. So what if he couldn't read

this is taking me to some real places

i may cry you've been warned

WYLAN DIDN'T CARE THAT HE MAY BE STUCKED LOOKING LIKE KUWEI

this is making me cry

"A fool would have been waiting to be smashed to bits on that ship. And as for "traitor", you've called me worse in the last few minutes alone."

EXACTLY

YOU TELL HIM WYLAN

Instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.

BABY

i would've done the same tho she's pretty

amita is sooo pretty i'm gonna die when the show comes out

Jesper was staring at Wylan, his eyes roving over the black hair, the golden eyes. "Why?" he said at last. "Why would you do this?"

nothing to say here except: wesper

You... how many times was it you standing beside me on the deck at night when I tought it was Kuwei?"

"Every time."

i want to cry so bad

"Why does it matter?"

"I don't know!" Jesper said angrily. "Maybe I liked your stupid face."

a very staright and platonic thing to say of course

i know jes we all liked his stupid face

"Jesper made a mistake," said Wylan. "A stupid mistake, but he didn't set out to betray anyone."

YES WYLAN DEFEND YOUR BOYFRIEND

And maybe he'd kept him in the dark about Wyllan because he wanted to punish him a little

even kaz know they like each other come on

Jesper sat with elbows on knees, head in hands. Wylan deside him wearing th face of a stranger.

wylan give him a hug fro me please

he needs it

"Scheming face," murmured Jesper.

"Definitely," agreed Wylan.

i miss inej already

And I'm going to get my girl. Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he´d promised her so long ago.

i'm ugly crying and so what?

and now we're done....

i want to read this book again omg this is unhealthy

[yellowocaballero]

The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door. 

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.”  Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut. 

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door. 

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes. 

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily. 

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them. 

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door. 

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?”

Jon stared blankly at her. 

“There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly. 

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff. 

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway. 

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule. 

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know. 

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too. 

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky. 

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there. 

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along. 

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly. 

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind. 

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city. 

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging. 

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy. 

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit. 

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world. 

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room. 

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look. 

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in. 

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless. 

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at. 

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here. 

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction. 

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled. 

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said. 

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver. 

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway. 

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood. 

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it. 

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair. 

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one. 

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it. 

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said. 

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up. 

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said. 

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head. 

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said. 

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue? 

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible. 

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible. 

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed. 

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time. 

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t. 

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers. 

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly. 

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly. 

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious. 

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past. 

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered. 

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger. 

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.” 

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon. 

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it. 

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel. 

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too. 

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust. 

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t - 

Jon couldn’t reign this in. 

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon. 

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water. 

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories. 

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway. 

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape. 

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said. 

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered. 

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point. 

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business. 

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently. 

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes. 

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined. 

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it. 

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme. 

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon. 

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue. 

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper. 

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly. 

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly. 

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said. 

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.” 

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember. 

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why. 

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes. 

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted. 

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered. 

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said. 

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore. 

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt. 

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy. 

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore. 

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James. 

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that. 

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal. 

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life. 

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately. 

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things. 

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand. 

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira. 

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today. 

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said. 

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did. 

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could? 

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!” 

He still couldn’t win an argument against her. 

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over. 

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip. 

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?” 

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said. 

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car. 

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other. 

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her. 

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig. 

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed. 

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?” 

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said. 

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.   

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all. 

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like. 

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate. 

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up. 

Jon opened the door. 

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

 Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent. 

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like. 

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here. 

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling. 

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems. 

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her. 

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here. 

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too. 

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed. 

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.” 

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda. 

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now. 

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops. 

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change. 

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact. 

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive. 

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it. 

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it. 

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing. 

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing. 

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything. 

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans. 

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed. 

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends. 

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues. 

 “Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either. 

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage. 

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation. 

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said. 

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down. 

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened - 

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show. 

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger. 

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more. 

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote. 

It did not pass, obviously. 

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible. 

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’. 

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him. 

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this. 

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife. 

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic. 

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping. 

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people. 

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential. 

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would. 

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily. 

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered. 

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said. 

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. ���Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow. 

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk. 

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

 “Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of  hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’. 

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans? 

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool. 

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice. 

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it. 

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past. 

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive. 

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind. 

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by. 

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up. 

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

[belovedmuichiro]

which demon and slayer would you think would of had a good dynamic if they interacted ?

for me it's Mitsuri & Akaza. Mitsuri is like Koyuki personality wise and if Akaza caught her when/if her Sakura mochi supply runs out, she'd have black hair just like Koyuki. Also the love breathing style itself reminds demon slain but possibly the ones hit by it of love. Like Akaza's mind would be going haywire with how many memories Mitsuri could bring up just by being herself. Mitsuri would also be really passionate about killing the demon that slain her mentor and would probably put beyond everything she has to land some blows. I was actually planning on writing a fic but didn't think the idea would be too interesting on its own.

Lady Tamayo and Shinobu would be really interesting though since it would be essentially Kanae's dreams realized, humans and demons standing together side by side

That's just my thoughts tho what are yours

space anon

Oh yes okay I actually have three I’d like to list

My first is Lady Tamayo and Shinobu like you because wow!! I’d love this!! I think that Shinobu is a pretty big loner in the sense that she doesn’t have people she can really look up to or confides in, and I honestly think she can find that in Tamayo. On top of that, Tamayo’s only companion is someone who practically worships her, and while I love Yushiro, I think it’d be good and nice for her to have someone who has something in common with her and is, well, normal about her 😅 I think they’re both smart, capable women in the series and I would’ve liked for Shinobu to have actually spent time with her instead of just working on the cure, that would’ve been nice to see.

