#Inside: oh NO! I bet it's been an eternity! shit.... i am so fired. just calm down. where's the clock?

[thequestionofcomprehension]

Well he certainly acts like someone desprately trying to appear

NOT HIGH~--

FOR A DISPENSARY JOB???

[yogodyolive]

My favorite voicelines/quotes/shit

FREDDY AND THE FAZBEARS!!!:

"Now would be a good ti-ime to hold your breath.' -Freddy Fazbear "You aren't as good at hiding as you think you are, you know." -Toy Freddy Michael: "You're broken. We're still your friends. Do you still believe that? I'm still here. I will put you back together." -Michael Afton "The Shadows are an ally to those who deny the darkness; A tool, A Shroud..." -Nightmare Fredbear "Let me put you back together, and then take you apart all over again." -Nightmare Fredbear "We know who our friends are, and you are not one of them." -Nightmare Fredbear "I Assure, You I Am Very Real." -Nightmare Fredbear "This time, there is more than an illusion to fear." -Nightmare Fredbear "Might as well face the facts, you were always destined to fail" -Withered Bonnie "Time to face the consequences of your failure..." -Withered Bonnie "What is this new prison? Is it me trapped, or is it you? Perhaps, it's us both." -Withered Bonnie "I may be missing my face, But even I could see this coming." -Withered Bonnie "I am remade, but not by you; By the one you should not have killed" -Nightmare Freddy "What a gift to relish, a victim that can't perish" -Nightmare Freddy "I am given flesh to be your tormentor" -Nightmare Freddy "I Have Always Been Hiding In Your Shadow." -Nightmare Freddy "Let's see how many times you can be pulled apart..." -Nightmare Freddy "No LIGHT Can Save you Now." -Nightmare Freddy "You will not be spared. You will not be saved." -Nightmare "The shadow fears me." -Nightmare "I am your wickedness, made of flesh." -Nightmare "I'm here to claim what is left of you." -Nightmare "I will vomit you back... to relive your horror." -Nightmare "A performance was demanded of me and now I have delivered. ENCORE!!" - Funtime Foxy "It seems you couldn't make it to my show, so I brought the show to you!" -Funtime Foxy "Showtimes are on the hour. Not a moment before and not a moment Later!" -Funtime Foxy "It's time to take your final bow!" -Funtime Foxy "I'm sorry, but there was never enough room on this stage for both of us!" -Funtime Foxy Lolbit: "Hahahah; Oh I bet you weren't expecting me, now were you?" -Lolbit "Hahaha, Get good, hahaha" "Ugh, real Bad man, heheheh." "Hey don't blame me! Your the one who didn't stay inline when I asked you too politely." "Hmmh, Maybe try harder next next time, hahaheeh." "Hhahahah, I'm sory, I'm Sorry, I just Can't help but Laugh at your Stupidity. hehehe" "Yikes, that one was worse then listening to people debate my gender. Hahaha" "I bet you were expecting some sort of, you know, some quirky FNaF world reference. Well here's one for ya; That one's terrible" "This is a nightmare that you won't wake from." -Nightmarione "I am the fearful reflection of what you have created." -Nightmarione "This time, death cannot save you..." Nightmarionne "The Nightmare is just Beginning..." -Nightmarionne "Lets taste death, Again, and Again, And again..." -Nightmarionne "Seeing you powerless is like music to me." -Puppet "I don't hate you, but you'll need to stay out of my way." -Puppet "I recognize you, but I'm not afraid of you; Not anymore..." -Puppet "The others are under MY protection..." -Puppet "The others are like animals, but I am VERY Aware." -Puppet "I could hear you... breathing" -Ballora "Why do you hide inside these walls?" -Ballora "These are  strange circumstances... that have brought us together" -Ballora "Come closer, Help me count my teeth" -Nightmare Balloon-Boy "Flash that light all you want! It can't save you now." -Nightmare Balloon-Boy "Heh-Heh-Heh; Your not so Big, Just a bite-Sized Morsel. CHOMP!" -Nightmare Balloon-Boy "You knew I'd get you eventually." -Nightmare Balloon-Boy "There just isn't room in here for both of us." -Nightmare Balloon-Boy L.E.F.T.E: "Shhhhh...It will all be over soon..." -Lefty "Shhhhh...There is room for one more." -Lefty Jack O' Chica: "I Am A Burning Reminder Of Your Misdeeds." -Jack O' Chica "The fire within me burns eternal, and now you shall as well!" -Jack O' Chica "Come and burn with me." -Jack O' Chica "Did things get really hot in here, or is it just me?" -Jack O' Chica Obscure Secondary Characters: "I consider it a dignified death... not really, it was actually quite pathetic." -Pigpatch "Don't you hate getting killed by obscure secondary characters?" -Nedd bear "I just want to play hide and seek..." -Bidybap "I see you over there in the dark! come-come on out!" -Funtime Freddy "This Is my time to shine; And yours to fail." -Toy Bonnie "Where do you think your gonna go? There's nowhere to Hide inside a Bad Dream..." -Nightmare Bonnie "You wont get tired of DYING, Will you?" -Toy Chica "I never thought I'd make it to the end, but now we are together..." -Withered Chica Baby: "I don’t recongise you. You are new. I remember this scenario, however." -Circus Baby "It’s a strange thing to want to do, to come here. I’m curious what events would lead a person to want to spend their nights, in a place like this. Willingly. Maybe curiosity? Maybe ignorance?" -Circus Baby "I’d recommend that you keep the Springlocks wound up. Your breathing and your heartbeat are causing them to come loose. You don’t want them to get too loose; trust me." -Circus Baby "I’ve been out before, but they always put me back. They always put us back inside. There’s nowhere for us to hide here. There’s nowhere to go, when we look like this. But if we looked like you, then we could hide. If we looked like you, then we would have somewhere to go. The Scooper only hurts for a moment." -Circus Baby "Looks like something bad happened." -Circus Baby "You won't die, but you'll wish you could." -Scrap Baby Auburgine Man: "I ALWAYS come back..." -Plushtrap "What a deceptive calling. I knew it was a lie the moment I heard it, obviously. But it is intriguing nonetheless." -Scraptrap "Suffer now, like all who have stood before me!" -Springtrap Idk: "It is not your flesh that sustains me. It is your FEAR." - "Hide if you want. It did not save the others. It will not save you." - "Your fear...will consume you." - "I can taste the fear in your breath." - "I will make you suffer...suffer like so many of the others." -   hi

DreamSMP: DreamSMP: "The only thing that works in this world is that your treat others as they treat you." -Technoblade "We have NO MERCY! NO MERCY FOR YOU! We will BURN DOWN your houses, we will KILL everything inside your walls, and we will TAKE BACK the land that is rightfully ours, if you do not surrender. I wanna see WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS, OUTSIDE YOUR BASE, BY TOMORROW, AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!" -Dream "Look, I'm an atheist, but when God sends me to Hell I want him to hesitate." —Technoblade "Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be." -Eret "Violence is never the answer. Violence is the question, and the answer is yes." -Technoblade "This is checkmate. This is it. The end. I suggest you resign." -Tubbo "There is so much more in the world... You can go explore it. It's all yours." -Wilbur Soot "I have something that you'll never have. I HAVE THE BLADE!!!" -Tommyinnit "Sir, I dropkicked that child in self defense." Technoblade "If I can't make people smile i'll make them cry..." -Fundy “Independence or death. If we get no revolution, then we want nothing. We would rather die than give in to you and join your SMP” -Wilbur Soot "Eret, listen to me, and I mean this in the nicest way possible: You fucked up." -Tommyinnit "If the crown fits, wear it." - Ranboo “Bust that bible open read the versus to me back” - Sapnap “2 times the cheese, 2 times the disease” - Ranboo "Do I shoot, Wil, or do I aim for the skies...?" -Tommyinnit "Tommy, I... I want you to do whatever your heart says you should do." -Wilbur Soot "Tommy, the thing is, you're using words... but the thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is violence... and we've had that conversation. We've spoken that language in the pit. It's over, Tommy. Onto a new day. A new plot, to destroy Manburg." -Technoblade "I want to leave a smoking crater from which not only will Manburg never recover, but from which no new country can rise in its place. History will FORGET that a country ever existed in this area." -Technoblade "What do you think gives you power?  Is it your crown? Is it the fact that you're king?" -Dream "Those who've been given power... hold on to it." -Eret "Sure. Respect is big.If... Respect is the only thing protecting you from... a knife in the back. Respect is nothing, right?" -Dream "The thing that I built this nation for doesn't exist anymore... Th-that thing I worked towards... doesn't exist anymore. It's over." -Wilbur Soot " L'Manburg can be independent... But L'Manburg can't be free." -Dream "Welcome home, Theseus!" -Technoblade "Everything to do with government has just been bad, so far. [...] I've watched it completely destroy and tear down people's wills, and change people. I've seen it change the nicest people into complete and utter tyrants. So... I think it's about time." -Philza Minecraft "Tommy, I'm not done with you. L'Manberg's story is over, but our story isn't over." -Dream "We're in the endgame now." -Tommyinnit "I'm sorry, Dream. You should've paid me more." -Punz "I'm proud of you, Tommy. I'm proud of you." -Wilbur Soot "Doomed are those who try to run for it always catches up eventually :)" -Ranboo "That's the Tommy I know." -Dream "Think about it, think about it! Everything that's gone wrong, it's down to us, it lies at our footsteps." -Wilbur Soot Technoblade joined the game. "Legacy is all you leave behind in this world." -Quackity “Blood for the blood god” ― Technoblade “I'm the second-worst thing to ever happen to those orphans.  -Technoblade” “If you ever get bored, punch an orphan. What are they gonna do? Tell their parent?” ― Technoblade “I think Skyblock at its core is the ultimate challenge in resource management. You spawn on a tiny island in an empty universe. All you have is a tree, some supplies and some dirt to stand on. You have to treasure EVERY dirt block, because if one falls into the void, there's no way to replace it and as you carefully navigate your absurd circumstance, you gain a new appreciation for the few things you have as you meticulously use them to their fullest effect. With nothing but some ice, lava and saplings you slowly transform this empty expanse into a world of your very own. Skyblock teaches us that no matter how ridiculous the odds may seem, within us resides the power to overcome these challenges and achieve something beautiful. That one day, we'll look back at where we started and be amazed by how far we've come.” ― Technoblade “Technoblade is who I really am.” ― Technoblade HENRY EMILY Henry Emily- "It’s only now that I understand the depth of the depravity of this, creature – this monster – that I unwillingly helped to create. As if what he had already done wasn’t enough, he found a new way to desecrate, to humiliate, to destroy. As if the suffering wasn’t enough, the loss of innocence, the loss of everything to so many people. Small souls trapped in prisons of my making, now set to new purpose, and used in ways I never thought imaginable. He lured them all back. Back to a familiar place. Back with familiar tricks. He brought them all together. Are they still, aware? I hope not. It keeps me awake at night. I could make myself…sleep. But not yet. Not until I undo what he has done, and heal this wound. A wound first inflicted on me, but then one that I let bleed out to cause, all of this. He set some kind of trap – I don’t know what it was, but he led them there, again. He overpowered them, again. And he robbed them of the only thing that they had, again. I don’t know how those tiny breaths of life came to inhabit those machines, but they will never find rest now – not like this. I have to call them, all back. All of them. Together, in one place." -Henry Emily Henry Emily "Connection terminated: I'm sorry to interrupt you Elizabeth, If you still even remember that name, but I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You're not here to receive a gift; Nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have Indeed been called... You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no price. You don’t even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never find them, none of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing, not intended for you. Although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that’s not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still, and give up your spirits. They don’t belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace, and perhaps more, waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although for one of you, the darkest pit of hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don’t keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter -if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day -the shut you were shut out, and left to die- No one was to lift you up into their arms, the way you lifted others into yours. And then what became of you. I should have know you wouldn't be content to disappear; Not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, So let me save you now. It’s time to rest, for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends, for all of us. -End communication." -Henry Emily OZYMANDIAS Ozymandias I met a traveler from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunckless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”   'Ozymandias'; by Percy Bysshe Shelley POPPY PLAYTIME’S SPEECH Poppy Playtime’s Speech "I know you came to find the ones who had disappeared all those years ago, but they're gone; They've been gone for a long time. Terrible things have happened, And I am the cause. Being able to exist as a doll, it has killed so many people. So much is unknown to you; Where do i even begin? But you, can fix everything.I see it, Inside You." - Poppy Playtime, from 'Poppy Playtime Chapter 2: A fly In A Web'

[thegeminisage]

top 5 moments in broken road?

i literally waited until now to answer these ask meme questions so i could do this w/o spoilers. anyway time to do an ask meme i got questions for THREE ENTIRE WEEKS ago

#5 - "my girl" john/mary reunion

Mary rushes forward into John's waiting arms. He gathers her up and holds her close, pressing kiss after kiss into her hair, tears running down his face. "My girl," he says, in aching disbelief, drawing back to cup her face in his hands. "My girl." She laughs through her own tears, and when he smooths one gun-calloused thumb under her eye she turns her face into his hand, and then he draws her close and kisses her, like they're the only two people left in the whole wide world.

look. am i valid? no. but they compel me. to them their story is just as real and longlasting as dean/cas is to us. so i added a little gutpunch to that reunion because it’s my fic and i get to do what i want >:) actually, even though i made a point of calling john “dad” and mary “mom” in dean’s pov, in this moment, i deliberately used their names - it’s more than just mom and dad, it’s theee john and mary winchester back together after all these years. no, they don’t stay that way, but after a 22-year quest in her name, it still deserves to be like a Reunion. 

(other four are below the cut to spare ur dashes. there are major spoilers for the whole fic, just warning u)

#4 - john getting punched by [SPOILER]

Dean's shoves his father with all his might, yelling, "Let go of me!" Partially because even though just moments ago the dungeon was exactly where he wanted to be, he absolutely doesn't want Dad to be the one to put him there, partially because he's afraid that Michael is about to break free from that cage in his head and vaporize everybody in firing range, and partially because he's afraid that if Dad doesn't let go, Cas will kill him.

But Dean's only got one hand free, and Dad's grip is too strong. Michael and sleep deprivation have made Dean weak; he can't get away from Dad on his own.

Then, when Cas is still just out of arm's reach, Sam lays into Dad with the fiercest right hook Dean's ever seen.

Dean knows that right hook well. That's one of the first moves Dad taught him, one Dad forced him to practice a thousand miserable times—how to stand, when to turn, where to throw his weight—until he honed it to absolute unthinking perfection. And it is perfect: Sam nails Dad right on the jaw with all six feet and change of muscle, sending him staggering back, his grip on Dean slipping free.

Dad slumps against the wall for a moment like he's literally seeing stars, like it's all he can do not to pass out. His nose looks like it might be broken. Dean rounds on his brother; if he was expecting Dean to thank him for that, he's going to be disappointed. "What the hell, Sam?"

But Sam's looking at Dad, not at Dean. "He said," Sam pants, "to let go of him."

i’m normally very anti-punching john, but i feel like if anybody has the right to do it, it’s sam. he’s spent his whole life being protected from john by dean and he finally gets to return the favor! all his problems are solved because he’s literally the bigger man now in every way! i doubt sam would ever punch john on his own behalf, but it is UTTERLY in character for him to do it in defense of someone else, but i bet it was pretty fucking cathartic too. picking sam moments in this fic is like picking children but this...you know, it wasn’t even in my outline. it happened organically as i wrote. and it just. feels right.

#3 - sam telling john to clean up his mess

"Seriously, Dad—we've had enough of your lip service. You're sorry? You want to help? Clean up your mess."

What? John frowns. Does he mean Dean?

But, no—Sam twists and picks up an actual mop and bucket from the corner behind him. The bucket is full of red-tinted water. "Go in the kitchen," he says, "and if Dean says you can use the sink, run some clean water with bleach. We gotta get the blood off the floor, because the longer it stays there, the worse it'll stain—especially on the hardwood."

"Uh," says John.

Then Sam gives him a severe, no-nonsense look that nearly punches the breath from John's lungs—because for the very first time, he sees his Mary in that stubbornly unimpressed face. "Do you understand? This isn't a motel. You can't expect someone else to do it for you. Don't go in the kitchen," Sam says slowly, enunciating every word, "unless you're going. To clean up. Your mess. You want room service—there's the fucking door."

THERE’S THE FUCKING DOOR. i love this bc firstly i believe in man of the house sam and secondly it falls into the same thing of like...sam is finally big and strong enough to protect dean and by god he will make himself an impassable 6′4 between this man and his brother. i think especially since finding out about flagstaff, DOUBLY since becoming a parent, sam is like...so less than impressed with john’s bullshit, and even more impatient than he already was of john’s stupid excuses. 

there’s also this motif of cleaning throughout the fic - in john and sam’s very first scene alone together, they are washing dishes. at first this was a nod to sam and dean doing it in lebanon - dean washing, sam drying - but washing is the “hard” part of doing the dishes; when my mom taught me how to do them i began learning by drying first. so of course dean has been washing and letting sam dry all their lives - almost literally, because john talks pretty early on about dean being a neat freak too, because john simply wouldn’t pick up after himself but still hated the mess. there’s a few mentions of it in the fic, how john liked being able to leave a mess behind in their motel rooms, how he’d prop his feet on the table - but in season 10, it’s sam on his knees scrubbing the bloodstained floors after dean’s murder spree, and in broken road sam makes john wash the dishes, and at the end, sam makes him mop. @maulthots put it best:

like that’s it. that's literally it. and then, finally, john offers to clean up on his own without being asked. that’s Growth™, at least in whatever way he’s capable of it. at any rate, he’s too afraid of getting hit again to NOT clean up after himself lol

#2 - dean/cas car scene [content warning for nsfw and discussion of past sexual violence - scroll down to #1 if you’d like to skip it!]

Cas lets go of Dean, but it's to reposition his hands on Dean's knees, slide those huge palms up Dean's thighs. Dean feels the heat of them bleeding through his jeans. Then, holy shit, Cas rests his thumbs on Dean's belt buckle, and makes eye contact.

Dean wets his lips, a little uncertain. He has no idea what Cas is going to do. "Yeah, okay," he croaks.

Cas leans in and kisses him again while he undoes Dean's belt. Like—fuck, like he knew Dean wouldn't want to watch. Dean hears the zipper on his fly, and all at once it clocks that, yeah, okay, this is really happening. Heart thudding in his ears, Dean reflexively lifts his hips so Cas can pull his jeans off. But Cas only slides them down a little. Then he reaches into Dean's boxers and gets a hand around his dick.

Oh. A small, quiet noise drops out of Dean into Cas's mouth, and he turns out of the kiss, panting as Cas pulls him out of his clothes. He's not sure what he was expecting, but this is okay. Just a handjob—he can handle that. It's good, actually. A little dry, but Cas has a light touch, and Dean has decided that he likes Cas's hands. He knows the shape of them very well.

i really enjoyed writing this whole scene, but this was my favorite part. cas technically does get dean’s consent, which was important to cas and a little bit of a big deal for dean too, but dean didn’t ask what cas was going to do before giving that consent, because he almost...doesn’t care? like, dean’s previous experiences with men were all lousy at best, and violent and traumatizing at worst, and arguably none of them were 100% consensual. so part of him is figuring that whatever happens will be within that spectrum, and he’ll just deal with it being awful no matter what it is because he almost literally can’t picture it not being awful. he's not doing it because he likes fucking men or expects he’ll like fucking cas, he’s doing because he wants to be close to cas, he wants to be away from michael and his dad, and because if he and cas are together now that’s part of the package and he’s just done the full “for keeps” commitment bit, so he’s not gonna pussy out now, right? he trusts cas not to actually harm him, and be closer to “lousy” than “violent,” but he is, in his mind, basically giving cas consent to hurt him, because to him that’s what sex with men IS. and he’s understandably pretty nervous because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen - all he’s sure of is that he won’t like it. 

but then he does like it! he likes it a lot! trusting cas turns out to be the correct choice! because if cas had turned him down in that moment, trying to baby him or second guess him, i think dean would have felt really hurt and angry and embarrassed, he would have felt like he was broken or untouchable. which is why cas took him at his word, but ALSO did pretty much the most tame thing you can do and still count it as having sex. so cas managed to thread the needle perfectly because he knows dean so well and he’s literally been inside his mind and witnessed that trauma and knew everything to avoid doing. so for dean it wound up being TRULY consensual instead of the sort of fake consent he’s used to handing out to johns. if that makes any sense. idk i just really enjoyed doing it. i think a valid reading is that dean has this physical fear of men that is just...not explored very much in fic. and it was nice to write something where cas was sort of able to undo or heal a little of that damage. 

#1 - michael

No, no, no—we can't die—we can't die, we are eternal, we are our Father's most beloved, His favorite son—

No no no no no no no no no—I can't die—I can't die—

Light fills the room, reflecting in Dean's eyes making them look as though they glow. And for the very first time, John sees him. John sees him, John sees him, John sees him—

Where is my Father? Is He watching? Can He see me?

Father, help me, I beg You—please, I don't want to die—

I don't want to die—

i could honestly paste the entire michael scene here, there’s not a thing about it i don’t love, but this was probably my favorite part. and look, i waited NINE YEARS to see michael!dean, i deserved to go apeshit!!! i think the fun thing about michael is that he’s a great foil to both john and dean, the literal connecting tissue, especially when he’s hopping bodies like that. he’s dean’s aggressor but he’s also dean’s twisted reflection, nearly broken by his father’s absence. it was impossible for john to see dean as he really is until michael let him see it through dean’s own eyes.

and then “i” at the end - i knew going in that i wanted a “we” pronoun (though i almost chickened out of it), because michael’s in charge but he’s also making his vessel do things with him, like laugh or scream or hurt people. but when michael dies, he’s alone figuratively and literally, because john’s not dying with him, and his own father has forsaken him too - and that’s the way dean so often felt, and FEELING that was probably the only thing that could possibly give john the motivation to be even slightly less self-centered and shitty. 

michael was my whole reason for writing this fic - because i was livid they didn’t use him to tie dean and john together in canon, because the burden of being his vessel is just one more thing dean had to take...this whole chapter, this whole fic, hinged entirety on the batshit insane dynamic between michael and dean and john. and like there are parts of this fic i was insecure about and wished i could have done better, but this? i think i nailed it. definitely the part i had the most fun writing. 

but like, honorable mention?

"Dude," Dean says, flipping on his blinker so he can pull up beside the local grocery, "can we not do any touchy-feely shit, please? That's—"

"Gay?" Sam suggests.

"Get out of my car."

>:)

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Playing Cupid

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff?? Hopefully lmfao, a sprinkle of angst, My Best Friend’s Wedding Spoilers? (edit: cuRSING LMFAO COMPLETELY FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE)

Summary: You’ve been playing Cupid your entire life, setting people up left and right, and have never put much thought into who would be your eternal soulmate. That is until you met Tom Holland. But you don’t know if he feels the same way you do, and you only find out when someone else decides to be your matchmaker.

A/N: Heyo! First fanfiction piece and mAN am I nervous, haha. Enjoy? Also, the scene that I’m talking about below is linked for those of you that haven’t seen the movie :)

-------

“I don’t know what to say, y/n/n. I’m going to look like a div and-“

Not wanting to hear Harrison’s complaining, you quickly pinch his lips in between your fingers and shush him, “First of all, you already look like a div and that’s pretty much never going to change.”

Haz rolls his eyes and grunts as you continue, “Second of all, it’s just a conversation, Haz. Amelia’s pretty chill and is probably the easiest person to talk to. You’ll easily fall into conversation with her. You guys like the same things, why do you think I chose her out of all the girls?”

Ah, yes. That was your job after all. Well, not a job job, though you wish you’d get paid for setting people up with each other. You’d be a billionaire before you reach the age of 25.

But it was your job as a friend to be like a bachelorette for others and help them reach the love they crave. It was quite simple, really. Harrison claimed it had been a gift you were born with - a power sent by the gods above. It seemed like everyone you’d pair up ended up thriving as a couple.

