#I'm gonna be twenty fucking five years old and I'm less than nothing

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw suicide

[asterrrrion]

I know very well that Slip narratively and logically could've never lived but GOD I wish we'd gotten the chance to explore his character a bit more

Like he's a genius chemist street orphan who's goal in life is to design non-addictive drugs because he started using drugs when he was a child, he stopped using because his crush (that treated him like shit) basically yelled at him that he endangered every one he met and was going to die, the aforementioned crush he hadn't talked to in at least five years became a terrorist and he went "you know what, I'm gonna help you run away", he tests his own potentially dangerous experiments on his fucking self, he has absolutely nothing to his name to the point that he could bet everything away which makes him a poker master except for Peter (which is what ultimately damns him), he's larger than life, he's a seventeen year old boy, he ends up dying of an overdose and I don't even want to think about the fact that while Peter was sleeping he 100% knew he was gonna die of the very same thing he's fought against for half his life, he's weirdly balanced and emotionally intelligent, he's confident around literally everyone except the guy he's in love with, and when coming out of a twenty years long coma and in unimaginable pain, unable to talk, as soon as he got a grasp of the situation he decided to let himself die in less than thirty seconds to save the love of his life.

Truly the character of all time™ of the Penumbra, died like a king as he lived

[thepartyresponsible]

Hey there! I've read all the way through your fics masterlist (for the second time this year) and am craving more (who wouldn't?!). I was just wondering, since I'd hate to impose asking for something new, if you'd consider posting a snippet of one of your wips (maybe something with Clint)? Any scrap of material you'd be willing to release into the world again would be like a holy grail, a balm to soothe savage readers. Love your writing so much!!

hello! i'm not working on much right now, but i've been reading something is killing the children, and, naturally, trying to figure out how to write a dc/marvel crossover in that universe.

so here's a little snippet of a something is killing the children dc/marvel au, where jason todd and clint barton are young, feral, and murderous.

warnings for graphic violence, dead parents, and gore.

- - -

The White Masks clean up after a feeding frenzy at a circus, and, afterwards, they bring home a pair of blonde brothers still spotted with blood. Circus kids, just like Dick, but skinnier. The youngest is wearing a costume, bright purple and garish, an embarrassment in the predawn light. He’s clutching a bow like a teddy bear, has that pale, rolling-eyed look of fresh trauma.

The story, when it filters to them, is that a brood of Oscuratypes feasted their way through a late-night performance. The monsters started in the stands, ate their way to the stage. It was a spectacle, Jason hears. A real, once-in-a-lifetime sort of show.

Whole families dismembered and consumed alive. Pieces of acrobats raining down from the trapeze. Blood and guts and sequins and screams.

The baby brother, that five foot nothing bit of dandelion fluff on legs, killed three of the babies with blunted arrows. Three of the damn things.

“I mean,” Jason says, at dinner, “it’s bullshit. Kid shows up with three kills. That’s not fair.”

“Yeah.” Dick looks disappointed in him, which is how he usually looks these days. “That’s absolutely the point here, Jason. That’s what we’re all focusing on. He has more kills than you.”

“He hasn’t been initiated,” Jason continues. “He doesn’t even have a totem. He’s got three kills and--”

“And,” Bruce intones, “twenty-six people are dead.”

It should be more. One adult and five babies, a crowd of hundreds of people. Should be dozens upon dozens. Should be a fucking mess.

A twelve-year-old kid with blunt arrows and a spangly purple leotard. “And,” Jason says, as he shoves to his feet, “he’s too fucking old for this.”

- -

Jason was eleven when he watched a monster rip his mother into meat. He remembers the teeth.

He remembers her high-pitched, dying-rabbit shrieks, remembers that awful wet slurping. He remembers everything, every sound, the arc of blood, angle dropping rapidly, pressure failing. The way she looked at him, the way she stopped.

He remembers the weight of the knife from the kitchen, shitty and dull like everything they owned. The useless dredge of terror in his chest, all that stupid, howling grief.

Twelve’s too fucking old. A younger brain’s more malleable, sieves that shit right out of you, kicks it to the backburner of your subconscious mind. Jason knows plenty of White Masks who showed up when they were six or seven, and he almost wouldn’t clock them as Knights if he never saw them work.

But he can always tell the older ones. The cracks never quite fuse up right.

Black Masks are different, but they always are.

The point is, the kid had a chance. It’s just too damn bad his monsters showed up so late.

- -

“They’re gonna kill you,” Jason tells him. Out after curfew, unmasked with an uninitiated stray. Rules are for breaking, like laws and promises and necks.

If Bruce didn’t want him here, he should’ve nailed his bedroom window shut.

If the house didn’t want him talking to the stray, they should’ve nailed his window shut too.

“Loose ends,” Jason says.

The blonde shrugs. His name is Clint. His brother disappeared less than six hours after they brought him here, stole out sometime during lunch, and everybody’s shocked as hell except the brother he left behind. “Seems like,” he says, slow and kinda rambling, picking through his words, “everything’s been trying. But nothing’s done it yet.��

That white mask looks terrible on him, covers him from cheekbones to jaw, washes him out. He’d look better in black, but God knows Bruce wasn’t going to risk going to another circus. Look what happened last time.

Bruce Wayne, the so-called last of the Dark Knights, all his good, solitary intentions shattered apart at the feet of the bloodily orphaned Dick Grayson. And then Jason, and then Steph, and then Tim. Maybe Bruce will be the last in the end, but he has some graves to dig first.

“Take that stupid thing off,” Jason says, reaching for the mask.

Clint dodges away from his hand. Not like a flinch, like a habit. “Supposed to keep it on,” he says. “They told me. Coulson said. Whenever we’re out of our rooms, mask on.”

“Fucking Coulson,” Jason sneers. “What the fuck would he know? He’s new to being in charge. Yesterday, he was just one of us.”

“Hey,” Clint says, finally looking him in the eyes. “He’s nice.”

He says it soft, but those blunted arrows were soft too. He killed three monsters, saved dozens, and there was Jason, at damn near the same age, and he saved nobody, killed nothing.

Jason’s fourteen now. Sometimes he can feel the hunt like a shiver behind his eyes. He remembers, always, forever. The way his mother looked at him, the pathetic stretch of his open hand, the time he wasted screaming when he should’ve been going for a knife.

He keeps that monster caged in a stuffed bat, identical to Dick’s except for the red stitching. The first gift Bruce Wayne ever gave him.

Well, the second, if you count his life.

“That monster you couldn’t kill,” Jason says, “that big one. The mother. They’re gonna tell you they want you tame it. But it’s a lie. You’re too old. You’re an outsider. That’s not how the White Knights work. They’re gonna let it eat you.”

The Dark Knights are different, always have been. But White Knights fall in line. White Knights turn inward.

Clint looks at him, white mask blank and toothless against his face, erasing him until he’s just a pair of bloodshot blue eyes and hair so blonde that patches of it are still dyed faintly red. Three dead monsters, and a skinny wide-eyed kid. Just bait, Jason thought. Just a corpse still walking.

Looking at him now, there’s no bait, there’s no corpse. There’s a killer, staring back. The hunt that hums in Jason’s chest is an itch in his teeth. He feels like it’s humming in Clint, too. Not quite an echo, but a harmony, maybe.

Three dead monsters. It could be so many more.

“I want you to live,” Jason says. “We could kill so many of those bastards.”

Clint tilts his head. “I thought,” he says, still drawling through his vowels like he’s got time to waste, “that we were trying to save people.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, “sure. Whatever.”

That’s probably how the White Knights spin it. But Jason’s mask is black, and he doesn’t care how many people they save. The only person who mattered is already dead.

“C’mon,” Jason says, and this time, when he grabs Clint by the arm, he doesn’t dodge away. “I’m gonna teach you how to live.”

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

Moony

Remus x Reader

Part 2

Summary - After you left Remus after telling him about your pregnancy, you're now trying to juggle being pregnant by yourself in a foreign country, along with your three best friends searching for you.

Trigger Warning - Cursing, mentions of abortion, angst, it's longish? I think that's all. Let me know if there's more though.

Italics are letters, Bold is unknown to the readers.

America.

That's the only way you can really describe it. It is, well, America. Some places are incredibly beautiful, some terribly ugly. Some incredibly cold, some unbearably hot. Some busier than Diagon Alley on the day all the kids come to buy their things, some slower than a virgin's bedroom.

You hadn't seen much, especially seeing as how you had only been there for a week, but it was already more than you expected. You expected a stern talking to, you expected a bed rest, you expected a midwife in every thirty minutes, and you definitely expected to have someone at your side every second of the day. But, that wasn't what you got.

Especially seeing as how, your Great Grandpa kicked the rest of your family out of the house before you arrived, not wanting his favorite grandkid to be in an uncomfortable home, especially while she was growing his two great, great grandkids.

He was incredibly wealthy, a pure blood from England gone American. You had been the only one that actively spoke to him and visited him as often as you could while he lived in England. Now, your family was watching the sand fall in his hourglass to see who got the most money from his will. Honestly, though, you could see the man living another 200 years - just to spite them all.

He had taken you out, shown you incredible things, although you were stuck in a stupid state of unbearable heat - Texas. Although, the heat had taken you out of the sweaters that had you crying every time you got a whiff of his scent, and into some beautiful maternity sun dresses. You had already sent 20 pictures to Molly.

You had yet to write to Lily though, but her owls came twice a day, at least. You were starting to worry that she would get on James' broom and follow the owl herself to find you. Her letters really all stayed the same.

Y/n, just tell me where you are. I won't tell Remus, or Sirius. Heck, I won't even tell James. Harry and I will come visit and I'll tell you all about how I beat Remus' arse. Or how James did....Or how Sirius did. But, please, just write me back. I love you. I miss you incredibly.

Then you had

Y/n, come on, you really have me worried. The entire order has heard about what happened and I think they're all freaking out each second like we are. We miss you. You're the ray of Hufflepuff joy we all need, the always Ravenclaw intelligence the boys really need, the absolute Gryffindor bravery in the craziest of situations that the order needs, and the Slytherin strength I need. Please, just write back.

Then, she got help from the boys - or, the ones you would be open to hear from.

Y/n, while I have to be honest, Lily is standing over my shoulder watching me write this, I was going to do it either way. Remus was an absolute arse, I understand that, but we miss you. Lily, Harry and I want nothing more than for you to be home, with us even. You don't have to see him, you really don't. We just want to be here for you through this time, the good and the bad. Please write back.

When that didn't work, you had a howler from Sirius.

Y/n Y/l/n, I swear, if you don't write me back, I'm gonna jump into the paper and send myself! I'm going absolutely crazy watching Lily freak out every day! You're the only one that can calm her, not even James is doing it! You're taking away my precious James time! I fucking miss you - okay? Moony is an absolute dick. He deserved you walking out on him, he really did, but please don't walk out on all of us too. Y/n, we miss you, we really do. Moony isn't even here anymore, he left after we all went to Molly's - Sirius, don't tell her that! - Shit, fuck, how do I scratch that? Uhhh, I didn't say that. Erase! Erase! Lily, how do I erase on a howler? Fuck. Whatever. I'm sure it erased. But, come home. I'll make James make you that surprisingly good chicken he makes and I'm sure Lily would love to give you some old baby momma clothes or whatever the fuck they're called. I just - we just - no, I miss you, okay? Come home.

Your heart broke, not just because Remus was missing, but because your friends were hurt.

You sat down at the table in your guest house, sighing softly. A quill and some parchment sat before you, your hand shaking as you dipped it into the ink.

Lily, James, and Sirius.

While I know I could write a letter to each of you separately, I'm almost positive you're all together, or you're gonna call each other as soon as you get my letter.

I'm okay, I think. Not as okay as I wish I was, I cry a lot. While I wish I could blame it on the hormones, I know it's not. Everything reminds me of him, even here. No, I'm not in England, I'm in the states. I'm staying with some family and I think it's doing me well. At least, I've started to own my pregnancy.

After what Remus said to me, my body broke. I just about hated the fact that I was pregnant. Not my kids, just that I was pregnant. But, with each day, I realize that this pregnancy is the thing I needed most. While I wish I didn't have to say this - it showed me the man Remus is. Does that mean I cry any less? Of course not - you guys know me.

But, I really don't think I can come home, at least not yet. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm to do. I love Remus with every fiber of my being, but how do you love a man that told you to get rid of your own children, the minute he gets home from a mission he could have died from? How do you let him hold you as he feels the two children you both created grow in your belly knowing he hates them?

I'm going to come home eventually, of course I am. And I already promised Molly I'll be back for a visit soon, and you guys are more than welcome to come visit once I teach my family how to properly floo in America - did you know they don't do that here? It's super weird. But, I love you three incredibly. I'm so sorry this has happened. Be safe.

Your heart broke as you debated on writing more, about what your heart was still set on. Remus. Where was he? Where did he go? Had they heard from him? Was he looking for you? But you couldn't bring yourself to ask them.

The owl was sent with their letter, leaving you in the silence once more.

How could you feel so absolutely alone when you had people wanting nothing more than to be with you? Is it what you thought you deserved? They were his friends before they were yours. You felt horrible that they were taking your side. You felt your heart ripping slowly with each beat it made in it's spot in your being. It was like one half of your heart was tied to Remus' and with each beat away from him, it tore you apart - slowly, filling you with excruciating pain.

Five minutes after the letter was sent, you were standing, trying to find a way to busy your mind.

Ten minutes after the letter was sent, you were crouching in the corner, the weight of your predicament pressing down on you so hard, it's like it formed hands and was set on pushing you six feet under without any hole dug for your body.

Twenty minutes after the letter was sent, your body was shaking with it's sobs once more, the loss of not only your spouse, but also the friends you loved almost as much as him.

An hour later, you had fallen asleep on the floor, your mind groggy and your heart tearing with each beat, your conscious hoping to pull you away from the pain your felt in the body that was supposed to be yours - but belonged to the man who seemed to not want you anymore.

It was dark, so incredibly dark. The only thing that was seen was the moon, halfway full in it's wake. The only thing heard was the pads of feet stomping on the ground as they ran. Ran where? Ran why? You could feel the pain in your chest, but it was like it wasn't your own. As you came to a stop, you looked at a building that seemed a familiar kind of unfamiliar - although that didn't really make much sense to you.

