#I appreciate that 3 of them are purple and one is a math joke and one is a science joke

[thebookofbill]

ALEX HIRSCH POSTED BILL CIPHER VALENTINES. JOE PITT DREW THEM. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS REAL. THEY DID THIS FOR ME

“I’m broken, wanna fix me?” HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S FUCKING DOING.

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Easy breezy beautiful premature ejaculation. Hypersexual!Simon/fem!reader. Discussion of edging. Cumming untouched.

-

“If we do this,” he says around his cigarette, “then we do it my way.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit cautiously, turning your hands palm up as if to show you have no weapons, no tricks up your sleeve. I’m innocuous, your posture says. His own says: I’m still deciding, with his tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. “This weird, femdom thing. So I appreciate your guidance. Because I know fuck all—“

“You’re no femdom—Jesus, fuck, I can’t talk about it anymore,” he grits out. He takes a step back and away, creating distance, exhaling a plume of smoke that makes him look strangely ethereal in the evening light. Against your will, your eyes flicker down to just below his belt buckle and oh god. He’s hard. 

“Just from talking about it?”

The look he gives you could melt ice. It could sublimate it. You cringe, knowing you were in the wrong, wishing you could reach out and snatch the words right out of the air. He’s trusting you with this. The last thing he needs is to feel like a joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have—you’re not a, a science experiment or something—“

“Wouldn’t mind that so much. Might figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me. Less interested in being treated like I’m part of a circus troupe,” he grumbles. He drops the cigarette and grinds it to ash beneath his boot. He asks: “Inside?” 

-

Gingerly, so gingerly, he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. He holds his breath as he works the denim down his thick thighs. God, is he built: muscles made for more than just show. His history is inscribed on his body in its strength and in its scars, scars of white and pale pinks that darken to purple in the lamplight. He’s wearing boxer briefs, straining at the front from his erection, and they are soaked. You’re surprised that he hasn’t soaked straight through to his jeans. 

“Don’t look,” he grits out through his teeth. You look away, unsure where to cast your eyes to, and settle for shutting them. He explains: “Can’t take the way you’re looking at me.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling your face flush hot. 

“Just—let me—” you hear the sound of fabric rustling. He kicks off his jeans—you can tell by the soft sound of them landing against the floor off the side of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching in your lap. 

“Nothing just—fuck. No way I’m going to last.” He sounds bitterly disappointed. 

“That’s the point of this, right? To get better at lasting?” 

He sighs, a long-suffering sound, like this discussion is well worn and frustrating to him. Something in you shrivels, and it takes your body with it as best as it can, sending your shoulders hunching inwards, your head ducking down. You pick at one of your nails by feel alone, eyes still closed, and nearly jump when his fingers brush your knee. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You’re right. That’s what this is for. Might as well get used to embarrassing myself.” 

“That’s the spirit." 

He snorts. More fabric rustles, and at length he says: “Alright. You can look. Just…you can look.” 

You open your eyes hesitantly. His cock is right there—and Jesus. It makes sense, proportionally, but it is frightening in a very real sense. You’re already doing the math, measuring in your head and comparing to your past precedents. Ghost would have them all beat, quite comfortably, in length and girth. He’s cut, which surprises you, but isn’t a turnoff. He keeps himself landscaped nicely, which you appreciate, even if it isn’t necessary. 

He is flushed a ruddy pink, the head darker than the rest. As you stare, it jerks, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Suddenly one of his large, scarred hands reaches down and grips the base of his cock in a painful hold, hissing in a breath through his teeth. 

“Can’t look at me like that,” he admonishes again. 

“Like what?” you ask, a little defensive. You’re just looking! You have to look, right? 

“Like you want it,” he mutters. 

God, does he really have no idea? No inkling of how badly you want to sit on that monster in his hands? No notion of how wet you’ve been since your conversation in the parking lot? Sure you aren't like him, not about to spring off if the breeze was just right, but you are anything but unaffected. Still, it seems like the wrong moment to educate him on your attraction to him and his cock, so you do your best to morph your expression into one of unimpressed ambivalence and hoped it helps. 

“I’m ready when you are,” you say, interrupting his deep breathing exercises. He nods but doesn’t give you the go-ahead, not for another minute or two, until his chest stops heaving and he can remove his hand from the vice grip he has around his balls. His cock has a near purple tinge, and you wonder if maybe he should have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand just to take the edge off. Oh well, it’s a thought for next time. 

“Go ahead,” he says, like he’s giving you permission to pull the trigger on him during a game of Russian Roulette. 

You reach out—his cock twitches, a nice warm welcome if you’ve ever seen one, but you hesitate. Your hand is dry. Should you ask for lube? How does he usually jerk off? Dry? You have a feeling he doesn’t mind the discomfort; he seems like he has a self-destructive streak a mile wide. His eyes are fixed at a point on the ceiling, his chest unmoving as he holds his breath. You decide that some sort of lubrication is better than none—so you lick a broad stripe up your palm. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a little punched-out sound. Sometime between opening your mouth and licking your palm, his eyes had transferred from the ceiling to your face, to the flash of your tongue and your wet palm. His eyes widen, irises swallowed up by the pupils, and he says again, more urgently: “Oh fuck.” 

He reaches down to grip the base of his cock again, but it is too late: he cums. His abs are thrown into sharp relief as he tenses with each pulse, cock jerking against his brutal grip. He doesn’t even jerk himself off—just ruins it as you stare with your mouth open and your hand wet, watching him splatter seed against the coarse line of hair that runs from his belly button to his cock all because he watched you lick your hand. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, breathing heavily. His mouth is flushed a pretty red, like he has been kissing. His hand clenches into a fist as he says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, your nearly brain blue-screening from how turned on you are. You lower your hand and wipe it dry on your leggings. “That’s what this practice is for—so you don’t do it when it really counts. We can try again tomorrow or something.” 

He snorts. “Tomorrow? Give me five fucking minutes.” 

[undergoing-mitosis]

hey guys come to our death note discord server we talk about L making ur mom jokes is funny silly goofy time

"l lawliet math pickup line >>>" - rowan 2024 (when i was talking about making this post)

in this post (in order of appearance): @niightniines is Nines, i am aqua, @murderedbythoughts is parad0x, and @rowwiz is rowliet (aka rowan) :3

image ID below the cut 👇 please let me know if there's anything i need to change about the description, this is my first time doing an image ID so many feedback would be greatly appreciated.

[Start Image ID

A discord text screenshot, in dark mode with a dark grey background and white text. The messages were sent at 20:33 military time.

The first user is Nines, who has a pink coloured name, saying Nines with a capital N.

The second is Aqua, whose username is light blue, and said name reads [aqua [open bracket] mello my beloved [heart emoticon] [closed bracket] end name description]. This is styled in all lowercase.

The third is Paradox, who's username is yellow, and styled in all lowercase except for the O, which is replaced with a 0

The fourth is Rowan, whose username is purple, and said name reads [rowliet [open bracket] rowan jeevas [closed bracket] end name description]. This is styled in all lowercase.

Messages read: [Start of conversation]

Nines: L made a your mother joke once while they were chained together and Light didn't say anything the rest of the day.

Aqua: YOUR MOTHER? [2x skull emoji]

Nines: light: "what are you working on L." [carriage return] L: "your mother." [carriage return] light: "what..."

Paradox: "damn shame about your dad having to work so hard lately, how's your mother coping? I can help if she needs."

Aqua: real.

Nines: he threw a masked temper tantrum and L saw right through it.

Paradox: absolutely.

Nines: L: "I'm sorry Light, I didn't know that kind of joke would upset you so much." [carriage return] Light: "like I said, Ryuzaki, I'm completely fine, it was just a harmless joke." [carriage return] L: "clearly you're distraught."

Rowan: he used it as an opportunity to fuck with him by saying "hey girl, are you a polynomial function with a degree over one? because i wanna trace the values on your curves." to misa, and light threw him across the room for the fifth time that day.

Nines: LMAO.

Nines: I'm trying to imagine L saying that in his stupid fucking voice.

Rowan: I love his stupid fucking voice, he would so say it.

Nines: musical L's voice actor for extra nerdiness

Paradox (replying to the maths pickup line): the punchline of this hit me like a sack of bricks, i do not know maths.

Rowan: i think i should kidnap both musical and dub L to live in my basement, so i can make them say these things whenever i want them to in exchange for food.

End of conversation. End of Image Description]

[anzyll]

For my next post, I thought I'd ramble about something random and uninteresting; so there's not particularly anything new going on. The second area of my game is an underground city inside of a Labyrinth, heavily inspired by Greek mythology. While it's inspired by Greece, it's also heavily inspired by typical nightlife shenanigans, shady dealings -- an entire city of back alleys. I've drawn inspiration from a lot of things for this area, and it's definitely the most dense thing I've ever made, not just with content, but also with characters I love and really want to be able to show other people. So for this little spotlight blog, I decided to choose the two I was working on right now: Lazlo and Brock.

Now, Brock and Lazlo aren't anything particularly standout, as far as characters go, but that makes me feel like they exemplify the standard. They're not mindblowers, they just dudes. I made them in around 2019-ish. It was notably before the Techbro boom in popularity, which I will try to avoid naming for fear of bots and blocked words. I thought it would be really funny to have two guys in a basement somewhere, mining some coins, just totally lame dudes. Brock, the orange-haired one, was originally called Bob Musk, which in the current day and age would be just the corniest overused joke ever. The name Bob came from YouTuber Muyskerm, who I felt he somewhat resembled. His surname, Fuller, is a parody of Ferris Bueller, and his titular Day Off. Brock Fuller is sort of a corruption + jumble of Ferris Bueller, who kind of exemplifies the devil-may-care attitude of the residents of the city of Labyrinth that Brock lives in. I wanted to make a character who would attack you with a calculator; doubling and subtracting stats and HP, adding buffs, dividing damage, etc. When I was a kid I imagined having "calculator powers" once or twice in math class -- my fault for reading so much Rick Riordan. Percy Jackson's weird pen sword probably rubbed off a lot on me, gave me a great appreciation of both Greek culture AND urban fantasy, both of which play in heavily to this area. For Brock's clothes, I wanted to do a sort of "business casual" look, like someone who doesn't know how to dress but is trying to look professional. For colours, the orange hair came naturally, but I just knew I had to give him Joker colours for his shirt and tie.

Good old purple and green. The Joker (2019) movie was still rather new at the time, and all of the memes had me thinking about it. 'Course, I've never actually WATCHED Joker (2019), but I don't think he wears purple in the film, so my brain kinda autocorrected to Heath Ledger's. Better design either way, if you ask me. Techbros and Joker go together like arson and kerosene. Lazlo is comparatively more simple. I really wanted to give him one of those "not really a tuxedo" t-shirts. They're so incredibly lame, but also so incredibly charming at the same time, it really screams "nerdy 20-something" to me.

His face was on a whim, I can't recall exactly what inspired me for that sort of "teeth hanging off the bottom of a top lip" overbite sort of look, but if I had to guess it was probably at least partially Futurama.

My art was subconsciously influenced by the stupid mouth shape that Matt Groening makes an unfortunate amount around the time, it always pissed me off because I don't ACTUALLY like how it looks. It took a lot of restraint to sort of pull back my art style from this big-lip sorta overbite exaggeration that was really common in my circles at the time, and Laz is a product of that, but one of the few that I think I actually nailed in regards to it. That said, it's very possible that I just accidentally and unintentionally ripped it from something I can't name at the moment. His name however, was directly inspired by Camp Lazlo; wow, we're 3 for 3 on references to things I've never watched. I think all I know about Camp Lazlo is that at the end they reveal that one of the main characters was a fraud from an insane asylum the whole time, which is definitely the kind of energy I vibe with for gags. With his face, I felt like he'd fit in on that show... and also maybe if he was an animal of some kind. His surname, Doherty, was just the surname of someone I used to know IRL as a kid. He looks kinda similar to my old friend in some ways, though thankfully not due to his ungodly overbite. For Lazlo's power, I believe I was heavily inspired by Shin from Dorohedoro, due to this panel where Shin cuts off his arms to find the "magical smoke veins" inside of them.

(Smoke in Dorohedoro, for those uninitiated, allows the user to perform magic.) I thought it was interesting that Shin could just do this and get away with it. It occurs in a flashback, in a world with magic, so it's clear when he cuts his arms off that they'll come back, but it's still quite an impressive stunt to perform surgery on yourself like this. How the fuck did he even cut off the second arm? Isn't one arm enough? I couldn't tell you, but it leaves quite the impression. Back on topic though, I thought it was quite interesting to have a character based on this and "phantom pain", where you can still feel the limb as if it's still there, despite it not being. So, Lazlo can emit smoke from where his arm was severed, and use it to create a new giant arm made entirely of smoke. I assume if he were to lose a second arm or leg or such, it would also be replaced with smoke. Maybe if he was decapitated, he'd survive with a smoke head, sort of like an Elsen from OFF.

It is the most important element, after all. I do enjoy portraying people with disabilities rather normally, and Lazlo is a nice usage of that. I really enjoy having him wave with his missing arm, for example. Makes the world feel a bit more real to me.

That's right fuckos, I lured you in with 5 consecutive smaller posts about women, and then sucker punched you with a literal essay about my WEIRD LITTLE MEN. ...Sorry.

[emxie]

Asymptote Attraction

What happens when your long-time rival snaps? His frustrations may lead to something more.

Cyno x GN! Reader

Warnings: None

Yes, I’m writing a modern au story with Cyno based on a stupid math joke. I found someone suggesting something similar, in that he would totally be the nerd who would try and flirt with you through math puns. Me, being the nerd and student I am, actually appreciate these pick up lines, and therefore, would like to write about you and Cyno.

Also, this is a gratitude piece because CYNO CAME HOME!!!! I was so nervous I was going to lose the 50/50, but I got him! And I also got his weapon!!!!! I’m so happy that I need to write him a cute short story. Also…I’m aware this is like 3 months late since Cyno’s banner was in September-October. I was very busy, so I apologize for this being so behind schedule. Happy reading!

The hallways, not usually quiet, were no less loud today. You pressed your book bag closer to your chest, passing the jocks, primarily led by Itto, who were crowded at his locker.

“What’s up?” He nodded at you, raising a hand in greeting, before resuming his conversation with Kujou Sara. Surrounding him were Kuki, Beidou, and Kaeya, to name a few.

You returned his gesture with a timid wave, scuttling past them. It was almost third period, which meant the commencement of your calculus class was fast approaching.

Walking through the doorway of the classroom, you navigated toward your seat. Plopping down in your chair, you awaited the start of the mathematics class that you both despised and enjoyed.

You loved math itself. The intricacies of finding an answer through set formulas and having to try various things to get to the solution were never enough to satiate your love for learning. Being able to input variables and get a fixed outcome was the most comforting thing to you. The constancy of the subject made it one of your favorites.

Now, the resentment of the class. It was not due to any dislike or distaste for the subject itself. Oh no, not at all. In fact, you would have thought at the beginning of the school year that such partnership would have been beneficial. How wrong you were.

The presence of your enemy, archenemy as you liked to view him, continually dampened your enthusiasm for the class.

Cyno. The smartass of Teyvat High School. His social blunders never failed to enrage you, much less how he seemed to be doing these things on purpose. Just to get a reaction out of you.

Having been paired up with him at the beginning of the year, as the teacher thought that since you two were certainly the most intelligently gifted in mathematics, you would be a perfect match, you were looking forward to a brilliant and upstanding year with a solid and competent partner.

That, of course, was not the case. On the first day of class, he beat you to every single answer on the worksheet. And, to top it all off, he always ranked above you on class tests. Always. Even if he had scored higher than you by half a percent, he still maintained a perfect reign over the advanced subject.

And he would always tease you about your inferiority. Pointing out just how much better he was, even if he tried to appear unaware of the effect of his words, began to get tiresome. But, what could you do?

And so, you put up with his insufferable personality, no matter how much it pained you. Today would be no different.

Ah, there was the bane of your existence. He walked into the classroom, dressed in a dark purple sweatshirt and black jeans. His white hair possessed the volume of a cloud, fluffy and puffing out as if he hadn't cared to brush it before coming to school. The tips of his hair curled up, and through the thick wavy bundle of hair, you could barely see his face.

Dropping his backpack alongside his seat, he smirked at you.

“How are you?”

“Spare me the pleasantries.”

Rustling through his backpack, he glanced up at you briefly.

“You couldn’t pretend to be even a little excited to see me?”

“How could I? After you snatched the top score right out from under my nose, after that stupid word problem about surface area and volume, I can’t believe you think I’d forgive you.”

He shrugged, placing his folder on the table. “That’s your loss. It’s not my fault someone doesn’t understand how to set up two separate equations. You must have really enjoyed geometry.”

“For your information, I got As both semesters in Accelerated Geometry. Meanwhile you were struggling so hard in that class, I had to literally haul your ass behind mine in order to get you a passing grade. How’s that for stupidity?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, scoffing and flipping a strand of hair over his right eye.

“What, can’t handle the heat?”

“No.” He looked away, scanning his homework.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, before directing your attention to your own homework.

The teacher started class, and not a word was said between you two for most of the period.

You furiously scribbled down the equation, writing it out to find the derivative. Looking at his paper, you scowled a little as you realized he was ahead of you by one problem.

You messily wrote the solution before moving onto the next one. Why, oh why, did it have to be a graph?

As you worked out the equation, grumbling under your breath as you had to derive a trigonometric function multiplied by a natural logarithm, you certainly weren’t focused on what Cyno was doing in front of you.

Having been a little ahead of you, he had already finished the problem. Glancing over his work, he huffed.

Red eyes concentrated on your hunched over form, currently clenching a mechanical pencil so hard that it seemed about to break. A tanned hand reached out, tapping your own in the middle of you drawing out a graph.

“What?” you snapped, looking up at him with annoyance glimmering in your gaze.

With a stoic expression, he lifted up his paper to show you something. It was the graph that you were aiming to draw. And…he was giving you the answer?

“Is this a joke?” You exclaimed.

He met your accusatory expression with something not condescending. Instead, he delicately pointed at the line on the graph.

“You’re the asymptote, and I’m the function.”

You blinked. What was he trying to say?

“I’m attracted to you. My love goes on for infinity.”

You scoffed at this declaration. “Nice joke, Cyno.”

His brilliant red eyes darkened. Huffing, he got up from his seat and walked straight out of the classroom.

Did you say something wrong? He had never reacted this badly to something before.

Your upper teeth tugged at your lower lip as your mind darted between countless possibilities. Should you go after him, or would that make things worse? Should you stay in here, but risk making him angrier?

Steadying your resolve, you got up from your chair and went out into the hallway, following the tracks of the white haired student.

Before long, you were able to locate him. He was leaning against a locker, slumped over so that the fluffy mane of hair shielded his eyes from your view.

“Cyno?” you called out cautiously.

A flash of red locked onto your figure through the white curtain shielding his tan skin.

He scoffed. “What do you want? Isn’t it enough to see me humiliated?”

“Well, I’ll admit that it is surprising to see you so worked up over me, the person you hate the most in the whole wide world, rejecting what said person believes is a joke just from how absurd it is.”

He muttered something.

“What?”

“I said, to you it may be a joke, but to me it meant my entire world crashing down.”

“Wait, so you actually like me?” You really couldn’t believe this boy who definitely didn’t make your heart flutter when he gazed at you with that intense scarlet stare, had the capacity to reciprocate even an inkling of what you felt.

“What do you think, you idiot?” His raspy voice did nothing to drown out the crashing waves of surprise cascading through your mind.

“I’ll be honest. I thought you despised me, Cyno.”

He turned his head so all you could see was the soft voluminous white hair that you had caught yourself daydreaming into a bit too often.

“I didn’t know how to tell you otherwise, so I challenged you at every turn. And now I feel like an idiot. It’s infuriating!”

He turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed and expression somber, trembling slightly as emotion threatened to spill over.

“Well, I guess that makes you my function. After all, I have to be the asymptote here, certainly infinite and with no end to my love for you.”

He shrunk back, looking for all intents and purposes like a small dog that had just been kicked.

“You do?”

Rolling your eyes, you reached out, grabbing his hand and placing it in your own.

“If this was what you were so worried about, you should have just told me straight up.”

Looking him dead in his stunning eyes, you explained, “I reciprocate all of your feelings. Honestly they’re probably tenfold to yours if how you’re acting is any indication.”

