#I’ve never had food poisoning yet so I think I’m immune

[detentiontrack]

Eating what I’m pretty sure is expired mac and cheese with milk that expires today

[spencers-renaissance]

storm-darkened or starry bright

Summary: Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

Tags: angst, illness, hurt!spencer, hurt/comfort, worried derek, depression, mutual pining, getting together, angst w a happy ending

TW: vomit, implied/referenced sex and addiction, disordered thinking, depression as a result of medical diagnosis

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

(I've tagged my usual moreid taglist in this fic, but I won't be offended at all if this is too heavy for you!)

Title from "Where All My Books Go" - W.B. Yeats.

Originally inspired by J_Ballinger's Swift, Fierce & Obscene which is just a brilliant piece of art.

you said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud — richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out

It starts with the flu.

He calls into work sick and he makes himself comfortable in bed, preparing to ride it out. It is the middle of January after all, and their last case saw them in Ann Arbor, shivering their way through each crime scene and a police station with abysmal heating.

His lymph nodes are swollen, and he’s running a moderate fever — 102 the last time he checked — and the cough he’s had for a couple of days is definitely getting nastier, but he uses the time to catch up on the documentaries he’s had stored on his DVR for the past couple of months. He tries to see it as a positive: he never gets time to rest like this. Warm soup, chamomile tea, and some Nyquil should be the end of it.

He makes the most of it. He gets better. He goes back to work, and life goes on.

“It’s not like you to get sick, Reid.”

Emily doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s about as innocuous as a comment can possibly be, but something about it makes his heart stop for a second. Because the thing is, she’s right. The last time he was actually sick was the anthrax poisoning three years ago, which can hardly be blamed on his body itself. He hasn’t been sick with a virus since he was a child — certainly not anything more than a mild winter cold.

His world turns upside down in the middle of a Tuesday, a couple of them gathered around Derek’s desk laughing about nothing in particular, the easy camaraderie of a close-knit team without a time-sensitive case on their minds.

Three and a half weeks ago: a night heady with alcohol in a gay bar in downtown DC, a charged encounter with a man just Spencer’s type, a whispered invitation back to his place, not making it past the bathroom…

He pales, suddenly feeling violently ill at the prospect of what’s happened, how badly he’s fucked up this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” Emily asks, suddenly noticing his appearance. “You look really pale… maybe you’re not ready to be back at work yet.”

Forcing himself out of his stupor, he manages to open his mouth without vomiting. “I don’t feel so good,” he says, and even to him his voice sounds weak and distant. Blood roars in his ears, and all he can think is what that blood could very well be tainted with.

Far away voices discuss something he doesn’t pay attention to before Derek’s placing his hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into the discussion. “I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Emily isn’t standing at the desk anymore, but he doesn’t think to look around for her, just locks eyes with Derek: noticing his brows knit deeply in concern, worry clouding his dark, striking eyes.

He lets himself be led down to the garage. Later, he won’t remember any of the winding car journey home, Derek’s worried sideways glances, his attempts at making conversation, tucking him into bed, his hesitancy to leave and go back to work. He’ll just remember the weight of his realisation, the sinking acknowledgement of what this means.

What it makes him.

⭐️

The next day, he wakes up ravenously hungry. He doesn’t remember anything after the dreaded realisation, but he remembers that he came to it only minutes after eating lunch: meaning he’s gone over eighteen hours without food. Somehow, he manages to pick himself out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He finishes it all and doesn’t taste a single bite.

He texts the group chat Penelope had made for the whole team last year, ignoring the dozens of anxious messages from his team already filling his phone. Won’t be in.

Almost on auto-pilot, he gets dressed, picks up his phone, wallet, and keys, and walks to his nearest metro station. He counts four stops, gets out of the carriage and walks up the stairs onto the street, weaving through exactly three streets until he finds himself staring at the sign for his Urgent Care clinic.

Words — not ashes, as some small part of him anticipates — manage to spill from his lips as he tells the doctor everything from the unprotected sex he vaguely recalls having on the night of Saturday the 12th of March to his brief flu-like symptoms to his sickly realisation yesterday. Vaguely, he thinks there’s some sort of sick humour in being able to recall exactly what day he had sex, but not the details of the sex itself. Alcohol and dilaudid are the only things that have ever been able to interfere with his memory.

He obediently opens his mouth for a saliva swab, lets the nurse prick his finger and collect a drop of his blood. He wonders if she knows what they’re testing him for. He wonders if she thinks he’s as dirty as he feels, if she’ll violently scrub her hands after smiling politely at him, if she’ll roll her eyes when she talks to the other nurses, lamenting his stupidity.

The sounds of the waiting room melt into the background as he waits for the test to be conducted, and judging by the tone of the nurse who gets his attention when it’s time to return to the doctor’s office, it’s not her first attempt.

He mutters a distracted apology as he gets up from his seat, but she just smiles sympathetically. It shouldn’t get his back up in the way it does.

“I’m afraid you have tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, Dr Reid,” she tells him, her voice gentle but straight-forward. He’s at least glad she doesn’t try and soften the blow. It’s not a blow that deserves to be softened. “I know this is a shock, but—”

“It’s not a shock.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a shock,” he repeats insistently; impatiently. “I knew it was coming. It’s my own fault.”

“Playing blame games isn’t going to help anybody here, Dr Reid,” she says firmly, meeting his eye. “Whether you were expecting it or not, this would knock anyone off-kilter, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that.”

She waits for his reluctant nod before continuing. “The good news is that we’ve caught it early enough to contain the infection. Your CD4 levels are very good, and you do not meet AIDS criteria. I’ve referred you to Dr Frederiks at George Washington University Hospital. He’s an expert in Infectious Disease and specialises in HIV/AIDS treatment. He can see you tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

He arrives back at his apartment almost $300 out of pocket, having gained nothing but a positive HIV diagnosis. The FBI has brilliant healthcare insurance but Spencer ticked the ‘no’ box on the insurance form. He can’t risk anybody knowing about this.

He texts Hotch and tells him he has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and will let him know whether he’ll make it in for the afternoon. Then he lays on the sofa, and cries.

⭐️

“HIV is a chronic illness,” the doctor explains at four minutes past ten the next morning, “a latent infection. Not a death sentence. Medications have come leaps and bounds in the last ten years, and the regimes aren’t anywhere near as rigorous as they used to be. With your CD4 levels this good, your life really won’t be much different than it was a few weeks ago.”

Spencer’s never had much interest in medicine — after all, there’s a reason he’s not that kind of doctor — but he knows this much. He doesn’t tell the doctor that he’s wasting his time explaining the basics of the disease, just stares blankly at the point in between his eyes, staring at the small crease in his skin, the way it moves as he speaks.

“It’s likely that you’ll die of something else, Dr Reid, decades in the future. When managed correctly, HIV is rarely deadly.”

This seems irrelevant: it doesn’t matter to Spencer what he dies of. Whether his immune system gives in or he’s shot in the line of duty or drops dead in the street from an aneurysm he doesn’t see coming, he’ll be dead.

He still doesn’t say anything.

“For the first six months of infection, the risk of transmission to sexual partners is high,” he continues, unfazed by Spencer’s lack of response. “Are you in a relationship?”

“No.” It’s the first word he’s spoken since he entered this office. His voice breaks. He can’t have the person he wants: this feels like the nail in the coffin of a relationship dead on arrival.

A look of sympathy crosses Dr Frederik’s face. “In any casual encounters you may engage in, you’ll need to be extra careful. Do you have the contact details of the person you contracted this from?”

His voice is steadier this time. “No.”

“Do you have any suspicion that you were deliberately infected by them?”

“No,” he answers, because he doesn’t, but it occurs to him that he’ll never actually know. He doesn’t remember if they used a condom; if he even wanted to use one. (All he remembers is his muscles and the way he pretended he was Derek, the amused look on the other man’s face when he whispered his name like a prayer.)

“That’s fine,” the doctor smiles encouragingly. It feels patronising. “We’re going to start with a triple combination of medications: tenofovir and emtricitabine combined with dolutegravir. HIV is an adaptable virus and easily becomes resistant, so it’s best to attack it hard and fast as early as possible to give you your best chances at an undetectable viral load in the next year. Which, I might add, Dr Reid, is a completely reasonable goal. At that stage, you will not be all that infectious. You’ll have bloods drawn before you leave to estimate your baseline kidney and liver function as well as overall health. In three months, you’ll have another test, and in six months, we’ll assess how well the drugs are working for you.”

Spencer nods, his eyes not leaving the crease between Dr Frederik’s eyebrows.

“Make those appointments with my secretary on your way out, and contact me if you have any concerns.” He pushes a brown paper envelope across the desk. “Inside you’ll find a copy of your positive test result, your prescriptions, and a number of leaflets on the condition as a whole.”

He squashes the urge to push the envelope back across the desk and nods again.

“Pick up the medication before the end of today and start them either tonight or in the morning,” he advises, before standing up from behind the desk and walking towards the door.

Spencer follows obediently, nodding once more and forcing a grimace onto his face, before walking down the hallway towards the secretary, another stranger he has to share his secret with. Swallowing down the urge to either scream or vomit, he fiddles with the envelope in his hands and bites the bullet.

⭐️

He tells Hotch that he won’t be in that day, and he goes home and forces himself to get it together. He showers first, the hot water washing the grime of the last few days down the drain, but he can’t do anything about the lingering layer of shame clinging to his skin. For the first time since the realisation, he forces himself to look in the mirror. A thin, pallid man with bags under his eyes and the look of someone harbouring a secret looks back at him.

His hair has grown out a little in the last few months, actual curls visible around his face (memories flash across his mind of breathy gasps; a hand buried in his hair, pulling ever-so-gently but they’re gone before they’re even remotely tangible), and he lost a little bit of weight he couldn’t afford to lose during his symptomatic period.

But, as frustrating as it is, it’s not what he sees. Not really. He sees Spencer Reid, possessor of five degrees, soon to become six, expert analyst in the FBI, the man who listens to jazz when he studies and watches documentaries for fun and solves crossword puzzles on the metro.

Something inside him shifts as he’s reminded of his humanity in that moment. It’s the most okay he’s felt in the last forty-eight hours.

He’ll take it.

He goes back to work the next day with little fanfare, getting warm smiles and ‘glad you’re feeling better’s from the team before they’re plunged headfirst into a new case, as it so often goes. They fly to Vermont, and part of him is glad for the distraction: no more talking about his illness, no more self-pity — he’s forced to try and bridge the gap between Dr Spencer Reid, Before and Dr Spencer Reid, HIV Positive as quickly and seamlessly as possible.

He does what he’s good at: offers relevant, detailed facts, profiles the victims and the unsub, cites studies that help them get to the bottom of the case, and for a moment he allows himself to forget about the virus coursing through his blood and the feeling of shame he can’t quite shake no matter how clean he scrubs his skin.

They get to the hotel late that evening and Spencer takes his second dose of medication, individually popping each tablet from it’s sheet into his hand. The pharmacist he spoke to yesterday told him that from his next medication order they can put all three tablets into a blister packet for him, but for now he’s stuck punching through three different plastic packets every night. Derek asks him to join them at the bar for a drink, but Spencer turns him down. He’s barely been able to look him in the eye.

If, in some rare and far flung universe, Derek did want to date Spencer, he wouldn’t want to date HIV positive, ex-addict, reckless and unsafe Spencer.

He wouldn’t want to date a man so heartbroken and lovesick that he got black-out drunk and slept with someone — most likely without a condom — just because he bared a passing resemblance to Derek. Contracting the Human Immunodeficiency Virus in the process.

No.

Spencer spends the evening staring into the mirror instead, desperately trying to find the man he was four days ago under the burden of broken suffering he seems to have picked up along with the diagnosis, the positive test, the sympathetic doctors.

When he hears the others come up past midnight and pile into their hotel rooms, laughing and chattering among themselves, Spencer still hasn’t looked away.

The use of the case as a distraction only works until 11am the next day. He’d had trouble falling asleep, and he’s powering through the day fuelled by black coffee and raw determination alone, but those motivators — as effective as they can be — can’t stop his legs from shaking as he stares at the geo-profile, searching for what they’re missing.

It sucks, but he’s glad for the warning the shaking gives him. He finds a chair and sits down, which is likely the only thing that stops him from collapsing when black dots swim in his vision and he’s suddenly vomiting down his front.

“Reid!” Hotch cries, running from the other end of the police station to where he’s sitting, panic clear on his face. They’re the only two from their unit currently in the station, but Hotch quickly locates an officer and turns to him. “Call an ambulance.”

“No,” Spencer manages to protest, although it only makes him want to be sick again, “‘m fine, promise.”

“What’s going on? I thought the flu had passed? Healthy people don’t spontaneously vomit and almost pass out, Reid.”

Somehow, his addled brain manages to concoct a decent enough lie. “Keep thinking I’m better,” he mumbles, leaning forward to put his head between his legs as Hotch places a hand on his back, “and then I’m not.”

“You’re sure this is just the flu?” Hotch asks, concerned but at least appearing to believe him.

“Certain,” Spencer lies.

Hotch nods once before shaking his head at the officer on standby with a phone to call an ambulance. “Well, you can’t work the case like this,” he sighs. “We need to get you back to the hotel, okay? You can rest there. God, Reid, what did the doctor say?”

“Bad case of the flu. Gave me some strong Tamiflu and told me I’d be fine in a couple days.” He gasps the words out in between intense waves of nausea, clasping his hands together in an iron grip.

He absolutely can’t let Hotch catch on. In the nine years he’s worked at the FBI, he’s managed to conceal his sexuality below layers upon layers of closeting, and he’s not about to be forced out now. It started as a purely protectionist strategy — law enforcement in the early 2000s didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation when it came to tolerance — but then he just felt forced too deep, felt the web of lies spun too tightly around him to even begin to unpick them.

Terror seizes his heart at the idea of his team knowing who he really is: not because he expects homophobia or backlash, but because he’s not sure he’s ready to live that openly yet. He’s never been good with change, and this is no exception.

It doesn’t help that the whole team is all too aware of his past addiction. He dreads the thought of them thinking he’s using again and, worse, so irresponsibly that he managed to contract HIV.

Hotch gets a rookie officer to drive him back to the hotel, and she keeps sending him nervous glances, most likely worried he’ll stink up her immaculately kept squad car with his spontaneous vomiting. Both he and the car make the journey unscathed, although he knows he probably looks as green as he feels as he drags himself up the stairs — could there possibly be a worse time for an out of order elevator? — and somehow manages to make it to the bed before he collapses.

Unfortunately, his restful slumber doesn’t last long. He’s woken up not half an hour later with the intense need to be sick again, and he races to the toilet, where he spends the next two hours: intermittently slumped over it, being sick into it, and lying on the cold tiles next to it.

It feels like a punishment. If Spencer was a religious man he’d be certain God was smiting him for his sins, but instead he’s left instead pondering karma or fate or some other theory he doesn’t really buy into either. Logically, he knows it’s just a combination of guilt and regret — he made a mistake, he’s suffering the consequences; there’s no fate or religion or karma involved — but his delirious, out of sorts mind struggles to hold on to that.

Reason doesn’t make the nausea any less crippling, after all.

Eventually, he must manage to pass out on the bathroom floor, because he’s being shaken awake by a pair of gentle hands, and when he finally opens his eyes, it’s dark outside.

“Spence?”

Shit. Derek.

His eyes fly open and he fights to sit up, to make himself more presentable. The smell of vomit lingers in the air and he remembers that he didn’t even put the toilet seat down, let alone flush it. (At least he thought to change out of his vomit-covered shirt. Thank God for small mercies.) He blushes, and thinks he must look a pretty picture of red and green as he finally meets Derek’s eyes.

“God, Spence, how bad is this flu?” he asks worriedly, smoothing his hair with the palm of his hand. Despite himself, Spencer finds himself pressing back into the touch, relishing any contact he can get.

Then it hits him: he’s dirty. He can’t contaminate Derek like this.

“You should leave,” he asserts hurriedly as he pulls away, hating that desperation is so obvious in his voice. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned everything up, and I used gloves. I’ve been in contact with you the last couple of days, so if you were going to get me sick you would’ve already. I just want to be here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed so tightly they hurt. He wants nothing more than to fold himself into Derek’s arms, let himself be comforted by the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But he can’t. There are so many reasons that he can’t.

“No,” he says, not opening his eyes, resenting the tear that slips out and spills down his cheek. “You can’t. I’m… I’m not safe to be around.”

He doesn’t really mean to say it, but it escapes anyway, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the confusion cross Derek’s face. “Not safe to…? Spencer, what—”

“I just… I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek says softly, bringing a hand to his hair again, and he knows that HIV isn’t transmitted through sweat or vomit but he’s dirty, and Derek is so so good, he can’t be responsible for tainting him. Derek doesn’t relent, though, not even when Spencer pulls away from his touch and shrinks in on himself, leaning against the toilet. “You need to allow yourself to be comforted. You need to let me help, Spencer.”

Suddenly, he feels incredibly tired: the energy seeping out of his body, and he’s boneless against the toilet, absent even of the effort to hold himself upright.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He puts his arms around Spencer’s rolled up body and lifts him, holding him close to his chest as he carries him from the bathroom to the bed.

Spencer doesn’t just let him, he curls into his embrace, clinging to the material of his t-shirt like it’s his only grip on reality.

(Later, he’ll blame the fever, but deep down he knows that just once, he wanted to play pretend, and just once, he didn’t have the energy to stop himself.)

⭐️

The side effects take weeks to finally leave, his body having a hard time adjusting to not only a deadly virus in his bloodstream, but some of the strongest drugs on the market inhibiting his natural enzyme production. Eventually, though, he’s back at work properly, selling a story about a simultaneous gastro-intestinal virus making the flu exponentially worse.

He’s not really sure everyone believes him, but nobody questions it out loud, so he avoids everyone’s eyes and takes it as a win.

Nobody gets close enough to try, anyway. He pushes everyone away, holds them at arm's length no matter how much they kick and scream and claw their way closer to him. It surprises him how persistent Derek is, and for a moment he feels a sad flutter of hope in his stomach and he’s forced to stamp it down: Derek sees him as a brother, a friend, a colleague, not a potential romantic partner.

And it would be irrelevant, even if he did. Derek wouldn’t want him as any of those things if he knew what he was hiding. Ever since his lapse in judgement on the case in Vermont, he’s refused to spend any time alone with Derek, and he hates the hurt he sees in his eyes, hates that he can’t scream at him that this is for his own good. But he can’t know. Because Spencer is still ruled by his relentless selfish desires, and he can’t let Derek go, no matter how hard he tries to.

Kept at arm’s length at least means he’s still touching his shoulders.

He muddles through the next few months on his own, returning to his quiet apartment every night and eating a sad, lonely dinner on his sad, lonely sofa before punching his way through a blister pack, taking his tablets, and going to sleep. He turns down drinks invitations, declines phone calls, ignores text messages. He pretends he isn’t home when there are knocks at his door.

He takes showers that are too hot and cries on the metro, scrubs his fingernails and his face, and when he got a shallow knife wound on a case last month, wouldn’t let a single member of the team near him. Whispering his status, shame-faced, to the attending EMT.

This is it, he thinks one night, as he opens the microwave and takes out the mac-and-cheese ready meal he’d bought on the way home that night. He doesn’t even like mac-and-cheese. It was just the only thing left in the store at 8.30pm. This is my life now. Standing in my kitchen at 9.15pm, not being able to remember the last time I was actually happy.

(He does remember, really. It was Sunday the 13th of March, 9.37am: Derek had ruffled his hair and joked with him as they waited alone in the conference room to find out what was so urgent they were being called into work on the weekend for. Spencer could still feel the aftermath of his Saturday night tryst, and pretended for a brief few minutes that that encounter was with Derek, and those jokes were actually flirting. But then the case took over, then the flu symptoms, and then. Well.)

Before he can carry the mac-and-cheese into the living room, though, there’s a knock at the door. Everyone had mostly given up on turning up unannounced, so it catches him off-guard, and something in him, some vain flicker of hope, or maybe a masochistic desire to hurt even more, propels him forward until he’s opening it and coming face to face with Derek Morgan.

“Spencer,” he says urgently, and panic immediately grips Spencer as he wonders what could be so wrong that he’d need to show up out of the blue, but Derek must see it on his face. “Nothing’s happened, don’t worry, I just… I need to speak to you.”

A knot of something that Spencer can’t quite place tightens in his stomach as he stares at the myriad of emotions playing across Derek’s face, but he steps aside to let him in anyway. He closes the door behind them and feels a flash of embarrassment at the state of his apartment. It’s completely clean — his already rigorous attitude towards germ and cleanliness have only intensified in the last few months as paranoia plagued his mind relentlessly — but it’s barren of any joy, and it couldn’t be more obvious.

The furniture is drab and Spencer’s packed away all the photos and trinkets that used to litter the entire place because they just made him too sad to look at. The only life that remains is his books, and the sheet he’d hung to cover them up in a fit of rage a couple of weeks ago still hangs there limply. He hadn’t wanted to see his books: didn’t want the temptation of touching them and tainting them. What if he got a papercut on one of the pages and his virus-ridden blood spilled across the words he treasures so dearly?

He watches as Derek surveys the place with a sad expression on his face, before recollecting himself and turning back to Spencer.

“I know you’ve been pulling away from us, Spence,” he says, almost breathless as he takes a seat on the sofa. Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his body, so he settles on remaining where he is: stock still facing the couch, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. “We’ve watched you become a shell of who you used to be, and we’re all worried about you—”

“I don’t—”

“No, just let me speak. Everyone is worried, and I am too, but… I’m also… I’m hurt, Spencer. You’re pushing me away, turning me down every time I try to get close to you, and it’s painful because you’re my friend. You’re my best friend, and you mean the world to me.”

I wouldn’t if you knew my secret, he thinks miserably, but he doesn’t say anything.

“More than anything, though, it hurts… because I’m in love with you.”

Spencer stares. He’s hallucinating, he has to be.

