#At least that I remember. I’m sure other stuff happens but my memory is unsurprisingly v blurry after

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

the 14 year old edgelord in me keeps trying to compose deep poetry about coming to after dissociating. calm down babes. we’re all good here.

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) — part four

Y’all. I am dumb as all fucking hell. I’ve had this finished for days and just keep forgetting to post it. Send help

Summary: Ominous stuff and the Father Test results oooooo

Warnings: angst but that’s it I think

The next day, you and Wanda finally tackle everything Pepper bought you. You’re glad you took Tony’s advice (for once) and asked Wanda for help because it’s so much stuff.

“That is not my color. There’s no way I’d wear that.”

“You won’t know unless you try it on!” Wanda argues, holding the shirt out to you.

You push it back to her chest. “Nope. You take it.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, setting it aside. “Pepper got these for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” But I don’t like owning things.

Wanda sighs. “I’m sorry, but it’s okay to own things, you know.”

You look up in shock. You completely forgot she can read minds.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, grimacing. “I try not to, I swear, but that was a strong feeling,” she raises her eyebrows for emphasis.

“I’m not used to it,” you confess. “Mom never had enough money for us to have anything but the essentials. So, this…” You gesture at the pile of clothes around you and on your bed. “It’s weird.”

“I understand,” Wanda says. “But, I mean, you didn’t have anything when you got here. These are all essentials. It just looks like a lot.”

“You’re probably right,” you murmur. “You can still have the shirt, though. That really isn’t my color.”

“Okay,” she chuckles. “I’ll take it.”

You hear footsteps down the hall, and they sound a lot like Bucky’s, which is why when he knocks on the door, you’re not at all surprised when it sounds like his knock, too.

“Come in,” you call out, and sure enough, it’s Bucky.

“Hey-- Oh, hey Wanda.”

She waves.

He looks back at you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just checking on you.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Why?”

He shrugs, evidently not having a reason. “I...I don’t know. I hadn’t seen you since yesterday, so I guess I just...wanted to check.”

“Oh,” you nod slowly. “I’m good. Thanks for checking.”

“Yeah,” he says, waving once more. “See you.” He closes the door behind him, and you listen to his footsteps retreat back into the main area.

“Weird,” you mutter, grabbing another shirt to examine.

Wanda snickers.

You drop the shirt, giving her a look. “What?”

“Nothing…” She shakes her head, picking up a pair of pants. “These are cute.”

“Wanda,” you sigh. “What?”

“Nothing!” She tries again. “Really, it’s nothing. Bucky is the one mind I can’t really read. He’s good at hiding things.”

“But?”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t really check up on people.”

“Okay? And?”

“Nothing,” she says again. “Like I said, I can’t read him. And we have a bigger thing to worry about. Do you like these?” She turns the pants around for you.

You accept her subject change reluctantly. The pants are cute.

+++

When Bucky returns to the main area, he’s immediately called away by Steve.

“Meeting in five,” Steve says. “At MedBay.”

Bucky follows Steve to the elevator, narrowing his eyes. “Why MedBay?”

“It’s about Y/N,” Steve says quietly, stepping inside the elevator with Bucky.

“Did the results come back?” Bucky asks.

“They must’ve,” Steve sighs.

“What are we gonna do if she’s like us?” Bucky asks. “She has no clue that she is.”

“That we know of,” Steve adds.

“No, Steve, I don’t think she knows,” Bucky argues. “At all.”

“Well, we’ll figure that out later,” Steve says.

The elevator stops at MedBay, letting the two super soldiers off.

They’re met with Dr. Cho, Tony, and Natasha standing around. The look that Nat gives Steve is enough to let him know it’s bad.

Of course, bad is subjective. Because if you are a super soldier, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing (you won’t drop dead from it) -- but Bucky isn’t sure it’s a good thing, either. Especially if you don’t know what you are, because that means you were given the serum against your will and without your knowledge. But who would do that to you -- to a fucking kid?

Tony breaks the silence. “Well, we don’t need to stand around staring at each other. I’m sure you’ve put two and two together.”

Bucky’s heart sinks. “She’s a super soldier?”

Dr. Cho shakes her head. “I’m not completely sure.” She pauses. “But based on the DNA so far...yes. A form of one.”

“A form of one?” Bucky blurts.

“I’ve already called Dr. Banner,” Tony says. “He should be here tomorrow to help us figure this one out. Quickly.”

“Do you think someone is trying to recreate the serum?” Steve asks.

“Not trying to,” Tony says. “If Y/N is anything to go off of, they’ve done it.”

“But how does she not remember it?” Natasha questions. “It sounds like something someone would remember.”

“Unless she was unconscious,” Bucky adds quietly. “Or whoever it was wiped her memory.”

Everyone looks at Bucky, afraid that he’s right.

“We don’t know that, but...I do know her mom worked for HYDRA. Or a group closely associated with them,” Tony waves his hands aimlessly. “FRIDAY is still digging.”

“And you had sex with her?” Bucky laughs darkly. “Of course.”

“Hey, I don’t need your judgement, Barnes,” Tony snaps. “All I need is some help. Because until I say so, this stays between us. Okay?” Tony raises his eyebrows. “Barnes?”

“Okay,” Bucky mutters.

“Understood,” Steve says with a nod, but Tony wasn’t worried about him, or Natasha who nods in agreement, too. Tony’s worried about Bucky because he’s latched onto you in some weird way that Tony can’t quite place, but he knows it’s going to cause issues.

“I’ll try to convince her to start training with us,” Nat says. “At least with Wanda and I first. It’ll give her something to do and I can see how she behaves.”

Steve likes the idea. “If she wants to train with me or Buck, that’s fine too, we can gauge if she does or doesn’t know about her strength.”

“We don’t even know if she has super strength,” Bucky argues. “All I’ve noticed is that her senses are sharper than normal.”

“She’s been on the run,” Nat counters. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s holding things back from us. Don’t give me that look, I’m not saying I blame her, I’m saying I understand.”

Bucky doesn’t stop glaring at her, but he does nod.

Tony breaks the tension with a clap of his hands. “Now that we’re all on the same page, I need to go. I’ve got some news to break to the kid.”

All heads slowly turn toward Tony.

“Wait…” Nat furrows her eyebrows.

“She’s really yours?” Steve asks quietly.

“She’s really mine,” Tony nods, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Talk about being father of the year. Not even knowing your kid exists until she’s almost twenty.” He laughs it off because that’s all he knows how to do, but everyone can tell he’s beating himself up inside.

+++

When you see Tony again, Wanda is gathering the few clothes you decided not to keep.

“Hey munchkin,” he says, knocking on your door with two knuckles. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” you shrug.

“I’ll see you later,” Wanda waves, punching Tony lightly in the arm on her way by.

“What’s up?” You ask. You’re grateful he’s come in now because it gets you out of hanging all this shit up, but you won’t admit that to him.

“Thought we could take a walk,” he shrugs. “I realized I haven’t given you the grand tour.”

You chuckle. “I’ve been almost everywhere, I mean, what else is there?”

Tony only smiles.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “Fine, lead the way.”

Tony doesn’t seem nearly as happy as you thought he would when you agreed.

Still, you follow him, and you don’t question his mood. Even if the two of you do bicker like hell, you kind of don’t mind spending some time with him. Working in the lab yesterday was more fun than you expected it to be.

Tony takes you down to the garage where all his cars are. There’s a couple motorcycles, one for Steve and one for Natasha. Bucky, surprisingly, doesn’t have one. Tony doesn’t point a car out and say it’s Bucky’s, so you don’t know if he even has one.

From there, he walks you through the business floors, nodding to the few people that pass by. You notice the odd looks you get, though. Tony doesn’t bat a single eyelash.

It’s when Tony walks you through his lab again that you realize he’s stalling about something, but you say nothing, letting him do whatever it is he’s doing. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re kind of enjoying the tour.

The last stop is the balcony near the very top of the tower. It’s right outside Tony’s office, unsurprisingly, but you truthfully didn’t even notice it the first day you were here.

You take in the view of the city from here, the breeze on your cheeks. You have a feeling you’ll be sneaking in here more often than not to come out here.

“So… The results came in.”

Slowly, you look over at Tony. “The results?” You pause. “From the paternity test? Already?”

“Dr. Cho uses different technology here,” he shrugs. “It’s quicker.”

“Okay…” You murmur. “What’s the verdict?”

Tony chuckles as he takes his sunglasses off. “What do you think?” He pauses, looking down. “What do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, leaning against the railing. “What did you want it to be?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a father,” he admits, surprising you. “But the fact that it never happened just told me I wasn’t cut out for it. And even now, I think that’s true. I mean, look at me,” he scoffs. “I didn’t even know I have a daughter until she’s almost twenty, and she had to come to me. I couldn’t even go to her.”

You stare out at the city, not blinking, not moving, barely breathing.

“I always said I’d try to be better than my dad if I was one,” he continues. “I’d be around more. I’d be more involved in my kid’s life than I would in my work. Guess that one didn’t work out.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” you chuckle, trying to slice through some of the awkward tension, “every time my mom told me you’re my dad, I...I would be two seconds away from telling her to go to hell. But I never did.” You shrug. “I never believed her, though, either.”

“Do you believe her now?”

“Hard to argue with science, I guess,” you admit. “We can ignore it, though, if you’d rather I just...quietly leave.”

Tony shakes his head. “No. No, I’m not gonna make you leave.”

“Okay.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he says. “And you can change rooms, too, just let me know. There’s bigger ones a few floors down that are empty. It’s just Bucky and Steve on one end.”

You snicker. “You sure you want me rooming on the same floor as them?”

“Yeah, you know what, I take that back,” he nods firmly. “You’re staying where you are.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he replies almost instantly.

Heavy silence settles over the two of you for a few moments. The city breeze is the only noise in your ears, aside from the car engines, but you’ve gotten good at tuning those out.

“You’re not gonna get pissed if I don’t call you dad, right?” You ask.

“As long as you don’t get pissed if I keep calling you munchkin.”

You sigh. Win some, lose some. “Fine.”

“Good deal,” Tony says with a nod.

“Can I ask something else?”

“Shoot.” He pushes away from the railing to face you instead, leaning his hip against the glass.

“Do you remember my mom at all?” Before he can reply, you say, “It’s fine if you don’t. I’m just curious.”

He hangs his head. “I don’t. I’m sorry, munchkin.”

You shrug. “Probably for the better, anyway.”

Tony stills. It’s the first time he’s ever heard you talk about your mom, really, but with what he knows, it only makes him more suspicious. FRIDAY won’t finish digging until sometime tonight or tomorrow, but the beginning of what she’s found doesn’t look positive. And neither does your current expression.

[orangeoctopi7]

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below. 

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing. 

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves. 

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device. 

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth. 

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford. 

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

 European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything. 

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth. 

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark. 

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands! 

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about. 

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days. 

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet. 

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence. 

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically. 

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!” 

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

[b-rainlet]

📓📓📓📓

- the-scarecrxw

(Since you sent 4 of those emojis I'm gonna go off but I'll stick to one in this answer and make seperate posts for the others aksnsns)

I can't give you anything Jonathan centric (that isn't Tommy/Jonathan, one of my fave rarepairs) but Jerome features in lots of my AUs.

This one is one of my faves that's entirely self-indulgent and if it ever gets written it's probably gonna be the longest fic I ever published (Again: If it ever gets written):

I gotta apologize in advance, it's just a fun little AU I haven't put too much thoughts into in terms of plotting so this is gonna be A. Long, B. Messy and C. A little chaotic

- First off, you gotta understand that @nsfwitchy2 Me had some fun with a pretty nonsensical and definitely not canon-compliant AU where Jerome and Jeremiah have three Mums (Tabby, Lee and Barbara, who all date) and live with them and Barbara Lee as their little sister.

- Ecco also lives with them, she sees herself as both the twins' gf more than a genuine part of the family tho (for now)

- (Meanwhile at Wayne Manor Alfred and Jim date and are very tired parents of Bruce and his clone 514A, in this AU - and pretty much every AU - nicknamed Brook)

- (Selina kinda goes back and forth between living at Wayne Manor or at Lee's place)

- Also, everyone dates. The twins. The clones. Eccomiah, Jecco, Batcat, Valeyne, Wayleska, they're all fucking

- Which isn't THAT important for this particular AU but I figured I'd give a warning xD

- This is mostly my attempt to give Tabitha some more backstory? Just...how I personally see her character and how I could see her end up if things would've went differently after S2

- The google docs file is called 'How Tabitha started being a Mum while disregarding canon completely' lmao

- Like her current life involves having 4 kids (if you count Selina) and two wives and that's a hell of an AU and I just like to overthink things and play with the way things would have needed to have gone in canon to have her 'end up' like this

- Also I can see her struggling with having a family all if a sudden (that isn't a manipulative brother or a weird cult)

-Especially if that involves Motherhood

- So on one hand it's a 'S2 until now' fic, explaining what happened to her in my canon

- But also - mostly because I find that easier to organize in my brain - it's interwoven with a 5+1-esque fic of all her children calling her 'Mum' (and her getting emotional over that)

- So it switches back and forth between the past and the present but for rambling's sake, I'll start with the past

- She still leaves Theo behind and flees with Silver but she keeps Silver close instead of immediately sending her away

- And her and Silver get taken in by Fish after they leave Theo because they have nowhere to go and Fish loves taking care of strays

- (Fish, who probably didn't end up in Indian Hill but rather lives in hiding until she is ready to strike against Penguin)

- She refers to herself as Liza's Mother in canon, you can't tell me she wouldn't instantly adopt Tabby and call her 'Honey' and give her motherly advice while Tabby tries to be all bite but actually enjoys somebody taking care of her for once

- Selina🤝Tabby

'Trying so very hard all the time to not show how soft and insecure they are'

- Actually, I'd start diverting from Canon even sooner aksnsjd

- Well not full on changing canon, but I'd...pepper in some stuff

- Like some scenes of her back with Theo and the Maniax

- Mostly her talking to Theo about Jerome's planned murder, which, yeah, she knows it's been set in stone from the beginning but that doesn't mean that she isn't talking about alternatives where he doesn't get killed off

- And Theo's like "Don't tell me you're going soft. No one will miss him. He was just a boy. Not worthy enough to be remembered."

- And later on she betrays him and goes 'I remember him'

- Anyway, they stay with Fish for a while but Tabby doesn't wanna keep Silver in Gotham

- So she sends her back to the school she went to before coming to Gotham with Theo (but makes sure their weird cult can't get their hands on her there)

- And Silver wants her to come with but Tabby says she has some unfinished business

- Aka she just doesn't wanna leave Barbara (who is in a coma atm, if Memory serves right)

- And Tabby's reasoning is that it's not safe in Gotham but really, she thinks she can't be responsible for another person

- "She needs a mother. A Family. I can't give her that." - "You are her family."

- So Silver's out of the picture and Tabby hangs with Fish until Barbara wakes up and they get together again (and never ever seperate)

- Also there's no Butch/Tabby because that was unnecessary as fuck

- And I gotta be honest, I haven't thought more about canon because Butch/Tabby alone makes my head hurt already but somehow they start dating Lee

- Who brings Jerome into the relationship because I sure am fond of Lee being Jerome's Mother (like as in, I have several wips with that concept alone not counting this one)

- Jerome probably came back to life after S3 and Lee fought to have him not be treated like a violent criminal but rather a child who was taken advantage of and after his release from Arkham (where she visited him and made sure he got some proper treatment) it seemed natural to have him live with her

- (But also he's still a criminal aksnsjs, you can see how much I thought about this)

- (Sue me for sticking to the heartfelt scenes and avoiding the mess that is plotting)

- Tabby and Barbara already had Selina and through Jerome, Jeremiah and Ecco were added et voila! Their Family is complete

- (Why exactly Barbara Lee exists if Tabby and Barbara have been non-stop dating since S2 I can't tell you, I simply think she is neat and I like the idea of big brother Jerome)

- (This AU? Self-indulgent? Why would you ever think that?)

- In the present however she is dealing with what is mostly referred to as 'feelings'

- Mostly panic at realizing that the bunch of weird children she's been living with are seeing her as some kind of parental figure

- Because suddenly they all call her 'Mum'

- Unsurprisingly the first one to call her Mum is Jerome at breakfast

- She's reading the newspaper and there's an article about a hostage situation the twins planned and he goes 'Mum, are you done with that? Can we see?'

- And they snatch it from her and argue about how they didn't even make the front page while Tabby nearly chokes on her coffee

- And of course she breaks down talks to her wives about it later while they get ready for bed because no one ever called her 'Mum' before

- Barbara's braiding her hair, while Lee's off to the side, getting ready for bed and it's very domestic and I am very gay

- But neither see it as a big deal because both of them have been called Mum before (by Jerome at least. Like. Immediately upon meeting them)

- So she's trying to be nonchalant about it because it's only a big deal if she makes it one

- While also not being able to deny the warm feeling that spreads throughout her body when Jerome keeps calling her 'Mum'

- Miah and Selina on the other hand are both hesitant to call anyone Mum

- Miah cause of Pride, Selina cause of her Mummy Issues

- But they both do at some point

- I think I have more notes on this SOMEWHERE but I kinda wanna have Miah call her Mum while he's ill (because we all know he'd be super fussy and want attention 24/7)

- So she humours him and while he's close to falling asleep - and she's totally not carding her fingers through his hair because she isn't soft or anything - he mumbles: "Thank you Mum" and she melts

- Selina would be more angsty

- Like, maybe it's her birthday and she disappears for a while (as she tends to do) but Tabby (who's closest to her) knows how hard this day is for her (since again her Mum isn't there with here and looks for her and brings her back home but doesn't make a big fuss out of her birthday

- Just...lets her be, gives her space but also lets her curl up close to her and maybe Selina doesn't call her Mum on that exact day

- But it's the day she realizes she wouldn't mind calling Tabitha her Mother, so she hesitantly tries it out a while later (maybe days, maybe weeks, however long it takes for her to feel comfortable with it) and they share a smile

- Then there's Barbara Lee, but she barely counts because she's a toddler and calls everyone 'Mummy'

- Even her father ajsnsnsn

- The last one would be Ecco because I have a very soft spot for Tabby and Ecco being close

- Ecco's rather formal with them for the longest time (she calls Barbara, Lee and Tabby 'Ma'am' for the most part because she may like them, but she doesn't think they see her as family. She's just the token girlfriend).

- So there's a scene where they connect, possibly over Tabby's hand and Ecco's head since I hc that Ecco gets headaches and migraines a lot (considering that she still gets shot in the head by Miah, like I said, this AU isn't necessarily the most bullet proof in terms of linear timelines)

- But so is Gotham so-

- So there's possibly a scene where Ecco's headache is getting super bad and no one's around (especially not Miah to dote on her) and Tabby awkwardly tries to bond by telling her about her hand and how she can't feel much (is a little clumsy with it) and Ecco immediately imprints on her like a duckling

- Maybe it's even the first time anyone reached out to Ecco in a way that feels genuine, especially without the twins or any of her (various) other partners being present so now she's willing to die for Tabby

- Which ends in her also calling her 'Mum' (while she keeps calling Lee and Barbara 'Ma'am' and Lee's so mad ajsnsjdj she was trying so hard to bond with this kid but couldn't quite get it right and you're telling her her socially pretty clumsy - but still wonderful of course - wife managed with just one conversation?? Slander

- And of course because I can't stop myself, there would be even more tidbits here and there of Tabby overcoming her previous way of living (as in, thinking caring or showing emotions is weakness) by having her reminisce a LOT about Theo

- For example by having Jerome climb into bed with her while Barbara's sleeping and Tabby is waiting for Lee to come home

- Lee works as a doc in the narrows which may be a little illegal, but the people didn't just stop needing help after her Queen of the Narrows arc was over, so I vote she keeps at it (and is held in very high regard for it by pretty much everyone)

- Tabby always stays up until everyone is home because she likes knowing where everyone is and that they're safe while Jerome has frequent nightmares and wanders around the house, so this isn't a rare occurrence

- And sometimes, they talk Theo

- "You miss him?" - "Don't know."

- "I wish he was still alive so I could kill him." - "....Me too." - "Which one?" - "...Both."

- (ajajsbssj this is all just copy pasted and cleaned up a lil', leave me and my pretentious way of writing dialogue alone)

- Tabby also has a lot of interludes where she thinks about what growing up with Theo was like/her childhood in general

- How she always protected him from other children bullying him and how they swore to have each other's back but how in hindsight, she was the one doing all the dirty work for him, helping him fulfill his dream and enact his revenge

- Realizing that he probably never cared for her, not like she cared for him

- There's also allusions to them having sex because you cannot tell me they did NOT have sex

- And it ends with Tabby realizing that she is quite happy with how she ended up, even if it's neither how she thought she would ever live nor what her old self would've even wanted, possibly seeing too many attachments as 'weak' judging by the way she canonly used Butch for convenience sake at first

- And yeah, maybe now she can provide the family - the Mother - somebody else desperately needs

- So she brings Silver home

[3laxx]

Bring It Home - Chapter 6

To her right, Emira was hopping in place, before winking at her while shaking her arms out.

They were ready and poised and wouldn’t leave any of this in one piece.

Growling in anticipation, Amity looked ahead to see Willow holding up the flag.

Another chapter???? I'm spoiling you guys

But I already wanna start on my big fanfiction!! And for that I promised myself to finish all open fanfics first, before starting the megaproject not to lose my motivation with too many options again. So bear with me, please xD

Ah right, warnings:

- MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL - DRINKING - THEY'RE ALL OF AGE RELAX THEY'RE ALL 18 OR OLDER

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Cracking her knuckles, Amity huffed, before focusing on the backyard full of things.

The eighteen-year-old had managed to convince her siblings to empty the attic of any and all furniture her parents didn’t and wouldn’t need anymore, most of it probably treasured family heirlooms that were left up there to rot.

Straightening her back and rolling her head, Amity breathed through, before looking ahead again.

They had assembled some furniture to the best of their ability after transporting them down here, but they had also just thrown some off the roof, for the fun of it. The backyard was littered with boards, glass shards, and assembled furniture, which looked kind of funny, actually.

Their parents were still on a business trip, for at least another week, so the twins had readily accepted Amity’s offer to clean up the attic. Especially if that meant smashing stuff.

Grinning, she looked to her left where Edric was rolling his shoulders and showed her a thumb up, grinning deviously. He had gloated about some new powerful spell he had been working on and had impatiently waited all day to try this out.

To her right, Emira was hopping in place, before winking at her while shaking her arms out.

They were ready and poised and wouldn’t leave any of this in one piece.

Growling in anticipation, Amity looked ahead to see Willow holding up the flag.

They had roped her in on this, mostly by worrying her about any injuries they could possibly get from punching glass, so Willow had proclaimed herself the judge of the race the siblings were planning and had positioned herself on the other end of their backyard.

