#SPOKEN LIKE A TRULY MENTALLY STABLE PERSON.

[karamazovanon]

guys would you be mad at me if i posted parallels between c&p/tbk quotes and mitski lyrics Be honest

[sirgogington]

My Word Vomit Response on the Shelby Situation

Main Situation: Last week Wilbur Soot from Lovejoy was accused of having been abusive towards his ex girlfriend Shelby. Shelby is a live streamer and last week she did a livestream about the signs of knowing if you are in an abusive relationship. She never stated his name, but from details given people started assuming it was about Wilbur Soot. A few days later Wilbur confirmed that it was him in an apology tweet on his Twitter account. The abuse had to do with painful biting, and manipulation. 

    I want to start off by saying I do believe Shelby's story. I don't think Wilbur is innocent, but I do believe this situation isn't as black and white as people are claiming it to be. 

    Former fans after hearing the story started unfollowing Wilbur and Lovejoy and saying what a terrible man that Wilbur is, and vowing to never listen to or view any of his content ever again. He's not just a terrible man, he has to be evil too. I may be optimistic but I do think most people can change for the better if they truly want to. There are exceptions, but I truly believe that Wilbur can. The internet wants to just label him as evil and not give him any room to do that. The new thing is "guilty until proven innocent" and that's super harmful as I will go into in a different post. The way people are spreading hate in a us/them mentality is not a mature way of viewing/handling this situation and does more harm than good. Especially when it comes to death threats and doxing which have been received by both sides.

   Wilbur is someone who had a hard upbringing, and has brought up at different times his struggles with mental health. On screen or on stage you would never know this about him, because he has this mask of being confident, well spoken, and joyful. Through these details Wilbur has shared we know that touring took a lot out of him mentally and put him in a bad place, but that he was seeking therapy and is probably currently still seeing a therapist to try and get better. He's shared in the past that when he first blew up on the internet he used alcohol to cope because of how overwhelming it was that so many people were consuming his content. From Shelby's stream we also learned that his living space was dirty and unhygienic and that he would make excuses for it. The details for me paint the picture of a guy struggling badly with mental illness and having a hard time caring for himself and his home. Someone who can hardly take care of themselves should not have been in a relationship. This puts a lot on the other person.  It's different if he were stable and then then his mental health crashed in the middle of a longer relationship, but not if your too mentally ill to begin with. I do deeply feel sorry that Shelby had to experience that, as it truly shouldn't have happened. 

   I went to school for psychology and know quite a bit about different types of mental illnesses. I am by no means diagnosing Wilbur, but I do think he shows signs of someone with Boderline Personality Disorder. Borderline Personality Disorder is an emotional disregulation disorder characterized by unstable mood, behavior, and relationships. People with BPD self sabotage and will frequently end up pushing people away because they don't think they're good enough for them. (In this case maybe he wanted to act so bad so she would leave him, which is very unhealthy). People with BPD also go through depressive episodes and can act impulsively. Without therapy it is extremely hard to cope with this condition but with therapy you can make great strides in changing. I think like most mental illnesses you are aware of the fact you don't like the way you're acting you just have a hard time controlling it. For instance for me growing up with anxiety I knew most of my fears were completely irrational but that didn't stop them from overtaking my life and still feeling anxious. Wilbur has written some really deep lyrics on his new solo album Mammalian Sighing Reflex and I feel like it reflects that he doesn't like the way he is and feels guilty about those he's harmed through it. Maybe I'm giving this man too much credit, but like I said I do believe most people are capable of changing for the better. 

   Shelby stated she did the livestream as a way to help protect other victims of domestic violence and Wilbur Soot himself. He might still be dangerous to the public, it's really hard to know. I know after my own situation with being manipulated I was worried about the guy going after other younger women like he had with me. I didn't want anyone else have to be in that situation so I understand where Shelby is coming from. I also know that if the guy in my life had ever posted an apology, no matter how good it was, that I still wouldn't believe him and have a hard time forgiving him. Bold take but I think his apology was at least decent. Could it have been better, yeah, but could it have been a lot worse, also yes. In his apology he admits to being the person Shelby was talking about. He states that her feelings are valid, and that he wants people to hold him to higher accountability, and that he was sorry for any hurt he caused. Maybe he isnt, but it's hard to know. Wilbur stated in a livestream from last October 2023 that he was going to therapy the next day, because of this we can assume that Wilbur has been going to therapy at minimum since October. In that same livestream he states that he showers once a day when he's in his "big sad", and that he has rented places all over Brighton. He is at least hygienic in this regard, maybe moreso than he was before. It could be a red flag that Wilbur has lived all over Brighton due to possible evictions whether that be negligence or noise complaints from doing livestreams.

   We'll never know how other content creators truly feel about him except for the ones that made it obvious. Of course most content creators are going to jump on the bandwagon and agree that he's an evil man. If they don't then they'll lose their platform because of all the hate they'd get. I do believe some content creators will still hang out with Wilbur secretly or still even remain his friend. But we'll never know. 

   For the people who are posting different video evidences of Wilbur supposedly showing signs of being abusive in the past this is what is called confirmation bias. If you believe someone is abusive suddenly you can find details in the littlest things to confirm your thought process. A lot of the clips I've been seeing have been of normal everyday behavior or confirmed bits. I've seen people say that Wilbur must have bit down really hard to leave bruises. In some cases people bruise more easily than others. I know I have random bruises on my body from nothing. We can tell that what Wilbur did however was pretty painful due to have to use a safe word. Getting bitten usually hurts. I've been bitten by a 5 year old at work and can't imagine how it would feel to be bitten by a grown man who intentionally bit down hard.

This could be confirmation bias as well, but when looking at the lyrics in Mammalian Sighing Reflex and at the album art it seems to tell the story of a man (Wilbur) who really messed up in a relationship and is feeling the pain from that, and has a lot of regret due to knowing he was the cause of her pain. He poured so much of himself into the album it's like he's bleeding out in front of the audience with the amount of vulnerability.

Analyzing lyrics because why not, using lyrics from "Mammalian Sighing Reflex"

"I get so drunk I can barely see." If this album is related to his relationship with Shelby, which I think it probably is, then maybe he tried to cope with the relationship failing by using alcohol, or sabotaged the relationship through drinking.

"A lot of friends have left my life, escaping my tractor beam of woe" Having a mental illness can make it hard to maintain friendships. This could be because it makes you so self-focused on your problems, or that people get tired of hearing about your problems. If you constantly talk about how sad you are, some people are going to have a hard time dealing with that, or get burnt out from having to keep on cheering you up.

"Fuck my life, you cared when I was sick, no one ever gave a shit.....you fought this war one-sided and asked me what am I doing this for." These lyrics seem to speak about how in a past relationship (probably meaning with Shelby), that she cared that he was mentally ill/in a low point and wanted to help him get better. The fight to help him get better was one-sided due to Wilbur not helping to get himself better. If he would have helped her then they "could of stitched my mind together."

"Never been the one for romance, never thought that I'd get married. Never been the kind to give a shared life a second glance, selfish prose." In Shelby's livestream she talked about how her and Wilbur talked about the possibility of getting married and having kids until he backtracked and said that he wasn't that way and changed his mind.

The song "I Don't Think It Will Ever End" is how his mind seems to work in cycles. He'll be sad, because he feels sad he hides away for a bit, but then he feels silly for hiding himself so he forces himself to interact with people. But then when forcing himself to interact again he feels sad, which he says is not a good feeling when you're supposedly in a good phase. He says as self-sabotage he gets silly. Wilbur is known for telling a lot of jokes, and maybe this is a way he masks his true feelings. Also for Mammalian Sighing Reflex it says the songs were written by William Gold (his legal name) and performed by Wilbur Soot (his stage name). Wilbur is who the internet/fans see him as and William Gold is who he really is. Meaning the way we see him online is the extroverted, charismatic, likeable guy we know him as whereas William Gold is introverted, self-sabotaging, nerdy, and a deep thinker.

     The internet gives us way too much information. We're constantly bombarded with more and more information. Before the internet and even in the earlier internet days you did not have this. People were not being as closely viewed and known as they are now. You have to be careful about every little thing you say, because God forbid you say the wrong thing and get canceled. It didn't used to be this way. The only reason you'd ever know anything bad about a celebrity is if they were in the news. I think most of the media we consume whether TV shows, movies, etc. have the potential to have us supporting "bad people". It would be overwhelming to look up every single person we had ever consumed media from and sift through what are lies and what are not about each actor, singer, etc. I get that people don't want to give a platform to people doing bad things, but it's almost impossible to know and to remove every single bad person from the content you consume.  Being a celebrity in general is hard. It's easy to become addicted to drugs, and experience toxicity especially celebrities that live in Los Angeles. Most become people they regret, but some change for the better too. I'm not saying people who do serious crimes should get out of jail because they can become better people. People in jail should remain in jail for serious crimes. Time will tell what becomes of him. If more about him is released or if he's able to actually make strides in his health like he said he would. We will wait and see. I really hope he can heal and get better. Even the most unlikely ones can change their lives. You can both support Shubble and hope that Wilbur gets better.

[locke-writing]

Hey guys, I know I've been serious-posting quite a bit more than usual lately, I just wanted to talk a bit more about how (and why) I write my characters the way I do in terms of realistic portrayal and my take on mental health issues in fiction, mainly Creepypasta and Slenderverse.

It seems like some people take me for an able-bodied, mentally stable human being "looking in" on mental health who assumes that I know everything because I Googled some stuff. I can see where this view can arise, as I have never truly spoken about my disabilities or personal life much at all. It occurred to me that you don't know much about me, or why I am so passionate about things like this.

So, let me be transparent.

Yes, I have studied abnormal psychology as a focus in college, but that is not the source of my interest in exploring mental health in the fashion that I do. I have a literal shopping list of physical and mental health obstacles that I deal with daily, and being able to understand it better and connect with characters who share a more accurate depiction of the struggle feels more personal to me than a more standard "fanon" depiction of Creepypasta characters. It's how I like to write things.

I have Marfanoid Habitus Syndrome, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, childhood-onset Rheumatoid Arthritis that is in later stages now that I'm an adult, along with heart conditions like Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), heart valve abnormalities, and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I deal with Borderline Personality Disorder and autism which can cause episodic confusion, emotional distress and panic attacks. I am not asking for sympathy by saying this. I just have these things, and it's a part of my life.

Needless to say, I know what it's like. I really do, which is why I have such passionate interest in rewriting Creepypasta characters to be the way that they are. I just thought you guys would like to know that my differing views on how I would like the characters to be should not, in any way, feel like an affront to your depictions. I may not agree with them, but whatever, y'know? It's the internet. Differing depictions should not equate to waging war about who is right.

I will address this specifically to the people who want to "call me out" on being ableist because I changed some mental health depictions regarding my Toby rewrite to be less noticeable: Mental health issues are not always the forefront of someone's personality nor behavior. I can promise you that people think I'm normal on first look because all of my medical conditions are "invisible." It comes with the package, and I think anyone with an invisible disability can agree with me that the original stories in the fandom are... incredibly strange and even a little offensive. I'm not a fan.

And I will state, I know this character is outdated and I am not bashing the creator, and I am well aware of their need to be detached from this character due to the poor writing, but Ticci Toby does truly belong to the fandom now, and the fandom has held up these pretty wild design choices. I'm looking to change that in my personal depictions and hopefully foster a healthier way of using these characters to cope.

I love you guys; I hope I'm making sense here and am trying to touch base with you all in hopes of clearing up some misunderstandings. I'm not participating in the erasure of disabilities; I'm participating in realistic writing.

[s-talking]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ;;

what does your muse smell like?  the  wild  poppies.  a  bitter-sweet   &   almond-like  scent. 

what do your muse’s hands feel like? soft   &   elegant  yet  also  very  cold  to  the  touch.  whenever  he  caresses,  the  long  fingers  feel  almost  like  wintry  petals  though  should  he  grab  you  instead,  such  gentleness  can  quickly  turn  into  sharp  ice;     the  black  nails  tearing  into  soft  flesh  with  relative  ease.

what does your muse usually eat in a day? ( main verse )  envy  is  pretty  fond  of  kimchi  soups,  mainly  for  breakfast.  should  the  entity  not  push  him  towards  human  flesh,  expect  the  kitchen  to  smell  like   brewing  veggies   &   seafood  in  the  morning.

does your muse have a good singing voice? envy  doesn’t  sing.  he  only  hums  on  occasion,  but  it’s  a  nice  voice  nonetheless.  a  rather  low,  soft,   &   sultry  tone.

does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? whenever  emotions  happen  to  kick  in   &   envy  harbors  any  ill-intent,  ( mainly  in  regards  to  sadism  or  violence )  his  fingers  will  involuntarily  convulse,  often  going  as  far  as  injuring  own  palms  with  nails  or  leaving  heavy  marks  ‘pon  surfaces  they  just  so  happen  to  be  resting  on.

what does your muse usually look like / wear? ( main verse )  envy  prefers  the  overall  dark   &   obscuring  clothing,  but  also  the  kind  that  won’t  restrict  movement  too  much.  as  such,  he  is  currently  sporting  a  black  turtleneck,  black  jeans,  an  over-sized  black  jacket,  suspenders  ( for  the  weapon, )   &   biker  boots  that  look  like  they’ve  seen  much  better  days. 

is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? affection,  above  all,  is   difficult   to  describe.  having  been  born  with  an  eldritch  curse  that  latches  not  only  to  your  body   &   mind,  but  also  the  soul,  envy  hardly  experiences  any  forms  of  genuine  emotion  unless  it  is  something  truly  brief   &   fleeting,  but,  on  the  flip-side,  that  doesn’t  mean  he  is  completely  blind  to  it  either.  for  example,  min-jun  ──   before  forsaking  his  name  ──  was  once  upon  a  time  a  very  loved  person,   &   such  kind  words   &   gestures,  have  indeed  integrated  themselves  deep  into  his  mind.  so  much  so,  he  can  often  remember  them  with  surgical-sharpness,  ( along  with  the  date,  hour,   place  &  any  other  ridiculous  detail )  because  even  without  stable  feelings,  he  always  places  mental  value  onto  each  &  every  person  met,  especially  their  actions.  now,  should  he  actually   feel   something...   that’s  a  whole  another  story.  after  all,  getting  to  finally  experience  any  form  of  raw  emotion  is  basically  like  settling  a  gas-station  on  fire;     he   will   erupt.   he  will  blow  things  out  of  proportion  &  depending  on  your  relationship  with  him,  such  may  either  sweep  you  completely  off  your  feet....  or  you’ll  be  begging  for  him  stop.  most  particularly  in  matters  of  affection.  you  see,  envy  isn’t  the  type  of  man  to  plead  for  love  so  if  you  somehow  manage  to  survive  his  twisted  ways,  &  better  yet,  become  the  little  apple  of  his  eye,  he  will  chase  after  you  like  no  other  human  ever  will.  this  can  be  most  endearing,  romantic,  even,  but  also  downright  haunting.