As he stood there, looking at a loss for words, you stepped forward, cupping his face with your hand. Your eyes flickered down to his lips before meeting his eyes once more.

He huffed a little, murmuring, “To hell with this.”

Cyno leaned in, capturing your lips in his. It was an innocent enough kiss, bordering on the edge of propriety as you felt his tongue flicker at the sides of your mouth.

You pushed him against the locker, pinning his shoulders to the metal surface as you leaned further into him. His hands roamed around your back before settling in your hair, gently twirling the locks.

It was everything you had dreamed of and more. His heavenly eyes were fluttering as you pushed him further into the locker, deepening the kiss.

“Cyno! Y/N!”

You shrank back immediately, dusting off your clothes and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible. Cyno looked just as flustered, his hair a mess and lips puffy. He looked down, hiding his face in the mass of white hair you had come to love.

One of your classmates rounded the corner. “There you two are! The teacher was wondering where you went. You guys better come back in soon. We have a quiz in a couple of minutes.”

Giving your assurances to them, you waited until they had gone out of sight before turning back to Cyno.

“So, what does that make us now?”

“Friends? More than that.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m not sure if we’re even dating. How about…frenemies?”

“I have something better. Adversaries in Affection.”

“I like that.” He smiled at you. What a beautiful smile. He looked so handsome whenever he wasn’t scowling at you.

You pursed your tender lips. “Are you ready to crush that quiz?”

“Only if I beat you,” he smirked, leaning forward to flick your forehead.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed. “Wait!” He had already bolted down half of the hallway.

“You idiot!” you screeched.

He only chuckled in reply as you ran to catch up with him, interlacing your fingers with his after only a moment of hesitation.

Math really could work wonders.

[volfoss]

how about ranking bucciarati's team?

regret to inform you that ur gonna get a very long answer bc i have passionate feelings about them all! also trish is in this bc she is part of the team and no one will tell me otherwise and will also include some rambling bc it is me and i have so many feelings towards these characters and none of them r cohesive

under the cut just in case (post writing yes it was long)

Giorno Giovanna:

way way more complex than ppl normally give him credit for (i will not go into feelings on how a majority of the fandom treats him unless ppl want me to then i will in fact make a very long ranty post and will not be stopped)

mildly op (esp at the beginning with how hes kind of able to just use his stand really well w no problems altho i think thats true of most of the jojos that we have seen animated?)

i am emotionally attached to him and want to give him a big hug

hes just a kinda goofy kid and is maybe a bit not good with figuring out hey this is a semi dangerous situation maybe i shouldnt be taunting him (leaky eye luca for example)

has the actual best theme

i love how he works off the rest of the team so well (even w members who do not like him)

is in my top 3 jojos i love this kid sm i would adopt him if he was real

7/10

Bruno Bucciarati:

the fucking way his character develops from licky man to best dad material is my favorite thing

his outfit is so so so good i would die to wear it

in general this man is one of my fave jojos characters and i get a lot of comfort from him

hes just really neat and has a good taste in music

he did his fucking best and i will always love him for that

imo the way that his death was drawn out was genuinely one of the most heartbreaking deaths in the entire series and fucks me up each time i think of it

i feel like he really is the one to hold the team together in a way that everyone feels cared for and saved

def has a savior complex tho for sure

dilf but im ace

also manga superiority bc he either makes the stupidest faces or looks very nice (anime has a lot of weird animation in regards to his face) and also because its lingerie there instead of a tattoo that changes thickness and placement every second

10/10

Leone Abbacchio:

guilty pleasure liking man

i am obsessed with his vibes and wish to become him

i cannot physically express just how much i love him but hes one of my faves of all time (not obvious by my theme at all wdym)

i miss his manga palette but also the colored manga isnt my beloved but also black lipstick abba

hot take maybe but anime abba looks better than manga minus the lipstick debacle

hes so so tall and i will steal his height in a nice way

his past man his past it fucks me up

his death fucks me up normally but when i was rewatching recently, i saw he gave this tiny lil smile after helping the kids get their ball and i could not take it anymore

him and brunos relationship (canonically and out of canon too) is one of my favorites in the series

also fandom hot take as i guess i am doing those for everyone- but ppl either have him as cosntantly trying to murder giorno or being like good son and v out of character, and it is really weird? not sayign that ill do better when i write them but also like im convinced some ppl havent seen the show or smth

i will steal both him and bruno and marry them both <3

this man is beloved i love him to death

10/10

Pannacotta Fugo:

i cannot spell his first name to save my life

also fandom take- ppl make him constantly only angry boy all the time and it really irks me. ik araki did not give him 2 much to work w in terms of canon personality but its frustrating

the light novel purple haze feedback is so so so good and adds sm to his character and i really like it for that!

fugo is one of those that imo deserves a lot and didnt get that

genuinely the vibes between how he treats narancia is v interesting to me, like its clear he cares about nara but nara not doing great w math really frustrates him

i love their interactions and how he is genuinely a kind person at times

the manga colors r superior here, my strawberry boy <3

i just really love and appreciate him a lot and wish that ppl gave him more love

i keep getting assigned him on kin quizzes

very smart good boy

ALSO ok fugo did not do any wrong by leaving

unsure if thats a hot take but i genuinely dont blame the character one bit for leaving and again purple haze feedback really delves into that and why he did it

if ur a fugo fan go read it

his past is really upsetting esp in the anime i will cry over it

his stand is adorable and i wanna hug it

his vibes r fun and i wanna gift him strawberry dangly earrings

8/10

Narancia Ghirga:

this boy i am also adopting (i am adopting most of them sorry)

i really hate how ppl act as if hes stupid bc bad math skills do not equal stupid like did ppl not see the fight w formaggio??

the way he just fucking dove into the water after the boat and how brunos face went all soft and happy it will never not make me cry

he is constnatnly making me wanna cry if i think too much about him for 2 seconds i love him sm

how can anyone not adore him when he set an entire street on fire yk

hes just happy despite his past and it makes me sad i love nara sm

torture dance is one of my favorite memes from the show

ALSO ok the way he died so suddenly absolutely broke me bc the remaining team members r really just seeing everyone die in front of them so quickly

his goofy and laid back moments r my fave

i love just how loyal and caring he is to his friends

his stand is really cool and again the fight w formaggio was so fun to watch

8/10

Guido Mista:

probably my least favorite member of the team for a semi good reason:

the jokes towards trish are really really uncomfy and how fugo doesnt wanna be involved but he is pushing him to do something that makes him uncomfortable did not make me like him a lot

hes goofy but not goofy enough for me to be ok with the repeated jokes about that esp in the body swap episode (ik it was supposed to be funny but it just felt off)

his vibes r good but i wish we got to see his hair

the fandom interpretation is normally pretty good of him overall?

despite not loving him a lot, i really enjoying writing for him (one day might open up headcanon requests or smth but unsure)

hes someone id wanna watch movies w but his taste in movies and mine r very different

love how he and his stand get along

honestly has very very good comedic potential

i really like how he and giorno interact as the series goes on (in a platonic way i need to clarify that i love their friendship)

again him in purple haze feedback was really interesting

probably a 5/10?

Trish Una:

beloved and deserved better

her first outfit in the manga > outfit in the anime

actually in general i believe in manga trish superiority like her hair in the manga looks so cool

her stand her stand her stand i love sm

if u dont include trish in the group i am murdering u <3

HER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!! IS SO GOOD!!!!!!

fandom gripe is how people either pretend she does not exist or has the trish first introduction thing where shes using her defense mechanisms and acting a bit spoiled

OK but her in purple haze feedback!!! mild spoilers but how bruno was taking care of her post the ending of vento aureo makes me so happy each time i think of it

very mad that she canonically didnt really get an ending and yet again PHF my beloved actually gave her that

how spice girl starts out as a stand thats helping her thru a very stressful situation is so cool and i love it

DAD BRUNO DAD BRUNO DAD BRUNO *frothes at the mouth*

but more seriously how she leans on bruno and begins 2 trust him and nearly point blank is referring to him as a father figure always fucks me up

esp because of the resulting fight afterwards

and the very ending of the arc that ends w bruno being like bye gonna go in the clouds and look ethereal now, oh man it makes me so sad

bc giorno is the only one that knew what happened and people that were closer to bruno due to knowing him longer didnt

i wanna see how trish coped w that personally

despite being introduced not at the beginning i think her arc and character in general were as well paced as it could be!

9/10

finally done! sorry that took so long but oh man i have so many feelings towards these guys its not even funny

[satyr-syd]

Seconds after Sero stepped into the blazing heat of the summer sun, sweat already pooling at the base of his spine under his thin tank-top, it began to snow.

Chilly pin-pricks dotted the back of his back. A gust of wind manifested out of nowhere and whipped against his tragically exposed sides. He held out his hand and watched as tiny white specks melted on his sweaty palm. Sero looked up, but the sun still beat down, unhindered by a single wisp of cloud. Goosebumps pimpled down his arms.

Well this sucks.  

He was supposed to meet Todoroki in the quad five minutes ago for their daily study session (Sero had many charming qualities, and being fashionably late was one of them). Ever since their dorm’s AC had been tragically annihilated in an acid-related incident that Sero had absolutely no part in whatsoever, the quad was the best place to study. Outside, there was at least the suggestion of a breeze.

Okay, so it was a bit more than a suggestion now. More like a firm instruction, edging on harsh demand.

Sero rubbed his arms together, elbows tight against his poor exposed sides. Man oh man was he not a fan of winter. Winter meant trying to find the one jacket in the entire mall that suited his specific physique and hoping they still stocked it in his size. Where did the snow even come from? Why did it have to be now of all times? If he tried to make himself a jacket out of his tape would it actually work this time?

While Sero stood there freezing his ass off like an idiot instead of like, going back inside, a white-and-red head made its way through the quad to him.

read on ao3

fic art by @kim-namzoom!!!

“Hanta,” Todoroki greeted. His hair, grown lovingly past his shoulders in the spirit of spite (“My father despises it,” Todoroki had announced proudly after returning from winter break their second year), laid over his shoulder in a loose braid. Sero wondered who’d braided it for him. It looked nice.

By then, an icy sheen coated the ground and the wind blew loud enough to howl in his ear, and the nails on Sero’s fingers began to purple. “Dude, is this you?” Sero asked.

Todoroki shook his head. He stood close, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t know how to make snow.”

“Huh,” Sero said. “You should learn how. Then we could have snow cones like every day.”

Todoroki held out his hand - the right one - next to Sero’s.Whereas the snowflakes melted into watery mush in Sero’s palm after a few moments, they held their shape in Todoroki’s, forming a lacy layer of crystals over his slender fingers.

“Do you like snowcones?” Torodoki asked.

Sero shrugged. “Dunno, never had one.”

“Neither have I.”

Present Mic’s voice burst through the loudspeakers. “THERE HAS BEEN A QUIRK MISHAP! SORRY FOR THE UNFORESEEN WEATHER, KIDDOS! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO YOUR ROOMS WHILE WE FIGURE OUT WHAT’S HAPPENING.”

The few students still standing outside slowly filed indoors.

“Maybe one of the first years?” Sero asked.

“Probably,” Todoroki said. He held up his hand. “They’re the ones most lacking in control...and yet, overflowing with arrogance.”

“Wow, sounds like someone I knew in first year.”

Todoroki nodded sagely. “Bakugou was certainly a handful.”

“I know you know who I was talking about,” Sero said, poking his shoulder.

Todoroki smirked. It was just the slight quirk of his lips, barely visible unless you knew to look for it. Sero knew to look. He’s seen that smile a lot, these days. Which was great, because Todoroki had a wonderful smile, but also not great, because whenever he made Todoroki smile, his heart doki-doki ’d so hard that he was positive Todoroki could hear it.

See, asking Todoroki to tutor him had been a highly calculated move that had not one, but two purposes: first, Sero was, is, and (if we’re being honest) probably always will be a terrible student and if there was any chance of him getting decent grades his last year of high school, he needed a tutor. He could have asked the other top-scoring students, but Momo and Kendo were too busy (he wasn’t the only idiot scrambling for a passing grade), Bakugou was too explodey, Iida was too boring, and Midoriya was too muttery. Todoroki was none of those things and also the hottest of the bunch, which lead to purpose number two: as his tutor, he and Todoroki could spend more time alone together. Why? Because six months had passed since Sero admitted to himself that he was no better than every other girl in school and was totally crushing on the Icy-hot hero Shouto and now he’s tired of pining like some basic bitch.

“Let’s study in my room,” Todoroki said.

Sero had been to Torodoki’s room like, a ton of times, but his heart still skipped a beat every time Todoroki invited him. “Lead the way, sensei,” he said.

“I’m not your sensei.”

“Your teaching prowess says otherwise, sensei.”

“Call me sensei one more time and I’ll have Bakugou quiz you on polar coordinates.”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Sero said. He spun in front of Todoroki. “But I don’t think you have the heart to follow through on that - ” Sero tapped his nose to the beat of his killing blow “ -  sen-sei.”

Todoroki stared at him for a moment, pouting, cheeks pink from the cold. Then he pulled out his phone and began texting Bakugou.

“Noooooo shit I’m sorry I’ll stop! It was just a joke!”

This is it,  Sero told himself.  Snow storm wailing outside, holed up in Todoroki’s room, just the two of us - this is my moment.

Todoroki’s room hadn’t changed much since their first year. Decorative pot of bamboo in the corner (fake), tall, dark wooden drawers, a low desk free of clutter, tatami flooring, somehow. That ugly checkered mat by his desk. But where there once was one chair, now there were two. A pair of crocs (never worn) sat in front of his dresser. And on the dresser, crowding the decorative orb, half a dozen framed pictures: Todoroki, Midoriya, and Bakugou at the end of their internship with Endeavor; their class picture from last year; Natsuo and Fuyumi showering Todoroki in hugs; a selfie Sero took of him and Todoroki on their first day of their summer internship with Edgeshot.

There was also a behemoth purple beanbag sitting by the shoji screen. It looked wildly out of place with the rest of his traditional set-up. Sero dragged it over to Todoroki’s desk and flopped down into it.

Over the next twenty minutes, they reviewed that day’s lessons (apparently it’s like, good practice to review what you’ve learned that same day, which was annoying, but Sero’s grades had been going up, so whatever). Todoroki explained over and over until Sero actually understood how to convert Cartesian coordinates to polar coordinates. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to explain so many times if Sero had listened carefully, but, well, it was hard with Todoroki talking to him in the soothing, patient tone he took on when he was teaching. He just looked so cute with his brow furrowed, thinking up a new way to explain a concept that would penetrate Sero’s thick skull. Sero liked to think he had built up a tolerance to buff, attractive men over his nearly-three years at U.A., but he was still weak to Todoroki’s hands, to the way his tight t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders.

The fact that he was cold as shit wasn't helping him focus either. Faint shadows of falling snow danced along the translucent paper walls of the shoji screen, taunting him.

But hey, at least he vaguely understood the polar coordinate system.

“You know, you’re pretty good at this,” Sero said after he finally solved a difficult math problem all on his own. “I bet the others would die to get their hands on your notes.”

“Guess they’ll die, then.”

Sero snickered. “That’s rough, dude.”

Todoroki shrugged. “I’m not going to put effort into something I don’t like to do when I know they won’t appreciate it.”

Sero freezes. “Wait - you don’t like tutoring?”

“Well - ”

“Oh shit, am I making you do something you hate? Bro, why didn’t you tell me, I wouldn’t have - ”

“It’s different when it’s you,” Todoroki said sharply.

Sometimes, it was hard to tell when Todoroki was joking, or if he was actually serious. The look in those blue-brown eyes, though, showed his resolve loud and clear.

Todoroki immediately averted his eyes. “I like helping you,” he muttered, “so it’s fine.”

“Oh.”

Not for the first time, Sero wondered: why him? Todoroki had many other friends ...maybe friends that were smarter than he was and didn’t need tutoring, granted, but other friends he could be hanging out with. What’s the appeal? Was it his wonderfully terrible sense of humor? Was it the muscles he totally wasn't showing off? Was it because they shared the same taste in manga (oh yeah - he should ask Todoroki if he finished with week’s Shonen Champion)? Was it because he, unlike at least half of their year, was capable of talking at a normal volume? Over his time at U.A., Sero had gained more confidence in himself than he ever thought he would, but when it came to Todoroki, he still felt...small. Unsure if the light that shone from a great hero like Todoroki drowned out his own little spark.

Usually things between them were pretty chill, but after that comment, a weird kind of tension settled over the room. Not bad, just quiet, like when there's a sleeping cat on your laps and you're afraid any movement will wake it.

Pretty soon, though, Sero began to shiver. He couldn’t help it - there was a winter storm outside, apparently, and he was in a tank top and jorts, and seriously, did  no one  turn the heat on? Did no one turn the heat on  and  the AC miraculously began working again?

Todoroki was staring at him, too. God, he must have thought Sero was some kind of pansy, getting cold so easily, unable to regulate his own temperature like  some  people (though he guessed in that case, most people would be pansies to Todoroki).

13) Convert 2x−5x   3   =1+xy into polar coordinates.

Sero tapped his pen against his paper. Todoroki’s gaze followed the movement, then returned to his face. Sero could practically feel his impatience.

Sero put his pen down and stretched his arms over his head. Todoroki looked away.  Got’em.  

“You know...” Sero said. Todoroki glanced back at him. “...staring at me isn’t going to help me solve this stupid question any faster.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Todoroki said, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Sero grinned. Anyone who knew him well can tell you that the Cool and Cold hero Shouto was just as petty as any mortal. Probably pettier, in fact. “You totally were.”

Todoroki frowned. “You were shivering.”

“Yeah, wonder why.”

Todoroki’s gaze shifted over to him. He looked Sero up and down. Sero tried and failed not to shiver. Todoroki’s clenched jaw softed and his eyes smiled and he stared - this time, he  was definitely staring - Sero felt his face heating up (well, that’s one way to get warm).

Wordlessly, Todoroki got up and sat down next to him on the beanbag. Sero fell against him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, the tips of Todoroki’s braid tickling his shoulder.

Sero froze up (pun intended). His heart pounded in his ears. But he knew what Todoroki was doing, so he didn’t feel guilty as he curled into his side, basking in the warmth like a cat in a strip of sunlight. And the warmth from Todoroki’s left side began to melt him down.  

He pressed his cheek against Todoroki’s shoulder and said, “I thought you didn’t like people using you as a space heater.”

“Most people.”

Sero smirked. “So you’re saying I’m special?”

Todoroki looked at him and smiled. “Didn’t I say that earlier?”

Ohhhh man oh fuck. How could he just say that, looking at him like that, like he was more than just the plainest guy in class, like he really was special? Sero was known for keeping his cool, for being the chillest dude in the group, but with someone as special as Todoroki looking at him like  he’s  special…fuck.

“I mean, well, like that was just about tutoring and not, you know - ”  nearly sitting in my fucking lap,   “  - sharing personal space.”

“You looked cold,” Todoroki said. He could feel Todoroki’s breath on his cheek. “I didn’t want you to be distracted.”

“I’m a lot more distracted now.”

A part of him cringed as the words left his mouth. Oh god, why did I say that, was that even sexy?  But another part of him pushed that part down and shushed it. This is the opening we’ve been waiting for, it said. Even if Todoroki turned him down, at least he could graduate without any regrets. Maybe he could even tell his grandkids that he once received a  personal  rejection from the great hero Shouto.

“Oh.” Todoroki said, shoulder tensing where Sero leaned against him. Sero braced himself mentally, the same way he did before he launched himself off a building, preparing for the inevitable gut-plunge as he swooped toward the ground. “...me too.”

And there’s the thrill of the upward swing.

Sero was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have shot his shot if he’d thought he had no chance. Still, hearing Todoroki say he feels it too took him by surprise in the best way possible. Like tasting the sweet tang of umiboshi in the center of a plain-looking onigiri. Like acing a test you thought you failed. Like snow in June.

The air between them was electric but still. Did that count as admitting their feelings? What should he say now? Where were they supposed to go from here? All Sero wanted to do his grab Todoroki’s hand and hold his stupid pretty face in his hands and kiss him silly, but they should probably like, talk about things -

“Hanta.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh thank fuck - yes please.”