Before you realized it, you were slumped over the toilet, letting out the contents of your stomach. One of your hands pulled your hair to one side of your shoulder, keeping it there. But all you could think was how badly you wish it was Remus holding your hair, rubbing your back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

But all that mattered today was to get through it, like any other day.

One day following the motions.

Two days following the motions.

Three, four, five days.

Until your hands were pulled from your face, the skin around your fingers almost chewed to nothing, the warm face of Lily standing before you.

"If I see you bite your fingers one more time, I'm going to hex them to taste like Harry's dirty diapers." She spoke, pulling you up from your spot on the couch.

"Lily - I." You stopped, looking around her to see James, Sirius, and Harry. "How?" You asked, looking back into the eyes of your best friend.

"Your great grandpa is super cool. I think he was getting tired of all the letters we were sending him too and gave us the floo network here to knock you out of whatever it is you're in." Sirius spoke, Harry on his shoulders, pulling at his hair.

"You guys-" You were cut off with Lily pulling you into her hold, her larger belly pressed against yours as you both attempted to properly hug one another.

"I have missed you, so much" Her voice was soft, uncommon for Lily. Her hands held you tightly, almost like she was holding onto you to make sure you didn't disappear once more.

"Come on Lils, other people missed her too." Sirius spoke to cause her to pull away and glare at the man. "If you weren't holding onto my kid, I'd have hexed you so hard for that." She said, moving to grab Harry from his shoulders as James wrapped you up in a hug himself.

"If we hadn't seen you for another day, I think Lily was going to fly off on my broom." He said, causing you to laugh at your own prediction.

You finally got to Sirius, his arms holding you tighter than the two. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, his hold growing tighter. "What are you sorry for, Siri?" You asked him, pulling away to look into his face.

"What he said, what he did. That's not what you deserved." He mumbled, pushing your hair back a bit. "I swear, I about pounded his face in at Molly's. I think Arthur had to separate me magically." He trailed off, looking at the floor.

His words brought tears to your eyes once more, your heart feeling empty, yet full. "That's not your fault, Sirius. We all knew he didn't want kids, but we weren't careful. I don't know why his reaction surprised me." You were honest with them, having thought this entire thing was truly your fault.

The three of them surrounded you, their eyes narrow with intent. "Y/n, the last thing this is, is your fault. You're his fiancée, not a random person. Either way, those are his kids. He shouldn't have treated you like he did." James spoke with meaning, wanting you to understand each word he spoke.

Somehow, the four of you relaxed enough to find yourself growing to bed. You showed Sirius his room, a place where James and Lily can lay Harry, and then their own room, before finding your way to your own.

You laid in bed, wide awake. You knew what tonight was, the night before the full moon, and knew that Remus was probably out wherever he was, already in pain. Every turn was different, it truly was, but each night before the full moon, his body ached, his bones almost softened, knowing they would be breaking and turning in 24 hours, and his head psyched him out, especially when you weren't there. This was now the third full moon your financé was to handle without you.

You refused to cry, knowing Lily always had a third sense to that stuff, and willed yourself to sleep. But, you laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there some more, until you couldn't handle the quiet, and found yourself moving out of the room and towards Sirius'.

You had slept with Sirius before, each time when Remus was gone and your heart could hardly handle it. Now, the three hearts inside of you couldn't stand the guilt of not being with him.

The door didn't creak when you opened it, none of the floor boards made a sound, but that somehow made it worse. Your feet carried you to the dark haired man, seeing his sleeping frame move, sensing another person there.

His eyes jerked open, coming to look at you as he smiled sadly. "How did I know you'd come in here. Just can't resist the charm, can you?" His voice was deeper, rougher from sleep. It calmed you, but never like Remus' did. You waddled closer to the man, his arms opening for you as you crawled into him.

You both laid in silence, but awake now, as you took in the moment.

"I miss him, Siri. I know I shouldn't, I know I should hate him, but my entire being misses him." Your voice was softer than his was, much softer, but it wasn't because you were afraid of him, but because you were afraid of your own truth.

"I know you do. I know he misses you too. You guys are kinda like Lily and James, meant to be. He's just, an absolute git for this." His fingers worked in your hair, rubbing your scalp and causing your eyes to close in comfort.

"I thought we were meant to be too. But, he doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want us." At that, Sirius rested a hand at your bump, this being the first touch they really had beside your own. "He does, he's just stupid and scared. Either way, you have us. Aunt Lily, Uncle James, and, the absolute best uncle in the world, Uncle Siri. We've got you." His sensere words lulled you to sleep, a sleep where you felt safe and happy falling into.

You were running again, but it didn't feel like you were in danger. It felt like you were running to run, really. Which, was something you did not do. You weren't in the woods, but you didn't know where you were. All you did know is that you were still scared. Absolutely, bone crushingly scared.

With each step you took, the fear grew. How could you possibly be this scared? You were looking for something, but you didn't know what. You were shaking, but from both the cold and the fear. You were shaking. Shaking. Shaking

Shaking. "Y/n, wake up!" Sirius was looking down at you, his eyes full of excitement. "Your great grandpa is showing us the American version of Diagon Alley today!" You smiled up at him, nodding.

"Okay, okay, let me get changed."

The four of you had left your Grandpa once he settled himself down to play some wizards chess, waving you off.

"You know where the house is when you're done, I've got a title to keep."

You wandered through stores, showing them the few things you had learned so far about the wizarding world here. The four of you had just walked into their version of Flourish and Blotts when you were stopped by an older couple. "Oh, you both look absolutely wonderful! I remember when I was that pregnant. How far are you both?" she was smiling at you and Lily, growing closer to you.

"I'm due in about a week and a half. We already have one, Harry, who's staying with her family." She had pointed to you, smiling at the older woman. "Oh, I'd expect you to be due any day now. Seconds always come early and you look family dropped. What about you dear?" She had looked to you, glancing at your own belly.

"Oh, I'm only a few months along. Twins." You laughed, your hand resting protectively on your belly. "Awe, that's lovely. You both look radiant. Two amazing father's, I hope?" She now looked at James and Sirius, smiling at them. "Oh, no, I'm not the father. Our best mate is." Sirius spoke, gesturing to you. "Well, I dunno, is he?" He asked, looking at the three of you. "It's complicated." Lily said, smiling.

The older woman nodded, smiling. "I completely understand. I wish you both the best of luck." She bid you all adu, leaving with her husband.

"I can't tell if that was awkward or sweet." James laughed, leading you all to the door to leave.

You all laughed as you walked through the Wizarding space until you and Lily began complaining about the swollen ankles and bloated stomach enough to convince James and Sirius to guide you both home.

As the day turned into night, you now showing your friends the muggle artifacts your grandpa has collected from his move to the states. That was, until Lily groaned in pain.

"Fuck, she was right." The young woman grumbled, clenching her bump. "What do you mean?" James asked, his hand on her back softly. "He's coming early, James. I'm in labor, fuck." She groaned again, tilting her head back at the pain she was feeling for the second time in her life.

"Shit, Sirius, go find some towels. I'll go tell grandpa to write the healer for labor." You spoke, pointing Sirius in the direction of the towels before moving to Lily. "It'll be okay, okay? Everything will be fine." She nodded, gripping your hand tightly as she looked in your eyes. She smiled before groaning once more, a contraction hitting her. "Okay, okay, healer. You guys lay her down." Sirius returned with multiple towels, James and him laying a few out before helping Lily lay down on them.

You turned to waddle out of your home, attempting to get to your grandpa's house as quickly as possible.

Three steps towards his house, you heard a twig snap.

Five steps towards his house, you heard a thud.

Nine steps towards his house, a figure stopped before you, it's frame furry and bent, a growl releasing from his lips.

A werewolf.

How the fuck is a werewolf standing in front of you, in the middle of fucking Texas, in a populated muggle area?

You took a few steps backwards, until it clicked.

The only Werewolf that would spend his full moon looking for you was the same werewolf that has plagued your mind for the past month.

Moony.

~

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[rogue-durin-16]

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part I/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm currently going through a Harry Potter fever ('tis the damn season), so I thought I'll write something. I might write more of this story, (maybe turn it into a multipart) we'll see. If you'd like to be tagged in this, let me know.

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I had always supposed that reaching the sixth year at Hogwarts meant subjects would get way more demanding and complex, and I to be proven right, only two weeks in were needed.

Added to the usual difficulties, we would be hosting The Triwizard Tournament. Having the castle be almost twice as crowded as the other years, when all you crave is a quiet spot to study, wasn't ideal.

As I said, the first two weeks were already hard enough.

During the third week though, believe it or not, things got even worse —and our guests hadn't even arrived yet.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than the library these days, that's the sole reason why, at 3:35 pm, my best friend and I were already making our way there.

To our luck, we arrived just in time to see the two redheaded troublemakers par excellence high-fiving each other besides my common room's entrance.

"What on Merlin's beard are you two doing here?!" Both of them jumped at the sight of two Slytherins.

"The question is what are YOU doing here?" One of them questioned back, probably attempting to distract us. "You two should be in the library."

"What did you do?" I squinted my eyes at them and, while one raised his hands in surrender, the other just shrugged.

"Nothing." He motioned at our door nonchalantly. "If you don't believe me, check it yourself."

My friend and I shared a reluctant look, and before I could say anything, she was heading to the door.

"Mathilda wait—" I gasped when she sunk into what appeared to be the stone floor.

"Okay now, I wasn't expecting her to actually do it." When I attempted to step forward, a hand on my forearm prevented me from it.

"Don't step further." He warned. "Just in case."

"I'm not stupid." I hissed before grabbing my wand, which made the tall redhead back off. "Revelio." Slowly, a swamp was revealed to be where the entrance hall to the Slytherin common room was supposed to.

Now that it was visible, both twins hurried to get my friend out of their giant prank.

"Get rid of this." I ordered as they pulled her up, her bottom half covered in mud.

"Pffft... no?" One of them scoffed, walking away from Mathilda and stepping closer to me. "It's a masterpiece. It stays."

"If it stays, I will throw you into your masterpiece." I threatened, putting my wand back in my pocket.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try."

I glared at him, partially because I hated that cocky attitude these two —specially him— always exhibited, but also because I had to look up in order to make eye contact.

"Listen Weasley,"

"It's Fred." Oh what would I give to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"I don't care." Refusing to step back as he clearly wanted to achieve by towering me, I stepped forward, lightly pushing him back with one hand. "You will remove this from here or I will walk right now to the Potions Classroom and split on you."

The twins seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes only. After a moment of silence, the one with my friend spoke. "We'll get rid of it right now and you won't say anything." I nodded, my eyes still fixed on Fred's. "Just so we're clear, this was not set up for you."

"The next one will be, though." Fred assured me with an almost wicked smile. "I'll make sure you can't use the revelio on it."

"Is that a promise, Weasley?" I asked in an unconsciously defying tone.

"You can be sure of it, Y/l/n."

"It's Y/n." I retorted, mocking him.

"I don't care." I rolled my eyes when he did the same, finally breaking eye contact with him.

"C'mon Thilda," I held out my hand to her "let's see if someone can sneak us into the Ravenclaw common room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You think Fred meant it?" Mathilda inquired, the worry slipping through her words as she played with her breakfast.

"I doubt so." Angelina, who was sitting in front of us, replied without even looking up from her quidditch history book. "They seem more trouble than they are, really." I scoffed; it was easier for her to say that; she was a Griffindor after all. "Deep down they're nice sort, Y/n. They won't pick up on you for ruining a prank."

"I don't trust them."

"I'm not saying you have to—" Angelina jumped slightly when a wad of paper hit my face.

"You were saying?" I grunted, making eye contact with the red haired boy waving at me from the Griffindor table.

When I opened the wad, it read:

'miss me? —Fred ;)'.

"Look at his smug face." I hissed. "I'm gonna-"

"Ignore him. You're gonna ignore him." Angelina finished, fairly unconcerned. "I assure you he'll get bored in less then two days if he can't get a reaction out of you."

For the sake of having breakfast in peace, I only dedicated him a fake smile and did as my friend said. It seemed to work, until it was time to leave for class.

"We should get moving." Mathilda spoke, putting her plate aside and picking up her things as I did the same.

"I have a free period now." Angelina informed us. "Or as free as it can be. You?"

"Divination. Y/n?"

"Charms— Fuck." I whined as something dawned on me. "Those gits are in my class." I spared them a glare. "If they ruin my favorite subject I'm gonna—" a sudden splash of water on my face left my shirt soaked for at least the next hour. "You got the nerve—!" I yelled at the guy who was already making eye contact with me.

"I do, indeed!" He cut me off, winking at me from across the table, his chin resting on the palm of his hand with a teasing grin dancing on his lips as he asked, "what are you gonna do now, Y/l/n?" His twin brother, though I could only see his back, was clearly not enjoying this behavior.

Mathilda checked my gaze, dreading the worst. "Y/n, don't. You're gonna make Slytherin lose points." She knew the warning wouldn't do much, but at least she had tried.

Angelina, instead of backing our friend and try to calm me down, got up and walked to the table where the Weasleys sat.

FRED'S P.O.V.

"I hope you know you're dead." Angie stood in front of me, before using her book to tap my brother's arm. "George, move."

"What?"

The three of us spared a look at Y/n, who had, ignoring McGonagall yells, stepped over her table to get to us.

"Move. Now."

"Ssshit." My brother moved just in time for Y/n to repeat the same forward move on our table.

It's not as if I didn't have the time to move and run away, she hadn't rushed; on the contrary, she walked calmed and composed, and still I did not move an inch.

I guess a part of me wanted to know what she'd do to me.

"Look at you." I began to wind her up again when she climbed off the table on my side, sitting down on its surface with her shoes over the bench. "Doing the impossible to be near me, how romant—"

My sentence died off abruptly as a handful of scrambled eggs was mashed against my face.

I heard a burst of laughs around me. "Blimey! I'm sorry, Fred," she feigned worry, smearing what I assumed were the remaining rests of my breakfast all over my chest. "I hope you're not late to Charms because of this." She whispered near my ear, making a shiver go down my spine when her breath hit my neck. "See you there, yeah?"

Her hand squeezed my shoulder and her fingers ran over my shoulder blades as she walked away.

I felt a napkin placed in my hand and I was quick to remove as much scrambled eggs as possible from my face, just in time to see Y/n exiting the Great Hall with McGonagall jogging after her.

"You know?" Lee asked, drawing my attention. "Picking up on the girl you fancy is kind of a toddler strategy."