Perhaps it really was a gift, and you were destined to you use it for good.

Right now, you, Haz, Tom, and Harry were inside a cafe giving Harrison the pep talk before his blind date. Amelia was practically your best friend - besides the three dumbasses you were currently with - and was constantly grumbling about not being able to find a guy she genuinely likes. When asked about her interests, you noticed they were strikingly similar to Harrison’s, who was, coincidentally, also single. Ergo, you set them up, knowing they’d be the perfect couple.

“Now,” you run your hand through his untamed hair that he’d spent hours stress-tugging, “Go out there and talk to her. You’ll do great, Hazzy.”

He stares at you intently, blue eyes boring directly into yours, clouded with immense fear. You could tell he was on the verge of backing out, so you take this as your chance to lighten up the situation.

You sigh as you fix his collar while maintaining eye contact, “I’d totally be in love with your dazzling ocean eyes but you’re not my type so stop staring at me, and go stare at her.” You tease and look up at him through your eyelashes, tilting your head towards where Amelia was sitting, waiting for Harrison to ‘arrive’.

He chuckles, “Right. How could I forget?” He gives you a sly smirk, and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Your type is everything Tom is.”

He pulls back fast enough to catch your fleeting eyes and the slight blush that crept up on your cheeks at the mention of your crush.

Well, less of a crush and you’d admit, you’re maybe, slightly, completely and utterly in love with Tom.

Harrison, the one who’d introduced you guys - stating ‘fate has brought you two together’ - effortlessly guessed that you were head over heels for Tom. He even began calling you ‘Cherry’ whenever he saw you go red at the mention of his best friend.

Your friendship began when you went to your local pub for a light drink with one of your closest co-workers. She’d spotted a cute guy whose eyes never left hers, even from across the room. A pub quiz was starting in a few minutes, and you’d told her that that was her chance to go and see if the chemistry was as real as it looked.

Of course, being the good friend she was, she immediately tossed that idea out the window.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” she’d said. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for you to convince her to go. With the quiz starting in a couple seconds, you searched around for a lonesome guy and spotted Harrison.

You downed the rest of your scotch and strutted over to confidently sit beside him.

Before he even got the chance to speak, you opened your mouth and blurted out everything in a word vomit: “Hey, I’m y/n and my friend’s watching because I told her that I’d talk to you and start up a “romance” since that was the only way I could really push her to leave me to talk to the guy that she’s had her eyes on so please just shake my hand and we’ll sit here and talk or do the quiz or whatever the fuck you want, just go along with it?”

You ended it with a lopsided smile, your hanging hand awaiting his own.

Luckily, he’d laughed it off and clasped your open palm. You and him got on like a house on fire, and instantly became close. Later on, he introduced you to Tom.

You never believed in love at first sight, but, fuck, Tom sure was a sight.

“Oi, hurry up, it’s hot as shit in these disguises,” Harry whines as he tugs the collar of his hoodie, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head, “Anyway,” you clear your throat, “Remember, it’s just a girl.”

He closes his eyes, chest rising as he takes a deep breath and nods, “It’s just a girl.”

“Attaboy,” you turn him around and push his shoulders, “Go get her, tiger.”

You take a seat with the boys at a booth that was directly in the sight of your friends with Amelia’s back pointed in your direction. You watch with pride as Haz rolls his shoulders and walks over to Amelia, politely touching her arm. He sits in front of her and starts up a conversation, and has her shyly tucking her hair behind her ear and giggling.

“So,“ Tom says lowly, making you jump slightly at the sudden close proximity, “we just sit inside in these ridiculous disguises and watch them?”

You gasp, offended by his words, and playfully slap him across his chest, “These are not ridiculous. they’re fool-proof.”

“Right. ‘Cause no one wonder why we’re wearing hats and sunglasses inside. And it’s totally normal for the three of us to be hiding behind our menus.” He mocks, sending you a quick wink that would’ve made you weak to your knees had you been standing.

“Shut up Thomas, let me concentrate.” You giggle, pushing his face away, despite the gnawing feeling of wanting him even closer.

For an entirety of 3 excruciatingly long hours, you intently watch the couple, paying extra attention when they finally - finally - stand up to say goodbye.

You gasp as Harrison charmingly holds her hand and plants a kiss on it. You grab both Harry and Tom’s cheeks, shoving them into yours as you squealin delight, “It’s working!”

You feel Tom smile into your cheek, “You love playing Cupid, don’t you, y/n/n?”

“Oh, you bet. It’s kinda sad I don’t get to shoot people asses with an arrow to get them to fall in love but the reaction is enough to satisfy, I guess.”

Harry and Tom let out a loud laugh as you watch Haz walk Amelia out and return to the group with a dreamy smile.

“I take it it went well, didn’t it lover boy?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, as Haz jokingly punches his arm.

“She’s so..perfect. Honestly, it’s- I’m literally speechless. I asked her if she’d like to go on a second date and she said she’d love to.”

You grin widely at the revelation and was about to say how proud you are when you receive a text from Amelia, and immediately check to see if she was right. To your horror, she was.

You facepalm and slide your hand down your face as you bring your eyes to meet Haz’s, looking at him in disappointment.

What a fucking idiot.

His face drops, and he tenses, instantly panicking, “What? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something? Did she say something?”

“Haz, honey.” You smile sympathetically, “Maybe next time, check to see if your fly is down before the date.”

———

When the four of you return home, you cross out Haz’s name from the list on the whiteboard, and happily clasp your hands together as you turn to face the trio.

“All right, Haz’s mission has been a success.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah, even if she saw the Spongebob Squarepants underwear. Tell me, which character did she see? Sandy or Mr. Krabs?”

Harrison lets out an exasperated sigh while Tom and Harry high-five each other, “I told you guys, I was in a hurry this morning and this was the only one left.”

You let out an amused giggle but stop when Harrison glares at you and clear your throat. “Children,” you lightheartedly scold with an accusing finger, “settle down, it’s not that funny.”

“Yes, it is!” Tom manages to say through his wheezing, and your heart squeezes at how adorable he looks when he throws his head back in laughter.

“Anyway!” You yell, rolling your eyes, successfully grabbing the boys’ attention, “I believe it’s Harry’s turn” you turn to smile mischievously at Harry, who was now cowering in fear.

He fidgets in his seat and profusely shakes his head, “Oh, no, no. I’m good, honestly.”

“Harry, I’ve seen you cry while watching Bride Wars and cuddling a life-sized teddy.”

“So? It’s sad.” He mumbles.

“It’s a comedy, for god’s sake.” You frantically dismiss the subject, "Look, I’ve already found the perfect girl. Her name’s Sarah, she goes to the University of Arts, London, and has the same interests as you. Plus, she’s super smart, which should come in handy, especially for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” You chuckle, waving your hands around.

He shoots daggers at you before his face shifts, and you can practically see the light bulb go off in his head, “You know, you keep talking about us guys getting girls, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Cupid fell madly in love with Psyche. If you’re Cupid, there must be someone you fancy. Isn’t there, Cherry?” Harrison grills you, and you figure this is his way of getting back at you for calling the boy’s attention to his zipper.

“Uh,” you gulp, mind completely blanking. For the first time in your life, you practically had no comeback. No snide remark. No sass. Nothing. Your mouth went dry as your eyes briefly connect with Tom’s. He clenches his jaw and bows his head, trying to keep his lid on his simmering jealousy at the thought of you liking someone.

Someone besides him.

See, Tom was also completely head over heels for you. But because of your personality, it was hard to tell whether your flirting was just a part of you, or if you were genuinely into him.

There was always an unspoken spark between the two of you, and even if it was regularly being pointed out by friends and family members, neither of you have talked about it, nor confronted it.

It was just..there. Existing in every space, no matter the time, and though the both of you longed for one another, the profound fear of rejection and stepping over the ‘friendship’ line terminated the thought of any sort of engagement from both sides.

You simply dismissed the electricity in the air with a white, yet massive lie: “We’re just friends.”

“Well, this Cupid isn’t done with her job just yet. I still have to work on Tom, too.” You stupidly point out, mentally facepalming. Why would you say something like that?!

Great, you thought, I just forced myself to set up the love of my life with some girl and watch him happily fall in love with her and then he’ll get married and have kids and-

“I’ve..actually already got eyes on someone.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” You raise your eyebrows, flashing him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I like someone. I might even be in love with her.”

“Oh.” You slap on a plastic grin before anyone notices your crest-fallen face, rapidly blinking away the tears that have gathered in your eyes, “I’m..happy for you.”

You feel hot flashes run down your spine and your heart shattering into multiple little pieces, each bit slicing your lungs until you felt like you were suffocating. You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, once succumbing to the hopes of maybe, just maybe, he would’ve fallen for you, too.

But, then again, who were you to get your hopes up? It’s Tom. There was no way in hell he would’ve wanted someone like you.

You clear your throat to try to get rid of the massive lump that was lodged in your airpipe and give him a humorless laugh, “Well, I guess you’re off the list, too.” 

You turn and bit your lip, supressing the tears that were just on the verge of falling as you cross his name out. You sigh and make up an excuse to leave the boys’ curious stares, saying that you needed to go shopping for groceries and snacks for the upcoming movie night that you suddenly dreaded.

Maybe you should grab an extra bucket of ice-cream for yourself.

————

“Heyo! I got double the amount of snacks because I know you fat fucks will probably focus on the food rather than the mov-“ You look up and furrow your eyebrows at the unusual sight of an empty and peaceful living room. You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten just a bit. Maybe you really need some alone time to think.

“In here, darling!” Tom’s wavering voice calls out from the kitchen.

Or, no alone time.

Regardless of what happened a few hours ago, butterflies erupt in your stomach at the nickname before you attempt to shake them away, telling yourself he wasn’t yours, berating your body at its inability to control itself. You sigh, placing yet another plastic smile, and stroll over to the kitchen.

“Hey, Tommy. Where are the rest of the dudes?”

“Just you and I today, love.” He beams, and you could’ve sworn you caught a glint of impishness in his eyes as he walks back to the living room with a large pizza box in his hand.

But, no. Again, he isn’t yours. 

Though that didn’t stop the fire in your chest to grow with curiosity, nor did it stop the thoughts of something special happening tonight. Maybe a confession, your brain hoped.

Oh, great, you roll your eyes, now my mind and my body are betraying me.

You feign a sigh and look down at your arms that were filled to the brink with snacks, “Well,” you shrug, “can’t let the snacks go to waste.”

Once you were sure his hands were empty, you drop all the snacks on him, giggling when he threw his fists up, ready to punch.

“Y/n!” He lightheartedly rebukes you.

“Sorry, my love.” you mockingly apologize and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I’m gonna go get changed.”

You run out into your room before you see his reaction and slam the door, placing your head into your hands, mouth dropping at what you’d just done.

Did you just kiss him?! 

Wait, no. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was just a kiss on the cheek. A friendly kiss, no less. It’s not like you made out with him and told him you’re madly in love with him.

Wonder what would’ve happened if I went a little to the left and- no. No. Get a grip!

“Why can’t my body understand he doesn’t like me?” You whine in annoyance.

After putting on your comfy pj's, and cursing yourself underneath your breath, you waltz back into the living room, situating yourself at the other end of the couch, ignoring Tom’s confused gaze. Usually, there was not a single sliver of space between the two of you, but you figured tonight you’d have to control yourself.

“So, what’d the boys pick out?” You wonder out loud, trying to get rid of the tense awkwardness that settled in the gap between your bodies.

“Some movie called My Best Friend’s Wedding and- why are you sitting so far away?” You jump a little at the quick change of subject within a sentence.

“Wh-uh,” You stammer, rummaging through your brain for an excuse, “I might have a fever?” You state, though it comes out as a question. You add a fake cough to cover up for your lame excuse.

Tom stares at you skeptically before rolling his eyes, “You suck at lying. Come here,” He pulls you by your arms and places them around his waist while his circle your shoulders. Your typical position.

You felt confused. He liked - possibly loved - someone, yet continues to cuddle you and give you pet names. It felt like he knew something, a very specific secret, and was toying with your emotions. 

He offers you a slice of pizza when he saw your dazed expression, which instantly melted away as you began eating.

Neither of you focused on the movie, too busy moaning and eating away at the delicious pizza. Blindly, both of you reach for the last slice, resulting in mild hand-to-hand contact that set your body on fire.

You slowly look up at each other, eyes alight with warmness, before you narrow yours and snatch the slice away, “Mine!”

Tom seemed to snap out of his daze when you made a run for it, “Hey! That’s my slice! Y/N!”

He staggers to his feet, immediately running after your giggles that led him to the kitchen, where each of you was on opposite ends of the island.

Your lips curl into a menacing smile as you slowly bring the slice to your open mouth.

“Don’t,” Tom warns, gradually inching towards you.

“Or what?” You challenge.

“I..won’t talk to you for a week!”

With pursed lips, you look down at the slice, pretending to contemplate your decision before you shrug, “That’s not even a punishment-“

In a quick moment, you feel your stomach flip as you squeal and hit a hard surface, only to realize that surface is Tom’s rigid back. He’s currently holding your thrashing self over his shoulder, arms tightly gripping your legs.

“Put me down, you buffoon! I do not enjoy being this close to your ass!”

“Oh, please. Anybody would kill to be in your position.” He begins his walk back to the living room when you realize the slice laid face down on the ground, completely forgotten by Tom, but not by you.

You gasp loudly, attempting to reach for the idle pizza that seemed to be getting farther and farther away, “Wait, Tom! The pizza!”

He laughs and throws you onto the couch and lays on top of you, head on your chest. You pout and hope and pray to the gods above that he doesn’t hear the wild thundering of your heart.

You’re at the part of the movie where Julianne takes Micheal somewhere secret to confess her feelings towards him, and a snide remark casually slips from your lips.

“Those glasses make her look like Yzma from Kronk’s New Groove.”

“Oh my god, I can’t unsee that now.” He chortles wholeheartedly, and you feel the vibrations from his chest rattle your body. A jolt of love and happiness surges through your veins. His laughter was like music to your ears. You would listen to it all day if you could.

God, you’re so in love with this boy.

“Why didn’t she tell him before the wedding?” He questions after calming down, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You huff out in slight annoyance and pause the movie, turning your head to look at him, “Did you not just hear her whole rant?”

“I still don’t understand it, honestly.”

“Well..would you?” You ask, slightly afraid of the answer. You knew this question was a loaded one, that this wasn’t about the movie anymore. That is was time to confront him about what was killing you inside.

He furrows his brows, obviously caught off guard, “Would I what?”

“Um,” You suddenly sit up, body facing his, “Let’s say that we’re best friends-”

“You’re saying we’re not?” He cuts in, jokingly placing a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt.

“-And you’re in love with me.” You roll your eyes, despite the ache in your ribs resulting from the intensity of the banging of your heart. I’m actually doing this, you think. “You’ve been in love with me for a while now. But you’re scared that I might not reciprocate those feelings. Would..would you tell me anyway?”

You knew that that was not the plot of the movie, nor was it the reason Julianne didn’t tell Michael. This was your plot now. Your story. 

He blankly stares at you for a moment before he speaks, “Well,” he starts off softly, grabbing your hand, and for a moment, you fear this might be his way of letting you down easy, “Maybe I do want to risk it. If I want to let you know, maybe I’d set something up. We’d be at home, alone, watching a romantic comedy that seems to almost match our issue. But, maybe I don’t want their ending. The one where one ends up heartbroken and the other marries someone else.”

His gentle eyes finally meet yours, and you feel yourself softening, “And maybe I’m hoping you don’t want their ending, either.”

At last, you feel most of your insecurities melting away, knowing he felt the same way you did. He cautiously inches towards your face, and you do the same, lips merely centimeters away when-

“Wait,” you push at Tom’s chest, causing him to look at you with wide, panicky eyes, “So, I was the girl you were talking about earlier?” You wince, just an ounce of anxiety lingering.

Tom scoffs and shakes his head lovingly, “Yes, you dumbass.” He goes to lean in again, and you stop him. Again.

“Wait, wait, wait.” At this point, Tom closes his eyes and huffs in frustration, “Did you just spoil the ending for me?” You ask with wide eyes, staring at him in disbelief.

“Oh, for the love of-“

He crashes his lips into yours, and you freeze for a moment before melting into him. He pulls at your waist until you’re practically straddling him, lips never detaching from one another. They move in sync, almost like they were merely made to fit and function as a unit.

Just when it was getting heated, you reluctantly pull away when you hear a ruckus near the front door.

“YES! WHO’S CUPID NOW?” Harrison barges in, pumping his fist in the air.

“You set this up?” You disbelievingly question in between your pants.

“Well, I did most of the work.” He smirks and shrugs his shoulder, just as Harry appears from the doorway, punching him in the arm, “I helped, too.” He grumbles.

You glance at Tom and your eyebrows shoot up, lightbulb instantly going off in your head, “Wow, guys.” You praise, voice dripping with slick sweetness, “I can’t believe you finally got me and Tommy together. Now I can finally kiss him whenever I want and call him whatever I want.”

“Isn’t that right, babycakes?” You dramatically coo, cradling Tom’s red face in your hands.

His eyes light up as he finally gets it and plays along, “That’s right my cuddly-wuddly.” He murmurs, rubbing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss.

You titter into the kiss when you hear gagging noises accompanied by “Ugh, gross!” And “Get a room!”

Tom pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, “I love you.” He whispers, almost afraid to break the fragility of the situation. 

“Likewise, movie star.” You tease with a suppressed smile.

He shakes his head and lovingly rubs small circles on your waist when you hear Harry’s booming voice, “Why is there a dead pizza slice on the ground?”

[hana-bean]

Close to you (7/7)

And I will walk on again To meet you

---

Rei trudged to her closed bedroom door, her eyes halfway open and hair disheveled due to the incessant knocking waking her up at the ungodly hour of nine AM.

She opened the door to a panicked and out-of-breath Serenity.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Really?” Rei yawned. “That’s great, Serenity—”

“It might be Seiya’s.”

That statement made for the best wake-up call, causing her violet eyes to widen. “What?”

Serenity barreled over Rei to get inside the room and pace in a distressed sweat. The latter closed the door then placed her hands on her hips to process the news.

“Are you sure about that, Serenity?”

“No… not really. But I mean, Mamo and I have tried for four years and nothing. But then I sleep with Seiya and then, boom, it happens!”

“How many times have you done it with Seiya?”

“Just once. It’s been busy lately for me and on top of that, they’re still looking for their princess.”

Rei tutted. “The burner didn’t come through, huh?”

“Not at the moment.”

“So you only did it with him once and you’ve been with Endymion a few times since he’s been back, yes?”

Serenity nodded.

She bobbed her head while shrugging. “Well, I’m no rocket surgeon, but I would bet the law of statistics says it’s most likely Endymion’s.”

“I do feel Chibi-Usa’s energy…” Biting her lip, Serenity rubbed her flat stomach.

“There you go!” Rei perked up. “Chibi-Usa is definitely yours and Endymion’s daughter, so you're in the clear!”

Looking away almost shamefully, Serenity hugged herself. “Well… maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘maybe?’” She shook her head, anticipating an explanation.

“I saw a picture of Seiya’s mother a while ago. She had pink hair and red eyes, just like Chibi-Usa. She reminded me so much of her, but I was too dumb and horny to think to connect any dots.”

“That’s totally a coincidence!” Rei waved a dismissive hand. “It’s a huge universe out there. There are lots of people with that color combination.”

“But for his mother to have that exact combination that Chibi-Usa has? We all know she didn’t get it from me or Mamo!”

“Serenity,” Rei approached her best friend, resting her hands on her shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about. Chibi-Usa is yours and Endymion’s child, you both were destined to have her. The whole destiny energy around you would ensure that happens.”

“But how do we know Seiya wasn’t part of destiny?” The queen stared Rei deep and desperately in her eyes. “We didn’t get to see much when we went to the future back then, just that time when the Black Moon invaded. We only knew what Pluto and Chibi-Usa showed us. There was basically a whole eternity before and after we didn’t see.”

Rei opened her mouth to debate, but then her brain stopped her so it could dwell on that statement.

“Shit, you’re right. Maybe she is Seiya’s.”

“Fuck! Don’t tell me that!” Serenity groaned and resumed her pacing.

“It’s okay!” Wanting to eat her words, she grabbed handfuls of her dark hair by her scalp. “I mean if it is Chibi-Usa that comes out, nothing will be questioned. You’re positive it is her?”

Her highness nodded, her hand rubbing her stomach again. “I don’t know how I know, it just feels like her.”

“Good. Technically everything is going to plan. So stop stressing—the baby doesn’t need it, you don’t need it, and I don’t need it.”

“I just worry about Mamo finding out that she’s not his.”

“Well, it was destiny, wasn’t it? Whether or not she is Seiya’s, it was supposed to happen. Endymion can’t argue with that.”

“He would be so heartbroken…” Serenity sniffled as tears began to form.

“But we don’t know that yet. She could still be his.” Rei approached her once again, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a supportive hug. “I hate that you’re so stressed out. This is supposed to be a happy moment. Chibi-Usa will finally be born like you’ve been wanting for so long.”

“I know,” she sobbed as she returned the embrace. “And I am happy, I just started thinking and—”

“No, no, none of that. No more thinking.” Rei patted her blonde head. “Everything is happening as it should. Chibi-Usa is in you as it was supposed to happen. So the only thing you should be thinking about is keeping yourself healthy and relaxed for the next nine months.”

“Right… you’re right.”

“Yes, I know I'm right.” Rei pulled away to look into Serenity’s face with a smile. “Trust in destiny. She will not lead you astray, and She hasn’t.”

---

---

Serenity turned around from her position at the nursery window after she heard a soft knock.

“Come in.”

Star Fighter slipped in, quietly closing the door as she kept her eyes on her queen.

“Is she awake?” She whispered.

“Yes,” Serenity turned around to reveal herself holding a bundled month-old infant. “She’s been squirming a bit.”

With an open-mouth smile, while removing her leather gloves, Fighter crept up to the pair and stroked the pink fuzz atop Chibi-Usa’s head with her fingertip.

“She’s so cute and small,” she squeaked with twinkling eyes. “But she has grown a lot since she was born.”

“Did you want to hold her?”

“Yes. Give me the nugget.” Fighter immediately grabbed for the bundle and rested her on her chest, giving her head and cheek multiple kisses all the while.

“How was the trip?”

“Long.” Fighter rolled her eyes. “Uranus and Neptune got in a tiff and then Uranus and Healer did, and then couldn’t be in the same room together… it was a mess.”

“Any sign of your princess?”

She shook her head while twisting her mouth in disillusionment.

Serenity sighed. “I’m sorry, Fighter. I thought for sure we found her with the burner Mamo found.”

“Me too. What probably happened is that the castle was looted and people sold or traded it.”

“But you said you felt her energy…”

“Well, stars leave a trail and what I felt could have been and most likely was residual energy. The burner was definitely hers and she’s definitely been in it, so it makes sense.”

The queen rubbed her hand down from her neck to her shoulder. “I was hoping she was just really shy.”

Fighter smiled. “She is quite reserved but she would have shown herself by now.” She then began pacing the room as she rubbed baby Chibi-Usa’s back.

“Oh wait, Fighter!” Her first-baby neuroses came out as she apologetically spoke her request. “Could you take off your boots before walking with her? Your heels are pretty tall and I don’t want anything to happen…”

“Yes, of course…!” The guardian looked around. “Did you want me to give her back to you while I do that or…?”

“Actually, sit down and I’ll take them off for you,” Serenity beamed.

“Thanks, Odango.” She located the nursing chair by the bassinet, being extra careful in her steps, and took her seat.

Serenity sat on her knees, slowly pulling down the zippers of Fighter’s boots and removing them, revealing her over-the-knee trouser socks.

“Ooh, these are sassy,” she traced the hems around her lower thighs with a giggle. Fighter blushed, trying hard to suppress her ticklishness.

The queen then turned her gentle grazing into gentle massages, resting her head on the guardian’s lap as her hand moved down her calf.

