#I am not in the environment i am meant to be in....i miss having mentors and study circles....uuuuuu

[collectorcookie]

Can someone please tell me to go do my homework? I am. Procrastinating.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Jam two

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the husbandry AU! Thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow Arnault, Roland, Bakerin and Angela, thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for allowing me to borrow Pyrus and @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura. First. Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

@the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: none, please ask me to tag you if something bothers you

Summary: Cedric drops off the thank-you jam with Angela and Arnault. He then swings by the bakery run by Roland's bonded for some pastries and bread before returning to base.

“Thank you for the homemade jam, Cedric… But I can't eat this much jam on my own before they go bad. And you've worked so hard on making them, keep a couple for yourself.” Miss Angela instructed Cedric as she gently pressed five of the jars back into his hands.

Brother Arnault, who had picked up and opened one of the jars as she had spoken, stuck a spoon inside of the jar, scooping up a mouthful. His eyes lit up and he said “Don't worry, my Angel, it won't be a chore to finish off these jars. This is delicious! Here, have a bite.” He offered her another spoonful of jam.

Angela sighed “Arbaukt, you're not supposed to eat jam by the spoonful! It's meant to be spread on bread or toast, or as a filling for pastries.”

“Ja, ja, jam. I am eating it incorrectly. But try it! So good.” Arnault playfully answered back, smearing the jam on a piece of bread and presenting it to her with a small grin.

Angela hummed and took the piece of bread, swiftly eating it “Oh! This is really good. Where did you get the blackberries? I know they're in season right now.”

“I went foraging for them in the forest nearby. I made sure to leave plenty for others.” Cedric answered, a small smile on his face, delighted that they both liked his gift. “Are you sure you don't want all of the jam?”

“It's very delicious, but as I said before, we wouldn't be able to eat through all of the jars of jam before some of them went bad. Which would be a shame, since you made such tasty preserves.” Angela explained, gently reaching up and patting one of his shoulders. “That was not a challenge by the way, Arnault. I can see you eating the jam from the jar.”

Arnault gives his bonded a small, devious grin as he deliberately brings the spoon of jam to his mouth and eats it, ice blue eyes shining with mischief "We have five jars of this delicious jam, and I could eat an entire jar of jam all by myself with no trouble. It must have taken Cedric hours to make this much jam, not counting however long it took him to gather the berries in the first place. I am merely enjoying the jam in it's purest state as a compliment to mein little brother who worked so hard to make this for us, liebling."

Angela sighed, though she was also smiling "You make excellent points. And I haven't had home-made jam like this in a long time. Was there anything else that you needed or wanted, Cedric?"

The young apothecary shook his head "No, I just wanted to drop off my thank you gift... Are you sure you don't want all ten jars of jam?"

"Yes, truly. While I suppose Arnault could eat most of them, and he probably will anyways, you should also enjoy the fruits of your labor, Cedric. Have you saved yourself a jar?" Angela explained with another small smile.

"... No, I hadn't saved any for myself. I went out to collect the berries and went through all of this specifically to make food gifts for others." Cedric answered, shuffling his feet a little. His mentor had taught him a number of food preparation techniques as well as how to hunt and forage in a number of different environments and worlds. While Astartes required several times the number of calories baseline humans did and normal human food did little to sustain them, even what little that did provide nourishment could be the difference between life and death. Also, preserved and shelf-stable goods like this were always a hit on worlds where bartering was the norm - and even one jar of jam could provide a tremendous boost in morale on an otherwise shit mission when shared between brothers, or shared with mortal troops. Sweet things like this weren't necessarily good for the body, but did nourish the soul.

"Keep one of the jars for yourself, and I'm sure that you can get good trades for the rest of those. This is excellent." Arnault advised Cedric, reaching out and ruffling the larger Black Templar's short silvery blond hair. 

"Yes sir." Cedric answered with a nod, heading off.

~

Cedric swung by the bakery that Brother Roland's bonded ran, waiting in the line that often formed as soon as she opened the doors. The smell of freshly baked bread made his stomach rumble in appreciation as his mouth watered. While he wasn't as... Focused on bread as his older brother, he definitely appreciated how tasty and varied bread could be in the third century. It far outshone most of the bland and tasteless starch rations that he'd had being trained by the Mechanicus and during his time with his fellow Black Templars in the 41st millennium. 

He was content to wait for as long as needed, holding onto the basket with the five jars of jam in one hand as he looked at the many delicious baked goods on offer. Cedric had been given some of the local currency to spend and planned on getting some of the very delicious sourdough bread... But there were so many other delicious things to try as well! It all looked so good, and the young space marine was having difficulties deciding what he wanted to eat. 

There was a large group of teenagers in front of them, their voices overlapping with one another as they rapidly spoke in one of the native languages, looking at the selection of goods for sale with clear glee and joy. The blue hair of one of them caught Cedric's attention, and it took him a moment to realize why.

Plucking up his courage, he cleared his throat, moving a little closer to the group, hopefully without seeming as if he was trying to loom over them "Excuse me... Is your name Crystal?" 

The teenagers turned to look up at him, as well as one middle-aged baseline human. The baseline human puffed up a little, their eyes narrowing as they looked him up and down, stepping in front of Crystal as they spoke "And just who is asking, space marine?"

Cedric hadn't expected to be met with this much open hostility and flustered "I... I was just... Asking. One of your charges seemed familiar to me, as we met briefly. They seemed worried the last time we met, and I wanted to reassure them that I am fine and doing well."

The middle-aged baseline human's eyes narrowed a little further "And just why would they be concerned that you could potentially be in trouble? Don't most of you go stomping around in packs? Then again... It's rare to see one of you lot running around without any armor, either."

Crystal elbowed the adult baseline out of the way, beaming up at him "Hi Cedric! It's good to see you again. Thanks for getting me out of that tight spot a month or so ago. Ignore Mrs. Spencer, she's always like this. You look good! What's in the basket?"

"Don't mention it. We all get into tight spots from time to time. I'm just glad I was able to help you before things could get out of hand. And I'll show you what's in the basket!" Cedric responded with a bright smile, pulling out one of the jars of jam "I spent most of today picking, cooking and canning these. I've brought a couple for Bruder Roland and his bonded as a thank you gift."

"That's really thoughtful of you, Cedric? Is it for anything in particular, or just something you felt like doing?" Crystal asked curiously.

"Brother Roland has been very kind to me, and welcoming as I've been adjusting to life here on Terra." Cedric explains, a small smile appearing on his face as he thought back on fond memories with one of the kindest and most patient firstborn Black Templars he'd ever been blessed to meet. "His bonded has been equally kind to me as well."

"I'm glad to hear that, you can talk to him if you're having any issues with anyone on that base you live on?" Crystal asked, peering up at him, concern in her voice.

"Of course." Cedric answered, making sure to keep the smile on his face. He suspects that miss Crystal is referring to his panicked reaction to a certain first-born brother, but considering that particular Older Brother has left the city, quite possibly the immediate area within a couple of days of visiting the base, it's not like he needs to trouble Roland or Arnault about Petras just yet... Hopefully Petras won't come around again while he and his fellow primaris brothers are on base and everything will be fine. 

Just then, Roland walked up to them from behind the back counter. "Hallo Cedric. Misty said that there's an Astartes in the shop, and went to go get me. Are you here for a particular reason, or for brot?"

"I came here for both brot and to give you and your bonded this." Cedric answered, handing him two of the jars of blackberry jam. "I've made this myself. The date it was canned and it's contents are written on the label right here."

"Danke, we will enjoy this. If you're willing to wait for another ten minutes, there will be sourdough rolls freshly baked from the oven." Roland offered, smiling a little at his younger brother.

"That sounds wonderful! Thank you very much. I was also thinking about getting the... Erm.. Hazelnut-chocolate filled croissant? That sounds tasty. And one of those savory pies. I'd like six of the sourdough rolls once they're ready, please. I've got the money for all of it, give me a moment." He answered, shifting the basket so that it was in the crook of one of his arms as he patted his pockets, pulling out the roll of currency he had been given, counting out the tiny paper bills out. "I think this is correct?"

Roland took the bills, reading the numbers "Ja, you are correct. I'll get the other things packed up and ready for you to go." He walks back around the counter and calls out, his voice warm with love "Lieeebliing~! Cedric is here and he wants five of the sourdough rolls once they're out of the oven! He also came with a present for us both."

Miss Bakerin comes out from the kitchen and beams as she spots Cedric. She walks over to where he's standing and gives him an affectionate pat on the shoulder "Thank you, Cedric. I'm sure we'll very much enjoy the blackberry jam. It's good to see you again."

Cedric ducks his head a little, smiling "Thank you, miss. I hope you both enjoy the jam." He tilts his head a little and says after a moment "I hear a timer going off?"

Roland is already in motion, with his bonded following after. Roland explaining as they both head back to the cooking area "That would probably be the macarons, which are these very small, but delightfully snappy and light sandwich cookies. They are very fiddly to make properly."

"Ah. Good luck with the macarons!" Cedric answered with a small smile, content to wait until his requested rolls were ready.

The middle-aged human spoke up again "How were you able to hear the alarm? I can't hear it." 

"Hmm? Oh, I have very sensitive hearing." Cedric answered honestly. 

They hesitated for another moment or two, before one of the other teenagers they were accompanying called for their attention, as the group had made it to the front of the line. 

~

Cedric made his way back to the base after getting the pastries and bread he had ordered, nibbling on the croissant he had purchased, enjoying the buttery taste of the pastry as well as the sweet and nutty taste of the filling. He still had three jars of gift-jam left, though technically he supposed he had two. He had tasted the jam during the creation process and had found it quite delicious...Perhaps it wouldn't be selfish if he kept back a jar for himself? But who should he give the remaining two jars to? He hummed in thoughtful consideration as he headed through the main entrance of the base before stopping dead in his tracks. 

He could hear all sorts of arguments, all over the base. He could see Pyrus running through the main entrance hall, one hand curled around something, the other giving his brothers a rude gesture as he yelled over his shoulder "I'm not going to be sharing this! It's clearly a gift for me, and it's delicious."

Cedric backed up a couple of steps so that Pyrus wouldn't possibly run into him and called out "Hi Pyrus... What's going on?"

"Hmmm? Oh, someone left me a jar of the jam that they've been making for hours. Some of my brothers are trying to bother me into sharing, but since it's a gift, and I don't feel like it, I'm not going to." The Salamander Scout explained, slowing down to a stop, revealing the jar of jam that he'd left for Pyrus. The lid was off and some of the contents had already been eaten. "I think a lot of people were hoping that the mystery jam-maker was going to leave some of whatever they were making in the communal pantry, but that hasn't happened. Some people were gifted jam and there've been some... Heated arguments as to whether or not those gifted with jam should share with everyone else. I'm of the opinion that if those without jam want some, they can either go buy or trade for their own jam. Or make it themselves, following one of the many recipes that are available on ancient terra to use."

"Oh... Oh dear. I hadn't expected that the jam would cause such chaos..." Cedric murmured, his eyes wide as he shifted from foot to food, feeling his ears warm. 

"You were the one who made the jam? Thanks for a jar, it's really good! Am I supposed to eat it right out of the jar, or are there other ways to eat it?" Pyrus asked, dodging several of his brothers' grabby hands gracefully.

"Yeah." Cedric answered, briefly explaining how he'd gotten the berries to make the jam, and that he'd made thank you jam for those to whom he was grateful for their help in one way or another, finishing with "I really wasn't expecting the base to be in such an uproar... I do have a couple of jars of jam left over... Maybe I should leave it in the communal pantry, so that hopefully the squabbling settles down?"

Pyrus hummed a little as he shoved a couple of fingers inside the wide-mouthed jar, scooping some of it up and licking it off of his fingers as his brothers loudly protested around him "I suppose you could, but it's your jam, you know. You could keep it for yourself. Its' really good."

"I... I suppose I'll think about it?" Cedric offered, mildly overwhelmed and deeply guilty as to just how much chaos he had inadvertently unleashed. 

"Good! See you later, Cedric!" Pyrus answered before running off elsewhere into the base, his brothers on his heels. 

~

Cedric had made it most of the way to the communal pantry when he heard his name being called out. He turned, spotting Apothecary Hura making his way down the hall. "Yes, sir?" The young Black Templar called out, making his way over to where the ancient Death Guard was.

"Hello young Cedric. I wanted to thank you for the jam. It is most delightful!" Hura purred at the younger apothecary.

"I'm glad that you like the jam, sir. I. Uhm. Did not expect the jam to be such a... Contentious thing." Cedric admitted.

"You'd be hard-pressed to find an astartes who doesn't crave fast carbohydrates, especially when hungry. Especially since the smell of you cooking the jam was lingering around the base for hours, there were many hopeful marines wishing for a taste. Not that you should feel guilty, of course! You made it, and therefore you should decide who does and does not get the jam." The Chaos marine murmured serenely, dripping a finger into his jar of jam and eating it. "Things will settle down in a day or two, worry not."

"I... Alright. Thank you, sir." Cedric mumbled. He still felt bad for unintentionally causing trouble among the ranks of his firstborn brothers. It was something to keep in mind about how much uproar had been made over a little bit of jam....

"If you do feel the urge to make jam again, I encourage you to do so, and if you need a taste taster, I would be happy to volunteer." The death guard offered with a small grin.

"I'll keep that in mind. Do you have anything that you'd change about this jam, if you could? Is it too sweet, or too sour?" Cedric asked, hoping that the food was good, but that could be just his own tastebuds. 

"Only how much is in the jar, though that has more to do with the size of the jar, rather than it's delightful contents. The jam itself is wonderful. I will be storing my jam in this base, as some of my more impulsive chaos brethren would try to take this and then I would have to gut them for their foolishness." Hura hummed "I have labeled this jam jar as mine and I suspect no one here will touch it, especially as I have clearly eaten some already."

"I'm really glad that you like the jam sir. I worked hard to make it." Cedric answered, beaming at the praise. 

"I can taste the care and effort you put into making this. Mmm, I hear a fight starting nearby. I am going to go watch. See you later, youngling!" Hura called out before casually turning around and leaving.

Cedric sighed internally and continued to the communal pantry. Inside were a couple of bickering Space Wolves and twice as many Ultramarines all arguing with one another. All six of the firstborn brothers seemed very focusing on whatever argument they were having, so Cedric slowly and carefully made his way around them. 

Unfortunately, they were in the middle of the jam section, so Cedric was forced to wait until one of the Space Wolves lunged at an Ultramarine before swiftly placing two of the three jars of blackberry preserves on the shelf on the spot where B-named fruits or berries were to be placed, as it was currently empty, and had blueberry jam there previously.

The young apothecary slowly made his way towards the exit, doing his best to pretend that he was invisible and that none of them could see him, if they did happen to look in his direction and hoped for the best. 

"And just where do you think you're going, pup? Don't think I don't see and smell you sneaking around." One of the Space Wolves growled out. He was huge for a firstborn loyalist, with scars that crisscrossed his face and neck, and disappeared under his shirt collar. 

"Uhm... To my assigned room, sir? Why?" Cedric answered earnestly. 

"And why were you in the pantry, if you're headed to your room? You're a big fucker, too. I don't recognize you." The same large Space Wolf rumbled. 

"... I grabbed some crackers?" Cedric answered, showing him the box of plain crackers he had grabbed - he thought that they would pair nicely with the jam he had stashed in his room for his fellow primaris brothers, along with the fresh bread he'd purchased from Miss Bakerin. "I've been on the base for about... Seven months now, sir? Which is pretty much the entire time I've been on Ancient Terra."

"Hmph. Scouts running about out of armor, only do so because of mischief reasons. What's your name, pup?" Large Space Wolf huffed. 

"... I was brought to ancient terra without my armor, as I had been brought here in my sleep in a place where I could sleep out of armor." Cedric countered, sulking a little at the idea that he was out of armor because he wanted to cause trouble. It's not as if he could be in his armor, anyways.

"... Ah. Tough luck there, lad. Well, off you get." The large Space Wolf huffed, dismissing him with a flick of one of his hands. 

"Yes sir." Cedric answered with a silent sigh of relief, quickly leaving the pantry and returning to his room. 

Once there, he flopped down onto his bed with a low groan, rolling himself up into the wonderful, weighted quilt that Miss Angela had made for him, drifting off to sleep. 

[awyeahitssam]

Today, my old boss (that I never felt I worked for, but with) reached out after I sent an email cc'ing them and said, 'Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?'

I wasn't stunned--that's growth--but warmed. I am glad to be around a person who has learned how to appreciate others, and tell them. Our paths have diverged; we're adjacent, now. We still interact, and if we did not it would be such a loss. We are joined by a shared history of challenges, and laughter, and respect.

Two years ago, I'd never had work friends. I'd never had mentors beyond literature,

that I could look up to, be taught by, and teach in turn. I'd never had a boss that I felt comfortable in disagreeing and sharing my own perspective with.

I responded, 'You're the one who taught me how to communicate more kindly, you know.'

'I am just proud of you, and happy to be able to work with you. I will let you know when I need you to teach me to communicate more kindly, I have had my challenges a few times, lol..'

It's nice to work with kind people that actually care for me rather than my competence. God, how fucking unusual it is to have this. It took me a long time to find these people. It took me speaking up when I didn't have to; it took me accepting an opportunity that I wasn't looking for; it took me pushing past my fear and inexperience--it took my determination to grow--it took others giving me room to grow.

There was never cruelty when I made an honest mistake, only the expectation that I would correct it and do better moving forward. (It's not like they could criticize me more than I criticized myself for every shortcoming. Or, well, they could've, but what a hostile work environment that would be.) Is this what adult relationships are meant to be like? Holding each other accountable? Helping each other become better versions of ourselves?

I'm so glad to have stuck out the hard times when I was exhausted and just wanted to curl up in a ball and be left alone for a month. I've moved on to another part of this workplace, having laid the foundation for all those to come, and I am... missed. My presence. My personality. Me.

How odd, how lovely, to be missed even by those I am walking beside, a field between us.

I was told, today, that I was appreciated.

It feels nice.

[brywrites]

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand.  You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

..

Tags: @calm-and-doctor��� @averyhotchner​

[anothertimdrakestan]

Lovebirds Damian Wayne x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Requested? Yes! From a few lovely anons!

“So far i am loving your blog and went through like all of your writing🥰💖💖💖💗💞! I was wondering if you could do 'star sapphire corp reader' x damien please? Like them getting together” and “Could you please do sapphire lantern reader with your choice of the batboys meeting on a mission?”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I absolutely love the sapphire corps! Thank you for these adorable requests! Dami plus a lover actually in tune with their emotions- hell they’re powered off the emotions- is too funny and so adorable! Also we are going to pretend that Raven and Damian aren’t a thing even though I’m using the DCAU teen titans alrighty? Plus it gives me a chance to ship BBRAE YEAHHHH! Hope you enjoy!

I’m so sorry it’s long it’s my first fic back I was so excited haha

“Deep breaths and English you got this” you stared at yourself in the mirror of your makeshift room in titan’s tower. Being the youngest member of the star sapphire corps you were the one tasked with the trip to earth, it made sense, no one wanted to work with teenage earthly heroes but you. Finally, a chance to meet a being similar in age to you! No more old hymns about the power earthly love, you were about to experience it first hand. 

