#THE FIRST GAME WAS ALL ABOUT PEACE AND FINDING HIMSELF AND SOLITUDE

[cosbeans]

on god everyone shut up the totk trailer

[frost-felon]

Musing on Kashimo. I didn't originally find his character interesting, but 238 made me want to look into what Gege was going for with him. After some review, my conclusion is that he's constantly dissatisfied. Not because he's just a Fight Junkie™, but rather because if what Sukuna is saying is true (and Kashimo doesn't deny it), then Kashimo wants to treat others with care, but doesn't know how.

Fundamentally, violence can excite him (as much as it can be boring, like he implies many of his fights before Hakari were), but it can't bring him peace. Sukuna, to Kashimo, is "perfection". Why? Is it because Sukuna is unbothered? Or because Sukuna doesn't feel ill at-ease alone? Maybe it's just wanting a perfect body and a perfect soul, but given how Kashimo is looking away when Sukuna says he's greedy for being troubled by solitude when slaughtering others, I think it's deeper than that. Kashimo keeps his eyes closed, but makes what looks to be a grimace/smirk combo when Sukuna explains his own philosophy.

Using his Cursed Technique meant dying, and Kashimo used it to try and find an answer for his issues with connecting to others, and the pursuit of power. But I don't think Sukuna's answer satisfied him.

When Kashimo lived 400 years ago, he chose a path of bloodshed that left him as a small, dying man amidst carnage, with Kenjaku's words as a final temptation. In the Culling Games, Kashimo once again chose slaughter, forgoing connection, until he met Hakari and found someone he could find surprise and satisfaction (delight, even) in. In the times Hakari seemed to be perishing, Kashimo deflates, first expressing boredom, then resignation (and perhaps loss). After giving Hakari a chance to do unto Kashimo as he had done to others, Hakari chooses to make a deal with him.

The expressions Kashimo makes throughout and after the fight are quite interesting. He's drawn as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, and clings to the goal he made in the last moments we saw of his first life. He's confused at Hakari's claim of getting another to obey by being his senpai (Yuji), which he mistakes for being Sukuna's senpai. But he doesn't voice this.

Ultimately, in his third chance at discovering himself, he chooses his goal of fighting Sukuna to the death, foregoing any future chances, and leaving the connections he could have made behind. In those moments where he converses with Sukuna, my interpretation is that he regrets it. In his final death, he realizes that he'd traded away his remaining chances to connect with others, so as to allay his fears of the unknown with the familiarity of battle and imagined purpose.

It's a negative character arc, where Kashimo chooses a lie (the thrall of battle) at the expense of growth and self-fulfillment (finding companionship and learning how to care for others). I don't think it's a perfect fit, and obviously there is a silly air to it, but the theme song for "Private Pure Love Train" does describe Kashimo's mentality and character arc destination:

I didn't care much for him before, but I'd have liked to see how Kashimo fared during the timeskip. Did he stick close to Hakari, or did he coop himself up and away from others? Did he get to know Kirara or Maki? What did he think of Sukuna's former vessel, and what might interacting with Yuji have revealed about both of their characters? In the end, that possible development or regression was skipped. All I know is that Kashimo exited life's station, alone.

[tambermizukiart]

- @khoc-week

Day 7 - Future

As they return humans, and post-KHIII, in a few months Lea proposes to Tamber, receiving immediate consent.

Their goal is to live happily ever after, especially by expanding their family nucleus one day, as they’re both children lovers.

In the year gap post-KHIII, they both become attached to a kid: Bee (OC of mine, whose real name gets discovered later in the story). The kid, after various complicated dynamics and events, becomes like an ‘’adopted child’’ to them, making them understand even more the importance of their goal.

Tamber and Lea would commit for good in later future -after becoming Keyblade Masters and all the events of KHIV and following games. In a few years they find themselves to give birth to their first biological daughter, Alice. The choice of the name is for two reasons: during Tamber’s missions as Nobody, besides Twilight Town, The Wonderland has been the world she felt somehow more comfortable to go to during her solitude moments and she started to have some kind of ‘’friendship’’ and nice times with Alice Liddell: tt would have been a tribute to the young girl. The second reason is about the name itself, as one of its meanings is ‘‘sea salt water’’, linking it to the sea salt ice-cream they used to eat often during childhood and in the present time. Her name can mean also ''Light'' and ''exalted'', very much related to her solar and energetic personality.

The family they have formed makes the two parents so proud of their lives. With the hope in their hearts that this dream would continue, they always treat each other with absolute mutual love every day and raise their children in a way to give them anything they have never had during youth: a peaceful adolescence, a family being always there for them, a home to return to.

Tamber’s future profession will be a full-time housewife with a personal little flower selling activity in Radiant Garden.

She will learn how to play piano better and harp too, like her mother used to do in the past.

As the years go by, they will have also a second biological child, named Astra, meaning either ‘’From the stars’’ or ‘’Star’’.