what position does your muse sleep in? typically  on  his  back,  with  an  arm  beneath  the  pillow.  that  is  the  way  he’d  sleep  in  new  eden...   until  they’ve  moved  him  to  a  coffin-sized  chamber.

could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? depends.  envy  is  a  semi-mute   &   terribly  cryptic  by  nature,  more  often  than  not  wishing  to  remain  silent  since  physical  actions  are  preferred,  though,  if  he  does  eventually  speak,  it’s  quite  difficult  to  catch  his  words  in  most  conversations  due  to  being  so  soft-spoken  or  just  outright  mumbling  words  beneath  his  breath.  god  forbid  if  there’s  any  loud  background  noise  while  at  it,  as  you’re  bound  to  lean  closer  or  ask  to  speak  up...  neither  of  which  are  good  for  you. 

tagging:  @spectralhunter  | @b-erserk | @chronicparagon | @umbralrosa | @v-iciious  &  @b-elmount | @yuichiroswife  &  @chronosbled | @belia-l | @falseamore | @awesomeuchuu | @qucintly | @tigermcth | @carnivorarium  &  @phantasmaw | @dangaer  &  @truethes | @dancinghearts | @shorestar | @lured-into-wonderland | @hellhunted | @whispers-in-daydreams | @yesfxckyxu | @pvremichigan | @hhemeraa | @kemikorosu |  @clarafell | @bymorpheus | @s-erpentes | @fallesto | @xxyumeno | @kllsworn  |  @s-partan​  &  literally  anyone  else  reading  this  because  i  have   no clue   who  else  is  active  lmao 

[charlottecowper]

I really need to write because I'm feeling quite overwhelmed at the moment. My life has gone from 0 to 100 in a really short amount of time and there's so much information to take in all the time...

The last couple of days have been life changing for me as even more doors have opened for me completely unexpectedly and I am in actual awe of how the universe is working for me at the moment.

To begin with, I was at my friendship group on Thursday and I've been going for around 2 months now every week. I didn't feel initially like I had too much of a presence with people, but this Thursday well and truly has proven me wrong. Lesley who is one of the social prescribers who work for the NHS and her job is to go to people's houses who are suffering from loneliness or depression etc and they help people to engage socially in the world... Anyway, she was talking to me about how the group will be moving to the new cafe opening next month as part of the hub, and they will be starting an afternoon group.... And.. Her and Lynsey the other social prescriber have spoken to each other about asking if I want to help set the new group up and share my ideas as to how to improve the group.

This leads onto my next coincidence... On the same day I was talking to Sue about fundraising for the friendship group and she said that her and Anne are doing a sponsored firewalk in November and there is one space left, so I messaged Anne and she's put my name down! So I've already managed to put myself in a position where I can truly help the group to expand and I've had so many ideas come to me since then! Basically, because Lynsey and Lesley work for the NHS, they can't do any fundraising, but I can and I will be supported by them both as I have no experience of running a group, but since I have been in the group for this long and gotten to know everyone, I might be okay. I'm just not good with public speaking, but I'm going to have to learn in order to grow so this is a perfect opportunity for me.

Thirdly, Lesley was also telling me that she had a reading with one of the local mediums that we both know as I did a meditation course with her, and Kerry told Lesley that she should focus her career more on the holistic and spiritual side of her, and that she will go into business with someone else in the future. Lesley knows about my spiritual journey and she thought of me when Kerry did her reading so I do wonder what else Kerry told her for Lesley to think of me... And I'm doing my Reiki level 2 next month and I always envisioned if I did have a career in holistics then it would be with someone else too. I always thought it would be with my partner, but in this case it could actually be Lesley!

This is all just too weird for me at the moment because everyone that I'm having the most important interactions with are of a good nature and very mentally stable and spiritual etc.. They are all on my wavelength and it's just too weird because this is everything that I wanted to manifest for myself!

I can't stop myself from wondering what all of these people see in me though because I am not used to being this positive and high frequency person and I've never experienced life like this before. It feels like I've jumped onto a whole new timeline and I'm in a constant state of flow and just letting things be whilst having full awareness of what is going on around me. It can be exhausting but I think that's just because I'm not used to it yet even though it's the right thing for me to do.

I seriously have no idea anymore where my life is going, but I do see really big and positive things for my future and I truly do believe that I will get everything I've worked so hard for sooner than I thought...

[queergodot]

my take on Maya and Godot's relationship is that Godot cares about Maya unconditionally because he needs someone to care for and Maya cares about Godot because she needs someone to care for her unconditionally.

Godot woke up from a five year coma with no-one left. He is Phoenix's mirror image; he has a saviour complex a mile wide and lives for others more than he lives for his own. The last person he'd assigned himself the protector of was violently murdered. He has no-one else, no goal, no purpose, and he failed to protect the one most important to him. But she has a sister. And he decided that this sister will become his purpose, and he cared for her because he doesn't know who he is without someone to save.

Maya believes she needs to be useful to be loved. What is she if she can't help others? We see this heavily in AA1, where she becomes convinced of her uselessness and spirals into a depressive state. Kurain Village relies on her to be their successor, but she feels as if she's constantly dissappointing them. Her aunt hated her so much she tried to frame her for murder. Her cousin loves her dearly, but still loves her mother as well, emotions that are incompatible. Nick loves her, but when she told him she was useless, he told her she wasn't, and never said he'd still love her if she was. People love her, conditionally, she feels. Then this prosecutor she's spoken to like maybe twice sets up an elaborate plot to save her, kills her (superior, better, more useful) mother for her, and is willing to take the fall even though he could let Maya be indicted for it. She's willing to do anything to keep it.

Of course, this is an unhealthy state of affairs. Maya fails to realize she is loved unconditionally without having to be useful by both Pearl and Phoenix. Godot doesn't know how to live for himself. Maya wants a kind of unconditional love Godot can't give her because he sees her as a shadow of her sister. Neither of them truly see the other as individuals. In my mind, the two grow more stable mentally and work towards a healthier relationship.

But if you were wondering why Maya on the witness stand in Bridge to the Turnabout makes me go insane: this is why.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that! 

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:  

     Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate. 

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him? 

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions. 

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you. 

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle. 

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him. 

 Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.  

     "Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you. 

    "I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

     "I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities. 

     "But… Why didn't you wake me?" 

     "Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once." 

     "I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued, 

     "It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

     "Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

     "And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

     "Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon: 

     Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas. 

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead. 

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed. 

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.   

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made. 

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

 Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get. 

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that. 

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him, 

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout. 

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there. 

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek. 

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.  

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him. 

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit. 

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again. 

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.” 

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.” 

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue. 

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness. 

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor. 

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”  

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured, 

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face. 

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.” 

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock: 

     The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his. 

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body. 

     Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.  

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well.... 

  "I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all. 

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him. 

     "And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh, 

     "No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought, 

     "Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:   

      MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer. 

 “Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you. 

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof. 

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away. 

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle. 

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

 MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone. 

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail. 

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh. 

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest. 

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors. 

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him. 

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act. 

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response. 

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again. 

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open. 

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss. 

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk. 

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?” 

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick: 

     The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last. 

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low. 

     Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able-- 

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head. 

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body. 

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially. 

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you. 

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks. 

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards." 

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips, 

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully. 

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.  

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head, 

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing." 

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston: 

     Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head. 

Then he remembered. 

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.  

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient. 

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house. 

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired. 

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find. 

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him? 

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes. 

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin. 

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now. 

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy? 

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.  

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks. 

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.  

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of. 

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours. 

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips, 

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered. 

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.  

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88: 

     The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him? 

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you. 

  The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

  X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay. 

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't. 

Not until he met you. 

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

  "Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone." 

   A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you? 

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his. 

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture, 

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

[realcube]

you flinch during an argument pt2

navi | masterlist | part one

thank you to anon for this request

characters ♡ sugawara, bokuto & akaashi

tw ♡ cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt to comfort, hinted ptss, mentions of ashes/cremation & parent! reader in bokuto’s

KŌSHI SUGAWARA

♡ a grimace; the expression sugawara had been wearing for the last 10 minutes as he bickered with you in the kitchen while cooking his meal prep

♡ “i just don’t understand why you need to study for hours on end. at this point, i think you’re just making excuses to avoid me.” sugawara spoke, his incomprehensible tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he was being kind or condescending, or whether that last comment was supposed to be a joke

♡ “why would i do that?” you inquired innocently, keeping your gaze fixated on preparing your own meal. honestly, he didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention after elongating the conversation to no end. “exams are less than a week away and if i don’t pass then the last two years will have been for nothing. not that i’d expect you to understand.”

♡ you acknowledged that was a low blow, but your mind told you to just blurt out the first thing that you knew would make him shut up, and it unfortunately worked. 

♡ immediately feeling a wave of wave of regret wash over you, you shuffled over to his place at the kitchen counter, pressing your cheek to his arm to show affection before muttering, “sorry, i didn’t mean that. please don’t take it personally, kōshi.”

♡ usually an act like that would put an end to one of your silly squabbles but today was different

♡ out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something come flying towards you and — contextually — it didn’t take long for you to figure out that it was sugawara’s hand 

♡ that was enough reason your mind need to take the following course of action: your arms shot up to shield your the side of your face while your knees bent, brining you closer to the ground while your eyelids squeezed shut

♡ although after a few without the expected impact, your eyes fluttered open and you dropped your guard, allowing yourself a few moments to collect yourself before looking up at your boyfriend who’s demeanour had changed completely from a few seconds ago 

♡ now, his face was pale and his jaw was tight. as for his eyes, not so long ago they were faux-soft, now it was as if he had witnessed a crime; his pupils were constricted and his eyes were wide. he still stood tall as always but he appeared to be frozen in place, with his arm — that you had deemed a threat — looming above your head 

♡ you glanced up for a moment just to take a look, and upon noticing how his hand was cupped, you realised that his intention was to pat your head. it was a gentle gesture which he did often to show affection so you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ever assume he was going to inflict harm on you 

♡ “(y/n)!” he finally managed to choke out, hastily retracting his hand back to his side, “are you alright?” 

♡ you were unsure as to why he was asking such a question, considering that he didn’t even lay a finger on you, but you answered none the less, “i’m fine, are you?” 

♡ it was clear that you didn’t think much of your actions, which made sugawara even more concerned. if he were to be completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug and prattle on about how much he loved you and how he would protect you with his life for hours on end, but he knew that’d be an immature way to deal with such a situation so acting in an adult fashion, he stood at a respectable distance from you and spoke concisely

♡ “why’d you flinch?” he blurted out, feeling like a complete idiot as you replied almost immediately with, “i’m not sure.”

♡ your nonchalant and unaffected attitude made him wonder if he was making a big deal out of your simple action, since you didn’t seem that bothered by it at all. however, his morals spoke louder than logic and told him that he needed to resolve this issue, even you didn’t view it as such.

♡ “i swear i’d never do something like that.” was all he could think to say. so he decided it was best to stay silent right now, allowing you to head up to your room to study without another word spoken. 

♡ the next hour or so was spent trying to think of something to say to you. evidently, he was at a loss for words and all he could do was bury his face into his arms and mentally curse himself for being so confrontational over such a trivial problem

♡ eventually, he came to the conclusion that you’d probably want some space so for now, he’d allow you to study in peace and come out to talk when you are ready 

♡ but he is still sugawara, so expect there to be a place of sliced fruits outside your bedroom accompanied by a little motivational note 

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 

♡ arguments with bokuto only came once every blue moon since you both seemed to agree almost all the time, and even when you didn’t, bokuto would either apologise within less than a minute or simply oblige because he hates seeing you mad at him, or just mad in general 

♡ but sometimes — no matter how much he apologised — you’d still resent him for whatever he did, and a part of him just felt like that was so unfair. perhaps it was a childish thought, but why can’t you just understand that he made a mistake and move on? after all, he always learns and it’s rare that he makes the same mistake twice, so why are you still angry?

♡ plus, he always forgives you immediately when you do something wrong. he just wanted the same treatment and he realised this at the worst moment possible.

♡ “saying sorry won’t fix it!” you barked, wiping away the tears as they fell from your lashline. your skin felt like it was on fire but you paid no mind, just focussing on remaining stable and not losing yourself to a crying fit, “it’s gone forever now, i hope you are happy.”

♡ bokuto seeing you upset more than anything, and knowing that he was the cause of your tears only made things worse. he felt so worthless. 

♡ the only words combatting the voice in his head telling him that he couldn’t do anything right, were the ones reassuring him that it was simply an accident and that if he had known that there were ashes in that jar, he would’ve been more careful when walking around it. 

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you.” he muttered under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear. of course, you thought you had misheard him as you knew him better than to say something so audacious, “huh?”

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you!” he repeated, but this time he lunged forward to yell it right in your face so you’d hear him for sure. “there’s nothing i can do to fix it now, so why can’t you just forgive me?! i’m so sorry and i’d do anything to make it up to you yet you are still so fucking nasty to me! no one wants to be with a stubborn bitch!” 

♡ blinded by rage, it took him a few moments to realise that you weren’t standing as you were before he lunged at you, but rather you had stumbled backwards and were now on the ground with your hands raised in defence

♡ as much as he wanted to continue with his momentum and yell at you while you were down, his subconscious acted fist by outstretching his hand to help you up, “(y/n), why are y--”

♡ he cut himself off as something finally clicked in his mind, helping him realise that he was the reason you were on the ground. you must’ve flinched and fell backwards when he suddenly moved towards you, but why? i mean, it’s not like he was gonna hurt you. so were you just surprised? well, if you were just shocked by his movements you probably wouldn’t be defensive and appear terrified.