The other dynamic I would’ve liked is Gyutaro and Tanjiro. Idk if you meant in canon or hypothetically, but I think they’re interesting either way. They’re supposed to be direct parallels of each other being older brothers who went in opposite directions to save their little sister, and I would like to see them interact without the immediate need to fight and kill each other. I honestly could see them like the preppy younger kid annoying the hell out of their older emo cousin, but he kinda likes being the guy who slips them beer or smth idk lmaoo

My last one is Akaza and Inosuke because this is like, really funny to me aldjakkfkskf like they’re similar in their desire to be the strongest and hating weak people, so I think it’d be funny if they ever did find themselves in a situation where they interact without fighting. I think because Akaza is naturally stronger and more experienced, he would be someone Inosuke would want to fight/look up to, and try to prove himself in really dumb ways that get him hurt for no reason. I think Akaza would turn him down constantly but would get so tired of seeing him get his shit rocked that he would start giving him tips and teach him without even realizing it. Exhausted uncle and hyperactive nephew akdjjsjfkskk

[a-lil-perspective]

What about some crosshair and reader where the reader thinks that crosshair absolutely hates them, so they end up crying about it and he finds them crying. With a fluffy ending

Anon! I love this! This is the first descriptive ask/prompt I’ve ever gotten, and the process was actually rather smooth so I’m not sure whether or not to be nervous, haha. I am tweaking/re-examining Crosshair’s character as I mold and grow into my own writing style. I hope you like this!

[Warning for some swearing. Mild hurt/comfort. Crosshair is (unintentionally) a butt who gives off the wrong impression 99.9% of the time.]

Tags: @shadow-hyder @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @halzore @karpasia @fxndxmxnxce @kriffingunlucky @mackstrut @godhateskyleigh @pearlyarmor @and-claudia (because it’s Crosshair, love) @j-ma26-rb (Let me know if I missed you/if you’d like to be taken off. Also, this list is always open. :))

As You Do

Boiling anger pegs you to your spot as he stalks away without a word.

Without a word.

Again.

That’s all he ever does.

It’s fucking maddening. Bestowed nothing more than a glance in passing. Receiving always, the bare minimum for a response: brusque answers, a ‘hmph’ or something even more unengaging. Pinned down by brooding, scrutinizing eyes. All for you, only for you.

You have a brilliant plan? Everyone validates but him. You saved his ass out there? He’ll never discuss the extent. You’re a decent person who cares when no one else does? He doesn’t seem to give a damn. It’s all meaningless. Months of sleepless nights planning and prepping and straining to succeed all a lost cause, what with the way his body language depicts a constant desire to send you back to your own unit, away from theirs. Away from him.

Why does this nerf-herding sniper hate you?

Sure, sure. Some people are more introverted and assessing than others. That’s all good and well. But Crosshair takes it to the extreme. It’s one thing to hold oneself in reserve. It’s another to make no effort to hide their disinterest.

Or... or maybe you’re just reading too much into things. Maybe your hyperactive mind has grown far too sensitized to that of others; to their endless, shifting sea of intentions.

You suddenly find yourself depleted of any energy to actually ascertain the truth in that moment.

You’ve always hated crying but it soothes you with a spine-rattling poison, stinging and running deep through your veins. Its sharp bite absorbs deep, and you want nothing more than to succumb to it, curl in on yourself and wallow in all your shortcomings. Forever and futilely try to dissect the reasoning for the coagulating barrier between you and others; an unremitting travesty.

So that’s exactly what you do.

He hearkens to the sobbing first.

Crosshair narrows his eyes at you from the doorframe. Was it the recent mission taking its toll? Those five days in Jabiim were rough. Were you hurt? Did somebody upset you? Tech being annoying? Fekking hells, what is it? What do you need?

He takes quick inventory of your disturbing fettle: hysterical sniffling, puffy eyes, arms wrapped tightly around your hunched frame. A frustrated cry, one full of misunderstanding.

Crosshair acknowledges the poking realization that maybe your pent up—now spilling—frustration has something to do with... with him.

And he hates the notion.

The unmistakable rocking of your body sends his twinging guilt spiraling into a full frontal assault.

“Stop fucking staring at me like I’m a target in your scope,” you snarl, swiping angrily at your face and snapping him back to attention. His straightens almost imperceptibly, jaw tensing. Deathly silence gurneys between.

“What is your problem, huh?” You snap, unable to stand it any longer. “Why do you hate me? What the fuck have I possibly done—”

“I don’t hate you.”

A bitter laugh sections out from between grit teeth. “You think I’m so dim as to actually believe that?”

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats, more vehement this time. There’s so much to unpack there. You aren’t dim, you aren’t hated... You don’t get it. In your pained state, you overlook the way he’s mildly offended.

“Then why.”

The rest of the question is a variable on your tongue but Crosshair knows full well what you mean.

Why are you so detached, why do you feign indifference, why must you constantly tread on others in order to secure yourself—

Why are you so... Crosshair.

All valid questions. But there’s still a Crosshair that you’ve yet to see. He decides it’s high time he show you. And that maybe his method of broaching it all this time has been horribly wrong.

He inches carefully into your space with reconciling steps. He watches for signs of resistance. When he’s met with none, he ambles his way to where you sit on the floor, your cot frame pillowing your back in a way that can’t be comfortable. He thinks as much as he sinks down beside you, copying your position despite himself. His admiration for you swells when his back already aches in protest over the dumbed position. You were tenacious. Sometimes to a fault.

Tenacious, and hurt.

“I have a shitty way of communicating—”

“You don’t say,” you scowl. Such a wormy excuse that is, and one you’re wholly uninterested in coming to terms with. It’s nauseating, you think as you screw your tear-stained face up at him.

Crosshair huffs over the interruption but continues. “And I give off the wrong impression sometimes.”

You deadpan glare at him.

“Okay, all the time,” he corrects. “But I don’t...” he falters, surprising you when he scoops up your hand in his in a seemingly nonchalant act. As if you’ve held hands a thousand times before. He thumbs at your tears with the other. “I don’t hate you. Never have.”

“You’ve said that three times now,” you note, the bite gone from your tone and replaced with something weary, wary. You look down to where you’re connected at the hands. His grip is warm, inviting. ‘Inviting’ and ‘Crosshair’ have never been two words that paired together anytime prior. You bring your gaze up to eye-level with him. “So what do you think of me?”

“That you’re important to the team—”

“What do you think of me.”

“I think you’re a strong person,” he spills rushingly, distantly annoyed though he can’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the way you challenge him, and the way he likes it. “Smart. Caring. You get along with my brothers well.” He squeezes your hand in an act that seems more therapeutic for him than anything. “Which is important to me. Therefore you’re important… to me.”

Well that was... simple enough.

You can’t help your pout and the exasperation that immediately pools because of it.

“Well a fucking ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed, don’t you think?”

This man.

You purse your lips in a very caricature-like expression as the gravity of the situation hits you like a freighter. “Do you have any idea the kind of Bantha-shit you’ve put me through these past few months? Honestly. I don’t even know why I bother with you—”

Crosshair silences you by pulling you atop his lap and pressing your head to his chest, cradling the back and oh his chest clenches at the feeling of holding you. It’s a foreign touch he’s not allowed himself to know. Just the thought as he lie alone at night. “I know. Shhh. ‘M sorry,” he mumbles into your hair. “I fucked up and that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry.”

