#I’m impressed I actually had the mental energy to write but I am excited for this!

[acatalystrising]

Well, here is is, the first chapter of my fic! I have a lot of ideas and plans for this series, so any thoughts are welcome - I hope you enjoy!

The Duality of Us

Pairing: Boba Fett x (F)Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Trigger warnings: Death threats, drug trades, capture, mention of past abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: You’d merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, desperately trying to save your sick mother. But fate is a funny thing - after being rescued by a mysterious stranger, your life turns upside down, and nothing will ever be the same.

Chapter One: Of Encounters and Saviors

Blaster fire sailed over your shoulders, illuminating the Dune Sea an unsettling crimson. Heart lodged in your throat, you gunned the speeder, twisting around a dune in a spray of sand, hoping to throw your attackers off your trail. The rumbling engines of your pursuers didn’t fade - and neither did the vulgar threats. The twin suns had long set, darkness eating at the sky - and you were alone. Hopelessness twisted deep in your stomach.

You had simply been trying to get to your parent’s home and were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone knew spice trades happened; it was as common as breathing. Everyone knew to avoid them. It wasn’t your fault that your mother was dying, desperately needing the herbs nestled safely in your knapsack. You adjusted your goggles and twisted around another dune, sweat trickling down your temples.

You hadn’t known they’d chosen to conduct their business on the path you had to take. And as if fate had personally decided to make things worse, you’d happened upon them just as they’d killed someone - making you the sole witness. And now, you’d be the one to pay for it in blood.

They were closing in.

Another bolt nearly hit you, the energy a blast of sizzling heat whistling past your left ear. Cursing under your breath, you frowned when the winds picked up - whipping at your face and threatening to tear the protective scarf from over your mouth and nose. The speeder sputtered, kicking back, and you pushed onward, suddenly slamming into a torrential wall of wind and sand.

Kriff. Just what you needed - a sandstorm. Perhaps your attackers would turn back, but you’d either die by a blaster shot to the back or take a gamble at the mercy of the desert. You chose the latter. You cursed again and gunned the engine, diving further into the storm. Perhaps you could throw them off and still get to your mom in time. You had to. You couldn’t let her down…

The storm roared against your ears, and you hunkered down on the speeder. You no longer heard their weapons or shouts, only the roaring gale surrounding you - which was either a very good or bad sign, given that you no longer had any idea where you were. This was a good way to get yourself killed, and your mom could die without your help. The wind threatened to tear you from your speeder, and just when the frantic thought to turn around flooded your brain, you struck something hard, and your world snapped to black.

-

You awoke abruptly; head aching, lungs burning - vaguely aware that someone was shaking you by your shoulders.

You winced, slowly opening your eyes - too disoriented and confused to remember where you were. Ahh…right. The storm.

You groaned, pain arcing down your neck, impressed that you weren’t dead. The twin suns were high in the sky, casting the figure before you in shadow. But you didn’t need to see them clearly to know what they were…and how much trouble you were in. The distinctive clothing and headset immediately gave it away, and even as you were forcibly yanked to your feet from the wreckage of your speeder, terror pulsed through you.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt like the sand itself; scratched and dry like cloth.

A Tusken raider had found you.

Something sharp pricked your back and you stumbled forward, wincing as your captor kept the weapon at the ready. Perhaps it would have been better if you’d been shot by the spice gang. The surely would have been a quicker end then being enslaved or tortured. You tried to protest when the Tusken twisted your arms behind your back, but their grip was too strong. And as you crested the dune, you realized why you’d been found so quickly. Cold dread crept into your stomach as you looked down upon a swath of tents and banthas, as well as other Tuskens sheltering from the blazing suns.

You had fled further into the desert then you’d realized - and had inadvertently stumbled upon their camp.

Your captor pushed you forward with a hoarse grunt, your ankles sinking deep in the burning sand; and you were grateful you’d worn your tall boots as you descended into their dwelling.

As you were forced onward, your panicked thoughts grew somber. You had no idea if your mother had survived the night…especially without the medicine. Guilt wracked your chest in waves, threatening to nauseate and sicken - but your fear pushed it down, sinking your hopes further with every labored step. If you mom didn’t make it; you’d never forgive yourself. But you weren’t sure if you’d make it out of this mess, either.

More Tuskens emerged, even children, their cries grating your ears and sending chills down your spine. Still, you were pushed on, winding through the tents until you were stopped before the largest tent at the center of the camp.

You were forced to your knees, terror cascading through your in waves as two Tuskens stepped out of the tent, clearly the leaders. One approached, taking no time in inspecting you with hair-raising grunts. You glared, struggling against your captor’s grasp, but to no avail. The leader turned and grunted at the second, who stood a few paces back, watching you from underneath a deep black hood. Something about their commanding stance sent chills down your spine.

The first one inspecting you screamed again, grunting and waving their hands. The second responded in kind, shaking their head and waving their arms in a flat, horizontal motion, as if saying no. There was something almost calculating in the way they moved, and you weren’t certain if you found that comforting or unsettling. The dark clad one approached, gesturing for you to stand with a nod. You blinked in confusion but complied, your sense of self-preservation overriding more reckless responses. The Tusken then gestured for you to follow, and turned to walk away. The others watched you, unnervingly silent, and you quickly followed - hating that you were throwing your hopes of survival into the hands of a stranger. That never went well, in your experience, but what choice did you have?

When the Tusken ducked into a tent, your knees nearly locked up in place. Fear flooded your chest, and you frantically glanced around, looking for any sign of escape. You nearly jumped out of your skin when a deep voice interrupted your panic, speaking basic, no less.

“I will not hurt you, but if you don’t come inside, they will restrain you.”

You clenched your fists, ready for a fight, and ducked into the tent. The basic-speaking Tusken sat crosslegged on a mat draped over the sand. You watched in surprise as they lowered their hood, revealing the face of a human male. He gestured before him, and you hesitantly sat, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Horrific scars crisscrossed his tan skin, and hooded, piercing eyes met your own with cool confidence. There was a warmth there, deep down, but also an unsettling cold. She’d never seen anything quite like it. Whoever this man was, he was a killer. You saw the strength in his stance, even when seated, in the practiced fluidity of his every movement.

“What brings you so far out in the desert, alone?” He lifted a brow, as if expecting you to speak.

You tried your best to remain calm. Was he going to hurt you? Enslave you? Or worse? Regardless of the answer, you had a distinct feeling the truth would be looked upon more favorably than a lie. But still, fear locked your tongue, and you took a shuddering breath. You had no idea if he was trustworthy, or why he was here, living among Tuskens. He clearly wasn’t their prisoner…

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gaze locked you in place, too keen for your liking. “But I ask for the truth.”

“All right…” you nodded, clearing your irritated throat. “My mother is dying, I was trying to get the medicine she needed and accidentally interrupted a spice trade. They chased me out into the desert, and I got caught in the sandstorm. So please…don’t kill me. It’s already been a rough day and I have no idea if my mom is okay.”

“That’s quite a story.” His voice was gruff. He shifted, reaching behind him, and you flinched. He noted the reaction and smoothly lifted a small dark green melon into your line of sight. “Relax. You’re not in danger.”

“I…appreciate that.” You watched as he tore the top off the melon and handed it to her, which you took with a confused look. “My parents live near the edge of Mos Espa, so it already was going to be a trek. I had no intention of disturbing everyone.”

“I believe you.” He gestured at the melon, “you drink it. Trust me, it will help.”

You hesitatingly did so, the taste strange and earthen, but not entirely terrible. You didn’t realize how parched you’d been. He simply sat there, watching through that stern gaze.

“Thank you…” you set it down and forced yourself to look him in the eye. “For helping me back there. I thought they were going to kill me.”

“I won’t allow my tribe to hurt you.” His eyes narrowed, once again looking you over, as if for any cracks in your story. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t one to be underestimated. “Where is your speeder?”

“Crashed on the dune. I doubt it will work.” You hung your head, hopelessness striking in waves. “I never meant for any of this to happen…”

“As most don’t.” He stood, and you started to rise as well, but he shook his head. “Stay here, rest. No harm will come to you. I’ll take a look at the bike.”

You nodded, watching as he left the tent. Your rolled her shoulders in an attempt to uncoil the tension residing there. Part of you wanted to run. You had no way of knowing that the man would be true to his word. For all you knew, he intended to enslave you anyway. But he hadn’t hurt you or threatened to do so. And judging by the way he carried himself, he very well could. You had a feeling that if he meant you harm, you’d already be dead. So, you stayed put.

You hated that a tear slipped down your cheek unbidden, and you quickly wiped it away, steeling yourself. If you got out of this, you’d discover your mother’s fate soon enough. Unlike your father, she’d always believed in you. You never wanted that to change.

You weren’t sure how long you’d sat there, lost in the turmoil of your thoughts - only that the sun was setting and the air was growing cold. The tent flaps opened, revealing the man, and you watched as he entered and sat back down before you.

“You struck the dune. It was a little bent, but nothing I couldn’t fix.” He met your gaze and offered the slightest hint of a smile, a mere brush of kindness on such a stern face. “You will be free to go on your way.”

Was it too good to be true?

“Thank you…but why are you helping me?” Your curiosity was slowly overriding your fear, the strange man fascinating and mysterious. “And living with Tuskens…who are you?”

“I’m just a simple man making his way through the galaxy, like my father before me.” He gestured at the tent around them, “they’re not the monsters you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You crossed your arms and shivered. “They’ve hurt a lot of people.”

“People hurt people.” He handed you your knapsack, which you gratefully took. Relief washed over you in waves when you saw the herbs were still inside. “Are you native to Tatooine?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve always wanted to travel, to see the stars. But I suppose that’s a childhood fantasy now.”

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm and rich. “This planet has its surprises. If you’ve lived this long, I’d say you do as well.”

“That’s debatable, at least if my father has a say. I just hope I’m not too late to save my mom.” You shrugged, noting the intense interest that lit in his gaze. Who WAS this man? “But that’s not important. You’re not helping me to hear my sob story.”

The man stood and glanced out of the tent. The Tuskens had lit a bonfire and had gathered around it for warmth. Did he often do the same? You had so many questions…how did he get those scars? Why was he here? What were his true motives?

“My father died when I was very young.” His tone was reflective, somber. He turned to face you, and there was no coldness in his gaze, only understanding. “I know loss. But you must define your own destiny, even if fate changes its course.”

Perhaps the way he carried himself was loss and loneliness incarnate - but you were the last person to judge. It was all you knew.

“I’m...sorry. Loss is horrific. But you’re right, we can’t let it rule us.” You crossed your arms and stood as well. “I’m truly grateful for your help.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” He dipped his head, watching you with a particularly curious expression, as if withholding more questions. “Now come, you’d best get to your mother.”

You nodded, following him outside the tent. The Tuskens watched you as they passed by, but did not interfere. Soon you were standing by your speeder, which had a few dings, but otherwise operational. The suns were mere bloodied specks on the horizon, casting just enough light for you to see.

“Cut directly across the desert that way, toward the city,” he pointed out to the west, across a swath of dunes. “Don’t stop for anything. The Tuskens will let you pass.”

“I don’t know how to repay you…” you reached for the coins in your knapsack, but he shook his head, stopping you.

“No need. My tribe were once strangers to me, and they helped me survive. Now, I will return the favor. Fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched.” He gave you a small smile, as if some form of inside joke privy to one, and gestured toward the bike. “Safe travels, little one.”

You nodded, taken aback by the gentleness in his tone, and climbed onto the speeder before he changed his mind. Normally, you’d take offense to such nicknames, but you didn’t sense any malice. If anything, his deep voice put you at ease. And yet…you didn’t even know his name.

The engine pulsed to life, and you turned it to face west - toward home. Toward your mother. You glanced back at the man and found him watching you, but not in a uncomfortable way. Merely a curious one. You could have sworn you saw concern. Whoever he was, you had a feeling it would forever be a mystery. You felt it appropriate to wave.

“Thank you. I won’t forget your help.”

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and you gunned the engine, leaving him and the Tusken tribe behind.

And on to whatever fate held before you.

-

Taglist: @love-like-poetry

(If you want to be added to the taglist, just shoot me a message!)

[wrathandgreed]

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor! 

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably)  gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands - 

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts. 

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from. 

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say. 

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you. 

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger. 

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea! 

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too. 

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict. 

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking.  Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him. 

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked. 

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response. 

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother. 

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet. 

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night. 

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Okay I had to do some stuff, but here I am rambling about relationship between Killer and Nightmare in Colours of LOVE.

Some of this I might mention before some of it might be your and Jann or Yuri ideas... Anyway!! The way I see that:

Even though this is soulmate au Nightmare and Killer aren't perfect fit for eachother. They are perfect fit in threesome - Ccino softens rough edges of both of them, and changes their attention from being mad on eachother to carrying about Ccino together (especially at first when he is really depressed). But before that... It was hard.

Killer is really open about everything he thinks and feels. If he founds someone who is attractive he will flirt. Even when he is already dating Nightmare. And also he always shows his affection to Nightmare everywhere, in public too. That's cute and sweet, but Nightmare is really closed person so that makes him really uncomfortable. Night often got jealous with Killer flirting with anyone else, got embarrassed with his kisses and all on public, and in general is a bit annoyed with Killer's actions. Killer on the other hand doesn't really understand why Nightmare is so "tensed" (he is not, Night is just much more calm, but Killer don't get it).

They were braking up and coming back again a few times, because they had argued a lot about everything and got tired of this. Right now they are on their "best days" - they started to date again a few weeks ago and right now they are through some stuff, they understand eachother better, and pretty chill about eachother weird actions. Like in the second page Night is a bit flustered by Killer's kiss but he almost used to that. Same as he is worried about being late, since Killer is almost always late, but he is more or less fine by that. On next page (which you haven't seen yet), there are an interesting dialog between them, and I will definitely write some of "subtext" about it when I will post it.

Actually if they haven't met Ccino they would break up again after a few months. And maybe come back again after a week.

Also! Interesting thing about third soulmate: at the beginning of the comic (before Nigh met Ccino) Killer is 100% sure that they have third soulmate, but Nightmare is sure for about 60%. Killer is existed about that, he knew knew that he is polyamorious for a long time, but Nightmare hesitates a lot, because he can't really imagine himself in polyam relationship. It feels weird and also he is soooooo jealous about Killer paying any attention to anyone except him, that he worries to become "third wheel". Will it be different with Ccino?? Who knows (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Hi kotikaleo!!! This was super fun to read.

Firstly I'm going to tag @zu-is-here since she started the studio verse

It's definitely an interesting insight to your comic and the characters!

It reminds me a lot of an early version of my own ideas about the studio verse nightkiller relationship! And I can definitely see the way we have bounced headcannons of each other paying off.

Them still dealing with a softer kind of lovehate dynamic is an interesting one. It doesn't seem to be as extreme as my version, but it's interesting that it's still there.

The fact that they are meant to work as a 3 makes sense as well. If they are supposed to be bounded as a 3 it makes sense that three they their relationship would be unstable. They don't work as a two, but they are soul mates and something would always pull the two of them together.

I'm also curious, since Nightmare isn't 100% sure that the lack of colour is due to them being soul mated to another person. I wonder if he ever felt like the universe got it wrong? And that he'd been mated to the wrong person? Or perhaps he felt it meant that him and Killer don't have soul mates and that's why they have some connections.

It sad boy.

Also if Killer knows he's poly by nature, is that something that causes disagreements with the 2 of them?

And now for mine and @jann-the-bean version.

This story has been something that we mostly developed in tumbler DMs but both me and Jan wrote a story about it. Jan wrote

KillerNight(s)

And I'm writing

Round and round till we all fall down

Nightmare and Killer's relationship started off baddddd, it basically started as a mutual dislike for one another. This is due to their conflicting personalities and morals.

Nightmare was originally quite excited to meet Killer, as he'd heard a lot about the actor. But almost straight away he found Killer to be rude, childish and irritating. Killer found Nightmare to be stuck up, snobbish and entitled.

The two first met at an awards ceremony and got into a yelling match after a few drinks and were separated. From there their dislike for one another was made quite well known to the public because of a social media battle back and forth.

This only went on for a few months however, as the characters of 'Killer' and 'Nightmare' were cast to play together.

Nightmare and Killer agreed to be civil in order to function while working and get the filming completed as soon as possible.

As they worked together, their dislike turned into a playful banter and respect for one another. And then something else shifted.

Now Killer has a reputation for being a player and one who likes to sleep around, as you said, he's open about his interest in people when he has it and enjoys casually flirting with just about anyone.

Which came to include Nightmare.

Nightmare paid no mind to it really, though he couldn't understand why it embarrassed him so much.

Killer comes to find Nightmare to be very attractive and enjoys his reactions when teased, he rights him off though because he was under the impression that Nightmare was straight, and he'd never try to change that.

It was a day when they were talking about Killer's eyes and how it's caused him to struggle, that Nightmare tells him that he thinks his eyes are very pretty and that they are an attractive quality, and something in Killer breaks and he kisses him.

So Killer feels like he messed up and the two avoid each other. But it causes Nightmare to start questioning things about himself.

Nightmare at this point had only every dated women. He assumed that he was straight. But after that kiss a lot of buried feelings are dragged to the surface and exposed, and he realises that he's also attracted to men.

So Jan goes into full details about this, in the fic Killernights, but basically Nightmare confronts Killer about the kiss and Killer tells him he 'has a thing for him'

The two go back to Killer's flat to talk, but their normal banter, leads to flirting and then another kiss. And Nightmare who is curious and suddenly craving new sensations becomes lost to him. Killer who finds Nightmare physically very attractive, also gets wrapped up and the two of them sleep together.

Nowwww this is getting long so I'll try to shorten it down a bit.

Basically, it's an amazing night. It's passionate, enjoyable and a lot of fun for both of them. Upon finding out Night has never been with a man, Killer guides him carefully though the process.

After that night the two can't stop thinking about each other, even though they both planned for it to be a one time thing. Again, they avoided each other until talking after a while.

And killer admits his desires for the other, and offers Nightmare a safe environment to experiment with his sexuality, where he won't be judged.

To cut a long story short, this spirals into a passionate and carnal, on and off booty call/fling with each other that spans for years.

Other that time they grow very close with each other, and come to recognise the similarities that they share, and have soft moments of just enjoying being together with one another.

For Killer, Nightmare is the first person to ever tell him he had beautiful eyes and mean it. The first person who wasn't at all put off by them.

To Nightmare, it feels like Killer is the one person that will never pick Dream over him. And he makes him feel wanted and desirable in a way few have before.

However, their are still parts of their relationship that conflict. Of course a healthy relationship will always have some conflicts. But for Killer and Nightmare the conflicts clash and fight with each other.