“And I know — well, I don’t know because we’ve never talked about it — but I know you’re probably straight and even if you were interested in guys, too, who’s to say you’d be in love with me back? But I had to tell you because our relationship is heading south anyway, plummeting straight for the ground, and I figured it couldn’t hurt, I just… say something? Please?”

He doesn’t mean to say it.

“I’m HIV positive.”

It’s Derek’s turn to stare. Spencer can’t meet his eyes, and suddenly feeling like he needs to Get Out, he rushes to the kitchen and picks up his rapidly cooling mac-and-cheese. He gets a fork out and faces the countertop, away from Derek, as he starts to shovel unsatisfying bites into his not-hungry stomach.

It can’t even be a full minute later that he hears footsteps behind him. “You have AIDS?”

He sets the mac-and-cheese back on the counter. “No,” he answers, not turning around. “I tested positive for HIV; I don’t meet AIDS criteria. My CD4 levels are apparently very good, and the medication I’m taking is proving effective in controlling and managing the virus. I don’t have side effects anymore, and I don’t feel any different than I did before I contracted it.”

There’s a beat of silence. “And this is why you’ve been pulling away from us?”

Spencer hesitates before nodding shamefully, his eyes burning a hole in his dinner. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone, and I—” He’s cut off by a heaving sob. It catches him by surprise, but suddenly he’s choking on emotion: everything he’s been through, everything he’s been dealing with alone for so long a burden he no longer knows how to carry.

“Oh, baby,” Derek breathes, rushing forward and turning Spencer until his face is pressed into his neck and their arms are wrapped around one another. The nickname only furthers his emotion, falling apart completely in such a way that makes him unsure he’ll ever be put back together again. “I’m so sorry.”

He lets Spencer cry it out until his sobs recede and his tears slow, and he feels confident enough to pull away and meet Derek’s eye properly again. It feels like a reconnection; a reconciliation of sorts, and his breath catches at the emotion on his face. He’d expected a meddle of sympathy and disgust, but all he finds is compassion and love, tinged by a sadness Spencer supposes probably comes from watching the man you’ve just professed to love fall apart like that.

Oh wait. Derek just told him—

“You love me?” His voice comes out quieter and shyer than he’d hoped, and not nearly as incredulous as he’d intended, but Derek softens anyway.

“Yes,” he says emphatically. “So much. And if you think you telling me this is going to change how I feel even a bit, then you’re dead wrong, Spencer.”

It’s suddenly too much to think that everything he’d feared happening for the last few months was wrong, and he’s gasping for breath again, sinking to the ground to bury his face in his hands.

“Spence?” Derek asks worriedly, following him to the floor. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No… please, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, ground himself in the reality that’s unfolding before him, no matter how different it might look than that of his anticipation. “You know, the man. Um, the man I… contracted this from. I slept with him because he looked like you.”

He looks up and meets Derek’s eyes again, searching for anything in them to confirm that he was thinking all the thoughts Spencer feared and coming up empty. “I was so heartsick that I got blind-drunk and slept with a complete stranger because it was the closest to you I ever thought I’d get and then I was just so scared of what everyone would say when I found out. I know logically that HIV doesn’t make someone dangerous or unclean, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling of shame, you know? I was constantly panicked that I’d pass it to one of you. Besides, I’m not even out to the team, and I know the implications of a disease like this: gay or an IV drugs user — I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I was both. I’m clean, and I’ve stayed clean, I just…”

“Hey, I get it,” Derek says gently, reaching out a hand and cupping Spencer’s cheek gently. “I think if I was in the same boat I probably would’ve reacted in exactly the same way. You can’t be blamed for bowing to a social stigma this heavy, Spence. I’m just sorry I didn’t realise what was going on sooner. And even sorrier, for that matter, that I didn’t tell you I was in love with you before this even had a chance to happen.”

Spencer smiles a little at that. “Hey, I didn’t tell you either. I don’t blame you at all. Neither of us were out and confessing something like that is no small feat.”

“I suppose so.”

Spencer shifts a little in his position on the floor, the raging storm of emotion that he’s been drowning under for the past four and a half months quieting for the very first time. He breathes deeply for a few seconds before working up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “I know you said that this doesn’t change the way you feel—”

“And it doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods, because suddenly he gets that. He isn’t sure what took so long. “But does it make you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Spencer, no.” Derek’s voice is urgent as he makes intense eye contact with him, raising a gentle finger to his chin. “It doesn’t change a single. thing. I don’t know much about HIV, I’ll admit, but I do know that these days you can get to a point where it doesn’t transmit to partners. And we can be really safe about it. I’ll do all the research to make you comfortable, but Spencer, even if it did mean that we could never have sex, I’d still want you. I want you so badly, pretty boy.”

He can hardly believe his ears. “Really?”

“Really.” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, catching a falling tear. “I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with you, Spencer. I have been for years. You can ask, Penelope: she’s been putting up with my pining like a saint, but I’m not sure she could’ve taken it much longer.”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, too.” Another tear falls as the prospect of what’s about to happen really sinks in.

“Can I?” Derek murmurs, as he inches closer ever so slowly.

“Please,” Spencer whispers, barely finishing the word before their lips are colliding and a flurry of butterflies break out in his stomach as his chest glows with the warmth of a kiss he’s long been aching for. Derek’s hands find his waist, his jaw, his cheek, his hair, exploring his body ever so softly as he kisses him with the same inquisitive gentleness, managing to take him apart with just his lips and his hands.

“God,” he whispers as he finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s as he struggles to hide his wide grin. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of that. I’m gonna be like a teenage girl tonight, running my fingers across my lips as I remember every minute of it.”

Spencer giggles at that. “Well you can rest easy in the knowledge that I’ll be doing the same.” He pulls away slightly and looks down for a second before looking back up into Derek’s earnest gaze. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“I’ll kiss you like that every day for as long as you’ll have me.” He doesn’t hesitate to lean back in, connecting their lips again as they melt into one another’s touches, and it makes Spencer laugh later that the most intimate and passionate encounter of his life so far happened on the kitchen floor.

They pull apart as soon as it heats up a little bit, and pain flashes across both of their expressions at the thought of why.

“There’s this thing called PrEP,” Spencer says, still a little ashamed of his situation, that Derek has to be protected against him before they can take this any further. “It’s medication that you take before and after sex with a HIV positive person that blocks the virus from entering your bloodstream if you were to somehow contract it. And we can wear condoms. And once I reach an undetectable viral load, it means the virus is untransmittable, and you won’t contract it even if we’re unprotected.”

Derek blinks. “Wow, that’s… that’s better than I thought.”

“Really? You’re still okay with all this?”

He softens. “Pretty boy, I am so okay with all this, and I’m sorry that you spent so long thinking otherwise. We have time to figure all this out, but what matters is that right now, I have you next to me, and we love each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, and leans forward to kiss Derek chastely. “I do.”

“Now, how about we bin that disgusting mac-and-cheese and order some Chinese?” he suggests, matching Spencer’s smile. “We could eat it in bed and watch one of those documentaries you’re always talking about.”

Spencer laughs fondly. “You want our first date to be eating takeaway and watching a science documentary in bed?”

“Well it sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty perfect to me, too,” Spencer whispers, the happiness in his chest feeling warm and inviting, begging him to bask in the moment for as long as he can.

They’ll work out the specifics later — they’ll get Derek started on PrEP and attend Spencer’s appointments to measure his viral load, they’ll have important and serious conversations about the risks to both of them, they’ll work out what their relationship means for work, how they’ll begin to repair the damage the last few months have done to Spencer’s mental health — but right now, none of that matters.

All that does is: the buffet of Chinese food Derek lays out on a blanket on Spencer’s bed, the documentary about bees playing on the TV, and the thrilled little glances thrown each other’s way, the stolen kisses and casual touches, the love palpable in the air around them. And later, when the food is eaten, and the documentary is playing the credits: Spencer’s tired head resting on Derek’s loving chest, and the syncing of their heartbeats as they fall asleep to the sound of each other.

This shouldn't have to be said but please do not use fanfiction as sex education and PLEASE practice safe sex. As far as I know, all the information included in this fic is correct, but I have no personal experience with HIV/AIDS, and this is very much written from an outsider's perspective - albeit a thoroughly researched one.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[bonny-kookoo]

Bonny, I’ve been kinda missing Alien!JK so how about a drabble of Reader coming down with the common cold/flu and just Kook freaking out cuz he finds out there’s no cure for the illness and he thinks it’s life threatening lol

Oh. My god.

————————

You really wanted to disappear.

Jungkook had been gone for most of the day for work reasons, and you had been hiding inside the apartment for the duration of that time. Now, even after trying to sleep and drink water, your headache was absolutely positively killing you; not to mention the fewer and muscle pain you had.

You’ve tried to cover it up whenever he was home to not worry him, so you managed to at least stay awake and pretend to simply not be hungry when he was around. You got up with a bit of trouble, untangling your legs from the bedsheets you had dirtied anyways with your cold sweat. You felt disgusting, and wanted nothing more than a good shower.

It seemed like your body was not ready for that though, as you managed to barely make it into the bathroom area of the apartment, holding onto the sink for dear life as you fell to your knees, nausea hitting you full force. You felt sweaty, cold and hot at the same time, shivering as a result from the temperature confusion your skin was currently going through.

And just with your luck, the front door opened, a familiar chime of the electronic lock on the door telling you that it was Jungkook.

“I’ve brought food my tiny little human!” He playfully exclaimed, before you could hear his confused humm of your name as he searched for you. Even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t move, too terrified that you would throw up. But that didn’t seem to be the biggest concern right now as you closed your eyes, focusing on your racing pulse as you felt like you were overheating. Your ears couldn’t quite hear properly, everything sounding as if you’ve got cotton wool inside them.

“Y/n!” Jungkook worriedly exclaimed, dropping to His knees next to you as his eyes widened, cat like pupils dilating and contracting as if his mind couldn’t function properly. His hand placed itself on your back, immediately making him more worried. Humans weren’t supposed to feel this warm to the touch, and he knew you by now, he knew your normal body temperature, knew that something was terribly wrong. The apartment was cold, yet you were sweating, pale, and unresponsive to his questions. What happened? Where you dying?!

He carefully helped you to the toilet as you pointed towards it, eyes becoming glossy as he watched you painfully heave the little food you ate during the day into the bowl. He didn’t know what to do at all- was this okay? Where you supposed to do that? Why were you even in this state in the first place?

He began to think about the days prior. Maybe he’d accidentally given you something to eat you weren’t supposed to. Oh no, what if he poisoned you? He would never forgive himself if you were to die because of his stupidity. Hell maybe he really should’ve taken Namjoon advice all this time ago and give you into someone’s care who knew what they were doing. He was so stupid-

“..’Kook.” You mumbled out, and he peeked up at it immediately. “My toothbrush please.” You asked, and he nodded after a second of confusion, helping you sit on the closed toilet after flushing, and preparing your toothbrush for you. He continued to look at you like a kicked puppy, unknowing and scared what was happening. After he’d helped you to the sink to rinse your mouth, you simply flopped against his large chest, letting him hold you like that as he simply ran his hands over your arms. “Can you, maybe carry me to bed?” You asked, and he immediately nodded, helping your arms around his neck as he carried you back into the cozy yet cold bedroom.

As you laid there, head on his thigh, you slowly drifted off to sleep again. Jungkook finally let a tear roll down his cheek as he sniffled, grabbing his phone to call Namjoon, carefully closing the door behind him as he walks into the kitchen, sniffling heavily as he tries to keep composure.

“Namjoon.. I think I killed Y/n.” He says into the phone as his friend picks up, making the other immediately worry.

“You did what?!” He asks agitated, as Jungkook begins to explain the situation.

“I- I think I maybe poisoned her? I remember back when she accidentally ate that fruit humans weren’t supposed to, and it’s almost the same now.” He says, before he continues. “But it’s worse. She threw up some minutes ago and- and she looks so bad Namjoon, as if she’s in pain! She’s pale, and clammy, and her body is way warmer than it’s supposed to be- oh god I’m such a horrible person why am I so stupid-“

“Yeah, you really are.” Namjoon answers with amusement. “Did she eat anything recently?” He asks, and Jungkook clears his throat as he thinks, pushing his sadness down his throat.

“I.. a bit? She said she wasn’t hungry these days..” he answers, and Namjoon humms ab answer.

“I’ll be there shortly.” He answers, as Jungkook simply hangs up.

-

Some minutes later, after Namjoon had emerged back out of the bedrooms free taking a look at you and your condition, Jungkooks bottom lip still trembles slightly as he waits for the news.

“She’s got the flu.”

“She’s got the what?” The young alcorian asks confused. “Is that deadly?!” He worries, and the older one laughs, patting his back,

“No, humans get that sometimes. She said she recently went out with you and when you guys came back it was raining, and her clothing didn’t really shield her from the cold weather anymore because it was soaked.”

“Humans get sick when they get cold and wet?” He asks, now simply confused. Alcorians got sick too, but not this severely- and not commonly.

“Not truly, but their immune system gets weakened if they’re cold for too long. They get sick more easily to simplify.” He answers, and Jungkook still seems unsure. “To say it as simple as possible, she’ll maybe throw up again, but that’s fine. Her body is a bit out of balance, so she’s got a headache and muscle pain, and her nose will get a bit stuffy too. The fever is actually good- she’s trying to sweat everything out that’s unwanted.” He explains, and Jungkooks eyes suddenly widen.

“She’s Not dying?” He asks, and Namjoon shakes his head. “I didn’t poison her.?” Again, a shake. “Oh my god.” He exclaims, visibly deflating at the news as the older one simply smiles, explaining to him how to properly care for you during this time, Jungkook listening carefully to every word.

-

“Jungkook No, I’m too hot-!” You whine, as he tucks the blanket properly around your body again, now a stern face.

“No, Namjoon said you’re supposed to stay warm even if you feel hot.” He explains, and you pout underneath the amount of blankets and pillows he’s got placed on the bed. “It’ll pass quicker like this, you’ll be fine again soon.” He speaks, and for a second you don’t know if it’s just for you, or to convince himself as well. You look at him as he raises his brows. “What?”

“Cuddle me.” You say. “You can’t get sick, and I need affection!” He smiles at that, hugging you with all blankets included as he places a kiss onto your head, smiling as he drifts off to sleep with you.

Grateful that you’re still alive, even if you’re a little sick.

[randomly-a-fan]

‘IT’ is Vacation Time

From “Space Clown Baby Sitter” [Link to the Prologue] Pennywise and Aquarius have found a ‘trusted’ Clown sitter to look after their eight-month son. So they decided to spend the weekend alone, just to have the time for themselves for once.

After saying goodbye to Archie, Aquarius took Pennywise to her old wagon where she used to live before she met him. It was a long walk, but it was worth the moment. The woods that Aquarius lives in is off limits, due to poisonous plants, snakes and insects. But Aquarius was immune to infections and can’t get sick and die; and Pennywise can’t be effected by the human world’s natural sources, so he can’t get infected either.

When Aquarius and Pennywise made it to her old circus wagon, her cat came out from under the wagon. “Hi Laverne!” Aquarius said as she crouched down to pet Laverne. She then noticed that Laverne was fat, so she assumes that Laverne has been eating well. Pennywise crouched down to pet the cat as well, since he had the love for animals. “I think Laverne likes you Penny.” Aquarius assumes. “Of course, animals look upon me all the time.” Pennywise explained.

After awhile, Aquarius took their bags and put it in her old wagon. The door was sticky and stiff at first, but she managed to open it to let the dust out. “Man... my shelter hasn’t changed a bit since I’ve left. Aquarius said as she was putting the bag on her double-twin bed. The first thing Pennywise noticed was a cardboard cutout of Heath Ledger Joker. “I’m assuming that you used to be The Joker fan?” Pennywise chuckled. Aquarius looked back at him with a smirk. “Still am... Whoever came up with the character description and characteristics is a genius.” Aquarius said before she blew the dust off the cardboard cutout, which causes them both to cough and sneeze. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air!” Aquarius choked.��

Aquarius thought that since the inside was dusty, she would clean her wagon a bit before night comes, or else they’ll be sneezing all night. While Aquarius does that, Pennywise thought it’d be a good time to call Papawise, to check to see if Archie is alright. So he borrowed Aquarius’s cellphone and call home. Only Papawise didn’t answer, but he did hear a squeal and coo. “Archie! Is that you? It’s daddy!” Pennywise said. Archie cooed after hearing his dad’s voice. “Dada?” Archie was confused, how did daddy get into that little talkie thingy? “Where’s Papawise?” Pennywise asked. Then he heard the background noise, “Archie, hand over the phone! DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!” Papawise shouted from the background. Pennywise was shocked to hear him shout at a baby. “Papawise, you better not yell at my boy, he’s only a baby!” Pennywise warned. “You don’t know half of it, son...” Papawise said. “I’m calling to see how he’s been doing; to what am I hearing, it sounds like you’ve got everything under control...” Pennywise said sarcastically. “Yeah yeah whatever... When does Archie have his nap?” Papawise asked. “We gave you a list... Read it and find out!” Pennywise advised. Then he heard Aquarius calling out to Pennywise. “Just read the care instructions carefully; because if anything happens to my son I’ll tare your head off!” Pennywise threatened before he hung up the cell.

After Pennywise returned the cellphone and the wagon was cleaned, Aquarius decided to gather up some food for dinner in the woods. “Feel free to relax while I go out to gather some food.” Aquarius offered. “Actually, I kind of want to see how you gather food; I’m actually curious.” Pennywise rushed over towards his wife. “Besides... I never want you out of my sight.” Pennywise added with a wink. Star blushed and took Penny’s hand to show him around the woods while looking for food.

***

The first thing that came to mind are fiddleheads, she remembered an old hermit-friend of hers that planted fiddleheads in her day before she perished, so Aquarius now owns the fiddlehead field. “See the curved green sprouts? they’re called fiddleheads. They’re really good and good for you.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise snorted by the name of the plants. “I’ll show you how to pick the good ones...” Aquarius showed Pennywise the ‘crowns’, they’re for holding the fiddleheads together while the others still needed more time to grow. “We can only take half the sprouts, so they can still continue growing each time. I’ll show you how to pick them properly.” Aquarius demonstrated on how to pick the fiddleheads; she carefully snapped one stem from two inches from the curved top and put the fiddleheads in the plastic bag for later. “Are you ready to try?” Aquarius asked with a smile. Pennywise crouched down and followed her instructions carefully. It took some crouching and lifting the legs, but they managed to get the amount of fiddleheads they needed.

The next thing on the menu are Wild Carrots, which are very hard to find the edible ones and not mistake them with other plants. “Wild Carrots in the woods are known as Queen Anne, but they look a lot like the other plants that are not safe to eat, such as Hemlock... So to make it safer for the both of us, we’ll do it together.” Aquarius explained.

She then picked one of the plants that are wild carrots; she showed Pennywise and explained to him what the flowers should look like and how he can tell Queen And Hemlock apart. “Why not just check their anatomy charts?” Pennywise joked. Aquarius laughed at Pennywise’s dirty joke that she gave him a gentle punch. 

Pennywise finds this survival lessons quite fascinating, yet nervous at the same time. He wondered if Star have ever fell into the wrong plants and nearly cause her life. “An old friend of mine was a hermit; she taught me everything I need to know about surviving in the woods. She taught me how to pick wild carrots and know which are safe. Thank heavens I have met her, or I would have starved to death.” Aquarius explained while she observed the plant carefully. Pennywise has so many questions to ask Aquarius, but since Aquarius has to concentrate on picking the right plants, he has to wait until later.

There are so many kinds of nature’s food that he didn’t know were edible; they’ve gathered bulrush roots and chestnuts. It was exhausting, ‘how does Aquarius do it all her life?’, “I don’t know how you could possibly gather everything for a meal everyday.” Pennywise observes. “Not everyday, just every other day when I needed to gather more food. If not, I try to make money by preforming for people by singing, so I can go by groceries.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise couldn’t help by smile fondly, he felt like that she’s been working too hard for him; both here and at home. Pennywise helped her up as she was feeling stiff. “Let me carry the bag of food for you and we can both rest.” Pennywise offered and suggested. “I guess we can have a rest before we go fishing.” Aquarius agreed. Pennywise raised his eyebrow, they didn’t pack any fishing gear, how can they catch fish without them?

***

While Aquarius gets herself ready in the wagon, Pennywise was just chilling sitting next to Laverne. “So you’ve been Aquarius’s pet for a long time, haven’t you? always keep each other company.” Pennywise said as he gently pets Laverne. Laverne wasn’t always connected to anybody but Aquarius, but she has sensed that something about Pennywise made him somehow... not so human. “Laverne seems to really be a fond of you...” Pennywise looked back seeing Aquarius in her Midnight-Blue Bikini. “...Laverne wasn’t always a people cat since I’ve seen her with other humans...” Aquarius added. Pennywise didn’t exactly pay attention to what she’s saying for the obvious reason. “Penny? My face is up here clown!” Aquarius smirked. Pennywise shook his head quickly to get a hold of himself. “Uh right... sorry love... It’s just that... I’ve never seen you in a bikini before... Forgive me for being observant, but you really lost a lot of that baby weight; you look like a teenager before pregnancy.” Pennywise said in shock. Aquarius knew that Pennywise was only trying to make a compliment, so she decided to accept it. If he said that to anybody else, he’d get b***h-slapped.

Aquarius was on her way to the waterfall to go fishing, with Pennywise coming along to watch... only... he wasn’t watching her fishing... but something that really catches his eyes. “Pennywise, quit starring at my tattoo! (located on her lower back)” Aquarius snapped before she got into the water. Pennywise only smirked while leaning against the tree watching Aquarius fish. 

It’s hard for Aquarius to fish with Pennywise lusting, so she decided to make a plan, but she had to wait until she caught a fish. When Aquarius saw the fish, she grew her vicious wildcat paw with claws and waited for it to get to the spot. Then she swiped the fish and let it fly towards Pennywise, “HEADS UP” Aquarius called out. Pennywise looked and didn’t notice the fish flying at him and hit his face; he tried to catch it, but then it somehow fell into his pants. “That’s for starring at my non-face flesh!” Aquarius laughed. But her laughing ended when she saw him tumbled into the thorn bushes. “OW” Pennywise yelled out. Aquarius rushed out of the water and helped Pennywise out of the thorn bush. “Penny I’m so sorry, I did not attend to make you fall into the thorn bush.” Aquarius said as she removed his outfit that is covered in thorns. “You go back to the wagon and I’ll wash your clothes... And the fish.” Aquarius offered with a smirk after pulling out the fish.