And then he was kissing Todoroki Shouto, son of number one hero Endeavor, one of the Big Three most promising students at the most prestigious hero school in the country. His lips were soft but clumsy, shy but adamant as he pressed against him. Sero cupped his face and felt the slight inhale of Shouto’s gasp. Despite being pinned down by the weight of Shouto’s chest on his and trapped between the strong forearms framing his face, the light that perpetually emanated from the great hero Shouto wasn’t overwhelming. Sero was warmed by his light instead of cowed by it. In that moment, Shouto’s light drew out the best in him - and his little spark ignited.  

Yet, that question that always nagged him surfaced again: Why me?      

As Shouto’s kisses began to trail down his neck, Sero figured he could ask why later - when Shouto wasn’t busy showing him it’s you, it’s you.      

Even with the frozen tundra battering just outside, Sero was burning up again.

[wistfulcynic]

The Eternal and Unseen (2 of 3)

(there is additional chapter art from the amazing @carpedzem​ further down, I just wanted to use this one again because I love it so ❤️❤️❤️❤️)

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns​

a/n: This chapter fought me every step of the way, and it’s a beast at nearly 9k. Settle in, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. All manner of love and adulation to @thisonesatellite​ for being the rock she is, and to @ohmightydevviepuu​ and @katie-dub​ for their brilliance and encouragement. And @spartanguard​ and @optomisticgirl​ for the prompts that this monster of a fic now barely resembles, but hey what can you do? 

Finally, please everyone flail like mad at @carpedzem​ and her perfect eye for detail and characterisation in the art for this chapter: 

(WHAT’S IN THE BEAKER, YOU ASK? LET’S FIND OUT)

AO3 | Tumblr part one 

-

CHAPTER TWO: 

The sunlight shone through the window and right on his face, bright and warm, though not enough of either to wake him up. It was Harriet who managed to rouse him, finally, after several minutes spent stroking his forehead with her fronds and patting his cheek with her leaf. When this produced no effect aside from some incoherent muttering and limp attempts to push her leaf away, the plant rustled with a botanical sigh and gave him a sharp smack upside the head. With her thorns out. 

“Ow!” cried Killian, jerking into abrupt and painful consciousness. “What the bloody hell—Harriet! Lass, I thought we were friends.” 

Harriet smacked him again. 

“Oi, seriously! What—” He broke off as Harriet unfolded her larger leaves from where they had been wrapped around him, cradling his body protectively, and Killian realised he was lying sprawled on the floor of Emma’s dorm room and that his head ached like a son of a bitch. 

“What happened?” he groaned. Harriet’s leaf brushed his face again and then caressed the back of his head and Killian followed its path tentatively with his fingers. They encountered a tender, painful lump at the base of his skull and a nasty gash in his scalp, coated in a springy, jelly-like substance that he recognised by its texture and aroma as Harriet’s sap. 

“Harriet... did you heal me?” he asked her. She inclined her leaf in a gracious nod, and Killian felt a lump rise in his throat that could almost rival the one on his head. “Thank you, lass,” he said, stroking the edge of her frond with his fingertip as Emma had taught him. “I’m very grateful. But why did you need to? What happened here?” 

Harriet tapped him on his temple, gently but with a clear rebuke. “Aye, I’m trying to remember,” he replied wryly. “But cut a man a bit of slack, would you, when he’s been thoroughly coshed and spent the night on a cold stone floor.” 

Harriet shrugged and Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes, willing his brain to kick into some kind of gear. “I remember going to the pub last night with Emma,” he said slowly. “We had a few drinks and we wanted food, but the pub kitchen had closed so we came back here... we were going to order pizza but then there was a knock on the door... I went to answer it, and she joked that maybe the pizza place had read our minds… I turned to look at her as I opened the door, and then… then… oh, bloody hell.” 

His eyes had been scanning the room as he spoke, taking in the upended chair and the books fallen from their shelves, the overturned plant pots and shattered glass vials. But this chaos, though alarming, was not what caught his attention. 

Beside the door, half-buried beneath spilled soil and shards of glass, lay an object. A small, purple object, roughly round and attached to a long and slender strip of leather. An object that Killian had last seen glowing faintly against Emma’s pale skin as he’d trailed kisses down her belly. 

With a choking cry he scrambled on his hands and knees across the room and picked it up. The power within it hummed through him, and agonising terror sank its claws deep into his chest. 

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he whispered. 

~

David was lingering over his coffee with a gentle smile on his face, listening to the bright sound of Snow and Ruby’s voices as they chatted over breakfast. Snow’s voice in particular with its sweet tones soothed him as much as it did her birds. If he could start every day like this, David thought, watching as the bird on her shoulder hopped down her arm to peck at the pile of seeds she’d left next to her plate—with good coffee and Snow’s voice and the occasional trill of birdsong... well, he wouldn’t hate it.  

That thought had barely even crept into his mind when the door to the dining hall burst open and Killian appeared, one hand pressed against his head and the other clenched in a tight fist. He took two steps forward then stumbled, groaning, swaying precariously on feet that seemed reluctant to hold him up. Coffee sloshed over David’s hand as he moved to stand but Ruby and Graham were far quicker, darting forward with inhuman speed and managing, barely, to catch Killian before he collapsed to the floor. 

“What happened to you?” cried Ruby, as she and Graham took Killian by the arms and helped him into a chair. 

“Emma,” Killian gasped. “Emma.”

“She’s not here—” Ruby began, but Killian shook his head. 

“Gone,” he whispered. 

“What?” 

Killian closed his eyes and appeared to marshal his strength, and when he opened them again they were frantic. “Emma’s gone,” he said, in a far stronger voice. “Taken.” 

The room went utterly still and utterly, utterly silent.

That vague sense of unease, of foreboding, that had been simmering in David’s gut for weeks flared now into a full and rolling boil. He set his coffee cup down on the table with a thunk and glared at Killian. “What do you mean she’s been taken?” he demanded. 

“More importantly,” said Snow, her voice barely audible and her eyes wide with fear. “Who took her?”

Killian’s expression darkened and his closed fist clenched tighter. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never saw their face.” 

The eerie silence shattered as everyone began to talk at once. 

“But that’s impossi—” 

“No one could just—” 

“—even with magic!”

“How could someone just take her?” Graham’s voice rose over the din. “How did they get past you?” 

As quickly as they rose up the voices fell silent again, awaiting Killian’s reply. 

Killian’s expression went, impossibly thought David, darker still. “They coshed me,” he snarled. 

“They what?” David demanded.

“Hit me on the head with something hard, a stick or a bat or—hell, it could have been a frying pan, I don’t bloody know.” 

The silence in the room took on a baffled quality as Killian’s glare was met with a wall of blank and uncomprehending stares. 

“And that… worked?” ventured Ruby. 

“Of course it worked!” Killian snapped. “I’m immune to magic, not blunt objects.”

Victor’s face wore an expression that David recognised as one he often had himself, whenever he tried to do math in his head. “But they just—” he gave his hand a vague wave. “Hit you?” 

Killian shot him a mocking look. “Yes, they ‘just hit me,’” he sneered. “It was a more than adequate measure, I assure you.” 

Snow placed a steaming cup of tea in front of him and Killian’s sneer faded to pained gratitude. “Thanks, love,” he murmured, and took a long sip before turning back to Victor. “It’s a human strategy, yes, but you have to admit an elegantly simple one. You lot would have tied yourselves in knots trying to work out a way to defeat me by magic, they just whacked me upside the head. I’d admire it if it weren’t so bloody painful.” 

“Emma gave me a jar of headache powder a while back, let me go get you some,” said Ruby sympathetically and Killian once again nodded his gratitude. 

“Thank you, lass, I’d appreciate it.” 

As Ruby hurried out the door Graham looked at David, his brow furrowed. David was by this point mightily confused and so full of questions they tumbled over each other in his brain. Before he could even begin to sort through them, Graham spoke.

“So whoever took Emma was human,” he mused. David frowned, surprised to hear his friend wasting time with such a remark. Of course they were human. What else would they be?

He fully expected to hear another mocking reply, but Killian simply nodded. “Aye,” he said. “One of them, at least.” 

Graham’s expression sharpened. “There were more than one?” 

“There had to have been.” Killian’s clenched fist trembled as he pressed it against the tabletop, his knuckles stark white. “No single human could have taken Emma, not alone. Not from her own bloody room. There are distinct signs of a struggle—it’s pretty clear both she and the plants fought back.” His mouth pressed into a grim line. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here but it’s big,” he said hoarsely. “And what’s more, Emma knew it was big.” 

“How do you know that?” asked Graham.

“She left this.” 

Killian wrenched his fist open to reveal a stone, a deep purple stone with a shimmering glow that seemed to hover over his palm. It was roughly round, as though carved hastily by hand, with a small hole hewn through it slightly off-centre, threaded with a leather cord. It looked to David’s eyes thoroughly unremarkable aside from that unsettling glow, the sort of pendant you find on a three-for-one sale in a shop that also sells patchouli candles and things woven out of hemp.  

“What is it?” he asked, but his words were drowned out by the collective gasp from the others.

“Is that what I think it is?” Victor’s voice held genuine fear. 

“So Emma has it,” Snow breathed in awe. 

“She did,” Killian replied grimly. “She wore it around her neck. She never took it off, and I mean never, not for anything. Until now.” 

“But what does that mean?” Victor’s whispered question was drowned out by the sound of the door opening. Ruby strode through it, trailed by a rumpled and sleepy August. 

“Hey guys. I woke August up and filled him in,” Ruby said casually, as though August wasn’t the one person in the dorm she actively avoided and never spoke to except in anger. She strolled over to Killian and held out a small paper packet. “Here’s your powde—fuck me sideways.” Her eyes went wide and the packet fell from her nerveless fingers. “Is that—” 

“Aye,” said Killian, “it is.” He picked up the packet and tore it open, tipped the contents onto his tongue and chased it with a swallow of tea. 

It’s what, damn it? David’s brain screamed, but his mouth refused to form the words. 

“So Emma has it,” August echoed Snow’s words but in a very different tone of voice, his expression now sharp and alert. “I should have guessed. Sky tribe, of fucking course.” 

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Ruby snapped, rounding on August with her teeth bared. 

“Ruby, now is not the time,” said Snow sharply, as Graham leapt to his feet and took Ruby’s arm. 

“It’s not the time,” Killian agreed. He stood as well and fixed them all with a steady gaze. The haze of pain had cleared from his eyes, David noted, and he seemed much steadier on his feet.

“You all know what this is,” he said, holding up the purple stone. “You know its significance and the vital importance of keeping it safe. And yet Emma, the woman tasked by her birthright with its protection, deliberately left it behind.” He paused to let his words sink in. Even David could feel the solemn weight of them settling into his bones. “She would not do such a thing,” Killian continued, “unless she thought that leaving it behind was safer than risking it falling into the hands of whoever took her. She would not do such a thing unless she trusted us to keep it safe. She did it because she knew it was the one thing guaranteed to make us understand that the danger she’s in is serious.” 

The air in the room felt heavy as lead, holding them still and silent within the moment. It pressed on David’s shoulders on his chest, holding him frozen until after an interminable moment Snow spoke. “So… what are we going to do?”

A smile spread across Killian’s face, a sharp and dangerous one. His eyebrow quirked. “We’re going to rescue her, of course.”

“Oh, well,” mocked Victor, “of course.” 

Killian’s smile faded. “Listen to me, all of you,” he said firmly. “I know that we have our differences and I know how deep they run. But you all understand the enormity of this and how it affects every single one of us. We have have no choice but to act, and act now. Fast and united, before it’s too late.”  

He scanned their faces, making eye contact with each in turn. “Are you with me?” he asked.  

His answer came from the last source any of them expected. “You can,” said August, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that.” Snow, Ruby, and Graham all nodded in agreement then turned expectantly to Victor, who rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“Fine,” he said. “What do you need us to do?”

~

“They’ll take her to the forest,” said Snow.

“Do you think so?” Ruby frowned. “That’s seriously risky.” 

“So is hauling her across the campus,” Graham pointed out. “Even if they managed to restrain her, there’s no way to move a body without looking suspicious.” 

Graham sounded like he was speaking from experience, which was surely impossible—or so David would have said half an hour ago. His definition of ‘impossible’ had shifted pretty dramatically since then and he was no longer certain anything could be ruled out.

“I agree with Snow, they’d go to the forest,” Graham continued. “Remember we’re dealing with at least one human, they might not know what the forest is to Emma.” 

“Hmm, that’s a point,” Ruby agreed. She looked turned to Killian. “Okay, we three will go to the forest and see what we can find there. Can you give us an hour?” 

Killian nodded. “That should be enough. Keep your phones on. And be careful.” 

Ruby’s smile flashed. “Always am.” 

“Killian,” David croaked, finding his voice with effort as he watched Snow follow the Ruby and Graham from the room, bluebirds hovering worriedly around her head. His mind was still churning and he stumbled over his words. “What—what exactly is—what are they—why are you—why are you all talking about humans like you aren’t… one?”

Killian regarded him with a curious blend of exasperation and empathy. “Because we’re not,” he said bluntly. “Well, they’re not.” He waved his hand at Victor and at August, who gave David a small bow. “I am, more or less.” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” David asked faintly. Victor snorted and Killian sighed, running a hand over his face. 

“David, look, mate, we tried our best to ease you into this and let you figure things out on your own,” he said, “but honestly I’ve never seen anyone fail to pick up on hints as comprehensively as you can.” 

“What—” David rubbed his throbbing temples. “What does that mean?” 

Killian turned to Victor. “We’re going to need something to open his mind,” he said. “There must be some magic that’s keeping it closed, I have a hard time believing even he can be this clueless. Have you got some sort of potion or something that might work to soften him up a bit?”

Victor scowled. “I don’t do potions.” 

“What the bloody hell do you always have on those damned burners, then, or are you just making the whole floor smell terrible for your own entertainment?” 

“Those are experiments.”

“And you can’t experiment with potion making?”

“I do sometimes, but Emma’s really the potion expert. If I need one I usually just get it from her.” 

“Well, Emma’s not bloody here, is she?” Killian hissed through gritted teeth. “What have you got?” 

“Um, well, I mean, not much for opening minds,” stuttered Victor, recoiling from Killian’s glare. “Heads I can open. Minds are trickier.” 

“I’ll open your head in a minute—”

“I can do it.” 

Killian and Victor turned in unison to stare at August, who was lounging against the door frame, casual and nonchalant. “Influence him, I mean,” he drawled, in a careless tone that sent a shiver up David’s spine, like tiny spiders dancing down the back of his neck.

“Um,” said Victor, with a frantic glance at Killian.

“Not too much, of course,” continued August, soothingly. “Just crack him open a bit, you know, make him… receptive to your input.” 

Killian looked at David, with a look that sent the spiders scattering all across his skin. “That…that could work, actually.”

“Seriously, Jones?” cried Victor.

“Look, we can only use the resources we’ve got and if you can’t produce a potion we have to come up with something else,” Killian snapped. “Can you produce a potion?” 

“I already said no!” 

“Well then. These are the resources we’ve got.” 

“And just how are you going to give him this ‘input’ once he is ‘made receptive’ to it?” Victor sneered. 

“If I’m right about him I won’t need to,” said Killian. “It’s already there. All I need to do is trigger it.” His expression turned calculating and David's skin-spiders grew claws. 

“Do I get a say in—” he began, but Killian cut him off. 

“No you don’t,” he said shortly. “We haven’t got the time. Victor, do you suppose you might be able to locate a basic solvent, one able to emulsify plant sap and willow powder? Can you do that, at least?” 

Victor nodded. “That I can do.” 

“Do it, then. And August, you make whatever preparations you need. I’m going to go grab some things from Emma’s room, we’ll meet back here in ten.” 

“Killian,” David tried again, “I’m really not comfortable—”

Killian rounded on him with a glare, dark and intent and terrifying. “Emma is in danger,” he said, spitting every syllable. “Serious, life threatening danger. I know you can understand that, David, if you understand nothing else, and I know you can’t ignore it. I know you’ve come to care about her.” 

“Of course I have—” 

“Then help me save her.” Killian’s voice broke. “Please.” 

The look in his eyes—raw vulnerability and soul-deep terror bolstered by a core of iron David would never have dreamed he possessed—struck a chord somewhere deep within him and resonated there. For the first time he felt that he was seeing Killian as he truly was, and there in that brief flash of kinship David understood, as surely as he’d ever understood anything, that Killian loved Emma, that he would do anything for her, and that he was deathly afraid his anything would not be enough. 

“All right,” said David, clasping Killian’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

~

Ten minutes later David was waiting anxiously in the common room with August sitting in the chair across from him, legs crossed, watching him with a cool stare that did nothing to calm the energetic gyrations of the skin-spiders. When the door opened to admit Killian and Victor he leapt to his feet, desperate for any excuse to escape that unwavering gaze.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady and disguise his nerves. “I’m ready for... er, whatever.” 

Killian was carrying another paper packet similar to the one Ruby had given him and a small, grey-green leaf. These he set on a table as Victor produced a beaker half-full of a milky substance. Killian tore open the paper packet and tipped its contents—a few ounces of dusty grey powder—into the beaker. He then took the leaf and squeezed it until it began to express thick, clear sap, then dropped that in as well. The liquid in the beaker began to make a faint popping noise and Killian looked satisfied as he picked it up by its narrow neck and held it up to the light. He swirled the liquid in a deliberate manner, first clockwise then counter, then clockwise again, counting under his breath, until it turned a dark, swirling purple and began to smoke—rather ominously, David thought. 

Killian turned to him with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I hope you mean that whatever,” he said, holding out the beaker. “Because the first thing I’m going to need you to do is drink this.” 

“Er—” said David. 

“Then look deep into August’s eyes.” 

“Um—” 

David jumped as he realised August was now standing directly behind him, grinning widely, the tip of his fang catching a shaft of bright morning sunlight with a distinctly mocking gleam. He ran the tip of his tongue along it as his eyes flashed red and at least three impossible ideas began to coalesce in David’s brain, coming together to form a conclusion that within his new definition of ‘impossible’ was in fact anything but. 

“How—” David cleared his throat, still unable to quite believe he was entertaining any of this. “How are you out in the sunlight?” he asked. “Aren’t you—doesn’t it—burn you?”

Killian and Victor chuckled and August’s grin widened. “That’s a myth, I’m afraid,” he drawled. “Sunlight doesn’t harm us, we’re just not morning people.” 

“It might be best if you operate from the assumption that everything you think you know is wrong,” said Killian. “Start with a clean slate, so to speak.” 

“My mind is a clean slate,” David echoed faintly.

“Exactly.” Killian smirked at him. “So are you ready?” 

David hesitated. “You’re sure this is necessary to help Emma?” 

“It’s the only way.” 

“All right,” David sighed. “Give me the damned potion.” 

~

The purple of the potion rises up, engulfs him, dark as smoke, only the red of August’s eyes as shining beacons to guide him. He follows them through the swirls and eddies of the smoke until abruptly it is gone and he is standing in a forest of tall trees reaching straight up to a cloudless sky. 

He hears a noise behind him and turns to see a woman, beautiful and terrifying, wreathed in smiles and swathed in darkness. As he watches she waves a wand of blackened wood and a substance, viscous and dark as tar, begins to bubble up from the ground and ooze from the trees, to drip from the very air itself. It twines around her in glistening ropes, hissing its displeasure, a slave to her whims, and she throws back her head in peals of triumphant laughter. 

“The Black Fairy,” says Killian’s voice in his ear. David spins around but no one is there, and the dark woman takes no notice of him. “I’m not actually there,” says Killian, an edge of impatience now in his tone. “And neither are you. Remember that. What you’re seeing is long in the past, shadows of your history. You can’t touch or change it. Just watch.”  

As the dark substance swirls about her the woman draws it, slowly, into herself, absorbs it. Her eyes turn black, and her hair and her gown; the colour drains from her skin until she is pale as a moonbeam in the night. Her lips curve into a satisfied smile and David, though he is not within his body, shivers. 

The image fades away, replaced by another. A village in flames, the agonised shrieks of  people—yes, people, David sees and knows them to be humans like himself—as they try in vain to flee. The cackle of the Black Fairy, appearing in their midst. 

“Surrender,” she hisses. “And your lives will be spared.” 

“At what cost?” spits a woman, glaring contempt as her children huddle in her skirts. “Our freedom?” 

“You will give your lives in service to the fae,” says the Black Fairy. “Or you will give them to the flames.” 

“Burn us then,” says the woman, her chin raised in defiance. “For we will never serve you.” 

