#But in a new home his impulsiveness is a strength. He's learned to handle it better.

[bonefall]

I have a really bad feeling that Moonpaw is the kid of Night and Sun. There are no pregnant she cats rn and the name would align the sky theme of their names. Not to mention the ENTIRE CHAPTER where Sun and Night just talked about having babies before Breezey-P told them to cut it out.

I don't really enjoy NightSun, but it's not something that I hate either. So I wouldn't mind if they had kits at some point. I'd prefer they didn't since Nightheart is so young and the Clan is SO bloated, but... meh.

Plus, Sun and Night having a kid named Moon is, admittedly, super cute lmao. I will be charitable if an idea makes me smile.

What would bug me more is that we're stuck in ThunderClan again. I'm so very tired of being forced to split the POV between the plot and ThunderClan's Contractually Obligated Screentime.

I know we already got our lucky break with an all female POV cast (so it seems) but MAYBE we can double up with our first arc without a ThunderClan perspective too.

[cderiva]

i don’t think i’ve ever sent you the “if they had a kid” thing for nanami and maria and actually that’s a crime on my part

@heyhey-sensei , one day i'll yap less but today is not that day

Name: im very bad at picking names and also since im going to yap a lot i’m leaving this one up to you. yeah you read that right you asked the question im making u work as well.

Gender: male.

General Appearance: dark brown eyes, blonde hair that has a somewhat natural unruliness to it. looks relaxed though is often described as having a “resting serious face” but when he smiles it’s wide and disarming. eyes are always expressive even when his face doesn’t give much away. initially short and kind of lanky but then puberty hit, and it didn’t just nudge him along - it bulldozed through. one year he returned from a single summer break taller and broader. for sure needed so many new clothes. his sudden growth spurt left him a little awkward, like he was figuring out how to exist in a body that no longer moved the way it used to and he often bumped into things or misjudged his reach/strength.

Personality: the kind of kid who makes it impossible to stay mad at him, even when he’s done something exasperating. he’s just too sincere. he’s well-meaning, with good instincts, but his impatience and impulsiveness sometimes gets the best of him. as a baby, he was expressive but quiet - then he learned to talk, and for years had no filter. “because i said so” never worked on him, though his endless “why?” stemmed not from defiance but from a need to understand (he satisfied easily when given logical answers to his questions or if told “i don’t know”). this curiosity extended to fear: instead of retreating, he leaned into what scared him, and while this showed resilience and courage, on the other hand it’s scary when your kid doesn’t seem to have the instinct to retreat (worse, sometimes he didn't call for his parents). has never been particularly outgoing but has always had a healthy and active social life + was naturally drawn to after-school activities and clubs - he needs his quiet time after socializing though. he’s analytical but can’t let go of decisions until he’s experienced things firsthand (doesn’t like this about himself, this need to learn by doing, because he sometimes sees it as inefficient or dumb). his anger is cold, rarely loud. when he gets mad it’s because there’s either a principle at stake, or he genuinely doesn’t understand something. he's stubborn, bottles things up until it’s too much to handle and often needs deliberate encouragement to open up. as a teenager, however, he developed a habit of approaching sensitive topics in a roundabout way: he’d make a vague observation or pose a seemingly unrelated question, gauging your reaction before inching closer to the heart of the matter (and you'd have to play a lil dumb in order to give him space and not spook him). doesn’t care about being particularly organized in the mornings (as long as he has breakfast he’s good), but he got to a point where he realized he needs his sleep time routine - he likes to get his tea, go to bed around the same time, do his bit of reading or fucking around on his phone, he loves that quiet time for himself. i delight at the idea that like many teenagers he did enjoy going to parties but had a strict internal timer meaning he’d dive headfirst into it, but 90% of the times he’d be home by midnight.

Special Talents: very fast reader. can underthing things very quickly (but has trouble explaining them). has a knack for visualization. has an uncanny talent for finding loopholes. really good at some sport idk which though (leaning towards tennis bc while i don't think he'd be the most technical player i think he'd be fast and precise, too focused sometimes to the point of eating dirt but stays focused on the ball and gets up and keeps going).

Who they like better: tends to gravitate toward dad during times when he needs clear guidance or when it’s about something related to the future / long-term planning, and to mom when when it’s something that needs less planning and more of a quick intuitive response.

Who they take after more: the best way i can put it is that he thinks like dad but feels like mom.

Personal Head canon: as a toddler / child loved being involved in his parents’ daily activities like doing the dishes and going grocery shopping (grew out of it, alas). as a toddler was a picky eater (grew out of it, thankfully) yet still always wanted to try whatever his parents were eating just to end up scrunching up his nose. as a baby/toddler would sleep in most conditions as a baby (the noise or brightness levels were no issue, would fall asleep anywhere any time) but for a long time he would only sleep if he could feel some sort of movement - i’m talking, you’re holding him and walking around, but the second you put him down he’s awake again. had phases of intense interests in space (probably dressed up as an astronaut at some point) and the mechanics of how things work (big on taking things apart to see how they came together). as a young child he went through a phase where he was freaked out by very small bugs and insects (spiders, flies, crickets, etc - he loved big animals though), and scared of loud noises (thunder, dogs barking loudly, etc) but in his defense he was very brave about it even when he was tearing up. sleeps like a damn rock, but if his alarm is loud enough (it’s insane how loud it is) he only needs to hit snooze once. writes a lot/has a lot of journals, not as a creative pursuit but because it helps him understand/organize his own thoughts. can play at least one musical instrument. not grumpy in the mornings but isn't truly awake until after he's had breakfast and if you speak to him before then he likely won't register anything you say. his appetite as a teenager was bottomless - he’d eat, and it was as if the food vanished into some endless void in his stomach, the grocery bill doubled for sure. has the horrible habit of blasting music through his headphones at a volume that could probably wake the dead.

Face Claim: i don’t use fcs, but pinterest might come to the rescue at some point

[glacial-snowflakes]

Subtle hum of the Hudson River - part 2 // Loki

A/N: Hi darlings! I'm sorry for not posting but I kind of don't have that much time rn :( I'm so so sorry! I hope you like it! <3

Here is part 1

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: You and Loki take a stroll down the river, letting yourself be honest with each other. The words you spoke have an unexpected result.

WARNINGS: it's all fluff, don't you worry!; parts written like this are retrospection

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. It’s really motivating <3

Outrage and disgust filled every little whisper he heard. The team's looks were so sharp that they could cut one's skin open. Sighs full of hatred. Snarky remarks, supposedly innocent, yet hurt like hell. Why would anyone care about God of Mischief? Yes, he might live in the Tower, and yes, he might call himself one of the Avengers now, but he would never belong. Never. Not after what he did.

"They will never trust me, won't they?" Loki asked Thor, his sight focused on a cup he was holding in his frozen hands. The tea wasn't hot anymore. It went cold just like his heart that had never known the warmth of love. Trickster raised his eyes to meet Thor's. God of Thunder could swear that for a moment, he saw despair painted onto his brother's pale face. "I thought you didn't care about them nor their attitude towards you."

"I don't." The raven-haired man said immediately but seeing his brother's smile made him speak the truth. "I hate the way they look at me. I know what I did, and I deserve it. It's just— Nevermind." Loki sighed and took a sip of his cold tea. Speaking about his feelings was never his strong suit. Opening up to someone and spilling his guts felt like a nightmare he didn't want to experience at all costs. Runaway was the best choice.

"If you want to gain their trust, start with Lady Y/N. She's the most perfect for being the first one to break the ice with. Believe me." Thor gave his brother a clap on the back and nodded. "Go on."

"She's holding a knife right now. I am the one who stabs, not the one to be stabbed." Loki muttered. Thor's look said everything. In response, God of Mischief just rolled his eyes, stood up, and slowly approached you. You seemed so focused on the meal you were preparing that you didn't even notice him at first. He cleared his throat. "Lady Y/N."

You snapped out of the trance you were in just a few seconds ago. You lifted a knife you were holding in your hand. It was all covered up in ice, even sharper than the kitchen utensil itself. You held it up in front of your face as you were breathing rather heavily, scared of the sudden voice that made you come back to earth with a bump. Loki could swear that for a moment, your eyes turned impeccably white, just like the snow you could summon whenever you wanted.

"I— I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you. I truly mean it." Loki said immediately, waving his hands, the visible awkwardness painted onto his face.

"No, no! It's not your fault." You smiled to assure him that everything was fine. "Whenever I'm cooking, I'm in a trance. Just me, food, my mind free of all the bad thoughts that have been haunting me." You waved your hand in which you were holding a knife, and the ice melted away, just like that, not leaving any mark behind. Loki gave you a subtle nod and asked. "What are you cooking?"

"Oh, I won't tell you." You blurted out, which was followed by the awkward silence. "It's because I'm making my secret dish. Y/N's secret delicacy. No one knows what's inside except me." You explained in the blink of an eye. Loki seemed to be a little bit confused. Oh boy, you weren't good at small talks either. "If you want to, you can stay and sit here. We can talk about whatever you want or, if not, we can sit there in silence. It depends on you."

A sweet, delicate smile appeared on your face. You knew it was hard for Loki. You could see that. You noticed these quick looks he was giving whenever someone whispered his name. You noticed his need to be included when you were in a group, but everybody seemed to be ignoring him. Nobody wanted him to participate in meetings or conversations. He was in a crowd, yet he felt like he was all by himself. You saw all of this, and it made you feel bad. You knew what he did, but in the end, he was one of you now. Every god could bleed, and it hurt you to watch.

You wanted to make the raven-haired man feel better. Even if you were the only one to do this and every other person was about to judge you, you wanted Loki to feel included, to feel important. You promised yourself that it would be YOU who will make Loki feel welcomed, welcomed in a place where everyone pushed him away.

"Can I ask what your exact powers are?" Loki started the conversation, and you couldn't help but smiled. He truly wanted to talk with you. How adorable.

"I'm a demigod with cryokinetic powers. It would take a lot to talk about my abilities, but I will tell you that my favorite one is making ice daggers. Quick and simple, though it took some time to master the perfect shape." You chuckled. "Learning to aim ideally in a battle to cut through a chest and freeze someone's heart was the most problematic part."

"I didn't know you are so violent and tough."

"I am not... I guess I pretend to be." You said quietly, not looking upon a cutting board. A deep sigh escaped your mouth. "You know, it's not a job for everyone. Sometimes I'm too gentle for that."

You didn't let the silence last forever, as you immediately asked. "How do you find yourself here? Do you like the Tower?"

"Ah, you know... It has changed since the last time I visited." Loki said, clearly ashamed of all the damage he did back in 2012. Till these days, the thought of the Chitauri ravaging New York gave you the shivers. It was a very demanding and traumatizing first day of work as the Avenger.

"A renovation was a must." You joked; to clear the air and shoo away the atmosphere that was creeping towards you. "What about your room?"

"If you can call a small couch in Thor's bedroom my room, then I guess it's okay."

"You sleep on Thor's couch?" It was something that surprised you and not in a good way. You got that Loki wasn't everyone's favorite member, but there was a ton of empty bedrooms in the Tower in which he could live.

The God of Mischief nodded. "It's not that bad."

"I don't care. I will talk to Tony. You have to have your own bedroom. It's not like you can sleep on his couch forever. It's not comfortable in the long run." Loki opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "I've got it covered, don't worry."

There was something in talking to you that made Loki feel at home. The way you looked at him; gave him the sweetest and prettiest smiles he has ever seen. There was no hate in your voice, no disgust that he's been experiencing on a daily basis since he could remember. You actually treated him like a human being, despite everything he has ever done. There was only one person he knew with such a kind heart, and you reminded him of her; you reminded him of Frigga.

"You know..." Loki begun. "I feel like you are the only one that doesn't want to cut my throat or stab my heart with my dagger."

You smiled gently. "I think you deserve a second chance."

"And why is that?"

"This is a story for another time."

***

"Where do you think you two are going?" Tony asked when you and Loki approached the elevator. God of Mischief gave him a quick stare before pushing the button with an arrow pointing down. You turned your head to face Tony, who was making himself a coffee. "We're going on a walk." You answered with a smile on your face.

"It's almost midnight."

"Said a man with a cup of coffee in his hand." You chuckled. "We're going to be fine. He's a god, and I'm a demigod. Nothing bad will happen to us."

You knew that it wasn't you who Tony was worried about; he still didn't trust Loki. When you joined the Avengers, you were one of the youngest in the group. Fresh blood, you could say. Stark watched you growing from an impulsive, careless kid with ice powers to a deliberate adult, a demigod aware of her cryokinetic strength. Seeing you change over the years, he felt responsible for your life. Even if Man of Iron knew you could handle yourself, Loki was too powerful. Tony refused to believe in his change, and with it, he was afraid that the Trickster was purely playing with you. If only they saw Loki as you did.

A few minutes later, you two were strolling down the New York. Just you, Loki, and the subtle hum of the Hudson River that made your troubled hearts feel at peace. Slowly paced steps. Your knuckles barely brushing each other woke up armies of butterflies in your stomachs that went on war. If you were bold enough, you would grab his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together, holding him like it was the end of the world. It was something you truly wanted from the moment Thor brought him into the group.

"So..." Loki cleared his throat. "If you want to, we can talk or, if not, we can walk in silence. It depends on you."

"I'm not ready, not yet... I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever be sorry for not being ready to talk about your feelings, Lady Y/N." Loki grabbed your wrist and made you stop your steps. "Ever, okay?"

Something was mesmerizing in his beautiful eyes and a worried smile. Something that made your heart beat faster; palms get sweaty and clammy. Something that made you agree to everything he said. It was like a trick, but not like the ones he did from time to time to piss of Thor or Tony. No.

You snapped out of it and nodded. "Okay." You said and took your wrist from his hand. You began to walk again with Loki by your side when he asked. "Lady Y/N. A few months ago, I had asked why I deserve a second chance. You'd never gave me an answer. I'd still like to know."

You smiled, looking at the tiny waves on the river. "I knew you'd asked that sooner or later. I think I can finally tell you why I think this way." Your eyes focused on his face now. "Okay... Let me tell you something. It's not a surprise that you've made some pretty bad decisions in your life, and you've hurt a lot of people. You think you're a monster, and you don't deserve to be loved. You were never more wrong.

"In this group, you probably won't find one spotless person. We are people that made huge mistakes. You don't have to look far." You grabbed his hand without thinking. It was an impulse that just felt right. "I was a reckless kid when I got these powers. No one was there to guide me through them, learn how to be in control. And to a bullied kid like me, it was something that made me feel better than others. I was the one on the top. With my mortal mum that couldn't handle the demigod kid and my godly father that had so many half-blood children he didn't give a shit about, no one could stop me. The bullied became the bully. I don't like to call myself that, but this is true. I went through hell, and I made sure they felt the same way. I'm not proud of it, but that is who I was.

"So you have me. And then there's former HYDRA's witch, a billionaire who made deadly weapons, former Russian spy, former HYDRA's most famous brainwashed assassin and etcetera. Welcome, you're just as messed up as we are. Being here with us is your chance to become a better man. You belong here, Loki. Trust me."

At that moment, something broke inside of him. For a second, he stopped being a mysterious, private God of Mischief that didn't want to let in anybody. He let go of all the concerns and worries that had been occupying his mind for far too long. He threw away the image of a monster he considered himself to be.

The words you spoke made him realize that as long as you were next to him, there was nothing he couldn't do. You were the key to his pure heart from the beginning. You were the answer he'd been looking for all along. You were the light that could sweep away the darkness that'd been consuming him from within, and he wanted you to shine beside him forever.

When Loki leaned over to your ear, all you could feel was his warm, shaky breath on your neck that sent the shivers down your spine. "Don't hate me for this." He whispered almost inaudibly as his hands found their way to your hips. His long, lean fingers quite roughly pressed onto your skin. Just like electricity, his touch pierced through your whole body, made your knees get weaker. Your senses were fogged, almost like you were under control. All you could focus on was how his mellowy soft lips felt against yours. The kiss was sweet and passionate, yet gentle at the same time. It wasn't hasty and rough like you'd expect it to be, no. There was something else, something special about it. It was Loki's way to describe every little feeling he had for you. Your adorable smiles you'd been giving him, slight touches you didn't even think he noticed, tea and sympathy. It was all for what he wanted to return the favor.

For a moment, you weren't sure if this was real. Was it just a pure imagination of your mind that was thirsty for love and affection? Or maybe it was a trick, fake reality that you'd fallen for so naively? No, it couldn't be. You could feel it. Feel your heart crazily pounded like it wanted to escape the cage in which it was held for far too long. It was the only thing that helped you stay sober.

You didn't want to stop this. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, scared that once it ended, it would never come back.

"Loki..." You started when you two pulled out to catch a breath. "I could never hate you for making my dreams come true."

The raven-haired man didn't say anything. In response, he wrapped his arms around your still weak body and brought you even closer, so there was no space left between you and him. You felt his chin gently placed on the top of your head. With a smile on your face, you embraced him tightly and snuggled your face onto his chest. All that you heard was his heart pounding fast in the same rhythm as yours, as the subtle hum of the Hudson River accompanied your feelings growing for each other at that moment.

tag: @handmaiden-of-mischief @amiechuchu

[octopus-reactivated]

Title me Miss

You remember Decima? If not, here she is.

Tw/cw: Pet whump. legal slavery, stress position, maybe? low self-esteem, dehumanisation, unreliable narrator, derogatory language

__________

The cage was small, much smaller than cages usually used in stores. He had to bend while kneeling. His back hurt and he wanted to lay down, curl up on cold floor, but then he wouldn't be able to get at kneeling position fast, and if someone would look at him, and see he isn't even kneeling, then he won't be bought and taken to new home and new Master and it’s not like his chances were high to begin with.

He had to stay in this uncomfortable position. Of course stupid Pet like him deserved anything better, anyway.

__________

That's bad - thought Paparazzi realising the celebrity saw her taking a photo of him. Except that she wasn't a paparazzi, and he wasn't a celebrity.

Caretaker quickly turned around trying to walk away without getting into a confrontation. It was most likely that she would be able to get away, and even if man would demand to delete photos, she already switched memory cards, so the evidence was safe.

She took a glance into a reflective surface. Yep. Mr. Politician was following her, and even pointed at her. Rude. She hid behind the nearest corner, taking her jacket off. Then she hopped into the closest shop and got wig off - good thing she actually decided to start using them. She walked into the furthest part of the shop, hiding clothing, wig and camera in a bag and done! Caretaker can be a different person now! It took her 15 seconds no more. Still far away from a perfect time of 7 seconds, but most likely 15 seconds would be enough.

Caretaker calmed herself down, and crunched behind a cage

And then she saw where she was. A “Pet” shop. She realised There was a human in a cage, and he looked at her with hopeful eyes. Oh no. She suddenly felt guilty. She never was brave enough to go after a big company. Did this combination of events happen to show her what happens to people because she refuses to take action... Even if this action is just spying on corrupted politicians?

She will have to pull herself together and inform Justin she's ready to hunt down big fish.

Caretaker stayed a little longer, until she decided it was safe to go. She stood up and at that moment a man in a cage whimpered. She looked at the boy. He had teary eyes. Was it because she didn't want to buy him? Why would anyone be sad for not getting bought? Maybe Pets were punished when someone decided to leave them? It made no sense, but common sense probably got beaten out of them. Whatever it was, the boy was authentically sad.

"I'm just... looking at the description, don't worry" she sent him a reassuring smile. What the what was she doing? She's not here to buy anything? Maybe she would be able to steal him? No, she's a simple photographer playing spy, not a thief. And THAT would be illegal, and she can't have a criminal record. Caretaker looked at papers glued to the board over the cage. Age, physical attributes, placing of scars, training facility, 'one previous owner' note, price - cheaper than she would expect for a human being- what he was trained to, blablabla...

"Interested in-" without thinking, she turned around and punched the owner of a voice in the stomach. He bent in half. Only then she realised it was one of the employees.

"I'm so sorry i didn't mean to hurt you, you terrified me" she apologised quickly, and she meant it. She really was sorry for punching an innocent person. Oh wait, this guy works at Pet store. Nevermind, she's not sorry. Unless that would make a fuss and affect her reputation. Then maybe a little.

Employee straighten up

"You're stronger than you look like" He said, quite impressed.

"Thank you. I didn't meant to use that strength on you"

"No problem, it was my fault anyway. I tend to walk quiet" He said, but to be honest it sounded a little forced. Later on he will trash talk about her to his friends for sure. "Anyway i was meant to ask if you're interested in this Pet"

"Well, I am considering... "

"We also have many others here, or you can visit our website and..."

"No thank you... I think… I think I will talk to my friend, he's like 78% of my impulse control. I will be back in a few minutes."

"Of course if you want to discuss it with someone..." Employee looked disappointed, but he also didn't want to come out as pushy, so he didn't stop her.

When she was walking away Pet sniffed, and an employee kicked cage saying something angrily. He switched from servile to cruel in seconds. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. She will stop this. But first she had to make a call.