“The DNA results came in last week.”

“Really?” Fighter’s stomach couldn’t help but drop.

Serenity nodded and pointed. “Yes, they’re on the desk.”

She looked over in the direction of her finger, finally noticing a white envelope sitting open in the middle of the table. Her nervousness formed a lump inside her throat in which she tried to gulp down.

“What did it say?”

Her highness turned her head to rest her chin on Fighter’s thigh, a smile curled on her face.

“Congratulations. You’re a father.”

Fighter didn’t know how to react, or which emotion to show, for she was both excited and scared. Though she was overall touched by the fact she helped create this new bundle of life sleeping on her chest, and she placed a small kiss on Chibi-Usa’s head while a silent tear escaped down her cheek.

“That makes me so happy,” she sniffled.

Serenity kissed her knee. “It only means that you were meant to be here. Out of all the planets in the universe, you were meant to come here… and get in that bar fight… just for me to find you.”

Fighter laughed through the waterfalls of joy while squeezing Serenity’s hand.

For several moments, both women sat in silence, rubbing hands, legs, and feet and giving more gentle kisses to the sleeping Chibi-Usa. Eventually, Fighter stood up and placed her in the bassinet before walking over to the desk to grab the envelope. She removed the paper from inside and studied its contents for a couple of moments.

Serenity was confused initially to then see Fighter saunter toward a lit candle on the mantel and set the paper on fire before tossing it in the empty fireplace. The guardian never took her eyes away from the burning document, even as the queen joined her, hugging her waist from behind.

“I hope you know I plan for you to still be a part of Chibi-Usa’s life.”

"I know,” Fighter grabbed Serenity’s hand. “And I will. That baby will have lots of love.”

Serenity reached around Fighter to turn her around to face her, then gently grabbed her jaw to steady herself for their lips to meet.

“Thank you, Seiya. You’ve given me the most wonderful gift.”

Fighter chuckled, snaking her arms around the royal waist and bringing her closer for more kissing. “Did you want to make another one?”

“No.” She stated the complete sentence with a hundred percent seriousness. “But I thought we could maybe have our fun with you like this…” She palmed her breast as her thumb grazed the blue outline of her bra while she placed small pecks along her neck. “Way less risk.”

“Are you… okay with me like this?”

“Of course." She kissed her ear. "You’re still you, and it’s the real you.”

As Fighter’s heart melted, filling her whole body with warmth, she smiled before taking the queen’s lips captive with hers.

--

--

Fuck yeah, we’re done! Hope y’all enjoyed it!! I love you all!! Happy SeiUsa week 2021! Wooowowowowoo! Rock 'n' roll!!

[angelkurenai]

Imagine getting stuck with Dean in a cabin while it’s snowing heavily outside and having to find a way to keep warm.

If anyone ever told you that you'd soon, very possibly, find yourself half naked and pressed flush to a very much nearly naked Dean Winchester you'd have asked where you had to sign up for that. In your head at least. Because there was no way you'd admit to harboring such desires for the older man, even if he had had no trouble being open and proud of his attraction to you. True, it was mostly directly towards you when he tried to flirt, but that didn't mean he'd had any trouble speaking about it. With such a reputation as his, though, you had promised to yourself he wouldn't get a chance with you until you made sure his feelings were true. If somewhere along the way you'd figured out they indeed were and you enjoyed teasing him a little too much, that was a whole other thing. It was both real fun.

The opportunity to be intimate with the man, as appealing as it was and oh was he really the epitome of temptation, was however quite different from the one that could take place at the moment and certainly not one you or anyone else would have had in mind.

It was certainly far from the one you'd prefer, even if true to your word you kept turning the man down. How you had the heart to so even in a situation as this you didn't know but, on the other hand, the worst was over with. And if Dean pouting like a little child at you and teasing you like that was any indication, then he wasn't going to be the one to die any given second and it was the greatest relief.

“You're a heartless woman.” the man scoffed, snuggling even more with the blankets youd piled on top of him. You, as always for the sake of your sanity, ignored him as you poked the fire to make sure it didn't die out while you were busy keeping yourself warm and exploring the place for search of some food.

“Am I now?” you asked, not meeting his eyes as you kept your tasks up “Darling, perhaps you'd like to take another dip in the frozen lake I pulled your ass out of or will give that another thought?”

“You say that like I did it on purpose.” he said with a gruff voice, his words muffled.

“Do I look like I care? You were a reckless idiot as always and ignored every warning I gave you, Dean.” you shot him a look over your shoulder “So, after the stupid shit you pulled with the vamp I think I ought to leave you in the woods, in the cold-ass snow, for some poor wolf to pick you apart instead of let you take up that precious bed.”

Yeah, perhaps the worry and scare he had given you did give you every reason to want to keep your distance from him at the moment, even if he called you heartless. Unlike any other time, this wasn't about teasing him by denying him.

You thought you'd lose him, getting his body out of there and inside the cabin before his heart stopped altogether had felt like the most difficult task of your life, while waiting for the color to return to his face and his body temperature rise even in the least bit had seemed like an eternity. For what you were all-but-stuck in this place, with no means to contact Sam or find any clue as to where you were or how to get but to civilisation, not to mention the freezing cold outside hindering every attempt to get far away, you were thankful for this small place and even more for having survived.

“Or-” he dragged the word, his smile getting bigger as peeked over the blankets “You could just make your way in here with me and take me up on my previous offer.”

“Or I could just stay here, perfectly fine by the fireplace and enjoy my peace while saving some energy.” you shrugged, hugging the blanket tighter to you “You do understand we're meant to save as much energy as possible, right? Much as this cabin is ideal, with warmth and food, we can't stay here forever. We will be leaving this place sooner or later and the temperatures out there won't in our favor.”

You knew you were mostly mumbling as you searched through the drawers of the abandoned place, so far having been lucky in that search, that you almost didn't notice your own words before Dean was speaking “Well, that wasn't exactly what I was trying to imply.”

The fact that you could hear the smirk in his voice made you turn your head to face him. Indeed you saw his grin that made you realise it and you groaned “Seriously, Dean, on the brink of death and back and you won't stop? Really, just get some rest there and don't speak for the rest of the evening.”

“Hey, I've been more than on the brink of death plenty of times before. For one. And for another-” his grin got bigger “What? You said it. Besides, if you want to save energy, I'm great at it. I can go slow. As slow as you like, save up some energy.”

“I bet you will” you couldn't help the grin, though you didn't let him see you “Given that you'll only get to do that in your dreams. Now, do me the favor of going to sleep.”

“As I said: heartless.” he huffed like a stubborn kid “I'm still fairly sure that if you were in here we'd both be much warmer much sooner. Heck, I'd have recovered much sooner from nearly freezing to death and you'd have an extra hand in getting everything sorted out sooner.”

“I'm well aware that exchanging body heat is a key to surviving such conditions but-” you turned to face him with a smirk “This is not a movie, Dean. In fact it is unlike every movie you might have seen. Pardon, adult movie. Because I assure you, it would certainly not have the same ending you might hope for.”

“I'd be pleased with just the beginning too.” he said with a cheeky grin “I mean, come on, you said it yourself that it is simply exchanging body heat. It's perfectly normal to want to survive. So what if we will need to be wearing the minimumthings possible? It is all in the name of staying alive.”

“So is keeping your mouth shut at this moment, trust me.” worried as you might have initially been, now you could pretend to be mad at the man all you wanted after you made sure he was alive.

“Besides-” oh of course he wasn't going to “I see you had no problem undressing me to begin with.”

“I had to get you somewhere dry and wet clothes would only bring down your body temperature.” you gave him another look which he only rolled his eyes at “And now, since you won't be doing me the favor of sleeping- What kind of tea would you like?”

“Come again, tea?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you and you would have almost missed the horrified look on his face if you hadn't turned to glance at him in that moment.

You couldn't stop a chuckle “Yes, some tea. Whoever lived here before us had a great variety and stock of it as I see.” you glanced at the cupboard again “I think I could heat up some snow, since it's our only resource of water, and get us some tea ready.”

“The mere fact-” and now there was disgust which seemed even more hilarious “That you'd suggest tea to me makes me think that the temperature has gotten to your head. So thankfully for you I'll forget your rejection to join me in here for now. Also-” he plopped back down, bringing the woolen blankets over his head and said in a muffled voice “No!”

You couldn't help but sigh as you made your way towards the man, unwilling to let him have it his way by pulling the covers down a bit so that he was looking at you “I think I didn't make myself clear enough. I wasn't asking if you want tea, you idiot. I asked what kind of tea you want. You're having that, whether you like it or not.”

“I don't.” he mumbled too adorably for you to keep a straight face at the moment.

“Too bad, you're having it.” you gave up on trying to get an answer from him “We both do. I certainly could use something warm in me.”

Again, maybe you should have been more focused on your words rather than tending to the man or getting carried away by him, but what could you do now?

“I'm warm.” he said at once, his voice a small rumble but the small smile on his lips very obvious “And I'd love to be in you. Matter of fact, I'd raise no objection. Have me inside you all you want!”

“Oh my goodness, Dean- Why did I even bother asking?” you nearly exclaimed, shaking your head as you walked away from him, before muttering “I'm pretty sure the tea won't complain either.”

“Ah but you never know. Do you have any idea how it feels about this whole thing? Maybe it feels used!” he said with a grin and you only shook your head, not saying a word “See, you even don't have an answer for that. That's what I'm saying. The best option is still me and I'll never even complain! Who needs tea?”

And really, how could you argue with that kind of reasoning?”

.

..

…

“Fine, I'll choose for you. Chamomile it is.” you mumbled “Honey? Sugar? I see some here.”

“Pet names already? We haven't even both gotten on bed yet.”

[youralternantpersonality]

Enduring Love

Paul x Reader: Enduring Love

Part 1: Eternal Love

Part 2: Everlasting Love

Part 3: Endless Love

Part 4: Enduring Love

***

Your POV

It’s getting hotter and hotter by the second. I don’t know if I can handle this any longer. At some point, I realized that I am currently naked running on the steaming hot ground looking for a point that is cool enough for me to rest. Or at least a way out of this misery. Trees are falling and fires are consuming the forest. I gave up on trying to find a way out. It was no use, I’m stuck. All I can do is find a way around this hell.

I keep running until I see it. The big tree. The center of the forest that has been my safe place the whole time I have been here. Looking at it, it seems like the only normal place here. Where I don’t have to struggle; somewhere comfortable until everything calms down.

I reach my tree and I can rest, but only for a minute. Out of nowhere, I could feel the roots of the tree become warmer and hotter than the rest of the forest. I figure, my last hope is to climb. I have no way out or around this place. There’s no exit, no Snout, and I am alone. I cry and plead for help as I climb up this tree with what little strength I have. When I get to the top, I can see the forest, and all I saw was red and orange flames. Smoke consuming everything, and no possible way out. It was in my last seconds I remember what the beautiful lady told me.

“…you’ll be given two choices soon. Make sure you choose the right one. Your life depends on it.”

“Your life will depend on it…”

I can easily assume that she is talking about this situation. And honestly, all I want is the pain to stop. I’m too tired to fight, but too scared to stop. As the fire gets closer and closer to me, the branch holding me starts to break. I climb to the highest point and make my decision.

Paul’s POV

It’s been two and a half days already. I want this to end now! Edward was supposed to be able to read her, but apparently, he can’t. She’s still breathing, her eyes are involuntarily moving around, but there’s no active response in her. Not a damn thing. As the hours go on, I am eventually put in my place on what happened a few days ago that put us in this position. That put the love of my life in her position.

The evening of the Accident: August 24th

Y/n, Emily, Kim, and Clair were all in the kitchen making dinner while the guys and I were in the living room playing on the PS5. I had got up to go to the bathroom and on my way back I saw Y/n/n phone light up to see, no other than, Alice Cullen calling her. What the hell would that leech be calling Y/n/n for? And why does she have her number saved? I grab the phone and before I can answer I hear Y/n come up behind me.

“Hey babe!” she runs up to me. As soon as she sees my face she stops and her smile drops. “Babe? Are you ok?”

“Why is that leech calling you?” the house goes quiet. She looks to her phone just as the call ends, rolls her eyes, and nonchalantly says,

“It’s just Alice. I ran into her and Bella at the mall to pick out some last-minute gifts for the baby shower.”

“But why do you have her number saved! What are you? Buddy-buddy with them now?!” she tilts her head to the side, squints her eyes, her nose flairs, and heat radiates from her.

“And if I am?” she states calmly. “not once did they ever hurt nor touch me. And if I don’t fucking recall, they don’t feed off humans.”

“One snap and you could have been dead!”

“And that doesn’t apply to you too?! Seriously Paul! Alice helped me pick out some great stuff for Em and Sam’s baby shower, Christmas presents, oh, and your birthday! What evil person does that! Cause last time I checked, you guys sure love that PS5 Alice saw come out and hinted to me for us to preorder it for you guys!? Should I take that back and get the money back? Because I’ll easily do it.”

“No... Ouch! Jared.”

“Shut up Quil!”

“THEY COULD STILL HURT YOU! I don’t want you talking to them again!”

“Hell no! Last time I checked, I don’t have to ask you who I should or shouldn’t be friends with! I can make my judgment!”

“See, this is why I wish I would have never imprinted, especially on someone like you! Why can’t you just listen?!” I say. In that second, you can hear a pin drop. The words flew out before I could stop them. Usually, I have control over what I say in our argument, but this time, I couldn’t.

“Wow…Bet.” Y/n said. Fuck. I groan and follow her outside.

“Paul!” Sam calls out to me

“It’s fine Sam, the truth comes out one way or another. Snout, let’s go, baby!” Y/n walks out the front door and towards her car. I reach out to grab her hand that was holding Snout’s leash. It slips and Snout runs towards and into the woods across the street. Y/n runs after Snout, and everything goes in slow motion. Not paying attention to the truck coming, her body slammed by a truck speeding by and she instantly hit and crack her skull on the asphalt. I run to her hold her in my arms until the ambulance comes as her life slips away. And that when my life came to a stop. All I hear is sirens from a distance and the feeling of warm thick liquid dripping onto my skin and clothes.

EMT’s come and try to take her from my arms, but I resist until Sam and Jared make me let go. I watch as they strap the love of my life to the gurney and put her inside of the truck.

“Shit,” Brady said. I look over and see Snout, dead, next to the truck's tire. His leash got caught against something and dragged him, snapping his neck. I can’t help but lose it at that point. Before I’m aware of doing so, I try to run, but I’m stopped by Embry. The cops want to talk to me and ask what happened. Somehow, I was able to answer some of the questions, but I could feel myself breaking down as I tell them what happened.

Thus, leading us up to here.

Present-day: September 2nd

I could hear it—the final heartbeats. Carlisle and Edward rushed in as we listened to the final intake of breath and the thumping of her heart. After the last one, we’ll know which path she decided to take.

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

…Flatline….

 My Love

[feralrosie]

Under the Mistletoe

Happy holidays @bambinamio ♥ 

The Wayhaven Chronicles Mason/F!Detective (Ziofra Shepard) Words: 4,413 Rating: General Audiences Tags: Holidays, fluff, soft!Mason Read on AO3

The holiday season affects everyone: makes Felix hyped, Ziofra build and decorate a huge tree, Adam to smile... And even makes Mason soft(er).

The sound of incessant shooting echoed through the Warehouse, sprinkled with shouting and cursing. What sounded like a war zone, however, was no more than a friendly competition. In the living room, Felix had convinced the Detective to play with him only a couple rounds of some new video game he bought, but what should have taken only thirty minutes was lasting for over an hour.

"You're cheating!" Ziofra accused, almost throwing the controller away from her on the couch where she sat, "There's no way you're this good."

By her side, the vampire laughed out loud, using his elbow to push her body playfully, a warm grin on his face, "C'mon Detective, don't be such a bad loser. Just believe that it's my incredible eye-hand coordination and years of Agency training."

The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, “You don’t even use guns in the Agency, how would this be part of your training?” He had won almost every single match  of the colourful battle royale game so far, with few exceptions when her victory was guaranteed by special items and a lot of luck. There was no doubt Ziofra was very skilled at it and, in normal circumstances, she would have easily won, but the vampire’s reflexes were too fast for her.

“Then maybe I’m just awesome.” Felix grinned, provoking her even further.

“Fuck you,” she rolled her eyes and chuckled, pretending to be much more offended than she actually was, “But it is still not fair. I will consider myself the winner just because I’m not cheating like you are.”

His laugh was cheery and loud, contrasting with the chilly afternoon outside of the Warehouse. It was a clear day, but the faint sunlight wasn’t enough to melt the thin sheet of ice forming on top of the grass, creating a beautiful glittering winter scene. The living room was much cosier, shining in warm light from the fireplace, cream coloured fur rugs and spare blankets on the couch. Whatever the reason Nate decided to rearrange the space, she was sure that Mason’s almost nonexistent resistance to cold had something to do with it.

Not only, for the last week Felix had been gathering materials and decorations for their home, after finally getting permission to host a small holiday party for the team. The living room was packed with colourful fairy lights hanging everywhere, garlands on every door, star ornaments and even tiny figures of reindeers, nutcrackers and one unicorn were scattered around—surely he watched a few classic holiday movies for inspiration. By the fireplace, there were five stockings, each one with their names embroidered by hand, and her own right in the middle between Nate’s and Mason’s. The entire Warehouse was looking like a fantasy Winterland paradise.

But it was the sight of a huge box of a plastic tree sitting by the window that got Felix an idea, “Say, Ziofra… Why don’t we set this once and for all with a bet?''

Frowning, the detective raised an eyebrow as her eyes studied him, looking for any signs of malice in his voice, but the piercing amber eyes and bright smile gave nothing out. He was truly just having a lot of fun.

“What do you have in mind?” She finally asked.

“Let’s play one more time. If you win, I will consider that all my points are invalid and you’ll be the winner of it all. This game will surpass all others.”

“And if I lose?” The detective explored his terms as if dealing with the mafia, which in that case wasn’t too far from the truth. She knew too well that Felix could be very persuasive.

“If you lose, you help me set up the holiday decorations.”

“What, as if you needed more?” Ziofra scoffed, opening her arms to draw his attention to all the scandalous scenarios around her.

“Of course! I still haven’t set up the holiday tree,” he pointed at the partially open box in the corner, “Nate didn’t let me get a real one because of, quote and quote, ‘fire hazard’, so I had to wait for this to arrive by mail.”

“A wise man.”

“I guess,” he shrugged, still smiling. It was obvious that nothing could ever bother the youngest member of the team, hyped to be spending his first holiday season in a home of his own with the people he most cared about. “So, do we have a bet?”

“Ok, fine! Whatever.”

“Nice!” Felix shouted, shifting on his spot on the couch to get more comfortable while setting up the next match. Ziofra mimicked him and crossed her legs on her seat, resting her arms on her thighs as she held the controller, ready for the next battle.

… It didn’t take too long for her to lose again.

Though she had an advantage of finding better weapons as soon as the game started and managed to hit a great deal of other online players, the moment she found Felix on the map she knew she had no chance. His aim was impeccable, and it was like he could detect each of her character’s movements, knowing exactly what she was going to do beforehand. He knew all along what he was doing, and of course he did it on purpose to win the bet.

“You’re insufferable!” angry, the detective shouted but couldn’t hide a smile. Despite the unfair balance between them, the game was still fun and Felix’s laughter was enough to light up any mood.

“And amazing, don’t forget it,” he teased, standing up from his seat to turn off the console, “I guess now we have a tree to build, right?”

Throwing her arms up in the air in annoyance, Ziofra agreed and followed him. The tree’s box was huge and a mess, Felix had clearly tried to set it up before, but when realised the amount of work it would require, he gave up and shoved all the pieces and parts back inside. If all of this gaming afternoon was just a plot to get her to help, she couldn’t know for sure, but the suspicion wouldn’t leave her for another entire year.

“Holy shit, Felix, how big is this thing?” she asked while taking all the fake green branches out of the box and spreading it over the floor.

“Hm, two Nates tall? One and a half, maybe.”

Her jaw dropped and her shoulders sagged at the information as she glared at him. The tree could tower her own size by a lot and it would take a fucking eternity to set it all up, especially having only the two shortest members of the team working on it. “Are you fucking kidding m—”

The inevitable outburst of rage was fortunately interrupted by another figure joining them at the living room. Nate knocked on the door frame, a comforting smile set on his lips. For a moment, she thought they could at least have some help from Mr. Long Legs, “Hey, Felix, and hello Ziofra,” he greeted, as lovable as always, but soon directed his attention to the youngest, “Felix, can you drive me to the city? Adam is at the facility and Mason said he would rather eat his own cigarettes. You’re the only one available.”

“Right now? Sure!” the bright smile on his lips denounced how glad he was to be leaving the previous task to the detective. Not only she wouldn’t have any help from Nate, Felix was now also abandoning the ship.

“It’s going to be quick, I just need to go buy some things. Are you too busy?”

“Not at all!” Felix jumped over the plastic tree branches on the floor and reached Nate by the door, grabbing his bright coloured coat and dressing up, “You can take the lead here, right Ziofra?”

She was holding a branch like a knife, pointing at him, “I am going to fucking murder you later, you tiny bastar—”

“Great! You’re the best! See you later!” And in a blur of movement, Felix disappeared, pulling Nate with him, though the joy in his laughter echoed for a few seconds in the hallway.

Even if she wasn’t happy with the situation, Ziofra still tried to build the holiday tree. If anything, she could still regain her honour by making it the best piece of decoration. How hard could it be, anyway?

**

All the plastic leaves were piercing into her skin and there were way too many of them. Despite its size, the tree was relatively easy to put together, and after an hour of work sorting out pieces and ignoring the instructions, the detective was halfway through it. The problem now, however, was to figure out how she would reach the highest parts of the structure.

Ziofra was an expert on climbing actual trees, and this one shouldn’t be too different. She pushed an armchair closer and hopped on top of its seat, but still it wasn’t enough. Cursing under her breath, she risked stepping on the armrest, balancing her tiny body and stretching her arms towards the tree. Gathering all of her focus on trying to hook a motherfucking piece in its place, she barely noticed when the armchair shook under her feet. Pushing her luck, she rested one foot over a branch of the tree, holding herself to its trunk to finally, finally, attach that one piece in its place.

“Oh, hell yes!”

The celebration didn’t last for long, for as soon as she pointed her finger guns at the structure, the chair underneath betrayed her and slipped back on the wooden floor. It happened too fast for her to have any defensive strategy, so all she could do was to cling herself to the tree trunk and close her eyes.

In a loud bang, she crashed on the floor, followed by the heavy tree that fell over her, parts of it getting loose and scattering all around. “Fuck!” she shouted, trying to free herself from the humiliating place. It was about to get worse, however, when she heard the rushed footsteps of someone coming for her aid, and there was only one other person in the Warehouse with her.

“Ziofra?!” Mason blurted as soon as he arrived at the living room, a worried frown set between his stormy grey eyes that scanned the room, looking for her. When his gaze finally met hers, an amused smirk formed on his lips. “What did you do?”

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised,” she pursed her lips and avoided his eyes. It was bad enough to embarrass herself like that, but to have him be the one to find her was a bit of too fucking much.

“I can see that,” he scoffed, resting his side against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest, watching as she tried to lift the tree on top of her. Not an easy task, given by the enormous size of the structure, and even Mason could see how hard it could be for a tiny human like her. In any case, it was too good to not enjoy the show for a couple minutes. “Need help there, sweetheart?”

She grunted loudly at the offering, letting her arms fall on the floor in defeat, “ Please. ”

The rumbling sound of the vampire’s chuckling followed as he approached the detective, careful to not step on her but having no regards for the plastic branches on the floor. Mason bent over and lifted the tree to its proper place with ease while offering to aid the woman. Ziofra didn’t think too much before holding his hand for support and stumbling to her feet, landing too close to him.