Your mentor had called in a favor and you had been escorted to earth by none other than the physical embodiment of flirtatiousness, Hal Jordan. The trip itself was tiring so upon a midnight arrival you retired to your room without meeting anyone. Now, you could hear a bustling of voices, there was so much emotion radiating it seemed slightly overwhelming, so you opted to wait for Hal to come pull you from your room. 

At the familiar knock you shook away your nerves and flexed your hands into fists, feelings your ring almost pushing you to go outside. “Howdy miss l/n! Ready to meet your new team?” You were greeted with the cheesy grin that had apparently wooed your mentor, but always prodded you. “Good morning Hal, temporary team remember?” you replied, letting your aura be picked up by your purple light. Hal coughed awkwardly, “we walk on earth newbie, not many float here” embarrassed, you touched back down, clearing your throat as you exited your quarters. 

As you made your way down the hallway shouting grew, but upon you entering the room went quiet. With a small smile wave you scanned the room, noticing a green boy who was burning a strange looking food, two other boys who had froze to look at you but stood at a large table that made a strange sound, and lastly a raven haired boy who was sharpening a- sword? At ten in the morning? On the couch. The green boy came up to you first, “hello! You must be y/n! I’m Gar, there’s Jaime, Vic, Robin, and Raven isn’t here but she’s also part of the team! Nice to meet’cha!” Trying to keep up with the names Gar started shouting “SHE’S HERE Y’ALL” apparently to summon a woman who looked like the leader, as she was much older. Following her was a younger girl in a purple cloak, you quite liked her look and vibes, though she felt quite closed off. 

After learning more about everyone at a team breakfast with strangely prepared food you were with the team getting suited up as your mission to travel to Celea, a planet whose environment was toxic to any being over 18, making it a “teen titan’s mission” as they called themselves. As some of the titan’s changed into their suits and prepped themselves for combat you bonded with Raven and Blue Beetle as you had all loaded onto the ship fairly easily. “So why do you have a powerless human on your team? Do you not worry for his safety?” you wondered as you watched Robin methodically pack all his gear. “Trust me, Robin could take all of us out if he wanted to, he’s earned his spot on the team from pure skill and being a little bit of a monster- OOMPH” Jaime was cut off by Raven nudging him. You couldn’t help wanting to hear Robin’s story, as you were like him too- powerless but highly trained and craving to do more. Luckily you had a couple hours of flight to get to know the mysterious boy. 

The ship was large, built for a league of heroes apparently. This meant the team had spread out but you had stayed in the piloting area to assure yourself the team was on the right trajectory, apparently Robin was as well. “You actually know where we’re going?” his voice shook you from your calculations. “Yes, I’ve visited Celea before, but never to fight it’s people” you mused, wondering how in just a few years since your visiting a toxic group of manipulative outlaws had attempted to stake their claim to the beautiful Celea. “TT, not much of a fighter?” Robin mused snarkily, his flitted down to the ring on your finger. “Y’know your team here thinks you’re pretty strong, but I’d wager you’d be easy work for me” you teased back, twisting your ring around your finger as Robin came closer to you. 

(TW FOR BLOOD)

Sitting next to you he began, “my abilities come from my skill, my wit, and my determination. I don’t believe you can say the same princess” you scoffed, “you underestimate me Robin, this ring is nothing without me, not the other way around. Powered from my emotional control and my creativity, my skill takes focus and agility not just glorified muscle memory” you winked at him, enjoying the banter. He scoffed in return. “Yes and what can you do with that ring that I cannot defeat with my blades” he mused. This invitation was perfect. You got up jubilantly, started your lecture. “Clearly you lack certain knowledge Robin, hand me one of your so called blades” you stuck your hand out as Robin rolled his eyes handing you a bat-shaped blade. Without a second thought you cut into the side of your arm, wincing at the pain. “Y/N! What are you doin-” you cut Robin off, beginning to channel your power. “You see, true power is the ability to heal any cut your blades could make, to take was has happened and turn it into a place of love, not malice or hate” as you said this, the familiar purple tone washed over your arm, easily mending the break in your skin. You noticed it felt faster than usual, but wiped it off as adrenaline. 

(TW OVER)

At the display of your powers Robin was in awe. “That’s not all I can do” you laughed, creating a small purple hand that pushed Robin’s open jaw closed. He stumbled back angrily, mumbling about accepting your abilities merit. “You impressed now Robin?” you grinned, sticking out your hand to him. He closed the distance, returning your handshake. “Damian.” he said softly. You swallowed, Damian. It was becoming. Your ring began to warmly glow, Damian snapped his hand away wearily as you cooled your emotions. “Oh uh! Sorry, energy burst” you said, it was a half truth at least. Damian nodded, moving to go clean the batarang. 

The rest of the trip was short, upon entering Celea you’d divided, Damian was with you as the both of you entered publicly while Beast Boy and Raven entered covertly, planning to cover you if the diplomatic endeavors went south. Blue Beetle and Cyborg, unfortunately, weren’t allowed in Celea as their tech was apparently very old and triggered the planet’s defense system, so they stayed up in the ship was manning comms, prepared for an air fight. 

Upon entering you were taken straight to the capital, a sapphire corps was a rarity on Celea and they were all excited for your help. You and Damian met the governing leaders, explaining that you were here to help end the tyranny on the dark side of the planet. As you had hoped, they agreed, you could feel their love for their planet was strong, but that was about all the love on the planet as everyone was so young. It felt slightly difficult to keep a reign on your emotions on Celea, the planet itself was a safe haven for children, almost like a giant orphanage ran by beings that reincarnated frequently as to stay alive on the planet, the concept of pure love was foreign to many of the children and unharnessable. It all felt quite isolating in comparison to earth, a planet driven by intense emotions. 

“You look tired already” Damian mused. “I’m fine, just not a huge fan of a child-only planet” you responded as you made your way towards the large base, preparing yourself for a fight. Before Damian could respond you were joined by Raven and Gar. Their presence eased some of the pressure. “You guys love each other, it’s refreshing” you said, both of them froze, staring at you. “Oh uh, we haven’t really talked about that yet” Raven whispered, staring at Gar who was grinning like a child in a candy shop. “I love you too Rae!” he cheered. “Not how I imagined I’d say it but, yes, I do love you idiot” she huffed. Your cheeks flushed, “oh uh, my bad sorry, it just, seemed so obvious” you giggled, secretly glad you’d brought the two together. 

“Just a couple’a couples!” Beast boy teased, you felt your cheeks redden, glancing to Damian who was now suddenly interested in looking anywhere but at you. You felt your ring begin to glow again, covering it with your other hand. “Oh wow! Look at that! We’re here! Battle time!” you cleared your throat, setting the group focus on infiltrating the rogue base. 

The base itself was relatively small, it hadn’t been flushed out yet but the four of you were here to clear it before they had the chance. Trying to establish a child trafficking ring on a planet of only children was disgusting, and needed stopping before it got the chance. You were especially passionate about this endeavor, the reason for you channeling the power of love was when you lost your sister, that loss of love taught you it’s importance even at a young age, and after training harder than anyone you knew you earned the ring, promising to defend love the way no one defended yours. You would protect these children at any cost. 

There was no need for stealth as you had the permission of the Celean government, it was more of an ambush. As Gar shifted into a large tiger, Raven donned her hood, and Damian stripped himself of the Celean garb, you noticed his Robin suit, littered in weapons and ties, he looked like a hero. There was that damn glow again. Channeling it into your focus you felt the warm aura surround you as you lifted off the ground, ready for a fight. 

“Y/n should say it!” BB roared, Raven nodded in agreement. “Say what?” you looked at Damian. “We have this tradition where the leader says ‘Titan’s Go’ then we fight, and I guess you’re our leader today” he said, you noticed the light tint hiding beneath his mask. “Okay!” you said, positioning yourself, flexing your hand to feel your ring one last time before shouting.

“TITANS GO!” 

And you were off, soaring through the air while BB and Robin took the ground. You noticed a few scared looking kids were being held in pens, and you decided to free them first. As Raven covered you easily, you floated down to the kids, accidentally bonking heads with Robin who stared at you. “I’m so sorry! It’s just we always have to-” “Get the kids out first” he finished your sentence, a small smile dancing at the corner of his mouth. For just a fraction of a second, your eyes flitted down to his lips, feeling his gaze of you the moment felt like slow motion before you both snapped out. “Let’s go! This way!” you used your ring to break the gates as Robin herded the kids out to freedom. 

Glancing up you saw a couple rogues grabbing kids as they tried to run away, your heart stopped when you saw one pull out a laser blaster. “Enough!” you screamed, violet rays exploding from your hands as you easily knocked them out of your way. Leaving your post you flew up and began eradicating anyone who tried to harm a child. “No one hurts my sister!” you screeched, your powers growing stronger by the second as you began dividing your powers between knocking out bad guys and literally carrying children to safety. As the last of the kids were safe you escorted Beast Boy out while you and Raven combined your powers to crunch up the base, making it unfixable and uninhabitable forever. 

Feeling the adrenaline subside you glanced down to see a herd of children cheering, but your focus drew to Damian who was propped up against a barrel, nursing a laser bullet wound. Rushing to his side you quickly pulled open his suit, a trail of blood trickled into your hands. “Damn kevlar doesn’t stop their bullets apparently” he coughed. “Oh my god Damian don’t go” Gar shifted next to you. “He’s not going anywhere” you said, focussing your energy, feeling the pain and imagining turning the warmth of blood into mending, the pools of blood are just pockets of blissful love. 

This wasn’t a good time to tell the team you’d never healed a wound this large before. Positive self talk right? Or negative. 

I’m alone on a planet of useless children, surrounded by a glorified furry, goth, and stocked vigilante. No one is here to help you y/n you’ve gotta do this. You felt the wounds begin to mend, after all that focus you’d barely started. Damian you idiot! If you die right now how will I know why my damn ring is gleaming everytime I see your cute face. Fuck. I didn’t mean cute. Yeah I did. Okay, save the cute face. Maybe kiss the cute face if you save it? Yeah. That’s a good deal y/n let’s do that. Your head was rushing through a million thoughts, anything to motivate you to do the impossible. Halfway there, you could feel it. “Holy cow, look! The wound is closing!” Gar pointed at Damian’s chest. “Y-yeah. No help from you green bean” you mumbled. “Oh I know what’ll help!” Gar squeaked, running off. You turned to Damian who was just staring at you bewildered. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m literally repairing your organs bird boy” you whispered through clenched teeth. 

Then a surge of power came over you, it felt raw and unchanneled, you glanced up to see Gar mid-kiss with Raven, giving you a thumbs up. The love was short lived, but enough to keep your engine revving. Alright girl you got this, heal, then kiss, maybe. Definitely heal first. He has to live. C’mon. “JUST LIVE DAMMIT” you shouted the last bit, feeling the last of your power drain while the wound completely closed. “Holy shit I’m a badass” you whispered, before feeling intensely light headed. 

You woke up in the ship med bay, jolting up. “HE LIVED HE LIVED” you burst up, throwing a fist in the air. The other corps members would be so proud! Your first battle with death you’d won! “You’re right I did live, thanks to you” a familiar voice brought you back down to earth. Next to your bed was Damian, now in casual clothes with a little bandaging on his other wounds. “Oh! uh yeah, you’re totally welcome” you grinned. Awkwardly Damian scooted closer to you. “I think I owe you a certain gratitude” he said, emotions dripping in his voice you hadn’t heard before. 

This time his eyes snapped down to your lips, as he leaned in you felt like you were dreaming. When your lips connected you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling lightheaded with pure joy. The kiss itself was soft, blissful and lovely. Damian’s lips felt soft against yours, like they fit with yours like a puzzle piece. Pulling away you stared at him shocked. “I could hear your thoughts when you were healing me, had to live up to your expectations” he winked while you covered your face with embarrassment. “Oh my gosh that’s so embarrassing yikes” you mumbled into your hands. You felt Damian’s hand slide under yours, caressing your cheek, drawing your eyes to his. “I thought it was pretty endearing personally, I suppose it’s because I was being saved by the most gorgeous, fascinating girl I know” he mused, before bringing you in for another kiss, this time more passionate, as if to show his feelings through a kiss instead of words. 

You spent the rest of your earthly get-away with the Titans, finding a sort of family with them. When you were called back to your people you promised to return in a few weeks, hoping to move your station to earth. They could always use another lantern right? 

When you returned to your mentor, C.Ferris you told her of your earthly adventures. She laughed, “a Star Sapphire’s greatest strength and weakness all wrapped into a snarky earth boy body” and you couldn’t help but agree. And with that, you were sent back to earth, this time returning as Dove, because every Robin needs a lovebird to help them along the way. 

[universemarvel]

The time Peter should have FIRST called Mr. Stark “Tony.”

By @universemarvel for @sdottkrames

Rating: general audiences

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary: an irondad one shot where Peter gets... hurt., and handles it in a Peter Parker Way™️. Tony is honestly just trying his best okay?!?

Part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on ao3 here

Or continue reading via tumblr here...

~

“Peter!”

The kid jumps and his head snaps towards his mentor. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“What are you doing?” Tony held his coffee mug up in front of his mouth in a poor attempt to hide the smile on his face.

Peter looked down to his messy table, which was occupied by empty blue and silver snack wrappers, drinks, and his Spider-Man suit, which he was currently scrubbing with a sponge. He picked up one of the wrappers that still had some did in it. “I’m... trying all the pop tart flavors,” he said, taking a bite out of the pastry.

“You feeling alright?” It’s not often he could walk up unnoticed upon Peter.

But Peter just smiled. “A little lightheaded from the sugar rush, but otherwise fine;” his smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Why?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why are you scrubbing your suit with a sponge? I’m sure there’s a dishwashing machine somewhere in this building,” he finally revealed his smile.

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Is the suit dishwasher safe? Because that would actually be great.”

Tony laughed. “I’m not answering that. What happened? And please don’t tell me you’re hand scrubbing your multi-million dollar suit because you forgot to put on deodorant.”

Pink painted Peter’s cheeks as he smiled and shook his head. “No, I just got something on it and it stinks. Do you want to smell it?” He offered the suit up, and Tony took a step back reflexively.

“No thanks, kiddo, I’m rather enjoying my coffee at the moment. However, I do have a decontamination gadget for a reason, so let’s throw it in there for a few hours so we can go back upstairs for dinner. That is, if you’re still hungry after eating New York’s entire stock of pop tarts.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Peter smiled, “and if your cleany-box doesn’t work, can we try the dishwasher?”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

After dinner, the pair found themselves scrolling through Netflix. Peter’s lightheadedness from earlier had slowly been developing into a headache, but he didn’t want to bother Tony with it.

He didn’t feel like watching a movie, which he figured was a red flag, but he picked a Star Wars movie to avoid raising suspicion.

“Are you sure?” Tony’s voice pulled Peter from his attempts to distract himself from his headache.

“Am I sure...about what?”

Tony eyed him suspiciously, and Peter tried to think of what he did that was out of the ordinary so he could reverse it.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Tony squinted his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Correction-“ his mentor rolled his eyes; “do you have any pain at all?”

Peter shook his head, still trying to figure out what his giveaway behavior was. “Why?”

Tony crossed his arms. “Because we watched this movie last night.”

Peter’s breath caught, and he reached for a lie. He shrugged. “I feel like you didn’t appreciate it enough the first time.” His mind replayed the evening before. “Aaand you fell asleep, so technically you can’t say you watched it last night.”

Tony’s mouth was still pressed in a thin line, revealing his doubts, but he just shook his head. “Okay,” he gave in, “but don’t make me regret this.”

Peter smiled, hoping the well-known noises from the familiar film would minimize his headache’s growth.

__________

Still in the process of waking up, he was glad the room was so nice and quiet. He knew he was still at the tower because it was always loud at his apartment. His headache was gone, and realizing he was in his room at the tower, he wondered with a start how he’d gotten back here from the living room; he figured he must’ve been pretty tired last night to have been so out of it.

He waits for the noises of the tower to reach him, but they don’t. He sits up quickly, somehow quietly. Too quietly. He looks down at the sheets, and runs his hands back and forth on them. He can’t hear them, and his eyes widen. He can see his chest is moving quicker with his increased breathing pace, but he can’t hear that either.

He brings his fingers to his ears and snaps.

Nothing. He tries again, watching his hand this time to make sure he snaps correctly, still nothing.

He feels true panic swell up in his chest, and jumps out of bed. He rushes to put a shirt and a pair of pants on, and the silence of his movements scares him; he feels like he’s watching a movie on mute, except he’s never not heard at least his own breathing. He opened the door, and paused; the silence of the hallway greeted him like a wave, rushing into his head with an overwhelming ringing he feels rather than hears.

It hurts.

On second thought, he closed the bedroom door again, shutting himself off from the hallway. It had to have been whatever chemical was on the suit. The suit which was now decontaminated and as clean as it had been new. How helpful would it be going to Mr. Stark without any information? Maybe if he could retrace his steps from yesterday, he could find out what the chemical was. He glanced at the clock, and saw it was 7:15. Tony wouldn’t be awake for several hours still, so Peter could get a head start until then. If all went well, Peter could even analyze the sample and neutralize it before Tony was up for his usual weekend 11 am breakfast.

__________

Peter made it to the spot he’d been sprayed by the bad-smelling stuff by 8 o’clock. He landed, slowly turning around to assess the area. It was a bright alleyway, lit from the morning sun’s reflection off a nearby skyscraper, but was still secluded and generally ignored by passerby’s due to it being a dead end street, blocked off by a wall of brick apartment.

He realized that he hadn’t said anything to Karen, who had no doubt been talking to him since he put the mask on; he wondered what she had been saying, and felt partly guilty for what was probably perceived as him ignoring her.

He didn’t want to tell her he couldn’t hear, however, for fear of some hidden protocol that would alert Tony, so he did his best to try to sound natural, a difficult task given that he couldn’t hear himself.

“Hey Karen,” he said, and paused. What did she normally say to him? Ask him how he was doing? How he slept? She would have for sure commented that she was glad to see him, but her usual trail of discussion had probably been derailed by the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged anything she’d said throughout the entire trip thus far.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” he said after giving her a chance to talk, “everything’s fine, I’m just trying to find something. Here. For Mr. Stark.”

He waited a beat, hoping he wasn’t cutting her off or waiting too long to respond, but honestly he had no idea.

“Could you help me find any synthetic chemicals on the walls or ground here? I’m looking for the stuff I got sprayed with yesterday.”

If she replied, he didn’t know, but he was glad to see diagnostics pull up as Karen began to highlight a plethora of invisible substances in the environment around him. With each one that pulled up, Karen did a quick calculation as to what it was.

He scanned his surroundings; urine, vomit, urine, blood, urine, some more urine, a few unidentifiable splotches, but he could tell from their location and position that they weren’t what he was looking for.

His shoulders slumped forwards, and he frowned.

He saw a shadow grow forward into the alleyway, and jumped around in a twist to see what was there. It was just a garbage truck, but the fact that it was now looming over him in the alleyway without him knowing it was even there still had his blood running cold. He jumped onto the wall and started climbing. Halfway up, Tony’s face appeared on his display. He realized it was an incoming call, and too late requested, “Karen don’t answer!” As the call connected through.

He couldn’t hear anything of course, and knowing Tony was currently talking to him made his breath quicken. Also the fact that it wasn’t even 9 am, which was early — and therefore abnormal, for Tony.

“Hi Mr. Stark,” he greeted as happily as he could. “I’m, uh, climbing up this wall at the moment, can I, uh, can I call you back later?”