***

While Pennywise’s clothes are being dried up by the fire, Aquarius was removing the thorns from his butt and put on some ointment to relieve the sting. “There, that’s the last of it... Feeling any better?” Aquarius asked while rubbing it to sooth his pain. “Well... it hurts a little still, but maybe I’ll feel a lot better once you kiss it better...” Pennywise chuckled. “Get off!” Aquarius snorted before she shoved him off her lap. They both have a good laugh for awhile, until they heard the cauldron bobbing as the water is boiling. “Sounds to me that our dinner is ready, I’ll get our bowls, be right back love.” Aquarius said as she went into the wagon to fetch the bowls and soup spoons. 

After Aquarius grabbed the bowls, she went over to the cauldron and carefully scooped up the ‘natures gumbo’ into their bowls, including Laverne. Before she serves the bowl to Laverne she pours some cool water so she wouldn’t burn her tongue. “I hope it’s okay... It may not be children’s flesh... but--” Pennywise raised his hand to quiet her as he was drinking and eating out of the bowl. “No need to make excuses... I think it’s fantastic... Because you made it for me... Anything you make really makes me feel full... from my heart, my stomach and my--” Aquarius covered his mouth as he was about to blurt out the last sentence. “Don’t make me lose my appetite love.” Aquarius smirked as she was eating her dinner.

***

After dinner and cleaning up, Aquarius answered all of Pennywise’s questions about her life before and after she became a demon clown. The story was long and the skies are getting darker, however, Aquarius is worth listening to. He does feel grief for her to what she has been through; like her lack of rents at her cousin’s place, her first kills, and learning how to survive in the woods alone. “...If it wasn’t for my dear hermit friend, I would never have survived from starvation or/and food poisoning... I missed her, but she lived a long good life.” Aquarius ended. 

Pennywise was fascinated by her story, he’s glad that he got to know more about Aquarius’s life. He knew that he can trust her when his life depends on it. “It is getting rather late, I think I’ll go hit the sacks, if you don’t mind.” Pennywise said. “That’s fine, I’ll just hang the grub further into the woods; we don’t want any animals like bears to come to our nesting grounds to steal our food.” Aquarius replied while she goes out to hang the food.

***

While Aquarius was out, Pennywise called home to see if his son is alright. But there is no answer, either that both Papawise and Archie are asleep or that they went out late; Pennywise hoped that everything was alright. A few minutes later, Aquarius came back feeling exhausted, so she stripped out of her jumpsuit and put on her nightgown; to prevent Pennywise watching her nude, she removed her bra under her nightgown. “You’re acting like we’re not a married couple, yet you still feel self-cautious.” Pennywise smirked. “I just didn’t want to turn you on since I’m very sore and tired from all the forest work...” Aquarius said as she climbs into bed with Pennywise. “Of course... we’re on vacation soo...” Pennywise made a devilish grin and right away got on top of her.

After a hot throes of activity, they fell right to sleep. That is until after a few hours, Pennywise and Aquarius were awakened by Laverne’s cries. “Something’s wrong with Laverne Penny, I’m going to check out to see what’s going on.” Aquarius said as she put on her robe and grabbed an oil lamp. When Aquarius looked under the wagon, she nearly dropped her oil lamp by something quite shocking. It turns out that Laverne wasn’t fat because she ate a lot...

Laverne just gave birth to kittens. “Aquarius... Anything okay?” Pennywise asked. “Honey, come here... You’ve got to see this.” Aquarius said in a smile. Pennywise rushed out and noticed Laverne with her little fur-balls. “She was pregnant the whole time?” Pennywise asked with a smile. Then he spoke to Laverne. “So you’ve been busy lately, haven’t you?” Pennywise asked the cat while petting her head. Then he turned towards Aquarius, “Star, we can’t leave these kittens out there, it’s too cold and some wild animals might come and eat them.” Pennywise explained. Aquarius was worried. “I don’t know how; the mother cat might get angry and possibly eat one of her own children if our scent affects the kittens to their mother’s liking.” Aquarius replied. “I know how to communicate with animals; you get the cat basket and clean gloves, I’ll take care of Laverne and her kittens.” Pennywise instructed.

After Aquarius came out with the basket and gloves, Pennywise got Laverne to understand what it was that they needed to do for her and her babies. “Okay... Lets get the kittens into their basket.” Pennywise puts on his gloves and took one of the kittens out from under the wagon, they were meowing so cutely. “Hi little guy...” Aquarius said in a low tone to one of the kittens that she picked up. Pennywise picked up the last kitten which is a ginger kitten, the only one that turned out different from its siblings. “You look like a Brutney if I own you...” Pennywise said to the little ginger kitten. “Lets get them inside the wagon.” Pennywise said to Aquarius.

Thankfully, Laverne still loved her kittens and did not want to eat one of them. Then they all went to sleep. “Penny... I’m so glad you’re here with me, if I’ve never known you, I would not know what to do with Laverne and her kittens.” Aquarius said as she kissed her husband passionately. “Well, you’re pretty smart when it comes to survival.” Pennywise replied. “What are we going to do with the kittens?” Pennywise asked. “I think Laverne can take good care of her kittens, and just come every Saturday to check on her and the kittens, until they’re eight weeks old, I’ll see if we can find them a home.” Aquarius thought. “Cassandra might be able to find some people that might like a kitten.” Aquarius added. “As much of a foolish human she is... that’s clearly the best plan... I’m glad you didn’t thought of taking them to the kitty kennel.” Pennywise responded with a yawn. “Never in my life... they deserve a loving home... Like me when you took me in.” Aquarius replied in a soft tone. Pennywise didn’t respond, he went right to sleep, so Aquarius decided to get some sleep too. 

For a vacation away from their son, they have to deal with four more babies that were born under the wagon... What more could they ever ask for? 

[samwinchestershotgod]

and i love her

(i got sad and wrote samjess u can read it on ao3 :))

~

Jess hands him another round of tylenol. “You need to take this.”

She sits down next to him as he sweats against the wall, his body still shaking after retching up his dinner. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, with her baby hairs free and perfectly framing her face. She looks exhausted and bare, but Sam can’t help but smile.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, blinking lazily at her.

“And you’re feverish,” she chides softly, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Glad we’re pointing out the obvious.”

“I’m fine,” he offers.

She scowls and hands him the glass of water from beside her. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have just puke up the beautiful dinner I made for you.”

“All you did was put some ramen in the microwave.”

“I put it in there, didn’t I?” She smiles lightly while watching him down the pills.

Sam grimaces as he swallows, the pressure hurting his throat. “We need to learn how to cook more meals.”

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she leans his head on her shoulder and wraps her arms around him. She smells nice.

“I don’t want to get you sick, babe,” Sam says, even though he really doesn’t want her to let go.

“I’m not worried,” she replies, stroking his face. “I’ve got an immune system of steel.”

Sam hadn’t been this sick since he was a teenager, and even then he didn’t really remember it. Even then he’s sure that he wasn’t puking his guts out in the middle of the night. He couldn’t tell you what he caught or when he caught it, but when all day he felt like hammered crap. It wasn’t until tonight though, Friday night, that he felt like his insides had been crushed and rearranged inside of him.

“Ugh,” he moans, sinking his head into the crook of her neck. “I feel gross.”

“You are gross,” Jess responds, not unkindly.

“And you’re mean. Glad we’re pointing out the obvious,” Sam mocks. It wasn’t just his stomach. Actually, it was mostly his head that hurt. The lights were too bright and the ringing in his ears was too loud. The puking was an added bonus.

“Jesus, what did you catch?” she says, feeling his forehead.

“I dunno. Has the flu been going around?”

She shakes her head. “Not to my knowledge. Food poisoning?”

“Unless the ramen and the easy mac went bad, I doubt it.”

“How’s your head?” She pokes his forehead playfully.

Sam groans. “Feels like it’s being squeezed from all sides yet also imploding from the inside at the same time.”

“Oh, so not bad at all?” she says with a light laugh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I haven’t had a headache this bad since I was like, sixteen,” Sam tells her, letting words practically fall out of his mouth. “My uncle Bobby had to take me to the hospital.”

“You have an uncle Bobby? I thought you said your parents didn’t have any siblings.” She gives him a puzzled look.

“He was a friend of my dads. My brother and I just called him that.” He regrets bringing up his childhood, because it’s a gateway for her to squeeze memories out of him. So far, she’s gotten a few, about Dean, about him, but he doesn’t bring up his parents. Even if their photo rested on their dresser.

“How come you never tell me about that stuff? Your dad and whatever.”

Sam shrugs and doesn’t meet her eyes. “It’s never very exciting. My dad moved around a lot for work. My brother and I moved around a lot for school.”

“Well, you got into Stanford,” she responds. “On a full ride.”

“I liked school. My brother--him and I were different. My dad and he wanted different things than me.”

“Is that why you don’t talk to them?”

It strikes a nerve in Sam, but it’s Jess, and he can never really be mad at her. However, she knows better now than to press him, so she doesn’t. It’s not lost on him that he’s secretive. But his life is dangerous, and the farther he can keep her away from it, the happier they’ll be.

He lays his feverish head back on her shoulder without a word, and she lets him. She doesn’t say anything else. She just rubs his arms and he fights back nauseous. The nauseous eventually wins, and he untangles himself swiftly to throw up again. It’s literally just bile at this point, and it burns on the way up.

Eventually he gets uncomfortable on their cold tile floor, and after a whole six and a half minutes (a new record) of not hacking up his dinner, Jess suggests they move him to their bed. “Bed” means their shitty and ripped mattress on a creaky bed frame, but it sounds like absolute heaven to Sam at the moment.

“Maybe we should go to a hospital,” Jess suggests. His head is in her lap as she plays with his hair, twirling and looping it around her fingers. “I think your fever is rising.”

“It’s probably because my girlfriend is super hot,” Sam says with a lopsided grin.

He feels her body move with a giggle. “I mean it, bigfoot. You might, like, melt your brain or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, I’m always right, so I think it is.”

They laugh for a few seconds more before Sam starts feeling sleepy and sluggish. He’s perfectly content with staying in bed with her, but something in her demeanor seems to suggest she’s tense and worried, so if he’s getting up at all, it’s for her. But she doesn’t ask again and she keeps playing with his hair, and the next thing he knows, he’s sleeping in her arms, just the way he likes it.

When he sleeps, he knows it’ll be like it always is: plagued with nightmares of old hunts and memories he thought he forgot.

When he sleeps, he knows that Jess stayed awake. She lays next to him, and she talks as if he can’t hear her. He indulges her and pretends he’s dead asleep, but he lets out a little smile when she says “I love you” in a very love-drunk kind of tone. He always feels that way around her-- love-drunk. Dreamy and intoxicated by her. She made him feel good; she made him feel something. He could listen to her rambling on in their shitty bed forever. He could love her forever, if she let him.

Finally, he drifts off for real, sinking into sleep and the warmth that comes with it.

[sadoeuphemist]

YouTube Rewind 2028: Back From The Brink | #YouTubeRewind

unpossiblr 4 years ago

Is anyone else still out there? I figure I should post this here because, well, youtube’s still running, isn’t it? There’s got to be someone out there, the engineers or technicians or whatever, whoever you are who’s seeing this. This is crazy, all the lights on, all the videos still playing, and yet it’s so quiet. The trending bar’s on the fritz, I think. Videos with zero views surfacing over and over again, the last ones uploaded before the end. I haven’t watched any of them. I don’t want to. But I’m alive. I don’t know why I’m still alive but I am. And you’re alive too. Whoever’s reading this. Where are you? Please, just contact me somehow. I’ll be refreshing the comments on this video. If you’re out there just say something. I’m all alone. I’m scared.

unpossiblr 4 years ago 

hello? Is anyone else out there? Is anyone else seeing this? The servers have to be up, which means that there’s got to be someone maintaining them. I don’t know if you can see the screen, or if my comments here are just a blip of energy or a light going off or whatever, but you’ve got to see this. Anyone. Just a sign, anything. I’ve been exploring, and there’s no one, no one. I think we may be the only ones left.

unpossiblr 4 years ago

I’m still here.

unpossiblr 4 years ago

I’m still here, and you are too. Say something. Comment. Give me a goddamn like. Or dislike! Make the numbers change. Increment a counter somewhere. I’ve scavenged food. I have shelter. if we can meet up I can help you. Or if we can’t meet up, we can trade info, we can help each other.

We can not be so alone.

unpossiblr 3 years ago

I’m still here. I am leaving a mark. if anyone sees this in the future, contact me. I’m still listening.

unpossiblr 3 years ago

please

DOOMSDAY PREPPERS: 10 Urban Survival Hacks

unpossiblr 3 years ago

bookmarking for future use

A World Without People | Ahrman Dijkgraaf | TEDxKlagenfurt

unpossiblr 3 years ago

bookmark

POST-APOCALYPSE COOKING CHALLENGE |  Can we make something edible with canned CHEESE??

unpossiblr 3 years ago

bookmark

unpossiblr 3 years ago

fucking bullshit

ASMR MUKBANG with LEXIE | Spicy Noodle & Grilled Squid

unpossiblr 3 years ago

I guess I should be leaving comments on these videos, just in case someone else stumbles onto them? Leave a mark. This is a fucking terrible one to start on, but whatever. I haven’t seen anyone else in months, so what if I want to watch someone enjoying a goddamn meal? We eat together, me out of my cans and her in that nicely lit room with all the plates of food laid out so that i can almost smell them and her cute little chopsticks. What, you’re going to fucking judge me for that? Hell, bring it on. Judge me for it all you like, sure. It’ll be an icebreaker, at least.

North Tacoma County Instructional Video on Working with Energized Power Lines

unpossiblr 3 years ago 

I was here.

PTSD and Holistic Qi Gong Meditation Rituals for Recovery and Stress Reduction

unpossiblr 3 years ago

I was here.

The 10 Most Breathtaking Places In The World

unpossiblr 3 years ago

It’s here. It’s just all here. All the videos ever uploaded to youtube. Millions of them. Billions. Every place, every country in the world. All the people. No new videos, no new views but mine, and yet it’s all here, pristine, preserved, while everything else rots away. And as long as I can siphon enough gasoline to keep my generator running, it’s mine, all of it. Everything else has gone to shit. But not this. Not this.

Anti-War Hysteria EXPOSES Liberals’ Scorn For Human Resilience, They Don’t Think We Can Win

unpossiblr 3 years ago

you fucking piece of shit. How’d that chest-thumping go for you, huh? How’d you die? I hope you died scared shitless. I hope you watched all your family die before you, i hope you watched their skin melt away and while they were dying they knew it was your fault and that you couldn’t save them. Fuck you and every sub-literate hooting troglodyte fan of yours who took us right up to the brink and pushed us over

unpossiblr 3 years ago 

@catullus-rex fuck you

unpossiblr 3 years ago

@HorganWoosley how’d you die, huh? I hope it was painful. big guy, big tough guy. you weren’t immune to radiation, were you?

unpossiblr 3 years ago 

@ThatGuyWithTheTopHat did you remember making this comment when you died? Did it flash before your eyes? I hope it was the last thing you remembered, i hope it was all you could think about, what a miserable wrong idiot failure you were, how your entire life was a miserable example of humanity marching off a cliff

unpossiblr 3 years ago

@QD99419 go to hell

unpossiblr 3 years ago

@TheSkepticalGamer who’s alive now, huh? and you’re rotting. you’re dead. you’re meat. I hope you’re one of the bodies I had to drag out of the corridors with your eyeballs burned out like that. you’re stinking rotting meat

fuck you

fuck you all

Ruin Of The Stars - Part 127 | We Meet Our Maker (END)

unpossiblr 2 years ago

I’ve got to tell you man, I’ve watched maybe twenty different let’s plays of this by now, and you’re the only person I’ve ever seen to get the ‘apotheosis’ ending with Nadezhda. I didn’t even know it was possible. That’s the depth of this game, it’s such an underappreciated classic, that even in disintegrating systems of entropy it’s still possible to ‘save’ everyone, if only for a moment, if only in that split-second before you have to cut the tether and let go. That was some real emotion, man, and I’m glad I got to experience this with you. You should really check out wobbletuffet’s let’s play of this, it really diverges from yours, how she deals with the bush crawlers may surprise you!

PRO vs GRANDMA: Chicken Noodle Soup | The Yum Chums

unpossiblr 2 years ago

@jenny-garland lmao you’re right how’s anyone supposed to beat granny’s recipe!

unpossiblr 2 years ago 

@fobby-bray just like my nana used to make :)

Cozy Dinner for Two at an Italian Restaurant [ASMR]

unpossiblr 2 years ago 

My day was actually pretty good, thanks for asking. I found a new cache of canned goods, altho I had to fight off like a feral dog or something to get it. I don’t know what it was for sure, it’s hard to tell when their skin is sloughing off like that. Don’t know how they’re still alive, or how they survived when no one else did - Or maybe they’re not dogs at all, just something else ...

But sorry, yeah, I don’t want to get into work here. This place is lovely. The music, the atmosphere, the ... everything. I love it here. I love our date nights together. Mm. The food’s great. I love it here, just being with you.

unpossiblr 2 years ago

This is so stupid. I just keep coming back to this one video, to our date at Il Fresco, because I can see what’s happening. We’re running out of videos. There’s three more, and that’s it. That’s all you made. That’s all you ever uploaded when you were alive.

And - that’s it. I know you’re dead, I know everyone’s dead. And I could just start again, if I wanted, rewind to the beginning or pick and choose, relive those moments that have faded in my mind, because really they’re preserved forever now. They’re immortal. And I thought - there are millions of videos on youtube. Billions. More than I could ever watch in a lifetime. It’s a world, of which I could only ever experience the smallest part of it. And if I run out of someone’s uploads, well - people die. People die in real life. They are dead in real life. And all I can do is know them, the smallest part of them, for a little while. While they’re here. While it lasts. And I thought - it’s all the videos on youtube. More than I could ever watch. And I really thought I’d be all right.

But there are three videos left, Lexie. And I keep looking at them, the last three, the last three there’ll ever be. And I’m terrified you’re going to die, Lexie. And i don’t know what to do.

Spa Date! [ASMR]

unpossiblr 2 years ago

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I did this. Lexie, you’re dead. And you could have lived forever, all of you, preserved together somehow in this beautiful hall of mirrors that never dies or fades, but I kept watching. It’s the last video you ever made. Will ever make. And you’re dead for real now. Dead for good. Never coming back. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sorry Lexie. RIP. Rest in peace. Rest in peace. Rest in peace.

this is the END OF THE WORLD as in Revelations pray for us pray for all humanity

unpossiblr 1 year ago

god why did i watch this. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.

Are We In Hell? // Ask a Satanist

unpossiblr 11 months ago

bookmark

Awww - So Adorable! ♡ Fun and Happy Cutest Baby Animal Compilations of 2028 ♡ | Cute Baby Animals #3

unpossiblr 8 months ago

bookmark

Radiation Poisoning: Symptoms, Causes, Diagnosis, Treatment

unpossiblr 5 months ago

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

fuck me

fuck

Parents and Children React(TM) to Make-A-Wish (Kids with life-threatening illnesses)

unpossiblr 5 months ago

it’ll be okay

it’s just one moment of carelessness, all these fucking years alone and I fuck up once, but it’ll be okay

look how stupid this is and ludicrous and beautiful. it’s a miracle. that everything else died and Youtube, Youtube of all things survived. inexplicably. for no reason. just like me.

and now I’m dying and this is humanity, you know? Youtube. All of it. all that’s left. millions, billions of videos, maybe longer than the lifetime of human civilization, all stacked end to end. more than I could see. more than I could have ever seen. and now I’m throwing up on myself constantly and i can’t eat and my teeth are falling out and i’m going to die and be the worms in the earth, and there’ll just be all these stupid beautiful ludicrous videos playing forever, as a monument to humanity.

it’s okay. we survived. it’s a fucking miracle, but here we are

here we are. all of us. yes.

lofi hip hop radio - beats to sleep/relax to

unpossiblr 5 months ago

can’t even get out of bed anymore. vision’s blurring. it’s okay. it’s okay. just go to sleep and never wake up.

it’s fine, you know that? it’s fine. they’re all immortal, all of them, lexie and maximillian beers and goofyfruit and the yum chums and bombadour and the kids and their parents and grandma with her chicken noodle soup and all of them, everyone i ever loved, all the videos flickering cheerily through their windowed screens

it’s like the world never ended. and i mean that. it almost is. i can loll my neck around and look at the shadows creeping up on the wall and pretend im in my room with my computer and outside the room everything’s going on as normal, has been, for these past four years. they’re still making asmr videos and eating korean bbq and playing video games and building new machines and cooking and having kids and moving to their new studios and living their lives, and i was around for a little while to witness it

the world never ended, you know? it’s just me all alone in here as it gets dark, and everyone, everywhere else.

👍 1

[eldritcharchive]

6 and or 5 for the cliche tropes prompt? With any of the others if you like? Or any of them, really. They all seem so soft and I would love to read whatever you come up with, no matter the ship.

Jolting awake after a nightmare and being comforted and/or Playing with their hair while their head’s in your lap

Going to go ahead and write Jaskel because h e l l it’d be cute

Witchers didn’t have nightmares. That’s common knowledge; ask any villager or king or bard and they’ll all tell you that witchers were, at best, immune to that sort of fear, or at worst, the cause of every nightmare on the continent through dark magic. In the School of the Wolf, most instructors intoned similar beliefs - witchers don’t feel fear, such a thing is a weakness that will lead to death on the Path. Only Vesemir, later, when Eskel and Geralt and, later, Lambert passed the trials, taught them that a bit of fear was healthy, kept you grounded. But he never covered nightmares.

Eskel definitely had nightmares.