Isa also will find himself to become like an uncle to his best friends’ children, appreciating them a lot.

And who knows if there will be another little one.

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Brotherhood, Pt. 9

Next, we find Sheppard and McKay standing behind the pedestal, Sheppard rearranging the tablets and McKay pressing his fingers against his mouth as he watches. There is a close-up of Sheppard's hand, and he seems to be handling the tablets very carefully, almost sensually. Where Sheppard is putting the tablet down with his right hand, McKay holds up his left and while, yes, his intention is to get Sheppard to simmer down, he pats the air between them. They are turned toward each other.

Again, we return to their interaction in the middle of it.

Sheppard: Any time you want to start… McKay: I'm thinking, I'm thinking. Sheppard: All right. We tried one to nine. McKay: Thank you, yes. Sheppard: How about nine to one? McKay: Possibly.

While they are both focused on the task like their life depended on it, they are also completely enclosed in a world of their own. McKay is trying to shut Sheppard out to be able to think but he seems completely unable to do that.

And as much as McKay is trying to shut him out, Sheppard is trying to get McKay to share his process, to be a part of it. He very much wants McKay to walk him through his thinking, to think out loud which is why he is trying to do the same to him--and this seems to be overloading McKay's mind. He has to be thinking about the solution to the problem, thinking about how to get them out of the situation, thinking about how to keep Sheppard safe, and having to focus on Sheppard next to him, close to him, talking his ear off, all at the same time. Earlier, he told Allina that his kind of science, the good kind of science, can be done sitting on a chair or laying on a couch. What he did not mention is that it requires solitude, peace and quiet. Ideally, idle time.

However, by this time Sheppard has also witnessed--occasionally very close (e.g., 38 Minutes, S01E04)--that McKay can be made to up his game under extreme pressure if he can just get him to focus on the right thing.

McKay seems to give up trying to shut Sheppard out, and walks him through his thinking:

McKay: Look, Pranos was right. The center stone’s the only one that locks into place. All the others must move around it. I'm just trying to think of a combination that make sense with five in the middle. Sheppard: Fifteen! It's got to have something to do with fifteen. Or nine. Or five...

Notable is that Sheppard arrives at the solution intuitively very quickly but then begins to second guess himself. He is much faster getting there than McKay. Compared with Pranos, he is quick but having been around McKay while he works, having seen his process, he has also learned to slow down. To go through the steps, and not just accept his initial instinct as correct and go with it immediately--which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. McKay has helped Sheppard slow down where Sheppard has made McKay pick up his pace. And, given what we learned about going down first being a Sheppard kind of thing, we might wonder whether these roles can be applied to other parts of their lives too.*

Focused as they are on the task at hand, they are still taking time to make eye contact with each other--albeit Sheppard mostly keeps his eyes focused on the puzzle so as not to reveal their back-up plan to McKay who, as we learned in the previous episode, he is convinced can read things right off his face. Still being unable to completely not look, he takes quick glances at the man next to him. Behind the pedestal, they are not two separate individual people working on a problem, they are very much in this together. They have also abandoned all pretense of not being significant to the other, not caring about the other person. Unlike earlier, Sheppard refers to him as Rodney. He also uses his name a lot. Between here and before they get out of the chamber, he says it six times which is almost as many times as we have heard him mention it in all the previous episodes combined. This just confirms the earlier "Shut up, McKay" as having been for the benefit of someone other than the two of them.

The thing is, as tense as the situation is, on edge as they are, the way they are speaking to each other is still soft and considerate. They are not arguing, they are not bickering, McKay especially, agitated though he is, is making an effort to express patience with Sheppard. With anyone else, we might be looking at "I'm always like this" McKay or "the only person who truly comprehends how screwed we are" McKay but here, you can tell that he's trying.

McKay: Shut up. Please? I'm trying to think. Sheppard: I'm not going to shut up, Rodney. My life's at stake. McKay: Exactly, so simmer down, and let me save it!

McKay even says "please" which, according to Sheppard (cf. McKay and Mrs Miller, S03E08), he rarely does (because he sees no point in wasting time saying things that people should know already, not because he doesn't care or is never thankful). But, the longer their exchange goes on, the less it has anything to do with the problem in front of them. McKay mentions his intention to save his life and it is either because this makes Sheppard feel something, probably more than a few things, or because he had simply slipped into their normal, ordinary routine back-and-forth that he seems to be the one to start saying things just for the sake of getting a response from the other man, and not because what he says is even attempting to find a solution to the problem. He makes a thoroughly unnecessary reference to an old saying:

Sheppard: Ever heard the term two heads are better than one? McKay: It's a common misconception. Sheppard: Give me the gun. I'll shoot him myself.

He obviously doesn't mean what he says. It's likely that the motivation is to seek release to the clearly building tension (what ever you interpret the nature of this tension to be), but it isn't just caused by agitation over solving the puzzle. Yes, he is venting, he is trying to calm his nerves. But just before Sheppard says it, McKay had returned his fingers to his mouth, drawing his attention there. Sheppard kept sneaking glances at McKay the whole time. McKay's mouth is a thing that Sheppard cannot be focusing on right at this moment, so he needs to say anything to break the tension.