He hoped Mr. Stark said yes, and he wished he’d have video called so Peter could see his expression and attempt to read his lips, but he couldn’t. Instead he quickly exhaled “Karen, hang up,” and watched as the call disconnected. He climbed onto the roof, and hoped that Karen’s compliance to hang up meant that Tony hadn’t said anything too important. Besides, Peter should probably head back to the tower anyways to start figuring out what was wrong.

Now that he was on the roof, however, he was met with another wave of panic as the view of the skyline met him. He looked at the silent scene of a busy New York City morning, down the streets where he knew cars were still honking, people were talking, phones were ringing, and kids were yelling while they played on their weekend, a morning free from school. He knew it was going on, and he was missing it. Sure, this was every day for a lot of people, but he was Spider-Man. His job required his ears.

As if to prove his point, his spider sense flared up, and he fell to the ground. He looked around, not knowing why or where it had come from, but he didn’t see anything. Was he even the one in danger, or was it alerting him that someone else needed his help? After nothing happened for another moment, he ran to the side of the building and looked down. The scene he saw was normal, people walking, cars driving, even the alleyway he had come from was clear. His spider sense was still pulsing though, so he ran to the next side of the rooftop, frantically looking towards the street.

His eyes immediately found the scene, a car crash. It had just happened, and he wondered if he’d have been able to prevent it if he’d been able to hear. He didn’t know if they’d crashed before or after he’d felt the warning, although experience told him it was the latter. He swung down to the scene, and saw the driver open their door and fall out of the car. He ran up to her, seeing the passenger seat was empty, and helped her to her feet.

“Are you alright ma’am?” He asked, and not seeing any blood on her or problem with standing on her own, he thought so. Except her expression was still extremely worried, and she was talking, yelling maybe, but Peter couldn’t tell what she was saying. She then stumbled forward. Peter caught her, confused as to what she was going on for. She had just been in a motor vehicle accident, after all, so maybe a bit of odd behavior could be expected? He wished he could hear her to be sure.

She pointed back to the car. He looked, but didn’t see anything in the seats, besides boxes that had fallen in the back; other people were approaching the car now, too, trying to open the crushed back door. His spider sense was still calling, and he wondered what was in the back that could be dangerous. What everyone but him currently knew of. He turned back to face the woman, but she just grabbed his arm with a grip that told him that Something was Not OK and brought him around to the back, tears on her face now. The driver of the other vehicle ran up to them, saying something, before turning and walking anxiously with them. Confused, Peter cautiously followed them to the car, pushing past other people.

He suddenly saw behind the boxes in the back seat that there was a baby car seat, spider-sense screaming, and he was pretty sure he cursed out loud. He darted past the woman, pushed past the small, struggling crowd, and tugged the jammed car door, ripping if half off its hinges. He pushed the boxes out of the way to get to the baby. He tore the seatbelt in half to let the car seat loose, and handed the entire seat to the woman.

He glanced at the baby, happy and relieved to see her alive— crying but unharmed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The mother unbuckled her, smiling now, and seeing that the scene was okay to go on without him, Peter left.

He swung away, away to a rooftop surrounded by nothing but open sky, and crumpled to the ground.

His spider-sense didn’t stop. He didn’t feel safe anymore. His chest tightened, and he felt like his airway was closing. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on breathing in, slowly, breathing out, slowly. Repeating it. His fingers dug into the rough artificial ground.

Someone could be screaming right next to him, and he wouldn’t even know it.

He could see something flashing even through his closed eyelids, and opened his eyes to see this at his display had changed.

Next to a transparent box showing his elevated vital signs, Mr. Stark’s concerned face was on the screen. He said something, but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t hear you, Mr. Stark,” he said, hoping his voice was louder than a whisper, “I can’t hear you.”

Tony frowned, typing something on his screen and saying something else Peter hoped wasn’t supposed to be directed at him, and at once a new message popped up on the screen, all systems online and functioning correctly.

Peter just shook his head again. “I’ll be right there,” he said, “I’m heading back to the tower now. Please meet me there, please.” And he hung up before Tony could try to tell him something again.

He had to take four breaks on his short trip back to the tower, just to breathe. He felt like he was dying, but he hadn’t been hit by anything, so he couldn’t be. It painfully reminded him of an asthma attack like those he used to have pre-powers.

But, unlike those past times when he wouldn’t have even been able to stand, every time he caught his breath even just enough to stand up again, he forced himself to keep going. He was so afraid to see someone get hurt, or worse, without him being there to prevent it from happening. His never relenting spider-sense made him feel like people were getting hurt around him; it made him feel blind, like he couldn’t see things he knew were there.

It wasn’t even 10 am when he arrived back at the tower, but Peter fell into the tower window, gasping. He saw Mr. Stark stand up in surprise at Peter on the floor, before rushing over to him. Peter pushed himself up so he was sitting, and ripped off his mask. He felt the tears on his face and didn’t know how long he’d been crying for. He just wished he could hear the voice of his mentor as he stopped in front of him.

Peter reached forward and grabbed his shirt, seeing that the man was trying to talk to him.

Peter cried, “I can’t hear, Mr. Stark; I can’t hear you.”

Mr. Stark pulled him to his feet, touching Peter’s chin so that Peter could see his face, and tried to say something else. Peter shook his head. “I can’t hear you,” he repeated, “I can’t— I can’t hear anything.”

Mr. Stark pulled Peter into a hug, where they stayed until Peter could feel his heart rate slow and his breathing calm down. He pulled away to wipe his eyes. Mr. Stark gently took his arm and led him into the lab, where he handed Peter a metal device shaped like a pencil. He pressed a button and a nearly (but not quite) opaque holographic blank screen popped up in Peter’s face out of the long side of the not-pencil, making a sort of hand-held paper in Peter’s hand.

Suddenly the words, “can you understand me now?” Typed into the screen, and Peter looked up. Tony said something else, and the words, “it usually works pretty well, just let me know if something doesn’t make sense” appeared. Peter raised a confused and interested eyebrow.

“This is neat,” he said curiously. “Why do you have this?”

Tony shrugged, and started speaking. Then, “It’s not the first time I’ve had deaf friends hanging out in the tower, you know.” Peter didn’t know that, but didn’t ask further. Whoever it was had his respect, though.

“So do you have any clues?” Tony’s question popped up on the holographic tablet.

Peter shrugged. “Pretty sure it was whatever I got sprayed with last night.”

“Makes sense. You were pretty out of it yesterday you slept through most of the movie and didn’t even wake up when I carried you to bed.” Peter scrunched his eyebrows at the image.

Tony went on. “When did it kick in?”

Peter cocked his head to the side; “what do you mean?”

“What time did your hearing go away this morning?”

Peter shrugged. “Sometime last night.”

He looked at the screen, then at Tony when nothing appeared. Tony was staring at him with an expression Peter had seen before, usually when he’d done something wrong.

Tony spoke, and Peter was for once glad he had good reason to look away to understand him.

“So. You woke up. Your first morning missing a pretty important sense. And decided to go out as the crime-fighting, life-saving, danger-seeking Spider-Man?”

Peter didn’t know if the punctuation on the screen was intentional, but it helped give him an idea of how Tony sounded.

“Ummm, not exactly,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the screen; it was weird talking and not hearing your own voice, and Peter partially wondered if he was talking too loud. “I went to see if I could find a sample of whatever was in the, uh, the spray.”

Tony turned to the table beside him and pushed a button. Silent videos from social media popped up of Spider-Man helping a woman to her feet, then pulling a baby from a crushed car. He had to admit that even without sound, he looked a little lost.

He glanced back at Tony, he was now looking at him skeptically.

Peter shrugged. “I got distracted.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter could see a hint of a smile on his face. He thought he was going to say something but instead he walked around the table to where Peter normally sat, grabbed a paper towel, then reached under the table and grabbed a yellow cube from the trash can.

Not a cube. The sponge from last night, that Peter had used to try and scrub the suit clean. Tony held it up expectantly.

A sample.

“Oh.”

Movement on the tablet caught his attention. “Oh indeed,” Tony said.

____________

They had the chemical’s composition within the hour. They had the antidote by lunch. They were waiting for FRIDAY to make the dose needed, when Peter saw Tony laugh.

“What?” Peter hadn’t said anything, and he looked around to find out what he was laughing at.

Tony’s words appeared, “I think it’s time for lunch. Friday tell us when the dose is ready.”

He laughed again. The words, “sure thing boss” followed on the screen.

Peter frowned. “Why is that funny?”

Tony smiled. “Because your stomach growling is more reliable than my alarm clock.”

Peter rolled his eyes, glancing down at his abdomen. “Traitor,” he jokingly accused.

____________

FRIDAY had the dose ready sooner than expected, so Peter brought the rest of his PB&J down to the lab with him.

He’d forgotten the talk-to-text tablet upstairs, so he didn’t hear anything Tony said and hoped there weren’t any urgent special instructions when Tony handed him a glass of blueish liquid.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I just drink it?” Tony nodded and opened a can of sprite, leaning it forward for a toast. Peter tapped the cups, and they both drank. Peter made a scrunched face at the nasty taste after emptying the glass, closing his eyes as he coughed.

“So I’m guessing it wasn’t blue raspberry flavored?” Tony asked.

Peter shook his head and coughed, but froze when he realized he’d heard the question. He opened his eyes to see Tony smiling in front of him.

“We did it Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, his voice sounding wayy too loud in his head.

“We did it,” Tony replied, and Peter visibly flinched.

“Everything’s so loud,” he said quietly.

Tony’s smile faded a little. “Hm.” He spoke softly, “whatchya say we stay in for the rest of the day and watch movies with the sound turned way down low?”

Peter grinned, “I’d love that, but then you won’t be able to hear it!”

Tony put his fists on his hips in mock anger, “are you saying I’m old?”

Peter laughed. “Maybe in spider years.”

Tony rolled his eyes and smiled. “That’s what I thought. Now, what’re we watching? And please don’t make me watch that same movie for the third time in a row. There’s only a certain number of times I can listen to the jar jar lizard, and we’ve already exceeded that.”

“Okay. So how about that old movie Predator?”

“Okay, now you are calling me old.”

“Of course, now that I can hear your reaction.”

 

____________

30 minutes, 2 buckets of popcorn, and 1 pizza later, the duo finds themselves back upstairs on the couch, working on pulling up Predator with subtitles for Tony.

“So,” Tony began, “going back to that topic of reactions. How about I add this: don’t go out when you’re injured, as if that’s a new rule. Or impaired in some way. And if something like this happens again, come to me first. Please.”

Peter smirked. “Of course.”

“Nuh-uh, I need a stronger promise than that, bud. I don’t feel reassured at all.”

Peter sobered up, then. “Okay,” he said, “I will. Seriously. I was so scared.”

“Me too, Kid. Me too.”

“I thought I’d never hear you again. Or anything.”

“Aw, you’d miss hearing me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just the good stuff.”

“Like how much I care about you? And how great you are? And I’m so glad you’re my kid?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. He quickly turned it into a frown as if contemplating something. “Nah, I was thinking more about the times when you’re like, ‘do you want food?’ Or, ‘here’s some pizza,’ is a good one, too.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, who grinned. “But that other stuff you were saying is nice, too,” Peter added, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.

“I’m glad you think so,” Tony replied, “because I mean it.”

“Oh,” Peter responded.

“Oh indeed,” Tony replied with a smile Peter could hear in his voice.

The movie started, and Peter rested his head into Tony’s side.

“I care about you too, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly. He knew Tony could easily hear over the movie’s volume. “And I’m really glad you’re here for me and that you’re my, uh, my mentor. Well, and like a father figure person, too.”

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter.

“Glad to hear it, Peter. You make a really great kid, you know. And I’ll always be here for you.”

”Thanks, Tony. And you make a really great dad.”

______________

______________

[bestworstcase]

farran rereads lost lagoon: chapters 3-4

- a shot-put ball, according to my cursory research, weighs in the neighborhood of 6-16 pounds. leila howland expects me to believe that princess “hoisted an adult woman 70 ft into the air on the daily with nothing but a pulley and raw upper body strength” rapunzel has a hard time picking up a shot.

anyways

- rapunzel thinks about how she used to talk to herself in her tower when she was isolated (and lonely) but stopped once she came to corona, and this girl looked like she was talking to herself, and it gave rapunzel this weird sense of familiarity! now what in the world could that mean? its so subtle i can’t quite put my finger on it.

again, romance novel.

less sardonically - i will say that tts cass has never struck me as an especially lonely person. yes, rapunzel is quite possibly her first ever close friend, but cass also appears to be on pleasant terms with her coworkers and has at least one or two friendships or mentor-type relationships among the guards (stan and pete). animals in tts are anthropomorphized enough to qualify as humans, and cassandra is unequivocally friends with owl and fidella. she is friendly if not friends with at least one coronan citizen (monty). she’s utterly unfazed by crowley’s crabbiness. she’s able to get along with the pub thugs. in vardaros she befriends vex with ease and makes herself right at home among the citizenry at large. there is zero friction between her and lance - at most she rolls her eyes when he’s being ridiculous. and out of the main cast, cassandra is the one who seems closest to varian in s1 - like, she has actual bonding moments with him. 

THE POINT BEING, cassandra may not have a lot of close friends, but she is nevertheless personable and demonstrates the ability to adapt herself to suit a variety of social environments. maybe i’m projecting here - i have very few close offline friends because my preference for in-person socialization is for it to be very casual - but taken together this doesn’t scream ‘lonely person’ to me. it instead says ‘person who finds social fulfillment in a wide net of friendly acquaintanceships’ and possibly also ‘person who finds close, emotionally intimate relationships worthwhile but very demanding to maintain, and so seldom or never seeks them out.’

this, absolutely, a very subjective reading of her character - it is just as plausible for cass to be someone who is socially competent but feels inwardly unfulfilled until rapunzel comes along. but even in that reading, this implication that cassandra is as deeply lonely, as thoroughly isolated in corona as rapunzel was in her tower is baldly absurd.

- i think i will have more thoughts about how arianna is characterized and the relationship she and rapunzel have with each other later in the story. for now it feels rather mechanical, and like arianna exists in the story to facilitate cassunzel happening.

- cassandra comes across to me like she has an anxiety disorder written by someone who doesn’t quite know how to convey how that feels? she catastrophizes: what if rapunzel thinks cass attacked her? will she get in trouble? but then she stops to make snide comments about rapunzel’s security detail ‘[falling] down on the job’ and concludes with an impressive amount of certainty that rapunzel isn’t going to make a big deal of it, after all. that… isn’t how anxiety works?

then, immediately, she finds a note from her father scolding her for slacking off—making it clear that she is indeed in trouble, like she feared—and her response is to scoff and throw it away. zero concern about being in trouble. zero worry about the consequences she might face for refusing the pointed “offer” of being rapunzel’s lady-in-waiting. like… this isn’t anxiety. i’m positive it’s meant to convey anxiety, but it comes across as cassandra just being… melodramatic and rude and grumpy. like a teenager. it’s unpleasant. and it bears very little resemblance to tts cass, who expresses a clear and consistent anxiety regarding the security of her job and the looming threat of a convent.

- secondly: “Friedborg reported that you missed your afternoon duties AGAIN. Please be advised that this is unacceptable. The queen is looking for a lady-in-waiting to serve Princess Rapunzel. It would be a great opportunity for you, and you must show the queen how prepared you are to train her in the ways of the court.” i am 100% convinced that howland thought cass was rapunzel’s age or younger. if friedborg is effectively cassandra’s direct supervisor, and she is reporting absences to cassandra’s father instead of addressing this with cassandra directly, the only explanation that makes sense is that cassandra is not of legal age.

- “Ladies don’t wield weapons, lead military strategy meetings, or race on horseback. Ladies do needlework, flower arranging, and hairstyling.”

sighs.

i am not going to argue that corona, in any incarnation, isn’t culturally sexist. it is. there are no women in the guard, no women in trades, no female business owners in the vein of monty or xavier or feldspar. besides rapunzel and arianna - who as the monarch’s spouse has very little in the way of actual political power - there are no women in the upper echelons of the government. besides cassandra, the only gnc women around are criminals. cass is denied even a chance to join the guard for no evident reason, even though her father allows eugene - a man he openly despises - to take the tests and then begrudgingly hires him when he passes. no one sees an issue with this, even though cassandra is demonstrably overqualified.

however.

howland makes this cultural sexism explicit text, and she does so in such a way that it implies something pretty horrifying about the already pretty horrifying corona-saporia unification backstory.

i am talking, of course, about general shampanier. you know, the female saporian general whom herz der sonne married when the two kingdoms were unified. the female saporian general who personally dueled der sonne for hours, according to under raps. the female saporian general who, forget military strategy meetings, led an entire goddamn army. i will accept the possibility that shampanier did not ride horses, because rapunzel’s return suggests that saporians have some sort of cultural objection to that. but this book predates rapunzel’s return by a large margin, and it isn’t canon anyway, so odds are the general shampanier of this story rode a warhorse at some point or another in her illustrious career of being the general of an army!!!

this woman - general shampanier - became the queen, the wife of arguably corona’s most historically important king, at a defining moment in coronan political and cultural history. tts and lost lagoon would both have us believe that this was a romantic, peaceful union between two people and two nations, but a few hundred years later - this. ladies don’t fight. ladies don’t belong in the war tent. ladies don’t ride horses. cass takes these things for granted as facts of life. but general shampanier did all of those things, and she did them extremely well, and she became corona’s queen.

WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT HAPPENED TO SHAMPANIER’S LEGACY?

how did corona go from a warrior-queen to this, in just a few hundred years? the most plausible answer is that the background radiation of sexism and, perhaps, anti-saporian bias was powerful enough to unravel any cultural impact she may have otherwise had, deep enough to render her an outlier, an aberration, an exception to the rule that women do not act like that.

even arguing here that ‘lady’ specifically means ‘noblewoman’ doesn’t add up - because, again, general shampanier became THE QUEEN. you don’t get more noblewoman than that!

it feels unfair to judge this book with details added in season 3—such as the fact that shampanier is evidently not buried with herz der sonne—but this total lack of a cultural impact from general shampanier, queen of corona, feels very telling even without taking those tidbits of extra-textual information into consideration.

and good god, saporia hasn’t even properly entered the narrative yet! this is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg!

*deep breath*

moving. on.

- continuing the theme of cass being a child larping as a guard recruit: she has a closetful of weapons which she maintains to the exacting standards of the handbook, but skips out on her job to “train” in secret because evidently she’ll do ANYTHING to get on the guard except, you know, demonstrate a modicum of responsibility with the job she has now.