They were different from the vaguely prophetic dreams Geralt suffered through, less vivid, so Eskel never brought them up with his brother. He had enough to deal with between finding Ciri and the end of the world. Eskel could get through this alone.

Of course, that was before a certain bard made his way to Kaer Morhen with Zoltan Chivay.

Jaskier always entered the keep like a loud, colorful storm, slamming doors if it suited him, demanding attention with his presence. It was late, and Eskel was the only one in the main keep, still cleaning off the table of discarded katakan bits when the bard kicked one of the large doors open.

“Eskel!” Jaskier yelled, his melodious voice echoing against the cavernous walls of Kaer Morhen’s main room. Eskel looked up and registered the skip in Jaskier’s step as he picked up the pace, the scent of relief and warmth wafting off of him as got closer. “Vesemir said you might not be around. I’m glad he was incorrect in that regard.”

“Had a katakan corpse to take care of,” Eskel said, smirking when Jaskier blanched at the faint smell of rot. For someone who boasted about his travels with Geralt, Jaskier really wasn’t used to the less exciting parts of the Path. Still, he had a fondness for the bard. When Jaskier was close enough, Eskel yanked him into a tight hug; Jaskier yelped but settled into the embrace quickly, looping his arms around Eskel’s neck. “Missed you,” Eskel murmured as he nosed Jaskier’s hair, reveling in the bards familiar sage and chamomile scent.

“I missed you, too, Eskel,” Jaskier said, his warm breath ghosting against Eskel’s neck in such a way that the witcher shivered a bit involuntarily. Jaskier leaned back against Eskel’s arms and smiled. “Have you eaten yet, dear?”

“Had some stew earlier. I think there’s meat and cheese in the pantry,” Eskel said, nodding towards the kitchen, running his hands down Jaskier’s sides. “You hungry?”

“Gods, yes, Zoltan wouldn’t let us stop for food on the way up here.” Jaskier slipped out of Eskel’s grasp with a grin. “And please, for the love of Melitele, tell me  you have alcohol that was not brewed by Lambert in a tub.”

“Ehhh,” Eskel said, making a waffling gesture with his hand. Jaskier danced around the kitchen gathering meat, cheese, and any fruit he could find while Eskel got them both drinks. He managed to find a nice bottle of vodka Geralt had stashed in his trunk and grabbed the two cleanest mugs from the table. (He’d buy him a better bottle later. Probably.) Jaskier swaggered out of the kitchen with a loaded up plate and fell into step with Eskel. “Yennifer and Triss have the large guest room,” Eskel said, “We’ll have to settle for one of the smaller rooms.”

“As long as it’s not your bunks in the main room,” Jaskier muttered, “and warmer.”

“Wouldn’t bet on warmer.”

They both crowded into the room and Eskel kicked the door shut, leaving the vodka and mugs on the bookcase by the door. Jaskier sat down at a small table at the far wall near the fireplace and started dividing up the food as Eskel pulled out a set of furs and started working on a fire.

“Is that Geralt’s nice vodka?” Jaskier asked.

“Yeah, I’ll owe him one.”

The pair ate and talked about Jaskier’s pub in Novigrad, his friend Priscilla and the higher vampire that attacked her (”Really it was a miracle Geralt even found him out, apparently he had to track formaldehyde? He may have also killed the guy in charge of the mortuary, but to be fair, that guy was torturing the fine young ladies at Crippled Kate’s so I gave Geralt a pass on this one..”). Eskel filled Jaskier in on his more interesting contracts until the two men ran out of light things to talk about.

Jaskier began composing quietly to himself while Eskel reviewed his bestiary on the bed. It wasn’t long before the stress of the past few weeks caught up with Eskel, and he found himself dozing off.

He was strapped to a table - to Sad Albert - and his veins, his skin were on fire, melting but frustratingly whole. The Decoctions of the Grasses poured into into him as tall black figures watched. When he turned, he saw Geralt thrashing around in the distance as they changed out the normal decoctions for the experimental ones. Screams echoed throughout the keep. And then he was one of the dark figures, opening up the veins of Uma, and then faceless children, pumping poison into them with a cool indifference. Over and over again for eternity.

Eskel gasped awake, sitting up and sending his bestiary clattering to the ground. Jaskier jumped a bit, looking at Eskel with wide eyes; the witcher folded in on himself and pressed his hands to his face.

“Eskel? Are you alright?” Jaskier asked, approaching the bed slowly. Eskel shook his head. “Nightmare?”

“Witchers don’t have nightmares,” Eskel mumbled through his hands. Jaskier sighed dramatically and clambered onto the bed behind Eskel; the witcher felt the mattress dip behind him.

“That is the most witcher bullshit I’ve heard since Geralt told me he didn’t need people,” Jaskier murmured. “Scoot down, lay your head in my lap.” Eskel shot Jaskier a look over his shoulder - the bard looked back at him with worry, but the type of seriousness in his eyes that told Eskel that arguing would be useless. He sighed and moved such that his head was nestled in Jaskier’s lap.

Hands were in his hair immediately, Jaskier’s nails scratching over Eskel’s scalp, letting brunette strands slip through his fingers. He didn’t talk, just kept humming the tune he was composing earlier as tension slowly eased out of Eskel. The room was warm, the fire slowly dying, and Eskel felt... safe.

“You know Geralt gets nightmares, too,” Jaskier murmured, slowly messaging over Eskel’s temple, smiling when the witcher’s eyes slipped close.

“‘S different. His are... important. Real.”

“And yours aren’t?”

Eskel opened his eyes and looked up at Jaskier and huffed humorously. “It... was about the Trial of the Grasses. Reliving it. The trial breaks you down so the older witchers can rebuild you with mutagens. We had to... in order to find out where Ciri was. Geralt and I had to administer it,” Eskel looked away from Jaskier as he explained. “It... when we were younger, trying to survive the aftermath of the Trial, I promised Geralt we’d never...” Eskel trailed off.

Jaskier brushed his fingers down Eskel’s cheek, holding him gently. Eskel expected him to judge him, to admonish him for his actions or condemn his weakness. Instead, he felt the sudden drip of tears on his forehead.

“Jask...”

“No, stop,” Jaskier said sternly. “It is... I’m sorry you had to break your promise to Geralt. You must’ve succeeded - Geralt told me he knows where Ciri is.”

“Yeah, the elf is recovering in Vesemir’s room.”

Jaskier nodded, sniffing slightly, trying to stem the tide of tears. “This is really serious, isn’t it?” He asked, voice only cracking a little bit. “Geralt... he never gives me details and I wanted to come see you just in case... And if you’re doing something like that then...”

Eskel reached up and cupped Jaskier’s cheek. “Jaskier, look at me,” he said, and met Jaskier’s eyes, pulling Jaskier down for a soft, chaste kiss. When Jaskier pulls away, Eskel maintains eye contact. “This is going to be a hard road. You can’t be here when Geralt gets back.”

“I know, I just -”

“I’m glad you came,” Eskel said, and Jaskier stared back at him. “Whatever... whatever this is, I’m glad you came.”

“I love you, Eskel,” Jaskier whispered back. “Please promise me you’ll try very hard not to die.”

“I promise to try my hardest.” Eskel pulled Jaskier down and held him against his chest, and used Igni to douse the fire. Safely ensconced under layers of furs, Eskel pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s nape before adding, “I love you, too.”

[zoryany]

First Sentence Fanfic: "So let me get this straight." The personal Royal Guard of the new young Emperor stared with a crinkle of his brow; clearly not believing the tale his ruler told. "You mean to tell me that Lord Vader literally let Palpatine choke on his food and die after he insulted you during dinner? And that is how you suddenly found yourself becoming the Emperor simply because your father wanted to- putting this in kind words- flip off Palpatine even in death?"

The kid – because, kriff, that’s what this new emperor was, a kid – met his disbelief with a gentle quirk of his lips, tilt of his brow and incline of his head. “You find that so hard to believe?” he asked mildly. It was hard to tell if he was meant to be reassured, afraid of or insulted by the amusement in the Emperor’s voice. “Perhaps you prefer the official story, the one where he died peacefully in his sleep due to natural causes. Or the rumours that he was poisoned at that meal. Or any of the other myriad of stories circulating the galaxy. Tell me, Captain – what was it again? Solo?” Han nodded a somewhat dumbstruck confirmation before the kid carried on, smile growing a shade brighter. “Tell me, Captain, did you ever meet Palpatine?”

Slowly, narrowing his eyes slightly, Han shook his head. “Can’t say I ever have, Majesty.”

There was a moment when the Emperor’s expression shifted, as though he wanted to say something, but it flickered as quickly as it had come, and that smile on the kid’s face twisted slightly, taking on a more bitter shape than it wore a second ago. “No, I didn’t think so. If you had, you might not be so surprised. I mean, you have met my father, after all – he can’t stand you you, by the way.” Han did not have time to contemplate that before the new emperor slid his gaze to the sights beyond the viewport and carried on. “He still deserved worse, though. If you knew even a fraction of the things that man had done…” 

Something ancient and haunted etched itself into the Emperor’s features, and he hardly seemed like the youth he truly was. It was enough to send the barest trace of a shiver down Han’s spine. Silence stretched between them, and Han got the impression that the kid was somewhere deep in his own thoughts.

“Y’know,” Han said quietly, trying to gently steer the Emperor back to reality, “I always got the impression that Old Wrinkly was worse than he was lettin’ on. His holonet appearances never did sit right with me.”

The distant gaze snapped back to Han and the full weight of those piercing blue eyes bore into him. He wanted to shrink beneath that gaze, to shift on the spot, and he could not quite read the Emperor’s expression, but he held himself firm, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he was met, once again, with a wry smile.

“You’re certainly more observant than most. But then, given your history, you would’ve had to be.”

While there was no judgement in the kid’s voice, it still felt odd to be so transparent in front of someone so young and so powerful. It took all he had to resist the urge to get defensive. For once, he did the smart thing and kept his mouth shut.

The kid sighed and stepped towards the viewport, eyes drifting beyond the transparisteel once more. “Palpatine left many scars upon the galaxy. I may be young, the people may not believe I have what it takes, yet, and I know I will need to earn their trust… but I will do everything in my power to heal as many of those scars as I can.” The sudden flick of those bright blues to match his own hazel was like a stab of ice right through his skull. There was something urgent just below the surface, desperate but vulnerable, and Han couldn’t decide if he wanted to withdraw from the kid or give him comfort. “Can I confess something to you, Captain?”

“Uh…” Did he have a choice? “Yeah. Sure, why not – ahh, sorry, yes, Your Majesty.”

Though the Emperor’s expression shifted, instantaneously, to a grimace, his eyes maintained a hint of that desperation, a sliver of pleading. “That’s just it – that’s exactly it. I hate how careful people have become around me, how… sycophantic. Fawning over me. Using titles, as though they were a proper form of, what, respect? It feels so false, and finding anything genuine in this new life is damn near impossible.” He paused, swallowing, before letting out a bitter scoff. “I… I never wanted… power.” The kid looked like he was torn between laughter and tears, vaguely hysterical. “Neither of them realized just how alike they were, on that subject. Power. Father and Palpatine both seemed to insist that it’s what all beings should strive for, what the ultimate goal truly is. But I never wanted that. I just, I donno, wanted to fly, to be free, to help people. I grew up seeing what power does to people and I… I don’t want to become… like that. So I’m going to use my power to heal, to help, to turn the galaxy into a place worth living in.”

Han wasn’t sure what to say. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He knew what he wanted to say – what his instinct was to say – but standing in front of the most powerful man in the known universe, who just so happened to be a kid, barely in his twenties, but capable of ending his life in any number of unpleasant ways… well, he was certain that his instincts would not be the best choice in this instance. Maybe what he needed was tenderness, but that wasn’t something Han was entirely capable of, either; in the end, he chose to reach for something in between. Resting a hesitant hand on the narrow, bony shoulder of the new emperor, Han offered the kid a soft smile. “Look, kid, I can’t say I have all – or, really, any – of the answers, but… Well, from what I’ve seen, I truly believe you have what it takes to do what this galaxy needs. And, even if you don’t, well, I’m sure as hell gonna be here with you and do whatever I can to help you erase any trace of Old Wrinkles. I’m glad that guy choked. And besides, sometimes it’s the guy who doesn’t want the power who’s actually gonna do what’s best for the little guy.”

For a long moment, Han stood frozen, hand still awkwardly on the Emperor’s shoulder, waiting for it to be snapped off, for the kid to fly into one of the violent rages his old man was known for, for anything to happen, but… all he did was stare, watery eyes fixed on the former smuggler for what felt like an eternity. But finally, after several minutes – or, perhaps it was hours – a reluctant chuckle escaped the diminutive emperor.

“There’s a lot more to you than you like to let on, Captain,” he said, no small amount of humour colouring his tone even while the wetness in his eyes persisted. “I knew there was a reason I hired you – why I like you.”

Han barked out a dry laugh, finally giving in, fully, to the absurdity of his new reality. “Well, at least one of you does. Yer old man really ain’t fond of me?”

The genuine humour was beginning to reappear in the young emperor’s features, the tragedy of his reality giving way to something he could, possibly, laugh at, if only for a moment. “Don’t take that too personally, Captain,” he said, reassuringly, “Father doesn’t like anybody. And really, you don’t want him to like you – I wouldn’t trust you nearly as much as I do if he did.” A wry smile twisted the young man’s features, fully eliminating any despair that might have lived there moments ago. “No, what you want is his respect. See, I technically outrank him, so while I respect his opinion, I have absolutely no obligation to listen to it. If I turned away everyone Father didn’t like, I would have no allies. No… Father really wouldn’t like you, at least not right away, and if he did then I wouldn’t have thought to hire you for this particular position. But I’m certain you’ll earn his respect – you’ve already earned mine. Didn’t you wonder how you landed this job?”

And really, Han had. He’d been baffled when he’d got the comm telling him that his interview had landed him a position as the new emperor’s right hand, and he could scarcely believe his most ambitious con had actually succeeded. Speaking to the kid now, though, he could almost see what had been appealing about him to this kid. Almost.

“Yeah, I got no clue.”

“I can defend myself, you know,” he announced, an edge of danger to his voice. “As my personal guard, there isn’t anything you can do to protect me that I cannot do myself.” All of a sudden, Han felt as though he was caught in a pair of crosshairs, his life meant to be snuffed at any given moment. The light expression the kid wore, however, suggested otherwise. “You do, however, have certain knowledge that I do not – you’ve experienced things I haven’t. And, what’s more, you… see me as a person. You haven’t felt comfortable once calling me Majesty. Which I appreciate. You can call me Luke, if you like.” Those baby blues were twinkling, and he was enchanted. “So long as you remain loyal and give me your honest opinion, your job will be secure, and we’ll get along just fine.”

And it was with a radiant grin that Han saw the first genuine expression of joy from the – from Luke, who appeared to be relaxing and seemed far more human than he had just moments earlier. Han allowed a small smirk and a single raised brow. “Yeah, alright, kid, I think I can handle that.” He really did look like a kid when he wrinkled his nose at the address. Han ignored it, knowing that he had some form of immunity, at this point. “So tell me, what delicacy it was, exactly, that Old Wrinkles choked to death on? I’m dying to know.” 

Not to mention he had a bet on it. But he wasn’t about to push that far, just yet, no matter how familiar this new emperor was insisting on being already.

send me things !!

[maydaymemer]

Hitman 3 - First Impressions w/ Spoilers

I’m posting this just after I’ve beaten Hitman 3, and I wanted to do something productive with my experiences playing it both for when I look back on my first time playing this game and also to do something more than just play video games like a degenerate

If you want my basic yay or nay opinion I think Hitman 3’s great, maybe the best of the trilogy but I might just be burnt out on replaying 2’s levels and am not thinking right, but keep in mind this is after playing thru each level once. Not to say these levels don’t make good or bad first impressions for a reason but I know not to trust myself when I say I enjoy or dislike something especially a Hitman level after only a little time with it. Keep in mind I didn’t like Sapienza and liked Colorado at first, but at the same time my opinion of Whittleton Creek and Marrakesh either haven’t changed much or only gotten more positive with time. So it’s a roll of a dice

Anyway I’ve written down my notes on every level I’ve played right after finishing it, which I’ve put below. There are going to be spoilers of elements like mission stories (which I dabbled a little bit in) and objectives and I’d recommend going in as blind as possible with Hitman. I don’t mind spoilers myself but I think you feel smarter when you stumbled on half the shit you do in these games

Dubai: very strong opener. I think that some of the shortcut design, one of the few new features of 3, kind of limits up front exploration but I still really liked the verticality and how climbing up pipes could take you up like two floors. Targets seem to have the appropriate amount of blind spots, tho I’m not sure how I’d tackle Marcus in that big open area. To me this level reminds me of House of Cards but better, out of the other first levels of the trilogy (Paris, Hawke’s Bay and Dubai) I choose this as my favourite so far. I killed Marcus by snapping his neck after knocking him out in that white room near the elevator, I got caught and killed some witnesses only for Omar to find the bodies. I killed Carl by throwing him off the building, sacrificing his waiter to do so

Dartmoor: Actually managed to SA this one, I didn’t go forward with the murder mystery just yet as I wanted to see 1) if it could be cheesed since it’s a one target mission and b) to see how well it holds up without doing that. To see if it’s just a gimmick or not. Turns out? Pretty darn well. I did encounter some of the stuff I didn’t like about the Hitman 2 AI with Alexa, namely if you have a weapon out and she gets a slight glance at you she goes into lockdown and while trying to cheese her under a chandelier when she goes to meet with you/the detective. However, it was at least consistent this time until in WoA2, she never fell for me trying to cheese it whereas if this was Hitman 2 it’d work 50% of the time and drive you mad. I did manage to get her under a chandelier, because in this game’s case personal bodyguards are easier to get rid of and there’s usually only one if they have one so I was proud of that. I love doing non-laid out kills in Hitman, one of my favourite things. I love the level design here, the mansion is big and brooding and so is Alexa’s route it seems. I loved finding out the secrets like using the cane to open doorways and using the camera to find pieces of the code for the Edwards safe. I got the 9, 7 and 5 ones and was going to brute force the code but turns it the solution was 1975. The level takes atmospheric cues from Beldingford Manor but I got real Paris vibes from the verticality which I loved

Berlin: I thought this mission wouldn’t impress me with its gimmick but it’s my favourite so far. The atmosphere and rave soundtrack gave me chills, and THIS is how you do target AI. There are a total of eleven or twelve potential targets I think, and all of them use guard AI. You have to track down and kill at least five of them, giving a unique and dynamic gimmick for this mission which I’ll love to replay. Target routes seem good too and your first playthrough where you’re winging it is even more fun here when you don’t know where your targets are really coming from. The mission is also really surprisingly massive, it might be the biggest one so far despite only having ten disguises (I don’t think we’re going to top Miami’s 29). I also loved that you could poison some fast food and have a biker take it inside

Chongqing: this is a great example of the knee jerk nature of these first impressions, not that this level will be bad but I feel like I’m speaking a little too soon when I say this might be one of my favourite levels of the trilogy. I was a little disappointed when the level wasn’t Mumbai 2.0, being more vertical than horizontal in scale but I ate my words when I experienced it. This is probably the weirdest level of the trilogy but so cool at the same time. At first I tried getting Hush with his satellite dish, and sniping him from his little area. I died. Then I became a test subject and started messing with his brain, making him take a break and killing him when he’s at his desk. I got caught however and had to make a break for it. Then I infiltrated the ICA data banks by becoming the board member, but then I had to sneak into his apartment since I didn’t know the code, but then I heard the code when I answered his answering machine. I really like the introduction of keypads and hope they stay, they reward map knowledge and let you skip having every door be locked via lockpick. Then I distracted and KO-ed Imogen’s guard and pushed her off the data core railing. What proceeds is a great bit of fan service where it shows almost every target from the trilogy as 47 deletes the info ICA has on him and then one of my favourite moments of the series (in terms of scripted stuff, I’ll always prefer stuff like sniping Rico from the jungle) where you have to escape the burning facility while avoiding the now entirely hostile guards. I’m super glad this and other story beats are confirmed optional on replays, but I’d happily replay this regularly because it was so fun to Splinter Cell the level for the last minute

Mendoza: Another great level. I wasn’t expecting it to be so big but even that big field you can see over the balcony is explorable. Feels more like A Vintage Year throwback than Santa Fortuna was. I quite like the kill opportunities that I saw, sniping Yates from the top of his house and finding wine to serve Vidal was what I went for. Also love that Diana is in the level physically, she even hides behind a box if you caught an alert. Yates’ house is very intimate but very well designed. Wasn’t expecting the tactical wetsuit to be here as a disguise but it was a cool thing I found

The Train: this level is simultaneously an awesome and disappointing end to the trilogy. The idea itself is great and the hallucinations that begin the level are really imaginative, but that nightmare intro gameplay wise is just you walking forward. It’s the exact opposite of the reason why I like Hitman, I like Hitman because it isn’t like those triple A “walk forward while dialogue plays” kind of games. It’d maybe work better if they had you shoot every target you’ve ever killed in this dream and then top it off with the one proper gameplay moment that’s in the real thing where you press the button that kills Diana’s parents. Then the level itself after that intro is way too linear, I know it’s a train but there could’ve been way more options with how to go about it. There is a great final moment with Edwards and I love that it encourages combat for the first time in the trilogy, but it could’ve been a lot better. Ideally this would be the seventh level after a proper sixth but I think it’d be more palatable if it was more replayable than it is. Because at the moment it doesn’t have Contracts mode, probably won’t get escalations and definitely won’t get an ET. Which puts it behind Hawke’s Bay, which is a regular punching bag for its lack of content

The Story: surprisingly, I loved it. I’ve always thought this trilogy had excellent worldbuilding but used some plot contrivances to get from level to level. This time while the worldbuilding isn’t quite as solid the story is actually pretty great and goes in a lot of interesting directions which I think would make great sequel material. 47 essentially kills the ICA and the game ends with him and Diana becoming independent agents. So they’ll be doing the same thing without the immunity a giant organisation like the ICA has, which could lead to interesting conflict in the ninth Hitman game. I also like this game’s portrayal of the ICA, they’re a lot more professional than in Absolution but it goes for a similar take of showing how brutal they are

In Conclusion: For the most part Hitman 3 is excellent and I loved it, probably about as much as the previous Hitman 2 and the Paris level of Hitman 1 in terms of first time experiences with these games. There were some downs with the Carpathian Mountains and elements of the game design but it’s still another solid new Hitman game. I can understand why the reviewers loved this one over Hitman 2, while I loved that game’s levels this game’s levels feel a lot weirder and that’d leave a much stronger first impression. Ofc being the second sequel to 2016 nothing’s really changed much. While there are improvements to the way guns feel and the fluidity of 47’s movement it’s nothing groundbreaking. The new map features, while cool, aren’t selling points IMO. If you love Hitman buy this, if you love stealth buy this, if you love mucking about in a sandbox buy this, but if you’ve never been interested in Hitman or this gameplay style of Hitman it’s best to avoid this. It’s a very good third season of Hitman, whether you like it or not. In terms of my thoughts on the levels my personal ranking rn would probably be Chongqing > Mendoza Berlin> Dubai > Dartmoor > Carpathian Mountains (AKA the Train level)

[magioftheseas]

The Farce of Hope

Written for @komahinaisle

Day 5: Fantasy AU, Healing, Hope

Summary: A certain hero of hope has been causing problems for those who reap despair. Hinata is assigned with breaking that hero's will through the targeting of the insipid, vapidly cheerful healer that is always by his side.