The scene blurs again and resolves into another forest, lush and green. Tall trees surround a large, flat rock in the shape of a circle, around which many beings are gathered. Some have the appearance of humans, others anything but, and still others combine human-like forms with horns or feathers or fur or leathery skin. Some have wings, others tails, all are angry. And scared. 

“We must act!” cries one, slapping the rock with his tail to punctuate his point. “The humans no longer believe she does not speak for all of us! If we do nothing she will wipe them from existence in our names!”  

“Perhaps we should let her,” retorts another. “These humans breed quickly and their numbers are ever growing. Their settlements already threaten our lands.” 

“Not threaten,” says a third. “We can live peacefully alongside them, as we have done for centuries.” 

“Oh yes indeed, when they were but few.”

“Their numbers are beside the point!”  

“Enough!” shouts the first, banging his tail on the rock again. “The qualities of the humans as a species are not germane. We simply cannot allow her to wipe out an entire race of beings. It is unconscionable and a breach of the ancient covenants!” 

A chorus of agreement rustles through the assembled crowd. The second speaker observes her fellows in silence for a moment, then gives a shrug. “I will stand with you, Elisedd, in accordance with the covenants and for the moral strength of your argument,” she says. “But I wish for my warning to be noted: The human race will be the end of us, if we allow it.” 

“Your objection is so noted, Eigyr,” says Elisedd with a nod. “Now let it hereby be known that we the Fae Council stand in agreement, and shall act with due haste and taking all necessary measures to stop the Black Fairy in her slaughter of the humans...” 

The image blurs again and David finds himself in the midst of a raging battlefield. Human warriors stand shoulder-to-shoulder with fae, against the Black Fairy and the army of demons her dark magic called into being. He feels a hum of energy in the air to his left and turns to see a woman who he thinks at first is Emma—the same golden hair with a life of its own, the same deep green eyes. But this woman’s nose and chin are pointed, as are her ears, and her fingernails when she raises her hand in the air are long and sharp as talons. She holds up her hands to the sky and sings out, a haunting tune and words in the language Emma uses when she sings to her plants. She stands at the centre of a circle of her kind, blonde and green eyed, pale-skinned and sharp-featured, themselves encircled by the battling warriors. They chant a rhythmic beat as she sings, and though the Black Fairy is far away David can see her face clearly as alarm flares in her eyes, as slowly the thick, black substance begins to ooze from her, hissing as it goes, swirling and twisting into a single thick and oily strand. 

“No,” she whispers, then her voice rises to a shriek.“No, it can’t be! It’s impossible! Nooooooo!” 

She clutches frantically at the magic but it slips from her grasp and when she gropes at her belt for her wand she finds it gone.

“I don’t imagine you’ll have much further use for this, milady,” says a voice, and both David and the Black Fairy turn to see a human warrior with bright blue eyes brandishing the wand in a mocking salute. 

“Insolent cur!” she snarls, and the human laughs. 

“Would you believe that’s not even the worst thing I’ve been called?” he asks, and darts away into the heaving battlefield. 

The Black Fairy lets out a scream of rage, turning back to look up at the sky and the coiling rope of magic as it sails over the heads of the warriors and towards the circle where Emma’s ancestor stands, calling it to her with her song. It heeds her call with typical ill humour, hovering malevolently and obediently above the circle as the fae woman holds up a small, purple stone. 

The darkness shrieks as it is pulled into the stone, writhing and twisting in concert with the impotent howls of the Black Fairy, but Emma’s ancestor neither flinches nor wavers. She pulls in every particle of the darkness and when the last traces have been absorbed she waves her hand over the stone with a few final, whispered words and then collapses, stumbling forward into the arms of her kin. 

“It is done,” she breathes. “It is done.” 

The scene fades once more and when it resolves David is back at the circular stone in the forest, this time surrounded by humans and fae alike. 

“Then we have an accord,” says the human man who captured the Black Fairy’s wand, placing his prize upon the circle. 

“Yes,” replies Elisedd. “The human race agrees to relinquish all claim to magic. The fae peoples agree to keep the Black Fairy’s darkness bound for eternity, held in the tywyll stone and guarded by the Awyr people. Fae magic and cures shall remain available to any humans who seek them and no human shall encroach on lands the fae hold sacred. We are in agreement on these points?” 

The human nods. “We are.” 

“Then let it be done.” 

“Not yet, Elisedd, if you please,” says a third voice. “There is one more thing.” 

These words are spoken by another blond and green-eyed fae, this one male. “My people, the llwyth awyr, agree to guard the tywyll stone” he says, “but this task is a heavy burden upon us. My wi—” his voice breaks as pain flashes across his delicate features. “My wife, Arianrhod, chosen by the moon herself to lead our people, has given her life to contain the darkness,” he continues gruffly. “And now my daughter Morcanta must carry the weight both of her legacy and the stone. Though we accept to bear these burdens gladly, we respectfully request not to bear them alone. We would ask that a human representative agree to take up at least a part of the weight alongside us, for the sake of our people and of the covenants, and for the sake of all our descendants.” 

“That seems fair,” says Elisedd. “Cynbel oCymric? What say ye?”

The human man nods. “We agree,” he says. “A similar thought had occurred to us as well. But humans are far more vulnerable to magic than the fae, and so in shouldering this burden we will require some protection.” 

“Nynniaw? Is this condition acceptable to the Awyr people?” 

Emma’s ancestor nods. “We can place a shielding spell upon you,” he replies. “One that shall fuse with your blood and pass on to your descendants, removing your susceptibility to any magic. And in order that the location of the tywyll stone not be made too plain to see, we propose that such shielded human guardians should be paired with each fae tribe, to further protect the stone and ensure the covenants are kept.” 

The crowd hums with murmurs of agreement. “These are fair terms,” says Cynbel, “which we gladly accept.”

Smoke swirls up again and David is yanked from the vision. He gasped and stumbled and nearly fell, reaching out blindly for something to hold on to. 

“Steady on, there, mate,” said Killian, catching him by his arm, but David’s head throbbed and the room begin to spin around him, and the sound of Killian’s voice grew fainter as his eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled into unconsciousness. 

~

When he opened his eyes again the first sight to meet them was Killian, dressed as usual in his black leather jacket and black t-shirt bearing the faded image of a skull, belting a long sword around his waist.

“That’s—” David gasped, blinking hard and giving his head a firm shake. The images from his vision were still swirling in his mind, and though he did feel he now had a firmer understanding of just what, precisely, the fuck, some things he suspected would still require some getting used to. “That’s a sword,” he sputtered.  

“Naturally,” said Killian, pulling the blade from its scabbard with a flourish and examining its edge. “You didn’t think I’d be going in armed with nothing but my good looks?” 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Speaking of which, you’ll be needing one too. Belle!” 

The air next to him shimmered and Belle resolved into it, a large, leather-bound book in her hand and a bright smile on her face. “Hey, David,” she said. “Killian tells me you’ve been having a bit of an adventure.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” 

“Oh I’d love to go back and see the ancient times,” said Belle dreamily. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have a sip of that potion?”

“I’m pretty sure it only works on the living, love,” said Killian, and David barely resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead. She haunts the library. Duh. 

“Typical,” pouted Belle. “I haven’t had any fun in nearly five hundred years. But I have” —she held out the book, open to a brightly illustrated page— “acquired some serious research skills in that time, and I’m pretty sure I’ve found it.” 

Killian peered at the book. “Where the devil is that supposed to be?” 

“It’s one of the old classroom towers. When I was alive we used to learn magical defence there.” 

“Well that would at least make some sense. Victor, mate, do you suppose you might rustle up something capable of dissolving a mystical lock or two? I mean, I know it’s a potion and all, but this one does seem to be rather more in your wheelhouse.” 

Victor ignored the sarcasm. “On it,” he said.

Killian turned back to David. “Ready then, mate?” 

“I—” David wished mightily that he could say yes, of course he was. “I genuinely have no idea.” 

Killian laughed. “That seems reasonable, given what you’ve just been through.” 

“It might help if I actually knew what we were doing now.” 

“Oh that’s quite simple.” Killian gave him a wide grin and the worst wink David had ever seen. “We’re going to fetch your sword.” 

~

Emma regained consciousness then promptly wished she hadn’t, as nausea roiled in her stomach and some unseen force attempted to drive an ice pick through her skull.

Instinctively, she knew not to move or groan or do anything that might alert her abductors that she was no longer unconscious. Anyone powerful enough to incapacitate her in this way was an enemy to be reckoned with, and despite feeling like how she’d always heard hangovers described Emma was determined to find out who the hell these people were and what they thought they were going to do with her.

She could feel the forest around her, the soft, peaty ground beneath her cheek and the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the power of her connection to the land and all the things that grew from it. She sank her fingers deep into the dirt and prepared.

“Mother, we don’t even know what we’re looking for!” a voice exclaimed, with a note of petulance and an underlying quaver of fear that caught Emma’s attention.

“We’ll find it,” replied a second voice, flat and coldly confident.

“How?” pressed the first one. “How will we find something we have only the vaguest ideas about?”

“She’ll tell us what we need to know.”

“Mother, you don’t understand! We only managed to capture her because we took her by surprise! We have no means of getting her to talk, and her Guardian—”

“I took care of him.”

“You hit him on the head, he’ll survive,” the first voice retorted. “If you had actually read the tribal histories you’d know that it takes more than a big stick to eliminate a fae Guardian!”

“She’s right, Mother,” said a third voice, dry and wicked. “You should have killed him.”

“Perhaps,” drawled the second, “but there wasn’t time. If he is as and what you say he is, Regina, he’ll come for her. And we will be ready for him.”

“Ready for...” The first voice, Regina, trailed off in exasperation. “How will we be ready? In case you forgot, we don’t even know what we’re looking for!”

Emma knew, though. She knew exactly what the histories of the fae tribes hinted at, just enough hints to catch the attention of the clever and the ambitious, not nearly enough to give them what they would need to know. These three were hardly the first to come in search of it and they would not be the last. She’d recognised them last night for what they were and though she doubted they would actually recognise the thing they sought, Emma hadn’t hesitated for a moment to leave the tywyll stone behind, trusting that Killian would find it and understand the message that she sent by leaving it in his care. 

He would be on his way now, she knew that too. Her Guardian would die to protect her as he was duty bound by the covenants and his heritage to do, but even beyond that Emma knew that Killian Jones would never not fight for her. 

She cracked her eyelid open just far enough that she could see the women attached to the voices. Only the three, she was relieved to note, and apparently without backup. Two younger and one older, a mother and her daughters, the mother with a haughty expression and brown hair beginning to show streaks of grey. Her daughters did not much resemble each other; one had a tawny complexion and dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, while the other’s hair was red and wildly curling around her pale, sharp face. Half-sisters, at a guess, thought Emma, and unless she was gravely mistaken both half-fae. A human woman with two half-fae daughters whose fathers were of different tribes. That was very interesting.

Also interesting were the piles of scrolls she could see poking out of an old trunk behind them, scrolls she recognised as library copies of the more well-known tribal histories. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, she’d once read, and it appeared these women had a very little knowledge indeed. And were all the more dangerous for it.

She closed her eyes again then pretended to wake, letting out a long groan as she sank her fingers further still into the soft soil and felt the forest stir around her.

“Ah,” said the mother. “She’s awake.”

“Where—where am I?” groaned Emma. “What happened?”

“What happened is that you are now our prisoner princess,” cooed the mother’s voice, and despite herself Emma felt icy fear twist around her heart. “And you are going to tell us where the Black Fairy’s magic is kept.”

“I—” Emma groaned, cracking open her eyes again to see all three women watching her expectantly. Regina’s expression was apprehensive, her red-haired sister’s triumphant. And their mother… her face wore an expression of naked greed that made Emma’s skin crawl. This human woman had no magic but her daughters did, and she, oh, she wanted what they had.

“I—” she said again, and the women leaned forward, their attention so captivated by Emma that they failed to notice the tree branches bending and closing in around them, or the grey-green roots of the forest plants breaking through the ground, rising up and curling around their trunk full of scrolls and crumbling the fragile parchment into dust.

“I don’t think I will,” said Emma.

~

The old classroom towers, David had been firmly informed by the assistant director of the university’s Office of Residency Affairs, were closed. Had been closed, she told him, for some centuries now, at least since the Hall had been renamed. Andersen students were to attend their classes in the academic buildings and that was all there was to it. David had shrugged and agreed and signed the form she gave him, not entirely clear on what made her so extraordinarily adamant on the point. 

Now, as he trailed up a spiral staircase made of stone, with dips worn into the centre of each step by the feet of many generations of students long past, he thought he might have some inkling as to why. This place was dangerous, and not just because the steps were worn. There were whispers in its very walls, centuries of magic infused into each minute mote of dust, and that dust and those walls and every other thing in and around them was not best pleased by the appearance of interlopers. 

Despite this he pressed on, for Emma and because he doubted that Killian, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword and his jaw set, would allow anything to deter him from his goal. Victor followed at Killian’s heels, carrying another steaming beaker, with August behind David bringing up the rear and Belle, glowing with an otherworldly light, serving as their beacon through the shifting shadows. 

Around and around they climbed, through the darkness and the whispers until David’s head was spinning and he’d lost all sense of time, then quite suddenly a door appeared in front of them. Belle pushed it open and led the way into the room beyond, and David followed eagerly, glad to be out of that interminable stairwell. 

The room was large and circular, quite as you would expect a tower room to be. It had four tall and pointed windows with four columns spaced evenly between them. There were no desks, but smallish wooden tables arranged in a circle and one larger one in front of the largest window, upon a raised dais. 

Killian began to move around the room in what David could only describe as a prowl, muttering to himself as he went. He appeared to be measuring the size of the stones in the floor, the distance from window to window, and the position of the stairs they had just ascended. 

“If this is what I think it is,” he said to Belle, “it’ll be aligned to the eastern point.” 

Belle nodded. “That seems likely. But how will we know where to look? None of us has the right kind of magic to detect it.” 

“That might not be entirely true.” Killian looked at David and Belle followed his gaze. 

David had to suppress a flinch. What now?  

“How are you holding up, mate?” Killian asked kindly. 

“Fine,” replied David. “So far, at least.” 

Killian grinned. “I’m glad you’re catching on.”   

David sighed. “So what do I have to do?”

“Just be yourself.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?

“Close your eyes,” Killian instructed, “and tell me what you feel.”

David let his eyes fall shut, shivering as the spiders tangoed across the nape of his neck. “Like something’s watching me,” he said frankly. 

“Like it’s calling to you?” Killian’s voice was sharp. 

The whispers in the walls grew louder. “Yeah,” said David. “I can hear... something.”  

“Can you tell where it’s coming from?” 

“From all around.” 

“Are you sure? Concentrate.” 

David focused on the loudest whispers. “From… below us? Somehow?” 

“Good.” Killian sounded satisfied. “Can you follow it?” 

David frowned, concentrating hard. He felt an odd tug just behind his bellybutton, urging him to move, which he did, opening his eyes to see that he was being led towards the largest window and the raised table. He followed the pull until it stopped, abruptly, replaced by an overwhelming urge to go down. “There,” he said, pointing at the large, square stone beneath his feet. “It’s coming from there.” 

Everyone gathered around, peering at the stone he indicated. 

“Victor,” said Killian. “Do your thing.” 

David stepped back to make way as Victor took his steaming beaker and dripped its contents carefully onto the mortar that held the stone in place. Nothing happened, to David’s eyes, but the others waited tensely and with bated breath until all the mortar was covered. When the last drop dripped from the beaker a faint click sounded in the air and they all exhaled.

Killian unsheathed his sword and placed the tip just in the centre of the stone. Closing his eyes, he murmured a few words David couldn’t quite make out, then gave the sword a sharp 90-degree twist. The stone made a groaning noise and shifted, shimmered, then faded away to reveal a set of steep stone stairs leading downwards to—

“Where do they go?” David demanded. 

Killian caught his eye. “Below,” he replied. 

~

The stairs were pitch black and endless. David kept his eyes trained as best he could on Belle, but even her glow began to fade the deeper they descended into… wherever this was. He wished he knew where they were going, if only so that this strange and powerful pull he felt would have some destination, some explanation of just what the hell it was.

After a small eternity the stairs ended, so abruptly that Killian stumbled, and David had to grab at the wall to avoid crashing into him. “Ugh,” Killian groaned, leaning his own hand against the wall to get his balance and bearings. “I guess this is it.” 

As he spoke a faint glow appeared, a small flicker in a vague distance, and with his jaw set grimly Killian began to walk towards it, the others on his heels. The glow grew stronger the closer they came, and then with a flare as bright as daylight it encompassed them. They blinked for a moment and when their eyes adjusted they found themselves in what was by all appearances a forest clearing. A very familiar forest clearing, David realised, with tall trees that reached up to the sky and a large, round stone at its centre. 

Belle gasped. “Is this…”

“Aye,” said Killian. “The chamber of the Fae Council. If the sword is anywhere, it’s here.” He turned to David. “Mate?”

David nodded. He had no idea how he knew what to do, only that he did. The knowledge came from somewhere deep within him, the same place as the images he’d seen after drinking the purple potion. He knew that if he laid his hand on the stone just so, if he then pressed against it gently, that the shielding spell would fall away and his sword would appear. He knew this, and yet he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. 

The sword was breathtaking. Longer than he would have imagined and viciously sharp, with an ornate hilt and symbols carved into the blade… symbols his brain wanted to understand, insisted that it should understand, but which hovered stubbornly just beyond his comprehension. 

“Take it,” said Killian, nodding at the sword. “It’s yours.” 

How is it mine, David wanted to ask. How is this, any of this, even possible? 

The moment his fingers gripped its hilt, the symbols on the sword began to glow, as though molten metal were flowing through them. As David lifted it from the table he felt a weight around his waist, and looked down to see a sword belt much like Killian’s appear around his hips. 

He turned to meet Killian’s eyes. “How?” he whispered. “I know we don’t have time for explanations, but please, just tell me—how?”

“You’re a Guardian,” said Killian, with a small smile. “Like me.”

~

The trip back from the council chamber to the classroom tower and then out of the Hall and into the forest felt as though it took no time at all. Or more likely, David thought, he was just too preoccupied to take notice of it passing.

Killian’s words kept echoing in his ears. You’re a Guardian.

David had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t deny how deeply he knew that it was true.

They entered the forest just as Snow, Graham, and Ruby were leaving it, looking shaken and anxious.

“What did you find?” Killian asked them.

“There are very clear tracks,” Snow replied. “Clumsy ones. Whoever took Emma doesn’t know this forest at all. They must just have chosen it thinking it would make a good hideout.”

"We followed them as far as we could, but there was no sign of them ending," Graham added.

"All right,” said Killian, removing the purple amulet from his pocket and holding it up. “Lead the way.”

David wasn't sure whether he was addressing Snow or the amulet, or possibly both, but it didn’t seem to matter as they pressed deeper and deeper into the forest, further than he had ever dared venture before. With each step Killian’s face grew more grim. He gripped the amulet tightly by its leather strap as it began to glow and hum, an endless, atonal hum. It hung from Killian’s hand at a sharp and unnatural angle, seeming to pull him along behind it as they grew closer to wherever Emma was.

Snow shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Where did they take her?” she whispered. “How did they even get so deep into the forest?”

“I don’t know,” said Killian. “Everyone, stay on your toes.”

Without warning the ground beneath their feet began to rumble and shift, the thick, damp soil cracking open as the roots beneath it moved, slithering like snakes beneath the surface and heading in the very direction they themselves were following.

“Emma,” muttered Killian, as he broke into a run. “Bloody hell, woman!”

The others ran after him, leaping over the roots and the shifting soil with a nimble speed that David was hopeless to match. He tripped and stumbled and barely managed to keep his feet under him until Graham and Ruby appeared at his sides, each catching one of his arms and propping him between them as they ran.

The forest before them was a blur of movement, twisting roots and waving branches, magic spitting and hissing through the air, and David was just about to cry out in protest—there was no way they could enter that melee and come out alive—when a figure emerged from the chaos, golden hair whipped to a frenzy by the wind and red cloak swirling around her.

Killian raced to her and caught her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground and burying his face in her hair. “Bloody hell, Swan,” he whispered. Emma clung to him, her fists tight in the back of his jacket, as the rest of the group gathered around them.

Killian set Emma on her feet and loosened his hold on her, stepping back just enough to give her a glare that even David could see held no heat. “What the devil do you think you’re doing, love?” he grumbled. “Depriving me of a dashing rescue.”