- moreover while i think cartography is a neat hobby for cassandra to have, it… doesn’t make a lot of sense if it’s part of some nebulous plan to ~prove herself worthy~ of being on the guard. like, cartography straight up isn’t a relevant skill, and while knowing the countryside could certainly be helpful for guard work in the event a criminal goes to ground in the wilderness, it’s like… it’s like if i applied for my current job, which is in software/tech support, by focusing an intensive amount of energy on teaching myself spanish. fluency in spanish is a useful skill and one that i could turn into an asset within the bounds of my current job, and it might be the deciding factor in me getting hired over someone else with equivalent experience and skill in computing and tech support (which is what the job involves) because, yes, some of our clients are ESL spanish-speakers. but it’s—there’s a disconnect. if i were in a tight competition to get this job i would be pouring my time into sharpening my programming skill and polishing up a portfolio of relevant work. i wouldn’t be devoting hours upon hours to learning spanish. right?

on the other hand—if cartography is a hobby cassandra is passionate about, and she’s 16 or 17 or 18 and she really likes the idea of being on the guard and really feels like she can do it and is bored with her dumb teenager job and desperate to get her dad to make her a guard without actually grasping what being a guard entails or the kind of work it involves or what she actually, realistically needs to do to have a shot, then… yeah, skipping work to play pretend with her weapons and convincing herself that her favorite hobby is totally going to prove to her dad that she’s ready to be a guard!!! makes perfect sense. it’s no different from tts varian tunnel visioning so hard on this fantasy of ‘i’ll surprise my whole village with hot running water and then my dad will be proud of me!!!’ that he neglects basic safety measures and accidentally blows the whole system up. it’s not realistic. it’s a fantasy. it’s play.

- the only time cassandra brings up eugene’s criminal past in tts is to mock him for being a loser. like. literally. the plot of fitzherbert pi kicks off when she calls him a “two-bit hood” and then when he fires back that flynn rider was a LEGEND!!! she fires back “key word being was. and… what is it you do now?” and that’s the only time she brings it up. granted this is 6-7 months into their relationship but… still, frankly i never got the impression that “former thief” was anywhere close to the top of cassandra’s list of reasons for hating eugene. he’s just a dick. she doesn’t like him because he’s a huge selfish jerk and she warms up to him after her starts behaving better.

- rapunzel goes to the ty lee school of flirting. just… laugh really hard at everything your crush says even if it’s not funny.

- despite my… intense and rapidly growing dislike for how cassandra is characterized in this book, her experiencing an actual physical reaction when rapunzel enters her space without permission is good. it’s about the boundaries. it has always been about the boundaries, and rapunzel crossing them, and the intractable messiness that arises from that.

- in fact: how many times does rapunzel cross boundaries in just this one little scene? oh, let me count the ways!

1 - when cassandra goes to shut the door, rapunzel ducks under her arm to enter the room. (eugene attempts to enter as well, but cass succeeds in blocking him.)

2 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s first “go away” hint about only playing individual sports.

3 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s second “go away” hint (“I let the silence get awkward.”)

4 - arranging cassandra’s invitation to the feast of elodie the great with the captain beforehand, so cass can’t use him as an excuse to decline.

5 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s obvious discomfort with this news, taking cassandra’s attendance at the feast as a done deal, and skipping straight to asking cassandra to sit next to her.

6 - in response to cassandra’s very diplomatic signal of not wanting to do that (“I sit wherever I’m assigned”), she declares that she’ll make sure cassandra is assigned to sit next to her.

7 - touching without permission, which makes cassandra flinch.

all of which results in cassandra making what she considers to be a “tactical surrender.” and then shutting and locking her door, because she feels so rattled. as i recall, lagoon is actually a lot mellower on the boundary violations front - and rapunzel actually learns better over the course of the story, which is probably the biggest reason that lost lagoon is not canon and cannot be canon to tts - but it feels worth writing this sort of thing out because, well. it is one of the dead horses i keep clobbering.

[halo-jpeg]

I hope I didn’t leave a bad impression with my last ask, gah, I’m not good with social interactions. I wanted to make it up to you by giving you a happier ask! What if slashers (any of them you want to write for) with reader who isn’t an S/O but rather a really good best friend who was there for them since the beginning?

Oh, what was your last ask, if I may inquire? Either way, this idea is absolutely adorable, I’d love to write it!

Michael Myers

Michael grew up with you. Your mother and his were great friends, so the two of you were kind of forced together.

He wasn’t too fond of you at first, but you grew closer as the days passed. It was inevitable.

You grew even closer as school went on, always there to run away from bullies or patch up any wounds thst were given. Sadly, being friends with Michael is a one-way ticket to Freakville.

I can imagine that the two of of you would spend lots of time in his forest together, building forts out of branches and such.

Now, in the current day, you provide shelter for your murderer friend, spending the nights watching movies or painting homemade masks together.

He keeps you safe from anyone and anything posing a threat to you, following you around whenever he can, and making sure you’re never harmed.

You patch up his wounds, feed him, and make sure the police don’t come sniffing around your house. Even if they did, you talk them into leaving without suspicion.

You know Michael could never bring himself to hurt you, so he lets you boss him around quite often with no more than a glare and a huff.

He’s like a tsundere, but platonic. He’d never admit that you’re his best- and only- friend, but it’s the truth, and he loves you like family.

Jason Voorhees

Jason was so, so shy, but something about you made him want to be your friend. You were so... normal, and be admired that.

It took quite some encouragement to actually go talk to you, and he had Pamela at his side through it all. He was so afraid you’d hate his face.

The moment you choose to be his friend he’s attached to you. He’d put all of his trust in you, and he’d see you as a sort of protector.

Ever since he started hanging out with you, less people have bothered him. Probably because he was usually out in the forest with you, away from prying eyes, playing hide and seek or tropical explorers.

You came back to Camp Crystal Lake every year, even after he died. You couldn’t bear to leave the memories. You spoke to Pamela a lot, too, keeping Jason’s spirit alive between the two of you.

When Pam died, you went to the lake to pay your respects at her tombstone. You had never guessed Jason, big, scary, murdering Jason, would greet you with a great big hug.

You moved out to the lake on a whim, and Jason moved in with you, patrolling the grounds at night and helping you with chores or gardening during the day.

He’s just as clingy as ever, but now, he’s your protector, and he always will be.

He doesn’t like when you swim in the lake, but he battles down his fear and acts as a life guard whenever you insist on taking a dip.

You patch up his wounds, making sure he’s clean and healthy, and in turn he keeps any pesky teenagers at bay, as well as keeps your crops nice and strong. He’s a great farmer.

Billy & Stu

Billy and Stu were best friends from the beginning, and they weren’t opposed to having a third party join their group.

Even as kids Billy was super popular, so both you and Stu were in the clear when it came to bullies.

You spent most weekends sleeping over at each other’s houses watching all sorts of movies. Horror, comedy, action, romance- you name it! Because of this, you’re just as much of a movie buff as the others.

When other friends like Sidney, Tatum and Randy came along, Billy and Stu made sure you knew you were still top priority.

They didn’t hide their murderous plans from you for long, unable to bear seeing you so worried for your own life.

Once you knew they were the killers, you couldn’t be angry or scared of them. Although, you did feel slightly guilty as your friends died off around you. Anyone would.

As adults, movie nights are still inportant, and you find yourself watching movies as you patch up their bumps and bruises from their hunts.

They keep you plenty safe, and the three of you together have the best fun. You’re all meant to be.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

Danny was an outcast as a kid- he preferred photographs over people, but something about your face was next to irresistible.

Confident little Danny strolled right up to you one day and asked if he could take some pictures of you and your pretty face.

You and him clicked at that very moment, and he even taught you some of his photography skills.

His mother loved the hell out of you, and was always happy to have you over for dinner.

The night that Danny killed his mother and father, his first instinct was to go find you for help. Let’s just say you were surprised to see a bloody, terrified Danny crawling through your bedroom window at 3 am.

He ditched town for a while, finding shelter and solace in an old shack he’d stumbled upon, you taking up the job of bringing him food and whatever else he would need to live.

His Jed Olsen days were just fine, him showing his face again and living with you until people linked the Jed alibi to the murders. Then he was hiding again.

You hid with him, being the errand boy/girl, and spending most days chilling around with him doing who-knows-what. You were like a sister/brother to him, and he was just the same to you.

He trusts you with his life, and he kills off anyone who bothers you. You can even make requests, like you would to a rad DJ at a party. Although this was different... being murder and all.

Any and all S/Os of yours must pass the ‘Danny Test’, wherein he sees if they’re good enough to date you. Most fail. He’s picky, and overprotective.

Brahms Heelshire

The first day your parents brought you to the Heelshire residence to spend time with their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, both you and Brahms were reluctant to meet another child.

Living a life of seclusion Brahms never imagined meeting someone hed actually care for enough to consider a friend. He was proven wrong.

He wanted to see you every day, and you wanted the same. You ended up having play dates every second day or so, and Brahms found himself actually growing very fond of you.

The fire was devestating, and you couldn’t sleep for weeks and weeks. In the future, an ad for a nanny job seemed like a shockingly nostalgiac idea, so you took the job to see tbe house where you made so many memories.

Brahms recognized you almost instantly. He basically rushed his parents out of the house so he could see you in action, in a natural environment where you could be yourself. He needed to know if it was really you.

Upon confirming that it was you, (Y/N), he showed himself that same day without fear. All it took for you to burst into happy tears was him saying your name in the same voice he had as a child.

Now, Brahms loves to reenact the old days, having tea parties and playing in the forest like he had as a child. He’s so happy to have you back!

He’s a very jealous man, so he’s never going to be fond of your S/O, but he’ll tolerate you having one as long as you promise not to leave him.

He won’t go in the walls very often anymore because he’s not afraid of you. He also won’t wear his mask much. His trust in you is infinite!

Pyramid Head

Before Pyramid Head became the monster he was, he had a normal life in a human world, with you glued to his side like two peas in a pod.

At school, he would keep you safe from bullies, using his abnormal height and strength to scare them off.

He always inwardly groaned when people would say the two of you were cute together, because neither of you liked each other like that.

The day P.H. went missing, you had been heartbroken. Who knew you would stumble upon him again years later in hell on earth?

When first running into Pyramid Head as we know him now, neither of you recognized each other. How could you, after all those years?

You would have been dead if you hadn’t spoken, and if he hadn’t recognized your voice. He was completely shocked.

Unable to speak, It was more than difficult to tell you thst he was him, your old best friend. After plenty of struggling you finally realize.

Now, he’s your ultimate bodyguard. Nothing and no one will ever hurt you. He knows Silent Hill like the back of his hand, so he’s like a guide as well.

He’ll do his very best to train you to defend yourself. He can’t lose you, not after you’ve finally returned again.

He’s got serious attachement issues, so he never leaves your side. Despite all the défense training, he won’t leave you alone for long.

Amanda Young

Amanda lived a rough childhood, so it was fantastic to have a friend like you to help her through it.

She was defiant, even as a child, so she stood up to anyone who would try to tease either of you. It usually resulted in a harsh beating, but she always walked away alright.

As she fell deeper and deeper into a dark spiral, she ignores your attempts to help, and before she knew it she was addicted to drugs. She wishes she’d have listened to you and your warnings.

When you heard she had been kidnapped by the infamous Jigsaw, you were horrified. You had never in a million years expected her to walk out alive, yet she did.

She kept her mentoring with John Kramer on the down low, keeping that new identity hidden. You were just glad she had gotten off of drugs.

Balancing a stable life with you and enough time with John was difficult and strenuous for your relationship. Sooner or later you grew curious as to where she always was and demanded an answer.

She told you. In a moment of vulnerability she spilled her guts, telling you everything about her gae with Jigsaw and it’s outcome, how she was training to kill. She had cried, afraid you would leave her or turn her in to the police.

Of course you did neither. After a bit of a rough patch where you had to get used to the idea, you and Amanda grew closer than ever. You even helped her with some traps and devices for her games.

You saw how she looked up to John like a father figure, glad that she had someone like that in her life again. John grew fond of you as well, and before you knew it, he was training both of you to be his disciples.

You and Amanda regarded each other as siblings for the rest of your days.

[spokenfromtheheartandsoul]

Sorry for the second ask within like a day but am I the only one who actually likes the idea of Kiki staying with her sisters like I want Carlos to come and do this big declaration of love and maybe them doing long distance like I don't care what people say right now Kiki needs to be with her sisters not only for them but also for herself.

not at all! I love the chance to discuss druck - in this season there’s so much going on and so much to talk about with respect to each character, which I’m really enjoying.

and ah, i’m actually torn on this! on one hand, i wholeheartedly support the idea of kiki getting a chance to live independently with carlos and getting a fresh start, of sorts. she’s grown up in an environment wherein she’s clearly taken on a lot of responsibility at a young age, which meant less time to focus on herself and just live life as a teen. not only that, she seems to have taken on the ‘guardian’ role in the sister dynamic to make up for their mother’s absences in parenting as well, which is no small feat. that’s a role where she’ll often have to put her sisters first, and herself last. so i totally get her wanting to move away and wanting to try something new with her partner, and put herself first for once. nothing out of the ordinary, even - that’s a very common thing to do once someone’s graduated high school, too. (fiona from shameless, anyone? lol)

on the other hand, i did get the sense that even though kiki had moved away, she still very much felt the responsibility to watch over her younger sisters. druck’s social media game here was great - i think they did a good job of gradually showing over time how often she would check in with her sisters (quite often), and i think that exposes how worried she was about them being on their own. zoe and nora seemed to often work very hard to make sure kiki didn’t feel like she had to come back, but one of the first things kiki says when she came back home was “this isn’t working, i was so worried” to zoe. which i think shows a great deal about kiki’s headspace this whole time she’s been in trier. it only takes one sign of things not being okay, and she’s immediately in the car and driving through the night to make it home. at the end of the day, she’ll always be their sister - family is family, and she’s not going to stop loving, caring or worrying about her sisters just because she’s moved away. and that responsibility she feels to watch over them doesn’t go away because of distance, either.

as for zoe and nora, i definitely think it would help a lot to have kiki around! i can’t speak as much for zoe, since we don’t know her pov as much and she seems to have finn as her main go-to (though if i were to guess, i’d say she needs kiki as well, if her texts are any indication). but nora definitely seems to be missing that big-sister/mentor influence, someone to keep an eye on her and take care of her, someone she can talk to and trust that knows her family situation and has always taken care of her. her new friend group and josh are all great support systems, but also nora is a reserved person, and it’ll take time for her to eventually reach a point where she can trust them with certain things. and in situations like those, kiki is just who she needs. even now, kiki has only been there for a day or two and has already handled speaking to their mother for her, and has also booked an appointment for nora. 

so basically, tldr; that was a very long winded way of saying that i think this is a complicated situation and i really don’t think there is a right or wrong answer here! as much as i would love for kiki to stay so nora has that support, i’d also understand if she ultimately chose not to. it’d all depend on what kiki wants for herself. that being said, it does seem like she’s very much now set on staying somewhere near to her sisters, so maybe she and carlos can work out some type of compromise. (somehow, i’m not worried about carlos at all lol, his characterization so far points that he’s a pretty understanding person so i’m hoping it’ll all be fine there). in any case, i’m very interested in seeing how druck will carry this out! we’re nearing the home stretch here, so hopefully it will be something that works out well for everyone involved.

[deliciousscaloppine]

No longer valentine’s day...but still.

Son of the witch Meng Shi

What did I want to write, what I wrote:

Okay, so I had a lot of ideas for this story, and I thought to myself it would make a nice longer work (big works should be packed with ideas). Primarily I just wanted to make a very sensual mystery with lots of different love stories, dark secrets, beautiful, fantasy visuals and funny action scenes. I also wanted to write something where the two masterminds (Jiggy/Huaisang) are pitted against each other a little more openly, and end up working together to solve a common problem. Somehow...I managed to write a time traveling mom heist. To be honest, I wouldn’t have expanded on this work as much as I did if I hadn’t added the time traveling element - which in general I find very intriguing and wanted to work on myself.

Story structure and dramatic time.

I basically envisioned this story as a corridor with many doors at first. The protagonist - Huaisang - enters the corridor and will have to move towards one direction to end the story, but on the way there are many doors to either side leading to rooms that can be visited several times and change the character’s perception of the journey. Some may be unlocked under certain conditions, some other might be connected in more ways than one, but all these are meant to be exited the same way so the journey forward can resume. 

At some point I did conceive this as a parallel timeline story. Meaning Huaisang has his own journey in the present, which is the active time of the narrative, and Meng Yao has the more visually appealing storyline at the background of the plot, which Huaisang would have to visit to bring that air of fantasy and mystery into his own more detective/coming of age like storyline. 

Once I inserted the time traveling element, however, I started reviewing what I had done, and wished to connect the two timelines in a Mobius strip style. Basically there is only one story - one surface in which all actions occur - and past and present are not only connected but occur simultaneously. 

I also wanted to explore that in a way that seemed plausible to me. So in many ways Huaisang can’t influence the past - because the past is physical and because of entropy a great deal of physical information is lost or replaced, but he can be perceived by Meng Yao and so Meng Yao can use him in the present. Huaisang can also become trapped there, in the form of birds and more importantly his own sword Jinsique.

Thematic development, the emotional core of the story.

I introduced the theme of this story quite late, because for up to the middle, I had no idea what that was, and what I was trying to develop ended up in Don’t be evil anymore. 

Basically, my first idea was a young closeted individual with lots of identity issues, severely isolated from his own social group, coming to terms with who they are and trying to teach themselves how to empathize with others. This remained as a lesser theme, basically Huaisang’s theme, through the story, but I deemed he shouldn’t get his resolution so easily, even though I would allow him to change. I wanted him to change so he would work with Meng Yao, but Meng Yao so far had no themes in his own story, and that was a big problem in devising his motivating problem, and a satisfying climax.

So I examined what these two should connect and bond over, and I decided it would be their mutual lack of parents. Meng Yao, however, had to have someone to save, someone who had also taught him extensively and he had an immense emotional connection to, enough so that his lovers wouldn’t be the only motivating factor, and in fact could be sacrificed over this more special person. And because Meng Yao is so closely observed by Huaisang, he would also emerge as a mentoring figure, not only intellectually, but also emotionally. 

So in the end Meng Yao would get his mother and his freedom back, and Huaisang would also gain his brother and the emotional flexibility he craved at the beginning of the story, giving a more or less happy tone to the ending. 

So I came up with the theme that would help me also explain the behavior of these two characters: Missing mothers, and then more broadly missing women in general. In this way I also solved another problem inherent to overtly male story environments, meaning while they can be quite flexible in exploring dramatic conflicts, they also force female characters to the semantic background of the plot. But these missing, or eradicated women are the reason why male antagonism takes on criminal directions, and why there is a mounting hostility to gender vagueness and homosexuality in fantasy settings.

In my case, I wanted the female characters to make a conscious choice of departing from the story. Lady florist is a lonely cultivator that moves in and out, but always maintains a clear perception of the dark, unseen aspects of the violent world in the story, and this is what motivates her to surgical interventions on the side of justice. 

The two Nie mothers, and Meng Shi with Lady Qin act as foils to each other, with the Nie mothers facing off directly with the dark secrets of their home and departing after they realize their solutions and transformations are not tolerated. In contrast, in the Jin home the women are utterly subdued, they are prisoners kept only because they may be used, but all of them have a core of private resistance and they act as teachers, protectors and instigators. For the Qin women leaving is part of their liberation, part of staying safe. They are also to be emulated - when the Brides leave the story they do so having seen what happens when one stays attached to a house and the desires of others.

The motivating problem

Most characters need to break free from their narrative restrictions in order to be changed and fulfilled. They need to become more than a story device, so in a way they have to defy the story - that is why I included whole chapters where the story structure completely breaks down and past present and multiple selves come together. And also parts of the story where I make it difficult to myself to move towards an easy resolution. 