You grumble into his chest. You’re annoyed with the way his newfound tenderness makes you melt, the tension weeding out of your shoulders as you relent with a sigh. “Sorry doesn’t erase anything.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. His arms wrap around you further. “So let’s start over, yeah?”

“Starting with?”

Crosshair removes one hand from your back to press it to the floor, hauling himself up while keeping a rather impressive hold on you. He’s definitely stronger than he looks, that’s the first thing you realize. He backs up to your bed and lies the both of you down. “Starting with a good cuddle.”

[mcrmadness]

This week has been full of executive dysfunction.

I hate showering. And why do I have to shower so often??? It's literally preventing me from living my life because EVERYTHING stops because I just can't make myself to walk into my bathroom to wash myself. It doesn't even take more than 30 minutes to be already out of there, yet it always feels like I'm trying to begin climbing on a mountain instead.

I'm also super exhausted all the time, and I have mood swings, yet I also can't get myself to go to bed. I did have migraine on weekend, and it was a very tough one as it lasted the whole day and I almost had to take painkillers for the third time to make it go away.

It's just this vicious cycle:

I am tired because I haven't been eating properly again.

I haven't been properly again because I haven't cooked.

I haven't cooked because I need to do the dishes first. Why don't the dishes ever end?

I haven't done the dishes because, idk, I simply have not been in the mood. I have been watching cartoons all day every day and doing the dishes hasn't crossed my mind even once.

Every day I have been thinking about how I need to shower, but haven't showered.

Now it's 5th day and I need to cook, because the minced meat expires today.

I had the food planned but I noticed that the milk expired on Saturday already, I don't think it's good to go anymore.

Plus the food I planned has so many steps and I don't feel mentally capable of doing that now.

I eventually came to the conclusion that I try to do the dishes next. It's 10pm and I'm drinking my _breakfast tea now. I already did laundry, which I just kept forgetting to do every single day, but finally I remembered it before it was too late to use the washing machine. (It's loud and I live in an apartment building.)

Also, I have been thinking about making a very simple sauce from the meat. However, I don't have pasta. Because I keep FORGETTING to buy the pasta goddammit!!! And I don't eat potatoes much, they make me hyperactive and anxious because of the starch. I do have rice but I don't think the sauce will taste that good with rice. HOWEVER, I do have the... pasta things you use for lasagna. Because I was going to make lasagna originally (btw I also forgot to buy those the last time I was to the grocery store...), so I decided that I guess I chop the lasagna... things in pieces and boil them in water and that's how I get pasta for the sauce.

After that I still try to shower at night cos I need it so bad. It's just that after you reach a certain point, you don't feel that your body or hair is getting any dirtier and then it's actually quite nice to just exist. No need to worry about how I stink and am dirty in 2 days cos I already am and won't get any worse! I don't enjoy not-showering, I enjoy feeling that my hair and skin are clean. I just hate that I need to shower so often.

---

I also think one of the reasons for this executive dysfunction week is that I should meet with my cardiologist in another city in 2 weeks. And every single time the meeting is approaching (once a year), I get this weird kind of anxiety that sucks out my "will to live". Actually it's not that I lose my will to live, my will to live is actually so strong that every time I should meet the cardiologist, I feel like these are my final days. 30 years and it has never been my final days and still I feel like that every single time!

I'm actually thinking about cancelling that because I don't feel like driving to another city, especially not during a pandemic. I also should get a blood test next week and I hate them more than anything, and I don't want to.

I also have therapy and occupational therapy next week, my sleeping schedule is terrible (I have been waking up around 6pm again) and I just feel like I need vacation from my life. My life, where nothing ever happens??? I don't know how it's even possible, but I seriously feel that all this is way too much and I have had a few weeks pause from occupational therapy anyway.

Occasionally I get these fits of excitement where I wanna look for work or schools or some shit, and then some days I just feel that even normal everyday life is too much. But not like... in a depression way (cos I don't have one), but in a ND executive dysfunction way.

[bltngames]

The Balan Wonderworld demo came out yesterday. If you haven’t been keeping up with this, it’s a game by Yuji Naka and Naoto Ohshima, two of the original creators of Sonic the Hedgehog. A lot of that original team has gone on to do solo work outside of Sega, but this is the first time two former members of Sonic Team have gotten back together to make a new game.

If the demo is anything to go by, Balan Wonderworld (which I keep trying to type as “Balan Wonderland,” because it has a much nicer rhythm to it) is a game that lives deep in the shadow of NiGHTS into Dreams and Sonic the Hedgehog. It is very clearly trying to be an “Old School Sonic Team” experience, which it... sort of succeeds at, for better and worse.

This feels like a game they ripped straight out of 1995, warts and all, and remastered it with modern-ish graphics. I say “modern-ish” because in broad strokes, I think Balan looks pretty good. The character designs are charming, the level themes are interesting, but if you really stop and look at the game, it’s honestly pretty ugly, with simple lighting, limited detail and blurry textures.

One gets the impression maybe that’s because Balan is on everything -- Playstation, Xbox, PC, and even Switch. The gross texture work could be to squeeze the game down for Nintendo’s handheld, but apparently it runs extremely poorly there. On the PS4 Pro, it sticks pretty closely to 60fps, though there are occasionally hiccups here and there. Nothing worth fretting over, honestly.

But how does it play?

This is where the shadow of Sonic the Hedgehog looms large. Balan is designed to be simplistic to a fault: You get one button to control your character. Or, more specifically, every button on your controller will do the same thing (for the most part). This is right out of the Sonic handbook, as that game was also designed to be operable with only one button, as well.

Now, what your one button does can change. Scattered around levels are different costumes for your character to put on, and each costume has its own unique ability. The full version of Balan promises 80 different costumes, and there’s probably half a dozen in the demo. Each one serves a unique purpose, and some of them don’t even have the ability to jump. Which is fine, mostly, because you can carry a stock of three costumes with you that you can swap between sort of like the team mechanics in Sonic Heroes. Once you finish a level, those costumes get added to your dressing room, allowing you to customize a loadout of costumes at any checkpoint.

On paper, that much sounds fine. But this is where things start getting weird.

Costumes are not freely available to pick up. The jewels that hold costumes are locked with a key. This creates an obvious gameplay loop: find key, unlock costume, use costume to solve puzzle, right? Right.