__________

Pet was waiting, hoping for the impossible, and then- then someone walked in and looked at him! Mistress with exotic blue hair! She was looking at him! Maybe she will pet him and decide he looks adorable and take him? He tried so hard to look cute!

Of course it wasn't enough. Mistress stood up. Why would she want a disgusting, horrible Pet like him? He whimpered and shut up immediately. He didn't get permission to make a sound. Bad, untrained Pet.

"I'm just looking at the description, don't worry," Lady said. Of course, you stupid mutt. Humans won't just decide by looking at face, they would want to know... all those important stuff written in his document, that he was to stupid to understeand.

One of the Masters came and talked to Lady... but she just punched him! And the Master was in pain, but still didn't get mad... Did it mean that Lady was so cruel she wanted to hurt even other humans and powerful enough to get away with this? Pet trembled.

Master tried to convince her to purchase one of Pets, him or some other, that was less useless, bu the Lady apparently didn't liked anything, so she used banal excuse even dumb Pet was able to look through and left.

He tried not to cry.

Master kicked his cage.

"Can't you even try to be less hopeless?" he said angry

__________

"Justin, my beloved, my light, my braincell and my source of income i need your advice"

Sigh.

"What is this time?"

"So I was doing as you said, and you were right, they really met and there was a third man with them, and I got photos, but he saw me and..."

"Did you lose evidence?"

"Nah, don't worry it's safe like a baby in your mother's arms. The thing is I had to flee and I went into the first open store and there was Pet and he looked so sad, and I have to take him now, but..."

"I see, do you want me to gently sway you from making decisions you already know it's bad, or do you look for my genuine opinion about your capability of taking care of a pet with your job?"

"No no no no no. You misunderstood me. It was A Pet. And I want to take him, because I'm afraid they will beat him to death if i don't but I also don't want to give them my money. I don't want to contribute to the system, but stealing is bad and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Okay. Okay, wait a moment i need to think about it for second"

"Okay"

"Alright, I have an idea: big companies like that always have some dirt. So do like this: go to this store and buy him casually, but look for old ventilation, unsafely placed things or anything. Note that and take photos if you can, and we will later snitch on them for WHS violation or something"

"Okay. Thank you i knew i could count on you"

__________

Pet was kneeling in the cage. He could have a new home by now if only he wouldn't be so disgusting. The last customer was really scary, and cruel and even she didn't want such an awful Pet. He tried not to cry. Crying wasn't cute and he had to look cute even if it was pointless.

Then he heard quick angry footsteps. The blue-haired lady was back. What did it mean?

"I'M TAKING HIM!" She shouted. She had fire in her eyes. It took all of Pet's strength not to move away to the back of the cage.

She will buy him, and she was angry, maybe because the pet was scared of her, or maybe her Friend failed to control her impulse, or maybe it was something different, but the Pet will pay for that.

He was scared, but he will take all the pain if she would want him, please he wants to be wanted, even if it doesn't matter what he wants, take him away, he will be good...

Master rushed and took Lady to the back, where the documents were signed. Pet glued eyes to the doors. She still can change her mind when she will look deeper and realise how bad and ill-trained animal he is.

Or maybe she would like to have a broken animal to train up to herself? Was it about it?

__________

"Here are all his files. We have to make sure you had read them, especially the last page"

"Sure, give me some time"

"Also if you have any questions, i'm here to help"

"I don't have any..." she said, but then the idea hit her "actually, do you have any more detailed record of his training?"

"We do have records for all our pets, but we can show them only to the owner. We can email them right after purchase. They're quite large"

"Works for me" She said. Maybe the records will say more about his conditioning, and help with recovery. Anyway it won't do harm if she will have them.

Now onto reading stuff she will sign. Make sure the company won’t hide anything in small print.

It took longer than she would like to admit and hopefully she understood all the words just right… There was one page left.

There was something about being "ready to handle" and "responsiblebleble..." and

oh

Employee must have seen that she got to that part.

That part... changed the light she looked at the boy.

And she hesitated for a moment.

“May… may i know the circumstances of an incident?” she asked

__________

Master- no, the former Master now opened a cage and threw him on the ground. Pet felt his shoulder hit the hard floor and he holded cry in .

"Looks like you got purchased after all. Unbelievable. Ayway, how long do you think it will take for you to mess up and get returned?" former Master said. Pet was stupid, yes, and he had trouble learning rules but he knew that he can't break them now, and he wasn't allowed to speak

"Answer me you dumb Pet"

now that was an order

"A- a month maybe?"

"Ha! you aim high. I doubt you will be able to last two weeks"

Pet didn't want to go back at all, but if the former Master says he won't be able to enjoy new home for longer than two weeks then it was true. He had to bear Mutt for so long!

He took off one collar and put on another. It was so soft, softer than a pet ever had. Finally he grabbed him by the shoulder he felt on and took to the new owner.

"See you soon," former Master whispered to Pet.

And there she was. New owner. The scary Lady. Pet trembled.She didn’t clipped a leash or grab him by hair, instead she put her arm around him. Didn't she want him to have even this piece of freedom? Or was she afraid he would try to run away? He won't, he will be good and Pet hoped he would be allowed to speak to tell he will be good. But he wasn't allowed so he just quietly walked by her side. He couldn't crawl with her holding him, will he be punished for walking on legs like a human?

They walked outside. The sun was so nice, and the air was fresh. But he knew it was not to enjoy, he wasn't allowed to enjoy those things.

"We will have to wait here for a while. My friend - the one I mentioned before - will give us a ride. Anyway, what's your name?"

Was he tested already? He knew how to follow rules, he could follow them...

Owner looked at him in scary silence

"Oh. I forgot. You can speak. I wouldn't ask if i didn't expected any answer"

Oh no. Oh no no, they didn't even get home, and he disappointed Owner already.

"I don't have any name, Mast- Mistress"

“Hmm well then how did the.. shop employees call you then?”

“Disgusting, Mutt, Dirty…”

"That won’t work. We have to give you a real name. And you can call me by mine. I'm Decima. 'Mistress' sounds like some annoying character from a historical drama. But if you feel uncomfortable without honorifics then you can title me 'Miss'. But I prefer to be referred to by name, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Decima"

[blaydiud]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭.

stolen from: saw it on the dash and it took over my brain

tagging: grabs whoever reads this

NAME. DIMITRI ALEXANDRE BLAIDDYD

BODY.

height: 180cm / 5′11″

strength ★★★★★     (both granted by his crest and the natural superhuman strength he has inherited fromhis father)

dexterity ★★★★☆     

health ★★☆☆☆     (often neglects his own health, tends to settle for placebos or easy fixes rather than get to the root of the problem)

energy ★★★☆☆

beauty ★★★★★    (many point out how similar he looks to the late king, together with his softer features and icy eyes)

style ★★★☆☆    (most of what he wears is clothing ordered by the court, his real personal style is a bit janky.)  

hygiene ★★★☆☆   (due to fhirdiad’s history with having a poor hygiene system and cold weather + his inability to perceive smell, he sometimes struggles with bathing frequency. mainly his hair.)

SKILLS.

perception ★★★☆☆    

communication ★★★☆☆   (communicates confidently in official or serious matters, but when it comes to personal relations he’s quite awkward and can’t find the right words.)

persuasion ★★★★☆     (depends, but usually his title alone is able to sway things in his favor.)

mediation ★★★★☆     

literacy ★★★★★    

creativity ★★☆☆☆     (just...look at what he names his horses.)

cooking ★☆☆☆☆     (due to his inability to smell or taste, he can’t season anything. he can only prepare food that can be eaten without seasoning.)

tech savvy ★★★☆☆     (rather decent with more technical matters or with things he gets nerdy about such as weapons)

combat ★★★★★     (it’s all he was raised to do, besides ruling)

survival ★★★★★     (as a child he spent many nights alone in frozen forests for survival training. thanks gustave!)

stealth ★☆☆☆☆     (he’s a bit too clumsy and wears too much armor, cling clang)

street smarts ★★☆☆☆ 

seduction ★☆☆☆☆     (has some natural charm, but gets awkward/flustered way too quickly.)

luck ★★☆☆☆     (doesn’t really consider him lucky with how live has been so far.)

handling animals ★★★☆☆     (mostly horses or bigger animals. cannot handle smaller critters such as birds, cats or dogs because he fears accidentally hurting them.)

pacifying children ★★★☆☆     (he tries his best, because he doesn’t like seeing children upset...but then he gets upset because the child is upset, and nothing goes anywhere.)

MIND.

intelligence ★★★★★

happiness ★★☆☆☆     (doesn’t consider his life a happy one.)

spirituality ★★★★☆  →  ★★☆☆☆     (duscur often has him questioning the goddess’ supposed benevolence and actions.)

confidence ★★★★☆     (most os it was formed out of need, deep inside he’s still a bit of a meek, timid boy.)

humor ★☆☆☆☆     (he laughs at alois’ jokes.)

anxiety ★★★☆☆     (a constant need to strive for perfection often shakes his core.)

patience ★★★★☆

passion ★★★★★     (he loves to learn, even if he fails at it and ends up frustrated.)

nice   ★☆☆☆☆  mean  

brave  ★☆☆☆☆  cowardly 

pacifist   ☆☆★☆☆  violent      (tries to go for the most pacific choices most of the time, but resorts to aggressivity and violence too quickly for his own liking.)

thoughtful   ☆★☆☆☆   impulsive

agreeable   ☆☆★☆☆   contrary     (has strong opinions, but tries his best to stay flexible enough to welcome new ideas)

idealistic   ☆☆★☆☆   pragmatic

frugal   ★☆☆☆☆   big spender

extrovert   ☆☆☆★☆   introvert 

collected   ☆★☆☆☆   wild     (keepshimself composed most of the time,but when he’s home he’s a little goblin.)

ambitious / possessive / stubborn / jealous / decisive / perfectionist

SOCIAL.

charisma ★★★★☆

empathy ★★★★★     (so much so that sometimes it hurts him.)

generosity ★★★★☆

wealth ★★★★★    (as the future king of faerghus and the most influential house of the kingdom...yeah)

honest   ☆☆★☆☆   deceptive   (as much as he hates to admit, he relies too much on deception sometimes.)

leader   ★☆☆☆☆   follower  (doesn’t really have an option)

polite   ★☆☆☆☆   rude  

political   ★☆☆☆☆   indifferent     (is a strong defender of diplomacy and the people’s needs and voices.)

BELIEFS.

higher power ★★★★☆  →  ★★☆☆☆    (again, finds himself questioning the goddess at times.)

fate/destiny ★★★★☆     (some fates cannot be changed, such as his’. or so he believes.)

magic  ★★★★★     (yeah, he knows how much it hurts to be hit by it.)

soulmates ★☆☆☆☆     (tries to not think about it because the concept saddens him.)

good and evil ★★☆☆☆     (tries to believe in nuance and that nobody can be fully good or fully evil.)

luck ★☆☆☆☆     (in the end, the only one who will save you is yourself. no luck nor miracle saved his family.)

PRIORITIES.

family ★★★★★     (he has too little family left, he’ll do anything to protect it.)

friends ★★★★★     (is desperate for friends and people who like/see him for who he is rather than for his title as a prince.)

love ★★★☆☆     (he...thinks about it, but doesn’t find himself worthy of it.)

home ★★★★★     (faerghus is is top priority.)

health ★★★★☆     (the health of his friends, family and people. his own, not so much.)

praise ★★☆☆☆

justice ★★★★★     

truth ★★★★★     

power ★★★★☆     (knows that he needs power to be a good ruler, but doesn’t actively seek to expand it.)

fame ☆☆☆☆☆

wealth ☆☆☆☆☆

others' opinions ★★★★☆    (as a ruler? not so much. as a person? is terrified of the idea that someone might know about his ‘true self’/the boar)

[vivithefolle]

What are your favourite fanfic tropes/aus for romione?

(I’m gonna try to make my way through old asks I received AGES ago and never answered because I’m a procrastinating lump. Here’s betting I’m going to give up and play videogames all day instead.)

Oh my god, so many.

Okay so as a rule of thumb as long as it’s nice to Ron I’ll read it. I’ll read anything. I have been known to read Ron/Draco and even sacrificed my dignity and everything I stand for as a human being by reading some Ron/Snape stuff. Yes. I was THAT desperate. This is how low I’m willing to go because of sheer love for Ron.

Which means that when a fic will go “oh poor Hermione, poor Hermione who is waiting for Ron to grow up because She can see one day he could be worth it but for now he’s all dumb-dumb and inferior and doesn’t deserve Her perfection :(”, I will be judging. Judging very hard. I may not leave a comment but rest assured, my thoughts are loud enough for me. This is 2010s mentality. This is “haha I’m so like Hermione, not like other girls who throw themselves at boys, I’m so special and girl powery :)” Horribly Bad Feminism. Fuck that. We’re doing better now.

Speaking of doing better. Recently I read something about how Ron is, paraphrased, “the brute of the Trio”, spun in a positive way since he uses his strength to protect them but, but, still... please no? Just no! Just eff no with these takes about how Ron is a hypermasculine dudebro M For Manly™! No, no, fucking no! Just because he’s the Sulfur to Hermione’s Mercury and Sulfur represents the masculine component to Mercury’s feminine one, DOESN’T MEAN Ron is “the brute”! (”the” brute... seriously... who’s the more brutish one, the one who punches a racist in the face or the one who uses a torture curse as retribution for spitting on his fave teacher?)

The way I see him, Ron is a balance, a blend of feminine and masculine qualities intertwined close together. I LOVE that he can swear like a sailor but can only say “scarlet woman” or “cow” when it comes to insulting a woman. Some will probably see it as “hurr durr he sexist he doesnt think women can take it!!!!!!! >8C” but given that those are probably also the peeps who say “HE CALLE D HERMOANI A NIGHTMURRR!!!!!!! DDDDD8″ I’m gonna venture the idea that we don’t care about those folks’ biased, sexist opinions.

Where was I going with this... oh yes! Ok, so Ron can swear like a sailor yet couldn’t insult a girl to save his life. He’s strong physically but most of all he’s strong mentally (to put up with the way his friends treat him for years speaks a lot of his mental fortitude... and to top it off he comes back for more to boot! I’m not sure if that’s more mental fortitude or straight-up masochism though.) When he succeeds at things he gets a bit attention-whoreish but at the same time, you can see that when he’s being complimented he’s all unsure of himself and blushy and shy and you just, dude you can’t handle positive attention because you don’t know how to react to it I don’t know whether that’s adorable or the saddest thing I’ve seen in my life? He’s insecure but he’s always the first to cheer on Harry and Hermione when they’re doing something great, which speaks VOLUMES of Ron’s selflessness and of his actual character: to quote @peetamaellark​, Ron doesn’t think “Harry is great, therefore he sucks and I hate him”, he thinks “Harry is great, therefore I suck and I hate me”. THIS is Ron. THIS is why Ron will lash out, not because he hates Harry, but because internally he hates himself and you can’t keep that sort of feeling bottled up for too long before... you got it, you explode.

I. Want. More. Fics where Hermione isn’t this ~oh dear~ Victorian damsel in distress who cries and Ron is the Big Strong Man who holds her with one arm and is stony-faced and goes “I’ll protect you”, please no that was old before it existed, let us have nice, realistic depictions of Ron and Hermione please.

Like, Hermione is more than capable of kicking butt herself. She IS absolutely nervous and scared and cries easily and that’s a vulnerability we NEED, but the fact that she can be super scared and crying but still hex her opponent into oblivion? THAT’s good, THAT’s excellent. It’s a very important message for girls, I think. “You can cry, you can be sensitive, you can be emotional, AND you can still kick butt”. And as important as that message is for girls, it’s also a very important message to give boys, because boys are socialized to “never cry” and that’s super unhealthy. I love Ron’s admiration of Hermione. I love the way Ron hesitates, the way he can be cautious when he needs to as much as he can be reckless and impulsive. I love how he shows himself to be a big softie and a sweet soul. I don’t think that makes him an “emasculated doormat” (to quote a guest I once saw on FFN), on the contrary it makes him an even better man in my eyes. You know why I love the locket scene so much? Because Ron’s tears aren’t ridiculed. Ron gets to cry about the terrible ordeal he’s been put through, and while Harry “pretends he can’t see Ron cry” because it’s more comfortable for him personally, he doesn’t try to tell Ron to “man up” or anything. His reassurance is pretty lousy but he lets Ron cry, he lets his friend be upset, and he doesn’t try to invalidate Ron’s pain. (ok, the “I thought you knew” is kiiiiinda on the way there, but it stops at that and I’m grateful for it).

I like. Seeing Ron distressed. I like seeing Ron upset and be allowed to be upset. I like to see Ron’s pain treated with respect. So when Ron is having a shit day I like to see him get a cuddle. I like seeing Ron go through horrible ordeals and break down and for his breakdown to be properly acknowledged and not turned into insensitive comic relief (ISN’T THAT RIGHT, LATTER HALF OF THE SILVER DOE????). I mean seriously, just imagine GOF, Harry sitting in the hospital wing after Cedric’s death, Molly Weasley gives him a hug and it’s all very sad and angsty. And now picture Ginny running into the room screaming “HARRY JAMES POTTER” and punching him over and over and saying “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER” then after two pages of Harry “explaining” himself to Ginny she goes away saying “aight but if you do that shit again you’ll have to answer to me” then Harry’s friends are like “damn she’s spunky huh?” and Harry laughs and everyone laughs and this is how the book ends? How would it be funny? How would it be appropriate? How would it feel like “romance”? When Ron returns in The Silver Doe, he’s been psychologically tortured (”tortured” is the actual word JKR uses, please), we don’t need him to be hurting outside as well.

I want more accountability for Hermione. More “uh hey Hermione maybe don’t do that”. More “hey Hermione you know you think of yourself as a good person buuuut yeah actually if all good persons were like you I’d be very afraid”. More “Hermione please for the love of God educate yourself”. More “Hermione sweetie I love you, but you can’t actually learn everything from books”. CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT. PLEASE. Don’t be afraid to punch Hermione down and tear her apart the way the best Ron fics maim and torture our poor boy. Just because Rowling treated Hermione with kiddy princess gloves doesn’t mean you have to mimic her.

So when Hermione does a genuinely shitty thing let her own up to it. When Ron is a victim let him be upset and angry, even if Hermione is the one treating him badly. Just because he loves her doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be disappointed in her or that she’s entitled to his immediate forgiveness. Give Ron and Hermione equal consideration. If you’re brushing off Hermione’s actions but condemning Ron for the slightest mistake, I am sure to hate it.

Okay, uh, so, those aren’t really tropes. Those are more just, guidelines I presume.

Oh, yeah, a trope that annoys me! Ron saying “you’re mine”, “my Hermione” and stuff, and Hermione just swoons and says “yours” and shiz. Ok, once in a while, why not. Once in a while. BUTT. I WANT HERMIONE TO SAY IT TOO. “Mine”, “my Ron!” and Ron swoons and says “yours, absolutely yours”. DO IT YOU COWARDS. FUCKING TAKE THOSE GENDER ROLES AND PUNCH’EM IN THE FACE.

Oh, right, while we’re on the subject of gender roles! Dad!Ron is everything. SingleParent!Ron is mwaaah. Stay-at-home-Dad!Ron is ALKZLDSJDLQSKLFJ <3. AnimalLover!Ron is HHHHNNNGG. Remember, the small gestures, the tiniest, softest acts Ron does (helping Harry get dressed when his arm is deboned, giving Dobby his brand-new sweater, praising Ginny, Luna and Neville when they escaped Umbridge), those are often those unremarkable, unmistakeably kind and sweet actions that tell us who Ron really is at his core: not a guy who’d want power at all costs, not a guy who’d give it all for ambition, not a guy who sees people as possessions, but someone kind who wants to make others happy.