I chose to demonstrate that through Meng Shi’s bondage, and Meng Yao’s trials. They are both the least and most physical characters, inhabiting multiple spacetimes and moving through the story collecting knowledge and information to gain the most complete view of the narrative, going as far as dying and attaining knowledge of themselves from their previous lives, as well as the afterlife. In having this loose and fluid relationship with life and death, they finally offer the potential of change and transformation to the rest of the story world.  They offer an alternative of immortality that is more associated with divinity and detachment and so I was able to create an open ending, where death and past mistakes do not determine the character - very suitable for young adult novels.

Writing process

For me this fic is what a good first draft looks like for a big work - it contains elements of the language i am going to use, well focused scenes, complete storylines, the atmosphere of the book, the basic gist of the characters, and the stylistic variations i wanted to implement. I took long breaks between chapters to really plan ahead and consider all the openings i had left in the previous chapters, and what kind of expectations i was creating, and how they should be reasonably fulfilled. In a second draft I would expand the worldbuilding and basically add information that fic readers take for granted, like the background of the villains and the “original sin” that distorted the idea of immortality for the villainous cultivators and led to the creation of the Yin Iron as a capacitor for human resentment and expand as well on the various tiers of divinity and what real immortality looks like in this world. I would also explore more the stories of the minor characters, and make Huaisang’s “detective” work a little more pronounced. 

[angel-gidget]

Amethyst #1: A Riveting Reboot

I could say Amethyst #1 written and illustrated by Amy Reeder is a work of art and you’d all be like “no duh, gidge. comics are half art” but Amethyst #1 is also clearly a work of LOVE. I’ve been reading and flailing and feeling like I should review, but have been uncertain where to start. So I shall try to simply pick 10 delights that stand out to me.

Heads up for spoilers!

1. Her mom and dad. Amy’s origin has clearly been restored from the left turn at Albuquerque that was the nu52. I love that Reeder shows right out the gate that Amy’s adoptive parents are supportive yet struggling with raising a daughter that spends more and more time in a magical realm they can’t enter. Or can they? We will see what the rules are as we go.

In the original series, anybody who didn’t have magic risked getting lost and stranded between realms if they tried to cross between the Gemworld and earth. That doesn’t conflict with the glimpses we’ve seen in YJ, exactly, so we’ll wait and see how things unfold.

2. One thing that DOES conflict with what we’ve seen in YJ though: Turquoise’s number of arms. Or, the number of arms on anybody living in her entire kingdom for that matter. Might be that Reeder and Bendis didn’t get a chance to double-check those details against each other before committing to their scripts. But who thinks to ask about things like that though? (“Hey, your redesign of this character has the standard 4 limbs or less, not 6, right?”)

You know what? I’m okay with this. We get pretty Bendis/Gleason?/Timms? design and this totally funky four-armed broad-sword user and I think I will enjoy seeing if they actually DO come up with an in-canon explanation of the discrepancy.

Also, apparently this Turquoise is married? He’s clearly a consort rather than a ruler, and I wanna know more. (All of the bullpen appears on board with avoiding the Amy/Topaz/Turquoise love triangle from the original series and that’s probably for the best. I just hope that we’ll get to see my boy Topaz at some point anyway, even if he’s no longer a romantic candidate for either fair lady.)

3. Hallelujah! We have a name! I have always loved that Amethyst rides around on a pegasus/pegacorn (another YJ mismatch here, but seems like semantics to me). BUT HE’S NEVER HAD A NAME. HE FINALLY HAS A NAME! IT’S A BADASS NAME. Ypsilos. Greek & unique. I dig it. ‘Bout time.

4. Her mentors. Granch and Citrine(a) are back! Ok, they’re actually missing, but it was good to see their faces smiling down on itty bitty!Amy. I dug the way “witch mother Citrina” would roll off the tongue in the original series, but it didn’t make totally sense that everybody gets to take the exact name of a gemstone while Citrine gets her name kinda anglicized by sticking an A on the end. Small fix, I appreciate the logic.

I’m wondering if Cintrine is as powerful of a magic user in this story as she was in the original. I mean, probably not, bc of House Amethyst disapearing without a trace, but it will be cool to see how it goes. I dig how Amy notes how much she usually relies on them, and how this sensibly leads to…

5. Noob ruler, a lil’ tone-deaf. She’s clearly trying. Taking some good speech-giving cues from Braveheart, probably. But this scene shows she IS inexperienced and bc she’s still in training, she doesn’t have a lot of trust from her neighboring common people. PEOPLE IN THE CROWD ARE MISSING LIMBS. Turquoise warned her about this. These people clearly HAVE been fighting. They aren’t turning her down bc they lack courage. They’re just insulted that this tiny neighbor princess showed up in a BALLGOWN royal-splaining warrior grit to them.

I gotta admit, I was a bit worried when Amy Reeder’s interview (also at the back of the comic) came out, and she talked about Amy Winston having a “little miss perfect” personality. There were some character details that never got fleshed out about 80′s Amy, but I’m relieved that this new iteration actually has some of the original character flaws shown.

She’s a lil’ presumptuous. She gets her ideas from watching Earth movies and TV. Sometimes it pans out, and she’s like “Of course it did! You backwards middle ages people are so quaint. No worries, I will bless you with my high school knowledge of democracy and vaccination.” But she lacks the foresight to see when and why a youthful earth-style plan won’t work in the Gemworld’s environment.

Re-worked Amy just gets really lucky here that Nameless Warrior of the Cool Haircut and Rad Caterpillar Creature sees that she’s such a tiny summer child and decides to assist, impugning of honor aside.

6. Monsters vs. Innocent Creatures. This was always a fun aspect of the Gemworld! Is that a terrifying monster or a cute critter? Maybe it’s both! Or maybe its not a monster at all, and you’re just biased. Nice to meet you, Stan.

7. Living birth parents? That’s a twist (Or, it still CAN be.) In the original series, Amy’s birth father was revealed be the host of a Lord of Order (If that sounds familiar, it’s a Dr. Fate thing.) That meant she technically had an original living parent, but… that’s where the writing went South and turned obnoxiously edgy and tangential. But this implies that both her bio mom and dad are plain-ol’-fashioned alive. Which is new and an intriguing dangling plot-thread. Cool cool.

8. He’s just… so evil. It’s great. I’ve already blubbered about the pleasant simplicity of Dark Opal’s villainy, but I also appreciate that his funky face clasp is back, and I dig the drone-spiders. In the original series, his adopted son Carnelian was the techie, so I’ll be curious to see if there any nods to that in the future.

9. One seriously solid exposition page. Pretty, concise... and just enough holes to entice. This implies that the events of the first Amethyst mini series have ALREADY HAPPENED in this continuity. But some things are CLEARLY different. (Turquoise kingdom world-building, Amy does not change her age between realms, etc.) That leaves some surprises in store.

10. First issue parallels. It’s her birthday. Again. Her parents are giving her title-drop jewelry. Again. She’s all gussied up in an over-the-top dress for her mentor’s sake, but it’s completely inappropriate for battling evil which is what she’s gonna have to ACTUALLY go do bc that’s her luck. Again. I do love me some good symmetry.

TO CONCLUDE... I am so, so happy to read this. Reeder has done right by my girl, and I look forward to issue #2. Huzzah!

[queenofquiet17]

Digging Deeper Meme

Tagged by the lovely @crinkle-eyed-boo!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black, but I’ll use blue in a pinch.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? City, no question.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? Stealing Kim’s answer about becoming fluent in more languages. I took five years of German in grade school and graduated high school with a Foreign Language Honor Society cord, but lost most of it over the years and can only hold a very basic conversation now. I definitely regret letting it slip like that.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I don’t put anything in my tea. I usually take my coffee with milk or cream.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? I was all over the Bailey School Kids books. The Westing Game. The Wayside School books by Louis Sachar. And then once I got to 6th grade/middle school, I started reading Mary Higgins Clark like crazy because my mom had her books around the house.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers by default, since I don’t have a tub.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Unicorn

8. Paper or electronic books? PAPER BOOKS. I can not deal with not having the physical copy of a book in my hands. Which means that my apartment is 90% bookshelves/piles of books scattered around.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? My worn Melissa Etheridge t-shirt from the Never Enough tour is probably the most comfortable thing I own.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I used to not be thrilled with it, because there were a million Sarahs in my school (including my best friend), but now I can’t imagine being called anything else.

11. Who is a mentor to you? We’ve lost touch, but I’ve always considered my undergrad adviser/professor for most of my music classes to be a mentor of sorts. All I knew back then was that I wanted to create musically, and he really helped me sharpen my ear and listen in ways I never thought to before. He helped me find my voice and tap into my creativity. He also taught the Queer Culture class I took my very first semester, and as a baby gay landing in NYC hoping to be part of a more inclusive environment, that connection meant everything.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? I don’t know if I would want that, but if it was for anything, I would want it to be for my writing.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? Sometimes.

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? In spite of everything, yes.

15. Which element best represents you? Earth? I think?

16. Who do you want to be closer to? I’ve always been super close with my mom. Most of her side of the family, however, is a different story. It definitely smarts sometimes, because they’re very tight and there are moments when I feel like I’m missing out; I know being the liberal gay girl in a family of super conservative people probably has something to do with that. Luckily, I’ve got the best chosen family I could have asked for.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? I miss my friends, and even though I’m happy to be back home after three months of being back in my hometown because of the pandemic, I miss my mom (although we are back on our nightly phone call game).

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. My dad was a graphic designer when I was a kid, and really into drawing (he was the illustrator of a locally published children’s book called Barely a Bath for a Bear that came out when I was 1). And I have really vivid memories of coloring with him at the table, or drawing and painting with him on my plastic easel when I was about 3 or 4.

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I...don’t really know? Probably ostrich meat.

20. What are you most thankful for? Right now...my friends, my health.

21. Do you like spicy food? I’m slowly gaining a tolerance for spicy food, I used to not be able to handle any of it. But the stuff I can handle, yes.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Quite a few, living in New York definitely helps. Among them, I will never be able to get over the fact that I met Megan Mullally. Also, Jill Hennessy is legitimately one of the sweetest and most down to earth people you will ever meet.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? I tried to keep a diary a bunch of times as I was growing up, but I never stuck with it.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Pen

25. What is your star sign? Taurus, Taurus rising, Leo moon

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? More crunchy than soggy.

27. What would you want your legacy to be? That I loved wholeheartedly and I stayed true to myself.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I am always reading. I never leave the house without a book, and I will bring a backup book with me when I’m close to finishing the one I’m on. The last one I finished was a book about the making of Valley of the Dolls (the book and movie), and I’m almost finished reading You Know Me Well by Nina LaCour and David Levithan.

29. How do you show someone you love them? Listen, check in, send things that make me think of them among other things.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Yes

31. What are you afraid of? Heights.

32. What is your favourite scent? Coffee, old books, rose, lavender

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? 100% depends on the person.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I don’t think it would be much different from where I’m at now. But I would have a massive apartment, and I would travel 1000% more than I do now.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Pools

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? Mini spree in a record store or a bookstore.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? No

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I don’t want kids, but I’m intent on doing my part in teaching my nephew (my best friend’s son) to be openhearted and accepting.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I mean, I already have 13. I was supposed to get three more back in April, but I’m now working to get that appointment rescheduled since my tattoo parlor reopened. I’m planning on a Cher tattoo on my arm, the Lucy Ricardo stick figure cartoon near my collarbone, and the Melissa Etheridge key symbol on my shoulder.

40. What can you hear now? This week’s episode of In Bed with Nick and Megan

41. Where do you feel the safest? With my friends

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My public speaking issues.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? The 1920s.

44. What is your most used emoji? Double hearts

45. Describe yourself using one word. Easygoing.

46. What do you regret the most? Biting my tongue when I should have spoken up.

47. Last movie you saw? The Broken Hearts Club

48. Last tv show you watched? Party Down.

49. Invent a word and its meaning. I know my best friend and I have invented words but for the life of me, I can’t remember them right now? Way to put me on the spot ;-)

Pretty sure everyone’s probably been tagged, but if you made it to the end of this and you want to play, go for it!

[kiki-wiccan]

It was of no surprise that Kiki was so open to conversing with customers, though Stanislav found himself piecing together that Kiki was a wiccan. That would explain her affinity towards the supernatural.

        “Ah. So you’re a magic user? Noted.” 

      The vampire concentrated on Kiki’s face, observing the subtle movements of her facial muscles, the way her lips would move when she spoke, her eyes. What an interesting human, and Stanislav had met many within his lifetime. Perhaps this interest stemmed from their recent, though many encounters.

        “I would assume that the move stumped your creative drive. Having to adapt to such a new environment with little colleagues must have been overwhelming.” At Kiki’s comment of drawing her dream, Stanislav seemed neutral about it. “Perhaps drawing that dream of yours might help revitalize your passion for the arts. You’ve got quite a fascinating way of seeing things, Miss Kiki.” This wasn’t a lie, not at all. It seemed as if Kiki saw the world in colours of which Stanislav had never been able to see, not that he would be able to now. Besides, he was fine with seeing the world in grey. 

           “I can’t help but notice you seem drawn to the world of illusion.” The vampire king didn’t quite know how to respond to her love of acting; he’d never been on for theatre. Why watch when life was but a play itself? Everyone donned their mask, their crafted personas. Stanislav was not exempt from such a reality, no need to defend himself from a truth he had acknowledged long ago. 

          Deciding to delve into Kiki’s creativity some more, Stanislav meant to detract attention from himself. To say he didn’t enjoy learning Kiki would be misleading, but he understood that he would also maintain his distance. “Were there any particular dramas you enjoyed? Or did your studies lean towards improvisation?” 

“Yes I’m a wiccan, ah did I not tell you? I could’ve sworn I did....but yes I am learning under Elidi right now she’s my mentor. She’s actually helping me unlock this wand I was handed down when I was eighteen. I was still in highschool so I was more focused on my studies at the time and graduated at nineteen. I got held back a year in highschool because I tended to zone out and doodle a lot during classes I found boring. The teachers were really nice though, everyone was nice honestly I really I loved school. I just didn’t like doing boring math and science and shit I’d rather be drawing up my dreams or daydreaming. I’m twenty four now so I’ve been trying to get this wand to work for four years, I really started looking into it when I turned twenty before starting college at twenty one” she seemed to be going through the timeline in her head. She then grabbed her purse and dug through it before pulling out her wand. It glowed in her hands momentarily before dimming down. “That’s literally all it does, glows when I touch it, it’s so irritating! I’m hoping Elidi can help me with it” she places it back in her purse. She smiled as he noted her draw towards things that were imaginary, it was true she had always seemed to be very fond of fantasy. “Mmm yeah I suppose I am but it makes life much more fun! and for acting I really enjoyed musicals. Like Hamilton, phantom of the opera and heathers. I also enjoyed when we would act out classic fairytales. Like red riding hood, Snow White, rapunzel, beauty and the beast, and all that good stuff.”

[rosesisupposes]

Hey I saw you were offering fluff and I'm a hoe for Prinxiety, only if you feel motivated too though! Love your writing xxx

So, this may not be what you meant, but… I watched The Unicorn Store the other day and I loved it, and one of the characters’ names was literally Virgil. So in a slight mix-and-matched fashion, here’s that :D

The Store

Pairings: Prinxiety, Moceit (Paternal Royality, Paternal Roceit); brief moment of analogical if you squint.

Warnings: Self-doubt, reference to possible hallucinations; reference to abuse and miscarriage; also, minimal editing

Word Count: much longer than intended 4,434 words

Read on ao3

Roman, dearest Roman, grew up with a deep love for unicorns, and rainbows, and all things glitter. His imagination let him have wild and beautiful adventures with his pet unicorn. His name was Steve.

He drew him, over and over, hoping that if he just nailed it perfectly, his parents would understand, and finally see himBut while Pat and Dee indulged his stories and encouraged his art, it was clear they’d never really understand.

They did send him to art school though

He wanted to love it, wanted to meet all those people who thought like him, who saw the world like him

Unfortunately what he found was a mentor who’s best-known work was a photography series called Stick in a Box

In the final evaluation, they were asked to make a self-portrait

Roman’s classmates had beautifully composed but tiny charcoal drawings of themselves, lined up in neat 8.5x11 boxes

Roman’s drawing was technically perfect, too. But it was a charcoal of a unicorn on a hill, surrounded with stripes of purple, yellow, pink, green, red that stretched off the box, off the canvas, and onto the wall itself. As a final touch, he said a wish to himself and blew on glitter

Unfortunately, his mentor was… unimpressed. And Roman became an art school dropout, back in his dads’ house, shifted to the basement because his room had become a home gym

His dads were still supportive, though. They knew he’d bounce back. But it didn’t always help when they’d talk about “now that you’ve tried that” and “finding a new path”

Also, they kept bringing over their neighbor, Emile, who was Roman’s age. Emile has just started working with them at their retreat service for troubled and at-risk teens. And it’s not that Roman didn’t like Emile, it just felt like… they were prouder of him than their son the failure.

Okay, maybe Roman did dislike Emile.

So in a fit of… jealousy? Desperation? Roman announces he’s joining a temp agency. He’s going to have an office job. So, Dad, Papa, please make sure to purchase plenty of pens and graph paper as he will need them now. He even borrows Pat’s old office clothes. A bit outdated perhaps, but he’s professional now.

He starts at the ad agency/communications firm and damn does he look the part, he’s sure. Even if his work is boring. Even if the people are very caught up in very small concerns.

In the middle of the very, very beige cubicles, and the very, very dull conversations, Roman finds a letter. It has his name on it, spelled in glitter and rhinestones. And it invites him to The Store.

But he’s… he’s being professional now. He’s a businessman. He doesn’t care about frivolity like glitter. Right?

When the second letter arrives, still with his name, still with the same address, still with no signature… well, it might not be smart but he can’t help it

He goes to the address to find a lone, flickering neon sign that says The Store. He walks in to an elevator that has no buttons, but descends on its own. He walks through a pink-lit hallway to a curtain of rainbows, and finally emerges into a grand old room that’s been…. transformed. 

On one side: a gate closes off a clear space. On the other: several grand tables are arranged with fruit and hay bales. The back wall has a long bar and freezers of ice cream. And in the middle, a man stands with a slight smile and adjusts his bright purple tie and the shiny satin matching suit jacket.

“Welcome, Roman!”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been expecting you, of course. Though you are late, by several days. It’s rather impolite not to respond to an invitation immediately, you know.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s the Store. And I am the Salesman.” Roman notices what definitely looks like long strings of tinsel in the man’s dark hair.

“What kind of store?”

“The kind that sells  that and only that which you need”

“Which is?”

“Roman, don’t be ridiculous. You know what it is. You’ve known your whole life.”

The Salesman flicks on the huge screen above the door. Footage of graceful horses under rainbows, horses in meadows, horses sleeping… except they all have a beautiful, spiral horn in their foreheads.

“Unicorns?! You have real, actual unicorns?”

“Yes we do. And I contacted you specifically to make you this offer: we have a unicorn, just for you.”

Roman starts to tear up.  "Really? You do? For me? I was right, all this time? Oh my goodness, can i see her? Him? Them? Do unicorns have genders?“

“They do, if they want them. Yours isn’t here yet: you need to prove you’ll take good care of them first. A unicorn isn’t just a pet, you know. They’re a commitment. They will love you forever. Can you keep one safe forever?”

“I think I can,” Roman responds, though he’s still jittery and very glittery.

