#I didn’t know cats could feel regret but if they could it’s the closest they’ve ever been

[hotsinglehorsesinyourarea11037]

I was going to ask why my cat kept sitting on my pizza boxes and if it was about warmth + box but actually I think it’s about something else

[morizoras-cave]

Manners (Request)

Sherlock x gn!child!reader, John x gn!child!reader

Genre: fluff

Request Description: Thank you for saying you’ll write for Sherlock, I appreciate it :) Could you do one where all the peeps are round for dinner (Sherly, Mycroft, Greg, John ect) and John invites his cousin round (like age 9) and she’s just like REALLY polite and even when Sherlock says something really mean from one of his deductions she just brush’s it off and forgives him for it and even Mycroft likes her (PURELY PLATONIC PEOPLE) and she asks to see the brains in the fringe and Sherlock is ECSTATIC

Warnings: none really

(A/N): the only warning here is really that i dont remember the sherlock characters THAT well. and ive totally forgotten who sherly is, so this fic must live without her hahaha

“Fuck,” John mumbled, looking at you at the entrance to 221B Baker Street. He had to take care of you today, and while he usually loved taking care of you, his niece, today was not the day he had expected. 

You were the most delightful and polite girl, your mannerisms just made everyone around you smile. But John did not want you to meet the careless, brutally honest, and genius Sherlock. But today, the one damned day where he had to take care of you, there was a dinner with Sherlock, Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft (the latter had with pleasure paid for it all).

“Language,” you said, giving him a warning glare. The action was enough to make him smile. His heart melted.

“Let’s go inside then,” he said reluctantly, deciding that there was nothing he could do about it. 

You entered the home, eyes glittering as you saw all the weird and unconventional items stacked on the shelves and furniture. You held your admiration, and politely brushed your shoes off on the mat, before taking them off. You then placed them in order, even taking the time to lightly push the others’ strewn-about shoes in a straight line.

John watched you with a smile. He had no idea how his aunt had produced such a person as you, but he was thankful for it. 

From the kitchen loud clattering and sizzling sounds came. Sherlock popped his head out, gaze first on John, then lowering to you. John took a deep breath, knowing he had to introduce you now. 

“This is Y/n. They’ve just turned-”

“9 years old..” Sherlock mumbled, looking a you with narrowed eyes. John sighed. You gave the sociopath a toothless smile.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m actually 9 and a half,” you walked up with him and then reached your tiny hand up for him to shake it. Sherlock looked at you, and you had no idea what he was thinking, but you hoped it was about shaking your hand. 

“Lower your hand, Y/n,” Sherlock said and disappeared behind the doorway to the kitchen. You lowered your hand slowly. John was already regretting bringing you over. “A nine year old’s hands? That’s an enormous number of bacteria I could gladly live without.”

“Nine and a half year old!” you called after him, but remained positive. It was his decision to not shake your hand, and it was your duty to respect that. 

You stepped further into the living room - or what was normally the living room, now just a room stuffed with a dining table that was too big for it. 

“I told you all we should’ve done this at a restaurant. Or my house. Or anywhere else, really,” Mycroft, you guessed, said from his place at the table. He had a very cat-like voice, you thought.

“Yes, well, now we’re here,” Mrs. Hudson (whom you’d met several times before, and who was always delighted to give you homemade cookies) argued. Just as she finished, you made your way up on your chair, greeting the guests with a smile. 

Currently seated was you, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Greg (the police officer John had told you about), and John who was settling down beside you. Sherlock and Molly were in the kitchen, and by the sound of it, they were making soup. 

“Aw, who’s this?” Greg asked, pointing at you. 

“Y/n. Y/n Watson reporting for duty!” you said proudly. The people around the table aww’ed. 

“They’re a charmer, huh?” Mycroft commented. John nodded at this.

“Soup’s coming in! Soup’s coming in!” Molly warned, carrying a rather heavy looking pot into the living room, holding it with some cloth. She placed it down with a ‘plunk’, and then sighed in relief. “Gosh, I thought I was gonna drop it all.” 

“You were statistically very likely to drop it, you’re very lucky,” Sherlock said as he entered, sitting down on his chair at the end of the table. Molly flushed and sat down as well. 

“Dig in!” she said and everyone did, hoisting some of the boiling-hot pea soup into their bowls. You made sure to compliment Molly on the soup, to which she smiled with a smile that mostly said wait-why-is-there-a-nine-year-old-here.

You kept a proper conversation with everyone at all times, making sure to bring in the quieter ones. Meanwhile, John was staring at you in adoration because you were simply overbearingly cute, but also because in his head it was very unlikely that you came from the same gene pool, yet here you were.

“She’s quite polite, this one. Children these days usually have no discipline, no manners,” Mycroft said at one point, and from what you had gathered throughout the evening, that was the closest thing to a compliment you would get from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes, but I think that kids my age can be very polite. Maybe you just don’t know the right kids!” you said, sipping your soup. Mycroft smiled and shook his head. Sherlock, who was sitting at the end of the table, soup untouched, seemed unamused. 

“Kids are dumb. Nine year olds are dumb. Gosh, people are dumb too, and you kids are just dumber versions of already dumb people,” he said finally.

Everyone at the table turned their heads towards you, wondering if you would snap and start yelling or crying. Instead, you snickered, putting your spoon down. 

“That’s a very bold statement, Mr. Holmes,” was all you said, and although you wanted to say more, you couldn’t stop snickering. Sherlock watched you, and you saw his face change. You couldn’t quite tell what it meant, but he didn’t retort. 

Slowly, people fell back into conversation, and so did you. The dinner was very pleasant, and you were happy to see that you had made a good impression. 

“So, Sherlock, you started cooking soup these days?” Greg pointed with his spoon to the pot, now only a quarter or so full. The noise of his spoon against the metal let out a hollow ‘clunk’. 

“No, no, I was in there supervising. Making sure Ms. Molly didn’t mess with my refrigerated brain.” 

At this, you gasped. 

“You have a brain?” you asked breathlessly, mouth wide open, and your hands on your cheeks in shock. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I see the brain, Mr. Holmes? Please, can I see your refrigerated brain, pretty please?” you begged, curiosity and adventurousness getting the better of you. 

John opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock came first, with a small smile, that he didn’t seem aware was on his face: “Yes, of course!”

You tried to control yourself and not run into the kitchen, but your excitement was still very visceral. You were bouncing about, unable to stand still, and doing a little victory dance every once in a while. 

Sherlock opened the refrigerator theatrically, the light turning on and shining on you, as your eyes landed on the human brain. 

“Wooooooooow,” you squealed, “that’s so cool- I mean, that’s very impressive..” you could hardly contain your excitement, but Sherlock couldn’t either. No one was every excited about his brain (the one in the fridge, of course, the other was often a topic of interest). 

Sherlock then proceeded to give a full anatomical tour of the brain, taking it out and showing it to you up close, letting you hold it, and telling you all the facts. Meanwhile, John was having a mental breakdown, trying not to look. He knew very well that he would get in trouble with his aunt for this. 

“This is the frontal lobe. If you damage it, you become like me,” Sherlock said morbidly, showing the front part of the pink nerve. 

“That doesn’t sound all too bad, Mr. Holmes. You seem pretty cool,” you said passively, still fully entranced by the brain. Sherlock, however, took full note of this, eyes snapping to you immediately. He smiled. 

“Alright, I think it’s about time me and Y/n head home!” John said when he’d finally had enough. You were too polite to protest, so you just quite literally bowed to everyone and then left with John. 

When John came home later that night, after dropping you off back at his aunt’s place, Sherlock was still awake, brain in hand. 

“Uh, doesn’t that go back in the fridge?” John asked. 

“In a moment,” Sherlock responded. Then, “Why don’t they come over more? The kid.”

John looked at him in confusion. “Y/n? Why would I bring them over more?” 

Sherlock sighed, turning his attention from the brain. “I feel like I could give them good anatomical knowledge. Perhaps, teach them a bit about science and such.” 

There was a moment of silence and then John scoffed. 

“You really just want me to bring Y/n over, because they think you’re cool?” 

“That’s not at all what I said, John!” Sherlock protested, moving to put the brain back in the freezer. John sauntered off into his bedroom. 

“Whatever!” he said, and then the conversation was over.

But then, slowly, he started bringing you over more, each time letting Sherlock and you have your own weird conversations on life, people, biology and everything else. You become very rich in knowledge of science and anatomy, and in return Sherlock’s ego went through the roof. 

It was a fair trade, you decided, and you loved every moment of it. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun​ @deephideoutmilkshake​ @rae-is-typing​ @sophs-library​ @herecomesthewriterwitch​ @alicedanganh​ 

[amintyworld]

For the prompts! “Where WERE you?! Are you… okay…? Goodness, you’re burning up!” With Anxceit?

Hot and Cold

A/N: Hey Anon! Sorry, this took a while, but I finally got some motivation to finish it, and I hope you enjoy it! BTW, I forgot to add in part of the prompt, and I’m sorry, but I still hope you enjoy it anyway! - Minty

Summary: After an argument breaks out between Janus and Virgil, Virgil quickly leaves out into the incoming snowstorm. 

TW: Hypothermia, mention of cheating, unconsciousness. (As always, tell me if I missed anything!)

-------------------------- 

Virgil was stupid.

There was no other explanation for the reason he was walking down 11th Avenue beneath the bright streetlamps, rubbing his arms and shivering like a drowned cat. Tears slipped down his cheeks, turning a bitter cold as they left wet droplets on the sidewalk. 

Virgil Ingram was an idiot, there was no doubt. Only an idiot would run out the door without a jacket. A cold gust of wind left a cold chill in Virgil’s bones. His teeth chattered slightly as he tried in vain to get warm. 

It all started with a simple disagreement, a simple argument over some dishes, and within a few minutes, it turned fiery. The couple shouted at each other for hours, yelled at each other. It was Virgil’s and Janus’s first-ever argument as a couple, and Virgil was more than a little scared. 

Fear did always get the better of him. Virgil guessed that’s why he ran. That’s why he ran away from the person he loved more than anyone else in the world because he was afraid with a few words it was all over. It had to be over, right?

Janus’s face - twisted into a pure rage, his yells loud and sharp. No one could love him after a blow-up like that. Virgil’s heart burned with heartbreak, and his nerves rocked his body. Though he felt like going back, his mind urged him forward. He didn’t know where he was going, all he knew was that he was too ashamed and anxious to return. 

Suddenly, another chill blew through his bones, making him shiver. His head pointed down, he noticed the wetness of the sidewalk in confusion. He looked up - snow. It was snowing and he was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt. 

Awesome.

----------------------------------

Janus paced the living room, his cellphone in hand. He tried following his boyfriend when he booked it away from the house, only to quickly lose track of him and find his jacket on the ground on their doorstep - he hadn’t even noticed it when he chased after Virgil. 

The jacket he’d gotten for his boyfriend - hand-stitched, black with white sewn purple patches. Janus would never forget the look on Virgil’s face when he opened the present - that smile that made his heart melt. It was their one-year anniversary.

The jacket lay sprawled across the couch. Janus’s mind was worried for Virgil, making it spin like a top. He regretted every word, his anger dissipated all too quickly. It didn’t matter anymore, the argument, the anger, the back-and-forth - none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered to Janus was Virgil. He tried not to think about Virgil getting hurt, or kidnapped out in the cold and in the streets. 

Janus’s eyes checked his phone for the 15th time that evening. He’d called Roman in a panic after a few hours and Virgil not returning. Roman tried to calm him as he promised his friend to search around and make sure the emo was safe. Silence engulfed the small house. Janus huffed as he sat back down on the couch, his phone face up on the coffee table in front of him. His leg shook nervously as he waited for a sign, a signal… anything.

His eyes snapped toward a sound, the vibrating phone on the wooden table.

--------------------------------

Virgil doesn’t remember what exactly happened. All he remembered was the numbing coldness seeping so deeply in his bones, making every fluid motion feel like knives digging into his skin. He remembered he was going to try to make it to the nearby bus stop for some kind of relief from the wind and snow. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he rushed into the night, but...

He remembered someone… calling his name?

Then… warmth. Comforting, warm warmth… Virgil’s mind began to grow tired as his body went limp and he heard a panicked voice mumble ‘Shit-’.

---------------------------------

Roman rushed toward Janus’s house, holding Virgil in his arms - his body freezing cold. He didn’t know whether Virgil was dead or alive, the only thing that told him otherwise was the small heaving in his chest as he slept in his arms. The snow was heavily falling on his car, coating his window and roof in a thick layer of white within seconds when he found him.

Virgil was shaking, shivering, looking paler than normal as the snow coated his head and shoulders, turning his warm brown locks white. He got out of his car quickly, calling for him and running over as he began to slowly plummet toward the ground, Roman dashing quickly and managing to catch him in his arms. 

Roman rang the doorbell six times, and when Janus opened the door he rushed inside, trying to find the warmest area possible. “Where WERE you-?!” He saw Virgil and his voice dropped. “Is he… okay?”

He beelined for the small fireplace in the corner of the living room, scrambling to remember what Logan taught him to do in those first-aid classes, all he knew was that he needed to get warm and get warm now. He turned to Janus quickly. “You got matches?”

“Uh… I… yes…” Janus was looking toward Virgil with concern, not knowing what was wrong as Roman carefully set him down next to the fireplace. 

“Grab them, now!” Roman yelled, nervous as all heck.

Soon enough, Roman lit the fire, leaving Virgil unconscious on the floor. Janus took a deep breath to calm his nerves as Roman explained the situation. “He got hypothermia, I dunno what to do, he nearly collapsed in the snow-”

“What can I do to help?” Janus asked, and Roman tried to recall his training. 

“Just, uh… you need to get him warm! Warm drinks, blankets… oh! He needs to get out of those wet clothes.” Roman said, and Janus just nodded. 

“I’ll get him out of those clothes and in some blankets. You should make some tea.” 

Janus rolled up his sleeves and walked over toward the roaring fire, Virgil still cold and now wet from the heat, looking weak from the cold, and Janus couldn’t help but chastise himself - this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have yelled. He moved Virgil’s limp body closer to his own, pulling up the soggy t-shirt and throwing it to the side, moving to his jeans, then socks and shoes. He grabbed a soft blanket and held Virgil’s cold body close to his, wrapping the blanket around both of them. 

He was still breathing. Thank god for that.

Janus positioned Virgil against his chest as he ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, feeling his heartbeat with his own. Virgil’s wet hair soaked Janus’s white shirt, and he reluctantly opened it up to get it dry, leaving Virgil asleep on his bare chest. He felt his face flush as Virgil sighed, leaning into his chest more, being cute again.

The more Janus thought about it, the more he realized that his boyfriend was naked to his undies sleeping against his chest, the closest they’ve ever gotten thus far physically. His boyfriend was almost-naked cuddled up against him, and his blush deepened. 

He’d never really seen him shirtless before, and it never occurred to him up until this point that this was… Virgil was shirtless. He tried to remind himself it was for his health, that he was freezing, but… for some reason, the blush never left his cheeks. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that their chests were touching, or Virgil’s sleepy cute sigh, or that fact that they were cuddling next to a fire...

Roman walked over with three steaming mugs, more relaxed knowing everything was under control. “Alright, I made tea and hot chocolate for Virge, you know how he doesn’t like tea that much-” A grin spread across his cheeks as he looked to Janus’s blush. “Should I… leave you two alone for a bit? Wouldn’t want to be interrupting anything-”

“NO- I… you’re not… everything’s fine, I’m just trying to keep him warm-”

“I see. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you guys need anything, seems you two need some time alone-” Roman smirked, walking away with a steaming mug toward the kitchen once more, a knowing look on his face. If looks could kill, Roman would be dead right now with the way Janus stared daggers at him as he left. 

Janus sighed as he shifted to grab his cup of tea and began to sip, his fingers fumbling through Virgil’s hair, content, trying to relax from the tension the evening brought. The clock ticked by, and Janus just sipped his tea, trying to figure out what to say to him when he woke up. Eventually, Virgil stirred, his eyes slowly beginning to open, looking up and around him with confusion, and Janus’s hand wormed into his. “Hey.”

“Uh...hey,” Virgil said awkwardly, a smile on his face. “Uh… I…”

“I’m sorry. I never should have yelled, I never should have gotten so upset, you should be able to have your own privacy-”

“No, I’m sorry. I… I should have told you what was going on instead of just running away, I…” Virgil bit his lip. “I got fired.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “I’m so sorry, Vee.” He squeezed Virgil’s hand, making Virgil look down, a blush sneaking on his face. 

“Uh… please tell me this is some kind of weird nightmare-”

Janus laughed. “Sorry to say you’re not dreaming. You were freezing up, I needed to make sure your wet clothes were off so you could get warm again.” Their eyes met again. “You really scared me. Please, don’t run out on me like that again.”

“I thought you were done with me for good,” Virgil said softly, and Janus held Virgil’s cheek as he met this with a warm smile.

“You are the best, most amazing person in the world, Virgil,” Janus said softly, his fingers running through Virgil’s hair. “A little argument won’t change that, I promise.”

“Hm…” Virgil smiled softly, both hearts beating as one at that moment, wrapped in blankets by the fire, and soon enough they found their lips together, happy to just have each other.

[smokahuntis]

odium ad amorem

Hate to love

Pairing: General Hux x Sith!reader

Warnings: date night! Fluff! Angst! Death! Violence! Oops!

Summery; Hux wants to get to know who he’s working with more, and only finds himself wanting to know her more.

Part 1 : Love to Hate

He watched her train well into the evening, using an old sword and not her actual lightsaber. He very rarely saw her use her actual lightsaber, but everytime he saw it it only confused him about her more. It was similar to Kylos in many ways, except color. Her handle was silver and the blade was dark blood red, crimson, much deeper then Kylo’s. That’s what confused him, Kylo Ren was a monster, and everyone knew it, he never hid his face. But (y/n) (l/n) was emotionless in the eyes of others, and in private she was caring and compassionate. It confused him even more on who she really was. It made him have a need to know. Who and what he was working with, and for.

He made his way to her office after she was done training, finding her in her black tank top and leggings, taking apart the wraps on her hands. Well, hand.

“You still wrap your metal hand?” He asked walking behind her, causing her to look over her shoulder at him. She gave a small smile when seeing him.

“Force of habit,” she says laying the wraps on her desk before turning to face him. “What bring you to my office, General?” She asked watching his figure pace the room, she didn’t mind him being here but there meeting wasn’t for another few days, if they are see together to much it would raise suspicion.

“I wanted to ask you to dinner.” He stopped and looked at her, her face was riddled with shock as she shook her head, a smile coming to her face after.

“General, that would be-“

“Extremely unprofessional, I know,” this was it, the moment he had to start seeing who she was, he had to make it believable. “I just can’t keep you off of my mind...” he knew she could easily go into his kind and see his true intentions but she wouldn’t, because Over the last few months he’s gained her trust. “It would be in my quarters, away from everyone, no one will know...”

“When...” she asked quietly looking at him as she smiled, not really knowing why she can’t get it off her face.

“Tonight, just before sun fall, please.” He asked looking at her. She nodded and he smiled before walking out of the room.

—

When the sun started to fade away from the Finalizer (y/n) found herself on her way towards the Generals Quarters. She didn’t really realize till she got there, she’d never been in his quarters before. When she walked in she was shocked to say the least. The place was spotlessly clean, it wasn’t as pure black as she thought either, more grey and white. It was a beautiful apartment for something on the Finalizer.

“General?” She asked almost jumping as she felt something rub against her leg, she almost feared the worst if she hadn’t looks down to see the large orange fluff ball of a cat. “Oh hello...” she leaned down picking it up letting it rub against her as she petted it.

“I see you’ve met Millicent.” He said smiling slightly as he walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands off with a towel before laying it aside. He wore plain black pants with a belt, his button up shirt tucked into them. She’s never really seen him out of uniform, it was quite refreshing really, to know he’s not just some robot. His hair was even out of place, not gelled down for his head, it was sort of fluffy.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” She said holding the fat organge cat close to her. He chuckled.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he said walking back into the kitchen. She watched him kinda shocked that he can cook, or at least he tried, she had no clue if he could actually do anything other then be a general.

“You can cook?” She asked, setting the cat down and following him into the kitchen. He looked over at her and smiled as he pulled the most amazing looking dish from the oven. “You can cook...” she repeated looking at him.

“Wash your hands, if you can do that...” he said looking at her metal hand, before setting the roasted porg down and beginning to cut it and make their plates. She rolled her eyes and washed her hands just as any other person would do, the metal of her hand was made to simulate an actual hand, but shiny.

“Any other talents you are hiding?” She asked before starting to dry her hands off and turning to him. He chuckled and shrugged, remembering this was meant to be so he can learn about her, but he always opened up to easy for the Sith and he never knew why.

“I can tap dance.” He said nonchalant before turning and handing her a plate. She raised an eyebrow at him and smiling.

“Really?” She took the plate from his hands and followed him to the dining table, large white marble with flakes of gold and silver. They sat down and he filled her win glass before answering.

“I used to also do ballet but it’s been sooo long...” he shook his head as if he was disappointed.

“You’re just messing with me now...”

“No really, I learned to dance before I learned to fight.” He smiled at her and she smiled back.

The dinner went on quiet well, he kept asking questions about her getting no where into seeing her dark side, that was until he asked one simple question.

“How do you put up with Kylo Ren everyday?” He asked and she set down her win glass and intertwined her fingers together before looking at him.

“Wishful thinking...” she answered calmly, staring into his crystal eyes, the way she said it sent chills down his spine and made it feel as if the room was freezing.

“Wishful thinking?” He asked looking at her, trying to understand what she could mean by that.

“Yes...” she picked up her wine glass again before looking at him. “I wish that one day someone will cut his limbs off one by one and then set him on fire, just like his grandfather.” Her voice showed no care as it was tainted with venom, tainted with raw emotion of hatred. She took a sip from her win before looking at General Hux, who was in a state of shock, and somewhat fear. She finally spoke again, ending her statement. “It will be the closest thing to giving him what he wants.”

“And what’s that?” He asked way to quickly, not really wanting to hear the actual answer.

“To be like Darth Vader...” she answered setting down her empty wine glass. He grabbed the bottle and went to refill it but she stopped him and shook her head. “I’d love to stay longer, but I should be going soon.”

“I understand” he said setting the bottle down.

“But this was wonderful, and I really hope we can do it again,” she stood and he was quick to help her with her cloak, clipping it for her and everything.

“You’d really like to do this again?” He asked searching her eyes for any regret or lies like he would be able to see them even if they were there.

“I love talking to you Armitage...” she smiled letting her real hand rest on his cheek. “You’re not just a tool for me to use and throw away...” her smile fell as she dropped her hand and went towards the door, “goodnight General...” then she left, and he was still standing confused in his dining room staring at the door.

He got answers, he really did, but they weren’t the answers he was looking for. He was looking for the evil, for the real her, but maybe that was the real her. A calm and loving person with a dark side, she wasn’t evil from the inside out. She was just damaged, but so was he. He planned this whole night to possibly find a reason to hate her or to not trust her, but he found himself missing her presence In his apartment, only moments after she left.

Maybe she did something to him, when she touched him, maybe she’s controlling his mind. No, she wouldn’t do that. That’s exactly what she wants you to think. He shook his head pushing the thoughts away before cleaning up and heading to bed

—

2 months , It was early, way to early for (y/n) to be awake. But General Pryde had to have a word with her. Walking into his office he stop by the window with his hands behind his back.

“Commander (L/N)...” he said turning towards her. “Where were you last night?”

“Excuse me?” She asked looking at him, cocking her head to the side. He smirked in an almost victorious way as he moved towards her.