Ok, I was also asked for AUs, so, uh, pretty much every AU is game as long as Ron gets treated with respect? I mean I don’t really care for Mafia!AUs or such but if you can find a way to fit good Romione then go for it I guess. Royalty AU, yeah why not but I often see Ron being made a prince while Hermione is a poor wee servant girl and like. Uuum, we’re talking about the same characters here? Hermione the highly educated girl who keeps on walking over everyone’s toes and loudly talking about how things should be done and is definitely Nouveau Riche, Ron who is a country boy who lives on a farm and is lost in the constant shuffle of his brothers, you think she should be the peasant and he should be the royal? Whaddafack? Oh, and all the “Hermione is a Muggle, Ron is a wizard” AUs that start this way BUTT! Suddenly... Hermione... turns out... to be (wait for it!)... A WITCH! And a super powerful super talented very good one too!!!... yeah ok, yawn. It’s quite scary, actually, how often I’ve seen that plotline, but in the rare cases when it’s Muggle!Ron and Witch!Hermione, Ron never ever EVER (I mean, seriously, NEVER EVER) turns out to have been a wizard, not even a mediocre one, all along. No, when Ron is made a Muggle for the sake of AU he stays a Muggle. But when Hermione is made a Muggle she has to turn out TO HAVE BEEN A WITCH ALL ALONG OMYGAH. I can count on one hand the number of Mugglemione/Wizardron fics that actually stick to their Mugglemione premise till the end - and usually they’re one-shots. (Also I don’t mean “Ron mistakes Hermione for a Muggle because he meets her in the Muggle world and assumes he must hide his magic from her, oh wait she was actually a witch!” fics, I mean genuinely “Hermione has been raised a Muggle her whole life, never had weird things happen to her her whole life ever, then Ron comes in and is a wizard and he does magic and Hermione wonders what it’d be like to be a witch and oh surprise! Don’t worry Hermione, you won’t have to feel not-special or mundane for long, here comes the plot contrivance to tell you you really were in fact the specialest of them all!!” fics.) Fairytale!AU is cool. Very good. But honestly I like to see them swapped around. Ron cursed by a nasty fae to be a Beast and Hermione stumbling upon him? Neat, especially if you don’t go the boring route of “oh let’s just rehash the Disney/the original book with different names and call it a day”. But Hermione cursed by an asshole fae for, let’s say, not sharing books, turning into a Beast, and Ron stumbling upon her as she’s trying to survive in the woods (and not doing a very good job of it)? Yes, brava, chief’s kiss. Rapunzel AU where Hermione’s bushy hair turns into the most impractical, most suffocating improvised ladder ever for Ron? Hilarious. Rapunzel AU where Ron has A GIANT EFFING PONYTAIL OF THE GODS and is screaming “ow ow ow” as Hermione makes her way up to his window cringing and saying “sorry! sorry! sorry! (damn his hair smells good)” on every step? Equally hilarious. Go! Be creative! Please I beg of you

Creature!fics! Oh my god there’s not enough of those, at least that aren’t focused on a bullshit pairing! Soulmate AUs! Give me everything! I’ll even take A/B/O if you insist on making it Romione! That’s how far I’ve fallen from human decency I’ll take anything just give me some good Ron content please I beg of you (Ah and to those that are going to say “Alpha Ron Omega Hermione :)))” well yes, but actually no. “Beta Ron Beta Hermione”? “Beta Ron Alpha Hermione”? “Omega Ron Alpha Hermione”??? HELL YEAH NOW WE’RE TALKIN)

Oh dear god I’m still not finished and I haven’t gone through everything someone stop me.

AND NOW BE CAREFUL CHILDREN, BELOW WILL BE SMUT.

Okay I don’t know if it qualifies as a trope, but. But. A more realistic depiction of Ron is usually what I’m after. All those fanfics that have Ron be “the sexy experienced one ;)))” ravishing “naive virginal Hermione ;))” is just UGH. We spent all the 2000-2010 period having fics like this, mind adding a bit of EQUALITY to the mix???

It’s just... I hate it okay? So many fics read like they’re just projection, writers who are essentially making Ron their big strong sex toy stud who's so attentive and sweet and cherishing, and so it does indirectly ends up as "servant Ron is so devoted to his goddess Hermione, providing pleasure to her while she doesn’t have to lift a finger”. The Dom!SexGod!Ron thing honestly depresses me... Since it's Ron taking care of Hermione, AGAIN. Like, he spends his WHOLE LIFE doing that already. Can we give him a break for once?

In the endI feel that it's less "Romione smut" and more "self-inserting into Hermione smut". In "real" Romione smut I think Ron and Hermione would switch roles according to what they feel like. And honestly I ALWAYS picture Ron being super nervous during Dom stuff, like he spanks her once then immediately he goes "oh my god are you okay?? did that hurt, do you want to stop?", things like that. I cannot imagine it happening any other way. XD Ron is just... too caring, too sensitive to do stuff like hard BDSM and that kind of thing in my opinion. He’s too much of a caretaker. I understand if it’s your kink and you’re perfectly free to project and write the fic you want, I’m not the fun police, but it’s just... I don’t think that’s really what Ron would be like. I just want MORE realistic Ron.

Also I’m trying really really hard to not point fingers here but WHY is it that it’s always “Ron growled” while it’s always “Hermione whimpered” or “Hermione moaned”? Like... you know it’s okay for a man to moan or whimper in pleasure too, right?  You know Ron isn’t 110% muscles and testosterone? You know Hermione is allowed to be fierce too? Hermione can 100% “growl” and be dominant and pin Ron to the wall and reduce him to a puddle of goo if you’re brave enough?

(Honestly how sexy would Ron think that is? The woman he loves is half his size yet can pin him down and ravish him. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG RON HAS WANTED TO BE RAVISHED AND CHERISHED DO YOU KNOW HE’S BEEN WANTING THIS ALL HIS LIFE)

Oooo-kay, so that’s... mostly it, I reckon. Oh also Ron has a gigantic penisraise kink (and a great penis too, but mostly a praise kink). That’s canon and that’s all.

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi<3 okay i am finally writing the new kotss chapter, and once again here is a lil contemplative snippet of tumblr-drabble length as a preview for when i write the whole thing in a day or two!😌💜 (mostly bc i am feeling sleepy and sappy this morning about mickey’s growth and just. cannot get over it.)

hope u enjoy<3

--

He fucking loved the dog, okay?

When they were first waiting in that overly-bright room in the dog rescue center (or whatever the fuck it was called) with Ian sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, and Mickey had seen the bundle of fur with its paws hitting the ground, a scrawny puppy with a swollen belly and a protruding ribcage— he’d immediately known he was in trouble.

First, because there was no fucking way that Ian was going to let them leave this place without it, since he practically made heart-eyes the second the puppy stumbled its way over to him— and second, because Mickey was absolutely, totally sure that he was going to fuck this up. Even reading the fucking description on the website on Ian’s phone screen, “comes from a troubled past and needs a loving home,” made something twist in his gut— because how the fuck was Mickey supposed to provide something like that?

Mickey didn’t take care of shit like this, like fragile puppies or babies or anything he could mess up— and he especially didn’t let in anything more than he could handle losing, anything soft and helpless and innocent that he couldn’t let slip between his fingers on his own accord. He’d learned that shit early, when whatever whispers and soft traces of touches on his cheeks were ripped away by the pry of Terry’s calloused hands— when one day, when he was fifteen, he and Mandy and everyone else didn’t have a mom anymore. Losing his mom, losing his family after years on the road, even losing fucking Terry those now months ago; all of that shit compounded and pressed on the walls of his ribcage in a way that Mickey himself didn’t really understand, and apparently was oozing out of him in a fucking dog shelter as he stood there frozen, in the face of a helpless frame on wobbly legs with silky grey fur.

For some reason, even though he and Ian had been talking about the dog in the abstract for days now, something about seeing the dog scared him shitless— because taking care of shit was objectively scary, and Mickey was shit out of practice with it. He’d never been good, comfortable, at holding something fragile in his hands, something that he could mess up in a second with a slip of judgement. Mickey was great at getting shit done, but with something like this— well, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself enough, to not make those split-second choices that Terry made, the ones that left cigarette burns on his sides and snapped his jaw out of place and left him with so many aching wounds that only became more dark and cavernous through the years.

I’m gonna fuck this up.

What if he got too mad and kicked the dog, what if he fed it the wrong shit and it withered away and became more frail than it already was, what if it ran away or got hit by a car or got fucking shot by a stray bullet in a shitty neighborhood? It felt scary to choose to care about something this fragile, to sign up for the loss and the ripping ache that would follow if Mickey overreacted or fucked something up or made a slip-second misstep. In the Milkovich family, loving was a liability— a promise that someone you cared about could get pummeled and bloodied and beaten in front of you, could get handcuffed and dragged upstate for months or years in the blink of an eye. When Mickey was fifteen, scratching “FUCK LOVE” and “STAY THE FUCK OUT” signs on pieces of cardboard with Sharpies he’d stolen from the dollar store, he’d made a promise to himself to harden himself against that weakness— against that loss.

And then, of course, freckle-faced chicken-legged Ian Gallagher showed up at his doorstep anyways.

So he’d let himself love Gallagher—and eventually he’d let himself love Franny after she plopped herself in his lap one day, wearing a princess tiara talking a mile a minute about monster trucks; and he didn’t even mind hanging out with Liam once in a while on those late nights in the Gallagher house, when Ian would be working a double shift and he and Liam flopped on opposite sides of the couch, watching shitty cartoons in a comfortable silence as the glow from the TV screen flickered on their faces.

But none of that felt like a choice—all of those people, those warm bodies to love, just fell into Mickey’s lap; so it wasn’t Mickey’s fault, really, if shit hit the fan. It wasn’t like he made the choice to love them in the first place— it just happened.

But adopting a dog (or having a fucking kid, like he knew Ian wanted)— that was a choice. That was telling something, someone, that you were ready to take care of them; that you were ready to lose everything when they inevitably got taken away, that you were ready to pour all of your fucked-up bullshit into someone and hope that you weren’t the reason why they turned out screwed up. It just seemed like too much; and in the face of the tiny fucking furball that Ian was cooing over as he sat cross-legged, Mickey’s immediate impulse was to keep his distance and tether himself into the linoleum floor miles away.

But of course Ian had done that fucking thing only he had the power to do, and melted whatever iron walls Mickey had soldered into place with a gentle Mick, d’you wanna pet her?— and of course the fucking dog had to nuzzle her goddamn tiny wet nose into Mickey’s hand, and give a too-trusting lick to his palm as she rolled over onto her back, exposing her vulnerable belly even after whatever fucking dog-fight bullshit she’d been through— and immediately Mickey couldn’t couldn’t see a timeline in which they didn’t wrap this fucking mutt up in a soft towel and take her home to the dog bed in their apartment and get her healthy on gourmet fucking dog food from a monogrammed tin bowl.

So even though it drove him fucking crazy that she was so fucking skinny, and the entire first night when she’d slept curled on the bed he kept waking up and googling the best dog foods and exercise regimens and refilling her water bowl at the kitchen sink like an obsessed fucking maniac— he really couldn’t help it.

Against every instinct, he’d chosen to love when he didn’t have to— and he was starting the realize that maybe that shit wasn’t a weakness.

**

“So, I hear you guys’ve got a new mascot.”

Tommy was ambling in the front door, right on the dot of their 2 P.M. opening time, with Kermit skittishly following a few paces behind him.

Ian rolled his eyes from behind the bar when he thought Mickey wasn’t looking (fucking traitor).

“Yeah, I think the whole neighborhood knows by now. Someone’s been a little too eager with the dog photos.”

Which— fuck that. So what if he fucking posted a few pictures of Baz to the mostly-defunct Alibi Facebook page that Kev had given them the login info to, some of which featured Baz wearing Mickey’s sunglasses when they were partway through a walk? Nobody needed to know that Mickey alone was behind that shit— Ian liked taking dog photos too, even though they were never as good as Mickey’s, and mostly just featured the moments Mickey was passed out on the couch with Baz sleeping on his chest.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Ian grinned and turned towards Mickey. “Nothin.’ Just nice to see that you’re growing into the whole dog parent thing. Though it is kind of turning into a stage mom thing.”

Mickey furrowed his brows. “Fuck you. The customers love her. It’s good for business.”

Ian held up his hands in surrender, still smirking—which just cause Mickey to shove him gently in his sternum.

“It’s not my fault Baz is the prettiest pit on the fucking Southside.”

In the corner of the bar, Baz was sitting on her cushion that they’d bought at a boujee pet store down the road, to keep downstairs at the Alibi so they could keep her other dog bed upstairs— and when Tommy and Kermit came into the room her ears immediately lifted, her tail twitching excitedly at the new faces. Tommy just gave a wary side-eyed glance to the dog pillow before plopping himself onto his usual stool, but Kermit nervously crouched beside the cushion and gave Baz’s chin a scratch.

“Ey! Paws off the princess until you drop some money on a beer, Kermit. I didn’t haul myself down to the empty bar on a Monday afternoon to watch you pet my fucking dog.”

Kermit shuffled to his usual seat beside Tommy at the end of the bar. “She’s cute. I didn’t realize pit bulls could be so scrawny.”

Baz was already filling out fast in the few days she’d been living with them; but it was true that she was still small and wiry for her age. Mickey made sure they got some sort of fresh dog food shit from the pet store that they had to keep in the refrigerator (even though Ian insisted kibble was fine, like a fucking cheapskate) to get her strength up, and he also got a bunch of fucking vitamins, like salmon oil and shit to make sure her coat was shiny—and yes, okay, maybe he also bought her a badass collar with spikes on it, and maybe he also dropped money on one of those engraved pet tags in the shape of a skull and crossbones that said “Bazooka Gallagher-Milkovich” on it with the Alibi’s address on it. He couldn’t fucking help it; they had a steady stream of cash coming in from crowded nights, they were planning on doing Ian’s karaoke shit once a month, and Mickey felt like they could afford to spend money on shit like this—like they could afford to do this right. And because of Mickey’s doting, even though Ian had started to take Baz for runs in the morning, it was no secret that she liked Mickey ever-so-slightly more than Ian; when they were laying in bed at night Baz would always hop up and curl into Mickey’s side and leave inches between her and Ian, causing a surprised chuckle to escape Mickey’s lips the first time it happened as he scratched behind her ears. Ian just stared at him, with some sappy fucking smile on his face.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just glad we took her home.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but felt a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And I’m definitely not jealous of a dog right now.”

**

It was later in the evening and the bar was pretty empty, a standard for a Monday night— Mickey had been trying to train Baz to stay on her cushion now that she’d learned how to sit and lay down on command; much to the amusement of Tommy and Kermit, who kept fucking distracting her. If Mickey had his way, he’d train Baz to bark at Kermit whenever he said something stupid (the guy just got on his fucking nerves, what could he say)—but of course Baz had other plans once she realized Kermit was the one of the pair who would pet her, and kept nuzzling her head onto Kermit’s thigh and thumping her tail on the floor.

“I thought pit bulls were supposed to be vicious.”

“Fuck you, Kermit. That’s fucking… dog racist, or some shit.”

Kermit just meekly looked down at his half-empty beer glass, as Ian came in the front door from where he was bringing in the sandwich board from the curb, not expecting any more customers for the night. He reached down to ruffle Baz’s fur along the way.

“How’s our girl doing?”

“Pretty good. Once these assholes get out of here we can called it a night.”

Tommy scoffed at that. “Milkovich, we’re some of your most loyal customers— hell, we’re your only loyal customers. I think we deserve more than insults.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna go drink the day away somewhere else?”

Tommy faltered for a moment, and raised an eyebrow. “Touche.”

“Alright, bozos. Time to pack up. No one else is coming in tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow. Me and Ian have better shit to do.”

Tommy drained the last of his beer, placing a wad of one-dollar bills on the countertop and giving an exaggerated salute. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen.”

When they left the bar and the doors were locked, Ian’s shoulders started to shake with laughter. “Jesus. I never thought I’d be at a point in my life when I’m dependent on the consistent generosity of Tommy and Kermit, but here I am.”

“More like consistent alcoholism.”

Ian smirked, then flopped to sit on a barstool opposite the countertop from Mickey, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you fine taking Baz out? I’m kinda tired, wanna get a start on dinner.”

“Yeah, man. Works for me.”

They’d been living with each other in the Gallagher house for months, sure, but they were still new at doing this— at only accounting for each other’s schedules, at divvying up tasks like walking the dog and cooking dinner and doing fucking dishes rather than just coasting on someone like Debbie getting them by. Things were different now— things were settled and quiet, in a way that still made Mickey like he had to rub his eyes extra hard to clear them in the still, dark mornings in the apartment, like he wasn’t convinced this shit was real.

After dinner they sat cross-legged on their bed, watching a movie on Ian’s old beat-up laptop with Baz sitting between them and chewing on one of her toys that squeaked loudly every few seconds (this one was a stuffed animal in the shape of a police officer, because in Mickey’s own words at the pet store, “ACAB motherfucker”)— and later that night, wrapped in the smell of laundry soap on clean sheets and dog shampoo, Mickey slept easily.

Maybe this was something he could trust himself to hold on to.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Demon Brothers + Hobbies 🏊

Lucifer

what free time

when he does somehow peel himself off of work, he enjoys ballroom dancing

i can just imagine him putting on a vinyl song, holding up his arms and doing the steps to the dance (1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3) and god forbid someone tries to come in during this time because he’d be too embarrassed to be lenient on their punishment

i imagine he’s super into learning other couple dances too like tango and salsa, so when you get together with him count on being his partner!

i bet he also loves teaching other people things-- like genuinely, considering he is the oldest of the seven (his brothers just test him LOL)

incredibly patient when showing you the steps, taking pride in your improvement and growing warm at the thought of you being able to dance with him at the next chance you get

and his weakness???? online shopping on akuzon 

which, when you find out, makes him extremely embarrassed and depending on whether you have the same past time-- you may or may not buy everything on akuzon

on his home screen interaction dialogue, he says something along the lines of “Akuzon is too convenient... it’s easy to buy a lot of things” while blushing

so I’m thinking sometimes when he does take a breather from his workload, he scrolls on akuzon just browsing for things because it’s quick

and ends up putting like 5 things into the cart  that he doesn’t really need

doesn’t always follow through and buy everything, but he definitely has moments where he impulse buys and it’s gone to bite him in the butt when packages arrive in droves and his brothers are like ??? why are there so many things

Mammon

loves music-- both listening and making it!

likes making his own mixtapes and playlists

and when he gets to share it with you, he’s so nervous; but the giddy happiness he feels when you tell him that it’s good is SO worth the wait and time he puts into his music

he’d be happy just having his mixtapes and music to himself but being able to share it with someone makes it a lot sweeter

definitely makes playlists for and about you because sometimes the feelings he can’t put into words he can tell you through music

idk if he has a recording studio in his room, but i think it’d be pretty fitting if there was

probably gets into composing his music, rapping mayhaps??

at some point likes to DJ as well, though he’s not too good as it rn, but he definitely loooooves playing with the sound effects and tracks

all of these things are him being able to express himself-- put a twist on something that already exists or creating something on his own

it gives him a sense of freedom: to express himself and to do whatever he wants as he pleases

pretty well-rounded when it comes to playing instruments

when he puts his mind to it, he can probably learn anything

most likely already knows how to play the guitar and the drums

has a pretty good voice too tbh

Leviathan

swimming!!

he may be a shut-in, but ya boy has ocean decor, can control sea creatures, so it’s only natural he can swim and swim well

doesn’t do it as often since he prefers watching anime/playing games loads more, but he it’s definitely something he enjoys since it feels like his natural place to be 

considering his dream is to be a professional gamer, it’s not far off to say that he finds it his hobby to start off small and be a youtuber, probably posting reviews of games he’s played or even writing out walk-throughs online

actually loves going to concerts and cons

if he was a fan of hatsune miku you BET he’d want to go to her first live concert with her life-sized hologram, waving the glowsticks in unison with the crowd

would definitely go all four days of Anime Expo where he would be SO happy surrounded by people who can love the same things he does with the same passion

loves creating cosplay to go to these cons by hand; impeccable detail and intense dedication into the craft that shows his love for whatever he’s making

kinda shy about wearing it, but if you’re down to wear any of his costumes, he’d absolutely die happy

it’s just too much love for him to handle in one sitting 

and ofc, hobbies include board games, games, DND, all those!!

Satan

asides from reading, loves traveling when he can whenever he can

he invites you out to places because he enjoys discovering new things and experiencing new things and traveling is the perfect way to do all of that all the time

he’d enjoy hiking too-- on trails, through the wilderness, among the wild; just give him a backpack, an explorers hat, maybe a walking stick (just like the ones in the movies) and he’s on his way!

loves going hiking with you because he likes the way your face lights up at new scenery or the wonders of the world

likes that he can share this enjoyment and excitement of discovery with you because it feels like he’s sharing a little bit of himself too

indoor activity is snuggling in the covers and having movie marathons! and now that he has you and all your movies on DVD (lol) he can now enjoy so much more things

and when he finds out about Netflix, he is NOT sleeping for DAYS

“Satan... did you sleep last night?”

“couldn’t. the new season of How to Get Away with Murder came out.”