He needs to remind not only Kolya, not only McKay, but most of all himself of where they currently are and what is at stake. It's so easy for them to get lost in each other, it happens so quickly that they slip into a shared routine that shuts out everything and everyone else that he really needs this reminder. He obviously does not want to shoot McKay. He does not entertain for a moment that Kolya might give him a gun because they both know what he would do with that gun. This is in contrast to Kolya actually agreeing to give McKay a knife because he, also, knew that McKay would not do anything with it that was of concern to him. Sheppard also must at least suspect that Kolya has no intention of killing McKay, as per his reference to McKay's four chances and suspicion that the life of this local woman means nothing to him. Sheppard understands McKay's worth better than most.

The thing is, though, that McKay has not realized this. He does not understand his own worth. And even though he is sure that his own life is forfeit and his only intention is to somehow get Sheppard out of here safely, he is still fearless as he faces Kolya. Kolya, like anyone watching them for any length of time, is done with their shenanigans and wants them to get on with it. McKay lashes out at him, and he barely reacts, only repeating his order. McKay's bravery impresses Sheppard more than he knows. Trying to save him means more than he knows.

McKay is, however, unable to come up with any sudden insight or solution. And he does not know about their plan, last ditch effort though it may be, to distract Kolya and his men with the flash bangs. He thinks that his failure to think through this archaic puzzle is what is going to get Sheppard killed. That he is directly responsible and the cause of Sheppard's death. He is genuinely remorseful. He whispers his last words to Sheppard because this, now, if it is to be their final moment together is really and truly private, it belongs only to them. He also looks at Sheppard so intensely at this moment as to commit his features to memory.

McKay: I got nothing. Sheppard: Thanks for the pep talk. McKay: Nine to one. It's all I can think of. Sheppard: Okay. Step back.

Sheppard tells him to step back not because he is expecting anything to happen with the pedestal's mechanism but because he needs McKay to not stand between himself and Kolya if and when he has to spring their trap. He is the most dangerous thing there, so Sheppard intends to take him out first. Likely he also wanted to shield McKay from the effects of the flash bangs, as he, too, is later genuinely remorseful about not being able to warn him in advance.

This is also one of those instances in which Sheppard's tone of voice makes people misinterpret his intention because he "always sounds sarcastic". He is thankful that McKay is there, was there trying to help him through this. Due to his tone and choice of words it sounds like he's saying "Thanks for nothing" but that is not at all what he intends. It was never their plan to get out by solving the puzzle, but by taking Kolya and his men out by surprise. He has no intention of killing himself by repeating the actions of Pranos. But regardless, their plan might not work, and once more, if these are to be the final words between them, he wants to express his gratitude. Not for a "pep talk" but for being there. For trying to save him. That means the world to him.

It is also the final time that he looks at McKay, and he does it very quickly as though that is already too difficult for him. McKay is doing the exact opposite, looking at Sheppard like he's afraid to even blink. It's possible that Sheppard is avoiding his eyes to keep him from reading anything off of his face that might jeopardize their plan, as McKay has done so many times before, but it might also be that he just can't bare seeing the look on McKay's face. He looks at Sheppard with such... love. I don't know how else to describe that. He looks at him with such desperate longing that if Sheppard allowed himself to see it, to see his face, he might completely come undone. McKay even tells him something that he might never have said to another human being ever before, certainly not in this heartfelt tone:

McKay: I'm sorry. Sheppard: I'm not dead yet.

When he turns away, McKay's lip trembles and he seems to be nearly in tears.

While their plan hinges on McKay being none the wiser, not being alerted to the existence of their back-up plan so that, through McKay's genuine responses and honest ignorance Kolya might be blindsided, Sheppard can't help but offer him some comfort in this situation. We see later how sorry Sheppard is for having had to put him through this, of essentially using him to fool Kolya by making him live through what has to be a horrible experience. He cares about McKay so much that even when it might cost them their only chance at getting out of here, he still has to say something to make him feel better.

Sheppard himself trembles as he turns back to the puzzle. It's not an act, he is not that good of an actor. It isn't the stress of the situation, he is a fighter pilot, a test pilot, who has been trained to be able to function under extreme pressure. But in a way... this is worse than Afghanistan. There, he had failed to save someone he cared about. He blames himself for that every day of his life. But here, he is asked to personally endanger the life of someone he cares about. There is a good chance that McKay might die, that they all might die, as a direct result of the order that he is forced to give. Disobeying orders to save someone is much easier than giving one that puts them in danger.

Then, wanting to think of anything but the thing that he has to do next, he suddenly arrives at the solution.