That along with both of their past traumas, (I wrote about Killer's back story here) means they find it difficult to talk about genuine feelings and what's bothering them. Causing things to bottle up and blow up over time.

They also find it impossible to admit that they actually love each other deeply.

They tried to be in a full on committed relationship once, (which I'm writing about in Round and Round) but it didn't work out for these issues. As well as the fact that Killer is poly by nature, and therefore gets anxious and uncomfortable in a relationship with one person only. Which he won't talk to Night about for the reasons stated above.

Enter Ccino.

Now Ccino is the missing piece for Nightmare and Killer.

He's soft and gentle spoken, which easily helps them calm down when things get heated between them. He also provides a safe and loving space to open up about what things are bothering them.

Nightmare and Killer's also, as you said, spend more energy caring for and sometimes worrying about Ccino, so they have less energy for the constant fighting.

Ccino was the missing piece. He's the person who will cuddle and read books with nightmare, but also the one who's super into affection, which Killer loveesss.

A relationship would never work between just killer and Ccino, since Ccino wouldn't be able to keep up with Killer's libido and killer doesn't know much about Ccino's mental health. And Ccino wouldn't work in a relationship with just Nightmare because Night's colder and more straight forward personality would leave him affection staved after a while.

They just work together! They are basically soul mates in this universe as well!

P. S Nightmare in this universe was also very veryyyyy jealous when Killer showed interest in Ccino. Which is something he took out on Ccino till Killer stopped it. After falling in love with Marshmallow he regrets this a lot.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE. COLOURS OF LOVEEEEE

[isuckatreadinglol]

Six of Crows Review

Alright, first book review on this blog...here we go: *spoiler warning, duh*

Book: Six of Crows Author: Leigh Bardugo

My Rating: 5/5

First off, this is the first YA fantasy I've ever read so I have no idea what I was expecting...and I fuckin loved it.

Second, I binge read this book in three days and it usually takes me a month to read anything ever so that's definitely saying something. I came for Kaz Brekker after watching Shadow & Bone on Netflix and stayed for the amazing plot, diverse and intricate characters, the incredible action and twists, and of course Kaz Brekker. The one thing that I loved was how fast paced this book went, and I genuinely could not stray far from the book because of how addicting it was. There was something in every chapter and you never got bored. The last part had taken the most time for me to complete because of how much action Leigh crammed in the last 60 pages, which made it a bit hard to follow along but it was still epic.

The Characters:

Kaz, Inej, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, Matthias

"“What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias."

The most diverse set of characters I have ever met. There were 6 characters, and the POV's were constantly changing and at some point, while I read someone else's chapter I was worried about the other characters and anticipating the next chapters. This was honestly an amazing decision to tell this story and I never got sick of the characters (except maybe Matthias, sorry).

Not only does Leigh do an excellent job portraying trauma in her characters (especially Kaz), she also keeps the character's as diverse as possible, from Nina being a plus sized character with badass confidence to Wylan overcoming his dyslexia and even Inej being a brown character. Every character had their own stories and the flashbacks/backstories were always a pleasure to read through.

Kaz Brekker is a stone cold, morally grey, manipulative, and terrible criminal which of course...makes him an even better protagonist. He definitely rocks the Hot Boy Who Is Mean To Everyone Except That One Chick Because Of His Tragic Backstory trope.

"There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken."

He is an anti-hero with his own plans and goals, while also caring so much about his crew that he would do anything for them. I'm very excited to see his character develop with Inej in Crooked Kingdom as well as his relationship with her because I am too obsessed with the two of them. I also enjoyed how Leigh allowed Kaz to fuck up and make mistakes, showing that he wasn't just some perfect character that knew everything about everything, and reading his inner dialogue when he realized his fuck-ups felt refreshing. His backstory was very well written and very tragic (we get it he's emo). It felt so personal knowing why he was they way he was when he sealed himself off from the world. He's also drippy as fuck.

Inej Ghafa just radiates bad bitch energy and when Kaz called her "dangerous" I screamed "DAMN RIGHT". Her mental drive was beautifully written during her chapters, especially while she climbed the incinerator.

"The heat of the incinerator wrapped around Inej like a living thing, a desert dragon in his den, hiding from the ice, waiting for her. She knew her body's limits and knew she had no more to give. She'd made a bad wager. It was as simple as that. The autumn leaf might cling to its branch, but it was already dead. The only question was when it would fall...

Should she jump now or simply wait for her body to give?

Inej felt wetness on her cheeks. Was she crying? Now? After everything she'd done and had done to her?"

Most importantly, she was a raw character who pushed herself throughout the book not just for herself but for the rest of the crew. She was selfless but she was also incredibly strong, driven by her future. Inej is the most inspiring character in the book and I have fallen in love with her more times than I could count. (lowkey carried the team imma be honest)

JESPER FAHEY Y'ALL. My queer sharpshooter king. I think I related to him the most and I loved every chapter with him. Though, I felt like Jesper was treated more as a side character than a main one, especially since he was stuck with Wylan for the entirety of the heist but BOY WHEN I FOUND OUT HE WAS A FABRIKATOR...I might have also screamed. He was definitely the comedic relief and he always kept me laughing at his little comments. Excited to see him and Wylan get together and also hoping for more of Jesper's character.

"Well, we’ve managed to get ourselves locked into the most secure prison in the world. We’re either geniuses or the dumbest sons of bitches to ever breathe air."

“If any of you survive, make sure I have an open casket. The world deserves a few more moments with this face.”

Nina Zenik...bro. She is so powerful. The moment she took parem was *chefs kiss* and it was the most badass scene I had ever experienced. When I began reading her chapters I didn't really enjoy them but when the heist actually began her inner dialogue won me over completely. When she was with Jarl Brum I could not stop laughing at the things she was saying in her head, and even when things were intense she always had something to say which made her character come to life. Her personality is hilarious, and sarcastic and she's also so HOT like my gay ass was swooning. She is who I aspire to be, that is all.

Matthias Helvar. Personally, I didn't really like his character so much because of how stubborn and he was (and how many times I wanted to punch his stupid ass), however he was still a pretty cool character with some good moments in there. He demonstrated religious corruption well, and he definitely faced a lot of inner conflict due to the pressure of what he was taught when he was younger. His POVs were a little boring but I loved it when he called Kaz a demjin.

Wylan Van Eck was a super fun character to have around. I definitely enjoyed watching his character grow as he spent more time with the Dregs. I didn't love him as much as the big three (Kaz, Jesper, Inej) and don't have much to say on him except that I admired his strength throughout the last part, especially when confronting his father after hearing all the horrible things he said about his own son. Jesper defending him made me melt big time.

"He's smarter than most of us put together, and he deserves a better father than you."

I literally could not have asked for such a creative group of characters and to see them work together makes me feel like I'm part of a big, criminal family.

The Ships

The ships were a fun addition to the story and the best part was that they never overstepped the actual objective of the plot but rather worked with it to enhance the connections between each character.

Kaz and Inej: Let me just cry for a second.

"She'd laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him."

"I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all."

"I'm going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I'm going to get my girl."

This one hurt me. I am in love with these two and their relationship with each other makes it so much better. They are not meant to be together yet they are connected in so many ways. I did not think I would fall in love so easy, but here I am.

Matthias and Nina: I was not convinced by these two, especially with how weird their relationship was. They constantly seemed like they hated each other (valid) and some of their romantic scenes felt forced. In the end, I enjoyed seeing Nina grow on Matthias to wake his stubborn ass up. I swear that man refused to have feelings. Anyway, I still have mixed feelings on these two.

Wylan and Jesper: They are so cute. Like insanely cute. Like even I was blushing during their cute scenes. Their relationship isn't as developed yet so I am excited to see them in Crooked Kingdom.

Final Thoughts:

Representation? Check

Map? Check

Two maps?!? Fuck yeah

Amazing plot and worldbuilding? Check

Hilarious banter? Mhm

Great writing? Check

Well- written characters? 100%

Overall, this story will forever be my comfort book and I was impressed by the YA fantasy side of literature. It's hard to believe yet comforting that these characters are my age, makes me feel powerful. I loved every bit of this book and now I kinda wanna grab some friends and pull a heist.

[that-random-chaos-entity]

How does your OC display love? What are some habits your OC has picked up?

Forgive me as this is a LONG post, but I felt it would be better to show, rather than tell, this one:

Words could not describe how awkward Perturabo felt being back in the Emperor's palace. It would have been bad enough if it were just his deadbeat father, a half-rotten corpse sitting in an overglorified golden life-support casket, ignoring him as per usual. But it wasn't just his father; so many of his brothers had come for this... ...this Sanguinala... ...in many ways it almost felt like the Heresy had never happened.

Vulcan, Corvus, Fulgrim, ROGAL FUCKING DORN, Magnus.... ...hell, even SANGUINIUS had come back from the dead. Raised by the same mysterious chaos entity that had turned Perturabo's world and soul inside out. Made him live his own life over and over again, through the eyes of the people around him, until he got the point. The people he impacted. The people he used, abused, and destroyed without a second thought. The people he...

...Perturabo shook his head, the physical action somehow dislodging the poisonous psychic tumor from his soul. Even though that parasite was long gone and the Eye of Terror no longer loomed over him, it had been feeding on his twisted spirit for so long that its blasted and withered hide still bled for it. Casting his self-destructive thoughts into the warp. This was a good thing (or so the Lanky Llama said). Though sometimes, when he started to brood and sulk, things would get... ...gummed up. He could shake any errant clots loose himself, but nobody helped the darkness bleed out of him like Nehetari.

And holy shit did he wish she were here right now. When she and her robotic people were around... ...the Lord of Iron actually felt like... ...himself. Or the version of himself that he wanted to be, anyway.

But no, "No xenos allowed at a family gathering," the Emperor had said. Not that it even would have mattered if they were; it was one of those weird weeks where the lanky llama disappeared on him and holed up in her room by herself. Something about a "Necrontyr biological cycle," that would, "likely make her act inappropriately," or "embarrass herself and him," but she would say no more on the matter.

Of course it would happen over the day when he needed--erm could have used her presence the most.

"Aren't you going to open your gifts, brother?"

Perturabo snapped out of his brooding to see Magnus looming beside him. It took him a second to process what he said, but when he did he scowled.

"Gifts Magnus? Really? Do think anyone here would ever give me a gift?"

"Excuse me! What am I, grox manure!?" there was no real irritation in Magnus's voice. He gestured to table in front of Perturabo, where three gifts sat that he could have SWORN were not there before. "And if you must know, you're the only brother here I saw fit to even GET a gift for."

"Aside from Sanguinius."

"Well... ...yeah..." the Crimson King shuffled his wings awkwardly. Both primarchs stole a glance at the MOUNTAIN of gifts that their brother had received. "...b-but he doesn't count."

Perturabo sighed. He didn't feel like feeling jealous of Sanguinius right now. Instead he grabbed the first package; it was obviously Magnus's gift. Whatever was in it was so warp-touched that it levitated a solid three feet off the table and changed size randomly. It turned out to be a small inter-dimensional rift that contained a book of arcane engineering, one that Perturabo had surprisingly not seen before. He thanked his brother; something that drew a surprised look from Magnus and a complimentary hug that Turbo awkwardly returned. The second gift was from Sanguinius, as it turned out, and when he opened the box he saw his own face, reflected in a simple yet elegant mirror. After a moment of wondering if this gift was actually meant for Fulgrim (clone fulgrim), he saw the inscription on the box lid which read, "to my big brother: it brings me joy to see happiness in your eyes now. I hope with this you can see it too."

Perturabo swore under his breath and slammed the box shut, furiously hoping that Magnus hadn't heard him sniffle just a tiny little bit. It was a moving gift to be sure, but after everything that had happened... ...somehow it just made the Lord of Iron feel like garbage. Well... ...more so than usual.

Thankfully, quick-thinking Magnus directed his brother's attention to the third gift. In fact, if he didn't know better, Perturabo would have sworn Magnus seemed even MORE excited for him to open this gift than his own.

"What is... ...is this from...?"

"MHMMM!" Magnus's enthusiasm was all-consuming, his grin audible in his tone. "She asked me come and pick it up from outside her door earlier this morning."

Perturabo's melancholy dissipated into a wave of curiosity. What sat before him was a perfect cube of blackstone, though if he knew anything about Nehetari, he knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Sure enough, when he picked it up, glyphs flashed along its side.

"Is... ...that..."

"Necrontyr," Perturabo murmured in deep concentration. "...and not just any form of Necrontyr; this is Ksakhemet Script."

"What?"

"Think of it as our high gothic. Except it's as if we had a high, HIGH gothic. Only the three Necrontyr kings and their families even knew how to speak this script, let alone how to read and write it. It is ancient, according to Nehetari... ...it's from a time even before the Necrontyr first started their galactic expansion."

Those statements alone were like a different language to Magnus, but his lust for ancient knowledge ignited like a blazing inferno. He would absolutely have to grill both Perturabo AND his xenos companion for more information once she was.... ...*ahem* no longer indesposed.

Perturabo turned the cube over and over in his hands, reading the ornate lettering as best he could. He'd only just started learning how to read Ksakhemet; he couldn't speak it properly because he lacked the extensive Necrontyr vocal range, but the lettering started to make sense the more he plied his fantastic mind.

"It is... ...a puzzle cube. I believe."

"D'AAWWW... How sweet...!"

Perturabo punched his brother in the shoulder, but it phased through his immaterial form.

"Shut your mouth!" He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck and he HATED it. Although he had to admit he was a little touched, if amused, that Nehetari had put together such a... ...thought-out gift.

And well-thought-out it was indeed! It became clear to the Lord of Iron that this wasn't just some slide and lock, physics based puzzle toy for mortal children. It was a custom-made testing tool designed to challenge his understanding of spacial compression, sub-atomic energy transfer, and even Necrontyr cultural theory. Each segment was challenging, unique, and soon he found himself absorbed. Magnus tagged along for the ride of course, and his respect for Nehetari grew each time he heard his brother growl in frustration, or give a small "...Ha! So that's it..."

"She has... ...quite the impressive mind. Especially for a xenos."

Perturabo grunted his affirmation. "...you don't know the half of it. She makes the Hrud look like a bunch of children." With a click the puzzle changed shape in his hands again, "...I would even say she has a mind similar to ours."

"...you don't say..."

"Hmph, she's DEFINITELY smarter than Dorn. I know that for sure."

Magnus chuckled. Of course she was.

The Lord of Iron didn't realize it immediately, but the puzzle cube was meant to serve another function, not just being an intriguing mental exercise. The more he fidgeted with it, the more time passed. Not by some technomantic power or magical means; he was just so absorbed in Nehetari's gift that he didn't notice his brothers packing up their gifts and starting to drift around and away from the throne room. Magnus, realizing he wouldn't be much help with this exercise, had taken notice of the custodes' Captain General (the one they call "kitten") and had begun to chat with him. Sanguinius was now at the Emperor's side, trying to pacify an impatient and belligerent Angron who just wanted to go celebrate Khornnuka with Lotara and Kharn. Corvus had dissapeared to... ...somewhere, and Vulkan was... ....had he somehow jackknifed himself into the psychic fireplace that the Emperor created!? Russ was laughing at him and drinking himself stupid (not that he had many IQ points to lose in the first place), but thankfully nobody was paying any attention to Turbo. Huh, who'd have thought; Perturabo was actually HAPPY that he was being ignored right now.

With a satisfying ding the cube shifted again, and to his surprise, glyphs flashed indicating that this was, in fact, the final challenge.

"Let's have it then. I'm ready..." the Lord of Iron grinned. He flicked the raised pad below the text and the final task scrolled across blackstone. Surprisingly, this time it was in High Gothic.

"...who is... ...my... ...favorite... ...human?"

He stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "Really? After all that, the last puzzle, is 'who's my favorite human?' Really?"

But wait... ...was the answer actually as easy as it appeared? Perturabo wanted to put his own name, but what if he was wrong? What if he wasn't her favorite human? He was hardly even "human" in the first place. Maybe she meant a true, normal human? But if this was supposed to be a present for him, why would she blatantly make him answer that her favorite human WASN'T him. What if...

"Hey nerd, the answer's obviously you."

Perturabo jumped to see Leman Russ passing him.

"What the-! Whe-how did you... ...you can't read!" Perturabo stammered. There was no way Leman just waltzed over here...

The Wolf Lord grinned, "Hey, ye nerds aren't the only ones who know how teh learn things. If I taught meself teh read Fenrisian runes, I can teach meself teh read some wolfin' High Gothic!"

"..."

"...that and I may or may not have used some of meh own psychic powers to read yer mind. You know, teh fill in teh blanks."

Considerably less impressed, Perturabo grumbled as he keyed the letters of his name into the cube. With another ding and a flash of green light, previously invisible cracks along the cube's surface began to glow and the cube began to shift one last time. When it finished, a tiny black tray was left in its place, revealing... ...a letter? And a pict?

"What's all this now?" Leman reached towards the tray.

Perturabo snatched it away, "Fuck off Russ! This is MY gift!"

"Oooh, is this from yer GIRLFRIEND!?"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!"

"Hey fuck you Leman!" Oh boy, here comes Magnus, "Like you could ever understand the subtlety and genius that went into that puzzle box! Let him enjoy his gift in peace!"

"LeT HiM eNjOy HiS gIfT iN pEaCe!" Leman crooned. "Shut her trap and go back teh yer boyfriend, yeh big red canary."

Magnus puffed up in outrage and looked about ready to turn Leman inside out. When Perturabo noticed Sanguinius inbound, no doubt to dissolve the impending battle, he took his chance to dip out. And by "dip out" I mean grab the tray and its contents, and duck under the table. It would hide him for all of a second, but that would be as long as it would take him to read the letter.

Or it would have, if Leman hadn't, SOMEHOW, been able to reach the tray before him. He snatched up the letter, practically from between Perturabo's fingers, and with utter horror the Lord of Iron watched as his brother brandished the page, cleared his throat, and began to read:

"Perturabo..."

"FUCK YOU LEMAN THAT'S NOT YOURS!!" Magnus howled. Perturabo roared in fury. Both brothers made a mad lunge at the Wolf Lord but he dodged, shit-eating grin on his face as he continued reading.

"...Perturabo,

I'm sorry, but I...."

"....failed you?"

At the mention of the word "failed", Perturabo's onslaught faltered, as did Magnus's. Leman's grin died on his lips as he read the next line, his eyes widening for a moment before they squeezed shut. He then passed the letter back to Perturabo, mumbled a barely audible apology, turned, and without a word walked off.

"That's not what I... ...uh... ...expected?" Magnus muttered. "He looked like a kicked pup. What did that letter..."