SLAM POETRY

doesn’t think he’s very good, but definitely likes writing down in his journal and even some scattered words that form a bit of poetry sometimes

really really shy about sharing it, but if you coax him a little, he’d be willing to show you (though you’ll have a hard time convincing him to show you poetry he wrote about you)

people have said, and I agree, cat cafe is definitely something he’d seek out and enjoy; literal dream come true

a house of cats that lucifer can’t ban him from LMAO

Asmodeus

has a very creative mind and deft hands meant for craft (among other things ahem)

as a fashionable person and a trendsetter, he’d love making his own jewelry and clothes, picking out the beads and metalware for the earrings or bracelets and feeling out the cloth and stitches for his outfits

if levi IS into making cosplay, it’d be such a nice way for them to bond together since Levi is pretty good with picking out material too

i like to imagine he enjoys making jewelry for his brothers too:

a stud earring for mammon, maybe convincing him to explore other options and wear other jewelry too

giving his brothers the options of clip on earrings if they wanted to try something temporary, gives satan a golden bracelet, lucifer a silver ring etc

suuuuuper supportive of you if you wanted any type of piercings and would absolutely love it if you wore his jewelry

god he would bedazzle you in all his jewelry and clothes if he could

another hobby is doing yoga!!

good for the body and soul uwu

definitely gives a good reason for any of his flexibility, or maybe it’s because he’s naturally flexible that yoga is calming for him

also loves to invite you to do yoga with him

you’d definitely get a bit steamy doing certain positions with him, but MOST of the time, he does encourage you to stretch, relax, and strengthen your body

Beelzebub

so athletic he could probably play every sport

i agree with the masses: he’d DEFINITELY be good at hockey

basketball too (just imagine Kagami from Kuroko no Basuke)

you know what they say about big hands

big, strong hands, good for crafting that involves a little more strength, but considering he’s a pretty tender and patient guy, is great at sculpting with clay, which extends to pottery as well

just imagine him sitting near a kiln, spinning the clay and using his hands to shape the curve and notches of a pot

considering how many plates and bowls he’s probably eaten, it makes for a good way to replace them HAHA

good at crafting with glass too considering it requires steady hands and strength to spin glass evenly

enjoys a lot of arts and crafts and loves giving them as gifts, especially if they’re made from his own hands

one of the main reasons why he started and likes doing these as a hobby actually

adores the look on you face when you created a glass terrarium for your plants or created glass ornaments dyed with your favorite colors

would definitely be the type of person to put his hands on yours as he teaches you how to shape the clay and have plenty of fun with you watching you try to make glass ornaments with or without success

Belphegor

during his waking hours, he loves to study the stars

loved to watch them in the human world, but without a night sky, he’s content with looking up for constellations in books from the library

if you buy him the cute lamp that lights stars onto the ceiling, he’ll find you so endearing because he’d enjoy lying in bed with you and just looking up at the lights and being in each other’s arms-- imagining the day he gets to do this with you for real, on a picnic blanket, looking up at the moon and stars

i imagine he’d like to doodle too

i say MAINLY doodles because they’re easier like drawing chibis or whatever thinks is amusing and lowkey keeps him awake (though Lucifer doesn’t like it when he draws on the desks)

does sometimes go all out and draw amazingly well, whenever the mood strikes him

when you ask him, he jokingly says you’re his muse; but honestly wouldn’t put it past him to have drawn a portrait of you, awake or asleep, at some point

surprisingly good at sewing-- or at the very least mending rips and tears

i feel like beel has a lot of ripped shirts (...from being, yknow, ripped) so he’s gotten pretty good at simple stitches, which eventually evolved into something more

didn’t start off as a hobby but he did eventually find it soothing to sew and embroider

levi and asmodeus adore his skills and he grumbles, but doesn’t ever say ‘no’ to them when they ask for his help

[miss-choco-chips]

God of you

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30280023

--.--.--.--.--

Scared, aimlessly walking down his own frozen path, he started to feel his heart slowing down. The cold freezing him from the inside was familiar, and it horrified him

(Could anybody see him? Hear his silent cries for help?)

His name was Langa. This storm was his creation. And that was all he knew.

--.--.--.--.--

--.--.--.--.--

When they met for the first time, it was an accident. 

Langa had gotten lost, to be true. His own blizzard out of control, icicles sparing right through whoever was dumb enough to get close, an avalanche of cold, merciless snow burying those who lingered. Pain and death and desolation, and a young, lost boy right in the middle of it all.

Where was he? Who was he? What was he doing here?

(What was he doing to himself? To others?)

Scared, aimlessly walking down his own frozen path, he started to feel his heart slowing down. The cold freezing him from the inside was familiar, and it horrified him

(Could anybody see him? Hear his silent cries for help?)

His name was Langa. This storm was his creation. And that was all he knew.

Then, suddenly, a strange, painful sensation in his hand. He looked behind him, and the bleeding red was like a jab to his eyes, used to only white and light blue.

And it didn’t stop there. Tan skin, bright eyes, colorful robes that covered very little for the unforgiving weather surrounding them. Looking at this person was an entirely new experience, evoking a feeling deep in his chest and down to his stomach that he didn’t know how to name yet. It was scary. It was exciting.

“Jeez, dude. Look at the mess you’re in. Are you okay?”

His hand, his hand, it hurts! But then, as he got used to the feeling (too surprised to snatch it away), he noticed that the stranger’s fingers cradling his hand weren’t trying to provoke damage. It was a soft, mushy sensation. Pins and needles at first, but… enticing, now.

“What… are you doing?”

The other man smiled a bit, tightening his grip. Langa felt an irresistible compulsion to turn around and completely face him, so he did.

(He was confused and didn’t know more than his name, but he still thought it wasn’t like him to deny his impulses.)

“Trying to warm you up”, he replied, fingers rubbing at his palm in soft, circular motions.

Warmth. That was the feeling, in his hand, in his stomach, surrounding his chest. It was… He wasn't sure what it was, yet. But. He liked it?

“Trying being the magic word; you’re freezing,” he followed up with. His smile turned into a worried frown. “Can you even feel my fingers?”

They were all Langa could feel, to be honest. His throat was dry.

“How did you even get here, the closest village is about two hours of walking.”

“I… I don’t know.”

The other looked at him in silence. Seemingly trying to decide on something, he finally sighed and gently tugged on the hand still in his possession.

“Well, come on.” At Langa’s confused stare, he smiled, broader than before, and tugged again. “I can’t exactly leave you here by yourself, now can I. My home is a bit far, but if we can make it there by sundown, my mother will have dinner ready and hopefully we’ll warm you up enough to keep you from death. My name is Reki, by the way.”

“Reki…”, he repeated. It tasted sweet, on his tongue. The warmth in his hand was climbing up his arm, and now he felt it on his cheeks. “I’m… Langa,” that much, he knew. Everything else, he’d have to figure out.

But there, walking behind Reki, cold and warm fingers intertwined, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be scary, the meantime. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Kyan family lived in the village’s outskirts. Owners of a field (a big one, at that), they weren’t doing bad enough that they couldn’t afford to take Langa in.

He learned a few things, staying with them. The feeling of a warm, hearty meal (Mrs Kyan was a very good cook). The sensation of mud between his fingers (as the only man, only Reki worked the fields; as an unpaying guest, Langa helped). The quietness of a night without snow storms (it was always warm, inside the house.)

(But that might be just because of Reki.)

Langa didn’t mind his fleeing memory (questions about who was he and where did he come from seemed to dwindle with every afternoon spent trailing after Reki as he completed his chores), nor the hard work (there was something about this man, Langa couldn’t help but think, that he made everything fun). But the dark looks of worry Mrs Kyan and Reki would get, as winter seemed to get worse and worse, kept him awake at night.

So he tried. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing, only that it seemed to work when the ice covering the Kyan’s crops would get thinner with each passing day, despite the surrounding lands being completely white with thick snow. And he made sure to do the same the following winter, and the one after that.

And with that relief came back Reki’s brilliant smile, growing with each warm meal his sisters finished, with every happy laugh line furrowing his mother’s forehead. It’d only grow brighter as he held Langa’s hand between his and claimed what a good luck charm this weird foreigner was, that ever since they took him in, winter seemed to pass them by and leave them untouched.

Privately, Langa thought there was no one to thank other than Reki himself. Because it was him who unknowingly gave him the tools to morph his strange, almost uncontrollable powers into something malleable and useful.

It was Reki who taught him about warmth, and that was enough to help melt his unforgiving frost.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

His memories eventually returned, but it was too late by then. Too fucking late.

Because when they did come, it was just after war had taken all warmth from him.

Reki was gone.

The… the idea didn’t… Langa just couldn’t…

Reki was gone.

War had come, and he’d been called to fight. As the only man in his family, there was really  no other option. And even when Langa had raged and shook, insides freezing over despite it being summer, demanding he took him with, Reki had stayed firm. As firm as he was when he found a strange man lost in a blizzard and took him home. As firm as he was when the villagers looked at them walking around, pointing at his strange, delicate features, his white skin and blue hair, and spoke of curses and demons. As firm as he was when people noticed his crops remaining healthy throughout the winter and spoke of witchcraft, or blessings, or miracles, and did their damned best to either hurt Langa or steal him for themselves.

The same firmness that made him feel secure and steady despite his blurry past and uncertain future, caused him now such unfathomable despair.

Because Reki was gone. And he hadn’t taken Langa with him.

When warnings about the dangers of war hadn’t been enough to stop him, Reki had played dirty. He spoke about his mother, too old to work the fields, and his sisters, some of them even approaching marriageable age and a little bit too tempting to those seeking to harm young girls, or to take advantage of the Kyan’s prosperous wealth.

Fear made him desperate to go with Reki, but duty forced him to stay. So he did, and he worked the fields in summer, and fixed the roof when it broke during the storm season in autumn, and kept ice off the crops during the harshest days of winter.

And when spring came, so did his memories.

And so did news of Reki’s death.

Reki was gone. And Langa was eternal. 

He was a God, he knew then. A young, lost one, who after straying too far from his realm had gotten stuck in mortal lands. And then, after meeting Reki, he couldn’t leave.

Because a God that forgets themselves and loves a human might not return home as long as their dear heart remains in life.

But now Reki is gone, the warmth he shared with Langa taken with him, far beyond where he’d ever be able to reach.

He was a God. He could blow mountains away with a single breath, destroy villages with the swoop of a hand, could will the cruelty of winter away or force it to stay with scarcely a thought.

But he couldn’t bring his love back, couldn’t keep that heat blaring brightly inside himself. Without Reki’s warm palms protecting the flame, it died off like a candle left outside during a storm.

Langa’s pain, his broken heart, brought fore disasters previously unheard of. Lands freezing so completely, life couldn’t survive there. Winds so cruel and cold they’d cut anyone stupid enough to brave them. The battlegrounds in which Reki’s blood had been spilled were promptly destroyed, the strength of the blizzard he sent there opening the earth below worse than an earthquake. The only place left untouched, after Langa’s rage simmered down into heart wrenching despair, was the Kyan’s household, abandoned  but for himself after their scared inhabitants had decided to migrate away from all the destruction.

Reki was gone, and Langa’s hands (and his heart) were cold again.

He had forgotten just how painfully numbing the chill in his bones was.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Eventually, Langa’s despair became too much for anyone to handle. Life on earth was going to be no more, unless someone stepped up and did something about it.

But there was only one thing that could melt the God of Snow, and Winter, and Cold. A person that was long gone, lost forever.

But what’s forever for a God?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was the God of Dreams and Nightmares that searched in Langa’s memories for his beloved. The God of Youth and Strength the one who built his mortality, piece by frail piece. The God of Spring and Beginnings that breathed life into it. The God of Tricks and Determination who travelled far beyond anyone else’s reach, to steal back the soul needed to tie it all up together.

(Because Langa wouldn’t accept it, unless it was real. It was no good, if it wasn’t this one.)

And so they worked together for the first time ever, resolutely, tirelessly. Until they could softly place this new human (this old being) on Earth and will it to live.

Until one bright August 8th afternoon, thousands of years after his death, Kyan Reki, all of ten seconds after his second birth, opened his eyes and cried.

And all the way across the world, a God heard him. And his heart started beating again, slow but steady. And his love, his never dying love, drove him (eager and willing) away from his Godly lands and into mortal ground again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He didn’t recognize him by looks, but touch. So it wasn’t until hours after their introduction (hours after Langa, itchy mortal skin covering his godly one, had entered that classroom, tired and cold and still so fucking lonlely), when this bright eyed boy had offered him a hand to get back on his feet after falling off his skateboard, that he felt it again.

When their hands touched, the warmth in his fingertips traveled fast and vicious through his arm and shoulders, until finally settling over his chest. Surrounding a heart that was beating wildly, desperate to reach out to its other half.

And Reki, who was mortal but also a little bit more (built by the Gods themselves, from pieces and ashes and stolen remains), gasped in syntony with Langa.

Trying times would come, the presence of a strong God and an existence that wasn’t fully human nor godly drawing the attention of other powerful beings. Beings that, following Langa’s example (curious as to what exactly was tempting enough, to drag one as grand as him down from his frozen throne), donned mortal skins and meddled with their affairs.

Some would try to help, some to harm, others just to observe. It really didn’t matter, to Langa.

Because he had Reki’s hand in his again, his flame now a burning fire in his veins, and he wasn’t going to ever let go. 

[sorenskyhigh]

Heyyy! I saw you take requests! Imagine: werewolfves, vampires, winged humans and other fantasy/mythological creatures exist (Dungen&dragon races maybe?), What would your favorite Karasuno character(s) be? And, already a happy new year! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

Happy New Year!🎉🎆 I think I'm gonna do all of Karasuno bc they all deserve love and I just love all the Haikyuu characters!!!!! And thank you for putting in a request this is my first!!!!!! Wooohoo!!

Karasuno as D&D

(Or what I think they would be)

Daichi Sawamura

When I think of Daichi I think of a very stout, hardy person.

I know he's 176 or so cm but he's very built and in personality and physical build, sturdy

I also see him very hardworking

Daichi seems very dependable but in a chaotic way

Like he really wants to help but he also simultaneously has NO idea what he's doing

But also I can see him loving the world, people, and animals and nature

A protector but maybe a slight loner or the leader of a group, no inbetween

I honestly think he would be either a Dwarf (the only problem I have with this one is is that I don't view Daichi as a materialistic person like a Dwarf to want gold everything and whatnot) or a Firebolg

I feel either of these could fit him since they are very hardworking and sturdy people. But I lean toward firebolgs more since they are kinda calmer natural people if that makes sense??????

Daichi by no means is a calm and just no worries kind of guy but, I feel like he does have a slow and steady wins the race

Daichi is wise and strong and could live a calm and natural life like a Firebolg

Living with the animals and helping them but also living with a tribe of his people

Koushi Sugawara

I look at Suga as a very loving person that in his own chaotic way tries to help everybody

A mom friend if you will

I also see him getting close with few people a being very ride or die

He also seems a bit like a home body, like he enjoys staying home and being comfortable

Thats why I chose either a Gnome or Hafling

Gnomes are of a tight knit community and are very enthusiastic about life. Learning and building what they can

Building things to help their community and ending the day with a well earned drink with friends and family

Haflings love home comforts

Sitting by the fire and reading a good book

Doing some gardening and whatnot

But some travel and learn and grow intellectually

I think either of these would suit Suga

I can't stop imagining him as a Gnome with little goggles as he works on something small and metal with gears or him sitting in little Hafling attire or some pjs by a fire with some mead in one hand and a good book in the other

Asahi Azumane

I view Asahi as one of my personal favorite tropes of really big and scary but actually a sweet, bumbling mess/really small and adorable but could actually tortures you in a million different ways

Asahi is such a gentle giant but can get serious when he needs to

I also see him as someone very natural and loves nature/animals

That's why I picked either Triton or Genasi (the only thing about Genasi is they're super confident and Asahi very much is not)

Triton are water folk and outsiders (people think Asahi is scary and unapproachable)

They also have good relations with giant seahorses, Hippocampi, and sea lions

Can you imagine Asahi riding a Hippocampus with his gorgeous hair flowing in the waves of the water 😳 muah *chefs kiss* majestic

Anyways 😆

I also see him as a Genasi because they're kinda mysterious people with such a strong connection to nature and elemental energies

But I think he would specifically be an Earth Genasi bc they don't tend to make rash and are superior in strength and solid power

Yū Nishinoya

The little adorable ball of thunderous chaos

Noya seems like someone who loves to cause chaos but NEVER hurt anyone

He wants to have a good time but most people can't quite handle his version of a good time

Thats why I chose Satyr for Noya

Satyrs have the loose construct of a civilization and the wild urges of animals and beasts

Noya is a very independent person but will stick to very particular people

Satyrs are similar

They also view everyone as either a body to dance with, poor soul the mess with, or a sober mind to get absolutely hammered with

Ryūnoske Tanaka

Ryū is just such an awesome character to me

He is the real ride or die never gonna give up on you kind of person

I am not throwing any hate onto the other second years IN THE SLIGHTEST but Ryū did stay the whole time

And yet he seems, to me, to constantly need to prove his self worth

This is why I think he would be either a Human or a Lizardman

Humans are a young race and feel like, in their short lives they need to prove themselves

This drive causes them to be adaptable innovators and pioneers

Bu~ut I also think he would be good among the Lizardfolk

They have their own set of personal rules that they live by that aren't exactly conventional to most other races

Also they can be very food driven who isn't tho

Chikara Ennoshita, Hisashi Kinnoshita, Kazuhito Narita

All three give off similar vibes to me (not just cause they're background characters)

All three feel pretty chill and laid back but like their hardworkers once they have the right motivation

The three of them seem passive as well

Doing what they're told without much question but also like severe outsiders (I know they close themselves off from the others on purpose a bit bc they left and feel guilty)

So I chose Changelings for these three

Changelings are generally harmless, passive beings without interest in other races political affairs

But bc of this most others find them not trustworthy

They kind of don't have their own culture and just slip into other societies

I feel like these three did this with the volleyball team bc they didn't show them ever having some kind grand dream or ambitions

They just kind of float along with certain people they're comfortable with

Tobio Kageyama

Kageyama is a very independent character at heart

It's not that he WANTS to be a lonely necessarily, I feel, but that he wants to prove himself so much and constantly that he pushes people away

Even after he learned about relying on people and what it means to be a team

He stills feels like he should be able to do it himself

I feel like there is an ever constant duality in him

That's why I think he'd be a Half Elf

Human/elf mixes never really belong anywhere bc they either age faster than there elven peers or watch as their human loved ones age and die off much faster than themselves

This is why Half elf/humans keep to themselves

But for Kageyama, I feel if he had never met Hinata, Daichi, Suga, Ryū, or any of them, he would've isolated himself on accident from everyone

Shoyo Hinata

Shoyo is very impulsive but does extremely well with others

He is definitely social and NEEDS to have other people to watch his back

He has shown to be aggressive and super competitive with other players

But he forms strong bonds with those he really cares about

I feel like he would be, specifically a Longtooth Shifter

These shifters specifically are aggressive towards others they are not close to

But are deeply invested in those they have chosen to share their time with

They also are Lupine/dog based beings

And Shoyo definitely has a very dog like personality

They also are more pack oriented than other shifters

They have teamwork and group fluidity

Kei Tsukishima

Tsukishima a very stereotypical character but written in THE BEST WAY

He's that stereotype of antagonist to ally or prude outcast to reliable friend

This was caused by the circumstances of him finding out the situation with his brother

So he decided that no one could be trusted with Yamaguchi as an exception

Elf or Tiefling, did you really expect anything else? 😜

Elven people are very reserved a set themselves apart most of the time from other races, generally thinking of them as inferior or untrustworthy to be around the knowledge Elven people possess

Like Tsukishima they think themselves above other beings with a few that choose to live with with humans

Tieflings are forced away from other races

Because of a past sin that has changed them to look slightly different from others, they are shunned

I relate what happened when Tieflings became a different bloodline of humans to what happened between Kei and his older brother Akiteru

Tsukishimas rejection of companionship is something he does himself, but it is a form of mistrust towards others to not lie to him like he once was

Both Elven and Tieflings are very intelligent in their own differing ways

Elven are very well read and prestigious

Tieflings are good at slight of hand and swindling others bc of the rough cards they've been dealt in life

Tadashi Yamaguchi

Tadashi is a very different person than from what people make him out to be

Everybody makes him out to be an uwu ooga booga baby child that needs protecting

But he's not

That's not to say he doesn't have a large, warm and welcoming heart but he's NOT weak by any means

He's strong and he eventually becomes independent from Tsukishima and doesn't have to be codependent

Tadashi Yamaguchi is an amazing hardworker that is learning about the world and is trying to better himself slowly day by day

But there is the soft, kind and helpful side of him that would just do anything for a struggling stranger

That's why I chose either a Tortle or Kobold

I see him being maybe a Tortles that lives a simple life filled with schedules and living a very ritualistic life

They live simply and are very personable beings

But there's also Kobolds who are dragon like creatures that are INWARDLY aggressive but are industrious beings

They hate larger beings as they're short but will show respect if need to but would show backhanded and passive aggressive ways to show their displeasure

They also don't like direct confrontation and would rather entrapt another creature or being than directly fight them

They are also cunning and have a knack for plan making with which they share through out their entire tribe

Kiyoko Shimizu

I see Kiyoko as a very dependable person but also very independent and very strong and strong willed

Basically a feminine icon, honestly

She can do just about everything but seemingly has her own agenda

You're very lucky if her agenda should happen to align with you and your goals because she is an indestructible force not to be dealt with lightly

And yet, she is above all else a women

Feminine, beautiful, and incredibly amazing (as all women are)

I chose Aasimar for Kiyoko

Aasimar are beings that are often descendants of celestial or higher beings

They generally hold good morals and are justice deliverers

They generally serve a guardians of law that strike at evil, lead by example, and dish out justice where it is needed

They are cautious of others and sometimes misunderstood as they did what they do what they believed to be right

Aasimars are also extremely empathetic and are often times hurt by the prejudice they suffer in early years as many don't like what they don't understand

Hitoka Yachi

Yachi IS NOT THE SOFT, DEFENSLESS, CRYBABY EVERYBODY MAKES HER OUT TO BE

Yachi is shy and nervous but that is only bc she was accidentally persuaded into an intimidating world of giants

And for a short and petite framed girlt hat is TERRIFYING at first

But Yachi stepped up to the plate and batted away everyone's shit expectations for her because she rose to become an amazing manager for the team

She became independent from her mother's harsh ideas of her and showed her how powerful she can be

She may be small but she is truly mighty

This is why I picked Centaurs for her

Centaurs are the swiftest out of the humanoids and build peaceful communities

They hunt what and where they wish, as they generally move after a few years in one place, move

They highly value personal choice and individuality among their tribes

They also love and worship nature, many wanting to devote themselves to a higher power and/or become druids

They generally bear no ill will towards anyone unless the opposers strike first

Thank you @popcorntime-doodles for giving me my first request I hope you like this and I hope I did a good job

Again this is just my opinion and how I see the characters and the many races of D&D

Also again I do request I have a character masterlist in my bio ❤

@multifandombrainrot @kneecapstealingalien @akabxne @jiheonity @weareallhumans123 @smallmangi @canadian-crow @just-jellyfish @immiamarais @i-need-coffee-now-pls @foreveryoung050 @kuroos-world @luminasapphire @silverfire6 @shadowsbutdead @ghostexhibit @simpfornishinoya @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @japoga

[farouchelyoptimistic]

Hyunji: Rekindle

Part 1

"So, you're telling me, I should move to another agency? I still don't get it." Yea Ji leans back on her seat as she tries to wrap her head around what the CEO of the company she's under is trying to tell her.