“Last night 3 members of the resistance boarded the Finalizer,” he was to close to her now, she hated being close to pryde. “Our Ex trooper, the resistance commander, and the Wookie...they got on to easy, so I ask you again.” He was in her face now, if she was able to give herself away she would have snapped him in half. “Where were you last nigh-“ his was interrupted.

“General! Commander! They’ve escaped!” A Lieutenant said as she walked into the office, Pryde pushed the commander from his way as he moved towards the command center, (y/n) following him. She knew how they escaped, her and Hux had talked about it a week before.

“Why didn’t anyone inform me of this sooner!” She said looking at him as they walked, her black and white cape flowing behind her, her lightsaber clipped tightly to her side.

“General Hux said he’d take care of it! And look where that got us!” Pryde said, entering the command center we found hux standing with a cane and a wounded leg. Pryde wasn’t happy, and Kylo wasn’t here to stop him from doing anything.

(Y/n) was only a commander, and to everyone else she was Ren’s weak apprentice, his mistake. Hux started to speak but she only caught onto the last bit.

“They over powered the guards and forced me to take them to their ship!” he spoke quickly, frantic, she could tell he was in pain from the blood on his leg. Pryde walked over towards the trooper standing closest and grabbed the gun. (Y/n) standing not far away them, watching from the door.

“Get me the supreme leader, tell him we found out spy.” She heard Pryde speak before a shot rang out.

She couldn’t stop herself from stopping it, so the laser blast just stayed in mid air inches away from Hux’s chest. Her metal hand held up behind them as Pryde looked up in shock pointing the aim at her as she looked up at him. It was shocking, an overwhelming amount of emotion rushed threw Hux as she saved his life. She risked everything just to throw it away for him to live.

“Shoot me and I shoot you.” She said the laser spinning and pointing towards Pryde. She moved forward getting closer to him, Hux moving out of her way and standing next to her as she faced Pryde. “Kylo may hate Hux, but I hate you even more.” Her other hand moved up and he dropped the blaster quickly as his hands came to his throat trying to break the hold she had him in, thinning the air of his lungs as he spoke.

“Fire!” He tried try to say but none of the troopers moved, not a soul touched the trigger of their guns.

“If you somehow come back to life and own another army, check who works for you...” she let go of his throat and started to walk away, her Ginger sidekick on her side.

Just before leaving the room Hux spoke. “Fire...” and that’s was the end of General Pryde.

“So what now?” Hux asked looking at her.

“Well, we have at least 3,000 soldiers reprogrammed, and for just one person I think we can handle it....” she looked at him and stopped grabbing his shoulders and looking at him. “But for you, I need you to get as far away from here as you can...”

“What about you?” He asked looking into her eyes.

“I’m going to take care of Ren...” she said before starting to walk away towards the throne room. Before she could get to far tho, he grabbed her spinning her around and kissing her, passion filling her soul as it met with his. He pulled away meeting her eyes and smiling softly before he spoke.

“I love you...”

“I know...”

Taglist: @fanboyswhereare-you @hxldmxdxwn @jediminddicks1000

[fencesandfrogs]

cloudtail’s daughter: hollyleaf

alright, continuing my long running deluge of words, we move on to hollyleaf.

ah, hollyleaf. canon did you dirty. luckily, given your lifespan, i can do whatever i want with you. as long as you end up in starclan. also i haven't read squirrelflight's hope so i don't know the deal with that.

right. but as far as i'm concerned, i get to do whatever i want to do with her, and that means i'm...less making tweaks to her character and more giving us more of her, and smoothing out her character arc, because it's all a mess, you don't need me to tell you that.

alright, as per usual, warnings/disclaimers/we: this is for my cloudtail's daughter au. this goes pretty off the rails from canon, so i suspect it'll be coherent, but i still think either the main au explanation or the dovewing post is a better place to start.

2.5k words, 10min read. the least organized of all of these (no section headers).

right so i'm not really sure where to begin with hollyleaf, but i think the best place is the earliest one yet: roughly the fire scene. because hollyleaf is breaking one of my cardinal rules: don't mess with what came before, and so it's best we start there, i think.

right, so hollyleaf, as we know, takes the news about her parentage badly. and i'm not taking that away, mostly, but she doesn't devolve quite so quickly. because i just. don't like it.

hollyleaf is smart, she's loyal, it's a reasonable decision for her to fall of the rails as such, but i just really don't like it. i want hollyleaf to fall apart and come back together. i want her to have to deal with the consequences of her actions. and in this essay i will.. no but i'm getting ahead of myself, we'll do all that. first things first, though, hollyleaf keeps herself together, until she realizes ashfur isn't going to let this stay secret.

so she kills him.

and the truth comes out pretty fast. like no one is 100% sure but everybody knows.

and that? that is what really cracks hollyleaf.

right so remember in my worldbuilding post when i said something-something-i-don't-care-about-hollyleaf's-story? yeah turns out that was a fucking lie.

because i realized that i couldn't really make this work unless i knew why hollyleaf came back because well it's kind of a big deal. so i had to figure it out, and i was hyper proud of myself for realizing she could save dovepaw from the tunnels, and then i was like "well people have a lot of questions for her," to the point where one of the chapters in fading echoes is titled "questions" and it's just straight up people questioning what happened to her.

so. she still goes into the tunnels. and she meets fallen leaves. and they hit it off, probably a little faster. (tbh i'm still not interested in writing this, just what happens).

and she chills walright, continuing my long running deluge of words, we move on to hollyleaf.

ah, hollyleaf. canon did you dirty. luckily, given your lifespan, i can do whatever i want with you. as long as you end up in starclan. also i haven't read squirrelflight's hope so i don't know the deal with that.

right. but as far as i'm concerned, i get to do whatever i want to do with her, and that means i'm...less making tweaks to her character and more giving us more of her, and smoothing out her character arc, because it's all a mess, you don't need me to tell you that.

alright, as per usual, warnings/disclaimers/we: this is for my cloudtail's daughter au. this goes pretty off the rails from canon, so i suspect it'll be coherent, but i still think either the main au explanation or the dovewing post is a better place to start.

right so i'm not really sure where to begin with hollyleaf, but i think the best place is the earliest one yet: roughly the fire scene. because hollyleaf is breaking one of my cardinal rules: don't mess with what came before, and so it's best we start there, i think.

right, so hollyleaf, as we know, takes the news about her parentage badly. and i'm not taking that away, mostly, but she doesn't devolve quite so quickly. because i just. don't like it.

hollyleaf is smart, she's loyal, it's a reasonable decision for her to fall of the rails as such, but i just really don't like it. i want hollyleaf to fall apart and come back together. i want her to have to deal with the consequences of her actions. and in this essay i will... no but i'm getting ahead of myself, we'll do all that. first things first, though, hollyleaf keeps herself together, until she realizes ashfur isn't going to let this stay secret.

so she kills him.

and the truth comes out pretty fast. like no one is 100% sure but everybody knows.

and that? that is what really cracks hollyleaf.

right so remember in my worldbuilding post when i said something-something-i-don't-care-about-hollyleaf's-story? yeah turns out that was a fucking lie.

because i realized that i couldn't really make this work unless i knew why hollyleaf came back because well it's kind of a big deal. so i had to figure it out, and i was hyper proud of myself for realizing she could save dovepaw from the tunnels, and then i was like "well people have a lot of questions for her," to the point where one of the chapters in fading echoes is titled "questions" and it's just straight up people questioning what happened to her.

so you know everything is fine until a thunderclan apprentice stumbles into the tunnels, hurt and scared, unable to protect herself.

hollyleaf and fallen leaves protect dovepaw, a flood happens, i haven't worked out the details and i'm fairly tired ATM, so please forgive my handwaving.

so yeah, dovepaw is with them for three days.

hollyleaf basically gets caught by cinderheart when they're going back, so she's like "well guess now i gotta see my family" and cinderheart is like "yeah u idiot we all miss u n i love u but i am dating ur brother now" and hollyleaf is like "fair enough i have a ghost boyfriend" and they're all good

everyone has a hell of a lot of questions for hollyleaf. i have a whole chapter dedicated to it. here are some of them, and some of the answers.

brambleclaw: why didn't you tell me? (no, he hasn't learned from squirrelflight how unhelpful this question is) hollyleaf: because you're the deputy and there's no guarantee you wouldn't out me, considering you were still disowning me

dovepaw: yo so there was another cat with you wasn't there? hollyleaf: ohhh yeah i have a ghost boyfriend sorry forgot to tell you that

squirrelflight: do you still hate me? hollyleaf: mom i'm so sorry i love you so much

and then hollyleaf is home. i mean jayfeather won't talk to her but that's a few books from now, when they have ghost partners, okay?

but before that, she has to go do beavers, and she never gets a real proper chance to make up with everyone

(don't worry, she'll get the chance before she dies.)

right so dovepaw has her beaver stuff and hollyleaf tags along because Nine Is A Holy Number

really, i just need a narrator on the beaver quest, and for reasons i've mentioned but will explain in a moment, it can't be cinderheart.

so i have this symbolism going where dove/ivy start and end the series (what, i'm big on structural symbolism. i put thought into everything. especially since i'm limited in these books with what/how i accomplish, so the things that are entirely mine, like who narrates what, is carefully thought out). anyway that's because they have turning points in their relationship in the first and last book. they fall apart at the midpoint of growing shadows, and they aren't fully repaired ever, but they get closest at about the midpoint of the last hope. that's a symbolic thing, that they've come back to where they've started, but not quite. can't go back, even if you regret.

regret is a big theme in this series. ivy and dove are a pair in part because they're bound by all of these regrets that keeps stacking up.

now, the natural choice for a narrator of the beavers would be cinderheart. she's a substitude lionblaze as far as this book is concerned. however, cinderheart needs to be the main narrator when she takes dovepaw to the tribe. she just does. so we could do two cinderheart books in a row, but then where do we put lionblaze? he's not really a major character in the second arc, he basically does nothing. i guess we could have him deal with sol, but cinderheart's arc is supposed to be she learns how to solve problems in different ways, and that's why she's able to tackle sol. so, like, fine, what if we make cinderheart and lionblaze arc one narrators, and have sol be a background thing? i mean, if i did it for the dark forest, i could definitely do it for this.

so that does create one problem: regret doesn't bind cinderheart to lionblaze. regret is a theme through cinderpelt and cinderheart. lionblaze is a sexy lamp. he doesn't mean anything, he's just a love interest to challenge cinderheart. so. it feels bad to me to artifiically pair them together and imply they have a dynamic like that.

and the larger problem is what it does to hollyleaf and jayfeather.

see, hollyleaf and jayfeather have this aborted forgiveness arc, that plagues jayfeather. i'm going to write a jayfeather super edition so help me god, but that's for another time. anyway, hollyleaf is trying to make up with everyone, but jayfeather won't let her.

and he's never going to get the chance to make amends, because she dies in the last book.

but anyway, if we make hollyleaf and jayfeather the exclusive narrators of books 4 and 5, we imply their character arc happens. there. and that's...not what happens.

it's aborted. they're decoupled, desynched. they have a moment of synchrony, where they have this shared experience, but it's not enough. hollyleaf is in jayfeather's past, and he's tryign so hard to move forward. it's all ~very symbolic.~

right. back to the present day, hollyleaf has to go to do the beavers mostly because i said so, but also because i'm cautious about drawing false parallels. i think it was cinderheart's essay where i said this is the only part of it i have control over (was it earlier in this essay i've worked on this for like 3 days) and so i want to do it right. but also, she's going to be a good narrator, becuase she's covering a lot of ground, and i think hollyleaf is pretty interesting.

so hollyleaf, my dear, terrified of breaking the code, hollyleaf, watches dovepaw and tigerheart get...close.

and this is. well, hollyleaf has seen what happened when people date illegal options. and it's not good.

so she spends most of the book just kinda panicking, waiting for the moment this goes south.

beavers happen, it's the same as the books, i'm super uninterested in that plotline to the point of memery. hollyleaf is fine, everything is fine, dovepaw is sad now because cats died, everything is fine.

so i mentioned at some point or the other that dovepaw begins sleeping on top of tigerheart. dovepaw, at this point, is fully grown, but she's on the smaller side. she's a standard to small cat. tigerheart is a tigerstar clone, and tigerstar has some maine coon genes or something because he's massive. so uhh you know she probably could literally sleep on top of him but it's not quite that, it's more she's curled up and he's kind of curled up around her, but not as a concious thing. it's similar to when u accidentally wake up cuddling someone bc u shared a bed and that's that. but less awkward.

anyway hollyleaf is like "cinderheart cinderheart we should do something this is a problem," but if u remember from cinderheart, cinderheart is also being nagged by cinderpelt about this.

so cinderheart doesn't want to hear it and hollyleaf is pretty much "whelp guess i'll just die" and by die i mean quietly glare at tigerheart and shower dovepaw in love and affection.

anyway yeah after that hollyleaf does nothing for like two books.

or one book? i guess beavers is book two anyway look she misses her gf but cinderheart is in the mountains and then she's like "oh wait i have a ghost bf i should talk to"

so hollyleaf spends more and more time in the tunnels. this book actually takes place at about the same time as distant whispers. there's not 100% overlap, but it's close.

right so jayfeather (i swear i wrote dovefeather this is the problem with having 3 linked aus god) follows hollyleaf into the tunnels and he has his whole time travel sequence/half of it i still haven't decided what i'm doing with it.

and hollyleaf and fallen leaves have good ole interpersonal drama, where they're trying to be a thing but hollyleaf belongs in thunderclan and yes, this means that hollyleaf is the character who gets the singular book, because jayfeather is extremely isolated from the main plot. in fact, the only reason i keep the time travel plot is because canon. not that i don't like that it exists but for it to have been executed well it needs to be less disjoint. which is why i think i'm breaking A Rule so i can put it all in oots so it's more logical. but that's a different rant.

anyway, there's a quasi-religious conflict where hollyleaf is like "just go to starclan" and fallen leaves is like "my whole problem is how i can't do that"

uh yeah idrk exactly what happens it is once again 3am so uhhh yeah ghost cats she considers leaving thunderclan bc jayfeather won't talk to her lionblaze is away she's still mad at leafpool and squilf is in an abusive relationship and hollyleaf is still pretty young, y'know? that's a lot.

firestar is like "grand daughter i love you dearly but can u maybe uh can u maybe make up your god damn mind"

anyway so hollyleaf and fallen leaves have a bit of a fight, he's like, "i'm keeping u back," she's like "ur not" but she knows he is, etc etc it's very sad and dramatic

so they kind of break up? it's a lil complicated but basically they're not talking to each other for a while, they're on the cat equivalent of "taking a break" ig

alright, so then book 5 happens, and it's jayfeather and cinderheart prepping for the great battle. idk. hollyleaf chills w lionblaze in BGCH and makes friends with ivypool. it's chill. i mean, it's not, but it is.

book six, hollyleaf is the only one to stay in thunderclan. she's kinda j chilling til the battle. and then. and then. oh this is the good part.

she sacrifices her self for ivypool.

yeah. okay, this is super disjoint, so i'm going with it. hollyleaf? done.

[titriwrites]

In Sickness and in Health

First of all, thank you to @devikafernando for allowing me to use Charlie from our collab fanfics over at @titrianddevikawrite. I know you can use the distraction too, maybe? (By the way, this is probably an AU from our storyline as I’ve got no idea how this is going to fit anywhere :D )

And secondly, @pipolaki requested “If I die, I’m haunting you first.” from this prompt list

Enjoy on AO3 or under the cut!

In Sickness and in Health

Charlotte Cromwell – no, she corrects herself – Charlotte Hiddleston makes her way home after an exhausting day in the hospital. It’s nothing unusual, hell, she’s had a hundred times more horrible days somewhere in the past. It’s just that it didn’t really matter then. Not as much as it does now. Because as much as Charlie loves her job and helping her little patients, it’s definitely nothing compared to the life she’s living at home now.

Tom’s waiting for her there. Tom and their two daughters, because yes, Evie’s ‘hers’ now as well, and just as loved as little Rose is – who by now has her own little personality and is keeping her parents busy with all the enthusiasm and lust for adventure a two-year-old can have – especially being the daughter of one Tom Hiddleston.

Okay, Charlie admits as she slips out of her shoes first and then loses her jacket, the last week has been kind of hellish at home as well with her very own little patients waiting for her. First, it was Evie bringing the flu home from school. Of course, it didn’t take long for Rose to catch it, too, no matter how careful Tom and Charlie had been. But now it seems like their children survived – Tom has probably suffered more than them, though – and Charlie’s just glad it’s over for now.

She checks the clock in the kitchen as she prepares her tea. 9 o’clock. She swears. She wanted to tell the children goodnight, but well, sometimes her job means that she can’t make it home to her own children in order to help others. Tom knows this and Evie gets it as well, little Rose is still too young to actually understand.

At least she can still hear the tv playing in the living-room, so she knows Tom’s still there and waiting for her. It is strangely quiet otherwise, though, no padding of feet on the floor announcing her husband making his way over to meet her. Maybe Tom’s fallen asleep? The two cats aren’t coming, either, but then again they may be out and about in the neighbourhood.

Charlie grabs the tea she’s prepared and makes her way from the kitchen to the living-room right next to it. She feels so at home in Tom’s house. It’s not the largest they could get probably, and it’s still the one Tom and Evie lived in with Emily, but it’s amazing how quickly they were all able to call it ‘theirs’.

And then Charlie stops before she’s reached the comfy couch Tom loves to lounge on. He’s indeed asleep. And slightly snoring, which is unusual for him, except for when he’s a bit tipsy – Charlie can’t see a sign of that anywhere – or when he comes down with the flu. You don’t really need to be a doctor to get it, do you?

She refrains from rolling her eyes, because just yesterday her husband told her how he never got sick and wouldn’t start with it now, but instead smiles sympathetically, puts down her tea on the coffee table and sits down next to Tom.

His skin is already a bit clammy and his hair sticks to his forehead. She rubs his shoulder softly, trying to get him to wake up without startling him.

“Tom?” she whispers. “Tom, love, wake up for me?”

“No,” is the mumbled reply, groaned into the pillow underneath his head.

Charlie smothers a grin. She’s seen him with a cold or the flu once or twice. She knows what state he’s in. Right after ‘I’m invincible, I’ll never get the flu’ comes ‘I’m perfectly fine, I simply choked and am not currently coughing my lungs out’. It’s paired with already being sick and the most stubborn pouts she’s ever seen on a grown-up’s face. But no matter how much Tom refuses to be sick, he actually is. So. No mocking him. At least not tonight. Tonight she wants to drink her tea, re-heat the dinner her family’s had and then go to bed, preferably with Tom.

“I think you’re already awake, though,” she whispers back. “And I can imagine you’re not feeling too good.”

“’m fine.”

“Fine.”

Blue eyes, a bit too glassy for her taste, stare back at her. With a slight cough Tom pushes himself up on his forearms, barely able to hold his own bodyweight. The hair that’s not stuck to his forehead falls in a mess of curls around his face. “Feeling good. How was your day?”

“Tom…”

“Charlie.”

She raises a brow. “You’re really going to do this? Even though we both know how this will end?”

The glare loses some of its power – that it didn’t even have in the first place – with the quiet sniffling Tom’s doing. “I don’t know what you mean,” he croaks out. “I just want to know how my wife’s feeling.”

Charlie chuckles. There really isn’t much else to do. Let him be stubborn, she’s going to prepare for tomorrow morning then. “Better than her husband I think,” she mumbles, but continues at Tom’s huff, “I’m a bit tired and a bit hungry. I’d love to eat some late dinner and then go to bed. Would you care to join me?”

He nods. “I’d love that. But no funny business if you’re tired.”

This time, she can’t smother the laugh that escapes her. “Understood. I’m the reason we’re not doing that tonight, my big, strong, healthy man. Thank you for looking out for me.”

***

Well, the next morning Charlie is awoken by her big, strong and healthy man moaning and groaning next to her in bed. And not in that sexy-bedroom-voice of his. It’s a little pathetic coughing that comes next and a very (very, very) weakly whispered, “Charlie, love? Help?”

She opens her eyes to a dark room, cuddled from behind by what seems to be a human furnace, but could just be her husband. The dawn is breaking outside, and Charlie can hear a bird here and there. Large hands rub her stomach and puffs of air meet her neck. Tom’s apparently so weak, he can’t even keep her in his arms as she turns around to face him.

Red cheeks, swollen eyes, red nose and dry lips. Yup, that’s the flu.

“How are you?” she asks, trailing a fingertip down Tom’s nose.

“Barely alive.”

Ah. So sometime during the night they’ve reached the next stage. Miserable Tom, who’s most certainly the closest to death any person has ever been without actually dying – probably, since the next 24 hours will be crucial.

“But still alive, that’s good,” she grins.

“If I die, I’m haunting you first.”

Charlie snickers, then attempts a shocked face. It’s not working and to be honest Tom couldn’t see it anyway, lying there in misery, eyes closed. “What have I done?”

“You’re mocking me. And you’re not doing anything to make me feel better and save me. You’ll regret this in one or two hours, when you’ll find me dead in our bed.”

“But you’re not really sick. You’ve told me so yesterday.”

“The situation has changed. It seems like this is a horrible flu, Charlie. It requires a broth, pain medicine and cuddles.”

Okay. She was wrong. He does have that low, sexy, bedroom-voice. Damn him, even sick he’s a sight for sore eyes and a heavenly voice to hear. She should also not be aroused by that.

“I don’t know, Tom. Maybe I should get the children and flee from this horrible illness of yours. Everyone fights for themselves, right?”

The answer is a whine and then a little tug on her sleeping shirt, right by her thigh. “Stop mocking me. I’m seriously ill. Don’t let those be the last words to me, and make me feel better.”

“Please?”

“Please.”

Charlie lives for that small smile around Tom’s lips as she moves a little closer and then rubs his shoulders softly , before she pushes some of his hair out of his face.

“Well, you asked so nicely.”

“I did,” her murmurs, sounding half asleep again.

“Tea and toast then?”

“An’ pills. ‘n cuddles.”

With a kiss on his nose, she moves out of the bed. “Coming right up.”

“Hm. Love you.”

She smiles. God, this man. “Love you too.”

Tagging: (I hope you’re okay with being tagged in this, since it’s not the usual blog, but “just” Charlie) @nuggsmum @hallotom @sinfully-lustful-darling @royallylazy @lasimo74allmyworld @ilovetardis @witkoa61 @hakimo2015 @antyc67 @wolfsmom1 @brinschk @crushed-pink-petals-writes @avenger-nerd-mom @jhangelface0523 @deathbyukmen @say-my-name-assbut @omninocte @sf0206 @frenchfrostpudding @hiddlepiggle @theblackthrone @honeybournehippy @muchobsessedwithpretty06 @justthelosersblog @letsgetlokid @noclevernamelbr @theduchessinme @craftynidan @bemynightmanager @inkededucatednnerdy @fairlightswiftly @okiejess1208 @ladyninasayers-ish @siochan-leat @evieplease @vertdragain @youareadistraction @patheimathos @nikkalia @thebluedreamofsky @mandapanda8 @lokilockedcougar @ms-cellanies @perfect-and-awesome @alexakeyloveloki @theheartofpenelope @hiddlescastle @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @pipolaki 

[song-fox]

Introducing: another self-indulgent AU that I made up completely on a whim because I was feeling nostalgic.