♡ upon coming to this conclusion, bokuto dropped down to his knees and shuffled towards you, evidently having calmed down as his cheeks were no longer red with fury and his eyebrows had separated. 

♡ “i’m so sorry.” he mused with wide-eyes, his blank expression and stare kinda scaring you as not even for a moment did he release you from his gaze.

♡ ‘sorry’ appeared to be the word of the day

♡ “i’m sorry too, kō.” you admitted, lowering your head and allowing the hair that hung down in front of your face to shield you from bokuto’s penetrating stare. “i know you didn’t break it on purpose, so of course you are forgiven.” you knew the feeling of frustration all too well, and you were ashamed that you were cause of it for bokuto.

♡ like magic, your statement pulled bokuto out of his trance and back to reality, where he was able to beam and throw his arms open to offer you a hug, “you don’t need to apologise. c’mere!”

♡ you hesitated at first, but there was truly nothing more comforting than the sight of bokuto’s bright smile and glistening cheeks under the golden sunlight which seeped in from passed the blinds; it was almost angelic. hence you found yourself leaning into his arms without a second thought, finding solace in the way his shaky breath tickled the warm skin of your neck

♡ though he didn’t say much in the moment, the image of you cowering in fear away from him will permanently be inked into his mind 

♡ but that’s not to say his words didn’t have an effect on you

♡ your kid grew up knowing endless forgiveness and tolerance from both you and bokuto, as whenever you saw your son’s golden eyes gaze up at you through a stream of tears, all you could see was bokuto, and all you could hear was him calling you a stubborn bitch 

♡ it was almost funny how your brain made that correlation, but rather than laugh, you simply smiled and kneeled down in front of your son, cupping his cheek in your hand, “it’s fine. i forgive you.”

♡ the poor boys glossy gaze flickered between you and the shards of the mug he had chosen for you scattered across the floor

♡ his teeth gritted together, presenting an expression of anguish which was only highlighted by both of his fist curling into balls before he lunged forward to throw his arms over your shoulders and bawl into your chest, “i’m so sorry!”

♡ you pouted, glancing between your son and bokuto who just stood with an awkward smile on his face, watching the scene while knowing full well that it was mostly his fault for entrusting a fragile mug to a four-year-old 

♡ although, it wasn’t as if you could stay mad at either of them; you love them too much

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ arguments with akaashi were rare. after all, communication is key in a relationship and he ensures that you both tell each other everything. hence you can see the irony in the situation where his order of transparency is exactly the reason you were so pissed off.

♡ “please tell me what’s wrong, dear.” akaashi almost whispered, trailing behind you like lost puppy while you stormed towards your front door in order to lead him out

♡ “i’m tired, i said i‘ll tell you later.” you groaned, feeling guilty for being so impatient with him but you truly didn’t have the energy to argue or explain how you were feeling tonight. really all you wanted was to get some rest and discuss everything in the morning but akaashi clearly felt like there was something deeper that needed to be unpacked first.

♡ “you say that but you’ll probably be too tired tomorrow as well.”

♡ you quirked a brow, taking a pause and leaning against your doorframe just as you were about to lock him out, “and so what if am? goodnight."

♡ “don’t be immature.” each word sharper than the last, they stung your eyes.

♡ “tomorrow, akaashi. love yo—"

♡ the next few moments were a blur. It was as though your body reacted on it’s own to seeing akaashi reach out towards your face, so without a moment of consideration, you found yourself jerking away from his touch; appearing alarmed while your heart rate skyrocketed for reasons beyond your knowledge

♡ once your mind was finally able to comprehend what happened and absorb the context, it didn’t take long for you to figure out that he outstretched his hand so he could tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, an act of affection he performs often yet it just happened to slip your mind

♡ akaashi yanked his arm back to his side, staring at his hand — eyes filled with disgust — as if he were presented with a murder weapon. despite that, his self-loathing was short-lived as he immediately inquired, “are you okay? do you need water?” he wasn’t really familiar with the ideal procedure he should take in a situation like this, so he used his judgment which told him that water was the solution to most problems, hence this should be no different.

♡ before you could deny his offer, he was already rummaging through his satchel in search of his water bottle, and once he found it he was quick to hand it to you

♡ after taking a few sips of water, you placed his bottle back in his bag and zipped it up for him, “thank you.” you murmured, not sure as to whether you should apologise or just play it off as if nothing happened. however, guessing by the dazed look in akaashi’s eyes, it would be safe to assume that these events have been permanently inked into his memory

♡ for the first time ever, he was truly at a loss. usually people would look to him when in trouble – or even danger – but now he was the threat, the cause of your stress

♡ perhaps it was because of how long you’ve been together, or maybe it was due to the fact you converse so often with him, but you could read akaashi like an open book. where others see a deadpan, dull setter; you see your boyfriend who is just in desperate need of affirmation from time to time

♡ a few minutes ago, you could’ve sworn you didn’t have enough energy to smile or communicate your feelings but here you were now, wearing the sweetest grin you could muster and humming in a honeyed voice, “i really do love you, keiji. and i’m not afraid of you either.” to emphasise your point, you leaned forward to plant a brief kiss on his cheek and tuck an imaginary loose strand of hair behind his ear, all while he stood speechless. not that you expected a reply anyway.

♡ “i love you too, dear.” akaashi finally uttered after an elongated period of silence.

♡ it was amazing how much you could tell simply from his eyes. his irises no longer vibrated as if they were pending an eruption, and pity behind his gaze seemed to have dissipated slightly. there was still somewhat of a glassy look to them, but he could say the same about yours.

♡ “goodnight. i’ll message you in the morning.” he smiled, mimicking the kindness in yours well as he turned around, promptly heading towards the bus stop with a final wave of his hand

♡ and he didn’t lie either. not only did he text you goodnight again, at exactly 6AM you received a notification from none other than akaashi himself reading:

♡ ‘good morning, sweetheart <3  how’d you sleep? i’m about to head to the shop, do you need anything?’

♡ although you denied his offer, he ended up buying you your favourite drink anyway

[softcallofdutyimagines]

any safehouse crew x bell!reader headcanons? can be fluffy or angsty, whichever you prefer to write 🥺 i adore your work!

Aw, thank you!! Yeah, I'd love to share to some headcannons! These are sort of a mixed bag regarding fluff/angst, but I think they're mostly nicey-nicey :)

Sorry for your wait, but I hope you enjoy 💖

Adler

His relationship with you is such a tangled mess

He shouldn't even be doing this, not after all he's done to you and is still doing, but...

He just can't help but fall for you

Your memories of being with him during the war may be fake, but to you they're all too real

You know him better then anyone else, maybe even more then Sims

This whole thing started because you wanted to get to know him, to fill in the gaps and to continue growing the bond that only exists in your mind

Every day he struggles with the knowledge that what he's doing is wrong, along with the constant badgering about it from Hudson, Sims, and Park

But he's never felt this close, let alone wanted, by someone in his entire life

There'll come a day when the lid blows right off all this and explodes in his face for sure

Just... Not yet, he hopes

Hudson

If there's one person here who should not be getting involved with you... It's him

Adler and Park may be your handlers, but he's the one overseeing the entire operation

You wouldn't even be here if he hadn't passed down the orders from the higher ups

If there's nothing else you take away from this, he would have you know that there is much, much more at risk here then his mere job if he was found messing around with you

Hudson tried everything to resist you

You and your charming voice

You and your beguiling looks

You and your kindness and patient soul

His will was strong, but the flesh is oh so weak

No one has ever treated him like you do

Just an ounce of respect and a surprising, never ending stream of kindness...

What else is a lonely man to do?

Adler and Park know nothing, this is a term you both agreed on

And they never will, because as soon as your work here is done...

He will stop at nothing to keep you safe

Lazar

He knows, he knows...

He should be doing this

But damn it if you aren't just so... Loveable

Lazar has a big heart that just bursting at the seams with love to give

You'd think such a friendly fellow would be popular in the dating pools, but...

It would seem not so

He'll be honest, he was going to make moves towards Park...

Mostly because, between the two of you, she wasn't strictly off limits

But you were his first choice

And when Helen shut him down, well...

Why not at least try?

He never expected you to actually take to him

He deals with constant reprimands, but he dismisses them every time

No one knows what it's like to be so full of love and have no one to give it too

And now that he has you...

He'll be damned if anyone tries to take you away from him

Mason

Geez... All Mason wants is a stable relationship with someone who loves him and has the grit to see past his flaws

He's been taking his meds and seeing his psych, but the numbers and mind jacking still bother him

In fact, they very well might for the rest of his life

He feels so broken

So unlovable and far too damaged to even be an option for anyone else out there

So... Why are you so interested in him?

At first he brushes it off as a star struck kid, and maybe, at first it was, but then...

Things start to get serious

He meet up with you after work hours

You both get to talking and relating to one another through your memories of warfare and the current mission

You tell him you've seen plenty of things just as crazy as what's going on with him, and people that are twice that bad

He doesn't scare you, not one bit

Acceptance is all he's ever wanted, and to have found it in you feels better then anything he ever could've dreamed of

He falls for you so hard, he rarely let's you out of his sight and tries to get on as many of your missions as possible

Park

This whole op is a well oiled machine and she's the one driving it

Hudson and Adler may act like they're in charge, but they'd be nothing without her helping to hold them and you in line

She's a woman of rules, decorum, and conduct

There's a way to do things and a way not to, simple as that

And yet for all that, she still cannot understand how she's fallen in with you

She should be holding you at arms length at best, and yet here she is stealing kisses and playing with your hair when no one is looking

Maybe she's too much of a sucker for a good forbidden romance story

Or maybe there's always been something in you that's spoken to her from the beginning

A certain way you carry and conduct yourself

So brave and strong...

The kind of person she aspires to be, deep down...

Soon she starts saying things like "what's the worst that could happen" and "no one has to know"

And before long, she knows she could never let you go

When this mission is over, she swears to set you free from the mental prison and living hell she helped put you in, no matter the outcome for your relationship

She loves you too much to see you suffer

Sims

He has the exact same problem as Adler

You know him too damn well

Except... You don't really know him at all, huh?

It takes him so long to wrap his mind around that one...

But the more and more you keep coming to him, asking about things like 'Nam and his time in the war...

The more and more that line becomes muddled

How much have you been programmed to know, and how much did you learn naturally, just from getting to know him?

It's hard being a Vietnam vet you know...

Everyone blames you for the loss of the war, and no one wants much to do with a soldier in general, he guesses

Too much of a headache when you could just get a nice, normal person, right?

But old Vietnam vets get lonely too you know...

So you know what? Who gives a damn

This whole thing with you and mk ultra was screwed from the start, and who knows where the end will take you

If nothing else, if not even for his own benefit, he may as well give you the respect enough to enjoy a little fling

He treats it seriously. Very seriously.

He even grows to truly love you

Maybe that's why he's so scared for you

Woods

Here's a man who'd go his whole life proclaiming he'll never settle down and had no interest in doing so

He's a lone wolf, a life long solider, and far too fucked up for a stable relationship anyhow

At least... That's what he'll say

The truth is he yearns for what Mason and Hudson have

A happy little family and cozy home to protect and care for

He wants to feel needed, wanted even

And he'll never get that from long hours at the practice range and lonely weekend nights spent in his living room

He takes the same approach as Mason would at first

He brushes you off as a starry eyed fan and nothing more

But you know... He's never had anyone care enough to be a "fan" before

Alex laughs at him and keeps saying he's letting his ego get to his head, but what the fuck does he know?

He's got all that shit with the numbers and reznov stuck in his head, and yet he still has someone to go home to each night

So he does it, he gets involved with you

And it's the best damn feeling in the whole world

He loves you relentlessly and soon finds he can't bear to be away from you for too long

Mason will never let him life it down, but you know what?

He's just fine with that

[thewhiteroseofvermilion]

Moving Forward

Hello everyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve last spoken to you all, and an even longer time since I’ve last updated this story. Over the months and years, my absence has saddened, frustrated, and even angered many of you. Despite my own valid feelings of how—to put it bluntly—I don’t owe any of you anything as this is something I do for free and in my own free time, I still recognize how it must feel for you all to see something you enjoy so much slowly lose momentum and eventually grind to a halt. Furthermore, my habit of making enthusiastic yet empty statements in between didn’t help either. 

As such, a proper and honest explanation is due, as anything less would be unkind. This will be lengthy, but please bear with me. 

For the past four years, it’s been increasingly difficult to find the time, energy, and motivation for me to properly sit down and write. Seemingly gone are the early days of this story’s life when I was able to publish a new chapter every month or so, or even every two weeks when I was at the top of my game in terms of activeness. Even though I had an immense workload due to being a double major in college, leading me to adopt the best work ethic I’ve ever had, I still led a sheltered lifestyle where I didn’t have to worry about the many looming, inevitable adult responsibilities that were ahead of me.

Those tranquil years of course came to an end when I graduated, and I soon felt immense pressure to shift my attention to finding work, living independently, and working on things that would further my career. While I received support as an aspiring writer from the majority of my family, those being my mother and sister, the both of them commented more frequently as time passed by that my “fanfiction” wasn’t something that I should be spending so much time on anymore. After all, it’s not like I could sell the work as my own, and the fact that despite fanfiction absolutely being a valid artform, it wasn’t something that the world of professional employers cared about. 

Nonetheless, when I did eventually find work as a film freelancer, I still tried to persevere and write on the side. My goal back then was to work in film in order to sustain my pursuit in writing. Film was something I went to school for, greatly enjoyed, and even saw a possible future career for myself in, but it was the writing aspect of it that I was truly after, that being primarily screenwriting. 

After two years of living at home, I felt the need to try and live independently as I outgrew my tiny room and my mom started dating a man that I didn’t particularly like. I knew it wasn’t financially smart of me to do so when my mom allowed me to live with her rent-free. But at the time I thought that it would help me to become more mature and productive, as I would have to force myself to work in order to put a roof over my head and food on the table—as opposed to living a sheltered life at home where everything was taken care of for me. Essentially, I was longing for the lifestyle I had in college, thinking that once I returned to it, I would be able to reacquire that once incredible work ethic I had. 