Except that, at least in the demo, most keys are only a few feet away from any given costume jewel. On top of that, keys respawn. Crack open a costume jewel, grab the costume, but hang out for a little while and eventually the key will reappear. In doing this, you can stock up on keys early on in a level, smoothing out the process of acquiring new costumes as you go. I’m not sure why Balan does this. The time between key respawns is a few seconds too many -- just enough that it starts to feel tedious. But, as far as I can tell, there is no penalty for farming up a bunch of keys from the first key spawn point, either. It’s the worst of both worlds. If it was trying to be convenient, keys would spawn more quickly, but if it was trying to plan puzzles around acquiring keys, you can completely side step that by just waiting it out and hoarding keys early on.

You’ll not only want to hoard keys, but hoard costumes, as well. If you’re unlucky enough to take damage or even die while wearing a costume, it’s gone. You can build up stocks of costumes so you’ll always have spares to pull out of the dressing room, but that requires you to specifically go out of your way to get duplicates and bank them. If you don’t, you might find yourself at a puzzle that requires a specific costume that you simply don’t have anymore. When that happens, your only recourse is to backtrack in the hopes of finding a crystal that contains the costume you need, and characters in Balan aren’t exactly fast moving.

The chances of you losing a costume seem pretty low, admittedly. Balan Wonderworld doesn’t really seem like it’s aiming for anything resembling difficulty. Enemies exist, but only in very small numbers, and they’re easily dispatched. Most of the game is more about exploring the dream-like environments and playing around with the various costume abilities in order to solve basic puzzles.

You aren’t working against a clock, there isn’t a scoring system, and you usually aren’t being graded on your performance. Talking it over with some others, the vibe is that this could be a good game for young children. It requires little in terms of controller dexterity and is generous in every sense of the word.

The primary complaint against that, I guess, is that Balan Wonderworld is a weird game. Like, “Elsa and Spider-man Finger Family Youtube Video” weird. Every level is packed full of gently dancing ghosts that phase out of existence once you get too close to them. They’re all the creatures your costumes are based on, but they don’t exist as NPCs in the world for you to touch and interact with. Like I said, they’re ghosts, and they disappear the moment you get within a few feet. Those same ghosts will suddenly materialize when you touch certain checkpoints, throwing you something of parade. They interrupt the level music and everything just to play their own special celebration song. Move more than a few feet and they will fade back out of existence again, taking their special parade song with them, never to be seen for the rest of the stage.

It lends a strangely “uncanny” feeling to the game. I think the dancing characters are meant to add a sense of carefree fun, but they look like people wearing mascot suits, doing the same basic scripted routine over, and over, and over, for eternity. They don’t look like they’re having fun, they don’t appear to be choreographed to the stage’s music, and yet there they are, eternally dancing the days away. It’s kind of eerie. They were performing before you got here, and they'll keep performing after you leave.

The demo pits you against a single boss, which is notable for being someone who has the same powers you do, but combined and amped up. Seeing the same costume motifs come up in the boss as they draw from the same abilities that you have is actually a really fun idea, and the game rewards you for getting creative and swapping between costumes when you deal damage.

Balan Wonderland is a very odd game, and I’m not sure what to make of it. It took me a while to start wrapping my head around its aesthetic and vibes. It contains shades of something like Super Mario Odyssey to be sure, but it feels like it’s trying to elevate itself above that. Again, it’s a game living deep in the shadow of NiGHTS and Sonic, and in particular, it feels like it borrows NiGHTS’ penchant for putting artistic expression at the top ladder rung. Balan often feels like a very inscrutable sort of game, but in a way that seems to be reaching for some kind of greater meaning beyond simply gameplay. Everything in Balan feels like it might be conveying a message of some sort, even if it’s not immediately apparent. Its ideas do not come from a vacuum.

But here’s the deal: even though a lot of people couldn’t grok NiGHTS into Dreams, I did. I love that game to death. But with Balan Wonderworld, even I’m often left scratching my head. Despite its dead-simple gameplay, it may be just a little too high concept for its own good.

But at the end of the day, it’s not a game I hate. It’s strange, and charming, and even if it feels sort of impenetrably "artistic," at least that makes it interesting. The simple gameplay works its magic, making it an easy game to drop in to even if you don’t necessarily understand what you’re looking at.

Like, what’s the deal with the “Isle o’ Tims” between levels? It kind of has the vibe of a chao garden from Sonic Adventure, but the individual “tims” creatures don’t seem to have statistics or anything like that. You feed them so they crank a wheel, which builds a tower that helps them crank the wheel better. It turns in to a bizarre sort of perpetual motion machine. To what end? I don’t know. And what exactly is Balan himself, anyway? Some of his visual cues call to mind character designs for NiGHTS, but he appears to be a different sort of creature altogether. There’s a rather lengthy intro FMV, as you can no doubt see from the Youtube embed, but it’s more about swirling colors and hyperactive animation than conveying what’s going on or who Balan is. How much of this is even really happening, and how much of it is purely metaphysical? It’s very unclear.

I’ll be interested in seeing how the full version of Balan Wonderworld fares. I get the distinct impression that this will be another NiGHTS -- a game beloved by a core audience of hardcore fans, but shunned for being “too weird” by the populace at large.

I’m not quite sure which group I belong to yet.

[molzies-fanfics]

Around you

A/N: This can be seen as angsty I guess, anyway hope you guys enjoy!

Bold text is text messages

Hey

Hey

Is it okay if I come over?

Sure...but why? What's going on? Has there been another foot attack?

No, nothing like that...I just wanna talk. If that's alright?

Oh. of course that's okay...I just, thought you'd talk to April about stuff more rather than me

Yeah, well...this one thing I need to get off my chest doesn't really involve April.

…

You might be better off coming round to my window rather than the main one then. April has a big meeting tomorrow and I don't want to wake her up.

Ok. Be there in 5

 See you then

Your heart was thundering away in your chest, Raph wanted to talk to you, alone. It set your nerves on edge, especially considering your huge crush on the burly terrapin. Hopefully he didn’t want to talk about anything too serious, you just wanted to have a chill night with him. Well, you were supposed to be asleep right now since you had school in the morning but you were willing to throw that out the window if Raph needed to talk. God, you had it bad.

 Hearing the familiar thud on the fire escape, you opened your window, revealing the teenage turtle in all his ninja glory. “Hey there.” You mumbled breathlessly. “Hey tiger.” He smiled fondly. “Want to go up to the roof?” there was a small silence before you replied “Sure.”