Perturabo clutched the paper looking the most feral Magnus had ever seen him.

"...you know what, never mind. That letter's meant for you anyway." He added quickly. "I'll be in the library if you need me, brother."

And just like that, Perturabo was alone. Well, mostly; the Emperor was still there, but he was oddly quiet. Sanguinius was watching him too, but from a discreet distance.

The Lord of Iron backed up into the corner of the room, still riled up but looking a little less crazy. Once he was satisfied that NOBODY ELSE would attempt to confiscate his stuff, he finally began to read what Nehetari wrote for him.

"Perturabo,

I am sorry, but I failed you. You said you wanted your brothers' appreciation for a Sanguinala gift, but of all the ones I interviewed asking for an appreciative memory they have of you, the only ones who gave me a response were your brothers Magnus and Sanguinius. So instead I instigated a situation to make one (please reference the included image). If your brother's expressions are to be believed, then I believe they all enjoyed attacking your snow bunker. I certainly enjoyed helping you defend it.

May you have a somber and pleasant celebration,

The Mehlrose,

Nehetari of the Szarekhan Dynasty.

Heir to the Silent Throne."

...Perturabo couldn't believe it.

He's asked for that as a JOKE. He hadn't actually been serious. When she's approached him, asking what he wanted as a "Sanguinala gift," he'd been in the middle of a complicated programming script and had said that just to get the point across that he didn't want to be bothered.

Slowly, and with a shaking hand, he lifted the pict from the tray and turned it over.

And she was right. This shot must have been taken by one of her tunneling scarabs. Or maybe one of her guard as they were circling the perimeter, hurling snow and distracting Russ. But however it was taken, somehow it was able to get a perfect shot of every primarch, including himself and Nehetari, hurling fucking snow or getting completely dunked on, but every single one of them had varying degrees of stupid fucking grin on their faces. Even Corvus was smiling!

It struck him: had that been her plan all along?

Minutes passed, and finally the Emperor himself spoke up. "My son, you're shaking like a Dark Elder nightclub on a Tuesday."

Perturabo didn't hear him. It took everything he had just to hold the pict in his trembling hands.

Why? Why. Why would she bother. How did she... ...why, why, why WHY? HOW!? When did she even have the TIME to plan this out!? There was no way. And not for him. Why? Why for him? And ALL OF THEM. How could she have known they would ALL come?

"Brother, are you ok?"

Perturabo snapped out of the loop to see the Angel standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized just how loudly his two hearts had been thundering, how BADLY his whole body had been shaking, until he felt that steadying touch. Instinctively he tried to regain control over his mind and body, and stowed the pict away in his belt.

Sanguinius asked no questions; he simply nodded.

"I'm going to find her..." Perturabo's voice sounded like sandpaper. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck, but he ignored them. "...I don't care if she FUCKING KILLS me; I am going to find her. She has no right.... ...she had no right to... ...to..."

"...go ahead brother." Sanguinius's smile was warm with understanding.

Salvaging what little dignity he felt he had left, Perturabo straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked shakily out of the throne room. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving his father and his brothers to stare after him in wonder.

(Sorry this is such a long post, but I started writing it and just went to town. I wanted to SHOW, rather than just tell, the kinds of things Nehetari does for the individuals that are important to her)

@gracia-regina @ask-a-scheming-sorcerer @luwupercal

[abnormallynice]

Confession By Proxy

Read it on AO3

Collab with the wonderful @kirbychan234​ to make a prequel fic/comic for the First Date Comic I made a whiiile ago because everyone was curious why exactly Neku was so beaten up. I did the pretty pictures and they did the amazing words and stuff! ;D

Go give KirbyChan some love on tumblr and AO3 for writing the fic portion and making me squee with their writing >:3

Neku sighs as he drops his bag to the side, the door to his apartment sliding shut on its own. It’s late, he’s tired and sore and way too lazy to worry about unpacking right now. He’ll do it tomorrow. Or maybe never. Whichever one comes first.

Instead, he goes over to his closet and starts to remove his scarf and coat. Once those are deposited on the floor as well (he’ll hang them up later, he swears), Neku reaches to close the door. 

“Have fun?”

The voice makes Neku jump and fall into his still open closet. “JESUS-!” Very unmanly, and he can hear laughter behind him that makes his blood boil. 

Joshua looks as smug as ever when Neku turns around to glare at him. “Close,” he replies airily. “But not quite~” And he shrugs, like he didn’t just scare the living daylights out of him.

“For fuck’s sake-” Neku groans as he sits up. “Text. Doorbell. Knocking. PICK ONE. Seriously, that’s all you’d have to do.” 

Neku cuts himself off when he feels a familiar jolt of pain in his arm. He grabs it without thinking and feels a warm wetness, and when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are tinged with blood. “...Shit.” 

He doesn’t even see Joshua move, but suddenly he’s there, kneeling down beside him, and with a surprisingly gentle touch on his wounded arm. Neku feels his breath catch in his throat as Joshua looks over the bloodstain with calculating eyes. “What is-?”

The gentle hand is smacked away. Joshua’s pity is neither wanted nor needed. “Nothing,” Neku says while quickly getting to his feet. “It’s nothing.” 

“That doesn’t-”

Neku doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else before quickly darting off. He runs into the bathroom and locks the door. He can hear Joshua sigh exasperatedly but he hardly cares. There’s a way more pressing issue right now. He already aches all over; he does not need this. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Oh so he does know how to knock. “What are you hiding, Neku?” Joshua asks easily. 

“I said nothing!” Neku yells back. “Just leave! Poof away, magic genie!”

He can practically feel Joshua rolling his eyes, but Neku ignores it. What he can’t ignore, however, is the sudden chill running down his spine. This sensation...it’s familiar, he’s definitely felt it before, almost like-

Noise?

And then the sensation is gone as quickly as it appeared. In its place stands Joshua, inside the bathroom, having come from nowhere and looking none too impressed. Neku freezes, not only from surprise, but also because Joshua can see the stitches in his arm now. “Don’t DO that! Can’t a guy have some damn privacy? Go away!”

Joshua has clearly had enough. Neku can barely blink before Josh was in his personal space once more, grabbing his face and looking him over. Neku squirms, but Josh holds strong, appraising the bruise on his jaw and the bandage on his right eyebrow.

“Mm.” Josh hums and eventually lets Neku go. “Face is fine. Although it looks like one of the stitches on your arm came loose.”

“Huh?” Neku looks down to his arm. Well. That explains the blood. “Oh. Shit. Uh, I should really go to a hospital-”

Joshua puts a finger over Neku’s mouth, smiling pleasantly like usual. “No need for that, dear~”

Neku feels himself blushing, and he hates it, because he knows Josh isn’t taking this seriously. And he’s got that tone again, like Joshua knows something he doesn’t. Then again, what else is new? “Shut up,” he grumps. “I don’t need you revealing another improbable mystery that is Joshua Kiryu. Leave me alone.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Joshua doesn’t listen and instead gently takes Neku’s arm in his hands. “Now now, let’s take a look. I’ll be but a minute, and I’ll even do it free of charge.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No lies this time~” Neku resists the urge to groan. This time, he says. Ugh. “Won’t you tell me what happened though? I didn’t expect you to come home all beaten up.” 

He really doesn’t want to. But Neku gets the feeling Josh won’t let it go until he does. So…

The room is quiet when Neku finishes, the only sound is the small rustling of Joshua rebandaging Neku’s arm. They moved into Neku’s living room while he explained what happened, Neku sitting on the couch and Joshua sitting on the nearby coffee table. It’s hard to tell what Josh is thinking; nevermind that Neku can barely see his face from where he’s sitting. It still annoys him, because more than likely, he’s smirking that smug smirk of his. 

“The fine line between bravery and suicide,” Joshura starts, and yep, that smirk is there. Neku knew it, and it annoys him even more. “You sure know how to tightrope across it, don’t you, Neku?” His tone betrays sweetness, laced with sarcasm instead. It makes Neku grit his teeth. “What would you have done?” He snaps, and then immediately regrets his question. Knowing Joshua, he’d probably take a video or something. 

Besides, no matter what Joshua, or anyone for that matter, thought, Neku doesn’t regret his decision. He doesn’t want to imagine what kind of injuries a six-year-old girl would get with an impact like that. “Ugh, nevermind. It’s just a scrape anyway, it’s not a big deal.” 

Joshua raises a brow at him. “Oh? “Just a scrape”?” He doesn’t look impressed, and Neku’s eye twitches at his tone. “One that needed twelve stitches?” Okay so maybe it’s a little more than that, but whatever. “Be grateful your little falling act only bumped it instead of tore it open even more. This’ll last much longer since, well, I bound it this time~” 

Neku rolls his eyes. “My savior. Yay.” 

The chuckle that follows makes Neku nervous. He jolts when he feels arms lean on his legs. Joshua is very close now, staring up at him from between his knees, resting on his haunches and leaning his arms on Neku’s thighs. Neku has to fight hard not to blush. “So snappy,” he says with another laugh. “Is the child still grumpy about the argument we had before he left?”

There’s that tone again. Neku’s embarrassment dies down quickly, and he sighs. “Would you stop? I don’t have the energy.” And he’s not lying, but he also really just doesn’t want to talk about this right now, not when Josh is being such an asshole about it. 

But...now that he gets a better look at Joshua, it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be an asshole...at least not right now. He actually looks curious, like he’s actually bothered by the fact that Neku could still be upset. Which is stupid, because Neku knows better than to think Josh could be bothered by anything. 

Other than, you know, attempting to kiss him and then having him disappear for five years. But that’s neither here nor there. 

“I...was,” Neku finally replies honestly. “...But I get the reasons why you couldn’t come along.”

Joshua’s smile is, for once, soft. He leans his cheek on his arm (which is still on Neku’s leg what the fuck Josh). “Is not having me under your constant supervision that upsetting? Would putting a leash on me satisfy?” 

Neku tries to ignore that mental image and huffs. Well excuse him for being paranoid about his friend disappearing again for another five years. Really, Joshua has nobody to blame but himself for that. “Oh please,” he replies. “As if I could ever control you. I’d never want to, and even if I ever tried, I know I can’t. I just wanted…”

He trails off, looks anywhere but at Joshua. “I just...wanted my friend to come with us on a trip, that’s all.” And Neku curses his heart rate for speeding up at the word “friend”. “I don’t know why I got so upset that you couldn’t go. Of course you couldn’t have gone, I know that, but…” 

Joshua cuts him off with another laugh. “Aw. I’m touched, Neku,” he says, amused.

Neku is frozen. What a time to remember what Shiki said, now, with Joshua so damn close to him. And with his heart rate betraying him even more, feeling like it’s about to explode out of his chest. Joshua is so close, Neku wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear the damn thing. 

If he does, Joshua doesn’t comment on it. He’s still far too close though. “Maybe it’s better that I didn’t go, seeing how you ended up,” he says lightly. “It seems like it was far too exciting a trip for my tastes-”

“Why do you keep touching me?” Neku interrupts him, unable to look at him, and wanting to get his rapidly beating heart to calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ. 

“Hm?” Joshua’s smirk turns playful. “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll bite, dea-?”

“STOP.” 

Neku’s voice even surprises himself. But thankfully it does the trick; Joshua stops his tease and is now looking more serious than Neku has ever seen him. He sits back a bit, gives Neku a little more breathing room, but doesn’t stop looking at him. Keeps silent as if waiting for Neku to continue.

He swallows, nervous, and leans his arms on his legs where Josh just was. “Just...just stop dancing around my questions. For once, just give me a straight answer.”

Joshua keeps quiet, and Neku bites his lip, staring at the floor. “Why do you keep touching me so casually? Why only me? Why…” He sighs. “Why does my heart break every time you do?”

He grabs onto Joshua’s sleeve, still refusing to make eye contact. “Why did you come back? Why did you leave? Did our friendship mean nothing to you? Am I nothing to you?” With every word, Neku feels himself start to get choked up more and more, and it shocks him. Why is this just coming out now? 

Finally, Neku finds the courage to lift his head, and meets Joshua’s gaze.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Neku freezes. ‘Wh-what? Why did I say that? I meant *like*!’ His throat refuses to work anymore, and now there’s no way he can save this. He clutches Joshua’s sleeve tighter. ‘No! I fucked up! Don’t leave me…!’

“I don’t know.” 

Neku lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Joshua’s voice betrays no emotion; it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. “You make me feel at ease. I think I might have some yearning, but then again, I’m probably not the best judge.”

He’s so matter-of-fact that it throws Neku for a complete loop. “Huh?” 

“I’m answering your questions, Neku,” Joshua replies patiently. “As honestly as I am able.” Neku’s heart jumps in his throat when Joshua takes his hand delicately. “I came back because I wanted to understand. I left because I didn’t understand. And no, you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what you are, but “nothing” is far from it.” 

Then Joshua takes Neku’s other hand, looking so damn gentle. Neku isn’t sure how he’s even breathing at this point. He’s pretty sure his heart is about to pop out of his chest at any second. “And finally, I might have still left. I don’t know. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.” 

It takes a moment for Neku’s voice to work again. “Uh…” he finally manages to get out. “Wow. I’m...surprised that actually worked.”

As if the past few minutes didn’t happen, that smirk was back on Joshua’s face. “Better take advantage of my honesty while you still can~” he says, and presses Neku’s hand to his cheek teasingly. 

And shit, that’s actually really cute? Neku flushes horribly and sputters, a little miffed that Josh rendered him speechless far too many times in the short hour or so he’s been here. “Um - uh - what - what’s your social media password?”

Without missing a beat, Joshua replies, “dr0p_d3ad_g0rg30s.”

How the hell did he do that with his mouth??? “Did you let me win at Tin Pin Online?”

“Yes, but only the first time.”

“How old are you for real?”

Joshua laughs. “Old enough~” 

And just like that, honesty hour is gone. “That’s cheating!” Neku huffs. 

Even if Josh doesn’t bother with a response, that’s fine. There are other things Neku wants to say anyway. “Um so, one more question?” 

“Alright.”

Neku bites the inside of his cheek, hesitates. “Do you...wanna date?”

Joshua hums, looks to be in deep thought, though his smile softens quite a bit. “Sure,” he replies. “I’ll go steady with you, Neku.” 

Holy shit. Neku can’t believe this is actually happening. Internally, he’s screaming. On the outside, however, all he can do is clear his throat. “Dope.” 

Okay that was lame as hell. But he can’t take it back now. 

“My turn.” 

Neku snaps to sudden attention. “What?”

“I have questions too,” Joshua adds. “I believe it’s my turn, if you’re done~” 

Uh-oh. Neku doesn’t like that look in Joshua’s eye. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to believe that the worst has already passed. “Uh...okay, sure.” 

“When are you going to stop asking dumb questions and kiss me?”

Neku’s internal screaming, which had calmed down in the last few seconds, suddenly shoots right back up even louder than before. It takes an absurd amount of self-control to not shriek like a giddy school girl asking out her crush. Instead, Neku manages to take a deep breath, cough, and finally answer. “I was getting to it, smartass.” 

[neonponders]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight 

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

[sukirichi]

— LOVE LETTER FROM ANON ; 💌

this is from an ask i received. i copy pasted and replied here as a text post since i can’t put “read more” on anon asks and it’s quite long hehehe. to the anon who sent me this, i give you loads of my love, thank you so much for everything !!

[ the ask ]

hi lovely,

i just read earned it and i have a couple things i’d like to say to you if you don’t mind. before i start, i completely understand if you don’t want to share this ask or even read at all which is fair. but if you do decide to read it, i know that one person such as me cannot change the decisions a writer had made such as discontinuing a series but i hope that this allows you some sense of peace or happiness towards your creation and end of earned it. i’m actually writing this is my notes before i send it to you so that’s how you know i truly mean it. buckle up baby!

i’d like to start with this; i just read and finished all the remaining chapters of earned it. i don’t know how to say this without sounding arrogant or cocky which truly isn’t my intention here, i promise so i’ll just say it as is. i swear to ever loving god, i’ve scoured the entirety of tumblr, ao3, fanfiction.net, wattpad, everything and anything, and it still isn’t very often that i find works like these, far and few between dare i say. ive looked through almost everything i could get my hands on to read in the jjk fandom and dear god, do you manage to keep on surprising me. i’ve read majority if not all your works along with following you on ao3 and tumblr, and i must say. i truly am so fucking impressed. completely and absolutely fucking floored if you will. the amount of plot twists and pure emotion you managed to put into this is only something i can dream of ever creating.

i cannot lie, it truly my hearts to think that people gave you so much shit over this to which ended in you deciding to discontinue along with your lack of interest which at least, is understandable unlike the hate. i literally cannot comprehend how people would be unhappy with the outcome so far after reading it since it was beyond fucking magnificent in my eyes. it kept me on my toes the entire time whilst never managing to bore me once and as someone with adhd, thats fucking hard to do, i’ll admit it. props to you. and as much as i want to grovel and beg for crumbs, something, anything to know about how it ends, i know that that will most likely accomplish nothing to both you and i so decided to just say this.

thank you for writing this. thank you for not only writing it but dealing with the experience of unwanted and negative criticism to the point you had to stop and discontinue it whilst also being generous and amazing enough to keep it up so other people could still read it. i really hope your proud of earned it and how it turned out so far, because if i were you, i’d be so bloody fucking proud i wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

my friends often tell me i overstep my boundaries and i really hope i aren’t doing that with this but i just really, truly, wanted to express my genuine appreciation and thanks towards your writing and towards you as a writer that puts out content, not to mention for free!!!!, for people like me. i also don’t want to seem as if i’m glorifying earned above all your other works, because that’s not what i mean. your writing is just… just fucking chefs kiss. sorry, my brains starting to run out of words at this point but oh my god. thank you for letting me experience the experience of earned it even though there was no proper end. i’d rather have that than nothing at all. and maybe i misread this entire thing, maybe you are goddamn proud of your work, which you fuckinf should be considering the pure quality it is. once again, chefs kiss!!

i just… i don’t know what to say anymore. your writing, quite literally, has made me completely fucking breathless in a good way of course. anyways, i hope this wasn’t too much of a ramble and at least managed to make you smile or something. have a lovely day sweetheart!!!! <333 :*)

OMG ANON PLS FORGIVE ME IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME DAYS TO RESPOND TO, I DIDN’T WANT TO GIVE YOU A HALF ASSED RESPONSE SO I WAITED TO GET MY MENTAL ENERGY BACK TO A HUNDRED PERCENT SO I CAN SEND BACK MORE LOVE TO YOU WHOLEHEARTEDLY !! FIRST OF ALL UHM… 

you really made me speechless with this one, you have no idea. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve reread this and teared up a little bit because you know… I’m so shocked like I really have no idea what I did to receive such a sweet message because I’m just writing silly fanfics when I’m feeling it yknow? Or at least that’s what it seems like because it turns out I have a huge impact on others and I’m able to make people happy like I’ll never EVER get used to that feeling and I mean that in a good way !! Like I’m in a constant state of disbelief that people are this affected by my content and I’m just… 

I’m so thankful truly PLEASE can I give you a hug I’m so happy sobs sobs sobs

also baby, thank you sm for this again AAAAHH. I’m not sure if you really mean ‘Earned It’ the mafia! gojo series or ‘Reckless’ the CEO gojo series though ?? Both are discontinued but Earned It was discontinued bcos my dumbass killed Naoya there and he was my favorite so I lost the motivation and it was all my fault SOBBSSS. as for Reckless though, yeah I’d say it was mostly the hate I got for it that demotivated me into continuing it :// but if this ask is meant for Earned It, then yes thank you so much for the kind words as well, though I didn’t really receive hate for it so no worries !!

and aaah anon im…I’m at a loss for words lmao but the part where you said where you would be proud if you wrote it, that’s really…LIKE IDK it just hit me bcos oftentimes I look at something I poured my heart into, but then I’d have days where I’d be like YIKES that wasn’t a good one. its so easy to forget the effort we put into something when we’re affected by external factors. and yeah even though I really don’t want to continue either series anymore, thank you for leaving me the important note of being proud of myself <33 

although the series (earned it) wasn’t really something I’d properly executed and planned for, I do remember being passionate over it and feeling truly excited to update. even if it didn’t end out the way I wanted it to, it’s still something I poured my heart on and that’s magnificent on its own, so I’ll be prouder of myself from now on <33

no worries bb you are not overstepping any boundaries at all !! believe me when I say this ask truly do means a lot to me – more than you’ll ever know. messages like these are what keeps me going, as feedback is important to writers, but most of all it’s the genuine support and sincerity that gets to me. 