Long post ahead, I got suuper carried away and also I can't do the cut thing TwT

And now: Sanders Sides Ever After High AU (with some alterations to fit the characters and story more, obviously)

-Virgil, son of the Evil Queen from Snow White's story

-Roman, son of Snow White (honestly were these^ two even a question of who they would be lmao)

-Patton, son of Cinderella

-Logan, son of Belle

-Remus, son of the Mad Hatter (him and Roman aren't related in this AU)

-Janus, son of the Cheshire Cat

-Remy, son of Sleeping Beauty

-Emile, son of Cupid

(Btw, by 'son' I mean descendant. These guys are just descendants of the original characters and live out the og fairytale, idk why they're called the sons and daughters of the characters in the actual show)

Now, onto the story!

Ever After High is a school where all the kids of fairytale characters go and learn more about their respective fairytales, magic and whatnot. Separated into Royals and Rebels, those who want to follow their destinies and those who don't, these kids are just trying to navigate through high school and figure out their place in the fairytale world.

Virgil Queen is... somewhat of an outcast. Son of the Evil Queen, one of the most malicious villains in their history, and he doesn't exactly try to live down the title. He hexes anyone who bothers him a little too much, he snaps at people who judge him for 'being too mean' (he was just defending himself, grow up), and he's best friends with one of the weirdest kids in school. Oh, and he was the first ever Rebel at school. He was the one who (accidentally, mind you) started the whole split between Royals and Rebels when he refused to sign the Storybook of Legends and accept his destiny as a villain, encouraging others to do the same. Did it result in an hour-long lecture from the principal and an even longer scolding from his mother? Of course. Does he regret it? Not in the slightest.

Remus Hatter, son of the Mad Hatter. He's a little... let's say, strange? He keeps summoning things out of nowhere with little to no explanation. He keeps talking to 'narrators' (Thomas is a favourite of his). He can and will beat you black and blue if you so much as look at Virgil too unkindly. And he is obsessed with tea. His outcast status made him and Virgil fast friends, and they've stuck together ever since. Proud Rebel and lets everyone know it (he loves his dad and all and definitely lives up to his Mad Hatter title, but it's just not his thing, y'know?). Resident wildcard and probably the subject of at least 90% of sentences from his classmates that start with, "There was this one kid at school who..."

Janus Cheshire is a rather unusual case, to say the least. No one knows if he's a Royal or a Rebel. He seems pretty committed to confusing and pranking the heck out of other students... but he's also, like, super sweet? Especially to Patton Ella. One moment he's making sure you've taken care of yourself properly and handing out water bottles, next moment he's stealing your textbooks and leaving ominous notes about breaking your kneecaps. You'd be lucky if you've ever had a conversation longer than a few minutes with him, especially if he's visible while talking to you. Closest friends are probably Remus and Logan, reluctant frienemies with Virgil.

Now, onto the Royals.

Loyal Royal and proud as hell, Roman White, son of Snow White. Not too popular, but it would definitely be fair to say that he has a certain influence over the students. Perfect parentage, triple threat, girls absolutely smitten for him, what else could he need? His relationship with Virgil is certainly... strained, but they get along just enough to be begrudging roommates. Well, Roman was the one who persuaded the headmaster to put them together in the first place... but it's for Virgil's own good! Who knows what could happen if he didn't follow his destiny? There would be fights and arguments and holes in his story, and he'd never get his happily ever after! That's important, right?

(After a certain conversation with Remy Briar, Roman's not so sure anymore.)

-Patton Ella, son of Cinderella and a Royal. Well, sort of. He wants to follow his destiny and all, but it's kinda difficult to do that when you catch feelings for someone who is neither from your story nor a prince. A certain Cheshire has caught his eye for now, and he's just hoping he won't screw everything up. He's also got a job at a nearby shoe store, surprisingly enough. Patton doesn't really understand the Rebels, but he certainly tries his best to be nice to them, especially when Janus has been so nice to him all the time. But even so, being a Royal is messy and restrictive... but he can't be a Rebel, can he? That would be wrong! ...right?

-Loagn Beauty, son of Belle (Roman is insanely jealous of his surname). He's just about what you'd expect from the son of Belle: book-smart, adventurous, idealistic, and harbouring a crippling case of gifted kid burnout, which is a lot of fun. A bit of a floater around school- got a lot of friends (people admire him for his intellect and, as his name suggests, beauty), but is only really close with a few. Surprising a lot closer to Virgil, Janus and Remus than any other Royals. Roman doesn't think it's suspicious at all. Logan tries not to think about it. After all, Roman isn't worth his time; gods know how he got so many friends. He may be a Royal himself (sort of), but at least he can still see how obnoxious the prince truly is.

-Remy Briar, son of Sleeping Beauty (yes I changed the surname shut up). He's loud, full of sass and caffeine, and the absolute life of the party. Even Virgil finds himself enjoying one of his parties every now and again. He's spiteful and petty enough to make a Canadian goose weep tears of envy, always caught up in someone's drama, and, obviously, a Royal. Totally. Sort of. Well, technically... maybe. But... he doesn't want to sleep for a hundred years. He doesn't want to follow his destiny and lose all his friends to something as stupid as a nap. But what would people think of him if he didn't? He's been eyeing up the Storybook of Legends lately. Virgil's curious. Patton has been caught staring a few times. And Remy keeps disappearing from his own parties to go look for 'something'. As the Cheshires would say, "Curiouser and curiouser..."

-Emile Cupid, son of Cupid and last of the bunch. Neither a Royal nor a Rebel since he doesn't really have much of a story to follow. Instead he only wants to enjoy school and help out his fellow classmates, whether it's in the love department or not. And contrary to popular belief, he actually doesn't use heart-tipped arrows to make people fall in love, despite his bow and quiver that say otherwise. He just never really saw the point in using them; if it's meant to be, then let it happen on its own, right? And speaking of, he supports the Rebels and fully believes in following your heart, and hey, who is he to ignore his own when it gets a little nervous around a certain rose in the thorns (or should he say... briar)?

High school is hard enough when you've got drama on who's doing what and why, so imagine how it must be for these kids when there's magical storybooks and curses and destinies on the line, too.

But hey! They can navigate it, as long as they've got each other!

...right?

(Just might make a full story on this 👀 who knows 👀👀)

[wildshub]

WHO: The Fearless Fifteen  WHAT: The castaways play a game of ‘Two Truths and a Lie’ to pass the time once they’ve taken shelter from the storm in the cave. WHEN: Day 5, later in the day NOTE: Just posting for record and so it’s easier to refer back to.

Jenny Since leaving the beach with the others Jenny had been struggling to stay present. Pain from their hand making them feel numb, and over time it was getting harder and harder to fight. The rain was loud outside the cave, quickly turning into a thunderstorm, but still they felt themselves fighting against fading completely. " Should we do something? " They voiced, looking to the others from their seated position. Their hair and clothes soaked completely, hoodie sleeve strategically pulled down over their still tender burn. The wet material was probably as close as they were going to get to soothing it tonight. " To pass the time, or whatever? "

Shane shane was squatting near one of the cave walls, wringing the water out of her shirt and hoodie, still regretting that she thought it was a good idea to take them off before the rain picked up. she was just grateful that divya suggested they moved here so they could actually get out of the rain. hearing jenny finally speak up, shane's eyes snapped to them, almost expecting them to freak out again. "never have i ever isn't as fun without alcohol," she commented. giving up on her clothes, shane sighed at sat down, pulling her knees up to her chest. "anyone know any other games?"

Divya While remembering the cave was good quick thinking on her part, getting to the cave in the rain was another story entirely. Divya was absolutely soaked after journeying through the jungle to get to the cave. She was in the midst of wringing out her hair when Jenny and then Shane spoke, a pang in her chest when the soccer captain mentioned games other than Never Have I Ever. "Wish I'd brought my UNO," Divya then said, lips turning downwards. It was difficult to remember in the midst of the heavy downpour. She sighed, plopping down on the ground against the wall of the cave. "Maybe we can play like a question game?" She then suggested after a moment. "Like Two Truths and a Lie or something." It was a simple enough game, one that didn't need alcohol or cards.

Jenny Trust Divya to long for her UNO cards when they were soaking wet in a cave on a deserted island with no idea where the rest of the group was. UNO cards didn't even crack the top 100 things they needed right now, but they did sort of wish she had brought them too. If they weren't so emotionally drained they probably would have made a joke about it but all they could muster was the corners of their lips tugging upwards a second. Though they didn't love the idea of opening up, especially when they were feeling so vulnerable already, it was Shane and Divya. The two they were closest to feeling safe around. And they didn't have any better suggestions either. " Yeah, I'm down, " they gave a pause to allow the others to agree before they launched the first round. Desperate for some noise other than the storm outside. " I'm an only child. I'm banned from like, most the bodegas near my house back home. And, " they trailed for a second, pretending to think of another one " my hand really fucking hurts. " They joked, not moving the hand in question from its delicate position. Now they only had to figure out which was the lie between the first two.

Shane shane couldn’t help the weak chuckle she made when divya brought up not having UNO with them, one of these days, they should really humor her and actually play a game. the idea of playing a game designed to get them to talk about themselves was not shane’s idea of a good time, but jenny and divya were probably the only two people that shane didn’t mind being around. at least it wasn’t joss; but as she thought that, she couldn’t help but wonder where the other captain was in this awful storm. she hoped the others were able to find cover somewhere. sighing, shane gave in, “okay, yeah.” jenny went first and of course they all knew the last one was true, but shane being herself went the sarcastic route, “oh the last one is totally a lie.”

Divya Despite all of the nastiness going on outside with the terrible weather, Divya was glad the lot of them in a cave could agree to do something fun and lighthearted like a game of Two Truths and A Lie to get their mind off of it. She chuckled at Shane's sarcasm. "Oh yeah, totally," she echoed with a smile. Though truthfully, she hoped Jenny would be alright. They would have to let them have a look at it later to see what the group could do about it. "But in all seriousness, I'm thinking the second one. The bodega one. No way you're banned by that many. How does one even get banned at a Bodega?"

Jenny Smile once again tugged at the corners of Jenny's lips while the other two joked along. It was a small thing, but it made them feel a bit better about it. And then Divya took a serious jab at it. And Jenny tried to hide any reaction, very easy to do in the growing darkness of the cave. " Is that your final answer? " They asked, raising their brows in her direction. Then they looked to Shane, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. Shane had the advantage, knowing what a bodega was like, and how annoying teenagers could be in them. " Do you think bodegas too? "

Shane when divya gave a real answer, shane thought she was off the hook on being serious for a moment. that is until jenny turned their attention to her. thinking it over for a second, she almost agreed with divya until she remembered how easily one of her teammates got banned one night when they were drunk. shane herself could have been banned too if she wasn’t outside having a smoke. “nah, i’m going siblings, bodega’s will ban you for anything. though, that sucks if it’s true,” she said the last part jokingly. “so which is it?”

Luna "What's a bodega?" Luna asked, pushing her dripping hair from her face as she looked up. She'd been quietly listening to the others, while tracing patterns into the dirt on the cave floor. She kind of wanted to play, but she was lost. "I can't know if you'd get banned from them all if I don't know what one is." Jenny They nodded at Shane's answer and pursed their lips as they did, mockingly, like they were weighing up which was true for themselves. But before they could reveal the truth, they were surprised to hear Luna pipe up. It threw them a little. And her question did too. " It's like– " they glanced to Shane in hopes of receiving a little help in describing the New York staple before they looked back to Luna. " Like a corner store, or something. It just sells like snacks and drinks and basic stuff. " They explained with a shrug of their shoulders. " So, only child or bodegas? Which is the lie? " They asked Luna specifically, now she was involved in the game.

Luna "So like a milk bar?" Luna replied, as if the American would somehow know what an Australian milk bar was like. She imagined it was like a bodega, but she didn't know. She bit her lip, tilting her head and considering the question. Truth was, she hadn't spoken to Jenny enough to know. Jenny had avoided her for so long, that their only real conversation had been about stars. "Dunno. Maybe the only child one?" she replied with a sly grin. Getting banned from every corner store seemed like the more fun option to be true.

Jenny "A what? " Their brows furrowed together, having no idea what a milk bar was but like, context made them assume it was what Australians called bodegas but like ... what the fuck? " Is that what Aussies call them? " they asked, still confused but also amused at this point too. But she voted only child too. They wondered for a second how much guessing was going on or if they were actually trying to figure it out. But they paused that snowball before it became a problem and simply told the truth. " I have two brothers and one sister. And I am banned from the five bodegas closest to my place. " They revealed, face cracking into a grin.

Luna "A milk bar," Luna repeated. She shrugged. "I guess so? I've never heard anyone call them something else except in movies." No one else was here to back her up--where was Joss? The other Australian, Luna suddenly realised, was not with them. She frowned, looking around them to check. But Jenny's reveal pulled her attention back. "Nice. What'd you do?"

Shane shane was right along with jenny in wonder what the fuck luna was talking about. “okay but do milk bars have cats? because there’s nothing better than a bodega cat.” she couldn’t help but feeling a little proud that she was able to guess correctly, but like luna, she wondered what they did to get banned from five bodegas. “yeah, whatcha do? am i going to see your picture on some wall of shame when i go home?” when. she was glad she said that instead of if because especially in the middle of this storm, shane was exactly hopeful.

Jenny Jenny wondered how a whole country could say milk bar with a straight face but they weren't going to press it. It was trivial. But Shane made a good point. " Bodega cats are the fucking best, " they agreed, suddenly filled with warm memories instead of the horrific ones that had been especially bad that day. They chuckled a little at the mention of the wall of shame. " Maaybe, " they answered, pretending to be coy about it for a second before they broke with a chuckle. They were definitely on a few walls of shame back home, Mia was on some too. " Just like, dumb things. Not paying for stuff, that sort of thing. " It was pretty much just solely shoplifting but they weren't sure they really wanted it to seem that way. " One time I just knocked a couple things over by accident but the guy was having a shit day I guess. " They chuckled again. But that was more than enough about them. In fact, give it a couple minutes, and it'd be way too fucking much. " So, who's next? "

Luna Her eyes widened. "Wait, you guys have cats in your bodegas? We don't have cats in the milk bars." Luna wished they did. She grinned at the idea of a wall of shame being a common feature in bodegas too. Shoplifters being on it made sense, she supposed, remembering the crappy CCTV pictures that were behind the counter in the small grocery store near her house. "I'll go, I guess." She hummed for a moment, deciding what to say. "Okay! I'm an only child. I was rushed to hospital to have my appendix removed. And I was homeschooled for a few years." The truths seemed benign enough for now, she hoped.

Divya Divya was loving this game. It was nice to learn about the other girls. You'd think with all of the free time they had on the island that they would have learned plenty about each other by now, but keeping yourself alive when you were stranded was hard. And very tiring. At the end of the day, you just wanted to sleep on your bed of sand. "Hmm." She narrowed her eyes at Luna, as if that would help her figure out which one of the three facts was a lie. "I'm gonna go with appendix," she decided after a moment. "What about you guys?" She asked the others.

Shane shane nodded, making a mental note to keep an eye out for jenny’s picture whenever they made it back home. kind of a small world moment if she was actually able to find them. attention shifted to luna as she went next and honestly she was stumped. she was pretty sure this was the most she had spoken to the other girl in the five days on the island so she really didn’t have much to go on, so she played it safe and decided to side with divya on this round. “yeah, i’m thinking appendix too,” she said with a shrug.

Jenny They considered the options presented to the group. They had already noted the scar of Luna's arm, so similar to their own, and though it had nothing to do with an appendix and made them think that she wasn't a stranger to surprise medical procedures. But, then that was the option Divya and Shane went with. " Guess I'll go with homeschool, mix it up a little. " They didn't think Luna was stupid enough to lie about being an only child so soon after Jenny had.

Luna It was a little surprising to her that the others caught her out so quickly. Except Jenny, who went with home schooling. "I still have my appendix," she confessed with a small grin, not admitting she had been rushed to hospital for a host of other things. "How did you guys know?" Maybe it was just a lucky guess.

Shane shane had a smug smile on her face when luna announced that she and divya were right. that’s two for two. though, she was mostly guessing, shane was still proud of her ability to read people. “honestly, i totally guessed and went with welbs on that one.” shifting where she sat, shane put her legs down since it was doing nothing to help warm her. after a moment of thought, she decided she might as well get her turn over with. “okay so, i lost my virginity to a guy at 14. i can play the guitar. and i have travelled to 5 different countries.” she was sure her lie was obvious but if everyone else wasn’t going deep yet, neither was she.

Jenny Jenny nodded a little at the reveal. If it had been someone they had spoken to more they might have been a little disappointed at the lose, but seeing as they and Luna had only spoken a tiny amount, and about stars of all things, they didn't feel too bad. But then someone they had spoken to quite a lot took their turn: Shane. Even though they hadn't spoken about any of those topics, Jenny would feel a little bad if they couldn't figure this one out. Once again brows furrowed a little as they thought. " I'm thinking either first one or last one. " They said aloud, looking around to gage what the others might be thinking. " Anything with a specific number is easy to make a little lie out of. " They added, to give reasoning to their thoughts. Though, on top of that, they'd be severely disappointed for Shane if she'd lost her virginity to a guy.

Alexa alexa couldn’t believe anyone would decide to turn her belongings into a rain collector, but the wind and the rain caused her to wrap all her things into a blanket in panic and head for the cave. couple wrong turns and she was starting to feel like she wouldn’t make it so she stopped by a massive tree to cry for over 20 minutes before continuing. as she entered the cave to find the peaceful atmosphere of the girls settled she dropped her stuff to the floor in relief. except the champagne now hanging from her hand. “okay who the FUCK ruined my suitcase? you know what? doesn’t matter! I hope you enjoy freezing instead of being wrapped in a nice DRY blanket. also i had the insides of that suitcase coated in special paint that reacts badly with water so all the water in there is basically toxic now. think about that next time you, the culprit, wants to fuck with somebody else’s shit.” she will drip all over Shane on her way around deeper into the cave and away from its entrance. “what did I miss? where is Joss?”

Divya Divya was having such a great time with the girls, smiling and taking guesses. They all really were making the best of a bad situation. "You make a good point," Divya agreed with Jenny when she caught their gaze. She gave it a moment's thought before turning to Shane and squinting, doing her signature move of narrowing her eyes - as if that held any real weight to how accurately once could sus out which fact was a lie. "I'm going with the first one. Too many details." A guy and at 14. Though the second she thought it, she realized: wait, maybe more details were better. She was just about to open her mouth to change her answer and then Lex made her way into the cave. Her heart dropped to her bum at the mention of the suitcase, gulping when she knew it was all her and Shane's doing . She looked over to the soccer captain, eyes clearly expressing panic.

Shane shane smiled to herself when jenny and divya read her so easily. she opened her mouth to give the answer right as someone walked into the cave. the second she heard lex's voice behind her, shane froze, staring right at divya. water dripped on shane's already wet head. running her hands over her head to wipe the water off, shane saw the visible panic in divya's eyes. shane just barely shook her head, hoping the other girl could pick up on the fact that they should keep quiet. "i haven't see joss since last night. hopefully she found shelter," shane said instead of acknowledging lex's suitcase. "we're trying to pass the time with a game. so do you think lex, i lost my v-card to a dude at 14, i play the guitar, or i've been to 5 different countries, which is a lie?" she tried to make her voice sound as neutral as possible as she tried to push the conversation away from lex's belongings.

Jenny Though Jenny had nothing to do with the further ruining of Lex's suitcase, having been preoccupied with the fire, they did feel a little guilty about leaving her behind. And when she mentioned Joss, Jenny was forced to think about just how many people were missing from the cave. And though it really wasn't, they immediately believed that was at least mostly their fault. Adjusting their position so legs were to their chest and arms wrapped around them, as a form of comfort. Their right hand hanging loosely off to the side to avoid putting pressure on the still stinging burn. As both Divya and Shane seemed to chose to ignore the whole suitcase thing and all the energy Lex had brought with her into the cave and instead push forward with the game, Jenny did too. " Divs and I are saying v-card. It has more details than the other options. "

Alexa Alexa couldn’t believe none of them even acknowledged her suitcase conundrum and she was determined to make them regret it. Shane’s quick change of topic and unreasonably welcoming behaviour made her suspicious as heck and she was now eyeing all of them as if they al knew and she was the idiot. Regardless she sits down, pulls out a couple of semi-dry shirts from the plastic bag. She puts on a fluffy pink pullover and passes the rest towards Divya. “Well, Shane has all the attitude of someone who should be getting laid but isn’t so, I’m gonna go with the 5 countries one. I don’t know man, what’s your zodiac again?” as if all the answers stood hidden in that one answer. Without much thinking she’ll pass the champagne to her right and pull her knees to her chest. “Seriously though has no one seen Joss? I need a shit liar in this circle if I’m even gonna attempt to win this game.”

Shane shane knew they were suspicious as fuck but considering alexa was probably already blaming her for it, there wasn’t much she could do besides hope divya wasn’t going to have a panic attack over what they did. but if worst came to worst, she’d take the fall and give some speech about how it was used for the greater good of survival and how alexa’s clothes could dry while they actually have water to drink. instead, she stays quiet and just rolls her eyes at lex’s comment. “well considering we’ve been stuck here for 5 days, it has been too long since i’ve been laid. and i’m an aquarius, but i don’t see how that can sway your choice,” she shot back. if shane was honest, she was worried about joss and the other girls. they could be anywhere right now and she just hoped they were okay. instead she just shook her head and frowned at the mention of her. “anyways, welbs and jenny were right. i was 14 but i would never sleep with a guy. who’s next?”

Divya Divya tried her best to keep her calm, swallowing her nerves and looking anywhere but Alexa's eyes to help her do so. She took the plastic from the girl with a nod, eyes toward the ground when she did so. She felt somewhat better rummaging the bag for something dry to wear, even more so when Shane revealed the lie and declared her and Jenny winners. "Yes!" She cheered, squeezing a hand into a victorious fist. At the same time she found something decent to change into from Alexa's bag, tossing it over to Jenny so they could have a nosey now. "I wanna go!" Divya announced. "I have an older sister, I've never broken a bone in my body, aaaand I took first place in a watermelon eating competition in Year 3." She flashed a grin when she was finished with her list of facts, smile faltering slightly when she accidentally made eye contact with Alexa.

Jenny When Lex mentioned Joss again, Jenny thought of piping up to say obviously they hadn't seen her. Or Oona, or like everyone else who wasn't already in the cave. If they had seen any of them they would have made sure they came with them. Or Divya would have at least. But when the question was followed by only wanting Joss around because she was a shit liar, Jenny bit their tongue. Their lips cracked a small smile once more when it was revealed they and Divya had been correct. Even a light chuckle escaped them as they witnessed the other's excitement. When handed the plastic bag, they reached for it with their good hand, keeping the other hidden in hoodie sleeve. Though they'd just argued that more details meant lie, they felt differently when Divya filled her last option with far more details than the rest. " I think broken bone, " they decided, pulling a shirt from the bag before passing it on. " I've seen how clumsy you are, there's no way you've never broken a bone. " They said with a sort of affectionate teasing as they looked to her. Plus, she was decked out in athletic stuff. There was no way an athletic kid hadn't broken a bone at some point.

Alexa she observed them all carefully and for a moment even Divya appeared suspicious. That’s how she knew she was probably tired and making stuff up at this point. Now focused entirely on the game, and lowkey annoyed that she guessed Shane wrong, she tries to look for hints on Divyas face but to no avail. She just seemed like she was lying altogether. Lex was never much good at reading people though, or situations, she just either vibed with people or didn’t. Jenny’s answer seamed very likely so she’ll nod. “Yes, yes I’ll second that too. I mean, it does seem the most plausible. But then the watermelon is so specific I’m...confused. Wait, how many is supposed to be a lie? One? Two?” She itches the back of her head and shrugs. “One lie, yeah no the bone, I’ll go with the broken bone...”