His thumb caressed her knuckles idly, and he felt a few cuts and bruises marking her skin in irregular shapes. For a moment his gaze shifted to her hands, taking note of the results of her work with the holiday decoration before focusing his attention back to her face. A small piece of plastic was stuck on her cheek, along with a few strands of hair that got loose from her ponytail. Mason reached for it, brushing off everything with the back of his long fingers, slowly enough to feel like the time had frozen between them.

“Are you alright?” his husky voice sounded like a whisper right before his hand dropped to his side while the other still held hers. The stormy eyes searched her features for more bruises, but the steady sound of her heartbeat soothed his worries.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbled, absorbed by the handsome lines of his freckled features, so close to her, from the curves of his lips to the depth of his eyes. She wanted to lean in, feel his taste and touch, and just stay closer , but an instinct on the back of her mind pulled her away, letting go of his hand and clearing her throat. “It’s just this stupid tree that is too fucking tall.”

Her harsh movements away from him seemed to have the same effect on Mason, who stepped back biting his lips. Crossing his arms again, he poked a piece of the tree by his side with the tip of his boots, studying the environment surrounding him.

“What even is all of that shit?”

“Felix won a bet. Now I have to build a fucking holiday tree.”

Mason rolled his eyes, “Of course he is the one responsible for this monstrosity.” Inhaling deeply at the mess, the vampire turned his back, heading back to the door.

"What are you doing?" Ziofra prompted, making him stop in a halt and look over his shoulder at her outraged countenance.

"Hn, leaving?"

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"Why would I?" turning on his heels to face her again and raising an eyebrow, he inquired in genuine confusion.

"Because I'm asking pretty please."

"Your point?"

The detective grunted, leaning her head back to gather patience. Talking to Mason sometimes was like trying to maintain a conversation with a door. "Come on, I bet you're not even doing anything important right now."

"I can think of a lot of important stuff we could do instead of building this thing." Despite his complaints, the vampire walked towards her, leaning down to her ear as he passed by and whispering in a velvety tone, "Much better things."

The suggestion sent chills down her spine, but she could only hope they would have another opportunity to be alone in that huge Warehouse. Mason was already collecting the plastic branches all over the floor, studying each for a few seconds and hooking them in place. He seemed comfortable, beautifully so, wearing his usual long-sleeved shirt that matched the colour of his hair. There was something in the atmosphere between them that was different, so calm and familiar.

On his face, there was almost a smile. Maybe it was the silence, the warmth of the room, or maybe he just enjoyed using his hands to craft something, but the peace emanating from him was alluring. Ziofra didn’t even think of the possibility of her being the reason behind it. Of their company being why both felt so at ease, so at home.  

“Are you enjoying the view, sweetheart?” his voice broke through her thoughts, soft, but their eyes didn’t meet. He was too busy attaching a tree branch, a little past the height of his head, and drawing her attention to the slim lines of his torso.

“Excuse me?”

“You going to help or not?” Mason turned his head to her, the light from the fireplace slipping down his nose like a feather and inviting her closer. Something really odd was in the air, but none of them would question it. Not right now.

“Shut up,” was all that she could mumble before joining him.

**

Felix’s holiday party was much more like a simple gathering than anything else. They all preferred it that way, only the five of them, a few drinks for the sake of it and… a pile of gifts that Nate insisted on buying. Turns out that the quick trip to the city required two entire days.

Adam was by the window, sipping on red wine and listening to Nate ramble about some recent book he bought, and even Mason was having a drink, perching on a table next to them, but clearly not paying any attention to the conversation.

The holiday tree was looking gorgeous in greens, reds, and golden glittering decoration. Ziofra had taken all the credit for it after Mason refused to acknowledge his participation, but a bit of pampering from Felix was always welcome.

“How did you manage to reach the top of this thing?” he asked, shifting his gaze from the top of her head to the height of the tree. “Don’t get me wrong, I only doubted you twice, but this is really surprising.”

Raising an eyebrow at the subtle mockery, the detective pushed Felix with the side of her body, “I used my hair as a rope and climbed there,” she scoffed, “As one does.”

The vampire laughed out loud, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “Of course you did, that explains a lot.”

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle, leaning her head towards him for just a second before Felix pulled away completely.

“Hey, I have something for you!” he jumped closer to the tree, searching for a colourful box wrapped in rainbow paper, “Nate help me choose it, so if you don’t like it you can blame it on him. If you love it, the credit is all mine.”

“What?!” she jabbered, holding the rather large package with both hands. In front of her, Felix was smiling brightly, eager to see her reaction. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Felix!”

“What, you thought I wouldn’t get you anything? You’re part of this team… and a great friend. You deserve it. Come on, open it!”

Ripping off the paper, Ziofra opened the box at once, diving her hands into it to grab a beautifully hand crafted leather jacket, coloured in a deep black with silver beads and zippers. It was obviously very expensive and well made, and the sight of it made her jaw drop a little.

“Are you kidding me?” she bursted, holding the piece by its shoulders and examining it all around.

“Did you like it?” Felix was vibrating by her side, giggling like a child, “Try it on!”

The fit was perfect for her, as if it was custom made for her size. The leather was cold and smooth, but the fabric inside the jacket was warm and comfortable, like being hugged by a dear friend. She looked at her reflection on the window’s panels and smiled, pleased with the surprise. The endless source of joy leaking through Felix was enough to have her hugging him tightly, thanking him again.

Caught in a hype, Felix soon stepped away from her to continue his task of giving gifts to the other members of the team. Adam and Nate were also exchanging presents, and Ziofra could see an amused smile forming on the Commanding Agent’s lips as he, too, hugged his best friend for a quick moment.

An interruption stepped up in front of her, cutting her view of the surprisingly tender scene between the two oldest vampires on the other side of the room.

“Looking great, sweetheart.” His gaze ran across all of her body, taking his time on her curves rather than clothing. “If you weren’t so small, I would even steal this jacket from you.”

“You can surely try it out. Show some skin, you know?” Not hiding the flirtatious tone in her voice, she rested her back against the door frame and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Held his gaze in a teasing challenge, inviting him to join her there.

“You know I have no problem doing that,” the rumbling sound in his chest vibrated towards her as he chuckled, completely at ease, “Especially for you.”

“I should have bought you those ugly holiday sweaters, the ones with reindeers fucking on it.” Ziofra rolled her eyes, but followed his movements as he stepped closer to rest his right forearm on the wall behind her, caging her. “It would suit you very well,” she provoked further, a sly smile on her lips.

Mason took note of her mouth, the way one corner lifted higher than the other, and how eager he was to kiss it. Tried to bury the feeling in his chest, pretend it was nothing but a physical thing, and yet… There she was, right in front of him, gorgeous and comfortable. Her heartbeat surpassed every other sound, from the cheerful laughter of his companions to the crackling of the fire.

There was no denying how beautiful she was, but also he couldn’t help but to acknowledge that it wasn’t everything he thought of her. Everyday he felt more drawn to her as if she had a magnetic field, as if he needed to stay closer. It was good to stay closer. The world around him seemed to hush, allowing him to feel things that otherwise would be hidden. No more being overwhelmed by sensations everywhere, only a single one that grew roots in his chest and bloomed to his throat.

“Mason?” She whispered, calling him from his thoughts, but not meaning to move away.

His frown twitched when her heartbeat raced in anticipation, realising his own matched the rhythm. Mason leaned down, the stormy eyes switching from the violet of her irises to the rosy of her lips, slowly, until the shrieking sound of Felix’s voice pulled him away from her.

“Hey, love doves,” he called from behind, walking towards the door with the rest of the team, “We’re going to the game room. You guys coming?”

Mason grunted, shooting a piercing stare at the youngest, who raised both of his hands in self defense. Ziofra blinked a few times, as if only catching up with the situation moments later.

“We will be there in a bit,” she exhaled, and a chuckle followed as the team passed by them to the corridor.

“Take your time,” Nate placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder, smiling warmly but, surprisingly enough, with hints of mischief. His brown eyes guided Mason’s up to the door frame above them, but he didn’t stay long enough to watch the other’s reaction.

When they were left alone, the vampire directed his attention back to the woman, biting his lips to conceal a smile.

“We’ve been here for a while,” he began, leaning his head back and looking up, “I believe that means I get more than just one kiss, no?”

“What do you mean?” the detective’s eyes followed his gaze. On the frame, glued with adhesive tape, a mistletoe—or was it a holly?—was hanging on top of them. “Oh.”

“So,” he prompted, encouraging her to answer his previous tease, “A kiss and what else?”

“I don’t think that’s a timed activity, smartass,” her chuckle filled his ears and surrounded his senses like a blanket, pulling out a smile on the corner of his lips. Ziofra placed her tiny hands on his chest, caressing him over his shirt and studying the lines of his neck, “But maybe later you’ll get more than a kiss.”

The tip of her fingers, colder than her palms, caressed his skin up to his jawline, only to trace back the path down and hold him by his collar. She pulled him closer, eyes fixed on his lips, and parting her own open just slightly. Her gaze full of desire met his, but there was something else to it. The faint blue of his eyes were darkened with the stormy grey, and he wasn’t leaning in to her. He seemed nervous, a bit annoyed. If she could listen to his heart as well as he could hear hers, she would have known how fast it was drumming, trying to rip off his chest.

“I have something for you,” he mumbled between clenched teeth, almost not moving his lips to speak. Reaching for the pocket of his jeans, Mason pulled a small box, clearly of jewelry, made of the darkest velvet. There were no wrappings around it, no laces or bows, just the box in its fancy simplicity.

Ziofra’s mind tried her best to quickly assess the situation, thousands of thoughts fussed all over with the rush of adrenaline in her bloodstream. Tried to conceal a shaky hand before accepting it in silence and holding the gift in both hands, feeling Mason’s gaze fixed on her. Inside the box, lined with the same dark velvet, stood a necklace made of such shiny silver that contrasted with its surroundings. The pendant was a simple linework of the silhouettes of two wolves, one slightly larger than the other, howling together.

“Mason…” she gasped, carefully pulling the necklace out of its display to examine it closer.

“Happy holidays,” he interrupted, almost growling, as if the words would sting him. Aside from minor things out of necessity for his team members, he couldn’t remember the last time he had bought something for anyone, especially a gift like that. A gift that got him as nervous as her, and as rewarding as watching the detective trying on the accessory with a shy smile on her face. Not a single snarky remark from her when the pendant touched her chest, cold on her skin.

When their eyes met again, and none of them waited for it, for there was nothing else to be said. Lips crashed into each other, yearning to be pressed together like gasping for air after a deep dive. Ziofra stretched her body on the tip of her toes, hugging the man by his shoulders and wrapping both arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his ebony locks, while he held her closer by her waist. His long fingers traced a careful path along her spine and landed on the back of her neck, feeling the heat and the shivers on her skin.

They could feel each other entirely, wrap themselves in their warmth and explore the bodies as if it was the first time, new and exciting, and when they deepened the kiss, there was nowhere else they would rather be, and nothing they would rather do.

There were only the two of them, and nothing else mattered.

[imacrowcawcaw]

Treasure Ch. 1 (Penntin)

(Ao3)

Pairing: “Penny” Adiyodi/Quentin Coldwater, past Penny/Pearl Sunderland, past Quentin/Alice Quinn, background Margo & Eliot

Fandom: The Magicians (TV)

Length of series: who knows

Warnings/tags: magic (like duh), universe alterations, canon divergence (obviously), spells gone wrong, magic rituals, slow build, enemies to friends to lovers, first kiss, first time, snuggling and cuddling, Penny is very physically affectionate believe it or not, attempted humor, fluff, angst, smut, happy ending

Summary: 

Quentin fucks up a spell (Penny may or may not have also helped/hindered).

Quentin is the reason Penny can’t see unless he’s hugging him and also why everything smells like the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Quentin’s run-amuck brain brings all sorts of problems to the table.

Quentin is starting to make Penny feel funny in his chest (and his pants). 

Fuck Quentin, man.

Author’s Notes: I’m nearly through season one and am also not willing to put in hours of research on this universe’s magical rituals, so -- keep that in mind, I guess. That being said, I am in LOVE with this show and also this pairing. 78 stories on ao3?!? Fair, but sad…. I am falling hard and fast for Penntin (idk the ship name). So I had to write out everything in my brain. So here. Plays off of some the other fics on here, particularly “Practical applications of falling in love” -- kudos to you, @echomoon, that was amazing and I can’t stop thinking on the concept!! 

----------

The smell was everywhere. It burned through Penny’s nose like it had a personal vendetta against every single one of his nostril hairs (which, it had been kindly pointed out a few years ago by a bitch who will remain unnamed, numbered quite a few. Especially visible when underneath him, which almost everyone was in this apparent plane of Hobbits. Right, moving on. Bitch.)

He covered his nose with his hands, then the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck - purple silk, today - but the smell just kept coming and coming until he was nearly choking. 

In the back of his mind, Penny could feel the waves of panic, frustration, and disgust coming off of Quentin fucking Coldwater in a mixture much similar to what he was feeling. More panic, or course, cause the guy was a walking circus accident, and some various streams of babbling mind diarrhea lamenting about the awful smell. Surprisingly, the guy had a vocabulary Penny could almost be impressed by. But he was much more focused on himself and his dying nose, no matter how insistent Quentin’s feelings were.

And Penny would like to point out that he never willingly associated with that geek. It was always outside forces convening to push them together, whether in a study group or room assignments or the weird-ass plot against their lives that somehow connected Mothman and cursed daggers and creepy pedaphilic authors (that he would have liked to punch in the face).

Of course, that ever-present, invisible asshole (fate, god, the Dean; what did he care?) pushed them together yet again with more disastrous results. 

Like them being together in the same room at all.

Like them being paired up to do spell work.

Like them fucking it up. 

The disastrous fucking results he just knew were going to happen were, apparently, this smell. He had scented some pretty bad (literal) shit in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the absolute atrocity that was Quentin bungling a simple ass locator spell. 

“Oh, my god!”

And that was the fucking idiot, desperately clutching his ever-present baggy shirt over his face like it would do some good against it. Magical stenches did not, as it appeared, let themselves be blocked out so easily. 

Penny rolled his eyes - watering like a baby’s, he might add - and made his way over to a window on the backside of the class, pounding at the frame with his fist when it wouldn’t fucking budge. 

Stupid Quentin, going and burning his nose because he couldn’t fucking concentrate on anything other than Alice’s tits. Bet he had something to do with the stuck window, too. 

“Come ON, fucking open!” Penny muttered. 

He was desperate for fresh air. He would beg and cry if he had to - his eyes were already crying, and also did he mention fuck this? - but he just needed this goddamn window to open up, so if he could just get the latch to jiggle a little more to the left-

Aha! Fresh air!

Penny stuck his head out of the window and breathed in deeply, opening his mouth as wide as it would go like a dog on a car ride. He gulped and drank in the life-giving oxygen -- but, but it was-

“-ON’T PENNY! GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Ugh, Quentin. Trust him to fuck up not only the air inside the classroom but the whole fucking campus as well. He would have to be funding the entire infirmary at this point. 

Sighing (and then retching), Penny pulled back to shut the window and noticed something real fucking peculiar. And creepy. 

Either he had been blinded by the horrible smell - and it was that bad, he wasn’t immediately discounting the theory - or a thick fucking fog had rolled in while Penny wasn’t paying attention. Cause he couldn't see anything. All across his field of vision was grey -- actually, it was more of a murky blue than grey, and it was moving at a surprising speed for having no conceivable end to it. And it was so thick (like Quentin, god Penny was going to fucking kill him).

“Penny! Please get away from the window!”

Quentin was pleading with him now, and Penny almost felt bad about how scared he sounded -- not entirely, though; that voice crack was hilarious. Idiot fucking deserved to be scared. Look what he had done!

He turned around to tell him just that, except for, uh, he couldn’t see him. The fog was in the room. 

The podium near Penny’s left side was a vaguely visible outline, and the front lab table even less so -- man, don’t even get him started on the desks and chairs. There was nothing. He could be in Fillory for all he knew- oh. Hell to the fucking no.

“Quentin!” He roared, “Where the fuck are we?!”

“Wh- what do you mea-- here! We’re in class! Where the hell are you?”

So that was a relief, if a disappointing one (those were called oxymorons, right? Fits. Quentin was a moron who was causing him to run out of fucking oxygen.)

“I’m by the window, dumbass! Trying to get some fresh fucking air, cause you fucking destroyed it all and replaced it with dog shit!”

This is worse than dog shit.

Oh god-fucking-damn. He did not need Quentin’s thoughts right now. Penny carefully moved forward, sweeping one foot in an arch across his path before he stepped down. 

He figured Quentin was doing the same, because he heard the rambling oh fuck what was that where am I where’s Penny I’m such an idiot oh my god was that a rat streaming through his head as Coldwater, clearly, let all his wards down in an effort to fully concentrate on navigation and breathing. 

This once, Penny couldn’t quite blame him for devoting all of his energy to the task at hand instead of blocking him off -- but it was still annoying. He was so good at concentrating and yet Quentin managed to get into his brain clear as glass. And he was so fucking annoying. 

“Fuck, Coldwater! Shut the hell up!” Penny sighed and paused, running a hand over his hair. The waves of panic were increasing. “Just stay where you are and I’ll come to you. But stop thinking, please.”

“Yeah, okay- oh! Ow, fuck…”

There was a loud crash and then Quentin's pained noises as he clearly ran into some sort of furniture. Penny sighed again. What idiot had let this guy anywhere near a spellbook? (Nevermind how powerful he occasionally was -- that didn’t make up for stupidity.)

Penny breathed deeply - the one meditation practice he admitted could help, if only to calm him down - and kept making his slow way across the room. He was pretty sure that he was in the center of the room now, but he also knew that not being able to see made distances seem much longer than they were. 

He took another step and ended up tripping over the same goddamn chair Quentin had apparently ran into, because his body landed on another guy’s that made a pathetic “ow” noise again. 

“Jesus Christ, Quent, you could of at least picked yourself back up off of… the…. floor,” he slowly trailed off, looking around. 

There was no more fog. There was no more burning smell. The classroom was exactly like it was before they had started the chant -- empty desks and chairs left behind by all the people who didn’t have slow idiot’s for lab partners, wood paneling that tried and failed to look classy, and the front lab table covered in various magical instruments. 

“What the hell?”

Quentin sat up underneath him - as much as he could - rubbing his nose and sniffing deeply. Penny agreed. The air felt amazing, like a soothing balm on his poor, abused air canals. 

He quickly realized that there was still a geek that was responsible for all this mess half-lying on the floor underneath his body, and that someone could walk in at any moment. So that was un-fucking-desirable, in multiple ways (ugh, Quentin. Just thinking about him made Penny shudder.)

With a quick brace of his arms, Penny bolted upright and took several steps away from the nerd -- back into the fog and the awful smell. 

“Ah!”

He looked around, confused and pissed off. Was this some kind of joke the kid was trying to pull on him? 

Penny tried to do a simple fire spell, then again, and again; each time more desperately than the last. Nothing. It was like the fog was muting his magic -- it was curling in scarily tentacle-like clouds around his hands, engulfing them in dense smoke and snuffing out any sparks he could have produced. 

Now Penny was panicking a little. 

He was still mostly pissed off, mostly- extremely pissed at Quentin, possibly more than he ever had been before, and frustrated with just a twinge of panic at the absence of his magic; the opposite of the nervous nellie probably still huddled around a chair leg on the floor. 

Something grabbed at his foot, and, suddenly, the smell and fog had gone away again. He could breathe and see and there was a rather large flame coming from his hands, a culmination of the previously snuffed flames all working together to express his rage through fire. 

When he looked down, Quentin was actually clinging to his foot, not a chair, and looking very nervous. What was new. Penny tried to kick him off and succeeded after a moment, the blueness invading so suddenly he didn’t even notice the smell for a second. 

Then it was gone, again - he was gonna get whiplash from this shit - and Quentin was hugging his leg, again. This time he looked more sheepish than nervous, and it made Penny want to kick him in the face. 

(Ch. 2 on Tumblr)

“I, uh- I think that the fog and the smell only happens when we’re not touching each other.”

What. 

Well, it made sense considering the last three minutes of god dicking with the light switch - not to mention Quentin’s history of idiocracy and miss-castings, but-. Come on.

“Coldwater, I. Am. Going. To. Fucking. Kill. You.”

-----

(Ch. 2 on Tumblr)

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

im supposed to be working on uh literally anything else but instead i gotta get this outta my brain

tl;dr: slag is causing the Psychos to spread across the galaxy bc the Calypsos are using it to both brainwash their cultists and give them ‘special powers’. i mean, its not just slag, it’s eridian ruins/tech, too, but the Twins are utilizing slag the most. which explains the slagfalls and also the processed eridium everywhere still. im hoping sirens will help us cure this- starting with Krieg because slag/Psychos have some sort of connection to the other dimension, just like Sirens, but more messy. also this insanity from the slag/Psycho-ness is literally Mayhem and us fans are taking part in it- we’re the cult irl. plus, this game is gonna be about love and the relationships we have with the people we care about and that’s all the roses mean because i’m feeling s o f t tonight. tomorning. whatever maaaaan

“… among their fractured ramblings, it is tempting to try and find a deeper meaning…”

“[their madness] defies attempts at explanation or containment. from an isolated region of a single planet, to a nearby moon, to systems throughout every human colony, madness is catching…”

you can’t tell me this isn’t just BEGGING for us to figure it out

so, for my own sake:

i have a theory.

i kinda sorta hinted at this with my destroyer theory but i REALLY wanna go all out in this because i think this is actually something to think about… mostly because ive seen A Scene… and i wants to talk about it, vh. i wants it

now im gonna `lol` ignore everything about my lost legion eternal theory and start entirely from scratch. it’s also 1am here for my apologies if this comes across as incoherent because wow i should be asleep but fuck it i got research to do

so it all starts with psychos. i mean i guess it does. it’s gotta right? i brought in pictures it must

anyway

the guide admits that the first psychos came from Dahl’s prison colonies

the ones abandoned on pandora, now ive kinda talked about this b4 but imma talk about it again bc uhhh fuck it? why not.

so we know a lot of the bandits left on Pandora mutated because of the eridian ruins/the key. this is referenced mostly in sledge’s mine

its like world-wise called headstone mine but i never remember that. SLEDGE’S MINE

notice that line “most went crazy and many were physically mutated as well”

so i think it’s safe to say whatever they found in there started causing psychos to appear on pandora

im saying that i think eridians are the cause of Psychos across the galaxy

i have a lot more proof for this so please sit back and enjoy the ride because i think its really really cool

so lets look at hector’s logs from the newest dlc

“one of my boys found a shiny alien trinket”

“a few boys went rabid already, had to put them down”

now idk if there’s a connection here, but it’s interesting that both times, people who found these eridian artifacts started going crazy soon after

shit i mean even tannis begins to go off the wall after her and her dig team start investigating the eridian sites. although if that is because of the horrific incidents that befell her and her team or the ruins idk for certain. i’d bet its the shitty incidents tho

there’s more to this, hang on…

alright, so, lab rats? they’re pretty cool right?

we all like lab rats! personally, chase is my favorite, but adam is hilarious. that final season, huh? pretty wicked… wasn’t really a fan of the island setting but you know what, to each their own. it’s cool they actually progressed the show instead of staying stagnant. that got my respect even if it moved in a direction that wasn’t my cup of tea.

anyway Q U O T E S:

“Hyperion opened my eyes. i didn’t want it!”

“needles in my eyes!”

“don’t you look at me!”

“i can see! i don’t want to see!”

so there’s obviously something ~fucky~ going on with the lab rats and whatever it is they can see from the hyperion experimentation. we know hyperion had a hard-on for slag experimentation and you know i wouldn’t even be shocked if they were injecting these rats’ eyes with slag.

the best part is their reactions when they’re phaselocked. Unlike most enemies, the lab rats will only react to maya’s action skill, and none of the other VHs.

vs something like a marauder:

who has all these voice lines for Zer0, Axton, Sal (merc), AND Maya

the lab rats will only ever respond to being phaselocked.

and what do they say?