"Yeah, Fred," my brother agreed. "you're not an eighth year-old anymore."

"And you chose the wrong girl to nag" Angie added," if you keep it up, she will surely kill you." She held back a teasing smile. "And you should be careful" she nudged George. "I don't think she can tell you both apart, you can end up as collateral damage."

"But you wouldn't let that happen, would you?" I rolled my eyes when George scooted closer to our quidditch chaser.

"Depends on how annoying you are." She faked indifference as my brother searched for her eyes.

"I don't fancy her." I not-so-randomly stated. "But I can't stop pranking her now that she ruined my breakfast."

"You can and you will, Weasley." I jolted at McGonagall's voice behind me. "Twenty points from Gryffindor." At least I'm not grounded, I thought. "And you're grounded for the rest of the week."

"But Y/n— Ouch!" my brother kicked me under the table so I would shut it.

"Y/l/n has received her fair share of punishment, too, Weasley." The professor gave me a poorly masked, disgusted look. "Go and..." She waved her hand "Clean yourself up, Y/l/n will inform professor Flitwick about this incident. And Weasley," She stared at my brother. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to Charms too?"

"Yes ma'am." He replied, throwing everything into his bag, getting up and rushing out of there, not before grabbing his robe.

"The day's promising." I groaned, handing my things over to Angelina so I could go to the bathroom.

"You made the day promising by messing with a Slytherin, you twit." She pointed out, putting my things over hers. "Now go clean those eggs from your shirt."

"Aye, mother!" I headed off before Angie could add anything else to the conversation, loosening my tie as I moved forward.

As I cleaned off everything I could in the nearest bathroom, a random thought slipped into my mind.

Had Y/n been punished too? And if so, would we fullfil the punishment together? It seemed logical that if one of us got grounded, the other one would get grounded too; consequently, it would only make sense for us to—

Shut it. I mumbled to my own mind.

I didn't care. I did not care if she was punished or not. It was none of my business.

I don't fancy her, I thought to myself once again.

[when-they-write-stuff]

Any prompt? :P OK then how about 14 & 46 together? Hehe, you don't have to. I just liked these the most and I'm curious how they would work together in one of your fics :D

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” & “It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.”

- -

Stiles blamed the witch.

It seemed like whenever something went wrong in Beacon Hills, it was the fault of a witch. Sometimes warlocks too, but they seemed to avoid Beacon Hills a lot more often. But the witches, man. They were always there. 

Looming.

The point is, this was the fault of a witch. And Stiles was so done.

He was feeling pretty handy with a baseball bat about three seconds before he was blasted into a tree. At second one, Stiles was racing across the field with a battle cry in his throat. A second two, he was being flung back by a blast of light to his chest. And at second three, all he knew was pain.

Stiles blamed the witch. It was all her fault.

Then all he knew was black.

-

Stiles wasn’t a stranger to waking up in odd places.

When he was a kid, he used to fall asleep on the couch and wake up in his bed. When he was in middle school, he fell asleep at Scott’s and woke up in a tree. In his freshman year of high school, he was dared to stakeout the girl’s locker room and woke up in the principal’s office. The point is, Stiles was used to experiencing odd things.

He wasn’t expecting to wake up and find a strange man looming over him, though.

“Woah, holy fuck, dude! Stranger danger! Invasion of my personal bubble! Someone call the cops!”

The guy looked extremely irritated as he backed off. Someone else came into view; and Stiles nearly melted in relief as he recognized his best friend.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Scott. Scott. Dude, I swear to god, if I fell asleep in your tree again, it was a complete accident and I didn’t mean to—” Except that wasn’t Scott. Yeah, it had his face and his adorable puppy eyes, but nothing else. Nothing.

Because Scott was a lot smaller. His hair was a lot fluffier. And what the hell was with the newly acquired muscles?

“Uh, dude?” Scott said, taking a cautious step forward. Stiles squawked and shoved himself up, realizing he was on a metal table and surrounded by other people he didn’t recognize. His heart pounded at a hundred miles an hour and he dug his nails into his palm, trying to force back a panic attack.

“Guys,” Scott said. “He’s panicking. Everyone back up.”

“D-do we know these people? Do I know these people?”

“He’s finally lost it,” a blonde-haired girl said. Stiles blinked at her and then squinted. Because that was— no, it couldn’t be. There was no way.

“Erica Reyes?”

“Yeah,” a curly-haired boy next to her said. Upon recognition, Stiles didn’t know what the hell Isaac Lahey was doing here. Or how the guy even knew who Stiles was. “He’s lost it.”

“He hasn’t lost anything,” a gruffer voice said. It was scary ‘no sense of personal space’ dude, Stiles realized, cringing back slightly. “Deaton said his memory has been reset a few years. He should be fine in twenty-four hours.”

Stiles blinked at him. Scary ‘no sense of personal space’ dude was also kind of hot, if Stiles was being honest. And his eyebrows were a bit of a turn on. Stiles gaped at his own mind and shook his head, before glaring at him. Derek didn’t look impressed, though.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“He doesn’t recognize Derek,” Erica said, looking positively gleeful. “That’s gold.”

“Shut up,” Derek said, looking grumpy at that. “Stiles, what’s the last thing you remember? What year is it?”

“What year— what year is it? Dude, is this some kind of joke? Have I been pranked? Scott, I swear to god, this lost all it’s humor the second I woke up and realized sexy-brows wasn’t a gay-awakening dream.”

Derek straightened at that and Erica let out a bark of laughter. Scott looked a little horrified and Stiles swallowed hard, trying to ignore how hot his face was getting. He didn’t know this asshole, so why did it matter what he said?

“Stiles,” Scott said. “Do you remember sophomore year?”

“Fuck yeah, dude, we’re sophomores!”

“Oh my god,” Isaac said. “Stilinski, how old do you think you are?”

Stiles stared at him. Then he looked down at his hands and over the rest of his body. Everything seemed accurately proportioned. Except, he was a lot musclier than he remembered. Stiles rubbed a hand over his forehead and then yelped when he realized he had hair.

“Scott! My buzzcut!”

“Fuck,” Erica breathed, looking at him like Stiles was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. Then, she doubled over with laughter. “He thinks he’s sixteen!”

Thinks? Thinks?

Stiles looked from older-Scott, to grumpy sexy-brows, and then down at his hands again, and realized something was very wrong. Something was very wrong and Stiles had no idea what.

“Shit.”

-

“I’ll believe a lot of things,” Stiles said, pacing his room back and forth. “But werewolves are not one of them, Scott. I’m not an idiot. I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

Scott sat on the edge of his bed and looked anywhere but Stiles’s face. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles dropped into the chair at his desk and studied him.

“You’re hiding something from me. What are you hiding from me?”

“Werewolves were actually your idea in the first place,” Scott said carefully. “When I got bit.”

“I… what?”

“It was actually right,” Scott said. “But it took a few learning curves.”

“Learning curves? Dude! Have you killed anyone?”

“No, of course not!”

“Huh,” Stiles said, lacing his fingers together and resting them underneath his chin. “Show me, then. The whole werewolf thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Scotty, I have recently been told I am eighteen years old. Which means I’m a man. A man who can totally take whatever you about to— oh my god!”

Stiles leaped up, stumbling away from his chair as Scott’s face morphed to something grotesque and his eyes turned a vibrant shade of red. Fangs poked at his upper lip, his fingernails were claws, and there was no way that was right. Or real. This was a fever dream, it had to be.

“Stiles?” Scott said, voice warbled by his fangs. “Are you okay, man?”

“Y-yeah, man, I’m just… adjusting. I’m adjusting.”

Scott’s face turned back to normal, but Stiles couldn’t get that image from his head. He stayed in the corner and watched his best friend for a moment. If this was a fever dream, Scott couldn’t hurt him, right? Everything was going to be fine.

“So,” Stiles said, moving carefully back into his chair. “Does this mean I have yet to get with Lydia?”

“Lydia?”

“Yeah, dude, Lydia Martin. Strawberry-blonde hair, gorgeous green eyes, literally everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

“Oh,” Scott said, wincing. “No.”

Stiles deflated. “Not even in five to ten years? What about my ten-year plan?”

“You’ve kinda ditched that,” Scott said. “For Derek.”

“For Derek?”

There was a sudden tap on his window and Stiles yelped, flailing out of his chair as he spotted the man crouched on the roof outside. Scott gave him a worried look and got up, crossing the room to pull it open. Stiles managed to push himself up right as Derek climbed in, giving him a judgemental looking eyebrow.

“What about me?”

“Oh my god, nothing,” Stiles said, retreating backward. “Absolutely nothing. Nothing about you or your sexy looking— your eyebrows.”

Derek stared at him. Scott laughed nervously and stepped between them. “Right, uh. Thanks for taking over, man.”

Derek just grunted. Stiles blinked at the two of them. 

“Wait, taking over? Taking over for what?”

“We’re supposed to watch over you,” Scott said. “In case something goes wrong. I would, but I’ve got a shift at Deaton’s. So Derek’s gonna do it.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, voice small. “Derek’s gonna do it. Of course, Derek’s gonna do it.”

Derek gave him an ‘is that a problem’ look and Stiles gulped, offering his best smile. The man only rolled his eyes and Scott patted him on the shoulder as he left. 

Stiles gazed after the boy, half-tempted to follow and maybe beg for mercy, but he was a grown man. He was eighteen years old, dammit, he was not afraid of some stubbled man and his freakishly good looks.

“So,” Stiles said, turning back around. “Babysitting duty, eh?”

“You’re not a baby,” Derek said. He picked up a magazine from Stiles’s desk— one on planting, which Stiles didn’t know why he had— and proceeded to lounge back in Stiles’s bed. He didn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, he almost seemed at home.

“So,” Stiles said, shuffling his feet. “We’re friends? Or something?”

“Or something.”

“But you like me,” Stiles pressed. Derek gave him a strange look and Stiles turned red. “I mean clearly, you have to kinda like me. If you’re here on babysitting duty.”

“Sure, Stiles.”

“That’s not very reassuring, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles sighed and sunk down into his desk chair. He watched Derek for a moment longer but the man seemed content to ignore him, so Stiles spun his chair around and fixed his attention on his laptop. He assumed there were a lot of things he’d missed. Like his favorite comics. Or movies! There had to be a few new movies.

“Dude!” Stiles screeched after a second of research. Derek startled so hard he nearly rolled off the side of the bed and Stiles spun around, tapping his computer screen in excitement. “There are three new Avengers movies out. Three!”

“Stiles, I swear to god—”

“We have to watch them!”

“You’re going to start remembering things in less than twenty-four hours. What’s the point?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “You’re so sour. This is my chance, dude, to re-experience all the things that bring me joy. Do you know what I would give to be able to read something like Harry Potter again without knowing what happens?”

“Then watch your movies,” Derek said, looking unimpressed. “You have about eight hours.”

“Do you… want to watch them with me?”

Derek looked at him in confusion. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“I mean, you don’t have too.”

Derek studied him for another few seconds. Then, silently, he nodded and Stiles grinned. He grabbed his laptop and a few snacks from his lowest drawer— where his future self continued hiding them, thank goodness— and then moved over to the bed, flopping down.

Derek was suddenly very close and very warm, and Stiles nearly shied back. But instead, he flipped his laptop open and offered over a roll of oreos.

Derek accepted them cautiously, like they were a bomb about to go off. Stiles rolled his eyes and clicked to the first movie.

And honestly, this could be worse. Maybe Derek wasn’t so bad.

Stiles’s future self must have readjusted his Lydia marriage plan for some reason.

- 

Stiles woke up when it was pitch black outside and his computer was disregarded on the mattress a few inches away. Blinking a few times, Stiles smacked his lips together, and then his eyes flew open. Memories came flooding back to him and he went shock-still.

Pressed up against his back, with one arm wrapped around his chest and face buried into his neck, Derek groaned. His breaths were warm against Stiles’s neck and after a moment, he shifted.

And then went still too.

“So,” Stiles said. “I don’t think I’m sixteen anymore.”

Derek pulled his face back, but didn’t remove his arm. In fact, his hold seemed to tighten. Stiles felt that make his stomach flip and closed his eyes, biting down hard on his tongue. Derek huffed.

“It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stiles,” Derek said. He was quiet for a moment and then there was amusement in his voice. “You think my eyebrows are sexy.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning his face into the pillow. Leave it to his not-so-sixteen-year-old self to out him. Stiles hated everything sometimes. “To be fair, you have a very nice face, which I have told you on multiple occasions.”

“Usually, in the form of an insult.”

“Are you toying with me, Derek? Because that’s not very nice and I’ll remind you that we are in my bed and—” Stiles suddenly cut off, his face turning red again. “Never mind.”

Derek removed his arm and, after a second, Stiles flipped over to face him. Derek was smiling slightly and that expression so wasn’t fair. Stiles really shouldn’t be freaking out like this. They’d shared a bed before.

Granted, Stiles had either been drunk, running on three days of no sleep, or Derek was crashing after a long night of research. But the point was, it’d been done before. Derek kept his favorite magazines here, goddammit.

So maybe that was more telling than Stiles cared to admit.

“So,” he said. “We gonna talk about this?”

“The part where you think my eyebrows are sexy or the part where I’m your new Lydia ten-year plan?”

“Oh, you asshole!” Stiles said, kicking him in the leg. “Werewolves are not allowed to listen into personal conversations! I don’t care how good your stupid hearing is!”

“Sorry,” Derek said, but he didn’t look very sorry. In fact, he looked a little nervous. “So...”

“So.”

“Was I your gay-awakening dream?”

“I hate you.”

“Hm,” Derek said, leaning closer. Stiles’s breaths caught in his throat and Derek smirked cautiously. “Because if I wasn’t, am I allowed to be now?”

“Are you really— is this really— oh my god!”

Derek chuckled and Stiles pressed forward, catching his lips. This was nowhere near how he’d seen things going, but he’d had Derek on a ten-year plan. And, humming at the back of his throat as Derek growled, Stiles decided he was very okay with this. With not having to wait ten years, that was.

He’d blamed the witch for all of this at first.

He was very thankful now.

- -

This got away from me a little, but oh my god, two prompts? That was a challenge and I love everything about it. Thank you!

(Support your overcaffinated (so much so) student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[moth-and-raven]

CHAPTER FOUR

The rest of the day passes in a haze. Loud cheers met Nadia’s announcement and Portia slipped into the rush just in time to board the carriage, tear-stained but determined to fight through it.