Shane shane smiled as divya excitedly celebrated that she and jenny guessed right. despite being stuck with alexa now, she was glad that she could ride out the storm with two of the people she did enjoy spending time with. but next was divya’s turn and shane was stumped. “i want to say the watermelon because it sounds so outrageous. but i also feel like it’s something you’d do and throw it in there to stump us. so i’m gonna copy them and say bone too.”

Divya “Bone? Really? That’s what you guys are going for? Sure?” A beat for any final changes. Divya gave them all a cheeky look before revealing the truth. “You’re all wrong!” She told them with a spirited bounce. “I really never have broken a bone before. Though, I probably should considering all the trouble I find myself in.” She chuckled. “And I really did win First Place for that watermelon eating competition. One of my proudest accomplishments in fact. I got sick right after though, threw it all up in the closest bathroom after I had my picture taken.” She shook her head at the memory. “I don’t have an older sister. I have an older brother,” she told them with a small grin, chuffed she was able to get away with it. “Well, half brother but brother nonetheless. Sean.” In her excitement, she turned to Alexa, completely forgetting her prior guilt. “He’s in the Royal Airforce actually. Or was,” she corrected herself with a tilt of her head. She turned to the rest of the group again. “He’s like private contractor or something now. Gets hired by random people and does all sorts of things.” She gave a wave of her hand, bored now with the details of her brother’s current occupation.

[bytheangell]

Trust Us

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Summoning for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Magnus/Alec/Jace Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: demon summoning, hurt/comfort, angst and feels, canon typical pain/violence (I wouldn’t exactly call it torture but it might be close)  Summary:  To save a friend in need Magnus has to make a deal with a dangerous demon. What he isn't counting on is the demon demanding something not from him, but from those closest to him instead.  -------------

Magnus has been quiet all night and he knows that Jace and Alec have both picked up on it. Magnus can see the way they share worried looks the longer he allows his gaze to zone out during dinner or the way his drink sits untouched when they move to the living room to relax on the sofa with some new action movie that Jace has been dying to get them to watch.

Jace shuts the TV off mid-scene and the sudden silence is enough to jar Magnus out of his thoughts.

“Over already?” He says hesitantly into the heavy silence of the room, aware of both pairs of eyes trained on him expectantly.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asks first, getting right to the point.

“What Jace means to say is: we noticed you’ve been in your head a lot today. Do you want to talk about it?” Alec adds, with a side-glance at his parabatai.

Magnus figures it was too much to hope that he’d be able to make it through the day without being asked.

“An old acquaintance of mine has come under a curse from some very, very dark magic,” Magnus admits. “It’s his own damn fault for poking around things that were meant to stay buried,” he adds quickly, but there’s an obvious, heavy emotion behind his tone that gives away that his annoyance at the reason is outweighed by his concern.

“I’m sorry, Magnus,” Alec says, grabbing one of Magnus’ hands in one of his own. Magnus didn’t realize until that moment that he started to play with the hem of his shirt as he spoke, looking down at his hands rather than at either Alec or Jace. He allows Alec to pull the hand away and give it a comforting squeeze. “Is there anything anyone can do?”

Magnus nods slowly. “There is, in fact, something only I can do. Because it involved summoning some equally dark power from Edom, and as Asmodus’ son I’m uniquely positioned to have that ability.”

“What are you telling us?” Jace asks. “Because you being able to help isn’t exactly a reason to sulk.”

“How dangerous is it?” Alec follows up, swallowing thickly.

Magnus looks up at both of them then with a small smile on his face, because they aren’t stupid. They know exactly why he wouldn’t be excited about having to summon dark magic from his father’s realm, and exactly how dangerous it must be for him to have not already done it to help a friend in need.

“It’s certainly not safe,” Magnus allows because he knows how they worry when he gets himself involved in projects that are occasionally over his head. “And I wouldn’t have the power needed to see it through on my own. There isn’t another warlock in their right mind who would risk tapping into Edom that way… except maybe Cat, but I’d never let her.”

There’s a heavy silence between the three of them as Magnus sighs and leans back on the sofa, eyes closed. “It’s fine. I’ll think of something.”

“What if I help? If we use the alliance rune, and you pull from my strength… do you think it’d be enough?” Alec suggests.

Magnus looks up at that, eyes wide at the offer, not quite sure what to say. “I… don’t know,” he admits.

“What if both of us help?” Jace offers. “With Alec and I already connected… if we each drew the runes do you think the three of us could all connect? With three people’s worth of activated rune abilities and three people’s worth of magic to pull from…”

Magnus shakes his head slowly. “I appreciate it, really I do, but I could never ask you to put yourselves at risk like that.”

“You didn’t,” Jace points out. “If this means that much to you, we want to help.”

“It isn’t just the energy, though - there’s no telling how dark magic like that might affect a Nephilim. And then there’s the spell itself. I have to tap into a place I haven’t in centuries,and there’s a part of me that’s afraid I won’t be able to properly control it. I don’t…” Magnus shakes his head. There’s no good way to admit that he isn’t sure he trusts himself not to give in to the sort of power he’s spent the better part of his life denying and how terrified he is for anyone to see that side of him, especially them. “I don’t want to go too far when you two might be the collateral damage,” he finishes, unable to keep the slight tremor from his voice.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Alec tells him. “But I’m willing to take that risk. I trust you, Magnus. With my life.”

“We both do,” Jace cuts in. “I don’t think for a second you’re going to let yourself lose control. But if you do, we’ll be here to help with that, too.”

Magnus isn’t sure how he got to this point, where he can hold the trust, faith, and lives of two Nephilim in his hands without question. He isn’t even sure he trusts himself to pull off what needs to be done. Yet here are Jace and Alec, both willing to put their lives on the line to help him - and all for the sake of someone they’ve never even met.

No, that isn’t true because they aren’t doing this for Magnus’ friend. They’re doing this for Magnus because it’s important to him. It’s such a touching sentiment that he takes a moment to appreciate just how lucky he is to have not one, but two, people in his life to offer such unwavering love and support.

He wonders if it’s possible. He thinks it might be, and even if it isn’t just having one of them with magic to offer and the other simply for the strength and energy should be enough to get him to the end of the spell. But the magic itself… he was a child the last time he reached into the darker recesses of his abilities, still following Asmodeus and pulling upon the powers of his realm in Edom to bring about damage and destruction no one person should ever be capable of. He remembers the feeling of power it gave him, the almost insatiable pull, the hunger for more. It took him so long to break free of it before, and he’s terrified of calling upon it again.

Especially in the presence of Alec and Jace.

They know of his father, they know some of the things he regrets from his past, but he never told them the worst of it. He never told anyone, not willingly. Would they ever be able to look at him the same way if they knew the true depths of it?

“I’ll consider it,” Magnus says. “This isn’t a decision that can be made lightly, for any of us. So we all sleep on it, and decide in the morning with clear heads.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want,” Alec agrees easily, and Jace nods along with him.

---

The morning brings no change in the resolve of the two Nephilim, which Magnus isn’t surprised about, as much as he wishes they would change their minds.

“I don’t like the idea of it being you two,” Magnus admits.

“If you don’t think we’re strong enough-” Alec starts, but Magnus is quick to shake his head and cut that notion off right away.

“No, it isn’t that. In fact, with your Parabatai bond, I think the two of you are the best shot I’ve got at this. I just…” Magnus takes a deep breath. “I know I don’t speak of my time with my father often. But it’s because of the things he taught me, the things I did with him… they’re unspeakable. Unforgivable.”

“You were young,” Jace reminds him. “And that was so long ago. That isn’t who you are now.”

“But that’s what I’m going to become, at least, that’s the same darkness I’m going to have to channel for this. And the demon I have to summon… you might see things, or hear things, about me. And if I lose control, that’s a side of me I never wanted either of you to witness.”

“If you don’t want to do this because it’s dangerous for you, then don’t. But there’s nothing we can find out now that’ll change how we feel about you, and the person we know you are now.” Alec promises, and Magnus wants so badly to believe him.

“We aren’t going to leave you,” Jace reassures him quietly, and Magnus’ head turns sharply to look at him. “Especially not for some stuff your dad convinced you to do. How many times have you told me I’m not Valentine?” It’s always Jace that manages to cut through to the heart of things, and of course, it’s Jace who can see the fears Magnus has of being judged for his past and his family because it’s a fear they both share to some extent. “As card-holding members of the ‘raised by a shitty, evil, manipulative dad club’ we have to stick together, alright?”

Magnus actually laughs at that, and the break in the tension allows him a moment to really consider their promises and reassurances.

“Okay,” Magnus says with slowly growing resolve. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

---

It takes him two entire days to gather what he needs to summon the particular demon he requires, which works out because Alec and Jace need time to arrange for their patrols to be covered at the Institute for a day or two following the spell. Magnus has no idea how much this is going to take out of them, and that’s if all goes well. He doesn’t want to think about what he’ll do if something goes wrong, though Catarina’s already warned and on stand-by to check in on them shortly just in case.

Magnus takes Alec’s stele and draws one half of the Alliance rune onto his hand before Alec takes it back and draws the other on Magnus. Magnus then repeats the action with Jace’s stele on his hand, waiting until Jace finishes his before turning to the two Parabatai.

“...did it work?”

They both raise their hands up in front of them to see sparks of blue dancing across their fingertips. This isn’t the first time they’ve used the Alliance rune, but the previous ones were all one-on-one. The moment both of them tap into their temporarily acquired magic Magnus can feel it resonate with the magic around them, the wards of the Loft and the magic buzzing under his own skin. He can feel the connection, stronger than before, that only ramps up when Alec and Jace begin activating their runes.

It sends a shiver down Magnus’ spine at the surge of pure power he feels just from this step. So many senses heightened, it’s almost too much, but at the same time he fears it may not be enough in the end. It’s only a matter of time now until he finds out.

“Last chance to change your minds. I won’t blame you if you do,” Magnus offers, looking between Alec and Jace, half-hoping one of them will come to their senses and back out. They both shake their heads before he can even finish speaking.

“You got this,” Jace tells him.

“And we got you,” Alec adds.

Magnus prays that they’re right on both counts.

“Alright. If it’s too much for you, or if something goes wrong-” he doesn’t specifically say ‘if I lose control’ but it’s a concern he’s voiced often enough that he doesn’t have to at this point. “-one of you has to knock me out. It’ll end the spell and send the demon back whether I got what I need or not, but only if one of you is in danger. If I’m the only one in pain - you have to let it finish. Understand?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jace immediately questions.

“It means,” Magnus says with a small wince, because there’s a reason he didn’t bring this up sooner. “That this demon feeds on pain. Physical pain, painful memories… whatever he asks of me is going to hurt. But I can endure it…you have to let me. Promise me you’ll let me see this through.” He waits for them both to nod again, much more reluctantly this time, before nodding himself. Jace is on his right and Alec is on his left, each of them grabs a hand as he holds them out before taking each other’s.

The power that flows through them in that moment is some of the strongest Magnus has ever felt, even when connected with other warlocks. He uses his control of the magic to slow it down and spread it out so that it doesn’t overwhelm any single one of them until he needs to call upon it fully.

The Enochian flows steadily from his lips, summoning a swirling portal so black it looks infinite in front of them. The magic around Magnus’ hands turns a deep purple and his golden cat eyes go entirely black.

The temperature in the room around them plummets, but Magnus’ body grows so warm he can feel sweat droplets forming at his temples. The demon that emerges slowly and carefully from the portal is more of a shifting mass than a solid figure, and when it speaks its voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Asmodeus’ son,” the demon drawls. “How many centuries has it been since you banished me from this realm?”

“Not nearly enough,” Magnus says through gritted teeth, his hold on Alec and Jace’s hands tightening. He forgot how strong the demon is, how much effort simply containing him entails, but with the power surging through him at that moment Magnus knows that he could level entire cities with the snap of a finger. He wants to, but he fights the impulse down and focuses on the task at hand, grounding that power inward instead to bind the demon. “I didn’t summon you to catch up.” Magnus closes his eyes again, re-focusing. “I, Magnus Bane, son of Asmodeus, have summoned you to make a deal. I need your tears. Three of them, to be precise.”

“And what do I get in return? Sent back into the darkness for the rest of my days?” The demon scoffs.

“You get whatever you want from me,” Magnus says, feeling much less confident than his words let on. “It’s been many years, there’s plenty of new pain for the taking.”

The demon considers this. “And what if what I want isn’t from you?”

Magnus’ heart skips a beat, his breath catching in his chest. “No. I summoned you, I made the request, the deal is bound to me and me alone.”

“But you aren’t alone, are you? You are you… and you are two others as well. You are three connected.”

“No,” Magnus repeats again, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Magnus…” Alec starts to say, but Magnus cuts him off.

“I said no,” Magnus insists, this time louder and more forceful.

“Then we do not have a deal,” the demon says, its tone so casual it sounds almost bored. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Wait!” Jace shouts, voice raised to make sure he’s heard. The portal in between them sounds like a rush of air, just enough to dim and distort a normal speaking voice in the space between them. “If I give you what you want, Magnus gets the tears. Right?”

“Not just you,” the demon says. “Both.” It has no definitive face or eyes but there is no doubt who it’s words are directed at when it says ‘both’.

“Jace, stop it. This isn’t-” Magnus starts.

“I accept,” Alec says over him. It’s all going wrong so quickly, and not in any of the ways he anticipated or prepared for. They were only meant to give him enough extra power, to lend him their strength… this isn’t supposed to be their sacrifice to make.

“As do I,” Jace confirms.

“Oh, lovely!” the demon exclaims, clearly elated. From its figure two black tendrils emerge and extend, reaching out to Alec and Jace, and Magnus is helpless to do anything but stand and watch as they pierce through their chests.

The screams are immediate.

Magnus does his best to pull the pain to himself through their bond but he can’t possibly siphon enough of it fast enough. He already holds so much of the demonic power within him that there’s barely room for anything else- but he isn’t sure what allowing the power he pulled for himself from Edom would do to Alec and Jace if he lets go of it now.

“The pain of parabatai is such a gift,” the demon continues. “It’s doubled, both feeling their own pain at the same time as they feel the other’s, entirely unable to control it bleeding through the bond.”

“Stop,” Magnus begs, feeling his own eyes sting with tears at the sight of tears trailing down Alec’s face next to him, while Jace bites down on his lip to keep from crying out so hard it begins to bleed down his chin. They’re both shaking, breath coming in desperate gasps, but their grip on his hands remains solid, refusing to let go. Around them glass begins to shatter, furniture raising off of the floor, smashing into walls and swirling in a destructive circle around them. It’s too much. The outlet was supposed to be what the demon drew from him, meant to be overloaded enough that he wouldn’t be bled completely dry by the end of the exchange. Instead he’s overwhelmed by it, this destructive force barely contained within him.

The two people he loves the most, instead of being there to ground him and pull him back from the edge, fall to their knees in obvious agony.

“The tall one is trying so hard to block it. He clearly has practice hiding what he feels,” the demon muses, ignoring the chaos around them entirely. “But this one,” he continues, shifting toward Jace. “This one keeps trying to pull it to him, to shoulder the burden. I can tell that you’re both used to intentional pain, aren’t you?” It’s an observation, not a question. Not that either of them could answer in their current states anyway. “That’s good. Perhaps you’ll both survive this, then.”

“No!” Magnus shouts, trying to pull his hands away, to conjure up magic to send the demon back, but Alec and Jace both pull back against his grip. The floor beneath them begins to shake. Magnus’ magic lashes out, tearing down curtains and destroying anything and everything in its path. “You’ve never killed before, why start now?”

“Trust us,” Alec grits out, before the words cut off to another anguished scream over what the demon is doing to them.

“I would’ve thought you knew better, Magnus Bane, than to place your heart in the hands of such fragile things.” The moment the words are spoken into the room both Alec and Jace collapse fully to the floor, motionless, their hands finally slipping from Magnus’ grasp.

Magnus’ magic lashes out in every direction, blowing out the windows, putting holes through walls, and sending a ripple so powerful it knocks out the power in half the city. Alec and Jace were his reason to hold on, his reason to be better, and without them to ground him he loses himself in his anguish entirely. They expected more of him and he failed them.

Soon he, too, falls to his knees. The world is still crumbling down around him, an outward reflection of the guilt and rage which threaten to overwhelm him. Except for all the power he currently wields he doesn’t even try to defend himself as the demon’s tendrils pull out of Alec and Jace and reach for him instead. If he’s the reason for their deaths then perhaps he deserves the same fate.

Magnus closes his eyes and welcomes the death he imagines will follow- at least it would end the pain he feels at the sight in front of him. He’s not sure if he can even qualify the amount of heartache he feels when it’s more like his heart’s been ripped out of his body entirely. His magic doesn’t stop, but it slows, as his anger gives way to grief and guilt. It’s his fault. They were only here for him, if he hadn’t accepted their offer, if he put a stop to the spell the moment the demon refused his offer… if, if, if.

Magnus is certain what he feels in this moment is worse than any pain he’s ever felt before, and-

-oh. Of course. The worst pain he’s ever felt.

“I’ve never known you to take a life before,” Magnus says warily as the tendrils pull back.

“And you never will,” the demon says, just as Alec and Jace both gasp for air at once. “That may be the strongest pain I’ve ever fed on. You truly love them, don’t you?”

He sounds so pleased with himself that Magnus almost banishes him to limbo without a second thought, except a moment later a vial of liquid appears in front of him. Magnus is quick to grab it, holding it carefully in his hands.

“When will you learn that love is often the greatest source of pain and your love for others your greatest weakness?” The demon ‘tsks’.

It reminds him of what Jace once repeated to him, ‘to love is to destroy’, a sentiment Magnus refuses to give any credence to.

“Never, probably, because I don’t believe that. They aren’t the ‘weak, fragile’ beings you believe them to be, and I’m stronger for having them here.” Magnus looks between them, watching the slow but steady rise and fall of their chests, taking comfort in the motion before slipping seamlessly back into the demonic tongue to close the portal and send the demon back to Edom, severing the connection.

The moment the demon is gone Magnus collapses properly to the ground beside Alec and Jace. Which is how Catarina finds them several minutes later when she arrives as scheduled to check on them and ensure nothing went wrong.

“Magnus,” she gasps, moving towards him instinctively, but Magnus only shakes his head and waves her off. “I’ll be fine. Tend to them first. Please.”

Catarina gets both of the boys into bed where she uses a mixture of potions and magic to counter any lingering toxins from the demon’s tendrils, as well as any physical pain. They’re both fading in and out of consciousness too much to get a proper read on, but she does her best, and leaves Magnus with some extra just in case. Magnus, meanwhile, uses the lingering connection of the Alliance rune to activate their iratzes once or twice to speed up the process.

Magnus barely has the energy to remain conscious but he stubbornly refuses to rest, sitting vigil beside the bed while they sleep, watching over them and waiting.

Jace wakes up first. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles after opening his eyes to see the concern on Magnus’ face.

“You’re-” Magnus starts, and huffs out a noise that isn’t quite a laugh. “You know what, you should be sorry. You never should’ve done that.”

“Is Alec-” Jace starts suddenly trying to sit up, but only making himself dizzy with the sudden action before falling back onto the pillow and turning his head over instead.

“He’s still asleep, but he should be fine. How are you feeling? Are you still in pain? Cat left an extra healing potion behind just in case,” Magnus says, moving so that he’s sitting on the side of the bed, close enough to brush the stray strands of hair from where they fell over Jace’s eyes in his attempt to move.

“I’ve had worse,” Jace manages to say and Magnus can only shake his head while continuing the comforting, repetitive motion of running his fingers through Jace’s hair.

“Of course you have. How dare I forget how stoic and tough my foolish, stubborn Shadowhunters are.”

There’s shifting from the other side of the bed and a mumble of “But that’s why you love us...” from Alec. Magnus isn’t sure how long he’s been awake, his eyes still closed even now, but the relief he feels at hearing both of their voices again is overwhelming.

Magnus very carefully crawls into the space between them in the bed, leaning over Jace first and then Alec, to give them each a gentle kiss full of relief and gratitude and love before settling between them and pulling them into him on either side. They kiss back, leaning into his touches and his pulls, not shying away after what they saw and went through for him. He doesn’t know what he expects, but he’s glad.

He needs this now as much as they do, the comforting touch, the reminder that they know exactly who (and what) he is and care for him just the same. He has them - and they have him - no matter what trial or personal tribulation stands in their way or tries to test that. And the more they show him time and time again, the more he allows himself to trust that the strength of their love will overpower the rest every single time.

[bananaofswifts]

When Taylor Swift made the decision to post her first-ever political endorsement on Instagram in Taylor Swift: Miss Americana, a new Netflix documentary that premiered at Sundance Film Festival on Thursday night, the audience burst into applause. They applauded again when she told her publicist “f*ck that, I don’t care,” about the possibility of the president attacking her, and then again when a news clip announced Swift’s post significantly increased millennial voter registration. For a pop star whose reputation has been up and down and down some more, it seems Miss Americana has her poised for an upswing.

From director Lana Wilson, who won an Emmy for her 2013 doc After Tiller, and produced by Academy Award-winners Morgan Neville and Caitrin Rogers (20 Feet From Stardom) and Christine O’Malley (Wordplay, I.O.U.S.A.), Miss Americana presents the world with a new Taylor Swift.  By “new Taylor Swift,” I don’t mean a Taylor Swift who’s willing to tell Kanye West where to shove it—we already know she’s willing to do that. No, this is a Taylor Swift who’s willing to tell the American government where to shove it, and that’s very new indeed. Whether haters will be willing to hear the new Taylor out remains to be seen, but if they do, they would certainly find someone worth listening to.

Titled after her recent song, “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,”  the film begins where a lot of music documentaries have gone before: the trials and tribulations of being a world-famous artist. We open with Swift playing piano in her house, dressed down in simple overalls and a tee-shirt, perusing her old songbooks. From there Wilson launches into a fairly standard but still enjoyable rundown of Swift’s career.  It’s got everything you want and expect a music documentary to have, from adorable clips of Swift as a charismatic 13-year-old girl to a recap of her public feud with Kanye West. (Swift calls West’s infamous interruption at the 2009 VMAs a “formative experience” and “a catalyst for a lot of psychological paths I went down.”) Wilson also spends extensive time with Swift in the studio, giving fans an intimate look at her songwriting process as they’ve never seen before.

The second, more interesting half of the film is dedicated to Swift’s political awakening as an increasingly liberal activist. In 2016, while her famous friends were campaigning for Hillary Clinton, Swift stayed silent on the election. Some assumed that meant Swift was a Trump voter, an assumption she more or less blew to shreds in the 2018 midterm election when she came out—as a Democrat—in favor of Senatorial candidate Phil Bredesen, and strongly against Republican Marsha Blackburn in her home state of Tennessee.

Her decision to post that endorsement on Instagram—the first time she ever truly voiced a political opinion publicly—is easily the best scenes in the film. Her dad, a former Merill Lynch stockbroker, as well as several other members of her team, aruge with her, and tell her not to post it. They’re worried she’ll alienate half of her fanbase, and they’re also worried about her safety. She does it anyway, citing her regret for not taking a stand against Trump in 2016 as a reason why—as well as her recent, unpleasant experience going to court, countersuing a DJ who groped her, and then sued her when he was fired, something she says “no man in my family or organization can ever understand.”

“I’m sad I didn’t two years ago, but I can’t change that,” she tells her dad sharply in the film, on the verge of tears as she struggles to explain why this matters to her. “[Blackburn] votes against paid leave for women … It’s right and wrong at this point.”