“i see the universe!”

“i see infinity!”

“it’s beautiful!”

 (now weirdly enough i was told on the tv tropes for bl2 that the lab rats will say “I see it more!” when phaselocked by maya, but i couldn’t find a source for that. couldn’t even find it in the files i extracted from the game. i checked an online video just to double check because you know, my extraction could’ve been off, but it wasn’t there, either. even phaselocked one a bunch as maya and i couldn’t get it to proc. so, idk where that info came from, if someone could give a source/proof that would be awesomesauce.)

sooo what do other enemies say when phaselocked? usually… they just see blue. so nothing quite as interesting as infinity.

so wtf is up here? 

im thinking the experiments hyperion performed on the lab rats are letting them see the dimension maya locks them in. i mean, tbh, i think they can see into that dimension whenever they open their eyes, but maybe maya’s phaselock makes sense of it for them. because they seem to be in indescribable agony outside of it

but the lab rats aren’t the only enemies that only react to being phaselocked

turns out the psychos only react to phaselocking, too

they also have some fun lines:

“I can see forever!”

“I’m home!”

“I’m inside… I’M INSIDE ME!”

with some other nonsense thrown in for fun

so idk, just taking a look at this, it’s clear the psychos and lab rats are seeing something that the other bandits just aren’t seeing. most reactions are demands to be released or that they’re flying, or just straight up confusion as to what’s happening.

is that the side effect of their exposure to slag/eridian tech? yeah, imma bet on it. their mind machines probably broke because they saw something they weren’t supposed to (possibly into the other dimension. the one maya phaselocks them in) without proper ‘protection’ and thus went batshit. like maybe sirens are protected from the craziness of the other dimension because they’re ‘chosen’ or whatever. iunno.

i do think it’s most interesting that the psychos seem familiar with whatever they’re seeing, calling it ‘home’ and well… themselves. 

so why in the fuck am i talking about all this? because i think it ties straight into bl3.

let’s bring back lab rats and their experiments

you know how hyperion was supposedly injecting their eyes with slag? and it caused them to shoot those weird blue lasers out?

what happens to the destroyer’s eye in tps?

yeah we inject this bad boy with slag

“i only juice the eye with a little bit of slag at a time”

which ends up causing a singularity around the eye the second time you do it

“if this slag stuff is powering the laser, we need to force as much of it as we can back into the eye. the increased power will trip a failsafe and let us shut everything down”

oh, increased power? you mean like how Sirens get increased power from absorbing eridium? that kind of increased power?

we know in bl1 the Destroyer seemed to have something like slag in it- those glowing pockets on the tentacles that explode into purple goo

even its attacks are like purple liquid. which, you know… would be quite similar to slag (tho tbf, these attacks actually hurt instead of applying the debuff)

and boy does the destroyer not like it

“warning. space-time instability detected.” after injecting the eye with too much slag. but… why? it got too powerful? are its powers directly connected to the other dimension and by increasing it’s strength a bunch we created some sorta link between our dimension and the other one? 

i mean given the other dimension allows for teleportation and shit, im not surprised there’s a space-time instability!

i mean we’ve all seen it do the eye laser thing, and the tentacles, and the purple goop. but causing space-time instabilities… that’s new isn’t it? kinda like how Sirens get new powers after they absorb a bunch of eridium???

so i wanna take a guess as to what the destroyer is

we know its ‘immortal in its own realm’ but when it’s taken an actual body that we can kill it, so odds are, it never actually died in bl1 OR tps. i imagine the Destroyer we see in bl1 is just a small fragment of it, and that it’s consciousness can be spread out across hosts. *EDIT: actually the lovely @automata-systemata-hydromata reminded me that you can find the destroyers brain in Helios. The other stuff I left in should be fine tho I thiiiink (thank you!).

and that, y’know, is cool and all, but what IS it??

Jack uses slag to give it a power boost, but it doesn’t seem to be happy about it when it happens. in fact, it even seems scared.

to be honest, all we know is that the eridians locked it away for some reason

idk im just spitballing here, but what if the Eridians were the creators of the destroyer? not intentionally, or maybe it was the result of one hell of a slag experiment/exposure to the other dimension/eridian tech, but we’ve seen what slag/exposure to eridian stuff does to humans… makes them go crazy, makes them start mutating. i mean, look at badass psychos. look at goliaths.

i mean shit even think about bloodwing. she goes wild, attacking the VHs and not listening to mordecai’s instructions despite their bond

she grows to a huge size and gains a whole shitload of new powers she didn’t have before. including fucking fire breath (which we’ve seen in burning psychos)

you know these dudes

i go into all this eridium/slag mutation stuff in SO much more detail in this post here, so if you’re interested in mutations, read this!

so what if the destroyer is just one HELL of a mutated eridian/alien and it plus all the eridium was locked away forever in the other dimension to keep this from ever happening again? because god, i wouldn’t want that to ever happen again, either, and i guess locking away the eridium (you know the stuff used in all these hyperion experiments) would be their best bet at ensuring it. also maybe just… locking away anything with eridium for that long probably isn’t the best idea… maybe that’s why it’s all tentacles and death. maybe they just locked someone away in a Vault as a prison and then leaving them with all that eridium caused them to mutate wildly out of control. kinda like the FEV. 

i mean we know ‘slagged psychos’ look like this 

i wouldn’t be surprised if we gave them enough slag/time they’d end up mutating even worse. and the destroyer was left in the vault for hundreds of years.

so wtf is the connection here with Sirens? there’s gotta be one, right??? is slag experimentation the first rung on the ladder of volatile science to achieving siren-hood? like you’d have slag/eridium experiments/mutations -> the lost legion eternal -> actual Sirens. maybe if sirens take in too much eridium they become something like the destroyer. now that’s fucked up to think about.

maybe it’s better the twins took lilith’s powers away from her…

oh, speaking of mutations and burning psychos and hyperion experiments, you know what we haven’t talked about yet?

Krieg. 

let’s talk a whole lot about Krieg, because he is super important

krieg is important for a lot of reasons.

u know what his teaser trailer was named?

yeah i don’t think that’s coincidence one bit

ahhh Mayhem.

“deep beneath pandora, an experiment has escaped”

we know krieg is a hyperion test subject, dr samuels confirms this (and apparently contracts insanity as well at the end of the Crawmerax DLC)

also we know some other tests going on at the WEP from the quest Doctor’s Orders:

“this vault key didn’t make eridium come outta the ground for nothing, right?”

and there’s this one very very very interesting line by Tannis at the end of the quest:

“the spread of slag poisoning” yeah call it that DUMB name tannis, im gonna call it what all the kool kids are calling it: ~Mayhem~

so… Krieg.

what’s so special about him?

well… he gives us insight into what the hell is actually going on inside the heads of some psychos.

so idk about you guys but i always took this as a poke at Maya and Krieg, but i realize now that this is talking literally just about Krieg. it’s about his body holding both sides of himself.

krieg does appear to be like lucid behind the psycho controlling his body, which, idk about you guys, but for me that plants some pretty horrible mental images of all the psychos in-game who probably have similarly exasperated people behind them who are getting murdered because they can’t control themselves anymore.

and idk i wrote this whole post about how maybe the slag experimentation is turning people into hosts for the destroyer’s consciousness and that could explain all the wacked up psychos and shit. but tbh im not gonna talk about that today

just about slag experimentation/eridium exposure. we know what it ACTUALLY does and that’s mutate the hell out of things and cause insanity.

Krieg is like… the poster child for slag experimentation/eridium exposure

soooo why does slag experimentation make people go insane? could be any number of reasons, but tbh i would bet it has to do with that other dimension somehow. because eridium isn’t a normal ‘our dimension’ element. it came out of a vault. from a different dimension. and who knows the long-term effects of that shit.

i personally had a theory that the 4th dimension had something to do with time and that only Sirens are able to harness this power, but then i have no idea how to explain angel and amara’s powers through that lense, so eh. fuck it. just seeing an upper dimension would make you go crazy anyway, so let’s not bring any time shit into this because that’s just asking for trouble. 

either way

i think that sirens are able to make sense of that other dimension. they have some sort of command of it/some sort of tie to it that allows them to not go crazy the instant they interact with it, unlike psychos. unlike lab rats. unlike Krieg. it’s like… eridium is our window into this other dimension or some shit and Sirens are (literally) able to process it, while it just fucks over anyone else who tries to interact. ~kachow i just introduced parallels~

and tbh i think we’re going to use Sirens to help cure this plague of insanity going around the universe. probably starting with Krieg. i mean, the only time he’s able to get even an iota of control is when he sees Maya. “Turn around pretty lady!!” like… that’s HUGE for him. and Maya’s a Siren. im not saying the power of love isn’t strong… but maybe the power of Sirens is stronger. i’d love if tannis helped us out with that. maya, too, if she really did learn more about sirens on athenas. 

this all ties into borderlands 3 for 2 reasons:

1. Mayhem being both the tagline for this game and Krieg the Psycho’s DLC pack is not a coincidence

2. The calypso twins are going to be using slag to both brainwash people into becoming cultists and give them special powers

`breaks fingers` this is the real meat of this theory, all that other stuff was just getting you READY for this

let’s put the Mayhem stuff off to the side for a second and just focus on the Calypso twins.

We know they’re promising their cultists special powers and free brainwashes (lol)

we’ve seen that one concept art from the museum of mayhem with the giant slag pool

we know enemies are STILL dropping refined Eridium even though it seems like all manufacturers have stopped creating slag weaponry

and we’ve seen the slag falls in a bl3 promo material already

oh yes

okay so i said right at the very beginning of this document that i’ve seen A Scene that i wanna talk about and oh baby this is it

This Scene right here

look in the very back there

look familiar???

~it shooouuuuullld~

yeah this is it!!!

so what i think is going down: anyone who’s not already insane is sorta ‘baptized’ as their entrance into this cult in the big ol slagfall. maybe the twins have a way to induce slagged cultists so they can have elemental affinities. not sure about that.

regardless

the twins are using slag to drive people insane (turning them into psychos) as a form of brainwashing to force people to join their cult.

so that’s the special powers and the free brainwashing and the slagfalls down.

let’s talk about why exactly we’re seeing enemies drop bars of refined eridium even though hyperion stopped making them. because the twins are making it!! it makes sense why there’s no slag guns still, even if it still exists in-universe: of course no manufacturer is going to contact an insane bandit cult just to get their hands on slag for their guns. 

there was a 7 year dry spell of eridium production so there was no slag to go around, so companies started phasing it out of their guns and replacing it with nuclear. 

but the twins have recently started production again. they’re obviously not using it in their guns, or selling it to other manufacturers. so wtf are they using it for? it’s gotta be important, it’s holy holy holy.

special powers and brainwashing!

and the refined eridium is back in circulation, so enemies are still dropping it. see? solution acquired.

as for psycho-ness spreading across the universe? it makes sense. not only are the twins using their slag to brainwash people and turn them into psycho cultists, but people are also being mutated by the eridian ruins/vault keys/vaults on the other planets and being driven insane. This craziness is quite literally Mayhem.

Mayhem is coming, indeed! 

now let us talk about what the fucccck gearbox is doing with all that Mayhem stuff in the trailers and shit.

sooo WE are the cult surrounding this game. as the fan base. 

do u think it was coincidence that they made ‘ECHOnet’ Streamers the leaders of their big bad cult and then also immediately introduced, in real life, the Twitch ECHOcast extension and invited a bunch of streamers to play their demo? they knew exactly what they were doing. Giving away a free cultist psycho mask to everyone who preorders a console copy of the game? that’s intentional. everyone who preorders the game gets a ‘gold weapon skin pack’? yeah! you know what gold weapons represent in-universe? higher standing in the cult!! gearbox is making commentary on how we are all just like the cultists!

AND THEY ARE TOTALLY RIGHT

all the trailers having something to do with Mayhem? ‘Mask of Mayhem’ ‘Mural of Mayhem’ ‘We are Mayhem’ ‘Mayhem is coming’. We’re all insane cultists because we’re all absolutely fucking rabid for this game and they KNOW IT.

…

oh also we’re all in love with each other lmao. 

in all seriousness, i think the game is going to focus a lot on the relationships we have with the people we care about- our found family, our romantic interests, our friendships- and that’s being expressed through the roses. 

i think that’s why all the characters are shown in the roses on the cover art. why the roses are so prominent in the So Happy Together trailer. why Zane is sitting at a bar with a rose between himself and his clone (as a joke, but still, it’s the intent). 

red roses are, like, the most obvious way to show your affection to someone. and we know the bl3 Vault Hunters are going to find family in each other in this game. that we’re going to watch the calypso twins’ relationship become warped as the game goes on. hell, we’re probably even going to have a whole plot about tina and mordy (and talon) and brick being a small family together, and maya and ava being one as well. plus ellie and vaughn have gotten together since commander lilith. shit, guys, even claptrap is building himself a girlfriend.

this game’s about love, guys.

anyway i have been working on this since 1:30am. it’s currently 6:06am. i am very tired and very wired and those never mesh well. im gonna go eat some motherfuckin pizza.

edit: i missed the obvious connection the first time around: of course we’re going to cure Krieg, he loves Maya. and this game is all about love.

that and/or one or both of them die and gearbox hurts us right in the softest parts of our hearts.

edit 2: also yeah at some point in the near future im writing that Hyperion-Twins theory because as much as i love Atlas, i have ~seen some things~

[cartooness]

‘I am NOT blushing, it’s just warm in here.’ For the masonder drabbles pls?

"Alright, Lav. You can do this, he's right there. Just go up to him and ask him out! Can't be that hard... right?"

Lavender was nervous beyond belief, she's never done anything like this before. But she's read enough books to know that to move the plot along, you've gotta go for it or you'll be screaming in frustration later.

Mason Adalbert. The one boy who could send her heart a flutter and turn her whole being to mush with a smile. He didn't seem like the kind of boy "girls like her" would go for; but she didn't give any fucks about that. He was cute as a button, smart, was super kind, and drank his respect women juice. Did she mention he was absolutely adorable?

She fixed her collar, adjusted her romper, and tousled her hair a bit. Here goes nothing.

"Mason."

He looked up from cleaning his glasses. "Yeah?"

fUCk he's cute, "Um. I was, um, hoping that. Um.", 'God I'm going nowhere, just cut to the chase.' she thought to herself. "Would you go out with me? Uh, please?"

He looked at her with a blank stare as he adjusted his glasses, "Me? Are. Are you sure?" 'Of course it's you!', she hastily thought.

"Yes, you. I'm sure of it. I um.. would really like to go out with you."

His cheeks flushed red and he gave a shy smile. "Yes. I'd love to. Where.... were ya thinking of going?"

Time for her plan! "Well, I was thinking of going to the roller rink tomorrow because it's Half Price Thursday. Plus, I've never been and I just thought it'd be fun... and yeah." God, she hoped she didn't look or sound too awkward.

"Ooh that does sound like fun, Lavender! What time were you thinking of-"

Ah, shit, Sheila's coming...

"Well, well, well, look at what we've got here! A goth wannabe prude asking out a boring little prude nerd. What a perfect pair, I'll bet-"

Lavender bared her claws, "Sheila Anderson get the fuck out of my face before I slice your damn neck off."she growled.

"Jeez bitch, calm down, I was just leaving", replied Sheila, annoyance and fear in her voice.

"Good." And with that, Lav went back to her business. "I'm so sorry Mason, I HATE when she talks to people like that, especially people I... like. Um, i was thinking around 5:30. Will that work for you?"

"Uhh yeah, that sounds good! Let me just, um, write it down really quick in my Little Tiny Journal for Various Things. ((Authors note, I actually have a notebook that says that on me at all times. XD))"

"Alrighty! It's a date! See ya then, bye! One of my dads should be here by now to, uh, pick me up haha."

He pulled her into a quick hug, "Bye Lav!"

...

She shouldn't have said a single thing. Lav had just come home to a small swarm of deadbeats, and not quite thinking, she spilled the beans about her upcoming date with Mason to them. But the thing about them is, they're like little kids; they'll repeat what they hear to anyone who'll listen. Excited about the news, they roamed around telling everyone in HQ that 'Lavender has a date with a boy tomorrow!' over and over again.

"Dang it, now I'll probably have to deal with- oh no he's pounding on my door."

"LAVENDER DEARIE, PLEASE LET ME IN, I HAVE TO KNOW ALL THE BITS AND DETAILS ABOUT YOUR DATE!! OH MY GODS, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR-"

"Calm down Decan, you're going to break down my door!! Come in, we'll talk, I promise."

She let him in and he immediately started asking his burning questions, "Who is it!? Who's the lucky lad!? I'm all ears!!" With a sigh, she prepared herself to answer his 300 questions. "Well, it's Mason,-"

"HAH!! I KNEW IT!! LEWIS, YOU OWE ME 20 DOLLARS!!" he exclaimed.

"Um. Alright then. Mason and I are going to the roller rink tomorrow at 5:30 for Half Price Thursday."

"Ooh! I have a couple of outfit ideas that will make him fall head over heels for you~" he replied, ready to plan.

"Fine. But I get to choose the shoes."

"Deal! Let's see what they are so I can plan accordingly!"

She phased through her walk in closet and pulled out her choice of shoes, recieving a slight grimace from Decan. "These ones. I insist."

Decan took a large inhale, "Darling, I  L O V E  you, but I'm starting to regret that deal... I just... can't quite DEAL with those shoes... but! I like a challenge, so let's see what I can do!"

The shoes in question were knee high tye dye Converse in the demi romantic and asexual flag colors, but the green and purple colors were neon; not the easiest thing to match, that's for sure.

What felt like AGES later, Decan found an outfit consisting of a shin length black dress with lavender lace trim on the bottom, completed with sheer tights. He looked as if he was in the nth dimension, proud to have accomplished an impossible seeming task. "I DID IT!!! FINALLY!!!"

"Yes you did! I feel cute uwu."

"Well, you ARE cute!" he replied, stating his facts.

"....fine. I'll let you have it this ONE time." she replied, a small blush on her face.

"Alrighty then! Let's go downstairs, everyone is a buzz with excitement about your first date~"

So downstairs they went, and about four seconds later E V E R Y O N E was shooting the same rapid fire question,

"LAV WHO ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE WITH?!?!"

With a sharp inhale, she spilled the tea, "I'm going on a date with Mason, he's the cutie I'm always talking about." 

"And YOU, LEWIS PEPPER, OWE ME TWENTY BUCKAROOS!! FORK IT OVER!!" bellowed Decan, thrilled to have predicted correctly for once.

A slight grumble was heard from the back of the living room, and an annoyed deadbeat swarmed over with a twenty dollar bill and put it in Decan's waiting hands, "thank you!!~"

Everyone shared their excitement for the girl, along with a bit of worry about what could happen, but Lavender assured them that Mason is a very kind person. Plus, if anything happens, she always has a way to get out of a situation; magic and her amazing combat skills.

...

The day had come, and Lav had just been dropped off at the roller rink. She began looking for Mason until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey! Looking for me?~" he announced, playful smirk on his face.

"Actually, yes. Sorry to keep you waiting, one of my dads took a bit longer than I thought doing my makeup... but hey! I'm not technically late, it's only 5:19." she replied.

"Oh please, you're worth the wait."

"What?"

"What?"

Both teens had a dusting of red on their faces, standing in an awkward silence.

"Umm, you look very nice! Love the shoes, must've taken ages to match haha." Mason chimed, nervously laughing.

"Aww, thank you. My Papa Decan almost gave in trying to find something, twas funny." she replied.

"Lav?"

"Yeah?"

"How. How many dads do you have, um, exactly? Are they polyamorous or, uh, something to that extent?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, that! No, they're not all poly, I'm adopted and a bunch of people have shared custody over me, so I basically have like, a dozen parents at this point pretty much. And all but two are men, so that's why I have a bunch of dads. Funny thing is, they're all in their mid-to-late twenties, so they're not quite on that 'dad age level' but I don't care. They all make bad jokes and are very caring so... yeah, haha. Don't tell anyone, but I'd totally do anything for them, all my caretakers. I love them a lot, and they all love me a lot, and I don't deserve them most of the time." she warmly replied, softly smiling to herself. Mason felt his cheeks warm up and his eyes were likely shining.

"Awww, that's so sweet! Also, you SO deserve each other! I like to think that things usually happen for some reason one way or another, and I think it's wonderful that they found you and that you all care for each other so much! Wh-why are you crying? Are you alright?"

She touched her face and realized 'yep those are mascara tears alright.'

"Oh, um, I'm okay. Sorry, I didn't even see I was crying. Um, let's, um, go inside, it's getting dark... or something. Haha." Lav replied, trying to move the date along.

"Oh, um, ok. Do you... want a hug?" he asked, trying to make her feel better.

"Yes please, I'd love that."

And with that, he pulled her into a warm hug, taking in each others warmth with a smile. 'She smells like warm apple pie... no wonder she's so wonderful...'

After what felt like An eternity, they departed and both were blushing messes.

"Um-"

"I am NOT blushing, it's just warm in here." snapped Lav, not sure what to do with these... warm,,, happy static feelings.

"Wait, you're  B L U S H I N G?? You look so cute though!" he replied back, smile in his eyes.

"Wha, uh, I-I do NOT!!",she sputtered, blushing deeper, "YOU'RE the cutie here! With your beautiful silver eyes, your soft caramel hair, and your breathtaking smile that I like so much! Not to mention, you're SUPER smart and nice and, and, GENUINE!! Do you know how many times literal DIRTBAGS have tried to flirt with me? They're always weird and gross and I do NOT like it, and I don't like how it's easily accepted for them to be all... X rated all the time!! Like, it may be cause I'm ace and repulsed by s*xual stuff, but still! Don't be gross, people!" she outburst, recieving some strange glances.

"*sigh*, I'm sorry Mason, let's go inside now, people are staring and I don't want them to do anything to you." she softly spoke, gently holding his back for him to follow her.

"...thank you. For, um, everything. It means a lot to me, stuff like that. Again, thank you so much.", he whispered, not sure what to say or do. "...am I making this, uh, awkward for you, Lavender? I'm really sorry if I am-"

"No, you're fine it's, uh, all good. Let's go get skates and such already, haha." she nervously replied, finally walking inside.

...

They were having a surprisingly good time, despite the shaky beginning. Both were doing laps around the rink, holding onto the perimeter every ten seconds due to fear of falling. But they got the hang of it, carefully skating around. They kept tapping hands, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to join them together. Finally, Mason went in for the kill and took ahold of her hand. She felt a smile creep up her face, and held his hand back.

"Your hand fits nicely into mine, ya know." he smiled.

"Yeah. It does." she replied back, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, and him in return blushing like crazy. "Aww, you're so cute when you're blushing, Mason."

WELL THAT TOOK FOREVER LMAO. Sorry for the excessive length, it turned into a full on fic lol. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!!

Also Decan belongs to @thefearanddespair

EDIT: This is for the Villain!Lav AU, I forgot to mention it lol

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Episode 4: Take Us Back except I’M DEAD INSIDE [Despair Route]

Episode 4: Take Us Back I’M DEAD INSIDE [Despair Route]

..............No.

Just

No.

To everything. 

I’m still fuming after episode 3. 

Where the fuck did James go, anyway? Did he fly off the boat? 

Welp, the big Lilly scene. Let’s see what all the hype is about.

oh okay

I’ll just forget about the fact that you kidnapped my boyfriend and friends after murdering my best friend Mitch, then proceeded to cut out my boyfriend's tongue, cut off Violet’s finger, then murdered James. 

Let bygones be bygones.

No Lilly

You ARE evil.

What you did was evil. And if I weren’t on the despair route, I would’ve shot you in your lying fucking ratass face. 

AAAAAAAND it’s over. 

I’m am so happy that letting James die amounted to a two-second conversation with Lilly. So. Worth. It. 

Oh wait

NO IT’S FUCKING NOT

ARE YOU JOKING

DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL??

I knew it was bad. I knew letting Lilly live didn’t mean shit. Now she gets to flow down the river and live the rest of her life doing who the fuck knows. 