Rating: T

Warnings: Attempted murder and later kidnapping.

Notes: This is not a day late. I just can’t read. Anyway I’ve been wanting to write this idea for a long time...however I wanted to write it much spicier. I’m pretty sad that I didn’t. But hopefully it’s still serviceable if nothing else. Also demon!Hinata is v good. V, v, v good.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

Lately, that hero had been causing more and more problems. Junko was getting increasingly annoying about it, which wasn’t helping.

“You gotta dooooo something, Hajime!!” she whined, clinging to him with big, watery eyes. “They’re ruining all my plans! All my despair! It’s sooooo frustrating! Not despairing, but frustrating! At this rate, the disgusting populace won’t fear me as much as they used to! And what will I do, then?!”

He grumbled. He griped. And she shoved him out the door.

“If you fail me, I’ll feel such despair that I won’t be able to resist killing you on the spot!” she chirped, cheerful now. “So! Take care of that wretched, stupid hero of hope, Hajime! In fact! I’ll make it easy for you! Target that dumbass healer always tagging along and fawning over them!” With a grin, she waved him off. “He looks like easy prey but is pretty annoyingly immune to my charm! You’re definitely more up his alley! Don’t let me down! Or else!”

And that was that.

“Urgh.”

Chief demon-in-command, Hinata Hajime, was given simultaneously a most important mission—and a most irritating chore.

--

It’s not all that important to mention, but Hinata Hajime hadn’t always been a demon. He was one of many former humans swayed to the side of despair due to discontentment with the current state of affairs and Junko’s promises of glory. She had presented them a paradise of free will and euphoria, and he had been desperate enough to hang on every word.

As time wore on, it was obvious she didn’t care about them at all. But, it wasn’t like Hinata Hajime cared for the other world, either. Hope, happiness, righteousness were all nothing more than farces. This hero, too, with their wide-eyed innocence and determination, was just another joke.

But the one Hinata undoubtedly detested the most was the healer. The healer who worshipped every step of the hero, and sang praise upon praise of their spread of hope, their sweeping influence as a symbol of hope. As if such a thing hadn’t already proven to be a broken promise. He was either willfully dense or just that stupid.

And yet, the hero kept him around. Likely for those asinine assurances.

Foolishness all around. But, if there was an ideal target, it was the healer.

“What sort of materials do we need for this next mission, Naegi-kun?!”

“You don’t need to worry about it so soon, Komaeda-san...”

“But! I! Insist!” With his overwhelming enthusiasm and fiery intensity, the healer having his way was inevitable, even when placed against a so-called hero. Even the most innocuous of observers could tell, and as someone spying on them, Hinata already found himself bored as the healer huffed. “A hero of hope can never be too prepared!”

As predicted, the hero sighs.

“Alright, alright. But, we’re going to relax here for a while, okay? I’m still pretty exhausted, and I’m sure you are, too.”

“If this feeble body of mine is destined to crumble, it’s no concern as long as it can still bear the weight of supporting you, Naegi-kun!”

Unsurprisingly, the hero’s face pinches up. He shook his head quickly.

“Please. Take care of yourself.”

“Oh.” The healer blinks back. “Did I upset you, Naegi-kun?”

“I’m not upset.” The hero shook his head again. “I just worry.”

“You don’t need to worry,” was insisted.

“But I do anyway. Komaeda-kun—we are running low on herbs for potions. Um. Maybe I could use a new cloak? What do you think?” A pitiful smile was given as the healer lit up, eyes bright. “I trust you on this more than anything.”

“We definitely do need more herbs,” he rattled off. “And we need to buy polish for the armor and yes, a new cloak. Preferably one resistant to poisons! We’re coming up on quite a dangerous area! So antidotes are also a must! Don’t worry, Naegi-kun! I’ll grab everything we need and then some!”

“Alright, Komaeda-kun. Thank you.”

It was painfully simple, Hinata Hajime thought as the healer went on his way. He wove through the crowd, following that bouncing healer, who was so easy to spot with his white hair and light robes. A blight, one with an infuriatingly cheerful hum as he walked.

It would have been painfully easy to burn that annoying little light into a crisp.

Just kill him—that’s all Junko asked for. She didn’t even care about extracting any level of satisfaction. I could just twist a knife into his gut and leave.

The healer tripped, and enough people parted so that he fell to the ground. The hero was too far away to witness this. Hinata Hajime drew near.

“Ahaha,” the healer murmured, pushing himself up shakily, still smiling. “How clumsy of me.”

“Do you need help?” Hinata asked, feigning concern as he played with the small dagger hidden in his cloak. He offers his hand. “Here. Let me.”

“Oh!” The healer perked up, eyes wide before he once again beams. He reaches for Hinata’s hand just as Hinata’s grip closes around the handle of his dagger. “Thank you so—”

“Out of the way! I’ve lost control!”

High-pitched whinnying. The crowd was screaming and scattering to make way for the horse charging through. Hinata was forced to yank the healer close if he wanted to avoid them both getting trampled on the spot. The healer’s mouth opens to let out a sharp yelp, which is then muffled by Hinata’s cloak. The horse races by. Its distraught owner chases after it.

The healer is still pressed close, and Hinata could feel his heart hammering. Rather belatedly, he realizes that the healer is gripping his other hand. The one that still holds the knife.

Hinata says nothing, but the healer lets out a shaky exhale.

“Oh.” He lets go of Hinata’s other hand, pulling back almost sheepishly. “That was rather exhilarating, wasn’t it?” He laughs, and his face is flushed. “I would’ve died if not for you! What truly good luck!”

Good luck?

At Hinata’s quizzical stare, the healer just gave his usual insipid smile.

“Thank you for saving me. Um.” He digs through his pouch and pulling out several gold coins. “How much—do you want?”

Does he think I’m just a thief?

“I’m sorry,” the healer went on. “I’m afraid I don’t have much gold to spare. But, I can compensate you in other ways, if you like. Is there anything you need?”

No one is paying them any mind. The menial bustling has returned now that the apparent danger is gone. It would not be that hard to finish the job anyway, the distraction be damned. The healer is smiling up at him so pitifully, and Hinata Hajime wonders if he’s still afraid.

“I don’t mind,” the healer said. “Really. Even if you were trying to hurt me, you ultimately helped me. So, you must not be that bad of a person.”

I could have let the horse trample him.

Hinata wanted to curse his impulses. No wonder this fool was trying to pay him.

“I don’t want any payment,” he snapped. “It was instinct. Your hand was already in mine. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Are you sure?” There’s finally a frown on that face. “I really, really don’t mind.”

How infuriating!

“At least let me buy you a meal,” the other insisted, to Hinata’s disdain. “Instinct or not, you saved me. Please, let me show proper gratitude! I... I’m Komaeda Nagito, by the way. I’m quite the worthless healer, but I’m not completely hopeless, haha.”

What you are is hapless.

Hinata bit his tongue, but he didn’t really have an excuse to flee. Even if he wanted to disengage as quickly as he could.

“Hinata... Hajime. Nice to meet you.” His name wasn’t given very often. The sound and shape of it were as bland and banal on his tongue as ever. “If you really want to—I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Hinata-kun!” Komaeda grins with the radiance that he preferred to see crushed. “It’s nice to meet you! I hear the food at the inn is delicious, so let’s go there!”

Hinata can only nod, fingers twitching as he does. “Let’s.”

--

“Order whatever you want, Hinata-kun! I don’t mind paying for it!”

“What was that about not having much gold to spare?”

“I get a discount, ehe.” Komaeda’s grin grows, looking unbearably smug. “It’s because of Naegi-kun. Surely you’ve heard of him. He’s an incredible hero of hope, you see.”

“I’ve heard,” Hinata said, if only because he didn’t want to hear more about it. “How fortunate for you to associate with someone like that.”

“Mmhm.” Komaeda nods along dreamily, eyes half-lidded. After a while, he blinked a few times and his head tilted. “You knew about him but you still wanted to...?”

He’s sharper than he looks.

“It’s because you don’t look strong yourself.” That was true, at least. Everything about Komaeda Nagito, the healer, screamed fragile. And healers weren’t known for being all that durable in the first place. It’s astounding to think that Naegi Makoto could manage with a healer this especially frail in appearance, but either Komaeda Nagito was more than he seemed—or he was quite lucky.

I’m leaning towards luck.

Komaeda laughing more or else emboldened the thought.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right! I’m definitely a weak link! If Naegi-kun hadn’t known me for so long, he would have rightfully discarded me long ago.” Brushing away stray tears, Komaeda added. “Naegi-kun’s such a kind person. I’ve known that from the start, even before I was aware of his potential. I do want to support him with all that I have.”

“Would you even give your life for him?” Hinata asked.

Komaeda didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes! Of course!”

He’s even stupider than I thought. Does he even know that his death will be a cause of despair? Stupid. So stupid.

It was infuriating. Beyond infuriating. Even if he does kill Komaeda Nagito, the healer will part with sweet words of encouragement and a smile. He’s sure of it.

He’s just like how I was back then.

--

“Are you not going to order anything?”

“Mm... Toast, maybe?”

“That’s not a meal.”

“Ahaha! I don’t need to eat that badly!”

So stupid.

But, he holds his tongue. He orders a modest meal, all things considered. Junko spoils them quite a bit with high-class meals when she doesn’t randomly decide to poison them. To eat something normal without that concern would be a nice change of pace. He’s not much for a lavish lifestyle anyway, it turns out.

The food was fine. The service was fine. The innkeeper was polite, well-practiced. This kind of mundane scenario had become a rarity ever since he joined Junko. There are times where he wondered if he had understood what, exactly, he sacrificed back then. But, it didn’t matter.

None of it really mattered.

“If you insist on staring so intently,” he found himself snapping at the other. “Then perhaps order an actual meal for yourself?”

“O-Oh!” Komaeda hurriedly waved his hands. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Hinata-kun! I was just...” Wetting his lips, he seems contemplative. “You’re so methodical with how you eat. It’s rather fascinating to watch. Especially when you’re a lowly thief.”

He doesn’t even lower his voice on the off-chance that he’s overheard. Hinata wouldn’t be surprised if it had been intentional. Even with the show of charity, there was a suspicious glimmer in Komaeda Nagito’s eye. As if he wasn’t sure if what he was appraising was dirt or gold.

Hinata merely snorted, unwilling to humor him. Komaeda’s smile quirked, but he didn’t add anything else.

“What were you before you joined Naegi Makoto?” Hinata asked next, head tilting with the inquiry. “Did you have any path laid out before you prior to clinging to the hero’s coattails?”

“Not really,” Komaeda said easily. “I was always clumsy, so I never had any promise. It would have been impertinent to have ambitions. But supporting Naegi-kun is everything I ever could have wanted.”

“I see.” Hinata nodded. “How fortunate for you to find happiness in someone else’s shadow.”

“It’s more than I deserve,” Komaeda speaks brightly. Easily. “So yes, I’m very happy.”

Happy—huh?

“Is that so? You’ve no resentment at all? No regrets? You really only appreciate what you have?” Hinata stood, leaving the meal only partially finished. “How noble of you. You’re just the perfect martyr, aren’t you?”

Someone like this isn’t even worth a glance. It’s just because he’s close to Naegi Makoto that Junko wants him dealt with. He’s fortunate and unfortunate in that sense.

“It may be hard to understand, but it’s how I feel,” Komaeda said, fearless even as Hinata approaches him. He doesn’t even tense as Hinata looms over him. “Are you angry, Hinata-kun? That’s quite a scary face. I guess you must be quite unsatisfied with your current lot in life.”

“I am, but I don’t envy you.” Hinata stares, gaze sharp. “I’m not sure if I hate you or if I feel sorry for you. She certainly wouldn’t care either way as long as you’re taken care of.”

Komaeda’s expression changed immediately, smile dropping.

“She?”

“She,” Hinata confirmed, reaching into his cloak for his dagger. Komaeda blinks, but Hinata merely carves words into the table. “This is for your hero. I assume he’ll understand what comes next.”

Komaeda looks over the message, and his eyes go wide when he realizes.

“You—”

Hinata covers his mouth. He takes Komaeda’s outburst of magic without blinking, and then he yanks the squirming, struggling healer close.

“I’m doing you a favor,” Hinata hissed, and he brought his hand down swiftly.

Someone screamed, but the two of them are gone before long.

--

In the end, he decided against killing Komaeda Nagito. Why? Sentimentality, perhaps?

I don’t know. I just got so angry and now here we are.

Hinata sighed, resting against the wall. They’re in a hideout, now. A location that he detailed on the table and Komaeda is secured, still unconscious and curled up on a pile of leaves. His wrists are bound, his magic restricted. Like this, he truly does look utterly helpless.

Hinata almost feels bad but stomps down the rising bile and guilt.

It’s because he’s a liar. Saying he’s happy with his lot in life—what a joke. I’ll prove him wrong.

“You’re not any better than me,” he murmurs, fierce as he approaches, scowling down at Komaeda’s innocent face. “You’re just as wretched, just as wanting, just as corrupt. You’re just in denial that hope is a farce, and once you realize, that Naegi Makoto will see it, too.”

He reaches out, and as Komaeda murmurs, Hinata finds himself softening and brushing the other’s hair back.

“Mm... Where...? Hinata-kun...?”

“Komaeda Nagito,” Hinata says, suddenly tired but resolute. “It’s time for me to teach you about the Ultimate Despair.”

[law-school-zombie]

Shassie Sickfic: Shawn Takes Care of a Grumpy Lassie

The warmth that enveloped Shawn every night slowly slipped away, leaving a chilly emptiness in its wake. Shawn groaned and opened his eyes, looking up just in time to see Carlton swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand. "Lassie," he whined dramatically, reaching for a blanket that he had discarded due to sleeping beside his own personal furnace of a boyfriend. 

It was dark, but Shawn could mentally see the don't-be-dramatic look on Carlton's face. "I'll be right back."

"Where're you going?" Shawn mumbled into the pillow. 

"The bathroom," Carlton answered. "You know, the one that is fifteen feet away. You'll live." 

Shawn pouted. "This wouldn't happen if your old-man bladder could handle a little water before bed." Carlton didn't answer and left for the bathroom, leaving Shawn to wonder if the age jab had gone too far. Shawn loved Lassiter, but his jokes were always hit or miss depending on the detective's mood. 

Shawn only knew he managed to drift off again when he felt his furnace return to the bed beside him. With his eyes still closed, he wrapped his arms around Carlton, humming in content. If the detective had been mad earlier, he gave no indication of it now as his hands made his way to Shawn's back where he began to rub gentle circles through his t-shirt. "Get some sleep, Shawn. If you want a ride to work, you have to wake up with me." 

The statement made Shawn wrinkle his nose in disgust because early mornings weren't his cup of tea, but they were at least bearable when they showered together and Carlton made their coffee. "'Kay," he agreed finally. The familiar warmth eliciting from his boyfriend combined with the back rubs he received caused him to drift off relatively quickly. Carlton knew exactly how to get him to sleep, and as always, his plan had worked perfectly. 

Until it happened again. 

"Seriously, no more water before bed for you," Shawn groaned as Carlton rolled away from him and sat up for the second time. Shawn had no idea how much time had passed since his boyfriend's last trip to the bathroom, but he guessed it had only been a couple of hours. 

"Sorry," was Carlton's response. His voice was tight, but the man was easy enough to wind up that Shawn was again confused as to whether or not his comments were unwanted, or if he was simply tired. The latter made sense, as Carlton had to be getting less sleep than him at this point. Plus, Shawn could always make the decision to sleep in and take his bike to work, whereas the head detective had a significantly less lenient work schedule. 

Carlton headed to the bathroom again, and this time Shawn couldn't fall back asleep. He was kept awake by his usual running thoughts and a slight bit of paranoia that made him wonder if he was going to get a lecture in the morning. Then again, it was just as plausible that Carlton wasn't mad because he had never been the most talkative person Shawn has met. It was also possible that Lassiter--who oftentimes loved to watch Shawn squirm--was messing with him in return by being short with him. 

Not for the first time, Shawn wondered why he chose to date the one person he could never quite read. 

Carlton's return shook Shawn out of his thoughts. The man let out a tired sigh as he returned to bed, and though it could easily be due to exhaustion, Shawn found himself wondering if something was actually wrong. "Are you okay?" he murmured quietly into his boyfriend's shoulder. 

"I'm fine." 

Shawn lifted his head slightly off the warm surface. "Are we okay?" 

At that, Lassiter looped an arm around him again and gave him a gentle, affectionate squeeze. "Everything's okay, Shawn. Try to go back to sleep." 

"I've been trying," Shawn complained. "Did you finally get everything out of your system?" 

There was a beat of silence. Carlton let out a puff of air, and Shawn felt it against the back of his neck, leaving him with pleasant goosebumps. "I hope so," he said finally. 

Odd, Shawn thought, but he made the decision to let the comment slide. If something was wrong, they could talk about it in the morning when they were more coherent and rested. "Okay, g'night," he said behind a yawn. "Love you. Don't pee again." 

Carlton chuckled. "Love you too." 

The third time it happened, Shawn was actually annoyed. Carlton sat up in bed, leaving Shawn to glare at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 3:30 in the morning was far too late for either of them to be awake, and he knew that his boyfriend tended to be grumpier than usual (which was pretty grumpy, to say the least) when sleep-deprived. Shawn sat up this time too, glaring as Lassiter rose from the bed again. "Seriously, this time someone better be breaking in, or you better be passing a freaking kidney stone or something, otherwise I'm going to the couch where Mr. Pineapples," Shawn held up a pineapple-shaped plushie that Carlton got him after their third date, "can keep me warm." 

Again, Carlton was silent as he walked in the direction of the bathroom. Shawn threw up his hands and scoffed, now feeling as though he was owed a serious explosion for the aloofness emitting from the detective. This time, Shawn followed him after a while, not wanting to let the behavior slide any longer. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked, leaning against it as he waited impatiently for a response. As far as he could tell, the sound of peeing was absent entirely, which only frustrated him more. "Are you seriously just going to ignore me? What the hell did I do? I didn't even slap your ass at work today. I've been on my best behavior." There was only silence yet again, and Shawn decided to take matters into his own hands. "Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous, even for me, and we both know…" Shawn opened the door and trailed off when he realized what had been happening all night. Carlton may not have been peeing, but the sight of him on his knees, hunched over the toilet was more than enough to wash away all traces of anger. "Oh." 

Carlton didn't answer, but the muscles in his back did jump as a quiet retch brought up a mouthful of vomit into the toilet. Shawn approached the man slowly, similar to the way he'd approach a wild animal, only his trigger-happy boyfriend could prove to be far more dangerous if the mood was right. Or wrong. Either way, really. Eventually, he knelt down beside Carlton, and up-close he noticed the small tremors coursing through the older man's body. Shawn slowly put a hand on his back, surprised when the touch was brushed off. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know you were sick." 

"I'm not," Carlton said stubbornly. "Maybe it was something I ate. Or maybe I got a stomach virus. I don't know." 

Shawn raised an eyebrow as he rubbed circles into the man's back, just as Carlton had done for him while they were in bed. "Yeah, I think both food poisoning and stomach bugs constitute as being sick. Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I don't typically display weakness in front of others," Carlton answered simply. 

Of course. Shawn should have guessed as much, as he has always known that if the two of them were to marry, he'd have to change his last name to Mr. I'd-rather-die-than-take-a-sick-day. It was then that it hit him how much their relationship must mean to Lassiter if he was willing to let Shawn keep him company while he emptied his stomach into the toilet. "Well, I for one don't think this is a display of weakness at all. I mean, here you are upchucking like a champ. You know, I asked for my mommy every time I threw up until I was 30." 

Carlton chuckled, spitting into the toilet. "You still do, Shawn." 

Shawn pat Carlton's back. "See? Case and point." 

"It's case in point." 

"I've heard it both ways." 

Carlton belched softly, grimacing. "You should probably head back to bed. This is just disgusting." 

Shawn tisked. "Lassie, Lassie, Lassie. Have you met Gus ever? My best friend throws up like three times a day. I can handle it." 

Carlton grabbed a wad of toilet paper, using it to wipe his mouth and nose. "I'm done anyway. There's no chance in hell I've got anything left after three trips." 

Shawn stood so Carlton could have room to pull himself together. The toilet flushed and the older man walked weakly over to the sink, bracing himself on either side of the counter after turning on the water. Shawn decided to step up and he grabbed a washcloth, running it under the cool water. Gently, he dabbed away beads of sweat that were collecting on Lassiter's face, surprised when he wasn't swatted away. If anything, the creases on his boyfriend's face disappearing indicated that the action was appreciated. When that was done, Shawn grabbed a small paper cup from the cupboard and filled it with water, handing it over. "Here. Take a few sips and rinse out your mouth. Maybe not in that order." 