Continued in Pt. 10

-* I think I discussed previously the likelihood that Sheppard attended boarding schools from a very young age due to his family background. Having spent most of his life in boarding schools, academies, and the military, you would probably learn to do all things (eating, sleeping, cleaning, grooming; and yes, sex) quickly and without really having time to enjoy them, even if your tastes didn't run toward trysts that also needed to be had in secret. But adding to that the requirement of stealth and secrecy would also increase the feeling of immediacy, the need to have it over with quick.

I also discussed before how Sheppard and McKay both think they are unlovable but for different reasons. Sheppard thinks that his love gets people killed and McKay thinks that he can never do enough to earn love. They both had unhappy childhoods but in different ways. These injuries (one from neglect, the other from physical abuse) also cause them to need different things; Sheppard is desperately looking for someone that won't leave him and McKay needs someone that accepts him unconditionally. Often, we fall in love to fill in some empty space within us, we fall in love because we lack something and are convinced that we can find this in the other person. Or, in well-adjusted relationships, I suppose you can talk about partners complementing each other. Being strong where the other is weak and allowing oneself to be weak where the other is strong.

But this is why these characters would have fallen in love so damn fast and so damn hard. McKay is methodical and hedonistic, enjoys lounging about on a couch or a chair; Sheppard is focused and passionate, likes anything that goes above 200 mph. To compensate, both are also projecting the opposite to the world at large: McKay has this quicksilver nervous energy where Sheppard performs the role of a laid-back slacker. And yet McKay would have wanted him to stay the night, to take his time taking him apart, to spend time with him, to waste his time on Sheppard and this, just being constantly and consistently there, would have made Sheppard feel less alone. And Sheppard would have had his hands on him the moment they were alone, would have wanted to have him desperately and immediately, and would not have hesitated to let it show. And this, being desired just for being him and being there, would have made McKay feel wanted.

I don't know if you can plan for this kind of dynamic.

[affectionatecorpse]

Alright so I replayed Shadow of the Colossus and I'm being totally normal about Dormin /s sooo I'm gonna say my opinion on the "if they are evil or not" argument.

Now before I get into my interpretation, I just wanna say, I respect everyone's opinion on the matter. That's the point of a story, to read between the lines and come to your own conclusion, to form your own thoughts on it. However you see Dormin as a character is valid. But let's keep things nice and peaceful, yeah?

Right off the bat, I don't believe Dormin is evil. Morally gray, perhaps, but they don't really do anything significantly EVIL. The most evil thing they probably do in game is order the extermination of the Colossi, which yeah, okay, fair enough, is kinda unfair. But people seem to forget that these Colossi ARE Dormin. They are all pieces of them left behind after their downfall. By killing the Colossi, you're simply returning the fragments back to where they came from; the very person who wants them back.

We don't know why Dormin was sealed away, but a common theme in human history is fearing the things that are stronger than us. From what it seems regarding Dormin's powers in life and death, Wander is not the first person to approach them for help playing with mortality. It's very likely Dormin was sealed away because of their power, or perhaps because of a bad side effect that they probably warned about beforehand.

Which brings me onto the fact Wander suffered greatly for what he did. But Dormin DID warn him. They warned him several times in fact. He chose to do it anyway, and Dormin let him make that mistake himself. After all, mistakes are important, they help us learn. But Dormin never disrespects his decision. They're sympathetic to his motivation, whereas most entities might not care about 'just another mortal'. But Dormin very clearly shows empathy towards the predicament Wander is going through, and honours that wish through and through.

In fact, they go above and beyond for Wander's efforts. The deal was to bring Mono back to life when back at full strength. But assuming the theory that the eagle is Dormin is actually true, they also keep a close eye on Wander. They watch over him. It may also be safe to assume that Dormin is the one to bring Wander back every time he collapses, as that magic is in fact theirs, which is not something they were ever obligated to do. They could've just let him find his own way back after waking up, but he's never left out in the open for too long.

Let's not forget, they also took responsibility for Wander getting hurt in the final battle. They claimed to 'borrow' his body in order to fight a fair battle, perhaps to avoid the unfair advantage they had against a group of humans. When Wander got caught up in their resealing, they could've let him die, as they go back to their life of solitude and wait for someone else to free them again. But they don't. They spend whatever power they have left to bring Wander back, something they really didn't have to do. And that's probably why he came back a baby, because they didn't have alot of time (or power) left to heal him fully.

Which is also the case with Agro. Let's be honest here, nothing could survive that fall. Not a human, and definitely not a horse. These things get all their bones broken if you so much as look at them wrong, do we seriously thing Agro just got up and walked away after that drop? Even if there was water at the bottom, that height would destroy her, or at the very least knock her out, which would again mean she drowned. Not to mention how she got back up to the top remarkably fast despite there being no clear path. So with all that in mind, it's highly likely it was actually Dormin who helped Agro. Which again, they wouldn't be obligated to do by any means.

Dormin is by no means a golden character. But I don't think they were evil. There is so, so much to take into consideration, and so many incidents that simply could not be solved without them acting selflessly. They never even blame Wander for being sealed away again, they never get mad about it at all. Any energy that could be spent on frustration, they instead use to keep Wander, Mono and Agro alive in the end.