I’m truly humbled and grateful right now. thank you for this again and again and again.

THIS MADE ME MORE THAN SMILE !! there’s a lot of things I’m struggling with even if I don’t publicly express it, but messages like these will always have a special place in my heart. I’m sincerely grateful for everything, and I’ll continue writing here and sharing my works!! It’s supportive people like you that make these moments worthwhile. I’ll never forget this message anon AAAAH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU YOU HAVE AN EVEN BETTER DAY OR NIGHT, you have me weak in the knees for this

OKAY BRB SOBBING IN HAPPINESS

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 riddlebat ship meme

(@heroes-etc picked me out a lot of questions and we’re still going. This set is from this ship meme.)

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Ostensibly it would be Edward, if putting together a subtext-laden citywide scavenger hunt that threatens the lives of hundreds counts as “making the first move.” But there’s a limit to how much deliberately obfuscating any expression of your feelings can be considered making any move at all. He also doesn’t seem to really know what he wants from Bruce — in “Alone,” he’s quick to say that he designed the puzzles to lead Batman to him on purpose, but doesn’t have an answer when questioned on what he wanted Batman to do other than catch him.

So even though Edward is technically the instigator here, he places the burden of actually doing something entirely on Batman. Which is difficult, because Riddler’s increased brutality in the New 52 makes him like the last possible version of the character Bruce would choose to pursue. BUT Scott Snyder made Batjokes practically text in this continuity, so obviously New 52 Bruce does not have a problem getting overly emotionally involved with supervillains who have unrealistically large body counts. In fact, the brutality may work to Edward’s advantage here; if he caused enough damage, maybe Bruce would kidnap him and keep him in the Batcave the way it was revealed he was keeping the Joker in Dark Days: The Casting #1. 

What could be more romantic than being imprisoned in the batcave? Well, probably a lot of things, really. But in this case, having a lot of quality time together in which Riddler is not actively murdering anyone is probably the only way that these two could work out what they have going on between them. 

Edward could also earn his way down there by figuring out Batman’s identity, which he’s clearly pretty close to in Batman Annual #4. There’s only so much mental distance between “Bruce Wayne is obsessed with the death of his parents and his drive for justice and revenge has led him to bring Batman into existence, making him responsible for everything Batman has ever done” and “Bruce Wayne IS Batman,” especially when Bruce Wayne does things like climb museum exhibits to leave through the skylight or pull off a trickshot that ruins Riddler’s whole evil plan directly in front of Edward’s face.

And if he DID figure it out, New 52 Riddler would probably be less courteous about its secrecy than Joker is. (Not that Joker is THAT polite about it, given that he keeps trying to use the information to either kill Bruce’s whole family, or... I don’t know... whatever he did with Wayne Enterprises in Joker War. Wait, is THAT why Bruce was keeping Joker in the Batcave in Rebirth?) 

So just to review, I am *checks notes* arguing that Bruce would instigate a romantic relationship by kidnapping Edward and imprisoning him against his will. Yes, that sounds about right for DC’s current continuity.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

If Riddler DOESN’T know Batman’s secret identity, then he would want to have a threesome with Bruce Wayne. Batman Annual #4 suggests that he might have already been a bit obsessed with Bruce even before suspecting his involvement with Batman, given that he talks about how watching Bruce in the tabloids growing up was everyone’s “favorite tv show” and reminisces about learning a lot of information about Bruce’s life that way, including stuff that wouldn’t have made it to the news, like Bruce anonymously setting his teacher’s yard on fire as a teenager.

It’s actually almost a Batman Forever vibe, or it would be if New 52 Edward wasn’t so much less endearing. Is his childhood fascination with Bruce part of why he got a job working for Bruce’s uncle at Wayne Enterprises as an adult, or was that just a happy accident in his preparations for Zero Year? Either way, he’s clearly obsessed with Bruce now, and he’s definitely under the impression that Batman knows him well. So as long as he didn’t know they were the same person, he would probably try to arrange a ménage à trois (wouldn’t that be awkward).

If he DID know they were the same person, then unfortunately Edward would definitely try and instigate a threesome with Joker. I’m not saying it would work, I’m just saying that all of the War of Jokes and Riddles reads like Edward trying to insert himself in the middle of Batjokes and getting rejected by both of them repeatedly.

Joker wasn’t interested the first time Riddler came on to him (or the second time, literally in the same office, Edward please learn how to read a room), so he probably wouldn’t go for it if Edward tried again. But if The War and Jokes and Riddles demonstrated anything, it’s that Edward doesn’t know how to take a hint, so he’d probably try again regardless. And then blame Bruce when it doesn’t work, probably. I always thought it was dumb when Riddler hyped up the oh-so-horrible thing that Batman did to him in the War of Jokes and Riddles in Batman #19, only for it to turn out that Bruce just, like... almost stabbed him.... but didn’t. After Riddler had ALREADY betrayed him.

But it makes more sense that Edward is being such a dramatic bitch if you’re instead interpreting “I still remember what he did” as just a summary of the conga line of rejection that Riddler received over the course of that arc from both sides of Batjokes.

(TWOJAR as helpfully summarized by @heroes-etc​)

11. What do they hide from one another?

I don’t think they can really hide anything from each other, actually. I mean there’s the obvious “Batman is hiding his secret identity” and “Riddler is hiding evil scheme of the week #39.” But Bruce is the “World’s Greatest Detective” as per usual, and Edward is actually not that far behind him in this continuity (even if his delusions can cause him to project and misinterpret his findings, i.e. assuming that Bruce purposefully went bankrupt so that Riddler and the other Arkhamites would have to live in Wayne Manor and be reminded of him every second of every day). Batman Annual #4 has a great example of this where Edward reveals that he knows about how Bruce tried to treat his paranoid vigilante compulsions with shock therapy when he was a teenager. No one but Alfred and the doctors know about that — and I’m just assuming that Alfred knew, it’s not something that was stated in Zero Year.

Bruce obviously solves pretty much every riddle that Edward puts in front of him, but he picks up on the stuff that Riddler is purposefully trying to obscure too. Whether he was researching Edward ahead of time (likely) or just so good at snap psychoanalysis he should have a job at Arkham (possible, Zero Year was written by Scott Snyder), his summary of Edward’s life during their first interaction as Batman and Riddler in Batman #31 is clearly too accurate for Edward’s comfort, as it ruins what had previously been excitement on Riddler’s part that Batman was still alive. 

So good luck to both of them at hiding absolutely anything from each other. The best they can hope for is if WHEN the other person finds what they’ve been hiding, they misinterpret either the information or the reason why it was hidden from them in the first place. Both of them are always willing to jump to the worst case scenario (which, given who they’re dealing with, fair enough), so I’m sure the resulting miscommunication would be both extremely entertaining and highly likely to lead to city-wide destruction.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Does New 52 Riddler even have friends? He and Scarecrow claim to have respect for each other in Detective Comics ft. Scarecrow #23.3, but it’s in the context of Scarecrow lying and manipulating all the rogues in the lead up to Forever Evil, and it comes about three panels after Riddler passive aggressively mocks Jonathan’s childhood trauma at the hands of his “daddy.” (Rude, Edward. Rude and gross.)

If they are friends, then the reasons why Riddler dating Scarecrow’s arch nemesis would annoy Jonathan are pretty self-explanatory. Also Edward is clearly the kind of person who would taunt the rest of the Arkhamites with any privileges earned/information gleaned from getting closer to the Bat. When I was younger my mother would always warn me not to waste emotional energy on girls who ditch their friends to prioritize their relationship as soon as they get a new boyfriend. Well, Riddler is that girl.

Bruce’s friends and family obviously also have nearly infinite reasons to be annoyed with Bruce for dating a supervillain (shoutout to Duke Thomas, who was unfortunate enough to have Riddler’s Zero Year during the most formative time of his childhood), but Barbara Gordon would doubtlessly be more pissed than most. Riddler deciding that he’s in love with Batgirl out of the blue (despite them never having met before?) when he finds out that Batman’s marrying Catwoman was already irritating, but I can only imagine how much MORE annoying it would be in the context of Riddler later hooking up with Batman.

If Barbara ever found out about them hooking up, she would immediately have war flashbacks to Batman: Prelude to the Wedding pt. 3. She has a great memory so unfortunately she probably has perfect recall of having to spend an entire evening listening to a pre-recorded monologue of Riddler philosophizing about why he’s not bitter that Batman and Catwoman are getting married and how he’s still straight even though he’s never felt lasting attraction to a woman. And then she would rightfully go apeshit.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Thinking of how this question could possibly be answered from Bruce’s perspective made me laugh out loud, which is probably not a good sign given that I’m 4/5 of the way through writing a ship meme for him and Edward. But Riddler is just. So much in the New 52. Okay, I’m taking it seriously now. WHY DOES HE FALL MORE IN LOVE. Well, the fastest way to Bruce’s heart (other than being an attractive woman with dark hair, green eyes, and ambiguous morals) is to assist him in his crusade against crime. While that doesn’t initially seem like something Edward would do (as we see in Batgirl vs. Riddler, he seems to think the key to romance is “mixtapes”), he does go out of his way to give Bruce information about a Gotham-wide criminal conspiracy in Batman Eternal #39. He doesn’t appreciate that Batman’s current opponent is actively trying to wear him down — he wants to fight the Bat at his best, when he can think clearly. So he gives Bruce information he needs to solve the mystery.

Edward seems to also be under the impression that this would endear him to Batman, because he gives Batman a series of riddles that lead Bruce right to him so that they can talk in person. And then gets very surprised when Bruce subsequently arrests him. You’re still a criminal, Edward. This is like the first favor you’ve ever done him. Do it a dozen more times and then MAYBE you’ll start getting the free passes he’s been handing out to Harley and Ivy. But Bruce DOES save him from an avalanche after this, even though in the past Bruce has left him to die out of apathy (The War of Jokes and Riddles) or actively tried to kill him (also The War of Jokes and Riddles). So Edward IS winning him over, just very, very slowly.

Riddler pretty obviously just enjoys having someone to talk to that he feels is “on his level.” Even though he’s already arranged for Bruce Wayne’s assassination by the first time they meet in Batman #39, he obviously enjoys conversing with someone who can and will unravel his riddles and double meanings, to the point that afterwards he musingly wishes that they’d have an opportunity to talk again. Obviously they do, but it’s no thanks to Riddler. You can just NOT assassinate someone if you think they’re hot, Edward.

It’s what seemingly endears him to Batman too (at least, until Bruce ruins the mood by calling him an attention whore in front of all of Gotham). Though it’s basically always bad news for him, Edward clearly enjoys any time that Bruce or Batman exhibits his intelligence. 

[ashketchup119]

Musicality

Ok I LOVE this story!! I made a whole story based off a lil convo @jemtoka and I had, and I made oc’s based off each of us and went to town. It was very fun to write, and I got to combine my music knowledge with my writing skills.

Enjoy!

When Benji had first set out to find the ghost of Beethoven, he wasn’t actually sure that he’d be able to do it. His brother had once called him “all bite and no bark”, a reference to the fact that out of the four brothers, Benji had been the only one to not outgrow his infant habit of biting things- or people- when stressed. But in this situation, he definitely felt like he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

He absentmindedly chewed on his chewing necklace as he drafted a grant proposal with his friend, Mujika. Muji was drawing in a notebook, something for his art classes, though he looked up when prompted to review the words that had appeared on Benji’s screen. Muji had done his fair share of research, and though he did want to help with the writing of the research paper, it had been agreed that Benji was the more… academic writer. The two of them had met through social media a couple of years ago, and once they’d started direct messaging, had become close friends quickly through a mesh of shared interests, similar humor, and a half-baked scheme to take over the world.

Which led them here, to a table in the back of a 24-hour McDonalds, Benji chewing the head off a stiff chewable bat pendant and Muji using his nocturnal tendencies to do things like “make sure his friend drank water and didn’t forget that he was a person.”

“Fo you fink ish bit avou duh Immoruhl Bewuved ith done? Ish kinda duh hoh vashis of arr puhposal so…” Benji trailed off, jaw absentmindedly moving over the poor bat, whose head was holding on by sheer force of will to the rest of its body.

“What?” Muji asked. He did not speak bat-in-mouth.

Benji pulled the pendant out of his mouth with an audible pop. “Y’think this bit about the Immortal Beloved is finished? It’s like, the whole basis of our proposal n shit.”

He turned the laptop towards Muji, who closed his notebook, set it to the side, and pulled the laptop in front of him. He read it quietly, and Benji began to tap out the beat to the song playing on low volume in his earbuds. He began to hum, too, murmuring lyrics under his breath as he stared off into the distance.

“I think it looks good.” Muji finally replied, turning the laptop back toward Benji and grabbing his notebook again. “I can’t think of anything else we could add to that section.”

Benji gave a little half shrug. “I guess you’re right.”

The two of them once again worked in solitude, only broken by Benji ordering fries at about 1 AM. At 3, they decided to call it quits, though Benji seemed more wired than ever and voiced some apprehension about “going to sleep when there’s so much work to be done, Muji!” Muji chastised him slightly and promised that they could come back the next day- or rather, later that day- to finish up. There were only slight revisions to be done, then it could be sent off to the Music Master Scholars, an organization dedicated to the care and keeping of the ghosts widely considered Music Masters, which included household names like Mozart and Beethoven, but also lesser-known composers like Joseph Bologne and Francesca Caccini.

Ghosts were, of course, a commonplace occurrence, though one could theoretically live their life without interacting with one. That was rare, though; ghosts had a tendency to wander, though they could only appear in places that held significance to them in life and graveyards, but even living in a house increased the average person’s chances of encountering a ghost exponentially.

But these ghosts were special, because of the knowledge they possessed and the lives they’d lead. The Music Master Scholars were the only people in the world who both knew and had access to the location of every ghost, and to join their ranks, one had to find the location of one of the ‘hidden’ Music Masters- of which Beethoven was the most hidden. Their non-administrative members were unknown, but said to be most, if not all, of the foremost music scholars in the world. How could they not be, with the Masters themselves guiding their research?

Benji and Muji really, really wanted to be Music Master Scholars.

When he was 10, Benji had been given some sort of “young musician” scholarship to visit Europe for a month. He was a double bassist, a dying breed in the modern age, and the fact that he had progressed from monotonic exercises to Baroque sinfonias in the span of four months had impressed his teachers.

His parents had gone along, too, mostly because they knew their child, and Benji did have a propensity to get into trouble. Devil’s luck, his mother had tsked, and that had been that.

He’d managed to escape the group in the middle of a museum, though he didn’t wander far. He just wanted to look at everything without feeling like people were constantly breathing down his neck.

Well. HE didn’t consider “the park near the museum” to be far. His parents did, though, he found out later.

At the park, he found a man. Well, not a man. A ghost. The ghost was staring wistfully at the museum in the distance, and started when he noticed a small child staring at him.

“Hi! Who are you?” Benji asked, clutching the stuffed animal his parents had gotten him at another museum the day before.

The ghost cleared his throat. “I’m uh…” He started in a raspy voice before pausing and clearing his throat again. “I’m,” He sighed. “I’m Johannes Brahms.”

“Yo-hahn Brahmzzzz.” Benji repeated, drawing out the last “s” sound. “Oh! You did music, right?”

Brahms smiled slightly, and nodded.

The two of them talked for a while before Benji’s parents arrived, harried and frustrated. They apologized profusely to the ghost, who insisted it hadn’t been a problem.

The whole experience left Benji starry-eyed, and with the help of a friend he’d made in Germany, he would call and converse with Brahms for hours, asking about counterpoint and meaning and technique and just in general picking his mind. The composer took this with grace, and seemed more than happy to answer the young musician’s questions. When he’d told Benji about the Scholars, Benji had immediately decided that he was going to be a Music Master Scholar.

Muji had played violin until he’d dropped out of high school to take care of his mom, and hadn’t resumed it until after him and Benji had been talking for a while. He didn’t know much about composition, but he loved music history, and after getting his GED and enrolling in college, had even majored in it. Plus, he just kinda just thought the whole thing was cool.

They’d been researching for a year and a half, with pointers from Brahms, and tips from a professor Benji’d had two years ago, a Classical scholar named Dr. Chang. Benji had once emailed her and asked, point-blank, if she was a Music Master Scholar, but she’d only sent back a cryptic winky face emoji in response.

The next day, after three more hours of sitting in McDonalds, revising the proposal (most of which was Muji saying “Benji it looks fine!” and Benji responding with “No, no, this comma in paragraph seven just makes it sound better! Ties it all together, don’t you think?”), it was sent off in an email, and Benji resolved not to think about it while Muji resolved to mention it at the most inopportune moments, just to mess with his friend a little.