I must have been imagining things. I don’t want to think poorly of Julian, but I have to face facts: people will do and say anything to keep themselves off the gallows. He’s smart. He’s charismatic. He knows I’m working with the Palace. I can’t help but think he was just trying to endear himself to me, taking advantage of how obviously attracted to him I am. I can’t blame him for that. It’s my own fault for chasing what was a pathetic pipe dream from the start.

I retreat to my room after we return to the palace. It’s not unreasonable, considering I haven’t slept much in the past few days. From my bed, I watch spots of sunlight creep across the ceiling until I fall asleep. At least it’s dreamless this time.

Portia comes to get me for dinner in the late evening, when the sky’s turned purple. She’s itching with curiosity, peeking at me from the corner of her eye the whole way to the dining hall. Before we enter, she clears her throat.

“So, um.”

“It was nothing.” If I keep telling myself that, maybe it’ll hurt less. “Did you—?”

“Safe and sound. At least as much as he can be.”

“How long had it been since—?”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth just like he does. “Ten years, give or take. The last time I saw him was right after his apprenticeship. He came back to Nevivon for a few months while he was figuring out what else to do. I was only sixteen, so he must’ve been… twenty-five?”

The same age I am now. I didn’t realize he was that much older than me, though I suppose it makes sense. He’s lived quite a life. Yet more reason for him to see nothing of interest in me.

Portia pushes on: “What will you say to—?”

“I’m not telling her anything.” I shake my head and look away. “I don’t have anything to tell her anyway.”

That’s not a lie. I may know more about him now, but nothing pertinent.

“She’ll ask.”

“I know.”

I must not be doing as good of a job hiding my sadness as I thought I was, because Portia rests her hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. I don’t have it in me to say that whatever she’s imagining isn’t true.

I can’t do this.

“Could you tell Nadia that I—” Humiliated, I choke on my tears. “I'm— I’ll be in the library.”

I’m already around the corner by the time she agrees. I don't know what I’m going to do there, but at least I’ll be alone. Again.

I may not remember beyond the last three years, but I know in my heart that I’ve never been loved like I am in my dreams. I probably never will be. With all the beautiful people out there, who would choose me, the fat twenty-five-year-old virgin so gullible she falls for every man who looks at her twice? What could I possibly offer someone like him?

Nothing.

Painful, empty nothing.

I end up at the library eventually. At least I can navigate the palace better than I could the South End. My tears have almost stopped before I feel the metal arc of the crescent moon still hanging around my neck and break apart again. I manage to reach an armchair, nestled in an alcove near a half-flight of stairs, and curl up in it as best I can to weather the storm.

I’m so ugly when I cry. Thank god no one can see it. No one ever should.

When the waves settle and my breath doesn’t feel so foreign in my lungs, I press my palms to my eyes and sigh heavily. I have a headache now, as I always do after I cry like that. I know I should be hungry, but I’m not. I don’t know what I am.

But I made a promise. To Nadia and to Julian. Even if I never see him again, I’ll help him as much as I can. And with all of his research, all the palace staff who knew both him and Lucio, all the magic echoes swirling around waiting for someone to hear them, I think I can help him a lot.

------

I was always more comfortable at night. I sleep a little bit, curled up in the armchair, but it’s not very comfortable and I wake up sore. I’m glad I came to the library, though: Julian’s desk is a mess of torn papers and marked-up books, underlines and strikethroughs and question marks in the margins, and I have so little time to piece it all together. If I hadn’t slept yesterday away… yesterday. I shouldn’t be thinking about yesterday. It was nothing. It is nothing.

He’ll be nothing if I can’t figure this out.

Portia brings me something to eat in the very early hours, right before dawn. Without saying a word, she draws up another chair and starts sorting through things too. She can read his handwriting much more easily than I can.

And Count Lucio’s name shows up. And again, and again. Lucio’s temperature rising. Lucio says wine tastes metallic. Alchemical fluid in Lucio’s prosthetic turned red, wouldn’t survive replacement. Observations in clipped clinical speech, but scrawled with ever-increasing desperation. Lucio spitting up blood. Lucio not sleeping, complaining of bad dreams. Lucio too weak to eat, still alive.

Notes on the dissection of a beetle, a cross-section of a human brain, a map of the palace with large red Xs over half the rooms in the east wing. Peeking over my shoulder, Portia points at them.

“That’s the Count’s Suite. He had the whole wing, actually. No one goes up there anymore.”

I straighten up, my joints crackling from the hours I've spent hunched over. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Nadia had the whole thing blocked off. It’s really dirty, from the— all the ash and stuff. And people say it’s haunted.”

“By Lucio?”

“I guess. One of the other housekeepers swears they saw the ghost of a weird guy at the top of the stairs once. That it looked right at them with spooky red eyes. I think they’re full of shit, but maybe it’s worth a look?”

There could be a thousand things worth a look. If I had more time… “I don’t know. I have a couple spells that might be able to pin down a ghost, but I’ve never actually tried them.”

“If it is Lucio, though, wouldn’t he be able to say who killed him?”

“Hm. That’s true. Is the wing locked?”

Portia grins and fishes in her pocket. “Not if you have keys.”

The main staircase is close to the library. I feel the air get colder as we approach, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck start to stand up even before Portia unlocks the corridor that leads to Lucio’s bedroom. It’s eerily quiet, all gray and black, luxury gone to ruin in the wake of a disaster. I’ve seen reproductions of burned-out buildings that look like this, after heavy battles. It crosses my mind that destruction of that caliber had taken extremely powerful magic to accomplish, not the actions of a single man weakened by pressure and long hours in the midst of a plague. Julian can’t even do magic. He said as much during our long conversation at the Raven. I can’t imagine anything else that would do this much damage without bringing the entire palace down.

Interesting.

Cinders crunch underfoot. Charred paintings watch us pass. A primal fear creeps along just behind us, whispering then asking then screaming at us to flee. I can feel my heart in my throat and adrenaline in my blood, every sense heightened. Tattered curtains move at the corner of my eye: I’m terrified to look and even more terrified not to.

But I can tell without bringing magic to my hand that there’s nothing here. At least nothing that wants to make itself known. There’s just a spark of pure rage somewhere deep inside the wing, but it doesn’t want to be seen. No ghosts, no goats, no ghost goats. No spooky red eyes. Just soot and smoke stains and three years of neglect. The fear lurking in the back of my mind isn’t supernatural, just the normal human mistrust of the dark and abandoned.

We go all the way to the end of the suite to no avail. Part of me thinks I should stay, but I’m getting tired now and the idea of sleeping in these rooms isn’t appealing. Portia takes my sigh as an admission of defeat and pats my arm. It was a distant hope anyway.

Near the end of the corridor as we leave, a small glimmer catches my attention. If I hadn’t been looking that way to start with, I never would’ve noticed it.

“Hey Portia, what’s in there?”

She lifts up the lantern and peers into the room. “Bath chamber, I think.”

We see it at the same time, as the light catches the red gleam again: falling from the sink are drops of blood. More of it trickles across the floor. The walls are stained from it, up to the window.

“What the fuck?”

My sentiments exactly. What is this? It can’t be actual blood, can it? This is the top floor of the palace. Is it bubbling up through the plumbing?

“Nadia’s gonna want to know about this,” Portia says in a small voice.

“Wait. Let me check it out first.”

She turns to look at me, pale in the lantern’s glow. “This is way beyond whatever my brother might have done. It could infect the whole palace!”

“Do you think it’s infectious?”

Portia frowns. “Did you… Were you in Vesuvia back then? During the Plague?”

There’s no point in lying. “No.”

“Neither was I, but I heard about it. Before I left Nevivon, some sailors docked and told everyone what they’d seen. People died so quickly, there wasn’t space to keep their bodies. And they were all red, their eyes and their fingertips, everywhere you could see veins.” She shudders. “I can’t believe Ilya worked with it and… and…”

She must’ve been so scared, knowing that he could die any day.

“You know that big ugly crematorium out in the bay?” she asks.

“The Lazaret.” Everyone knows about that. You can see it from shore, a jagged silhouette reminding everyone of the toll the Plague took on the city. I don’t like looking at it: it makes my heart ache.

“Yeah. Even with that, there were too many bodies. So many people… There was a rumor that the Palace stored the extra ones, until they could be burned.”

“Where would they have been able to keep them?”

“Dunno. But there’s a huge tunnel system under here, all the way down into the cliffs. And the dungeon’s really big.”

I’d wondered how Julian could escape the prison cells, when the only way out was through the palace itself. Tunnels would explain that, I suppose. “So do you think there’s still something tainting the water?”

Her eyes are wide in the dark. “There might be. Kinda like here, no one’s been in the dungeons for ages. Probably since then.”

I frown. It’s unlikely, but I can’t deny the evidence right in front of me. I take another step into the washroom and trace the flow towards the wall. Some of the stones are loose now, after years of water damage. There’s more than enough room for it all to drain away between them.

Weak dawn sunlight floods the horizon as I stand up and glance out the window. I can see most of the city from here, out across the harbor to the Lazaret and down through the South End and directly into the lush gardens below.

And beyond the gardens, flowing from the palace along the channel of an aqueduct, is a stream of blood red.

------

Nadia scowls at the dripping red water, then summons her bodyguard to her side and dispatches them with a whispered order. Both Portia and I follow her out of the wing, but Portia splits off at the base of the stairs to see to her duties while Nadia invites me into the dining hall for breakfast.

A massive, gaudy painting hangs over the table, eyeing us as we pick over the array of egg dishes and sliced fruit. It depicts a celebration scene, I think, presided over by a muscular blond man with his arms spread wide over a crowd of adoring citizens. Nadia notices me looking at it and chuckles.

“Admiring my late husband’s art sense, are you, Reyja?”

I don’t want to offend her, but I think Count Lucio should’ve stuck to partying. “It’s, um, very vibrant.”

“That was typical of him,” she laughs. “Ostentatious to a fault.”

People don’t talk about Lucio much, unless they’re cursing his name for all the damage he did to the city with his warmongering and overspending. I’m trying to solve his murder, but now that I think of it, I don’t know much about the man himself. “What was he like?”

Nadia grimaces. “Much as you’ve heard, I expect. Loud, brash, insolent. Committed to his life of luxury. I would not have married him, had I been sober when he proposed.”

She must catch my surprise, because she fixes me in her dark eyes and raises a brow as if daring me to judge her.

Of course I won’t. “How did you two meet?”

“He was visiting Prakra,” she says. “To present himself to Empress Nasrin, my mother, as the Count of Vesuvia. He had been in power for some time by then, as I recall. I believe he told me that he’d first come to this city nearly twenty years before, on a mercenary contract.”

“He wasn’t from here?”

“No. He was of the Southern tribes.”

That’s confusing. “How did he get to be Count?”

“The former Count grew quite fond of him. Lucio was named his heir shortly after he arrived, and took the throne shortly after that. He spoke often of the battle in which he lost his arm—” She points at the painting. Lucio’s left arm shines, gilded in gold leaf. “—the same in which Spada was killed.”

Lucio may have been bloodthirsty, especially fond of the fights to the death at the coliseum Vesuvia used to be famous for, but everyone knew his roots as a successful mercenary. Even in his forties, when he died, he was strong and virile.

Which was why his death came as such a shock. Who would’ve thought such a man would die in his bed, ravished by sickness and weak enough to fall to an unskilled assassin?

“What about the Plague?” I ask quietly. People talk about Lucio a little bit, but no one discusses the Plague at all, as if the mere mention of it will cause its return.

Nadia nods. “It appeared nearly overnight, five years ago. No one had seen its like before. To my knowledge, nothing like it has been seen since, either.”

“Do we know where it came from?”

“I’m afraid not. Little is known of it, save that it killed thirty thousand of my people in two years.”

Her people. Nadia may have been Prakran by birth, but this was her city now.

“I had been visiting my sisters when it struck,” Nadia continues, gaze unfocused as she looks back through her memories. “As such, I was forbidden from returning until we were certain it had passed.”

I remember the parade that welcomed her back, but I didn’t realize she’d been gone that long. It’s been less than a year: she must be so busy, trying to pull Vesuvia together again. No wonder the search for her husband’s murderer hadn’t been her top priority until now. “I’m sorry.”

She tilts her head, looking at me. “Understand this, Reyja: if the Plague has not truly left the city, and what you and dear Portia discovered today is proof of that, then the search for Doctor Devorak must be set aside. I am eager to see justice done, but one man’s life, when weighed against the lives of thousands, will not tip the scales. I hope I may rely upon your services regardless of that outcome.”

Her visit to the shop feels very far away. I’m attached to this now, however big it gets. “I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. I have sent Yazakh to fetch an expert on the Plague from their estate. I hope they will return soon, but in the meantime, I urge you to rest. We may have much to consider in the coming days.”

I take a small pastry with me when I leave the table and make my way back to my room. I don’t doubt that she’s right, but even with this additional set of problems, I can’t keep my mind away from Julian. Thoughts of him cloud my head as I lay down for a nap and they’re still there when I wake up. My stomach isn’t happy with me, swirling with guilt and humiliation and anxiety, but I don’t know what to do about it.

The expert still hasn’t arrived when I go up to Lucio’s suite to check. I pass the library on the way back and my fingers fly to the silver moon pendant still around my neck, following the divot Julian’s own nerves wore in the metal. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look through his notes while I wait, if I can concentrate enough to get anything useful out of them.

I can’t.

When the sun sets again, I give up. Another day gone, and I’ve only discovered more things to do. I need something to focus on, something with a solution, something… something that might distract me from the fact that I’m no closer to clearing Julian’s name.

I can follow that water, if nothing else. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but maybe I can learn where it’s going. And I can get out of the palace, maybe work off some of this nervous energy. And I won’t be surrounded by pieces of him, distracting me from my mission. It’ll be perfect.

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

prev || next

[lovelyirony]

Hello. I'm having kind of a shit day ( just found out my sister's hair was full of lice) so if you wouldn't mind could you write some thorbruce? Sorry if this bothers you, I hope you and your family are doing ok

 this could never bother me. I hope that this little story helps! i really wanted something comedic, or at least my attempt at it. so without further ado...a fusion of a thief AU and royalty AU! 

Bruce Banner technically has a career as a scientist. He writes research papers occasionally, helps out with other science projects, and wears smart, science-y glasses. 