So, I became roommates with a friend from college and together we rented a townhouse together. Rent wasn’t terribly expensive, but it wasn’t cheap either. Regardless, I was able to make ends meet. My greatest challenge however, was to live up to my family’s spoken and unspoken expectations. On one hand, my mother was sweet and understanding, naturally giving me her full support. My father, on the other, always thought that it’d be better for me to pursue something safer and more lucrative, and to not risk being a starving artist. But the one I had to prove myself the most to was my older sister, who was wildly more successful than I was—financially and professionally. My pay compared to hers was like a drop in a bucket, and I felt both indirect and direct pressure from her to be more “professional” like her. Therefore, I threw myself into my work, which is when things slowly began to go downhill. 

As a film freelancer, my work hours usually averaged between 10-12 hours a day, and with my work taking me all over my home state of Maryland and even into neighboring Washington DC and Virginia, my commute time to and from work ranged anywhere from an additional 1-3 hours. It became incredibly common for me to wake up for work anywhere between 3-6 AM and not get home until 8-10 PM. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I slowly slipped into a routine where when I did have the “time” to write, I had zero energy or motivation as my work was so taxing. I reached the point where I had to drink two energy drinks with 300mg of caffeine to get myself to and from work. I saw less and less of my roommate and friends. I spent an alarming amount of money and gained weight from ordering take-out so often because I hadn’t the energy to cook for myself when I got home late from work. There would even be days when I fell into what felt like comas, sleeping up to two days straight at one point. My physical, mental, and emotional health was in serious decline. And yet I didn’t see it that way, as I had become obsessed with trying to prove to my family, my sister in particular, that I wasn’t a failure and that my pursuit of writing wasn’t a hopeless one.

During the first month of COVID-19′s outbreak last year, I finally had a much-needed vacation. This was undoubtedly the best time for me to have returned to writing—but I didn’t. At this point, so much time had passed since my last proper writing session that the few times I did try to write, I found myself completely unable to write anything. I was so out of practice and so out of touch with what I had written. This honestly frightened me, and I soon began to doubt if I could ever be able continue the story with the same quality that so many readers fell in love with. Regrettably, I fled from this revelation long enough for a full month to pass by, and I soon found myself busy with yet another distraction: unemployment. 

I was out of work for about 4.5 months, from the middle of March to the beginning of August. During this time, I had to rely on state unemployment, which earned me great scorn from my older sister. Our relationship had always been uneven since we were kids, but it was becoming increasingly toxic as of late since our college years. I felt so ashamed to tell her how much money I made in a year from my job as a film freelancer, and how I barely managed to move to a better position after four years of work. Riddled with guilt and disappointment in myself, when work became readily available again in August, I frantically threw myself back in harder than ever before. In the past where I had turned down the occasional job to give myself some time to relax or in order to make it to a social outing with friends, I now accepted every job thrown my way, only declining those that would make me double-book myself. I earned a lot of money during those months as a result, and I was so happy to finally distance myself from the stigma of being “unemployed.” However, I once again failed to see that I was yet again sliding back into the lifestyle that had been slowly poisoning me for the past two years. 

After essentially working non-stop from August to March, my body, mind, and soul soon returned right back to the brink of collapse. It wasn’t until then at my lowest point when I finally realized how I initially went from working to sustain myself in order to write, to not writing at all and only working to sustain myself to work even more. It was truly scary to see myself fall victim to a brutal cycle of unfulfilling work that could have trapped me for years to come if I hadn’t broken free first. That’s when I realized that my lifestyle was personally unsustainable, and that something had to change. 

Henceforth, I’ve made the difficult decisions to both transition out of film freelancing and to soon return home to live with my father. At the end of April, the homeowner of the townhouse my roommate and I had been living in for close to three years gave us our 30-days-notice to vacate, as they no longer wished to rent but to sell the property. As my roommate had been planning on finding a place of his own with his girlfriend for quite some time, we split amicably at the end of last month in May and I’ve since moved into a temporary apartment with a friend who has traveled back to Maryland for seasonal work. 

Regarding the change in my career, I’ve been looking into applying for writing positions for something that I’ve grown to enjoy over the past few years, which is to write reviews for media such as film, anime, and videogames. This of course is not what I truly want to do in life, but I think that because it actually involves writing, it would be both good practice in terms of practicing my writing and experience in terms of resume-building. Furthermore, a stable “9-5″ job as such would be good for me, I think, as it would introduce some desperately needed structure back into my life. Being a freelancer was definitely fun as I had the power to choose my own schedule, but it unfortunately fostered a lot of laziness and procrastination when I wasn’t completely burnt out. 

I’ve shared with you all this information, a great deal of it being very personal, in the hopes that it helps you better understand who I am as a person and what I’ve been going through these past four years. 

I understand that my word may be difficult to trust due to my history, but I sincerely wish to let you all know from the bottom of my heart that I do plan on continuing writing The White Rose of Vermilion until it’s completed. My fears and insecurities may have alienated me from that promise, but not once did I ever entertain the idea of fully dropping the story. And I promise you, I never will. It most likely will not further my career in any way, bring any revenue in, and will continue to consume a great deal of my precious free time—yet I still choose to pursue continuing it because I can’t see a future where I don’t finish it.

It is after all my most cherished project; the reason that I was able to truly find my calling as an aspiring writer, its success also ultimately being the proof to my mother that I had some skill as a budding writer, who then gave me her full blessings to pursue it as a career. But most important of all is that it’s the reason why I was able to experience first-hand one of the most important and beautiful discoveries in my entire life. That being the incredible phenomenon of how art is like a beacon—its bright light is powerful enough to reach out and inspire others to create art of their own. From Monty Oum to Nancy Phetchareune to myself, I was blessed enough to see readers create wonderful fanart to show me or tell me in a review that reading my story had inspired them to create something of their own.

I am officially leaving behind my prolonged hiatus and returning to working on The White Rose of Vermilion. While I am extremely hesitant to even estimate when the next chapter will be published, please know that I am genuinely trying to leave behind my habits of old and returning to a more consistent schedule. 

The White Rose of Vermilion will return in:

Arc II, Chapter Twenty-Seven: Stranger in the Night

[akashifae]

NOW ON AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103927 I can’t seem to stop thinking of sappy scenes for these two precious beans. That one scene in the trailer where Stolas seems very sad and lonely is the main springboard for the idea.

I would love a scene where; be it in the mansion or somewhere else, Blitzo winds up comforting Stolas emotionally.

Perhaps one of the fights with Stella went too far and got physical, or maybe he’d made Octavia upset at her for one reason or another. He winds up sulking and being an overly sad bird in his room because it seems he can’t seem to grab control of his own life. It’s spinning around him and there’s no sense of order or stability for him to focus on.

Then a knock comes on the door. He doesn’t think to really compose himself as he just tells the person on the other side to not disturb him.

Another knocking.

Slightly irritated, he politely asks them:

“Please, don’t disturb me right now. I’m... I’m not in the right mind for company.”

The door opens and he shoots up, ready to let his emotions explode on the unfortunate soul who came into his room.

But it’s him.

That small, devilishly charming imp with the long, curved horns. He was dressed as stylish as ever, but his face was dressed with a tinge of concern. Subtle, but still noticeable. He shuts the door behind him, not a word being spoken.

Stolas quickly tries to fix up his feathers, looking back to see the imp standing right in front of him now.

“Oh I um... I’m so terribly sorry you... have to see me like this Blit--”

He was almost instantly cut off as the imp kicks off his boots and hops up onto the bed. Stolas wanted to explain why he was wanting privacy. He desperately wanted to tell why he’d looked so ragged and exhausted. His mind was racing with thoughts about the last few days home at the mansion.

Maybe Blitzo saw it at some point. The constant distracted nature, the lack of joy and vigor, non-flirtatious banter... anything could’ve given it away, but what sealed it was coming into that room and seeing a man who looked emotionally exhausted. Like he’d been mentally beaten up to the point of no return.

But all that chaos, panic, and instability in his mind stopped, when Blitzo gripped his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug.

Nothing but silence. For the first time in a long time, Stolas was stunned. His friend... his Blitzy, was hugging him? What shocked him more was... he wasn’t letting go. His grip was tight, as if determined to keep him there, even if he wouldn’t say it outright.

He couldn’t think of anything else that was going on. He’d almost forgotten to hug him back if it wasn’t for the soft nudge of a cheek against his own. The tender rub nearly made him break down right there as his arms pull up to embrace his companion. His throat was tightening with each moment that passed, eyes welling up as he closed them to keep himself from overflowing.

“You’ll be okay, Stolas.”

Those words rang in his ears like church bells, bursting the dam open and letting the owl unleash his repressed emotions into the imp’s shoulder. Quiet sobs and little hiccups, Stolas didn’t think he could let those feelings out so openly. It’d been so long since he’d truly done so... yet those words, from this imp let him do so.

Those large hands brushed down his back... he could feel Blitzy... caressing him... tenderly.

The tall owl leaned himself in a bit closer. He felt safe. He felt stable.

Time felt frozen for him. A moment he didn’t want to have end. He couldn’t tell just how much time had passed, but eventually, Blitzo let go.

“C’mon, it’s late. Let’s get to bed.”

Stolas let out a sigh, wiping the tears from his eyes as he nodded. He didn’t realize the time, but what surprised him more was Blitzo stripping down in front of him! He was used to seeing him undress given their arrangement, but stripping into his underwear and crawling up his bed?

He was even fluffing up the pillows!

Stolas wasn’t used to any of this. After unleashing all those emotions his brain was short circuiting on what to say.

“I... um... are you--” His quiet, sad voice was hushed by a finger pressing to that small beak. Blitzo just looked him those big, red pools he called eyes and spoke with a hush.

“Shut it. Just... don’t look so sad, please...” He said in a whisper, his eyes looking down to the bed as his bravado slowly melted off.

“You look more... cute... when you smile.”

Blitzo wasn’t exactly what one would call a master of emotional vulnerability, but hearing those words from his little red lover had Stolas’ heart tightening in the most joyous ways. He cracked a smile through a newly formed steam of tears, crawling up to his spot in bed.

Huddling in under the blankets, Blitzo watched as Stolas couldn’t help but put on a big smile for him as he sniffled.

He couldn’t help but crack a small little smirk of his own as he hopped himself into bed beside him.

Stolas felt those lanky arms wrap around him, large palms brushing over feathers and chest plumage. It was delicate, tender, like he was trying his hardest to make sure he was safe. His eyes closed while a sigh of relief exited his body.

He placed a set of claws over his, fingers lazily interlocking with one set of Blitzy’s own. Stolas felt the heat of his body mixing with him, head resting along his back.

One more soft breath, and he fell asleep in an instant. Soft hooting always a tell-tale sign for the imp.

“I wish I could tell you... just how much I love you.” He said into those soft feathers. Blitzo closed his own eyes, tightening his grip ever so slightly before trying to sleep beside him.

Whoops this idea got a lot crazier than I thought it would. Hope y’all enjoy a bit of a read!

[queenof-literature]

Hero of Wild - Chapter 6

I’m sorry about the delay… again… life really does get in the way sometimes doesn’t it? Anyway, I’m kinda planning my timelines/series as I go along, so if things don’t correlate I will try to fix them later. There’s also been some confusion about my story timelines and why Wild can talk in some stories and not in others. Sorry for the confusion! In my stories if WIld can talk then it takes place after this series which is a work in progress. For any questions to the order of my stories, please visit my Masterlist on my Tumblr, @queenof-literature. Thank you as always for the insane amount of support. Love you all and hope you’re doing well!

**This fic portrays Selective Mutism and trouble with speech how I and my peers have experienced it**

TW: Taunting/Bullying (No slurs), Minor Panic Attack 

Wild was still a mystery. It had been more than a week since Wild had joined their little crew. Sky and everyone else thought they were done receiving heroes, but Hylia still had surprises for them it seemed. Oh well, Hylia did what she thought was best, and Wild was a good person to have around. After the first time they saw him fight that Lynel, no one could deny that. Yet Sky couldn’t help but wonder why Hylia waited so long. Why make Wild more of an outsider than necessary by waiting more than two months to introduce him? Sky knew he would probably never know the answer, Hylia did what she needed to, but it was still something he questioned. They were back in Wild’s Hyrule once again, even though they were just here a week ago. After Wild’s Hyrule the first time, they went to Sky’s, then a random one, then back to Wild’s again for seemingly no reason. Sky hadn’t even gotten to see Zelda before he left his own Hyrule… it was just frustrating. But Sky tried not to let it show, getting mad wouldn’t help anyone. Sky looked back at Wild, who was doing his best to keep his distance from the group. Well as much as he could, Warriors and Twilight seemed to be worried that him and Hyrule would wander off again to ‘shield surf’. 

“Hey Wild?” Sky called out lowly. Wild looked up, eyes full of question and apprehension. He didn’t seem to be in a talk- signing mood today. “Are we still going down the right path?” The Links were currently traveling through a small patch of trees after what Wild had called Proxim Bridge, heading straight towards what seemed to be two large mountains, or one that was split right down the middle. Wild nodded, lifting his hands to sign. 

‘The path is straight through the mountains to the stable.’ Sky remembered Wild telling Time there was a stable after the mountain, but it was unusual for Wild to direct them down a large path. Even knowing him for a little over a week, Sky knew that Wild absolutely hated traveling main roads on foot.

“Okay, thanks Wild.” Sky smiled back at him. Wild had seemed to come out of his head slightly, awkwardly coming up to walk a shorter distance from Sky. The older assumed it was in case anyone else had questions. He didn’t mean to make Wild uncomfortable, he just wanted to be sure they weren’t lost. Wild glanced at him, as if expecting him to make small talk the boy obviously wasn’t comfortable at the moment. “We don’t have to talk, we can just walk.” Sky offered, low enough so only Wild could hear him. The other boy simply nodded, though Sky could see the grateful look in his eyes. 

The group walked in, a mix of lulled conversation and comfortable silence sweeped over them, and it was moments like these that Sky could simply appreciate his surroundings. As they approached the looming cliffs, Sky couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of it all. Wild’s Hyrule was savage and massive and overwhelming, but it was also beautiful. The tall rocky walls reflected the bright afternoon sun, the rocks a deep navy blue instead of ominous gray. 

Sky felt a small tap on his shoulder and looked towards his companion.

“Yes, Wild?” Sky questioned softly, doing his best to not draw attention to them.