 “So…what do you want to talk about?” You sat down on the edge of the roof as you watched Raph starting to pace around on the gravel, clearly he was more wound up than he was letting on.

“I’ve had a surreal realization tonight.” He gestured towards you with one hand on his hip before pacing again. “Did you and Leo argue again?” you couldn’t help asking. “No! …well, yeah but that’s not the point. This happened during meditation.” Raph watched your face as you blanched. “Oh well that’s…unusual, for you I mean.” You recovered quickly.

 “Yeah, so…have you ever been so emotionally conflicted that it makes you want to fight people for like…days, but other times it makes you want to lie down like you’ve drank eight cans of orange crush in a row?” Raphael questioned hurriedly, you took a moment to piece together what he had said, thinking that he might be slightly hyperactive…maybe he had drank all of that orange crush?

 “That was…weirdly specific but sure, everybody gets like that sometimes I guess.” You answered finally, staying perfectly still as he ceased his pacing. “Right, but I narrowed this down to two specific scenarios.” He mentioned, although he looked worried when telling you this. Was everything okay? You thought to yourself. “Ok…what scenarios?” If something was wrong, you were kinda glad he came to you to talk through it rather than beat the crap out of some punching bag back at the lair.

 “I only feel like that when, 1: any of the people I’m really close to are in immediate danger…” he trailed off, somehow leading you to think he wanted you to piece together the puzzle. “That’s normal though…” you reassured him, talking calmly and slowly. “Yeah especially for me…but it’s the second scenario that really throws me off.” This was when the mood shifted, it had gone from fast paced and panicky to serene and sincere.

 “Okay? What’s the second one?”

 “…whenever I’m around you.”

 Your whole mind went blank, wondering if this was some elaborate prank or a mind trick set up by any of the turtles countless enemies. “Wha-What?” you gasped.

 Raph’s expression shifted from serious to…well, scared. “Look, I know we’re good friends and everything but…I wanna be more than that. I know that its scary, believe me I know, I’ve been debating this for so long. But something snapped in me today and I just felt like I had to tell you…even if it didn’t end very well. I just want you to know how I feel.”

 Giving yourself another moment to process what he was saying, that was when it hit you, Raph…he felt the same way about you, at least you think he did. “When you say, ‘how you feel’” you hopped off the ledge, approaching Raph slowly. “What exactly do you mean?”

 He physically gulped, as if he was intimidated by you, but you knew how intimidating feelings could be. “Raphael?” you prompted, blinking up at him when you came to a stop. Right in front of him. “I- I…I really like you…as in, more than friends.” He hung his head, staring at his feet. Getting closer, you found yourself raising your hand to rest on his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

 “I really like you too…for a long time actually.” You smiled, hoping he would take the next step. “You do?” he questioned, his brows furrowed, clearly surprised. It made your heart ache to know he was expecting rejection. “Of course I do. You’re Raph, the one who’s been there for me whenever I needed you, making me laugh when I wanted to cry, caring about me when I thought nobody else did…the one I’m falling in love with.” His face brightened at that. “You…you’re falling in love with me? Of all people?” he gave you that lady killing smile, the one you knew was going to take you out one day.

 “Yeah.” You mumbled, dropping your hand from his face to his neck. Raph let out a laugh before picking you up and twirling you around. “Raphie!” you squealed. “Sorry, I just- I’m really happy. The girl I like, likes me back.” He chuckled before placing you down. That was when something came back into your mind.

 “Wait, before you said ‘something snapped in you today’, what was that?” you queried. Raph’s expression darkened for a moment before staring into your eyes. “I…I saw you with that guy today.” You flinched at that. “Wha- Cody? But-”

 “Look I talked with the guys and they all said it was very unlikely for you to be dating someone since they were pretty sure you liked me. Of course I said you couldn’t wait around forever if that was the case, I never shoot my shot or shot my shoot, whatever the hell it is Mikey says. I just…I didn’t want to admit to the guys that I was…that I am…” he sighed roughly

 “Jealous?” you finished, genuinely shocked.

 “…yeah.” He admitted, albeit sheepishly.

 “Um…Raph, I hate to break it to you although knowing you were jealous is touching, in a way, but Cody is my cousin.”

 “Wait…what?” Raphael blanked. “We went to get coffee, ironically he was telling me how he was planning on proposing to his boyfriend.” You finished explaining, although it wasn’t like you needed to explain yourself in the first place, your feelings for Raph were so strong you didn’t think you could just…go on a date with someone else.

 “…oh.”

 “You okay there?” you laughed to yourself, wondering how he was gonna recover from this one. Then an idea started to form in your mind. “Hey Raph?” you nudged him, wondering if he was still responding to his surroundings. “Yeah?” he let out.

 Slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, you went on your tippy toes to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. His face whipped around to look at you as you pulled away, tilting your head innocently. “What was that for?” he whispered. “Nothing. I just thought since I like you and you like me…that this was okay. It is okay isn’t it?” you bit your lip, causing Raph’s golden eyes to glance at your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “More than okay.” Was all he said before leaning forward, his lips melding into yours.

 It was everything you had dreamed of and more.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Due to my laptop being a piece of shit I accidentally deleted the request but I finished it and saved it so its fine side note: this user was so creative when they came up with this and I’m debating on whether or not to make a Remus fanfic.

You hated the moon. The fucking moon. That thing needed to DIE. When you were five you had a nasty attack from a werewolf, it injuring you and leaving a wonderful bite. One that led you to have the same affliction as your attacker. It was a lonely experience to be a werewolf, no one could relate to your constant struggle with the moon, your need for chains so you couldn't hurt anyone and worst of all the literal pains of changing into what you were. You usually hid in a cave near the forbidden forest, waking up freezing and alone. You had no one helping your with this, no one there.

That's where Remus was different. He had his friends, who all secretly became Animagus to assist him during rough nights. He had people there, that was where you differed. He had someone. You didn't.

Well... Until recently. It was a particularly hard night, lot of screaming from you. Usually there wasn't a soul who could hear you, but Sirius was walking back from the shrieking shack and heard it. You had chained yourself to the cave wall, aching as you could feel the changes coming when you heard footsteps. You were snarling, slowly changing as you moved back into the dark. "Get. Out." You huffed at the figure.