And so what if he just happens to make most of his money stealing rich people things like paintings, wine, and other assorted items off of boats and out of houses? Well, that’s extra. Doesn’t even go on any tax forms. 

“You’re gonna get something done to you one of these days,” Tony tells him over margaritas. Tony is one of the rare people who caught him, let him still take the Warhol because “I sure as hell didn’t pick it out, I have taste,” and invited Bruce for cocktails. 

“Of course I am. Maybe jail.” 

“No, not that,” Tony says. “You forget I will be offering my lawyers. They could get the devil himself scot-free. And you’re way better than that guy.” 

“Then what?” 

“You’re going to have to balance yourself,” Tony says, smiling. “And I can’t wait to see you pull it off.” 

Bruce wishes he had more friends like Tony, because unfortunately both Jane and Helen have texted him that he’s screwed for his next goal: Odin. 

Odin is a king who made his whole goal to cover up the shady dealings of his reign, and while his sons are doing better to call it out and bring about new policy ideas now that it is said that Odin will be retiring from the throne, so to speak, nothing has changed yet. 

Bruce knows that people say the next king in line, Thor, is very similar to his father. 

So he’s planning on infiltrating a party. This involves getting a planet ticket to Asgard, sneaking in, and maybe also leaving by boat. He’s not sure yet, depends on how quickly Tony can engineer a self-steering boat. 

(The boat’s gonna be there.) 

“You’re gonna get your ass kicked,” Helen snickers over drinks. “Have you seen his arms?” 

“I’ve heard your ramblings about ten or twenty times, yes,” Bruce says. “For someone who loves their wife as much as you do, you also have an interesting love for Thor’s arms.” 

“They’re buff!” Helen protests. “Jane also nice arms, but they are not buff.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Jane says from the kitchen, rolling her eyes. “Bruce, be careful. And for the love of god, don’t talk to any of them if you can.” 

“Like I would.” 

- 

Thor is very bored with present society. His father has banned all of his friends from attending, Loki has decided to go on their own way in as outrageous of a dress as they could find, in any case guaranteeing that their mother’s attention would be focused on making sure that they had the right accessories. 

There is not one interesting person to talk to. 

Thor is bored. 

This means Thor isn’t so much as paying attention to any sort of conversation and has found one new guest that he has never met before. 

“Hello,” he says. 

The man whirls around. He has curly, nearly-messy hair. Nice nose. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Thor says. “I’m Thor.” 

“I’m Bruce,” Bruce blurts out, because he is a Class-A Idiot. 

Of course he gets caught at a royal function. 

“And you haven’t met me before. I’m a...scientist.” 

Thor smiles. 

“Well, what study of interest are you in?” 

“DNA sequencing,” Bruce says weakly. “And you are...Thor, right?” 

“Yes,” Thor says, smiling. “Did my father invite you?” 

“Your mother,” Bruce says, knowing that Queen Frigga is occupied at the moment trying to ensure that Loki is not stealing all of the strawberries. She cannot possibly come over and confirm his story or realize that she has no idea who he is. 

“How is your night faring, Your Highness?” Bruce asks nervously. He cannot make eye contact. 

“None of that,” Thor says with a chuckle. “That title is...stuffy. Overused. I’m just a regular person who is assuming a throne.” 

“Any plans then, regular person?” Bruce asks in a snarky tone, grinning.

“None that I’m comfortable sharing within earshot,” Thor mutters under his breath, into his drink. Bruce smiles. 

His eyes crinkle up. That’s cute. 

“Good idea. Never know what your father listens to.” 

“Not a fan?” Thor asks. 

“Can’t say I’m dedicated,” Bruce answers with a shrug. Thor smiles, leaning in closer.

Thor’s about to answer more, willing to speak with this man. The night was turning around, and--

Odin claps him on the back. 

“Thor, I have some people you must talk to for the future,” he says, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he turns his son towards a group of the most ancient looking old men Bruce has seen. 

Thor swivels his head back. 

“I hope to see you again!” Thor calls. 

Bruce waves. 

“Probably not,” Bruce sighs to himself. “But I’m sure you also won’t see some of your vases again.” 

- 

In the news, they reported that it had to be at least a three-man job. The surveillance didn’t help, heirlooms had been nicked out of at least six different rooms, and top secret documents had been spilled out into the back lawn, some artfully arranged as if they were reading material for the next garden party. 

Thor has an idea of who did it. Has since his mother confusedly asked “who’s Bruce?” 

He’s clever, that’s for sure. Going directly to the house? Using Odin’s disregard of people he doesn’t think are worth his time? Oh, it’s perfect. 

It would also make a good quality in a husband, if he says so himself. 

- 

Bruce is currently lying on his back at Jane’s house, the sunshine warming him. 

“You’re gonna die!” Helen yells. “You told him your name and you are storing, just casually, a priceless artifact!” 

"I’m not storing it. I just put it back in a museum,” Bruce says. 

“You think that Odin’s honestly not going to get it back?” 

“Nope,” Bruce says. “Because he didn’t change the paperwork on it and it has a loan repayment clause thingy. I don’t know how it works but he needs to pay the museum for it and it’ll be bad press for a while. That and his shady dealings with repressing country public opinion. I think Thor’s up to the plate.” 

He is. Bruce is right. Odin has rescinded his claim on the throne, allowing a coronation to be held for Thor. 

“Are you gonna go?” Jane asks. 

Bruce snorts. 

“And what, risk being detained in Asgardian jail or being murdered? Nah,” Bruce says. “Besides, I probably won’t ever really interact with them ever again. And I have no purpose for being there.” 

- 

Bruce isn’t sure how. But he gets an invitation to go. Well, he’s sure how he got it. Thor remembered him, probably found out that he wasn’t supposed to be there. 

He’s mad. 

He’s from fucking Ohio. He knows that no one is supposed to notice him under any circumstance besides maybe an eating competition or a tornado warning. 

“You have to go,” Tony says. “I’ll be there, I can cause a distraction. Loki owes me a favor.” 

“How does Loki owe you a favor?” 

“They needed some help with executing a perfect red carpet walk a couple years back to ensure they upstaged someone. I don’t know who, but I helped. Loki owes me.” 

“But why do I have to go?” 

“Because if you don’t then Thor’s not gonna stop,” Tony says. “Because if he personally invited you, that means something. It means you’re either going to die or he’s going to make sure he has a very fun time at his own coronation.” 

“Why wouldn’t you have fun being coronated or whatever the fuck you call it?” 

-

Two hours in. There’s been two hours of this. Bruce has fallen asleep twice, and Tony keeps jabbing him in the side. 

“Decorum,” Tony hisses. “If you fall asleep, you’re going to cause a scene.” 

“So sorry that I don’t find this just entirely interesting,” Bruce says, “I wasn’t the one who minored in anthropology.” 

“Majored,” Tony says. “Among other things.” 

“Is this when we couldn’t find you for a year? Like, when you went to California or whatever and had a crisis?” 

“I didn’t have a crisis,” Tony says. 

“Sure you didn’t,” Bruce said, snorting. “You were sad and probably ate five loaves of pumpernickel in one day.” 

“If you keep talking we’re gonna get kicked out, and I want my record of being kicked out of royal events to be kept to a minimum of two.” 

“You’ve been kicked out of two?” 

“One was England. That’s practically a given.” Tony hisses. “Now no more.” 

Bruce falls asleep again. 

Thor catches him in the audience. 

He has to bite his own tongue to stop from laughing. Sif side-eyes him. 

He raises an eyebrow. She looks out into the crowd, sees the man who has fallen asleep. She stills, trying very hard not to laugh. 

“Is that the man you want to pursue?” she whispers as the officiants droll on about tradition. Thor nods. Sift snorts. “Of course you do.” 

- 

The party afterwards is tasteful. People are in a line to congratulate Thor. Bruce is by the appetizer table slowly but surely stealing all of the colby-jack cheese slices. 

“I hate you,” Tony says to Bruce. “You’re a menace to society.” 

“Put that on my headstone, see if my ghost sticks around to cause trouble,” Bruce says. “Besides, I am not paying for any of this. I’m already eyeing the chocolate fountain.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“I suppose this is what I get for bringing you here.” 

“You literally did not have to, I got an invite and you forced me to come,” Bruce says. “And all because I stole priceless artifacts. Ugh.” 

- 

Thor finally manages to escape a long line of well-wishers/want-to-make-sure-he-won’t-do-things-he’s-gonna-do people. 

He finds Bruce slowly but surely demolishing the pineapple. 

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Banner,” he says. Bruce stills, turning. 

“I wasn’t expecting to even meet you today again,” Bruce says, smiling. “How have things been?” 

“I’ve gotten some more space for storage,” Thor says, referencing to the act of stealing and also revealing his father’s less-than-golden past. “Thank you for that, by the way.” 

Bruce stills. 

“You...know?” 

“The queen knows no one by the name of Bruce who is a scientist. You paused. Terrible lie, really. You’re lucky you’re quite good-looking and my father is a fool.” 

Bruce looks at him. 

“I stole a lot of shit from your house and you’re calling me good-looking?” Bruce asks. 

“Well to be fair, I’m just glad you didn’t steal my blanket on my bed. It’s pretty soft, pretty valuable,” Thor says grinning. 

“Didn’t get to see that room,” Bruce responds. 

“You’ll have to come up with me some time then.” 

Bruce almost spills his drink. 

“Are you...?” 

“Flirting with you? Yes.” 

Bruce takes a sip of his drink. 

“Interesting. Although I hardly doubt your mother will be pleased to see you talking with someone who stole things.” 

“On the contrary, she most likely won’t mind,” Thor says, smiling. “Just because she married my father doesn’t necessarily mean they’re affectionate.” 

Bruce tilts his head. 

“So what you’re saying is that no one in your family likes your dad?” 

“Not especially. Kind of a bastard, if you ask me.” 

Bruce laughs. 

“So. What kinds of things does a king like to do for a date?” 

Thor puts a finger on his chin, teasingly. 

“Well I’m not sure. Is it kingly of me to offer a lunch?” 

“I would say I’ll accept,” Bruce says, laughing. “So long as it’s a good lunch.” 

 - 

Tony is gasping in disbelief as he sees Thor put a hand on the small of Bruce’s back, leading him to meet the queen. 

“Only my brother,” Loki says, pursing their lips. “Of course he falls in love with the man who stole from the kingdom and would probably be arrested for about twenty years.” 

“He does that,” Tony says. “Thank you again, for inviting me.” 

“No problem,” Loki says. “God knows I needed someone else to judge the questionable fashion choices people made. Just...ugh. Look at her shoes.” 

“I need another drink to even think about looking at those,” Tony says, turning towards the bar. 

- 

With Thor and Bruce, the kingdom gets two excellent rulers. Bruce is more focused on environment sustainability and education infrastructure, and can frequently be seen leading children all over the grounds of the kingdom, identifying herbs and plants and grinning as they picnic for lunch. 

Thor focuses more on bringing more of the...unfavorable history to light, reinventing what he wants for his country, and leading by example. 

Of course, Bruce and Thor are photographed together getting breakfast, lunch, and on one memorable occasion, in-sync eye-rolling at a United States event. 

(Tony gets it framed for their wedding gift.) 

[soldierallen]

Married 8.

Warnings: domestic henry, a kiss, mention of the word whore, probably a curse word or two

Featuring: Henry Cavill, Sebastian Stan, Robbie Amell.

Part 7:

/

It was already dark by this point

she would always sing in the car to new music that only she listened to everyone hated that she liked every single new song on the radio however they adored their best friend so it didn't bother them that she would sing loudly on road trips, it wasn't new to them it was traditional except for tonight, she sang nothing and looked out the window Henry tried to get her talking every once and awhile but it didn't work.

"Wait in the car for me, I'll be back" he said, he walked up to his front door unlocking it and slipping in quickly

Henry's such a good man, I wish I could have someone like him you know someone who takes care of me like he does, thinks about me..when nobody else does she sat there thinking of all the things that could've happened tonight- not one thing she wanted happened, he didn't stop the wedding she didn't stop the wedding he said he loves her but never continued to say anything else

Only 20 minutes later he had walked out in different clothes "oh comfy" she smiled sadly at his warm comfy clothes "its not like you don't own most of my clothes at your place" he said getting into the car she smiled devilishly "you know I can always buy you your own, oh and also I'm missing a certain sweater and if I find it in your closet I'm taking it back"

"Rude" she said rolling her eyes "it's not rude it's my sweater" he rolled his eyes putting the keys into the ignition the seatbelt noise and lights turning on

"Is it the white one with the buttons" she admitted he started the car with a laugh "yeah" he looked at her "oh you can have that back I don't even wear it" " I'm taking back the clothes I like" "you're not" "I am" he backed out of his driveway and drove off onto the road to her house

"Okay fine but there is two pieces you absolutely cannot have"

"Which are?" He said looking at from the corner of his eye "the navy blue sweater with the white letters of the sleeves, that's the sweater you put me in when I stayed at your house... that one night" she trailed off he knew and put his hand on her hand for reassurance "and that grey t shirt it's so comfy and big smells like you" none of the words on the clothing would come into her mind "you took that out of my drawer you thief!" he said "it's no big deal I'll buy you a new one!" She explained she loved arguing with Henry like this, it was just a lot of teasing it never went further than teasing ever.

"I'll be looking forward to it" he laughed and so did he adored their playful arguments about literally nothing it felt so pure to him knowing that he still had that friend, that one friend who you could talk about anything with smile with laugh with, she has always taken my side and I've taken hers.

Sebastian was worrying as soon as he walked into that front door, everything came crumbling down.

"Mom" sebastian yelled his mother coming down the stairs quickly hearing her son's voice "baby" she put her hands on his face "I messed up I really messed up ma and I don't know how to fix it" he paced she hugged her boy he hugged her back "I'm gonna lose y/n I'm gonna lose her cause I made too many mistakes that aren't fixable" he was so worn out at this by time he wanted nothing more than to just perish, nothing felt real.

"sit down, you can always fix things between you and y/n just tell her everything the truth the real truth." she sympathizes with him he sat down on her and his "father's" couch "where's tripp" he was so done with this day he rubbed his forehead cold metal on his skin he looked up the wedding ban still on his finger he pulled it off and threw it across the room it hitting the wall falling behind the TV.