“I told you,” retorted Emma. “The only one who saves me is me.” She smiled softly and caressed his face, fingertips brushing his cheekbone. “But I’m glad you came, Killian.”

“I’ll always come for you, darling,” he said with a smirk. “In all senses of the word.”

She snorted and gave the back of his head a feeble smack, but didn’t protest when his arms tightened around her again and his hand tangled in her hair.  

“Well this is adorable,” said Victor. “If a bit sickening. But would you mind telling us just what exactly you've been up to here?”

The movement in the forest had ceased the moment Emma and Killian embraced but the space behind them was still in chaos, with unearthed roots and tree branches bent at unnatural angles, forming a very effective-looking cage.

“I’ve bound them,” said Emma. “In magic it will take them some time to break.”

“They?” demanded Killian.

“Yeah, three of them. A human woman and her half-fae daughters. I can’t keep them trapped forever but we should have enough time to figure out what to do with them.”

“You can’t just kill them?” asked August.

“No!” said Emma and Killian in unison, as Graham punched August’s shoulder.

“Hey, just putting it on the table,” August protested.

“We’re not going to kill them,” said Emma firmly. “There’s something about them... something that I can't quite put my finger on, but honestly it troubles me. I need to know more before we decide how to act. Let’s get back to the dorm.”

“The dorm?” asked David. Emma turned to him and her eyes lit with amusement.

“Well, you must have had a rough few hours,” she said, nodding at the sword he held.

David grinned a bit sheepishly. “You could say that.”

“Welcome to the team,” said Emma, smiling warmly. “And yes, back to the dorm. I need my plants, my books, a scrying mirror, and a cup of tea, not necessarily in that order. Let’s go.”

___

[sophiexteresa]

Thomas Sanders Instagram Q&A Transcript

From @thatsthat24’s Instagram story, 25/8/2020. Questions in bold. Text added to the story in (parenthesis/brackets), and descriptive info in *italics*. I tried uploading the video(s) too, but Tumblr is having issues, so here’s the transcript only! 

Thomas: I had some time this evening so I figured, hey, why not? Another lil’ Q an’ A, so if you want to ask a question *posh French voice* be my guest!

When approximately will the next sanders sides be out? Very good question! Uh, we are aiming this for a late September release, that’s what we’re all working towards.

Favourite musical you have been in or just favourite musical in general? This is really tough, I can’t decide. I’m between Rent where I was in the ensemble, Peter Pan where I played Slightly Soiled, which was just one of the lost boyos — boyos? Boys — and, uh, Into The Woods where I played Cinderella’s prince and that’s where Roman’s first costume came from.

Are you ever gonna due your hair purple again? I loved it! Yes! I miss the purple hair too.

Do you love me? *laughing* Yes of course! I do love me.

What would each of the sides’ reaction be to seeing the Grand Canyon? *speaking very quickly* Roman would be revelling that we made the journey, Patton would be marvelling at the memories being made, Logan would be telling you to look at these fascinating signs for important information, Virgil would be telling you to ‘get back from those cliffs!’, Janus would be telling you to take pictures to make it look like you’re next to the cliff, ‘for clout’, and Remus would be like *Remus voice* ‘you could push somebody and get away with it’.

Also when will we get more Picani, I miss him? You and me both, Bri, and honestly with the amount of amazing cartoons that have come out recently *sighs while smiling* yeah, I am a-hankering (?) to get back to Emile!

How have you been doing, like really? Mental health is important as you teach us: I feel like everybody’s kinda struggling with mental health right now, especially people in the USA with COVID. Uhm *clears throat* for me I continuously struggle with the balance between work and leisure time, um, social media makes that difficult, blurs the lines, and I’m working on it.

Do you have any tattoos? Umm, I don’t, uh, I struggle with the permanence of tattoos. And like do I, can I, make a decision that I like? But! There are tattoos that I might like. Where I’d put them, I have no idea, umm, but I think like, maybe like, little stars!

What rank of “Gay” are you? Big gay? What rank? *speechless pause* uh... General. You know? I wanna do my duty. Come back a hero. An all-American Queero *gets an idea* *roughly quoting Hamilton* Queer comes the General!

Can you please make Logan day something Patton would say? *Logan’s voice* Something Patton would say? Umm... please, I request more baked goods from the kitchen so that I can fill Thomas’s body with more trans-fats at 3 am. I don’t know, I don’t like this game.

Have you ever dated a girl? *awkward silence* I have. It was pretty uneventful.

Do you miss your friends? *laughs* Oh... *face crumples as if he’s about to cry*

What are you voice acting in or are you now allowed to say? Not until tomorrow.

When did you know you were gay? I think I answered this one on the last Q&A, but it was early. I was like, 9 or 10 at least.

When will we see Gavin? Gavin has started school! He’s back in his hometown, so I don’t know when I’m gonna see him. He’s still getting taller — I can actually include a picture of him that his mom sent me after he got a new little hairdo *insert photo of an awesome Gavin here*

Do you miss vine? For like, sentimental reasons, yes. Uh, I mean, technically it had its issues and I don’t miss being restricted to 6 seconds anymore *laughs*

What has been your favourite part of the day? My favourite part of today was actually... I came up with this last minute short video, and I got it done and I sent it to some friends and they really liked it. I have to save it until Thursday thought, but it’s just nice to come up with stuff that makes your friends laugh.

Janus acting like Remus? *Remus’ voice* Remus here! Looks like the Dukey just dropped in! *Remus’ laugh* *Takes a breath and snaps into Janus’ character* I spend a lot of time with him so I’ve had a lot of practise.

Why do I feel like we’re gonna have another angsty Virgil moment? When is Virgil not being angsty...?

Please can you say trans rights? Uh, heck yah trans rights! I, uh, this one was very simple but I wanted to say it!

Do you think Virgil would be into anime? Actually, if you remember from, uh, Accepting Anxiety, uh, part 2, there’s actually a Death Note poster in his room, so he definitely likes some anime.

Hi! Can you say hola to the Hispanic fanders in el vecindario fander? Please? We love you! Oh my gosh, *a very naturally american pronunciation* hola! that’s very kind of you guys. I appreciate all of the support you guys give, and I love all of you guys. 

STORYTIME! I love you: *upbeat voice* Storytime! I love you back.

How gay are you? Like, 15 gay! I rank General! 

How did you end up meeting and babysitting Gavin? Gavin is actually Leo’s nephew, so he would come up here, uh, during the holidays or during the summer, and alternate being baby-sat between me and Leo’s mom - his grandma.

What was the inspo for Janus’ outfit? Ooh, that’s a really good question, uh... Joan had a vision in their mind for almost kind of like this early 20th century or late 19th century kinda Jack the Ripper vibe.

Any advice for gaybies to fit in with society? Don’t apologise for being yourself. If people have an issue, that’s their issue that they have to work through. Do not apologise for being yourself. 

What type of gay are you? (Math gay, plant gay, caffine gay, etc): Wait, there’s such thing as a math gay? I am absolutely that, and I feel like I’m just gonna be naming traits about myself but I’m a trivia gay, a driving gay, apparently a math gay, a Disney gay *laughs* and a theatre gay.

Not a question but I’m glad to be alive at the same time as someone as great as you: Dude, this stuff is really sweet. *laughs* That’s really sweet, umm, trust me, I feel the same way about all of you. Honestly.

Why don’t you own a doggo yet? I... went to Petsmart today - I didn’t get an animal, but like... I’m thinking about it and this question is like... hmmm...

I’ve run out of cartoons to watch, any recommendations? Owl house! Owl house, owl house. I just tried it, and I immediately got hooked. Infinity train’s also a really good one, duck tales is amazing, and I’m getting ready to start Tangled: the animated series, so *shrugs*.

What is Patton’s opinion on rats? *adorable Patton voice, slowly zooming in on his face* They are tiny little squishy precious babies!!!

How do I ask people for their pronouns? I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think it’s like a big deal? I hope we could get to the point where we could just be like ‘what are your pronouns?’ and then they would tell you, and then you’d just, you know, carry on the rest of your conversation. 

A circle has no bounds and it’s the same with your beauty: This is really precious, and it of course came from Nash (?) who is a poet, he published a lot of wonderful, wonderful poems on twitter, they are are amazing, and you are once again far too sweet, Nash. 

Dream role? This is a pretty broad question, so maybe dream theatrical role would be Sweeny Todd, dream movie role would be anything in the marvel universe, uh, really just give me anything in any voice acting role, *smiling mischievously* egg rolls are also really good.

Can Remus please say ‘I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand’? *Remus voice* I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand! (love that vine)

Are there still plans for the Roman series? *nods* Oh, yeah, yeah, it was definitely hindered by COVID, uh, as was this Sanders Asides episode that’s coming up, which is why it’s taking longer in the editing stage, it is our, uh... strategy, for circumventing the obstacle, and we hope you like it.

Are we still getting an August playlist? Uh, heck yah you are! But honestly, actually, if you guys have any suggestions I should include in the playlist, lemme know! I’d be happy to get some suggestions - but yes. You will be definitely getting one.

May I please see your feet? *confused, slightly disgusted expression* *begins to move the camera away from his face* *holds up a tape measure, extended to 1 foot long* *grins*

Any shows on Netflix to recommend? Umbrella Academy is really good, Dragon Prince, uh, She-Ra, of course, umm The Hollow (?) is really cool, there’s a documentary about video games called High Score, that was really fun.

Roman, who would you say the gayest side is? *Roman’s voice* Oh, we’re all equally gay, okay? *chuckles* it’s a sexuality, not a personality trait. *takes a breath and speaks quickly* I’m just kidding it’s *sings* meeeeee!

If you were not a YouTuber, what would you see yourself doing and why? Uh, maybe putting my chemical engineering degree to some use. *laughs awkwardly* Uh, I went to school for 5 years for that one.

Like you literally make me so flipping happy: I’m glad! I don’t know what I’m doing to do that, but the feeling is absolutely mutual. 

Can we have Virgil saying “Falsehood”? *hair already over one eye, in Virgil’s voice* Uh, c’mon, okay, sure. *very quietly and unenthusiastically* falsehood. Is that good? Is that? I don’t know, I don’t wanna steal his bit.

Which Sanders Side do you feel you embody most? Ah, I would probably say it’s either Patton or Roman because Patton can be definitely me, all the time, just really enthusiastic about things and finding things cute, but Roman... Roman’s sensitivity, oh. That’s me. 

What was the first job you had? I actually worked as a page in a library! A- pages basically just kinda like, shelve books, check books out; it’s one of the chillest jobs I’ve ever had, one of my favourites, and my dad always had a lovely dad joke for it: ‘you’re working as a page, when do you get promoted to a book?’

How tall are you? I usually say 5ft 10, but I think I’m trying to be a little more realistic with myself. And I’m probably 5ft 9 and a half. *zooms in on his face, staring into the camera* I’m holding onto that half a foot for all dear life. 

DROP THE SKIN ROUTINE PLEASE! This is very sweet, uh, I, *laughs nervously*, uh, I use Curology? They’re very nice. Umm, just... different kinds of lotion, I guess. (I suppose I should write down what I do lol)

Can we get a FALSEHOOD? *is standing* *clears throat* *points upwards from his eyeline* FALSEHOOD! 

Do you have a boyfriend if not are you planning on dating soon? I do not, uh, dating is kinda difficult right now midst COVID, you know, kinda tough... love... in the time of Corona... umm, but, you know, option’s open.

When was your first kiss? I’m sure I’ve answered this somewhere, it was in high school, I might have been 15 or 16. It was with a girl. *Shakes head* And all I can remember is hitting teeth. A lot.

Can we get a super super vague hint about the new Asides episode?  Alright, I’m getting ready to end the Q&A, so this, you know, if you’ve made it so far you deserve this super vague answer, umm... it includes a side that was not in the last episode. (This isn’t much, I apologise lol)

Thomas: And that is it for this evening! Thank you so much, you guys, for watching. I know some of you are still over in Europe watching and it’s like 4 in the morning, and I need to go to bed so thank you all so much for your questions - I gotta do this more often ‘cause I really enjoy it. Love you guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Peace out!

[cryptids-and-muses]

LAMP soulmate au were what you draw on your skin appears on your soulmates skin and they just end up with a chaotic group chat on their skin. A special thanks to @notveryglittery @hawthornshadow and @skylagamingv2 for helping me come up with this. Here’s some shenanigans this au could lead to.

Roman draws on his arms when he gets bored, Patton writes motivational messages and quotes, logan puts reminders on his hands, Virgil does running commentary of everything else on his skin.

In this au a soulmate bond can be strengthened and weakened over time. So it starts with just the skin being connected but gradually other stuff happens.

Makeup is touch and go at first but soon any makeup is sent over the bond to the others. Which can cause problems.

Whenever Roman is in a play the others have to walk around in full stage makeup.

Virgil would wear the emo eye shadow and Roman practically begged him to stop.

Roman, sniffling: A Prince has got to slay.

Virgil, cackling: Vengeance.

Then comes nails.

Pink starts to appear on Virgil's nails and he screams because his edginess is disappearing before his eyes, after discussion they find out that it's Patton who has the nail polish, and he changes his nails to darker base tones but with overlaying pastel shapes and colors, trying to find a balance they all like.

He does them all in dark purples once and everybody loves them.

Finally Roman dyes his hair. He doesn’t know it’ll affect the others, only some of the strongest bonds extend to hair, but then a few hours after he dyes it the others wake up with suddenly purple hair. Logan disapproves, Patton is excited,Virgil pretends to hate it but later in purple pen, rather than the black he usually sticks to, gives his "I actually dig the purple" line

"It took you all day to say that?"

"Listen, it's really hard to find a good purple pen!"

Roman then rights “is that so?” In various shades of purple because he has so many freaking markers and is that extra.

Roman draws a massive rainbow of purples for Virgil.

For the next day almost every patch of skin is covered in purple.

Virgil regrets saying anything.

There have also been many heated debates that end in everyone covered head to toe in writing.

One time everyone arguing and Logan gets frustrated because no-one's listening to him so he starts writing backwards on his face, the others feel something and check mirrors and he's just writing mirror-style across their foreheads and then down their faces in caps.

He's angrily writing reflected on his face, that takes effort.

The others are very impressed.

Everyone stops writing in amazement and after a while Logan trails off with a normal "thank you"

One of them makes a smartass comment and Patton writes "Cheeky" on their cheeks.

He also writes "KNUCKLE" across the knuckles of one hand, and on the back of the hand writes "down, and you can achieve anything!"

There are a lot of body part puns.

One of them gets drunk and writes BUTT across their butts in Sharpie. The others are in public and can feel something but can't discreetly check.

When Patton finally sees the BUTT, he's just like, "Well, you tried"

One day one of them just draws a mustache on their face.

They learn and create different codes for the others to puzzle through and work out when they're bored.

Roman tries to come up with a code Logan can’t break.

Keyword: tries

Logan and Virgil use one that he can’t figure out and he finds it infuriating.

Patton does word art a lot.

There’s an unspoken rule to never write over one of Patton’s drawings.

Patton discovers and shares the "9x-7i > 3(3x-7u), solve for i" problem, and of course Logan solves it first but he gets flustered by it and doesn't respond

(Patton has found the one love language he can't refute: Maths)

Logan makes a pun at some point IRL and his family is shocked and he’s just like”they’re corrupting me!!!”

Roman draws the logos of each of them over their hearts. Virgil says his heart is on the other side afterwards just to mess with Roman.

Patton talks about his brother Damian a lot and the others ask what he looks like. Patton attempts to draw him but it turns out like a 6 year olds family portrait.

Logan takes an anatomy class and puts references on his body. Patton makes a bunch of puns with the terms, Virgil makes some very dark jokes, roman helps draw stuff out.

Roman makes a countdown to his birthday.

Every year

Logan guesses what it is the first time he does it and Roman is super disappointed at first but the others still appreciate it. A few years later one of them start it before him.

When Roman and Virgil meet in person it takes Virgil less than a minute to realize who he is and it goes down  kinda like this.

Virgil: Its you!

Roman: What?

Virgil: No one else talks in such a dramatic and extra way! Seriously I thought you were just writing like that for fun but you talk like it too!!! You really are that extra oh my god!

[lady-divine-writes]

I Was Praying for You and Me: Chapter 3 - You Are my Favorite Distraction (Rated NC17)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian are not together, and Kurt is sure that this break up is the last one. But when tragedy strikes over Christmas, of all times, Sebastian is the only person who comes to Kurt's rescue.

This is an ACITW inspired ficlet that I wrote, written for the Hummel Holidays prompts 'Christmas' and 'New Years Eve'. Based off the head canon I had, and mentioned in the one-shot 'Under the Fireworks' that I wrote, that during the course of their relationship, they suffered several small break ups, and one big one. This happens during the big one. But it has a happy ending. :)

Read on AO3.

Lights.

To get his mind off things, Kurt stares at all the lights he can see from the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car. He names them, counts them, categorizes them the same way he did with street signs driving home from his mother’s funeral. Mindless busywork his dad had called it, which sounded insulting except it gave him something to dwell on instead of reality - a future where he never sees his mom again. Truth be told, that’s a reality he never has gotten a firm grasp of. There are days that, despite all of the love and support he has around him, he wishes she was there.

And there are days that, despite the years gone by, he wakes up and, in the haze between awake and dreaming, forgets that she’s dead.

He’s not ready to go through the same thing with his dad.

He can’t lose him yet.

Single street lights, traffic lights (in units of three), Christmas lights strung in fifties, hundreds, two hundreds, the neon light from a diner Kurt doesn’t remember ever seeing before, a garish purple sign in the window flashing the word closed. Kurt wonders if that diner, with it’s shabby-chic gingham curtains and picnic tables instead of regular tables, is one of the places Sebastian called in his search for the impossible – a restaurant open on Christmas. It’s just a diner, but its existence proclaims something stronger, more terrifying than Kurt wants to acknowledge.

Times have changed.

This city – Lima, Ohio - that Kurt once hated with a burning passion, has changed.

His father, sleeping in a hospital bed and surrounded by cellophane-wrapped cocoons of inedible food when he should be at home, has definitely changed. More than Kurt is comfortable with.

He has changed. No longer the closeted kid waiting for his moment, he’s had moments. Tons of moments. Moments he’s proud of. Moments he’s learned from. Moments he’d rather forget. Moments he wishes he could go back to.

Sebastian has changed, too.

And as a couple – romantic, friends, or otherwise - he knows they’ve changed together. He’s owned up to that change more than once. It’s one of the reasons they’re in this situation. Because they’ve changed, and Kurt doesn’t know if they can change back, even in some small way so that they can see eye to eye again.

Does he want to? Will it help?

Or is there a path forward that’s better even if he can’t see it now, where they walk alone for while but meet each other at the end?

But since that thought strays into Sebastian territory (territory that, for the time being, Kurt is trying to avoid) he goes back to looking at the lights. Because the lights are keeping him from grilling Sebastian for information, ask him what happened back at the hospital, what it all meant. Ask him if he knows the thing that no one’s telling him.

Is his father going to be okay?

Kurt watches the lights pass by, the buildings change into houses, the amount of cars parked by the curb increase. He counts the cars, sorts them by color in his head. But the mundane begins to drive him insane, and the words piling up in his brain behind an ever crumbling wall of minutiae tumble over the edge.

“So,” he says. It’s an opening, an invitation if Sebastian chooses to take it.

Even if he doesn’t, Kurt will more than likely keep going anyway. The floodgates are opening. The barricades won’t hold.

“So ...” Sebastian returns, eyes scanning the road ahead unnecessarily.

He’s not a complete idiot. He knows what Kurt is doing.

“What did he say to you?”

“When?”

“You know when?”

Sebastian makes a middle-ground face - the face one makes at a car salesman who comments about the weather as an opening salvo before he starts haggling about price. “Honestly, not much.”

Kurt huffs. “I don’t believe you.”

Sebastian shrugs. “It’s the truth. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re lying.”

Sebastian smirks. In this low light, it makes him look years younger, makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat. He wishes that smirk could transport them back in time to when things were simpler, when the most pressing thing on Kurt’s mind was that his so-called soulmate had cheated on him and how in the hell he was going to come up with ten thousand dollars to pay for admission to NYADA.

If he’d only known then how petty those things were, how easy to solve.