Hell, I bet she DOES run into David and live a happy little life with all her livid children.

Because at this point, why not.

What I said: “I hope you find peace, Lilly.”

What I meant: “I HOPE YOU CATCH ON FIRE AND BURN TO DEATH BUT THE DAMAGE DOESN’T REACH YOUR BRAIN SO YOU STILL TURN INTO A WALKER AND LIVE THE REST OF ETERNITY STUCK BETWEEN A HELL OF LIFE AND DEATH.”

BITCH

I fucking askdjaksjdalksjdlkajsdlkaaaaaaaaaaa-

The opening credits haven’t even opened and I’m already this pissed off. 

I know it probably wasn’t in the budget or they didn’t have time to give us something substantial with letting Lilly live but fucking hell. If I have to sacrifice James, at least let me have a real final battle with Lilly. Let me have the option to bash her head in with a saltlick. Give me something! 

AAAAAAAAHHDHDJLKSJLKJSLKSJSLK

......

Louis just..... makes me want to cry.

I’m serious, I have never felt so awful looking at Louis and knowing what I did to him. 

The number of pictures of Louis smiling and being cute that I’m going to have to look at to cope with this nonsense jfc.....

...

....Really.

That’s it, Vi?

“Lou...”

That’s ALL you have to say.

I

You

Not even a hug. Nothing. Nope, we gotta talk about Minerva some more because clearly, she’s so much more important.

 Fuck Minerva, Violet!

 Again, if she were fully in character, she would’ve hugged Louis and not given a shit about Minerva. 

AND YOU’RE STILL CONCERNED ABOUT HER

“What the fuck is she doing? She’s going to get herself killed!”

VIOLET

THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY TIMES I CAN SCREAM AT YOU TO FORGET ABOUT MINERVA

oh huh

Louis is still the one to fall over in the cart

Don’t know why I find that interesting but I do?

Aw fuck

I don’t get to see him again until the ending. 

Well that’s just.... depressing. 

Have I mentioned how much I hate this route?

wtf has Tenn’s voice always been this deep? Why am I just noticing this now?

Thanks. I hate it. 

Okay. Okay okay okay. 

I will give it this. 

I like the scene with Clementine and AJ. With James dead, and with the choices I’ve made up to this point, it has a way more serious, almost quiet tone to it. With James, it’s all anger and panic when he tries to take AJ away, but here...... I don’t know. With James I’ve gotten to the point where the cave scene is so wild that I can do nothing but laugh all “Yeah, yeah, James, calm your shit and quit pacing, you look foolish.”

But here.... This choice:

Is suddenly more heartbreaking now that I have to basically ruin AJ’s confidence in himself after he opened up to Clem in a way he never has before. In my eyes, this is just.... such a negative impact on their relationship. I mean, I get it. No one wants AJ to be a killer, or to like killing or whatever but.... still. 

And, on top of that, this choice cements Violet’s fate and I hate that. 

This whole route fucks Violet over in every way possible. Not only do I romance Louis and spend all my time with him, but the only reason I saved her was so that Louis won’t die in the end. Then, I let Ey Yo cut her finger off, she went through all that stupid nonsense with Minerva, and how she’s going to die to save Tenn’s life. 

Fuck everything about this. 

The being said... I fucking miss Louis. 

“I like Aasim.” 

Hahahahaha okay, the way AJ said that made me laugh.

Hi Violet........... 

Also, funny how Tenn also runs up to hug Violet but he doesn’t do that with Louis. I know he and Violet are way closer, so it makes sense, but with Louis he’s just “Oh it’s just Louis.... Guess I’ll join in the hug, too.” Hahaha 

What’s less funny is how Violet doesn’t say shit about Louis. 

Louis at least mentions that Violet’s eyes aren’t infected but Violet’s just got.... nothing. I want to know how he’s doing. Ugh. 

I don’t blame Violet for this, I blame the writing. Because AGAIN. If she were kept in character, she would’ve mentioned him. 

Hell, CLEMENTINE should’ve asked because, y’know, he’s kind of her boyfriend??? 

But what do I know. 

I don’t know nothin’ about these characters. 

God, I miss Louis. 

Well, at least Violet knows she was an idiot about Minerva. 

PFFFFTT-

“Welcome to Happy Sunshine Land! Here’s Mayor Violet!”

“NO I HATE IT”

Oh Vi...... managing to make me laugh seconds before chaos erupts...

Oh fuck

oh fuck

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

nope

nope 

nope nope nope nope

....

....

....

That

I fucking loathe that. 

Seeing and hearing it.

I had to take a break and come back to this. I’m sorry, but that is just so wrong. It’s wrong! I love you Tenn, and damn it, you’re ending better blow my fucking mind after having to sacrifice Violet to see it but.... No. 

Violet shouldn’t be the one who died on the bridge. 

It’s not even a long scene, but it fucking feels like it is. 

They rip Violet apart and going back to look at it, she’s still fighting them as she falls and they just cover her. 

Fuck Minerva. 

I have nothing for her. 

I hope in whatever afterlife there is, Violet kicks her ass all the way down to the fiery pits of hell. 

And Clementine just..... Sad face for two seconds and then we’re off. 

We don’t even really mourn her. We mourn Tenn for a moment when AJ’s shoots him, but Violet’s dead and Tenn’s in shock and AJ slaps him, says Violet died for him, and they go.

I fucking-

ugh

UGH

And Clem’s bit

I hate everything

However, one thing that I DON’T hate is playing as AJ. I LOVE playing as AJ during the barn scene. 

I had to take another break after the flashback scene. I still can’t believe I’ve watched both of those Clementine and AJ scenes over a hundred times and it still manages to make me tear up every time I go back to play. 

Now that I’ve calmed down a bit, let’s see what this ending has to offer. 

CROSS THAT HEART SHIT OUT

Violet deserved so much more than Minerva. 

...Wait.

Tenn never made it back to the school?

Okay, I get it. So, basically, he was ashamed after what happened and went back to find Violet and Minerva. I like how he realizes how “naive” he’s been throughout this whole thing and that he doesn’t want to be the reason someone dies again, that he wants AJ to teach him everything he knows. Which, in my personal opinion, is the right answer. Telling him to keep being an artist without learning from his mistakes, without teaching him better and smarter ways of survival just lets Violet die in vain. 

I’m also thankful that they didn’t make me see Violet as a walker. I mean, fuck everything about her death but... I would’ve flipped my shit again if I had to see that. 

RUBY

Oh Take Us Back..... why ya tryin’ to make me cry again....

Ruby and Aasim are holding hands and the small bit of hope makes me feel a little bit better. 

LOOK AT HIM

My beautiful boy........

I am never ever doing another playthrough without romancing and saving Louis ever again.

Even now that we’re into the “happy” ending, it still feels wrong. 

Still annoyed that nothing is said about Violet. 

Nothing. 

“It’s been a week tho they’ve already mourned her blah blah blah” I don’t fucking care.

Louis....

Louis places the note on the table so gently.....

Okay. The clouis scene is cute. It’s really cute. But it doesn’t make up for all the shit I had to do to get it myself. 

BUT... I won’t get into too much because I’ve made posts about this, but I don’t like how happy and neatly wrapped up everything’s portrayed as. I want a real reaction out of Louis- who, btw has now lost two of his best friends, has been shot, was kidnapped, was traumatized after having his tongue cut out, who will never talk again and will never sing again, and saw his girlfriend come back to the school without her leg after being bitten and on the brink of death, and thought Tenn was dead on top of all that- rather than............... happy. 

I still love the scene, but if you asked me when this takes place without any context, I would’ve told you a year at the least. 

...

I’m not gonna lie: I’m a fucking mess. 

I don’t know if I can say that I hate this ending, because really, it’s the same ending with a few changes. 

But I hate that Violet is dead. I hate what happened to Louis. I hate that I had to sacrifice Violet [and in a way Louis] in order for Tenn to live. I hate that James is dead. I FUCKING HATE THAT LILLY IS ALIVE OUT THERE. 

In conclusion: FUCK ALMOST EVERYTHING ABOUT THE DESPAIR ROUTE

The Good: I got to see scenes and interactions I never have before. It was cool hanging out with Violet for once. She made me laugh a couple times. Tenn’s ending is good. The cute clouis scene with the note is sweet.

The Bad: Literally everything else. Fuck letting Louis get captured, fuck letting Lilly live, fuck letting James and Violet die. Fuck not trusting AJ and adding damage to the relationship between him and Clementine. FUCK THE BOAT SCENE OF VIOLET CARING MORE FOR MINERVA THAN LOUIS. FUCK NOT GETTING TO SMOOCH AND SEE MY BOY’S FACE. FUCK LILLY, FUCK MINERVA, FUCK THIS ROUTE.

Again, I... don’t have any real words for the feelings this route brought me. 

Just.... mad. 

I’m mad. And sad. And dead.

I just need a minute to stop being dead inside.

I’m gonna need to read so much fluff after this jfc....

[meladotjournal]

Esther - Like A Stone

Esther Abigale Lebel, despite everything, is still human. It’s her time. For now, at least. And all hunters go the same way- bloody. But what exactly happens when someone like her dies?

ESTHER has left the chat. 

Feauring: Aeszura and Dionysus. As always, I have no idea what I’m doing. If I write your character wrong, or if you have any comments at all, please tell me! I encourage it! I need to be more productive, and if you need me to rewrite absolutely anything/everything, I am more than willing to have something to do!

Takes place during Supernatural Season 12, Episode 21, set at the end of Esther’s story. Near 1800 words. 

/////

May 11, 2017

I walk out of the cabin, not bothering to clean up the mess inside. The fire I had started inside was already spreading. Sure, the bodies would smell, but at least I could be sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about any more undead spirits in this town anytime soon.

It was an easy hunt involving a couple of serial killers and a surprisingly helpful ghost. I was surprised that no local hunters (whose names I rarely bothered to remember) had picked up on it before I did. Jobs were becoming unsettlingly easy to find. I’m not one to back off of a case- I’ve been known to force other hunters off of jobs, but it felt wrong, and the recent British invasion was nothing if not suspicious. It made me almost glad that I hadn’t made many friends in the hunting community. 

And not that I was lonely or anything, but damn! I haven’t even heard from Aes. And I think we all know how much she likes to talk my ear off about things I hardly understand. But at least she sticks around, you know? I was worried about her, but don’t tell her I said so.

I start towards my car before I hear rustling in the trees. Or was it the fire? My paranoid ass wasn’t looking to wait to find out. That’s when I notice my tires were slashed. Shit. Shit! Here I am, moping like an idiot just to find out that someone’s tailing me. Just my luck. Shit!

I’d go back into the cabin, but that thing is on the verge of collapse at this point. I make a break for it, running into the thickest-looking stretch of forest, aiming in the direction of the shitty little town where I booked a shitty little motel suite.

I find a clearing nearby. Bad for cover, but a hell of a lot easier to run through. Just as I’m plotting my zig-zag formation, I see a big black SUV. Definitely bulletproof. Ominous. There’s sigils etched all over the thing. Shit. Those British fucks were onto me. I’ve been avoiding these cars for months.

I’ve spent too much time examining this thing. Lucky for me, this dumbass left the passenger door unlocked. Sloppy for one of the Men of Letters, though. What was he, drunk? Even the footsteps were sloppy. Small, around my size.

I hop in and crawl into the backseat, locking all the doors manually. I spot my reflection in the window. Jesus, I look terrified. My hands are shaking, and I find myself fiddling with my necklace. Stupid! Be productive! I use my stupid shaky hands to call the first person on my contacts list.

/////

We were getting ready for the next hunt, just like always. This was a big one, I can’t quite remember what, but it was something to do with demons and some weird hoodoo drug trade. And as much as I hate needing help, Aes and Dio were helping. In their own ways.

If I hadn’t met them while I was soulless, I doubt I’d have had the balls to stand my ground. In all honesty, they’re terrifying. I feel like at any moment, they could just eat me alive, or tell me that whatever bond we’d built was a part of some elaborate prank. But even I‘ll admit that I’m not exactly “best fwend” material. So I guess it works.

None of us sleep much. We were fooling around, getting drunk off the minibar while we watched the sunrise from the comfort of our surprisingly classy hotel room, thanks to Dio’s snappy finger magic.

“I think I finally figured it out,” Aeszura cackled. “I know exactly how I’d kill you.”

I rolled my eyes while Dio played along. “I really fucking doubt you could, little miss musical.ly star.”

“Yes, I could. I’d film it. No- I’d livestream it. And people would give me so much fucking money just to watch your smug ass die. I know the websites. Hell,” she laughed, “Facebook Live would work just fine. My followers would love it. Idiots.”

“You don’t even know what I am. I’ve been alive for thousands of years. I could be anything.”

“Time works different in hell. Like Australia. You can’t imagine how long I’ve been kicking ass. But I know exactly what you are. Dionysus.”

“I honestly doubt it. Dumbass.”

“You’re a little bitch, that’s what you are.”

I downed another one of the funky little cinnamon drinks. Not Fireball, but something fancier to match the room, and the Greek cotton I was spilling it on. Higher thread counts were pretty good at absorbing alcohol. Nice. I tried drawing patterns with my finger on the sheets before it could evaporate.

/////

I ran my nails along the face of my phone, fidgeting with the cracks in the screen. “Aes. Please, fucking pick up. I’m going crazy here. Crazier than usual. I’m talking to myself. I swear to-”

“Hey, bitch! What’s up?”

“Oh thank fucking god- Aes, I-”

“HAHA! Just kidding. This is my voicemail. Ha. Sorry. Follow me @stankthottie on musical.ly and-”

“SHIT.” I pound my head on the window, immediately regretting it. I can’t believe I fall for that stupid fucking voicemail every fucking time.

There’s no way I’m gonna be able to hotwire this car or anything. And even if I could, the Men of Letters would know that I stole it and track me down before I could even look at an asphalt road. I don’t know what I was thinking, getting into this car in the first place.

“-anyways, leave me a message after the scream or whatever. Except if you’re an angel or some shit. Eat a dick.”

“Aes, I’m such a dumbass. I’m in one of their cars. They slashed my tires and I- I can’t-” I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“It doesn’t look good. I’m alone. Haven’t been able to figure out where all the hunters have been going and you know my knife hasn’t been working the same since Asteraoth… you know…” Shit, I’m crying. “-and I’m just so fucking scared, okay? I don’t know where you’ve been and why you’ve been avoiding me or whatever but now would be a really really great time to pop in and do that whole dramatic-as-all-hell smokey thing and save my sorry ass-”

I could’ve sworn I saw something in the trees. Someone? Blonde.

It’s started to rain. Great. Awesome. Fantastic. I try to shuffle my body lower into the seats and closer to the floor of the car. I can see the sky through the windows. The sun’s setting. It’ll be dark soon. I was hoping on getting some biscuits and gravy or something from the diner for dinner before heading out of town. My hiding spot smells like leather. And blood.

/////

“Fine. Fine! Then how- how’d you kill Esther, huh?”

“I don’t even know if that bitch can physically die. Can you die?” Aeszura threw an empty beer can in my direction, laughing, barely missing my head.

“Hrruhgh?” I grumbled.

“CAN. YOU. DIE.”

“Of course she can. Everyone does…” He paused, slouching. Before he thought we noticed his change in tone, he winked. “‘Cept me, of course.”

“I dunno. I’ll go to hell probably. Jus’ like everyone else.”

“Yeah right, with all those angels up your ass? You’ve got half of heaven on your stupid speed dial. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re sounding pretty self-righteous for a demon. What’s got your panties in a twist, huh, pink eyes?”

“They’re RED, fuckhead. Shut up. I hate you.” She coughed. “Ess, I don’t even know if you could go to hell. Trust me- I practically run the joint. Your soul isn’t, like, ‘soul-y’ enough. I don’t know what that angel did to you but-”

“He saved my-”

“Shut UP. Call it whatever the hell you want, but I know souls, okay? It’s kind of my fucking job. But even I’m not exactly sure what would happen if your m-eatsuit-” she paused to gag, “-exploded or something. It’s not a soul anymore. I’m not sure if it- if you - could even go anywhere.”

“Can’t become a ghost, can you? Your soul is already Tethered. I bet like, eight goats that you’d get trapped inside the knife or some shit like that” Dio giggles, snapping his fingers.

“Too bad your pretty little angel can’t tell you anything.” Aeszura joked, but she was getting genuinely angry. “That’s what you get for trusting some stupid fucking feathery-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, guys. We have a case, remember? Why should I care, anyway? It’s not like I can do anything about it. It’s just eternity. I don’t have to worry about that when I’m busy here. Working cases. And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

Dio chimed in, singing. “That’s what they all say…”

/////

I’m still on the phone. I don’t want to turn it off. I want an audience. It’s stupid and childish, but even hiding from whoever’s out there, I don’t wanna be alone.

I can hear the rain attacking the roof of the car. The leaves on the trees are shaking just as badly as I am. Stupid. I’m probably overreacting, right? It’s nothing. This is nothing. I’ve been through worse. I’ve come out of worse. Who says I’m gonna die? I don’t know the Men of Letters’ M.O. but the thought just leaves a rank taste in my mouth and a lump in my throat. There’s something outside, I can feel it.

That’s when my knife, the Tether, starts humming. I take it out from the inside of my jacket, squeezing it tight. It’s glowing for the first time in months. The thing is practically singing, the vibrations making the worst noise imaginable, like a cross between a bell and a scream. The windows start to shake and the car alarm goes off.There’s a chirp and all the doors unlock. The rear door, the one by my feet, opens.

I sit up a little (might as well) and lock eyes with a blonde woman. Short hair. Big green eyes, but they’re glazed over. She looks tired, but she’s smiling. She’s holding some complicated device, as all these British fucks do- but she doesn’t look like one of them. She’s a hunter. They must’ve recruited her. Bitch. She fiddles on something on the device and the Tether stops screaming.

She pulls out a small gun and aims it right at my chest. I flip her the bird.

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s…Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 9)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Hope everyone has been having a good weekend! If not, I hope it gets better soon!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91@branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos

“Well, yes Mr. Jackson, I totally get what you’re saying – ”

“ – I don’t think you do, Ms. Swan. You said that our funding would go toward something high profile.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath to keep herself from breaking down in the middle of her office while on an important phone call. Or to keep from yelling every damn obscenity she knows at this man.  “I understand, sir. You donated your money, which is something we are eternally grateful for and has helped us and the children more than you know, and you have a right to request how you want your funds used. But we consider upgrading our counseling offices to be high profile. There’s a plaque with your name on it just inside the door.”

“A plaque,” Mr. Jackson spits, his voice dripping with disdain. “I did not donate over a million dollars for a plaque. I was under the impression that I would also get some sort of publicity from you and Killian Jones.”

If she wouldn’t get fired, she’d tell Mr. Jackson to fuck off. She knows that there are people in the world who only “do good” for their own benefit, but calls like this make her feel like her blood is actually curdling within her veins. Seriously. What did he expect? Some sort of worldwide clap on the back for donating to an underfunded children’s shelter. What the actual hell?

“Mr. Jackson, Mr. Jones was only at the gala as a favor. He was promoting our shelter out of the kindness of his heart. He does not have any legal ties to us. But I promise you that I will look into your complaint, and I will see what we can do to make you happier with your donation, okay?”

He huffs, probably wondering if he can take back the money he’s donated even though it’s been months, but she knows that he can’t. If the money hadn’t been such a great thing, she’d suggest they give it back so as not to have any association with him. But what’s done is done, and they’re not exactly in the business of returning funds.

“Fine, but I’d like to talk to the head of your department next time to let him know how difficult it’s been dealing with you.”

“I’m sure she’d be glad to speak to you. Have a good afternoon.”

She hangs up the phone and throws her head back before rubbing her hands up and down her face, fingers massaging her temples from that headache of a call. She’d pass along Mr. Jackson to Mrs. Ramirez any day of the week. He’s got to be the biggest asshole she’s dealt with all week, and she really hopes he won’t call again.

He will, but a girl can hope.

She listens to the rest of the messages she missed at lunch, the cupcake she bought for herself going uneaten on the corner of her desk, before returning as many calls as she can. No one calls all day, but she takes an hour to go out and buy a salad that’s not stale and suddenly everyone calls. Seriously, don’t these people take lunch breaks too?

Maybe Mr. Jackson has just soured her mood, but she’s ready for today to be over. The last week has been not-so-great. She’s not expecting everything to be sunshine and roses all of the time, but she’d like for work to not be a hell hole and for kids she once mentored to not end up in jail. There’s apparently been a few, more so than just Alex, and she had no idea. But everyone is right when they tell her it’s not her fault. She does the best she can, and these kids probably do too. Even when they’re placed in good homes, they’ve been through so much that they just don’t trust adults or authority figures. And as sad as it is, the many outweigh the few. She’s doing good work and trying her best to help kids who were once like her.

She came out of the system, damaged by not broken, and that’s honestly what she wants for others. A realistic happy ending.

That’s totally a thing. It’s like ballet flats instead of glass slippers even if both will probably make your ankles bleed. So maybe sneakers would be better. Who doesn’t love sneakers? She’d like a happy ending with sneakers.

Her cell buzzes on her desk, and she reaches over to grab her phone, remembering her cupcake (because that’s totally what goes with a salad) and swiping a bit of icing before swiping open her home screen.

David: I’m grilling out tonight if you want to come over.

“Yes,” she moans, her lips stretching into a smile for the first time since before lunch. She loves when David grills, and she could go for a few beers and whatever it is he’s grilling. And she went to the gym this morning, so she doesn’t have to suffer through that before eating.

Her day is looking up.

She should probably stop getting so excited over food, but her cupcake and food cooked outside on a grill are infinitely better than her salad.

Emma: I’ll be there.

She uses her key to walk in David and Mary Margaret’s front door, the smell of the grill permeating throughout the house even though she knows they’re cooking it in the backyard. She picks up shoes and toys on her way into the kitchen, dumping them in the basket they keep next to the staircase, before heading out back.

Mary Margaret is chasing after Leo who is chasing after Wilby. The dog almost seems to know what’s happening, stopping his running when Leo gets too far away and speeding up when Leo’s toddler legs get a little too close. It’s some kind of weird, perfectly domestic game, and when she looks to her left, there’s David standing at the grill wearing an apron that say Kiss the Cook.

Yeah, sometimes the Nolans are a little too much.

But she loves them and the way that they feed her, so she walks over to David and kisses him on the cheek (it’s what the apron commands after all) before lifting the grill’s lid and seeing that he’s simply cooking hamburgers and hot dogs.

“Why the hell did I smell barbeque when I walked in if it’s just hamburgers and hot dogs?”

“Nice to see you too, Emma,” David laughs before clapping her on her shoulder. “And it’s because we had the stuff for pulled pork sandwiches, but when I lit the grill for the first time, the fire got a little too enthusiastic and charred it. So Wilby is eating it now.”

“Ahh, yeah. The dog probably did that on purpose. We don’t call him Wiley Wilby for nothing.”

“I don’t think the dog knows how to mess with a propane tank. And no one has ever called him that.”

“Yes, but people…and dogs go to serious lengths for a pulled pork barbeque sandwich.”

“Emmy,” Leo screams when he spots her, and she immediately turns to see him running toward her instead of after the dog, the hood of his vest flopping behind him while his sandy blonde hair does the same thing.

“Hey, kid,” she greets, squatting down and opening her arms so that he can run directly into her. She loves her little buddy – and loves being his favorite person outside of his parents if she does say so herself – and she gets a little thrill with the way he gets excited to see her. It makes a girl feel good. Leo reaches her, and she immediately scoops him up in her arms, smothering kisses all over his face while he giggles against her.

“E-emmy. Emmeeeey,” he laughs, the sounds coming out on stuttered breaths while he squirms in her arms until she lets him rest. When he does, he cups her face and plants a kiss on her cheek like he does with his parents. “You tickle, Emmy.”