Their goal was to race to the other side and leave as much destruction to the furniture as they possibly could. Leaving anything whole or causing damage to the lawn in any way would result in fewer points for the score since they didn’t want to have Willow repair their backyard for their parents not to notice what their children were up to.

Smirking to herself, Amity readied her fingers by flexing them, already planning on using her abominations to leave nothing but destruction and chipped wood.

Willow’s hand with the flag fell and Amity pounced.

Immediately, she conjured an abomination to crush the first piece of furniture beneath it, while she took off its arm to slice through the nearest chair. She worked quickly and effectively, using all her training with Eda and Lilith to be as fast and deadly as she could. She had learned to utilize her abominations as basically anything by now, to crush, slice, envelop and even impale if she wanted to.

After half the way, sweat already started running down her forehead and temples but she couldn’t deny how amazing it felt to smash up all the furniture the Blight family had hoarded over the years, probably hundreds of them, for her to smash up. The rotting boards were flying all around and she fell into a sort of trance while continuing to hack everything up to the best of her abilities.

Emira was mostly using magically enhanced martial art, which allowed her to move quicker but left less destruction than Amity or Edric.

Edric, on the other hand, was using fire magic and highly directive explosions, almost like fireworks and flamethrowers combined. She’d have to ask him for that spell after this was over.

Coming in as second, Amity finally held herself up on her knees and chuckled, before straightening up and high-fiving both her siblings. The sweat was running down her face and a flying glass shard had left a small cut on her forehead, making a small trail of blood run down her tumble as well. One of her lower arms had also gotten a cut, but she didn’t even feel the pain, she was too ecstatic for that. Neither did her siblings because they also had minor injuries but didn’t speak up about any of them.

Grinning, the Blight siblings approached Willow who was already waiting for them with her eyebrows quirking up.

“You look like you just fought for your lives.”, she remarked, before joining into their laughter and high-fiving them as well.

The youngest Blight straightened her back and glanced back to their warpaths. Edric’s furniture was still burning, Amity had stayed true to her promise only to leave chipped wood, and Emira’s side showed a similar state of destruction.

Unsurprisingly, Amity got the highest score for destruction, while Emira had won the time and Edric the most impressive spell. She suspected Willow had just given him the reward not to make him feel bad, though, even if his spell was really impressive.

“Hey, we still have a bit of furniture left. Edric, wanna show us that spell?”, Amity finally asked after regaining her breath, and her brother eagerly nodded, showing his sisters and Willow the spell on an old piano they had found. Imitating him, the girls giggled and laughed while blowing up all scrap furniture they found, before sitting down in the grass with some cool drinks and a few towels to dry the sweat on their skin.

Humming, Amity touched glasses with everyone, before taking a deep gulp of her beverage, already feeling the alcohol pleasantly numbing her nerves after such a workout. Willow and Edric shared a harder drink while Emira and her had gone for a lighter cocktail because they had physically worked harder and didn’t want to lose their minds immediately.

Their backyard was still partially burning, but the siblings and Willow were all relaxed about it. They were probably going to burn all the scrap they had produced later, and they were positive about nothing else catching fire, so they opted to lie down for now and relax.

Amity removed her arms from beneath herself and lied down on the grass, closing her eyes when she enjoyed the evening sun. Smiling to herself, she finally indulged in her memories again.

Luz would’ve had so much fun today. Amity knew how much her late friend loved to use her glyphs in new and exciting ways and she would’ve given everything to graduate with a blow like this.

She briefly wondered how Luz would look like now. Maybe her face would be sharper like Amity’s had become, and she’d lose her chubby baby cheeks that made Amity smile every time she looked at the pictures of her and the human.

Maybe she’d be taller than her now, but she imagined her laugh would still be the same. It had to be. Amity imagined it as cheerful as back then, even if she could never know what it would sound like now.

And her eyes wouldn’t change she was sure. They would still be the same wonderful brown she remembered, and they would still shine with everything that she enjoyed. She would still probably fangirl about Azura ever since their favorite ship got together at the end of the last book almost four years ago. Smiling to herself, Amity daydreamed a bit but flinched when her sister punched her arm.

“Hey mittens, what’re you thinking about.”, she playfully asked and Amity growled.

“None of your business.”, she snapped and Willow chuckled.

“I know what she’s thinking about.”

Without further prompting, Amity felt something fluttering on her stomach and opened her eyes to see the old piece of paper, almost falling apart from the usage, that Willow had thrown there.

When she sat up, her old friend already gave her a pen and softly smiled.

“It’s time for another check off the list, isn’t it?”

With her breath hitching, Amity opened the bucket list and looked over the tasks she had completed.

The Azura book had three checks behind it by now, and she had given up on counting Skiing. She had also skipped school about five times, resulting in five checks.

Next was to smash something.

Grinning, Amity clicked the pen and drew a satisfying check behind the task, before looking up to their backyard with the chipped wood and burning furniture.

“She would’ve enjoyed this.”, Amity mumbled and Edric nodded.

“I’ll drink to that.”, he slurred and downed his drink, making his sisters giggle.

“Slow down Edric, we don’t wanna clean up your bedroom from your vomit again.”, Emira chastised him and smacked his shoulder, making him scowl.

“That never happened!”, he retorted but Amity just shook her head.

“Sure, that happened!”, Emira bit back and lifted her chin at him, “At the graduation party we threw!”

Willow laughed and nodded.

“Oh yeah, I remember that party. That was fun.”

Emira pushed Amity’s shoulder.

“Mittens’ first blackout!”, she giggled and Amity rolled her eyes, taking another gulp from her drink. Rolling her eyes, she finally replied.

“Only because you gave me the drink. I didn’t know it was way harder than you let on.”, she grumbled but Emira merely laughed, along with Edric and Willow. Thinking back to the party, Amity shook her head over her blazing blush. She was just glad Luz hadn’t been there to see her throwing off her shirt and jumping on the table in a bra before proceeding to breathe fire. It had been funny, admittedly, and she had enjoyed living it up like this for once, but she was still glad her crush hadn’t witnessed that.

Smiling to herself, she looked out to the backyard again, drinking a gulp from her bottle.

What she would’ve given to share this moment with Luz, though.

Sitting in the grass with people she loved, looking out to the destruction they had caused, completely powered out and holding a drink, feeling like an adult. Smiling to herself, she finished the drink before getting up.

“Come on, let’s put out the fires before the grass starts burning.”, she called and Edric groaned.

“I need more alcohol for that!”

“No, you need less alcohol for that. That stuff burns, you idiot.”

“Who said I wanna pour it on the flames?!”

Willow and Amity laughed at her siblings’ bickering, shaking their heads as they went to start collecting the pieces of wood.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

hold me like the moon holds onto the tide (1/3)

Summary: Kidnapped and locked in a cell with no escape. Alex and Michael are faced with an ex-Caulfield employee who is prepared to do anything to get alien powers of his own. (Inspired by the Daisy/Sousa scenes in Agents of Shield 7x06)

Word Count: 2,946

[Also on AO3] [Part Two] [Part Three]

This wasn’t the first time that Alex had woken up somewhere with no memory of how he had gotten there.

There was the happier occurrences of this, such as waking up at his grandparent’s place after falling asleep during the car ride there as a child or ending up at home in bed with a killer hangover the morning after an unexpectedly wild night at the Pony.

Or the not so happy occurrences like waking up in the hospital after an encounter with a roadside IED or tied to a chair in his father’s basement after an unfortunate meeting with his metal cane.

But this. This was definitely the first time that he’d woken up in an unfamiliar cell with his hands shackled to the wall.

His head hurt and there was a weird heaviness in his limbs that could only be explained by the uncomfortable sensation of drugs running its course through his body. Blinking a few times in a poor attempt to clear the haze from his vision, he lifted his head to get a better look at his new surroundings.

“Alex?” Came a murmur from nearby, which only confused him more.

He let out a slight groan in response as he pushed himself up to rest on his forearms, the chain securing his cuffed wrists to the cell wall jangling nosily at the movement.

To say that Michael was a sight for sore eyes was an understatement at the best of times. But right now, the sight of him was practically angelic. He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched in front of him, matching cuffs around his wrists. His hair was more of a mess than usual and he was looking at Alex with such big eyes that the worry radiating off him was palpable.

He looked beautiful, of course. But above all that, him being here meant that Alex wasn’t facing whatever this was alone.

“What the hell is going on?” Alex croaked around the unexpected dryness of his throat. How long had they been here?

“No clue. I woke up about twenty minutes ago, haven’t heard anybody outside.” Michael shook his head, eyeing Alex carefully.

They may be chained to a wall but at least their mysterious captors had the consideration to secure them within reaching distance of each other. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Alex shuffled over and rearranged himself to mirror Michael’s position, their shoulders bumping as he rested against the wall.

Now that his head had cleared a little, Alex took a moment to survey the cell. It was a small room with dull grey walls and a cold, dirty floor.

There was one window positioned high on the wall behind them that was allowing a few beams of light into the room. The dim rays hit the door opposite them as if preparing to provide their captors with a golden entrance.

There wasn’t much to deduct from their closed means of exit, but the solid metal of the door was worrying. It didn’t look like some makeshift prison hidden in the basement of someone’s house, this looked professional and if someone had access to a place like this, who knows what they wanted with the two of them.

Alex lowered his head to rest it against Michael shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to take a calming breath.

“Your head hurting?” Michael whispered, feeling himself relax just a little from having Alex so close.

Alex nodded gently, “Yeah, yours?”

“Yeah, it’s been throbbing since I woke up.”

Michael had been worried when he had woken up first.

The first thing he had registered was the hard surface beneath his cheek and he had thought for a moment that maybe he’d been drinking the night previously and hadn’t quite made it into the airstream before passing out. The drumming in his head sure seemed to support that theory.

Opening his eyes revealed how far off he was with that prediction and it had set his heart racing. But seeing another person lying nearby had his heart jumping straight into his throat.

He had only allowed a second to compartmentalise the fact that he had clearly been kidnapped before clumsily crawling over to Alex, instantly shaking the man in an attempt to wake him.

After a brief flash of panic, Michael had taken note of Alex’s small breaths and the rise and fall of his chest before letting out a nervous laugh of relief.

And now that Alex was finally awake, Michael took solace in his breathing once more as the man sat next to him.

They were silent for a moment as Alex glanced down at the metal cuffs cutting into his wrists. The thick grey bands looked stronger than standard police issue handcuffs and the sturdy chainlink connecting them to the wall bracket was not going to be easily broken.

“I feel like this is a dumb question, but have you tried to break the cuffs?”

Michael smiled fondly, glancing down at the top of Alex’s head, “It was the first thing I tried, but my powers aren’t working. It feels the same as when Helena dosed me with that stuff.”

Alex sat up straight with wide eyes and Michael mourned the sudden loss of contact. “That means they know that you’re an alien.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Michael replied, biting his lip. A situation where someone else knew about his powers - let alone how to neutralise them - was concerning to say the least.

And downright terrifying to say the most.

Though he was quietly glad that Isobel and Max were nowhere in sight. At least they were safe, for now.

“Shit.” Alex looked towards the door as if expecting their captors to burst in at any second, “I don’t even remember what happened.”

“I’m pretty sure we were at the junkyard, but apart from that I’ve got nothing.”

Alex leant his head back and closed his eyes as he tried to get everything straight in his head, the incessant throbbing in his brain doing its best to distract him.

There was very little information to go on regarding who had taken them and how, but the part that was screaming out to him was why the pair of them had been taken together.

Their captors clearly knew that Michael was an alien, but if they’d kidnapped him because of that, what was Alex’s role in all of this? And if it was Alex they were targeting, why bother with the extra hassle of bringing Michael along?

There was no situation that would require them both. Not unless they’d gone back in time and were part of a secret organisation’s plot to create an atomizer that would eradicate an entire species.

Then the kidnapping would make sense. Maybe.

But after CrashCon, they had ensured that the devices and all existing blueprints were destroyed thoroughly and the only remaining knowledge of the chemical formula could be found locked away in Charlie Cameron’s head.

And well, after his father’s death, the threat of a systematic elimination of the alien bloodline had unsurprisingly become less of a problem.

So who was this new threat they were facing?

-

They were making them wait.

Classic interrogation technique Alex had told Michael. You leave the subject just long enough to let them get inside their own head and think through - in painful detail - every possible reason for why they could be there. Then you ambush.

And if that was the plan, their captors had succeeded.

After confirming that they were both reasonably unhurt and a few very unsuccessful attempts to break their chains and find a way out of the cell, they had managed to compile a rather long list of why they could have been taken and who might have been responsible.

Maybe there was a new alien in town who thought they were a threat. Maybe Jesse Manes had been brought back to life like some alien hunting Frankenstein’s monster who wanted to finish what he’d started. Maybe this was all some giant ploy by their friends to force them to get their act together and go on that first proper date they had been trying to arrange for weeks.

In truth, they knew that every idea was either completely far fetched or extremely possible, but they all ultimately came back round to Michael being an alien. It was the one thing that Michael had feared, above all else, for as long as he could remember. Someone had discovered that he was an alien and now they wanted to know more.

It was about an hour before they heard any signs of life beyond the door. Heavy footsteps and low mutterings could be heard muffled through the metal, before the door creaked open and a man in air force fatigues entered the room.

For one tiny moment Alex was hopeful enough to think that this was a rescue. That by some miracle his base had known that he was missing - despite the fact that no one was expecting him to report to them anytime soon - and had sent an officer out to find him.

It quickly became apparent that this was not the case.

The man closed the door, stopped in front of them and said nothing, simply stared at them as if surveying his goods. It made Alex feel very exposed. And concerned. His brain flicked through several reasons for why the air force might want to kidnap them and they weren’t exactly pleasant.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here.” The man spoke, his tone patronising as if speaking to a toddler.

Alex felt Michael stiffen beside him. He clearly wasn’t expecting the air force’s involvement either.

Alex schooled his features, making very sure to hide any trace of unease or confusion, as he studied the man in front of him for any hint that they may have met before.

Hughes, his uniform’s name tag spelled out in thick capital letters. He was a middle aged man, maybe early forties, with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard to match. Alex didn’t think he’d come across any ‘Hughes’ during his time in the air force.

“You’re here.” Hughes continued, unfazed by the lack of response, “To give me what I want.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked with an air of defiance, “And what’s that?”

“Power.” Hughes grinned and the sight was unnerving.

He began pacing the room and Alex could sense an evil monologue coming.

“Let’s skip the pretence of you not being aliens and get straight to the point. You see, when I was nineteen I joined the air force and found my true calling, my one purpose in life. But there came a point a few years ago where I felt like I’d lost my way.” He paused for dramatic effect, coming to a stop in front of them, “That is, until Master Sergeant Manes recruited me.”

Alex and Michael glanced at each other as if reading one another’s minds. It was always a possibility that someone new would discover the alien secret, but despite the jokes earlier they had truly believed that the Jesse Manes chapter of their story had come to a close.

“Thought that name might be familiar,” Hughes smirked, crouching down to their eye level, “He told us about you. About the aliens that hadn’t quite made it to Caulfield.”

Without a second to hesitate, Michael went to lunge at Hughes, the sudden memory of his mother’s death flashing before his eyes but Alex’s quick hands coming to rest on his thigh (and the rather inconvenient chain) stopped him from giving Hughes the satisfaction. The man almost looked pleased with the reaction, chuckling to himself as he began pacing once more.

“‘Those three aliens are practically inseparable!’ He’d told us. 'You find one and the others won’t be far behind!’ And he was right.”

Michael watched him carefully as he reached one side of the cell before turning gracefully on his heel to continue the motion towards the opposite wall. If this guy knew about the three of them there was no reason for him not to go after Isobel or Max next. In fact, they could very well be in a cell just like this, right now, waiting for their own personal soliloquy.

And Michael was powerless to help them.

“Learning about your species altered my path in life, but now you’re going to change it completely. Starting with you.” Hughes pointed to Alex with a meaty finger and any response Alex might’ve had ready fell away with complete bewilderment.

Wait, what was going on? Alex glanced at Michael once again to make sure he had heard the same thing and he could have laughed at the mystified look that Michael was unable to hide.

“But he’s not an alien.” Michael furrowed his brow, suddenly feeling very unsure of what details Jesse Manes had given him.

“You better hope he is.” Hughes stepped closer, not even blinking as he stared Michael down, “Or he’s of no use to me.”

“And what exactly is it do you want with me?” Alex held his head higher, ready to offer himself up willingly if it would keep the attention off of Michael.

“The power flowing through your veins. It might take a few tries but it’s an easy enough experiment and I’m sure I’ll harvest the right cells eventually before it kills you.” Hughes watched him carefully, practically daring him to break eye contact first. “Besides, I’ve heard you heal quick so there’s nothing to fear really.”

“Wait, that’s your plan? You think you can just give yourself powers? You’re deluded. That’ll never work.” Alex remarked as Hughes pursed his lips at the comeback.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

“Take me first!” Michael blurted out, ignoring the confused glare he could see Alex giving him from the corner of his eye.

“Hmm, telekinesis is impressive, but the power to kill with a single touch? That’s what I want.” Hughes smirked, his eyes still not leaving Alex.

And well if that didn’t slot a few more puzzle pieces into place.

It was true that Alex had been spending a lot of time with Michael and Isobel lately, and with Max more likely to be found in Liz’s arms than at his sibling’s side, it’s clear how this little misidentification may had occurred.

Before Michael could argue his case further, Hughes turned to leave the cell. “I’ll be back when we’re ready,” he stated simply as the door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room quiet once more.

Neither of them spoke as they tried to organise their scrambling thoughts. An hour ago, when they were making their list, they would never have guessed the correct outcome of that conversation.

“He thinks I’m Max.” Alex whispered into the silence, his eyes still on the door.

“We have to tell him you’re not, we have to do something.” Michael turned his whole body towards Alex, a determined look in his eyes.

“Guerin, we can’t tell him.” Alex furrowed his brow. Even if they could convince Hughes that he wasn’t an alien, it wouldn’t suddenly make everything better. He may be pretty useless to the man right now, but Alex knew full well how expendable he would be if Hughes found out the truth about his lack of alien abilities. With no means of escape and no sign of a rescue anytime soon, he knew that this was their only logical option, no matter how deranged and barbaric it sounded. “Whatever the hell is going on right now, we definitely don’t have the upper hand here, so if he’s gonna take anyone it’s better me than you.”

“Are you insane? If he experiments on you, he could kill you!”

“And if he experiments on you, he could discover everything.”

Michael opened his mouth to argue but Alex barely gave him a chance to take a breath before continuing.

“You’ve always been careful to make sure that nobody even has a chance to get access to your DNA but now you want to what? Give it up freely? No.” He stated firmly, shaking his head. “Him thinking I’m an alien is our best case scenario right now. This guy clearly knows a lot about you already - I mean who knows how much my father told him - I won’t let him learn any more.”

Michael had always known that Alex would go to great lengths to protect him, but to see his resoluteness firsthand sent a rush of warmth through him.

Still, he bit his bottom lip as he tried to grasp at any response that would overrule how right Alex was. Putting his own safety above Alex’s had never - and would never - be an option but, as selfish as it was in that moment, the thought of doing something that would put Isobel and Max in danger made him feel physically sick.

Without thinking, his hands found Alex’s and he wrapped his fingers around them tightly, undeterred by the awkwardness of the cuffs. He watched as Alex weakly gripped back despite the odd angle.

“This is insane.” He whispered dejectedly.

“I know.”

“He knew your dad.”

“I know.” Alex let out a huff of laughter and rolled his eyes, “Fucking Jesse Manes.”

Michael couldn’t stop the corners of his own mouth turning up into a small smile.

Trust Alex’s father to still manage to upend their lives from beyond the grave. And unless Hughes had somehow managed to pass his medical exams alongside serving his country, this was definitely not going to end well.

[tardytothepardy]

Fruits Basket - Vol 19

Compared to the last few books, this one was actually pretty mild in subject matter. Nothing too heavy, which was a pretty nice break. The heavy stuff is fine, don't get me wrong, but you need a break from it, y'know? These characters certainly need a break.

In this book, we got a lot of backstory on Kakeru, which was pretty interesting. He seems kinda weird, the more we learn about him. Something's off about his ability to emote. Idk.

In the first section (which honestly is pretty heavy), it continues right where vol 18 left off: Tohru saying that they gotta find a way to break the curse soon, for everyone's sake, but especially for Kyo's sake. This seems to throw Tohru into a tiny crisis, because she had promised herself, after her mom died, that she would never place anyone above her mom, that her mom would always be the most important person to her. But she's realizing that is starting to fade away.

When Izusu first asked her what was most important to her, Tohru couldn't answer. She wanted to say her mom, of course her mom was the most important thing to her, but there clearly was another thing that was rivaling for that first place. She made the promise to always keep her mom in mind, to always have her be the most important, so that she would never fade away. It was right after she died, and Tohru had cleared everything out of their apartment, and even then, Tohru felt like Kyoko's memory was fading away.

As she was walking home, caught up in all these memories and thoughts, Shigure pops up, and says that she's heading to the main Sohma house, which is weird. On the way back to their house (should I phrase it as Shigure's house? I dunno), Shigure mentions how both she and Izusu have made it clear that they're trying to break the curse, and Tohru asks if he knew that the curse was already breaking. He said he didn't, it was just a hunch. Apparently, there has never been a time when all 13 members of the Juunishi have been alive, there's always been one missing. Because of this, Shigure thinks that the time for the curse to break is coming near, that it's the "final banquet". Not to mention, things have been watered down a lot through the generations, like Hatori being possessed by the dragon, but he turns into a sea horse. No offense Hatori, but that is kinda underwhelming. Additionally, Kureno's living proof that something is happening, with the way that the curse just,, randomly broke for him, and he wasn't doing anything to trigger that.

Shigure then brings up Kyo, and how time is cutting close for him, and it won't be long before he'll be taken away (something that Tohru is very aware of). He also says that the reason that the Cat has always been hated, is because it's just kinda the most convenient. I mean, the Cat is the only one that has a "dark form", which is all gross and etc., and it's easier to pick on that, than to really sit with yourself and think about how you're a fuckin weirdo who can turn into an animal, not even by choice, it's just something that happens that mostly out of your control, and because of that, it causes you to distance yourself from everyone. It's a burden, it's really just a curse. He really just keeps hammering down on the point that everyone knows that Kyo's the worst of them all, and they use that to feel better about themselves, that at least they're not like that, a disgusting creature. Personally, idk why he's doing this, but it makes Tohru pretty upset. She was upset to begin with, and now he's just putting salt in the wound with an oddly calm demeanor. After she makes him stop saying all that, he asks her if she does love him, and that sends her right back into her initial crisis.