Though don't get me wrong, I don't think there's any villain in that story. Not Wander, not Dormin, and not Lord Emon. Each person was simply doing what they felt they had to, and unfortunately, this resulted in an unresolved yet hopeful end to the story.

TL;DR: Dormin is an incredible character to read between the lines of, but any interpretation of them is valid nonetheless.

[nuctoria]

Luigi’s villain’s harem…but but…

*scoots forward*

They survive the aftermath of the games, and was found by weegee.

*Scoots up close and personal* you follow @lizadale and @ionlydatesassyelves too I see.

Bowser: he only needs some medical care and he's off to another scheme again. Nobody can stop this man but he will put some safety measures when Luigi tags along or is his turn to go through his mess. The day Bowser quits is the day either Bowser Jr is old enough or he retires and the Mario games end.

King Boo: E-Gadd gave King Boo to Luigi after he was nearly threatened by Mario and Peach cause they ain't gonna risk another escape and potentially an even more ghost hunt that could lead to someone's death. King Boo is outraged and spends every second of the day trying to free himself and make Luigi's daily life a living hell full of fear. Luigi is terrified to have him so close, despite his prison, hardly sleeping the first weeks to make sure he didn't break free in the middle of the night and did something horrible. After those weeks were up, he got sick of King Boo's constant attempts to scare him and snapped back, sort of. It still surprised King Boo to see this scaredy cat actually having a backbone and teased him to get more of that sass from him, finding it amusing. Luigi played along, oblivious for awhile, until he saw how the boo was laughing at him. They unconsciously started to bond, Luigi asking to know more about boos and King Boo noticing small things about Luigi that he asked about, such us why he liked that certain type of tea or why he paces so much. His interactions with Polterpup were amusing too. This continued all the way up to King Boo's next escape.

Antasma: it's rehabilitation for him. Luigi took him in after seeing how weak he was and he couldn't bare to leave him like this when there was a risk of him dying. Plus, he felt bad, thinking he and his brother were the reason he exploded back when they battled. Antasma was having none of it and often trying to attack Luigi but was too weak and starving to do actual damage, hissing when Luigi dared to come close. Luigi started with leaving different foods in a room he didn't use often and let Antasma do as he pleased, checking up on him every few hours to make sure he was still alive. Antasma mostly slept to not loose his energy but he found it weird how Luigi never locked the door, instead keeping it open, when he slept. It was as if he was letting Antasma feed off of him. He still fed on his dreams but he was too curious about the plumbers nature to actually do any harm or evil. He started letting Luigi stay in the room he was recovering in and made small conversation with him. He did think of leaving and going back to Pi'illo Island for revenge but he always held back, knowing that if he did so he'd loose the peaceful life he had now with Luigi and it felt worse than admitting defeat, so he stayed and lived in solitude with his green savior.

Dimentio: unlike Liza's Dimentio, the one I'm thinking just snuck in the damn house and threatened Luigi to keep quiet and help him recover, which worked given the things he put Luigi and Mr L in. It. Was. Hell. for our Man in Green, but he couldn't risk disobedience, not with his and his loved ones' lives on the line at the hands of this demented jester. He just hoped he could find a way to prevent any more catastrophes before it was too late now that he could monitor Dimentio more carefully.

[hippogrifffeathers]

Is This Seat Taken?

Ominis didn't usually mind History of Magic. Dull as it was, at least the class gave him a change to get some peaceful sleep for once. It was almost enough to make up for the stinging loneliness that came with the reminder that he was sitting alone, that nobody wanted to sit next to a Gaunt- nobody except Sebastian and once upon a time, Anne.

And maybe, in the light of a newly blossoming friendship, MC.

or, as usual, it's also on ao3!

It had been a small mercy that History of Magic classes didn’t start until after Halloween, something which all Hogwarts fifth-years would agree on.

Ominis had chosen the class under family expectations, and only tolerated it now due to the ease of the curriculum- and if he were being completely honest, the wealth of nap opportunities the lessons provided. Though, he could do without the demanding workload Binns assigned. One student could only take so many essays.

The chatter of the classroom greets Ominis as he crosses the threshold, full of usual pre-lesson complaints and friends trying to choose what table they want to claim for the rest of the school year. He pushes past it all, allowing it to become background noise.

That was another downside of History of Magic, sitting alone. It was one of the few classes he didn’t share with Sebastian, which left him sparse on people to sit with.

Solitude was hardly an unfamiliar shadow in Ominis’ footsteps, it had become something he’d grown used to quickly in his youth, trying to convince himself he preferred things this way. It was quiet, not isolating, he was just fine with the way things were.

The lie was easier to believe some times more than others.

Hearing the whispers of chatting classmates around him, knowing their giggles and scratches of quills on parchment were more from the exchanging of notes and games than focusing on Binn’s droning tone, wasn’t always easy to ignore- not against the pang of envy that he was particularly susceptible to in classes like this one. Times when reminders of his loneliness were forced to the forefront of his mind.