“Excellent! Here’s the first requirement, then,” the Salesman responds. He pulls out a shiny folder.  In it is a description of “Sheltering and Feeding Your Unicorn”

“Do you have space to accommodate a unicorn? Can you feed one? To qualify for unicorn ownership, you must first demonstrate that you’re able to provide for them.”

Roman thinks of his basement room with a wince. “Uh, not yet. But I will!”

“And can you demonstrate that you’re stably employed, able to continue providing?”

“I will do that too.”

He heads off in a whirlwind of giddy and righteous energy. He’s getting a unicorn. He’ll do whatever it takes!

First stop is the hardware store. He finds a man in the lumber section.

“Hello good sir! I am in the market for lumber.”

“Whatcha building.”

“A stable.”

“How big’s the horse?”

“Uh, not quite a horse, but um. Bigger than a pony, but you know, they can probably become whatever size I need them to be. Um, just your average small horse, I suppose?”

“Where you buildin’ it?”

“My bedroom”

The man stares, then picks up his radio. “Virgil, please report to the lumber department.”

“Will he be able to help me?”

The man doesn’t answer, just rolls his eyes and walks off

Roman wanders until he finds the worker with the nametag “Virgil”

“So, are you the builder?”

“Uh, what?”

“The man said you could help me.”

“Yeahhh, he definitely just said that to fuck with me. I’m not really a carpenter, I just do stock.”

“Well, you know more about it than me! Maybe you could try?”

Virgil stares down at Roman earnest smile, then finally sighs. “I mean, I’m gonna get paid, right? Might as well.”

He’s then the first to point out that Roman’s… ‘pony’ won’t want to live in his basement.

But in the backyard, there’s the slightly-rotted ruins of Roman’s childhood castle. It’s not structurally sound, but the space is good. And maybe some of the wood is salvageable. Roman starts kicking in the walls for good measure, and Virgil, with a strange fascination bordering on entertainment, joins in at his urging.

The hardest part is keeping his parents from asking about Virgil’s visits. Roman is very tired of being reminded that among his many failings, he doesn’t even have a partner. And the eagerness with which Dad and Papa ask about the ‘young man’’ who keeps visiting kinda makes it obvious they hope that’s why. In Pat and Dee’s defense, they’re not trying to be pushy. They just saw the conspiratorial smiles Roman kept flashing Virgil, and the bemused but amused smiles Virgil returned.

But Roman’s getting a unicorn. Who needs a boyfriend when the unicorn will love him more than any human ever could or has.

Roman returns to The Store. “I’m building a stable, and I have an appointment to go buy hay. What’s next?”

“Ah, good. Now that you’re building a home worthy of a unicorn, you need to ensure the full environment is appropriate. Here, hold this.”

The Salesman hands Roman a spiraled cone. It feels like ivory, but is far too heavy.

“Is this…?”

“Yes, a horn. They’re fragile creatures, but the weight of caring from one is all too real. Will your unicorn be surrounded by support and love? Is there a healthy family environment for them to come home to?”

Roman realizes that he’s not been on… particularly good terms with his dads. And it’s probably not all their fault. So he volunteers to join a weekend retreat: rafting and camping with the kids. And Dad, and Papa. And Emile

If there’s one thing Roman can say for Emile, it’s that he’s a really great trier. He’s not particularly good at paddling. He volunteers to pitch a tent on his own and…. Well. It got up eventually.

Roman’s helping two of the teens assemble their own tent when Pat calls out to get ready for Truth Circle. The girls snort  under their breath but call back to say they’re coming. 

“What’s truth circle?”

“Ugh, it’s so lame. It’s going around and sharing and they want it to be some deep shit. But I make up something every time and they can’t tell.”

True to her word, the young woman, sitting around the campfire, tells a tearful story of how her mom cut up all her tube tops and she just misses them, so much. A young man says he’s "so tired of assumptions just because i like loud music, and like knives, doesn’t mean i’m gonna attack my English teacher! I like my English teacher." 

To each pronouncement, Pat and Dee nod seriously, occasionally offering "Thank you” and “Good share”

Roman just feels worse and worse, knowing that all of these kids are probably laughing at his dads on the inside, so when they ask if he’d like to share anything…

“I’ve been working really hard lately, trying to improve my life,” he starts, and Pat and Dee are beaming, holding hands. “I really want to make it all worth it, you know? Because growing up, people kept wanting to not play with me, and every birthday I wished for the same thing: someone to love me, unconditionally. And I know I’ve been flighty, and selfish, but I’m finally at a turning point where all my hard work feels worth it. And It’s because I’m finally about to get the one thing I’ve always wanted: a unicorn.”

His dads’ faces drop. “Uh, kiddos, we’re gonna have a quick lil mini family circle over here, okay? Emile, you want to lead some campfire songs?”

Pat is the first to speak. "Ro, I was so happy when you told us you wanted to come, but this is just rude. This weekend is for the kids, why can’t you pretend to take it seriously?”

Dee puts a calming hand on Pat’s shoulder. “Roro, your dad’s right. If you wanted to make jabs at us for not getting you a puppy, you could have done that at home.”

Roman tries to explain. “No, I mean it, I’m working on getting one. I’m making a good home for it and everything. I wouldn’t lie about this!”

“Oh, and you didn’t lie about 'Steve’ eating all the cotton candy all those years?”

“That doesn’t count, I was a child!”

“And yet you’re still acting like one”

Roman is practically crying with frustration. “You know they’re the ones lying, right?” he whisper-screams. “All those kids. Just making up whatever bullshit they think you’ll accept. And I sit here, actually telling the truth, and you don’t believe me!”

Dee sighs. “We know they lie, Ro. Of course they do. Her mom beats her,” he gestures with his head to a girl. “His father passed away suddenly. Xe had a miscarriage. They just got out of an emotionally abusive relationship. They all lie, outrageously, and then suddenly one day they’re telling the truth because they trust that now no one will believe them when they’re actually vulnerable. But we know, and we’re there when they do.”

“Is that the problem?” Pat asks softly. “Were we just bad enough parents that you’re doing the same thing to us?”

“No, of course not!” Roman insists. He’s properly crying now. “I’m trying to tell you…” He trails off, seeing their disbelief. “Fine. I’ll just… go. You guys can adopt Emile instead.”

In the background, Emile pops his head up. “Did someone call me?”

All three shout back, “NO!”

Roman stares at his dads for another moment, helplessly, then stomps off.

He fucked up. Now there won’t be a loving family environment. Now he’ll never get his unicorn.

He gets home and glares at the rainbows and Care Bears and streamers in his room, then starts bagging them up. All of them. All of the old drawings, and paints, and especially the glitter. Plus the hay he’d lovingly dyed rainbow, and the huge amount of carrots.

He throws them all in bags and goes to toss them in the backyard, when he can no longer hold it back and starts to cry. All these hopes he’d been building. All his childhood dreams coming true. All for nothing.

He hides in the grey basement all weekend, staring at the dumb assignment about a dumb vacuum for his dumb job. He was urged to make a pitch for the ad campaign, unless he wants to stay a temp forever. And even if he can’t get his unicorn, he’d like to create something again. But a vacuum? a “mystic” vacuum? What even is that.

On Sunday afternoon, he hears power tools from the backyard, and drags himself outside to tell Virgil he can stop working on the dumb stable now. But Virgil hasn’t just finished the stable. He’s decorated. 

And it is an explosion of color.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” he breathes, looking at all the rainbows painted up and down the walls. Drawings are pasted all around, with strings of tinsel everywhere. “Are these… my drawings?”

“Uh, yeah, you put all the materials out here, isn’t that why?”

“Did I put all these in those bags?”

“Well, no- your dads saw what I was doing and brought out their favorites of your art to add”

“They… like my art? But it’s all the unicorns, I thought…”

He brushes away a tear. His original drawing of Steve is here, a big red heart with a very spiky stick figure. And so is his high school masterpiece, a photorealistic unicorn rearing in the sunset.

Virgil scuffs a sneaker against the ground. Like the stable, he’s a little technicolor, splats of paint on his pants and shoes and face. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?”

“I… you made an art show of me. Of all I’ve done over the years. And you didn’t give up on this ridiculous project. Thank you, Virgil. I love it.” He stares, and suddenly grins. “Hey, any chance there’s some glitter left over? I have an idea.”

He prepares a gorgeous, glitter-filled presentation for the damn vacuum, and even makes it a demonstration of how well it works in one go. It’s the Mystic Vacuum. It’s dreams coming true. It’s an experience. 

But the working world does not care if employees are going through a coming-of-age realization. Cubicles are immune to your thinking-outside-the-box thinking. The 'safe’ presentation of terribly restricted gender norms gets the ad.

He comes home, a little crushed, but Pat’s there waiting for him.

“Papa, I fucked up. Again. I just… really suck at being a grown-up”

“Did you go for it, though? Did you try?”

“..yeah”

“Did you care about doing it?”

“…yeah”

“Then you’re doing great, kiddo. The most grown-up thing you can do is fail at something you care about.”

Roman sniffs, and hugs Patton tightly. “Thanks, Pop Star”

“Now, do you want to hear what Emile did?”

Roman struggles for a moment. “I’m trying very hard to be grown-up, but I really don’t.”

“No trust me. You do.”

Roman eyes him warily.

"When we were coming back from the campsite, he got tangled up in his own life jacket. And fell into the water because of it.”

“…really?”

“Mmmhmm. And… I may have taken longer than I should have to get him out because I had to not be laughing when I pulled him back into the boat.”

Roman chuckles, then laughs, and Pat’s laughing too.

And suddenly, Roman notices something.

“What are those on the wall? Are those my paintings?”

“Oh those? Yesirree!”

“Did you just put them up?”

“Of course not. They’ve been up since you sent them home in freshman year, sweetie.”

“…you didn’t help Virgil just because you felt bad?”

“Oh honey, no. We’ve always loved your art.” Patton ruffles his hair. “We just want you to be happy.”

Thanks to Pat, Roman shakes off his setback, and when he sees a call from Virgil, he picks up eagerly. They go out for dinner, Roman still in his glitter from the presentation. And it is… wonderful. Virgil is sarcastic and witty, and only ever seems to mock Roman with the same level of skepticism he gives literally everyone else.

Until he finally asks, “So, now that it’s done, when are you getting the pony?That’s the big secret, right, you’re actually buying a pony?" 

And Roman smiles and says, "Almost.”

“You see, I’m getting a unicorn.”

And Virgil stares a moment. Then he cracks a smile. “Cute, I get it. Like the pictures.”

“No, for real!” Roman tells him. “I’ve been working on this so that I can get a unicorn. I mean, I don’t know if I’m back in the running, but I think I fixed the family environment too so, hopefully.”

And now Virgil goes still. He’s concerned. 

“Um. So, where is this unicorn coming from?”

“The Unicorn Store,” Roman responds matter-of-factly.

“Uh-huh,” Virgil nods slowly. “And that’s definitely a real place.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there several times. It’s lovely, and the Salesman is wild.”

Virgil’s eyes are a little bit bugging out of his head now. "The Salesman?”

“Yeah, he gave me the steps I need to get my unicorn. Place to live, nice environment, prove i can support them, you know. Like pet adoption, but better.”

“You gave him your financial information? Ro, I know you’re really excited but… this sounds like a scam.”

“Why does no one believe me? It’s real, I swear. There’s even a hay-staurant.”

“…you say you’ve been there? Can I come see?”

“I don’t see why not”

But when they get there, nothing seems right. The entryway sign is gone. The elevator still moves, but it doesn’t open to a pink hallway. And in the room… the decorations are gone. The Salesman isn’t there. The screen is missing. And Roman… starts to doubt. Virgil isn’t surprised, but he’s worried. Roman looks so heartbroken… did he really believe in this? A grown man, thinking he’d actually get a unicorn?

“Ro, we should go. If you need help making sure that guy hasn’t used your info to, I don’t know, buy random things, withdrawing money… I can help.”

“No,” Roman insists. “No, he’ll be back. I’ll stay.”

“Roman, c'mon, don’t do this…”

“I know what I saw!” he shouts. “It was real!”

“I don’t doubt he did a great job with the showmanship, Ro. I believe you. But he’s clearly gone now, and… it might be time to assume he’s not coming back.”

Roman doesn’t turn, and Virgil sighs. He keeps hoping Roman will relent, but if there’s one thing he’s already learned about this man, it’s that he’s stubborn. So he leaves alone. And Roman waits until he hears the elevator leave to break down.

Virgil, walking out, feels something in his shoe. He checks - it’s hay. Rainbow hay. But he expected that - it was a scam, right? A well-done scam. He walks on.

Roman goes home and finds himself just sitting in the stable, dejectedly. It’s so lovely, and it made him so happy but… He knew he was a daydreamer. Had he really fallen for such a ridiculous thing?

Dee and Pat find him together, and sit with him in the stable. 

“It’s really well built,” Pat comments.

“And your art is lovely,” Dee says, fondly tracing a unicorn horn on the wall.

Roman sniffs. “It’s just a catalog of mania at this point. My slow descent into madness.”

Dee hugs him around the shoulders. “Roberry, you’re not crazy. You have a spark that is just… so unique. No one could hope to match the way you view the world. Hell, even I can’t. Neither can your Papa. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means we’re just limited.”

“Is this some of that feel-d trip stuff you tell the troubled teens?”

Dee grins. “Nah, they never believe the sappy shit. This is just for you.”

Roman wipes his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

Dee and Pat object in one voice. 

Dee continues, “Hun, you are so loved. By us, by the people who meet you… You’re joy, Roman. You remind people of joy.”

“And that boy seems to really like you, too.”

Roman groans. “He definitely thinks I’m crazy.”

“Give him a chance, okay?” Pat asks, patting Roman’s shoulder. “He might surprise you.”

“He built this, didn’t he?” Dee asks, gesturing around. “He’s gotta like you at least a little.”

The next day, Roman goes back to the hardware store, looking for him. He searches every department, and all the back rooms he can sneak into, but nothing. No Virgil. He ends up sitting in the backyard, glaring at the stable, but still… hoping.

He’s interrupted one day by a very tentative knock on the back gate. And Virgil comes out, looking sheepish. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear…”

“I was looking for you at the hardware store?”

“I got transferred, actually. Turns out having a full construction project to my name means your boy got promoted. I’m… sorry, about the store. I shouldn’t have left you so abruptly.”

“It’s okay. And congrats.”

Virgil sits in the stable next to Roman, and smiles when Roman leans over on his shoulder.

He’s about to suggest they get coffee when Roman’s phone starts ringing.

“Hello?”

“Congratulations, Roman! He’s arrived!”

“Who is this? Who’s arrived?”

“The Salesman, of course. And your unicorn. He is here in the store, waiting for you.”

Virgil stares at the phone. “That’s him?” he mutters. “Here, if he’s a scammer, let me talk to him, okay?”

“I… you’re sure? He’s there?” Roman asks. His heart is in his throat. What if it really all had been true? What if Virgil scares him away? “I came by, and you were gone…”

“We don’t set up the full store for just anyone, Roman. It’s not for him. It’s just for you. But you need to let me know if you’re serious about this unicorn. If you don’t want him, there’s a woman who’s qualified who needs him just as much.”

“I’m coming!” Roman interjects. “Don’t give him away, please! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

He jumps up and is practically sprinting to the car, Virgil barely able to keep up. 

“Roman, can I at least come with?”

“Yes, sure, just don’t tell me not to go,” Roman says, practically vibrating with excitement.

The decorations aren’t fully back, but the sign outside is, at least. They descend through the elevator, and this time… the hall isn’t empty.

“Ah, Roman! You made it! And I see you brought… a companion,” the Salesman says, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. “He will, of course, have to stay out here while you meet him.”

“He’s really here?” Roman asks breathlessly. “My…?”

“Your unicorn, yes. I called you to say so, did I not? He’s right through those doors.”

“And I can meet him?”

“Yes, of course. You don’t have to take him home - as I said, another woman also needs him if you don’t want to anymore”

Virgil outright staring at the Salesman’s outfit. It’s blue today, all satin and rhinestones and tinsel. But still with a nicely-tied tie. The Salesman looks back, and adjusts his glasses. “Salutations.”

Roman approaches the doorway slowly, and eases it open. Rainbows spill out as he walks in, letting the door close behind him.

He is…. beautiful.

He’s there, in real life. A huge, graceful horse with a pearl horn and a shimmery mane. He wickers at Roman’s approach.

“Hi,” Roman breathes. “You’re… oh my god, you’re here. It’s Mr. Unicorn, right? Do you care?”

The creature nods.

Roman feels tears rolling down his cheeks as he reaches out a gentle hand to caress the beautiful thing’s nose.

“I’ve waited for you for so long. I wished for you every birthday. I would close my eyes and think 'send me someone to love me, unconditionally, for me.’" He smiles wetly. "I called you Steve.”

“And I…  I worried so badly that you weren’t real, because I needed you to be real. I needed you to really, really love me. But…” Roman looks into a pair of soft brown eyes, huge and understanding. They feel… familiar. 

“But I can’t bring you home with me. Because there’s a woman out there who needs you more than I do. And you are going to love her, okay? You’re going to love her and support her, and never judge her dreams. You’re going to make sure she knows you love her. And… and you make sure she never feels alone, okay?”

The unicorn nods, and nuzzles Roman’s chest. He wipes his eyes. “I’m going to hug you now, is that okay?” Another nod.

Roman throws his arms around the equine neck, breathing in the strange mix of lavender and sugar and sunlight that is the unicorn’s scent. A hair from the mane gets stuck to him, and easily breaks off. He tries to give it back, but the unicorn shakes his head. A memento. Just for him.

He turns to go, and sees the Salesman has entered, and brought Virgil with him. Virgil is staring, open-mouthed.

“Mr. The Salesman- I can’t take him. Please give him to the woman you mentioned, okay? She earned it, right?”

“She did. And since you no longer are a client, you can just call me Logan.”

Roman wipes his eyes, but holds tight to the single hair. “As long as he’s happy.”

“Will you be?” Logan asks. His face doesn’t betray any emotion.

Roman walks to Virgil’s side, and takes his hand. “Yeah, I think I will.”

fin

taglist:  @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice  @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed

[fly-with-no-hope-no-fear]

In concluding my #HilltopHideawaysAGR photoseries, I realized that while those pictures gave a glimpse of what my life at Saint Anselm looked like spatially, the project didn’t even begin to tell what Saint Anselm gave me in my four years there. And so I return to what has always been my best form of expression: pen and paper (which now I’m typing to share with all of you). Let’s see if I can do the Hilltop justice this time around.

Saint Anselm gave me a Benedictine liberal arts education that I now use every day. Because even though taking classes that had nothing to do with my majors was sometimes frustrating and difficult (*coughcough*@Formal Logic*coughcough*), I still enjoyed the things discussed in those classes, and my mind grew in so many ways that I didn’t expect. I’ve always been reflective in nature, but to receive an education that stressed the importance of a philosophical perspective, I can only count as an amazing gift. The influence that the Benedictines had on my education, showed me that while philosophy could help us ponder many questions of existence and purpose, it has gaps that only theological musings can fill…and vice versa. Logic and faith go hand in hand. For one to exist without the other, always leads the human mind into a trap of extremism, regardless of which end it may fall to.

Saint Anselm gave me relationships that have absolutely blessed me and helped me grow as a person. There are the monks, several of whom were mentors to me in various aspects of my life, who were professors, friends, and sometimes like overprotective brothers who helped me with papers, gave me helpful resources, poked fun of me, were always available to chat, and interrupted quite a few dates. Their presence on campus and in my life only further convinced me that although human, monks are super-heroes who wear habits instead of capes. The amount of respect I have for these men is immense.