Kyo shows up soon after, and Shigure just says she's upset because she got in a fight with Izusu, and not to worry about it. Kyo tries to console her about this "fight", which only makes Tohru feel worse. She says she doesn't know what to do, and he said that in situations like that, it's best to not do anything. I swear to goodness, these two are just kinda hopeless.

Anyway, the next chapter continues (as it is wont to do), and it's been another year since Tohru's mom died. Kyo didn't go with Tohru and her friends, clearly it all brings up a separate bunch of bad memories for him. Mostly involving when his own mom died, and the shit his dad said to him at the funeral. The stupid thing is, that after his dad said, "You can't get close [to the headstone] because you feel guilty, don't you?" Kazuma said that isn't something you say to a child, and Kyo's dad doubled down and said that's why he said it, because he wouldn't.

Unsurprisingly, Kyo did understand, because ✨news flash✨ kids aren't stupid. They can understand what you're saying, it's not like an adult's words are all garbled like in Peanuts. Especially when they're looking you dead in the eye, accusing you of killing their wife and your mother. They understand. He understood. (Why couldn't have kicked Kyo's dad in the throat he just,, he deserves it)

Anyway, while that particular thing in sitting around in his head, he runs into Tohru's grandfather, who's just kinda sitting there, chilling. He recognizes Kyo, which is what Kyo gets for having bright orange hair (he didn't do it on purpose but he has to understand the consequences of being a main character: he's recognizable) While they're talking, Kyo notices that Tohru's grandfather keeps calling Tohru "Kyoko", and Kyo asks about it. Tohru's grandfather (he doesn't really get a name, but this is also really clumsy ;-;) says it's to remember Kyoko, and shortly after Kyoko died, it was partially for Tohru's sake. He then asks Kyo if he knows why Tohru asks the way she does. I would imagine that if Kyo did think about it at all, he'd just figure it's because that's how she is, but Tohru's grandfather says it's an imitation of her father, Katsuya. This is mostly because after Katsuya died, some relatives started saying that Tohru wasn't anything like Katsuya, are you sure she's his daughter? Disgusting shit like that. Tohru's grandfather mused that they probably said it because they didn't think Tohru would understand them, which kinda makes Kyo go "!!" because holy crap, he was just thinking about that! how crazy!, and Tohru's grandfather says that, if nothing else, a kid can understand if a comment is nice or mean, but they are usually pretty good at understanding things.

After that, Kyo went home and saw Tohru taking down the laundry (do they not have a dryer or was it just more poetic to have her hanging them on a line and having them flutter around in the breeze?), and was thinking about the things that Tohru's grandfather said, along with some times that he was with Kyoko. Apparently, Kyo had seen (not really met) Tohru before they met in the beginning of the series. One time Kyoko was fretting about having to stay overtime at work, and how Tohru would be alone at home for a while, and so I guess Kyo decided that he'd check up on Tohru, and she was just sitting at the table, eating dinner, and he thought she looked pretty lonely.

Jump back to current events, Kyo's just been standing there, thinking about all this stuff while Tohru was folding laundry, and she finally noticed him. Ack! Startlements. Out of the blue, Kyo asked Tohru about her dad, and she froze up. She then said that they didn't really, but according to her mom, they acted the same. Then she retracted that statement, and revealed that she used to think her dad was a bad man, mostly just because as child, she used to fear that he would take Kyoko away from her, despite remembering that he was a kind and caring person. When he heard that, Kyo thought it was stupid, but it was most likely just from her trying to cope with her dad's death, and how her mom reacted so severely to it, and by thinking of her dad as a bad man, it was easier for her? Personally, I don't really follow the train of thought, I've read it a couple times, I'm just kinda confused by it, but it's mostly that she told herself a story that helped her, and it might have made her seem unaware of things (I hesitate to say "stupid"), so that she could push down her pain enough to seem happy on the outside. Tohru felt guilty about it, but Kyo told her that Kyoko probably knew what Tohru was doing, but it was okay, because Tohru helped Kyoko through a really tough time in her life (and he knows that for certain because Kyoko told him that).

Oh also the reason why there was all the billowing sheets and everything turned out to be kinda useful. Reassurance becomes awkward when you go to hug someone and you turn into a cat. So, stupid earlier question out of the way.

After all that, there is some unmistakably painful awkwardness between Kyo and Tohru, they're just stumbling over each other. Having to sit by and watch them is too much to bear for Yuki, so he flies off, to anywhere, because anywhere is better than that. And I mean, I've never been in that situation (because I'm generally not around people) but it's awkward enough just reading it, I think I would wither away or slam my head on a table/wall if I had to be around it, so I don't blame Yuki whatsoever. While he's wandering around, a woman comes up to him, asking if he's Ayame. Hm,, I wonder who this mysterious woman is??

(But first, a short peek back to the house and-- oh of course Kyo and Tohru are still struggling to exist around each other cool cool, and oh! Tohru just said something very cute and endearing and Kyo had a heart attack nice move my dude, and off in the distance, Hanajima senses their struggles and general pain)

Okay, back to Yuki. He went to Ayame's store to ask about that woman, and Ayame tells him that she was someone that he went to school with. He was the student body president, and he came to be friends with (or at least, he was friendly, there's a difference) another president from an all-girls school. Unbeknownst to him, she had fallen in love with him, but when he was younger, he didn't really seem to give a shit about people. Like, he seemed to be a raging asshole, not even on purpose. He just never took the time to consider and understand other people's feelings, and was just flippant to everything. So when this girl confessed her feelings to Ayame, he was decently surprised (kinda. If he was anywhere as popular as Yuki is in school, he probably had people confessing to him all the time, but unlike Yuki, Ayame probably just used that to boost his ego. What I'm saying is that it wouldn't really be a surprise to him; I have a feeling that he'd heard it a lot throughout high school), gave a "Oh, that's nice. What's your name again?" which was a huge blow to the girl. They'd been friends for a while, which she said. He then proceeded to say, "Oh, well then I guess your personality was so dull that I couldn't be bothered to remember!" Holy fuck. This is just getting worse and worse. Never mind the fact that Shigure and Hatori were there too, this wasn't just Ayame and the girl, and Shigure was snickering and poorly attempting to hide it. Hatori finally made them stop while the girl ran off, and Ayame had the gall to ask why. Dude. Wow.

It took him a while to fully understand what had happened, and how acting that way can really hurt someone, until he met Mine, the girl who works with him in the costume shop. (She's pretty distinctive in that she's always wearing a maid costume. She's enthusiastic about costumes) Yuki asked if Mine was Ayame's girlfriend, and Ayame said that she was, though they didn't make the biggest deal out of it. After going through his few minutes of Intense Retrospective, Ayame said (dramatically, you know him) that he hopes that moment hasn't traumatized her or affected her poorly, and Yuki said that she actually seemed pretty happy, if anything she was embarrassed, but it seemed like she had a husband and kid, so it could be guessed that she moved on from that incident. Yuki then tried to ask if Mine knows about the curse, but Ayame skillfully swerved around that by entirely ignoring the question, and Mine had come back from the store, so that conversation was over. But, when she came back, another followed, none other than Kakeru, who apparently is pretty friendly with Mine and Ayame, since the two of them came to the school during the "Sorta Cinderella" play to provide costumes.

While Kakeru was there, he briefly brought up Machi, and so she was brought over as well. That's only significant because she saw something she liked, and it pops up again later. Slightly later in this book, but more later in the series. It's a whole thing.

We also get a short little peek at what Kyo and Tohru are doing at the end of the chapter. I guess they just went out for shopping and stuff, and came across a place with lots of cats, who were quite excited to see Kyo. (Kyo was less excited to see the cats, it's probably for the better that they're separated by glass.)

The next chapter starts with Shigure at the main Sohma house, where apparently Akito has been stuck in her room for so long, asking if she thinks the world will change around her if she just stays in there long enough. He then leaves, and Akito says, "Fine! I don't care anymore!" (which, statistically speaking, almost always means that they still care), but Shigure doesn't bother with it. Being stubborn in this situation isn't going to help anything, but it's just not worth arguing over.

The scene jumps to school, and apparently Momiji's gotten a hell of a growth spurt, now he's all tall and tall, and he doesn't wear as much cutesy stuff. It also looks like he got a crush on Tohru, but Tohru would most likely quietly tuck Momiji into the friendzone like, so fast. I honestly doubt Momiji would actually try anything to get Tohru's attention, but later in the book he taunts Kyo a little bit, basically saying, "You better figure out your situation with Tohru bc I also l-l-like her lots <3" (After which Kyo has a mild crisis like "Holy shit does everyone know?? What the fuck??")

Tohru and Momiji run into Yuki and Haru at school, and for some reason they're all gonna go back home and get ice cream. Idk why, I guess they just felt like it.

Back at home itself, Kyo walks in and just finds Kisa sitting at the table. She flustered, he's confused ("why tf is she here what's going on?"), and Hiro pops out of nowhere to defuse a situation that wasn't occurring. Anyway, Kyo starts to walk off before Kisa says Hello!, and he's just like, "...hi. Anyway." and I'm just saying any of this bc it was so fuckin funny to me, idk why Kisa was acting like that, that might just be how she is, I've forgotten, but yeah.

Swerving back momentarily to the main Sohma house, Hatori's asking Shigure why he's always so mean to Akito. Would it really be so bad to just be nice for once? Shigure's pretty indifferent to it, especially when he said that Hatori's niceness or Kureno's niceness are more genuine, but he just can't fake that stuff, he doesn't care. He knows he's an annoying lil shit, and he doesn't seem to want to take any steps towards fixing that. After all, it's not his job to make Akito happy. (seriously though what's up with this whiplash between here and Tohru and Co. it's kinda weird.)

Let's just switch over to the last main chunk of the book, because I don't want to repeat myself too many times. This is the one that focuses on Kakeru, and his general weirdness. So he has a girlfriend, her name is Komaki Nakao. Just,, keep that in mind, I guess, so that I'm not saying "Kakeru's girlfriend" far too many times.

Anyway, Kakeru and Yuki head to the student council room, and Yuki gives Machi a little apology gift for having to deal with Ayame and Mine at the costume shop. Kimi complains about not getting something, which Naohito is irritated by (I think he lives to be irritated). She nabs the bag, opens it, and what is inside but a little Mogeta paper weight dude, a smaller version of the Mogeta doll that Ayame had in his shop that she was interested in (see I told you it was relevant), and she likes it a lot. Yuki can somehow tell by her waving it around in the air, idk how but he knows her better than I do. (Seeing as they're all in their fictional universe and I, it turns out, am not)

We also got a mini backstory into why Kimi is the way she is. It's because one time in middle school, a group of girls went up to her and said, "You think you can just float on by just because you're pretty and popular with boys?" and Kimi heartedly agreed, and just,,, didn't change. In case you were wondering.

Moving onto the part specifically about Kakeru, he used to have a thing against Tohru, a while back. When Kyoko got hit by that car, it turns out that the driver died as well, and that driver was Komaki's dad. So when Tohru and Kakeru ran into each other at the graveyard place, he basically was like, "Don't you dare think you can be the most sad in this situation, because someone else got hurt, so that means you can't be in as much pain as they are," completely out of the blue. Of course, Tohru didn't say anything against it, she wouldn't do that normally, and at the time she was still heavily mourning the death of her mother. He told Komaki of what he said to Tohru, reasoning that, like he said, she can't be the one most sad here, someone else has died. He saw her go about school, smiling and laughing, clearly she has to be faking her misery (rather than,, idk,, coping,,, and trying to get through life as a sudden orphan,,, idk,,), but Komaki didn't take it well, saying that you can't make a competition of something like being sad, or mourning. Him going out of his way to say that to Tohru did not help. That confused Kakeru initially, because he thought they were both on the same page. He did apologize, when they ran into each other later, completely owning up to his shit, which is nice. It's nice when people are accountable for their actions.

Back to Yuki and Machi for a second, Machi didn't have a chance to thank Yuki for the tiny Mogeta after she first got it, but she did like the gift. She tried to ask for what Yuki wanted, but all he said was self-confidence and fertilizer. (Does she know that he has a garden? I don't think she knows, that would probably seem very odd out of context.)

I think I'm gonna end that there. I have four more books left, so it's ending soon, but given how infrequently I actually sit down and write these, I just hope I'll be able to finish before they have to be taken back to the library.

[nearlymanaged]

10. Des Mots Magiques

The last few weeks of the term seemed to fly by at the speed of light before the world came to a screeching halt. Remus felt not only pleased with himself, but also proud of his three best friends for how they finished their first half of their sixth year at Hogwarts. James and Peter had been doing better than just alright in their Potions lessons, and Sirius managed to scrape up an E on their mock History of Magic exam. 

The four boys arrived at the Potters’ residence in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve. They spent the whole day playing two-a-side snow fight. James’ dad would occasionally join them, without leaving his study, by charming some snow balls to pelt whichever side was doing better at any given moment. They eventually got called back inside by James’ mum for some of the best dinners Remus had ever had the pleasure of eating - especially after exerting all his energy, trying to bring James and Sirius down.

He had been a guest of the Potters a few times before, and he always thoroughly enjoyed it. He would have never said a bad word about his own parents, but Mr. and Mrs. Potter seemed to love nothing more than caring for their son and his friends. Remus silently wondered if he could ever have such a home - full of love and laughter, instead of anxiety and quiet resentment.

He enjoyed chatting with James’ mum immensely; they would discuss topics ranging from Herbology to the ongoing war against Voldemort and his supporters. And James’ dad had such warmth about; Remus had never truly realised that dads didn’t have to be distant and strict and vague until he met Fleamont Potter.

Since Sirius now lived with the Potters, he had his own bedroom in their house, and he insisted that Remus take his bed that night.

“Your body gets wrecked enough as it is, we shouldn’t subject you to sleeping on that,” he pointed at the camping bed that Mr. Potter had set up in the room.

Remus had tried to argue but Sirius swiftly turned into a black dog on the spot, dragged a blanket off the foldout bed and onto the floor, and, after turning in circles a handful of times, curled up in the middle of it. “Thanks, Pads,” Remus had smiled at him and climbed into the empty bed.

On Christmas morning they all gathered in the sitting room to open presents and drink hot cocoa together (James had added a liberal splash of firewhiskey to each cup).

“Sirius, your hair is getting so long,” Mrs. Potter lightly brushed her hand over the top of his head as she walked past, collecting everyone’s now empty mugs.

“Yeah, I suppose it is…” Sirius tugged at a dark strand looking self-conscious all of a sudden, which didn’t happen all that often.

“It suits you, you look very handsome,” she beamed at him, effectively putting a proud grin on his face.

“I like it too,” Remus mumbled, more so to himself than anyone else.

“So what have you boys got planned for today?”

“We’re more than happy to help you cook!” Peter looked up at Mrs. Potter eagerly.

“So very sweet of you, but I’ll be quite alright. It’s your Christmas break, you should be having fun!”

“Well, actually,” Sirius got up from his chair and stretched. “I’ve been wanting to go to a record shop.”

“Great! Remus can come with you,” James grinned without skipping a beat.

“I suppose I can,” Moony agreed, albeit a little confused by James’ insistence. “What are you two going to do?”

“We’ve got...stuff, school stuff.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Potter peered at his son, but Remus never heard the rest of the conversation because Sirius grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, evidently extremely eager to get going.

“It might not even be open today,” Remus pointed out but proceeded to put his shoes and coat on nonetheless.

“I know how to pick locks, remember?” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows.

“That is very much illegal, remember?”

The walk to the Muggle town took about thirty chatter and laughter filled minutes, towards the end of which Sirius started complaining about being cold. Of course, that was to be expected since he was wearing a leather jacket and no gloves or scarf or hat. Just as Remus was pointing this out, they rounded a corner and saw the record shop on the other side of the street. They could hear music coming from it, but when they walked up the steps leading to the door, they saw a ‘closed’ sign. Just for good measure, Sirius rattled the handle, but it unsurprisingly didn’t budge.

They could clearly make out now that the music coming out through the open window on the side of the building was some kind of a french song. 

“What are you doing?” Remus asked slowly as he watched Sirius walk over to the window that was set in the wall just above his head, and, keeping his eyes on it, started walking backwards. 

“I’ll just take a quick peek. Maybe they’ll let us in.”

“Sirius, that’s a bit creepy,” Remus laughed, watching him jump up a couple of times before turning into a  massive dog. He could jump a lot higher as Padfoot and so when he leapt up again, he used his strong front legs to hang over the windowsill. “At least technically not illegal, I suppose…”

“Oh merde!” A surprised yelp came from inside the building. “Mais qu'est-ce que c'est?” 

A brown haired boy, probably around their age, poked his head out the same window; after glancing around quickly, his eyes fell upon Remus. “Is this your puppy?” He asked squarely, a noticeable accent clinging to each word - French, Remus was sure.

“Er, yeah…” He pulled his lips into a smile, wondering how Sirius liked being referred to as a puppy.

The answer to that came in a loud, angry growl when the stranger tried to pet the dog. Then, Sirius leapt down to the ground and, having no choice at this point, sat down next to Remus looking rather like an obedient pet.

“Not very friendly? But ‘e has good taste in music.”

“Apparently so. We uh, didn’t mean to bother. Didn’t realise the shop would be closed.”

“Ah you are not bothering me. Come in...” The boy disappeared and seconds later opened the front door. “Please.”

Remus glanced down at Sirius, barely able to contain an amused smile, and gave him an almost imperceptible shrug before walking over to the boy. “Is it alright if my puppy comes in?”

“Of course. I don’t think my uncle would be pleased but ‘e is not ‘ere.”

“Does your uncle own this place then?” Remus asked, brushing his fingertips against the covers of records as we walked deeper into the shop, followed by Padfoot.

“Yes. I am only ‘ere for the ‘olidays. My parents think it would be charmant to spend Christmas in the English countryside. But I think it is so boring ‘ere. I only like this shop,” the boy motioned around as he stopped in front of a record player. “Do you know this song?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it…” Remus mumbled.

“I must play it for you from the beginning then!” And with that, the boy lifted the needle of the player and repositioned it at the edge of the vinyl disc. “It is a well known love song in France,” he added before lowering the needle again, allowing the music to fill the air.

The song was beautiful, Remus had to admit, even though he had no idea what they were singing about. He liked the sound of a beautiful language that seemed like it possessed magic beyond anything he’d ever learnt at Hogwarts. That night when Sirius was speaking French, talking him to sleep, Remus thought his heart was going to explode. He had listened to the hypnotising crooning of his voice, dreaming up images in his head of the words he was hearing were those of professing love. Of course, he was sure, Sirius was probably talking about how boring that week’s History of Magic lesson had been or something just as mundane. But he felt like he could have curled up in his voice all the same and spent a hundred years lying there, on that sofa, so close to him.

The boy wasn’t saying anything so Remus started pacing down the rows of boxes full of records, getting lost in the memory that the song had brought back in his mind. Sirius was striding alongside him the whole time, up until the song ended.

“‘E is comparing ‘is lover with the wind and smell of roses,” the boy spoke again right behind Remus, who hadn’t noticed him come up and flinched slightly. “‘E is saying that she is a beautiful love story, that ‘e will not stop reading it.”

“That’s...very poetic,” Remus blurted, feeling a bit out of the water discussing the topic. “What is she saying?”

“She says, it’s all just words. She does not believe ‘im anymore. She thinks it is only sweet, euh...fragile words.”

“So it’s a sad song?” 

“Yes and no. Is it better to have passion that is very short and go away, or is it better to never have it at all?” Again, Remus didn’t really know how to answer such a question, and posed by a stranger no less, all while Sirius was listening to them. “You are turning red,” the boy stated to add to it all. “British boys are so shy sometimes, I have noticed this.” A strange smirk played on his lips.

“You ask complicated questions, I suppose,” Remus answered, growing a little annoyed by the boy's obvious enjoyment in making him feel uneasy.

“Red suits you. I am called Vincent,” he turned around on his heel and strode over to the record player before glancing over his shoulder. “What is your name?”

“Remus,” Moony shoved his hands in his pockets and cast a glance at the black dog who was starting to squeal and whine a little.

“Remus… I like it. Do you live here, Remus? I’ve never seen you.”

“No, I’m just visiting for the holidays as well.”

“Ah, I see. ‘Ow long will you be ‘ere?”

“For another week or so.”

“Were you looking for something specific? To buy?” Vincent casually changed the topic, again.

“Er, not really. Just wanted to browse around, I guess.”

“Then what should I play now?”

Remus looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eyes, hoping he’d indicate to him somehow which record he wanted to hear; instead, he was peering at Vincent with unyelding intensity, almost glaring, if his canine snout allowed for such expression.

“H-how about Velvet Underground? Do you know them?” Remus looked over at Vincent from across the shop.

“I do not think so.” Regardless, he strode over to the box labelled ‘V’ and pulled out a record. “You can come closer, I will not bite,” he uttered once he stood in front of the player again.

“I might,” Remus mumbled without thinking as he shuffled deeper into the shop again.

Vincent lifted his face as the first notes of Sunday Morning filled the room; there was that same peculiar smile etched in his features. “Who are you visiting for the ‘olidays? Not a girlfriend--” his breath caught, eyes gleaming, before he added, “or a boyfriend?”

“No, just a friend and his family…” Remus answered, wondering if it was the language barrier that made the whole interaction so strange. “So how long will you be staying here for?” He asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

“Two weeks. Maybe this trip will not be so boring in the end?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Remus shrugged with a small smile, not really understanding what the boy meant.

Sirius seemed to be eager to get out of there, his whining growing ever louder, but Remus didn’t want to seem rude and walk out right then, when Vincent had just put on the record for them. He shot Sirius a quick, somewhat exasperated look and turned back to the French boy. “What do you think? Bit different than your music, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is very different. Is this your favourite artist?” He looked vaguely put off.

“Not really. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Ah, I see. I like the first song more. ‘E sounds, I don’t know… ‘ow do you say? Aggressive maybe, no?”

“I suppose Lou Reed doesn’t have the most pleasant voice…” Remus laughed a little, bobbing his head.

“Your puppy doesn’t like it?” Vincent looked over at Padfoot who, for all the boy knew, was agitated by the music.

“Oh, he likes it alright.”

There was a pause that stretched while the song went on; an awkward pause, Remus felt, as his smiling eyes kept wandering from Vincent to Padfoot, to boxes of records, to the player. He started wondering if maybe the boy was growing bored, maybe he regretted letting them in, maybe it was time to leave...

“How did you get these scars?” Vincent spoke softly, yet unexpectedly, and lifted his hand, as if intending to touch a long-healed mark on the side of Remus’ face; instead, his fingers hovered inches from Moony’s’ skin before he retracted them.

“Er…I-- It’s...” Moony stumbled over his words, surprised by the bluntness.

“Forgive me, I did not want to offend,” the boy pressed both hands to his chest; now it was him who seemed to be blushing. “I think they are beautiful.”

“You...what?”