"He's asleep he was so angry at her he couldn't contain it, cheating on you like that? He's is very protective over his kids seeing her hurt you like that drove him crazy"

"Tripp doesn't care you're just saying that to make me feel better" sebastian folded his arms over chest looking at the TV screen which played some kind of cooking show it was quiet "your father loves you sebastian, can you just not be a jerk for 10 seconds and maybe you will realize that all the people in your life love you and care about you." His mother was right and he knew she was right it was just his anger and his frustration would always come out at the wrong times.

"Is rose okay?" His mother nodded "she had a talk with faith and she reassured her that you were okay" he laughed.. the sound draining quickly

"Do you remember what grandpa said before he passed" she laid her head on her sons shoulder he gave her a questioning look "Something Broken Can Always Be Fixed" she looked at a frame picture of her father and sebastian on the wall a few months before he got sick, sebastian opened his jacket pocket feeling the silver ring she gave him he pulled it out looking at it twirling it in his finger "she gave this to me a few days before the wedding, she said she needed to give me it now because the wedding was going to be too hectic to actually see my reaction" he swallowed thinking about a more simpler time, and then he remembered the argument in his driveway and that... that was the worst day for him.

"Grandpa gave it to her to give to me when I needed it the "most".. now I know why she gave it to me so early" he looked at the engraved writing inside of the ring, "how did he know to give it to her?" His mother asked "She's been in my life forever he knew she was someone to keep forever"

Henry put down his bag on her bedroom floor "what if I just call him to see if hes okay?" She was still thinking about it, I mean he did confess his love for her.. she should talk to him at least for a minute right?

" but after everything he's done you still want to check on him?" she stared at him "what if he needs me" "you both will live with it, you both need a breather from each other I promise it's for the better" he looked for her remote throwing it at her she turned on the TV, the news was on it was 11pm on a Sunday, the streets were somewhat quiet..

He sat next to her on her bed she laughed at him whilst he stared at her studying her facial features, he always admired her.

she pulls the hair tie out of her hair fixing it on her wrist, looking at him from the corner of her eye "what?" She finally broke the silence

"You know, I always thought you were gorgeous" she smiled "oh come on" she put her hand on his shoulder

"When we were nineteen I considered asking you out and I chickened out!" He said both of them laid on the pillows watching some show

"Nineteen year old me was a hoe" she said with a laugh "nineteen year old you was hot" he half smiled she pushed his arm lightly

"nineteen year old me would've so fucked nineteen year old Henry, we were very fuckable than" she smirked "yeah twenty five year old y/n and Henry are very fuckable dont underestimate us" he filrted, he got up looking in her closet she blushed lightly

"After all these years you still make me blush" she threw a pillow at his backside which he caught and threw it back at her "I'm very charming what could I say" he laughed but it was muffled her clothing in the closet making it seem quieter.

"Where the hell is my white sweater?" he said inside of the closet looking "the last article on the right side should be it" she focused on his back and butt "I am not a sexual object you can objectify" he looked over his shoulder at her with a fake frown she laughed very loudly covering her face in embarrassment he turned to her "I'm kidding" he pulled the sweater out onto her bed "I thought this was nicer? How long have you had it"

"A few months I thought it was comfy but it was just itchy" she laughed

"We should eat?" He suggested

A phone call ruined the mood definitely. It was Henry's and it was Sebastian

"Hello" he answered the phone putting it on speaker.

"Are you with her?" Seb asked he looked up at her for an answer she quickly nodded no

"No I'm alone what's up" He acted like he was concerned when in reality he wasn't.

"I think I need to see her just explain everything really get to the bottom of it?" He sat next to her she looked at Henry, Henry looked at her gave no real answer

"I think you should do whatever you feel is right" Henry said, he wanted them to mend their relationship but he knew sebastian wasn't going to do that properly.

"Is it too soon?" He was curious

"No do it because you want to not because you have to" Henry wanted to get mad and just scream and tell him to wrap it up were adults!

" if I just give it time??"

"How long is she suppose to wait for you?"

Sebastian had no answer on the other side

"Don't call her than it's that simple" he looked at y/n for reassurance she had no reaction

"Henry, I didn't know how I felt about her until the night of the argument it really got my gears turning that I was making a mistake I didn't feel like myself"

"Seb you haven't been yourself since Alex walked into the party on the roof, it's a completely different person you have turned into, you know that y/n told you" he looked at y/n and she mouthed "he knows he just wants to hear you say it" she said to Henry In a small whisper

"I know I just wanted to hear you say it" Henry gave her these eyes like how did you know "I know him" she mouthed no words coming out of her mouth

"Henry I didn't call for you to be angry"

"She said it, I absolutely couldn't care less if you get together or not"

"She doesn't want to talk to me.." he was bummed, and tired I think sebastian needed to sleep for the next week and think about what he did "she wants to talk to you beileve me just not tonight call her tomorrow and work it out alright" Henry said

they hung up and Henry gave her a weird look

"why did you want me to do that?"

"I don't want to suffer anymore if he wants me if can call me I can't do it.." she said he turned to face her getting closer to her "you're a good women, my best friend you deserve someone who will take care of you" she pulled him towards her face her kissing him he kissed back lightly a small smile creeped onto his face "what was that" he asked "I wanted to see what it would be like, was you okay with it" she was a little afraid thinking she overstepped

"I liked it" he tried to contain his self from giggling it was just funny to him, that they kissed and it didn't certainly mean much to the both of them... or so they thought. she got up grabbed her phone off the living room coffee table

"Okay I'm not watching a chick flick" he insisted coming behind her resting his chin on the nuk of her shoulder

"You love my chick flicks cavill, romance is the key" she looked to the side of her to see his face

"Fine I choose the food" he grabbed the phone out of her hand "hey" she got offended "I don't want Chinese or thai food" "you're making me sad"

"You get a chick flick, I get those tacos from down the street"

"You always complain their bad?" She looked for her jacket

"Yeah? Your point is?" He said she laughed shaking her head, never mind she thought.

"Or I get a chick flick and we go get both" she dangled her keys in his face he grabbed them "okay"

"Why" she whined

"Because you're a horrible driver"

"You just keep offending me?"

"I guess it's in my nature" he laughed kissing her cheek she was fluttered by butterflies in her stomach, she liked the way Henry made her feel.

"Should I change my shorts it's cold" she said

"Change I'll wait for you"

"Thanks" she went back into her room to change her shorts when all of sudden she realized.... I kissed Henry?

He watched her walk back into her room his brain exploded with questions... I kissed y/n?

He bit his lip knowing that she wanted that she wanted him, it was crazy for him to ever think she wanted him in that kinda way, he didn't just like the kiss he loved it.

When they got into the car it was quiet but a comfortable quiet a very bearable nice quiet being in the company of someone you would do anything for was a good feeling.

"Are we just not gonna talk about you kissing me earlier" he tried to keep a straight face wanting to smirk so badly

"I just wanted to see what it was like that's all" it was kind of a lie, she wanted to feel something anything and she got it she felt butterflies

"Oh okay" he nodded at her, a red light appearing in front of them he looked to his right at her she looked at him "can you stop staring at me" she let out a small laugh "you're beautiful I can't help it" he looked back at the road

They got to the thai place ordering, they waited when a familiar face they had just seen a few hours ago appear, Robbie.

"Robbie??" Henry called out to the man sitting by himself, he held y/n's hand his protective side coming out strongly

"Henry y/n" robbie said he was still in his suit no tie on his dress shirt unbuttoned hair was tousled he looked like a wreck

"Hows it going y/n after everything?" Robbie knew feelings for sebastian

"Okay I guess, what happened?" She asked, Henry felt sympathy for the guy all he wanted was the girl he loved and got put into a lot of other shit. And so did she "Well after you all left, sebastian's father yelled at me for ruining his son's "marriage" and taking away the one good thing sebastian had in his life" robbie air quotes marriage because it wasn't a real marriage and they both knew it "and then Alex came and told me to eat shit and screamed at me for the first time in 4 years that was fun, and now am here eating thai food alone at almost 1am" he was so frustrated

"hey go get the food" Henry whispered to y/n and that's what she did

"Listen robbie what you did today was a bold and brave move, you had more guts than any one of us since the past 5 months I know things are probably really shit right now but I promise everything will fall into place" he put his hand on his shoulder a comforting hand robbie gave a comforting smile "I did this all for her, and i get nothing out of it" he said the women with his order ready to hand it to him, "I know everything's gonna be alright" he patted his shoulder once again and regrouped with y/n "thanks for the talk Henry you're not so bad" robbie tried to joke around Henry laughed "yeah people tell me that" he held y/n's hand out the door

"What you did was really nice of you"

"What?"

"I heard you"

"Yeah I just felt bad for the guy"

"Me to, but I guess me and robbie are going through it together huh?" Henry smiled sadly and hung his arm around her "we're gonna get through it okay?" She nodded they got into the car and drove to their next destination, remotely "bad" tacos as Henry says.

Tagged @hiddlestonstansworld @lovely-geek @imcalledflorence @misz-adrii @escapistdreamer-wishfulthinker @someplxce @cuddlesforlashton @coffeebooksandfandomsohmy @weasley16 @ilovethewayyourheartbeats @vogueworthy-barnes @xeniarocks @thisismysecrethappyplace @racheo91 @gravedollie666 // if anyone wants to be untagged or tagged please leave a message ty♡ also I do not own any gifs or images of any kind.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 10

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for! Well... I hope so...

Yeah, it took me a month to get this chapter on the road, but... I can’t really be blamed. Well, I can, but let’s be fair, I’m in India right now, I have almost no wifi and I’m mostly relying on data (I ran out of data while writing this and now have to wait forty minutes to get data again... oops...), I managed to get The Schmuel Song from The Last Five Years stuck in my head out of boredom, and really I planned to update much earlier but sometimes... chapters get stuck.

I’m sorry I’m updating this late... I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter yet A N D that something y’all have been waiting for is going to happen will make it up!

As always, all the thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries​ for the original idea, to @whatwashernameagain​ for her original story and for being such a sweetheart, and to @winglessnymph​, @asleepybisexual​ and @anony-phangirl​ for all their help, even if it’s just listening to my ideas and giving feedback (you’re all wonderful and I love you so much!)

Tag list (sort of):  @bunny222​, @ab-artist​, @secretlyanxiouspersona​, @your-username-is-unavailable​, @virgilcrofters​, @why-things-go-boom​, @ilovemyspoopydad​, @violetblossem​, @maybe-i-like-the-misery​

(Wanna be tagged? Just lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter is a bit lighter, but keep this in mind.

—————

Saturday, December 21st, 2002

Christmas at the Harris shoebox was never that festive to begin with.

There was always some sort of rush hour-type boost in sales on and off-Broadway, or at least that's how David explained it to Remy when he was younger, so he would only really be home if he only had matinees or if, God forbid, Christmas (either eve or day) fell on a Monday. And Remy was always busy with school, at first with his program in Columbia and then his project at Bronx Science and now…

Well, now was no different. Christmas Eve was going to be on a Tuesday, next Tuesday to be exact, and Remy was too busy reading ahead in his psychology books.

India dropped him off in Manhattan on her way to Johns Hopkins. They got out a day early to go from Boston to Manhattan - Remy didn't have exams that day anyway - and stayed over at Remy's overnight before the second half of the ride. "They", of course, also included India's girlfriend Jenna, who was the one driving. She was a wonderful human being and Remy honestly couldn't believe he never met her before. It felt like they knew each other for ages! (David wasn't happy when two twenty-something year olds crashed on his couch that Sunday night, without warning, but Remy told him they're leaving first thing in the morning. He still wasn't very happy at that, but maybe going with it was the best option here.)

"You know who I ran into on my lunch break today?" Remy raised his head and took off his reading glasses (he was starting to need glasses for more than reading…) to look at his father, who - at eleven forty-five at night - finally got home from tonight's show. "Come on, ask."

"Who did you run into on your lunch break, dad?"

"Do you remember Michelle Tan?"

Of course Remy remembered Michelle Tan. She took chemistry and engineering and always looked down on him as if learning psychology made him less than her. Not to mention that when he showed up to graduation with short hair - his first step towards socially transitioning, really - she kept saying the nastiest things to him about how inappropriate it was.

"What about her?"

"Nothing, she just asked how you're doing." David threw himself on the couch next to Remy, taking off his shoes and opening his shirt in the process. "I said that you're doing alright and that your degree was going okay."

"Oh. Okay."

"...that's all you're going to say? Oh okay?" Remy pulled his shoulders. What else was there to say, really? "Thought you'd be a bit happier that—"

"Dad, Michelle Tan is the one who came to me after graduation and told me that short hair is undignified and that just because I think it makes me more of a boy doesn't mean that I am. Do you really think I'd be that excited about you running into her on your lunch?"

"I didn't know. I had no idea."

"It's okay."

David was working on a new show by Tony Kushner. He promised Remy that he's not going to spoil anything to anyone this time (though let's be honest, he said that about Dancing At Lughnasa in 1991, and Rent in 1996, and…). He stayed out late for the workshop, and barely had any time to care for himself. He never did whenever a new show started.

Remy could forgive him for forgetting stuff.

However, this neglect was absolutely and utterly unacceptable.

"Can you take a day off tomorrow? I mean, it's just the workshop, I doubt Eliza would mind it if you didn't come." David hummed in agreement. "So it's decided. Tell Eliza you're not coming tomorrow. We're gonna, like… do absolutely nothing tomorrow. We'll go somewhere fancy, like that diner on—"

"Since when are pancakes fancy to you, Remy?"

"Since I don't get to eat them anymore because I don't have time and I'm not using boxed mixes, thank you very much!"

"We can go to Hard Rock Cafe."

"Dad, Hard Rock isn't fancy. Sorry to disappoint. I just want to go to Times Square, to be honest…"

And then he turned on the TV and put a recorded episode of South Park. And Remy gave up. He went back to his book, to remember the teacher who made them read Oedipus Rex in English class, to get pissed at Freud who said that all men secretly want to fuck their mothers and called it the Oedipus complex without even knowing (probably) that Oedipus didn't want to fuck his mother but the moment he found that out he stabbed his own eyes out and exiled himself, accompanied by his children, which prompted the start of Oedipus at Colonus and Antigone.

Remy always felt bad for Antigone. But that was a personal issue.

——

"Remy? Remy! Hey, Remy, I'm here, and you're here, and—"

These sort of calls have been going on since about five minutes after David paid for their lunch and he and Remy started making their way to the subway back home. They started right around the… Martin Beck theatre? Yeah, around there. Remy was kind of scared to turn around and look who that is, until his dad told him to, so he did.