Ironically, he was able to overcome both those problems with the help of the man sitting next to him.

“It’s been known to happen, but I’m not lying now.”

Kurt considers debating the point further, not because he doesn’t believe Sebastian, but because provoking Sebastian into an argument would give him something else to take his mind off things besides staring out the Goddammed window.

He’s running out of things to count.

“If the silence is wearing on you, you can put on the radio,” Sebastian offers, reading Kurt’s mind. “I’m pretty sure there’s one or two stations not playing Christmas carols.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“I guess …” Kurt reaches for it, but an inch away, he stops. Memories flood back - good ones, bad ones. This car, his house, this town are chock full of too many memories.

Too many landmines he can’t seem to avoid stepping onto.

They show up without warning, incapacitate him when they explode.

It’s becoming too much.

He pulls his hand back, crosses his arms over his chest. He hugs himself tight, hunkers down in his seat, and starts counting wreaths.

***

Sebastian pulls up in front of the Hudmel house and parks by the curb. Kurt doesn’t move. He hasn’t fallen asleep, he just doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t want to sleep in Sebastian’s car but he doesn’t want to bother with incidentals like walking and finding his keys.

And Sebastian knows.

He lets the engine idle, keeps the heater running.

Waits in silence till Kurt has the energy to move.

Kurt stares at the cozy house decorated to the nines for the holidays. His dad and stepmom love Christmas as much as the next middle-aged, suburban couple, but they decorate mainly for him and Finn. He and his stepbrother have managed to spend most every Christmas since high school graduation at the Hudmel house, and usually, Sebastian and Rachel spend it with them.

Not this time.

His and Sebastian’s situation is, of course, complicated.

Finn and Rachel were scheduled to join them the following week. They’d gone on some Rosie O’Donnell comedy cruise with her dads. Carole called Finn from the hospital, just to give him the news, but he’s making arrangements to fly in the second he reaches their next port of call. Until then, it’s Kurt holding down the fort. But no amount of sitting outside in the cold, wearing down Sebastian’s engine, is going to make his father get better faster.

And as awful as it sounds, Kurt has to think about himself.

Kurt starts to stir, and Sebastian turns off the engine.

Sebastian gets out of the car, reaching Kurt’s door before Kurt can open it, and offers him his arm. Kurt takes it. Looking up into his ex-boyfriend’s face, the street lamp behind him giving him a blurry, sodium-orange halo, Kurt yawns.

“Ready to pass out, huh?” Sebastian asks, leading Kurt up the icy walk. He catches Kurt’s keys when he fumbles them and helps put the correct one in the lock.

“My body is,” Kurt says, opening the door and walking inside. “My brain wants to solve the Riemann Hypothesis.”

“Brutal.”

“Yeah. It would make more sense if I liked math.”

Sebastian locks the door for Kurt, who looks ready to knock out where he stands. And as much as he wants to let Kurt crash, he doesn’t want him to drop emotionally. What Kurt deserves is twenty-seven hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, but he needs to ease into it.

“Are you in the mood to watch a movie?” Sebastian asks, turning on the central heat and switching on the lights, bringing the house to life. “Maybe binge watch some late night television? I can rustle up some snacks. Uh …” He’s about to make a comment about Kurt’s dad hiding something in the kitchen he shouldn’t be eating, but it strikes him as tasteless to make jokes, no matter how much he knows Burt would appreciate his humor. “I could whip up some French toast. You remember how stellar my French toast is.”

Kurt cracks a small smile and triumph, for the moment, is Sebastian’s.

Another memory, but this one not as devastating … the damage to the kitchen notwithstanding.

“Thanks,” Kurt says, “but I’m (yawn) exhausted. So, if you don’t mind …”

“Do you want me to leave?” Sebastian asks, feeling uneasy for suggesting it considering what he’d promised Burt.

“No. I just … I would rather hang out in my room, if that’s not too weird for you. This way if I fall asleep, you won’t feel obligated to carry me to bed.”

An image pops into Sebastian’s head of him carrying Kurt, bridal style, to his room. Then his brain helpfully reminds him of all the times he has carried Kurt to bed, and it almost does him in. “The boiler room would be weird. Your bedroom, not so much.”

“Boiler room? Who do I look like? Freddy Krueger?” Kurt mumbles, trudging his way to his room. Step by step everything becomes difficult. The act of lifting his foot can go straight to hell and burn in a fire. He feels very much like he’s fighting molasses and the molasses is winning. Part of him wants to stop, lay down in the hallway and conk out. But he can’t do that.

He can’t give up.

He can’t sleep here since he doesn’t know how often Carole or his father cleans this floor, and he’s wearing one of his best pairs of jeans.

He reaches for the doorknob about three feet before he reaches the door. He might as well do it now while he’s thinking about it. Otherwise he might not have the motivation when he gets there. He turns it, pushes in, lets the door swing. If it rebounds while he’s walking through, there’s a fifty-fifty chance he might let it smack him in the face.

He couldn’t care less.

He stops at the foot of his bed and starts taking off his coat.

“Why do bedrooms always seem smaller when you go back to them?” he asks. “I mean, I only lived here during high school, but it still seems tiny to me.”

“I think because when you’re young, your bedroom is your whole world. But when you leave home, you outgrow that world. Ergo, you outgrow them.”

Kurt chuckles dryly. “You’re one to talk. Your childhood bedroom’s about the size of a studio apartment!”

“Yes but the penthouse I live in now makes it seem so much dinkier,” Sebastian claps back with a smirk. “Did you want to take a shower or …?”

“If you don’t mind …” Kurt tugs off his sweatshirt, tosses it on a chair, then starts unbuttoning his shirt “… I’d really rather fuck if it’s all the same to you.”

Sebastian’s face goes blank and his eyes pop. “I’m sorry. Wha---?”

Sebastian doesn’t finish his question.

Kurt digs into the last of his reserves and crashes their mouths together. “Did I stutter?” he whispers, reaching for Sebastian’s belt.

“No, I just … mmph … I want to be sure …”

Kurt tugs hard on the leather, freeing the strap from the buckle in one pull. “Do you want me to stop?”

“That depends … do you really want to do this? I mean really?”

Kurt looks into Sebastian’s eyes, the right corner of his mouth sliding up into a cocky grin. “Absolutely.”

Sebastian’s grin matches Kurt. “Then by all means.” He crouches, hugs Kurt’s legs around the thighs, then picks him up and carries him to the bed. “You know, when your dad told us to go do something fun, I was hoping we’d do this.”

“Probably not the best time to mention my dad,” Kurt says, starting in on Sebastian’s shirt even though he’s only about halfway done with his own, “all things considered.”

“Gotcha.” Then Sebastian kisses him. And apart from taking a breath or two, he doesn’t stop.

Despite the fact that Kurt is wearing a pair of jeans so tight Sebastian thought he might have to cut Kurt out of them, both of them end up completely naked in a ridiculously short amount of time, clothes tossed about like confetti, not in keeping with Kurt’s usual edict that everything be laid out neatly on the nearest piece of unused furniture. Lube and a condom are located and not by Kurt. Sebastian knows all of Kurt’s tricks and hiding places. He doesn’t look as he reaches under the mattress and to the middle drawer of the dresser, completely confident that what he needs will be there when he reaches out a hand in search of it.

And he’s right.

Sebastian sits up with his back against the headboard. He rolls the condom over his cock while Kurt straddles him, taking a moment to stack pillows behind Sebastian’s back so the wood doesn’t dig into his spine.

“Thanks, love,” Sebastian whispers as Kurt positions himself, starts working himself down. He nips at Sebastian’s bottom lip, never staying in the same place longer than a second, keeping him on his toes.

“Jesus fuck!” Sebastian growls when Kurt begins to move, grabbing his shoulders and pushing down, burying himself in Kurt’s body deeper … deeper …

Kurt goes deeper. He also goes faster, hitting Sebastian’s thighs hard - deeper and faster, pleasure and pain bouncing off one another until he begins to see stars.

“You know,” Kurt moans, “this doesn’t mean anything. I’m just … I’m just using you as a distraction.”

“Kurt” – Sebastian grabs Kurt’s hips to slow him down, but Kurt slaps his hands away. He’ll go as fast as he likes, as hard as he wants, and when they’re done, they’re going to do this again. They’re going to do this till he can’t remember his own name, till his mind is wiped clean, till the exhaustion in his body is so overwhelming he can’t do anything but close his eyes and pass out. He’s going to do this until he can effectively erase the past twelve hours of his life. And then, they’re going to do it again – “when have I ever objected to being used as a distraction by you?”

“Yeah, well, I could just as well slap you in the face.”

Sebastian bucks up, willing to play this Kurt’s way if this is really the way Kurt wants it. “Do you … nngh … want to slap me in the face?”

“Only every time I see you,” Kurt admits, stopping and hovering so Sebastian can have a turn at pounding him instead.

But Sebastian stops altogether and it pisses Kurt off, especially with the addition of his raised eyebrow and his smug-ass expression.

“Then do it,” Sebastian says.

Kurt chuckles nervously. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all. If you want to slap me, go ahead. Get it out of your system.”

Without another beat lost, Kurt rears back and slaps Sebastian across the face. Sebastian’s face flies to the side as he takes the hit. He turns back to look at Kurt, a red hand mark visible across his cheek. They lock eyes, both with peculiar looks of surprise on their faces.

Kurt can’t lie. Slapping Sebastian feels amazing.

Sebastian must think so, too, because he stares at Kurt, lips twisted into the most sinisterly erotic smile Kurt has ever seen.

Kurt considers asking Sebastian if he hurt him, but he doesn’t. He slaps him again. This time, Sebastian hisses, but Kurt doesn’t let him catch his breath, slapping him a third time for good measure. Sebastian catches Kurt’s wrist and holds it; holds his gaze, too, trying to decipher what’s going on in his mind.

“I’m gonna switch things up a bit,” Sebastian says. “Do you mind?”

Kurt shoots him a curious look. “Not at all.”

Sebastian slides out of Kurt’s body only long enough to re-position him on his knees facing the headboard, then grabs his hips roughly and enters him from behind. His hands roam, pinching at Kurt’s thighs and slapping his ass while he gnaws his shoulders. He wraps an arm around Kurt’s body, a hand creeping up to his neck. The hand doesn’t close around, doesn’t squeeze. It’s just there, a symbol of Sebastian’s possessive nature where Kurt is concerned.

Mine.

I call him mine.

Even if they’re not officially together, on some level, Kurt belongs to him, especially now when he’s consuming him.

Kurt grabs the headboard and holds on tight, turning at an angle to catch Sebastian’s gaze. He loves looking at Sebastian during sex, loves seeing the desperation in his green eyes.

And Kurt does see it, but it has little to do with the sex they’re having. Sebastian is begging, trying to hold on to every second, hoping it’s not the last time they’ll have together.

He’s looking at Kurt the way Kurt looked at his dad, and Kurt realizes he’s not okay. He’s not okay with losing his dad.

But he’s also not okay with losing Sebastian.

What exactly had Sebastian done?

He’d overstepped a line, the same way he always does, but not necessarily in a bad way.

He didn’t cheat on him.

Like the hand on Kurt’s neck, he was being possessive. He did what he did because he cares. But Sebastian’s numero uno solution to everything is to buy a way out, so there are times when it seems he doesn’t take anything seriously, and Kurt can’t live that way. He can’t live in a sit-com where every situation that comes up, good or bad, has a punchline followed by canned laughter.

And he comes out looking like a naive idiot.

Why is tonight different?

A few thousand dollars, a few million dollars, can’t buy a solution to what’s going on with Kurt’s father. Yet Sebastian is here in bed with him, letting Kurt open up, be vulnerable. And aside from a few attempts to ease the tension at the hospital, he hasn’t cracked a single joke.

Because Sebastian has changed.

And if Kurt loved Sebastian then, he adores him now.

“Talk to me,” Kurt moans, unsettled by the quiet in the room, as if they’re together in this but still apart.

He can’t be apart.

He needs to be whole.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The first thing that comes to your mind.”

“I …” Sebastian hesitates, a brick lodged in his throat. “I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt admits. “But say something else.”

Thank God! Sebastian thinks, on the verge of tears. The sex is incredible, but hearing that Kurt still loves him … that’s what he’ll take awake from this, what he’ll carry with him if this ends up being the last time.

Dear God, don’t let this be the last time ...

“I love your ass.”

Kurt chuckles. “Better.” He pushes back, sticks his ass out, lets Sebastian have his way with him.

And Sebastian does because (this might sound lousy to say) here in Kurt’s bed, the man is in his element.

When it comes to sex (because that’s what they’re doing - having sex. Kurt refuses to think of this as making love. They’re fucking. That’s all …) Kurt hit the lottery with Sebastian. Ever since the first time, sex with Sebastian has been glorious, and it gets better the more they do it.

Kurt tries not to dwell on why that is.

But the man knows his way around a human body.

And he has the hands of an artist.

“Oh, Kurt,” Sebastian pants into Kurt’s shoulder, “Jesus Christ … I’m cumming … I’m cumming, I’m cumming ...”

Kurt huffs, put off by the fact that they’ve only been at it for around forty-five minutes - a mind-blowing forty-five minutes - and Sebastian is already throwing in the towel. Of course, Sebastian hasn’t been with anyone for the time they’ve been apart, so Kurt can’t blame the man.

Kurt hasn’t, either, so when Sebastian’s palm starts caressing his cock, his resolve starts circling the drain as well.

“Yes, yes, yes …” Kurt chants, his vision going prickly, then black before he even closes his eyes. This is it - this is where he escapes. Behind his eyelids, into the recesses of his mind, where thought disappears and sensation takes over. If he can just hold on to it, if Sebastian can make it last. He’d try if Kurt asked him to, but the words won’t come out. As with everything, there’s a point where things start to spiral out of his control. His muscles spasm and his body shudders. He has to choose between thinking of something to stop his orgasm and risk going unfulfilled, or giving in to the void, letting his body do its thing, and then start all over from the beginning once they catch their breath.

That’s the most logical course of action. And it’s not a bad one.

The thing that scares Kurt is that space in between, when he comes back from ecstasy and Sebastian’s heat and has to face the cold and dark. He’ll have to exist there with whatever thoughts his brain decides to throw at him until they can start again and Sebastian can wipe his mind clean.

He’ll have time, he figures. Time to get his head on straight, stop reeling, before the plunge happens. Three minutes? Four? He’ll only need five minutes before he’ll be ready to go again, to lose all thought in Sebastian’s arms. That means one minute of depression. Two at the most.

But he’s not as lucky as he thinks he’ll be.

It comes at him much too quickly.

Kurt leans against the headboard, hugging what he can of it so he doesn’t drown when the wave hits.

“Kurt? Honey? Are you okay?”

Kurt shakes his head.

“Is this … not what you wanted?” Sebastian slides his hand off Kurt’s shoulder and backs away. Kurt hears him gulp behind him. “Did you change your mind in the middle and I didn’t hear you?”

Kurt shakes his head again. “That’s not it. I did want this. I …” His body curls, sinks towards the pillows. “He’s not … he’s not leaving the hospital? Is he?”

Sebastian sighs. “I … I don’t know, Kurt.”

Kurt spins around and shoves Sebastian away, but he doesn’t go far. He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t leave. Kurt didn’t want him to, but he needed to be sure he wouldn’t.

As immature as it sounds, he needs to know that Sebastian won’t leave, even if Kurt pushes with all his might.

He needs Sebastian, but he needs to be able to hurt him, just a little, to even out the pain inside of him.

He’ll find a way to make that up to him later.

“Yes, you do!”

“I don’t! I swear!”

“You’re lying!”

“Kurt, babe, I’m not that cruel a person. Not to you. Even if he told me in the strictest confidence, I would still tell you because you deserve to know. We’re all on edge about this, all jumping seven steps ahead and assuming the worst, but to be honest, I don’t think he knows for sure.”

“Then what did he tell you?”

“Nothing! Like I said, he wants me to look after you. He’s scared, like you. That’s all. But you need to have a little faith.”

“In what?” Kurt snaps, irritated that Sebastian would spout faith with him of all people.

“In the people who love you, Kurt. The people who want to help you. Look, I know that at times like this, it feels like the best thing is to be alone, but I disagree. That’s just the easiest. And I get that. When you’re around people, you feel the need to be accommodating, and you don’t have the energy for that. But I think you need all of the fun and laughter you can find right now, with people who get that this is hard for you and will give you your space when you need it. Turns out, I just so happen to know a big house not two hours from here filled with people who would love to see you, who will shower you with love and affection, but will also ignore the shit out of you if you need it. Because, again, they love you.”

Kurt glares at Sebastian, eyes hard as glass, but he begins to soften when Sebastian’s hopeful gaze starts to slip.

He’s tired, too, but he’s doing everything in his power to be strong for Kurt.

Kurt needs to start giving some of that strength back.

“You’re really working hard to sell that love angle, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, it’s important. I want you to know that you’re loved.”

“I do,” Kurt says quietly, plopping on his side with a body-deflating sigh. Sebastian wastes no time lying behind him and winding his arms around him. He doesn’t hold tight in case Kurt wants to put some distance between them.

He doesn’t.

He moves closer.

“What do we do now?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt doesn’t want to be rushed into giving him an answer, even though he has one more or less figured out, but he also doesn’t fault Sebastian for asking. Sebastian had hitched quite a few of his future plans to his relationship with Kurt so Kurt understands.

Kurt did, too.

“I say we keep going on the way we are, not think about anything too heavy for the moment. We’ll go visit your folks, celebrate the holiday, and then, when we get back to New York, we’ll revisit it. I promise.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian says, sounding a bit disappointed. “Do we still get to fuck?”

In another lifetime, it would have embarrassed Kurt how fast he answers. “Provided you’re a good boy, yes. Yes, we do.”

“Groovy. But just so you know, I’m always going to be yours, Kurt. Always. We’ve done everything aside from mortal combat to push one another away, and guess what?”

“What?”

Sebastian takes Kurt’s hand, weaves their fingers together. “I’m still here.”

“Me, too.” Kurt wriggles back into Sebastian’s embrace, buries himself against his body. Despite the confusing and uncomfortable situation they find themselves in, he’s grateful for this, that Sebastian would be so generous with his body even if Kurt isn’t giving him the security of absolutes. But Kurt can’t make decisions right now. He needs to hide from the world, from his life, his responsibilities.

From the inevitable.

There are way worse places to do that than Sebastian’s arms.

“Mortal Kombat?” Kurt snickers. “Still keeping up that nerd boy street cred, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know …” Sebastian hugs Kurt tight, pulling the sheets over them and rocking him back and forth. He missed this. God, did he miss this. And even though he didn’t believe in God an inch, he silently prayed that he could get this back. Somehow, in some way, he needed this back. But for the moment, he was content to hold Kurt together, keep him from shattering. “I’d say that was a … flawless victory.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, groaning to the moon and back. “Shut up, Smythe, or I’m never fucking you again.”

[libraford]

Rose Profiles Part 3! (Here are Part 1 and Part 2) 

As always, tag yourself, your friends, and your OC’s at your own risk. There are many, many different kinds of roses. 

1st photo: 

Explorer (red, left) 

Green Tea (green, right) 

2nd photo: 

Lola (hot pink, top left) 

Free Spirit (pink-orange, top right) 

Shimmer (peach, bottom right) 

High and Magic (red tip orange, bottom left) 

Marzipan (light pink, center) 

3rd photo: 

Carrousel (hot pink, left)

Lighthouse (yellow top)

Purple haze (lavender, right)

Starlight (yellow, bottom.)

4th photo: 

Clockwise from the top. 

Limbo (yellow green, top) 

Saga (medium pink, right) 

Frutetto (pink-green, right) 

Roseberry (magenta, bottom right)

Heart (dark red, bottom left) 

Nectarine (left) 

Deep Purple (top left)

Jade (center)

5th photo: 

Queen Mary (hot pink

6th photo: 

Shocking Versilia (Bright pink, left)

Hummer (yellow, right)

Profiles below!

Explorer disappears off of their social media accounts for months, even years, only to resurface again with a completely different personality, in a different state, and having ‘been through it.’ Won’t share their stories because they just want to be over it and move on, but if you get them alone they will tell you every single trauma. Rumors of their death have been greatly exaggerated, but appreciated. 

Green Tea would like to adopt you and be your grandma. Grows all their own food and over-estimates just how much they can eat and is excited to share the rest. Swears every year that they’re done with zucchinis, but ends up growing them anyway. Can make zucchini bread blindfolded, as a result. 