I had professors who were engaging, helpful, inspiring, and cared about my success. Not just my academic success, but also my personal success. They pushed my limits, but were there every step of the way. There are a few I wish I could take just one more class with. There’s one I will always look up to, and I owe him a lot for catching what others missed when I struggled to sort through all the information I was receiving. I’m thankful for our life chats, his support, and the book he gave me that opened my eyes and helped me come up with new answers to old questions. He was great to bounce ideas off of, and he made it clear he’s proud of the direction I’m headed. I know he’s just an email away.

I made so many smart, talented, incredible friends who amaze me every day. We have been there for each other through thick and thin, and overcome so much together. From talking out disagreements, keeping each other awake so homework and papers got finished, movies, late night drives, Red Arrow Diner/Dunkin’/Wendy’s/Chick-Fil-A runs, meals together in Dav, cshop, and pub, walks around campus all hours of the day and night, photoshoots, classes together, life talks, sleepovers on dorm rugs, interventions, and dance or music parties…not to mention the group chats, shenanigans, and paper cranes, of which there were many. And the hugs. Wow. When it comes to my friends, there is always something interesting happening. I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of them, for their friendship and the things they have taught me.

When I committed to Saint Anselm and arrived on campus in August of 2015, I was not expecting to encounter the kind of communities that I did, in the ways that I did. The monastic community. The academic community. The people who work in Dav, cshop, and the pub. Denise in Bradley House. The student body. It was impossible to not run into someone I knew whenever I made my way across campus, whether friends, staff, professors, or monks. Saint Anselm truly is a community.

Saint Anselm gave me experiences. Obviously, that started with moving to school…everyone experienced that. For me, college also meant being in a classroom for the first time since 2nd grade. But it was perhaps the lessons and experiences I had outside the classroom that taught me the most. I learned about many other faiths and political perspectives, and in doing so, transformed and strengthened my own. I learned the power of dialogue. I learned how to listen, be compassionate, and stand my ground. I realized the kind of person I wanted to be. I began fighting back against anxiety, and putting myself out there instead of holding myself back. I went to concerts, I spent quality tie with friends, both in groups and individually. I got on a plane for the first time and flew to Indy for the 2019 SEEK conference. I spent 8 days on a SBA service trip in Mississippi. I applied for a scholarship that would have allowed me to pursue an ambitious and terrifying, but much needed service project post-grad, had I won it. In short, I took risks that pre-college me never would have dreamed of taking…and not only did I grow immensely from doing so, but I enjoyed it. The windows that they have opened my mind to, keep me dreaming every day.

Saint Anselm gave me the realization that I am a creator. High school Alexis was a writer, sure, but she was also a sports kid first and foremost. While I started Just Shine On at 15 years old, college helped me realize that creative writing is much more my forte. I wrote over one hundred poems. And I started getting into iPhone photography. But creation also gave me two more communities: poetry club and open mic. Between the two of them, I got in a lot of performance and writing experience. When I went to SEEK I submitted a poem to their contest and was chosen as a finalist. My poem was displayed for everyone there to see. Besides poetry and photography, I dabbled in music, spontaneously buying a ukulele I named Gavin, and teaching myself how to play. I also took guitar lessons as a class. That didn’t go quite as well, but I plan to pick it up again at some point. (The guitar’s name is Gabe.) The appreciation I have for artistic ventures, and the passion I have to create, I may very well have found on my own eventually. But my gut tells me college and the people I met helped me find it so much sooner. And it provided the perfect environment to practice in. Having professors who encouraged and supported me and many others in our extracurricular passions, is something I’m grateful for too.

Lastly, college gave me…well, me. I have grown a lot. I have found my voice, new passions and interests. I learned that it’s okay to be overwhelmed, stressed, anxious, scared, and sad sometimes. What matters is whether or not I let it overtake me. I learned the difference between what it means to be in love, and to love. I developed a life philosophy that’s still growing and starting to spread to all areas of my life, and a belief that if I’m striving to be faithful to God always, then He will be faithful to me even when I fail. I learned so much about who I am, who I want to be, and who I don’t want to be. Most of all, I learned that I will never be done learning who I am, because who I am is a lifelong journey of development. Saint Anselm gave me so much more than just an education; it truly was the best of times and the worst of times. And I’m forever grateful.

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

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Chapter 5: Caught

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Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: Just a sliver of anxiety this chapter

Word Count: 7,340

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      It’s been about a week and a half since Connor’s mood dip, and Ritch is happy, if not suspicious, that everything’s been calm since then. Connor hasn’t had any signs of another episode, and he gets along with Markus and Simon really well, too. Josh and North, on the other hand, aren’t having quite as much luck.

    It isn’t entirely their fault, though. Josh is the official “Inclusive Friend” of the group, so he’s always bringing Connor into the conversation, which puts his brother on edge for whatever reason (Ritch has learned by now to not question things like this). North is... Well, she’s just North; she’s blunt, kind of brash, quick to start fights– even if most of them are meant to be playful. She’s pretty much the exact opposite of Connor, which has them both walking on eggshells around each other. It’s mostly fine, though, because they all are comfortable enough with one another, considering the rocky start.

    For some reason, Connor is still hanging around Mr. Anderson during every meal rather than with Ritch and the Jericho Squad (it’s an inside joke, apparently). If someone had asked him how he felt about that last week, he would’ve said that he was itching to get Connor away from the potentially toxic situation, despite coming to the conclusion that Mr. Anderson probably isn’t as bad as most people think. Although, after seeing them sit together in calm silences for the past week, Ritch is starting to think that Mr. Anderson may be helping Connor keep his head beyond giving him a blanket and an old ball. Ritch doesn’t know how, but he’ll just leave them to it. He’s learning that anything that helps Connor adjust to this environment shouldn’t be questioned or messed with, at least not for now.

    He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand people like those two, especially how relationships of any kind work between two people who seem to be so different. It’s incredibly frustrating because Ritch knows he’s missing something essential and he knows that if he asks Simon or Josh for their opinion, they’d be able to see why they get along immediately, but he still can’t. One would think that after being a certain way for as long as he could remember, Ritch would get used to the feeling of being alienated for these types of things, but he’s not. He can’t even think about this particular topic for too long or else a strange irritation starts to boil deep inside of his gut, and– surprise, surprise– he doesn’t know why that happens either.

    It’s incredibly frustrating and isolating, indeed.

    However, on a more pleasant topic, training has been going well so far too. Both Connor and Ritch have healed from their injuries from that first day of evaluations and are currently placed at the top of the class, even with them holding back and purposefully getting questions wrong to prolong their graduation and buy time to find new partners. Neither twin is worried, though, because another student–, Traci, is right on their tails, so they aren’t complete outliers.

    The three of them together make up the tutors of the class for when the other students have a minor question and/or the instructors aren’t available. Ritch is enjoying his new role quite a bit more than he thought he would, and has found that he likes helping the others with these types of things. He’s genuinely proud of and happy with himself for the first time in longer than he cares to mention, in longer than he thinks he can even remember, maybe.

   Connor has been doing a good job mentoring as well, even though most of the class can tell he doesn’t exactly enjoy doing it. He likes to help, and he’ll do what he can to do so, but he’s so unsure of himself and always gives Ritch these looks when explaining something, almost as if he doesn’t know the information he’s explaining like the back of his hand.

    Honestly, he doesn’t know how Connor can be so unsure of himself after all these years of preparation, but he assumes it’s the same or a similar reason for why wording certain questions wrong will force him into his bed for hours at a time. It’s just another quirk that Connor avoids talking about and another thing Ritch doesn’t question for that reason.

    The only complaint he has about the past week and a half is that classes are still mostly flexibility and strength building. He can tell that at least half of the people there really need it, but he, Connor, and Traci are beyond that point. In Ritch’s honest opinion, his days have been pretty boring.

    That’s why Ritch has slowly been appreciating the run-ins with the less-than-pleasant jerk Gavin Reed, more and more lately, as it seems to be the only thing exciting and challenging in this place right now. He doesn’t know if it’s planned by Gavin or not, but they almost always run into each other around lunch and/or dinner time. Ritch still contentedly walks along after dodging whatever shoulder-check or trip attempt Gavin tries, then walks away and ignores the taunts and occasional swears behind him with a smugness that’s been growing recently. Honestly, that man doesn’t give up, and Ritch doesn’t know why Gavin decided to latch onto him of all people, but he has stopped questioning that as well.

    Beyond Gavin, it’s almost suspicious how calm and routinely everything has become. There hasn’t been a single time in Ritch’s life that he can remember things going this smoothly for so long. Even as a child in the orphanages and foster homes there was constant moving around and always a group of kids that would tease him and Connor for whatever reason they came up with. He’s not used to calm and predictable. Calm and predictable means danger in the end, and he knows Connor shares the sentiment.

    Maybe that’s why they’re not too shocked when Luther calls them on the 15th day of training, informing them that Marshal Fowler wants to personally see them in his spare office that morning. They simply call out “Yes, sir” like the good little soldiers they were trained to be and ignore everyone’s varying expressions of curiosity or concern. They both leave the room silently and make it down several hallways in the same manner before Ritch decides to try his hand at small talk. He’s been watching Markus interact with others and memorizing how to do it in hopes of learning how to get better at acting like a real person.

    The first two steps– get their attention and mention something they’re interested in– he has down. It’s the third and fourth steps– having to actively listen to something he’s not interested in and find appropriate responses at the appropriate times– that he consistently fails at and has him stressed out.

    “So, Connor.”

    Connor tenses slightly next to him, but tries to hide it in his tone. “Yes?”

    “You and Mr. Anderson seem to be tolerating each other.” He sees Connor getting defensive and tries to placate him. “I’m not going to try to cause any trouble. At least, not unless there’s proof of him hurting you in any way, which there isn’t so far. I am just genuinely interested in what it’s like to sit with him at lunch. He seems to hate everyone with a passion except you, and he was kind of your idol when we were younger. I’m curious of how that works, exactly.”

    Connor pauses, then hesitantly responds. “I don’t think he hates everyone so much as he’s tired of how everyone treats him. He hasn’t told me as much– we rarely talk to each other, actually. It’s kind of a silent agreement that he gets a bit of socialization and I get some time to relax. But anyway, we don’t talk often, but I could tell from the few times we have and the way he interacts with me versus everyone else.” Connor looks up at him, “He’s just a normal guy who’s gone through some traumatic stuff, just like us.” He straightens out again.

    “Like us?” Ritch turns his head to look at Connor fully, confusion in his eyes.

    He suddenly looks sheepish, “Well, that’s something I think I’ve discovered while hanging around Mr. Anderson. Like, during my mood dip? Right after I completely moved past that, he grumbled something about me being too young to have PTSD? When I denied having it, he gave me a bunch of shi– crap for thinking so.” Connor smiles the most genuine smile Ritch has seen from him in years. “It’s quite funny, looking back on it now. At first I thought it was because he wanted me to get lost or something so he was trying to make me uncomfortable, but now I know he wouldn’t have even mentioned it if that was the case. He has very little patience for others. It’s for good reason, though. I don’t blame him.” He takes a breath. “Anyway.”

    He suddenly faces Ritch with a newfound confidence and seriousness, slowing his walk and lowering his voice. Ritch slows with him.

    “Did you know that not all cases of PTSD is having manic terror or violent episodes? That it’s not all becoming an antisocial hermit who’s terrified of turning on an electric egg beater because of the sound? The unpleasant flashbacks I have that are supposedly triggered by little to nothing, the random flashbacks and nightmares you have, how we hate mentioning anything that could make us think of certain things of our past… Mr. Anderson made me want to research, and the sites I visited said that those are all real symptoms of PTSD.”

    That catches Ritch’s attention. “Really? Are you sure?” This goes against everything Amanda convinced them of. Then again, these kinds of revelations are surprising Ritch less and less

    “Of course I am! I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t absolutely sure! It actually wasn’t hard to find at all, even on Markus’ smart phone.” Connor lowers his head to stare at his feet before continuing quietly, “We could have known about this years ago if we had smartphones or tablets, especially since it’s something we definitely would’ve researched for health purposes.”

    Ritch pauses for a second to process this and think. There’s only two reasons Ritch can come up with at the moment why Amanda decided to do these things, and he doesn’t want to seriously consider the second one yet. Therefore, he only voices his first potential reason.

    “If this is true… Do you think this is another thing Amanda didn’t want us to concern ourselves with? We both know how she was with injuries and your random days in bed. Do you think that she probably thought this was another thing we were strong enough to face on our own?”

    “I… I don’t know. Part of me still wants to believe that she meant no harm, but…” Connor looks back to Ritch, “Why would she not let us have electronics? She said it was to keep our focus on our goal but–”

    “–If that were the real reason, you’d think she’d let us have at least a computer or something of the like for instructional and research purposes during our free time.” Ritch finishes his sentence, “It would have aided us greatly, not having to rely on the television and instructors to learn new things.”

    “Exactly.”

    Ritch sighs, “I want to think that she was just a stubborn and particular person–”

    “–But one by one, things keep proving otherwise since we’ve been here–”

    “–And it’s slowly getting harder to trust that everything she did was done with the best intentions for us.”

    “Yeah.”

    After a pause, Connor smiles and shakes his head. Before Ritch can ask what he finds amusing, his twin idly answers without realizing.

    “We haven’t done the twin thing in years.” His smile turns bittersweet, and his eyes go unfocused just that tiny bit; a tell that he’s looking back on something in the past.

    “I haven’t even thought of those days in so long. Not since Amanda requested the…”

    Actually, I don’t want to think about this right now.

    “How…” Connor starts awkwardly, “How have, uh, your appointments been going? If you don’t mind my asking. I know you’ve been going every four to five months…”

    Now Ritch thinks he knows how Connor feels when he’s asked a question that’s on the verge of being too uncomfortable and personal to answer.

    “I’m pretty much done with them now, but they went well. Much better than anyone expected considering my age at the time. Things could have definitely ended up much worse. I’m actually surprised they didn’t.”

    Connor must pick up that he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore because he only nods a response instead of asking the questions that Ritch can tell are swirling in his head. They slip into a comfortable silence after that, the tapping of their footsteps and bustle of people somewhere in the distance the only things breaking it. They remain this way until they reach the room where Marshal Fowler should be. Ritch is not pleased to see Gavin Reed enter the room as well, but he doesn’t outwardly react to the pilot’s presence. He still doesn’t know much about the irritable man, but what he does know leads him to believe that he’s either currently in trouble or is looking to complain about something menial.

    Either way, they don’t hesitate and make no show of entering the waiting-room-like area. From what Ritch has heard, Marshal Fowler occasionally uses this office when he wants a bit more privacy with whoever he’s meeting with, since his main one has a large glass wall and nowhere to put curtains. Ritch doesn’t know how to feel about Marshal Fowler wanting a more private chat with them, but he doesn’t get too much time to try to figure it out because suddenly the door to the actual office section of the place slams open and Gavin Reed storms out of it. He ends up violently sitting himself down in a chair– because only Gavin Reed could find a way to make sitting down violent (Ritch disregards the intrusive thought of North possibly being able to as well)– immediately crossing his arms like a child and impatiently bouncing his leg with a deep scowl on his face.

    “The fuck’re you lookin’ at?” Reed snaps.

    Ritch smoothly diverts his gaze to the door to Marshal Fowler’s office. “Nothing in particular.”

    Marshal Fowler chooses then to make an appearance. “Connor, can you come back here?”

    Connor starts moving to where the marshal stands in the doorway, and Ritch follows by default. Whenever someone needs to talk to Ritch or Connor, that person commonly ends up needing to talk to both of them because they’re twins and supposed partners. He stops almost immediately, though, when Marshal Fowler raises a hand at him.

    “I only want Connor. You’re after, go ahead and find a seat out here.”

    Ritch nods and says “Yes, sir”, ignoring the growing concern and confusion. He turns sharply and finds a seat on the opposite side of the small room from Gavin Reed because he took a seat in the middle of his row, otherwise Ritch would opt against having to face him. The chair under him squeaks under his weight, then the entire room is plunged into a silence more tense and painful than the one earlier with Connor had been. He’s not surprised, though. It’s Reed he’s alone with, after all, so it’s to be expected. It’s also no real surprise that it’s Reed that breaks the silence since he can’t ever seem to keep his mouth shut.

    “The fuck’s up with you two?”

    Ritch contains the urge to roll his eyes and instead gives Reed a flat look. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

    Reed huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Why the fuck are you guys in here?” He sneers, “Are you guys finally being kicked out? We all saw those injuries you got last week. Gonna get those boo boos from earlier this week kissed by mama when you get home?”

    Now Ritch openly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “If you’re going to try to insult someone, could you at least do it in a more mature and creative way? Because you sound like a child and most children can’t be taken seriously. Also, Connor and I are currently placed at the top of our class, so we certainly aren’t getting kicked out for that reason anytime soon.”

    Reed loses his cockiness real fast and replaces it with blatant irritation. Honestly, this guy is a landmine who’s practically begging to be stepped on. Ritch wonders how many people have fallen for this act, because he certainly won’t. This isn’t his first time dealing with someone as testing as Gavin Reed, as disappointing as it is.

    “Top of your class, ey? Is that why you beat each other to a pulp, then? Are you two just not compatible and tryin’ to prove a point?” He barks out a sharp laugh, “That’d be the icing on the cake. Fuckin’ identical twins not bein’ drift compatible. I bet–”

    “You seem to misunderstand.” Ritch interrupts, “We want to be incompatible, so it would certainly be ‘the icing on the cake’ for us to be officially seen as such, since that has been our goal since the beginning of training.”

    Ritch prides himself for the look of bewilderment on Reeds face.

    “And why the fuck would you guys suddenly not want to be partners? You obviously came as a pair. Got into a cat fight or somethin’?”

    Ritch grins sharply, feeling oddly encouraged by Reed’s antagonizing. “That’s for me to know and for you to preferably never find out.” Reed opens his mouth to speak, but Ritch continues. “And I would suggest that you keep away from other people’s businesses. Someone may accidentally mistake your abrasive nosiness for actually caring.”

    Reed grumbles and angrily slouches low in his seat, not unlike a pouting child would. Within his grumbling, Ritch barely makes out the word “fucker”, but the way he pronounces it makes him mentally do a double take. Sure enough, just a few seconds later, he murmurs what sounds like “phker” under his breath again, and Ritch can’t quite contain the careful, blank expression on his face anymore, letting his eyebrows furrow just the slightest.

    Does he actually say it like that or is he just shitting around? He said it normally before… What even...?

    “Ritch,” Marshal Fowler suddenly calls, startling the twin. He can’t let himself lower his guard like that again, lest he get hurt. “You’re up. Connor, you’re free to go so this disaster of a human being doesn’t start influencing your behavior.”

    “Really feelin’ the love, Fowler.”

    “Just do me a favor and shut up. You’re damn lucky you’re a good pilot or else you’d’ve been gone ages ago.” The marshal slams the door behind him with Ritch already inside the office. He turns to face Ritch.

    “Now then, sit down. I’ll make this short.”

    That wasn’t usually a good thing to hear, and Ritch never got the opportunity to read Connor to see how he was affected. He’s going in blind. Thankfully, Marshal Fowler makes do on his word of keeping things quick and barely waits for Ritch to sit down before starting business.