She fully understood what they were saying, but what she wanted to understand was why. She had been under this company for nearly ten years, ever since she had started her career in the business. She knew everyone from the first floor up to the last floor up top. And everyone knew her inside and out. The familiar staff around her was considered family.

And now, at the near end of her contract, instead of talking about renewal, they were talking to her about transferring to another company, a company that hasn't even been established yet.

"It's not like we want you to move, Yea Ji-ah. But their offer is great for you and you'd surely benefit from it a lot. They were formal enough to invite you by contacting us first, and I personally appreciate it." Her boss starts, leaning over the table with his hands clasped together.

"We've been taking care of you for so long, and we would love to do so for some more. But they're offering you something we couldn't get you ourselves. You're like my daughter, and I want the best for you. Even if it means letting you go. Gold Medalist will be established January next year, it's new but it has massive foundations and connections. They're also co-producing a drama under TVN, and they would want you to be the lead if ever you join them. I've heard about the script, Yea Ji-ah. It's going to send you into a breakthrough, one you've been waiting for. This is good. It's hard to let you go, but this is what's best for you. And, after the drama, if they don't treat you half as much as we do, come back to me. We'll have you back in a heartbeat. "

She almost wanted to cry at her boss' words. How could someone, totally unrelated to you, treat you with so much care. She thought about it for a few minutes, silent as she sat in her chair buried in her thoughts.

She had trusted them for so long, and they had never lead her to anything that was bad for her. If they were so sure about this, then there was no reason she shouldn't.

The pen felt heavy in her hand when she signed the exit contract. This was it. She was cutting ties with the company that had handled her for so long. Adding to that, leaving the people that surrounded and took care of her felt nothing more than melancholic. It felt like saying goodbye to her family.

But she believed that it wasn't the end. They were still going to see each other at some point, treat each other as long time friends. They have already carved out a space for them in her heart, and it was theirs forever.

She spent the remaining months of the year traveling and staying at home with her dogs. Somehow, she enjoyed her unemployment. She was basically jobless, not forever, but she tried to enjoy it as much as she can.

Her schedule was usually demanding and draining, sometimes sucking the life out of her. But she also enjoyed the rush, and the thrill and even the sleepless nights and days. More to it, she enjoyed mastering her craft, improving her skills, and developing her prowess. And most especially, she enjoyed putting a smile on her fans' faces. That was the most important thing.

Funny how she never even considered acting as a choice before. She went to a different country to study and finished a totally different degree. When she came home, it came as a surprise also to her when she started working as an actress. Destiny, probably.

Acting was not her choice, acting chose her. Good thing she had a natural knack for it, born with the gift of excellence in anything she dived into. She was a natural-born actor, exemplary in the craft that had grown on her. She had learned to love it.

She was fairly underrated. Mainly because she had started later than everyone else. Compared to others whom everyone saw grow up in their screens, she was still seen as a fresh face, shadowing her magnificent talent.

The awards and all the recognition meant nothing to her though. It was merely unimportant. She wasn't in the game for fame, she was in it because she enjoyed playing. Strengthening her skills, bettering her capabilities. That's what was important for her. Improving, getting better. She wasn't someone who settled for less and provided for less. She wanted to be better, not only for herself but also for her co-actors and the people who are looking up at her.

She was happy with her career already, but the breakthrough her old boss talked about made her feel a little excited. Who doesn't want a breakthrough? She's read the script for the drama they were offering her and it gave her goosebumps. It was going to be a challenging character, but it was complexly marvelous. She always loved a challenge, and this one was a challenge she was willing to take.

That's what she thought about as she walked through the unfamiliar halls of her new company. It was a new environment she needed to get used to.

It was a new journey, she thought. And she'll make sure it was a journey worth traveling.

Signing the contract was quick. The new people that were meant to take care of her seemed kind, and they all welcomed her with warmth. She almost felt like they were family now, a new family.

Just as she makes her way to leave the conference hall, the door opens, sending everyone turning their head to one direction.

What came in after was something she never expected. Someone, rather. Her feet were stuck on the ground, heart rate gradually raising, hammering against the walls of her chest.

"Annyeonghaseyo!" The familiar voice filled the silence.

She hadn't noticed that she was holding her breath until she felt her chest ache from the lack of oxygen. This was what he did, not only to her, but to everyone. He took people's breath away. His presence replacing the air in the lungs.

When he locks his eyes with hers, her breath falters out in a shaky blow.

Those eyes.

"Kim Soo Hyun!" Her new boss exasperates, a loud laugh following as he welcomed him with a hug. She could only stare, watching them exchange hugs and greetings. She swallowed an invisible lump in her throat because just like her, his eyes never left hers.

"Yea Ji-ah, I'm sure you know our Soo Hyun-ah here." The CEO's voice thunders inside the room as he gently pulls Soo Hyun with him, walking towards Yea Ji who was statued in her spot.

She summons all the strength and might from within her and clears her throat lightly. She forces out a smile, nodding her head politely.

"Sunbae-nim." She eyes him for a spilt second, nodding once more.

It almost takes him aback. Sunbae-nim. Oddly, the way she addressed him bothered him. It had been five years since she first called him that, the memory crystal clear in his mind. He could never forget the first time he heard her voice.

What he didn't expect was how she's back to calling him that. It had been embedded in his mind the way she used to call him Soo Hyun Oppa. How it felt warm and comforting whenever she did, how it brought a certain degree of serenity. But now, it felt like they were meeting once again for the first time. Back to square one. Total strangers. The barren coldness in her voice made him feel empty.

He forces out his own smile, though reluctant. He nods his head, unable to look away from her.

"I heard you two worked together a few years ago." Both of them nod in unison. The memory of the ad they shot a few years ago flood their memories. The first time they met.

"De. Just for a quick ad." It was Soo Hyun who decided to confirm. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Well, if you accept the role, Yea Ji-ah, you guys would be working again."

"What do you mean?" Finally, Yea Ji found her voice.

"Well, he's the male lead of the drama we're offering you. If you choose to accept it, then you guys would be the main leads. So, I really hope you accept it, Yea Ji-ah. Both of you look so good together." Their boss nods his head as he looks at them back and forth.

She could only nod. She was totally taken aback by the information poured over her. Work together, both of them. Again. If only someone else knew about what happened the last time they worked together.

After a few more small talks, she finally managed to excuse herself. Her new boss bids his farewell with a warm fatherly hug, wishing her good luck and anoother triumphant welcome. She only looks at the man behind him, slightly nodding her head before she slides past the long table and walks out the door.

She releases a breath once she was out. She knew it wasn't impossible to run into him at some point. They were revolving in the same world, same business. It was inevitable. But she successfully managed to work without having to cross paths with him for so long, that when she met him today, totally unprepared and overwhelmed, she felt a slight rattle in her stomach.

And now, she was signed in the same agency with him, and may or may not work with him too. It felt like a train was rushing towards her in full gear, ready to slam against her out of her wits.

She was barely ten steps away from the door when someone suddenly grabs her hand. She immediately turns around, the shock making her jolt on her feet.

"Yea Ji. . . . ssi."

She stammered at the sight before her. Kim Soo Hyun, holding her wrist, so gentle and warm. His eyes were fixed on her, watching her as she looks down on his hand against her skin.

He immediately lets go, wary of the rationality of his impulsive action. He swallows an invisible lump, placing the hand he once had on her to the back of his nape. He suddenly felt warmth creep up to his cheeks, shy. He felt flustered with her presence and the way her eyes pierced through his.

There was something new in the way her orbs glowed. It was different from the ones that were blanketed with sullen shyness and sweetness. It was still there alright, but now there was something new. Confidence, a lot of them.

It made him weak in the knees. Flustered. Swivet. Now, he felt like he couldn't look her straight in the eyes. He can't even bring himself talk clearly.

"Uhm, " He lets out a breath. "Yea Ji-ssi. Do you want to go grab something to drink? They serve good coffee at the cafeteria." He tries to hold her gaze, but it was so intense he felt like he needed to look away.

He needed to look away to stop himself from advancing into something that might just freak her out. And that's the last thing he wants, freak her out.

Coffee. She almost wanted to chuckle. It also started with a cup of coffee. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip, thinking it through.

"You know, for old time's sake?" His anxiety was growing as he anticipated her answer. He was slowly trying to ready himself for whatever her answer is, slightly terrified if she said no.

She let's out a breath. For old time's sake. There was no reason to deny an old friend, acquaintance rather, a cup of coffee to share. It was just coffee. Well it was what she thought a few years ago too. Just coffee.

This time though, it's just going to be coffee. It had to be.

When she nods her head and releases a small smile, he almost wanted to jump up and down, fist the air like he did the first time she agreed to have coffee with him.

Shoving the fireworks of feelings erupting in him to the back of his head, he smiles. Stepping aside to lead her the way. She took cautious steps beside him, the fat obvious distance between them is failed to be unnoticed. But he doesn't push. He doesn't speak. He tries to bask in the silence between them, it wasn't as comforting as it was before, but it was with her, so he'll take it.

"Here." He enthusiastically pushes the glass door open, letting her enter first. Immediately, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee fills her nose, making her smile. She loved coffee. It never failed to comfort her in any way.

He found himself significantly jumpy, yet careful. He runs pass her, pulling a chair for her. He smiles, eyeing her shyly as she courteously nods, sitting down as he gently pushes it back.

He basically runs to the counter, ordering two cups of iced coffee. Watching her from behind, made him stop in his tracks. Her black silky hair cascaded down her back, sparkling under the sunlight that seeped through the glass walls.

Just as he remembered her, she sat with her back straight, her broad shoulders flat and hands clasped together on her thighs. She was anxious. She was like that the first time he had coffee with her.

And for some reason, it pulled out the melancholy in him.

He smiled through it as he carefully slides the cup of coffee towards her. He eyes her for a second as he took a seat, looking down immediately. She mumbled a soft 'thank you', her low voice sending a calm chill down the pit of his stomach.

His foot continued to tap against the tiled floor, his eyes fixed on his cup, his fingers holding it tight. He was nervous. Yet, he was excited.

Letting out a breath, he finally looks at her fully. Her light make up accentuated her features, her smooth glass skin glowing. She was beautiful, she has always been. And like she did the first time he saw her, she took his breath away.

He couldn't help but smile.

"How have you been?" He bites his bottom lip, anticipating her response.

She smiles. She's been trying to hold it in for a while, but she couldn't help it anymore. She smiles.

"I've been doing well. I guess you have too. I've heard you just got discharged from the military. Congratulations." She tells him with genuine sincerity, looking straight into his beautiful brown orbs.

He smiles, nodding his head. He had a scarcity of words. When he heard about her joining the company, he had thought of a million things he could say to her. Now that she was merely less than a meter away from him, he had nothing. He was enticed by her presence.

He didn't have this problem before, because whenever he had nothing to say, he would listen. He would sit in front of her, listening to her talk. She has the most beautiful, most attractive voice. And she loved to talked.

She talked endlessly whenever she was with people she was comfortable with, and he used to bask in the serenity and the calm that her voice brought. Her silence made him weary, has she lost the comfort she once felt for him long ago?

"It's nice to see you. It's been a few years since. . . . we" Broke up?

"Went our separate ways." She finished his sentence for him. She knew he had thought about saying they 'broke up' but they didn't.

It wasn't considered a breakup when they weren't anything, to begin with. They had just decided not to proceed with anything and went separate ways. It was complicated, but it was a mutual decision. Both agreed upon.

What happened to them was like fireworks. Sudden, beautiful and electrifying, yet short lived. It was a beauty not meant to last.

"Anyways, welcome to the company. I hope you consider taking the role, it would be nice to work with each other again. I would love to work with you." He says, hoping she feels the same way. It was true, he wanted to work with her. He had secretly watched all her movies, all her dramas, even the variety shows she was in.

She was a gem in the industry, and he hated how underrated she was. He saw how marvelous of an actress she is, and as an actor, he would love to work with someone with such dynamics.

It was just a bonus that it was her as well.

"I'll think about it. It would be an honor to work with you too, Sunbae-nim." She says, reluctantly nodding her head. There's so much to think about. So much to consider. But she was enticed by the complexity of the role that it would be so hard to let go of the thought of playing it.

As much as she would want to deny it, acting alongside him is inviting. He was a seasoned actor, talented and marvelous in his own right. The opportunity is one of a kind.

"Yea Ji-ah." The informality surprised her, making her stare. Making her heart make a small flip inside her chest.

"We were friends. We shouldn't be too formal. We are friends. Let's be friends? I-I want to be your friend. Yea Ji-ah." His voice almost started to tremble.

He was aware of how much she's changed. Evolved. She was already intimidating back then, now she was more than that. He almost felt like she was out of his league. And it slightly terrified him.

His breath falters when she pushes her chair back, fishing her phone to read a message. She stands up and politely nods her head.

He stares at her in bewilderment, slowly pushing himself up. His heart suddenly raced and slammed. Was she rejecting his offer of being friends?

He was about to say something, anything. But he doesn't get the chance because she smiles at him. Small but genuine.

"See you around, Soo Hyun Oppa."

He lets out a breath. A breath of relief as he watches her turn around and walk away. Dumbfounded, slightly, but he releases a triumphant smile.

The universe had been fairly cruel to them, but maybe it wasn't entirely. Sometimes the world breaks things apart so they could grow individually, so that when it's time to bring them back together, they would form an unbreakable beautiful whole.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

TATMILB, CHAPTER 3

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 3: Penelope tries to bond with Alex during movie night; he and Lydia bring the family’s donations to Goodwill. Schneider returns from vacation and confronts Penelope. She panics.

While Schneider was away with Nikki over the weekend, Penelope splurged on a trip to the movies--luring Alex with the promise of food he didn’t have to sneak in.

She was trying to focus on silver linings instead of her anxieties about Elena, and the upsides included her new availability for Alex. Twice as much parent to go around could only lead to more bonding, right?

He had lobbied for an R-rated comedy, which she was definitely not willing to pay for. On her own, she would’ve headed right for the newest Bradley Cooper drama, but no amount of chocolate could convince Alex to sit through that.

So they compromised on an action movie--which would have the added benefit of covering up the sound of her soda later. Agreeing to buy concessions for Alex didn’t make her a different person. Her discount snacks were better than their overpriced junk, anyway.

He grinned at her over his bucket of popcorn while they waited for the lights to go down, and she considered her bribery a success. See, she could be the cool mom. Even if she had Raisinets in her cargo pants.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still miss Max?”

Where did that come from? The question hurt, mostly because it was so unexpected. With Max exiting her life right before Lydia’s stroke, neither Alex or Elena had mentioned him much in the last year. They’d all had other things on their minds.

She let the pain pass by before she answered.

“Yes, Papito, I still do. It’s hard to let go of people you love. Sometimes, a part of you misses them even after you’ve moved on.”

He nodded, sipping his soda.

“Do you think you’ll start dating again anytime soon?”

That question was even more out of character for her son, whose world had been so often self-centered since he first came into it.

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?”

“I was just wondering.”

”Well, I’m having fun the way things are. You and me, catching a movie on a Friday night, mother and son time with Elena away. Why would I want to date when I could be doing this?”

She grabbed a handful of popcorn and caught the way he cringed. Or flinched. Whatever it was, there was guilt there. Her mom radar went up.

“Alex, what is it? Is something going on?”

“It’s nothing!” He assured her in a rush. “It’s just...I kind of--did have a date.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You wanted to go out together, so I rain checked it with Chloe for next weekend. But I mean, let’s be real, Mom. This can’t last forever. I’ll go off to college too, or modeling school, whatever, and then who will you hang out with?”

The trailers started playing, just in time, letting her wallow until the movie started.

Penelope couldn’t keep the sadness off her face as she watched Alex settle in with his snacks. He was growing up so fast on her. Too fast. And Elena was practically out of the house already.

She didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone, but hearing that concern from her teenage son? Ouch. So much for being the cool mom.

Now Penelope was glad that they’d picked an action flick. She was ready to watch some stuff blow up.

****

Alex emerged from his room the next morning waving his phone at her.

“Mom, that was the third text I’ve gotten from Elena since she left reminding us to take that stuff to Goodwill.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Penelope replied. 

She was almost out the door, but her son had the luxury of sleeping in on Saturdays until baseball season started. He was taking full advantage of it.

“Seriously, she woke me up--and I need my beauty rest. She’s not gonna stop bugging me until you drop it off.”

“Alex...” Penelope shrugged into her coat, kissing her Mami on the cheek in thanks for the quick cafecito she had substituted for breakfast. “It’s all boxed up, we finished it before she left; it’ll get there.”

“I’m just saying, she’s gonna start texting you next, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy the lectures any more than I do.”

“Well, I’ve got plans with Jill today--and I’m about to be late. Mami?” She raised hopeful eyebrows in Lydia’s direction.

“Hmm?”

“Can you go with Alex to the Goodwill donation dropoff? I won’t be back until dinner.”

“Si, Lupita. Go have fun with your friend, we will handle it.” 

“Great. Thanks. The things I’m getting rid of are in my room, next to the closet.”

“You know, this would be much easier if Schneider had not taken his girlfriend on a vacation.” Lydia frowned. “He could carry much bigger boxes than myself or Papito.”

“Hey, I can lift heavy stuff,” Alex protested. 

“Yes, but you should not have to! You should save your strength for wooing your future wife.” Lydia patted his face.

“Luckily for us--and Alex’s future wife--none of the boxes are all that heavy,” Penelope said. “And there aren’t too many of them. Now, I really have to go. I’ll see you both tonight.”

****

Absorbed in work and school, Penelope didn’t give their Goodwill donations another thought until Tuesday, on her way out of the hospital. The two boxes she’d packed in her room were gone, concluding that chore.

Or so she thought.

Penelope was  digging in her purse for her keys when she saw Schneider striding her way. “Oh, hey! I thought you were gonna be off the grid with Nikki for another couple of days.”

“No, that trip is kind of...over. That whole thing is kind of over.” 

“Again?”

Hurt crossed Schneider’s face before he buried it. He was really good at that, she’d learned--mostly from moments when she was the one hurting him. Way to go, Penelope. 

“I mean, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Eh, I will be. Eventually. It’s not like we were engaged, right?”

Schneider shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, though. Nikki may have dumped me for one of the jock dads at St. Bibiana’s, but that doesn’t mean I think you and I should blur the lines on the rebound.”

She stared at the creased blue paper he held up as he continued.

“Not that I’m not flattered, obviously. You’re the most badass woman I know, an amazing mom, anybody would be lucky to--”

Penelope’s field of vision narrowed to the letter in his hand, a letter that she definitely recognized. She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She could only hear her heart pounding in her ears, making her wonder if she was about to pass out there, next to her car.

How did Schneider get that? What was happening right now?

“I found it slipped under my door when I got home. And honestly, Pen, if you needed to tell me this stuff, you could have just done it in person--we’ve had enough late night chats that nothing’s really off limits at this point.”

She took a deep breath, trying to focus on a technique that worked for her during panic attacks and after nightmares. Since the moment felt like an actual waking nightmare, slowly counting backwards didn’t help much. He was still there. Waiting.

“Schneider, that letter--it’s not what it looks like, I swear. I don’t want to date you. At all. I wrote it because...”

She was still trying to find the words to explain something much too complicated for a parking lot when she saw motion past Schneider’s left shoulder.