As classmates debate and disagree over which desk they want to claim for the rest of the school year, Ominis heads for the front of the room, settling for the desks to his immediate right. It made little difference to him where he sat, hardly as though he’d get any visual advantage, but given his unpopularity among his classmates Ominis had long since avoided more favourable tables when sitting on his own.

He goes through the motions of pulling out a quill and parchment, despite knowing they’ll go untouched for the next few hours as he drifts in and out of consciousness. Some rest was just about all he had to look forward to for the next few hours.

A familiar voice pulls him from his thoughts, someone who had stopped by his desk. His spine straightens.

“Ominis?” Soft and almost hesitant, in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from its normally assured owner, a rush of unexpected joy pulses through him as he recognises them, and his posture relaxes on reflex- MC, “Sorry, for bothering you I was just…is this seat taken?”

The unexpected line of question momentarily throws him off course, and a small laugh threatens to burst forth at their innocent inquiry.

With MC’s popularity, getting along with just about everyone in the school and the way they were excelling in all their classes, sometimes it was easy to forget this was their first year at Hogwarts. Then they asked something like that, and it was all too obvious.

“You’re not bothering me at all, MC,” He resists the urge to reach for his wand, catch a better understanding on how they were standing- or even, if there was anyone else in their company, “This seat’s free, why?”

A shuffle of shoes on stone, relief lacing their tone, “Oh good, I was hoping- I mean, if you’d not mind, if I could join you?”

A pulse of silence follows their question, Ominis finding himself momentarily lost for words, something that he found never happened, not to him.

Nobody ever wanted to sit next to Ominis Gaunt- a fact he’d become quickly familiar with in his first year. The only people who ever did sit with him were Sebastian and, once upon a time, Anne, sometimes even bickering over the seat in their early years. The occasional housemate might join him, if they were short on other choices.

But MC? MC, who Ominis knew had a wealth of friends in this class alone- many of which would be happy to offer MC a seat- and they wanted to sit with him? 

Even despite their almost too-easy companionship recently, Ominis knew he’d made an awful first impression on them that first night by the Undercroft, snapping at them as he had, threatening their mentor- the fact they’d headed straight for him now, of all the choices they had, was almost too unrealistic to consider.

Too late, he realises MC has mistaken his silence for rejection, he can hear the rustle of fabric as they start to fidget, the disappointment underpinning their rushed retraction as they desperately try to redeem whatever moment MC seems to believe they’ve ruined, “I-if not I totally understand! I didn’t mean to impose, I can sit somewhere else-”

“No!” He hopes he doesn’t sound as awkwardly flustered as he feels, frantically interrupting MC’s rambles before they can make the mistake of thinking Ominis didn’t want them there, “I mean, I’d be happy for you to join me.” He emphasises his point by shuffling along the bench slightly, aware he’s been sitting closer to the middle of the table, an old habit.

“Oh, thank you!” His chest gives another pang at the relief in MC’s voice as they slide onto the seat next to him, their arms brushing slightly at the proximity. Neither of them move away, even as MC continues their chatter, and Ominis can’t quite believe their evident happiness is because of him, feeling a smile take over his expression as they talk, “It was a relief to see you here, if I’m honest, you didn’t mention you were taking History of Magic!”

The easy way they said it risks going straight to his head, he tries not to give that much attention. “Well, nor did you. History of Magic isn’t the most popular choice amongst our peers you know, I didn’t expect you to take it honestly.”

It was true, which maybe was blindsided of him. MC had taken to spellcasting like a niffler to treasure, everyone knew that, but proficiency in practical magic didn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t be interested in the theoretical, too.

Their mentor is the Professor of Magical Theory, afterall.

“It wasn’t really my choice, the school board chose my classes for me.”

Ominis supposed that was another explanation.

“That sounds unfair.”

MC shrugged, “Looking back maybe it was, but I didn’t exactly have the knowledge to make an informed decision on my classes at the time anyway.”

“Well, while the class is incredibly dull, it is useful for getting into some N.E.W.T classes, as long as you don’t mind all the essays Binns tends to assign.” He can’t help the look of distaste at the reminder that he had another year of that to endure. Late nights alone in some corner of the common room, trying to force out several inches worth of facts on Goblin Rebellions, always made more difficult when he needed his wand to search the textbooks. It nearly doubled the amount of time he had to spend on the assignments compared to his peers, not that any of the staff seemed to care.

Sebastian would always help, where he could, but History of Magic wasn’t even his subject- it never felt fair asking his friend to help, no matter Sebastian’s fondness for learning.

And now between Sebastian’s own studies, and his questionable preoccupation with finding a cure for Anne, Ominis doubts Sebastian would even have the time to offer his help.

MC nudged his shoulder gently, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts, “Well, I suppose I’m lucky to have a friend to study with, in that case.”