Watching defy her father and her closest advisors through tears, it’s hard to feel that Swift did so for any reason other than believing it was the right thing to do. Here is the proof that so many have been asking for that her feminism is genuine, rather than something to be indulged in when it’s convenient and profitable for her. Following Bredesen’s loss in the 2018 midterm, we see Swift writing a new song, “Only the Young,” urging young people not to give up on politics when elections disappoint, which has not yet been released. (The song plays over the film’s credits and will be released with the film.)

Speaking of insights into Swift’s personal life, fans hoping for an update on Swift’s mom, who the pop star revealed was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015 might not get the answer they’re hoping for. Andrea Swift, 62, is present in the film and at one point jokes about bringing her “cancer dog,” into a family of cat lovers. Unlike the Instagram scene, it doesn’t dig in deep or get teary. Perhaps Swift feels that’s not her personal story to tell. (Last week the singe revealed her mother had also been diagnosed with a brain tumor.)

Swift’s public confrontation with former record label owners—Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta of Big Machine Records, who Swift claimed were preventing her from using her older songs on television, including in this documentary—is never mentioned in the film. According to Wilson in an interview with Variety, that’s because that drama went down too close to the film’s wrap. (Variety also reported in December that all of Swift’s songs were cleared for use in Miss Americana.) But the controversy fits neatly in with the film’s theme: No more Mrs. Nice Taylor.

I’m hardly Taylor Swift’s No. 1 fan, and like many of her non-fans, I’ve let my opinion of the pop star ebb and flow with the narrative of the moment. Miss Americana is undoubtedly a pro-Tay narrative, but it’s a good one. Wilson and her team captured moments that felt personal, vulnerable, and deeply authentic, and they did so with a skill and artistry that Instagram Live stories just can’t match. I was convinced that Swift is thinking deeply about issues of gender, sexuality, and politics in ways she never has before. To me, that’s a good thing.

I’m sure some will feel differently. How could an educated, privileged woman living in America in the 21st century be this slow on the uptake? It’s a fair point. But I’d argue many men before have had their awakening much later in life, and were applauded for doing so. One hopes it’s never too late to come to the light side.

Miss Americana will play in select theaters and on Netflix on January 31.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 4: Ch 5

Ch 4

Summary: Having lost Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer is haunted by a mysterious, black figure as she begins to drift away from those closest to her.

Part 1: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Part 2: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Part 3: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

————————

Her horse comes to a halt. She gets down and turns to help me off. Lit before me is the ship. Hesitantly, I headed towards it. With every step I took my feet sunk into the sand, making a soft crunching noise. The closer I came to it, the larger its mouth, its doorway, became. I felt immensely small compared to it. Instead of creating a warm atmosphere the light from my crown causes it to become even more haunting. As I turn my head, I shine it across the ship’s interior and as I do I see the ghostly figures of Skeema, Mikrovos, Saamuki, and Ashley all laughing. The feeling that it gave me should be nice, but it’s empty. We never got to laugh together and maybe we never will. Thinking about it, about Syco, has my grip tighten on the ship’s doorway. Hearing her get back on her horse, I turn around and ask right when she’s about to head off, “Wait.” Stopping her horse, she turns to me. I gulp as I can feel my dark companion looking at me, judging me, from the darkness behind me. I point at my crown. “Don’t you want this back?”

“No, I made that for you. It might help you out again soon.”

Again, she’s about to leave, but I stop her for the second time. “No, wait, that’s not it. What did your brother mean back there? What kind of punishment?”

She shrugs before responding with, “I don’t know. Probably removing my head again. Maybe a little longer than last time.”

“He’s done it before?”

“Yeah, remember how I said that wasn’t the first time he acted that way? I brought another off-worlder a couple of years ago.”

“Does it hurt?”

She takes a moment to think about her answer. “A little-No, a lot, actually, but it’s whatever. It’s not like it’ll kill me.”

“Why are you acting nonchalant about this,” I flail my arms in the air, “I get he’s your brother and all, but that isn’t caring, and trust me I know when someone is.”

“Even if I do agree with what you’re saying, what am I supposed to do about it? Leave him? Where am I supposed to go?”

Placing my hand on my chest, “You can come with me. I mean I don’t have a planet unlike you. I don’t know where I’m headed to now, but all I know is it’s certainly better than staying here.”

“Thanks, the offer is tempting, but I’m sorry. I can’t accept it.” Hearing her say that, breaks my heart, but I try not to show it. Smiling, though not as real as S1Y’s, I accept her decline. So, I turn back towards the ship. As I do, she continues with, “I hear it’s getting intense up there. Be careful.”

“Same to you...um.”

“Licata. My name is Licata.”

“Be careful, Licata.”

“Thank you. Maybe one day we’ll meet again.”

The door closes. I’m left to wander inside the ship alone, but not blinded thanks to the literal health hazard above my head. Heart racing, as I move towards the glowing, blue screen, my hand shakily touches it. The ship’s lights turn on, giving me a sigh of relief because the ship isn’t utterly damaged. Then, I motion for the ship to ascend out of its sandy prison and as it does I find Licata on her horse racing off back towards her brother and friends, towards a pain I hope doesn’t last too long. 

I’m hundreds of feet off the ground, but I wave at her anyway. I know it’s silly. I mean there’s no way she could see it up here, but she turns and looks up at me. If she had a face I imagine it to have smiled. 

I look down at Vecta and I remind myself that sometimes we have to lie to ourselves so we can forget the painful truth, so we can keep going. So, I lie to myself that I’ll be able to see her again because I don’t know what’s next. All I know is that the impossible lies ahead because I don’t know when or even how, but I plan to get Syco back for this. From him starting another war to causing all of them to be in that zombified state, I plan to fix all of that. However, I don’t know where to even start. 

Circling the ship, circling me, is the unknown. I stand in the middle of some black canvas with hundreds of glowing paint splatters. Each varies in color and size. Further out in front of me, a faint dot is seen exploding. It shoots out a ray of colors from brown to yellow and sparkles of purple. I had witnessed a supernova, which gets me to conclude that it’s probably a sign I shouldn’t start there. So, I steer the ship to the nearest dot, planet.

Proudly landing the ship perfectly, I stride out with my chest puffed out. When I step onto the planet, I see someone exit their ship in the corner of my eye. With us making eye contact, especially them looking at me funny, I hurry back into the ship. I’m reminded that I’m a human, a species low on the universe’s totem pole, thousands of lightyears away from where her homeworld is supposed to be. I can’t just walk out like I own the place. Like I’m not doing anything illegal. I have to think of something soon unless I want to get kicked off this planet as well, or worse. Pacing back and forth, I remember about Saamuki’s spacesuit. So, I rush to get it and when I pull it out I see two large holes punctured through the chest area. “Oh, yeah. Right.” 

Remembering the last and final time it was used, I throw it aside. With that being my only option, without a disguise, I take a seat and slouch with my arms crossed. That’s when my faceless companion makes their appearance. Beginning to quit this whole insane plan, which I need to repeat and emphasize that it’s absolutely impossible, especially now, I look at them with annoyance.

They replicate my crown on their head, grab it, and fling their arm. A staff similar to Licata’s is now wrapped underneath their fingers. 

“I can’t believe I’m attempting to try to have a conversation with you again, but I don’t need some staff. I don’t need another weapon. I need something to cover me. Besides, I don’t want to burn my hands anytime soon.” My attitude gets them to swing their staff at me. I rub the now pained site. “What the hell?”

Instead of answering me with words, they have their staff vanish and grab my crown. Again, they make a staff. This time, they swing the end that’s being swallowed by fire at me. I yelp, but the fire goes right through me. Upon my shock, they turn the staff into a rope and fling it at me. I catch it right when it’s about to hit me. 

“Okay, I get it. I think. It’s just an illusion. Magic? Maybe it’s hi-tech? I mean either of those explains how it’s able to float on my head, but whatever. That doesn’t matter. Just tell me how you made,” I nudge towards the piece of rope in my hands, “this.”

“Relax.”

“Relax? How on Ear-space can I relax? After everything I’ve been through.” Someone on the other side of the door is heard knocking. “And now with that? How can I relax?”

“Ashley. Mikrovos. Saamuki. S1Y. Skeema too. They all believe in you. They may not have acted like it half the time, but they do. You know they do because if they didn’t I wouldn’t be saying these things.” They morph into a complete copy of me. It weirds me out, but it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve seen. 

“I-,” for a moment that figurative saying about a cat getting one’s tongue happens to me, “That’s the most I’ve heard you say, but thanks. I needed that. Well, I mean thanks for me reminding me? You’re me, apparently. God, this is so weird.”

After they smile, they disappear once again. Another knock is heard. I let out a long, soothing exhale. I tell myself it’s time for me to learn. It’s time for me to mature, or at least learn to finally calm down, so I can think with my head rather than rely on my impulses. If I want to do it. If I want them back, or at the very least try, I have to relax. I close my eyes. 

Reopening them, I don’t get what I imagined. What I hoped, but it’s still useful nonetheless. Getting out of the ship once again, I greet the woman that was knocking on the ship as Licata’s species. The woman is slimy, light green, and covered in red dots. She could be considered completely naked if it wasn’t for the several badges on the right side of her chest. On each, they’ve been etched with words, but they’re much too small for me to read. In a rough, scratchy voice she asks, “I got a report you have a human on board this ship.”

“Human? I’m certain I have none of those. Why would I?” I let out an obviously fake laugh, which gets her to look oddly at me.

“Well, I can’t merely write your word in my report. Move aside.” I do and she checks around. Seeing her slime drag across the floor, across what’s now my ship, grosses me out and annoys me because I somehow have to clean that up later. “What a surprise. You don’t. I told that man it’d be impossible to find a human this out in space, especially after Earth’s imprisonment.”

“Imprisonment?”

She opens her mouth and slides her hand down her throat. A pen and paper, which are drenched in her slime, are taken out. She points her pen at me before saying, “You haven’t read about it yet? It’s all over my feed. Everyone’s been talking about ever since this morning.”

Earth isn’t gone. I didn’t cause the death of millions. Ashley and I still have a home. 

“Do you know where Earth is? Do you know where it’s being kept?” I grab her shoulders and give her a slight shake, which I soon regret. 

Grabbing my wrists and moving my now slimy hands off of her, “As if that kind of information would be public. Besides, it doesn’t matter if it was because it’s only a matter of time before Earth gets what’s coming to it. Those humans broke one of the highest laws of the universe.” She writes down some notes for her report. 

“Okay, do you at least know how to get to Saamuki?”

“Who?”

“She’s The Eyes of the Underworld’s sister.”

“Why in the universe would you want anyone that has to do with one of the universe’s worst criminals?” She squints her eyes on me, suspicious. 

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this. I’ll go ask someone that does.” 

Pushing her out of the way, I head towards the bridge leading to the city ahead, but before I’m an earshot away from her I hear her mutter, “Why do I always get the weird ones?”

The city up head is a combination between New York City and Tokyo as the buildings are squished together with bright neon lights attached to them, but subtract the rectangular shapes their buildings tend to be and replace them with circular and triangular shapes. Also, there’s a giant, white celestial body a bit too close to the highest skyscraper. Midway through my concentration of walking towards the city, I hear someone giggle. Turning to the sound, I see a child, who looks like a human mixed with a fish, standing on their tippy-toes with a red balloon in one hand and the other holding onto the bridge. I first write it off as just them being weird until I see a group of gigantic fish splashing from point to point in the water below us. It’s scary to watch, as their size reminds me of the serpent, but because of how elegantly they move they replace that with a sense of awe. Getting closer, moving next to the child, I see the waters change color every time a fish hits the water. Every second of their show then on has me as hooked as the child. As much as I’d like it to last just a tiny bit longer, it ends with one of the fish shooting out water into the sky, which has the child clap. I clap too soon after. 

Once the child turns away I too turn away. As they head elsewhere, I continue my walk towards the city. Even though my face doesn’t show it I’m smiling because, as random as that was, I take that as a good sign. I take it as a sign that the road ahead won’t be as terrible as I first thought because it showed me that even in the darkest times, when things seem impossible, they’ll always be something beautiful, something absolutely amazing, to help you get back to the light. To remind you that the unknown is just that. Just the unknown. Bad things will always happen on the roads you don’t know, on the roads you’re not comfortable with, but that doesn’t mean good things will never happen while on them. The unknown attracts both the bad and the good. You just have to keep walking forward until you find what you’re looking for.

[sabreist]

My Good Omens Headcanon That No One Asked For

I’m not saying that anyone else’s headcanon are incorrect, or that anyone’s wrong for disagreeing with me! And honestly, just because these are my headcanon doesn’t mean I don’t accept other headcanon. Think of it as: if I was going to write Good Omens fanfic, these are the headcanon I’m going to roll with. If I’m enjoying fanworks or meta, anything goes, even/especially things that contradict my own headcanon.

And since the miniseries is burning stronger in my brainspace than the book atm, this is all relevant to the miniseries canon only.

Bonus Ineffable Bureaucracy headcanon at the end!

Ineffable Husbands Being Dumb About Their Feelings Headcanon

Crowley has been infatuated - not in love - with Aziraphale from the beginning. He didn’t realize his infatuation until Rome, and I can’t pinpoint when or where that infatuation turned into love since I believe it was a slow, gradual process. He definitely realized it before 1862, though, if not in 1862 the second Aziraphale said “fraternizing.”

For Aziraphale, he was fascinated with Crowley since the beginning. Maybe infatuated, too. He realized his infatuation a lot sooner, hence why he blatantly hit on Crowley in Rome (maybe realized it in Rome?), but then took a few giant steps back until sometime after 537 when he started making his way back to Crowley again, thus beginning his complicated feelings about his not-so-complicated feelings about Crowley. In other words, his brain was trying to convince himself that it was Not Personal, Purely Business, Just Friendship (But Not Officially), even if his heart was screaming at him otherwise. His infatuation grew into love over the centuries, but he didn’t realize it until, famously, 1941.

1967 was when they both realized that the other definitely felt the same way. Where Crowley was ready to take it to the next step at that moment, Aziraphale, well. WE ALL KNOW.

They finally stopped being dumb after the bus stop. They didn’t take things further than making out before they (Aziraphale) realized what Agnes’s prophecy meant, but they finally stopped being dumb about their feelings either on the way back from Tadfield or in Crowley’s flat.

Aziraphale was the one who had to stop being dumb first, and he absolutely was. He confessed first, he kissed Crowley first. They’d never make any progress otherwise.

General Aziraphale and Crowley Headcanon

I headcanon angels and demons having the power to speak whatever language they need to when on Earth, but Aziraphale and Crowley have been on Earth too long to remember this particular power in their arsenal. If they haven’t used it in the past, say, 100 years, they’ve forgotten the language completely.

Until they remember that they have this particular power. But don’t count on them coming to that realization on their own. 

Anyway, Aziraphale and Crowley both canonically know English in the present day, obviously, but they’ve retained some German and French from their WWII shenanigans. Crowley knows some Russian although he isn’t particularly good at it because he played around quite a bit during the Cold War, and Aziraphale is surprisingly fluent in Japanese. Because sushi.

Aziraphale is a damn good swordsangel.

Crowley tries to get Aziraphale to watch TV and movies by tailoring his recommendations to what he knows Aziraphale would like and sitting down with him to watch it. Because Crowley knows Aziraphale so well, it’s actually a successful endeavor... until Aziraphale tries to watch something on his own that wasn’t a Crowley Recommendation and Regrets Everything.

In turn, Aziraphale definitely drags Crowley to every single West End production at least once a month. Crowley complains but he doesn’t actually mind. He really does enjoy most of the shows.

Crowley was all about that rock-and-roll life in the 1980s. Mostly for the aesthetic, though.

Crowley would absolutely be a cat person, if cats were demon people. But cats and demons don’t mix. This makes him a little sad, but at least he always has his rats?

Aziraphale and Crowley’s Sexuality Headcanon

I headcanon them both as demiromantic, sex-neutral asexuals.

And by demiromantic I mean that Aziraphale is Crowley-romantic and Crowley is Aziraphale-romantic.

They both have had sex prior to each other for a variety of reasons, but mostly either out of curiosity or because their jobs.

The first time they had sex with each other was primarily out of curiosity, since this is what a lot of humans do when they’re in love so might as well see if it’s any different with each other than with others. They found that they rather enjoy it better with each other than with anyone else they’ve ever slept with, but still didn’t quite understand what the big deal was, but they continue to do it every few years or so.

But they love to make out and cuddle.

General Angel and Demon Headcanons

Most angels and demons don’t really... get... gender. They present the way that they do for a few different reasons, the most popular ones being either aesthetics or apathy (aka- they were given the bodies they were given and never really gave another thought to them).

Any angel or demon who has spent a considerable amount of time on Earth are the exceptions to the rule. Obviously this includes Aziraphale and Crowley, and they’re probably the only two who are the closest to getting it - not that any of them are playing by humanity’s gender rules. They’re still either going for aesthetics or convenience.

In other words, just because Aziraphale and Crowley understand how gender works by human standards doesn’t mean they abide by it. It’s like that meme: Aziraphale’s gender is “nah” and Crowley’s gender is “yes.”

When in Heaven or Hell, the angels and demons speak a celestial language. The demons have bastardize it since falling, but it’s still the same basic language, and none of it is a human language.

Bunny Demon/Eric/Disposable Demon has a sort of hero worship crush (not an actual crush) on Crowley. Sorry, you can pry this one from my cold, dead fingers.

In the Final-Final Battle, Aziraphale and Crowley won’t be the only angel/demon to go against Heaven and Hell for the sake of humanity. There are 10 million angels and 10 million demons, at least a handful of them are going to join them, but it’ll be a long, slow process.

Yes, Bunny Demon/Eric/Disposable Demon will still be the first one to join their side.

God Headcanons

God isn’t just a woman, but a genderfluid woman.

She’s utterly fond of Aziraphale, which is why she never punished him for giving away the flaming sword.

And yes, she definitely knows that he did that. She wasn’t angry, just Disappointed.

She’s the reason Aziraphale and Crowley were handed Agnes’s final prophecy. Come on, that piece of paper flew to Aziraphale’s hand just a little too purposefully.

Also she’ll never let Aziraphale fall because, again, she’s really fond of him. You can pry that one from my cold, dead fingers, too.

Not!Armageddon was absolutely planned the way that it was so she could get her ultimate revenge on Satan - by having his own son disavow him.

God’s plan is Ineffable mostly because she keeps changing her mind.

And also she’s the trolliest troll who ever trolled.

Anathema, Newt, and The Them Headcanons

Anathema stays in Tadfield and becomes a surrogate big sister to the Them, but especially to Adam. 

Newt also stays in Tadfield and has a more diverse relationship with the Them: Adam is indifferent, he and Wensleydale and Brian wind up getting along swimmingly, and Pepper straight up dislikes him.

Mrs. Young adores Anathema and Newt. Mr. Young, on the other hand, disapproves of them, but sees them as generally harmless enough to allow Adam to hang out with them. Not that Adam would stop even if Mr. Young tried to forbid it.

Pepper takes up swordfighting once she starts junior high/high school by taking classes at a local HEMA guild.

Dog lives forever.

The Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse Headcanons

(Un)fortunately, War, Famine, and Pollution aren’t perma-dead. They come back and pick their lives up right where they left off.

These four are a Found Family.

I also ship them all together. OT4, ya’ll.

Pestilence is definitely THE anti-vax mom and is delighted that they might be coming out of retirement soon.

Not that Pollution intends to retire just because Pestilence is back.

But there’s always room for one more, is the Horsepeople’s opinion.

So now they are the Five Horsepeople of the Apocalypse. Fight them, God.

(God doesn’t care, this is all the humans’ doing anyway.)

And yes, the Them gets a fifth person to their crew to counter Pestilence. Probably someone aspiring to be a doctor. This is an accident, of course. Sort of. Adam can’t explain it, but his Antichrist senses were tingling...

Ineffable Bureaucracy Headcanons

Gabriel and Beelzebub were absolutely a Thing before Beelzebub fell, and their dynamic is more like an exhausted-but-still-angry-but-still-in-love divorced couple.

They start reuniting after Not!Armageddon, but it takes a few years for them to get there.

Gabriel is a sex-repulsed asexual (I do not sully my body...), where Beelzebub is a sex-neutral asexual. 

And they’re both demiromantic. By which I mean Gabriel is Beelzebub-romantic and Beelzebub is Gabriel-romantic. But they hate it. They didn’t use to hate it, but then Beelzebub fell and things got messy and complicated and things were said that cannot be unsaid.

Gabriel uses ‘he’ pronouns (which I think is canon anyway?) where Beelzebub doesn’t care what pronouns you use for them. (Personally, I love ‘ze/they/her’ for Beelzebub, but I don’t think zey care.)

Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s brains broke when they discovered that Gabriel and Beelzebub are a couple now and they still haven’t fully recovered.

[vagrantblvrd]

I would love anything Turnfreewood!

Lol, I was sorting my music collection when I had the perfect idea for your prompt, friend!

Vaguely noir-ish AU inspired by some songs from the game Contrast?

Private detective Ryan who used to be a cop before he left the police force.

Something, something, something shady business going on with corrupt cops and the like and idealistic idiot that he was he tried to expose it? But the baddies found out what he was doing and went after his partner, got them killed.

And Ryan, he’s not overly idealistic or anything, but he’s young, right. Got a real good look at how high the corrutption he was trying to expose went. How far-reaching, and in case he hadn’t realized that for himself he gets some visitors not long afterward.

Nice. Friendly. Letting him know if he kept pushing things his family might meet with some trouble of their own. (Ryan can’t be everywhere, you know? Can’t be on guard 24/7 to look out for the people closest to him - RIP his partner, btw - and so on.

The usual.

So Ryan.

He hates it, but they have a point, don’t they.

He’s just this little idiot in over his head and tells his family and friends some story about being forced to face his mortality while he was bleeding out in that alley with his partner. Waiting for backup that got there too late to do his partner any good, almost too late to save him and he lost the taste for being a cop.

Quits the force and leaves town (runs away) and kicks around for a little bit, gets all bitter and cynical and such and has these ~adventures that land him in, idk. Achievement City or Los Santos or somewhere.

(This feeling in the back of his head that things aren’t over, and he’ll have to face up to it sooner or later but that’s a future problem and why not try to forget about it for now?)

The kind of adventures where someone jokes he should become a private investigator because he’s more or less been solving crimes/cases in those adventures of his?

Supposed to be a joke, but it’s not like Ryan’s got anything else going on in his life at the moment, so private investigator it is!

Leases a little office somewhere and somehow manages to pull in enough business to pay the bills and tuck some away towards his savings. (Has to dip into said savings every so often for repairs/medical bills/whatever caused by cases and all that.)

And then one day someone walks into his office with a case. Something to do with a dead relative and a missing will. Or maybe it’s someone being blakmailed and someone mentioned Ryan as being both reliable and discreet and all that good stuff. (That, Ryan suspects, or no one would miss him/be all that bothered/surprised he got in over his head on one of his cases.)

Whichever it is, he’s in enough trouble financial-wise the money he’s being offered is too good to pass up, or worse? The client mentions the name of someone Ryan owes big-time who sent the client his direction with the expectation Ryan would know better than to say no.

SO.

Ryan takes the case and does all this Private Investigating.

Goes to his usual contacts and snitches around the city. Trustworthy and reliable ones and ones he can trust to look out for their own best interests and bribe/threaten them for what information he can get out of them. (And then figure out what’s true and bold-faced lies and working from there.)

Gets followed by Suspicious Sorts. Offered money to drop the case and send his client looking elsewhere for help and all that.

Gets into a back alley scuffle where he doesn’t quite come out on top but doesn’t leave with his tail between his legs either.

Goes to ground for a bit while he puzzles over what he knows, maybe goes to see his buddy in the police department here, and boy is Geoff ever not thrilled to see him.