They were approved a month later, and three months after that day at McDonalds, they were sitting on a plane heading to Austria, Benji mouthing practice phrases in German as Muji slept. They had about a month to traipse all over Europe in search of a ghost very few people had been able to find, and they were excited to start.

The first week was spent in Austria, visiting Beethoven’s own grave (a nonstarter; the ghosts there hadn’t seen Beethoven since he was buried, and none knew where he’d gone), his childhood home and the area surrounding.

Nothing.

The second week was spent in Vienna. There, they visited the ghost of Mozart, who was a fidgety, flighty sort. He was known for being somewhat immaterial, and often took to jumping on top of objects in a manner that caused the people around them to panic for a few seconds before realizing he was too immaterial to do anything more than whisper vaguely about his childhood. He’d tried to pet Muji’s hair and got annoyed when nothing happened, so it wasn’t a particularly long visit.

They tried to visit Haydn, but while the location of Haydn’s ghost was well-known, only Music Master Scholars were allowed to see him, as he claimed the crowds exhausted him, and he wanted to be able to give his full attention to those visiting him. It made sense, since ghosts used massive amounts of energy to communicate and interact with the world around them, and the more energy they expended, the less time they were able to spend on earth. Despite this, the two  of them did make an effort, but were summarily barred from entering.

“Next time!” Benji declared confidently as they walked to their next potential Beethoven hot spot.

They visited Brahms, who had resolved to meet them in Vienna upon learning they were coming, and spent a whole day with him, visiting locations which had been important to him and letting his impromptu history lessons wash over them with a look of awed reverence.

Beethoven wasn’t in Vienna, and by the third week the two friends were feeling the threat of rejection hot on their heels. They began keeping odd hours, trying their hardest to figure out their next move.

“Maybe we should reread our proposal? Clearly the Scholars saw something in it, right?” Muji theorized from the bed he’d claimed as his their first night in the hotel.

“Mmmm.” Benji responded from his position on the floor at the foot of his bed, still feeling the after-effects of a well-deserved mental breakdown.

“Come on, Benji!” Muji tried to motivate him. “We can do it! You’re a super cool music spy, remember?”

Benji huffed at the reminder of an old, inane conversation between the two. “I don’t know, Muji. I think it’s kinda pointless.”

“Come on, Benji!” Muji tried again. “This is like, your dream! It’s now or never! Put our mutual brain cell to use so we can find Beethoven!”

Benji sighed and got up. “Fine, fine.” He murmured as he got off the floor, grabbed his copy of the proposal from his bag, laid down on the bed, and stuffed another chewable pendant into his mouth. “Wet’s fee.”

Silence reigned for a few, brief seconds, before Muji suddenly exclaimed, “Hey! We never checked out anything about the Immortal Beloved, right?”

Benji sat up straight on his bed and spit out the pendant. “Holy shit, we never checked out anything about the Immortal Beloved.”

After a quick Google search, two train tickets, a couple of sandwiches, and a dash through the rain, they arrived at the Frankfurt Main Cemetery. There, they asked after the name they’d listed in their proposal as the possible Immortal Beloved, and the ghosts pointed them towards the back of the cemetery.

In a ghost grotto, they found a woman, calmly humming the tune from one of the Diabelli variations, though in their excitement neither Benji nor Muji could name the tune.

“Are you-“ Benji paused and took a couple of deep breaths. “Are you the Immortal Beloved?

The woman stopped humming and smiled at them.

“Ah, that is a moniker I have not heard in some time.” She arose and walked away from them, lifting her skirts elegantly in a manner which conveyed a sense of class. “Come; I think you are the ones I’ve been expecting.”

The two followed after her eagerly and looked confused when they stopped at a mail office in town. There, she reached into a P.O. box, pulled out a silver envelope, and gave it to Benji.

“This is yours.” She murmured. “Please do come to visit; it’s rare that I receive visitors.”

With this, she disappeared.

The two stared at the envelope for a couple of seconds before Benji eagerly opened it, accidentally ripping the envelope in half. He then read it, brow furrowing in confusion.

“What’s it say?” Asked Muji, eagerly, from over his shoulder.

“It says… it’s just numbers? I don’t get it.” Benji gave him the paper, trying to puzzle out what it meant.

Muji frowned, then plugged the numbers into Google.

“It’s a location!” He burst out, excitedly shoving the phone in Benji’s face.

The two of them hurriedly called a taxi, listing the location Muji’s phone had given them. They were dropped off in front of the building, and saw someone standing at the entrance. They showed the person (a Scholar!) their letter, and with a large smile, they were taken inside, their guide walking confidently as Benji and Muji trailed behind them. The interior of the building was long and winding, which left the two feeling as though they’d been deceived by the outward appearance of the building. The building had looked small and unassuming, and this place was built like a maze. They were sure they’d be lost if they tried to head back without a guide.

Near the end of the path they heard the sound of a piano playing, and warm light spilled into the hallway. They eagerly rushed ahead, much to the amusement of the Scholar.

There, facing the wall, conducting half a beat behind the sound coming from the recorder behind him, stood Beethoven.

Benji gasped, and clutched Muji’s shoulder. He pointed ecstatically at the figure in the room. “It’s Beethoven!!!” He stage-whispered.

Muji smiled widely as he nodded back. “Yeah!!”

The two of them turned around when a voice behind them cleared. The Scholar gave them each a thick letter with the recognized seal of the Music Master Scholars on the back, and the two of them stared at it, unsure of what to do.

“Well?” The Scholar prompted, rocking back and forth on their heels. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Benji ripped into his envelope first, completely abandoning the flap as he tore the side off. His hands shook as he pulled out a letter on creamy white stationary. He skimmed the words and began crying, clutching the letter and envelope to his chest.

Muji was slightly more careful, removing the letter from the envelope via the flap and pulling out the other contents of the envelope. A laminated membership card, a list of locations of other ghosts, and an alphabetized list of other Scholars with contact info and a small bio were also in the envelope. He pulled out each one, looked at it, and put it back in the envelope. He then stopped and held the envelope in his hands, staring at it.

After about ten minutes, the guide worriedly asked Muji, “Is Benji alright? He’s been crying for a while.”

Muji nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, he cried for like two hours after I finished streaming Crisis Core for him.” At the guide’s look of confusion, he added, “Video game.”

The guide made a small noise of understanding and nodded.

When Benji’s sobs finally faded into sniffles, the three of them began the trek out of the building.

“Sorry this route is so long.” The Scholar apologized. “Oh! Also! I forgot to introduce myself.” They paused and turned, offering their hand. “I’m Soraya Cham! I was the last person to find Beethoven’s ghost. When I heard about you guys, I got excited, really. I was rooting for you!”

The two of them shook her hand and nodded, unsure what else to say.

Soraya continued, then hailed a taxi when they reached the road. They waved goodbye to Benji and Muji as the two of them got in the backseat.

“We did it!” Benji shouted once they were back at their hotel.

[wellhellsbelles]

hey! i love everything you write and can't wait for the next chapter of ttroywh. i saw you're taking prompts and i was wondering if you could write one i saw in @rickibowen saying that riley and maya go to the bachelor and riley's supposed to fall in love with lucas but falls in love w/ farkle who is the camera man/editor of the show and she always tries to make him laugh by making faces during one on one interviews and so, while lucas and maya fall in love w/ each other

hope you don’t mind me cutting it short! i don’t know much about the bachelor and would’ve liked to expand more but the internet is not good at gleaning info on the process 😅 so here’s my take on as much of that au as i could!

enjoy!

Farkle took the dumb job by chance.

 Well, he did apply for it, but he never thought he’d actually get the job. In all honesty, he figured his small degree in video production wouldn’t end up fruitful, that it was only really a backburner type of deal. He still did believe that—he was going to pursue something in science, that he was adamant of. He just needed . . . a break from it (“Even geniuses need to take care of their mental health,” his mother had told him.) So he pursued videography, something that had become a sort of hobby to him, and when the summer arrived and he needed cash, he figured he’d apply for this job just for kicks.

Farkle never believed he’d end himself up on the set of The Bachelor, not in a million years.

It was sort of surreal, the whole atmosphere that followed such an illustrious television show. Farkle never bought into the appeal of the show, especially since it seemed silly to drag all these girls along just for some pretty boy to tell them they weren’t “the one”. It just seemed cruel, but then again, who was he to judge? He was earning money off of taping their dreams getting crushed, after all.

The first day on set was a barrage of sensory overload—so many voices, faces he needed to commit to memory, an itinerary of equipment he’d be handling . . . there was just so much. He was halfway tempted to run when he started becoming overwhelmed, but he remembered himself, breathing in and out until he’d maintained a sense of calm.

Farkle could do it. He would do it. There was no way he was backing out now.

The preparation for the show was massive, but then the first day of filming arrived right under his nose. Profiles he’d studied of both the bachelor and the ladies he would be choosing from were going to quickly turn to reality, no longer just faces on a page. He knew he wouldn’t be making friends or anything of that ilk, but he did want to at least talk to people, especially since he’d be the one on the other side of the camera for most of the shooting.

Farkle was going to be the main guy they all report to when it’s time to film their confessions, maybe secrets that would be aired on television but no one else on set would know until later. No one but him, which he was well aware was a heavy burden to carry. But then again, it was reality television—who said anything anyone reveal was actually real? The contestants weren’t getting paid for anything, so truth was muddied at best.

But somehow, despite all of this mess being, well, a mess, Farkle could still say he was excited at the prospect of taking part of something big. This was his shot at obtaining a glimpse a slice of a life he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t wait to see how it all turned out.

 //

 “I can’t believe you talked me into this dumb mess. This is your fault,” Maya groaned from beside Riley as the other girls with them in the limo talked animatedly.

“My fault? How was I supposed to know they’d pick both of us for this show? Besides, you’re the one who submitted your application while we were drunk! You could’ve backed out at anytime and you know it, Hart,” Riley said accusingly. “Besides, we’ll have fun! You need some in your life.”

“I feel like I’m being pimped out by a bunch of white guys to another white guy. I hate this,” Maya slumped down further in her seat. “And they took my phone, too! How am I supposed to entertain myself?”

“Don’t you draw? Just do that. I know you brought your sketchbook,” Riley suggested. Maya shook her head.

“Nope. Not going to happen. I am not advertising my art for the world to see. One of those dumb cameramen are going to sneak up on me and do it without my permission, I just know it.”

“Suit yourself,” Riley shrugged, turning her attention to the rest of the girls in the car. She knew there was a camera in the car with them and that the producers would prefer it if she engaged in conversation about the bachelor, but she’d rather just lay low. She’d try and play it up for them later after she’d seen him up close and personal.

But Maya did have a point. Why was she doing this again? It really was a decision she made on a whim, but unlike Maya, her decision was made completely sober.

The Bachelor had been one of her favorite guilty pleasure shows that she watched over the years, but she had never once entertained the idea of actually becoming a contestant. Perhaps it was when her long-term boyfriend broke up with her that spurred her interest, maybe she just needed something new and this was it. Whatever the case, she had been picked along with her best friend, and wherever Riley went, Maya followed.

She couldn’t be too mad, anyhow—the bachelor they had picked was incredibly handsome.

His name was Lucas Friar, born and raised in Texas. Everything about him sounded like a dream come true, but she kept a smidgeon of skepticism about him just in case the show had encouraged a little truth bending for the sake of appeal. Still, she couldn’t deny that his extensive list of positive qualities all seemed a little too good to be true.

He sounded like a true, southern gentleman, the kind that would meet you at the door and talk to your parents before escorting you out on a date. A lionhearted and loyal friend, the testimonies in his profile had mentioned. A guy who is just so down to earth you can’t help but fall for him. Loves animals of all kinds and is working hard to become a veterinarian. His experience of being raised on a farm spawned his interest in animal care.

If Riley could swoon, she would. She still might, after meeting him.

For the rest of the ride, Riley tried her best to pitch in with the “bachelor talk” the other girls were participating in. She wasn’t too terrible at it, but getting Maya to participate was another thing entirely. Despite making it onto the show and agreeing to be there (Riley told her she didn’t need to say yes to being a contestant! At this point, she’s almost certain Maya agreed for her own personal agenda that Riley’s not privy to), she refuses to play along.

After what felt like an eternity of a car ride, they made it to the mansion they’d be staying at for the duration of their stint on the show. They asked Riley to be the first one out of the limo, something that floored Riley.

First limo, first out—they had a good feeling about Riley, was what that meant. She’d watched enough of The Bachelor to know that the first person to meet the bachelor was important; it was his first impression, the real start of the show, and it meant the producers were rooting for her.

So, no pressure.

Her meeting with Lucas passed by her in a flash, but she had a good feeling about it. He found her slight awkwardness endearing and by just interacting with him, she felt as though there was a certain energy between them. Of course, she’d never been the best at reading situations, but something told her that it was right for her to be on The Bachelor.

After meeting him, she waited in the main room as the other girls got to have their own interaction with Lucas, trying to not feel nervous as they all piled in together. They chatted amongst each other, but Riley couldn’t help but notice Maya hadn’t joined her yet.

Must be the producers, she admonished in her mind.

She wasn’t allowed to keep wondering, however, as a distraction was sent her way. One of the producers walked in, announcing that they were going to start filming confessionals and called Riley up to be the first.

“We just need you to talk about Lucas a little, maybe your experience so far,” he explained as he ushered her off to another room. “Be yourself, but also realize this is television, yeah?”

“So be myself but not really myself?” Riley blurted. The producer nodded.

“Bingo, you’ve got it. Now go in there and kill it.”

With a slight push, Riley entered the confession room, the door closing shut behind her. There was a guy already in there scrawling down notes onto a clipboard, his focus undeterred until the door closing alerted him to her presence.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he muttered, setting the clipboard down. He turned toward her with a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Riley couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It seemed less like he was trying to be a professional and more like he didn’t want to be there at all.

“Hey, I know this is a weird request, but what’s your name? I’d like to get to know everyone around here, even if I just last a day,” Riley said. The cameraman’s stormy blue eyes lit up in surprise.

“You want to know my name? No one wants to know my name,” he told her. Now it was Riley’s turn to frown.

No one here wanted to know his name? But he was helping make the show. Was the whole production team for The Bachelor really that callous?

“Well, I do. Here, I’ll start—I’m Riley Matthews,” she beamed, sticking her hand out towards him. He hesitated a moment before enveloping her dainty hand with his, the warmth comforting.

“Farkle Minkus. I’ll be your cameraman for a lot of this run, but mostly just the confessional stuff.”

“Glad to have met you, Farkle.”

After breaking the handshake, it still took Farkle a moment to gain his footing and Riley couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so you’ll sit at that seat right there,” he gestured in front of him to the empty chair, “And you’ll have to give me a moment to set the lighting right on you and then make sure sound is good.”

Riley did as she was told, waiting patiently in her seat as he shuffled about the room. She observed him scrambling about, heart warming at the awkward way he appeared to be moving. It reminded her of herself when she was anxious.

After a few minutes, Farkle was ready, giving her a countdown to begin.

“Just start talking about your first impression of Lucas, okay?” he instructed.

“Okay,” Riley nodded. She watched in silence as he started the countdown audibly, switching to counting with his fingers when they reached three. Then two, followed by one.

Showtime, she said to herself.

 //

 At the end of the first night, Maya was the first to get a rose. Riley wasn’t surprised one bit—Maya had a sort of charm about her and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It always surprised her when that happened, and that night was no exception to the rule. As someone who was also competing, Riley couldn’t help but feel a touch jealous, but more than anything, she was proud of her friend.

Despite Maya receiving the first rose, though, Riley did get quite a bit of time to spend with Lucas. He was shy and reserved, yet cheerful and inviting, and they got along quite well. If Riley was a spectator, she’d bet good money on herself.

But her time outside of filming scenes was spent hanging around Farkle. He didn’t really believe her when she said she wanted to get to know the people working on the show, so she was determined to prove him wrong, especially since she just kept being picked by Lucas. Each day, she’d greet Farkle when she’d spot him by the refreshments table set up for the crew, she’d ask how he was when he was there to film her confessions, and just do her best to cheer him up since he always looked down.

“You know you’re going to get me fired, right?” he asked her one day after they filmed a scene. “You keep making faces at me and I’m trying so hard to not laugh but I swear, Riley.”

“Is it making you laugh?” she said, curious.

“Yes, oh my god! They’re going to have to cut so much of that out not just for your dumb faces, but me interrupting their audio,” he groaned. Riley smiled.

“Good. Then I won’t stop!”

“Relentless, Riley Matthews, that’s what you are. And a pain in my ass.”

Riley liked getting to film The Bachelor, but as the days passed by, she had a feeling it was less because of her wanting to be on the actual show and vying for Lucas’ attention, and more due to the fact that Farkle was there.

And if halfway through the filming process Lucas ended it because he’d picked Maya (and she picked him too, shockingly), Riley couldn’t find it in her to be sad.

She had found Farkle, after all, so really she was the true winner of the game.

[a-real-ackerman]

Perfect Scenario

Sherlock Fanfic

summary: You, a super human, an excellent actor and a liar with debatable ethics; are having a hard time overcoming feelings  no one new you were capable of. On top of it, you have to deal with your “arch enemy” who has dedicated himself on the way of ruining your chances at your new life.

pairing: Sherlock x superhuman!Reader 

warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of suicide, violence, language and horrible mistakes... I dunno, I will write a current warning in red on every chapter.

A/N: Even tho I think Sherlock as an asexual character or not interested etc, I find working with well-known characters and less OC’s quite useful. Also, I see a lot of me in him so I will be writing about him more. Also, the reader is female. Also, gifs are never mine, all credits for those talented people. By the way, in case you see my mistakes don’t be shy, let me know! I am trying to improve my English.

Chapter One: “Trembling Hands.”

      “You don’t know who you are, unlike me.” was written on the card  you  recently received. Menacing words written in an elegant handwriting, appeared by your window, every morning since last Friday. there you stood by your counter, your e/c eyes wandering over the same simple words again and again, in a hopeless struggle to find any clues. You did not know what they wanted or cared about; what part of you they assumed they knew? Your super powers? Your business? Your therapist? Your past? Your parents’ death? All the lies you have been telling whole the time? 

      What you could analyse from each of these notes were the fact that they actually new about you. The words they choose were written in a friendly manner which told you that even tho you have never met them, they knew enough to consider themselves close to you. 

      You had a few assumptions on who they could be:

A secret admirer, in a sense, stalker

A conspiracy theorist who have witnessed your... condition?

One of the investigator who had researched you in your teens

Jimmy

     No matter which one they were,(more likely to be a he), he was a stalker. You did not like stalkers. But you were interested in this one’s motive. You wanted to beat their game before they could put their filthy obsessive hands on your very new and clean life.