Max was exiting the hospital and heading straight for them, holding a bright white envelope in one hand.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was coming over to say.

Which was good, because Penelope’s mind was not exactly in top condition. It was already a five-alarm fire up in there, and every part of her was screaming I cannot deal with this.

In the fraction of a second she had to consider her options, Penelope acknowledged that the mature response would be to face it now--to explain the situation to her ex-boyfriend and her best friend at the same time.

Or, she decided, as she felt both men’s eyes on her and her palms started to sweat...she could do literally anything else.

Going with her first impulse, Penelope reached up and grabbed Schneider’s shirt with both hands, pulling him toward her. Before Max could get one step closer, she kissed Schneider like her life depended on it.

She couldn’t have explained to anybody why kissing Schneider seemed like a better idea than letting Max think she was still pining over him. Right then, she just needed Max to stay back. To leave them alone. 

Did it work? She wondered. She couldn’t check without breaking off the kiss, but the silence seemed promising.

Of course, the quiet only emphasized the situation she was now in. She was kissing Schneider. She was in a hospital parking lot, a few yards away from her ex-boyfriend, kissing Schneider. 

Pressed against her, Schneider didn’t react. Not after the initial moment, or several more. He let her kiss him, but he didn’t kiss back. And that was fine, Penelope told herself. That was better.

“Thank you,” she said when she let Schneider go. He stood there, flushed and baffled, looking at her like he had never seen her before. 

Though confusion was written all over his face, Schneider nodded. “You’re...welcome?”

Penelope wasn’t willing to push her luck any further. She couldn’t avoid the embarrassment forever, but at least she had managed to postpone it until she got home. She needed time to figure this out.

Without another word, and without glancing back to where Max was probably still holding his own letter, she got into her car and drove home.

****

Her reprieve was brief, not that she’d expected any different. She caught the aroma of dinner as soon as she walked through the door, and barely had time to praise her Mami’s cooking before Schneider arrived.

“Oh, good, Schneider, you are home from your vacación,” Lydia said. “I made enough for you to join us, just in case.”

“Hey,” Alex added from his spot at the table. “You’re back early, right?”

“Yeah, Nikki and I broke up.”

Schneider offered that explanation to Alex, but he was looking at Penelope. She shook her head in response, hoping the tiny movement would go unnoticed by the others. Hoping that Schneider would understand. Not now. Not in front of the family. Please.

His shoulders tensed where he stood, like her silent plea was a blow he had to absorb. But when he finally looked away from her, smiling at Lydia and taking his seat, Penelope knew he would let it go for now. “So you can see why I needed a nice, comforting family dinner this evening.”

“Oh, pobrecito Schneider,” Lydia said, patting his back before she sat down across from him. “You can do better.”

They were waiting for her to settle into her place at the table, but Penelope couldn’t join them until she knew for sure. She headed for her bedroom, straight to the spot where her army duffel would be. 

Or where it used to be.

“Mami?” She returned to the table and sat, trying to sound calm. “What happened to my duffel bag?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, pouring herself some rum as though her daughter’s world wasn’t spinning out of control in front of her. “Where did you see it last?”

“I keep it in my closet,” Penelope snapped back. “It’s been there for years. Where did I see it last,” she added in a mutter.

“You do not need to take that tone with me,” her Mami scolded her. “I did not touch your ratty old bag. I do not know where it is.”

“Well, I know I didn’t move it, and it’s gone. So can anybody explain to me how it up and disappeared?”

Lydia thought it over. “I suppose...if it was in your closet...it might be at the Goodwill.”

She clamped down even harder on her temper. “Why would it be at the Goodwill?” 

“As I said, Lupita, I have done nothing wrong. But your boxes were next to the closet. So if it is missing, that may be why.”

“It was just an old duffel bag, right, Mom?” Alex was halfway through his dinner, but he couldn’t ignore the tension in the room. “You can get a new one.”

“Not everything’s replaceable, Alex. That old bag had a lot of memories attached.” She picked up her fork and tried to focus on her food while her mind reeled. It also had five incredibly personal love letters tucked into the inside pocket. Letters she’d never wanted their subjects to read.

Now Max knew she never got over him, and wanted him back. God, after more than a year, how pathetic he must think she was. 

And that didn’t begin to address the other letters. How long until those came back to haunt her, too? What about the man currently watching her while he ate, pretending that he wasn’t? How could she possibly explain any of this to Schneider?

She stabbed at her salad, lost in thought until she was done eating. 

Worried she might snap at him next, even Schneider was quiet during the meal. The scraping of utensils against dishes filled the silence until Penelope cleared her plate and went to her bedroom.

Schneider swallowed loudly after Penelope left, but didn’t offer up his usual attempts to paper over the unease that lingered behind her. 

Instead it was Lydia who broke the silence. “Lupe hasn’t used any of her old bags in years. I do not understand why she is so upset about this one.”

“Maybe she’s going through menopause,” Alex offered up.

Schneider’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate. 

Lydia shook her head. “No, that can’t be the problem, Papito. She is far too young.”

“It can start between the ages of 40 and 50,” Alex argued, ignoring the way Schneider was gaping at him. “Mom’s just inside the window.”

“This is very inappropriate talk,” Lydia scolded him, standing up to clear the rest of the plates.

“Elena wouldn’t stop lecturing me about it, okay? She wanted me to be ready when it happened in case she was moved out already. You know how she never shuts up.”

Schneider left Alex sitting alone to go find Penelope--normally she would be back out with the family after dinner, but if she was going to try this hard to avoid him, she wasn’t giving him much choice. 

With Lydia at the sink and Alex’s face in his phone already, Schneider doubted the others would even notice him gone. 

He tapped lightly on her door. “Penelope?” 

The long silence wasn’t comforting, but eventually he heard a quiet “Come in” and let himself in. 

“Hey,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “You know, Max seemed just as confused as me, back at the hospital. He just sort of stared at me, once you drove off, for the longest five seconds in history, and then he left without saying anything.”

“Yeah?” Penelope was looking at the floor more than him, but he could tell she was listening.

“Yeah. I think he wanted to talk to you too. Which made me even more confused. What’s going on?”

A brisk rap on the door sounded before it opened--not giving either of them time to respond. 

“Mami.”

“It’s time for dessert,” Lydia told them. “What are you two doing in here?”

Penelope ignored the gossipy insinuation in her tone--she knew better than anyone that it was her Mami’s way of hoping something interesting was about to happen, whether it actually was or not. “We were talking about dessert, actually. I was asking Schneider if he wanted to go with me to get ice cream.”

She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would follow her lead. “What do you say? Dessert run?”

Whatever he was thinking, or feeling, Schneider kept it to himself. “Sure, Pen. Sounds good. My treat.”

“Oh, Schneider, you are such a generous man,” Lydia told him with a hand on his arm--laying it on a little thick even by her usual standards. 

“Mami, calm down. It’s ice cream, not new shoes.”

“Lydia, did you want new shoes?” Schneider perked up, and Penelope grabbed him by the arm to pull him past her mom before they could get any ideas. 

“She doesn’t need you to buy her shoes. Let’s go.”

Penelope rushed him to the door with one hand on his back, nudging him forward as she opened it.

She was in such a hurry, she almost shoved him directly into Ben--who was standing on the other side, hand raised to knock. 

“Oh, hey, Penelope. Is this a bad time?”

[tundrainafrica]

1) about the social class headcanon that you write, that’s actually makes sense, but isn’t exactly what i meant. According to Isayama, Hange when she was young looked very much like Eren in the way of acting (even more with the titans), and (this part I am not sure if it is true) she lost her family at the fall of the maria wall. Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way

2) (anger and rebellion), well, we know Eren was depressed (it only got worse with time) but what about Hange? seems to me she learned to hide her feelings so it wouldn't be between her and her job. We don't know her past, she probably didn't grow up in a violent place like Levi but it doesn't mean that her life was all joy and happiness you know.. 

---------------------------------------------   MY ANSWER   --------------------------------------

Hello Anon, 

Thank you again for your ask! Woops, sorry if I didn’t answer your  questions. I answered those two asks in a row so I ended up just building off of the last one. 

I don’t think it was ever confirmed if Hange lost her family at the fall of Wall Maria. I did some research and couldn’t find stuff on my end. If you could send me some on that, I’d love to read it.

I am aware at least that no one’s life is all joy or happiness. I think there is a difference though with growing up without ever having to consider your next meal and living in abject poverty. 

There are people who have had time to be a child and there are people who haven’t. So I think to a degree, Hange had more of a childhood than Levi. And a normal childhood is incredibly important for every single child. The early years are crucial because that’s where children build wonder, curiosity. That’s one of the psychological reasons behind children’s books. They make everything so fantastical to heighten the senses of the children. Because in fact, children only get full control of their senses later in life. Before they are even able to make sense of everything, everything is just a huge bubble or conglomeration of senses. That’s why children are so perceptive, imaginative and quick to learn things like languages. Their view of the world isn’t set yet by the rules and norms of the society they live in. 

That’s why asking children questions and exposing them to so many different things at a young age and providing for them is important. Children need to see the wonder of the world while not having to consider their next meal, their danger. A childhood is generally where curiosity and imaginative thinking is most easily built. 

And that’s why I say, that Hange somehow is a lot more curious, sees a lot more wonder than Levi. Similar to Erwin, he had a pretty comfortable existence, he went to a good school, he had a father who engaged him and that’s why Erwin was able to think beyond what was within the walls. Same for both Eren and Armin. Eren had his father who probably fed him some info and Armin had his parents books and his parents who were curious enough to build that hot air balloon

And, I know about that scene in the manga that explained that it was the lightness of the titan head that got Hange curious about titans. I think kicking the titan head was a good catalyst for titan research but I suspect that even before that, Hange was curious about the outside world. Hange’s interest extends beyond titans for sure because it was confirmed by Isayama already that Hange would have been studying botany outside the walls if it wasn’t for the titans. Also, the way Hange is handling the new world where she’s constantly on top of developments in Paradis etc, also shows that titans are only one facet of her scientist personality.

Besides, if she didn’t have that wonder and curiosity about the outside world, I don’t think she would have done something as ridiculous as join the survey corps in the first place.

“Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way”

Although depression can manifest itself in anger, similar to Eren’s probably, there’s no exact formula for how humans react to anything. It’s incredibly complex that the field of psychology (or any other field) is just a conglomerate of people and a bunch of reports and the people trying to make sense of all the results of the experiments they made. This is particularly true in the social sciences where any findings won’t point to anything as exact as those in the pure sciences.  

Anger and rebellion could also stem from someone having grown up in a rich family with strict rules on how to go about this and that is generally how it fits into my head canon. Someone can have a good relationship with their family while at the same time have qualms about how they were raised. To be honest, I’m probably the same way. I grew up in a relatively well off family, I was a generally angry teenager but I admittedly have a generally positive relationship with my family. 

Okay to tackle the issue on depression

 <Trigger Warning on Depression>

I don’t want to be quick as to define any action or any emotional analysis as depression. Depression is an incredibly complex subject, there are biological causes, life events and it manifests itself in so many different ways. So many different ways in fact, that people are rarely diagnosed with just depression. There are always diagnoses which accompany it. 

To be honest, I went through a period in time also where I was considering ending it. I was sleeping a lot. I quit everything. I went straight home from school. Barely talked to anyone.  I talked to a counselor about it, then a therapist but it took them months before they wanted to give the diagnosis of depression. I actually never pushed through with the sessions after a while, got busy with school and eventually, this cleared up on its own weirdly. I’ll never know actually if I was depressed during that period in time. Was I going through very stressful life events, definitely. Were my answers to the tests they were giving me alarming then? Probably. They could have pointed to depression. But I generally got past it and am generally a happier person now without much intervention. So was it even considered depression? I’ll never know. Some people who are probably much stronger than me needed interventions to stay functional. They needed to make radical life decisions, like move out from their parents place, change their courses to keep going. They needed meds to keep functioning everyday. 

Depression is a complex and  terrifying condition and manifests itself in so many different ways. In fact, talking to some friends who really watched their life spiral down because of this shitty condition. Towards the later stages of depression, they weren’t even feeling anything anymore. 

Could Hange have been experiencing symptoms similar to depression? Definitely. General teenage anger and hormones can manifest as symptoms of depression. Grief can manifest with symptoms of  depression. Loss can manifest with symptoms of depression. Trauma can manifest with symptoms of depression. Hange will have experienced a lot of things that 

Note : Also Eren’s depression? I honestly think given the experiences he had, inheriting the founding titan and inheriting centuries worth of trauma, I think his experience is beyond fathomable for the average person so I chalk that as completely something else. 

Okay, to answer your question, Hange was probably not in the best mental state late into Season 4. 

Of course she wasn’t, she lost Moblit, she lost Erwin and suddenly she was pulled into a place with so much responsibility. And she was probably suffering from a case of survivor’s guilt on top of that.

Hiding emotions comes down a lot to discipline, self control and the general strength of your inhibitions.. Emotions are manageable like I could say, I have successfully stopped myself many times from punching someone in the face. Someone’s ability to stop themselves from acting on impulses, someone’s ability to manage their inhibitions is dependent on numerous factors like home environment etc. It is also dependent on the context of that moment where someone has to choose between punching someone in the face or walking away, on the context of that moment where people choose between lying in bed and letting the day go by and standing up and plastering a smile on their face. I guess, that’s the point I wanted to make in a previous post. If Hange did grow up rich, she probably found it a little easier, to plaster a smile on her face because not ever having to experience desperation at an early age, coming to the realization that you’ve had it easier than a lot of people growing up, can do that to people. 

But yes, towards the end of season 4, she was going through something. She was struggling, despite her smiling face. But really, in attack on titan, who is happy post chapter 122? Like I cannot think of a single person in that manga who is happy at that point. Please tell me if you can think of anyone. 

Would I chalk up Hange’s true feelings to depression?

Manifestations of depression maybe? Post traumatic stress? Stress with little time to process anything or rest? Exhaustion? Not being in the best mental state? Maybe.

I wouldn’t use the word depression definitely. 

Depression is an incredibly heavy world with so many implications. In fact, it’s a medical condition which needs to be diagnosed thus, I wouldn’t use that at all to describe anyone’s situation unless they have had multiple consultations with multiple doctors and have been laid a final diagnosis. 

I hope this clears things up.

Thank you for the ask again. I appreciate it :D

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 10

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 5.8K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Steven's done with moping around and waiting for something to change.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

A big thank you to my friend Ganaroth for helping me with edits for this chapter!

_

Chapter 10: Beta, Part 1

Morning light filters through the loft’s window and glints off his phone screen, obscuring the selfie Connie just sent from his view. Though at some deep cognitive level Steven’s a bit annoyed at this interference, outwardly he moves on automatic with barely a feather ruffled, rolling onto his back atop the rumpled bedspread. He holds his phone above his face— right over his nose— humming as he admires the photo. She’s grinning, her long hair pinned back with clips. Her eyes shimmer with every bit of joy a smile that wide suggests. True happiness. Before he knows it he feels his cheeks lift, a smile of his own stretching across his face to mirror hers.

The rest of the photo is just as beautiful.

Beyond the railing his friend leans on is a breathtaking view of wild grasses, ferns, and delicate purple flowers, the patches of greenery half submerged in a lake of water as far as one can imagine. A large flock of birds float on the water’s surface some distance away. Behind her, the setting sun bathes the sky in streaks of orange and pink, the warmth of the ambient light kissing her brown skin. It looks like something straight out of a storybook.

Either that, or a dream. A good dream, the kind that lingers in your mind afterward like the sweet scent of wild strawberries.

oh, that’s so pretty!! he types in response, fingers flying over the keys. where is this?

Just as he hits send, though, another message from her pushes through and answers his question:

Morning!!! :DD Soooo rn we’re exploring this really cool wetlands area! Service is pretty terrible out here btw, so I probably can’t talk for a bit. Fingers crossed my texts send!

His heart grows warm as he reads her words. Even if it’s not as good as seeing her face to face, he’s still so happy they can communicate while she’s on her trip. She looks like she’s having so much fun. He wastes no time in sending a whole cluster of hearts, stars, and smiley faces back at her.

But as he watches his message deliver, the text’s bubble shifting from grey to blue, he finds that airy, bubbly feeling he got looking at Connie’s photo pulling away from him like sand and driftwood on the receding tides. Somehow, all these emoticon smiles just ring hollow right now.

Four days have passed since the disaster everyone’s come to refer to in whispers as ‘the forge incident.’ Not many, not enough for the terrifying memory of what happened down there amidst the blackened stone and fire to stop seeping into his dreams, but thankfully enough that the Gems have stopped coddling and babying him about it. (A sweet relief, that, and one of the many reasons he’s not planning on telling any of them about his recent nightmares. Goodness knows they already have enough to worry about.) Four days. That’s it. The thought of just how little time that is leaves him dizzy. Four days since he was almost shattered by someone he thought was a friend. Four days since two halves fused back into a whole, since his gem rotated to expose the facets that before, his mo... that Rose had hid from her friends… from the whole world. Four days since discovering that his pupils apparently morph into pink rimmed diamonds now whenever he taps into his powers. (And wasn’t that just another wallop to the gut for everyone, Pearl especially). Four days without Garnet, without stability, without blissful protection from the truth: that Rose wasn’t truly the quartz she claimed she was.

Steven still doesn’t understand the how or the why of that.

Truth be told, it’s not a topic he’s ready to dwell on yet.

He shifts to sit up on his bed. Somewhere on the distant shore beyond the window’s glass Amethyst is shouting, her rhythmic, guttural battle cries loud enough that they’re audible from inside the house. There’s no end to this on the radar. For the past few days she’s done nothing but seclude herself away and drill, pushing her hard light body to the brink through endless strength and agility exercises. In the light of recent difficulties no one’s addressed it with her yet, but it’s no secret this is partly related to her insecurities about Jasper.  

Meanwhile, Ruby (who finally returned home on her own yesterday morning) sits on the floor right below him, handling the controller of his Grintendo console with an iron grip that would serve as a genuine contender in Beach City’s underground arm wrestling league. He set her up on his brand new copy of Fight Fighters just an hour or so ago. As far as he knows, she’s enjoying it. It’s sorta hard to tell. She certainly hasn’t given up yet, (she’s way too stubborn for that), but it seems like the levels are difficult enough that they’re giving her a run for her money. Glancing away from his phone, he watches her fuss with the first boss fight for a moment. The Gem’s face is— if it’s possible— even redder than usual as she mashes the proper buttons for her character’s combo attack, muttering in syllables spoken too low for him to intelligibly understand.

A few minutes pass. Ruby sneaks in one solid strike, but eventually the boss overtakes her by merit of their sheer size alone, and her character is defeated. Game Over flashes on the screen in bold orange striped letters.

“Aw, phooey! You were really close that time,” he says.

Truth be told, her playing style is kinda… a huge mess, but there’s no encouraging way to say that. Plus, it’s not like it’s a lie to say she got closer to beating this fight than the last time she attempted it. Maybe she’ll figure it out with a few more rounds.

Ruby drops the controller in her lap, and glances back at him. “Heh. Thanks, Steven,” she responds with a weak smile. “At least I finally got in a hit, right?”

“Yeah, you’re getting better every round! You still up for more? We can play tag team together, if you want.”

“Eh, I’m done for today. I’m no good at these kinda games. At least, not without...“

A wave of melancholy envelops her in a flash, suffocating the last glints of light within her burgundy red irises. Inhaling deeply, she lifts her gemless hand, holding it to her chest tight as she mourns what used to be. Steven doesn’t move to say anything, letting her have her silent moment. Reassurance can be nice, but as he’s learned recently, the sad truth is that sometimes not every problem can be solved with a few well-thought words.

Amethyst’s distant shouts interrupt the somber atmosphere like a jackhammer to concrete, yanking them both solidly back into reality. Ruby’s brow creases.

“Is she still at it out there?” she says, frowning as she glances at the door. “She looked exhausted when she came outta her room this morning.”

Steven frowns, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Yeah. I tried to ask if she wanted to play Topple Tower with me last night, but I’m pretty sure she was ignoring me. I hope she’s okay…”

Sighing, she slumps back against the large swath of comforter that dangles halfway off his mattress, letting her compact, coily hair smush against its surface. “Oh, she’s not. No one in this dang house is. I just wish Sapphire would come back already,” she says, voice cracking as she speaks her name. “She’s been in there for so long now.”

Prompted by her heartbroken words, he glances at the temple door across the house, seeing both Pearl and Sapphire’s gems alight on the central star. Pearl is simply taking a rest in solitude this morning, but as for the blue Gem… she hasn’t shown her face since she disappeared into her room four days ago. It’s beginning to become mighty worrying. And besides, he really misses her. They barely get a chance to hang out beyond the rare emergency. His lip juts out in a small pout.

It’s so hard to move on with life when you’re constantly being reminded of what once was.