Emile was dragging his older sister and her dog behind him and he was getting really close.

"I didn't know you'll be here right now!" Emile's face was flushed, hidden under the hood of his fluffy mustard yellow coat. His glasses were covered in raindrops and all fogged up.

He looked absolutely adorable.

"Sweetie, what are you doing here?" At the hurt face, Remy quickly added "I'm just curious, that's all. Did you bring Mycroft too?"

"Well… no, I didn't. Mycroft stayed home. I can't bring him on holiday vacations. Our neighbors are looking after him, though! They're very nice and they're technically his grandparents! Well, kinda. I got him from a litter their bunnies had. It's a long story. And we were at the Man of La Mancha matinee just now! Julie and I have tickets to The Lion King at seven, and my parents are going to The Full Monty. It's a holiday tradition!"

Well then… hmm…

"Oh, you haven't met my dad yet!" Emile almost started jumping. "You have to—"

Someone tapped on Remy's shoulder. "I thought we're going home, not talking to cute boys on the street?" David asked jokingly.

"Hello, sir! I'm—"

"That's Emile, Dad. He's a friend. I told you about him. And his sister Juliana."

"But she's buying books so we're going to wait for her!" The tiny blond said oh so excitedly. He could never not get excited, it seemed. Remy loved that about him.

"What did you say her name was?" At David's raised eyebrow, Emile started jumping even more.

"Juliana! Yoo-li-a-na. It's Dutch, not English. She's named after our great-grandmother who died in Auschwitz. It's a really sad story, if I do say so myself—"

"Munchkin, we gotta go." The aforementioned woman who just got out of the bookstore grabbed Emile's hand and gave it a short squeeze. Her accent was even harsher than Emile's, but… Remy couldn't complain. He heard her speak before. He met her before. "Remmington, nice to see you again."

"You too, Julie. And Ladybug." At the sound of her name, the dog started wagging her tail quite happily. Remy never got to see her off-duty, but he assumed that this was the closest he'll ever get to.

"Mom and Dad are waiting. You coming or what?"

As the three went away, Emile waving goodbye quite enthusiastically and lending his sister a shoulder to lean on (Remy only recently found out why he did), Remy struggled to find the words to explain to his dad what just happened.

Thankfully, he didn't ask. Instead, David said "so that's your boyfriend, huh?", took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the subway. They still had to get home today.

——

Monday, December 23rd

"So we're staying here until… I think the fifth," Emile rambled on the phone. Sure, it was eleven thirty already, but… free minutes were more important than proper sleep schedules. Not that either of them had any of those. "After that were going to Missouri, my dad is taking me to Glore, you know—"

"I have no idea what Glore is.”

"It's a psychiatric museum. And after that we're going to California! To Disneyland, and then the murder museum."

Emile kept rambling about his plans, and he was so loud, Remy could hear his dad tell him to quiet down a couple of times. He was just so excited, and it was always so endearing…

"So what I'm trying to say is," Emile rambled away. "Would you like to hang out sometime? We could go see a musical! Like, umm… Rent! We can go see Rent! I haven't seen the new cast yet… I heard that Jai Rodriguez is awesome though!"

"I don't know… I can't really afford that—"

"Nonsense! What do you have me for if not for this sort of thing?"

"Remy, either you hang up now and go to sleep so you can deal with your grandparents tomorrow," David grunted from the couch, where he tried to sleep, "or I do it for you."

"Alright, boo, how about the twenty-seventh?"

"Sounds good to me!"

"Okay. Good night, Em."

"Good night!"

Remy didn't tell Emile that he actually saw Rent off-Broadway before. And… didn't exactly like it. Maureen, the only bisexual, was presented as promiscuous and very selfish (though that might've just been her personality, he had no idea, Jonathan Larson died before he could ask him) and Angel, the only character he ever truly identified with - a gay, genderqueer drummer who is HIV+ - is really the only main character to die, leaving the most wonderful and wholesome relationship in the show broken and sad and with a bad ending, while the horribly dysfunctional Roger and Mimi - both also HIV+ - got to have a happy ending.

And really, what type of bullshit was that? Gays have already been so villainized in the media, Remy did not need another one.

But he'd go. Just to be with his best friend. He really wanted to.

"Are you ready for the ride to Jersey?" David asked jokingly. Neither of them was ever truly ready for the six-hour (at best) long ride on the interstate to Red Bank. David's parents were, to say the least, terribly nosy and had no tact. Adding to that the fact that his cousin Gilbert (his aunt and her husband had a terrible taste in names, Remy decided rather early in life) wasn't going to come home for Christmas from his boarding school in Nova Scotia, also known as the only sensible member of the family with whom Remy could actually hold a conversation would not be home for Christmas…

This holiday was going to be a disaster.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

——

Tuesday, December 31st, 2002; 9:54 p.m.

Christmas was horrible. But Emile made it better.

This was how Remy described the holiday on his call to India on the thirty-first.

"What I mean is… you know the feeling when your family is just so bigoted and— yeah, okay, I'm sure you know that feeling." India laughed on the other side of the phone. It made him feel… strangely better. "So, like… my family are horrible, okay. My grandparents are, like, the worst. My grandma can't stop sticking her nose in everyone's business, and like, usually it's fine, it's not that bad, but last week my cousin wasn't home so she had more criticism to give to everyone else so she chose to pick on my sexuality, and like—"

"Pick on your sexuality?"

"She literally said ‘why can't you just be who you were when you were sixteen, you may not carry the family name but you will continue the bloodline'—"

"What twisted mind would say something like that?"

"My grandma, sweetie. This is my grandma."

India actually laughed at that. Remy could hear confused sounds from the other side, which he assumed belonged to that Jackson kid she talked about a couple weeks ago.

"Is she also the type of person who would say that Jenna is a nursing student because she's black and a woman?"

"I wouldn't put it past her to act like Professor McKenna. But anyway. So that's my grandma, and my grandpa is… he's deaf and senile. You can imagine what that's like."

India hummed. "Sounds like a fun holiday."

"Well, after coming back Emile and I went to see Rent. I still hate that musical but it was fun to watch it with him. And my boyfriend only called once like, three days ago. And I mean, rude much?"

"I'll bet. I got to talk to my psychiatrist, and… guess what."

"I'm scared of guessing."

"I'm gonna get my first doses of blockers and estrogen real soon, if everything goes right." Remy tried to avoid the tightness in his chest. "I know, I know… you've been waiting for this too."

"Is it weird that I can't wait to get mine but I'm still scared of when you'll get yours?"

"No, absolutely not. I totally understand. We all have a fear of change, peach. Some of us more than others. But it's going to be such gradual change that you won't even think of it, okay? It's exactly how I explained it to Jackson. Even when I get top surgery, which will probably be the most dramatic change, it's not going to be such a big shock. I promise."

India had to end the call rather quick after that. Apparently some doctor needed to talk to her about some stuff, and he could hear her grit her teeth before saying her goodbyes - the doctor called her "Mr. McGinty" - so it must not have been good.

He had a… sort of date, with Emile, at Times Square later. His sister was going to this bar in Greenwich right after the ball drop, so until then, she said she'd chaperone - as if they needed one. But Nathalie had some rules and stuff so they had to have her around, or else.

Whatever that else would be.

"Dad, I'm going out!" A hum of agreement came from his dad's room. Okay then…

Remy got his bag and his phone, sent a quick text to Chris wishing him a happy new year - he probably wasn't going to see it until Remy pointed it out to him when they got back to Boston - and left.

(He probably should check on his dad, but he was going to be alright. Two and a half years sober now, and he had his cartoons. He was going to be okay.)

——

11:57:11 12 13 14... p.m.

"I'm cold!"

"You're from Minnesota, Emile."

"I don't see your point."

Emile was wrapped in his own yellow coat and Remy's black coat (well, one of his three black coats; this particular one he got on a trip to Disneyland when his dad worked on the national tour of some musical, he already forgot) and was still freezing. How in the…

"Do you want to go to Starbucks and get a hot chocolate?"

"Is Starbucks even open at this hour?"

"There's one on fifteen hundred. It's open twenty-four hours."

"...okay, fine." Remy offered his hand and Emile quickly wrapped his arm around Remy's, allowing him to lead the way.

1500 Broadway wasn't the closest to the ball, but Remy was sure that they could make it there and back.

Maybe it was a bit of wishful thinking, but he was going to be an optimist this time.

11:58:28 29 30 31… p.m.

"We never told Juliana that we're going," Emile muttered through chittering teeth. "My mom is going to be so mad—"

"Emile, babe, calm down. We're almost there."

The huge building was already in their line of sight, and Remy couldn't feel happier. He could totally use a latte right about now, and Emile obviously needed a hot chocolate and a cookie. The poor thing was seconds away from becoming a human icicle.

He didn't want to be responsible for his best friend suffering from hypothermia, after all.

"You see that huge building over there?" Remy couldn't make out if Emile was nodding under all his layers or what.

"What about it?"

"We're gonna go to Starbucks in there, okay?"

"You're an addict, you know that?"

Remy didn't listen. So he liked his Starbucks, so what.

He dragged Emile behind him.

11:59:38 39 40 41… p.m.

The line was moving awfully slow for some reason. Remy had no fucking idea why so many people were at Starbucks so close to the ball drop…

Well, he was being a bit of a hypocrite.

"Can we get something to eat too?" Emile whispered to him, standing on his toes. The black coat from Disneyland was back in Remy's possession. The building was warm enough.

"Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, sweetie!"

Sweetie. Holy shit

"Schmuel would work till half past ten at his tailor shop in Klimovich," Emile sang to himself. Remy remembered that song very well. Norbert Leo Butz had a very… interesting way of singing it.

Then again, he never heard anyone else sing it.

He would ask Emile where he heard that song later.

"Forty-one years had come and gone at his tailor shop in Klimovich—"

"Ten, nine, eight…" oh crap.

Remy grabbed Emile's shoulder, shutting him up momentarily. It took just a couple of moments for either of them to fully realize what was going on before—

They kissed.

If there were fireworks they were blinded by the fluorescent lights and deafened by the loud cheers all around them, but they still kissed.

Kissing his blond was very different from kissing his boyfriend. Not that it felt wrong or anything, just... different. Nothing forced, nothing too overpowering. It was lovely, and sweet, and Emile was as soft as always. Nothing felt wrong there.

Not even the little voice that said that Chris won't like it. He wasn't there. He didn't need to know.

And so, they kissed.

——

Wednesday, January 1st, 2003

00:17 a.m.

"You saw The Last Five Years?" Remy asked, a cup of latte warming his rather freezing hands as he walked Emile back to his hotel (Juliana left them to go to a party in Greenwich Village).

"I didn't go to school for anything but my exams from mid-April. I saw that musical so many times, I kinda lost count."

"Oh, okay. Cool."

[itoshit]

The morning passed slowly but nicely, Vee and I exchanging sweet gestures. When she went to the bathroom to freshen up I called Sanzu, telling him that I wouldn't go to work today, nor tonight. We didn't have complications, therefore I wasn't stressed nor preoccupied by it.

Hey Vee?

Yeah?

Walking to the bathroom and leaning against the door frame, I was thinking of something.

I don't know if you can walk properly after last night but..., do you want to see your old friends? I could pick up Natalie too if you want?

At the mention of her acquaintances, from whom I didn't know the names, she beamed with excitement. Jumping on me, I had to hold her close, she kept repeating 'yes' and I laughed, how cute.

Well then, I don't know their numbers, hopefully your friend will still have them yeah? Also, random question. Do you think black hair would suit me?

At my interrogation, Vee detached herself from me, touching my hair hesitantly.

I think so... why?

Would you prefer it black? Or the way it is now?

Hm, black, but why?

Kissing her cheek, I nodded.

A random question, anyway. Get ready, we're picking up Natalie. She's probably at Bonten's building since Sanzu is taking care of her

Bringing Vee here wasn't planned but I figured that my subordinates would need to see more, to know how she looked like. And officially meeting my executives wouldn't be a bad idea either.

You stay by my side alright? We're gonna check on some people

Taking the elevator until the top floor, I slid my arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to my body. Walking in the long alleys, we've finally reached Sanzu's office. Not knocking, I was the boss after all, I opened the door.

Fuck are you kidding me??

Hey we were busy!! Knock next time??

Quickly pulling back his pants on his hips, Sanzu straightened up while Natalie chuckled,still on her knees, wiping her mouth.

I came to bring Natalie with us. If she's free I-

She wasn't??

If she's free Vee could use some company

Completely forgetting Haru', Natalie jumped on Vee and hugged her tightly, kissing her cheeks.

Don't kiss her when you just sucked Haru's cock

Super nice Sano, as always!

If you want to come then follow us. Sanzu, I'm coming back tomorrow.

Only nodding, Haru pulled Natalie by her neck, kissing her deeply. Slapping her ass, igniting a giggle from her, he let her leave with Vee and I.

The two quickly drifted from me, Natalie interwining Vee's arm with hers.

If you still have your friends numbers Natalie, call them and invite them. Give my address.

Driving around Tokyo, I kept an eye on my surroundings, making sure no one was following us. Seemed like this time it was quiet.

After parking and taking the elevator, I unlocked my front door. Staying in the entrance, I saw how Natalie pulled Vee against her as she was going to kiss me. Frowning but not saying anything else, I shrugged. Natalie indeed had the numbers and quickly calling them, she was smiling happily at Vee.

Okay both of them will arrive in less than twenty minutes!! Vee I'm so excited! And this penthouse, man! What do you do for a living again Sano? Whoring yourself out?

Tightening my fist only to free my fingers after, I smiled tightly, not answering.

What the fuck was her problem?

I'll be outside. I'm waiting with you both but as soon as your friends are here, I'm leaving. That way you'll have more privacy. Good for you Vee?

Yes perfect thank you! You can go to your bedroom or whatever until then

Answering for Vee, Natalie smirked at me when she saw Vee only nodding.

Gritting my teeth in silent anger, I left the room.

-Mikey

I bit my lip watching Mikey stalk off, feeling the anger radiating from him in waves. You should stop provoking him, Nat.

Don’t be boring, Vee. Provoking that man is the most fun I have while we’re here. She rolled her eyes before nudging me in the gut with her elbow. And besides, I’m safe from harm as long as I’m fucking his number two and you’re fucking him.