Lola is a stage presence even when they’re not on stage. Grand entrances. ‘Grandma-ma, its me: Anastaaaaaahsia.’ Best jokes without even trying. Loves the attention, needs to learn how to deal with loneliness. 

Free Spirit doesn’t have to be born in late autumn to be a Sagittarius. Wears sandals everywhere and hates that places require shoes. Would be a nudist if people would stop calling the cops about it. Ignores bad news, plans to live on a compound with 20 or so close friends- presumably who are also down with nudity. 

Shimmer is very pretty but is only just now realizing it. Incredibly strong- can lift most things that other people their size/age cannot, and for awhile thought that this was their only good trait. Doesn’t even work out, just is Like That. Prone to posturing about it. 

High and Magic has read every book on the occult that you can think of and about a billion others. However, it’s not clear on whether they actually absorbed the knowledge of them or read them for the sake of having read them. Owns many robes, but thinks wizard hats are hokey. 

Marzipan has to have someone else accompany them anywhere because they get so nervous at the check-out counter that they forget how to talk or do math. Very sweet, but very shy. 

Carrousel would eat only candy if it were allowed and that is why they are not allowed to go to supermarkets unsupervised. Kind of cranky, but the nap does nothing. Hasn’t bought new shoes in five years because ‘they just need a new insole!’ Sore. 

Lighthouse is an optimist that means it. Party healer. Rants about essential oils, but not in the way you think they do. The person you come to when you want to talk to someone. Will keep your secrets for you, but will also insist you find help. 

Purple Haze is hurt easily- emotionally and physically. They’ve tried to develop a thick skin, but it’s been decades now and it’s just not going to happen. Tries to take on other people’s burdens, gets burnt out easily. Early 2000′s emo music is their guilty pleasure. 

Starlight was obsessed with the X-Files, but mostly because they had a crush on one (or both) of the protagonists. This lead to a life-long dedication to the paranormal (and also shoulder pads). Joined the local ghost hunting chapter, but isn’t convinced that they’re legit. Has seen an actual UFO, swears by it. 

Limbo will read anything by HP Lovecraft and can connect any world disaster to Cthulu’s awakening. Will play more than three tabletop campaigns at one time and manage not to get any of the plotlines confused. Has to explain a lot of things to a lot of people. 

Saga wears haute couture no matter how ugly the dress is. Attracts photographers to them even in the middle of the street.  Loves the camera, camera loves them. Walk, walk, fashion baby. 

Frutetto is in their Sweet Lolita phase and will probably continue to wear it as long as they make cute clothes in their size. Parasols, cherry blossoms, fake eyelashes, actually uses their matching tea sets. 

Roseberry will fucking fight you. Tell them they can’t do something and they will make you eat your words by shoving it down your throat, mother fucker. Often will go out of their way to do something out of spite just because someone said they couldn’t. Forbid them to do something, I fucking dare you. 

Heart accidentally faked their own death and just kind of let things happen from there. Never actually revealed that they were alive, went the extra mile and bought a clever disguise to fool their family and friends for awhile. It... almost worked. Almost. 

Nectarine would happily become a homemaker, spend the day cleaning and tidying, gardening and cooking. Has a million projects they’d love to do if they had the time, but unfortunately they have to work and make money. Waiting to win the lottery so they can just stay at home for the rest of their life. 

Deep Purple joined a girl gang once, but no one believes them when they tell people that, so they just don’t talk about it. Had a wild time in college, doesn’t remember most of it. Keeps a running list of places they’re not allowed back to. 

Jade wants world peace, but oh my god- will they gossip and get in your business. Honestly, the worst at talking about people behind their backs, but if you ask them what they want for Christmas, the answer is always ‘world peace.’ 

Queen Mary has been fighting for so long and the fight goes on forever. All they want to do is rest, but there is so much work to do. Terrible about their own self-care, but will tell other people to stay hydrated. What’s the phrase? “Never set yourself on fire to keep others warm?” Should have listened to that earlier. 

Shocking Versillia has a purse to match every outfit and if they don’t have one that matches they will find one. Same goes with shoes. Thrived in the late 1990′s, now is just trying to stay happy. 

Hummer will chop down a tree just because they feel like it. Impulsive, bad decisions, and a couple broken bones. Learns what they can do by figuring out what they can’t. Knows how to set a splint because they’ve had to do it by themselves; that one time when they went hiking on that unmarked trail and ended up skittering down the side of a cliff? Woops. But hey, that’s one more thing for the list. 

[sage-selfships]

Sage H. D. - Bully Self-Insert

This is my Self-Insert for Bully/Canis Canem Edit! I made the art myself and would appreciate if you didn’t use it! The Template was created by Silkvale and found here! I will post updated versions to @kitty-selfshipping so uhm yeah, follow that blog to read it when it’s totally finished or edited.

If you are interested in reading the current info about my Bully Self-Insert, please read under the cut!

Biographical Information Full Name [& Pronunciation] - Sage Holland Drage ( S AI J ) ( H AW - l uh n d ) ( d r ai j ) Meaning - Herb or Prophet, Ridgeland, Dragon Set Age - 14-15 Certified Birthdate - 12 January 1992 (not my real birth year, but shh) Astrological Sign -  Capricorn Pronouns - They/them or He/Him Aliases & Preferred Nicknames – Dumbbell - Sage might not actually like the nickname, but Mandy WIles insist on calling Sage it whenever Mandy sees Sage, so Sage is  Dragon - As some people may not be able to pronounce Sage’s surname, Sage just call themselves Dragon to make it easier for everyone. Ms. Shy - Even though Sage prefers to go by he/him or they/them pronouns, people insist on calling them ms, and many people consider them shy because of how they seem terrified of new people Puppy - A nickname Sage got from Kirby Olsen, that they claim matches their general personality Ethnicities Distant Descendants : American, British,  Dominant Descendants : Norwegian, Swedish, Danish Physical Description Hair Color - Brown Eye Color - Blue Weight – Height - Typical Clothing Wear :  Maroon or pink vest, purple skirt, blue bow, purple bow, pink shoes - School   uniform  Red stained dress and blonde wig - Halloween costume, that is supposed to resemble Carrie White from the movie Carrie Faux fur coat, faux fur ushanka - Winter attire Figure/Build - Distinguishing Features/Scars/ or Birthmarks – A mole just over their lip Explain: Tattoos: Piercings: Frequently Worn Jewelry: Choker belt around their neck Personal Information Current Living Arrangements - Sage currently lives with three of their American relatives, but also they technically live at Bullworth, in the girl’s dorm Originated from - Vestfold, Norway Traveled Territories - Hobbies -   Fears – Spiders, snakes, insects, heights, scarecrows, most of the jocks Religion/Beliefs – Atheist Why?: Sage grew up in an atheist family, as simple as that. Health Behaviors Physical Ailments/ Disabilities/ Issues – Addiction(s) [Sex, Drugs, Smoking, Alcohol, Other]  Why?: Any regular medication taken? – Medication for their Iron Deficiency and for their Hives Chronological Information Profession - Student Likes - Dislikes - Goals/Ambitions – Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience - Story behind experience: Weapons/Equipment - Sage mostly fights using their hands but can use a baseball if they need to Personal Attributes Personality - Strengths - Weaknesses - Good Habits - Bad Habits - Fetishes/Strange Behaviors - Stereotype - Shy kid with few friends As you know them better(and you like them) : As you know them better(and you hate them) :   Ratings on Personal Qualities (don't go overboard make reasonable stats for your character) Physical Strength : 4/10 Sage might not regularly train, but surprisingly Sage is stronger than they seem Attractive : 5/10 Sage doesn’t consider themselves the most beautiful and mostly blames it upon their parents and grandparents for how they look Honesty : 7/10 Sage hates lying in general, but still does lie if they need to. Rule Abiding : 3/10 Sage thinks certain rules are to be broken and others are to be broken. Sociability : 3/10 Sage is quite shy when it comes to meeting new people, but if they muster up enough confidence they can make new friends. Bullworth Academy Information Reason for enrolling: Sage has lacked disiplince and Sage’s parents had relatives that lived close Bullworth, so they decided on sending them to a Clique - Standing and Rank in Social Circle  - Room Number – 4 Roommate(s)-  Zoe Taylor & Beatrice Trudeau Favourite Subject(s) – English,  & Art Why?: Sage loves English because they’ve felt so motivated and  Least Favorite Subject(s) – Why?: Favourite Teacher – Mr. Galloway & Mrs. Philips Why?: Mr. Galloway - Sage takes a liking to Mr. Galloway, mostly because he encouraged and gave Sage a warm welcome to the school, during Sage’s first day at Bullworth Mrs. Philips - Sage got a few compliments Least Favorite Teacher –  Mr. Slawter Why?: Sage is quite afraid of Mr. Slawter, mostly because he yelled at Sage during their first class Knowledgeability Language(s) – Norwegian, English Schooling Level - Grade 8-9, Expertise – Chemistry - Math - English - Geography - Sage knows a few things, like where certain European countries are, but after that, nothing more Politics/Law - Economy - Cooking/Culinary - Shop - Botany/Biology - Mythology - high / Sage knows a lot about Norrøn Mythology and enjoys learning more and more about it Art - high / Sage highly enjoys Art and feels that they know a lot about the rules about realism and perspective Photography - Sage knows how to use a camera, and what settings look good or not, so they consider themselves at a 5/10 Reading Level - Overall Intelligence Level(s) - Interpersonal and Naturalistic. Relationships Statuses   (once you list characters here, delete them from the other list near the end of this information sheet, makes things less confusing) (Also, please describe the relationships of your character with other characters) Trusted Companions Closest Friend(s) –   Milliz - “I trust her with my life. Nothing more or less to say. And might I add that her and Earnest are really freakiNG ADOREABLE?” (Jeg beklager ikke for at du er satt på denne lista, Milliz) Friend(s) -   Kirby Olsen - Despite Kirby being a jock and Sage being afraid of most of the jocks, Kirby and Sage are pretty close and    

Hated Rivals Worst Enemies – Intolerable Students - Harmless Acquaintances Tolerated Students - Tolerated Townsfolk - Hot Encounters Hinted Attractions - Crush(es) - Lover(s) - Gary Smith, Jimmy Hopkins and Petey (Ey, don’t judge me please or make comments about this please, I just ship myself with all of them :( I will also make like another post or tweet where I just describe everything from lore to headcanons about this ) Ex(s) - None Extra Information Eating Habits Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore – Favorite Food(s): Favorite Drink(s): Disliked Food(s): Disliked Drink(s): Added Information Proclaimed Theme Song(s) - Either Dancing Queen by ABBA or Scent – Favourite Color: Favourite Season: Favourite Animal: Sage  Favourite Music Genre: Sage can’t really choose, but they are very fond of country and Pop Most Memorable Quote – Various Quotes Through Interaction :  “ Walking around – “I sure hope Mandy was joking when he called me a dumbbell...” “I don’t know jack dritt about math, how am I supposed to get a good grade?” “Gary mentioned something about rats, wondered what he was on about.” “I’m considering joining a clique... but which one?” “ “ “ “ When the fire alarm goes off – “Stuff like this always happens when you least expect it.” “Sure hope this isn’t a drill, I don’t want my slippers to get wet again without reason.” Greetings Good Terms: “Hiya!” “Hey there, best friend!” “How ya doing, sweetie?” “How are you doing, buddy?” “Hey, anyhting fun happen recently?” “Bro! What’s up?” “Heisann!” (Norwegian for ‘Hey there’) Bad Terms: “Please leave me alone” “I rather not talk.” “Ew.” “Get out of my face!” “Leave me alone!” “Continue being around me and I’ll beat you up! Or cry!” Saying goodbye – Good Terms: “Have a good day! “See you later!” “Hope you have a good night!” Bad Terms: “”See you in Hell, I uhm mean class.” “Leave already.” “I’m getting a headache, gotta go.” “Byyeee, see you never.” When Flirted With – Good Terms: “I uhm...” “Thank you....” “Well I uhm, thank you so much! I uhm haha, we should hang out or something!” “I feel flattered. I’ll uhh have to go over there until the blushing stops.” “Continue acting this sweet and you’re going to be getting ladies really quickly.” “ “You’re such a sweetheart!” “If I were of age, I would marry you right here on the spot, but I’m still too young.” Bad Terms: “I wouldn’t say I don’t like you, but I’m not that interested.” “Not to be rude, but no.” “That better not be trying to make me blush, because it didn’t work at all.” “ “

Watching a fight – “I know I shouldn’t watch this crap, but damn it feels so right, right now!” “ Attacking – “I’m sorry!” “I have no choice in this situation, so I apologize beforehand!” “I learnt this one from my friend!” While Fighting – “I really wish it didn’t have to end with one of us being hurt!” “Ouch! Thanks, I guess!”

Chasing someone – “You can run, but you can also hide!” “Come back here! please...!” Out of breath – “This always happens....” “Why do I have to have iron deficiency? When hidden from – “ Knocked out – “ Stinkbomb explodes – “I can’t see shit!” “I should be happy I can’t smell anything from before!” Opinions on students who reside at Bullworth Academy– (in alphabetical order) Bullies   Davis White: Ethan Robinson: Russell Northrop: Tom Gurney: Trent Northwick: Troy Miller: Wade Martin: Zoe Taylor: Greasers Hal Esposito: Johnny Vincent: Lefty Mancini: Lola Lombardi: Lucky De Luca: Norton Williams: Peanut Romano: Ricky Pucino: Vance Medici: Jocks Bo Jackson: Casey Harris: Damon West: Dan Wilson: Juri Karamazov: Luis Luna: Mandy Wiles: Ted Thompson: Nerds Algernon Papadopoulos: Beatrice Trudeau: Bucky Pasteur: Cornelius Johnson: Donald Anderson: Earnest Jones: Fatty Johnson: Melvin O'Connor: Thad Carlson: Non-Cliques Angie Ng: Christy Martin: Constantinos Brakus: Eunice Pound: Gloria Jackson: Gordon Wakefield: Ivan Alexander: Karen Johnson: Lance Jackson: Melody Adams: Pedro De La Hoya: Ray Hughes: Sheldon Thompson: Trevor Moore: Preppies Bif Taylor: Bryce Montrose: Chad Morris: Derby Harrington: Gord Vendome: Justin Vandervelde: Parker Ogilvie: Pinky Gauthier: Tad Spencer: Opinion on Adults who teach and patrol at Bullworth Academy – (in alphabetical order) Miss Danvers: Miss Peters: Mr. Galloway: Mr. Luntz: Mr. Matthews: Mr. Wiggins: Mrs. Carvin: Mrs. MacRae: Mrs Peabody: Ms. Phillips: Neil: Prefects – Edward Seymour II: Karl Branting: Max MacTavish: Seth Kolbe: Opinions on People in the cities of Bullworth – (in alphabetical order) Townies Clint(aka Henry): Sage doesn’t like saying it, but they’re quite afraid of him and  Duncan: Edgar Munsen: Gurney: Jerry: Leon: Omar Romero: Otto Tyler: Residents in the city of Bullworth – Bethany Jones: Denny: Dr. Bambillo: Krakauer: Mihailovich: Miss Abby: Mr. Brekindale: Mr. Buckingham: Mr. Castillo: Mr. Doolin: Mr. Huntingdon: Mr. Johnson: Mr. Martin: Mr. Ramirez: Mr. Salvatore: Mr. Smith: Mr. Sullivan: Ms. Rushinski Mrs. Lisburn: Osborne:

[mew-mew-mothertrucker]

Cold Storms Ch. 3

Chapter - 3 (1) (2)

Word count - 2304

TW - mentions of child abuse

Summary - First assignment it partners! Virgil ends up getting paired with someone who is overly excitedly trying to be his friend. ALSO, THOMAS IS BEST TEACHER I LOVE THIS

Fun Facts - This is the “3rd Grader Angst Fic” if it has a nickname, decided by me and approved by my boyfriend. Also, the facts about Giant Squids are from an assignment I did myself when I was in like 4th grade and I had nothing to do.

AN - Sorry this took so long I’ve been struggling a lot lately and this isn't the best…..

Tag List - @minamishipist @theprotectedpuff @preyed-llama @theawesomemaple @migraine-marathon @sombraplayslazertag @nightmarejasmine @missa-fawn 

Virgil was sitting in the classroom as soon as Mr. Sanders opened the room, an hour before school even started. He sat in silence with the teacher, who was typing out things on his school-issued laptop. Mr. Sanders had been concerned when he saw Virgil outside of the room as early as he was, but he was content with the shy boy’s company. Virgil was reading a book he had picked up about cats called Warriors. Mr. Sanders looked up at the student, wearing the same hoodie as yesterday.

“Virgil? May I ask you about your family? The only thing that the records say about it is that you live with your father.”

“O-Oh well, Mom disappeared when we were in New Mexico,” Virgil said, trying to cover up the fact that she had been killed. By you, Virgil. You killed your mother. That gunshot in her head is your fault. The voice in his head was almost screaming. He watched Mr. Sanders, who nodded and watched the small boy, thoughts that he didn’t say flying through his mind.

Thomas had thought it weird that Virgil wore a sweatshirt so early into the school year. But the nerves of losing his mother, whether it be death or abandonment, was stressful enough to give anxiety. Thomas knew, from experience around others and own personal experience that a sweatshirt was nice to wear with anxiety, hoodies especially. Although, Virgil’s current one needed some fixing up.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m always here for you Virgil. I know how hard it can be to move somewhere new, and it must be difficult to not have your mother with you.” Thomas walked over to Virgil's seat. “Your sweatshirt is horribly tattered, I understand that it could be a comfort item for you with losing your mother, but if you would like, would you mind if I borrowed it so I could ask my friends to sew it back up for you?”

Virgil thought for a moment. Most of the newest marks from his father were coerced by the shirt and pants he worse, but he still wouldn't feel comfortable, being able to accidentally touch someone and perhaps ruin them.

“If you would like to borrow another sweatshirt, I’m sure I can find one for you in the nurse’s office until this one is fixed,” Thomas said, seeing the flicker of emotions and thoughts in the child's eyes. Virgil nodded at that and Thomas left the classroom to the nurse’s office.

Virgil looked down at his desk and smiled. It was small but genuine, thankful for the teacher who seemed to actually care about his students. A few moments later, Thomas returned with a plain black hoodie and Virgil took off the purple and black one he worse. Hi accepted the sweatshirt from the teacher and slipped it on. It was a bit large, but Virgil liked it.

“T-thank you, Mr. Sanders” Virgil said, smiling up at the teacher. Thomas felt his heart melt and smiled back at the boy. “Of course, Virgil. You’re one of my students, meaning I will do about anything for you.”

“Mr. Sanders, do you have any children?”

“I’m afraid not, my husband and I have not sent back word if we can adopt or not. I hope we get it by the end of the school year.”

Virgil nodded and pulled the new hoodie closer, opening his book once more.

About ten minutes before class, Amber and Rosanna entered the room. They both went to their seats, greeting Virgil and Mr. Sanders. It was a minute after they entered that Andy walked in. Virgil looked up and gasped at the other child’s appearance. His eye was black, a faint outline of dried blood seeping from his nose. He was in another hurt too big for him, looking down. Virgil got up and walked over, along with Rosanna and Amber.

“Andy, are you okay?” Virgil asked softly, looking at the other child. He nodded, it the way he pressed his lips together and kept darting his eyes about made it seem as if he really wasn’t okay. Rosanna went to her bag and came back with some baby wipes.

“Sometimes they can be useful,” she said, wiping away the dried blood. She was careful but was able to make the bruise be covered mostly, making sure that Mr. Sanders was out of the classroom every few minutes. When Andy looked better, most of the class was inside, waiting for the bell. Virgil moved back to his seat, Roman Logan, and Patton all already sitting in their seats.

“I still don’t understand why you’re planning Halloween this early, Logan” Roman said as Virgil silently slid into his seat. Patton looked over at him as Logan spoke. “Well, Roman, this was we can be able to come up with the best costumes and get them prepared in time. We increase the levels of items that will produce serotonin for the adults, cute items mainly, and we get more candy. That’s why I’m thinking the idea of wild animals, you being a lion, Patton being a wolf and myself as a penguin. Those are the most popular wild animals for cuteness, you now”

Logan’s rant was cut off by the bell. Mr. Sanders walked in, looking up at his students.