Warmth spreading from where they had brushed against him, Ominis tried not to feel too excited by their words, the silent offer- or was it a request? Sometimes, it was hard to tell with MC, but their sentiment was not lost on him. The suggestion of the pair of them studying together for History of Magic, working on the same essays that had been such a burden on Ominis for years now, but instead in the warmth of company and even teamwork, was almost enough to make up for the hand cramps Binns’ essay length would inevitably cause.

“I believe that might be my line.” MC didn’t know quite how truthful his statement really was.

“Careful Ominis, I’ll hold you to that.” He could think of no other reply but a small chuckle, as though their companionship was something he might ever want to avoid.

Please do, he couldn’t help but urge, hoping they meant it. Perhaps it was pathetic of him, the surge of glee he felt at something so measly as the possibility of working together on homework, but with years of pushing through the exhausting subject alone, guilt-riddled whenever he asked Sebastian to help him find something in the textbooks, nobody could really blame him.

“What did you mean when you said this class was dull, anyway?”

“So, I take it nobody’s warned you?” That was definitely unfair, everyone deserves an advance warning about Binns’ teachings. If only to make sure they remembered to bring a pillow to class, “He’s hopeless, rambles on for the entire lesson and hardly even recognises students, let alone calls on them- I’d not worry about that though, most people just use it for napping or messing around, as long as you’re not too loud he won’t notice. Or care. Nobody’s sure which it is.”

“That sounds like such a waste.” 

“Oh, so you’ll be paying attention then?” He grins, already knowing the answer.

“I never said that.” Their tone is equally as cheeky, punctuating it with a small laugh, “What about you then- you’re telling me that the ever perfect Ominis Gaunt naps in class?” He felt a flush of warmth flash across his face at their teasing, the ever perfect Ominis Gaunt-

“You expect me to get a full night's sleep in the same dorm room as Sebastian? The boy snores.” Not a complete lie, Sebastian did snore on occasion, it just wasn’t the reason Ominis struggled to sleep sometimes- but the jibe is enough to earn him another laugh out of MC.

“Oh no, he doesn’t!”

“Oh, he does.” Ominis grins at their obvious glee in teasing their mutual friend, even if Sebastian wasn’t here to defend himself, “I’ve considered casting silencio several times now, but I wouldn’t want to get predictable.” Or face retaliation.

He likes it, this easy conversation between them, the light jibes and laughter.

Despite their rocky start together, after that horrific night in the Scriptorium, he and MC had become closer; MC warmly greeted him whenever they crossed paths in the corridors, happily struck up conversation with Sebastian and Ominis outside of classrooms, but until now they’d never had any chances to talk where it was just them, without the buffer of their mutual friend. Now, with MC choosing to sit beside him, their conversation coming just as easy as it did whenever Sebastian was there, MC’s earlier words stuck in his mind, a surge of appreciation in his chest-

A friend.

MC considered him a friend. Not just ‘Sebastian’s tagalong’, or someone they talked to because it was convenient, but a friend, their friend.

There were only two other people in his life who had ever thought of Ominis as a friend, and now it was three.

Ominis wished he’d not been so harsh to MC that night by the Undercroft, so uncharacteristically emotional in the heat of the moment. It had been an impulsive lashing out that haunted him even more after the Scriptorium, when MC had defended him against Sebastian of all people- he knew what that must have taken, given the two were practically wrapped around each other’s wands these days, and still MC had taken Ominis’ side when Sebastian had wanted him to cast Crucio. Merlin, MC had all but demanded Sebastian cast it on them, just so neither Sebastian or Ominis would have to bear the torture curse themselves.

It was an act, a friendship, he still struggled to feel deserving of. 

Even now, surrounded by classmates perfectly suitable for MC to sit with, others who MC knew and greeted warmly, it had been Ominis they made a beeline for when they entered the classroom, Ominis whose company they chose over everybody else.

He wished he was able to convey just how much that really meant to him, without sounding like a complete moonmind, or risk scaring one of the few friends he has off by being too attached.

For now, he’s content just knowing they chose his company even if he doesn’t understand why, but elects not to dwell on it any further, happy just to enjoy the mindless conversation with MC- drawn to an end only by the sudden wave of silence that sweeps through the room, followed by the familiar drawling tone of Professor Binns.

As if on conditioned reflex, Ominis’ eyes begin to feel heavy.

The only thing that snaps him out of it is a quiet groan from MC, who’d already made the rookie error of making an attempt to pay attention, “Goblin Rebellion?”

He leans towards the left, closer to MC and murmurs to them conspiratorially, “A Binns specialty, they’re practically all he talks about.”

MC groans again, “I’ve had enough of Goblin Rebellions for an entire lifetime, thanks.”

It’s fortunate they seemed to be complaining more to themselves than him, because Ominis didn’t know how to respond to that, nor did he like the uncomfortable reminder of the sorts of dangerous activities that (rumouredly) occupied MC’s spare time.