The boy let out a small giggle. “They look very unique...in a good way. I think they make you more ‘andsome.”

Remus felt his ears get hot as he stared at the boy; it was as though he only now took a good look at him since he had entered the shop. Vincent was shorter than him, probably a little shorter than Sirius. He had brown hair and eyes that were so dark, they almost appeared black. He had perfectly straight teeth and a tanned glow to his skin, even in the middle of winter.

Before Remus could respond, Sirius bounded across the length of the shop and put his giant frown paws on his shoulder, nudging Vincent out of the way as he did so. 

“‘E is very funny dog!” The boy chuckled.  

“He is…” Remus pushed the dog off himself; Padfoot wasn’t relenting, however - he snatched the sleeve of his coat and started tugging at it, slowly inching backwards, towards the door. Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave now. He was overcome by a kind of curiosity - this French boy seemed to be flirting with him. “I er...I think I ought to get going,” he breathed out, trying to shake Sirius off. “Thank you for...er, thank you.”

He felt a rush of excitement as the boy gave him a rather disappointed smile. Remus had become so wrapped up in his feelings for Sirius that he was taken aback by how nice it felt to have this stranger notice him, how flattered he was by it.

Just then, Vincent took Remus’ hand in his. “Come back again before you leave, Remus?”

“I-- I’ll try,” he beamed at the boy before giving in to Sirius and getting dragged outside.

Sirius didn’t waste any time before turning back into his human self, which Remus found a bit reckless, considering the boy might have been looking out the door or one of the windows.

“Well that was a drag,” he folded his arms over his chest as they started walking back the same way they had come. “What a pretentious little git.”

“I think he was alright…”

“Zis is a song about love, eet is not aggressive but full of passion. But you wouldn’t know anything about eet, British boys are so pudibond,” Sirius did a cruel yet rather accurate impression and rolled his eyes. “Fils de pute prétentieux.”

Remus gaped at him, his whole upper body turned towards Sirius. “The fleas bothering you again, aren’t they? I’m telling you, we can get rid of them very easily,” he let out a melodious chuckle but Sirius merely pouted, hugging himself tighter.

[damn-the-dark]

I'm craving for a soft Darkiplier oneshot but I usually find angst ;-; is it normal for wanting a soft and fluffy Dark?

Absolutely it is normal!! ;w; here’s a quick oneshot for you!! Let me just preface this with:

I Am Not A Writer

But like...uwu here’s some soft angst.

Ships: DarkiplierxReader(Y/N, the DA), DamienxReader

You’ve been rescued from the purgatory of stories Actor makes you live. You seek out the one who saved you to thank them.

------

Winter. It made the mansion shudder and groan under the harsh outside conditions, the snow had not let up since the previous night. You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to keep the chill off, unsurprisingly it failed. You cursed yourself for leaving your gloves back in your own room, clear across in the East wing.

You decided you’d rather sate your curiosity than go back for them. A single window, warmed by what you presumed was a fireplace, stood out against the storm and beckoned you from your room. You hadn’t been staying at the estate for very long, but the window had remained lit every night since you arrived, and stayed so long past all the others had darkened.

You had an idea of who resided there, when the others spoke of him it was always in a whisper and always full of respect. You’d only met him once, you think anyway, your memory was blurred beyond the moment you were suddenly brought to this place. Somehow though you knew he had done you a great favor. You owed him your thanks, and so you watched that window every night until you mustered the courage to brave the cold halls. Apparently central heating was not enough to warm the bones of the estate much less its occupants.

And so here you stood, outside the door left ajar, spilling warm flickering light out onto the tile floor. A faint hum in your ears and a chill prickling your spine. You peered inside.

He sat alone, aside the mantle, book resting on his lap, thumb on the corner of the page. It would have been a peaceful scene, but something hung in the air around him sapping the color from the walls and the light of the fire. His eyes were shadowed and sallow in their sockets and the fire’s light cast his whole form in a statuesque contrast.

“You can come in.” He didn’t look up.

You weren’t sure if it was the crackle of the wood or the hum in your ears that grew louder. You lightly opened the door wider and slipped inside.

Suddenly feeling awkward, you didn’t know what to say, be frank and state why you really crossed a frigid old mansion? Was that too strange?

The book thumped closed.

“Can I help you with something?” His voice was low, coupled with how his presence filled the room and you with unease, you could plainly see why the others were wise to fear him.

But when you met his gaze, he did not glower at you, but instead regarded you with…what? He was unreadable but at the very least he didn’t look to be angry.

“I wanted to get warm,” You spoke up finally, emphasizing your words with a shudder, “it’s pretty cold in my room.”

It wasn’t exactly the reason, but it would do at least maybe get your hands warmed by the fire.

He simply gestured to the couch across from him and you took that as an invitation to sit. He certainly didn’t seem apt to chat but at the very least maybe you could get used to his disconcerting presence enough to remember the  words you wanted to say.

As you defrosted in the fire light, you were keen to keep an eye on him as he shelved the book he had been reading. It seemed it hadn’t been any kind of novel at all, but a yearbook. You couldn’t read the script the year was lettered in, but the binding looked quite old.

Something flitted in the back of your mind, but before you could identify the feeling, it was gone.

“Would you like a blanket?” The question startled you, not in its suddenness, but its softness.

“I’d love one, thanks.” He paced to an old chest beyond the bookcase, unlatched it and drew a woolen blanket from within. It too looked a bit dated, along with other items in the study. You got the feeling he had an affinity for art deco, though it had lost its radiance long ago, you could still see the geometric patterns adorning everything from the furniture to the mantle itself.

As he stepped closer, the hum escalated to a dull ringing and the entire room warped to and fro in shades of dull grey. You wondered what unearthly sort of being he was, but weren’t alarmed by the shift in reality around you. It somehow offered another twinge of familiarity.

A vision took your consciousness, of another night like this one, in a study similar to the one you were in. Where was it? You couldn’t recall, but a person sat beside you, also warming themselves from the chill.

You were suddenly back in reality, blanket draped across you. Did he set it there? The world was in technicolor again, except of course where he stood next to the window. His gaze was distant.

“Have I been here before?” You asked, partially without thinking. “Something about being here…brought back a memory.”

He stiffened a bit. “No you haven’t been here specifically.”

Your incurable case of curiosity flared up again. Swathing yourself in the blanket you got up.

“I came here to say thank you.” Your voice was soft. You stepped around the couch toward him. “I don’t know how, but I know I’m safe here. I can’t remember much about anything before this, but I know it… wasn’t good.”

He turned to face you, a somber look on his face. You recalled someone- a friend maybe?- who would give a similar expression, but you couldn’t place who exactly.

“Of course.” His cool timbre was reassuring. “I wouldn’t let you live like that, if I could help it.”

“I just…need to know, who are you, exactly.” You took another step, allowing the greyness to tinge your vision. “The others call you Dark but…” But the more you look through the grey your memory grows clearer, cyan begins to dance in his silhouette. Something about you being in his aura, close to him, his shared -yes shared! – memories with yours came into view.

A thousand meetings, over and over, in a bizarre purgatory of another man’s making. But beyond that…

-

A warm college study on a frigid winter day. You’d stayed on campus for the holiday break, content to study you law books for the upcoming semester. And of course, the parties this time of year were the stuff of legend.

The crackle of the fire filled the air and dulled the sound of footsteps beside you.

“Still at it, hm?” You could hear the crooked grin in his voice.

You disguised the flutter in your chest with a deliberately patronizing reply. “Some of us would like to graduate at some point.” But you smiled through it and set your notebook and texts aside. “It can’t all be wild and fun times now can it?”

His grin broadened. “Of course not dear,” his gaze was warm, “but would you perhaps consider postponing your studies for the evening? There’s a wonderful event in the fine art hall tonight and you know I simply can’t go without my partner in crime.”

“Perhaps I’d consider it,” You reply, tapping your chin in mock deliberation, a soft smile creased your cheeks, “if you’d have a seat here for a moment I’ll finish this chapter.”

“I’d be happy to.” He took a seat next to you, close, but not quite in your space. Your flutter grows in intensity.

You try to focus on your reading but your eyes get lost on the page and soon wander over to him. You’d grown close over the past few years as your courses were in shared subjects. He was a kind man, you’d never know he came from money. He respected you and you respected him. It would be a shame to ruin your friendship by confessing your feelings for him.

As your thoughts turned inward, you found the late nights catching up with you. Allowing the glow of the fire to lull you, you didn’t feel yourself slowly slide to the side.

You awoke to an arm wrapped softly around you and the blanket that had been atop the couch draped over you, including your forgotten books.

“Damien…” You managed through the sleep.

“Awake at last I see.” You glanced up. He was so gorgeous with the orange light flickering across his features. He regarded you through drowsy half-lidded eyes of his own. A powerful emotion welled up in your throat, overcoming your waking inhibitions.

“Damien, I-“

-

Tears slid from your eyes. You remembered.

“Damien.” Your lips clung tightly to the name, desperately, as to not lose it again.

Your heart stung. You knew it wasn’t him anymore but it didn’t stop you from regarding the entity who shared his face with the same love you felt for him.

“You… may call me that.” The pain was visible in the flashes of red and blue behind him, “but only fragments of him remain.”

Overcome with the weight of your own returned memories, your knees sank to the floor, coming to rest on the hot tile in front of the fireplace. You stared into it through glassy eyes.

In a breath he was beside you. Close, but not in your space. A cold hand brushed your cheek and delicately turned you to face him.

“If. It means anything at all to you. I can feel how he did. He loved you very much.”

And that was all it took. You wrapped your arms around him, the greyness freezing the room around you into a still quiet. Your sobs were the only sound to be heard.

It was like that for a while. Somehow, he held you until you’d exhausted yourself and your fits of tears subsided. You focused on the sensation of static where you touched him. Oh Dames, what happened to you.

He ran his hand through your hair, a slow and soothing motion. You finally mustered the strength to sit up and face him… the one they called Dark. The one they feared, the one with so much rage inside him it bled into the air itself.

“I’m sorry. I know…I know you’re not the same. But, you’ve watched over me this whole time. You saved me. Thank you.”

You leaned forward unaware you were doing so. He kissed you softly on the forehead, static tinged the contact.

“Of course my dear.”

-

The sound of his voice still lingered in your ears and the kiss on your skin as you found yourself back in your own room. Wispy darkness receded into the corners.

A note sat atop your nightstand and when the weight in your body lightened enough, you moved over to read it.

Next time, please remember your gloves.

                                                 -Dark

 A choked laugh bubbled up through you. You promised him silently you would.

[harryandhishook]

Thanksgiving Secrets

Fandom: Dream Daddy

Pairing: Background Hugo x Damien

Setting: Maple Bay

Warning: Erm … Coming out? Swearing? I have no idea

Summary: After going to College, Lucien is invited for Thanksgiving with his Dad, Hugo and Ernest, however, Ernest hasn’t been his normal self and some secrets are revealed 

Words: 4059

Requested: Nope, I wrote this last November in a book on a coach coming back from Walk Disney World Florida

Side note: Before I give my apologies, I AM A TRANS MAN, if anything in here sounds off or doesn’t sound like how you expect a coming out story is, just remember, everyone’s coming out story is different and I tried to do this the best I can.

Also I am so so sorry, I know I haven’t uploaded in ages and I know there is no excuse but University is a bitch, my mental health is not good and my Grandmother (Who raised me) is pushing me to my limit and I’m so close to cutting contact with her. Sorry to unload all that to you but I’m trying my hardest to keep myself together and not just quit everything.

Here, have a cute Gif of Damien stroking a cat :) And sorry for any errors in the writing, it’s long and I still don’t have anyone to read my stuff over for me :(

Growing up wasn’t as bad as people thought it was, it just … sucked. When people aged, they found their soulmates, got jobs, leave to see the world, people grow up in body and mind.

It was around the time that Lucien was in his final year of Highschool when his Dad and Hugo finally confessed their feelings to each other and became a thing, Ernest was still young and very much acting out.

Lucien was the quickest to accept it, he was a little hesitant at first seeing as it was just him and Damien through his entire life and his Dad wasn’t exactly a stereotypical person, he may not act like it but when it comes to his Father, he is crazy protective over him and well, he didn’t want to let him get hurt, however, over time, he realised just how much the two Cul-De-Sac Fathers loved each other.

Ernest on the other hand, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the fact that his Father was dating, he couldn’t accept that he could one day have a Stepbrother, he just couldn’t accept any of it. The boy did everything to try and stop it, he acted out even more than usual, tried to split them up, he did whatever he could think of but no matter what, Damien would always treat him like he was his own son.

Now, a few years down the line, Lucien decided to prove every one of his disapproving teachers wrong and leave for College, all the while Ernest was stuck in his final year of Highschool, now, the pyromaniac delinquent was still one of his biggest features, something he was still well known as but the young Vega boy was actually a lot calmer than before and actually tried his hardest to settle down.

Damien and Hugo knew that Ernest never really had much of a problem with telling someone, even if it was through anger, how he felt and both Fathers had come to think that maybe the boy had completely reformed himself, figuring himself out, growing up from the mischievous boy they had watch destroy himself with hate and they both hoped that the boy would stay that way.

This year, the family decided to host Thanksgiving together, Lucien agreeing to travel down and stay for two weeks with them all while Damien tried to get as much time as he could from work for his Son. Luckily for Hugo and Ernest, the school boiler had decided to explode quite abruptly, leaving almost the entirety of the upper school, Hugo and Ernest area, flooded, giving them both the opportunity to stay at home for longer.

The day Lucien arrived home, he two Dad decided to meet him at the bus station, they had asked Ernest who had politely refused which was not much of a surprise to them, he barely left his room recently, he didn’t say why but they expected it may have possibly been school work.

When they had arrived at the station and greeted Lucien very happily, they had both shrugged off his question of, ‘where’s the brat?’, stating that he was busy and found it difficult to put his stuff down, not wanting him to worry too much when he had only just got there.

When Lucien got to the house, he was more than happy to wave at all his old neighbours with a wide smile on his face, anyone from a mile away could tell he had missed Maple Bay. It took almost an hour before the emo was able to walk through the door, not only did he need help with bags, his neighbours that he had waved to, mainly Mary, Joseph and Brian, had taken it upon themselves to bombard him with questions … okay, mainly Joseph and Brian, Mary was just happy to see the little monster again.

Finally, Lucien was in the clear, bags in the hall, coat and shoes off, placed neatly in their respective places while Damien rushed off to make them all something special to eat that night. The bo-young adult moved through his old home without so much as looking where he was going, all perfectly memorised until he reached the room that he never really needed to go into, the room that was never used into recently, Ernest’s room.

With a soft knock, Lucien waited, he knew that even with Ernest being older and probably not bothered by the emos presence, he still needed privacy,

“Who is it?” came a quiet and tired sounding voice, to anyone outside of the family, they would have thought someone else had spoken but Lucien could recognise the little shits voice better than anyone,

“Oi, dickhead, you gonna open up for your favourite brother or not?” Lucien playfully replied, hoping his usual attitude and joking ways could coax Ernest out of his little hiding mood. It took a few moments but soon enough, the door creaked open, revealing a tired looking and very messy looking Ernest, his hair was a mess, his clothes looked like they hadn’t seen a washing machine in years from how crumpled and wrinkly they were and finally, even if the boy thought no one could see, Lucien wasn’t so easily fooled as to not see the dried tears staining his cheeks,

“Ernest, man, what happened?” the emo asked, pushing them both into the room so he could block out everyone else once the door was shut, “You look like shit, when was the last time you had a shower? What the hell happened to you dude?” he asked, well, more demanded to know as he continued to push the younger boy into the room, sitting him on the bed before shuffling around the piles of clothes and trash, picking up the laundry to move out into the hamper before picking up every single piece of rubbish and crap left on the floor,

“Nothings wrong, Luce, I’m fine, I’ve just been busy, you know how it is, final year of school and all that” Ernest protested, trying his hardest to sound normal but failing miserably to convince his best friend and brother,

“Yeah, bullshit, if you’re so busy with work then I’m the straightest man alive, you’re lies ain’t gonna work on me so either you tell me what’s going on or have a shower, you smell like death so pick one or the other” Lucien demanded sternly, giving him a pretty simple choice, now to see if Ernest would actually pick one.

Luck would have it, Ernest grumpily rolled himself from the bed and made his way begrudgingly to the bathroom that was opposite the boys room, causing the emo to smile in relief.

As the sound f the shower filled the hall and the grumbles of annoyance hit the older siblings ears, Lucien made his way downstairs, large bag of trash in one hand and the hamper in the other. The little chore was meant to go smoothly … if his dads weren’t being stupidly lovey dovey in he kitchen, at least he got to see both adults become exceedingly embarrassed at being caught, however, that changed to shock when they spotted that the rebellious emo they had grown to love was cleaning in the first few minutes of staying in the house,

“It’s not what it looks like, Ernests room was a mess so I cleaned his room while he’s taking a well needed shower” Lucien explained as he put the bag of trash by the back door, “O know there is something wrong with him and I’m going to try get it out of him … whether he likes it or not” the boy stated as he moved into the adjacent room to start the new load of laundry, he was so busy he hadn’t even noticed his parents enter the room after him,

“My darling, we didn’t want you to worry, Ernest has been acting quite peculiar as of late, normally we can easily piece together his dilemma but … as you saw, he hasn’t left his room in quite some time” Damien explained as they stood in the doorway, watching the emo boy start the washer before turning to look at the two men, he was about to speak when Hugo interrupted him,

“I don’t want to lose Ernest, not when I’ve just managed to get him to call me dad again” the eldest Vega whispered, sighing as the Victorian beside him gently laced their fingers together, “Lucien please try and get him to open up to us” years ago, Lucien would tell his parents to do it themselves but from the looks on his dads faces, it was out of their hands and unsurprisingly up to him,

“Fine but only because I love you both” the emo chuckled, walking in between them to escape the little room, “Anyway, who can resist my puppy dog eyes” Lucien smirked before pointing at Damien, “and one of Dads famous movie pamper nights” he finished as he vanished back upstairs,

“Damien, what is he talking about?” the teacher asked, absolutely confused but also very intrigued. Hugo turned his gaze to the side only to come face to face with a very ecstatic man next to him,

“It’s been so long, I will need many supplies, first, I’ll need to find a good movie, maybe comedy, oh how this brings back so many memories” the Victorian man rambled as he scurried about the rooms, writing a very long list, “this will surely help Ernest, why did I not think of this” he muttered before handing the list to the other man in the room, “I will need you to run to Walmart for all these things, also get some of those pizza rolls that Ernest loves so much, thank you” he instructed before also disappearing off upstairs, leaving a baffled Hugo still stood in the laundry room now holding a long list of junk food … way too much junk food.

Nightfall came, the living room had been transformed into what looked like a teenage girls slumber party; junk food, movies, nail kits, make up, face masks, everything a slumber party needed.

Hugo had been told he could enter if and only if he let someone do one little bit of pampering on him, to which the teacher quickly excused himself with the explanation of ‘papers to complete’, leaving Damien to sit in his very baggy and very comfortable … okay, maybe not his clothes but the wrestling shirts he ‘borrowed’ from Hugo looked so cute on him. Lucien sat beside him in some of his least emo pyjamas anyone had ever seen on the boy since they were covered in Mickey Mouse heads but who’s judging.

Soon, once the room was competed, Lucien hurried upstairs, knocking gently on the large door of Ernest's room to get his attention,

“Bitch, I need you to do two things, one, find some comfy clothes and two, come downstairs” the emo shouted through the door before waiting for a response which amazingly didn’t take as long as the door opened to reveal a grouchy looking mess,

“What are you trying to do, Goth?” Ernest mumbled, obviously trying to joke around even thought Lucien could tell he felt like absolute shit,

“It’s emo and I’m not trying to do anything, all I want to do is to try and help you feel better” Lucien explained before realising he was just going to have to reveal what was downstairs, “Me and Dad were talking and I found out that you like to sit and talk to him so, me, you and my Dad are going to sit downstairs, eat junk food and watch movies … sound good?” he asked, hoping it was going to work.

Lucien realised it definitely did when Ernest held up a single finger, closing the door in the emos face before appearing once again moments later in very baggy yet comfortable clothing,

“Well then, come on, I don’t have all day” Ernest grumbled, a small smile gracing his exhausted face as he obviously tried to crack another joke with his stepbrother. Slowly, he made his way down the grand staircase to the living room where Damien was waiting happily,

“Ernest, my dead, come sit” he said giddily, patting the stack of pillows and duvets beside him, allowing Ernest enough space to sit comfortably as he pressed play on the movie, one of Ernest's and Damien's guilty pleasures, Descendants,

“Descendants, junk food and being lazy … you trying to butter me up, pops?” Ernest chuckled weakly as he sat down, getting himself comfortable between his family, he knew exactly what they were doing for him but maybe a little treat wouldn’t be too bad to indulge in.

A few hours, three descendants films and a lot of pampering later, the three of them were laid back, heads rested against the sofa as they spoke, Lucien's nails were drying, Damien had a face mask on and Ernest was staring, his ears were almost deaf to the world around him as the other two people in the room chatted away but he couldn’t bring himself to look away and join in, his gaze couldn’t move from the one thing in the room that haven’t been touched, the make-up. The young boy was silent, burning holes into the bag of brushes and surprises, until,

“Pops…” A meek whisper but was caught by the man it was directed to, causing the two to stop talking and sit up, removing the cucumbers from over his eyes,

“Yes my dear?” Damien asked as he watched the young boy slowly turn his gaze over to his,

“I’ve heard that … well, some girls at my school have said that …” the boy stuttered, trying to think of the best way to describe his strange request but he couldn’t, making the boy sigh and ask, “Can it feel good to put on make-up?” he finally asked, trying not to make eye contact.

Damien's eyes widened a little, out of everything he had prepared himself to answer, that wasn’t one of them,

“Well, it can, especially the brushes, the make-up itself can feel strange though” Damien answered before reaching over to the table the bag was laid, bring it over to them.

Ernest sat silently, watching him reach inside and pull out a large fluffy brush, leaning over and carefully sliding it across the boys cheek, earning a soft sigh of joy,

“Would you like me to put some on you?” the Victorian man asked as he rummaged through the seemingly bigger on the inside bag, revealing a few different contraptions and what looked like small torture devices. With a small, timid nod, the young Vega answered,

“Y-Yes please … if it’s not too weird” Ernest whispered, shuffling closer to Damien, all the while, Lucien watched with a happy smile, he knew this is exactly what his brother needed, maybe not just to relax but it was a relief to watch Ernest finally calm,

“Let’s get started then and don’t worry dear, I have the perfect colours for you … I may have possibly convinced your Father to do this once too” Damien chuckled softly, reminiscing as he grabbed the correct pieces he needed. Ernest closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt a cool liquid and soft brush move over his skin.