    “You and Connor still refuse to work together, and it’s come to my attention that you guys have started trying to experiment on your compatibility with the other trainees, yes?” Ritch nods with a, “Yes, sir.”, seeing no reason to lie since they’ve already been caught, and the older man continues. “So, what are we gonna do about this, then?”

    Ritch waits in silence for a few moments, thinking it was a rhetorical question, but when he doesn’t continue, Ritch searches for an appropriate answer. The marshal doesn’t actually let him answer in the end, which miffs the twin. He’s careful to not let it show, though.

    “We can consider your paperwork to be ingenuine, thus terminating any chances of you and Connor ever being pilots.”

    Ritch feels like this is the first of multiple options with the way he said this, but it’s obvious that this is a test of some kind, so he plays along. Besides, this is something they’ve already tried to admit and clear up during the first day of being here, so they can’t entirely be in the wrong.

    “I suppose, in a way, our paperwork was ingenuine, but we didn’t have a choice in the matter at the time.”

    “And what does that mean?” He probably knows what it means from Connor, but once again, this is probably a test to see how eagerly he wants to be a pilot.

    “Our stepmother and instructor, Amanda, was watching us fill them out, and we–”

    “Wait, wait wait wait wait…” He holds a hand up and takes a second to process something, then points at Ritch almost accusingly. “Your trainer was your stepmother? You share her last name?”

    Ritch doesn’t know how he messed up, but he feels like he did. “Yes, sir.”

    “So your trainer was Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern?”

    “Do… you know her, sir?”

    “‘Do I know her’, he asks.” He spins in his chair to address an invisible audience incredulously while throwing his hands in the air, then spins to face Ritch again. “You mean to tell me that you just didn’t know that your supposed stepmother, Amanda Stern, is known for training some of the best jaeger pilots we’ve had? You two know so much about everything else ‘round here– because it’s obvious that you and Connor purposefully threw some of the evaluation questions, and we’re gonna talk about that too– but neither of you knew who Amanda Stern is? You didn’t think to mention this little detail to us?”

    “I… suppose not, sir. Maybe she didn’t tell us she was known for anything because she wanted us to get in through skill and not because of her name? All we knew was that she had experience in training soldiers and that she offered to train us to give us a better chance at being accepted.”

    “Did you not have any internet? A magazine on jaeger pilots and training, even? Anything?”

    “No, sir. At least, not often and usually not unsupervised. She didn’t like us being distracted from our main goal, much to our own irritation.”

    Marshal Fowler opens his mouth as if to ask another question, probably one out of concern if his facial expression is anything to go by, but he instead sighs deeply with a shake of his head. It’s obvious that he’s pretty much done with this situation and that he wants this to be over as soon as possible. Ritch feels very much the same way.

    “That doesn’t explain why you purposefully answered questions wrong on the written evaluations, and both Luther and I have a sneaking suspicion that you guys have been holding back ever since that first day of physical evaluations. And you better not lie to me, because lying about your potential during evaluations has already put you on thin fuckin’ ice here.”

    See, here’s the problem, if Ritch’s story doesn’t match up near-perfectly with Connor’s, then they’re both done for. Therefore, Ritch has to try to figure out if Connor told the truth about buying time to find a new partner, or if he bent the truth and claimed it was to get more time to gain the “trainee experience”. If Marshal Fowler was this tough on Connor as well, then he would’ve cracked and simply told the entire truth then beg for forgiveness afterward. Although, if the marshal went easy on him and is only being short with Ritch right now because of the accumulated stress, then Connor would have bent the truth to keep his superior from getting angry in the first place.

    This is where being able to see Connor’s expression would have helped immensely. Even just a quick glance at his eyes; the twin-telepathy would have taken care of the rest.

    When Ritch answers, it’s soon enough after Marshal Fowler finished speaking that there’s no noticeable hesitation. His decision is made and is hopefully correct.

    “To put it shortly, we were trying to avoid any possible chance of early graduation in order to buy time for us to find new partners to pilot a jaeger with. Due to past events, Connor and I will certainly have a difficult time going through the neural handshake. It can be done, we’ve been trained most of our lives to be compatible, but it’ll be more than uncomfortable and taxing for both of us.” Ritch takes a page from Connor’s book and looks down with hunched shoulders, knowing it should accentuate the guilt and trepidation he’s feeling. “We’d really rather not have to find out how long we’d last.”

    The marshal sighs again, this time less angrily, “And why did you not state this on your papers when signing up?”

    Ritch lifts his head, completely confident in his answer now. “As I said before, Amanda was quite literally standing behind us during the entire process, and she would have been… less than pleased if she saw that we were trying to write down anything besides eagerness to work together. She’s–” Ritch’s voice cracks, so he clears his throat quickly, “She can be a force to be reckoned with, one could say.”

    Marshal Fowler stares down Ritch, probably for any signs of dishonesty, but the trainee knows that he’ll find none. The way he sighs once more, this time more in defeat, tells Ritch that his choice to come clean was the correct choice. It also shows that he should probably get back to Connor as soon as possible. Knowing him and his patterns of self-blame and punishment, he’s probably already digging himself a ditch with the amount of fidgeting and pacing he’s likely doing.

    “Connor said something similar.” He states as if Ritch didn’t already figure that out, “He never mentioned that your trainer was Amanda Stern, though. That kinda changes things, here.” He sighs again. Ritch kind of feels bad for giving him more stress than he already had.

    “I apologize for making things complicated. You probably have enough on your plate as it is without worrying about two questionable trainees.”

    “You’re damn right I do. I’m glad you recognize that.”

    Another halt in conversation. Marshal Fowler breaks it, this time, with false nonchalance.

    “Mind if I ask how long you stayed with Amanda?”

    “We lived with her for nearly eleven years, but we only trained for a little over ten.” Ritch answers automatically. This is a question he’s answered many times before in the past.

    Ritch hears the marshal hiss a distinct “Jesus” under his breath before continuing out loud. “Did you have anyone taking care of you besides Amanda? Like a maid or something?”

    “I have Connor and he has me, but we’ve always been mostly self-sufficient. We never particularly needed anyone else.”

    Marshal Fowler scrutinizes him for a moment, before dropping his gaze to the table between them. Richard feels another sudden wave of sympathy for the older man.

    “Alright, I’ve got things to do and another human to talk with, apparently, so you can leave now.” He gets up from his chair and steps to the door. “I’ll have someone tell you the verdict once the people who normally take care of this kind of stuff decide what to do with you two.” He opens the door then shouts with impatience, “Reed! Get your ass in here!”

    Ritch starts walking out, eyeing Reed, who is just getting up from his chair. He doesn’t know what prompts him to do it, but Ritch suddenly can’t simply walk past the trash-human without saying something. It’s an odd feeling, one that he’s never had before, but he relates it to a strange mixture of smug, cocky, and maybe a bit playful, yet he has no reason to be any of those. As they pass each other, Ritch lowers his voice enough that marshal Fowler shouldn’t be able to tell he said anything from where he’s sat in the office chair again.

    “Here for another day, Reed, let’s see if you are too.” he taunts, relishing in whatever this smug, cocky, thrilling feeling is.

    Reed stops in his tracks, but Ritch continues on as if nothing happened.

    “What did you just say to me?”

    “Reed!”

    Ritch allows a shit-eating grin to form when he hears the loud growl from the pilot only because his back is to him. It drops completely as soon as he opens the door because he finds Connor waiting right outside in the hall. He normally would have retreated back to their room by now to calm down, but here he is. At least there’s one part of his pattern Connor’s still following; pacing and fidgeting with his fingers in an obvious show of anxiety. Ritch doesn’t get the chance to ask if he’s okay because Connor’s suddenly darting to him.

    “Ritch! Ritch, I’m sorry! I told him everything and I messed this all up and–”

    “You didn’t mess anything up, and you didn’t tell him everything.” Ritch cuts him off before it gets out of hand, “He was surprised when I told him Amanda was our stepmother and trainer. Apparently she’s downright famous in our line of work.”

    “I–” Connor freezes, his eyes widening in recognition. “I think I knew that already. I’m pretty sure North’s said something like that...” Connor replies dumbly. Ritch can tell he’s trying to process that what he imagined in his head isn’t becoming reality, so he gives his brother a second to adjust before continuing.

    “It’s okay that you told Marshal Fowler everything, because I did too. We were caught, and lying would have made things worse. He seemed receptive to our reasonings for lying by the end of our talk.”

    Connor slowly lifts his head up in order to meet Ritch’s eyes. “...was he really? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

    “Connor. I never say anything I don’t mean, you know this better than anyone, so the fact that you’re asking me if I am bending the truth for anyone’s benefit means you need to take some time to lie down and think through things before this afternoon. That’s what you normally do during times like this, yes?”

    Ritch turns and starts walking back to their dorm, knowing full well that Connor will start following behind him. Sure enough, he hears the tip-tapping of footsteps behind him almost immediately.

    “I do… But what if He might’ve been putting on an act to make us think we’re safe. What if we get kicked out? We don’t have any other skills–”

    “If things really go down the drain, I’m sure we could at least find jobs as bodyguards or some kind of fighting or self-defense instructors. Besides, we’re still young. We still have time to learn a new trade if worse comes to worst. But I genuinely don’t think it will come to that.”

    “How can you be sure? What if–”

    Ritch stops and turns to his brother abruptly, “Stop letting your head and emotions get the best of you. Calm down and think clearly. Marshal Fowler never yelled at you, did he? Didn’t get short with you after you explained yourself?”

    Connor takes a deep breath, “...not really, no.”

    “And he didn’t with me, either. He simply said that he’d give the information to the people who officially decide what to do with us.” He stops Connor before he can freak out, “Now think, if you were in their shoes, and you got a case about these brothers whose stepmother, who is well-known for being at least mildly threatening, apparently, was watching them through every step of the enrollment process and forced them to put answers they didn’t like, would you blame the kids?”

    “I don’t know because I’m not informed on–”

    “Connor, come on, just use your head for a second. Would you do it?”

    His brother stammers, “But I’m too soft and–”

    “Connor.” Ritch snaps.

    “No.” Connor barks back, anger bleeding into his tone. Finally, he’s feeling and showing something other than anxiety and fear.

    “And in the end, I don’t think I would either. People can’t blame kids for being afraid of the consequences of going against their parent’s or guardian’s wishes. In most cases it’s the adult’s fault, so I’ve heard.”

    Connor pauses, looking down. “You’re sure about that? Where have you heard this from?”

    “North complains about her parents sometimes.” Ritch starts walking again, and Connor follows. “They’re eerily similar to Amanda in a lot of ways, as far as I have been able to tell, and what I told you is what Simon told North once or twice. She seemed to agree with him.”

    “Oh…”

    Ritch nods and continues his trek to their bunker again. The relatively short trip is spent in silence for the rest of the way. When they arrive, Connor surprises Ritch by not entering the room when he holds the door open for him. Instead, he states that Lunch will be starting sometime soon and he’d like to get there a little early today. Ritch decides against questioning it, even if this doesn’t match his brother’s usual behavioral patterns, so he simply nods and bids Connor a polite farewell before closing the bunker door behind him.

    Not questioning certain things seems to be a repeating theme for Ritch lately, but he can tell that if he did start questioning them, he’d spiral into an unpleasant mindset. He isn’t quite sure why, probably something like a long lost self-preservation method that has become a simple habit over time, but he really doesn’t want to delve into that right now. Maybe another time when he knows the following day will be a day off, but not now when he has to go back to training in just a few hours. Ritch has a feeling that this particular “maybe later” will become yet another “not ever”, but he can’t bring himself to particularly care at this moment. He seems to have a lot of “maybe later”s too, now that he’s thinking about it.

    He shakes his head and forcibly moves any and all of those types of thoughts like taking boxes of trinkets and stashing them in the shed or garage when one’s too lazy to go to the dump. There’s a fleeting thought that this is probably unhealthy, but it’s gone and forgotten as fast as it tries to arrive.

    What Ritch decides is okay to actively think about is the feeling he got when he started taunting Reed today. He’s still not even sure why he did that, since he vowed just last week to never escalate things like the other man wanted so desperately, yet here he is. This is probably the first feeling aside from enjoyment and annoyance that Ritch has genuinely let himself feel in a while, and it felt… good. It felt really good. That’s what’s concerning him.

    Ritch doesn’t “just feel things”– that would have gotten him in a lot of trouble with Amanda and thus turned him into a nervous wreck like Connor. At first, Ritch picked and chose which emotions to put on his face in order to please the people around him, not unlike what Connor tries to do. Although, at some point, he just became a robot of sorts. He didn’t realize until it was too late, but he doesn’t really feel anything anymore, as “teenage angst” as that sounds. He knows what he should be feeling and acts accordingly, and he, for the most part, can tell what other people are feeling, so he acts accordingly then, as well. Not that Ritch has any problems with himself, that’s just the way he is.

    He even started tamping down on the annoyance too. That is, until Gavin Reed entered the picture. Ritch ignored the man easily whenever he tried to start something in the past, as he normally does, but something about him keeps grating at his skin, so to speak. Ritch has no clue why, and there’s no way he’s going to ask for Connor’s help. His twin is living his own life now, he doesn’t need Ritch dragging him down as well. Besides, Ritch wouldn’t even know how to begin describing the strange feeling he gets when treating Gavin to a bit of his own medicine. He’s pretty sure Mr. Anderson would be able to help, but there’s no way in hell he’s approaching the old alcoholic. That’s Connor’s type of thing, not Ritch’s, and it’ll stay that way for as long as he can help it.

    Whatever, it’s not like this is actually bothering him. This feeling and his and Reed’s interactions are the only things keeping Ritch from going insane with boredom and lack of sunlight, after all. As he starts preparing himself for lunch and the second half of the training day, he wonders if his superiors would let him go for a run around the aircraft launch, or if that would be too dangerous.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Tina has been asking the same damn question at lunch every day ever since Gavin told her about his plan to break Ritch; “Make any progress with your boy toy, yet?” Her excuse had been because “He’s a boy and you have been trying to toy with him, therefore, boy toy.” Gavin understands where she got boy toy from, thank you very much, he just doesn’t understand why she says it the way she does, like she’s expecting something else to happen. It also doesn’t help that she usually says it loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. He wouldn’t be surprised if the “Slut Gavin” rumors started their rounds again soon because of it.

    Gavin only started picking on the guy just to try to get a rise out of him. He does the same exact thing with the other trainees just to see how long their patience lasts. Honestly, what do people expect from him? Every single person he’s encountered has cracked, even those dudes Simon and Josh, who Gavin thought were going to be the toughest to crack because they’re so mild and peaceful. But nope! Just one degradation of their little friend group and they got defensive as hell. Gavin hasn’t even tried with the other twin– the one that sits next to Anderson for some fuckin’ reason– because the pilot can tell that one’ll crack within seconds of Gavin doing his thing. Plus, if he and Anderson are actually buddying up with each other…

    Let’s just say that, while the rest have been spoiled with their robots and fancy technology and hence have lost that certain edge, Anderson still knows how to take and throw a damn punch. Gavin figured that out the hard way a couple years back, and he isn’t going to jump at another opportunity to test it again.

    Ritch, though… Ritch is a fucking robot or something. He’s never surprised, always stoic no matter what Gavin says and has a constant resting bitch face, even when he’s with his little group during lunch. Even with all of the attempts at getting him to do something, anything, Ritch is always fucking blank and it’s irritating. Honestly, Gavin was even about ready to give up trying to get something out of him. If he hadn’t so much as slipped up by now, he probably wasn’t ever going to crack enough for it to be worth it.

    However, as soon as that fucker walked into the waiting room, Gavin got the feeling that today was gonna be different, and he was right. Ritch slipped that little bit while waiting for Connor, and that was instantly enough proof that Gavin should keep going, that it was possible to finally get a reaction. He thought that was going to be it for the day. He was fully ready to call quits for now and plan how to get him to break some more tomorrow. He didn’t expect that slight fucking quirk in his lips and that twinkle in Ritch’s eye when the trainee walked out of Fowler’s office.

    “Here for another day, Reed, let’s see if you are too.” is what the fucker said. And to top it all off, Gavin caught that fucking smug-ass grin on his face afterwards. He didn’t know little Ritchie-boy could dish anything out, let alone not only get away with something like insinuate that Gavin was gonna get fired with the fuckin Marshal in the same damn room, but also get Gavin in trouble for “trying to start something again”? He had to endure ten extra minutes of lecturing because he “still wasn’t respecting the trainees” and “hasn’t solved his anger issues”!

    You wanna finally participate in the game you’ve been ignoring for so long? Then I’ll make it impossible for you to ignore it again. I know how much fun you had in that moment. So let’s fuckin’ play.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Now, Gavin doesn’t normally wait for people. He prefers to play the whole “Oh look who I just ran into” schtick, but that ain’t gonna work for little Richard, anymore. He doesn’t even know if it ever worked for the prick in the first place with how calculated every single one of his movements seem. Oh well, it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s already leaned up against this wall in a way that everyone knows by now means to stay clear of him. He’s on the hunt for prey, and he can see his target walking down the hall in his direction right now.

    “‘Sup, dick.” Gavin calls, “Oh I’m sorry, did you prefer Richard? Ritch, maybe?”

    The twin doesn’t miss a beat this time, “Hello to you too, wetland grass. Although, I thought I told you earlier to come up with more mature and creative insults if you wanted to stop being seen as a child.”

    “First of all, fuck you–”

    “No thank you, I’m not interested.” Dick interrupts, pausing a few steps away from Gavin, “Oh, and Reed, Ritch is short for Ritchie, not Richard, so I wouldn’t be called Dick anyway. You can try again next time, though, maybe with more finesse. I’m known to be a very patient man and am willing to wait the time it will take to do so.” He has that same eye sparkle as earlier, even if his face is still morphed into something like disregard.

    “You keep calling me childish, but who’s the one who has a baby face? Are you even old enough to shave? Cause you don’t look a day past fourteen.” Gavin sneers, miffed that Ritch is now walking away from him as if he doesn’t have a damn care in the world. That’s supposed to be his own move!

    “No, I don’t shave,” he replies over his shoulder, “but I don’t see how that’s insultable since I waste no time in my mornings shaving and my face never itches. Have a good afternoon, wetland grass. Or do you prefer Reed?” and he’s out of casual speaking distance, effectively ending this round unless Gavin wants to throw away his pride and follow the dude or yell down the hallway. He does neither.

    He may have won this time, Gavin certainly underestimated this guy, still having doubts that he wouldn’t go back to being unemotional. Although, little Ritchie is a fool if he thinks these petty, elementary insults are all Gavin’s got. Gavin smirks in a way that has a middle-aged man clearly avoiding him where he was passing him in the hallway.

    Game on, bitch.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

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A/N: Hello again, guys! So, yea, I know this chapter is basically all dialogue and it’s kind of boring compared to other chapters, but it’ll pick up again for the next chapter or the one after that. I had to do some setting up for future plot points, ya dig? XD Also, this chapter has been sitting in my google docs completely finished for four days now because I’m a dummy who thought I already posted this Lol. But anyway, I know there isn’t much Reed900 action like what I promised last chapter, but they’ll have their time to truly shine eventually, I promise! 😅 So yeah, feel free to shout at me about literally anything at all, and Thank y’all so much for reading!! 😄💕💕