‘There’s some monster camps between the cliffs. They usually leave people alone but we need to stay on the path.’ Wild signed to Sky. Even after that small of a conversation, Wild seemed to slump down a little further. It was almost unnoticeable, but Sky was always good at reading people. Wild said the stable was almost directly after the end of the mountain path, so hopefully he would be able to run off and recharge while the rest of the group stayed at the stable for the night. 

“Guys.” Sky called out, gathering the other’s attention. “Wild says that there’s monster camps coming up, but we should be ignored if we stay on the path.” Wild looked slightly flustered that Sky had spoken up for him, but he sent a grateful nod in the older’s direction. 

“When isn’t there a horde of monsters in this Hyrule.” Legend grumbled. No one could really tell if he truly hated Wild’s Hyrule or if he was just being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

“Thanks for the heads up, Wild.” Time interrupted, nodding his thanks to Sky for relaying the message. 

The group continued on along the river, looking up in wonder when they finally entered the enclosed path. 

“Is that a shrine up there, Wild?” Wind pointed widely to the blue glow in the distance. The rest of the group turned their attention on Wild, who squirmed slightly under their gaze.

‘Yes. One here, two on top.’ Wild signed quickly to get their attention somewhere else. Sky wanted to ask about their challenges, since Wild’s trials really interested all of them, but thought better of it when he remembered how uncomfortable Wild seemed in their large group today.

“We sure we should just leave those camps there?” Legend asked, glancing between the screaming Bokoblins and the Lizalfos swimming in the rushing river.

“If you want to fight them all, be my guest.” Warriors snarked. 

“Wild said it’s fine.” Time gruffed, halting that argument before it started. As much as Time wanted to kill any monsters possible to avoid future incidents, in Wild’s land they just seemed to keep coming. Plus the boys were all weary. Even Legend seemed to dread the very idea he brought up.

Wild felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. If they got attacked after Wild explicitly that it would probably be safe, then would they ever trust Wild again? Even if they did, Wild would never forgive himself…

“Is that the stable ahead?” Hyrule asked, glancing at the rustic horse head in the distance. Wild nodded a little dumbly, not noticing how far they had made it. 

“Yes!” Wind yelled, and the group sped up with newfound energy. Stops on their journey were always a relief, no matter how brief they were. 

~

After the group finally emerged from the cliffs above, the stable was in plain sight. The group crossed a flat rickety bridge. It reminded Twilight of the bridges the other children in Ordon would claim had trolls beneath. Wild called it Big Twin Bridge, although it certainly wasn’t big compared to some of the bridges the other Links had seen. 

As they approached the group felt the same warm aura that Wild’s stables seemed to radiate. The first thing Twilight noticed was the pen of animals every stable seemed to have. 

“Are those goats?” Twilight asked Wild, thinking back to the apparent sheep the last stable had. Wild nodded with a small smirk, already knowing Twilight well enough to know the older would go greet the goats when there was time. There were few people at the stable besides the group of nine, but that seemed to be normal for Wild’s Hyrule. Once again, they saw a scrawny young man carrying a beetle shaped bag three times his size.

“Is he everywhere?” Legend whispered incredulously to Warriors.

‘Beetle.’ Wild finger spelled to them.

“Is that his name?” Warriors laughed, only laughing harder when Wild nodded.

~

  “Wild? Are you coming inside?” Four asked, nodding his head to the other Links filing inside the stable to relax around the small table within. Wild shook his head and gestured vaguely to the fire pot. 

“But… Dinner isn’t until a lot later?” Four’s brow furrowed, looking towards the sun in the middle of the sky. 

‘Has to simmer.’ Wild signed fingerspelling the last word Four didn’t recognize, and Four mentally shelved the word for ‘simmer’ he just learned. 

“Okay… but will you come inside after it starts to simmer?” Four questioned, genuinely confused as to why Wild seemed hesitant about going inside. Wild bit his lip then nodded slowly. “Wild… you know that you can do what you need to do in your Hyrule? If you have someone you need to see or something, just let Time or Warriors know. We’ve all had to take care of business in our Hyrule.” Four assured. He couldn’t tell for sure why Wild seemed quiet. Well… more than usual. It didn’t just seem like a bad day like when he and Hyrule went shield surfing, it felt like far more than that. He thought back to his conversation with Hyrule. Perhaps Wild had something to do, but he was too scared to say anything. It was worth a shot. To his dismay, Wild simply smiled a little and nodded. So that wasn’t it, it seemed. 

“Let me know if you need any help.” Four finished, shoving down his disappointment. Hopefully Wild would be able to let someone know if he got too bad… as slim of a chance as it was. Wild signed a quick thank you before heading to the cooking pot.

~

Hylia, he hoped they weren’t here, but he knew they would be. The ‘Treasure Hunting Bros’, still looking for treasure Link had found in under an hour. Link had made the grave mistake of trying to tell them that he had already found it. They gave him the riddle, teasing him, not expecting him to really find it. Even if their arrogance was infuriating, he didn’t want them to spend months, if not years, wasting their time for treasure that wouldn’t even be there if they found it. When he attempted to sign, they rudely waved him off. He hadn’t tried to talk that much to others verbally since he left the shrine. The times he did it didn’t go… well… but he could feel the words on his tongue if he could just push them out, he’d be fine! He tried to approach them, tried to warn them.

“I…” The first word tumbled out of his mouth, hot streaks of pain clawed up this throat. “I… f-foun… I foun-” Link felt frustration and fear only closing his throat more. Why was this so hard? He could feel the words, he could feel his mouth form to say them, why couldn’t he just get them out?

“Uhh, are you okay?” Prissen, the one on the right asked with a laugh.

“Tre-rea-” Link’s words bubbled in the back of his throat only to slur and stutter and eventually die before they even had a chance to leave. 

“You sound like a demented toddler, man. Have some water or something.” Prissen giggled out, and Wild felt his throat flame up even more. Somehow the white hot pain was still so cold.

“I don’t have time for this.” Dak snapped. “Either say whatever you’re babbling about or leave.”

So Wild left.

~

Sky didn’t know whether or not he should be worried about Wild. The boy was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. The newest Link reminded Sky so much of himself it actually hurt some days. Sky had his bad days, but it was better now.

Wild however, he never spoke a single word. No one could touch him without him panicking and reaching for his sword. The group didn’t want to approach him like a spooked animal, but no one was quite sure what to do. Wild didn’t need to talk, or accept hugs and pats on the back to be truly a part of the group. They would accept their Brother of Courage no matter what, but Sky truly was worried there was something deeper going on. Something the Hero of Sky couldn’t fix.

Looking at the boy sitting by the fire outside the stable, Sky felt more lost than he had in a long time. Sky’s eye twitched as once again the two men conversing in the stable got too loud. Their constant whispering and occasional yell was even getting Sky slightly irritated, but there was nothing to do, they were in a public place.

“It’s him.” The one in blue snickered, now that he was paying attention Sky realized that their ‘whispers’ weren’t even secretive at all. Sky wondered who they were even talking about. It seems the one in red had the same question. 

“Who?” The one in red snapped irritably.

“That one!” To Sky’s confusion and worry, he not-so-discreetly pointed directly at Wild outside. The entire group subtly perked up at the mention of their new member. Some in the group were used to praise and whispers, however, this didn’t sound like praise.

“Is that the one that you said sounded and I quote ‘like a demented toddler’.” The one in red asked in a deadpan voice, much to the group's shock. Did that mean what Sky thought it meant? He heard shuffling and expected Warriors to be holding Legend back, he did not expect to turn and see it was the other way around.

“Just wait a second you idiot.” Legend snapped in a low whisper. “We need more information first.” Warriors took a deep breath and sagged slightly. Legend was right, not that he would ever admit it.

“That’s the one!” The one in blue laughed heartily, and Sky felt a rock in his stomach.

“I don’t have time for you to antagonize an imbecile that can’t even talk back.” The one in red warned, and Sky felt his worry turn to anger. 

“He was the one that came up to us last time! Not my fault he couldn’t even get a thought out! Tr-tre-” The one in blue mimicked. Sky felt his ears heating up in anger on behalf of their friend that was clearly being insulted. Glancing over, it seemed not even Time knew if he should speak up or keep quiet. They all seemed to have one thought running through their head: Maybe if they didn’t cause a commotion, Wild wouldn’t notice. But these two certainly weren’t quiet about their hatred towards their new friend.

“You talking about Link?” Four piped up, masking the deadly look on his face. The two patrons in front of them either didn’t notice the glares of the other Links, or they were too stupid to care. 

“That the one cooking out there?” The one in blue asked, smiling arrogantly at the boy outside.

“Yup.” Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.

“Then yeah. That’s the one.” The blue on, Sky had given up on learning his name, smirked. “Dumbass kept interrupting us, stuttering and slurring. Hell, I would have felt bad for the guy if he wasn’t so annoying. There’s obviously something wrong with him.” The loud one luaghed, finding the situation far funnier than eight furious Heroes of Courage.

“That’s it-” Wind growled before lunging forward, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when his middle was caught by Time. 

“If I were you, I’d keep your mouth shut.” Time leveled the man with a glare. 

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with that fre-”, Sky couldn’t tell which glare was more terrifying, Time’s, or Wind’s. 

“I suggest we make a deal.” Warriors’ stone cold voice spoke up. Even the one in red shot out of his thoughts for a moment. “You two stay on the other side of the stable from us, and keep your mouths shut, and we might just do the same.” 

“I suggest you take that deal.” Legend spoke up, icy blue eyes trained on the two men before them. Sky could see the man’s gears turning, the one in blue glanced at the one in red, who was masking his fear far better.

“Fine.” The man in blue spit out, following his brother to the corner of the stable with his tail between his legs, not deeming the fight worth it. 

“Where’s Wild?” Twilight questioned. Sky’s gaze snapped over the place where Wild sat, finding it vacant. Before Twilight could move Sky was getting out of his seat, his chair screeching against the wood floor.

“I’ll talk to him.” Was Sky’s only declaration before he was outside. He knew where this would lead, and he wasn’t going to let Wild suffer alone. 

~

Wild tugged his hood further up, as if that could make all the bad thoughts disappear. They knew now. They knew. Of course Wild knew they would find out eventually. They surely had their doubts about Wild’s lack of speech with the scars on his neck, but Wild wanted it to be on his terms. Not some random assholes in a stable! Wild forced himself to take a deep breath from where he sat on a log that was covered in overgrown moss. He had fled to one of the nearby patches of trees after the conversation that no one even bothered to hide. Four had asked if they were talking about Link. They knew it was him, and they asked to make sure. Would they think he could talk and just… didn’t? Now that they knew would their disappointment in him begin? They had been so nice, too nice. On the other hand, that’s what Wild thought before they made name signs. For him. They made name signs specifically to make it easier on Wild. Deep down he knew the others wouldn’t be so shallow to discard him for this, but it made battles dangerous. If he saw a monster all he could do is let out a pathetic croak as one of his teammates went down. It made conversations around the fire harder too. They were nice enough to try and include Wild, but it sometimes died off when they gave him room to sign. They were trying, and Wild was trying so hard but it’s not enough-

“Wild?” He heard a calm voice call out through the woods. That was Sky. Wild mentally smacked himself. He just left them! No note, no dinner instructions, he just ran away again. Self loathing wasn’t worth it, it never had been, so why did he always run? Maybe he should make some sort of noise to let Sky know where he was, but Wild didn’t even have the energy to do that, as selfish as it was. He just hoped his cloak would stand out against the trees and moss so Sky wouldn’t be searching for long. A few minutes later his hope came true.

“Wild?” A gentle voice asked behind him. Wild didn’t respond, of course he didn’t. He heard footsteps approaching and he pushed down his panic, it was an ally, not an enemy. Wild wanted to look up, but some of him was too ashamed to do so. 

“Wild? Can I sit down?” Sky said when he was finally next to the log. Wild liked Sky, he seemed kind and always asked him things. Questions, opinions, permission to do something like sit down next to him or put his bedroll near his, it made Wild feel a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. Or perhaps a certain kind of warmth he had never truly felt before. Wild simply nodded, not ready to come out of his curled position under his cloak.

“I just came to check on you.” Sky spoke as he sat down on the other side of the log, giving Wild the space the boy needed to think through everything. “What they said… it wasn’t okay Wild. Far beyond okay, it was disgusting.” Wild peered up in surprise at the venom in the other’s voice. Sky took a deep breath and continued. “Wild… can I ask you something? If that oversteps just tell me and I’ll stop or leave you alone.” Sky reassured. Wild thought for a moment. Sky wouldn’t push him, Wild could refuse to answer and the other hero wouldn’t push at all. That was just the type of man Sky was. Wild nodded once again.

“Wild… Can you talk?” Sky asked. It was just a question, just a simple yes or no should have been okay, but instead a rush of ice invaded Wild’s body. Without thinking he lifted his hands into his hair, clutching near the scalp like a lifeline. There it was. He was a damned coward, not even being upfront about why he didn’t talk to the other Links. Wild forced himself to nod his head. 

“Does it… Does it hurt you?” Sky asked hesitantly. Wild nodded again, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Wild. I know it doesn’t help but I’m sorry. I know how frustrating it is.” Wild once again glanced up in shock. He what? “Yeah.” Sky rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking was hard for me when I was younger. I was left at the Knight’s Academy in Skyloft, my home, when I was a baby.” Sky began, looking over to see curious eyes peering from under Wild’s cloak. 

“I was quiet, and even when I talked I barely said anything. It took the teachers a while to figure out that sometimes I just couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know, they just couldn’t make it past my thoughts sometimes. The other kids called me stupid or said my head was in the clouds, but Zelda spoke for me on those days and I appreciated it. It never felt like she was babying me, she just always understood what I wanted to say. I’ve gotten better at getting the words out, but it’s still hard sometimes. The other Links understand, Wild. I know our situations are different, but we’re here for you. I’m here for you.” Sky finished. His final statement said as if it were a fact Hylia herself could not dispute. There was no doubt or uncertainty. ‘We’re here for you. I’m here for you.’ The words echoed in Wild’s head. Wild had thought himself weak, but Sky wasn’t weak. Sky was one of the strongest people he’s ever met and he’d only known the man for over a week. Wild’s hands released his hair slowly, coming to rest in his lap before he raised them.

‘I feel the same. I don’t even know if it’s my scars or if it was always like that.’ Wild panicked at the mention of what was before the Shrine of Resurrection, but Sky didn’t question him. ‘But the words don’t come. I can feel them, I can think them, but they don’t come out!’ Wild finished angrily, his hands flinging to his lap once more.