“Hello class, today we will be starting with reviewing over math. I have placed a math workbook in all of your desks, so could you each take them out and open to page 3 to practice addition and subtraction?” Virgil opened up the book and began to do the math. He watched as Logan finished first, then himself. Logan was still reading the book on Roman history as Roman himself was third at the table to finish. Patton took the longest but was faster than some students like the Blond who sat next to Andy, whose name was Chris. Andy seemed to like Chris a lot and tried to help the other child. Virgil felt a small smile form as he watched Andy laugh at a joke Chris made. At least he's trying to make others happy was working, even if he was hurt.

Mr. Sanders wrote the problems on the board and solved them with the class, most students getting stuff right.

“Okay Class, now today we are going to need partners for a special project. We are all going to read out of the biology textbook on an animal of your choosing and then write a paper about it. You will be working with partners, with the person sitting next to you. Virgil looked at Patton, who was smiling at him with teeth so white it was like looking at recently-fallen snow illuminated by an LED flashlight. He doesn't want to be your friend the voice said. You’ve already rejected him once.  Virgil shook his head and looked at the biology textbooks that Mr. Sanders handed out. He opened it and filled to a random page, landing on Giant Squids.

“Oh, this is cool!” Patton said, looking at the images comparing the Squid to other things, including its eye to a child’s head. Virgil shivered. He didn’t think it natural, that something like that existed.

“Okay let’s just read,” Virgil said quietly. Somehow Patton had heard him over the noise and the two began to read about the Giant Squid. Patton then asked Virgil important notes that they think they should have and Virgil writing the paper. The two had worked quite well together, handling the task with an almost unspoken agreement of Patton organizing while Virgil, whom ad better handwriting, would write the paper.

Soon, it was lunch once more. Once again, Virgil sat alone with a warm sandwich and juice. He sat in the same spot as the day before, looking at other children laughed with friends. Andy, Rosanna, Amber, and Alex all came up and sat at his table. Virgil smiles softly as they all greeted him and started talking.

“So Virgil, where’s the sweatshirt you were wearing yesterday?” Andy asked, looking at the black cloth. His black eye was still covered, and he seemed to jump when any loud noise was made.

“Oh, Mr. Sanders said that he could have some of his friends sew it back together. He got me this one from the nurse” Virgil said.

“That’s good, I mean at least you won’t be dealing with the thought of your sweatshirt falling apart,” Andy said, trying to have an optimistic outlook on the situation. It was refreshing to Virgil.

“Yeah, plus you could keep it,” The twins said together. They both only had an apple, which annoyed Virgil. He looked in his brown bag and found a bag of chips that he had grabbed before quietly leaving his house. He tossed it to the twins, who looked at him with appreciation and he shrugged.

“I have a sandwich” The explanation didn’t stop them from both getting up and hugging him. Virgil hugged the girls back and they finished their food they all walked back to Mr. Sanders classroom to spend recess reading. Mr. Sanders looked at them as they walked in and gave them a soft smile.

Mr. Sanders knew that they didn’t have good home lives, Virgil’s mother being gone, the twins living with only their older brother, Andy with his mother, and Alex with an older sister and father. They were all from broken families. Thomas just wanted to make sure they had friends, and with the way that Andy and Virgil laughed, Amber and Rosanna hung around Virgil, and Alex was almost clinging to Andy, it seemed he had done something good. He smiled as he texted his friends, Talyn and Joan, to see if the couple could go to his house and help him sew up the jacket he had carefully put in his tote bag.

Virgil looked up at Mr. Sanders to see the teacher softly smiling. Virgil knew, deep down, that Mr. Sanders was one of the best teachers that he could have ever asked for. He turned back to his friends to see that Andy had grabbed a book about spiders.

“This is so cool,” He said, opening up to some tarantulas. His eyes shined bright with interest in the arachnids and Virgil looked at the pictures. Shimmering blue tarantulas next to a large orange one. Virgil had always associated tarantulas with the color black so to say that he was surprised about the colorful spiders was an understatement.

“That’s not cool, it’s creepy,” Alex said as she looked over Andy’s shoulders. The boy laughed as he closed the book. The bell rang and the group sat in their individual seats as the rest of the class made their way into the room. After Mr. Sanders confirmed all the students were back, he passed out little notepads. “These are going to be your multiplication books, on each page we are going to start multiplying numbers that have already been written on the pages.”

Virgil opened the book and saw a large 0 on the first page. Mr. Sanders walked up the board and wrote out numbers from 1 to 15. He then made equations with each number being multiplied by 0 and went through the lesson, showing how each number multiplied by 0 was 0 because it was as if there were none of the numbers. Virgil understood and the lesson finished after everyone filled out the paper in the notebook.

“Okay, well now I think it is time for us to start reading a book for class. I will be reading the first Harry Potter book, and this is for a grade. After each chapter, we will have a test.” Mr. Sanders began to read the book, walking around the class and doing different voices for each character. Virgil felt his eyelids grow heavy and felt his head fall onto the desk

Alone. He was alone. Darkness surrounded him. He was cold and he tried to tighten the jacket around him. He started to walk to try and find someone, something, anything that wasn’t this darkness. His legs grew tired after a while, but he continued. He saw something in the distance that was blue and began to jog to try and catch up with it, however, the chill felt as if ice water was being poured down his back. He shook it off and continued on running, trying to catch up with the blue item that was becoming smaller the faster he ran. The jacket flew off of him and the cold seeped into him and chilled him to the bone. He stopped  He was shaking-why was he shaking?

Virgil woke up to Patton and Mr. Sanders looking at him concerned. Patton had a hand on his shoulder and he sat up, he saw Andy looking at him concerned.

“Wha- what happened?” He said, looking around at his classmates. Even Roman seemed to be concerned.

“You fell asleep and I think you had a nightmare. Do you want to go get some water to calm down?” Mr. Sanders said, rubbing small circles into Virgil’ back. He nodded and got up, shaking. He walked down the hallway and got a drink of water before returning to class. Patton looked at him and smiled, handing him a drawing.

“I made this when I saw you were sleeping!” He said. Virgil looked weirdly at Patton but opened it up to see Virgil in a bed with a stuffed cat with “Hope you have wet dreams” written in Patton’s semi-messy scrawl.

“Th-thanks Patton,” Virgil said. He had never gotten a gift from someone other than his mother and was surprised. Smiling, he put it in his desk and continued with the lesson that Mr. Sanders had started when he was out.

[wordsablaze]

Mere Minutes

(alaw pt.3) An antisocial Alec didn't believe in the stories his mother told him and hated people in general... until he felt the burning on his arm. An AU (malec, because I couldn't help it) scene written for Alec Lightwood appreciation weeks 2017. Enjoy!

A/N: I totally forgot to post this last week, oops... Oh well, better late than never, right?

"You've got to be joking!" Alec shouts as someone crashes into him.

Whoever it is must not know him because they carry on walking as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't just crashed into a Lightwood.

"Hold on!" Alec orders, and turns on his heel.

"To what?" the boy asks, then shakes his rather glittery head as he stumbles over his words, "No, I meant to say-"

"I don't care," Alec interrupts, trying to ignore the stinging on his arm from where he'd crashed into the boy.

"Sorry?" the boy offers, then shifts awkwardly. "I have to go, um, sorry again."

As soon as the boy's turned the corner, Alec swears under his breath, rubs his arm as inconspicuously as possible, and heads to his first class – history – whilst wondering what on earth was in that kid's bag.

"You're late, Lightwood."

"Not much later than you, if your unopened briefcase is anything to go by," Alec retorts, and the teacher sighs, waving his hand as a dismissal of defeat.

As the hour goes by and he's forced into doing group work, filling in worksheets that could bore a dead fly, he can't ignore the dull burning in his arm. By the time the teacher actually gets on to saying something of value, Alec's trying not to show his discomfort, the sensation worse than getting a tattoo.

When the lesson is finally over, he's brushing past people to get to the boy's bathroom, too caught up in his screaming arm to care about anything else. Naturally, his reputation precedes him and most people scuttle to the sides of the corridor, but he doesn't notice at all. He doesn't even care that he's missing sport, the one class he can usually tolerate.

"Oh, by the angel," Alec mutters to himself as he stumbles, glad that nobody else is around to watch him rapidly blink and use the walls to regain his balance.

Dumping his bag on the floor and shrugging his jacket off, he tries to find the source of the bloodless pain, but one look in the mirror and he's gasping in shock; he didn't think the stories were true.

"No way…" he tells his reflection, staring with wide eyes at the cursive writing just under his shoulder.

The cursive writing that neatly but almost illegibly says 'to what?'

"No way!" he repeats, this time not with anger, but disbelief.

After what feels like centuries but was easily just a handful of minutes, the burning fades to a dull ache that he can tolerate. He can tolerate it, but he doesn't want to. Not when the stupid tales his mother used to tell him about finding someone that matched the very core of his entire being could actually have been true.

"No way." As he mutters the two words for the third time, he decides to ignore the inscription on his arm and anything to do with it. Including the new boy.

Alec has missed way too much of the second class to pass it off as having needed to grab his stuff from his locker so he just heads to his maths classroom, flopping down on one of the tables at the back and pulling out his phone as he waits for everyone else to show up.

Naturally, he finds the class utterly pointless and rolls his eyes as they're set a homework that he has no intention to complete, at least not by himself.

"Where did you go, man?" Jace asks him as he joins their lunch table, the one nobody dares to approach unless they have a death wish or something of the sort.

"Hardly matters," Alec replies, yawning.

"Tell me you weren't getting someone to do your homework again?" Izzy rolls her eyes nonchalantly, but Alec can tell she's internally fuming.

"Nope."

"Alright, be like that. Are we still on for tonight?" Jace changes the topic, sensing that Alec won't budge on his infuriatingly mysterious silence.

So the three of them plan their entrance to their party later that night, intending to go as the lightwood trio as usual, but with a twist. It's only been a few minutes when Alec feels the unmistakable pain of being shoved against a locker, with one exception: nobody's even touching him, never mind shoving him into a locker.

"What- Alec?" Izzy frowns. "What's happening?"

Before he can shrug it off, his throat tightens and he blinks in surprise, trying to process exactly what is happening. He's not being attacked but he can feel the pain of it so that means…

It's the new boy.

"I… have to go. Don't follow me," Alec manages to croak, as darkly as he can, before kicking his chair back and running out of the doors, leaving behind a very confused two-thirds of the lightwood trio.

"Of course I get stuck with the idiot that can't avoid getting shoved into a locker on their first day," Alec mumbles to himself as the unexplained pain in his back seems to sharpen.

It doesn't increase or get any more painful, but it's stronger, which he takes to mean the boy actually getting shoved into a locker is closer than he was before. For better or for worse, his theory is proven correct when he hears someone gasp and the laughter of none other than Johnathan.

"Hey!" Alec yells, "Back off!"

"Lightwood? Where's your entourage?" Johnathan laughs, even though that wasn't a joke, or even remotely funny.

"Why? You don't like yours?" He replies anyway, smirking; sometimes it's worth humouring someone you can't tolerate if it means you get to beat them in the end.

"What's it to you?"

"I have some unfinished business with the new kid," Alec says, thankful of those drama classes.

Johnathan raises an eyebrow. "What business could you possibly have with him on the first day?"

"Says the one who just punched him."

"Fine. But he's ours after school."

"Be my guest…" Alec tells them as they sulk back to the lunch hall, Johnathan muttering as he goes.

Alec turns to the new boy, wanting to unleash his rage and shout or maybe just demand answers, and finds himself gasping. He can't form a word in any language he knows and his mind seems to glitch as he watches the boy roll his shoulders back, brushing off the mostly non-existent dust.

How on earth can someone look so… magical?

The boy's dressed in a royal purple shirt that should be pretentious but, when worn with three different scarves and ripped jeans that match Alec's, just looks like a fashion of the future. He's also somehow managed to get away with wearing several rings as well as clearly dyed and gelled hair. Not that anyone's complaining.

"Uh…"

"Thanks." The boy finally meets his gaze.

"What?" Alec inquires, trying to blink so he doesn't seem weird, which is never something he worries about...

"You know, for not letting them do anything," The boy says slowly, smiling in amusement and gratitude.

"What makes you think I was helping you?" Alec asks, scowling, but also caught up in the style of his eyeliner that Izzy would die for.

"This."

He pulls up the sleeve on his arm and twists his hand so his wrist is visible. There, inked over a couple of his veins – and what looks like a healing bruise – is the phrase 'hold on!' in Alec's own messy scrawl.

"That doesn't mean anything!"

The boy tilts his head as if trying to decipher a code and shrugs. "The name's Magnus. I'll be getting revenge on a certain nitwit after school if you decide it doesn't mean anything."

As Magnus – a name which completely suits the eccentric boy, he can't help but think – starts to walk away, Alec calls out, "Wait! Revenge?"

Magnus chuckles. "What, you think I needed your help? One more minute and he'd have been given his own medicine."

"A taste of his own medicine," Alec corrects without thinking.

Magnus considers it, then winks. "If you say so."

And with that, the mystical new boy walks away and Alec just stares in confusion. He's never met anyone like that before, but then again, that explains why Magnus' first words to him are tattooed on his arm. With one more glance at the calligraphic phrase, he makes the decision he'd never thought he'd have the opportunity to make.

The decision, one that he's found and made, is most likely going to change his life in more than one way. It's not that Alec's never made such a heavy decision before, but he's very rarely persuaded by other people, especially people that he barely knows, and he has never, never made a choice that could change the path of his future without taking at least a week to debate it.

He'd made this decision in mere minutes.

He's going to embrace a relationship with his soulmate.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

[skamfairy]

Super important prompt: what was the boy squad doing leading up to Isak's insta post.

This is super important, which is why I have bumped it up on the list. Okay here we go. 

“This is a terrible idea” Mahdi states as the boys walk around the corner to kaffebrenneriet. 

“What the fuck?” Magnus screeches “this is a great idea. Trust us man.”

They all pull a chair out and sit at a table outside near one of the windows to the cafe. 

Isak licks his lips before nodding “Mahdi was right. This is a terrible idea.” 

Jonas laughs and shakes his head “oh come on don’t act like my ideas have never worked before.” 

“yeah but this time it’s half Magnus’s idea” 

“EXACTLY!” Mahdi exclaims already getting up from his chair. 

“Mahdi sit down” Jonas orders, trying desperately to calm the squad down. “it’s gonna work.” 

Mahdi reluctantly sits back in the chair with his shoulders slumped as he chews on his lip anxiously. 

“So which one is she?” Magnus asks grinning. 

“shhhh can you try to be less obvious?” 

Isak and Jonas raise their eyebrows at each other because they both knew the answer was no and that Mahdi was head over heels. 

“Is it her?” Jonas asked, nodding at a brunette clearing a table next to them. 

Mahdi shook his head. 

“What about him?” Magnus asked pointing straight at a guy taking someones order. 

“Nei Magnus” 

Jonas and Isak laughed 

“What I can’t remember if you said it was a girl or not. and he’s hot right Isak?” 

Isak leant back in his chair with a smug smile painted across his face. “nah not my type.” 

“You’re so whipped man.” Jonas shook his head grinning proudly at his best friend. 

Isak shrugged, smiling. 

“oh wait is it her?” Isak asked as he spotted a blonde girl. 

“oh my god you guys are awful at this.” 

“she’s pretty though.” Jonas said. 

“yeah hot!” Magnus agreed. 

Isak squinted his eyes and angled his head like he was looking at an abstract painting he just couldn’t get. 

“I think i’m too gay for this.” 

The boys roared with laughter, the warmth of the joke making Mahdi finally relax a little. 

Suddenly a short girl with glasses, wearing an army jacket under her apron, and her purple hair tied up in a bun on the top of her head walked out with a tray of coffees. 

“that’s her” Mahdi mumbled. 

“what?” Magnus asked confused 

Mahdi’s eyes nearly fell out when he stared at Magnus trying to convey what he meant “that’s heeerrr” he said between his teeth. 

“ahhh” the boys sang together. Mahdi rolled his eyes at how long it took them. 

Isak smiled “She’s cool.” 

“And cute” Jonas agreed. 

Mahdi smiled “yeah we met at a save the planet meeting” 

they all stared at him. 

“What? I care about the environment!” 

“Sure you do…” Jonas smirked and rolled his eyes “just like Even cared so much about kossegruppa.” 

Isak ignored him “anyway what’s the plan then?” 

Jonas and Magnus looked at each other in silence. 

“Hello? Plan?” Mahdi pressed, getting anxious. 

“ugh well…” Magnus began 

“This is as far as we got.” Jonas finished. 

Mahdi facepalmed “you have got to be kidding me.” 

“it’s not our fault! We were planning on Even being here to you know, take over…” Magnus said. 

“Yeah where the hell is he anyway?” Jonas asked Isak. 

Isak grinned cockily “i’m making him study for his math exam.” 

“Making him?” Mahdi asked

“How the hell could you-” 

the moment Isak’s cheeks turned pink the boys chuckled as Jonas waved his hand in the air, shaking his question away. “nope nevermind, I don’t want to know.” 

“Okay” Isak said, clapping his hands ready to take over. “this is what we’re going to do.” 

“Quick does anyone have any asprin?” Jonas interjected. 

Isak glared “that’s not my only move jackass.” 

“How about you go up to her and tell her-” 

“No Magnus” the boys said simultaneously. 

“Okay, Mahdi, you go and order us coffee.” 

Mahdi stared at him.

Isak stared back

Mahdi raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?” 

Isak smiled “that’s all there is to it.” 

Mahdi groaned, “I can’t believe i’m doing this” before standing up. 

Jonas clapped as Magnus cheered and Isak threw his head back laughing. 

“you all suck” Mahdi said before walking in to the cafe. 

“so how do you think he’s gonna do?” Jonas asked as soon as he walked inside. 

“terrible.” 

“he’s probably gonna pass out before he gets to the counter.” 

Jonas shook his head “you guys are horrible friends.” 

“hey it took me and Vilde like months to get together! How long did it take Evak?” he asked Isak. 

Isak thought about it. “well, we nearly kissed 3 weeks after we met…actually kissed a week after that but then we weren’t official until…like what a month? or actually maybe-

“We get it. It was complicated.” Jonas interrupted. Isak replied by sticking his tongue out at him. 

“real mature.” 

“so yeah it’s realistic for us to assume he will bomb out the first few times. It’s just how it is.” Magnus said wisely, shrugging at his insightful knowledge. 

Finally after ten minutes Mahdi walked out with a plate of Waffles. 

“So how did it go? Isak asked, just as Mahdi shoved half a waffle in his mouth. 

“Oh! Good. We’re going out on friday.” he mumbled through the mouthful of waffle. 

Magnus’s chin nearly hit the ground “you got…you got a date?” 

Mahdi nodded confused “wasn’t that the plan?” 

Isak grinned “nice one Mahdi.” 

Jonas high-fived him. 

Magnus was still in shock. “but…but….it’s supposed to- you were meant to- what about bombing out?” 

the boys laughed. 

“oh and she gave me free waffles!” Mahdi said proudly, staring at the plate with heart eyes. 

“she’s definitely a keeper.”  Isak nodded in approval. 

“see Mahdi you should appreciate us. Look, our plan work.” 

“your plan sucked” he replied. 

Isak nodded “yeah it did.” 

Jonas rolled his eyes. “Shut up and lets take a photo to commemorate this moment.” 

the boys all huddled together. Jonas struggled with his phone “do i…do I stand here, or should it.”

Magnus pointed at the screen, “maybe if you flip it” 

“but then we won’t be able to see what we look like” Isak stated. 

“Will someone just press the button?” Mahdi said. 

“I think i’m pressing” 

“wait you’re pressing?” 

“Yeah i’m not sure but - oh shit it’s taking photos” 

“it’s taking photos?” 

“oh fuck it was on burst mode.” 

the boys looked through the photos together. 

“Yeah that looks about right.” Isak said 

the boys agreed in unison. 

“Who wants to go get pizza? I promised Even if he studied for his math exam I would bring him home some.” 

The boys all stared at him in surprise.

“What?” Isak asked. “What the fuck did you think I meant?” 

Mahdi shook his head “nothing.” 

“oh yeah nothing I totally thought you meant bribing him with food” Jonas said as they all began walking off. 

“What?’ Magnus asked finally catching on to the conversation 

“OH I thought you meant sex.” he shouted, earning a punch in the arm from Isak.