A while later and make-up flung everywhere, Damien sat back to admire his work as Ernest scrunched his face a little to get used to this new and very strange feeling of stuff covering his face,

“You look absolutely darling, it suits you” the Victorian said as he started to tidy the make-up away just as the grandfather clock behind then chimed midnight, “Oh dear, it is quite late and I need to start preparing food tomorrow, well, I guess I best wash this stuff off of my face and retire to bed, you boys can stay up a little longer if you wish, as long as you don’t make too much noise” Damien said as he slowly stood, stretching himself out before kissing both boys on the top of their heads, bidding them a good night.

Lucien continued to watch his Father head upstairs to his room before turning back to Ernest once he was no longer in sight but stopped at the scene before him,

“Ernest? What wrong?” he asked concerned, in front of him was Ernest, a boy well known for setting fire to the bushes outside his Fathers home, holding a mirror and sobbing into his hand, “Ernest, it’s okay, you can talk to me, what happening to you?”

As Ernest turned his head to look at the boy beside him, Lucien noticed the slight little wrinkles on the edge of his eyes, the same wrinkles his own Father got, which was all he needed to know exactly what was going through his brothers head and no matter what, he was going to show him just how much he still loved him through it all.

A few days went by, Lucien and Ernest had barely been in the house which, even if they wouldn’t admit it out loud, made both parents happy but also quite concerned for their sons whenever Lucien shrugged them off with quick reassurance of, ‘They’ll tell you on Thanksgiving, don’t worry dads’, before quickly running which wasn’t what the two men were hoping to hear but it seemed to ease both their minds for a while, at least until Hugo restarted his usual pacing around the kitchen as Damien cooked.

The night came quickly, Thanksgiving, the food was almost complete, the house smelt of perfectly roasted vegetables and mouth-watering deserts, the table decorated to Damien's specifications while Hugo was banished to sit and wait at the table, only problem was, two people were still missing, however, not too far away as just upstairs behind a single locked door were their pair of siblings, whispering cautiously,

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea” the young Vega questioned, obviously having a few seconds thought as they allowed Lucien to work his magic,

“It is a good idea … look, Dad and Pops aren’t going to hate you, they never could, they love you too much and anyway, I think your forgetting one vital thing and probably one of the biggest elephants in this house” Lucius argued, brushing through his siblings now unknotted hair, trying and praying to whatever deity out there to get it to style as the other sat quietly,

“And what’s that exactly?” they asked, watching in the mirror cautiously as Lucien spoke up with a soft chuckle,

“Damien” he placed the brush down as he expertly braided the surprisingly long hair in front of him and for the first time in months, the youngest Vega laughed,

Not too long later, Dinner was called, Hugo and Damien waited patiently in their respective seats just as footsteps descended the stairs but only a single pair of footsteps approaching the dining room. Both men turned curiously to see Lucien standing in the doorway but no one else,

“Lucien, where’s Ernest?” Hugo asked, seemingly becoming annoyed as well as worried over the whereabouts of his son,

“About that…” Lucien started, turning his gaze into the hall for a moment before quickly moving back to the stares of his parents, “Ernest won’t be joining us tonight … or ever again …” the young emo explained, quickly realising a long pause wouldn’t be the best option as he quickly stopped either one of his Fathers could protest, stepping further into the room, “Because someone new will be taking Ernest's place” just as he finished speaking, a tall figure walked into the room beside him, a long, tight fitting, pale orange cocktail dress swept the floor behind the person as their long braided hair lay over a single exposed shoulder.

The light of the room hit the persons face, capturing the perfectly applied make-up that sculpted their features beautifully and it was then they realised,

“Ernest?” they both asked, quite bewildered, watching the young Vega nervousness build up which did not go unnoticed by Lucien,

“Actually, may I introduce our newest addition to the Vega-Bloodmarch Family, Emily, Emily Dickinson Vega, my sister” he announced, wrapping a supportive arm around his sibling to give them some encouragement, “If it’s okay with her Fathers, she would very much like to join us for dinner?” Lucien asked softly, smile on his face as he waited for their parent’s reactions.

Unsurprising to Lucien, Damien was the first to move, wasting no time in in pushing his chair out from under himself to embrace his daughter,

“Oh, my dear, of course you can join us for dinner and for any other meals you want to” he whispered through tears he didn’t even know were running down his face, “now I understand the make-up, I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs sooner, I never wanted you to feel scared to be who you are” he whispered, the scene in the Bloodmarch home was one to remember when Emily wrapped her arms around his step-father, holding onto him as if their lives depended on it, however, there was still only one other person they needed to complete this little family moment, Hugo.

Everyone slowly turned their heads to see the larger man carefully rising from his seat, moving around the ornate furniture to move closer to where his child stood, arms back by her side as she stood tall and strong,

“Dad, I know this is sudden but I’ve been hiding for so long, I didn’t know who I was but I saw Damien doing so many things that made me think, he showed me how happy he was, I saw the life of someone who was truly happy, all this” she gestured to herself as she continued, “made me realize who I really am and I’m sorry for not being able to tell you sooner … I know I ruined your life for years with all the stupid shit I did but all the stupid thoughts in my head, I was scared, alone, I-“ her rambling was cut short when a pair of quite muscular arms pulled her forward and into a tight but comforting embrace,

“You are my child, my flesh and blood, you are everything to me and I love you, never forget that, no matter who you are, you are a Vega” he reassured, whispering just loud enough for Damien and Lucien to hear the loving exchange of words as they both smiled proudly.

Soon enough, two smaller arms snaked their way around Hugo as a small sob echoed in the large room causing any existing space in the embrace to disappear as it tightened,

“I was so scared you would hate me, I was meant to be your son, the man of the hous-“ her hurtful words were stopped as she was carefully pushed backwards, a hand laid gently on her cheek, forcing her to blurrily look up at a smiling Hugo,

“You have always been my daughter, even if we didn’t know that until now, you were and always will be my baby girl” he explained, his voice soothing any doubt the young Vega had before the wrestling nerd added just one more sentence, “And I think being married to Damien is an automatic law that I accept whatever part of the LGBT you realise you’re apart of … I think I’d be a bit hypocritical if I didn’t accept you as my daughter” the taller man finished and after a few moments of silence, the room filled with giggles from the man in question,

“Your Fathers right” Damien managed to say through soft giggles, “Excuse my French but … I’d kick his ass if he didn’t” he smirked before quickly pushing the three of them towards the table, “Now, if you children, yes, I’m also talking about you too Hugo, don’t get to the table to eat, the food will go cold and I’ll lock the refrigerator as punishment” the Victorian man threatened as the Family rolled their eyes but obediently followed his orders, spending the rest of the night laughing, talking and finally, for the first time in a while, being a family.

[amydancepants-peralta]

we’re the fortunate ones

season five: enough of this terror, we deserve to know light. ♥️

Jake’s hand trails slowly up and down Amy’s back as they stand and talk to Terry, his movements ranging from palm-sized sweeps to finger tipped circles as the conversation wears on.  One of his most favourite things in life is to listen to Amy flip into Nerd Mode, and right now her voice is bright and full of passion as she explains the origin of Auld Lang Syne to her audience. 

“So really, it’s about acknowledging days gone by and raising a glass to all the moments - good and bad - that have passed,”  she concludes, glancing at Jake out of the corner of her eye as she raises her own glass in example.  Moving his free hand back up towards the base of her neck Jake takes the cue, finishing his own drink and resisting the urge to curl a strand of Amy’s hair around his fingers as Terry bids farewell a moment later, leading Sharon over to the bar for refills.

Once they are alone Amy shifts her weight to her right, leaning into Jake’s touch as his hand moves to her shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to her temple.  Emptying her glass and abandoning it on the table next to Jake’s, Amy glances around quickly before looking up at him with those gorgeous brown eyes that never fail to pull him in deep.  “If you keep touching my back like that, Peralta, there is no way we’re making it to midnight.”

Jake laughs, dropping his hand to just the right spot on Amy’s lower back and pulling her closer.  “We didn’t make it to midnight, Ames.  If I’m remembering correctly, we didn’t even make it to eight.”  Her responding blush makes him grin, and he throws her a wink knowing full well that Amy’s reliving the same memory.

They’d both arrived home from work late (it’s almost as though the criminals of New York have no respect for their plans), and in an attempt to save time Amy had squeezed herself in on Jake’s shower.  And perhaps they’ve both been a little loved up lately - and maybe Amy just looked a little too sexy all soaped up like that - because showering quickly turned into other stuff and it hadn’t been long before Jake was being dragged out of the bathroom and into their bedroom (the rule was no sex in the shower after The Incident last June: fair, when he remembered the bruises they’d had in .. places).  What happened next had been as awesome as ever, and if there hadn’t been a party they’d already said yes to, Jake would have found it far easier to convince Amy to stay right there in their bedroom for the rest of the evening.  

“You’re still not off the hook for that one, babe.”  Amy mumbles, reaching up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt and bringing his attention back to the present.  “We were so late to the party, and I’m totally blaming that on you.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Ames.  As long as we’re here before midnight, it’s totally fine.”  He smiles at her, dropping his hand an inch lower as he rests his forehead briefly against hers.  “And I think you’re forgetting who initiated what before, thank you very much.”

“Can a girl help it if her fiancée was particularly sweet at work today and she wanted to show her appreciation?”  Tipping her head upwards, she bridges the gap between them with a kiss.  “And besides, it was round two that made us late, and that one’s definitely on you.”

Jake’s heart skips a beat at the sound of fiancée, part of his mind still in disbelief that such a title could belong to him - even if he was the one on bended knee in the first place.  Grinning, he shrugs in surrender, gliding his palm over her lower back again.  “Right right, fair call ... I guess the sight of my fiancée in that setup you’ve got going on under there was just too much for me.”  Amy laughs, her cheeks turning that soft pink that he loves to see, and he leans back in for another chaste kiss. 

“Oh god, we’re totally that couple at the party that are all over each other, aren’t we?” she mumbles, tucking her head into Jake’s shoulder in faux shame.  His smile is bright in response, sighing happily when Amy’s arms circle around his waist, telling him with her gentle grip that she has no intention of moving anytime soon. 

“We so are babe. But you know what?  I am totally okay with it.”  

As Amy hums her assent, Jake’s eyes flicker around the room, taking in the black and gold decorations that covered a very good portion of the venue Boyle had rented for the night.  He and Genevieve had gone all out this year, and once everyone learned to avoid the truly strange options on the menu, it was turning out to be a genuinely enjoyable evening.  

He finds Rosa in one corner, the grip on her glass of whiskey tight as she stands listening to Gina, who is undoubtedly discussing the other party guests.  Her stance is comfortable, and about as relaxed as Rosa gets,  but still Jake waits until their eyes meet from across the room before he can be sure that she’s okay.  

Their casual nights of drinking in silence had increased since they’d gotten out of prison, only now they weren’t so silent.  Memories of the darker moments behind bars would often stay collectively pooled at the bottom of their glasses, jumbling into a heap along the edge of their table before disappearing with the barman.  As the weeks and months passed by there were little reminders that would strike unexpected, stinging like a starving animal gnawing at unhealed wounds.  Other times they simmered slowly below the surface, waiting for the perfectly inopportune moment to strike.  The scars were fading, but they were there, and her family's reaction to her coming out had not helped things at all.  Surviving this year had brought them closer together, and with everyone around them happily celebrating the year that was, Jake wouldn’t have blamed Rosa for a second if she’d had the sudden urge to be Anywhere But Here.  

Gina turns her head to see where Rosa’s half smile is directed, and she gives Jake her best I got this face when his eyes flicker over to her.  The bright pink 2018 crown that she had worked into her hairstyle was doing it’s very best to attract just enough attention, glitter catching the light as the redhead gives he and Amy a once-over, shaking her head in mock disgust.  He brushes off his oldest friend’s glare, rolling his eyes in a completely mature response before returning his attention to Amy, tightening his grip around her in defiance.  Gina didn’t understand what this evening meant to them, and in all honesty he didn’t need her to.

It had only been a few months ago that Jake had genuinely begun to believe that a life with Amy was only ever going to be a dream.  The thing about prison was that it worked relentlessly at making sure that all inmates were aware that they’d become just another number - that the cement blocks that now made up your world would not acknowledge or mourn your disappearance when or if it occurred.  Unsurprisingly, the nights had turned out to be the hardest, and his overactive mind would spiral around him as his deepest fears began to infiltrate - all with one undeniable theme: you’re never going to make it out of here.

But by the grace of all that is good - and a perhaps not-so-legal acquisition of information - Hawkins’ reign of terror had been brought crashing down, and both Jake and Rosa’s sentences had been overturned.  Now; the air felt fresher, the sun looked brighter, and after a (slightly) hitch-less Halloween Heist, there was a sparkling diamond on Amy’s ring finger.  This was going to be their only New Year’s Eve as an engaged couple, and wild horses couldn’t drag them away from each other tonight.  

Amy’s hands sweep along his waist as though she can sense what he’s thinking about (let’s face it: she probably can), and she raises up slightly, dropping a feather-light kiss to Jake’s neck before whispering “We should probably go and at least pretend to socialise with the other guests, right?”

Shaking his head, Jake uses his free hand to curl the edges of her hair around his finger, the other maintaining it’s steady grip along her back, comfortable in the familiarity of her curves.  She had been so much thinner when he’d gotten back from prison, his arms wrapping around her more than they’d used to.  HIs observation of such on their first night back together had been shrugged off, added with the quiet admittance that their phone calls had fed her more than food, and it had cut him to the quick.  He’d counted far too many hours in scratchy orange jumpsuits, desperate in his need to clear his name from this wrongful persecution, but through it all his fight for a future with Amy had been paramount.  To see the physical proof that all of this had affected her as well somehow hurt greater than anything else he’d had to endure.

From that night on, their healing had been slow - but it was always together.

Mimicking Jake’s shake of his head with her own, Amy rests her chin against his chest, looking up at Jake with such an abundance of love that he truly wonders what good deeds he’s done in his life to be rewarded with her heart.  Amy Santiago was undoubtedly the love of his life - he’d known it long before he’d ever felt confident enough to say it out loud - and next year they were going to be make it official.  

“You know what?”  Jake asked, cocking his head to the side slightly, grinning when Amy raises her eyebrows in a silent question.  “In just 135 days, I’m gonna marry your butt so hard.”

“Oh yeah?”  He nods his head enthusiastically, and Amy’s eyes begin to crinkle as she mirrors his grin.  “That’s good to know, because in 136 days, I’ve got some pretty serious honeymoon sex planned for us. It would have been a shame for that to go to waste.”

“Not gonna lie, that sounds kinda amazing.”

“The binder I’m making is going to blow. your. mind. babe.”

Leaning down to kiss her, Jake whispers, “God I can’t wait to be your husband.” 

It was true.  Their wedding was going to be amazing (he’s been secretly compiling a list of Jock Jams to surprise Amy with, and its only halfway done yet already awesome), but truly Jake was beyond ready to be married.  To wear a band on his finger that told the whole world that he loves one person above all others, and that person was Amy Santiago.  To be able to refer to her as his wife, and to smile proudly when she called him her husband.  They were the tiniest of things, but when it all came together it was a life he couldn’t wait to start.  

Amy smiles up at him, craning up on her toes to steal another kiss and Jake sighs happily against her mouth.  Wiping off a smudge of lipstick from his lips as she pulls away, Amy shakes her head slowly.  “You know, it really is ridiculous how corny we’re being tonight.”

Digging his teeth into his lower lip briefly, Jake glances around the room again before shrugging.  “This is just our engage-moon period,” he states, and when Amy stares blankly he continues.  “I mean … there’s always a honeymoon period after you get married, right?  Then … by that logic there should be an engage-moon period, when you’re freshly engaged and everything just seems freakin’ awesome.”

Amy’s mouth turns down slightly as she studies him, that cute concentration face taking over her features, and if he didn’t love her enough already he might just love her a little bit more as she nods in agreement.  “You know what, you’re absolutely right.”

“And besides,” Jake continues, unable to contain his smile, “this year is going to be amazing.  We’re going to get married, you’re going to become a sergeant -”

“We don’t know that, Jake …”

“You’re going to be a sergeant,” giving her a pointed look he carries on - “the nine-nine will continue to kick crime to the curb and you and I are going to have super-hot married sex in every single room in our apartment.”  

Her laughter is loud, the carefree giggles bouncing onto Jake’s chest as her body shakes, and Jake can’t help but join in.  This is what he wanted - all day, every day, for as long as they both shall live.  

A steady voice breaks through their little bubble, interrupting their laughter with the statement - “If you two are about done with the lovey-dovey stuff, we can start counting down to the new year.”

Pulling away slightly, Amy wraps her right arm around Jake’s waist and clears her throat.  “Oh, hey Gina.”  With a smile, she accepts the glass of champagne that Rosa offers, taking a sip to distract herself from the embarrassment Jake can tell she’s feeling.

Reaching for the glass that Gina is holding out for him, Jake once again ignores her judgemental stare, choosing instead to secure his left arm around Amy’s shoulder in both comfort and solidarity.  Let the world cringe at how ridiculously sappy they were being.  If there was anything that the past year had taught him, it was that time was never guaranteed.  And now that a happy future was finally in their grasp, he wasn’t going to give it up for anything.  

The passing minutes are filled with casual conversation, ranging from stories about Gina’s newborn to the group comparing horror stories over what they’d discovered on the buffet, and as the hosts come over to join them, they begin to countdown to the end of 2017.  

When he looks back on photos from the evening, Jake can tell there was a cacophony of party poppers, blowers and calls of celebration, adding to the showers of confetti surrounding them all as the countdown falls to zero, but in all honesty the only thing that he can remember from that moment is Amy.  Her hand, curled around a glass of champagne and pressed to his chest as he pulls her in for a kiss that he definitely intended to be sweet but suddenly turned into so much more.  The feel of her lips, soft and bewitching as their tongues begin to tangle; her feet pressed in up against his own and her free hand touching his cheek, thumb stroking softly in the way that has always, always made his heart pound like crazy.  

They weren’t often ones for such public displays of affection.  But the past few years had tested them more than either could have expected, and it felt so good to show that FINALLY, love was going to win.

Jake’s smile is wider than he can help by the time they pull away, and when Amy chases his lips for another quick press, he’s only too happy to oblige.  

“Happy New Year, Jake.”  Her voice is soft, and her eyes are so bright and full of elation that Jake can’t help but lean in for another kiss. 

“Happy New Year, Ames.”

Still holding the champagne, Amy wraps her arms carefully around Jake’s neck and grins.  “We’re getting married this year!”

“It’s gonna be the best year ever.”

The roll of Gina’s eyes is almost audible.  “You guys are so gross.  But you also look really happy, so I’m just going to let it slide for tonight.”  With a shake of her head, she tips her glass upside down, shaking the last few drops into her mouth.  “Damn, being a mother really changes a gal.”

Rosa chimes in, her tone as factual as ever as she nods her head in Charles’ direction “Also, you should probably know Boyle just took like twenty photos of the two of you kissing.” 

“They’re for my scrapbook!”

“Dammit, Boyle!”

[smarmaladey]

The Bad Touch - (2/3)

Chapter 2 - “nothin’ but mammals”

Rating: 🇪

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure

Relationships:  🐞♡🚺

Words: 4260

Ao3 Link Prev.

(For content warnings and additional notes, click read more)

Things get worse for our “lovely” heroine. 

cw: rape/non-con elements, AU (probably), ooc (probably), break-ins(?)

Enjoy!!

♡🐞♡

Monday.

7:00 AM.

The second incident.

♡🐞♡

If there was one word you'd never use to describe yourself, it'd be "independent".

In other words, you weren't a leader, you were always a follower. You simply took jobs from people, didn't question anything, and always did them the best you could. And you liked it that way.

This always seemed like the best option, as you were, admittedly, not a thinker, so your mentality was always this: do what the higher-ups say and nothing shall go wrong.

Of course, that little philosophy of yours was tested once you woke up to a certain phone call.

A phone call from a voice you couldn't recognize at all, notifying you that you left a couple of your belongings at Giovanna's estate. The man had told you to wait, wait at your home until they could arrive and, as he put it, “smooth things out”.

Like hell I’m going to do that.

While you didn’t think Giovanna was screwed up enough to, say, stick the assassination squad on you for rejecting his advances, perhaps rejecting his advances, destroying his property, referring to him by his first name, and walking out before you were dismissed, all in the span of around 50 seconds could, at the very least, spell a bit of trouble.  

So, you devised a simple little plan, all on your own.

Sneak into the estate. (Easy)

Grab your jacket and folder, and check for stains. (Also easy. Probably)

Leave without being seen by anyone. (Less easy)

Sleep, and/or change your name and move away, depending on the aftermath. (Preferably to the west of America, or anywhere outside of Europe. Not so easy)

You never imagined going back to that place the day after the whole fiasco, but it really was your only choice.

Sneaking into the building would be a piece of cake, being that your entire profession, as well as your ability, Black Hole Sun, was centered around avoiding all kinds of surveillance.

Black Hole Sun, put in the simplest way, allowed you to turn “light” into “weight”. It manifested as a cluster of pitch-black flowers and mushrooms that could sprout anywhere in a 15-20 meter radius, absorbing any light that reached them. This was ideal for creating shadows, blending into said shadows, or turning any light source into a means of vacuum-based destruction. Hell, if given the chance, you could collapse any building from the roof down, given it was daytime.

Of course, collapsing Giovanna’s home would probably be like destroying 1000 expensive lamps at once, but that’s neither here nor there, you know?

By the time you had reached the wide expanse of his property, there were only a scarce amount of people standing around. A few figures were leaving the building, but none seemed to be entering at all.

While threading between the trees around the building, you racked your brain trying to figure out where your belongings could have been. There was a decent chance they were still in his office, but you didn’t want to risk A, walking in on a possible meeting/debriefing, or B, accidentally getting caught by him, so you passed on visiting that room.

Problem was, that was the only room you knew the exact location of.

In the end, you didn’t come up with an exact idea of where your stuff could be, so instead, you decided that you’d simply check every square foot of the building. You ended up at the very back of the building, and while the expansive garden in the back was gorgeous, it didn’t exactly have good hiding spots.

You ended up prying open the largest window you saw, and carefully stepping in onto the floor as carefully as you could. As you looked around, you allowed B • H • S to dissipate, letting color fade back into your silhouette.

The room you ended up in seemed to be some kind of sunroom, the window you climbed in from giving a perfect view of the garden, as well as casting gorgeous light onto the decorated interior.

The walls to your sides were, not unlike Giovanna’s office, lined with bookshelves, this time not hyper-organized. Houseplants of different colors bloomed in multiple different places, and right next to the door was a cushioned red armchair and ottoman.