“It’s frustrating.” Sky stated. It wasn’t a question, nor was it pity, it was a fact they both knew. “If you want, we can work on it.” Sky offered, smiling slightly at the pure shock on WIld’s face.

“Don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Sky assured. “But Zelda and I practiced talking over the years and it helped me. Me, or any of the other Links are willing to help, Wild. It’s an option. Otherwise, none of us mind that you sign. We all have things to work around, it comes with a team.” Wild didn’t even know how to respond. Help him? Team? Those were all new to him.

‘Can I…’ Wild trailed off for a moment. Did he want that? Wild couldn’t even really imagine himself talking. What did he sound like without the claws in his throat? Perhaps Wild wanted to find out.

‘Can I think about it?’ Wild asked, forcing his hands to steady, meeting Sky’s eyes. Eyes that held no judgement or malice, just understanding.

“Of course you can!” Sky assured brightly. “Just let me know if you ever want that, or if you just never want to speak of this again. It’s completely up to you Wild.” It was up to him, not Hylia, or the King, or a destiny he never wanted, it was Wild’s choice. That felt nice.

‘Thank you.’ Wild signed simply, and they both felt the emotion behind it. A few quiet moments passed before Sky spoke up again. 

“Do you want to go back?” Sky asked. Wild bit his lip.

‘I don’t want to face them.’ Wild signed honestly.

“I’m sure the others have made sure you won’t have to deal with those idiots anymore.” Sky thought back to Wind snarling.

‘Not them. The others.’ Wild corrected before turning away. Coming back to an entire group after running away in shame sent cold waves of panic through Wild.  

“Oh… Yeah it’s scary, but after the amount of times Legend has left huffing and cursing I think you’ll be okay.” Sky laughed, feeling ten pounds lighter when he saw Wild’s shoulders shake a little with silent laughter. Wild finally stood slowly, followed by Sky. They began the short trek back to the stable, but one more question still plagued WIld’s mind no matter how much he tried to get rid of it. Wild snapped his fingers to get Sky’s attention.

“Hm?” Sky questioned from his place beside Wild.

‘Why help me? You don’t know me.’ Wild questioned shyly. 

“What do you mean? You’re a Hero of Courage.” Wild winced at that. 

‘You don’t know me.’ Wild emphasized. ‘Not well.’ Sky seemed to think for a moment. 

“That’s true.” Sky confirmed. “But one day or two months, you’re one of us. We’re a group of nine now and it wouldn’t be nine without you.” Sky stated simply, waving at the distant group waiting for them at the stable. 

A group of nine. Wild could live with that.

On this episode of: I Think I’m funny. “Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.” Cuz Four… short… anyway. 

I love Wind so much. He is ready to fight entire armies of Ganon himself to protect his siblings old or new he will square up. 

Also does this mirror my other fic “The Tavern”? Perhaps ;)

Hope you guys enjoyed!   

[writtenfrommybody]

3AM THOUGHTS: SEROTONIN, A MAD WOMANS DRUG

Neurotypical, NeuroNormative, NeuroBalanced

Words I have no relatability to, words I have never tasted.

I wonder who was the first person to define those who saw

Beyond the colours of the rainbow, as mad?

I wonder who coined the term insane, I wonder who made it seem

Like we were tumbling down, just because we could hear

Conversations that would happen between the stars.

Normality seems so mad to me, balance so maddening to me.

I could never understand what is so calming, about hearing

A single tone inside your skull.

My mind is made up of an orchestra, a crescendo, an inferno, an entire

Board of different people.

I see the world in hieroglyphics, everything, means something, beyond the meaning

Of the thing, it is meant to be, meaningful towards.

Definitions are so interesting to me.

I wonder who thought of formulating the dictionary, and what kind of dictator they were

To dictate, how we dissect, the way in which people think.

Mental illness, seems like a weak minded mans word.

A term used by an individual who felt inconvenienced by difference.

I could say that those who have never felt with blinding intensity

Have never truly seen.

I could say that those who have never had layered conversations

In the centre of their mind, are mute.

I could say that those who look at skin and cannot see colours

Seeping out of the very canvas that is their flesh

Have never truly touched.

I could say that those who have never lost track of time

Have never understood the depth of what it means

For the sun to rise and set.

Sanity is laced with vanity, the neurologically sane walk on their

High horses, but in my eyes they are all lying flat on gravel.

My neurons were made to float and tip, kind of like the sea

They crash together, rise and fall.

I have never felt more understood than when I am in a room

Full of people of COLOUR

Skin and bones

Mind and soul.

I adore the way schizophrenics take me to the past, present, future

And mould it into one, like pottery they rotate all worlds

Until they form in the centre of the earth

And everything Is dancing.

I adore the way people who are borderline, try to grab you

By pushing you away, the resistance is exhilarating

And I can always keep up, because I love the heat.

I love the way people with ADHD can grow so lost

In the cracks on the floor, I adore the labyrinth in their mind

I zoom in like they do, and trust me the first person to see a rose rise

From concrete, was someone with ADHD who paused for 2 hours

To peek, into the seeds growing in places no one thought to look for.

I love the way autistic people stim, the way they rock, clap, flap

And coo. The way every feeling is APPARENT, you never have to guess

Sarcasm goes out the door, their literal nature is so grounding to me.

I love the way people with bipolar, look like the middle of the forest

The heat of the desert, the middle of a typhoon, the calmness of a lagoon

The way they speak like the words are tumbling down, except in a contradictory way

They tumble UP, two souls In one body.

I love the way people with DID, are able to dedicate an entire identity to a single trait

Tell me, what kind of mind does one have to posses, to birth 30 people into one body.

I will converse with each one of you, and I will never mix up a single name twice.

You could never see what we see, you call us freaks, yet we are freaked out

By your placid, stable mind.

If we were a museum, we would be contemporary.

If we were music, we would be electric.

If we were art, we would be abstract.

If we were poetry, we would be spoken.

If we were a season, we would be a summer

In the middle of winter

Or an autumn, in the middle of spring.

If we were a colour, we would be magenta blue ( you wouldn’t understand).

I wouldn’t trade my splattered canvas that is a mix between blood and holy water

For a single thing.

I would rather spend the rest of my life, whispering to trees

Dancing with bumble bees

Talking to the faefolk

Having lunch with the crows

Speaking whale

Then live a single day, speaking typical.

Those who call us mad, are just infuriated by the fact that they could not crack us

Even though to them we are nuts.

Some things, are not made to be torn open by just any pair of palms.

Our delicious vulnerability, is only reserved

For hands that glow in the dark

And carry angel dust between their fingers.

As for you, with your hands made of plastic

And ashes, ancient and dead.

Keep them off me and my mind.

In my dictionary, and world of definitions.

I see you, as completely dysfunctional

Sick

Twisted

And absolutely

Insane

For seeing

The sky

As

Blue

Cant you see

That it’s a thousand shades

Of orange and pink

At 12AM?

Or are you still blinded by

Your straight line

And consistency.

How utterly…

Dull…

Grey was made for you

Normies.

We will happily take all the colours there is

Stick to your comfort zone

For we, never felt uncomfortable

In the first place

Except, when we look

At something, as discomforting as you.

Ill seek comfort, with those

Who are seen as deviant

And sit with them, in the temple

Of their holy world.

Where whispering to yourself

Is always

Seen

As a prayer

And never

A curse.

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

There’s a sort of sadness about the situation US! Paige and US! Keith are dealing with.

In underswap they come off as a pair of stable, reliable older children. Keith is very caring, taking on a fatherly role to those younger and older then him, he’s good with people, extroverted and loves animals. Paige is soft spoken but polite, logical and even tempered, a good teacher. Both of them have good grades, get along with others, and have many friends. They are the sort of kids other parents would use as an example to their kids behavior wise.

But their life is FAR from fair. They are still in foster care, their life is constantly unstable. Deep down they’ve both lost the hope that they had when they were five, hope that they’ll ever be adopted, and both of them are preparing for when they turn eighteen and are kicked out of the system. At this point issues that had only been starting to form in them at age five are in full bloom. 

Keith has DSED, or Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder. While it appears that he is just a outgoing kid who makes friends easily, he struggles to make real connections to other people. When making friends, he gets distant and uncomfortable if the person tries to develop a close bond with him then the “caretaker/care takee” routine he is used to. All of his friendships are for the most part surface level, because he struggles to make meaningful attachments with people as he doesn’t believe they will last. The ONLY person he is close to despite this is Paige, and he gets very distressed when separated from her for any amount of time as she is the only stability he has.

Meanwhile Paige has RAD, a separate but related emotional detachment disorder called Reactive Attachment Disorder. She comes off as cold and emotionless due to her inability to express herself normally. She is more specifically the inhibited type. She’s emotionally detached herself from almost everyone in her life to keep herself from being hurt, refuses to show emotion or accept any form of comfort, and can switch between being distant and cold to approachable and warm. She depends greatly on her brother to be the one and only person she can trust. 

Both of these problems are present in the five year old counterparts, but this au is no different besides for age. Had Keith and Paige grown up they would act exactly like US! Keith and US! Paige.

No matter the age, they appear to be the ideal children while deep inside they have severe festering mental disorders, detachment, struggle with empathy and can’t find it in themselves to believe that they can truly trust ANYONE except each other. They’ve only had each other for the longest time. They are dependent on each other, more so then when they were younger. They can’t BE without each other, and if they are their behavior shifts radically. It’s one of the reasons that even as they grew older, they were kept in a co-ed orphanage. They couldn’t last even a week in separate housing facilities, even if they were next doors. Keith would get irrationally sad and so stressed that he stopped doing ANYTHING, and his grades subsequently plummeted. Paige would shut down, not saying a word to anyone and be unable to even SLEEP at night leading to her falling asleep during class.

They. can’t. be. separated. 

[serelia-evensong]

All Possible Truths

Serelia’s head pounds.  Pounding isn’t the right word.  It throbs.  It squirms and twists.  In her several hundred years of life, the woman who was once Quel’dorei, then Sin’dorei, now Ren’dorei, has experienced many sorts of headaches.  The minor aches and pains of every day life.  The withdrawal of caffeine.  The dull ache of too much to drink, and waking with a dehydrated body.

Nothing ever felt the way the Void feels.  Headaches can be described in so many ways, but the one she experiences today feels like a nest of worms writhing and squirming at the base of her neck, where spine meets skull.  The kind of pulsing moving ache that makes a person want to dig nails into their skin and attempt to rip out whatever can be found beneath.

It’s controlled, most days.  Since she lost her natural sight, since the Void ‘augmented’ the woman it claims as its own, she has focused her life on strict structure.  When you can see every possible reality all at once, it becomes difficult beyond measure to know what is true.  So she walks the same paths.  Trains the same places.  Drinks at the same seat in the bar.  She keeps eyes squeezed shut often, when the magic in her glasses can’t filter out the truths the Void wishes to show her.

In these ways, she stays sane, keeps the headaches and confusion at bay.  The Mage District.  The Canals.  The Golden Keg.  The Brawlpub hidden beneath it.  Old Town.  Training grounds.  The stall at the market that sells baking supplies.  She has an acute mental map that keeps her stable, filled with immutable facts that hold the Void’s madness at bay.

Today, she is in Westfall, a place she hasn’t been since she fought Percival what feels like a lifetime ago.  In truth, in her long lived life, it was barely a flicker, two years, give or take.  It feels longer, but regardless, Westfall is not a part of her mental map, so the headache writhes.

Going through her flows, the methods of control of body, mind, and spirit taught by the Panderan helps.  At least until a voice calls out, breaking through the meditative calm of her practice.

“Well, and here I thought I had come across something valuable,” the voice is echoed and metallic, altered by the metal mask the Warlock wears.  “Instead, it’s just one of the filthy pets of the crown who had the stupid idea to come after me.  On another bounty hunt to reclaim something that now belongs to me?”

In the space between where Serelia moves from pose to pose, eyes squeezed shut, and the Warlock calls out to her, she can tell there are Demons.  The pair of stalkers makin space between them, perhaps just his defense, or perhaps meant to menace.

She finishes her current sequence, a series of strikes at the air meant to keep an opponent off guard and off balance, before she lets her body ease.  She turns towards him, empty eyes opening, feet slightly apart, hands clasping at her mid back as she adopts a Military parade rest and takes in Percival.  “Come after you to reclaim something?  No, and of the crown?  Not in years.  I left my service to the Holts long ago,” a smile curves on her unpainted lips.  “Not many noble houses with a lot of need for a blind guard, though it turns out, even when you can see every possible reality, you’re still the scum at the bottom of a barrel in all of them.”  A hand leaves her back, moving to glide fingertips along the right arm of her glasses, dialing in the magic that helps focus her vision.

“Ha,” the barked laugh reverberates and echos with Percival’s mask.  He makes a gesture, any number of gestures, and the hounds, imps, succubi, eyes, whatever demons escort him, enter a state of rest.

“Blind as you may be, seems you finally see the truth of Stormwind; of humanity.  Once they see your darkness, you’re something to be thrown away and forgotten.  It’s almost poetic.”  He too adopts a position of comfort, one of either bravado or ease with hands behind his back.

What she tries not to let show is how badly she’s trembling.  The shudder in her body, the pain at the back of her head.  Having eyes open and putting on this little show of bravado is exposing herself to chaos.  She sees the man in the metal mask.  An old man.  A young man.  A shambling corpse.  A Nathrezim.  He walks amongst lush fields of wheat.  Of dead and dying grasslands.  Amidst bowing and adoring followers.  Amidst the dead and dying, bodies on stakes.  Her trembling hand continues its movement along the arm of glasses, attempting to dial in the things she knows are true.  The man in the metal mask.  Golden dying fields.  The pain at the back of her head squirms in protest.

Hand drops from the arm of glasses, settling back into Parade Rest.  There’s nothing more she can do to focus her vision, settling for occasionally closing her eyes to quiet the void.  "I was surprised when Stormwind took us in at all in the first place...but then, they needed soldiers for the fight they wanted to spin up for the Horde. Our so called leaders seemed eager enough to give them that so...smart move."

None of this banter is why she’s here.

“It’s been a long time Percival, though not nearly long enough in my years.”