“Whaaat?” she overexaggerates, recoiling her head and raising her eyebrows. “Am I tickling you? I don’t think so. I’m not silly, am I?”

“Silly goose,” Leo giggles while his fingers find her earrings and mess with the dangling tassels.

Mary Margaret finally catches up with them, her normally perfect hair curling around the edges while she catches her breath. “Hey, Emma,” she breathes, stepping up and giving her a side hug all while Leo babbles on. “I’m so glad you captured this one because I am so done with kids today. At work and at home, my God. I can’t believe I’m having another one. I must be crazy.”

Emma’s mouth falls open at Mary Margaret’s words and the way she just let them slip. She must have had an usually bad day if she’s being loose lipped like that. It’s not that Mary Margaret is great at keeping secrets, but she’s been great at keeping this one.

At least verbally. Physically, not so much.

“Finally,” she groans, thankfulness at not having to hold her tongue on the subject anymore outweighing her happiness for Mary Margaret and David. She’s been happy for them for weeks. Now she wants to celebrate.

“Finally what?”

“Marg, you’re having another baby. You just let it slip even though I totally already knew.”

Mary Margaret’s jaw drops while her eyelids flutter like she’s trying to process how Emma could possibly know that she’s pregnant. “Did I…oh, shit, I did.”

“Language,” David laughs, looking over at them and shaking his head back and forth. “We can screw Leo up. He’s the first. The new one gets us as experienced parents, so we have to work on the language.”

“Nice, David. That’s totally how to be a good parent.” “You’re the one who cursed in front of the kid when he’s in the repeating stage.”

“Mommy and Daddy are so silly, kid,” she sighs to Leo who’s watching his parents talk with hyper focus.

“Yeah,” he sighs, sounding like the most mature toddler in the world. “Put down, Emmy. I go play.”

She listens, knowing that Leo is the boss, and places him on the ground. He takes off immediately, running out into their small backyard and entertaining himself by running in circles. Weird, but you do you, kid. It’s then that she embraces Mary Margaret, squeezing tightly and holding her arms around her shoulder while rubbing up and down her back.

“Congratulations, Momma. How happy are you?”

“So happy,” she sighs into Emma’s neck, her voice sounding light and airy, before pulling back. “How long have you known? How did you know?”

Emma shrugs, not really sure of an exact time, but that doesn’t matter here. “A couple of weeks. You stopped drinking. You were taking naps. Your boobs are huge.”

“They’re glorious,” David adds in, and she and Mary Margaret both scrunch up their noses.

“How far along are you?”

“Fourteen weeks. I’m due in the middle of September.”

“Speaking of buns in the oven, dinner is served.”

“That’s a grill, David. Not an oven, but I applaud your dad jokes.”

It takes some corralling, but they all make it inside the eat, the early evening air still too chilled for them to sit outside. Even if David ruined the actual barbeque, her cheeseburger is still good. Of course, she doesn’t have super high standards for those even if they are her favorite food. The only ones she won’t eat are McDonald’s because, come on, it’s stale bread and processed cheese. At least their fries are good.

She’s really got to stop eating junk food. Maybe that should be her New Year’s Resolution…in the second week of April. Yeah, she’s totally not late. It’ll be, like, a spring resolution or something.

David regales them with stories from work even if she’s not sure homicide investigations can really be fun stories, but she kind of finds them interesting. In another life she might have been a detective. Maybe not for homicide, but she’s sure she could find something she’s interested in…and maybe not talk about in front of a two-year-old so he’s not going to daycare babbling about blood and gunshot wounds.

That would be quite the thing to hear from the kid.

Killian texts her throughout the dinner and even though she wants to answer as it’ll likely be the only time he’s free with his insane filming schedule as he wraps the show up, she tries to stay in the moment with her friends. She’s sure they wouldn’t mind, would probably encourage her to talk to him, but she’s making a conscious effort to balance her life here and her relationship that stretches out over the country. She thinks she’s handling it pretty well, her few breakdowns to Mary Margaret and Ruby as well as Killian put aside, but as time slowly inches by, she can’t wait until Killian is here next Monday.

It’s so different being with someone without really being with them, and as many nights as she goes to bed wishing Killian were here with her, she honestly thinks it’s helped her a hell of a lot. She knows that she’s bad at relationships, that things haven’t really worked out for her in the past, but she’s learning that those weren’t all her fault. She’s dated a hell of a lot of assholes. Really, she’s pretty sure all of the jerks in the world have some kind of communication network, and her number is at the top of their list.

But she’s trying. She’s willing to open herself up to vulnerability even if that scares the hell out of her. It helps that she’s in deeper than she has been in years, and even then, something about this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because how they met is so ridiculous, but this seems destined to either end up in flames or as that realistic happy ending she was thinking of earlier.

Killian can help her wear her sneakers.

That sounds weird, but it works for her…in her own head. She’s definitely not saying things like that out loud.

“So how’s work going, Ems?”

“Ugh,” she groans, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes, “don’t even get me started.”

“Hey, KJ,” she begins after the sound of his voice message ends, “I’m sorry I missed your calls today. It’s been a week, but it’s Friday so yay, I guess. Um, anyways, call me back when you can. Hope you’re having a good day of shooting. Only three days left, babe.”

She hangs up the phone, putting it down on her kitchen counter and shuffling through her cabinets for something to snack on. It’s as she’s moving empty box after empty box, a few mismatched Tupperware containers in between as well as other random items that should not be in her kitchen cabinets (hello random nail polish that was definitely not this color when she bought it), she realizes that she has to clean her apartment. Like, really clean it. And wash her sheets. Definitely that. And probably wash some of her nicer bras…after digging them out of the bottom of her drawer.

Shit. She has so much to do, and she really doesn’t feel like doing it.

She should also probably buy some food Killian likes. He did that for her. It’s only right. And maybe she doesn’t really have any food in her apartment after not going to the grocery store this week, so she kind of needs the food for herself too. Nourishment and all that.

Is she nervous? Is that what this mixture of excitement and anxiety and stopped up throat with a bubbling stomach is? Is that nerves or excitement or anticipation? Maybe it’s a sign she should go to the hospital. The stomach bubbling thing sounds bad. She should probably go to the hospital for that.

Taking a deep breath, she calms herself down. She is excited for Killian to be here and anxious with how slowly time seems to be passing. It’s…something in the back of her mind is telling her that them being in the same place after five weeks apart will mess things up, but she knows that’s not true. Killian is different. This is different. And she wants it.

She wants it so much.

The proximity and nearness of him coming back to Boston has just freaked her out a little in what is definitely nervous anticipation.

He’s somehow made his way under her skin in the past five and a half months, and as terrifying as it is to think that he could up and leave any time he wants, she’s still convinced that this is a good one. He’s a good one, and she wants to keep trying.

So channeling her inner neat freak Killian, she cranks up the music on her phone before emptying out her cabinets, throwing away every bit of trash or stale cereal that she can find. She organizes her mugs and cups as well as her Tupperware, and after all of that is done, she moves onto wiping absolutely every surface in her apartment down. It’s not necessarily messy, but there’s definitely dust in a few places and the throw pillows on her couch scattered across the floor. But after two hours she has most everything wiped down, put back in its rightful place, and she has two bags of laundry to take to the laundromat sometime tomorrow.

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket, and she reaches for it, finding Ruby’s name on her screen.

Ruby: Do you want to come over tomorrow night?

Emma: To go out or stay in?

Ruby: Stay in. I’m having a killer period, and I want to watch movies and eat chocolate.

Emma: I’m not on my period, but I totally agree.

Ruby: Soul sisters for life, Emma Swan.

She’s in the middle of texting Ruby back when her phone starts ringing, a picture of she and Killian on the beach popping up before she slides her finger across the phone and can hear his voice.

“So KJ and babe in one message, Swan. Don’t I feel special?”

Wait. What? What is he talking about? Has he officially lost all of his marbles? Is he experiencing some kind of sleep deprivation? Is she? Are all of the cleaning fumes going to her head?

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Hey, KJ,” Killian says, using the voice she’s learned he uses when learning a new script, “I’m sorry I missed your calls…blah, blah, blah then some other words…then you said that ‘there are only three days left, babe’. I got two nicknames from you in one message. I feel special.”

She feels the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassment beginning to sink in. She had no idea that she even called him that. She doesn’t hate it. It’s just not something that she was expecting. It happened so…naturally. Her bubbling stomach starts up again before calming, something warm and comforting settling there instead.

Good. That’s probably less medically concerning than a bubbling stomach.

“I…shit. Did I really call you babe?”

“You did, my sweet cheeks.”

She snorts, shaking her head back and forth as she walks down the hall to her bedroom, opening the door and plopping down on her bed. “Okay, sweet cheeks is out. I will break up with you if you call me sweet cheeks.”

“Why, love? You do have such a delectable arse. I’d think sweet cheeks was appropriate.”

“And April nineteenth is the day that Emma Swan breaks up with Killian Jones for his use of awful nicknames.”

“A day that will live in my mind forever, sugar mama.”

“A sugar mama is something totally different.”

Killian laughs, something deep and low, and her body physically aches for him to be here. Two and a half days. It’s not long in the slightest. Nervous anticipation. Nervous longing. It’s all the same thing.

“Alright then, babe,” Killian drawls out, and she can practically imagine the smirk he has on his face. “In all seriousness, I’m sorry I missed your call. And that you missed mine. Was today any better than the rest of your week at work? I’m still willing to publicly embarrass Mr. Jackson since he seems to want to be associated with me.”

“I don’t want to get fired and live on the streets, so that doesn’t seem like our best option.”

“You make a good point, love. But seriously, you have any other work stuff you want to talk about? I’m always here for your venting pleasure.” “Venting pleasure sounds like some kind of hella creepy sex act.”

“Did you just say hella?”

“Maybe.”

“You totally did.”

“You have no proof of that.”

“My bloody brilliant mind remembers all.” “Your bloody brilliant mind is full of itself.”

Killian barks out a laugh, the sound loud in the speaker, and she wishes she could see him. “God, I fucking miss you, Swan.”

“I miss you, KJ, but in less than three days, you’re going to be crashing in my bed for an undetermined amount of days.” “Speaking of that, we’ve got to talk about this plan.”

“What about it?”

She spies her clothes sticking out of her small closet, jackets and sweaters falling off their hangers, and she puts the phone on speaker before getting up and beginning to straighten her clothes. This cleaning adrenaline is definitely going to wear off at some point, and she just knows it’s going to be when she’s emptied out her entire closet and has her clothes scattered across her bedroom.

“So, I’ve looked at my schedule, and I can definitely stay until the fifth. That’s nearly two weeks, and I was wondering if you wanted me to get a hotel.” “Why the hell would you get a hotel?”

She stops moving her clothes so she can hear him better, trying not to let him wanting to stay in a hotel get to her.

“Because I wouldn’t want you to get sick of me after us bunking together for two weeks.”

Oh. That’s not at all what she thought. He’s a good guy, she reminds herself, wishing she didn’t have to do that. The inner voice should not be in her head at all, and she knows that. “Killian, that’s ridiculous. I haven’t seen you in over a month, and our last goodbye wasn’t exactly great. If you want to stay in my apartment for two weeks, you can stay in my apartment.”

There she goes. That’s more Emma than whatever weird Jiminy Cricket inner voice she has going on. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. We’ve got things to do.” “Oh really? Like what?”

His voice is deep, salacious, and she almost says the dirty joke he’s reaching for. But she doesn’t, instead she says what comes to mind next. “Oh, you have to meet the firing squad. There’s no way they’re going to let you come here and not interrogate you. I told them not to, a lot actually with all of the Liam shit, but they don’t listen to me.”

“I shall wear my bullet proof vest then. But seriously, Swan, I’m excited to meet the rest of your friends. Bloody terrified but excited. And I imagine it’ll go much better than you meeting Liam.”

“You’re really weird if you’re excited to meet them.”

“Weird with a giant crush on you.” “Aw babe, you have a crush on me. That’s so embarrassing.”

“I appreciate and applaud your Parks and Rec knowledge. It makes you so much hotter.”

“Good. I have a lot of it.” She really does. She makes as many pop culture references as the Gilmore Girls. Hell, she just made a pop culture reference while talking about making pop culture references. “So what are you doing? Are you not on set?”

“I am, but I’m in between scenes. I’m technically supposed to be reviewing my lines, but I’m talking to you instead.”

“Rebel.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“It’s probably why you wear a leather jacket when you live somewhere that’s constantly sunny.”

“Oi,” Killian bellows, his voice taken aback at her insult to his precious jacket, “you’re one to talk.”

“I live in Boston. It’s cold all of the time.”

“And your jacket doesn’t do a thing for you. It does a few things for me, but it doesn’t do anything to keep you warm.”

“Kinky, KJ,” she laughs, thumbing at said red leather jacket in her closet.

“You may be the first person to ever call me kinky.”

“Well, you never forget your first.”

“Hey, that’s my line, Swan.”

She hears a loud banging in the background, the sound she’s come to associate with Killian having to go back to set. Disappointment settles in her stomach while the laugh lines on her face begin to fade. But she gets it. He has to work, and she definitely can’t begrudge him for that. “You gotta go?”

“I have to go, love,” Killian sighs. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, KJ.”

“Bye, Swan.”

Like she knew it would, her desire to clean fades after their phone call ends, and she’s left with clothes strewn across the floor and on her bed. So she spends the night cuddled up in bed even with the clothes keeping her from sleeping in her usual position, and when she wakes up on Saturday, she lazily starts putting things away, spending so long at getting her apartment back to normal that she completely forgets to go grocery shopping and go to the laundromat before heading over to Ruby’s.

So she sets several reminders on her phone, making sure that there’s no way for her to forget, and heads over to Ruby’s to curl up under blankets with chocolates and popcorn and whatever Ruby wants while she’s having a bad period. It turns out that it’s watching bad action movies with even worse romantic plots and CGI, but Ruby can make anything entertaining, making up her own commentary and mercilessly talking about how Tom Cruise’s front teeth aren’t aligned with his face. She’d never noticed it before, but now she can never unsee that.

Victor comes over with Tai takeout around ten, dropping it on the coffee table in front of she and Ruby, kissing Ruby’s forehead, and then settling down in Ruby’s armchair while they stay on the couch. Eventually Ruby does get up to go sit with Victor, settling down on his lap and curling herself into him while his arm wraps around her shoulder and rubs up and down her skin. They’re sweet, which is not something Emma would have ever really described Victor as before. He’s always been a little odd, sometimes a little too out there, but he’s good for Ruby, and she’s thrilled that her friend is so damn happy.

Oh God. Is she officially turning into Mary Margaret? She thinks she might be. Though there is a little jealousy over the fact that she doesn’t get to do that quite yet, but she continues to think to herself, two more days. That’s all. So maybe not Mary Margaret levels quite yet.

When Ruby starts snoring, she takes that as her cue to leave, making her way back to her apartment and promptly falling asleep too, that warm feeling that’s beginning to feel familiar settling in her stomach again.

Emma’s got a bounce in her step all Monday. She loves her job, even with how rough it’s been lately, but she’s never quite this happy walking the hallways after updating Mrs. Ramirez on their financials and upcoming projects. But today is different. There’s no one yelling at her on the phone, and she’s not getting any updates on kids she once helped out ending up in jail or in more bad homes. Mostly, though, it’s because she knows that Killian is on a flight somewhere over Arizona making his way to the east coast.

Yeah, something like that will definitely make her feel a little lighter.

“Your grin is freaking me out, Ems,” Ruby groans when she stops in her office after finishing counseling a kid. “You look like you’ve inhaled laughing gas or something.”

She shrugs, trying to downplay her eagerness. “I’m having a good day.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re going to get laid tonight, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it.” Ruby raises an eyebrow, her gaze never straying from Emma’s. “Okay, so maybe I know it.”

“Exactly.” Ruby picks up the picture frame Emma has of she and the Nolans on her desk. “Use protection, though. I can only handle one pregnant friend at a time.”

“You say this to the girl who doubles up on birth control and condoms. Also, Marg is not an annoying pregnant woman.”

“Ems, I know this. I’m talking about for my bank account. I can’t afford two baby blenders.”

“I know what you’re saying, but I really feel like you should rephrase calling a small blender for baby food a baby blender.”

Ruby shrugs, shaking her head back and forth before putting the frame back down. “You know what I mean. I’ve got back to back appointments for the rest of the day, but tell Killian I can’t wait to see him after you guys finish doing the horizontal tango until you can barely walk at work tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you counsel troubled children.”

“I am damn good at my job, Emma Swan, but we can talk about that later.” Ruby walks out of the room blowing her an overexaggerated air kiss and waggling her eyebrows in a way that’s so similar to Killian that she can’t help but giggle into her hand.

The rest of her afternoon passes at a snail’s pace, but eventually the workday does end and she’s able to go running on the treadmill at the gym, making quick work of everything before sprinting the few blocks home and showering, knowing that Killian should be landing soon. She offered to pick him up at the airport like he did to her, but he told her he’d take a cab, not wanting her to bother with the traffic or interrupting too much of her day to deal with him.

She’s brushing her hair out, already dressed in leggings and a t-shirt, when there are three knocks at her front door. She practically flies out of her bedroom, tripping over a pair of shoes that didn’t make it in her cleanup of the apartment, and quickly walks down the hallway before unlocking the latches and swinging the door open to see Killian standing there with a smile on his face and her swan mug in his hand. He holds it up, sticking it out between them.  

“Did you forget something in California?”

[nancywheelxr]

Batfam Week: Day 2 - Trapped

through different colored glasses

The Justice League, Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen in particular, love to say that Bruce is too serious.

They say he needs to lighten up. They say he is too anal about things. They say he is too strict. They say a whole lot of things.

But Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen do not have to deal with things like this.

“Bruce, I’m telling you,” Tim says, frantically, “this is in no way my fault. If I had to blame anyone, it would be Dick anyway!”

“Me?” Dick cries, scandalized that his brother would throw him under the bus like this, and almost lets the ice pack slip from his black eye, “why is it my fault?”

“I don’t know,” Jason drawls, sounding utterly bored by the whole situation, “I think I agree with Replacement on this.”

or, alternatively, Bruce confiscates Jason's rocket launcher and sets off a chain reaction, Dick somehow gets dragged into Jason's mess, Tim wishes his brothers weren't maniacs, and maybe it's really a matter of points of view

The Justice League, Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen in particular, love to say that Bruce is too serious.

They say he needs to lighten up. They say he is too anal about things. They say he is too strict. They say a whole lot of things.

But Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen do not have to deal with things like this.

“Bruce, I’m telling you,” Tim says, frantically, “this is in no way my fault. If I had to blame anyone, it would be Dick anyway!”

“Me?” Dick cries, scandalized that his brother would throw him under the bus like this, and almost lets the ice pack slip from his face, “why is it my fault?”

“I don’t know,” Jason drawls, sounding utterly bored by the whole situation, “I think I agree with Replacement on this.”

Bruce should intervene before it escalates further, he really should. Even if it’s nearing four in the morning and he has a board meeting at 8 am. Alfred wouldn’t be happy if Bruce just went back to bed and left them to resolve this on their own. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, “keep your voices down, Alfred is sleeping. Good. Now, start from the beginning.”

Dick and Tim immediately begin talking over each other. He doesn’t know what else he expected, really. “One at a time.”

“Fine,” Jason says, leaning against his rocket launcher, “I’ll start.”

*

All Jason wants is to get Roxy back.

Honest.

She is an integral part of his arsenal and she has so many memories attached to her. The emotional value is priceless. Like, remember that time he tried to blow up an entire building with Black Mask inside? Good times, he knows.

So yeah, Jason wants Roxy, his beloved rocket launcher, back.

And in all fairness, Bruce had no business confiscating it this time. He hadn’t been planning on firing her against Penguin’s stupid warehouse. It was just for intimidating purposes, mostly.

But getting her back, it’s not gonna be easy, Jason knows. Since the last time, he bets Bruce won’t simply lock her in the armory.

Since asking is not an option, and apologizing is entirely too unfair on his part, Jason does what he has to do. He waits until everyone is out on patrol and Alfred is down in the Cave, and sneaks into the Manor.

It’s quite easy, in fact. Less than fifteen minutes and he’s silently roaming the empty hallways.

You’d expect more, it being Batman’s house and all.

The tracker says it’s not downstairs. Jason walks around aimlessly, watching the tiny red dot blinking on his phone as it grows and shrinks with each turn.

Not in any of the bedrooms, not in the living room, not in the pantry. The second floor, past the music room, past another row of unused bedrooms, past Bruce’s study, past–

Finally. In one of the old ass broom closets.

Jason opens it slowly, cringing at how loud it creaks in the otherwise silent house.

Peering inside, he sighs in relief. There she is. Cue in shitty cliche music. Roxy, in all her rocket glory, stands in the corner of the room, the only shiny object among all the dust-coated, forgotten things.

Ah, how long have they stood there? Forsaken by mankind, refused by society. Sitting in a shrine of dust and cobwebs, never to see sunlight again–

*

“Oh for the love of god, Jason,” Tim kicks him in the shin, wincing when the movement jostles his sprained wrist, “quit bullshitting, your prose sucks.”

Bruce feels the beginning of a headache growing at the back of his head. Stress then. “Jason, please,” he sighs, “just cut to the chase.”

“Fine, fine. Jeez, talk about a tough crowd.”

*

Anyway. Where was he?

Oh, right.

So, Jason steps inside. And promptly dies a little more inside. Cobwebs stick to his everything. They get in his hair, on his clothes, even on his damn shoes. Of all the days to leave his helmet behind.

But he powers through. All for Roxy, do it for Roxy, he tells himself.

Finally, after crossing miles of disgusting cobwebs, Jason is reunited with his baby. She looks as gorgeous as the day he bought her, shiny and cool and deadly.

With his mission accomplished, he steels himself for the trek back.

In a totally unrelated note chain of events, a vase is knocked out by something– that may or may not have been Roxy as Jason turned around, but no one can prove that, so– and ends up falling to its side, knocking out a row of boxes that had been beside it on the highest shelf in the process, and then, as it topples down, one of the boxes falls open, letting a bowling ball roll away.

And, in a true feat of the Universe deciding to fuck over Jason, the ball hits the door. Or, more specifically, it hits the doorknob. Breaking it right off.

“Fuck no,” says Jason, with feeling. He hugs Roxy closer, cursing every god in existence and a few fake ones too, just because. If this was anyone else’s house, he wouldn’t think twice before kicking the door down.

But, as previously stated, this story is set on Batman’s house. Jason doesn’t trust an of the doors not to have some freaky sensor thing that’ll alert the big, bad Bat of any disturbance. He’s half convinced it already might have. For all he knows, Bruce could be a second away to breaking it down himself and yelling at Jason.

Even ignoring that particularly upsetting prospect, there’s a lot of ways he could open that door. He could pick the lock, he could unscrew the hinges, he could blow it off with Roxy. The only problem is that all of them are way too noisy for this way too silent place. At this hour Alfred is probably back upstairs, making post-patrol snacks. He would most definitely hear any attempt of messing with the door, Alfred has superhearing when it comes to the Manor, everybody knows that.

And Alfred Pennyworth’s wrath is way worse than Batman’s.

Jason checks the time. While breaking in had taken no time at all, wandering around certainly did. If tonight was slow, and it sounds like it was, they will all be back soon. He turns on his comm, just to check. Tuning in the frequency, he listens as Dick babbles about his stupid day job. Jason turns it off, cursing. If the idiot is babbling that much already, they must on their way back.

Now there really is no way out. Nothing that Jason knows would be fast enough to get him out before they all arrived. You can’t outrace the Batmobile. He is trapped.

Sliding down the dusty, moldy wall, Jason wallows in well-earned, very justified, self-pity, and waits.

Time seems to slow down to spite him further, a way for the Universe to fuck you in big, bold, neon letters. Well, fuck you too, buddy. He waits and waits and waits and waits, but nobody comes his way, because Bruce lives in this unnecessarily, ridiculously giant ass Manor with an unreasonable number of empty ass rooms.