Eventually, Ruby decides she’s had enough challenge for the morning and passes command of the controller to him. Figuring he’s got nothing better to do today, he shrugs and starts a new save file. Half an hour or so passes as he grinds through levels like a pro. Now sitting next to him, bundled like a burrito in one of his blankets, the red Gem watches his gameplay with starry eyes, enraptured. He double jabs at the D-pad to call upon a secret ability, fingers blazing across the buttons with practiced fluency. Just as he’s about to hit the finishing blow on Professor Doom, the beach house door slams open. On sheer impulse he flings the controller to free his hands, his whole body seizing upon the sound. Hard plastic clatters against the floor. The world tints pink.

Ruby jolts to attention from inside his bubble, struggling to unwind herself from the blanket's grasp. “Whoa, what’s—“

“Hey, nerds,” Amethyst mumbles, dragging herself and her uncoiled whip through the doorway. The length of the weapon drags along the floorboards like a dejected dog’s tail. Her tired, hardened pupils meet his no doubt diamond-shaped ones, shades of confusion flickering across her expression as she visibly takes note of the shimmering sphere he’s subconsciously enveloped himself in. “Geez, it’s just me.”

“I- I know,” he croaks, flushing red, “s-sorry, I know. You spooked me, ‘s all.”

She squints, and dissipates her whip. “Dude, I didn’t even do anything.”

“I know... It’s just me being dumb, sorry.”

“You’re not dumb,” Ruby reminds him with a saddened frown, placing her gem adorned hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t respond, instead taking a deep breath and willing the bubble to recede. Once it’s all but disappeared in a shimmering afterimage of hard light, he crawls across the floorboards to retrieve his poor abused controller. Joystick securely within his grip once more, his eyes drift back to his game. Seems he’s in dire health. Not only did his character lose his perfect attack window, but Dr. Doom has healed himself and continued to rail upon him while he remained idle. His heart drops.

“Awww,” he whines, deflating. “I almost had ‘im!”

The temple door slides open, causing both Steven and Ruby to snap to awareness. (For wildly differing reasons of course, but the result is the same.) Amethyst stands beyond the warp pad, about to cross the threshold into solitude once more.

Nooo, don’t leave! his heart cries in silence. You just came back!

This conversation is already the most interaction he’s gotten out of her since their waffle breakfast four days ago. Ever since, she’s hidden herself away to brood and train. He scowls, fingers shifting rhythmically on the casing of his game controller. Gosh, he’s so sick and tired of this. He’s tired of moping, of acting like they can never have a happy moment ever again just because their circumstances are different now. It’s not true. Things can get better! Heck, he’ll make it better! Somehow. Maybe. He just needs to figure out a plan, and soon… before everyone scatters to be on their own again.

Hmm, think, Steven, think think think! What makes Amethyst happy? Destroying trash? She’s been at it all morning already, probably not. Food? Wouldn’t necessarily get her out of the temple.

He eyes a green sock puppet strewn on the floor by his closet. Months-old memories rush through his mind, of wearing a cardboard box on his head, insisting amidst protests that this puppet represented the emerging Cluster.

...Peridot?

They did get along really well at Funland a few weeks back. Hmm. Y’know, that might actually work.

“Hey, Amethyst,” he calls, and sets the controller on his bedspread. She stops halfway through the doorway of her room, motionless, seemingly waiting for him to continue. It almost looks as if she wants him to give her a reason to stay outside. “You, uh- are you done training for today?”

“For now,” she answers in a low voice, rhythmically clenching and unclenching her fists.

“D’ya maybe wanna go visit Lapis and Peridot with me? Get outta the house?”

She turns, lips pursed as she deliberates in depth. After what feels like— to his antsy, impatient soul— an eternity later, she responds with a half-hearted shrug.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Steven grins. He scrambles to his feet and floats off the loft to the ground floor before she can decide otherwise. “Sweet, let’s go right now!” he says, bursting with enthusiasm. After crossing the room in a flash, he takes ahold of Amethyst’s arm and gently leads her up the steps to the warp pad, the other Gem making no obvious signs of dissent. Good. That’s a good sign. The immediate problem sorted, he glances back from whence he came. “Ruby, you want in?”

She’s still tangled within his bedding, but shifts upon mention.

“Nah, I’m good,” she says, rolling on her back under the covers so that she’s peering at them upside down. “If Sapphire finally comes out, I wanna be here for that.”

Steven nods. “Okay! Well, see ya’! We’ll be back sometime later this afternoon.”

“Probably,” Amethyst mutters, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, maybe longer, maybe not. We’ll see! Feel free to play any of my games if you wanna, okay?”

“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ya’ party animal,” the quartz drones, the bite of dull sarcasm seeping into her words.

With a resounding ring the warp activates and whisks them away.

_________

The young half-Gem takes a deep lungful of air as he skips through the grassy countryside, his chest expanding to full capacity. Ah, it feels so good to be outside, and with a change of scenery, at that! He should’ve done this ages ago.

Outside of all the heartache of their recent family crisis, it’s a perfect September day; not too warm and not too blustery. The sky’s almost entirely clear, barring the faint streaks of white softening the horizon's edges. Birds chirp brazenly as they swoop with daring purpose from tree to tree. A few leaves are just beginning to flutter down from their overstuffed boughs. ‘Tis the season! Pretty soon this area will be awash with sprinkles of vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. Gee, he hopes he can convince Amethyst to goof off in the woods with him again this year. They could go leaf sledding! That was the most fun he’d had in ages when they did it last time.

How is Amethyst doing, anyways?

Masking his worried frown, he glances behind. Her lips press in a sour scowl, her non-dominant hand clenched by her side. Barely a heartbeat passes as she reaches to her gem with the other, pulling her whip into existence in a glittering flash of light. Instantaneously, the crystal tips of the three-pronged flail expand into barbed spheres. She mutters to herself as she grips the handle, unsatisfied. He doesn’t understand why, though? She summoned it so fast! Like, under a second for sure. As far as he’s concerned, that’s awesome!

He watches her summon, dissipate, and re-summon her whip three times in a row before he decides it's time to intervene with her spiraling frustration.

“Hey, don’t ya’ wanna take a break from all that for a bit?” he begins with a measure of caution. “You’ve been working super hard lately!”

“I already am taking a break," she says, slashing at a few rocks strewn on the ground as they climb the last rolling hill. “That’s why I’m here with you, right?”

“Well sure, but breaks aren't supposed to be about training, they’re supposed to be about having fun. And visiting Peridot and Lapis should be tons of fun, I promise!”

Amethyst’s eyes narrow at the very thought. “Yeah, ‘cause when I think fun, I think Lapis.”

“Hmm, I wonder what they’re up to lately,” he muses out loud, hand pressed to his chin.

She lets out a dry scoff, allowing her whip to dissipate once more. “Don’t know, don’t care. Let’s just get this over with.”

He frowns. His shoulders drooping a bit at the sight of her almost hostile melancholy, he glances away.

Thankfully, in a well-timed diversion from the worries of her mental state, Lapis and Peridot’s place of settlement comes into full view as they reach the hill’s summit. Steven’s jaw falls ajar, stopping in his tracks at the sight. (Amethyst, who isn’t paying attention to where she’s walking amidst her brooding, almost rams into the back of him.)

“Whoa,” he says, drinking in the new additions. “Look what they did to the barn!”

He’s not sure ‘barn’ is an apt description for it anymore. No, no. Rather, in the weeks since he last saw Lapis and Peridot, this place has transformed into a full-out homestead.

The grain silo that stood nearby has been tilt at an angle and used to enclose the side of the barn Peridot blew a hole in with her epic giant robot. Their smaller than average lake? It’s now fitted with a ladder, along with metal piping to keep the water level high. Stretched taut between the roof of that silo and a funky hodgepodge spire they formed out of old airplane parts is a clothes line, with a number of shirts and towels hanging off it. Admiring the finer details of their set up, if a person could point at an object and conceivably call it junk, they’ve probably found a creative way to make it decorative. Rusty bicycles, old tires, couch cushions, broken deer antlers, you name it. And then that old truck he slept in every night while working on the drill? It now serves as the proud centerpiece of their little home, the cargo bed solidly affixed above the barn’s entrance. He spots the two former Homeworld Gems sitting up there with the TV, shaded from the midmorning glow with a sun bleached umbrella. Whatever they’re watching, they’re transfixed.

Grinning, he peels away from Amethyst and dashes the rest of the way, feeling the faint breeze dance between his curls. Wow wow wow, he’s seriously got like a hundred questions for them, and a hundred missed hugs to make up for!

“Hey, guys!” he calls, once he’s directly below the truck.

Lapis’s browline raises, attention nabbed. It’s enough to peel her eyes away from the television (is that Camp Pining Hearts he hears??) to meet his. A subtle but undoubtedly caring smile rushes across her face as she sprouts wings and drops from the truck’s bed to greet him.

“Steven! It's so good to see y- oof!”

He nearly barrels her over with his hug, clutching to her like a lone life raft in the midst of the open sea. Surprised and still quite rigid in her affections, her arms awkwardly move to pat his back in return. It’s a silent embrace on his part, yet simultaneously manages to say more than words alone ever could. At this point he’s not even sure words could do justice to the complex emotions that are all jumbled in his head. Only a few short weeks have passed since they hung out together. So why then does he feel like he hasn’t seen either of them in years?

“Steven, Amethyst!” Peridot chimes eagerly, dropping down from the truck and striding out into the sun. She screeches to a halt in front of them, expression pressing inwards in that uniquely inquisitive Peridot-like manner as she takes inventory of the scene before her. “Uhm… Is… everything okay?”

He pulls back from the stunned Lapis, and gently wipes at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just really, really happy to see you guys, that’s all!”

“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s only natural to miss the fulfillment of our company,” she says without missing a beat. Turning her gaze to her other visitor, the green Gem balls her hand against her chin. “Amethyst! Something looks different about you…”

She crosses her arms over the white tank top of her new form, her nose scrunching up. “Like what?”

“Have you grown taller since the last time I saw you?”

Amethyst’s eye twitches. An infinitude of silence passes, in which she shoots her a glare sharper than the edges of the crystal studs on her whip. Honestly, being on the receiving end of her weapon might’ve hurt less. Sweat beads at his brow as he watches the situation unfold, yearning with every fiber of his being for a world where he actually feels confident enough to delicately intervene instead of silently standing by as Peridot’s sense of tact veers straight off a cliff.

Behind them, Lapis saves them both and clears her throat.

“O-or… maybe I was mistaken,” the former kindergartener says lowly, flushing with shame. “My apologies.”

There’s a whisper of chill to the air enough to make him shiver as the quartz once more chooses not to respond, and shifts her gaze to her feet. She digs divots into the dirt with her toes, already disengaging from social interaction again, slipping further away with every passing birdsong from the entire purpose of this friendly visit. He presses his lips tight, masking a frown. So far, nothing is going as planned, huh? As big of a dreamer he may be, he can’t say he’s surprised. Nothing in his life has gone to plan since he accidentally slipped on that tree branch inside Lion’s mane. Still, there’s gotta be some way to save this, right?

Come on, Steven, think positive!

Before anyone can quite begin to catch on to his troubled nature, he plasters a manufactured smile on his face. “Wow, you guys are looking good!” he says cheerily. “And I love what you did to the barn!”

“Aww! I know,” she replies, regaining her grin as she glances between him and Lapis. “But wait, wait! You guys have to see the inside!”

And with this declaration, a few magical minutes pass wherein the two of them receive the highest honor of enjoying the Official Barn Grand Tour, presented by the very artists themselves. In a word, it’s a transformative experience. The outside looks amazing, yes, but in his wholehearted opinion the personal touches on the interior decor raises the place’s coziness to the next level. Over the past few weeks, Peridot and Lapis have spent their efforts transforming all the mementos and broken scraps of their lives into art, (or ‘meep-morp,’ as Lapis calls it), displaying the pieces all throughout their shared home. Peridot’s broken audio recorder now rests peacefully on a stand, a sky blue ribbon tied around the fractures at its middle. Touchingly, he learns that Lapis kept the leaf he gave her, delicately propping it upright in a clump of soil. A TV affixed to the ceiling beams with metal cables plays a clip of CPH on repeat. He has a niggling suspicion that the clip she selected represents her lingering trauma about, like... being trapped in a mirror for thousands of years, but according to her it’s merely a fan’s shrine of the show. Still, while discussing books together Connie once told him that all art is subjective and authorial intent is dead, so respectfully he’s sticking to his interpretation. But regardless of its meaning, he’s so, so happy to see her freely making things for herself.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the creative spectrum, Peridot’s green alien plush is floating alongside various hunks of garbage in the hodgepodge aquarium at the side wall. Its slow voyage through the tank is admittedly entrancing, but oh, do those big deep eyes grow more and more unnerving the longer he stares at them. The last straw comes when he watches stuffing slowly drift out of a gaping hole in the fabric at its neck. Subtly cringing, he takes a step back from the glass to go admire something else. Sometimes art isn’t made for everyone, and that’s okay.

It takes a few moments before he makes the proper connections and realizes that the red bow tie Peridot is wearing around her neck used to be that plush’s. Oh… oh geez.

Amethyst, however, doesn’t seem to be buying any of it. In fact, she’s barely cracked a smile since they entered the barn, not even at Peridot and Lapis’ collaborative toilet morp. And who doesn’t laugh at toilets? On any normal day she’d eat that kind of stuff right up.

“This is so stupid,” she mutters, her eyes thin slits as she stares with a frustratingly unreadable expression at the four liquid pillars shooting up out of the bowls.

Disappointment flickers across Lapis’ face like stars on the morning horizon. She quickly releases her iron hold on the water, channeling it into the heart of the tanks. A similar emotion colors Peridot’s features for a moment, and he briefly worries their visit may be cut off short, but after meeting his encouraging glance she shakes it off and promptly begins to move on to the next item of their home tour.

“Alright,” she says, folding her hands behind her back all prim and proper, “I see you're not impressed. But—“

“Hey, you guys!” a familiar voice shouts from the distance, growing closer and closer with each passing moment. “I’m here! I came! Is it too late to join in?”

All four of them whirl around at the interruption.

Peridot squints. “Is that…”

“Ruby?” Lapis finishes, confusion etched across her features with pinpoint precision.

“Ruby!” Steven calls, sliding across the floorboards to meet her at the barn door. “No, you're not late, you’re just in time! Look, look, look—“ He takes her by the hand and whisks her inside, almost sweeping her clear off her feet in the process.

Her mouth falls agape as she drinks in the rustic atmosphere, the air now a good deal lighter thanks to her interruption.

“Whoa… this place looks completely different!”

“I know, right??” he says with an untamable grin. He gestures wildly at all of their unique creations. “It’s art! Isn’t it great? Peridot and Lapis have been showing us all this super cool stuff they’ve made!”

“Yes, I suppose we are pretty great,” the green Gem says, puffing out her chest.

Lapis rolls her eyes in response. No amount of sass can hide the action’s underlying fondness, though. Steven’s no imperceptive fool. She may act pretty aloof at times, but once you get to know her she’s not that hard to read at all. One merely has to pay attention to the subtle shifts in her demeanor. It’s the little things: the incline of her brow, a slight tilt of the head, the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twitch of her lips as she pretends she doesn’t care as much as she does. And then, the more she trusts you, the less tense her posture is and the more she opens up. It makes his heart sing to know that Peridot has seemingly been added to that roster.

“Eh,” she murmurs with the hint of a smile, leaning back against the wall behind her roommate. “I guess we’re okay.”

Amethyst crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she peers down at Ruby. “So, what’s up with you? I thought you said you wanted to mope at the temple.”

She shuffles her feet. “Well…”

“And I thought you and that Sapphire never unfused,” Lapis says, ever so blunt. “Except... for baseball,” she hastily amends. Consumed by a spike of panic, her gaze darts towards the doorway with guarded suspicion. “We don’t have to play baseball again... right?”

“Hmmm… I mean, we could play baseball,” Steven muses, pressing his hand to his jaw.

That’s certainly one way he could encourage Amethyst to enjoy some bonding time with everyone. He has a bunch of fond memories of the last game they played together. Well, okay, so maybe he could’ve done without the ceaseless feeling of dread brought by batting against Homeworld loyalists with unknown intentions, but beggars can’t be choosers. As his first time playing a full game it was still 70% a good time.

Meanwhile, Peridot’s petite frame quivers at the reminder of that day. She grips at her hair, large tufts of yellow poking out from between her fingers.

“Oh my stars, they’re coming back??”

Ruby throws her a bemused side glance. “Uh—“

“Get behind me, Lapis,” she continues, daringly throwing her body in front of her roommate. “I’ll protect us from those Homeworld brutes this time!”

“We’re not playing baseball!” Amethyst cuts in.

His lips curl into a pout. “Aw, but it’d be so much fun!”

She crosses her arms, visibly walling herself off. “Uh, no, it wouldn’t! ‘Sides, there’s no immediate danger, there’s no Homeworld Rubies on our doorstep, so there’s NO reason on this planet I’d play that stupid game again!”

Eyes narrowing with mild exasperation, Lapis nudges her way out from the green Gem’s overprotection. “‘Kay. So, is anyone here actually gonna explain what’s going on, or?”

Nervously rocking on her heels next to him, Ruby rests her hand against her chin.

“Well…”

“Ruby and Sapphire are kinda… taking some time apart?” he delicately explains in her steed, noticing her hesitation. It’s probably something that’s really hard for her to talk about right now, and boy can he relate to that.

“Yeah,” she says in confirmation, kicking her toes against the floor boards. “I didn’t exactly want to, but Sapphy needs her space.”

For all her initial dislike of the fusion Gem, Peridot looks genuinely heartbroken at this revelation. “But… why?” she asks, peering between the three Crystal Gems in wait of further clarification. “Aren’t you two basically inseparable?”

Faint hints of lemon peel and nutmeg linger in the air like silent sentries to their distress. Steven stands in the kitchen with Pearl, Garnet, and his dad, Amethyst lounging on the other side of the counter, and their dirty breakfast dishes still lying stagnant in the sink. Garnet’s kneeling before him. She’s speaking, but he’s so distraught he can’t quite recall what it is she said. His dad’s hand rests on his shoulder, the pressure ever so slightly working to ground him to this moment again. He’s biting back tears, isn’t he? Trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that day. What happened? What changed? Everything’s fixed, yeah? He’s whole again! They were all supposed to be so happy now, and yet… the sight of the morning sun reflecting off the face of Garnet’s visor as she delivers that ill-fated news is the bitter, tangible proof that they’re not.  

“Ruby and Sapphire have decided they want to take some time apart. Indefinitely.”

Amethyst’s expression is colored with hurt. “But… why?”

In the present he stiffens, suddenly polarized by the realization that the path of this conversation has but one destined endpoint. Sooner or later, his friends will hear about what happened to him four days back, what happened to his family, what he learned about his... about Rose. There’s no avoiding this forever. After all, if they don’t learn it from him, they’ll eventually learn it from someone else. And don’t they deserve to know? This affects them too!

But if the recent past has taught him anything, it’s that the truth about Rose Quartz only succeeds in breaking people apart. It stole Garnet away. It shook his relationship with Amethyst and Pearl to the core. It caused them all to argue and fight, back at the fountain and at home. Give it time, and he’s sure the truth will find a way to press fissures in his relationships with Connie and Dad, too. So what happens, then, when Peridot and Lapis find out? In what way will the truth break them?

Just a little while longer, he promises himself. Just one more good day, please, that’s all I want…

“They, um- it’s just a couples thing,” he stammers, chest growing tight. “It’s just for a little bit. Sometimes people need time away from each other, y’know?”

Ruby‘s expression grows tense, sniffing out his white lie from a mile away. “Steven...“

“It’s totally healthy and normal, and not at all a reason for concern!”

“Kinda sounds like we should be concerned,” Lapis mutters. “All of you have been acting weird this whole time, so spill! What’s going on?”

Their words start to become faint and distant in the shadow of his wildly pounding heart, so wondrously human and organic and alive, and yet so endlessly frustrating in its autonomy. Why can’t he hear clearly? What’s up with that awful ringing he can’t get rid of? It’s almost as if he’s listening to everyone ten feet under choppy waters, but they’re all standing right next to him. They’re right there.

The red Gem scratches at her neck, meeting Amethyst's harsh, crystal-studded glance first. Her mouth opens. Still disorientated, Steven misses a good half of it.

“...wants to tell ‘em?” she finishes, waiting dutifully for their responses.

As expected the quartz remains silent on the matter, feigning indifference as she crosses her arms and returns to staring sullenly into the middle distance. Ruby turns to him next. His skin feels downright clammy now, almost as bad as it did when he was almost dyi— NO! Stop! He shakes his head fervently, sweeping his hands horizontal in a signal for her to cut the conversation. He can’t do this. Not now, not today, not ever, he can’t—

Lapis bristles. “Tell us what?”

“Um, nothing, nothing!” he bursts out, clumsy words pouring from his mouth almost quicker than his brain can move to stack them up. “It’s a long story, and we’re all here to have some fun and shoot the breeze, right? Right. ‘Course we are! So we don’t have to talk about that right now, we can talk about it later, and for now we should try to have a good time and enjoy each other’s compa—“

Amethyst slams her foot to the floor so hard the wooden board underneath cracks. Both Steven and Lapis flinch.