“Not long enough, and yet you’ve come back to the last place we crossed paths.  So either it’s mere coincidence that we happen to be in this wasteland of a region at the same time.  Or you’ve come lookin for me.  As a gambling man, my money is on the latter.  What do you want?”  Percival sees through Serelia.  It’s true, there’s no reason for the blind mother to be in a place like this, other than to seek the man who still hunts it.

“You’re right, I sought you out.  Much as I hate you...and in particular the...little gifts you had sent my way over the last few years.”  She shudders a little, though tries not to show it, thinking on the parts that arrived on her doorstep.  The man has a sick sense of humor.  “I still think you might have value to me.”

“And here I was worried they’d be lost in the mail,” Percival’s reply is marked with another laugh reverberating from within the metallic mask that hides his face.  “At least Stormwind’s postal service is reliable!”  The laugh becomes a veritable cackle.  

It cuts off abruptly though like a switch shut off, all seriousness retaking him as his mask focuses squarely on Serelia.  “So then.  What do you want?”

“Knowledge,” Serelia replies, remaining at comfortable ease, even as she trembles and writhes inside.  Her headache squirms.  “The rumors say that on top of whisking away innocents, and stealing the journals of young maidens,” as if anyone would actually call Rian that, “that you amass knowledge of all sorts of magic.   You’re not my first choice, but where others have failed, maybe you won’t.”

“The rumors are true,” Percival confirms as he closes the distance.  No longer wishing to shout, or perhaps continuing to show bravado in the face of one of the few people on this world who have gotten close enough to do him real physical harm.  “Unlike some wizards you might have spoken with, I learn about all magics.  Taboo or otherwise.”  The hounds part to flak the Ren’dorei, pincering her, creating a half circle of danger around the woman, but conspicuously leaving her rear free.  Perhaps a push to make her flee, to test her resolve.

“What makes you think I’d share anything with the woman who stabbed me?  You say I’m of value to you.  What value are you to me?”  The words don’t surprise Serelia.  She was prepared for him to try to make a deal of this.  It doesn’t stop a hint of a smirk at the memory of her hand razors sinking beneath his armour.

“If you have the knowledge that helps me control this,” Sere briefly lifts a hand from her back once more, indicating her eyes as they open wide again, revealing in full the dark endless nothing like bottomless wells in her face, “I would be willing to consider sharing my sight with you.  The Void shows reality in its fullness.  I see through illusions, through disguises, through hidden things both magic and mundane.”

Her hand returns to her back, and she ignores the threats around her, holding her ground.  Serelia has lived a long and dangerous life, survived every War that has hit Azeroth in the last two hundred years.  “I’m sure someone of your means and breadth could find a use for that.”

“Clairvoyance in exchange for control, an interesting proposition.”  Percival nods, seeming to truly consider the offer on the table.  “Well I can tell you now.  I don’t have the answer you’re after with me.  I may be a polymath of magic, but I’m still a summoner first.  But I may have something of value that could help you gain some sense of control over your dark powers.”

There’s every impression the man must be hiding something, but whatever it is isn’t visual, not on any spectrum the Void sighted woman can see.  It doesn’t matter, she always knew this deal would come with strings and complications.  It’s why he’s a last resort.

“You have your deal with this devil, Miss Evensong,” Percival proclaims, extending a hand out to her to shake and bind it.

For the briefest moment, Serelia considers attacking.  It would be easy to take advantage of their proximity.  Her vision shows it to her too.  She sees her hand lunge out, razors snapping into her palm.  Sees the spurt of blood fountaining in her vision as it slips beneath his jaw.  Into an armpit, through a weak joint at the hip.  None of it is real, and she doesn’t act on it, at the end of the day while she might kill him, there’s no assurance she wouldn’t get herself hurt in the process, and she won’t risk denying Zara of her mother.

“I don’t see that we can ever be allies,” her hand clasps with his, firm and calloused from a lifetime of combat, “but the knowledge I need comes from darker places than I have access to, and I’m comfortable paying for it in service.  So we have our deal.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Percival’s words are curt, and he turns on his heel, giving her his back.  She doesn't act on it.  “I’ll meet you here, at this exact spot, in two days time,” his voice carries back towards her, he holds up a hand and what she can guess is two fingers, in spite of the magical tuning of her glasses starting to lose further focus as possible realities splinter off.  “And feel free to bring a bodyguard or two.  I certainly shall!”

A sharp whistle pierces the air, and the demons that follow Percival rustle the dried grasses of Westfall as they heel to his side, and he walks from view.

Serelia sees him leaving too, and in every possible way.  Dozens on dozens of Percivals in different shapes and sizes and forms mount, and portal, and sprint, and walk.  Multitudes on multitudes, but in common...all of them leave.  None turn and attack, none stay to kill her.  The void doesn’t seem to consider that that reality existed in this moment.  Interesting.

“Two days,” spoken quietly to herself as she turns from the spot to head up the road towards Elwynn, and home.  

One card has been lain on the table.  There’s still another to pursue during the two day wait.  A name whispered and rumored amidst underground fighters and illegal combat rings.  A woman who fights unlike any other, who whispers say fights like she has precognition, like every movement of her opponents is visible and known to her before they even make them.  ‘Darah’.  It’s not much to go on, and legends rarely prove to be as true and as large as stories make them.  Serelia though, is sure her time is limited, and wild rumors make firm allies of the desperate.

Her headache squirms.

[ Written alongside @thalsianiii; vague allusions to @kat-hawke​ ]

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 180

180

Lance cleaned. He cleaned like a vampire possessed. Nothing escaped his cleaning. From the top of the house to the bottom was vacuumed, mopped, scrubbed, washed, packed and organised. He didn’t stop for sleep. The door to the nursery was shut. The room taboo in the household. Every trace of Keith’s scent was washed away. Keith’s things packed up neatly. Some things slightly tear damaged and a photo frame may now be glassless as it’d been hurled out the bedroom window in a fit of anger. Kosmo didn’t escape. He got bathed, groomed, nails clipped, and bedding washed. Blue got extra wet food, plenty of snuggles, and carried around as she protested loudly.

Stripping his bed, he told himself he was being stupid sleeping with so many blankets. He was a grown man, and grown men didn’t act this way. He also didn’t stop limiting his strength. Able to lift most furniture one handed as he vacuumed, then again as he ran the mop over the floor. Frustrated at the lack of speed with human appliances, he’d nearly hurled the washing machine outside in a fit of rage when the rinse cycle took too long. If Keith couldn’t love him any more, he needed to stop relying on him and believing in love like a dumb teen. Show after show was deleted from his watch lists. He’d have deleted the whole section off streaming if he could have. Matt and Rieva were in Platt so Keith could get used to their scents before the moon, leaving him alone, after asking Pidge and Hunk for some space and time to rest up.

Every single particle of his house reminded him of Keith. Every joke they’d shared. Every dumb plan they’d made. The scratches in the floorboards from where Keith tried to kill him. All the good times. By the time he was done, the only scent in the air was the “pine fresh” scent of aerosol disinfectant and cat poop from Blue’s litter tray. When the house was clean, he started baking. In all his cleaning, he’d forgotten Keith’s favourite coffee cup. Seeing it sitting next to the coffee machine, he missed the other half of his soul that didn’t seem to exist any more.

*

Keith... Keith didn’t know what to make of the world anymore. Fangs. Claws. Yellow eyes. A rage inside him that couldn’t be contained. He didn’t know left from right. Everyone was a foe. Everyone including the one person who absolutely hadn’t been. Lance. Lance who smelt like something he wanted to roll in. Lance who’s egos made him all weird and jumpy, and this weird other messed up self mad for no reason that he could understand. He didn’t know it’d be like this. This... this existence. He didn’t know this and he didn’t know himself anymore.

He was scared. He was scared of the world. He was scared of himself. Lance came and said a lot of things to him, and he didn’t get it. Lance was being kind and sweet, but he was just so angry. He hated this. Lance hated him. Then Lance loved him. Then Lance was leaving. Then Lance wanted him at the scan. Then he didn’t. Then he was gone. And he didn’t get it. He didn’t get why he opened his mouth and said the wrong thing. He’d driven Lance away from him. They’d been so happily in love. Every single touch radiated love. He didn’t really remembered mad at Lance. Coran said that was coma related and okay. He just... didn’t... How could he be around Lance when he was this mad?

Starting small, Keith wasn’t allowed out the medical wing. He’d Shiro twice. The third time he couldn’t look at him. His ego saying some not so nice things about his brother. He got Shiro didn’t want him to die and that he’d thought this Keith’s only chance. But Lance didn’t like him like this. He didn’t like him like this. Everything was too much, but it didn’t stop coming and he didn’t know what to do. He was being too blunt. Krolia had tried to have a conversation with him, but then he’d gotten all cranky and before he knew it he’d broken the hospital table in front of him. He couldn’t do anything right. He just... wanted Lance. He wanted Lance to fix things. To fix him. The furthest he’d gone since turning was down the hall and back again, to get him used to sounds. God. He hated sounds. He didn’t see how he’d ever get used to things he’d never noticed before. As he sat waiting patiently, he could see Coran on the phone outside the room. He looked worried and Keith knew he’d taken the call outside so Keith couldn’t hear what he said. They were probably organising his execution order instead of letting him go see Lance.

Letting himself back into the room, Coran looked upset. He smelt funny. If old man had a scent that smelt slightly like mushrooms were growing on him, that’d be the closest thing to Coran’s scent he could come up with. Sitting down, Coran rested his head in his hands. This was Lance related and Keith fucking knew it. His ego disgustingly annoying. How could it be okay with Lance hurting, and hurting for Lance? How Matt, Rieva, and Lance made a family, he didn’t know

“What is it? He doesn’t want me there, does he?”

With a pained groan, Coran raised his head. The man seemed as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. Actually, this had to make the top 20 times he’d seen Coran stressing

“Well. What happened?!”

Keith had noticed he’d turned into Krolia 2.0 with the bluntness. He could see why werewolves were thought of as dicks, because he felt like a bag of ducks deserving a dick punch

“I’m sorry, my boy. I think you may have to stay here. Rieva and Matt returned home today... Lance has had a bit of a breakdown”

What did Lance have to be having a breakdown over?! He wasn’t suddenly a werewolf. There went this stupid poxy new ego of his. He didn’t like it

“What do you mean?”

“He’s cleaned the house and shut himself up in his office”

That didn’t sound that unusual. Lance took pride in his house being neat and organised. Plus Pidge and Hunk would keep him from going too far into his head

“He left two days ago”

Keith wanted to shut up. Why did he have to be so angry? Why did his ego see Lance hitting the end of his mental rope as weak. Lance wasn’t weak at all. He was strong, kind and very beautiful. Why did every emotion have to be anger. Happy, nope, better glare at the world. Confused, whelp, better snap. Actually angry, here came the growls, snarls, and claws. Lance was beautiful. But suffered from low self esteem and anxiety. He knew that... But how did he know that? He wasn’t Keith anymore. He shouldn’t know things about human Keith’s life.

“Yes. It seems he told Hunk and Pidge he came to rest, cleaned the house, and locked himself away, instead of resting. Rieva said he’s stripped and remade his bed”

What was wrong with that? That’s what he normally did

“I must go to him”

“He’s probably just working”

“Keith, you misunderstand. Rieva said he’s... not in a good state”

“Lance loves cleaning”

“His bed only had one blanket on it. He’d denying himself the comfort of a nest, and gone against his instincts to nest. The staff barely managed to bring him out of labour. He doesn’t know how close he truly came to things being too late. I fear he wishes to do something very stupid. He called Curtis, asking if Curtis had ever heard of vampire returning to being a human”

Why would Lance want to be human again? Okay. Lance had always wanted to be human again. But he couldn’t carry the twins if he was human. His ego didn’t like that. It kind of liked the twins. It was a weird feeling. Like pride and confusion. What did Lance gain from being human. He wouldn’t...

“He wants to be human again because of me”

“I fear so. Curtis called Rieva, not knowing she and Matt were returning. They’ve both being commuting for work as it was. Lance feels that you cannot love him because he’s a vampire”

Keith let out a shaky breath. Ego angry. Him... shaken. That didn’t sound safe or sane. Two weeks was a lifetime when their lives were so messed up..

“If you’re going to see him, can I come?”

Coran lifted his head

“I don’t know, my boy. You’re still going through the changes of being turned. Your ego is currently unpredictable...”

“But Lance is hurting!”

With a shaky breath, Coran let his head drop again

“He’s been hurting for a long time. He didn’t wish the turn upon you. He and Shiro haven’t spoken to my knowledge since you woke. He requested we not be mad at Shiro, knowing Shiro was in an impossible situation with me unable to do anything. I tried all I could. But each time I adjusted your quintessence you had a negative effect. Initially when you were comatosed, Lance’s presence kept you stable. You seemed to know he was there, despite that being quite impossible. He made you a nest, gathered things of comfort, trying to make this transition less scary for you. But as strong as he is, he couldn’t help but lose his cool when it came to you. He combatted his depression staying by your side to care for you. He still loves you a great deal. Any actions you perceive were done in pity, were done in with great love and respect. He knew his presence may lead to insanity by overwhelming you with his own ego, that is the sole reason he left. He placed your health and needs above his own... It was agonising to watch”

And what had he done? Lost his cool because he didn’t know why there now felt like were two of him in his body? Told Lance he wanted to die? That he’d rather be dead than with him

“I hurt him”

“I spoke with Allura. Lance understands. He too went through the change, though he was much younger and slept longer before waking. Vampires also don’t rely on the first full moon to stabilise their egos. She said Lance was most distraught over having broken your trust in him”

This was what Keith didn’t get. How Lance could love him when he wasn’t Keith anymore. Lance smelt weird, but maybe it wasn’t a bad kind of a weird. It was kind of a weird that made him want to roll around in it

“Coran. I don’t know. He loved Keith. I’m not Keith anymore”

Coran chuckled, the sound turning deep into a proper laugh. Trying to recompose himself, the fae wiped at his eyes as Keith clenched his hands, angry automatically

“Sorry, lad. If you’re not Keith, then I don’t know who you are. Just because you’re now a werewolf doesn’t mean you’ll forget being human, or have a whole new identity. You’re still Keith, you just Keith with a little extra now. Goodness me, don’t tell me you’ve been fighting with your memories. You’re still you, my boy! Yours and Lance’s quintessence are still very much connected. That may have wavered but it’s still there. Fancy thinking you weren’t Keith. That would be like Matt not being Matt. I will say, once the moon passes you will notice I real change in my our ego”

Keith felt like of how Kosmo looked each time he had to scold him. He didn’t know how this worked. All Lance’s explanations on ego seemed lacking, not that Lance hadn’t tried, he’d thought he got. He didn’t. He was so tired of being angry, but was angry at himself for being angry so it was kind of like being stuck in an infuriating loop

“So I’m still me?”