Carlton rinsed first and managed to drink a little without immediately spewing. That was a good sign, right? "I'm ready to go back to bed. With any luck, I'll feel better tomorrow morning." 

Shawn took him by the arm and began to lead the two of them back to the bedroom. "Even if you do feel better tomorrow, should you still try to go to work? I mean, you should probably get as much rest as possible, and it doesn't seem like you've been getting much sleep tonight."

They made it back to the bed and Lassiter collapsed down onto it with an appreciative groan. "I have a perfect attendance record," he protested quietly. 

Shawn scoffed. "What is this, fifth grade?" he slid into bed beside Carlton, this time keeping in mind the sensitive state of the man's stomach as he tangled the two of them together. "You know, if you weren't such a workaholic, maybe you wouldn't be doing impersonations of a wild goose mating call all night." 

"I have an excellent immune system, Spencer. I'm not entirely sure that your choice in restaurants agrees with my stomach." 

Shawn gasped mockingly. "Lassie, how dare you? Street gyros are an absolute gem. God forbid I make you eat something other than sunflower seeds for lunch." 

Carlton's body began to relax against his, and Shawn knew it wouldn't be long before his boyfriend fell asleep. "Sunflower seeds don't take up any time," he murmured. 

Shawn rolled his eyes at Lassiter's eating habits (or lack thereof) and listened peacefully as the older man's breathing evened out. With any luck at all, the detective would wake up feeling better and maybe even well-rested enough to make it into work. Shawn made the decision that if he even had the slightest suspicion something was off in the morning, he'd try to give Carlton his famous puppy eyes to make him stay home. 

That, or he could threaten him with Chief Vick. 

Shawn smirked as a soft snore escaped from the other's sleeping form. He treasured these moments that the two had together--the ones where they could both unapologetically be themselves and not worry about judgment from the other. Shawn kissed Carlton's temple, allowing himself to reflect on all of the right choices he made during his life that led to this very moment. With those pleasant thoughts in his mind, Shawn eventually joined Carlton in a peaceful slumber. 

…………………………………………………

Luck may not have been on their side the following morning, but Shawn still took in this moment for everything it was worth. 

Carlton, much to his dismay, woke up sore and nauseous, which Shawn knew had to be bad when it was the man himself who suggested that he stay home from work. Shawn, of course, agreed right away and told him to get more rest and hopefully sleep off the bug. That's how he wound up watching over his boyfriend while he slept, grinning unashamedly the entire time. Though they moved in together a month ago and had stayed over at each other's places several times before that, Shawn rarely got to watch Carlton sleep. Carlton was always the first one up, and oftentimes, the last one in bed. When Shawn did stay up or woke up in the middle of the night, the darkness of the bedroom made it impossible to make out any features. Sometimes when Carlton would agree to watch cartoons with him, he'd dose off quickly, but Shawn's head was usually too comfortable in the man’s lap for him to see his face. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed as his boyfriend slept, Shawn had a perfect view. It was refreshing to see his usually stoic and ornery look peaceful for once, and even though he was 99% sure his boyfriend was currently having a lovely dream about shooting someone, there was a hint of child-like innocence while he slept. 

Shawn was snapped out of his musing when his phone dinged from the nightstand. He grabbed it quickly and turned the volume down, not wanting anything to disturb his sick partner.  It was a text from Juliet, which he had been expecting. Carlton’s colleagues were bound to be a little worried since the man never volunteered to take a sick day. 

Hey, Shawn. Chief Vick told me Carlton isn’t feeling well. Is he alright? Do you guys need anything? -J. O’H. 

Shawn texted her back: 

Lassie’s pukey :( -S.S 

Yikes! Stomach viruses are the absolute worse. Do you need me to swing by with anything on my lunch break? The Chief said I could go early if you two needed anything. -J. O’H

Shawn debated the question, looking down at Lassiter’s sleeping form. He texted back quickly: 

I was going to have Gus swing by and see if his knowledge from his side-job could serve to be useful. If we need anything from you, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m sure our little Lassie pup will be back to shooting people and screaming at McNab soon. :) -S.S 

Shawn had just sent the last text before he noticed stirring coming from the bed. With a small groan that Carlton would be sure to deny later, he opened his blue eyes and locked his gaze with Shawn’s. “What time issit?” he mumbled. 

Shawn looked over at the alarm clock. “It’s a little past nine. How are you feeling?” 

Carlton seemed to debate this for a moment. “Sick,” he decided. He curled into himself on the bed, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Shawn noticed he had his arms wrapped around his stomach, a rare sign of weakness that Shawn knew was reserved solely for him. 

“Like I’m-gonna-hurl-now sick? Do you need to go to the bathroom?” 

Another groan escaped Carlton. “Maybe, yeah. I can’t imagine that I have anything left though.” The man swung his legs over the bed and stood unsteadily. Shawn grabbed him by his arm and gently guided him to the toilet where his boyfriend quickly lifted the seat and knelt on the floor. A dry heave instantly wracked his entire shaking frame and Shawn was quick to start rubbing his back to offer any form of comfort he could. Carlton dry heaved again, this time wincing in pain as his stomach lurched. 

“Just try to breathe,” Shawn said softly. 

“I’m not a child, Spencer,” Carlton snapped weakly. “I know-” he was cut off by a sick-sounding belch that was followed by a trickle of bile that left the older man shuddering. 

Shawn ignored the cranky attitude and continued to comfort him. “Are you in a lot of pain?” 

Carlton nodded. “I feel like I’ve been shot in the gut.” 

Deciding to take a risk, Shawn’s hand crept up the hem of Carlton’s SBPD t-shirt where it rested gently on the man’s thin stomach. He could feel it jolt underneath his palm with every heave and he made the executive decision to rub it gently. Surprisingly, he wasn’t shook off, and even more surprisingly, Carlton let out a sigh that sounded appreciative as he rested his head on the arm that was draped across the toilet. “Are you finished?” Shawn asked. 

Carlton nodded. “But don’t stop.” 

Shawn smiled genuinely, the request reminding him that his partner, despite his rugged exterior, had complete trust in him. “I’ll continue, but not on the bathroom floor. This can’t be good for your old-man knees.” 

Carlton lifted his head, and though Shawn couldn’t see his face, he was sure those pools of blue were glaring at him. “I’m six years older than you, Spencer.” 

“But already much, much greyer,” Shawn reminded him, kissing the top of Lassiter’s salt and pepper head. 

Carlton flushed the toilet and leaned back in Shawn’s welcoming arms. “Don’t forget I have guns hidden throughout the house.” 

Shawn chuckled. “Eight, to be exact. Although, I moved the one that was buried in the pistachio bowl. We don’t hide guns with snacks, Lassie.” 

“Excuse me for not knowing that I was going to end up living with the living embodiment of a hungry, hungry hippo.” 

“That’s Gus,” Shawn retorted, helping the detective stand and leading them back to the bedroom. “I’m more like a raccoon that lives off of other people’s leftovers.” Shawn pulled Lassiter down onto the bed, immediately curling around the man’s lanky frame. He resumed rubbing gentle circles into Carlton’s stomach, feeling the gratification as he felt him relax. “The spirits are talking to me, Lassie. They say that you’re secretly glad you live with a foodie because doing so reminds you that meals can be so much more than coffee and protein bars.” 

“You’re not psychic,” Lassiter murmured into his pillow. “And 99% of the meals I see you consume revolt me.” 

Shawn let out a soft ‘aww’ as he nuzzled the back of Carlton’s neck. “My boyfriend has a sensitive tummy.” 

“Do not. I’m just not a human dumpster.” 

“Do so. I think not being able to handle street gyros speaks for itself.” 

“So you admit that you poisoned me?” 

Shawn smirked. “I am simply stating that dating me is going to slowly level up your stomach until it can compete with mine.” 

“Not gonna happ’n,” Lassiter mumbled tiredly. “I am never eating with you again.” 

Shawn hummed, listening as his partner’s breathing evened out once more as he fell asleep. “Whatever you say, Lassie,” he murmured sleepily. Shawn too felt himself begin to drift off. He would just take a quick nap with his boyfriend, and when he woke up he’d have Gus’ encyclopedia brain give him some advice. In the meantime, he was perfectly content right where he was. 

[gccdnews]

Did you see JESSICA DREW from MARVEL walking around Limbo? The CISFEMALE looks like ALICIA VIKANDER, and is NINETY SEVEN years old. I’ve heard she can be VIRTUOUS & WITTY but also COCKSURE & REACTIVE. When I think of them I think of HELPING THE INNOCENT BY HOSPITALIZING THE GUILTY, RAISING SPIDER-BABY, THE GREATEST QUIPS OF ALL TIME BITCHCAKES. They’ve been here WITHOUT their memories as an PI & FIGHTER at BAKER STREET INVESTIGATIONS & UNDERGROUND FIGHT CLUB for SIX MONTHS. I heard they’re seeking a sanctum.

// whew. jess has a history™. it's long af and spans nearly a century so im not gonna go into crazy detail, but it's still lengthy. and i'm also gonna modify just a bit to fit in with the mcu for plotting reasons and stuff. if you don’t really care about her full history then there’s some bullet points toward the bottom.

she was born in england in 1924 and brought as a small child to the transia (it's a small, fictional slavic country) where her father was conducting research. unfortunately due to her being a small child, she contracted uranium poisoning from her father's work and had to be placed in a cryogenic chamber and treated with radiation and a highly experimental serum derived from the blood/genes of various species of spider.

she spent decades in stasis, educated subliminally with special tapes. when she was finally awakened she had only aged into her early teens, but she'd developed superhuman abilities.

grew up, moved away, met a dude, fell in love, then accidentally killed him with her powers. so yeah that kinda torments her still to this day. well, when she still remembered it anyway.

got recruited into hydra who she was led to believe were the good guys, had her memories suppressed, was told the high evolutionary basically a "god" figure, idek evolved her from a spider into a human woman, had an agent pretend to fall in love with her, etc etc. basically got gaslit and brainwashed into becoming a high ranking member until she was put out on a field assignment and told to assassinate nick fury. during the mission he told her what hydra really was and she dropped their asses.

got her memories back from mordred the mystic, then lived in a shitty apartment in london for a while. ended up breaking into a convenience store across the street at one point to get some food, but got noticed by shield agent jerry hunt who pretty much hounded her until she dyed her hair and created a secret identity to hide from him

did the hero thing for a while, moved to l.a., dated jerry, became a bounty hunter, moved to san francisco, became a p.i., superhero'd some more, met carol danvers 😍

went on a mission to finally take down longtime archenemy morgan le fay, and did so, but not before some morgan did some magic shit and separated her soul from her body ?? so she goes to the sorcerer magnus and has him cast a spell to make everyone who ever met her forget she existed.

not long later she was found and revived by two hero pals, breaking the spell, but she was left comatose. dr strange gets involved, abra cadabra, jess ain't a cadava'. but she is however, powerless.

continued working as a p.i. until an encounter with the new spider-woman mattie franklin somehow restored her powers, which came back slowly and were very unstable. meets jessica jones, accidentally zaps tf out of her, then works with her to save the new spider-woman.

eventually struck a deal with hydra to spy within shield so she could get her powers back but the skrull queen veranke was behind it and manipulating her so she could learn to perfectly impersonate jessica. jess ended up held captive for two years aboard a skrull spaceship while veranke took her place.

she and the rest of the captives got saved but because of the havoc veranke wreaked, she didn't exactly receive a warm welcome back.

spent some time rebuilding her reputation until she was invited to join the avengers (for avengers 1 in the mcu, let's say). they did some good work and she eventually fell for clint/hawkeye. they dated a while but things went sideways when he cheated on her (but obvs that's subject to change depending on who picks him up, just leaving that in for now bc it seems kinda noteworthy).

skipping comic spider-verse stuff bc how does that work with the rp, idek.

left the avengers after that and mostly stayed out of their business so she wasn't around for ultron or civil war and instead got back to her roots with some good ol fashioned p.i. work. may have crossed paths with the defenders and other street level heroes during this period.  

then of course, came the snap. jess was one of the ones that vanished. using this instead of her death during secret wars in the comics. when everyone came back she joined all the others to fight thanos and damn right she was part of that moment with all the female heroes like she should have fucking been irl.

when things settled down after y'know, dying, she realized that she wanted to be a mother and raise a child, and almost never got that chance. instead of waiting, she got herself artificially inseminated. which was good too tbh because like, look at her luck with men and imagine getting stuck in one of those relationships she'd been in so far. way better off doing it on her own smh

got invited to an alpha flight maternity ward by her captain marvel but when she went there it ended up getting overrun by skrulls and being super fucking pregnant she called carol for help, but the maternity ward was apparently in a black hole?? bc ofc it was lol. so jess protected all the women there, had an emergency c-section to give birth to her son gerry, then popped right off the table to finish kicking skrull ass. carol got there just in time for jess to collapse into her arms after the fight. headcanon — there was always a crush there but this was the moment jess fell hard.

had a liiittle teensy falling out with carol tho so she ended up kissing roger gocking/porcupine right in front of her during a battle that ended up repairing their friendship. then she went on to have a party announcing she and roger were dating but lbr she did most of this sub/consciously hoping to get a rise out of carol. but her spider-baby ended up crawling out a window and roger was the one to find and save him and there were some actual feelings there too, so. complicated. she kind of distanced herself from everything else to focus on p.i. work and raising her son.

not much later, jess realized her radiation immunity was gone and her powers were killing her, so she had roger take gerry to an upstate farm in case her condition could potentially harm her son, then set out on the search for a cure. that search of course, leading her to limbo city, nevada.

upon her arrival however, her memories quickly started to fade and by the time she woke up the next morning she had no specific recollection of memories. just innate and instinctive knowledge like her emotions toward people she was familiar with, emotional trauma that manifests mostly in her dreams, maternal instincts/yearning, her abilities both physical and learned, her interests and likes/dislikes, etc. things that come naturally to her, for the most part.

interestingly though, the town’s magic seems to have cured her??

gonna say she speaks english, romanian, german, hungarian, symkarian, russian, bulgarian, polish and spanish fluently, and knows a bit about a number of other languages.

incredibly intelligent, she is after all the daughter of a genius, raised among scientists conducting research, and her knowledge/intelligence was only maximized by her stasis education tapes.

exudes a high concentration of pheromones that can attract or repulse people, to put it simply. and ignore the original heteronormative connotations bc women aren't typically the ones she wants to repulse, and men arent always the ones she wants to attract. it's difficult to control but she learned over the years. even now without her memories she has innate control over it, but if she manages to work up a sweat (which isn't all that easy for her tbh) or misses a shower or two, well… it's gonna kick in.

she probably can't do it anymore in limbo because she can't remember how, but with her pheromones she learned to control them so well she was able to elicit fear, anxiety, attraction, hatred, pleasure, etc. and even used them to convince the hulk to make her a sandwich once.

fucking loves butter. she's been known to eat the stuff straight up. and a lot of it. lucky thing she has a spider-metabolism.

hc: she loves making puns, especially spider related ones. she also likes to annoy her spider-friends by spider-throwing the word spider in front of everything though it's obviously a joke, unlike in her cartoon where im pretty sure she was dead serious lol

hates rats. so much. she will tear down a whole skrull army but if one shapeshifts into a rat it's over okay, she already lost.

allergic to flerkens. which is great for visiting her bestie/crush, and her pet flerken chewie.

still has her suit but hasn’t worn it yet in limbo. she found it under her bed a couple days after “waking up” in limbo but put it right back because she figured it was probably some weird sex thing and maybe wasn’t even hers so, gross, yknow?

[undecidedpersonality]

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Twenty-Three: Poison

Title: “The Royal Murderer”

By: Nalijah Daniels

Word Count: 1874

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy

CW: murder, death, public execution, sacrifice, 

I might as well have been a lab rat under bright-white observation lights. The beige uniform was baggy on my thinning body and made it uncomfortable to sleep. All it did was twist around my body, yanking me out of my dreamless sleep to struggle with it until it was back in place. Every night was like that. Just like every day was the same.

The blinding lights turn on at exactly 8 a.m. I flip onto my stomach and push my face into the thin pillow, trying to make the space behind my closed eyes as dark as possible. The heavy door on the opposite wall slides open, activated by the fingerprint of my security guard, Manuel. He used to be nice to me until I was caught halfway through my only possible escape plan and put his job on the line. I always smile at him when he forces me to sit up on the bed and hauls me out of the room, gripping around my arm just below the armpit. He hasn’t smiled back in 167 days. I know this because I’ve been counting on the wall with a tiny piece of chalk left here from who knows what. I’ve been here for 378 days in total. I marked the day Manuel stopped smiling with a small ‘x’ at the top. Day 211.

Once we’re through the door of my cell, we turn left, a long curve of concrete walls stretch ahead of us. There’s no other doors until we get to the bathroom. This is the only positive part about my prisoner gig; I’m allowed showers every other day. When I was younger, rumors spread around town that royal prisoners were only allowed to shower once a month. Apparently the hygiene of a criminal doesn’t matter. Don’t even get me started on their rumored food schedules. I imagine they let me shower this often because when they finally get to show off my dead body to the public––they’re gonna want to do that––it would be off-putting to see grime on the beautiful young body and face of a twenty-year-old girl, no matter how dangerous I was.

The water shoots out of the rusted head high on the wall at first with a sputter, then a steady stream, pelting my body with near scalding water. The smooth water beads rolling over my body has been the only positive touch I’ve gotten in over a year. I glance over my shoulder to Manuel standing in the opposite corner of the square room, his eyes trained on the wall across from him, hands clasped behind his back. I put an innocent smile on my face and whistle, trying to catch his attention. I’m never getting out of here alive, and he already hates me, so I might as well have as much fun playing mind games as I can. I begin to ramble about anything that I think might draw his eyes towards me. Why I hate the new Duke. My longing for the touches of my pre-imprisonment lovers. My yearning to step under the night sky and not see it through a small barred window five feet above my head. I even begin to sway my bare hips and sing an old lullaby about marriage. I don’t even get a muscle spasm in response.

I roll my eyes when he continues to ignore me and drop the act to focus my mind on something else. Just like every other dull moment, my mind manages to drift to why I’m here. I sacrificed myself for my younger brother, who was almost imprisoned for keeping my identity a secret. Even though they knew my real name, Izetta Llewellyn, they had called me The Royal Murderer around town. The townies whispered around me in the shopping center when I snuck through in disguise, none of them knowing I was right there.

Once, I was the right hand woman of the Duchess, happily waiting on her hand and foot as soon as I turned fifteen. Despite our ten-year age gap, we were the best of friends, the sister I never had. She made sure that my position as her young lady-in-waiting wasn’t taken too seriously so that I could still have “good ol’ teenage fun.” She trusted me with all of her secrets, including how the Duke berates her while throwing her around in their private residence. I helped undo her dress the evening she told me and saw the lightening bruises across her sides and stomach. He told her that he’s only going to stop abusing her because she’s pregnant, but that he wasn’t afraid to punish her again if she messed up just bad enough. I was eighteen then. I wasn’t going to let that possibility happen.

Being young and trusted meant I had a lot of access to the kingdom. I was  never seen as a threat. The tapestries of rich color and stitching that hung down over the charcoal gray stone walls familiar to me in every hallway but one. The one that I walked down that fatal day had paintings with details of greens, golds, and white. The Duke’s favorite color scheme. They were the colors he adorned himself in to attend his most important events. I rapped on the doorframe to his open study and stood with my hands folded in front of me, waiting for him to look up.

He greeted me kindly, like I truly was the little sister-in-law he never had. He often ruffled my hair when seeing me, telling me just how much the Duchess adored me. As if I didn’t know. I put a small smile on my face to appear to be that same honorable, innocent, young girl. When he invited me into the room, I didn’t let much time pass. I would need as much time as possible to get out from the kingdom walls and off the grounds in order to not be caught. They would know it was me. The cameras caught and kept everything they weren’t told to delete.

When I plunged the dagger into his stomach, a true smile, honest and wide, spread on my face as I stared into his angry and scared eyes. They were hard set on mine, yet darting to figure out how to help himself as I whispered into his ear everything that I knew, telling him how happy I was that he would never be able to do them again. 

I’m still not sorry.

I learned I was immune to poison when they caught me. My older brother had been hiding me for a year when royal guard’s found out he was The Royal Killer’s accomplice. They dragged him into town square, pushing him onto his knees on the bottom step of the dais the royal family sat on for public events, like execution. Knowing what this would do to my mother and father––knowing that would be my fault for my brother’s conviction––I wasted no time revealing myself. I pulled the dark cloak’s hood from my head as I stepped out of a shadowed corner, declaring that they could take my life in exchange for my brother’s safe return home. My brother looked at me with wide eyes––bewilderment, terror, and rage dancing across his face–– because I wouldn’t let them take him. He wanted me to be safe from them, but there was no extra time wasted as I got dragged to his place.

The kingdom was never one for mutilating people, no matter how bad their crime, so they could keep their status to their citizens as classy and not blood hungry. Public murders were cold and emotionless instead, making everyone watch the person’s life disappear behind their eyes after forcing them to swallow a vile of poison. The toxin levels were what made the punishment. Some simply fainted in mere seconds and were gone. Others, like the one intended for me, would seize the person’s body for multiple minutes, leaving them writhing and screaming in agony on the ground, unable to pull themselves up and away from the pain. When I was younger watching these events, I had always imagined the toxins feeling like fires burning your body from the inside out, your bones snapping under the pressure of heat until you were nothing but a sack of flesh laying on the ground. None of that happened to me.

After sitting on my knees, waiting for the pain to seize me––nothing. The crowd murmured and the royal family, sitting at the top of the dais the whole time, began to stir. Before I could attempt to run off, I was hauled up by four guards to be taken to the cell I’ve been in ever since. As they marched me past, I saw the Duchess who was already staring at me. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the arms of her chair but her face was soft, one tear falling down her left cheek before I could no longer see her.

The shower water shuts off. My fifteen minutes of warmth finished. I’m hauled back the same way I came after toweling off and putting on a fresh uniform. Now for my first meal of the day.