"You're a werewolf..." Sirius said, kneeling. You thrashed in the chains, growling at him. "You chained yourself!?" He asked. "Get. Out." You repeated, more begging than anything. You laid on the ground twitching as your chest was rising and falling rapidly. Sirius walked out, you still going through an agonizing pain. He came back later though with a bottle, sitting cross legged on the floor. "W-what are you doing!?" You asked.

He waited for your next violent urge to grip your face and force feed you a potion. Your pain suddenly stopped and you were sweating. "W-what did you give me?" You asked. "A potion to stop the pains. You'll still change but it'll hurt less." Sirius said. "Why are you helping me?" You asked feeling the claws slowly form. "Because I have a friend that's like you and I refuse to leave you alone when you clearly need help." was the last thing you could remember before blacking out.

It was a rough night indeed, Sirius having to change into his Animagus form to slow you down and stop you from hurting yourself. You woke up to the sunlight from the cave entrance hitting your face, a leather jacket draped over you and three boys standing there baffled. "I don't believe it, she's actually like Remus." a black haired boy gaped. "She chained herself?" another boy asked, scars across his face. "Yeah, probably to keep herself in here, she didn't even have a potion with her to help." Sirius said looking at you. You slowly leaned up, wincing like it was a bad hangover. The boy with the scars kneeled to you "Careful there... It's always harder after the potion." he warned. You pulled back, shaking as you did and seemed to be terrified seeing other people. "Why are you here!?" You asked. "We're here to help." The dark haired boy said. "I could hurt you-- please get away from me!" You panted. The boy with scars got up, finding the keys to the chains rather quickly and unlocked them. You winced, gripping your shoulder.

"Sirius did you bite her?" The boy with scars asked. "Had to, she was going to rip off her fucking wrist at the rate she was going." Sirius said. "You. Do you have clothes?" James asked. "I-in a bag over there." You said, pointing but then wincing. "How deep did you bite man?" The black haired boy asked. "Sorry." Sirius said to you. "What do they mean by bite?" You asked as the black haired boy handed you the bag and the boys faced away from you.

"Sirius is an Animagus, we all are except for Remus." the boy with black hair said. "Who's Remus?" You asked, looking at the boy's backs as you changed. Remus raised his hand. "That would be me." He said. "You guys can look now." You said. They all turned around. "Who are you? and why are you here?" You asked. "I'm Sirius, that's James, that's Peter and you know Remus." Sirius introduced. Peter extended his hand and you shook your head retreating back. It was almost like you were afraid of touch. "Uhm... Remus is a werewolf-- We all thought he was the only one on campus." Peter admitted. "It feels strangely good to be wrong." Remus admitted. You swallowed and looked down. "We're not going to tell anyone but... Do you need help--" "No." You lied. "Bullshit." Sirius called you out. You looked at him before hiding behind your hair. "We know where you are now, we know where you go. Now it's obvious you do this alone so you can lie to us and tell us your fine but I will show up here and I will sit in that fucking corner and watch your ass like I did last night regardless if you want me here or not. Now. Again. Do you need help?" Sirius asked sternly. The group gaped at him and you shook.

"No one was supposed to know." you whimpered. "Now we do... And we want to help. We really want to help." James said. You looked at them, tears falling. "Please help me." you whispered. Remus understood this pain, this gut wrenching pain of feeling alone. So it was no surprise when he hugged you.

From that point on you were with the group. You tried to hang out alone but one of them was always with you. Remus was usually the one who you were around the most though, he was calmer than the others. James, Peter and especially Sirius were all hyperactive nutbags that ran off of pure energy. Remus understood you. He understood your thoughts and your way of things. He didn't approve of you constantly keeping to yourself by any means. But he understood why you did it. Though, the Marauders were all DETERMINED to get you out.

They got to know you before the next full moon. Like REALLY got to know you. Their hearts hurt listening to you talk about what it was like at home. How after you found out you were a werewolf your mother wouldn't look at you. How your dad used to help you with the transformations but after a year he just stopped so you were alone. How most of the scars on your body were self inflicted because even the wolf in you hated being alive. But the thing at nearly broke Remus was finding out that when he hugged you in the cave, it was the first time you had been hugged in nearly a decade.

A part of you was glad Remus was your first hug in a while. As time was passing, you and Remus became particularly close. Hogsmeade didn't help this either. Both of you were close together. Physically close. Sirius didn't realize why until he realized you had a cold and your body temperature was going everywhere. The funny thing about werewolves is they are REALLY FUCKING WARM. And because you had a cold it was also being a bitch. Remus wrapped his scarf and put his hat on you, keeping you close if you were too cold. Sirius noticed at look everytime you were leaned against Remus, he had this small smile and occasionally would keep his arm around you until you pulled away.

"I'm sure it's not that bad Y/n." James said. "Oi, it is fucking cold, fuck off." You whined. James snorted and you shivered as Remus held you close. "I've been sick before, it actually is really bad." Remus agreed. "See, I'm not crazy." You said, sticking your tongue out at James. "I didn't say that." Remus joked making you playfully punch his arm. "Let's get something warm in you, your throat is probably killing you." Remus said.

The other boys swapped looks of "he really likes her" and smiled. "Hey, we're going to Honeydukes to see if they have anything that might help." Sirius lied. "We are?" Peter asked, earning a smack on the back of his head and Peter realized what they were doing. "WE ARE!" Peter said walking away with James and Sirius. "...Okay... Then?" You muttered confused.

You sat down in the Three Broomsticks out of the cold. "Why did I have to be sick? Why?" You whined. Remus chuckled as he ordered while your head was on the table. You watched him, your head resting on your arms while you did. "Your eyes are pretty." You mumbled. You figured amongst the crowds and the talking he wouldn't hear you but instead he looked over with a kind smile and said "yours are too Y/n."

You blushed and looked away making Remus smile. "Next moon's coming up..." You mumbled. "Yes, the boys seem to have some plan. They were discussing it before we left." Remus said. "Any clue what it is?" You asked. "Nope." Remus shrugged. Warm butter beer ws placed in front of the two of you and you sipped on it. "I honestly don't know how this is going to go." You muttered. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I mean, I am now aware of Sirius' presence. What if I try to attack him instead of myself?" You asked. "He'll keep you at bay, trust me." Remus said. "That's a lot of trust."  You noted. "they've done a lot to earn that trust." Remus said. You nodded but still kept a troubled look. "They can help you Y/n, I promise." Remus assured. You gave a small smile before sneezing and groaning. "this sucks." You groaned.