“Seems like the only time I see you around is when you need something, Haywood,”

And Ryan being all scruffy and charming at him until Geoff sighs and tells him to go find Jack who will be able to give him what they’re allowed to without crossing any lines with ethics and the whatnot.

Jack is just as not-thrilled to see Ryan - goes all “What’s with the black eye?” the same way Geoff did and sighs as he hands over the files Ryan asks for. Tells him he’s an idiot and that Geoff and Jack didn’t see him, haven’t seen him in weeks. (And for fuck’s sake, don’t get killed idiot. the paperwork’s a bitch.)

Ryan all lol as he takes the files home with him and goes over them there. Just as confused about what the hell he’s gotten himself into this time, but!

There’s this one clue that has him sighing because he knows someone who knows someone who might - might - help.

Just has to do a little begging first.

SO.

He goes down to this little bar Meg runs with live singers and performers and all that? Trevor at the piano who flirts outrageously with Alfredo who’s one of the bouncers along with Jeremy.

Lindsay’s there doing whatever it is Lindsay feels like most days as far as Ryan can figure out? Michael’s a bartender/bouncer/whatever along with Fiona, and every once in a while one or both of them end up on stage because reasons?

All that.

Meg performs a few times a week, sings and dances or whatever else and sometimes Ryan heads there when he’s not working on a case because it’s one of the few places in town he’s actually welcome with open arms and all that.

Mariel handles most of the business side of things and Tyler is in charge of security and the like? (Something???)

Anyway.

Odds are good there are more things going on there than what the public sees - Meg and the others know way too much about what goes on in the city to explain otherwise - but Ryan’s never asked, (Learned better than that a long time ago.)

The first time he goes there during his current case Meg’s rehearsing on stage.

Middle of the afternoon and the place is closed to customers, but Ryan’s got a standing invitation to come by anytime he feels like it and everything. Good friends with Meg and the main players there and on good terms with everyone else.

Ryan walks in just as Meg starts singing this song, smiles when she looks over and catches his eye because they’ve got this Complicated relationship going on, you know?

On and off again and no hurt feelings (well, anymore, but all the grief she gives him is definitely deserved, okay.)

When she finishes the song she shoos everyone else working to deal with bar business and whatnot and takes Ryan over to a corner booth to talk business because he’s got the look he gets when he’s on a case.

When he fills her in on what he’s been up to the last few days she just. Gives him this look because fucking Christ, Ryan’s an idiot?

Getting all tangled up in Serious Business and such and oh, honey. That black eye looks awful.

Some flirting and concern and Meg despairing of Ryan and his life choices before she gives in and tells him what she can, promises to ask around for him, and oh, hey.

Maybe go see Gavin and what he can dig up for Ryan?

Which.

Yikes, because Gavin is part of this Complicated relationship Ryan has with Meg?

Part of this on again off again relationship the three of them ever quite manage to make work - timing’s always off and all that - but the times it does work are pretty great?

Just.

He’s good with Meg at the moment, but Gavin’s still kind ticked at him?

Something, something, something Ryan on a case and getting Gavin involved and the kind of shenanigans that almost got Gavin killed? Unpleasant reminder Ryan’s not infallible, that he got his old partner killed and oh, God, because he clearly didn’t learn his lesson if he’s putting Gavin - ad Meg - in the line of fire?

So he does what he thinks he has to to drive Gavin away and leaves things between them on a bad note. Meg saw what he was doing and stopped Ryan before he could try it with her too, but she warned him he was making a mistake and that he better apologize to Gavin make it up to Gavin or Ryan would regret it?

So of course he doesn’t, and Meg is just. Not angry, just disappointed and while Gavin figured out why Ryan did what he did, he’s not forgiven him for it. (Yet.)

ANYWAY.

Complicated because Ryan’s an idiot and Meg and Gavin are definitely aware of that fact, yes, Waiting for Ryan to get his shit together and figure out what he wants.

(In the meantime they’re..not-quite in a relationship? Like. Showing up as one another’s plus one at functions and seeing movies or going out to dinner together and such but aren’t Officially Dating, because waiting on their idiot and all.)

Ryan goes off to see Gavin who’s like. Freelance photographer or hacker or something, and they argue and bicker. Are about to move on to bantering, like maybe they’re ready to start dealing with their idiot issues when the guys who have been trying to intimidate Ryan into dropping his case make a move.

The whole fight in a dark alley/street and running from the baddies to end up back at Meg’s bar after closing time.

She’s just.

SIGH at these idiots and sits them down at that back corner booth to path themselves up/talk and goes to give them privacy as she deals with…other stuff? IDK.

Ryan and Gavin are patching one another up and don’t realize Meg’s finished up in her office and is playing a song over at the piano as tjhey talk and Ryan apologizes to Gavin.

But when they do, they look over and Meg’s got this little grin on her face because ridiculous and then like.

Smooches, probably?

More shenanigans that involve at least one (1) gunfight and a kidnapping or two (Gavin, of course and he’s super not thrilled at always being the damsel in distress, but Meg thinks it’s hilarious.)

A car chase and/or cat and mouse scene in an abandoned warehouse and Ryan solving his case to the relief/delight of his client and Ryan being like Jesus Christ, why does he keep doing this to himself? because he’s all bruised and battered and his car is probably a complete loss as far as the insurance company is concerned.

In the end he breaks even financially, but he’s made up with Gavin and has a date that Friday night with him and Meg and hey, things could have gone worse???

(That whole bit about his Tragic Backstory RE his former career as a cop definitely comes back to bite him in the ass in a future adventure, too. Wacky, zany adventures with many life-threatening moments and close calls with Meg and Gavin and good guys putting the bad guys in their places and more smooches before the credits roll. Or…something, yes.)

[mjihkaaaa]

Transcript: “Randy Writes a Novel” by Randy Feltface

I have transcribed this hour-or-so-long comedy piece. if I put the transcript on tumblr, it might pop up in the search results of some poor sod wondering whether it’s a thing that exists. fAiR uSe DiScLaiMEr or something, I’m making no money off of this and am posting it out of the goodwill of my heart, and also I sat down for two hours to make the transcript so it’s probably work. /original date of transcription, not that it makes a difference: 2019-07-16 /link: you can find the actual piece yourself or buy the dvd like a good consumer