And here I was thinking he had no sense of interior decor.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t help but get distracted by the overall pleasantness of the room. Unlike the office, the temperature was nice and cool, not absolutely Siberian, and the sunlight felt nice on your flesh. Using that “every square foot” line from earlier as an excuse, you started examining the books on the shelves.

You shuffled down the row on your tiptoes, slowly, still trying to be as quiet as you could. A good chunk of the choices of literature displayed were rather surprising, you taking special note of a few books in English, and some in Japanese, both languages you didn’t realize he was familiar with. The titles you could understand were also interesting-- a lot of stuff about the supernatural, especially as you got near the end of the shelves.

Stowing away your folder in these shelves would probably be a smart move…

“Has something caught your eye?”

You bumped into something warm, stopping you right in your tracks.

Holy fuck.

The sight made your heart freeze, taking near all energy from your legs and causing you to plummet onto the floor.

“If you want to borrow any of them, feel free to ask. Do you know much English?” Giovanna, looking as prime as ever, asked. He was clearly feigning innocence, leaning over you with a glint in his eye.

To you, he looked 10 meters tall.

With your brain short-circuiting, you would've spat out incoherent babbling if you chose to speak at that moment. Fortunately, you took a second to come up with a rebuttal, putting on the fakest expression you could muster.

"Oh, here and there, y'know? Not anything very...advanced...but…"

You forced a laugh and he smiled at you, lips even glossier and more vibrant than yesterday.

He offered to help you up with a simple gesture, but with the grace of a crippled swan, you rose to your feet and backed away.

To your dismay, it only prodded him to get closer.

"So, what brought you here this morning? I don’t exactly remember inviting you." He was still staring down at you, enraging the deepest, most insecure part of your brain because he's fucking younger than me why is he so much taller-

"Uhm," you swallowed a thick clot of saliva in your throat. "I...just wanted to admire your...interior decorating…"

Shittiest excuse I've ever come up with in my life.

Giovanna stepped closer with his left, you stepped back with your right. "Is that so…? Are you sure it wasn't for...this?"

From behind his back, as if it came out of thin air, he pulled out your peacoat and held it out to you. You stifled a gasp, and reflexively reached out to take it, but at the last second he pulled it back again.

“Ah, what do we say now?” He teased, as if you were a child, smiling.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, rolling your eyes. “Grazie, Giorn--” midway through saying his first name, you stopped and slapped your hand over your mouth. “Shi- Er, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

His expression dropped for a split-second before he started laughing, putting you off a tad. “That’s so adorable...!”  

That last word made your cheeks flush, replaying memories from the previous afternoon that drove you to step away from him. “...Right. Ahem, could I please have my coat back now?”

“Oh, certainly.” Relief.

 “But…” Oh.

The tension in the room felt like it got darker, as he raised the black garment closer to his face. “...I have a couple suspicions of my own…”

He stepped closer with his right, you stepped back with your left. “This morning, I went out of my way to get in contact with my most trusted men, so I could return your things to you safely...then, they tell me you’ve hung up on them!”

It felt cold.

“And when they get to your home, you’re nowhere to be found!”

What?

You weren’t given any time to unpack that, as he continued to go off. “Now you’re here! Without even letting me know, too...” He frowned a bit, but perked up soon enough. “But that’s alright! Because I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Huh…” All thoughts came out as a single hiccup. “What...I don’t…”

He appeared to grow a little angry, but more distraught than anything. “Bella!” he cried, knuckles white and arms trembling. “Didn’t I tell you not to act like that with me? Don’t pretend that you can’t remember what happened yesterday…”

The worst thing was, he was 100 percent right. You were pretending that you forgot what went down, when it was, unsurprisingly, on your mind since it happened. You were feigning (well, attempting to feign) innocence, hoping that it wouldn’t lead to another nightmare.

“But…” Giovanna sighed, switching moods too quickly for your liking. “That doesn’t matter anyways!” His smile was disgustingly, unbearably cute. “Because you came back to me! I knew you would!”

A chill went down your spine, prompting you to step back twice. “I, uh, think you’ve got the wrong idea--” You were cut off by him approaching again, holding his hand right in front of your face.

“See?”

What the hell is he talking about?

“I cut my nails for you last night…” He looked over his own, now shortened and even rounder, snow-white nails, “it must’ve been a bit painful when I touched you, I’m sorry about that…”

You didn’t appreciate his “apology” one bit, instead deciding to take another step back, frantically searching for the window so you could pull off an escape before it was too late. You felt the lukewarm glass on the tips of your fingers, but Giovanna stepped a bit too close for your liking, causing you to shift to the other side, eventually turning around entirely as he refused to back off.

Now the two of you had rotated, with him backing you back into the room, towards the door. The light shining from the back window bounced off the satin material of his clothing and golden accents, glaring into your eyes.

The reflexive need to close your eyes outweighed rational thought, and as soon as you blinked them shut your calves bumped against something, causing you to trip backwards and fall onto the (remarkably comfortable) red chair.

Once more, you were flattened before him, staring up with no idea of what was going to go down.

Well, you had a vague idea.

The golden boy had already made sure you couldn’t get away by just getting up, as he was standing over you in between the ottoman and the chair, one foot on the floor and the other resting right next to yours. You had caught him glancing at the light switch right by the door, making sure it was off.

Without a light source in the room, you had no good method of getting away, and collapsing the window at the other side would be useless if you couldn't even get to it.

Cornered, you dug your nails into the arms of the chair, glaring at him while pushing your head back into the cushion.

The look in his green eyes was strange, a disturbing mix of innocence and lust that made the lower half of your body feel restless. A few seconds of silent eye contact passed, before he reached down and grabbed your wrist.

You attempted to tug it away as he held it up, only to be met with a cold glare. His grip tightened before he transferred it to G • E, reaching down and doing the same to your other hand.

Straightening himself, he flipped his long braid over his shoulder. You watched as he worked off the lowest hair tie, letting the loop at the end fall loose. He stretched out the transparent band and wrapped it around both of your wrists, before tapping it again with his middle three fingers.

You felt your thin binding shift between tight and loose as it swelled and turned green. The hair tie had changed into a tight coil of stems and vines, covered in thin bristles.

When you tried to struggle, to break the botanical bindings, the bristles irritated your skin. He noticed, and pushed your hands above your head.

"Please, it's useless to try and get away from me now. I don't want you to be in pain, you know?" He punctuated his sentence with a gentle caress of your face with the back of his hand, and a peck to the tip of your nose.

He rose up and moved behind the ottoman, all while sliding his warm hand across the skin of your legs. After subtlety clearing his throat, he tried, (keyword, tried) to dip his hand between your thighs, only for you to squeeze them shut in a futile attempt to preserve your dignity.

You heard him quietly cough again, while he squeezed and then gently patted the plush flesh, as if telling you to open up. Still, you didn't give in.

His skin felt so hot against yours, like there was near boiling water flowing through his veins. Giovanna gave up trying to pry open your legs, instead pushing the ottoman right up to the chair, moving in front of it, and pulling you a smidge closer so that you were laying flat on your back.

He started by grabbing the bottom of your thighs, lifting them up then pushing back the bottom of your knees, so both legs were relatively straight, pointing up to the ceiling. G • E took hold of both ankles, keeping your limbs still.

“Wait…” You croaked out as you felt him hook his fingers into the waistbands of your bottoms. “Wha--what are you doing, Gior--” fuck.

He stopped what he was doing to look at you, and scoffed. "You're kidding, right?" Lowering your legs a bit, his lips curled into a cute little smile. "Oh, cara, you know I have much bigger things to worry about than what you call me." He leant down to hold your face in both of his hands. "Besides, we should be on a first name basis now, no?"

One part of your brain was absolutely enraged at the fact that you were still concerned about something as dumb as that, yet it still felt like a lingering weight had been lifted from your chest.

Giorno clearly didn’t like the fact that you were avoiding his eyes, and his solution was to squeeze your face a little tighter and kiss you with no warning, not hesitating to shove his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away after you whined, drinking in the intoxicating sight of you with your lips ajar, face obviously heated, and your eyes glossy. It confused him a little, everything about your appearance, your body was telling him that you craved this just as much as (or even more than!) he did, yet everything that came out of your mouth was a contradiction!

But he didn’t let that frustrate him too much, as he knew you’d eventually give in completely. All he had to do was get the mood right. Because that’s just how it worked. Right? Right.

Lifting himself off of you, he let out a small sigh while raising your legs again, continuing whatever he had planned in that unholy little brain of his. His fingers returned to the waistband of your pants, digging between both layers of fabric and painstakingly beginning to hoist them off.

The feeling of your underwear peeling off of your crotch was already humiliating, but you knew it was just the beginning.

He let go of your clothes when they were around your ankles, before lowering himself down to “your” level.

"N-no...don't~ ♡ ! " your throat was so clammed up that your voice sounded like a broken squeaker toy, but even if you tried to shout, you knew he wouldn't listen. It was too late, anyway, since now he’s already seen everything you’d previously tried to hide. (Physically, at least.)

After a few seconds of him (presumably) leering at your privates, you felt his touch on the plump, slippy flesh, before he slid two fingers into the cleft and parted it.

"Oh, look~♡" each limb began to quiver at his honeyed, sickly voice. "It's so cute and pink here…"

Out of pure mortification, you brought your hands down and shoved two of your fingers in your maw, biting down. "No! N...not there...don't look at it…♡" Your voice and words sounded callow, but your brain was too fried to mask your true thoughts.

His hands moved to your thighs, right before he placed a pert kiss to the very center of your vulva.

Oh, lord. You could feel the mark his lipgloss left.

Despite yourself, there was a growing pressure in your gut that had you, deep, deep down, craving more. Something wet and hot swept against your inner labia, instantly making your fingers curl into fists. You pressed your knuckles against your teeth, trying to suppress a inadvertent whine.

“You can let your voice out,” you heard him say after pulling away for a second, “I doubt anybody is going to come around here.” Wow, how reassuring! Thanks for telling me, asshole! Ignoring the pain from the bristles, you moved your hands to your eyes, desperately trying to cover them. To an outsider, it’d probably look like you were attempting to gouge them out.

The wet noises that came from him lapping at you bouncing off the walls, almost amplified, taunted you. Additionally, he’d sometimes let out soft little groans of his own, which vibrated the very surface of your flesh. It was needless to say that his tongue felt a lot more invasive than his fingers, (and unfortunately, it also felt better) feeling it probe inside the most intimate part of your body drew ever-loudening wails and whimpers from your stuffy throat.

You could tell his mouth was somehow even warmer than his external skin, even inside of your already warm internals it felt nearly sweltering. Occasionally, he’d pull back for a very quick second to sigh out your name or other 1-word comments, his voice getting more brittle each time.

Something you also picked up on was very, very, subtle swallowing, as if he was drinking the mix of his saliva and your fluids.

That pressure in your gut kept pulsing, falsely building up in a way that could only be described as the physical-pleasure equivalent of a Shepard tone. In desperation, or maybe protest, you wiggled your hips, which only seemed to tempt him to grow more intense.

Your cynical side kept trying to tell you to give up, to accept this and whatever was coming next, to submit to the inevitable. It seemed that you unwittingly listened to it, relaxing your limbs and giving up on trying to muffle your voice.

In the midst of the ever-growing haze, you felt him pull away and move his hand up your thigh. He pushed his thumb between your legs, again silently asking you to open up. This time though, you obliged and spread your thighs, all while trying to press the side of your head onto the cushion, in a vain attempt to “hide”.

He gave no warning, no words before moving up and swathing your engorged clit in his idyllic lips, and that was really where things on your end began to topple.

Near instantaneously, you curled upward, letting out a strained squeal, feeling tears prick in your eyes. You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision leading up to this point.

Too bad your body wasn’t regretting anything.

"Suh..top...♡ I’ll...I’m gonna…”

You peeked down through your hands and caught him glancing up at you, which just made your body retort in embarrassment again. In a thoughtless moment, you tried putting your hands against his silky, loosening hair, the bindings preventing you from grabbing it comfortably.

As he put more pressure on your tender pearl, your steady stream of tears reached the bottom of your head, dripping down and soaking into the seat. You couldn’t help but tighten your legs around him, at this point, all you craved was sweet, glorious release.

One more stroke of your nub, and it all crash-landed. That ever-growing pressure in your belly burst and spread, making you let out a long, high-pitched wail as your body went limp underneath him. Tears veiled your sight, directed at the ceiling.

Giorno pulled away, panting, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and moving up the chair, so he could hover above you once more. His long, loose plait hung down and rested on your shoulder, giving you a very faint tickle.

“...was that...good?” You didn’t respond to him, as your mind was flooded with a swarm of fatigue and dopamine, “I...I apologize, I’m still very...new to this…” yet that part was enough to snap you out of your post-orgasm muddle.

“New”?

Fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Don’t tell me he’s…

No, that can’t be right…

“It can’t…” Those two words accidentally slipped out, but they were barely intelligible. Your blondie boss (bloss?) didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy smiling at how cute you looked, all spent, drooling, and tearing up underneath him.

He straightened up a bit, your legs still wrapped around his hips, tittering. “You’re adorable, you know that?” He got no response. “Ah...I love you. You know that, right?” No response.

That didn’t seem to bother him, as his smile stayed. After a few tense seconds, you turned your head and looked up at him, and his grin seemed to widen.

“Cute...hm, I still don’t understand why you insisted on stopping your voice, I, personally, love the way it sounds.” He still wasn’t eliciting a vocal response, instead you dropped your head to the other side. Your continued silence finally looked like it was beginning to phase him, so he reached down and lifted your face a bit.

He tried to kiss you, but missed and got the very side of your mouth. You were once more reminded about how hot (literally...but also figuratively) he was, his face burning with pink and his breath near visible in the cool room.

Losing some of his control, he kept his mouth on you, his actions devolving into repeatedly pecking at your cheek while groaning “compliments”. Eventually, he straightened up again, eyes filled with something that could possibly be described as “love”.

“Well, I don’t see the point of going upstairs, why don’t we move on?” He asked, fruitlessly, before sitting up to work at his pants button. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him do this, part scared, part intrigued, but mostly weary.

He was about to tug down his suit pants the moment before a sudden, firm knock at the door echoed through the room.

“Shit.”   You heard him growl, before you made eye contact with each other, for a very quick moment. In a slight panic, Giorno tried to compose himself, glancing at you again before carefully separating from you.

“Hello?” Came an unfamiliar male voice, from the other side of the door. “Don Giovanna, are you there?” You perked up when you heard him say your name, “...that woman, we’ve looked around her neighborhood and have had no luck finding her, Sir.”

“Oh, is that so…” He was cautious, trying his best to make sure you wouldn’t leave, but to his dismay, you saw an opportunity and took it.

When he had moved out of your direct line of vision, he had let the ever-growing noon sunlight reach you, specifically, your hands. With that in mind, you manifested B • H • S on the vines, causing them to become etiolated, therefore loose, and allowing you to slip them off without fuss.

During a clearly awkward, through-a-door conversation between your boss and a random lackey, you rolled off the chair and sorted out your jumbled clothing. To get it out of the way, you shattered the window across the room. You heard Giorno’s voice go higher when he heard this, but unlike the day before, you said nothing to him, no apologies or anything before rushing to freedom.

Adrenaline was gushing through your veins, so with 0 restraint, after swiping your coat from the floor, you dashed forward, broke what remained of the window and leapt outside.

But, to one’s surprise, you didn’t go home that day. Instead, you remained at that estate, because you had to get to the bottom of something.

You had questions. Specifically: Why? What? Who? How? Me? You? And those questions needed answers. So, instead of retreating, or, say, escaping, you scoured the building for a very specific room.

Because I’m gonna get those answers, no matter what.

Was this a likely horrible decision that you would probably end up regretting and cursing yourself for making? Yes.

Was this likely going to end badly? Yes.

Would this, almost definitely, give you the explanation you longed for? Also yes.

It’s going to be a long, long evening.

♡🐞♡

n: god, whenever i copy stuff over, i have to go through it and re-italicize everything.  maybe there’s an easier way of doing this? btw, i finished a couple of my blog’s pages, so i’d say its no longer wip :D

PS: the last chapter is already 8638 words, and i’m not even done. god have mewcy on my souw. 

[liskantope]

A personal look back on my summer 2020

My fall semester has already been going on for a little while, but in the past week the weather has suddenly switched from hot to autumny and now it feels like the summer was a period which is truly over and which I can look back upon as (unsurprisingly) one of the most singular summers of my life.

I consider myself to be excellent at autobiographical memory, probably in the 90th percentile or so, at least when it comes to being able to recall the year or month (or sometimes week) that particular events of my life occurred.  I attribute this to often being able to connect various things that were going on in different areas of my life at the same time (rather like separate arcs in a television episode) in ways that allow me to anchor any particular memory to the time it occurred.  Sometimes there are particular time periods where the "plot arcs" of my life somehow seem to fit together really well in a united larger story or a      single flavor, whereas looking back at other periods I can with some effort remember various arcs but it's hard to hunt them out and put them together, as though they were part of a poorly-written TV episode which doesn't have any particular unity.

Summers for me have always stood apart from the years they were in (with the slight exception of the summers I spent abroad doing my first postdoc which had so little structure that my general routine was the same all year round).  This summer I often looked back at the summer of 2010 (the last divisible-by-ten year), which was an example of the former: somehow all the separate arcs going on in my life at the time -- my studying and research (sadly, this was the most recent summer when I actually felt good about how studying/research was going!), stuff that was going on in my immediate family, progress in my social life, my first forays into doing local gigs as part of a band, the weather, my      apartment/roommate situation, shows I was watching, and personal internal struggles I was facing -- feel like they were all nuances of the same flavor.  (This was back in the days that I had cable and it so happened that Curb Your Enthusiasm was on the TV Guide Channel and I was introduced to it and watched it a lot just that summer; for years afterwards the theme tune immediately brought back the emotions that came with the flavor of summer 2010.  Semi-coincidentally I've been watching a lot of Curb clips on YouTube since I noticed them appearing early this past summer.)

The following summer, summer of 2011, is an example of the latter kind of time period in my memory: I'm able to remember a bunch of separate things that went on, including a visit to Switzerland, some of the research I was trying to do, my living situation (and anticipation of a move and the shift in my social life it would bring), my discovery of the local Unitarian Universalist fellowship and being a regular attendant there the entire summer, some particular online interests, and the unpleasant bike accident I had, but it takes some effort to recall that this was all happening in the same three months.  (One thing I do distinctly remember about my living situation is that my one roommate spent most of the summer out of town and that, in anticipation of my next roommate who I knew traveled less and would be much more social, I was telling myself, "Enjoy this level of privacy now because chances are you'll never have it again." I was absolutely right in my prediction that there would be much less solitude and privacy with the next roommate who I remained living with for several years, but I sort of assumed that after that I would have found some kind of a partner to be with all the time, and... oh the irony as I sit here, still continuously partner-free, after another day of the far more intense privacy and solitude of the past six months!)

This past summer, the summer of 2020, is very, very clearly bound to become a longer-term memory of the former kind: its extreme flavor is unmistakable.  As is probably the case for most of us, my experience of summer 2020 has been shaped almost entirely shaped by the pandemic we're still in the midst of.  For me this has meant constantly being home alone (although I settled pretty soon on into a pattern of going on daily bike rides and weekly supermarket trips plus a number of other types of errands.  Also, a caveat to the rest of this paragraph is that my parents visited one weekend and that provided an exception to some of the otherwise constant conditions below.)  I became uncharacteristically super introverted and very intent on making as much research progress as possible in the absence of teaching duties. None of this has been too unpleasant, but there has been a complete and utter lack of any form of fun, both in traveling (this may hold the record of the only summer where I stayed in the same 6-mile radius the entire time) and in social events.  The one positively pleasant thing in my life this summer was discovering the most beautiful area for cycling in any place I've lived, as well as a handful of late-evening warm-summer-night walks.  The extreme degree of loneliness and the necessity of self-discipline to keep my wheels turning has been smothering, and actually I think I dealt with it much better than I would ever have imagined I could if someone had told me this was coming a year ago.

I'd say my summer was a personal success in that way and in most other ways apart from the main concrete objective of completing a research preprint, which failed quite badly and is putting my career aspirations in a very precarious place (it would have been nice to get some heavier blogging done as well).  One could say that this was a less important goal than that of not letting my mental health spiral, though, and I did succeed quite well at the latter.  (In fact, I was doing much worse in January and February than I was when the pandemic hit.)  I'm upset that my goals seem to take me much longer than I feel they should but am glad that this doesn't seem to be due to an inability to sit down and focus on the work, as was the case with research during some summers of grad school.

Part of the flavor of summer 2020 that will live on in my memory has to do with my being home alone so much of the time, never having to get near other people, in an apartment that I kept hot, that, let's just say it took me a ridiculously long time to accumulate each laundry load and there were often T-shirts draped over my sofa to be reused for an hour or two at a time over multiple days.

While I'm continuing on this gratuitously self-absorbed vein, as I've noted that I love keeping track of personal "endurance" records, I've (again unsurprisingly, because of the situation) made a bunch of them which I'll finish by taking note of here:

Longest time without stepping out of the front door: I actually was careful to make sure I never stayed entirely inside for two days in a row, but it finally happened the weekend before last (after a late Friday night walk in my complex where I may or may not have gotten back inside by midnight).  I believe it was 61 hours, or very nearly 61 hours, without exiting my apartment. This may be a lifelong record; the only other event that compares was a 2-3-day period in March 2011 when I was very feverishly ill in the wake of a snowstorm, and I don't recall how far beyond 48 hours I stayed in.

Longest time without going into my office (or even onto my campus) in over a decade of having an office: from April 2nd to August 11th.  Hardly a unique one here, but I never thought I could have handled only having my home to work in for over four months.

Longest time not going near any public transportation whatsoever, since high school: Sunday March 8th (or just after midnight on March 9th, a bus ride as the final leg of the journey home from my last trip of any sort) to 26 Sundays later on September 6th because of having to leave my bike in the shop.

Longest stretch of time not withdrawing cash or paying for something in cash: since sometime in early March and counting.  The only times I've touched the cash in my wallet at all during all of this time was on two occasions when I gave a bill to someone in need.

Longest time since age 19 not touching a drop of alcohol: since April 11th (at a virtual birthday party of a friend) and continuing.  This smashes a record from last fall of something like 54 days.

Longest time with the thermostat completely off (no use of heat or AC): from one of the last days of March to, I think, June 4th. This was nothing to do with the pandemic (in fact, it makes the pandemic situation slightly more remarkable since I've had to be home for a lot more of the time); the spring where I am was just particularly pleasant.

Longest time not shaving my facial hair: 32 days in the late summer, breaking a record from earlier in the summer of exactly a month.

There are probably other even sillier ones, such as the fact that I’m pretty sure I didn’t put on shoes from sometime at the start of June to a few days ago. You’d also think I’d break an endurance record for not uttering a spoken word to anyone, but I haven’t kept track of that.