They never give me much, just enough to put what they hope is the right dose of this and that chemical mixture to end me once and for all. This time it’s a muffin, banana nut. I hate banana nut muffins, but I have no choice but to consume it. Manuel would force it into my mouth if he had to like the first couple of days that I was here.

I lower my head to the plate to stiff it. I expected to be solely repulsed by the sweet banana smell but a wave of nausea washes over me instead. This other thing, I don’t actually smell, but its toxic makeup sends warning signals to my brain right away. I’ve never experienced this before, this sickness. When I look up at Manuel, his eyes burn into mine and he smiles, cruel and excited, breaking the streak.

Letting out a slow breath, I try to swallow but the tightness in my throat makes it nearly impossible. For the first time in 378 days, I am scared. I lift my hands from resting in my lap and they feel heavy, the muffin making them even heavier as I cup it in my hands. My breathing becomes more ragged as I close my eyes and lift the muffin to my mouth. My lips begin to tingle just from touching the muffin to my lips. I try once to open my mouth to take a bite and can’t bring myself to do it. My final bite. I know it will be. Opening my eyes, the white lights and everything it encompasses is blurry and shakes. I don’t know when I started crying. My mouth is finally able to open wide enough to sink my teeth into just one edge of the buttery pastry. The sweet and salty taste seizes my heart before I’m able to swallow and I gasp for air that isn’t there anymore.

This time they found my kryptonite. This time I die.

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 9

Even though I already befriended the Drenchen forever last time, I keep hanging around a swamp because I heard there was a SkekSil hanging around and I wanted to see him in his natural habitat.

Zing.

Now that the Drenchen are my best friends forever (high five, Gurjin!), I have to save them from the Chamberlain doing Chamberlain things.

Mission: Bogged Down - Putrid Banks

"The heroes set out to aid a Drenchen encampment. Rumor has it that the Chamberlain has been causing trouble."

I hope he doesn't have any threaders. Thats too much mind control in one place.

Aw dammit a bunch of hostile Drenchen. I'm always fighting Gelfling! There's not going to be any left to unify after everything at this rate! Short-coming of the narrative, I guess. If it was set later in the timeline, we could fight Garthim and Crystal Bats.

Maybe the sequel should get on that, hint hint?

And there's poisonous swamp water everywhere!

My swamp dream team is Gurjin, Naia, Rek'yr, Hup, and Kylan.

Because they're my lowest levelled but also because Gurjin and Naia are Drenchen and are immune to poison swamp water.

Dammit, the Chamberlain told the Drenchen that my group were fugitives.

Gurjin, you're a prince or something, can't you do something about this?

Apparently not.

But things are going okay. Sure, I can't cross the swamp very effectively except with the pet Nurloc, Naia, and Gurjin but do you know what is very effectively?

Kylan and Naia as a combo. Mark plus Double Strike? Very good. Beating up all the fools/members of her own clan.

AND GURJIN!

I've never used Defeaning Roar before even though its been on his movelist for a while but I love the graphic for it! It creates a blue energy shell around the unit which they bang ineffectually on with their fist! Its like noise proofing, for annoying mages!

Rek'yr, as you might expect from a desert guy, doesn't take well to the swamp. Most of the enemies that have attacked so far have ganged up on him. But he's still holding his own.

I'm very proud of my resistance group.

And then I gang up on the last guy, stack him with conditions, and kick the crap out of him.

Then Gurjin delivers a speech about freeing everyone from the Skeksis' tyranny which everyone is too unconscious to hear.

Its a feel good victory.

EVERYONE LEVELED UP!

Rek'yr learned Evasive (passive +15 evasion), Gurjin learned Tempered Stone (attack up for three turns if critical hit), Hup learned Friendship (he had this all along (ok fine, buffs accuracy and critical chance to adjacent allied beasts)), Naia learned Flurry of Steel (attack and take your next turn sooner), and Kylan learned Aimed Shot (attack a marked enemy for massive damage).

Oops, Kylan got to level 5, so I have to start training him on Mender so he can be a Song Teller, like the prophecy says.

Gurjin and Naia will stay Stone Warden and Paladin respectively. Feels like good symmetry for them.

I'm just going around the wheel with Hup so he needs five more levels in Tamer so he can become a Potion Master.

Rek'yr I'm going to try to make a Grave Dancer because it sounds rad and because he flirts over funerary arrangements. But he's a level 5 thief now so I need to get him to Paladin, which means Soldier. Since I'm making him a fighty guy, I'm giving him the Dousan Axe.

---

Encounter - Putrid Banks - Fight a challenge to test your mettle

Always with the testing my mettle, geez.

Dang the swamp is full of darkened nurlocs and windsifters. This game is doing a slightly better job at making me remember the Darkening is an ongoing concern than the show.

Since encounters help you get more xp, I'm bringing my lowest levelled people Breg, Alyadon, Rian, Brea, and... Rek'yr? You just levelled!

New guy has to play catch-up a lot.

Well. That went well enough. Breg died. Poor Breg.

Rian leveled up so now I can start him on Stone Wardening so I can eventually make him the big-brained strategist of the resistance. And Alyadon levelled up so I can make her a tracker or thief. I forgot what the plan was for her. I don't have a dedicated Mender and she was one of those so maybe time to lean into that?

But if she's going to be in a basic job, I'm giving her nice things. A Dusty Tome so she can attack from afar, an Apprentice's Cloak because I was out of clothes, and a Pouch of Hollerbat Fur.

Decked to the nines.

---

Geez, you never get much money in this game. I feel like a really long time goes by between being able to buy next tier equipment for my party but other than grinding on Encounters (which don't give much) I don't see what I can do.

---

Mission: Creepy-Crawlies - Muddy Shallows

"Hot on the Chamberlain's trail, the heroes are stopped when they encounter an army of Arathim."

Dangit SkekSil!

My party is Breg and Rek'yr, doomed to always be the lowest levelled guys from some reason (its because Rek'yr just joined and Breg keeps dying), Brea and Boggi because a girl and her shouty dog is just classic, and Hup because Hup already knows Friendship.

The spiders talk, which I know they can do from the show but I don't think they've done in the game yet.

Gurjin: "Now he's convinced the Arathim to help him? We have to stop the Chamberlain and his manipulative ways."

Just keep Rian away from him. He's a good kid but way too easily swayed.

"Well this is not going great, what with all the spit but at least nobody as died so f- HUP NOOOOOO"

But despite spending much of the mission with most of my party hovering in low health, Hup is the only one who did die by the end. I'm surprised. Usually my team starts dropping like flies.

It occurs to me that this was a filler mission padding out a filler story arc padding out the show plot by having Chamberlain Up To Something.

Good news is that everyone level up!

Breg learned Evasive, Boggi learned Concentrate (Magic Up and Shell for one turn, take next turn sooner), Brea learned Landslide (Stun all adjacent units, nice), Hup learns NOTHING, Rek'yr learned to Shove people.

---

Mission: The Chamberlain's Deception - Drenchen Encampment

"The heroes reach the Drenchen encampment and confront the manipulative Chamberlain"

Well, I won't say no to kicking his butt a second and a half time and stealing his clothes again.

I do wonder if we'll get to fight more Skeksis besides the Chamberlain, the Hunter, and presumably the General.

Geez, this map is huge.

I'm bringing Deet, Gurjin and Naia (home turf), Kylan (because he's Naia's bestie), and Breg. Because I'm always bringing Breg. Poor guy needs more experience constantly.

Gurjin: "Begone Chamberlain! Your kind is no longer welcome, drainer!"

The Chamberlain: "Please... Skeksis come only to help Gelfling living so far away. We bring them back to the castle. GIve them much-needed food and supplies."

He has a trustworthy face, I say we trust him.

Rian: "Don't listen to him! He plans to drain you all for your essence!"

Then again, Rian is a protagonist. He might be right.

Chamberlain: "Wicked Gelfling spread lies! Capture the fugitives and skekSil will reward you all at the Castle!"

-me hits a Drenchen after they hit me-

Chamberlain: "You see! Gelfling here to hurt you"

I MEAN. It doesn't look good for us! 90% of what we do is roll into town and beat up other Gelfling!

Soo. I lost.

Its a bad setup. There's a lot of swamp water in the middle that Chamberlain can just sit on the other side of and lob his ridiculous 4 and 5 ranged apparently perfect accuracy confuse Please, Please and stun Spithead abilities across.

All the Gelfling enemies are Drenchen so they can cross the swamp water no problem or darkened armaligs which have ridiculous defense.

Chamberlain himself has 1000 HP. You only have to beat him but he plays keep away on the other side of the swamp. And if you try to keep out of his range, then he'll cross over but run away if you attack him too much. And he's seemingly immune to status effects.

Trying again with Rian, Gurjin, Naia, Brea, and Hup. The all-star squad.

And I lost again. Chamberlain is just too able to lock down the party with confuse and stun and not to mention converting your people onto his team. I even got his MP down to nothing and he still used an ability to I can't win via attrition either. And when you take out half the enemy units, he automatically goes hopped up on essence and can use Skeksis Friend to convert a confused team member.

I had Hup, who could clear confusion but he died.

Eesh, what a disaster.

Going to try Hup, Alyadon, Brea, Rian and Naia. Alyadon and Hup can both clear statuses, Brea and Alyadon can heal. Rian can hit things. And Naia can hit things but look cooler when she does.

Oh, shit I actually won. I lost everyone but Naia. Heck, I lost everyone but Brea, Alyadon, and Naia just getting across the swamp to where Chamberlain was. Hup and Rian both got cornered and slowly beaten to death =(

I had Alyadon mark the Chamberlain, then he executed her =(

I had Brea dreamfast to give Naia more MP, then two armaligs bumped her to death at the cost of their own lives =(

And then Naia did double strike AND IT WAS THE DRAMATIC LAST BLOW! GOOD STUFF!

I didn't denude the Chamberlain again but I did steal his Signet Ring and got a book of Drenchen legends.

The ring lets the equipped hero start battle with ten turns of Guardian's Blessing! Which means an auto-revive! I'd have to suck a lot to die in the first ten turns but STILL NEAT

Giving it to Naia, she more than earned it!

Drenchen Legends is a spellbook, grants a ranged magic attack with 30% chance to inflict poison. GIVING IT TO BREA, SHE EARNED IT! Plus, she loves to read.

And Brea and Naia levelled up, as befits THE LAST TWO PEOPLE STANDING.

PHEW

Brea learned Channel (grant adjacent allies MP regen? YES THANK YOU) and Naia learned Retribution WHICH IS VERY APPROPRIATE FOR HOW I GOT IT (50% chance to counter attack melee attacks). I kept wishing Naia could counter the whole mission when she was confused and being slowly beaten to death by a mender.

I spent some of my battle spoils giving some teeth to Gurjin and Rek'yr and buying Brea some bat fur.

And thats where I leave off because that is just enough for right now. I really thought I'd just be stuck at this point and have to grind on bar fights!

[fuckingfroggymemesorsomeshit]

Yknow I’ve spent the last 3-4 weeks day in and day out doing nothing but playing monster hunter world trying to beat it and since I’ve spent well over 100 hrs on it I’m going to make a long post on how I feel about every monster fuck you

Great Jagras - A very well designed first monster. He has a cool gimmick, he introduces the new player to the initially clunky feeling combat and is visually appealing. His end game switch axe is surprisingly good.

Pukei-Pukei - A very good second monster. He’s still not difficult to fight at all, but introduces status condition and flight, as well as a severable tail and more interesting environments to fight in. Very visually appealing, that tail is just begging to be cut off.

Kulu-Yaku - First bird wyvern you fight, and it’s meh. It’s a very fun fight if you use big, heavy hitting weapons like the hammer or greatsword, as he just gets absolutely fucked. His reactions to getting hit are probably the only thing that makes the fight interesting. One thing to note, he is the first monster with a truly heavy hitting move, his leap attack. This introduces you to stun and also backing the fuck away.

Barroth - One of my favorite monsters to fight with a hammer. Really a monster you can just butcher as there’s so many breakable parts on him. Breaking all the hardened mud is satisfying enough, but cracking part of his scalp off and severing his tail almost makes me feel bad for him. Doesn’t bring anything entirely new to the table though other than slinger thorns and environmental traps. Another underrated switch axe on this one.

Jyuratodus - Like the Barroth, this is a fun monster to break up, however the lack of actual severing makes him a bit less interesting. Introduces you to environmental hazards for the hunter, the deep water.

Tobi Kadachi - This monster is the first “difficult” monster you’ll fight, even though he isn’t the most challenging. He has the ability to paralyze you and his rapid attacks can also stun you. He often uses a high damage slam with his tail and moves around faster and more often than any of the previous monsters, and has less attacks that leave obvious openings. He’s the first real monster you fight, very pretty, some really cool looking gear.

Anjanath - One of the poster children of the game, Anjanath seems almost misplaced in this game. Most monsters seem somewhat alien or altered enough from the animal they’re inspired by to fit in this fantasy world, but Anjanath is just a T-Rex. He does breathe fire in his enraged form and his fins give him some uniqueness, but his normal form is just boring. As for fighting, he is quite difficult to begin with, and he has some real hard hitting moves. You may even cart three times to him or run out of time the first attempt, as his weak spots are harder to hit and his damage is higher than any monster before. Very cool weapon designs and okay armor.

Rathian - Rathian is very intimidating at first. Coming off the fight with Anjanath, this seemingly bigger and badder monster appears to be a step up the food chain. And Rathian is somewhat challenging, with access to heavy hitting moves, two status conditions, and true, albeit short and infrequent flight. However, once you realize you can just flash pod flying monsters out of the air for a free knockdown, and that Rathian is significantly weaker after severing her tail, this fight really isn’t too bad. My favorite gunlance in the game comes from Rathian, and the overall design is good.

Tzitzi-Yaku - The Barroth of bird Wyverns. Something about this wimpy Kulu clone with a blind is just so satisfying to bludgeon. I think it’s the fact that you can break his photophores and he will attempt to flash you anyways, despite not having the ability. He has the expressive reactions of Kulu-Yaku and the satisfying breaks of Barroth, with some actually sort of cool armor. What more could you want?

Paolumu - Surprisingly difficult. Paolumu’s tail and hind legs are tough and easy to bounce off of, and he has some truly devastating attacks coming from his front side, making fighting him feel a bit weird. He also stays in the air for a really, really long time, forcing the player to either flash pod or use high hitting moves instead of their normal rotation.

Great Girros - The least satisfying punching bag in the game. This fight in concept is supposed to have you outnumbered, where the real boss is the adds. However, if you use any wide hitting attacks, you will kill all the less Girros before they become an issue, making Great Girros kind of just a slightly larger, lone Girros with more health. Probably the least interesting fight in the game.

Radobaan - The largest monster you’ll have fought so far, Radobaan is truly a spectacle. His appearance is one of the most unique in the game, with tar covering his entire body and bones from other monsters sticking to it and forming an armor for him. Breaking these bones is incredibly satisfying, and his rolling mechanic is somewhat fresh at this point in the game. Armor is quite cool, 7/10.

Legiana - The first apex predator you fight, Legiana can be quite challenging. Her Iceblight makes stamina management a hassle and most of her moves do very high damage. The best way to fight her is to flash pod her out of the sky and mount her as often as possible, keeping her grounded while you focus on her head and stun her. Armor is nice, monster design is very pretty.

Odogaron - My least favorite apex predator. Odogaron does have some nice armor and weapons, but there’s just something about fighting Odogaron that just feels bad. He moves around more than any monster you’ve fought yet, excluding maybe Legiana. Perhaps it’s because I’ve only fought him with heavy hitting, slow weapons, but this fight just feels unsatisfying. He never sits still, and even when he’s knocked over or stunned, he’s flailing about wildly, making his head hard to target. As a hammer user, you see the issue.

Rathalos - Rathian’s boyfriend and an icon of the series. Rathalos is basically just the real Rathian fight. He has true flight that keeps him airborne often and for long periods. makes better use of his fire, has poison talons, and is much more aggressive. This armor is some of the coolest in the game and his sword and shield are my favorite SnS in the game.

Diablos - My favorite apex predator. Diablos is what got me into hammers in my first play through. I had settled for bows, the hunting horn, and the insect glaive before this fight, but something wasn’t working. Diablos was fast, had one shot attacks, and kept me staggered with either his roar or tremor, either knocking me out of the air or keeping me in one spot due to my slow weapons while he charged me. I picked up the hammer, and with it’s increased move speed and stun power, the Diablos was easy to beat. Also, another good monster to just brutalize. You can break both horns as well as chop off the tail.

Kirin - The first elder dragon fight. Kirin, despite giving me a similar situation to Diablos, is a monster I think I hate. It’s fight is definitely the most unique in the game, and it makes you change your play style to fit how it wants you to play, but it just is frustrating to play against. Every other move stuns you, every other move paralyzes you, and this wouldn’t be a huge deal if every other move wasn’t a one shot. Getting caught off guard twice in a row is a death sentence. I haven’t even mentioned that unless you’re hitting it’s ridiculously small head, your attack will bounce off, and then while you’re stuck in the bounce animation, you’ll probably get stunned. Wear thunderproof mantle, use gunlance, and the fight is trivialized, but still not fun.

Zorah Magdaros - I really don’t consider this monster a fight, since you just run around on its back or shoot cannons at it from afar. Okay design, kinda boring, and cool armor/weapons.

Dodogama - Cutest monster in the game, another one you can just go to town on. Break it’s jaw, break it’s tail, break it’s back. This monster has some massive damage, but it’s very telegraphed and easy to avoid, while giving the player every opportunity to punish. Pretty cool armor with good stats.

Pink Rathian - Rathian but pink and with harder scales, an okay monster but overall nothing special.

Bazelgeuse - One of my favorite monster designs. The sleek, smooth scales on the monster make me wanna pet it really bad. A fun fight, his carpet bomb is nothing to scoff at but he never feels like bullshit. Some of the coolest armor and weapons in the game.

Laviosoth - Maybe the most forgettable monster in the game. I really forget what this monster does.

Uragaan - Radobaan wishes he could be Uragaan. The easy to break bones of other monsters that coat Radobaan are overshadowed by the home grown plates of steel that cover Uragaan. His fire attack and bombing runs are devastating, and his chin can one shot you. Also you can mine his back, neat. Armor looks a bit goofy, but I guess so does everything in this game.

Azure Rathalos - Just like how regular Rathalos is the better Rathian, Azure Rathalos is the better Pink Rathian. This is a subspecies that actually changes the way you approach the Rathalos fight, as Azure Rathalos is almost always airborne and spamming fire attacks. Bring flash pods as always, but he may become immune to their effect before you kill him, making the fight much more challenging for melee users.

Black Diablos - Literally no different than Diablos, what’s the difference supposed to be? I dunno. They seem to fight the exact same, but one is black. I think Black Diablos has a new move that functionally is no different from the move it’s a variation of except it has a back hit box?

Nergigante - The best fight for hammers, and the star monster of MHW. The initial area that Nergigante spawns in is filled with places to slide attack with the hammer, really making the fight trivial, given the aerial attacks from the hammer are the best in the game. Nergigantes design is okay, I really think it leaves something to be desired, and the regrowth mechanic seems kinda weird for some reason. I dunno, I don’t like Nergigante as much as I could.

Teostra - One of my favorite visual designs, Teostra has some of the coolest looking armor in the game and a fairly fun, if not uninspired and bland fight. The fire dragon has fire attacks except they’re technically blast, nothing special. Very soft looking, would pet.

Kushala Daora - I think they nerfed this monsters tornado spawn rate since I first played, but my initial encounter with this monster was the most annoying of anything. Kushala is almost always airborne and moves very quickly. Kushala will becomes immune to flash pods. Kushala spawns a lot of tornadoes. At one point, this monster had spawned so many tornadoes that the area I was fighting in was literally filled by tornadoes and there was no walkable area, my poor character was permanently staggered and I could do nothing until Kushala decided to leave. Cool design though, and honestly very cool armor, but I am too afraid to fight Kushala again so I will never farm it

Vaal Hazak - Easiest elder dragon fight, I think Capcom figured that Vaal’s ability to cut your health in half was very strong, so they counter balanced it by giving it no good attacks. Everything is slow and telegraphed and it’s full of weak points. I really don’t have much to say. Okay armor, really cool weapons.

Xeno’jiva - Man, am I glad this isn’t really the final boss. This fight is uninspired, boring, and a slog. There is no part where you are in danger, every move is slow and telegraphed, the only challenge is staying awake. Xeno’jiva is visually uninteresting and has some of the worst weapon designs in the game, they’re literally just stock weapons with Xeno’jiva skins on them, it’s so fucking gay. I am so glad Iceborne’s final boss completely blew Xeno’jiva out of the water.

Pt 2 and Iceborne next post

[prince-noctisluciscaelum]

Best Laid Schemes

This was supposed to be something for Ignis’s birthday, but I forgot about it and didn’t start writing until day of, and now it’s taken me a week to finish. So I guess happy Valentine’s Day instead?

Summary:

Ignis was already feeling the drain of an overly-busy week. The last thing he needed was a kidnapping attempt the night before the weekend.

Right?

“He should be alone with Noctis for a while after picking him up from school.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Wouldn’t want him slipping away before we can grab him. Though he won’t be easy to get the drop on.”

“I’ve got plenty of experience infiltrating secure areas. Besides, we’ll have inside help.��

“How do we stop him from fighting? You know he’s feisty. I’ve seen him fight, and even if he’s not a match for you, it’d be easy for one of us to end up hurt if we’re not careful.”

“We can hold Prince Noctis at knife-point. He won’t risk injury coming to his prince. That should be enough to prevent any struggles.”

“That’s risky -”

“I’m willing to take that risk. It’s the best chance we have to prevent a fight. I want you to do it.”

“Me?! Why?”

“Because you’re the most suited for it. And you should grab him. You’re the one he’s least likely to recognize.”

“And what do I do?”

“Damage control.”

~*~

Ignis waited by his car outside the front doors of Noctis’s school for the prince. The last bell had rung a few minutes ago, but Ignis was well accustomed to the amount of time it could take Noctis and Prompto to meander their way outside. As pleased as he was that Noctis had found a friend outside of his appointed retainers, the addition of Prompto to Noct’s life had not increased his punctuality.