Remus and you ended up walking around hogsmeade, you two talking about whatever came to mind before you saw the aforementioned Shrieking Shack. "So that's what the Whomping Willow is connected to?" You asked. "Yep." Remus nodded looking at it. "...Seems strangely... Peaceful in it's own way." You muttered, watching the house sway. "It's not as terrifying as once you've been in it." Remus chuckled. "There you two are!" Sirius said from behind you, slinging his arms over both of you. "So. The plan for the next full moon?" You asked. "Ohh. Right about that." Sirius cleared his throat.

You found yourself sitting again, in the three broomsticks with the whole group. "Sorry, you want to do what!?" You asked. "We think it's a good idea, it was a unanimous decision." James shrugged. "When the hell did you consult the two of us?" You asked. "We didn't. But we're the ones who have to keep you two at bay and we think it'd be better to keep you together--" "What happens if I attack Remus!? You're literally leading us into a DOG FIGHT!?" You asked, clearly panicked. "Breathe Y/n." Remus soothed. You gripped your skirt, clearly bothered. "Y/n, we promise if it goes south we'll pull you both out of there." Peter said. "Yes, because that's easy with werewolves." You spat. "Y/n... Try to trust us." James said. You ran a hand over your face. "Sirius. Side bar." You muttered.

Sirius got up and you stood outside. "I need a favor." You said. "What's up Crescent?" He asked. "...What?" You asked. "Mooney. Crescent." Sirius pointed to Remus through the window and then you. "...I need you to make me a promise." You said. "What?" Sirius asked. "If you can't separate me and Remus, put me down." You said. Sirius blinked. "You want us to kill you!?" He asked, making Remus' head snap to the direction of your voices. "Yes." You said. "Y/n that's a very loaded thing to ask me to do!" Sirius said before Remus walked out.

"Tell me you didn't ask him to do what I think you did." Remus said. "Remus--" "Tell me you did not just ask him to kill you!" He said. "If I hurt you--" "Y/n I am not letting that happen!" Remus said. "If I hurt you Remus I don't know what I'd do!" You snapped. "Y/n, you're not going to lose me--" "I literally don't know what I'd do if I knew I had hurt you!" You admitted. "Y/n--" "I care about you Remus and if I lost you--" "Y/n--" "I can't lose you, I'd be back to being alone and I-I just can't!" Remus cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. "I won't let that happen Y/n." He said sternly. You didn't say anything, swallowing the lump in your throat before hugging him. He cradled your head to his chest, Sirius watching the two of you with a small smile.

The next full moon was dreadful. You packed your bag and walked out of your dorm, the boys all standing around. "If this fails..." "It won't." James assured. You sighed and walked with them, slipping through the halls and to the whomping willow. You went through the gap in the roots after Remus, literally sliding into his arms after you fell in. The others slid in behind you and you sighed, watching the sun slowly fall. "Scared?" Remus asked. "I always am." You muttered. Sirius handed you and Remus potions. "Bottoms up." Remus sighed before drinking it. You drank yours and gagged. "Fuck that's disgusting." You winced.

You sat against the wall, waiting for the moon to present itself and you sighed. "Do your transformations hurt?" You asked Remus. "God yes." He nodded. You swallowed and noticed the glow. "Here we go." You muttered before feeling your body go numb. You breathed heavily before feeling your claws dig in the floor, snarling as you slowly changed.

The boys watched you and Remus go through the transformation, all them preparing to potentially separate you two. But something strange happened.

You both snarled at the sight of each other but sniffed each other. James rose a brow and watched Remus do what he assumed was a bark and you two... Just played together? It was like watching two dogs be the best of friends and you two eventually tired yourselves out, laying against each other. All of the boys fell asleep, seeing how peaceful it was.

The sun hit your face, an arm draped over you. You had someone breathing against you, who was that? You leaned up, wincing as the sun seemed to be a lot brighter making one of the boys wake up. "Oh shit-- you're naked--" James said looking away. You blushed and rolled over, seeing a sleeping Remus who's hair was in his face. Your eyes widened and you pulled away, grabbing your bag and changing. Remus woke up, due to the abrupt movement. James chuckled and threw Remus his clothes making him start to get dressed. "What was keeping me warm?" Remus asked. "Y/n." Sirius yawned. "What?" Remus asked. "You two didn't fight, actually it was like watching puppies play together. But uhm.. you two just fell asleep and because it was so peaceful so we did too." James explained. You walked in fully clothed now and blushed looking away from a shirtless Remus.

Sirius smirked and you cleared your throat. "you two were so calm." Peter yawned. "It's so weird, I've never even heard of this happening before." James muttered. You rose a brow. "What happened?" You asked. "Apparently we were very calm around each other last night." Remus answered. "We were?" You asked. "So much so that we fell asleep." Peter added. Sirius chuckled looking at you, who was blushing. "What does this even mean?" James asked. "I'm not sure, I've never heard of werewolves even acting calm like this before." Remus said. "Me neither." You noted. Peter pulled a book out of his bag and started flipping through pages. "What the hell?" James asked. "What?" Peter asked. "You keep a book of werewolves on hand?" Sirius asked. "I carried it to see if there were any methods to separate them if we needed to." Peter said, earning "oh's" from all of you.

Peter flipped through and shook his head. "Not seeing anything on this. Maybe a teacher would know." Peter said. "Yes, that will be normal 'Hey Minerva, what do you do if two werewolves don't attack each other?'" Sirius said sarcastically. "Think Severus would know?" Peter asked. James gagged at the idea of talking to him. "What if this is like... A mating thing?" Sirius asked. "What!?" You and Remus asked in unison. "What if the reason you two are calm is your in your mating season or something?" Sirius asked making your face turn red. "No. Sirius that's not how this works." Peter said. "Then how does it 'work' Wormtail, because I'm pretty damn confused?" Sirius asked. "If they were in mating season they probably would've done a lot more than goof off." James said making Peter nod and Remus blushed, putting a hand on his neck and looking away. "CAN WE CHANGE THE SUBJECT!?" You asked. "Okay okay! We'll figure this out, there's got to be a book or something in the library." Peter assured.

Well there wasn't. Which led to Peter asking about it to his defense of the dark arts teacher "Mr. Greyland". He wasn't a cruel man by any means, in fact he was very kind. Old. But very kind. "Mr. Greyland I have a question." Peter asked after all the students had left. "Yes Peter?" The professor asked. "Say two werewolves were put together and they didn't attack each other... What does that mean?" Peter asked. Greyland turned around and rose a brow. "That would be a very rare event... See that only happens when a werewolf was paired with a soulmate." He replied. Peter's eyes went wide. "Uh... Thank you sir... Read it in some crappy novel lately, wanted to find out why, thanks bye!" Peter lied, running out the door.