Let’s hope future intervals in my life are much less extreme and record-breaking; that’s the gist of what I wish for everyone right now.

[m-602]

Cold

((This was a fanfic I created for @shaykai‘s “A Gear in Time”, detailing the events of a possible ‘bad ending’ that still ends up with a bright future.))

((This took me a while to make. And it’s soooo long. I’m submitting a link just to make things easier. From coming up with what to write, to all the breaks I took, to actually writing it...))

((But I enjoyed writing it. I don’t see too many people question what would happen in this situation! I thought it’d be interesting.))

((Also, if you’d like to request a story (or, heck, even an rp or something) feel free to ask me. I don’t mind! I need more stuff to do.))

((Warning! Mentions of violence. Also kind of angsty until the end.))

((Enjoy!))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ???, Hat Kid?

The world was spinning. She woke up completely dazed. Her senses were all over the place, making it almost impossible for her to recognize her surroundings.

After a while, the swirling feeling in her head dulls a bit as her eyes finally adjust to the dark room. In it she could make out plain, sterile walls. Tools littered the floor and in the corner she could see… a recharge bed?

Wait a second… Was she in The Facility?!

How’d she get here?! Did Moonbot capture her?! She attempts to probe her mind for any answers, only being met with foggy recollections. Was she forgetting something important? She desperately tries to clear the annoying fog.

Eventually, she manages to recall her memories clearer once her mind finally calmed itself. 

She remembers finding a camera in her bush, which was creepy in and of itself. She managed to destroy it there and then and went to return to her house. As she was walking, a flash of light caught her eye. It seemed to be coming from… the junkyard? Was one of the other bots trying to get her attention? Like the child she is, she found herself drawn to the light, trying to find the source. She got to the junkyard… only for a mulit-armed bot to grab her. She tried struggling, knowing full well who it was before she felt a small pain in her neck. In a few seconds, she had completely passed out…

That was the end of the memory. That answered how she got here, but what exactly happened while she was passed out? She found it difficult to move, so investigating was out of the question…

At that thought, her concern shifted to the fact that she felt oddly… numb… Wait a second…

* Why am I numb at all!?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Junkyard, Snatcher

“Have you seen the kiddo!? Anywhere at all!?”

Snatcher was freaking out. He just learned from Hat Kid’s family that they can’t find her anywhere. Snatcher is already sure where she could possibly be, but he didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe that psychopathic bucket of bolts got her again. Didn’t want to believe that she was in mortal peril.

It was unnatural for him to act like this - he was aware of that and, quite frankly, didn’t care. His kiddo was gone, and he was ready to tear off a certain someone’s limbs for taking her away.

Everyone of the other robots gave him the same answer. They said they had no idea. They said that they would search for her. But deep down, they all knew what really happened. They were just in their own versions of disbelief.

Snatcher wasn’t about to stand by and let that piece of metallic trash do whatever he wanted to his kid! He was ready to charge into The Facility and take her back by force…

As splendidly as that’s gone in the past. In all honesty, he’s kind of terrified. Trashbot knew that place better than he did. Not only that, he’s outfitted himself with weaponry that Snatcher has come very close to meeting personally. If he wanted to do this, he’d have to play it smart and with the utmost caution.

Easier said than done. Snatcher was massive and his little wheel wasn’t the quietest thing in the world. He really needed to get that fixed… He racked his computer-brain for any solutions.

Going over the facts in his head, a direct confrontation with Trashbot would be suicidal within that place. The hallways are cramped and Trashbot knows the place like the back of his rusted hand. He’d have to… somehow be stealthy about rescuing Hat Kid. Somehow not draw attention to himself. Somehow find the kiddo without getting caught once! How was he going t-

“Snatcher?”

The voice jolted him from his mini-panic attack. His eyes connected with the speaker’s, revealing it to be... Thor? Tim accompanied him, too.

“What do you want?” 

It was obvious that he was rather upset about the whole situation. It was even more obvious that he was struggling to find a solution, judging by the looks he was getting. Tim was the one who answered him.

“Well… We’re just as worried about Hattie as you are. How could we not be!? She’s family to us, after all… So we figured that we would lend a hand in her rescue but coming up with a tight-nit plan.”

Snatcher gave them both a perplexed look. They wanted to help? But The Facility is dangerous! Trashbot is dangerous! Snatcher doesn’t want them getting hurt! ...Not because he cares about him. He’s just fairly certain that the kid would be furious if anything happened to them on his watch.

“Look, I know you want to help the little brat. But that place isn’t exactly human friendly. I’m pretty sure you’d just get in my way. So… I will kindly ask you to stay out of it.”

He did his best to sound threatening, trying to keep a tough persona. It wasn’t working.

“And you think you can save her on your own? We know how dangerous Moonbot is,” Snatcher visibly cringed at the name, “and want to help out. You know that place more than we do… There has to be something we could do to at least keep Moonbot occupied while you rescue Hattie.”

Snatcher was going to protest… but he had no words to counter with. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. He had no hope of rescuing the kid on his own. He’s already regrettably aware of how risky it is to take Trashbot on in a fight. To have any hope of winning, they’d have to be in a less confined area. Plus, Snatcher would have no hope of sneaking through The Facility due to his size and… noise level. With a metallic sigh, he relented, still obviously hesitant to do so.

“Fine… What do you have in mind?”

A stray thought manifested in Snatcher’s robotic mind.

* Hang on, kiddo. We’re coming for you, I promise…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Hat Kid?

Hattie was panicking again. She really couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t feel the metal floor, the temperature of the probably stifling air, nothing. It was as if every nerve in her body was taken out of her!

Wait a second… if that was the case then…

Moonbot always talked about how terrible humans were. Always said that she would be better off as a robot…

Robot…

* NO WAY!!!

He actually did it?! That was the only way to explain why she couldn’t feel anything! Moonbot actually managed to convert her!

What was going to happen now?! Would she be stuck here forever?! Would Moonbot make it so she could never move to keep her here?!

What would happen if her family found out?! If Snatcher found out?!

…

* They were coming to save me… right?

She let that thought comfort her as she sat there, still unsure how she can get her numbed, certainly metal body to move. She knows at least Snatcher will come for her. He always did anytime she was kidnapped and couldn’t get out. She could worry about being roboticized later…

Or now, considering the fact that she still can’t move. Being numbed probably has something to do with that. She tried desperately to at least get her right arm to move in some way. It shuddered a bit, but still remained motionless… After about a whole, agonizing minute (which felt like a whole, agonizing hour to her) she finally managed to move the arm slightly.

Okay, she could still move. The numbing feeling she has is making that abnormally difficult though. She figured she could probably try to-

The familiar squeak of a robot wheel broke her out of her thoughts. No way! Was Snatcher here already?! Ecstatic at the thought of being saved, and completely forgetting her current predicament, Hat Bot attempted to gain the attention of the robot outside.

“Snatcher?! Is that you?!”

She internally cringed at how metallic and… wrong her voice sounded. It was still obviously her’s, but it sounded (unsurprisingly) off.

The robot outside the room seemed to hear her though - she could hear the squeaking grow closer and closer…

Until the last person… or robot she wanted to see was right in front of her. Moonbot chuckled darkly…

“Now S-Starlight, w-w-why would he be h-here? I-It’s just you a-and me afterall-all.”

The way his voice sounded so cheery and glitchy made him all the more terrifying. It took all of Hat Bot’s willpower to keep from screaming. He continued.

“Oh, I’m so h-happy you’re aw-awake my little Starlight-ight. And you-you look so beautiful, no-now! A-A fine improvement from that-at f-f-f-flesh bag of a body before, hm?”

She didn’t respond, utterly shaking with fear. He seemed to think for a moment.

“Oh, ri-right! I almost forgot! I disabled you’re se-sensory re-receptors. The process was rather p-painful, so I-I didn’t want you to feel any d-discomfort! You should b-be fine now, so I’ll just f-f-fix that for you…”

He opened a panel in Hat Bot’s chest (and promptly freaking her out even further at the reveal of a control panel in her chest) and seemed to tinker with it for a bit. After a while, mild, yet sharp, pain seemed to shoot through her body, causing her to shrink a little. He closed to panel, creepily petting her head. She cringed at how cold it was.

“Some d-discomfort is expe-pected, my dear Star-Starlight. Trust me, it would’ve been w-worse before. It should fade in a few minutes.”

Hat Bot just shook there, feeling the discomforting pain throughout her body. Only one thought was on her mind…

* Please… Someone help me… Anyone… Snatcher… Where are you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Moonbot

He turned away from the robot girl to leave. Looking back, he noticed the frown on her face. It got him thinking.

* Well that won’t do! She should be thrilled, right? I was expecting to see a genuine smile on her face, as tempting as it was to plaster a permanent one on there… Perhaps I’ll change that if nothing changes. Seeing her frown like that won’t do at all!

He smiled at the thought. He spoke up again in cheery voice.

“I need to ch-check some things, my little Star-arlight. En-enjoy your new, eternal l-life!”

He fully left the room. He had to make sure a certain… greedy trashbot didn’t get to his Starlight. She is his… and it’ll stay that way until the end of time itself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Outside The Facility, Snatcher

They had been planning out what to do for a while. Tim and Thor had their tool-kits at the ready, along with stun guns just in case. They also have a box of spare robot parts. Snatcher… felt really uncomfortable about the stun guns and robot parts. However, he also understands just how important it was that they have those things. Still doesn’t help his discomfort, but he’ll live.

All they needed now was an entrance. They had to get in without raising suspicion. As such, they would have to disable the surveillance system that Trashbot would more than certainly have. The Facility being underground didn’t necessarily help matters, either. They would have to find something above ground that connected throughout the whole place… Or, at the very least, find some kind of power source.

They didn’t want to scare Hat Kid by darkening the whole place, but if it meant freeing her, they’d have little choice.

The trio investigate the entire area, searching for something that could be useful. They doubted that Trashbot would be so careless, but you never-

“Found something!”

Thor’s voice immediately alerted the others. Well… that was unexpected. Snatcher was sure Trashbot would be smarter than to allow something so easily accessible be above ground, let alone unguarded.

What Thor actually found was some kind of worn out fuse box. It was clearly modified - a lot of its parts didn’t necessarily match the fuse box itself, despite them being compatible. There were no labels on the fuse box, so there’d be no way to tell what each fuse did. Tim seemed to contemplate the sight.

“Hm… we’ll have to cut the main fuse. If we tamper too much with the fuse box, we could very well draw too much suspicion our way.”

“Whatever! Just do something! The longer the kiddo stays down there the more danger she’s in!”

Yikes, Snatcher looks and sounds stressed out… as stressed out as a robot can be. It’s obvious his worry for Hat Kid is only going to increase the longer they take, so Tim and Thor decided to get to work…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Hat Bot

The discomfort was finally starting to fade. She’s still trying to process the situation she’s in.

Being captured, being roboticized, being alone with Moonbot of all things. She was finally starting to calm down, but she was still terrified.

And very upset about being a robot.

It feels so… weird. And wrong. She honestly doesn’t know what to think. And the notion of an “eternal life” just doesn’t sit well for her, either.

Suddenly, the few lights that were on in The Facility went out. Hat Bot was even more confused. Her new robot eyes automatically giving her night vision didn’t help either. But she’ll focus on that later. Right now, she wanted to know what happened. Did the power go out?

…

* Could that be the others?! Is Snatcher actually here to save me?!

He must’ve cut the power! Suddenly, the idea of her being saved wasn’t as empty of a thought. She managed to stand herself up, still feeling woozy. She hates how she’ll need to get used to hearing metallic sounding footsteps. But the idea of being out of this place kept her focused on getting to Snatcher.

She walked towards the door, officially creeped out with how naturally she’s adapting to her… changes. Suddenly, she heard a familiar, and unwelcome, voice complaining in the distance. Moonbot was on his way! Likely to grab her and keep her close.

Throwing all caution to the wind, she got the peck out of there as quickly as she could, thrown off by how fast she was running. At least that’s one good thing that’s come of all this - the body was stronger, as painful as it was to admit it. On the bright side, it made getting away just the slightest bit easier.

After a while of running, she finally stopped. Being in this place for so long so many times has almost etched its passages into her brain. Moonbot still has the upper hand, but she (almost) knew this place as well as he did.

As much as she hated that, she can’t lie and say it wasn’t useful knowledge.

Now she just had to find Snatcher and get out of here... 

* Oh man… He’s going to lose it when he sees me like this…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Moonbot

Moonbot was expecting some kind of rescue attempt. The power going out, however, was something he didn’t expect.

He really should’ve expected it - cutting the power to the facility would complicate things for him, making it easier for that thing to take his precious Starlight. For him to actually do it, however, was still a surprise for whatever reason.

It didn’t help that his precious Starlight was missing. She could get lost!

It didn’t matter, though. He’ll just take it as a sign that Snatcher is here…

He readies his buzzsaw, fully prepared to rip the intruder apart.

“She is m-m-mine. S-She was ne-ne-never yours. This wi-will be the last tim-time we do this.”

With a large, maniacal grin, he searches The Facility for the intruder. As he did so, however… he couldn’t help but think he was forgetting something important.

He just assumes that it was nothing, and focuses on keeping the intruder out of his and Starlight’s home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Thor

They all made it in. Fortunately, no one is around to see them… yet. Just as planned, the power has been cut, filling the facility with darkness. The two humans activated their night vision headsets, turning to Snatcher. Tim spoke up.

“Good luck. Bring her back safely.”

The noodlebot nodded as he went off, in search of the unfortunate little girl.

Now just the two of them, Tim and Thor went off in search of the cell Snatcher told them of. The Facility was confusing as peck to navigate, even with the directions Snatcher gave them. Add on the fact that they had to be wary of Moonbot and… needless to say they were pretty scared.

But they pushed forward. They had to save Hat Kid. She’s suffered so much because of that… thing. They weren’t going to leave her here!

After about ten minutes of endless searching, they come across… a rather dilapidated part of The Facility. This place was by no means the best example of “orderly”, but most of it had signs of care. Where they were now looked like a tornado blew through it.

Knowing Moonbot, there would have to be something he did not like here for him to let this area go.

And when they explored further, they found exactly what that thing was. A worn out figure, likely a robot, was chained to the wall of the area’s only cell. It was impossible to make out any distinctive details - only its shape and crimson eyes could be made out. The damage done to it, however, could not be more obvious.

The figure looked up at the two humans, hissing at them like an animal as they opened the cell.

“...Who are-”

Thor interrupted it.

“We’re here to help you… On one condition…”

The figure looked at him with an unsettling gaze. She looked desperate… and very angry.

“What… do you want?”

“All that we ask… is that you distract Moonbot so we can get our little girl out of here…”

The figure didn’t seem to believe him, judging by the unfriendly gaze she was giving them. She also visibly tensed at the mention of Moonbot.

“How can I be sure-”

She was interrupted by Tim holding a robot part to her, a power tool in his other hand.

“We’ll repair you and set you free. All that we ask is that you distract Moonbot and leave us and Snatcher be. We know you don’t have the… best relationship with him,” an understatement, “but, please. You’ll never have to be bothered by either of them again.”

The figure still seemed very reluctant. It was clear she wasn’t a fan of the deal. She sighed, speaking up again.

“My desire to leave this place and get back at Moon outweighs my hate for Snatcher… Fine… I accept.”

The two humans got down to freeing the possibly psychotic robot. They were fortunate she accepted their deal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Snatcher

Snatcher raced through The Facility. Normally, he’d be anxiously calling out for Hat Kid. But after all the tricks, and the fact that he was supposed to be kind of stealthy, he managed to keep himself from being a loud and obnoxious machine.

Best to have as little attention as possible this time around. He couldn’t help the kiddo if he was dead.

He was thankful for the night vision feature Tim and Thor added a while ago - The Facility without power was even darker than it originally was, a feat that was actually quite impressive. What he was more thankful for was the fact that he got that squeaky wheel fixed! Tim and Thor managed to fix it while they were planning the rescue, with Snatcher commenting on how long it took them to do that.

...

He must’ve searched for half an hour and still came up with nothing. He found it a little comical that he managed to search for this long without bumping into Trashbot.

Not that he was complaining. He was just counting his blessings at this point.

What he did end up bumping into was bright red, and familiar, light heading down the hall.

* Oh peck. Did I speak too soon?!

He got out of there quickly, peering around the corner to see who it was.

As it turns out, it wasn’t Trashbot. It was Vanessa!

* Whoa. Those two work fast!

If she was out in about, that means she accepted the deal she was given… Or promptly killed the two men. But judging by the fact that there’s no blood on her claws, he assumed it was the former.

“MOON!!!!!”

And hoo boy was she angry. Can’t blame her after what Trashbot did. No way was he going to stick around, though.

He silently wheeled off, still looking for the kid. He started to lose hope with how long it was taking.

Doubts started to flood his mind. He hoped with all his being that Hat Kid was okay.

As he kept searching, a strange sound stopped him in his tracks. It kind of sounded like… metallic footsteps?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Hat Bot

She must’ve been wandering around for over half an hour! She wouldn’t doubt if she’d wandered every part of The Facility!

She even passed by a weird cyborg… thing strapped to the wall. He… didn’t look alive at all. Poor guy… 

She recognized it as the weird man that kidnapped her for Moonbot that one time. Guess he outlived his usefulness…

...

Moonbot was at the opposite end of the building, still searching for both her and Snatcher. She had prioritized getting as far away from him as possible… but may have taken it a bit too far. She almost didn’t recognize this area.

She thinks this is around the cells, where Moonbot keeps that weird ‘Vanessa’ robot. What does he do with her anyway?

She suddenly stopped, seeing strange light down the hallway. She immediately tensed up, getting ready to run… until she noticed it was yellow light.

* Yellow light? But the only robot I know with yellow eyes is…

She perked up instantly as Snatcher rounded the corner at high speed.

“WHA?!”

He skidded to stop, right in front of Hat Bot. They just… stared at each other, not too sure what to do. After about half a minute of staring, Snatcher’s face shifted to a look of fear… Does he…?

“Kid… Kiddo? Is that you?”

Hat Bot stepped forward cautiously, nodding her head. Immediately, she started sobbing, synthetic tears welling up behind her artificial eyes. Unable to hold it in anymore, she threw herself onto Snatcher, sobbing away from all of the fear and panic.

“I’m s-so happy to s-see you… Moon, he… he…”

Hat Bot just kept sobbing, not needing to say more. She was just so happy to be back with Snatcher. She feels his claws wrap around her as he picks her up, holding her close.

Judging by how the eye lights illuminating the area turned red, she could tell that Snatcher was angry. But this red light… she felt comfort from it instead of fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Snatcher

Angry was an understatement. Snatcher was furious.

First, that hunk of junk starts kidnapping her when its obvious she doesn’t want to be around. Then, he starts physically harming her and effectively torturing her in his vain attempts to keep her forever. Then, he actually manages to roboticize her, stripping her of her humanity?!

He was prepared to tear that Trashbot limb from limb… but Hat Bot’s sobs brought him back to reality. His eyes changed back to yellow as he calms himself down, holding the traumatized little girl tighter. He spoke up again in a calm, soothing voice.

“It’s okay, kid… I’m here now… I’m getting you out. We’ll worry about this later, okay?”

He felt the robot girl nod, her sobbing having quieted a little.

Not missing a beat, he sped off in the direction he came from, fully intent on blowing this joint.

He could’ve sworn he heard sounds of struggling in the distance, alongside a lot of inhuman screaming. Guess Vanessa found Trashbot - judging by the noises, she’s (somehow) putting up quite the fight.

After about five minutes, the fighting sounds died off as he neared the entrance.

“Snatcher, up here!”

“Goodness, is that Hattie?! What’d that thing do to her?!”

The voices of the two humans only spurred him on as he managed to climb himself and Hat Bot to safety. Finally, she’s safe again… But the damage has been done… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Facility, Moonbot

He barely managed to get away from the suddenly free and repaired psycho robot. Who the peck freed and repaired that thing?! And how did it manage to jump him so easily?!

She took some damage herself, but Moonbot was by no means unscathed. She managed to tear one of his pecking arms off. That was beyond painful.

At this point, so much time has passed, Moonbot doesn’t even need to know that his precious Starlight is gone… again…

At least he managed to fix her! Now he won’t have to worry about her being gone forever.

Yes… With that thought, he smiled…

“Don’t worry, m-my precious Starli-light. We-We’ll be together again on-one day…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hat Kid’s Bot’s House, Hat Bot

It took her quite some time to calm down. She didn’t think this would actually happen to her. She spent a good while just clinging to Tim (and Snatcher clinging to the both of them) while sobbing away. Even CC was there, rubbing her back as she cried.

Mu, Bow, and Timmy all watched on, horrified at what Moonbot had done to her. They couldn’t believe it! Effectively traumatizing her wasn’t enough? He had to take away her humanity, too?!

After crying her eyes out, she finally seemed to calm down. At least, calm down enough to be able to speak clearly.

“Uncle Tim…? What’s going to happen to me…?”

Her worries from when she first woke up have only piled on. She couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her family because of what one horrible robot did to her.

“Hm… Guess we’ll just have to keep you in the house until we can figure something out…”

“I won’t have to live in the Junkyard, will I?”

Tim seemed shocked at the question.

“Goodness no! I’d be devastated if that happened! I promise you, Hattie, we’ll figure this out. While we can’t change you back… I promise that you’ll still be able to live a happy life.”

“Even… like this…?”

Tim nodded.

“Me and Thor already have some ideas. We’ll need to get you a recharge bed, since you have to worry about power now. But we’ll do everything we can for you. No niece of mine is going to suffer because some scrapheap made her a robot…”

He brought Hat Bot’s head up.

“Who knows… Perhaps we can even make living like this even cooler for you, since the damage has already been done. After all, just because a situation is bad doesn’t mean no good can come of it.”

He booped her on the nose, earning a small giggle.

* Just because a situation is bad doesn’t mean no good can come of it.

He’s not wrong. Perhaps… she can find a way to accept what’s happened. So long as she isn’t spending eternity with that deathtrap of a robot, she may actually be fine with this.

Already her still childish mind is starting to run away with cool little thoughts that probably won’t (will) become reality.

She hugs Tim tighter, even bring Snatcher a bit closer (“H-Hey!”).

“Thank you…”

Despite the circumstances, she smiled a genuine smile, happy to be surrounded in the warmth of her loved ones.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

((If you managed to survive, congrats! I hope you liked it!))

((Poor Hat Kid... But hey, looks like things will be looking up for her!))

((Feel free to share this with others! I like seeing people read the stuff I make.))

((If you have any criticisms, please do say them. But if you’re going to criticize it, please be constructive!))

[raymondshields]

1, 4, 5, 6, 11, 15, 21, 22, 23 for the writers ask?