He normally didn’t mind waiting for Noctis, as long as he wasn’t unreasonably late, but it had been a busy week, and he had a small stack of paperwork awaiting him back at his apartment that he really should finish before the weekend. So Ignis was confused but pleasantly surprised to see Noctis among the first of the students out the doors. He scanned the crowd for the excitable blond that was the prince’s chosen friend, but didn’t see him.

“Is Prompto not with you today?” Ignis asked as Noctis approached.

Noctis shook his head. “He went home early. Sick or something.”

Ignis frowned, opening the passenger door of his car for Noctis. “I hope you didn’t catch anything from him. You know how weak your immune system is.”

“Nah, I think it was food poisoning,” he said. He slung his backpack off his shoulder and slipped into the car, dropping the backpack at his feet. Ignis closed the door behind him and rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat. Noctis continued his explanation as soon as they were both settled and he was pulling the car away from the curb.

“He had a salad, as usual, and probably just didn’t pay attention to whatever the latest recall on leafy greens was. Yet another excuse not to eat vegetables,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice as though that paltry bit of reasoning was enough to make Ignis stop trying to get him to eat healthy. Ignis sighed.

“Well, I can assure you that I am not lax when it comes to these things, so you shouldn’t need to fear food poisoning from any of my dishes.”

~*~

Despite the paperwork waiting for him at his own apartment, Noctis had managed to convince him to stay for a few hours before heading home. It hadn’t taken much, as Ignis was almost always amenable to keeping Noctis company, and when that was on top of Noctis asking for help deciphering the latest batch of Council meeting notes Ignis had dropped off… well. If Noctis was finally willing to study those, Ignis would do whatever he could to encourage it.

He headed to the kitchen to prepare a light snack for them while Noctis slipped into his bedroom to change out of his school uniform. He hadn’t even decided what to make yet when Noctis called for him, a slight note of panic in his voice.

He immediately dropped everything, grasping at his borrowed magic in preparation to pull his daggers from Noctis’s Armiger if he needed them before dashing across the apartment to the bedroom. The door wasn’t latched, so he pushed it open and froze at the sight of a knife at Noctis’s throat.

“Ignis,” Noctis whimpered, his breathing shallow and fast, and part of Ignis’s brain, the part that wasn’t focused on the blade to his prince’s throat, was telling him that he needed to calm Noctis down or he was going to hyperventilate and give himself a panic attack.

He shoved that thought aside and tried to break out of his tunnel vision. The person holding the knife on Noctis was just small enough to use Noctis as a full body shield. There was no way Ignis would be able to reach him without maneuvering behind them.

No one had moved since Ignis had opened the door, so he risked taking a step into the room, hands up in a placating gesture. Noct’s assailant tightened his grip on the knife, pulling Noctis a step back to keep the distance between them.

“Why don’t you let him go and we can talk about what you want?” Ignis said, keeping his voice low and soft, nonthreatening. There was a small tremble in the hand holding the knife; this was no hardened kidnapper. He was probably desperate, inexperienced, and had somehow been convinced, most likely by an outside party, that kidnapping Noctis would help him in some way.

Ignis took another step, and Noctis’s eyes flickered to the side just as hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him farther into the room, and the door slammed shut behind him. Ignis lashed out, fighting against the hands that held him. He threw his head back, both feeling and hearing the crunch of cartilage as his skull connected with his attacker’s nose. He grinned sharply as that drew a startled, pained curse from the man, and he managed to wrench one arm free in his distraction. But before he could do anything else, his wrist was caught in an iron grip as the third kidnapper stepped into view.

“Stop, unless you want something to happen to your precious prince,” he said, his voice clearly modulated by a device hidden in the black ski mask over his face. Smart, really, as there would be little for Ignis or Noct to use to identify him if they managed to get away.

He was the tallest of the kidnappers, about as tall as Gladio, actually, and Ignis desperately wished the Shield was with them now. Ignis could generally hold his own in a fight, but he could never match Gladio’s raw power, and the numbers were not currently in his favor, even if he had broken the nose of the man behind him.

Ignis nodded, his eyes flickering back to Noctis and the blade at his throat. Noctis was tense, his eyes wide and his breathing still far from ideal, and the knife at his throat was wickedly sharp. Ignis let the fight drain out of him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Your cooperation,” the third kidnapper said. Ignis assumed he was the leader. He released his bruising grip on Ignis’s wrist, transferring control of him to Broken Nose. His arms were pulled behind his back, and he didn’t fight as his wrists were bound, a little more gently than he would have expected.

“Any funny business and we take it out on His Highness over there, got it?” Leader said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Noctis.

“Understood,” Ignis said, gritting his teeth. It was unusual for Noctis to be used against him, usually it was the other way around. He found he vastly preferred being used as the bargaining chip. He was going to have nightmares about that knife for weeks, no matter how this turned out.

Leader nodded, stepping closer to Ignis again to pat him down until he found his phone. He pulled it out, glancing at it before turning it off and tucking it into his own pocket.

“Can’t have you using any fancy emergency alerts, now can we?”

He sauntered across the room towards Noctis, pulling a small plastic bag out of his pocket. He stopped in front of Noctis and removed a damp cloth from the bag.

“Just to make escape a little more difficult for you,” Leader said, the smirk in his voice audible even through the modulation.

Noct’s eyes blew even wider than they already were, and he shifted on his feet, the knife at his throat preventing him from struggling more than that.

“No, please,” he whispered. “That’s not… that’s not necessary.” He started to shake his head, but aborted the motion with a wince.

Ignis surged forward on instinct, but Broken Nose grabbed his upper arms tightly, holding him in place. He made one attempt to shake him off before Noct’s attacker pressed the knife harder against the prince’s throat. Noctis’s breath hitched, and Ignis froze, forcing himself to relax into Broken Nose’s hold.

Leader pressed the cloth over Noctis’s mouth and nose, his other hand at the back of Noctis’s head to keep him from moving away. Noctis thrashed, screaming into the cloth, hands scrabbling at Leader’s arm for a moment before his struggles faded and he slumped down into the two kidnappers’ arms. The knife had been pulled away from his throat before he could cut himself on it, and Ignis found the presence of mind to be grateful for that.

Leader dropped the cloth and swung Noctis up into his arms, giving Ignis a clear view of Noct’s attacker for the first time. He was dressed the same as Leader, baggy black clothing and a black ski mask hiding any physical identifiers, aside from his height and general idea of build. Ignis was surprised that someone as short and slight as him had managed to overpower Noctis. He must have gotten the knife to his throat before Noctis had noticed him, effectively preventing any fight from happening at all. Perhaps he was more skilled than Ignis had originally given him credit for.

Shorty slipped the knife into a holster at his hip and pulled out a long strip of cloth. He stepped toward Ignis, and Ignis reared back, knowing exactly what that was for and wanting to avoid it for as long as possible. He stopped fighting when Leader cleared his throat, his head tipped meaningfully down towards Noct’s limp form in his arms. Even with Noct unconscious, they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him to ensure Ignis’s cooperation.

He gritted his teeth and allowed Shorty to wrap the cloth over his eyes, tying it off at the back of his head. He hissed as a few strands of his hair were caught in the knot and yanked.

With himself bound and blindfolded and Noctis unconscious, it would be incredibly difficult to escape. He would have to fight his way out while hauling Noctis with him, and he didn’t think that would be possible. Any chance of escape would have to wait until Noctis woke up, and who knew how far away they would be before that happened.

Ice settled in Ignis’s veins as he realized that this was really happening. Up until now, it hadn’t quite set in, it had felt unreal, like the situation would turn itself around. Maybe the guards assigned to Noctis’s apartment would realize something was wrong and burst in, or Gladio would drop by, or the kidnappers would make a mistake and give Ignis or Noctis the chance to break free and fight them off. But now, as Broken Nose manhandled him out of Noct’s bedroom and through the apartment, guiding him just carefully enough he didn’t trip over anything, he was running out of time.

It would be so much harder for anyone to find them once they were moved to a secondary location, and Ignis shied away from the thought that they might be taken beyond the Wall. Insomnia was large enough as it was, so many places to hide, but it was still just one city, crawling with citizens, witnesses, even if not all would be willing to speak to employees of the Crown. Greater Lucis was so much larger, so much less populated, and with people far less likely to do the Crown any favors. And there was an Imperial presence outside the Wall, which frightened Ignis the most. If Noctis ever ended up in Niflheim’s hands… Ignis shuddered.

Navigating Noct’s apartment building while blindfolded was surprisingly easier than he had expected, even with the kidnapper’s hand on his arm. He supposed he spent enough time traveling the same path down the hallway, to the elevator, and down to the parking garage beneath the building. He was a little surprised, and concerned, that they had managed to get a car into the garage and somehow access Noctis’s floor of the building. Security on the building was supposed to be tight, considering the crown prince lived there by himself, and that opened the situation up to potentially involving an inside person. He wondered where the Crownsguard on duty were, and whether they were still alive or not.

Ignis was guided to a stop just as he heard a car door open in front of him. Broken Nose adjusted his grip on him to maneuver him into the car, one hand on the top of his head to prevent him from hitting it against the doorframe. He had a brief moment of considering making a run for it when the door was closed behind him and he wasn’t blocked in by any of the kidnappers, but there was no way he could, not when Noctis couldn’t run with him, not when he didn’t even know where Noctis was, and oh Astrals, what if they separated them?

He forced down the panic, it would do neither of them any good, and relaxed when the other backseat door opened and a weight that Ignis could only assume was Noctis was settled into the middle seat next to him, his unconscious body slumping over slightly to press against him. Ignis welcomed the comfort brought by his nearness, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. He wanted the blindfold gone, so he could see his prince, make sure he was uninjured and that they were not separated while he couldn’t see, wanted his hands free so he could run them through Noct’s hair to soothe them both. But he could do nothing more than lean his head to the side to press his cheek against the top of Noctis’s head, reassuring himself of his prince’s presence with the familiar brush of his hair against his skin.

A third person clambered into the backseat on the other side of Noctis, and both front doors opened and slammed shut. The car rumbled to life, and Ignis focused on tracking their route, comparing the time and distance between turns to a mental map of the area around Noctis’s apartment.

It soon became obvious the kidnappers were taking a convoluted, roundabout way to wherever their destination was. They had taken far too many turns that looped them back around, and unfortunately, the method was working. Ignis wasn’t sure at all where they were, only that they hadn’t gone nearly the distance their time spent in the car would imply.

Finally they stopped, and the sound of the car doors echoed like it did in the garage under Noct’s apartment. Another underground parking garage then, or a similar structure. Maybe a warehouse, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Noctis was removed from his side, and Ignis bit down on his lip to stop whatever sound he might have otherwise made at the loss of contact with his prince. He didn’t fight as he was pulled from the car by the kidnapper he assumed was Broken Nose. He seemed to be the one in charge of handling him, and he didn’t see any reason they would have changed that up now. The grip on his arm was starting to feel familiar in any case.

Ignis was beginning to adjust to the strangeness of moving without his sight, though he was still grateful, as much as he could be, considering it was their fault he was in this situation at all, for the surprisingly patient help of the kidnapper at his side. He had yet to be jerked around, left to stumble or trip, or be allowed to walk into an obstacle for their amusement. It was oddly considerate, and it confused him.

He was herded into an elevator, if the ding of the door and the sudden sense of the closeness of the walls were any indication, which was confirmed by the following stomach-dropping upwards motion. The gentle elevator music made the whole thing feel like a scene from one of the bad action films Noctis and Prompto were so fond of. It was not a warehouse then, at least not a conventional one, and Ignis’s confusion only grew. They were likely being taken to an office space or an apartment, based on what he was currently able to gather about the building they were in, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Neither were conventional destinations for kidnappings, but at least he was confident they had not, at least yet, been taken beyond the Wall.

A short walk down a hallway and a keycard swipe later, and he was led into what he was now convinced was an apartment. Something about the layout of the building felt familiar, and though he knew most apartment buildings were similar, even the route he was guided through inside the apartment tickled the back of his mind.

Broken Nose pushed him down to sit on a couch then retreated as a new set of footsteps approached, too light to be Leader’s. Shorty’s maybe? Ignis tensed when they stopped in front of him, not sure what to expect now that they had apparently reached their destination, and he desperately wanted to know where Noctis was.

Gentle hands brushed against his blindfold before slipping behind his head to carefully untie it. The cloth was pulled away from his face, and he blinked up into Noctis’s blue eyes.

“Noct?” he whispered, confused.

“Hey, Iggy.”

“What…” He tore his eyes away from Noctis’s face to glance around at his surroundings and had to blink a few times before realizing that, yes, this was Gladio’s apartment. He was on the couch in Gladio’s apartment, Noct was conscious and hovering in front of him, Gladio and Prompto were behind Noct in baggy black, and good grief, was that Nyx Ulric? He’d broken Nyx Ulric’s nose?

“I must admit I do not understand,” he said, allowing confusion to be the dominant emotion. He would deal with the relief and anger after he understood exactly what had happened.

“We kidnapped you,” Noctis said, as though that explained everything. He looked uncertain and suddenly wouldn’t meet Ignis’s eyes. “You’ve been overworking yourself lately, and we know you never take a break unless you’re forced to, so we decided to… force you.” He was mumbling by the end of it, picking at the hem of his shirt in embarrassment.

“So you thought that ambushing us in your apartment and getting yourself held at knife-point in front of me would somehow reduce my stress levels?” he asked, firmly reining in his rising temper. It wouldn’t do to lose his composure at his liege.

“We may have gotten… carried away,” Noctis admitted. “It’s not often you get to set up your own kidnapping.” There was a hint of a grin in the prince’s voice, even if his face was still deliberately remorseful. He sat on the couch next to Ignis and leaned around him to untie Ignis’s hands. Ignis brought his hands out from behind him and rubbed at his wrists. Now the great care Nyx had taken with binding his hands made a lot more sense. In fact, all of the strangeness of the event now made sense.

“Haven’t you had enough real kidnappings to satisfy that particular urge?” Ignis asked, exasperated. “If you’re so desperate for them, I could set up a few as escape training exercises.”

Noct made a face. “That takes the fun out of it.”

“I don’t know. I think I would find watching you be held at someone else’s mercy a lot more entertaining if I knew you were perfectly safe.” His retort was cutting, and he took a moment’s satisfaction at the flinch Noctis gave in response. The pleasure was immediately followed by regret. He couldn’t stand seeing his prince hurt, and that was the heart of his issue with this prank.

He took Noctis’s chin gently in hand, tilting his head up to get a look at his throat. Not a scratch, and the rest of the tension Ignis hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto drained out of him.

“Well, at least Prompto had the control necessary not to cut you.”

“Nyx laid a shield spell on the knife. It was perfectly harmless.” Ignis snorted. Of course he had.

“And the chloroform?” he asked dryly, arching an eyebrow.

The grin finally broke through onto Noct’s face. “Just water. Was I convincing?”

“Scarily so, Highness.”

“Was it too much?” Noctis at least had the good sense to look ashamed as Ignis glared at him.

“Undoubtedly so.” Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, reminding himself firmly that it would be treason to punch Noctis. He would have to content himself with making dishes with a much higher concentration of vegetables for the next few weeks in lieu of physical revenge for this stunt.

“I’m sorry, Iggy.”

Ignis sighed. It was difficult to stay mad at Noctis, especially when the boy was truly apologetic, but he wasn’t quite ready to let the whole situation go. Noctis was only one of four, after all, and each of them would need scolding. He ignored Noctis’s apology in favor of turning his attention to Gladio. Ignis had no problem being furious with him.

And himself, if he was being honest. He should have recognized the way Gladio moved, the feel of his grip on Ignis’s wrist. The two of them sparred often enough that they knew each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own. It had been smart to have Nyx be the one to handle Ignis, as he was the one Ignis was least familiar with save Prompto, but he, untrained as he was, would not have been able to restrain Ignis.

Yes, the whole situation had been very well planned, and if it hadn’t been at Ignis’s expense, in the guise of being for his benefit, he would have been impressed.

Ignis stood, relishing the flicker of uncertainty in the Shield’s eyes. He knew that outwardly, he appeared calm, perhaps appeased by Noctis and willing to let it all slide, but Gladio knew him well enough to distrust that. Remaining stoic in the face of highly emotional situations was an ability Ignis had developed early and thoroughly in his quest to be the best advisor and Hand to Noctis as he was able, and when his mask was up, even those closest to him had a hard time reading what he was actually feeling.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your role in this fiasco,” Ignis said, a levelness to his voice that belied his anger.

Quick as a viper, he struck at Gladio, his fist connecting with his cheekbone with a satisfying crack. Gladio’s head snapped to the side, and he let out a breathy laugh as he rubbed at his cheek. Ignis shook his hand out, the sting in his knuckles worth it.

“I guess I deserved that,” Gladio said.

“You bloody well did,” Ignis snapped. “This was incredibly foolish. You all are lucky the only injury sustained was Ulric’s broken nose. And you,” Ignis rounded on the Glaive in question. “You should have known better.”

Nyx managed a sheepish smile, made much more garish by the blood that he had not yet had a chance to wash off his face and teeth. “I never could resist a good prank,” he said.

“Of all the idiotic…” Ignis trailed off, not sure what insult he was intending to go for. He sighed. “You’re not to use a potion on that. You’ll let it heal naturally, and let that be a lesson. Now go clean that blood off your face. You look a horror.”

“Yes, sir.” Nyx sulked out of the room in the direction of Gladio’s bathroom.

The Glaive cowed, Ignis turned his attention to Prompto, who had pressed himself into the far corner of Gladio’s living room, his body hunched in on itself and looking absolutely miserable. He glanced up at Ignis but quickly averted his eyes when he saw Ignis’s attention focused on him. Ignis’s irritation faded a bit at the sight.

“Prompto,” he said, waiting until the boy looked up at him before continuing, “don’t let Noctis drag you into anything this reckless again.”

He ignored Noct’s indignant protest in favor of watching the cautious relief spread over Prompto’s face. Witnessing the tongue-lashing the rest of the group had received had frightened him badly enough, and technically Ignis had no authority over the boy, as he was still merely a civilian and not yet an official member of Noctis’s retinue. He would leave it at that and hope it would be enough to discourage any other activities of this nature.

“Yes, Ignis, sir, I promise. Thank you, sir.”

Ignis nodded in approval and turned back to Noctis and Gladio, clearly the instigators and ringleaders of this whole mess, with his hands on his hips.

“Now, since you went to all that trouble to get me here, what were your plans to make up for all the stress you just put me through?”

~*~

Several hours later found Ignis relaxing on the couch in Gladio’s living room, Noctis on his left and Prompto on the other side of the prince. Gladio was sprawled across his preferred loveseat, already half asleep, and Nyx had left a while earlier, citing early morning guard duty. Ignis had stopped him at the door and pressed a potion into his hands. As much vindictive pleasure as Ignis would have taken from the man having to answer questions about just how he’d gotten his nose broken, the safety of the Crown they were both sworn to protect came first. And Ignis had broken his own nose in training before, and it really was an unpleasant experience. There was no sense in making the man suffer needlessly. That he’d been willing to comply with Ignis’s original demand of letting it heal naturally had shown his remorse over the situation, and that was enough for Ignis.

Gladio had apologized profusely and presented Ignis with an entire case of Ebony, and Astrals take him, but that man knew how to bribe his way to Ignis’s forgiveness. He had also agreed to work up a couple mock kidnapping scenarios with Ignis to better train Noctis on how to escape them, and that had finished mollifying him.

The rest of the evening had been spent pleasantly with the sort of mindless entertainment that Ignis rarely let himself indulge in but the rest of them loved, and all manner of junk food that was frankly appalling. But at least the delivered pizzas had spared Ignis from having to cook dinner. Not that he ever minded that particular task.

Now they were all about ready to call it a night. Gladio had insisted that they all stay at his apartment, and considering Ignis’s car was back at Noct’s and walking across Insomnia at night could put them at risk of an actual kidnapping, Ignis was highly amenable to that, even if it meant sleeping on the couch. The fussy nature of the scars on Noctis’s back dictated that he would get the spare bed if they didn’t want to risk a flare-up, and while it was large enough for two, it would be nearly impossible to extricate him from Prompto. Nor did Ignis particularly feel the need to.

The two younger teens were curled up together on the couch next to him, as they often were, arms around each other and their heads pressed together as they talked quietly about the movie that had just finished, or whatever new game it was they were currently looking forward to; Ignis wasn’t paying close enough attention to follow their conversation.

Ignis had long suspected Prompto had been touch-starved before he started spending time with Noctis, considering his absent adoptive parents, and Noctis, as cuddly as he was, had been perfectly willing to soothe that ache, though probably unknowingly. Now, years later, it was a habit to sling their arms around each other, or link them together as they walked, or curl up into a single ball with too many arms and legs on the couch. It was just a natural part of their friendship, built in from the beginning, and Ignis was glad for both of them. They were good for each other, filling in the cracks left by neglect, intentional or not, from others in their lives.

Ignis and Gladio did their best, of course, to step in when the king was too caught up in his duties to the kingdom to spend the kind of time he wished, and Noctis deserved, with his son. But what Prompto brought to the table that none of the rest of them could was free will. Noctis was far more than just a duty to Ignis, and he tried to make sure Noctis knew that, but that didn’t change the fact that Ignis was oath-bound to Noctis and had been since they were children. There would always be an aspect of their relationship that was laid down in contracts and paychecks and responsibilities. There was none of that with Prompto, and Ignis was glad. Even if he sometimes found himself jealous, though he would slit his own throat before he would ever admit that to anyone.

Probably feeling Ignis’s eyes on him, Noctis untangled himself from Prompto and scooted closer to Ignis on the couch until he was almost pressed against his side instead. Ignis tried to ignore the way Noct’s bright eyes were gazing up at him from under the fringe of his hair and failed miserably. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around Noctis’s shoulders and pulled the prince in close. Noctis snuggled up against him, resting his head on his shoulder with a contented sigh, and Ignis smiled. All was forgiven.

...But Ignis was still making Noctis nothing but vegetables for the next week.