“Ughh, you guys! Stop dancing around the headline!” she shouts. “You really wanna know what happened? Steven almost died ‘cause he got his gem busted, and then we found out Rose Quartz was totally a sham and she’s like, Pink Diamond n’ junk, okay?!”

A stunning silence follows this inopportune announcement, in which he swears he can hear his stomach gurgle. On any typical day he'd be thinking about lunch around this time, except at the moment he genuinely almost feels sick to his stomach. Right now he wants nothing more than to turn tail and run, run away from all of this, and yet chained to his fate just as Lonely Blade was destined to his, his legs remain firmly shackled in place. Standing at his side, Peridot blinks in dumbfounded shock.

“What.”

“S-she’s- You’re a DIAMOND??” Lapis shrieks, water wings shooting from her back on impulse.

“Whaaaat?”

_______

Notes: 

The next few chapters will be a bit familiar to y'all, but I'm not doing a beat for beat rehash, I assure you. Events start similarly here because the world external to Steven’s sphere of influence is still operating the same as it does in canon. The ripples haven’t fully spread yet. After this arc, they absolutely will have.

I do have a bonus scene to share soon- set between chapters 9 and 10. I'll likely post that before chapter 11.

Oh, and by the way- the location Connie's visiting is inspired by a real place- the Harike Wetlands in Punjab, India. Apparently India is actually a series of islands in the SU universe...? But I like to believe there’s still a cool wetlands region on one of those islands.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 12: Family Dynamics

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Safe on their home island of Eremita, the hermits need to practice, grow their magic stronger. A day in the life of the illegal guild of hermits includes food- practice- more food- practice- contemplating of life.

---------------------------------------------------

The Order returned to their island, healed by the remaining Asklepions and left with more questions than answers. They know almost nothing more about dark magic, despite fighting it twice now. When they thought husks only appeared around crystals, Danes proved they can move. When they believed they understood why a husk appeared, the monsters just tore apart their theories. 

One thing they did learn from the two experiences is they need more training. More experience, especially against dark magic. The hermits were strong, but the forces of darkness were stronger. But before any of them can take on each other, they first need to take on breakfast.

Which is a challenge in itself. Half of the hermits want to jump right into training, ignoring the guild hall and insistence of TFC. The other half are easily enticed by the scent of food. 

Grian is practically vibrating in his seat, to the point that Iskall has to reach out and press his hand on the blond hair to keep him seated. “Who thought it was a good idea to give him syrup?” 

“It’s not the breakfast, I can’t wait to get back to sparring!” Grian grins, turning to Mumbo. “You ready for another round of quickdraws?” 

Mumbo groans, head falling back and mouth falling open. “Gri, you know I can’t quickdraw my magic circle.” 

“Like, at all, dude.” Iskall hums, picking the skin off an orange. 

“That’s how you’ll get better! Learn by doing!” Grian points out. He knows that Mumbo struggles with his magic- it’s a lot of magic to handle, being a multi-mage. But he’s seen Mumbo’s strength, he sees the potential in his best friend. And only someone as equally powerful as him, like Grian, can take on that power. Once it shows itself. 

Stress walks by, rolling up her sleeves and brushing the rat’s nest from her hair. She sits down next to False, squeaking as the sharp slice of rock against metal cuts into the air. Stress realizes the shining alloy isn’t a plate. “False, haven’t we said before- no weapons on the tables?” 

“It’s no used weapons. This is brand new, just finished forging it last night.” She picks the chakram by the handle in the center, tossing the disk blade across the table to Wels. “Why don’t you give it a try today?” 

Wels laughs, giving the weapon a slice and a spin. “Let’s see Etho dodge this.” 

Etho, hearing his own name, abruptly stands up from his seat and scurries into the nearest shadow, a strip of bacon shoved into his mouth as he pulls up his mask. Doc and BDubs only laugh, divvying up the remains of Etho’s breakfast. 

Under the quiet seats under the massive oak, as old as the island itself, Keralis and Xisuma are studying. Keralis stopped by his family’s bookstore on the mainland, sifting through ancient tomes in hopes of finding something about dark magic. 

“Ugh, why does no one write about dark magic, sheshwammy?” Keralis growls, his thick south Lairyon accent struggling to say Xisuma’s central name. 

“Probably because it’s illegal to practice it, so no one knows anything about it.” Xisuma sets down another book, picking up the egg sandwich he made and taking a frustrated bite. “Though someone obviously does. But we need proof that this is dark magic, written proof.” He knows they can’t stop it themselves- that’s the arcane guard’s job. But after seeing all of Gildara abandoned, and most of the Asklepions killed, the least he can do is this. 

“You really think the pen is mightier than the sword?” False questions, raising an eyebrow. She presses her knife into the sausage patty on her plate, daring Joe to answer.

“I mean, when my pen can make a giant magic sword with fire and lightning, yeah.” Joe grins, pressing his chin to his open palm. A dangerous glint appears behind his glasses, and he uses the other hand to push them up. Sun reflects off the spectacles, making it impossible for False to see anything beyond the smirk and the light- infuriating her. 

“Cleo,” False grabs the pirate by her long coat and dragging her into the conversation. Without the paladin here to back her up, she needed someone else with a way with words. “You get what I’m saying. Tell me your blade there wouldn’t completely destroy Joe in a fight. I mean, all I’d have to do is cut up that journal of yours and your magic is useless!” 

“Well, Joe does have a point. Sure, your forged weapons are the best in the kingdom, and Joe is screwed if he ever has to face you without his magic.” Cleo pauses, watching the two. “But I’m inclined to believe that words should come before violence- which is why anytime Mr. Joe of the Hills here refuses to finish his breakfast, I remind him with my words that I’m going to break his knees before i actually do.” Cleo pulls out her sword, setting the tip on the wood table. 

Joe shoves the last of his pancakes into his mouth, quick to retreat from Cleo. He was asking for trouble with False, but he knows any of the women could easily kick his ass. Even as an S-Class. “Hey False, why don’t we take this debate to the training field, see how mighty the sword is to the pen?” 

“You can’t escape me forever, Joe!” Cleo calls, watching as the two S-Class mages run down the hill and onto the latter half of the island. Their home island, Eremita, was separated into two parts. The southern side of the island lays claim to where the hermits live. An odd mix of towers and forges, ships and caves. It was up to the hermits to chose their own style of household- which created some disunion of the overall complex, but allowed for each member to express themselves. Everyone helped, whether Scar packed stone bricks or False forged iron nails. 

The other half of the island, however, was left mostly untouched. A large field of grass, combed by the salty sea air, dotted with targets and barriers. A dirt circle cuts into the field, where hermits can duel one on one. Beyond the field, a large pond expands like an eye to the face of the island. Caressing the other shore, a dense forest grows on a slow rise of a hill, before stopping at the edge of the cove of a broad, sandy beach. It was a perfect home, a perfect place for an illegal guild to lay claim. 

Training grounds quickly filled with groups and teams, even TFC getting in on strengthening himself. He wasn’t going to let some little rock keep him down for long. “Hey Cub, lets show these guys a thing or two about magic.” 

The two silver haired, bearded men join the others well settled into today’s training. Deep in the forest, a soft explosion can be heard, followed by the giddy laughter as Zedaph leaps from tree to tree. Tango and Impulse struggle to follow him, and the birds diving for their heads don’t help. At the interface between trees and grass, Doc and Jevin have teamed up to amass an army. Objects under the devious control of Doc’s puppeteering magic, violent and unshaken to mimic the husks they fought. Jevin’s slime soldiers add bodies to the battle, flanking Iskall, Ren, and Xisuma. Hiding behind a barrier, Etho is waiting for the sun to reappear and for shadows to return, ducking his head as the chakram whizzes past. Despite his terrifying predicament, he has a coy smile on his face. 

In the field, BDubs is practicing his aim with Scar, shredding apart haybales with their unique magic. Plants grow from one, thorns dug deep into the tightly bound material. The other has been knocked over and crushed by a boulder, Scar cheering his success. And in the center of the dueling ring, Mumbo and Grian stand still as stone. The quietest Grian ever has been. In a flash, as simple as a shift in the wind’s direction, Mumbo rushes to summon his circle. A second later, he’s blown off his feet, Grian grinning with blue embers fading away from his fingers. Mumbo groans, rubbing the dirt stained fabric on his rear. “You couldn’t have given me a few seconds? It’s not like I’d ever win.” 

Grian offers an easy smile, waving Mumbo closer. “Come on, let’s practice the basics again. I know you can do it, friend.” 

The hermits continue into the afternoon, only stopping their training briefly for lunch under the cool relief of the oaken guild hall. Groups disband and reform, training and practicing and learning from each other. Trying to be better, stronger together. So that next time they come face to face with an enemy, or the dark magic, they can win. They will win. 

No guild is quite like the Order of Hermits. Apart from being illegal, they’re a mix of just about every kind of magic. A healing mage like Grian can stand side by side with Cleo’s underworld magic, no set skill required on requested. Varying strengths train side by side, not separated from better or worse. They all have something to learn from each other, even the strongest S-Class can be surprised by the newest mage. And often, Grian is. The magic is just as diverse as the people, the hermits that call Eremita home. 

Training is cut short by a squall, appearing like magic and blowing across the Ashioll sea. Broiling grey clouds engulf the sun, and quickly send the hermits scattering into shelter. Well, most of them. The ZIT trio remained wrestling in the mud, and BDubs couldn’t help but join in. 

Wels returns the chakram to False, a number of other hermits huddled around the blasting heat of False’s outdoor forge, nestled under the stone roof. Stress jumps back as an ember sparks out, nearly catching the trim of her robes. She rubs her exposed arms, the warm material of her fur coat wrapped around her waist. So much for the hot summer day. 

Joe and Cleo have made up, and are plucking books from his library to read as the rain pours down, laughing as they watch Ren skitter away to his home, ears and tail tucked. 

Xisuma sits at a window, looking out across the clouded green sea from his tower. He chose the Ashioll sea for a reason to make this his home. To start a guild here. No one else dared called these waters home. Old magic, magic so wild and arcane that not even the kiplings can control, residing here in these waters. Merchant vessels and battleships avoid the sea, and even the hermits don’t have every island mapped out. Though Grian and Xisuma are working on it. The sea was their safe haven, the island their home. 

Xisuma turns his head, glancing at the white envelope on his desk. The yellow seal bearing a sun remains unbroken. He’s not ready to think about his brother. He knows he could have valuable information, and is likely concerned about him, but he can’t bear to open the letter today. He turns his head back to the storm, watching lightning streak across the sky, smelling the scent of the void left behind by the bolts. He doesn’t need his brother- he has his own family, right here. 

They’ll do this, without Ex.

[chrysalispen]

borealis, prompt #2

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633701/chapters/70569033

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ii. forehead

The calm and the relative hush of the Temple Knights Hospitaliers' infirmary was, Nero Scaeva assumed, intended to grant a sense of peace to its inhabitants and their loved ones. It was a false sense of well-being in his opinion, and one that did nothing for his frayed nerves.

Of all of it, the interminable waiting was the worst. Ever since he was small the concept of patience had ever been a learned trait: easily enough applied to a project with a set deadline, but considerably strained when he had no foreknowledge of an outcome.

His tenth circling pace about the hall led him to peer out the great stone window only to see precisely what he had expected: a Coerthan blizzard that reminded him uncomfortably of home, gray upon gray upon white. Snow fell in a heavy blinding blanket from a sky like lead, and the chill that radiated from the window seemed to sink beneath his flesh to gnaw so deeply into his bones that the woolen Ironworks doublet and the heavy overcoat he wore proved useless against it. His body ached in a dull sort of way, still healing as he was from his injuries, but worry and adrenaline ran so high in him that he barely took notice.

He ran his hands through his hair for the- how many times, in the past four bells? He'd lost count - and glanced at the shut door. No one had quit the room since he had arrived. That Elezen he remembered from the Alliance council had been there, the absurdly pretty Ishgardian lord with blue-black hair like a rook's feathers - he'd been speaking to a stooped man in a white coat in tones solemn and hushed, as though they stood in a cathedral vestibule before an effigy of their stone goddess.

The discussion had been all too brief. In a matter of moments, the chirurgeon hurried back inside and shut the door behind him with a click that seemed thunderous, and it left his taller companion suddenly aware of the Garlean's presence. Those sky-blue eyes bored into his own: a keen stare sharp with instant recognition and distrust for a brace of seconds before it was mitigated with a sort of wary understanding.

It surprised and annoyed Nero, that moment of intense self-consciousness - he had felt so small, and no matter how fleeting the impression, no matter that his own towering sense of pride had ruthlessly crushed it before it could break his resolve, the sensation lingered far past that one instant.

There was little way of knowing how much of his relationship with the eikon-slayer was actually common knowledge, but Ser Aymeric Something-or-other seemed to have been quite well aware of it. And yet anything the man might have had to say to him he had kept to himself. He had been the first to look away, only to quit the corridor entirely, and Nero had been left to his own devices with no company but stone walls and a stone sky and a silent curtain of white.

It was maddening.

(It was torment.)

He placed his hands flat upon ancient granite and mortar and peered through the glass panes, grimacing at the numbing cold. The sensation transported him, for that one disorienting instant, a good twenty years into the past; for that fleeting moment he was his boyhood self once again, bored and impatient and waiting for the storm to subside. Frost rimed the panes like watery lace and his warm breath was a fog bank to shroud what little visibility remained, and through the falling snow, he could see the outline of the great bridge past the city gates. This, Nero knew, was the so-called Steps of Faith. Aurelia and her allies had defended this city from a host of dragons with - among other things - the barbaric siege weaponry that lined the massive rails and towers like iron sentinels.

And unlike the capitol, there was not a scrap of magitek to be found.

The sight broke his momentary immersion. Restlessness reclaimed him once more and on its heels, the urge to save himself gave rise to every pernicious impulse he had like some subtle poison. I do have the option still to simply leave, he thought. Fingertips scraped against stone, digging into the age-worn mortar. Let them sort matters out with the Empire themselves. Be free from this web of absurd obligations.

But a much smaller part of himself, something soft and fragile and still growing, wasn't having it.

You could, it said, but you won't. You already made a promise to Garlond. Hells, to her. No more running.

If he walked out that door simply because his resolve was tested then he might as well take a blade to his throat. That act would be the end of the life he had tenuously begun to build here. He would once more be the ruthless and self-serving creature whose aetherometer he had flung into the depths of the Syrcus trench two years ago, the one whom he had sworn to bury as the morning's first light speared across one of Silvertear's rare clear skies. A new day.

Nero knew he was not a nice man, nor was he a good one. But he was a man who always kept his word.

At the opposite end of the hallway, the sounds of a turning tumbler and creaking hinges cut into his self-imposed reverie. More out of deeply ingrained observational habit than aught else, Nero glanced over one shoulder from his position at the north-facing window to see the chirurgeon in his whites emerge from the infirmary. The man paid him no mind, but instead crossed the hall to the stairwell entrance and down without looking back; the receding scrape of footsteps followed the healer's descent.

On its heels silence reigned once more, settling back into its place like snow covering freshly made tracks. His eyes flickered towards the door which stood ever so slightly ajar; the seam of light betwixt frame and plank was brighter than it should have been. He waited one heartbeat, two, then three, and heard nothing. No shouts, no clatter of sollerets, not even overheard conversations echoing within the tunnel-like keep walls.

He would suffer no more internal debate whether or not he should remain where he was and continue his vigil. His feet were already moving.

Nero was absolutely certain that the click of the falling latch as the door swung shut at his back would alert someone to his presence, but he passed the threshold unmolested and entered the room. Within as without, it was almost ominously quiet, albeit this was a much smaller space. A fire crackled within a great stone hearth to ward off the chill from the windows, their glass panes likewise rendered all but opaque by ice and frost. Redolent within the room, reminding him of its grim purpose: the herbal reek of elixirs, and laced beneath like some offensive counterpoint was the astringent and sterile prickle of some sort of Eorzean antiseptic. His stomach turned in a slow and alarming drop but its contents remained in place.

A held breath escaped his lips with a soft chuff, and he turned his focus towards the sole bed in the room and its occupant.

Muted gold spilled in rivers over a starched and lumpy pillow, dark lashes at rest against high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face suffused with a deathly pallor. She wore a simple robe that put him uncomfortably in mind of his long convalescence in the Reach, and the field dressings that peeked from beneath the linen were stained with old blood. Her lips were slack and slightly parted, and she did not stir at his approach. Were it not for the slow rise and fall of her chest, small sips of air that were barely visible and too quiet to hear, he might have feared the worst.

There was a low-slung stool at her bedside. He drew it close and sat, taking a few moments to arrange his limbs. It was an awkward and graceless business; the chair had clearly been built with the compact and sturdy frame of a Midlander in mind, not a tall and lanky Garlean man. He had to brace his feet against the floor to seat himself without discomfort, and it brought back a distinct memory of their reconciliation that night after her sound defeat at Zenos' hands. That had been dire enough. This was somehow worse.

"We really must stop meeting like this, hero," he said aloud, quite nearly startling himself.

He peered at her form once more, rendered nearly ethereal by the soft light from the hearth. Her right hand lay folded gently over her waist, the left upon the mattress at her side. With as much care as if he were handling one of his ancient tomestones, Nero took her hand. His fingers were slow and stiff from the cold - another memory of Ilsabard he hadn't missed - and he realized he hadn't taken any particular notice of his chill until he had curled the aching digits into the softness of her palm. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild and little else, but he fancied a gentle and quiet warmth sinking into his frigid skin. It was a small balm upon his inner turmoil, but a balm all the same.

"I meant to tell you before all of this happened," he said, his voice calm and even and conversational, "but I've made arrangements with Miss Jaye to contract with the Ironworks on a more permanent basis. My first month's wages will go to pay the remainder of my debt to the House of Splendors. I had thought that it might please you."

No answer. He had hardly expected one, but he had also not anticipated how difficult it would be to speak to what was essentially an empty room, and the way she simply laid there, senseless and unmoving, made his skin crawl. The eikon-slayer's strength was a seeming constant, something those who knew her or even knew of her simply accepted in stride, puissance quite often taken for granted.

But it went well beyond mere martial prowess. She was such a reliable and stable presence, and a positive force in the lives of so many, that even Nero found it barely possible now to imagine a world without her. Finding oneself confronted with the reality that she was a woman as mortal as any other beneath it all was-

Sobering. And for reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he found it more than a little terrifying, as well.

"That new wall of yours out in the Steppe will require regular maintenance, as I've no doubt you're aware. I'm to accompany Garlond and his team in the next fortnight to help oversee the process," he continued. "I'm told those Allagan ruins you found are nearby, and I should very much like to see them myself."

Wind wailed around stone, and ice smacked against glass, and he talked. Her hand lay limp and warm in his careful grasp, and he recounted one of his own adventures in the same way she'd done for him while he was bedridden in the Reach. He watched her composed and pallid face as he spoke and remembered all those unending days of recovery in which she or Garlond had come to visit him, to keep him entertained, to help him with the most basic of tasks. At the time it had been acutely embarrassing but their presence had been vital. Thinking about it from this new perspective, those acts held a meaning they simply hadn't had for him before.

When he heard footsteps ascending the keep steps, Nero knew his time was up. The knights would likely clear him out and give orders to bar him from the infirmary indefinitely if they caught him, and that would be highly inconvenient.

He leaned forward, smoothed her sweat-dampened fringe away from her brow, and pressed his lips briefly against it before righting himself again. For that brief moment before it was concealed once more by her hair, the curve of her third eye - illumined as it was by the hearth-light - seemed to shimmer like a pearl, iridescent and precious.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Nero murmured. He hated having to ask Garlond to intervene on his behalf simply to visit an indisposed friend, but the man was as well respected in Ishgard as she was and he was not too proud to make that small concession on her behalf. "And I will bring some of your personal effects along with me. That robe they've put you in is absolutely hideous and I imagine it's about as comfortable as that slab of rock they call a bed."

What if she doesn't awaken? If she remains comatose, like the others?

He cleared his throat, trying to clear the hot and stifling tightness that lingered at the thought. That creeping feeling of impotence left him feeling uneasy and frustrated. All the engineering skills he could bring to bear, all the intellect he so greatly prized, were useless here, as much as it pained him to acknowledge the fact. But there was little else to be done. He had to take it on some faith that whatever it was that had happened to her, she would prevail against it as she prevailed against most things.

For a man who considered himself intensely rational, who believed only in those things he could provably see and hear, that felt like waiting on a miracle. But it was pointless to worry over matters beyond his control. She would come back to them in due time, he was certain. And while she had need of it, Nero would offer what assistance was within his means to give, as ever.

The small hand that he clasped, he folded over the other yet draped over her slim waist. She lay silent and still, features perfectly preserved: the picture of a saint in gentle repose. It was the sight he took with him upon his departure. And as the door clicked shut at his back, the Warrior of Light's unnatural slumber continued apace.