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Currently, I’m working on a fic titled A Monstrous Manifesto, which is a fic entirely inspired by Cat Valente’s poem of the same name. Every line is a chapter, every noun is a part of that chapter, and every single beast named corresponds to a Spectre, allowing me to dig directly into their heads and demonstrate their full psychology. 

Progress stopped unfortunately back in July on part four - a fiend, which I picked Deadly Beetle Stand for, because I just couldn’t get into his head. Kiril played soundboard for it and I’ve been humming and hawing over him trying to figure it out, but let’s be real it’s gonna come to me in a dream.

Because see here, most folks who’ve read my works, if told to point to my best, it’ll either be a) my breakthrough with Armour Adventures (which tbh if I redid I’d do better on), b) In Kismet Marcescence (which I need to sit down and plot out properly before I continue), or c) rather unexpectedly to me, Green Grows The Asphodel. Guess everyone likes that soft MiAlba where Alba gets his bastardization arc, but also I let him speedrun it in Broken Shine The Stars and people seem to like that one too, so.

The thing is with AMM is that this would be my greatest work. Like AA, it’s gen, but here’s the one advantage I’ve realized I actually have over pretty much everyone else in this fandom: I am myself a monster, fictionkind and all. I’m a Devil and a feral little beast, which means when you offer me Spectres - warriors of the dark and death who are all based around animal motifs - I take one look and go “oh! You’re like me!” and proceed to write them as actual monsters while having some unspoken and long-winded conversation about what it means to be human, what it means to be shunned, and what it means to belong among the broken.

It means that I write Spectres wildly different than anyone who isn’t Kiril (who is on the same wavelength as me and we argue back and forth about the inner details of everyone’s monstrosity), which means when I do it, nobody’s seen this shit before and apparently people seem to think it’s cool. So AMM is the very epitome of that style, of that psychological and philosophical discussion. I don’t really have a background of research in either of those things, so any similarities to works or theories already out there is entirely coincidence. Cat Valente’s poem was the first stepping stone I ever took to accepting myself for who - and what - I am. I owe as much of my identity and confidence to her as I do Zamorakian philosophy, which built my personality and is a major part of how I survived the middle school era of my life. The least I can do in return is offer the best of me out into the world.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

“Somewhere deep below conscious thought, below his training and the life and this Lemurian body, buried under lifetimes of war, buried under the idea that a Spectre was a fighter, his blood remembered how to love the memory of the fallen.” - Beneath Blood Ties

BBT is one of my most unappreciated fics, which makes sense as it’s set almost two thousand years prior to Classic, starring a fourteen-year-old Lemurian Minos and the Saint who raised him, Aries Kirien, whose name is probably still spelled Kiriel at least once in the fic because no beta we die like Gold Saints.

The original inspiration comes from Seanan McGuire’s Once Broken Faith, and the line in question is Toby reading the Luidaeg’s blood memories after the latter told a young Karen that she couldn’t speak Faerie even in her dreams - she speaks it in her blood memories, and Toby notes that her blood remembers.

It stuck with me, though I’ve read OBF approximately a million times. It, along with A Killing Frost and An Artificial Night, are my three top Toby books. And it responded to me as someone who’s fictionkind: I couldn’t speak the language I spoke as a Devil in my dreams, or in the waking world, but I know some part of me remembers it. Would know how. The Chaorruption filters all of that into English because it thinks it’s helping, but if I were a magical creature right now, in this world, I’m pretty sure my blood would remember.

So I wrote about Minos, and the sorrow he carried. The premise of BBT is that a Pope realized some Spectres come back, went around before they became Spectres, and kidnapped the lot of them to train as Saints, leaving them all traumatized as fuck, unsure of who they were or who they followed, and messed up for lifetimes. I also wanted to show more that Spectres were more than what the Holy Wars made of them, and about digging through that exotrauma to remember that they could be kind.

Spectres, originally, would make sense as really just Hades’ servants and the ones who keep the Meikai running. Pretty sure that means they know every single death rite that’s existed in the past three millennia. Pretty sure they know how to be respectful of the dead. Pretty damn sure that below all that soldiering and war, they’re all really exhausted librarians who want to do their job and also dig graves.

But I like this sentence here best, because that’s pretty much the climax of the plot here: that there is, in fact, something underneath all his exotrauma, all the current trauma he’s been dealing with. That below all of that bitterness and war, he’s a better person than what Athena made of him.

Idk, I just think it’s neat and no I’m not projecting being ‘kin on him again. /j

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Albafica, to nobody’s surprise. I mean, come on. A guy with a fuckton of traditionally-feminine beauty whose looks keep getting brought up, is very introverted, has seen some shit, just wants to kill people who hurt what he cares about while also not hurting the people he does care about, really wants you to keep your damn distance, is super touchstarved, and holding onto his humanity with his fingertips? Come on the only things he’s got that I don’t is an actual male reproductive system and naturally blue hair.

Once you realize that especially in TLC Athena’s actions are pretty damn horrific, especially to her Saints, Albafica has the perfect setup to become a Spectre. Seriously, if he’d been offered Luco’s deal but while holding a dying Lugonis, do you really think he wouldn’t have taken it? I explore that more in Broken Shine The Stars, but like. Albafica is the perfect fallen angel of a character. He has genuinely good intentions. He’s hurting so damn bad and only fucking once in his entire onscreen performance is that acknowledged (shoutout to Luco for that one), and if you take his sorrow and let him turn it into anger, he’s a glorious monster indeed. Albafica’s descend into monstrosity and Spectrehood is exactly what would happen if I got angry and also hadn’t been fucking nerfed physically.

I love him way too much.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Surprisingly, Aiacos. Alba’s hard as fuck to write. Aiacos, though. You’ve heard me go off about Aiacos at length, but like. He’s the very embodiment of the worst person you can become while still loving, still surviving. Aiacos is the type of person we’re all capable of becoming, and we all should be terrified of becoming, because every single choice he’s ever made is completely understandable and that much more horrific for it.

It’s somewhat unsurprisingly easy to get into his head. He’s fun to write because he scares me. Because if I let him do all the dumb, selfish, sadistic-looking, survival-focused things, then I don’t have to worry about doing it myself. I let him look out for only himself when the pieces are down, so I can do better.

Also I haven’t seen anyone else write him that way (Kiril being the obvious exception here), so it’s double the fun because new territory.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

Hey. Hey you fuckers who can plot shit. Give me the number of the demon you sold your soul to. Let me PLOT SHIT.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Summaries! Titles are easy, I steal them from songs and Toby books. They’re just fancy wordplay and I have literally a list on my fic spreadsheet of titles I want to use. Summaries, though, are very important. People don’t pick fics based on title and tags, they pick based on summary. They’re your hook into the work, so you’ve got to give the audience your premise short and sweet and actually sounding appealing.

Sometimes I can write them no problemo. Other times, they’re a fucking nightmare. I try to imply the tone of the ending in my summary, because I have absolutely been blindsided by the ending in a way I really didn’t like because I thought the summary was hiding the ending. (Example - there was this one fic that made it sound like my OTP was going enemies to lovers, and it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it needed the fucking dead dove do not eat tag, stopped just short of serious nonsexual noncon (which wasn’t tagged at all), and ended very unhappily and it messed me up for days, I did not like it.)

So for my summaries I set the scene, set the tone, and imply the tone of the ending so you have a vague idea of where it’s going. Easier said than done.

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Anime, probably! Manga wouldn’t lend itself too well to my style, but I’d enjoy short anime episodes, I think. I honestly don’t know. Someone tell me what my stuff would work good as. I dunno.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

For fic, all the time! I write what I want to read, and since six out of seven of the Dohko/Kagaho works on AO3 were my fault, I’d better get used to reading my own writing for pleasure. Fortunately, I like most of my writing recently, so that’s pretty all right!

Don’t ask about what I had up on ff.net. Don’t. It’s old and bad and I didn’t know how to write.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Hmmm... I want to rephrase this better as ‘what fic exists only as a concept and has done so for the longest out of all the concepts of fics currently in my head’, and hmmmm. Honestly, it’s either Shion and Aiacos’ romance fic where they also get a daughter (which has a title actually, The Lost Sea Fantasia, but still hasn’t been written); or it’s Wyvern Rose and the Trials of Lightning, which is about 15th century Rhada’s two daughters, the elder of which is surprise-given his surplice and his job when he dies right before Hades does, and the younger of which is kidnapped by a spiteful goddess who doesn’t like the elder of the two.

ToL is a fic that I have somewhat plotted out, but really needs a lot of work. I’m not really sure how to go about writing it, because whenever I sit down to sketch it out, it never comes to me. It does, however, lend itself well as a bedtime / campfire story that Albafica tells Regulus while they’re out on a mission together, as part of Alba sneakily teaching Regu how to be a Spectre without anyone knowing. It’ll stay a concept for a long while until Rose crashes into my headspace and actually fucking tells me more about herself other than “oh yeah btw I’m fucking Julia” like thanks, already knew that from Julia herself, tell me more about you you awful little Judge of a dragon princess.

[ask game here!]

[polarisavi]

tenderness is in the hands

or, Eliott’s favourite cinema has cheap popcorn, a lot of foreign films, and a blue eyed boy behind the counter. // 3k // ao3

The Lallemant Theatre looks half dilapidated from the street. Old fashioned, with faded vintage posters in dull, scratched up frames outside, and half the light bulbs blown out, throwing odd shadows on the movie titles.  

Eliott is there at least once a week.

The scuffed up wooden floors feel like home. Golden walls littered with more decades old posters, velvet love seats in deep red and purple scattered at odd intervals along the sides of the room, the scents of melted butter and bleach inescapable and constant.

“There you are. I was worried you were dead in a ditch,” says the only other person in the building. Eliott, before he’s had a chance to lift his head to find him, grins on instinct. Lucas’ voice, lilting and teasing, washes away the bad mood this week has left him with.

“Serious bodily harm is the only thing that would keep me from you,” he allows. Lucas just scowls, bristles, and puts aside the magazine in his hands. Eliott keeps smiling. It’s hard to predict exactly how Lucas will react when he says things like that, but whatever response he gets is a treasure.

“You’re almost late, you know.”

Eliott finally reaches the counter, places his hands on it and leans over a bit. Lucas’ hair is defying gravity, his eyes bright under the lighting, and a red plaid scarf that would contrast delightfully with his skin is curled next to the keyboard. Eliott wriggles his eyebrows. “You’d wait for me though, right?” Lucas rolls his eyes, so Eliott wages forward. “What’s on tonight?”

“Some Australian horror.” Lucas runs a hand through his hair, some of his fingernails flashing with chipped colour. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it, to be honest.”

Eliott hums vaguely and pulls out his wallet, finds a creased note between a collection of abandoned loyalty cards and faded concert tickets. The ticket stub he gets in exchange has a thick yellow line down the side, and the hand giving it to him has badly painted nails, each one a different shade of green.

“You’re really bad at that,” he says, nodding to Lucas’ hand. Lucas squints his eyes, raises his chin a little.

“I had to use my left hand.”

“Uh huh. Let’s see your other hand, then.” The other hand in question immediately disappears from view. From the way he shifts, there’s a good chance Lucas is sitting on it.

Eliott grins in triumph. “There’s no shame in being truly terrible at things, Lucas.”

“I suppose you would know a thing or two about it.”

Valiantly, Eliott lets that slide, stuffs the ticket in his pocket. The colour changes every month or so, and soon he’ll have enough of them saved to do - something. A collage, a sculpture, something worthy of this building, of the memories inside its walls. “Why don’t you think I’ll like the movie?”

“I’ve only seen pieces, but it doesn’t seem to have any… sincerity in it. Which I know you don’t have a lot of tolerance for.”

“You remember that?” Not a lot of people actually listen to him when he talks about film, the thread sometimes unspooling too quickly, tangling and looping, and making it hard for anyone to follow easily.

Lucas expression goes warm, kind, and something boarding on sympathetic. “I remember everything you say, Eliott.” There’s an implied obviously in the air and, well, no one would blame him for the way his heart beat rushes, especially when Lucas says his name like that, affectionate, weighty, like it’s valuable, like it matters.

Eliott looks to the side, coughs, brings the lighter out of his pocket just to have something to fiddle with.

“Has anyone else got a ticket for it?”

The way Lucas shakes his head makes his hair dance. “Just you. How much popcorn do you want?”

Eliott shoots the popcorn machine a look, its yellow glow a physical presence in the room. He can almost feel the sheer quantity of butter clogging up his veins from here. Simultaneously they take the couple steps to the side where the confectionery part of the counter technically starts.

“Depends, how hungry are you?” he asks, smirks, when Lucas has the audacity to look surprised Eliott is asking.

“Who says I’m joining you? I have a job to do, you know.”

It’s a good argument, but one that would probably work better if they were in a theatre that had more than roughly fifteen customers a week, most of them not at 9pm on a Wednesday.

“You would rather sit out here doing magazine quizzes and waiting for customers that don’t exist than sit next to me for a few hours and prove just how bad you are with accents?”

“You’re so annoying, and I have nothing to prove to you. “

Eliott softens. “I know you don’t. So how hungry are you?”

Without argument, Lucas shoots the popcorn a longing look. “So fucking hungry. Don’t worry,” he adds, flaps his hand like he can reverse Eliott’s move to take his wallet out again. “it’s included in your ticket price.”

A blatant lie, but Eliott doesn’t call him on it, just shrugs. Lucas nods and starts piling popcorn into the biggest box they have, the cardboard checkered orange and white. Lucas’ maman, the owner, seems to love colour, the theatre drenched in vibrancy, texture, calling out to a city that’s too blind to see it.

When Lucas passes the box over, their fingers overlap, and Eliott sets the food down in favour of getting a closer look at his hands. It’s a good thing Lucas has started painting his nails, he doesn’t have to reach for an excuse. It’s a lot smoother than Lucas’s I think there’s a bug, oh no wait my mistake, I’ve always liked tattoos, why do you have mardi written on your knee? It’d been a warm day, on the cusp of summer, the arms of their singlets plunging low to their waists, both of their legs’ exposed,  and it was a good thing Lucas moved first because Eliott had been trying to find reasons for why Lucas really should stop sitting properly and drape his leg’s across Eliott’s. He’s as shameless as Lucas, really, just hides it better.

And this, this is slightly subtler. He leans down like he’s properly inspecting Lucas’ hands, face serious, touch gentle, and Lucas doesn’t resist, bends easily to make room for Eliott’s whims.

The colour isn’t really that badly done, really, but still.

“You can practice on me, if you want,” Eliott offers. Nicely, in his opinion, but Lucas’ eyebrows furrow.

“I’m really bad at it.”

“…Which is why I offered.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t mind being bad when it’s my own body, but you have nice hands,” Eliott chokes on nothing, Lucas mouth quirks. “I don’t want to ruin them.”

“You couldn’t ruin anything.”

“Well, some things,” Eliott doesn’t think he imagined the seconds Lucas takes to flick his eyes down Eliott’s body, “but if you insist, I’ll gladly use you to experiment on.”

Eliott doesn’t know when they started having, how they keep having, multiple conversations at once, but it’s a bit too much. His hand automatically moves to tap at his lips, a nervous tic, but, right, they’re still holding - no, not holding, just touching - hands. He can feel the edge of a callous on one of Lucas’ fingers. Drums? Guitar? Wire sculpture? Carpentry? Before he can ask further, Lucas slips his hand away and he jumps the counter.

“Come on, I don’t want to keep you out late.”

Lucas sets off towards the splintered hall that most of the theatres spring off, and Eliott follows him automatically, absently reclaiming the popcorn when Lucas picks up a jacket, presumably his own. “You don’t?”

“Well, not for this,” the tips of his ears go slightly red, but nothing else. One day Eliott will make him blush for real, and it will be a beautiful day. “Isn’t a regular sleep schedule good for you? For stability, I mean.”

“I don’t remember telling you that.”

“That’s because you didn’t. I did some research, after you told me. The Wikipedia article for bipolar disorder is very well written.”

“No WebMD?”

Lucas shakes his head. “Yahoo Answers was very educational, though.”

“Well, primary sources are important.”

Lucas takes a right turn, a direction that can only take them to two cinemas: the Burgandy and the Woolf. The former reasonably large, wide seats, a bronze curtain unveiling the screen, and the width between aisles just that little bit too small for his liking. The latter is smaller, screen half the size, the walls dark blue, ceiling tall, and a collection of deep couches to seat the audience. It is, undeniably, Eliott’s favourite, and the way Lucas is looking, pleased, content, a slight bounce to his walk that usually isn’t there - Eliott has to resist the urge wrap his arms around him and, possibly, never let go. The ecosystem here would support them; they’d never have to leave.

The next time he glances over at Lucas his heart stutters when he finds those blue eyes already trained on him, eager, adoring. The barriers between them erode the deeper they roam into the guts of the building. The architecture is tricky, clever, expands beyond the barriers granted to it by the city, and something similar happens to them. Eliott feels paper thin, transparent, emotions bleeding into the space between them. Lucas reaches across, tugs on his arm, and leads them, unsurprisingly, into the Woolf. And it’s okay that he’s bleeding, that this far deep the physics of the room demands honesty, because it’s Lucas, a fixed point in the universe, who, underneath the snark and pouting and dramatics, has always ever only gathered up all the kindness and joy and tenderness he could find in his hands and offered it to Eliott freely.

Lucas softly nudges Eliott towards a couch in the centre but doesn’t follow him down when Eliott sits, sinks, into the middle of it, wanders away to do whatever is required to start the movie. The lights dim, first, then the screen clicks to life with a kind thank you for choosing Lallemant Theatre for your movie going experience. The room is a universe unto itself, and the last traces of the day slide off of him, every bad thought getting lost in the dark.

Lucas, when he returns, drops down on Eliott’s side, close, confident, and reaches across his body for a handful of popcorn. Eliott had placed it beside him, next to the armrest, without thinking, but clearly it had been a great idea.

Lucas’ neck arches back when he relaxes, stares at the ceiling, chest moving slowly, deeply, his collarbone refracting light. It’s - Eliott shouldn’t stare like this, should try and tame his greedy eyes, because Lucas isn’t his to stare at so blatantly. Not really. Whatever nebulous, shifting, sometimes delicate thing they’ve morphed into over these months, there are some lines still intact, things left unsaid under a gossamer veil of… deniability, caution, something.

Like he’s been summoned by the current of Eliott’s thoughts, Lucas flops his neck, looks at him. “Can I take you up on your offer?”

“Of course,” Eliott answers automatically, without bothering to figure out exactly what he’s referring to. Yes, of course, literally whatever Lucas wants. His responding grin is visible even in the low light, and in the seconds Eliott takes to bask in and appreciate his smile, Lucas straightens up, whips out a small bottle of nail polish from somewhere, its lid silver and the polish colour unknown.

Right. Eliott has his doubts about how well this will go given the changing light levels, courtesy of the pre movie ads, and lack of a solid surface, but Lucas twists to sit sideways, takes Eliott’s hand and places it on one of his thighs, and, really, if Lucas has deemed this environment adequate, who is Eliott to tell him otherwise.

The denim of his jeans is warm, the muscle underneath firm, and Lucas pats his hand, just once, before opening the polish and securing the bottle in the crease of his other leg.

“What colour is it?”

“Dark orange, kinda.”

“I don’t know if it’ll go with my complexion. “

Lucas snorts. “You can take the hit.”

The first brush is on his thumb, and leaves a sizeable streak on the skin beside his nail. An edge of a smile is visible from Eliott’s eye line. The next nail goes about the same way, and Eliott makes the decision to study the room, the ads, the tumble of Lucas’ hair, rather than watch in real time as burnt orange varnish settles into the grooves of his skin.

By the time he finishes painting that hand, the movie has started, and Eliott really should pay attention, but his gaze is stuck. There are stars in Lucas’ eyes, his skin stained rose from light thrown from the screen, veins in his arms; Eliott vibrates with the need to touch, to feel, to trace the shape of his hands, his arms, the sweet curve of his neck.

His hand, the one on Lucas’ thigh, clasps, squeezes, subconsciously, and Lucas finally, finally, meets his gaze properly. His mouth feels sticky, stuffed with fairy floss, and he wants to apologise but the words won’t come out. There are stars in his eyes, an entire ocean, every sublime mystery the universe has to offer.

Characters are talking, their accents grating, and the light burns white.

Lucas’ hand finds his and squeezes.

“Can our next date be somewhere else?”

Eliott’s mind goes blank, tries to force the fairy floss away. “Our next date?”

“Or our first one, either way,” Lucas says, and his smile is cheeky, eyes teasing. Eliott takes a second to readjust to this new reality, this beautiful, divine reality, and lets himself smile too, gentle, and probably slightly awed.

“We’ve been doing this for how long, and this is how you officially ask me out?”

Lucas’ cheeks bunch with how big he’s smiling. “You had something better in mind, Romeo?”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I would’ve convinced your maman to play my favourite romance, and then recreated one of the scenes with you, which would make you swoon and win your heart.”

Lucas’ mouth gapes for a second, incredulous. “That sounded very well planned for something that I only just asked you.”

“That was one of my top five plans.”

“Five?”

“I’ll tell you about them later.” Lucas looks curious, like he wants to ask more, want to keep interrogating every romantic scenario Eliott has ever thought of, eyes flicking across Eliott’s features, and when he bites his lip Eliott’s gaze drops to them, plush, pink, begging to be captured. Normally Eliott would indulge him anything, but there are some better things they could do. “Can I please kiss you now?”

Lucas starts nodding before he’s finished speaking, smiles for a second, and he doesn’t have to lean far because Eliott has already moved forward, curled into his space.

“Please,” Lucas whispers, leans his neck up, and Eliott falls into his gravity. The first tentative brush of their lips feels like the first ever breath of air, vital, stabilising, impossible to live without. His hands go up to cup Lucas’ cheeks, keep him there, keep him close. His veins fizz and heart flutters, bounces, around his chest, but this, the sweet drag of Lucas’ lips, his soft sigh when Eliott tilts his head, kisses his deeper, slower, this is the most certain, the most right, he’s ever felt about anything. The universe was designed to place him here, with this boy, so close he’s almost in his lap. Placed him so he can hear the low noise Lucas makes, the vibrations travelling straight down to his core, when he breaks their kiss.

Lucas, dazed, confused, and smiling, looks back at him. “Why’d you stop?” his voice is a little gravelly.

Eliott strokes the cut of his cheekbones with his thumb. “I just - I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmurs.

“Really?” Lucas asks, with a level of shock that shouldn’t be there, that Eliott will have to rectify every day they’re together. For now, though, he shrugs, raises his eyebrows teasingly.

Lucas makes a dramatic sound, some kind of sigh/groan hybrid, and looks heavenward. “I wasn’t sure if you were like that with everyone, or just me.”

When he looks back down Eliott guides their foreheads together, shakes his head gently so they don’t get displaced. “Only you. Ever since I saw you, it’s only been you.”