He didn’t feel like him. He wouldn’t be so angry at Lance if he was him

“You are, my boy. I know it’s very scary right now, but things will be better. You managed not to snarl at Matt the last time he visited. That’s excellent progress for a wolf who wasn’t been touched by the moon”

He hadn’t liked being visited. He felt like a caged animal on display

“Will this anger ever go away?”

“With time. Oh, dear. We really must be going to see Lance. Any later and you’ll transform in the car. I’m most anxious to drive again today. I’ve been practicing”

*

Coran still couldn’t drive. Keith frustrated and feeling quite ill well before leaving city limits. The restlessness he felt seemed to have turned his stomach into a pit of snakes. He could hear the way the car gears screamed in abuse each time Coran tried to change gear. This was not fun. Maybe it’d have been safer for him to stay at VOLTRON for his first full moon. Matt and Rieva always seemed to be particularly horny and energised before it happened, but they weren’t douches to Lance like he’d been. He hadn’t even asked Coran for a phone to talk to Lance, as Lance had suggested he did. The amount of faith a vampire seemed to have in him made his ego go all weird. How was he supposed to be with Lance if he seemed to hate the mere fact his boyfriend existed?

And that was another thing. Were they still boyfriends? Like, boyfriend boyfriends? Or estranged boyfriends? Lance didn’t come see him until Shiro went running to him. His Lance would have flipped the world off and stayed. This Lance wasn’t acting right. Like Lance was mad and he could feel it in the air. He didn’t get it. If this was his Lance, than why did he have to be mean and cruel to feel better? He felt like everyone who’d ever bullied him had taken over his body and now he enjoyed inflicting pain as much he did.

Reaching Lance’s house, things felt stranger than ever. He knew the house. He knew the drive. He knew it, but it was as if he was seeing everything all over again. The sounds of nature made him feel as if he had that chirping arsehole symphony of cicadas playing just for him. He could smell cow shit... something dead... Lance... as well as two werewolves. Lance always said they smelt like wet dog. He supposed there was a definite trace of that. Matt didn’t smell awful, but he did smell like he needed to be on guard around him. Rieva smelt nicer. Like flowers and girly shit... and stuff. Matt was pretty growly too. Apparently sniffing someone’s mate was a no go, even if you’re only trying to tell your ego that they’re not a threat.

Opening the door, Kosmo came bounding out. His precious boy all paws and no grace as he crashed into Keith, knocking him on his arse as he took a paw to his junk

“Kosmo!”

Kosmo yipped as he gave exactly zero fucks, pushing Keith down and laying on top of him. What the hell was this? Kosmo had knocked him down in the past, but wasn’t he supposed to be a powerful werewolf now. And why was he laying on him. Coming out the house, Rieva came jogging over, Keith growling at her sending Kosmo bolting away from him with his tails between his legs

“That’s enough out of you. Coran, thank you for coming. Keith... what are you thinking letting Kosmo climb on you? He’ll never respect you as his owner if you let him boss you around”

Keith spluttered. His ego bruised enough over being taken out Kosmo

“Me? He knocked me down!”

Rieva placed her hands on her hips as she stared down at him

“Because he’s missed his human. He’s been glued to Lance’s side until Lance shut him out the office. Coran, I think it’s best you go see Lance right away. The sun will be setting soon and Keith needs a run down on what to expect”

Coran took the weirdness in his stride. All their friends were so goddamn weird

“Right you are, my girl! Matt not here?”

“He’s around the back trying to stop Lance if he tries to climb out the window. I did tell him Lance was too pregnant to be running off, but you know Matt”

“I’ll make sure to talk some sense into Lance. You two enjoy your run. Please don’t let Keith do anything stupid”

“Coran, you know Keith. He and Lance are very stupid”

Coran winked at the pair of them

“In all the right ways. Rightyo, I’ll see you two later”

Left with Rieva, Keith continued to stare up at her. He’d only come to see Lance, this whole moon thing made little sense

“Stop staring. You’ll be changing soon, and I suggest you not do it in the drive way”

“I’ll be changing?”

“You’ll be meeting your wolf side tonight. The first step is getting naked”

Oh no. Not more nudity. He wasn’t okay with the nudity

“I... uh...”

Rieva thrust her hand out

“You can’t deny it. You feel the energy don’t you? We feel it. Like there’s electricity in your body with no where for it to go”

“How do you know?”

Rieva rolled her eyes at him

“I’ve been a werewolf for years now. I think I know when I meet a newly turned wolf. Though you are rather sane so that does make talking easier”

“I don’t feel very sane”

“You’d be feeling differently if you weren’t. Tearing at your own skin by now. I was not entirely convinced in Coran’s methods, but you have definitely changed”

“What methods? He had someone bite me while I was unconscious”

“He did no such thing. He even chose a different werewolf at the request of Lance, trying to spare you the awkwardness of having one of us sure you. Now, out to the back with you. Unless you want your clothes destroyed when you turn”

Reluctantly Keith took Rieva’s hand. He didn’t feel like he was going to turn into anything. He just felt... cranky. Scowling at Rieva, Rieva ignored his mood, leading him off behind the house.

Matt gave up his window duties when Keith and Rieva came around the corner. Kalternecker letting out a lazy moo, eyeing him with zero interest

“Keith! Oh, man! Look at you. How do you feel?”

“Cranky”

“I remember my first time. Rieva turned me on a moon, so I was lucky there. We’ll have you back to normal soon enough”

“Matt, be nice. He’s still developing his ego. Keith, how do you feel?”

“Like I want to punch myself in the dick”

Rieva giggled at him

“We’ll the moon is in the sky. But you really do need to strip off. It won’t be long now”

“Can I not?”

“And have Lance sew your clothes back together? I think he’s having a hard enough time as it is. The house has never looked cleaner”

“Lance cleans all the time”

“Ah, but this time he cleaned Blue’s litter tray twice, before crying when she messed it up a third time. Now, clothes off!”

Keith hid himself behind Lance’s roses to strip. Matt and Rieva not caring as they stripped off in the backyard. Matt scolded for not picking up his clothes. Keith didn’t get how Matt’s ego could take it... and look happy about it. Whistling as he dropped his pants, Keith glared at Rieva who clapped her hands

“Take it off!”

“Fuck off”

Matt chuckled at him. Keith wanted to thump him

“Oooh, this is going to be so much fun. Have you gone over ground rules?”

Rieva shook her head

“Not yet. But you can, if you’d like?”

“Okay, man! Listen up. Rieva is my mate. She sets where we go and how far we go. If we get horny, you go away. I’m not to blame if you come too close to my mate. That’d be like me watching you and Lance have sex... actually, that wouldn’t be too bad, but it’d be more like me being in the middle of it and I’d prefer to keep my balls. You stay with us. If you get lost, stay where you are. We can sniff you out. You don’t come back to the house until the sunrises again. No chasing humans and no going near town. Pack playing is a thing. We fight and we bite, but it’s not to hurt each other. Oh! Don’t wake Lance up. And don’t try to hump a stray dog... What am I forgetting?”

“The most important thing. You’ll be overwhelmed. You’ll want to run. Let yourself run. It’s good for you. It gets the good feelings going. You’ll only be able to partly control your ego, so you’ll howl and do all sorts of wolf things that you don’t need to be embarrassed about. You’ll probably feel really horny too”

This didn’t sound fun. Rieva and Matt kept staring at him

“What?”

“We’re waiting for you to come out of there”

“I don’t think I want to”

“Dude, get used to the nudity. Babe, can I shift now?”

“If you want to. I can watch Keith”

“As long as that’s all you do”

Rieva wrapped her arms around Matt, the pair sharing a very passionate kiss. He used to kiss Lance like that. He missed Lance. Why couldn’t Lance be a werewolf? Then he’d be able to be with him... Shifting into a wolf, Keith noticed things he hadn’t noticed before when the pair had turned. Like the way Matt’s bones cracked in a way that sounded like agony. Lance looked so cute when he “batted out”. A little ball of anger that fit nicely under Keith’s chest and fed off his fingers with those razor sharp teeth of his.

Nudging at Rieva’s leg, Rieva ruffled the fur between Matt’s ears

“I’ll join you soon. Why don’t you race to the back fence and back, warm up a bit for tonight?”

Matt nudged up into Rieva’s hand, before fixing Keith in the gaze of his yellow eyes. Keith feeling like someone had doused him in cold water. Rieva was Matt’s mate. If he touched her, Matt would tear his throat out. How this was going to be fun, Keith didn’t know.

Uncomfortable being naked, Keith sat on the grass. Blades stabbing into his bare arse as he hugged his knees to his chest and waited for something to happen. His butt felt wet and he didn’t like it. With his keen sense of smell, he knew he wasn’t sitting where Matt had peed. He’d never noticed how much things smelt. From outside he could smell the scent of tea on the air. He’d heard Lance answer the door to Coran. Lance knew he was here, but he hadn’t come out... and Keith didn’t like it

“Stop thinking. Let the feeling build”

Easy for Rieva to say. She wasn’t stuck in this weird arse situation. Looking back at the house, he wanted Lance to appear in the doorway

“He won’t come out. It’s safer for him and your twins to stay inside”

“He doesn’t even want me here”

Rieva smacked his arm

“Don’t be stupid”

“He wanted to know how to be human again. He doesn’t like me like this”

“He adores you”

“That’s why I’m here and he couldn’t care less”

“If you’re going to be like this, I’ll leave you alone for your first turn”

“No one asked you stay! Go on then”

“Damn it. We both know I wouldn’t. Being a werewolf isn’t too terrible”

“Says you”

“Yes. Says me. Both Matt and I enjoy a relative non limiting normal life. It is possible... oh, I’m going to shift... I can feel the changing coming. It’ll hurt for your first time, but as fast as your body is breaking, it is healing. The more you change your form, the less it’ll hurt”

Rieva shifted into her wolf form, howling at Matt who was running around like an idiot. It disturbed Keith that he could see the pair. Running over to his mate, he tackled Rieva down, Rieva nipping at Matt’s ear, before looking at Keith as if to ask him why he hadn’t turned. How should he know? He was sitting. The slimmest line of red had already disappeared. Maybe he was broken wolf? That’d be hilarious. And just about on par with his life. Opening his mouth to the tell pair to fuck off, he felt the bones in his hands start to shift, horrified as his skin slowly rippled and tuffs to fur pushed through. The pain was immense, yet he couldn’t help but scream when that pain hit his chest and he could literally feel his ribs cracking. Rieva was right. The pain was weird, he could feel it, then came this almost rush of release on its heels.

Turning for the first time took time. His body writhing on the grass before the pain finally left and he was left feeling limp. Looking down to his hands, he saw big black paws. With all the grace of Kosmo after taking a thermometer up the butt, Keith rose to his feet, everything seemed so much bigger, clearer... with a growl, he got that Matt wanted him to follow him. Keith trying to work out how to move his legs. He felt like he looked like one of those cats from the videos where the owner puts cardboard rolls on their legs and they walk funny. He didn’t like it. He swayed like he was drunk. He could smell way too much. The dew on the grass. The birds in the trees... and his hearing... He could hear the TV on in the house, but somehow knew Lance wasn’t watching it. Miserably failing at walking, his legs got tangled and he fell.

Matt didn’t laugh at him. Keith confused by the fellow wolf’s actions as he trotted over started pushing into Keith’s side. Oh. Matt was trying to get him back on his feet... his feet that felt weirdly big. They’d said he’d lose control... was he supposed to be thinking in wolf? Was he thinking in wolf and his brain translating to human? Or was he thinking in wolf and just knew what it meant? Raising his moist nose, he sniffed the air. Something smelt really, really good... and he wanted to pee on it. Growling at him, Matt practically shoved him onto his feet. Keith stretching out each step. He knew how to human walk, but four legs... they didn’t move like his arms and legs. His ego was laughing at him. Mocking him. It was so weird. It didn’t have an actual voice yet he understood it so clearly. He was a wolf. He was a werewolf. Top of the chain. His actions were disgracing himself and the werewolf community.

Not moving fast enough, Matt nipped on his ear. Keith letting out a whine so pathetic he wanted to be scooped up like when Kosmo was a puppy and carried around. He could scent Lance way too clearly. His ego like “Who the fuck is this!?”, while his heart longed to see Lance and show him he’d made it through to this stage. Casting his gaze up to the moon, he really could feel something there. An imaginary tug. Almost as if the moon was so much closer to Earth than it should be. He couldn’t see the craters on the moon, yet it shone pretty damn prettily up there in the blue black inkyness of the sky.

Moving back to his side, Rieva nudged his front foot with her equally wet nose. Matt growling at the pair of them as Keith breathed in her scent. Parts of him were tingling, but not for her. What was this? 30 seconds in and he was horny? Is that what it was always like? He could smell Matt wanted Rieva as badly as Rieva wanted Matt. He wanted to bite Matt, but this was all so weird. Nudging his foot again, Keith took a cautious step forward, stretching out his leg then not sure how to make the rest of his body reach his front paw. The grass was squishy... squishy and he could feel the grains of sand against his paws. He didn’t like it. His body wanted to run, but there he was... not even able to walk. Whining sadly, Rieva huffed, knocking into him, and making him fall back over. Why did he have to have four legs?! No one needed four legs! Is this why octopi had 8. Because four sucked?

Rieva and Matt ended up boxing him in. Keith moving his legs to match their steps. He felt huge compared to them. Their paws seemed nicer than his huge black ones. His huge black ones just wanted to trip him over... He must have got the hang of it though, before he knew he’d done it, he’d reached the back fencing with the pair of them. Casting a glance back at Lance’s, he could still pick up traces of Lance. He didn’t want to cross the fence line, but his new pack gave him no choice. Rieva going first to show him how it was done, then when he failed and got his legs tangled up again, Matt grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him over the wooden fencing and off towards the wooded area in the distance.