He went to the Gryffindor common room, grabbing James and Sirius. "What's going on?" Sirius asked. "They're soulmates!" Peter said. "What?" James asked. "Remus and Y/n, the only reason they didn't attack each other was because they're connected by fate, it's something they can sniff out or something!" Peter said. "....Holy shit." James gaped. "Wow, so Remus REALLY has a shot at this." Sirius said. "More than a shot, he literally has a thousand lifetimes to say something!" Peter said. "Do we tell them?" Sirius asked. "DUH." James said.

Almost on cue you and Remus walked in, both of you laughing at something before you noticed the boys looking at the two of you. "Uhm.. hi?" You waved. "We found the answer." Sirius said. "To what?" Remus asked. "To why you two canoodle instead of fight." James answered making you blush. "You're soulmates." Sirius said. You snorted. "Sorry what?" You asked. "Soulmates." James repeated. "That's..." "Ridiculous." Remus agreed. "Seriously!? WE LITERALLY FLY ON BROOMS FOR SPORT AND THIS IS WHERE YOU DRAW THE LINE!?" James gaped. "Yeah because it sounds like a cheesy movie." You laughed. "I know, what's next-- we're actually from two separate planets and we're literally star crossed lovers or something?" Remus asked.

You two shared many laughs over this but at the end of the day you found yourselves back in the shrieking shack. You and Remus were basically locked in a room together and sure enough you two were found the next morning in the same predicament as last time, his arm draped over you and holding you close. You both woke up around the same time both of you looking at each other. You blushed and looked away, Remus doing the same. He noticed a long scar though on your thigh. "how'd that happen?" He asked. "Hmm?" You asked, grabbing your clothes. "The thigh scar." Remus pointed. "Werewolf hunters in the area... Thought I was an adult they uhm..." You cleared your throat. "They nearly killed me." You muttered. "Christ." Remus gaped as he looped his belt through his pants and you slid on your shirt.

"Do you think the guys are... Right... About the soulmate stuff?" You asked. "...Maybe?" Remus said. You looked at him surprised and he rose a brow. "Is that so crazy?" He asked. "I mean... No but--" "So you think there is a connection?" Remus asked. You blushed and looked away. "Remus I--" the door opened and you both saw Sirius eating an apple. "Morning losers." He said nonchalantly. "Hey." You said quietly. Sirius rose a brow as you brushed past him.

The rest of the day you avoided Remus, it was so strange. The group didn't know what was with you. You were jumpier, you were more anxious and Remus was worried. Did he do something wrong?

Tonight though, was the last full moon. You knew this was going to be the worst night. The last nights always were. You could never remember what you did all you could remember was the pain. That night the boys could tell you were hurting too, Remus seemed worried even in his werewolf form. You were yelping and he'd whine making the boys deeply concerned. When the sun finally came out you were curled into Remus's arms. You didn't even sleep you woke up wincing and your skin was almost burning. Remus didn't say anything holding you as you shook in agony

"it burns--" you whined. "it will pass just hold on a little longer." Remus soothed. You whimpered against him, Sirius walking in with another potion. "Y/n, try to take this, it'll stop the pain--" "It will make it worse." You whimpered. Remus and Sirius exchanged a look of confusion. "What do you mean?" Remus asked. "It will just make the pain worse-- it's a-a allergy." You heaved in pain. "So we have to watch you suffer!?" Sirius asked. "You don't have to watch you can leave." You breathed. Remus pulled you closer, Sirius handing you a shirt. You wrapped it over you, flinching at the cloth's contact with your skin. Remus actually had to assist you in getting dressed, even when you all got back to the Gryffindor common room you were shaking and flinching at any noise. Remus was not leaving your side and he managed to lull you to sleep, you nearly passing out on top of him while he read.

Remus didn't dare to move something so precious, something so kind and sweet who didn't deserve to bare this curse. You had suffered long enough. You deserved something better than this. Whether that was unconditional love, friendship or romance, Remus didn't care. He just wanted you safe and happy.

You woke up with a wince, a headache still present but the burning gone. You realized Remus was underneath you, sleeping and with his arm holding you. You blushed but didn't move to wake him. Your hand seemed to have a life of it's own as you brushed his hair out of his eyes. His lips parted and you smiled softly. For someone who could be considered a killer he seemed so normal and tranquil. You kept your hand on the side of his face, tracing the edge of his scar with your thumb before you felt his hand clasp yours. Your eyes widened and you pulled away, shocked and he looked at you. "Enjoying yourself there Crescent?" He asked. Your face flushed and he smiled. You sat up, looking away.

Suddenly everything clicked for Remus. The soulmate question, the sudden need to avoid him, the fact you always spent time with just him. "How long have you liked me?" Remus asked. Your face darkened and you got up. "I should study--" "Y/n. Please. Tell me." He asked. You couldn't say no to those god damn puppy eyes. You sighed and shook your head. "I think I started liking you after you hugged me. I never said anything because... Well I figured because it was the first real touch I've had in a while, I was just liking the first thing that came along... Then I... Then the guys told us we were soulmates and..." You explained. Remus found himself smiling at you. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way. Honestly." You assured. "Are you joking?" Remus snorted. "What?" You asked. "How could I not feel the same way Y/n? Did you know for the first time since I was four I've been able to sleep? Like actually sleep?" Remus asked. You cocked your head to the side almost like a confused dog.

"I love you Y/n, long before I even found out we were soulmates." Remus said making you gape. You swallowed and stared at him in silence. "....Y/n?" Remus waved a hand in front of your face to see if you zoned out. You grabbed his hand, yanking him forward and kissing him. He was of course shocked but once he figured out what was happening he cupped your face, closing his eyes and practically became putty in your hands.

It wasn't until a thud from someone dropping something rang out that you two pulled away from each other. "OH. MY. GOD." Sirius gaped, his books on the floor and his eyes wide. You blushed and Remus pursed his lips looking down before snorting. You looked at Remus and then Sirius before laughing with Remus. "H-How long have you two been like that!?" Sirius asked. "Like two seconds, but my God your face was priceless!" Remus wheezed. You laughed harder and nearly fell off the couch, red in the face from laughter.

"We deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people, and we've suffered long enough." - cardiamachina

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And of course the creative requester: @green-intervention​