     Hopping off the counter, you rushed into the living room and put the card on the brown coffee stand in the middle of the room, right next to others. Walking trough cold blue walls of you flat, you kept mentally checking the places you usually control, in case there were cameras. You were going to take a shower after all.

          “I have to ask him first,” said the man on the line, Holmes’ face shot a fake kind smile as he was face to face with the doctor. “ tell my brother I said hi.”

         Doctor threw a look at the phone in disbelief as Holmes hang up the phone. Sherlock was not in his mood for a new case. Especially not a case from his brother, which involves scammers, government, some mafia and a class action lawsuit that could bring them a big amount of money. The detective was too busy in his mind palace.

        John entered the flat and found his flatmate already waiting for him, sat on his chair with hands in praying position, eyes boring into him like he’s trying to ask something.

       Uncomfortable under the gaze, “Yes, Sherlock ask away.” sighed John.

       “John,” said Sherlock, “I have a suggestion.”

        John looked at him in suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

        “How about going out to see a play tonight?”

         John exhaled out of surprise to his friend’s suggestion, was he asking him on a date? For a case (of course)? 

          “Don’t worry John, about whatever you thought of-I don’t’ prefer to vocalise it. I think we may have a new case, which includes the leading actor. She seems to play a big part in this case as much as the play. I also want to witness myself if she was as good as they talked about.”

         “It’s okay, Sherlock, just for once.”

         Sherlock baffled,” What do you mean by ‘just once’? This is a case just like the others, you don’t want to solve cases anymore?”

         “No,” insisted John, “All I’m saying is: it’s okay to be a human just for once.It’s okay to take interest in a play, film or a person-”

         “-I AM NOT INTERESTED,JOHN,”

         It was too late to deny, John was already going upstairs, with a smug smirk of a self-proud mother who has just embarrassed their teenager.

         You have once again saluted the audience, holding hands with your teammates. A little stronger than usual maybe, you didn’t want to throw the decors and people off the stage. Your hands were trembling more since you couldn’t stop the seconds passing; and your head got dizzier every movement, with the help of flashing stage lights. Mavis, your co-actor since high school, leaned over your ear; “You always get so excited when it ends!” she whispered without knowing anything.

       You shot your perfect, warmest smile as your eyes wandered around the place in case anyone was suspicious. You locked your eyes with an awfully familiar man around your age, with curly hair falling on his forehead and eyes piercing onto you. He knew, he knew something and made it clear. He knew you.

”There she is,” you saw him whispering to his friend. You could listen to them is you focused enough, thanks to not being so human.

         But you choose to not hear anything.Thanks to your instincts being quite active this afternoon, every word had felt no different than a knife stabbing her ears. All of this pain was because you couldn’t use your power today. You were a bomb waiting to explode, your hands itching to throw people to the walls and your screams desired to ruin every window in the city. 

     The torture soon ends, but always leaves you shaken up. You turned from the left corner of the entrance of the theatre and entered the cafe where you have tea every night after performance. You didn’t die to drink it every night actually, yet the calming mix thing of this cafe could put an angry elephant down. Naturally, you could calm down too. It eased your nerves and relaxed your muscles which helped you overcoming your power. I you didn’t bother to control your powers, let’s say, no one nearby could survive.

    Whatever, you took your usual seat and smiled at the kind young waiter. You knew each other now, so you didn’t have to talk.(dreamy isn’t it? not having to talk?) You looked out of the window, watching the shiny cars passing by and colourful lights dancing. You slowly turned to the man who just sat in front of you, his arms crossed on the table and eyes gazing you in a weird expression between curious and astonished. Admiring and contemptuous. Familiar and hateful. Friendly and strange.

    “I have to say I am totally astonished by your acting,” he started. You were right about astonished. You smiled firmly, just because this one was choosing his words firmly. If he is one of those creeps you would send him off. But you had to be careful these days, anyone could lead you to the stalker.

    “You come here often.”

    “Yes, it’s not new. Everyone who has taken interest in stalking me knows.”

     He let out a chuckle which you didn’t expect to be this natural.”Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Ironic, since I have come to apologise for making you uncomfortable.”

    His gaze took a lovely, apologising, soft form, which could melt your heart if you didn’t realise him checking for your expressions in between seconds. He was trying to impress you, for what?

    “It’s not very comforting of you when you follow me to a cafe.”

    “So it did,” he said, paying too much attention on your hands while you reached out to your tea.

    “Is he bothering you miss?” asked the waiter protectively, his voice a few octave deeper than usual.

    “I am fine, thank you Oscar.” you watched him walking away with a nod.”So what did what?”

    “Me. Looking at you. You noticed me in hundreds of people. You saw us talking about you.”

    “Please don’t start with that ‘love-at-first-sight-soulmate’ shit.” 

    “I was actually going to start with ‘you-somehow-know-you-are-in-danger’ shit.”

     Your mouth dropped with his super sassy mic drop. You had to be clueless, oblivious and self centred now. You were a normal person now.

     “Is this a threat? I am amused.” you smirked, don’t let them him the fear.

     “No,” he rolled his eyes, “This is an offer.”

      “I am Sherlock Holmes.”

      “OH!” you relaxed, “I know you, (y/n)(s/n).” you answered shaking his hand.

"Come on, drink it. You seem to be dying for it."

   You reached to the cuppa, not being able to hide your hands. As soon as this herbal smell filled your nose and followed it's way to your heart, a soft needy smile appeared on your lips. You felt your muscles getting back to normal.You opened your eyes.

"Now look," you threatened suddenly," if you are here to investigate my parents' death and sue me for it..."

He was more focused now, his gaze melted down to a more intense, even a curious one.

"I am tired. I am tired of this. For all my teenage years, my past, people defined me as a liar. So keep going, keep evoking my traumas. You won’t find what you’re looking for."

"There is a huge misunderstanding, "

He comforted you, leaning more onto the table, you almost loved this caring facade, a pair of eyes; signing no danger, no threat but just a simple caring feeling, were more than enough to let your guard down and believing someone. Just this once.

"I don't want to sue you. I offer you my help. Someone has opened your case again."

This was too much for you, with all energy trapped in your body your heart started to ache, your hands trembling in a way no one could stop.

"Trembling hands."

"What?"

"Show them."

You obeyed, held them up in front of him.

"I thought tea would help you."

"It does. When no one triggers me."

"Everything could trigger you. You live alone in the house your very own parents committed suicide. You don't even have pets which is surprising because you love animals, judging by a different cat and dog fur on your pants, coat, jumper, pretty much everywhere. You also have been avoiding your therapist, judging by the notification sound that you didn't answer after seeing the name. And no, it can not be your lover because you are alone live alone and have no attempt on your physical self-care, in addition, the cafe you go nearly every day or your friend group doesn't look for someone else after you arrive on your own. But those are not clear assumptions, knowing what your parents like is enough to assume you prefer to be single. You are alone for a reason. You think you’re dangerous.

So you live alone, have no one, and Scotland Yard is investigating you. You get stalked and for a reason, you always stay sharp and have a very defensive observant personality.

You are interesting enough for me. I will take your case."

"Is this a nerd way of asking for my number? If it is I will say yes."

"No, it's better, it is a smart way to interest you."

" What for? Why will you help me?"

" Because there is a game waiting for me,” he sighed, “and I am bored."

"Fine, this is my number here-"

"I already have it!"

Then he rushed out, putting his collars up, ruffling his hair.

A/N: I want to thank @fanfictionislovefanfictioni-blog​ for the request! 

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 16

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___

Remus had researched PTSD, ADHD, depression and anxiety. He had started doing so a few months after the car crash, when he had noticed the changes in Roman’s behaviour. And as he did so he had seen the changes within himself as well. He had noticed patterns which were new, feelings that started to disappear.

Quite honestly, Logan was impressed. Impressed by Remus’s sharp perception. By his own introspection and his findings. And the fact that he was critical of his own analysis and tried to not be too wrapped up in them.

What had Logan worried though was how often Remus mentioned his fear and worries about Roman. How much seemed to be focused on him and not on Remus himself. And while Remus’s worries might have been warranted, Logan knew that he could not only focus on Roman. That he needed to look after himself.

Carefully, Logan tried to steer the conversation in a direction, where he could talk about Remus’s fixation on Roman. As Remus mentioned once more how long it took Roman to even mention the accident after it had happened, Logan took his chance and said: “I understand Roman is important to you, but he is not the only person to worry about.”

“It’s hard not to worry about him… He – He struggles a lot and he doesn’t admit most of it. I know I’m not one to talk about my mental health either but he’s in deep denial and-” Remus said but was interrupted by Logan.

“I understand your concerns, Remus,” Logan reassured Remus not wanting to talk his worries down, “I truly do. And I know your brother is fighting with a lot as well but maybe you might need to stand back a bit from him. Not abandon or leave him. But you need to take care of yourself first and you cannot do so if you are constantly worrying and playing therapist for Roman as well. You can only do so much for him. And he is a grown-up too. You need to trust him and make the right decisions for himself.”

Logan watched Remus run his fingers through his hair. He was thinking of a fitting retort but Logan knew he was right and that Remus was indeed smart enough to know that too. He just had to admit it to himself.

“Yes, right but I don’t think he always makes the right decisions for himself…” Remus argued weakly.

“That might be true but it is not your responsibility to fix that. You cannot support him so much that it exhausts you, Remus. You need to learn to have boundaries and let other people take over.”

Logan knew that his advice was a lot harder to follow through than it sounded. He knew Remus would struggle. He knew he would not know what healthy boundaries felt like at the beginning of all of it. He knew he would not trust anybody to take care of his brother at first.

“… then would you help me get him into therapy, if I were to go to therapy?”

Not the offer Logan had expected. Not at all. But it was quite welcome.

“If you go, I certainly would try and help you convince him,” Logan said carefully watching Remus’s reaction.

He was tense. His shoulders stiff and his hands twitching minimally, almost too unremarkably to notice. But as he was breathing in and out his eyes began to focus. Began to focus on Logan he met Logan’s eyes evenly with a gulp. There was something so incredibly intense and real about him in that very moment. So much energy and force just peeking out for the fraction of a second and Logan did not know what to think of it.

“Thank you. You’re a really good man.”

Remus’s voice was warm and far more trusting than it was ought to be. But Logan did not get to muse about that. Remus was taking his phone and checked the time, making a surprised expression for a moment. Then he shot shy look to Logan.

“Would you mind us checking in on Ro and the J-man? We’ve been talking for a good hour or so and I think I want to make sure how they are doing. There’s only so much they can be doing in a greenhouse for so long and I don’t think they’ll start fucking anytime soon,” Remus finished with a shrug.

Logan let out a huff and answered with an eyeroll: “Don’t underestimate Janus’s ‘seducing’ skills.”

“Don’t underestimate my Roman’s need for a slow burn romance. This kind of fuckery isn’t up to his standards, trust me, bicho.”

Logan tried to overhear the nickname once more by steering the conversation into a new direction: “Where exactly do you have a greenhouse? I was not aware that you had one on the lot.”

“Backyard. It was already part of the building and we have a small collection of flowers there. Actually, do you think Patton would like to see that? Like, he loves colourful stuff, right? Do you think he would - would like to check it out with us?”

Adorable.

Wait. No. Remus was not adorable. The way he asked Logan if they should invite Patton to see the greenhouse was maybe a little endearing. But not cute. Decidedly not adorable.

Clearing his throat, Logan got up from his chair and said: “I think he would appreciate the invitation. I can text him and he might join us downstairs?”

Remus smiled wildly and nodded as he got up himself. Logan put on a forced smile and sent Patton a text, while he and Remus started to get out of the flat climbing down the stairs. Logan was lucky, for once in his life Patton had already seen his text and answered quickly that he would be outside in a minute. Logan told Remus so much and both men got outside to wait for the third one to join them.

___

Roman had not been kidding when he told Janus that he had a very low alcohol tolerance. The small amount of rest alcohol in one can of alcohol-free beer had been enough to get him tipsy. Which was why Janus now knew that Roman got giggly and rather affectionate while slightly inebriated. The tall man was laying to his feet, constantly reaching for the seams of Janus’s pants and mumbling little nothings to himself.

It was somehow endearing seeing him so soft and unapologetically warm hearted. At the same time Janus did not feel entitled to see him like this. To see him in such a moment of vulnerability despite Roman having chosen to drink in his presence. It just rubbed him the wrong way.

Janus’s phone buzzed and he quickly took it out to see a message from Virgil where he was at.

“Who’s it? You’re frowning.”

Janus looked down to Roman who was holding onto the bottom of his pant leg after having asked his question.

Janus couldn’t help himself but answered gently as he would to one of his younger nephews or nieces when they asked him things: “Virgil wants to know where I am. He probably wants me to come home soon.”

“Tell him he can come over. Wait, I’ll write him myself,” Roman promptly replied and took out his phone from one of his pockets.

Janus wanted to intervene when just then the backdoor to the store opened and Remus, Logan and Patton emerged. Both Logan and Patton were rather taken aback by the amazing visuals of the greenhouse while Remus obviously looked around for Roman. They entered the greenhouse and Janus waved at Patton, who waved back happily before his eyes fell down on Roman lying on the floor.

“Did you have to?” Remus moaned as he saw the beer cans and walked up to Roman.

Softly Remus kicked Roman into the side, to which Roman barely reacted as he was still focused on his phone.

“Roman!” Remus said with more emphasis and Roman finally put his phone down and looked up to Remus.

“I only had one. And I’m not taking more. Just one. I swear!” he defended himself and Remus rolled his eyes.

Begrudged Remus stretched his hand out to Roman, as offer to help him up. Yet Roman did not budge and Remus sighed. He could be such a little shit when he wanted to. Annoyed Remus turned away and threw his hands in the air while mumbling something under his breath.

Meanwhile Patton and Logan came further inside the greenhouse and Patton steered towards Janus. They exchanged a look and wordlessly Patton motioned towards Roman to which Janus only shrugged and then looked back down to Roman, who was putting away his phone.

“Virgil’s coming over by the way,” Roman declared and turned a little to face Remus more clearly.

Remus just groaned and scratched his forehead while Roman giggled a little. Janus was simply amazed. By the fact that Roman had managed to convince Virgil to come over and by the fact that he was so nonchalant and carefree about it. It was so strange seeing the otherwise so prideful man present himself so silly and undignified.

“Okay, please stand up because we have guests. Can we do that?” Remus tried once more to get Roman to stand up.

With a frown Roman finally sat up and looked over to Patton and Logan with a wide grin. Patton gave him a confused wave while Logan just furrowed his brows and looked over to Remus in slight confusion. Remus just massaged his temples and shot Janus a venomous look before suddenly a thought crossed his mind.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve that look!” Janus shortly interrupted Remus’s thought process.

Remus just shot him a look and waved him off with a quick: “Well, you don’t have to deal with him tonight when he needs to go to bed. Do you know how energized he’s now? He’s got the idiocy and determination to try and walk up walls! But that probably doesn’t matter to Jazz Daddy.”

Hearing the nick name Janus scrunched his nose in disgust to which Remus just retorted with a little giggle and shifted his attention back to Roman. Quickly Remus crouched down a bit to get on Roman’s eye level, who now suspiciously stared at him. Roman could almost sense his brother’s inpatient energy and felt himself starting to fumble with the seams of his pants.

“So, I need you to tire yourself out. Otherwise I’ll lose my mind trying to get you to bed tonight,” Remus started while watching his brother making the most offended pouty face he could. “So, I thought you might wanna sing? Disney?”

There was a visible shot of energy rushing through Roman’s eyes before something clouded the sudden excitement and the man looked down to the floor. Remus put his hand on Romans shoulder and he glanced up at him again.

“My voice is shitty right now. After crying and all,” Roman meekly said while holding his hand against his throat.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Look at me and tell me that you actually care enough to not sing right now.”

“… I kinda don’t care…”

Remus nodded and stood back up with a grin. He chuckled a bit and said to Roman: “That’s what I thought. Go and let Virgil inside, while I get the speaker.”

Just a second after Roman agilely jumped onto his feet and patted down his pants before marching outside the greenhouse into to the store to open the door for Virgil when he came. Remus just shook his head and then walked to the other side of the greenhouse where they had a different gardening tools stored in a wooden box.

Quietly Remus began to rummage through the box and turned back to the three other men after a while. He held a little green Bluetooth speaker in his hands and turned it on to connect it with his phone. Staring down on the screen he sighed and walked over them.

“Sorry, for the accusation Jan,” Remus said at once while the speaker beeped signalling it had connected to the phone. “I know you’re not responsible, he’s his own man and all. I’m just. I’m very exhausted.”

Remus lifted his gaze from the phone and shot Janus a look before he sat down on the chair next to Janus. Quickly he waved for Logan and Patton to take a seat as well, Logan taking the last chair while Patton sat down on a wooden crate. All three watched Remus and when he sat his elbow down on the little table and laid his head in his hand Patton leaned over to him and softly patted his back.

A shudder ran down Remus’s spine and he hastily looked up to Patton. Patton looked like he wanted to pull back but Remus held onto his arm before he could do so and looked back down to the floor. Patton watched him and continued to draw circles on Remus’s back. It was a little concerning how stiff he felt and how much he leaned into the contact. But Patton was considerate enough to not mention it.

“He just gets a little much when he’s drunk,” Remus said suddenly and looked straight forward not focusing on anyone next to him. “And loud. And it’s nothing bad or horrible but I’m just worn out. By – by feeling so much. So fucking much. I don’t know how he can do it all day everyday…”

What to say to a statement like that? What to say to a man like Remus after such a long day? Neither knew and somehow, they all felt relieved when he exhaled and straightened his back, lips slowly forming a smirk. Mischievously, he glanced over to Janus who felt a sense of threat overcome him.

“You didn’t hear him sing before, right?”

Janus furrowed his brows and said cautiously: “No, when would I have had the chance?”

Remus chuckled and rolled his shoulders amused.

“Boy you’re in for a ride then!” Remus laughed and before the others could ask what he meant Roman came back with Virgil in tow.

The two came inside the greenhouse and a few words were exchanged before Virgil settled down on the box beside Patton and Remus and Roman had a small dispute about which Disney playlist Remus should put on, after which the discussion about which language Roman should sing them in followed. The choice fell on the Happy-Go-Lucky playlist in English and Roman walked a little away from the table to have more room to move around. Then looked back to the group and shot Janus a short glance before he batted his lashes and gave Remus the thumbs up for him to press the play button.