Fed up with the whole situation, Jason ponders his options. On one hand, he could stay there forever, trapped in this tiny, disgusting broom closet, which by the way, has no brooms whatsoever, and waste away into eternity. Maybe he could live off the spiders for a bit, rats if he’s lucky. His arm too, he won’t need two to live in a closet. It might buy him a few months. Or, on the other hand, he could swallow his pride and call someone to come let him out of the damn closet.

He eyes the cobwebs on the upper right corner. Yeah, no, too disgusting. He can’t eat spiders, too creepy, too many legs, too many eyes. Nope, not gonna do it.

Calling someone it is.

Bruce is a no-go, obviously. The Brat, too. He would lord it over his head forever. Alfred? Nah, he would give Jason his disappointed look and shake his head in that sad way, and Jason would be left feeling like the worst person ever. Cass? Fuck, no, she’s still in Hong Kong. Tim, then? Maybe. The kid would definitely be the less annoying option. But he would also be a little shit about it, Jason would never hear the end of it. So that leaves… Dick? Really? Is he that desperate yet?

Let’s be real, he is.

But then again, Dick can be persuaded not to tell on him. If Jason uses the brother card right, maybe he can convince the idiot to keep quiet.

Yeah, he can do this. He survived being exploded, he can survive this.

So he sends him a text, help pls.

To which, Dick answers with a call. Jason declines, they’re operating in stealth mode here. Cant talk, u at the manor?

Yeah where are u? Whats going on? Are u hurt? His phone is thankfully on silent, buzzing with the new messages.

fine, he sends. Then, come to the broom closet next door to the next study after Bruce’s.

what?

quick no time for questions

Sighing deeply, Jason buries his hand on his hands. This is a nightmare. This is all his bad karma kicking his ass. This is hell, this is purgatory– in fact, this is the lovechild of hell and purgatory.

Then, just as he was about to despair, there’s a soft knock on the door. “Jason?”

“Shhh,” he winces at the loud voice, “in here.”

Dick opens the door unceremoniously, not bothered by the creaking hinges. He stands in the doorway, disheveled in his stupid pajama and looking confused like a stupid, lost duckling, “Jason, what do you think you’re doing? At this hour?” He asks, hands on his hips, sounding just as stupidly confused.

“This is an ongoing rescue mission,” Jason explains slowly, because it’s important not to rush Dick, best to let him process things on his own time, “and I needed you to bust me out.”

“What.”

“I’m bringing Roxy home, but the doorknob fell off on my side.”

“Oh,” Dick steps inside, examining the other side of the door to confirm that, in fact, the doorknob had indeed fallen off and Jason hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing, “it really fell off,” he says dumbly.

“Yeah, well, thanks for opening up the door,” Jason gets up, dusting himself off and then picking up Roxy, “and I’d appreciate if you would keep this, you know, between brothers? Great, now it’s time to scram.”

“Uh, Jason,” the idiot stammers out, looking panicked at Jason and pointing, “don’t freak out, but there’s a huge spider on your shoulder.” He takes a step back, totally freaking out, and bumps on the door. Slamming it shut. “Uh, this is bad.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jason glares at him, easily flicking the small spider from off his shoulder, “congratulations, now we’re both stuck.”

Then, Dick wails in despair.

*

“Jason, that is not what happened!” Dick launches himself across the bed, trying to reach his brother but only managing in scaring Tim into climbing up the headboard, “stop telling everyone I’m dumb!”

“To be fair,” Jason says, watching amused, “you make it real easy.”

“Stop jostling the bed!” Tim complains from where he’s perched, cradling his injured wrist. He is going to fall, and it’s going to hurt, mattress or not, but Bruce doesn’t have the energy to get him down himself.

“Tim,” he warns, “if you fall and aggravate your injuries, you are going to tell Alfred yourself tomorrow.”

The teenager grumbles, sending Bruce a betrayed look, but slowly climbs down, scooting as far back as possible.

“Fine,” says Dick, frowning. He and Jason hadn’t stopped bickering yet, but Bruce hadn't expected them to. “here’s what really happened.”

*

Staring at the door, Dick can’t fathom what the hell Jason could be doing inside an unused broom closet. True, his brother can be a unpredictable at times, but this a new level of random.

He knocks at the door, just to be sure. Prank wars aren’t that rare around the Manor.

“In here,” Jason calls quietly. That’s never a good sign.

The door opens with noisy hinges that would probably make Alfred cringe. Dick takes in the scene. Jason is sprawled in one corner, hugging a rocket launcher. Near his feet, a bowling ball sways. Weird, he didn’t know Bruce used to go bowling.

Right. To more important things, “Jason, what the hell?”

“I’m rescuing Roxy,” Jason says unhappily, as if offended that how come Dick didn’t immediately jump to that totally reasonable conclusion, “and I needed you to bust me out.”

There are so many things to address, Dick isn’t sure where to begin. What even. Okay, first things first, “you named your rocket launcher Roxy?”

“That’s what you got from what I said?”

“Would you rather I focus on the fact you were trapped in a broom closet?” Dick rolls his eyes. Tonight patrol had been almost dull, suspiciously so. He should’ve known better.  Clearly, Gotham seen Jason hiding in there and had taken pity on Dick, knowing the kind of wravoc Jason is undoubtedly going to bring down. On that note, “how did you manage that, by the way?”

Jason makes a non-committal noise, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the door as he gets to his feet with dramatic groans. Dick steps inside to take a better look at the thing, almost tripping on the bowling ball and sending it rolling to the other side of the room. The doorknob is missing and the metal is dented around where it should be. Really? How the hell did he break the whole thing clean off? “It fell off? How?”

“Sometimes,” Jason says, “it be like that. Now, if you could keep this just between us, I’d really appreciate it.”

Dick snorts, already expecting that, and shakes his head, turning around in time to see his brother dusting himself off and grimacing at the cobwebs sticking to his fingers. Gross. But then, something catches his eyes. Crawling its way up Jason’s shoulders, a black spider is quickly reaching his neck. Dick shudders, resisting the strong urge to check himself for any insect, “hm, Jason?” His brother looks up. “Don’t freak out, but there’s a spider on your shoulder.”

And, of course, Jason loses it.

“Shit, I said don’t freak out,” he rushes to stop him from tripping over anything or knocking any of the shelves down. Jason keeps trying to bat the thing off, but the cobwebs stick to his hand, leaving the spider dangling in the air, almost landing on his leg. “Hold still, stop squirming, you’re gonna– jesus christ.” In his frantic flailing, Jason manages to hit him with a painful elbow to the eye, causing Dick to stumble back and almost lose his balance.

Unfortunately, backing away means bumping right into the door. It closes with a loud thud.

“Okay,” Dick sighs, “this is bad.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jason says, having stopped his ridiculous flailing around, “congratulations, now we’re both stuck.”

They watch in silence as the tiny black spider crawls across the room and up the wall. She’s surprisingly fast, and it makes him think of Wally, even if his friend would probably disagree with the comparison. Well, Wally isn’t here to see the little eight-legged speedster himself, therefore, he has no base for opinions, agreeable or not.

“I’m not eating spiders,” says Jason, out of nowhere and with no context whatsoever, “or my arm.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Dick shrugs, because what else is he supposed to say to that, “cannibalism is generally frowned upon in most societies. And spiders are generally gross, even when they’re like Wally.”

“I really don’t wanna know,” he frowns, sitting back down where Dick first found him and beginning to check his rocket launcher for any damage, “but anyways, you wouldn’t know if Bruce boob-trapped the door, would you?”

Dick wants to say no, he does, but after spending his teenage years in the Manor, he can’t honestly say that’s not something he wondered in more than one occasion. Bruce’s absolute perfect timing used to border omniscience. It was almost supernatural. Every attempt at sneaking out after curfew was foiled before he could even make it to the gates. “I mean, I don’t think it’s going to blow up on our faces if we try to pick the lock.”

“But it might trigger a silent alarm,” Jason concludes, sounding resigned.

“How pissed do you think he’s gonna be?”

“With you? Very. With me, though? Astronomically.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes, “I don’t really feel like being lectured at three in the morning, how ‘bout you?”

“Think I’ll pass, too.” Dick should’ve been sleeping now. On his bed. Getting some rest before his shift tomorrow. He should’ve been sleeping, not sitting on a hard, dusty floor.

“Guess there’s no other way then, uh?” Jason says, like Dick is somehow supposed to know what the shit is going on in his head. Dick stares blankly at him until he huffs, annoyed, “we gotta call the Replacement, he’s the only one left.”

“No, wait, don’t wake him up.”If Dick remembers it right, Tim should be fast asleep by now, safely tucked in his room. No need to drag him into this disaster in the making. “God knows it’s an uphill battle to get him to actually sleep.”

Jason snorts. “Too late. He’s on his way.”

“What?” Son of a– ,“he was already awake, wasn’t he? Damn it. I really thought Alfred put something on his coffee.”

“Sounds healthy.”

A knock on the door echoes loudly on the small room, startling Dick. He glares at Jason snickering at his side, and calls, “we’re in here!”

The door swings open silently for once, revealing Tim still on the frankly way too coffee-stained sweatpants he found earlier in the cave and a baggy NASA shirt. Specifically, a NASA shirt that belongs to Dick. A NASA shirt he distinctly remembers going missing years ago. And when he says years, he means before Tim had even stepped inside the Manor. Which means–

“Oh my god, you little shit,” Jason is saying accusingly to Tim, “that shirt is mine!”

Dick hadn’t been doing anything at the moment, but he screeches to a halt all the same. In spirit, if you will.

“No way,” Tim crosses his arms, “I’ve had this shirt since forever.”

“Fuck off, Replacement,” Jason points a threatening finger, “I remember tearing that hole trying to climb down the window.”

“How dare you,” Dick finally gets his voice back, whirls on Jason, “how dare you, you hypocrite lying liar who lies.”

Jason gapes. “What the fuck.”

“That shirt was mine and you know it,” he can’t believe this. No, no, actually, he can. Easily. “I distinctly remember asking you if you’ve seen it, and then you looked me in the eyes and said I don’t know, I ain’t your housekeeper. And then you flipped me off.”

To be fair, Dick mostly remembered that day because it had been one of the few times he had been visiting the Manor before Jason, you know. Passed away. So yeah, he remembered it.

Now, though, seeing his shirt going from thief to thief, Dick isn’t feeling too charitable, death or no death.

He realizes Jason had gone quiet, looking as if trying to recall the incident. “I don’t really remember,” his brother finally says, “but it does sound like something I would do.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“I mean,” Jason raises one of his hands up in a placating gesture, the other still cradling his stupid rocket launcher, “it’s not like you’re my favorite person either, Dickhead. ‘Sides, I wasn’t the only asshole back then.”

Shame and guilt rise in tandem, swallowing his gut in acid. Jason’s right. Dick has no right to sit here and call him out on being a jerk, not when he’d been just as guilty. He had been so caught up–

“Can we please skip the guilt trips?” Tim asks tiredly, “it’s almost four in the morning and your argument is moot anyway. The shirt is mine.”

It’s a testament for how tired he is that Dick doesn’t immediately restrains Jason when he goes silent. And, to be perfectly honest, that shirt is not freaking his.

“Jason, put the rocket launcher down,” Tim continues, unfazed, or maybe reaching the apathetic stages of lack of sleep, “you know how Alfred feels about weapons upstairs.”

*

“Why does everyone think I don’t sleep!” Tim glares at the ceiling, shifting so he can stretch on the bed more comfortably and kick Dick on the side, “I do sleep! All the time!”

“I don’t know,” Jason shrugs, wincing. He hides it well, but now that Bruce is paying more attention, Jason is leaning rather stiffly against his rocket launcher, standing as still as possible without being too obvious about it. Bruce sighs, he should’ve suspected; Jason has always been one to hide injuries. “Never seen it. Methinks the lady doth bullshits too much.”

“Jason,” Bruce begins cautiously, he doesn’t want to spook him. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

It’s the wrong choice of words, it comes out more accusing than he intended, and Bruce can see Jason shutting down, face going blank. “I’m not hurt. And it wouldn’t be any of your business if I were anyway.”

Dick is giving him a sad, disappointed look. Completely unnecessary, Bruce knows he screwed this up. It seems to be a pattern when it comes to Jason. “If you sprained your ankle, there’s a perfectly good bed for you to sit.”

“Oh yeah? Good thing I ain’t hurt then.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bruce sees Dick burying his head in his hands, ice pack forgotten beside him on the bed, already melting and soaking the covers.

“Jason,” Bruce tries again, taking a moment to find a better way to phrase it.

Before he can say anything else, Tim kicks the rocket launcher, forcing Jason to put his weight on both legs to regain his balance. He curses loudly, clutching the bedside table to stay upright, and glares at his brother. Dick still refuses to look up.

“Get on the damn bed, idiot,” Tim scoots over, making space, and pushes Dick further down to the foot of the bed, “you know Alfred will have our heads if he finds out you were standing on that ankle.”

Jason grumbles and huffs, but climbs on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re such an asshole, Replacement. This entire fucking family, I swear to god. All assholes. Except Cass. And Duke. Probably because it hasn’t been long enough for them yet. Fucking assholes.”

“Language,” Tim elbows him, “now all of you, shush. It’s my turn.”

*

Tim watches them argue with little interest. This shirt had been down in the Cave when he found it and thus, by the unspoken laws of the Manor, had been fair play.

It’s his now and Jason and Dick can both cry him a river.

Honestly, it’s just a shirt. A remarkably comfortable one, sure, but just a shirt. Besides, NASA shirts are all the rage now. Walmart probably sells them at a reasonable price.

Tuning back in the conversation, Tim catches the tail end of Jason’s retort and the beginning of Dick’s knee-jerk reaction to all things before. Crushing guilty and vitriolic regret. And it’s always worse in times like these, when Jason isn’t trying to kill anyone, when it almost feels like family.

Either way, Tim should stop them before it inevitably spirals into a real fight. Which would be so not good in such a tiny room and with Jason holding a rocket launcher. “Can we please skip the guilt trips?” He pauses, resigned. “It’s nearly four in the morning. And it doesn’t even matter anyway. This shirt,” he points down at his own chest, “is mine.”

Jason falls silent, and that’s not a good thing, but Jason is also thankfully very, very predictable, so Tim simply raises one eyebrow, “Jason, put that damn thing away,” he yawns, unimpressed by the rocket launcher aimed at his face, “you know how Alfred feels about weapons upstairs.”

He grumbles, muttering under his breath, but lowers the ridiculous thing back on his lap. Dick looks vaguely ill, scooting away from the rocket launcher. Tim supposes that’s fair, although he doubts it’s loaded. For a brief moment he entertains the idea of calling Jason’s bluff, but dismisses it in the end. Dick would probably have a stroke.

On that note, “how did you get a black eye?”

“Oh shit,” he raises a hand to gingerly touch the rapidly bruising skin, wincing, “is it that bad?”

“Yup.” Tim pauses, decides he doesn’t want to know, “now, are you two getting out today or…”

Dick and Jason scramble up, dusting themselves off. Cobwebs stick to their clothes, and something runs from where they had been sitting– Tim wrinkles his nose, figures it’s better not to mention it.

“How the two of you managed to break the doorknob is beyond me,” he comments as they pass him, “but somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“Whatever you say, Replacement,” Jason waves him off, stretching, “but damn, it’s good to be free.”

“You know what’s gonna be even better?” Dick asks, his question trailing off in a yawn, “sleeping in a real bed.”

“Shit, did you hear that?” Jason stops mid stretch, frowning, “shit, shit, someone’s coming.”

They all look at each other panicked. Tim doesn’t even know why he’s panicking, he’s done nothing wrong here besides letting himself be talked into helping these two morons out. Which he now sees was a terrible mistake, worse even, a rookie mistake. But maybe it’s being awake at 4am wandering an empty hallway that gives off this feeling, like he’s doing something he’s not supposed to do. It reminds him a little of the times he snuck out of his parent’s house after lights out to shadow Batman and Robin around.

Or maybe it’s the fact Jason is still carrying around the damn rocket launcher like a newborn baby. That definitely would count as a bad thing on Bruce’s point of view. And no matter what they might say, the man would certainly write Tim and Dick off as accessories to the crime. Well, they did learn of the crime after it was committed and they are kind of aiding the criminal in scaping.

Sighing, Tim lets himself be dragged back to the broom closet by a frantic Dick. He adds helping the criminal conceal the crime to the list. The door closes with a soft click just as the footsteps get closer. Whoever it is, probably Bruce by the heavy steps, turns the corner, and then walks past them. Somewhere still uncomfortably near, a door opens, then closes.

“He’s in the study,” Dick sobs, “and we’re stuck here again.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Jason says, sitting down again, “one day Alfred will finally come clean here and find our decomposed bodies.”

“Gross,” Tim wrinkles his nose at the mental image, “come on. Let’s just pick the lock.”

“No!” They whisper-shout at the same time.

“What the fuck.”

“It’s booby-trapped,” says Jason.

“There’s silent alarms,” says Dick.

Oh right, all of his brothers are paranoid lunatics at heart, how could Tim have ever forgotten that. “This place looks like nobody used it since before either of us were born. Why, oh why, would B put it under surveillance?”

Silence. Jason hugs his rocket launcher closer, sharing a look with Dick. Great, and they’re a united front now. “Listen, fine. You don’t wanna pick the lock. Fine.” It’s always best not to contradict a crazy person, let alone two. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Living off spiders.”

“Call Damian.”

“One, gross. Two, I’d literally rather die.” He begins, “three, you all are useless to me.”

They need a plan, and they need it fast. Before one of those two finish spiraling into cabin fever. Looking around, Tim tries to think of it as any other mission. There’s a small window in the on the right wall, probably connecting to the adjacent room, which Tim thinks might be a bedroom. It was probably a leftover of some old renovation, it might’ve led outside once upon a time, but now it’s likely their only way out. It’s very small, Tim might go through it with little problem, Dick too, but Jason is too broad shouldered, he might get stuck. If only they could remove all the bars, it could give them just enough space.

Okay. They have an exit. All they need is way to get up there and the tools to deal with the bars. He turns to his brothers, “I think I can get us out. There’s a window behind that shelf.” He points at the glass visible between two boxes, “but I need some sort of ladder and a tool box.”

Apparently the prospect of a real plan is enough to shake them out of their stupor. Jason jumps to his feet, begins rummaging through the scattered boxes. Dick busies himself with pushing the shelf out of the way, clearing the path to the window. Satisfied, Tim begins digging inside the nearest box in search of anything useful.

By the time Dick manages to push the shelf out of the way, Jason has found a hammer and a phillips screwdriver. He did find a crowbar too, but that was quickly discarded and buried under a pile of old books. Deciding the boxes are sturdy enough, hopefully, to hold their weight, Tim piles them up in the best makeshift stairs he can make.

Is it wobbly? Yes. Are they going to fall and break their necks? Probably. But better be dead than ask Damian for help. The little demon would never let him live it down for the rest of their lives and probably in the afterlife too.

Once again tuning out his brothers, Tim begins the quickly climbing up the boxes. It’s more stable than he expected, so he starts unscrewing the metal bars–

*

“Of course it was stable!” Dick exclaims, throwing his hands up and then falling down on the bed, “we were holding it in place!”

“You weren’t even listening to us, you ungrateful–”

“I got us out, didn’t I?” Tim snaps, “god, everyone’s a critic. Can I go back to the story, please? I’d like to finish telling it before sunrise.”

“God, yes, please.”

*

Anyway.

The metal bars and the stained glass panels fall apart easily, as expected from such old, unused things. The space left looks wide enough to let them through, maybe. If they’re lucky. “Okay, I’m already up here, so let me go first.”

“Wait–”

Tim doesn’t wait. He hoists himself up, diving face first through the window. It gets him a mouthful of dust and sand, and then he’s free falling–

There’s a second of panic, in between falling and landing, where Tim recognizes waiting might’ve been a wiser course of action and that maybe he should have looked before jumping.

–right into a bed.

He had been right. It did lead to an old bedroom. The bed was covered in sheets, just like the rest of the furnitures, but it works to break the fall, even if a cloud of dust rises in the air when he lands, coating his lungs with filth.

Laughter bubbles up, a little hysterical, a little relieved.

“Are you okay?” Dick’s head appears through the hole, “are you hurt?”

“My wrist hurts a little, I think I sprained it when I tried to break the fall,” Tim shrugs, rolling off the bed, “but I’m fine, really.”

“Hold on, I’m coming through.”

Dick falls with a huff, his breath knocked out of him in the landing. He groans, “shit, that’s gonna bruise.”

“Cool, you’ll get a matching set,” Tim gestures his black eye, “but you might wanna make space, it sounds like Jason is on his way.”

And true enough, as soon as he had forced himself out of the bed and limped away towards Tim, a rocket launcher lands on the bed with a heavy thud, and then Jason appears. Although only half of him makes it through. He dangles, arms swinging uselessly, stuck in the window. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Seriously?”

“Oh my god,” Tim wheezes, “tell me someone has a camera.”

“I feel so much better already,” Dick giggles.

“Oh come on,” Jason snaps, flipping them off with both hands, “a little help here? Assholes.”

To be fair, it only takes a little wiggling and a little pulling to get him out of there and into the dusty bed. By now the air is more dust bunnies and promises of allergies.

“Tell me it’s over now,” Jason says, then changes his mind, “no, no, no. No one say anything, it might jinx it.”

“Please leave,” Tim tells him, “you have an apartment, I know you do. Please.”

“Are you kicking me out, Replacement? Really?”

“You just put me through the most traumatic hour of my life and I don’t even know why. So yes, please.”

“What he means,” Dick intervenes, “is that–”

“All of you have a lot of explaining to do.” In the now open doorway, Bruce stands, looking like your regular angry father if your regular angry father was the Batman.

“Oh crap,” Jason says, and Tim wholeheartedly agrees.

*

“And the rest is history,” Tim says, yawning, and then turning to Jason, “I can’t believe all of this was because of your stupid rocket launcher.”

“Excuse me,” Jason sounds affronted, “Roxy has emotional value.”

“Your unhealthy attachment to that thing gave me a sprained wrist so excuse me for being a little salty.”

“Can you guys not fight for ten seconds, please,” Dick, in turn, sounds tired.

“I don’t think I need to say in how much trouble all of you are, do I?” Bruce finally says, gathering the attention of the three. He glances at his watch, it’s nearing five in the morning, then back up at the bed. Jason is laying with his leg propped up in a pillow, looking harried and tired and less antagonistic than before, Tim is at his side, curled up around a pillow and his injured wrist carefully cradled on his chest, and the story seems to have drained the last of his energy, as his eyes close for longer and longer periods of time. Dick is sprawled at the foot of the bed, laying sideways and currently wrestling a pillow out Jason’s grip.

Bruce looks at the scene in front of him, three of his children together at peace, or the closest thing to it they’ll ever get, and something inside him softens. Seeing them like this, getting along, no trace of masks or capes, it feels almost like a normal family.

It feels warm and golden.

Unwilling to disturb the fragile peace, he gets up from the armchair, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Dick, the more awake of them, asks, “aren’t you gonna yell at us?”

“As I said, you all know you are in trouble,” Bruce answers calmly, “but there’s going to be time for that tomorrow, at a more reasonable hour.” He suppresses a smile, “I am going to retrieve some blankets. It looks like you’re not going back to your rooms tonight.”

Dick looks around him, finding Tim already asleep and Jason yawning. He smiles, “you might be right. Thanks, B.”

Bruce nods, but as he leaves the room, a thought suddenly occurs to him, “oh, and Dick?”

A sleepy noise comes from the bed.

“You were all wrong.” Another inquisitive muttering, a little more awake now. “That shirt? It used to be mine. It was a special edition, confectioned after the moon-landing. You stole it from me.”

Shaking his head, Bruce prepares to leave, but a voice stops him just before the door closes, “I know, but you know the rules. If it’s down the Cave, it’s fair play.”

Laughter echoes quietly in the hallways at the Manor, bouncing off the walls and filling all the empty spaces.

*