||[Beard guy] Hey Randy? Yeah mate? ||[Beard guy] Ready to do this? (exhale) Yup! ||[Announcer] Please, without further ado... Welcome to the stage... The purple one... Randy! (Applause) YEEES! HELLO! THANK YOU! LOOK AT YOU ALL, MMMH! This is so EXCITING! This is my favourite bit of the show, this bit; The expectation - You don't know what to expect, I don't know what to expect. I've got high hopes for you people. I think you're gonna be fantastic. Some of you may have never seen me before, there's probably a couple of you wondering what the fuck is going on right now - couple of people up the back probably regretting smoking that spliff before they came in... "... ... ... the fuck is that?" it's alright, just relax. Throughout the show I'm probably gonna walk from about here, over to here. Any further than that, it's gonna ruin the magic, alright? And, um, this is pretty much what it's gonna look like for the next fifty-fix-and-a-half minutes, so just adjust your eyeballs to this shit accordingly. Looks pretty good, we did my tech rehearsal today, and we set this lighting stand and was like that looks good, that's good, and Stu, my lighting guy back there, said "iS tHaT iT?" and I was like ehh... eh... no, Stu, we can turn on the lamp as well, like this ... (lamp turns on). Yes. So we did that just to justify Stu's certificate for... in fucking... theatre production. GIVE IT UP FOR STU! UP THE BACK! (Applause) Who's having an alcoholic beverage this evening? (wooing) Ah-WOOO! I don't drink anymore, I used to SLAM that SHIT into my FACE like a WEAPON but I quit ... and nothing really changed, you know, I didn't notice too many differences between being sober and being a drinker ... UNTIL ... the first time I got pulled over by a cop, and had to do a random breath test sober. Because my physcial and emi-seeonal reaction was exactly the same as it had always been when I was a drinker. Which was ... - "OOOOH fuck I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "wind down your window please sir" - "IIIII'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "one long breath into the bag sir" - "NAAAAAAAAAA I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm- (blow) I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "... you're free to go mate" - !!! ... oh yeah, I am, and the sense euphoria I felt was the closest feeling I've had to being drunk since I quit drinking. To the point where I now drive around on friday and saturday nights, LOOKING for cops. And if I get pulled over, I pretend I'm drunk just to get an extra rush... AHHH! Seriously, if you ever get pulled over, and you're sober, pretend you're wasted. Oh, the BUZZ! It's like shelving nine pills at once, it's fucking sick. Seriously, the next time the cop's walking towards the car, just be like - - "ohh, shush everyone he's COMING! act normal he's comin- put it down! put it down, he's coming! shush he's comi-!! he's here!" - "... ... ... Wind down your window please, sir." - "yeah, I'ma do that, I'ma do that, I'M DOING IT! ... Ah, it's electric. The button's in the middle 'cuz it's electric." - "... ... ... Have you had anything to drink tonight, sir?" - "NOOO ossifer [officer] not on a tuesday" - "It's a friday-" - "NO friday either mate!" - "One long breath into the bag please, sir." - "yes I will, you fucking champion ... y'know, people say youse are cunts but I don't reckon youse are, PBRRTT (blow) - WOOO! hahaaa..." (Cop checks bag, shocked.) - "Uh... You're free to go." - "FUCK YEAH! BRRRRRRRRR MEEPMEEP" (Applause) I took it so far once, I got down to the station for a blood test - ahhahaAA, gets addictive when you get to that stage... I've got track marks, it's out of control! and laDIES AND GENTLEMEN - you're very close, aren't you. Hello! (Shriek) Um... The reason we're here is because, didididii, didididi-didii, I wrote a book! Yes! Woo! Yeah, you can clap, but I'm concerned that it might be a bit shit. I don't know. It's weird - this is it here - I'm not sure if it's any good 'cuz I think I'm too close to it, y'know, I can't tell anymore. I'm concerned that it might be, like, an ugly baby that I'm looking at through the eyes of a loving mother? And it's not until I take it out for a walk in its little pram and people start screaming in horror and crossing the street to avoid me that I'll realize I've made a piece of shit baby? There's nothing worse than a piece of shit baby, is there... - "Ah, who's this little guy- WAUGH YOUR BABY'S A PIECE OF SHIT!" - "God... damn it..." But do I need to be told it's good to know that it's good? You know, that's how it goes with comedy; If I come up here and tell a shit joke, you tell me it's shit by not laughing, and I stop telling that joke. But with a BOOK I won't know it's shit until it's out there. Forever. Until I DON'T sell a million copies. Just wake up one morning, surrounded by towering boxes of unsold books, featuring on an episode of mentally deranged hoarders... We need to lay off hoarders, by the way. I think there's one too many television programmes "exposing the horrors" of people that like collecting shit. It's their house, let them do it! - "No we have to fix them!" No you don't, people are fucked up! If they wanna climb over a stack of cat shit stained national geographic magazines from the nineteen seventies to get to the kettle, fucking let 'em. THEY LIKE IT. - "Yeah but it's a mental illness-" Yeah, well, may be, but I would argue it's MORE insane to film them doing it, and then package it like a tacky microwave meal for one, so assholes can sit at home going "LOOK HOW SHIT THAT PERSON IS! They've got too many of the same thing..." ... Who's more insane in that sce-nario, I ponder... ANYWAY my book... My book is called "Walking to Skye", it's about a young man who walks from the southernmost borders of Scotland up to the Isle of Skye in the far north, retracing the footsteps of his great-great-grandfather and having a massive existential crisis along the way. It's a reeeeeeeeeeal HUMDINGER, and now that I've written it I'm terrified to let anybody read it, so what I've decided to dewwww, is; I'm gonna read bits of the book out, you're going to react, and then at the end we'll all collectively decide whether or not I should kill myself. Okay? Okay. Here we go. Hm-hm-hm. Ready? Everybody comfortable? No-one needs to go to the toilet, or get a drink, or anything? No? If you do, seriously, just go for it, because fucking... (waves hand in front of eyes). I'm not.. going.. to notice... Ahem, okay, ahem... Here we go. Alright. Here we go, here we go, okay. Khm. Blblbl. Okay. Phew. Alright. Here we go. Walking to Skye, chapter one. ... Phew. Okay. Khm. Blbl. Okay. Khm. Phew... (Sigh)... (Shivering) Read it... Just fucking read it... Come on man... Just... Son of a bitch... Pth... EHGgghhh... I'm too scared. (Audience goes "aww") No, fuck off. It's weird being scared for this, y'know, it's strange to be scared of something so intangible as JUDGEMENT. You know, I care what you people think, but taste is so subjective. Y'know, one man's "To Kill a Mockingbird" is another man's "Twilight" saga. Hello there, what's your name? (Matthew:) "Matthew." Matthew! N- where- right about there, mattie (adjusting line of sight)? Tell me, Matthew, what do you fear, what's your greatest fear, what are you scared of mate, we're all friends here, open up, unpack some shit, what are you-.. What's your biggest fear, Mattie? (Matthew:) "It must be rejection." Rejection? Same as me. <close> what do you know about my fear of rejection? </close> How old are you, man? (Matthew:) "Twenty-six" Twenty-six! The twenties are the time for rejection, my friend, it is the best time for rejection. Have you been rejected a few times? (Matthew:) "Quite a lot." Fucking rack it up, Mattie, rack it up mate, you just get- you wear those scars like a fucking warrior, mate! And then you get to thirty-six, my age, and you could not give a fuck, my friend. I'm telling you mate, rack up the rejection while you can, and then just.. fucking.. grab whatever's left. That's what you've got to look forward to. Let's hear it for Matthew! Yes! (Applause!) Rejection, eh? I think, actually, Mattie, Mattaroonie, Matterectomy, I think for me, Mattanoonles, I'm actually more scared of ... failure, in this case. I fear that I might've written a shit book, and as a result I'll fail, y'know. But I believe, Mattress, I believe it was Ernest Hemingway who put it best when he said "The first draft of everything is shit". And I often thought of that while I was writing my book, it's a great thing for young readers and young writers, sorry, to keep in mind, because it kind of lets you off the hook, y'know. And it makes you feel not so bad when you churn out something akin to Fifty Shades of Grey fanfiction. - "Every nerve ending in my body tingled as he boldly placed his swollen member directly onto my left shoulder ... and whispered into my ear ... 'tickets please' ... suffice to say, that won't be the last time I catch the bus to Broad Meadows." Khm. True story, true story. Okay, I'm gonna read the book - Broad Meadows, good suburb, Broad Meadows, good name! (Audience member goes WOOO!) Hahahaha, WEEEEEW! Has Broad Meadows ever had that reaction anywhere ever? How good is Broad Meadows- WOOOOOO! WOO! Wooing is one of few things you can do in a crowd. You can't woo when you're on your own, can you... You can't just be walking down the street like WOO! - "What's wrong with that person?" But if there's a group of you going "woo!" it's like, - "Naw, they're having a nice time, aren't they..." Wooing in- when you're in an audience is one of the few times you can get away with wooing. You can't, fucking- don't woo at the butcher's, y'know? - "I'll just have a ... 2 pounds of some sausages and uh, some pound of mince, and let me- six pound fifty WOOOOO!" - "I no longer wish for you to purchase my meat products." What was I talking about? Ah, Broadie? Yeah, Broad Meadows, it's a good name, Broad Meadow, like it makes sense, there was an expanse of just fucking... no stuff, there was some broad meadows, and they went "let's fucking build it here" and it was an honest name. All these new subdivisions now, they're all fucking, just... - "What are we gonna call this deserted swamp?" - "Um... Spring Valley Mountview Niceface." Fuck that! Name them honestly, y'know? - "Where are you living now?" - "Shitty water feature." - "Ah!" - "Where are you?" - "Stabbyville." - "Ah! ... How's that?" - "Yeah, it's good, it's close to schools, which is great, but um... We do get stabbed a lot though, it's a... You know, we knew the risks..." - "'Cuz it was in the name?" - "'Cuz it was in the name! yeEEeeAh." I like an honestly named place. I was Broken Hill recently, that's an honestly named place. - "We had a hill, we fucking broke it. Welcome to Broken Hill." Actually, Broken Hill have gone one further, they've named all the streets in the centre of town after elements. 'Cuz it's a mining town, they went thematic with that shit. So you're walking down Chloride, and you hit the corner of Bromide, or Oxide, I love that! That makes sense to me! I live in Collingwood - it'd be much easier to direct people to my house if I could send them to the corner of Soy Latte and Hipster Fuckwit. That'd take out all the guesswork ... When you're heading to Frankston, don't forget to check out the beautiful parklands on the corner of Bucket Bong and Pregnant Teenager. They are just enchanting. Alright. Gonna read the book. Blblblbl. You cool Matt? Sick. I'm gonna keep talking to you so you feel included. Therefore, not rejected. Khm, okay. Alrighty. Okay. Here we go. Alright. Shut up, I'm gonna read it. Okay. Phew. Walking to Skye, chapter one . . . Fascinating man, Ernest Hemingway. I didn't know a lot about him, but I kept thinking of that quote, "the first draft of everything is shit", while I was writing my book, and I started to think, "who are you to tell me my first draft is shit, Hemingway? What did you ever do that was sO fUckIng gOOd?" So I realized I didn't know anything about him, so I decided to do some research on him, and it proved to be an excellent means of putting off writing my book. And now I can tell you everything I know about him as an excellent means of putting off reading you my book, so... Swings and roundabouts, my friends, swoongs and rimbledibbledoodledoodoos, as they say in Scotland ... They don't say that. No-one has ever said that. Anyway, what I suggest we do, okay, is I'm just gonna tell you a little bit about Ernest Hemingway, bit about Hemmers, and then we'll just let the segway into reading the book develop organically. Like a runaway fungus at the bottom of a misplaced coffee cup. - "Aw, guys, how long has this been behind the couch? ... There's little people in it!" - "Save us! Save us from our porcelain prison!" - "wwWAAH!" (tosses cup) KSSSH - "We're free!" - (Running noise, tktktktktktk) - (Randy steps on the little people with an audible crunch) It's just for me, that bit, it's just for me!.. Okay. Okay, here we go, ladies and gentlemen, for the very first time I would wager in all of your living memories, I now am proud to present to you, the life and times of Ernest Miller Hemingway in approximately three and a half minutes. Go! (Background shifts) Born in Chicago in eighteen ninety-nine, son of a physician and a musician, reasonably uneventful childhood, decided to study journalism. Enlisted with the Red Cross during World War One, got blown up in Milan and spent six months in hospital with severe shrapnel wounds in both legs, fell in love with a nurse, they decided to get married. He came home to prepare, she stayed there and ditched him for an Italian soldier, which initiated a life-long pattern of him rejecting women before they had a chance to reject him. Take note, Mattie. Got a job as a foreign correspondent, fell in love with his roommate's sister, married her and moved to Paris. They hung out with Gertrude Stein, they kicked it with Pablo Picasso, he started writing in earnest, moved to Toronto, had a kid, moved back to Paris, published a couple of books, cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, converted to catholicism ... ... ...  Cut his head open after pulling on a cord thinking he was flushing a toilet, and instead ripped a skylight from the roof and smashed it onto his face, moved to Kansas City, had another kid, his dad committed suicide, he shot a lot of bears for some reason, had a car accident, had another kid, went to Africa to kill some wild animals and got dysentery - Karma! -, published another book, moved to Cuba, shot himself in the leg whilst aiming at a shark! Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, published "For Who the Bell Tolls", sold half a million copies in a couple of months and got nominated for a Pulitzer prize, cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, became the self-appointed leader of a band of village militia outside of Paris, and was subsequently brought up on charges for contravening the Geneva convention and got away with it like a FUCKING CHAMPION! Got pneumonia, moved back to Cuba, and spent most of his spare time on his boat, tracking nazi u-boats with a machine gun and a pile of hand grenades - I AM NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Had a few more car accidents, three more concussions, got clawed while playing with a lion! ... Got depressed, drank, got fat, published a couple of more books, went back to Africa to shoot some more wild animals and barely survived two separate plane crashed in the space of twenty-four hours, winding up with a fractured skull, internal bleeding, cracked spine, ruptured liver, first degree burns, and a paralyzed sphincter muscle - Karma! -, won a Nobel prize, had a file opened on him by J. Edgar Hoover, left a bunch of shit in a safe in Cuba and moved to Idaho paranoid that the feds were following him, which they were, because he spent most of the nineteen fourties working for the KGB! AGAIN, NOT-MAKING-THIS-SHIT-UP! Suffered from hepatitis, nephritis, hypertension, hemochromatosis, anemia, and impotence - Karma! -, got committed, received way too much electroconvulsive therapy and came out all fucked up, started hinting at suicide so immediately got re-committed, received another couple of months worth of electroconvulsive therapy, got released, put both barrels of his favourite twelve gauge shotgun into his mouth, and BLEW HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF. WHAT A GUY!!! (Applause) Ah... That is all true! What a fucking unit! Hemingway is the quintessential anti-hero, the talented, charismatic, belligerent, suicidal, alcoholic genius that can't keep his dick in his trousers. And he still found time to write about fifteen books! I've written one, and it took me ages, because I procrastinate like a motherfucker! I only got this written by doing most of the work in my local public library, because it's very difficult to masturbate in the reference section without getting caught. It's... It's almost impossible, in fact ... Almost. I don't even enjoy masturbating anymore, I just do it to avoid other tasks. And if it's something I really don't wanna do, I can seriously just go back-to-back wanks, just AARGH, just 'till it's painful, like NAAAAAAAAH, like hurty cum, like MWOOOAAARGH, WOOOMMMHHH MHHHH MMHHMHMMM RMMMMMHHHHOOkay fine I'll do the fucking dishes. And you know the weird thing about books is that you only really need to write one to be considered to be a great writer. Until last year, "To Kill a Mockingbird" was the only book that Harper Lee ever published. One book in eighty-nine years. To be fair that one book did win the Pulitzer prize and sold over fourty million copies, so she didn't really need to do another one, did she... - "Hey Harper, you gonna write another book?" - "Nope! Did you read the first one? FUCKING NAILED IT! FUCKING NAILED IT! I'm just doing the one. Just doing the one." Imagine if I did that. Came up here, told one joke, and then stared at you for fifty-eight minutes. - "You gonna tell another joke?" - "Nope! Did you hear the first one? FUCKING NAILED IT! I'm just doing the one." There's not many jobs where you can just do the one, is there... Just... Writers, and... Suicide bombers. Hard to do two of those... Or maybe UFC fighters that get punched in the head so hard in their first bout that cerebral fluid trickles out of their eye sockets. - "Ohhh, that's fucked Randy..." It happens. It's pretty much the perfect example of why we're sort of festering in this evolutionary cul-de-sac, isn't it? - "Welcome to planet earth, there's approximately seven billion of us, as you can see there's quite a few of us that don't have any clean drinking water, OH! Here's a large group of us that get paid millions of dollars to knee each other in the face! Obviously still... Ironing out a few of the kinks." Martial arts, mixed or otherwise, should not be the domain of fat-necked roughians trying to stomp on each other's ballsacks. Just as yoga should not be taught by twenty-two year old gym instructors that did a one week yoga retreat in Bali and now get around in low-slung fisherman pants with a bindy and a plat talking about mindfulness like they've ever had any fucking life experience at all. I'm sorry, you can tell me to relax and center myself when you spend maybe ten or fifteen years considering what that actually means. Until then, go back to taking photos of the froth on your coffee and shut the fuck up. And I'm torn! I'm torn because I do yoga! I buy oragnic vegetables. I blindly sign internet petitions without reading the fine print, give myself a good old pat on the back and go back to downloading hardcore pornography... I'm trying to be a good buddhist, I'm trying... But it's even difficult to identify as buddhist in the current climate without coming off as some sort of new-age pompous twat dipping his toe into the "What does it all mean?" kiddie pool while holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and staring lecherously across the back yard at your cousin's tits. - "Geez, Tamara's grown up since last Christmas, hasn't she..." And I mean, Buddha was just a dude who found enlightenment sometime around the fifth century, and he decided to stick around and talk about it, y'know. But he made it clear that everything's optional, I guess, y'know, "here's the thing I've discovered, I think it's pretty nifty, but you can find your own way through it". He was kind of like a benevolent woodwork teacher, just overseeing the workshop, but allowing his students to discover for themselves which machine is most likely to cut their fucking head off. - BRRRRRRRRRRR-WAUGH! - "It was that one, Gareth, well done. A plus, matey, A plus for you." And there's been loads of other buddhas since, right, but they haven't necessarily felt the calling to stick around and talk about it. I guess they just become enlightened and fuck off. I think that's fantastic. But ... Are you only enlightened if you're able to share it with people? Y'know? If I write a book and nobody reads it, is it still art? What is the collective noun for monkeys? ... ... ... Seriously, does anybody know what it is? I was trying to think of it all day. Anybody? (Inaudible audience response) What? (Audience member:) "Gang" Gang? Gang of monkeys? Coming through on my gang of monkeys, we're a little gang of monkeys, ooh-A-A-A! It's not gang! Anybody else? If you come up with something stupid, I'll sing a dumb song about it ..? What else? (Inaudible audience response) What is it? (Inaudible audience response) ... Oh you people are fucked. Does anybody know what it is? It's not barrel, by the way. It's troop. What, what did you say, uhh... Gang. Who-what, what's your name, who said gang? Where are you? (Victoria:) "Victoria." Victoria? How are you, Victoria? (Victoria:) "Great." Thanks for coming to my show. Hey, Victoria, riddle me this m'sister, have you read "Go Set a Watchman"? Harper Lee's new book? (Victoria:) "Naw." Naw. Has anybody read it? (Audience member:) "Half." Half. That is the best book review ever. - "I read half." Has anybody read "To Kill a Mockingbird"? (audience responds yes) yEES we reAD IT at scHOOL, fuck off. For those of you who haven't- for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, "Go Set a Watchman" was the Harper Lee book that came out last year, right, and if you don't know the backstory, alright, I'll just fill you in. Victoria, listen up. Um... Basically, Harper Lee, right? So, Harper Lee, she had a stroke in two thousand and seven, and until she died earlier this year, she was in like, assisted care, she was in a wheelchair, she was deaf and she was blind, and her sister Alice had been taking care of all of her affairs, until Alice died in twenty fourteen at the age of one hundred and three, like a fucking boss... Anyway before Alice died she was pretty much the last line of defence between Harper and this 'lawyer' that had just sort of been loitering in the wings, right. And when Alice died, this 'lawyer' just happened to discover the manuscript for "Go Set a Watchman" in the locked safety deposit box in an obscure vault in a random bank, where it had been busy minding its own business for the last fifty-six and a half years, and according to the 'lawyer', Harper was delighted that the manuscript had been discovered, and suddenly reversed her life-long vow to never ever ever publish another book ever ever again, particularly not "Go Set a Watchman" which she actually wrote before "To Kill a Mockingbird" and didn't think was very good. Other people think that maybe the 'lawyer' was attempting to get filthy rich by brutally fist-fucking an eighty-nine year old stroke victim, but the question is; ... ... ... The question is, if "To Kill a Mockingbird" had've stayed in that vault, alongside this newly discovered manuscript, would it still technically be a work of literary genius? Or is it only when something's been evaluated by the world and possibly someone's made some cash off it that it's considered to be valid artistic expression? Is art only art once it's been witnessed? Acknowledged? If I don't take a bow at the end of this show, does it devalue the performance? Will you feel unsatisfied? Or rejected? ... I recently read that book "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work" by Alaine de Button, and in it, he says; "we might consider art as anything which pushes our thoughts in important, yet neglected directions". Now, I'd like to consider what I do artistic expression, but that sort of poses the question - do people really need their thought pushed in the direction of old ladies being brutally fist-fucked? Is that my artistic legacy? Is that what I'm gonna leave behind? Y'know, "Randy... He was the old lady fisting guy, wasn't he? Eh. Very droll, very droll. Yeah." Because Ernest Hemingway is remembered more for his literary talents than for being an insufferable cunt with a penchant for killing shit and cheating on his multiple wives, does his artistic legacy outshine his tactless and unfortunate personal life? Is it better to be a mindful human that leaves no palpable remnants of artistry behind, or a violently unlikeable sexual deviant that shits handfuls of heart-breakingly beautiful sonnets and sonnatas out of his asshole before brunch? Because it's the image of the tortured, self-destructive artist that prevails nine times out of ten. Amy Winehouse was just a girl that wanted to sing some songs, do you know what I mean? So... Should I just keep my fucking mouth shut? And try to navigate towards enlightenment, leaving behind an intangible trail of good deeds? Or do I dive deeper and deeper into the inky, black ocean of self-destruction and self-indulgence until I nail my chosen art form, leaving an echo for the eternal wonderment of countless future generations that will just breeze over my asshole personality? ... it's what's keeping me up in the night times. Eh... (Pause) Y'know, from the moment we're born we become less than human? You know that? E-... E-hh... Eh... All the bacteria from our mother is passed onto us on the way out of the womb, and from then on, we just continue to collect shit, on the inside and the outside, until the day we expire. Occasionally, you get to choose what that shit is, but most of the time you have very little say in where it comes from or when. You just have to duck and weave your way through the shit for as long as you can, until the chunk of shit with your name on it finally-AAARGH! cleans you up. Look, I know this was billed as a comedy, but a-ha-ha-HAA! LET'S TALK ABOUT DEATH! Woo! There are some pretty fucking ridiculous ways to die, though- OH, like that guy, that scuba diver they found when they put out the bush fire! *oh my go-od have you heard this fucking sto-ory?* They put out, like, a bush fire, and they found a dude in full scuba gear, and they figured out that the water bomber plane or helicopter that scoops up the water to put out the fire accidentally picked up a diver and dumped him into the flames! What a fucked up way to go! It's pretty much the polar opposite of "He died peacefully in his sleep", isn't it? Just dumped out of a plane into a blazing inferno... with a highly flammable gas tank instead of a parachute strapped to your back? - "NOOoo!" (Explosion noice) "I just wanted to look at the fish..." What do you say to his family? - "Uhh... At least he died doing what he loved." Well, he was a firefighter that enjoyed skydiving and water sports, but I'm not sure he ever wanted to combine the three... That's better, isn't it? - "Tell more jokes you little purple fucker." I had a good joke the other day - How do you know if a hippie has been to your house? ... They're still there. Haa... How do you know if someone's vegan? ... They'll tell you, yes, ahaHAHAA! Hahahaha, I'm vegan. Um... I initially became vegan for environmental and ethical reasons, and now I just do it to give people the shits at dinner parties. Like, - "Get it away, I can't eat that, meat is murder, STOP HAVING FUN EVERYONE!" It's a funny conversation, the vegan one, you bring it up, people just go - "... shut up fuckhead" But it's funny, 'cuz you know you don't actually need to eat meat. You don't NEED it. Nobody actually needs it. Unless you're on hemodialasys and you have to inhale a rare porterhouse steak every three hours to stop your kidneys backing in, you don't actually need it. That makes it a choice, and it's your choice. As long as you understand that that choice is born from belief and that particular belief is called "carnism". It's an inherited belief system that sort of conditions us to eat meat, and the notion is so... pervasive, I guess, it's viewed as a given rather than a choice. But it's totally a choice. - "Where do you get your proteins from then you little poofter!?" PEAS! (Gasp) It's crazy. And I know it's easy to just lump veganism in with all the other food allergies and just go - "They're the annoying fuckheads that don't eat the good stuff" which I get, I totally get... We're having Christmas at my house this year, right? Three months out, my cousin calls me to discuss her son, my cousin's son, which makes him... Someone I couldn't give a fuck about, anyway; She calls me up, the first thing she says - she doesn't even say hello - the first thing she says is "Brayden can't have blue." - "What the fuck? - "BRAYDEN can't eat BLUE FOODS." Apparently this kid, if he eats anything with a blue food preservative in it, he just KLKH (imitates death) just taps out. That is bullshit! Firstly, don't call your kid Brayden. Secondly... secondly, blue is not even a natural colour for foodstuffs. It occurs very rarely in nature- name me one blue food. (Audience member:) "Blueberry." BLUEBERRIES ARE FUCKING PURPLE! I'm talking about mentos blue, like seven eleven slushie blue, what flavour is that? Fucking highlighter? - "Ah no Randy, blue means mint-" MINT IS GREEN- if you planted mint and it came up blue, you would SET that SHIT on FIRE. - "And that's cool! It's cool! it's like ice, it's like water!" Water is clear. The only time water is blue, is when there's billions of tonnes of it and it's all in the one spot. And then it's got all sorts of shit in it, like salt, and SHARKS ... BLUE MEANS SHARKS IN IT! don't eAt iT it'S gOT SHARKS IN IT! You know, when sharks eat people, it's fucked, but it shits me how they immmediately go out and kill the shark like - "awrH it's gONe roGUe. iT's gOnE rOgUE!" No it hasn't, it's just doing what millions of years of evolution have programmed it to do, fucking swim around eating shit. - "yeeeeeeeah but ... ... ... it came into our bit. thIs bit's oUR bit oF tHe ocEAn." No-see that bit there? That big fucking wet bit? That's its bit. This bit here, all of this dry bit here, that you're standing on with your legs, your legs that have evolved to stand on the dry bit, that's your bit. You go into its bit, you're going to get bit. That's the lesson. ... Paddle out next to a seal colony and wiggle your ass around like a slutty little ol' dove, complaining when you get munched. It's that weird disconnect, y'know, it's the same thing as carnism, it's like if I imagine a pig is just a pig, and all pigs are the same, then I can detach what is on my plate from how it got there. It's just how most of us are brought up, y'know. But if you saw someone slit the throat of a Labrador, and then string it upside down to die an excrutiating death just squirming and bleeding out at the end of a steel hook, you'd think it was a bit fucked. How is a pig any different? It's not. It's actually not ... I said that on stage in Rock Hampton, in Queensland about four months ago. I was like, "how is a pig any different?", and a man in the audience yelled out "BACON!". Touché, sir. You win this round. He actually came up to me after the show - I was standing at the merch desk not selling anything - and he-.. I saw him coming from the other side of the room, just this massive dude, like - (stomping noises) - "Ah, you're a large man" and he said - "I was the one that said bacon" - "fucking don't kill me" and he goes - "nah, you alright mate, you alright mate, you alr-" It's the most passive-aggressive Aussie male thing you can say to another- - "naah, you alright mate, you-" It basically means "I wanna punch your fucking head in, but I don't wanna upset me misses. You alright mate." Anyway, he goes to me, - "Mate, you're not gonna make any friends in rock hampton being vegan. Did you know that Rocky is actually the beef capital of Australia-" - "ah fuck I didn't know that" - "-with over two and a half million head of cattle within a two point five k radius of the town centre?" - "fuck I didn't know that either" - "And that is a fair wack of the thirteen million head of cattle in Queensland alone, seventy percent of which is bred purely for export. Few fun facts for ya matey, few fun facts." I said - "thank you sir I did not know any of that" Did you know that, globally, cows produce thirty-eight percent more greenhouse gas than every single car, truck, bus, boat, train, and plane combined each year? That breeding animals for food uses up one third of the planet's fresh water? Takes up fourty-five percent of the earth's surface, and is responsible for a whopping ninety-one percent of amazon destruction, making it the number one leading cause of species extionction, resource consumption, and environmental degradation destroying the planet on a daily basis? FEW FUN FACTS FOR YA MATEY, FEW FUN FACTS FOR YA! Now, I'm aware this is in danger of becoming a TED talk at this point... - "jesus, a lot of statistics, is there gonna be a test?" It's alright, it's fine, I'll read the book, alright? I'll read the book. Not forcing my opinions on you, I'm merely saying them with a microphone, and you're paying for it. LOCK THE DOORS-no, seriously, okay, here we go. Khm. I'm gonna read the book. Y'know we've got McDonald's home delivery now? Does anyone do that? (Audience responds) You... You do? You know you can already get it in your car? You can get it without getting out of your car, but what McDonald's have now done is they've removed the gruelling walk from the front door to the car, so you no longer have to do that humiliating - "BWAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHH- WUUUUUUUUUAHHHH! OOOOOOOAAAAARGGHHHH! Now I have to reverend carpool! Oh, God damn you, God damn you -click- MRRRRRRGHHHH! HMMMMMRGHH! MMMMOOUUHHH WHY CANNOT THEY JUST BRING IT TO MEIN HAUS?" Well now they can. I think it's a good thing. Keep the fatties off the streets, STOP 'EM HOGGING UP THE FOOT PATHS, if they wanna eat shit, let them do it in their own home- WHO'S WITH ME? (Audience starts applauding) Don't clap that, it's a horrible thing to say. yoU'RE moNSTerS! ... Okay. You all good Mattie? Sweet. Okay, here we go. Blblblblbl, okay, kh-hm, alright, here we go, buggedabuggedabuggeda, okay. Stop it! Okay ... Do you like my typewriter, by the way? Isn't it beautiful? It's basically here just as a prop, but occasionally I am always tempted to just go ... (humming). Eh? A few "Murder She Wrote" fans in the house? Heyo? Everyone else going - "What? What is that? Sounds like an old person's joke." ... it is! It is! It totally is! Alright. Here we go. Okay, fuck, here we go. Blblblblbl. Walking to Skye, chapter one ... I bought a bookshelf on Gumtree recently, um, it was an amazing experience, I'll quickly tell you about it and then I'll read the book, but- I found it strange, becasue it made me start to think about the way our, like, methods of communication have sort of changed over the years, y'know? In the old days, if you wanted a bookshelf, you'd just go see Gareth the Bookshelf Guy, 'cuz he was the dude in your tribe that made the bookshelves, he had a little bookshelf cave, he was REPUTABLE. Now any mad bastard can sell their shit on Gumtree, you know what I mean? As a species, we're sort of able to cope with knowing and gossiping around like a hundred, or a hundred and fifty people. That's like the limit of our tribe. Any more than that, it starts to get confusing, which is why we created abstract constructs like territories and deities to unite larger groups of people under an imaginary common factor. And it works the trick, because we only really gather en masse on special occasions, but I think like social media and mmmh... It's fucking all that up, y'know? I think we're able to deal with the thousands of people we're connected to on a daily basis, and as a result we neglect our immediate one fifty, y'know? That's why I never get invited to parties anymore. It's not 'cuz I ramble on about veganism and fisting old ladies, it's because I'm not on facebook and everybody just assumes you are. I am so behind on the births, deaths, and marriages of my friends that I feel like the time traveller's wife every time I go to a party, I'm like... - "This is Tim, he's our son, he's six now-" - "Fucking... Didn't even know you were pregnant." Anyway, you know smartphones, aren't they great? You know that, right, they're not, they're not that great, you don't need the internet in your pocket, you work at Cole's, okay? You're not working for the president, you don't need it, you don't need that much information. And also, what was the point of developing opposable thumbs for you to take a photo of your head, post it on the internet, and then just stand by for validation. No-one gives a fuck about your head! They'll only validate it in order to gain permission to post a photo of their own head on the internet and stand by for validation. The people who give a fuck about your head will at some point see it in real life. Fuck your head and the neck it rode in on. Your vanity is sucking up my bandwidth ... Anyway this is what's going through my head as I'm on Gumtree looking for a bookshelf, because- you know when you put something on the... on the... in like... in the search in booktree- in booktree? what the fuck- When you put something in the search on Gumtree - I'm having a stroke up here - When you put something in the search, right, and like, there's always a couple of things that come up in the list that are like the polar opposite of what you searched for, and like "get out of my head gumtree algorithms, CONSPIRACY!"? No but seriously, it's all you type, it's like "bookshelf", and it's all bookshelf, bookshelf, bookshelf, grammophone? Huh. Bookshelf, bookshelf, bookshelf, combine harvester? What the fuck? ... Huh, that's actually a pretty good price. Anyway, on this particular day, I found two bookshelves that worked for me, in terms of cost, and more importantly, geographical convenience, 'cuz I'd be fucked if I'm driving to Broad Meadows to pick up a bookshelf, right? So I type in bookshelf, and I see the two things, and I'm like okay, one seller is Cathy, the other is Morgan. I send them both the same text message, "Hello! I saw your bookshelf on gumtree, is it still available?". Cathy texts back straight away, saying - "sorRRY iT wENt thIS MorNING!" - "That's cool, Cathy, I'm sorry I gave you an annoying voice in the retelling of this story." Morgan's response came through a couple of minutes later, and simply read, - "It was my wife's bookshelf." ... HOW DO YOU RESPOND TO THAT? Aside from the fact that it doesn't answer my fucking question... His use of past tense in that sentence unnerved me slightly. I'm like, aahhh, I should probably just find another bookshelf... And then I noticed he lived in the suburb next to me, so I replied; - "Is it still available?" He responded with the letter Y. Just a Y. Is he asking me why I wanna know if it's still available? Or is it a Y for "yes", and he's so in the throws of grief that he can't manage the E and the S? I assume it's a Y for "yes" and respond, - "Cool! I'll take it. When's a good time to come and pick it up?" No reply for fifteen minutes, I'm like... ah he's forgotten about it, fuck it, I'll find another bookshelf, and then when his reply actually does come through I realize he spent those fifteen minutes crafting his response, because it's a FUCKING THESIS. He must've felt so bad about only using a single consonant in his previous text that he just massively overcompensated with this one. Also, for some reason, felt that the use of punctuation? Entirely unnecessary. So it's just one obscenely long sentence, which reads; - "You must come and pick up now I only have short time here at house and also it wide so bring van or trailer and there's stair but I can help you carry it down stair if you come park out front walk up path ring bell and I will help you carry it to trailer or van I only accept cash and if you do not come now I will sell it someone else" (Shriek) Again I'm thinking, ahhh, I should just find another bookshelf at this point, but now I am FASCINATED by Morgan, and I simply must meet the man. So I drive over to his house- before I left, I sent him a message saying - "Cool, I'll be there in ten minutes" and he replied "ok", but spelled it OK-A-Y which just fascinated me more, that he'll use four letters to spell a two letter word, but only one letter to spell a three letter word, MORGAN IS OFF THE FUCKING CHAIN! And as I'm driving over to his house, I'm trying to picture what he's gonna be like, y'know... His pidgin English might suggest ethnicity of some sort, but I don't wanna racially profile him; Maybe he's an old man who recently lost his wife and is not that very good at texting, or maybe, and I'm really hoping this is the case, Morgan is just batshit crazy. So I get to his house, and I go up to the- ehe, I park out front walk up path ring bell, and I... I brace myself for the door to be opened by like, an old man in a smoking jacket, wearing fishnet stockings and suspenders, just puffing on an opium pipe while a butler just creepily polishes a goldfish in the background, and then a tiny pugdog wearing a fez hat just trots up the hallway, sits on the mat, looks up at me and says "RELCOME TO OUR ROVERY ROME!"... And then the door opens, and I am thoroughly disappointed. Before me stands an average caucasian male in his mid-thirties, dressed casually, hipster sheek, stubble, glasses with designer frames, expensive watch - I immediately think "architect?" but the house is too cheesy for that - it's like a double story doll's house with bay windows - but definitely a designer of some kind? Maybe a graphic designer? He's too skinny for manual labour, but he's too hip for the public sector, BUT THIS CAN'T BE MORGAN. Because Morgan's text messages would suggest that he's not that technically savvy, and then the man standing in front of me says - "Hello my name is Morgan" AND THE PLOT THICKENS! He invites me in, shakes my hand, closes the door, and twenty minutes later, I will be witnessing Morgan perform some of the most aggressive acts of violence I've ever seen in my life, and I will be speeding away in my car bleeding from the face. Here's how this shit went down... I go into the house, and I notice two things immediately; One, this is a house in the throws of renovation. Nothing too extreme, but there's like drop sheets on all the furniture, there's freshly painted walls, there's a bathtub wrapped in plastic in the hallway, awaiting installation- someone's doing some work on this house. The second thing I notice, on the way up the stairs to the second floor, on the first floor landing, is a wedding photograph featuring a very cleanly shaven Morgan with a very beautiful bride. Very much in love! The photograph is very much on the floor, and the glass in the frame is very much smashed. She's not dead, she's left him, and THE PLOT THICKENS A BIT MORE FOR MORGAN! And as Morgan unceremoniously like, kicks the photo frame to one side on the way up the stairs, I really wanted to pry into Morgan's life and ask heaps of inappropriate questions... But he was clearly a broken man. He had this terrible air of sadness around him, so I didn't wanna intrude. Luckily for me, though, I didn't have to, because Morgan immediately began oversharing and told me the whole fucking story aaAAAH! Thank you Morgan! I shall hang off your every word and then retell your tale to two hundred strangers and record it for a fucking DVD! He IS a graphic designer -YES!- and he's really good at it. He does like massive rebranding campaigns for large corporations, he gets flown all over the world doing this shit, right? About four years ago, a woman hired Morgan to rebrand her florist business, and he did such a great job she married him. And he thought everything was just fine, until about three months ago. Morgan had to do a presentation in Sydney, right? But he was on his way home from overseas and got stuck in Dubai due to a flight cancellation, so rather than cancel the meeting, Morgan suggested to these businessmen in Sydney that they do a Skype chat, because he's so technologically savvy, despite his fucking baffling text message style. So Morgan checks into a hotel, cracks open his laptop, and starts skyping with this room full of businessmen in Sydney, who are all watching Morgan on a massive screen on their boardroom wall, right? And everything's going great, Morgan is totally nailing it, until about halfway through; He realizes that a file he wants to show these dudes is on the desktop of his home computer back in his home office in Melbourne. And he decides to live share the desktop of his home computer on the Skype chat. He knows how to do that, he can remote control his computer from anywhere in the world, it's not particularly new technology, but Morgan makes it sound so impressive. So this room full of businessmen are all watching keenly, like - "OOAHP! MARGARET, BRING IN SOME BISCUITS, THERE'S SOME NEW-FANGLED SHIT GOING ON IN HERE!!!" as Morgan clicks a few buttons and (click) brings up the desktop of his home computer on the Skype chat. Now, what Morgan doesn't realize is that his wife has been using the "Photobooth" app on that particular computer to take pictures of herself. To take naked pictures of herself. To take naked pictures of herself... doing some pretty fucked up shit. It's embarassing, to say the least, just as Margaret came back in with the biscuits- - "I've got you the b-WHUIEAAAAURRRHHH!!!" Now, those of you who are familiar with the Photobooth app will know that how it works, is it accesses the built-in camera in your computer and with the click of a button, (click) takes a photo of you when you're standing in front of your screen. And if you know that, you also know that if you leave that application open, the camera also stays open, witnessing whatever may be happening in front of the computer, in real time. Such as your wife, in your home office, fucking your best mate. OOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOORGANNNN... Nooooo... Morgan then goes on to tell me she's keeping the house, his former best mate is moving in, and while they're out for the day shopping for fittings, Morgan must suffer the indignity of moving his shit out, and selling the stuff they don't want on Gumtree to this guy. Ahhh... It's at this point of the story that Morgan starts crying, he breaks down, and I do not blame the man, it's fucking horrible and I just wanna give him a big hug and say "Everything's gonna be alright, Morgan", but I am holding the full weight of a BOOKSHELF halfway down a set of STAIRS and Morgan is the only thing stopping that bookshelf from caving my face in- I was like, MORGAN! MMMMORGAN! And Morgan managed to pull himself together ... for about eight seconds? And then just went BAHHH and let the bookshelf go. I fell backwards, it literally rolled over me, and took out the light hanging above the staircase, I'm now lying on my back getting showered in broken glass, as the bookshelf turned end over end and just went FONK right through a freshly painted wall at the bottom of the stairs. I'm like, AAH. aaAAAh. aaAAAAAAhhh. aaAAAAAHHH. I've got a tiny cut on my forehead which is just pissing blood, for some reason - apart from that, I'm fine. Morgan, however - he's not fine! Morgan is the opposite of fine. Something happened when the bookshelf lodged itself in the wall and his sadness just (click) went away in a second, and he started PISSING HIMSELF laughing. Hysterical. And he had the creepiest laugh I've ever heard in my life- I'm standing there like "this is weird" and he's like "mwhueHUEUEEUEUEUE! mhhwuEUEUEUE!" like some sort of demonically possessed baritone cookaburra, - "mwhueEUUEUEE, a-HOGUGUGUGAGAGAGA!" - "Um... Uh..." - "mwueEUEUUEUEUE" - "can I still have the bookshelf?" - "yuuEEEEAAH" We extract it from the wall - the bookshelf, incidentally, showing no sign of having just rolled down a staircase and smashed through a wall. We carry it out to my car- we had to stop about six times, 'cuz Morgan was like - "Hang on a minute, mwueHUEUEUEUEUEE" We got it to my car, put it on the trailer, and Morgan was in such a great mood he let me have the bookshelf for free. Ohh! Hahaha... Mm... And that's where the story SHOULD end. But there was something about the bookshelf going through the wall that flipped a fucking switch in Morgan's head, and he is now hungry for more destruction. So as I started tying the bookshelf down to my trailer, Morgan just strolls over to like an upright mailbox on the front lawn and just starts trying to wrench it out of the ground. Really putting his back into it. I'm like, "are you okay buddy" and he's like "YEAP" (struggling) HUAH! He pulls it out of the ground whereupon he wields it like a fucking battleaxe and just starts smashing up the front garden, just beheading the daisies, fucking up the lavender... I'm like, "uhh, hey Morgan, maybe you wanna stop and think about that" and he whirled around and looked at me like Jack Nicolson chasing Shelly Duvalle up the stairs in the shining and said - "WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS?" ... yep, yep, cool, man, yep, yep... Now, I like tying knots. I'm quite good at tying knots if I tie something down I take my time because I want it to stay there... But as Morgan nonchalantly strolled up the driveway, rolled up the garage door, and put the mailbox through the windscreen of an Audi!? I must admit, I kind of rushed my knot tying job. I got in my car, I'm about to drive off, I'm like, looking at the house going "ah, I'm sure he'll be fine" and then an armchair smashed out of an upstairs window and just went DOINK DOINK DOINK DOINK down the front lawn. I was like "... what's my duty of care in this situation?". I didn't want to call the cops on him, I didn't want him to trash the house, I'm like - "daw fuck I'm gonna have to talk to Morgan" So I got out, I walked up the driveway shitting myself- you know when someone does something really violent and you're just like "ah, fuck, we're not supposed to do shit like that!"? Yucky, just yucky feeling in my tum-tum- and I'm standing there, standing there in the garage and there's like an adjoining door in the garage that leads into the house. I can see in through the door into the house, up the staircase, it's like a wooden staircase, and I'm standing in the garage just going - "ah fuck..." (gulp) "morgaaaan. Morgaaaan!" Like I was calling a cat for its dinner? "Morgan! Moggie-moggie-moggie-moggie-moggie!" And then I notice a small trickle of water start to come from the top step. And then a little bit more water, and then QUITE A LOT OF WATER, just pissing down the stairs like shitty water feature, I'm like "aw that can't be right" and then Morgan appeared on the top step holding a hammer like this: - "BAAAH!" (jumps out) I was like - "WOAH!" and he's like - "mwhuEUEUEUE" Starts running at me wielding the hammer, like "UEUEUEUE", I'm like "aw no no I just wanted to buy a bookshelf..." he's like "UEUEUEUEUEUE-.. RRAH!" runs straight past me, I'm like - "Where are you going?" he's like - "UEEEH!" made a beeline for my car, I'm like - "NO, MAN! STOP!" he's like - "UEUEUEUEUUEUE" - "STOP IT! JUST STOP!" He spins around and goes - "I just checked my phone, she texted me fifteen minutes ago saying she'll be here in fifteen minutes, WE'RE GONNA GO!" and gets into my car! - "fucking... jesus... fuck me" I run down the lawn, get in the driver's seat, I'm like - "What was with the water?" he goes - "Ah, I put plugs in all of the sinks and turned all the taps on!" I'm like - "Oh that's fucked" He's like - "JUST DRIVE!" I was like - "AAH!" I took off so quick, rounded the corner of his street, and the bookshelf just went "mrrreeUUWh-BOOSH" and exploded against the guard rail, just exploded in a shower of badly tied knots and broken dreams... So me and Morgan just fucking left it there, like a little breadcrumb for his ex wife to find on the way home to her destroyed gingerbread house. I dropped Morgan at a train station. I have never seen him again. And that, my friends, is why I no longer shop on Gumtree. Thank you very much! Thank you very much. (Applause) Haha, ah, fuck... You know my favourite bit of that story? I just made it up. Yes, not true. There is no Morgan. MMMH! It's very unsatisfying, isn't it? - "But I saw him in my head. I saw Morgan in my head." ... ... ... Why is it we can feel so robbed when someone tells us a story we just heard isn't true, and yet so satisfied at the end of a fictional novel? Y'know? You know that? ... You know the other great thing about that story? First draft. FUCK YOU HEMINGWAY! ... (sigh) Can't end on that, can I? - "Those LIES? WE DID NOT COME HERE TO BE HOODWINKED, SIR!" The truth, eh? ... The truth is, I'm... I'm not an exceptional person, y'know? Nothing interesting really ever happens to me, I'm massively flawed, and I think I'm quite forgettable, if I'm being a hundred percent honest. And this isn't the shit bit at the end of the show where I get on the cross, I'm like "lOve mE on the wAY OUt thE doOr". It's not that, it's just that I don't think- on a scale from one to memorable, I'm not that memorable. Not on like the Morgan sort of scale, not on the Ernest Hemingway scale, certainly, y'know... But if I tell a great story, maybe people will remember that instead. Remember the card trick and just... pretend that they don't know how it's done, y'know? ... But must we leave a legacy? MUST we make an impact? Do we HAVE TO leave a footprint? Is it okay to just settle, seek safety, nest, y'know? Or must we constantly shake our lives up, or suffer the indiscriminate cruelty of having it shaken against our will? Must we try to carve a path through the tall grass, feeling as though no-one has ever felt how we feel? Terrified at what may be lurking low in the grass on either side of us, but just pressing ever on with that paleolithic instinct deep within our chromosomes that the only way is forward, that you HAVE TO keep going? That eventually you'll stumble upon the edge of the field, hitch a ride from a passing car, and meet up with the rest of the gang for tea and sandwiches at the old town hall? ... (deep breath) Do we feel like the path that we are carving through the grass is all our own? Only to finally float above the field with the sweet relief of expiration and realize that the field is insignificantly miniscule in size, and that there's only one path through the grass - the exact same one that every human has trod before us will ever after, just stumbling blindly along a tiny hyphen between the words "birth" and "death". And when reduced to that level of crisp simplicity, fear cannot exist ... So. (pausing, readying) Phew. Walking to Skye, chapter one: (Blackout) (Applause and credits)