And with that the music began to play. A soft melody started and just a few moments in Roman began to beam. A second after he began to sing:

“I have often dreamed, of a far-off place Where a hero's welcome, would be waiting for me Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face And a voice keeps saying, ‘This is where I'm meant to be’”

Roman continued, eyes closed, feet moving softly to the words and hands following the picture he painted with his voice flawlessly. It wasn’t perfect by any means, on some notes he let himself linger a little too long, some of the higher notes scratched a little as he sang them but watching him perform, watching Roman engulf himself completely in this song was quite spectacular. Spectacular in a way that one forgot that they sat in a greenhouse. Spectacular in a way that one forgot that the singer was florist. Spectacular in a way that one forgot that their nephew had a phone with which he could make pictures to bribe one later on.

Remus leaned back enjoying his brother’s little show. He watched how Logan’s surprise slowly ebbed away and how he watched his brother quite interested. Patton was bobbing his head along with a big smile and Virgil did so as well after he had taken a picture of Janus.

Janus who was completely thrown off guard by Roman’s flair and stage presence. Well, greenhouse presence but Remus believed that Janus didn’t care that much about it, not when he sometimes got to look at Romans wide grin and almost glowing eyes from all the excitement and joy just to be able to performing in front of a few people.

The song ended and Roman gave a little bow to which Patton clapped enthusiastically, making the others join him out of amusement. The next song started just right after and after a few beats the all recognized “A Spoonful of Sugar”. With just as much enthusiasm Roman began to sing the song, while his mimic and movements adjusted to the mood of the song.

Halfway in, Remus heard a second voice slightly humming and mouthing the words. Unsure where it came from, he looked into the round and found that it was Patton who slowly began to join Roman in his singing to the amusement of Virgil next to him. Remus couldn’t help himself but smiled at Patton’s happy face while more and more joining the song despite missing a few words then and when.

Remus found himself admiring the small singing attempts and didn’t notice how Roman as well caught onto Patton’s singing and walked towards him before the song ended. As it did Roman stretched his hand out for Patton and asked with a wide smile: “Wanna join me? You seem to have fun.”

“Oh gosh,” Patton said flustered and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m by far not as good as you. I don’t want to ruin your singing.”

“Not good? How does that matter now! This is just for us and singing with people is awesome! Just join me!”

Roman was energetic and optimistic and despite Patton’s reservations he got up and joined Roman reluctantly beginning to sing as “Bare Necessities” began to play.

Remus was amazed. Patton was not one for showmanship but he adapted and matched Roman’s energy with seemingly no effort. His voice was raspier than Roman’s, some notes he sang sounded scruffy but the joy he found after getting over the first inhibitions was mesmerizing to him. The way he giggled over the words he missed or when he forgot to join Roman in a line because he got distracted watching him, was just too admirable to not smile at.

The next song that came was “Under the Sea”. And it was the song where Roman decided Patton should dance with him. After a short-lived protest of Patton Roman took him by the hands and began leading Patton a little. It took them a moment to figure out what worked with the music and their skills but then they somehow fell into a rhythm and Roman even managed to spin Patton around once, which led to the latter having a laughing fit.

Logan smiled at Patton’s blush and Roman’s childish excitement. Patton was not one to move around often and his dancing was a little stiff while Roman made quite a good figure in the whole process. He moved in steady flow, quick, charming and joyful. And in a way Patton’s clumsiness but genuine effort complimented the impromptu dancing session.

They continued dancing when the next song began, “Be Our Guest”, and Logan thought about the chubby boy, always wearing light blue polo shirts and trying to not stand out too much back from high school. Young Patton would never have dared to stand out like this. To dance and sing like this. To have cyan hair and colourful tattoos. To be amongst other queer people and be proud of it.

Roman might have had similar fears and reservations, Logan assumed concluding from what Remus had told him, but right in this setting it seemed as if they did not matter to him that much. It seemed he was quite content and happy with himself and this kind of confidence helped Patton relax as well.

It truly was endearing, Logan admitted to himself and looked to the others. Remus and Janus were very obviously love-struck by Patton and Roman respectively and Logan just rolled his eyes at that. What was to expect from two dramatic queer men in love? Lastly his look landed on Virgil, who amused raised his eyebrows at his uncle to which Logan responded with a mocking eye roll.

More songs came; “Almost There”, “Friend Like Me”, “Hakuna Matata” and “You’re Welcome”. The mood was light but the evening got older and they had to get to bed for tomorrow. To open their respective stores and a Goodbyes were exchanged.

It wasn’t lost on Logan how reluctantly Janus parted from Roman, how soft his otherwise ever so cool look was. Neither was it lost on him how surprised Remus was when Patton hugged him as a goodbye, and how grateful he looked at Logan when he wished him a good night.

It had been a heavy evening but the end was rather sweet. Especially considering why everything had started so solemnly. Nevertheless, Logan found himself cautiously optimistic when he wished Patton a good night as he walked up the stairs into his own apartment. Hopefully, Remus could take the advice he had given him and hopefully this would not be the last night they had had fun together.

___

It was almost an hour later, Roman had showered while Remus would do so in the morning. Both had put on their pyjamas and were now laying in Remus’s bed. Roman had offered to leave him alone, had said that his ask from before was not fair and that he trusted Remus enough to stay in his bed alone overnight. But Remus let him come into his room and sleep beside him. It was less lonely and somehow, he felt saver with Roman around. And he knew that Roman shared the sentiment.

They turned of the light and Remus laid there between the wall and Roman’s back staring at the ceiling. He was unsure what today had been. He was unsure how he should sleep.

The light was flicked on and Remus blinked against the sudden brightness. Roman moved and turned to face him already signing.

“So, why are you not sleeping?” Roman signed

With a sigh Remus retorted: “Why are you not sleeping is the better question. You can always sleep.”

I can. But I’m keeping myself awake to figure out why you’re not sleeping yet. ‘Cause I’m a good brother.”

“Sure-” Remus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest – “You won’t turn off the light until I answer right?”

“Correct,” Roman signed with a fat smile on his face.

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed. What is it?”

After a moment of hesitation Remus said: “You know Pat.”

“In fact, I do. I sang and danced with him like not even an hour ago.”

“Yeah. Right. You were doing that.”

Remus noisily gulped and felt himself already getting flustered.

Roman sat up and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly while signing: “Oh?”

Desperately Remus buried his face in his hands and moaned: “Yes, oh. Like fuck-me-he-is-so-adorable-and-wonderful-and-in-need-to-fucking-hold-him-in-my-arms-in-this-very-instance oh. The kind of oh like, like in the stupid love-on-the-first-sight looks! The ultimate fucking I’ve fallen far too quickly for this adorable, kind, wonderful and stupidly caring pastel punk oh!”

Roman shook him at the arm and Remus glanced through his fingers to see him smiling widely while once again sighing: “Oh!”

“And to make it even worse-” Remus gave up trying to protect his dignity – “The nerd is just as bad! Like, he is very awkward but I totally get it and know what he means and now I have the feeling that he’s, he’s kinda impressed with the things I know and fucking- fucking cares about what I say? And it’s confusing and stupid and so freaking HOt, Roman! He’s so hot and I don’t know what to do with that!”

Roman laughed a bit and then laid back down.

Gently he signed then: “Well, I don’t know either but for the first time in ages I think your crushes are not the shadiest people I’ve ever met in my life so you have my blessing! I’ve you’re in need of a wingman, or best man, I’ll be your man!”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, oh most gracious Roman.”

“You’re welcome my trashy brother dearest,” Roman retorted with a triumphant smile.

At once Remus had a thought and began to grin. That might be a good way to get a payback from his far too cocky brother.

“Talking of shady people though…” Remus began and watched the unsuspecting face of Roman.

“Yeah?”

“Janus is possibly the shadiest man you’ve ever fallen for, you know?”

Now it was Roman’s time to fluster. Defensively he sat up again and signed agitatedly: “Hey! He’s not that shady! He just – just looks a little shady. But he’s, he’s very cute. And patient. And being around him is very easy, you know? Like he just accepts what I throw at him and goes with it. Just. Just takes me as I come. It’s nice. Really nice.”

Remus smiled a little and let out a soft laugh as he glanced at Roman smiling and clearly thinking about the Jazz man.

“… You know what?” Remus said eventually.

“What?”

“He has my blessing. If you wanna fuck him you might continue. I won’t threaten him or cockblock you again.”

“You’re stupid,” Roman said and shoved him with a half-hearted offence.

“You’re welcome.”

“… Thank you. I really like him.”

“I get it. He’s classy.”

“Yeah, and Pat’s fun. And Lo might actually be able to match your fucking intellect. He’s smart.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah… Ready to sleep now?”

“I’ll try. Te quiero.”

“También te quiero. Sleep well.”

Remus made an agreeing noise and Roman turned the light back off. After a few minutes Remus felt how Roman put his arm around him and how the weight and warmth slowly lulled him to sleep. Surprisingly he would have a rather regenerating nights rest for once.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

Tagged for this fic:

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@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@croftersjam15

[falselyprofound]

So... 2020, huh?

Saying it was rough is an understatement. But also, it’s December 31st, there’s three hours left in the year, and I am far too tired to find the words that carry the proper amount of weight to describe... whatever all that was.

That said, I’m going to try my hardest not to write it off. It was a difficult year, but as with any NYE, taking a step back to think about the things I did accomplish helps keep me sane. Makes me think I’m still moving forward.

So, without further ado...

The World is Weird got nominated for an AGS award! I stayed up until about five am watching the awards ceremony, timezones and Australian wifi be damned. Good times, good times.

Made myself a website! It’s still a little bare-bones but it shows off some of my art and game projects.

Made an OC ask blog! Given how this year went, I very much did not have the mental headspace for writing out any of the comics I’ve been planning. But it is genuinely so nice to have a place to post small tidbits here and there. (Big thanks to everyone who’s sent in asks! I have a few more answers in the works, but feel free to send in more stuff if u feel so inclined)

Finished storyboarding the first act of Buy-r-Die. While that doesn’t sound all that impressive, the game’s had several drastic presentation overhauls this year. I’ve finally settled on something I like - sort of a mix between visual novel and motion comic - and personally I think it adds a lot to the more action-y scenes! I can’t show too much off just yet, but I’m really excited with how things are progressing. In the meantime, the dev log is up on the AGS forums.

Illustrated, wrote, and programmed like half a visual novel for Art Fight. I’ve been chipping away at it in my own time since the fight ended, and while I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do on Spice’s side I’d say it’s coming along p well. Most of the post-fight adjustments aren’t up on GameJolt yet, but you can play the original prototype and read the devlog over here.

Speaking of Art Fight, I earned 1443.62 points this year! That’s about triple the amount of art I did over the past few fights combined. Not bad, considering I had to take two weeks off for an elective.

I also drew some much-needed reference sheets for (most of) my main OCs. One day I’ll update Clarissa’s art. One day.

Played a lot of D&D. Like... a lot. Not all of it turned out to be good, and sadly a lot of games died out due to COVID and/or uni scheduling. But Mel finally escaped her vacation from hell, Sloane finally made it to the town of Barovia, Maya avoided starting an international incident, and I finally managed to drop some Lavinia lore that i’ve been sitting on for four years. Delicious drama.

Finally had a chance to run Monster of the Week! My first attempt was... not all that great, mostly because I was trying to write a scenario from scratch without really understanding the rules. But I’ve now moved on to Damn Dirty Apes, and am having an absolute blast.

Small town superhero OC RPs. You wouldn’t know it from reading this blog but I got, like, really into those this year. Think I wrote something around 40 A4-pages worth of fic for one server, and that’s not counting the actual threads I did with other people. Now I just need to channel that kind of productivity into my solo work...

Lots of digital painting work this year, mostly for personal projects. I like to think my grasp of colour and lighting is getting better, though I still have a long way to go. Regardless, here’s some of it.

Kept on top of my university work, with a distinction average. Barring unforseen bullshit, I should be done with my Masters’ Degree within the next six months!

Did not keep on top of MMB, unfortunately. There was just... too much to do, with too little personal energy to do it with. That said, I’ve started sketching out ideas for a relatively light mini-game. Fingers crossed that’ll surface relatively early into 2021.

It is a little frustrating to see that this is yet another year of half-finished projects, but I’m trying not to be too hard on myself. The mental strain of lockdown, juggling several bouts of drama at once, and uni study all at once is... a lot. And while I’m upset I never completed anything -- jesus christ, it’s a miracle I managed to even start things when my brain was already this full.

Felt like I spent most of this year fighting metaphorical fires... and I don’t know if that’s going to stop any time soon. But anyway.

All that aside, I feel as though my game development workflow is really improving. My code isn’t industry standard, but it’s significantly cleaner, easier, and faster to work with than ever. I’ve gotten some slight animation practice under my belt. And I’ve also dealt with the terrifying world of optimization.

(My games have option menus now! Incredible!)

What’s more, I’m getting better at achieving personal goals without any external pressures or hard deadlines -- which is comforting, as the latest spike in COVID cases has got me worried that I might not be able to get an offline job any time soon. I might need to look into Patreon, advertising my commissions more, or otherwise monetizing smaller projects of mine... we’ll see.

For now, I’m going to go play Animal Crossing and eat chocolate.

‘Cause there’s no fireworks out tonight and I have nowhere to be.

[a-simple-imagine]

Distraction

Requested by Anonymous:  “ Can you write an imagine for either Bucky or Natasha where the reader is a new avenger but is like really new to all the fighting so she gets private training from one of them and it gets a bit heated? :)”

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Words: 2.8k+

A/N - While writing this I watched some black widow fighting compilations and she is constantly choking people with her thighs. A lot of the fighting in this is based on different scenes throughout the movies. this whole thing is just her beating you up basically.

TRIGGER WARNING - Swearing and fighting/violence

Being an Avenger had been your dream since forever. From the outside, it looks like it's all fun and games but then when you joined reality hit you clear in the face. You'd finally gotten used to the whole idea of being part of the team. And getting to meet Tony Stark was amazing. He was a lot more sarcastic in person than you imagined and you already imagined he was pretty sarcastic. He was also a bossy son of a bitch who wouldn't let you go out and do anything. Being an avenger who spends all day locked up un the avenger's facility was draining your excitement more and more each day. After practically begging him to give you a mission, Stark agreed that once you learned to defend yourself he'd give you something to do. You insisted you didn't need training but Natasha agreed to help you as long as you took it seriously. And you hand on heart promised you would. You and Natasha had been working together for a few weeks now. You were in the training room every other day. When Natasha wouldn't show up you'd bug someone else to help you or you'd practice using your powers.

It was early but you were raring to go. Practically bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you practice your swing. When the door swings open, you turn sharply offering her a playful smile.

"Good morning, Miss Romanoff." you sing-song, standing to attention.

"Don't" She rolls her eyes, walking straight past you and dropping her stuff down before beginning to wrap her hands and wrist. Her eyes on you as you ooze giddy excitement. The quicker you get going, the quicker you get out in the field where you can show everyone how helpful you can be. Your powers were somewhat similar to Wanda's only you couldn't necessarily move things with your mind but you could manipulate living organisms. Almost like a master puppeteer. You could also condense your energy and use it as an attack etc. all the normal superpowers stuff. "You ready?"

"Mhmm." You nod eagerly as she comes and joins you on the mats. Her green eyes watch you for a moment.

"First of all, take a deep breath and calm down."

You take a deep exaggerated breath in and then exhale slowly. Natasha takes a few steps closer to you, flexing her hands. Circling her wrists and rolling her right shoulder and then her left. "Have you stretched?"

"Yes, so can we start?" You groan. Natasha wore a cocky smile, giving you a firm nod.

"After a quick refresh of the basics to make sure you're actually listening when I talk then I'm thinking we can spare a little."

"Okay." Sparing with Black Widow? Sounds easy enough. You could kick the ass of an ex-Russian spy.

"Alright, Y/N. Come at me." You take another deep breath, shaking off your nerves; loosening up your muscles. You get into the position Natasha had taught you. Left shoulder facing forward. Legs shoulder length apart, knees bent with your left foot turned towards Nat. You make a fist and punch using your left hand. The other woman catches your punch in the palm of her left hand like it was nothing. Her fingers wrap around your fist and yank you closer to her. She then twists your arm into an uncomfortable position before pushing it behind you back.

"Clearly you've not been paying attention. You take a step and pivot the back foot. Put your power in your punch."

She lets you go and you return to your original spot. Rolling your shoulder. You get back into position and try again. It feels better this time but she dodges with ease. Snapping it back, you punch with the other in a repetitive motion until your fist finally connects to her jaw. Your eyes widen as her hand goes up to inspect the spot you just punched. Panic takes over for you as you stare at the superhero.

"I am so sorry, Nat-"

"No, don't apologise." She shook her head, holding her hand out before you to get you to stop talking. "It was good. Now let's try it with me fighting back. Take a few steps back and then run at me."

You do as your told and walk over to the side of the mat. Natasha does the same, heading for the other side. You run at her and she walks towards you. She doesn't even look phased by the fact you're about to actually start fighting then again she's done this before. Many times. With people who already know how to fight. When you're close enough you try to punch her but she dodges. Nat attempts to hit you back and you manage to dodge as well. You spy a smile on her lips which makes you happy. Clearly, you're doing something right here. You wanted to make her proud. You wanted to impress her. That was the only way you were gonna get out of this training room and out into the big, dangerous world. Not only that but she's a badass woman who just so happens to be like hot as hell. You wanted her respect. At that moment she sweeps you off your feet. You drop onto your ass with a loud smack. You fall onto your back. As Natasha walks towards you, you scramble backwards before twisting onto your hands and knees. As you try to push yourself up you feel her foot against your back, shoving you hard against the mat.

"It's like you don't remember anything I taught you." Her foot presses into your back. Not enough to hurt but enough to make you uncomfortable.

"This isn't a fair fight," You insist. Her foot vacates your back and you roll back over to look up at her. A little intimidated by the way she was looking down on you. Your breathing hitched as she got down to straddle your hips. Both hands pressed firmly against your chest. She leans in close and you swallow hard as you stare into her beautiful green eyes.

"They never are," Natasha explains. With her so close, you take the opportunity to headbutt clear in the face. She gets off you and you quickly grab both her ankles yanking them towards you sending her to the floor as well. You practically jump on top of her with a bright smile. More than happy with yourself for getting one up on her. She definitely wasn't expecting that. You frown as your eyes take on a lilac purple glow. Natasha becomes surrounded in a purple, fog-like glow as you try to focus your mind on keeping her firmly in place.

"Pinned ya." You declare proudly although using your powers was a bit of a dirty move. You still managed to knock her down though so that was something to be proud of. The pain from the headbutt suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks now that the spike of adrenaline is wearing off. Your hold on Natasha disappears as your head throbs; one hand begins to rub at your temple. Natasha pushed you off her and returned to her spot on top of you only this time her baton was against your neck. She forced your chin up with the end. The knowledge that she could electrocute you at any moment if she wanted to, kept you still.