Why do you hate him so much anyway? I asked, because I had to know. At first I had thought that their little feud was just harmless bickering, nothing but back and forth. But it was gradually getting nastier between them, and it was usually started by Natalie.

Why do I hate Mikey? Natalie laughed bitterly at the question. Venus, I hate the man because he involved you into this! Not only that, but he tortured you, was even going to go as far as kill you all because he didn’t want to do some fucking research. Boss of an entire crime syndicate following the ‘Birds of a feather flock together’ rule like he’s a fucking five year old. I hate him because he’s not a good man for you, Vee. Regardless of the sweet shit he tries to pull. You’re not cut out for this life, and instead of making that clear to you, he’s making it worse by fucking you. He doesn’t fucking deserve you and that’s why I hate him. Because you won’t.

The answer stunned me into silence. What made it worse is that some parts I genuinely argue with her on. But she didn’t get to see the sweet Mikey I saw, the one who was with me these past few days— only I did. And somehow I knew debating it would be pointless with Nat. When she disliked someone that was that. So I changed the subject. So are Ang and Tati really coming?

Tati and Ang aren’t stepping a foot in this place.

What? Then I lowered my voice to a whisper yell. Who the hell did you call, Natalie? Why didn’t you call them?

Because if I did, they’d be in our predicament. Have you even watched the news lately? She scoffed at my dumbfounded look. You were too busy riding dick but here.

She lifted the phone to my face, showing me the news pages. My stomach dropped to my toes. Plastered across the local news was mine and Natalie’s faces, big blocked letters screaming MISSING at the bottom of the photos. Then there were press conference videos, Ang at Tati leading most of them. I even saw Darren. My stomach felt sick.

It’s still local in terms of traction, but it’s still news Vee. He’s been taking you all over the fucking place and you haven’t even changed your appearance. You still answer to your real name! The fucker’s practically parading you around for the Yamaguchis to pick off.

I couldn’t answer. The information overload made my head spin, Darren’s tearstained face in my mind when ever I closed my eyes. I wonder if Mikey knew about the news. He most likely did, and probably didn’t care. The police had a specific segment for Bonten assigned on the news for years, begging civilians to bring any information they had about them to them. They didn’t even know what Bonten looked like. Mikey probably didn’t even consider them a threat. Not even bothering to decipher whether that thought scared me or not, there was still something bothering me.

Who did you call, Nat? Who’s coming up here if not Ang and Tati?

Don’t you worry about that. She winked at me. Let me just get Mikey out of the house first.

[sturlsons]

teesta, i hope this is fine to ask but i just. you're so Wow and accomplished. i'm just a little younger than you but it feels like my life is going nowhere, like i'll never catch up to all the other people my age who are accomplished. do you have any insight? for that crippling self doubt? thank you

nah fuck that anon. first of all i’m not Wow and accomplished at all - i just look that way because usually we choose to present our best sides to the audience. my bravado is infamous and has pissed off a lot of my loved ones in the past, as has my unending thirst for excellence at the cost of my health. i assure you, a little bit of tailoring in what you choose to present to the outside world, and you’re gonna have some fifteen-year-old coming up to you saying ROBERT YOU’RE SO WOW AND ACCOMPLISHED (sorry for the name i’m in the library and chose the first name on the first book i saw). we all have successes and failures, whether they’re academic or athletic or romantic or whatever. 

let me rectify my first (well second) sentence: it’s not that i’m not Wow and accomplished at all, it’s actually that i’m not ONLY Wow and accomplished. that’s what you see. i have a laundry list of failures too, relationships i couldn’t keep alive, exams i didn’t pass, a professor who’ll always have a half-baked impression of me because i never went to class. an ex who’ll never see the person i grew into and will forever remember me as the angsty bitch with anger issues in high school. you just can’t have it all anon, and you can’t have one thing without the other. there’s nothing to catch up to - everyone’s struggling with the same things as you are and looking around them wondering how The Others seem to have their life together so well. “how does that girl dress so wonderfully for uni EVERY SINGLE DAY.” bitch so do i! i just don’t realise it because for me Dressing Nicely isn’t Dressing Nicely, it’s bringing my ugly mug up from minus 50 to at least 0 so that i’m presentable. 

as a general rule from my experience, people will overlook what you think are your negative points/mess-ups because they’re too focused on their own, and will highlight your positive points/little efforts because they’re paranoid about the LACK of their own. none of that sounds very pleasant at all, but it’s exactly what led you to come to my inbox saying i’m Wow and accomplished while the truth is i failed an exam yesterday, messed up once in a debate today, broke someone’s heart on sunday, and don’t know how to whistle. 

but the guy sitting across from me at the library right now might look at me and think, look at this girl in the fancy embroidered shawl and the beige coat tapping away at her macbook air with her nestea by the side. fuck does he know? we’re all in the same boat. 

you’re a little younger than me, right? well, i’m young as shit, so what does that make YOU. i changed my mind about what i want to do with my life like a million times, and sometimes i still reconsider. as of yet, i have no idea what i’m going to be doing this time next year, forget what i’m going to be doing in five years. not because i don’t have an idea, but because that’s how fast circumstances change, and events are all linked to one another, and if i don’t know what path i’m following a year from now then obviously i don’t know what’s happening five years from now. life is you sometimes a giant fuckin network of tunnels and shit, and for a lot of those tunnels you can’t actually see the light at the end. you gotta shine your shitty fucking phone torch around the walls and feel your way forward until you come to the end and there’s a field where you can see far and wide. and that’s where you wanted to go, right. but did that magically let you know where you were walking in the tunnels? nah. you’re in the tunnels, i’m in the tunnels too, so technically we both don’t know where our life is going right? but we know where we want to be. and in that network of tunnels, like two tunnels over there’s one of your classmates. one of them is right behind you, another one is just at the edge where the sunlight starts to filter in. even the ones who have a map and know exactly where the field is are still. in. the. tunnels. and still. have to. navigate. through that darkness. without truly knowing if it leads somewhere, if the map is real, because they’ve never been here before. you’ve never been twenty or nineteen or whatever it is you are before, and i’ve never been twenty-one and nine months and eighteen days before. 

you’re young as shit. think about what you’ve already accomplished, no matter how insignificant it looks to you, but more than that think about what you want to accomplish. not what you can - because i know you don’t trust yourself right now - but what you want to. don’t stop allowing yourself to dream just because you think you’re not capable of it. you fucking are, and fuck anyone who tells you otherwise, including yourself. FUCK U ROBERT

worry less about the others and more about what you want to do, what you’re capable of doing, the life you want to live on your terms and standards. then, when that self-doubt crops up, you’ll have it in you to crush it yourself. because your mind, growing up in the place you live, seeing the world around it as you do, will conceive dreams that you WILL be able to work for. the outside world offers us enough obstacles; our own self is the only thing we can count on. 

if you doubt that own self that you’re supposed to be counting on, then you shouldn’t even be worried about catching up with others. catch up with yourself first. when your confidence jogs up to your consciousness and high-fives it, you’ll sit up in bed like well fuck, son. 

fucking, here you go. fuckin go out there and be bombastic.

[leakedinlondon]

Hey Courtney I'm going on my first over seas flight in 5 days time (like 20 hours or something with a brief lay over???) and I'm in desperate need of book recs. 21 year old female I like Harry Potter, dystopian future stuff, gay stuff especially wlw and also really love shitty cheesey light hearted stuff like Janet Evanovich. Would love your opinion!

tragically, i hav not read a lot of wlw books bc i’m a picky bitch about genres and a lot of the ones i know about are realistic fiction which i ain’t big on but i do recommend checking out Malinda Lo i rly like Adaptation which features a bi love triangle and aliens and has a part where some dude is talking about aliens and just starts humming the x files theme and that dude is me also i have heard v good things about Ash and Huntress but my bookstore doesn’t sell them and i’m like???? why

ok SO i hav a v v long dystopian masterpost if ur down to go through it but i’ll give u my faves from it here!!!!

Chaos Walking by Patrick Ness

Prentisstown isn't like other towns. Everyone can hear everyone else's thoughts in an overwhelming, never-ending stream of Noise. Just a month away from the birthday that will make him a man, Todd and his dog, Manchee -- whose thoughts Todd can hear too, whether he wants to or not -- stumble upon an area of complete silence. They find that in a town where privacy is impossible, something terrible has been hidden -- a secret so awful that Todd and Manchee must run for their lives.

these books!!!! are everything!!!!! if you haven’t read them u 100% should i swear they’re so fkn good

Unwind by Neal Shusterman

The Second Civil War was fought over reproductive rights. The chilling resolution: Life is inviolable from the moment of conception until age thirteen. Between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, however, parents can have their child "unwound," whereby all of the child's organs are transplanted into different donors, so life doesn't technically end. Connor is too difficult for his parents to control. Risa, a ward of the state, is not enough to be kept alive. And Lev is a tithe, a child conceived and raised to be unwound. Together, they may have a chance to escape and to survive.

i would die for Lev literally die for him at any given second this is also a very good series

The Passage by Justin Cronin

An epic and gripping tale of catastrophe and survival, The Passage is the story of Amy—abandoned by her mother at the age of six, pursued and then imprisoned by the shadowy figures behind a government experiment of apocalyptic proportions. But Special Agent Brad Wolgast, the lawman sent to track her down, is disarmed by the curiously quiet girl and risks everything to save her. As the experiment goes nightmarishly wrong, Wolgast secures her escape—but he can’t stop society’s collapse. And as Amy walks alone, across miles and decades, into a future dark with violence and despair, she is filled with the mysterious and terrifying knowledge that only she has the power to save the ruined world.

haven’t gotten around to reading the last book in this series yet but they are seriously epic like i swear this series is something else entirely

Maggot Moon by Sally Gardner

What if the football hadn’t gone over the wall. On the other side of the wall there is a dark secret. And the devil. And the Moon Man. And the Motherland doesn’t want anyone to know. But Standish Treadwell — who has different-colored eyes, who can’t read, can’t write, Standish Treadwell isn’t bright — sees things differently than the rest of the "train-track thinkers." So when Standish and his only friend and neighbor, Hector, make their way to the other side of the wall, they see what the Motherland has been hiding. And it’s big...One hundred very short chapters, told in an utterly original first-person voice, propel readers through a narrative that is by turns gripping and darkly humorous, bleak and chilling, tender and transporting.

this book broke my damn heart and ruined my life but oh my god it’s so good also a lil gay but like i said sad but it’s more 2 do with the setting like.... it doens’t have a happy ending but it felt right like that?????

More Than This by Patrick Ness

A boy drowns, desperate and alone in his final moments. He dies.Then he wakes, naked and bruised and thirsty, but alive.How can this be? And what is this strange deserted place?As he struggles to understand what is happening, the boy dares to hope. Might this not be the end? Might there be more to this life, or perhaps this afterlife?

this is my favorite book!!!!!! i would die for it!!!! i want to buy enough copies to fill an entire room of my house so i can just sit in it and cry!!!! this book is literally everything!!!! also gay!!!! she’s also sad but like...... i cannot express in words how much u need to read this damn book 

Bird Box by Josh Malerman

Something is out there, something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse of it, and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remains, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now that the boy and girl are four, it's time to go, but the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat--blindfolded--with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children’s trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. Something is following them all the while, but is it man, animal, or monster?

another one of my all time faves!!!!!! i don’t even know what to say this is a masterpiece

ok so here we move on to the more fantasy and gay stuff these are less sad 

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone...A convict with a thirst for revengeA sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wagerA runaway with a privileged pastA spy known as the WraithA Heartrender using her magic to survive the slumsA thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz's crew are the only ones who might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

this is.... so good.... also a little gay... hav heard the second book in the series is gayer but i haven’t read her yet

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

That's what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he's probably right. Half the time Simon can't even make his wand work, and the other half, he sets something on fire. His mentor's avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there's a magic-eating monster running around wearing Simon's face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here - it's their last year at Watford School of Magicks, and Simon's infuriating nemesis didn't even bother to show up. Carry On is a love letter to love stories and the power of words - to every 'chosen one' who ever had more on their mind than saving the world...

this book is literally just harry potter but gay and i’m still laughing i love it

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

The monster showed up after midnight. As they do.But it isn’t the monster Conor’s been expecting. He’s been expecting the one from his nightmare, the one he’s had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments, the one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming…This monster is something different, though. Something ancient, something wild. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor.It wants the truth.

can u tell i’m a fan of patrick ness i’m going to fucking fist fight him for this piece of shit like.... this book.... is about a little kid..... whose mother has cancer....... like u know it’s gonna be a fucking bad time but u read it anyway and u cry like a fucking baby but u enjoy the whole damn thing because u hate urself.... it’s a beautiful read but it hurts (((also yes there is a Literal Monster hanging around))

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble.But Gansey is different. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little.For as long as she can remember, Blue has been told by her psychic family that she will kill her true love. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

the description of this book doesn’t do it justice and i hate it i love these books i love my stupid raven kids i mainly love adam parrish who i would die for in a second ((also gay)) ((please read them if u haven’t i love adam so much he’s worth it)) ((the other characters are also amazing and i lov them too))

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Children can have a cruel, absolute sense of justice. Children can kill a monster and feel quite proud of themselves. A girl can look at her brother and believe they’re destined to be a knight and a bard who battle evil. She can believe she’s found the thing she’s been made for.Hazel lives with her brother, Ben, in the strange town of Fairfold where humans and fae exist side by side. The faeries’ seemingly harmless magic attracts tourists, but Hazel knows how dangerous they can be, and she knows how to stop them. Or she did, once.At the center of it all, there is a glass coffin in the woods. It rests right on the ground and in it sleeps a boy with horns on his head and ears as pointed as knives. Hazel and Ben were both in love with him as children. The boy has slept there for generations, never waking.Until one day, he does…As the world turns upside down, Hazel tries to remember her years pretending to be a knight. But swept up in new love, shifting loyalties, and the fresh sting of betrayal, will it be enough?

Hazel is literally me okay there is a scene in this book where she’s at a fairy party and u kno how ur not meant to eat or drink anything fairies give u or ur fucked???? hazel ingests fucking fairy wine bc it was in the mouth of some fairy girl she was making out with and if that isn’t me i don’t know what is (((also that’s the only scene that she shows any interest in girls i am very sorry i don’t want to get ur hopes up))) ((ben on the other hand he is very gay and is also me they are both me i love these two idiots this book just makes me really happy))