[zerotexas1975]

i wanna love you but i don’t know how (part 1);

↳ pairing: hoseok x reader x taehyung

↳ genre: hybrid au | poly au | slow burn | fluff | angst

↳ word count: 2,972

↳ warnings: cursing, verbal and physical abuse, violence (there’s no sexual abuse!)

↳ summary: “there’s a space between dream and reality called happiness,

and for me to be happy

I need to be with you” — unknown

or where you find yourself falling in love again, for someone who has this too familiar scent - and a too familiar secret.

A/N: I decided to wait a little and repost it on Hobi’s birthday. Happy birthday to our sunshine!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | ??? | masterlist

You were really smart - so no one would be surprised to find out about how you learned to avoid your owner in order to have things going on smoothly (or something close to it) at home.

He is not a man who’s known for his patience, is mostly like someone who gets annoyed pretty easily, and for him it seemed like you had a degree on doing so - annoy him, that is, so not being around was the thing that were working for the two of you at the moment.

In the beginning you were pretty sure there was a problem in the way he treated you; but after finding out you were a gift, one that he could not refuse seeing as you were given from a potential business partner, you started to understand him. Or at least you tried.

You know he regrets signing papers of adoption and having you around. You saw how he was fond of his privacy and that you just destroyed it when he had to take you. And there’s nothing you can do, really, other then feel guilty for behaving the way you do; so you always try your best to not do the things he says he hates about you.

He likes to remind you now and then that you have too much energy for a cat, and if it weren’t for your appendages you would be mistaken by a dog - like it was something to be offended, but he made it like you should feel like it was.

You also wouldn’t shut up a time ago, before the first time he snapped and hit you, saying how ridiculous your voice sounded when you talked.

But really, what about you were not like this?

You remember a time, at the farm you grew up in, where the other hybrids would call you vexing - until he went to your rescue.

You can’t really blame your owner then, can you?

That was probably the reason that took you so long to be adopted - and if it is to be honest, you were not. You were still an unwanted gift.

You should be grateful about the few things he gives you and the little liberty you have, because it could be worse. And he would not let you forget about it.

A few months after you had started your life with him, someone offered you a job at that one music store you like to go every day while your owner is at work.

When you told him that you first thought he wouldn’t like the idea, but he did. Almost just as much as you did.

In fact, he felt really relieved because you already spent most of your time there and now he is having the chance to not have you around for a while longer - and by obligation.

Unfortunately he had the time to think about it and got scared - not that you would ever know about it, but he asked you to wait a few days before giving Yoongi, the owner of the place who wanted to hire you, an answer.

You bit the inside of your cheeks apprehensively, but still nodded your head seeing that you could do nothing but that.

He knows something about you that makes the inside of his stomach twist every time he thinks about it. You get attached to people too fast.

And if he didn’t have to put you on your place all the time, he knows how much you would like him too.

Hybrids are loyal to people they like by nature, but it doesn’t matter how important of a person you are, you need to treat them nicely to receive all their love. And there’s still that part in you that won’t let you fall for him that easy after the way he treated and keeps treating you.

That’s why he heard a lot of people force them to do so, to love their owners; because they want someone to them but are too bad at giving themselves back.

Or they are just mean, like him.

He doesn’t really know any, but he already scared you with the stories about prostitution and all kinds of abuse towards your kind; things that makes you feel sick and behave before he lets go of your now bruised arm.

It is in moments like these that he reminds you to feel grateful, and so you do.

But you don’t love him, you can’t. Because of that and something else.

He knows though that if he didn’t keep pushing you away you would like him, and that’s the reason he is scared of letting you work for Yoongi.

Someone wants to take you away from him? He doesn’t care.

Jesus, he would appreciate if someone did that. But in which circumstances?

As the CEO of a big and famous company, he is vulnerable. Even when he is a very powerful man.

People might not know you well, but they’ve seen you around with him - it was doing some good to his image even, but although the law wasn’t really on the side of your species, there was people, powerful people like him, trying to change that; so it is not like he can have the luxury of anyone knowing about what he does to you.

He wouldn’t let you ruin another thing for him.

That was when he started to wonder about the what ifs. What if you tell everything to someone at work? What if that someone decides to do something about it? What if someone sees it?

He left too many marks on your body from his drunk nights and bad days, marks from when he wanted to make you shut up or just to relieve some stress. How bad for him it would be if someone sees them?

But then you begged when you started to notice that he was about to tell you no.

Feeling annoyed, he threatened you.

You want to work there? Go ahead, just make sure to keep your mouth shut. And don’t you dare disobey me.

But you are smart, remember? You would not disobey, you promised. And you take these seriously.

At the time you didn’t have any friends, so the last thing you thought was that keep everything as a secret would be difficult.

It was not like you had anyone to worry about you and you wanted so bad to work there that if it was going to be a problem you would solve it. No one can know about it, so no one will.

He was reluctant at first but after a week that he talked to you you started working at the store.

You remember the first time you entered the place, thinking that you would die before having the chance to listen to every song and kind of music that they had.

You also remember meeting Yoongi, the one who always had a sweet smile to show you and played the old piano at the corner for you when you weren’t feeling really good. He was the closest you could call a friend, though you knew it was still far from it - at least you thought.

He even gave you his old ipod when he learned you couldn’t listen to music in your house because your owner had really bad headache - he pretended he believed you when you said so and you couldn’t be happier.

That was until he asked if you wanted to work there.

You saw the paper that read they were looking for a new employee carefully glued in one of the large windows one day, where you spent more than necessary time looking at it.

He spotted you and asked if you were interested, and you didn’t notice you nodded your head because you were still surprised he gave you attention about something like a job.

So just imagine how you felt when he asked - excited - if you wanted to work there.

You know the place with the back of your hand and people like to talk to you when they come here, why not?

After that it didn’t take long for you to see you were friends.

Yoongi was kind and surprisingly talkative - at least when it involved music, and you two kept playing around about how he behaved more like a cat than you did, making him scrunch his nose cutely and shake his head before turning to assist someone.

People would say it was too soon but you were seeing each other every day, so it was not supposed to be a surprise when he started to know you well. But it was for you, because he did it perfectly.

The first time he saw you flinch was to the sound of the top board of the piano closing loudly, after the careless coworker who was cleaning it misjudged how heavy it was.

Yoongi thought it had something to do with you being a cat or the fact that you sometimes pay too much attention at the little things and forget that there’s a world around you too, and that other things are actually happening.

Then there was a second time, in the same day, and he frowned at you, asking with his eyes if you were alright from across the room when a customer was right in front of you and patted your shoulder to thank you for something and you flinched at his touch. You just gave Yoongi a thin smile.

Too enamored by the vinyls at his hands, the customer didn’t notice when you tensed nor how you were grasping the hem of your dress. But Yoongi did.

He started to pay more attention at you.

At how you would suddenly shut up and feel embarrassed when you thought you were talking too much and being a burden or how you averted your eyes when he was about to lecture you about something you messed up in the store. How your tail would curl around your waist protectively or how you lingered the moment to go home.

You can’t really remember how, but you convinced your owner one night that call in sick at work would worry more than give a good excuse, so one week or less after Yoongi’s eyes trained themselves on everything you did, you showed up with a sprained wrist.

Poorly patched, there was also that.

The customers who were curious enough to ask believed when you told them you hurt yourself at home one day after falling, but Yoongi figured things out too fast and later that day he asked to talk to you in a tone that had your ears glued to your head in apprehension.

You knew what he wanted to talk about so you tried to make up an excuse for that too, but he wasn’t having any of it.

After almost an entire hour talking with him and explaining things, you convinced - read forced, him to promise you that he wouldn’t do anything. And as hard as it was, because he was angry and he didn’t want you to go home that day, he had to listen to you. You had your reasons to leave things the way they were.

So he let you go.

But after that things changed drastically between you and him.

He started to take care of you like you were something to be treasured and you didn’t know you needed it until you had it. He took care of your wounds and gave you a shoulder to cry when it was too much, he was making sure you were eating properly and even increased your salary so you could save money - just in case, yes? he said to you with a tight smile.

Right at the beginning you were given the job of putting the vinyls and cds in their place and helping people find what they were looking for, but then Yoongi thought it would be better for you to open the store and work on the weekends too.

He saw how much you liked to be there, anyway.

And he would never admit it was because you would stay away from home for most of the time.

Just until I can find a solution.

Yoongi was right. Customers loved to talk to you and not much after your workload changed there was a special one who started to go more often just to see you.

Jung Hoseok insists for you to call him Hobi so he can have the excuse himself to call you kitten and to see how flustered you get.

He has that scent in him that reminds you of someone you love a lot - until you were forced to go into separate ways, and every time he is around it comforts you.

He went there for the first time because one of his friends, NamJoon - who were also friends with Yoongi, recommended.

Being a dance instructor and having a Youtube Channel that grew every day were much to have him in love with music, but he missed going to places where it had a more relaxing atmosphere; and the store was the perfect one.

He just wasn’t really expecting to have more than that.

To say he was enchanted by you should be an understatement - and with his own lover at home, he felt guilty.

But pushed both feelings aside until he convinced himself that fall platonically for you wouldn’t hurt, though he knew the moment he went home and Taehyung smelled you on him he was doing something really wrong.

Good thing Hoseok is good at lying, so none of you suspected a thing.

He kept his visits to the store religiously, always with his eyes glued to the way you gesture with your hands when you talk or how you tilt your head and twitch your ears when you are paying attention at something he is saying.

And not even the dread feeling that engulfed him when Taehyung buried his face on his neck to both scent him and smell you, made him stop coming.

Nor Taehyung explanation to why the new smell was so addictive - with his puppy ears lowered in guilty too, could stop Hoseok.

Especially because you seemed to be just as happy to see him every time the bell rings when he steps into the store.

You and Hoseok would talk about everything and nothing, but what really had the two of you in a world where just you and him existed were dancing - you tell him about how you used to dance with an old friend, and how you just feel like you don’t have it inside you anymore.

He didn’t insist when he noticed you were lying or how your tail curled around your waist - a small sad smile plastered across your face while you avoided looking him in the eyes.

When you met Hoseok, Yoongi noticed how lazy you were to do your work with him around; but seeing how happy you were after days feeling insecure he decided to keep quiet, helping the customers who usually liked to be around you.

Honestly, he was just as happy to see you opening up to someone other than himself.

Hoseok kept coming after that day. And the next one. Then the others too.

It turned to be a part of his routine; he would wake up a little earlier than he is used just to tell you to have a good day and sometimes give you some food he made the day prior and then go to work.

You didn’t notice when you started to bounce on your feet waiting for him, nibbling the tip of your finger, afraid he wouldn’t show up. But he always did.

And if he’s too late for work - Taehyung’s fault, he would make sure to go there on his lunch time to keep you company or before you close the store so he can walk you to the bus stop.

The latter being his favorite, as it is the only moment you spend just being the two of you, without Yoongi having to call out because he is being a distraction.

And speaking of which, the older found his soulmate on the dancer; being distracted into music topics just as much as you were.

The three of you could always be seen messing around at the store and playing tricks with each other during the week and sometimes in the weekends - always careful to not disturb any customer. You also took your time to be more dedicated even when you had Yoongi in the palm of your hand, because you couldn’t risk being lazier and losing the job.

Sometimes even NamJoon would appear to keep you company.

You realized how happy you were now with all of this, with them. And how much you were missing while living with someone like your owner - you thought that after that someone you loved, you would not be able to feel like this ever again. But Hoseok is giving you much more than good talk and being a good friend, yes. He reminds you of someone and how much you miss love.

From this specific someone, but not just that.

While you can’t forget about him - and you would never want to - every day that pass you grow more and more attached to Hoseok. And while you want to say it is not very different from the relationship you have with Yoongi or NamJoon, it is.

It is not different though from the one you used to have with Taehyung.

Before he was taken from you, that is.

A/N: I tried to fix grammar mistakes! I hope you enjoy reading and please let me know what you think ❣️ 

[a-sharlayan-abroad]

Meet the Character: U’feynril

► Name ➔   “U’feynril Jamrha”

► Are you single ➔ “I am, yes.”

► Are you happy ➔   “I’m in no way utterly miserable, but to call this happiness would not feel right. I am fulfilled, in work and research and other such aspects of my life, but restless still.”  

► Are you angry? ➔   “Frustrated, as of late. But not angry, no.”

► Are your parents still married ➔  U’feynril smiles despite herself. “Happily so, yes. I cannot imagine it any other way, and I suppose neither could they.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “I was born in Sharlayan.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Charcoal.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Brown.”

► Birthday ➔ “15th Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon.”

► Mood ➔ “Pensive, there is much to consider as of late.”

► Gender ➔ “Female.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “I might have said summer, once.” U’feynril shrugs. “But I’ve grown quite attached to the winter weather of Ishgard since relocating. I think it rather suits me.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Mornings. They allow me to make the most of my day.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “I’ve not the time nor the patience for the distraction right now. So, no, I am not in love.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Love at first sight? No.” U’feynril snorts. “There is lust at first sight; curiosity, attraction, what have you. But love is built, and tested, and weathered. It requires more than meeting eyes across a room.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “It was not quite so simple as one leaving the other.” U’feynril’s tail twitches slightly. “She had her goals, and I mine. When the time came we went our separate ways, and well.. That was that. I don’t regret it, and I’d like to believe that she didn’t either.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “I’ve never been told so, no.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Not at all. I’ve built my life on commitments.“

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ ”Hugged someone? Gods, no.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “Once, I suppose.” U’feynril laughs. “During my days in the Studium. Someone would slip poems they’d written into my books when I’d leave them unattended in the library. The gesture was innocent enough, though I’m thankful I never had to let the poor sod down for they never confessed to the act.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “I believe I’ll pass on this question.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “If I’m to choose right now, I would say lust.” U’feynril’s fingers comb through her hair, and the corners of her lips curve up slightly. “I cannot afford the price of love right now.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea, I enjoy the bitterness.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “I lean more into cats. I prefer an independent pet.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few close friends. I’m in no way a social butterfly, and I prefer to keep my circle small.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I don’t suppose this will be surprising, but I’d prefer to stay in.” U’feynril laughs. “I’ve not much of a wild streak.”

► Day or night ➔ “Day. The night is too quiet and I like to keep busy.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ U’feynril shakes her head. “I’ve never made an attempt. I was a rather reserved child, of my own accord. My parents were in favor of my being independent, so I never felt much need to rebel.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Many times. I’m rather clumsy.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ U’feynril winces at the question and takes a sharp breath. “Indeed I have.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “How cruel.” U’feynril spits. “No, I’ve never felt the urge to disappear.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ "Eyes. I’d like to think you can see more there than the lies of a smile.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “I’ve no preference this way or that. Though I often find myself looking up with my stature.”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  “An intelligent mind above all. They will always seek new horizons, til the end of their days. That is an attractive life.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “That is highly dependent on too many factors. The person, the time, the place can change everything.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “We do.” U’feynril nods, her expression softening. “My parents have done much to ensure my happiness, and I love them dearly for all they’ve sacrificed.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ "I wouldn’t say that, no. It isn’t without its tragedies, but I’ve learned to do what I can with the hand I’ve been given.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “I’ve never felt the need to.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Quite the opposite!” U’feynril laughed. “My parents were reluctant for me to leave, and still wish that I’d at least remained within Sharlayan.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Why waste the time to secretly loathe someone when you could cut ties all together? I see no use in holding onto anyone who inspires that kind of animosity in me.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔  “Of course. My friends are few and far between, and those that remain I cherish dearly.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “As I mentioned previously, I’ve few friends left at all, though I would consider Eirwyn to be the closest of them. We’ve been through much together.”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “I don’t believe it’s possible to know everything about someone, and I personally don’t divulge much of myself to others. So, there is no one.”

TAGGED BY THE LOVELY: @resistance-ranger & @mai-takeda, thank you guys! This was fun to write.

TAGGING: @cahli-tia @gildedandgolden @jenpants @galla-xiv @tales-of-wanderer-sal @zanse-the-gunner @but-first--tea @voidwife @nocturnedreaming @eorzeasfrozenknight @the-antitower & anyone else who’d like to do this! I’d love to read more about your character.