"You're cute, Y/N. But I've been going easy on you. If you want a fight, let's fight." She got off you and let out a breath you hadn't realised you were holding. Natasha was... scary.

"Can we take a break first?"

She nods leaving you lying on the mat. You rise to your feet and head to your duffle bag for your water. Squeezing the plastic bottle so the liquid shoots into your mouth; dribbling some in the process. Wiping you chin clean you take a seat on the floor. Eyes settling on the follow avenger in the room. Compared she had no powers she was one hell of a superhero. You'd be worried if she wasn't on your side. When you notice the water bottle in her hand was a screw top you decide to have a little fun. The familiar Lilic glow returned to your iris as you froze her hand in place. You could feel her trying to break out of your mental grip but it wouldn't work.

"Y/N, stop it." She calls out. Her voice echoing a little in the large room.

"I'm not doing anything."

"I can't literally see you doing it." The look she gives you is enough to get you to stop. The bottle jerks in her hand sending its contents flying towards her face and down her shirt. You're unable to hold back the laughter that follows the incident but you almost immediately regret it.

"Mat now." Natasha snarled, wiping herself down with a small towel. You scramble to your feet and rush over to the mats scared of what she'll do if you disobey. Although your lips still fight against smiling as she comes to join you.

"Are you ready?"

"Always."

"You sure?" She asks, eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. "I'm not gonna go easy on you this time."

You ponder her question before countering it with your own. "Can I use my powers?"

"Sure,"

"Then I'm fine." You shrug, getting into your start position.

"Okay then. I'll let you make the first move."

Natasha just stands before you; face glistening from remnants of water or sweat? You couldn't be sure. You punch in her direction but she just moves her head out the way. Grabbing your wrist before you have the chance to pull back. The redhead maneuvers so her thighs wrap around your neck and you fall under the weight of her body, rolling onto your back. Your air supply was limited thanks to her thighs while your arm was situated under the rest of her body. After a few seconds, she lets you go and you take a few deep breaths before getting up.

As she walks away from you, you come at her from behind. Just as you're about to attack, her head turns in your direction. Natasha grabs your arm mid punch and twists it behind her body, proceeding to elbow you in the face. As your hands come up to check she hasn't straight up broken your nose, it's then you realise she isn't messing around. Luckily she didn't hit you that hard, it just felt like she did. While distracted the read head pivots on one foot sending her other directly towards you. Kicking you in the side, you stumble a few steps before you fall to your hands and knees. You get that she was training you but this was starting to feel like she was going overboard. She couldn't possibly be that angry over a little joke. As you try to stand she does a leg sweep and your straight back down on your ass.

"Can you at least let me get up first?" You groan, starfished out on the mat.

"Sure, go ahead." You're extra cautious as you stand, expecting her to tackle you or for her to knock you on your ass again. But she just watches you as you rise. Finally, back on your feet, you brush yourself off but before you can even think about attacking Natasha, she sends both feet firmly in your direction. Both of them connecting with your chest and sending you stumbling backward while she just lands on the palm of her hands, using her strength to push her entire body back to its upright position. The black widow was impressive, even more so in person.

"Do you want to keep going?" Natasha wonders. Now was your chance to admit that maybe you couldn't quite match her level of fighting but your stubborn ass just shook your head.

"It's not over till it's over." You insist, stretching a little in the process. You take a deep, centering breath and envelop the woman in the trademark glow of your powers. Keeping her entirely still. You could essentially make her hurt herself but that was less impressive than you actually doing something. Tony knew your powers could be useful but he said you had to learn hand to hand combat which meant actually using your own body. You circle the woman once and then attach your arms to her waist before letting her regain control. As soon as you let up, the redhead elbows you again. The pain is a little more intense this time. Natasha wraps her arm around the back of your neck before tossing you effortlessly over her shoulder and to the floor. Your eyes and nose scrunch up as you contemplate the pain of the loss. You're not sure you even want to get up again. Natasha was kicking your ass and looking very attractive while doing it. It was like she couldn't predict your movements before you even did anything. The woman decided to get down on your level, straddling your hips in a similar fashion to before. One of her wrapped hands graces your cheek and you lean into the touch.

"You rely on your powers too much to fight effectively. Nobody is going to wait around for you to focus." She's taking a much softer approach with you now, it's almost off-putting. Makes you think she's planning something. "Until you learn to use them, you've got to start focusing on your physical."

Her hand still lingering on your cheek, Natasha just keeps her eyes on yours. Thumb brushing against your skin. It's... nice. And you don't really want her to stop but all good things must come to an end. Natasha got up and held out her hand which you took and she yanked you to your feet. On shaky legs, you get into your start position.

"I can... still take you." You state, trying to get back the wind that was just knocked out of you.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I can do it!" You growl, determined to prove you're not useless. You were an avenger. You could do this. With a long sigh, Natasha turned her entire body to face you. As she strutted in your direction she grabbed both her batons and with a flick of her wrist, they got longer. At this point, you were too focused on not ending up on the floor again you couldn't even attempt to use your powers. Your breathing was ragged and it was like your mind went completely blank. Panic took over as Natasha got closer and instead of fighting, you decided to flee. With each step, she took you took one backward until your back hit a wall. The black widow stopped just before you, sliding her instruments away.

"I'm in your head," Natasha says softly bringing up her hand and placing it softly against your cheek. Her body pressed into yours, pinning you firmly against the wall and you swallow hard. "You're too easy to distract, Y/N." You can't do anything but watch, Y/E/C eyes flickering between that of her green ones and her lips that threatened to come closer. "I like watching you fight." Her voice gets softer as she leaves a ghost kiss against your lips. "You're powerful." She insists, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Determined." Her lips move slightly lower. "You want to prove yourself." Another kiss but lower. Natasha trailed wet kisses against your skin and down your neck. "But let me give you a word of advice." She spoke in but a whisper, the words against your skin sent a delightful shiver up your spin. "If you're ever in trouble. Don't be afraid to bite." Her teeth sink into your neck sending an unexpected moan past your lips. The woman doesn't let up as she sucks and occasionally nibbles on the same spot earning an array of soft but audible noises. Your mind was lost in the moment. The woman pressed against you felt good. The way she worked your neck was making you want more.

"Natasha..." her name fell from your lips like it was the only thing you could say. It drew her attention and she immediately stopped.

"Far too easy to distract." The redhead gives you a relatively hard pat against the cheek before just letting you go and walking away. Whether it was from the brief moment you just shared or all the fighting, you weren't sure but your entire body went limp and you slid down the wall to the floor. Following her movements with your eyes as she unwrapped her hand and threw the wrap into her bag. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she took a long swig of her water before proceeding to walk away. You couldn't help but watch the way her hips moved.

"Same time tomorrow." Was the last thing she said before you were left alone in the training room. Your hand brushes against your neck where her lips had just been. The skin was warm but tender and you knew she had left a mark.

"What the fuck just happened...?"

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

A Ninja Warrior Love Story - Part 5

Ah! Part 5! I’m on a writing and posting kick right now and I’m loving it! I hope you enjoy part 5! It’s getting a little more serious, a little more into Henry and Lily’s budding relationship. 

taglist:

@maeleeme, @andyrazzledazzle

Word Count: 2,705

CW: confrontation; hard conversations; reference to nightmares

Monday morning, Lily awoke before her alarm from a nightmare again. She sighed as she noticed the time and threw her head back on her pillow. Realizing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, Lily threw her legs over the edge of her bed and began getting ready for the day. She threw on leggings, a sports bra, her famous neon Nike’s and a light jacket. On the way to the gym, Lily sighed not excited about the rest of the day.

Last night, she agreed to meet Henry so he could justify his actions on Friday night. She wasn’t interested in hearing it, but she did recognize that she needed to give him a chance. He wasn’t Carter, or at least, she assumed he wasn’t like Carter. Time would tell. She pulled up to the gym and despite the severe vulnerability hangover she was experiencing, she was almost giddy to see that no one was there. Inside the gym, Lily dropped her bag off and popped in her headphones deciding to blare some old school, Kelly Clarkson. Knowing she’d have the gym to herself for a while, Lily didn’t shy away from singing along to her favorites, loudly. While working on some weight lifting, Lily hummed along to “Breakaway” and “Never Again”. When she decided to start working on the running course, she was full-on singing aloud to “Walk Away”. “Since U Been Gone” came on which meant several of the “dance moves” Lily had also come out. In between obstacles, she belted out the lyrics.

“But since you been goooone! I can breathe for the FIRST TIME!” she laughed to herself, hearing her own voice for a second. The Dude and Donovan had replaced some of the obstacles over the weekend, so she felt like she was getting in a good run. They removed the wave board and replaced it with a doorknob grip. They also took down the floating rings and instead had an alternating monkey bar grips that you had to place in little nests. And finally, her favorite obstacle ever was the pegboard. You had two pegs that you had to place in random holes throughout the board and make your way down to the other end. It required every bit of your grip, core, forearm, and mental strength.

She was working on the pegboard when “Miss Independent” came on and she really felt a groove starting. She meticulously moved the pegs and her arms all while singing the lyrics. When she was done with the board, “Stronger” came on and Lily took a second to sing along to the lyrics. The last obstacle was the warped wall which she knew she could tackle. Right before the chorus came on, Lily got herself ready at the base then launched herself at the wall. About a ¼ of the way up she pushed up and reached for the top. Easily, she grabbed it and pulled herself up. At the top, she belted out the chorus line,

“What doesn’t kill you makes you STRONGER!” and did a little dance as well. Turning around she came to find Henry and Kal staring at her from the front entrance. Lily froze. Kal was watching her intently while Henry had a very bemused look on his face. Quickly she pulled out one of her headphones from her ear.

“How long have you been there?” she called out. Henry chuckled.

“Long enough,” he replied. Lily immediately felt the heat creep up her chest and into her cheeks. She was angry that he got to see this side of her, especially since she was still so pissed at him. Huffing, she started to climb down the side ladder on the warped wall. Kal took that as his invitation to meet her and he trotted over to her. He came to sit by her feet as soon as she was down. Henry wasn’t far behind.

“Hey Kal,” Lily said quietly, reaching out to pet the top of his head. Henry watched the two with a smile on his face. Lily looked up at him and felt a raging storm of emotions. He must have noticed because his smile faded.

“Can I still meet you today for lunch?” he asked her, a small amount of desperation in his voice. Lily dropped is gaze and genuinely thought about the idea of their conversation. It hurt her so much, but she knew it needed to happen. She looked back up at him through her eyelashes then gently nodded. She saw him sigh, but she couldn’t tell if it was either out of relief or pain. “Lily,” he said quietly, taking a step toward her. Instinctively, Lily took a step back, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she said firmly. “Don’t Henry.” she looked in his eyes and saw the very clear pain across his face. It angered her a little. He didn’t have the right to be upset over this. “Look, I don’t get my hopes up for things that I know will never happen. Okay, I’m not the ‘girl that gets the guy’ or whatever happens to girls like that. Yeah, I’ve been hurt, but it was neither you nor Celeste that caused me pain,” she stopped and breathed in deep, realizing her heart was beating faster than she expected it to be. She watched as Henry processed what she said. He finally spoke quietly,

“What do you mean, things you know will never happen?” but before she had a chance to respond, the front doors banged open. Tom and Donovan came striding in, ready to get to work. Tom saw the new obstacles and got very excited.

“This is going to be fun!” he exclaimed. No one seemed to notice or comment on the tension between Henry and Lily. Their morning flew by as she and Donovan walked the men through the new obstacles. Tom seemed the most impressed with her work on the pegboard and had a myriad of questions for her. It was a nice reprieve from Henry’s constant looks and sighs. At some point, Celeste had come in and attempted to join the group. She fawned over Henry and made it seems as though there were something going on between them. It caused Lily to feel a pain in her stomach. She started to have flashes of moments with Carter. It was causing her to continuously lose focus, but she stayed on top of it as best as she could.

Finally, relief came at 8:40 when Donovan told her she could leave. Lily darted to the locker room without saying anything to Henry. Quickly, she showered and dressed for work at the barbershop. On her way out, Donovan stopped her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked. Lily fidgeted at the front door.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said quickly. Donovan’s expression helped her to realize it was too quick.

“Seriously, Lily,” he said. “Is it your dad? Is there anything I can do to help?” Lily’s shoulders softened at his offer. Donovan was well aware of her situation and gave her PTO for the days she needed to go to Wichita Springs. He genuinely cared even if Lily was reluctant to offer more information.

“Seriously, everything’s fine,” Lily replied. “It’s not my dad,” Donovan stared at her hard for a moment before nodding and letting her go.

—

At the barbershop, it took all of Lily’s energy to focus on cutting hair without cutting herself or one of her clients. Thankfully, no one came in to request a shave because if they had, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to concentrate enough for that. She chatted a little with her few clients, telling them about her work at the gym. Many of the men were impressed with her and happy to hear that she was doing well. Near about everyone in Tayler knew about what happened between her and her dad. They knew well her childhood, what happened to her mom, and what happened after college. What was unknown to most was what happened between her and Carter. Only a few were aware of the details and Lily preferred to keep it that way.

When she was done with her last client for the morning, Lily began to clean up her station. She was sweeping the floor with her back to the door when it opened, the bell overhead signaling someone had entered. Lily was down brushing hair into pan so she couldn’t see who it was.

“Can I help you, young man?” Ray called out from his station near the back.

“I’m actually meeting someone for lunch?” Henry replied. Lily stood up and turned around. There he was, tall and handsome as ever. Today he wore blue jeans, a blue tank-top, and a simple pair of black shoes. His biceps were massively on display, as was his large, protruding chest. Lily felt the pain of everything hit her. He saw her and she could see the change as recognized her.

“He’s here to see me, Ray. We’re going to lunch,” Lily called out over her shoulder. To Henry, she said, “Give me a few minutes. I need to finish cleaning up.” Henry nodded and stood, looking around the place. Lily distracted herself as best she could with tidying up her space. When she was satisfied, she turned to look over at Ray. She caught his attention and he nodded to her, acknowledging that she was going to be gone for lunch. She turned back to Henry who was reading a newspaper clipping on the wall. As she approached, she realized it was of her.

“I didn’t know you ran track in high school,” Henry said, slight amusement in his words. Lily grimaced.

“Yup,” she replied. “You ready to go?” Henry stood up straight and looked at her. He nodded and they stepped outside. There was a diner across the square that she took him to. It was a good place, offering comfort food and other items. They walked in silence to the diner. Lily was incredibly uncomfortable in the silence already desperate for their conversation to be over. Henry held the door open for her and let her pick their booth. He slid into the seat across from her and Lily had a better understanding of how thick he really was.

They sat in silence and only spoke when their waitress came to take their order. While they waited for their food was when Henry finally spoke.

“Lily, I am truly sorry for how I behaved on Friday,” he started. He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, though Lily would have preferred to look anywhere else. “I want you to know I wasn’t - I’m not - trying to lead you on.” He stopped to gauge her reaction. Lily tried to remain impassive and not let him affect her, but on some level he did. She took in a deep breath and bobbed her head.

“Okay,” she replied. Henry’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked. Lily closed her eyes tightly.

“I want to, but,” she started. “A lot has happened to me over the years. Things that have made it hard for me to trust others. Which, of course, you couldn’t have known, but, your actions also make me hesitant to want to trust you again,” she said all of this to the table, finally deciding to look at Henry at the last second. His face was contorted in what she could only imagine was pain. He was watching her hands, which were folded on the table. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked him. His eyes suddenly darted up to hers, a spark of possible hope in his eyes.

“Yes, anything,” he replied. Before Lily could ask her question, the waitress brought their food out. They were quite, offering her tight smiles and quiet thank you’s before she finally left. For a moment, they sat in silence, then Lily started to ask her question.

“Can I ask you,” she paused. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave with her?” she tried desperately to keep the pain out of her voice, but she knew it crept in there. Henry sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know,” he started. “Yes, I do. I wanted to feel desired. I’ve been on my own for a while now, with just Kal as companionship. He’s great, but there’s nothing like the feeling of a woman that wants you. Celeste offered me exactly that, but as we were leaving something changed. I don’t know, I guess I saw Celeste for what she was - a one-time thing. And the truth is, I don’t want a one-time thing anymore. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m a 36-year-old man who hasn’t had a real relationship basically ever,” he paused, shaking his head a little. “The last relationship I was in was good, really good, but it still ended,” he looked Lily directly in the eye. “Can I ask you a question now?” the request took Lily by surprise, but she nodded so he’d proceed. “What did you mean when you said you were hurt by someone, but it wasn’t me or Celeste that hurt you?” Lily sighed, hating that he remembered that. She sighed heavy.

“It was mostly a dig at myself. I thought maybe you liked me, but then I saw the way Celeste reeled you in and I realized I’m not that girl,” she glanced up at Henry, who was watching her intently. “I’m saying that I blame myself for getting hurt because I got my hopes up even though I know what happens when I do that.” she stopped realizing if she continued, she’d start crying. That was the last thing she wanted, so she just stopped talking. Henry’s brow was furrowed as he shifted his gaze from her to his uneaten plate of food. Lily, wanting to distract herself, grabbed a few french fries and started eating them. She knew it was rude, but she needed to do something that wasn’t sitting there and staring at Henry. He sighed then spoke,

“I don’t know if you’ve picked up on this yet, but,” he started. “I’m not the cool guy, either. I don’t know how to tell a woman that I like her. I’m awkward and I make out with another woman instead of kissing the one that I’ve wanted to since I met her,” Lily stopped mid-chew as she fully processed what Henry had just said. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him. He was staring at her with an intensity that she didn’t fully understand. She wanted to believe, she really did. He seemed genuine, but so did Carter on so many different occasions.

“Henry,” she said quietly, and Henry quickly responded.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I told you, I’m not good at this, but if you’re willing, I’d like the chance to make this up to you. You’re completely justified to tell me, no, but even if you do, I’m still going to try. I like you, Lily,” he looked at her seriously. There was something in his tone that Lily wanted to believe. It had been 18 months since Carter and Lily was tired of being cautious. She looked up at Henry.

“I’ll give you another chance, but,” she said and watched as the relief that washed over his face was immediately replaced by fear. “I need to think about it some more,” Henry’s shoulders slumped and he stared down into his food.

“I understand,” he replied, then he looked up at Lily with only his eyes. “I meant what I said, though. I like you and I’ll do what I can to prove that to you again.” Lily sat there in silence, taking in his words. He seemed genuine and Lily was torn. She took in a breath.

“Well,” she started. “You can start by buying me a slice of apple pie,” she looked up at Henry, a gentle smile on her lips. She watched small crinkles form around his blue eyes as a smile grew across his face.

“Okay,” he replied.