Still, MC had never made such a direct reference to it before, or at least- never to Ominis. They remained frustratingly tight-lipped about where they slipped off to after class, and what they discussed with Professor Fig- regardless of the whispers that followed them around the castle. Despite his urge to ask, to find out exactly what dangers MC was facing, Ominis knew the value of secrets better than most, had respected the privacy MC was so vehement about maintaining.

It only made their small admission all the more meaningful. The confirmation that they were involved in the recent Goblin Loyalist action, and the fact they trusted Ominis with that information, however vague, knowing he wouldn’t push them.

Like they hadn’t pushed him when he brought up his family.

The pair fell into the same silence as the rest of the class after that, the dull tone of Professor Binns washing them into the arms of lethargy, the ghost none the wiser about the slipping attentions of his students.

Predictably, the sounds of whispered giggles and scratching quills echo from behind Ominis- a sound he knows by now is not the sign of a diligent student, but one proposing some game on parchment, or passing along a note. 

The pang of loneliness he’s so used to following after the sound never arrives, instead all he feels is the familiar edgings of exhaustion pulling at his eyes, any thoughts drifting far away to the tune of Binns’ mindless droning lecture, the scratching of quills on parchment, and the occasional whisper of a student all creating a harmonic lullaby which he had no interest in denying.

Going to lift his left hand, ready to settle in for a couple of hours of dreamless sleep, he almost jolts violently as a pressure falls atop of the outstretched limb, heavy, but not crushingly so.

His brain catches up to him before Ominis reaches for his wand, filling in the gaps with soft hair tickling the exposed parts of his wrist, familiar breaths that now sound deeper and closer than before.

MC had fallen asleep.

MC had fallen asleep, right next to Ominis.

Well, basically on top of him, if the weight on his arm was anything to go by. 

His initial alarm is quickly replaced by a surge of affection, and another of deep surprise.  For as tired as he often was, Ominis had only fallen on top of someone four times in his life. Once on each of his best friends, and twice on his Aunt Noctua. It was just about the most vulnerable position to put yourself in, willing to let your guard down completely around that person and place faith that they won’t betray that in any way.

Then here was MC, who hadn’t hesitated to use him as their makeshift pillow as they succumbed to the throes of sleep.

Him. Ominis Gaunt.

He almost can’t believe it, and wonders if he’s been dreaming up a positive History of Magic class this entire time, because at least that would be easier to believe.

For a moment, a stab of disappointment hits him as he realises MC probably only fell asleep on him by accident, not realising how close they were- but, he supposes MC could easily have leaned the other way, and they hadn’t. Just as easily as MC could have chosen any other table in the classroom to sit at, yet they’d chosen Ominis’- even though he’d chosen what was arguably the worst spot in the room.

If it had been difficult before, now it was nearly impossible to fight the smile that tugs at his lips- an expression that’s rare for him, especially these days, he notes with a pang of silly delight.

Just as quickly, his moment of warmth is ruined by a sharp spike of concern, as he notes the way MC hadn’t so much as stirred when Ominis almost pulled away from them in his earlier alarm. MC had fallen asleep faster than Ominis, which was no minor feat- he was at least self-aware enough to admit that much.

Their fatigue is too reminiscent of his own, something he wouldn’t wish on anyone. 

How much sleep were they getting at night, Ominis couldn’t help but worry.

Rumours of their escapades outside of the castle had only grown in frequency over recent weeks, between that and their undeniably demanding schoolwork, where does MC find the time to rest. Merlin, do they even allow themselves to rest?

A trickle of insecurity bled through his concern…Was it even Ominis’ place to ask?

Conflict raged within him, the want to ensure MC was taking care of themself, that his friend was alright, versus the fear of overstepping and pushing MC away in the process. Their friendship was new, despite the turmoil it had already endured, and he wasn’t quite ready to test its boundaries.

The idea came to him immediately.

He could ask Sebastian. His friend had many fine qualities, but Sebastian had never been great with boundaries- not where worry for the people he cared about was concerned. It was an endearing enough trait, when it wasn’t pissing him off, or worse yet, exposing his secrets to other people.

Resolved to casually investigate the matter later, Ominis allowed his lingering concern to fade to the back of his mind. MC was resting now, and he knew better than anyone that naps in the History of Magic classroom were always peaceful and empty of dreams. They’d rest well here.

And so would he.

Exhaustion was becoming too hard to resist, and with Binns well and truly lost in droning details and stories, it wasn’t as though they’d be getting up any time soon. The slow blinks of his eyes were becoming longer and more frequent, and as his head drops sharply with a fractional loss of consciousness, Ominis finally gives in to the urging pull of sleep, bolstered by the comforting weighted presence at his arm. To his sleepy mind, it feels all too close to an invite.

Logically, he should rest his head on his right hand instead, since MC was resting on his left and he didn’t have the heart to move them. It wouldn’t be fair for him to disturb them like that, that was all.

(It had nothing to do with the fact the pressure on his arm felt so warm and comforting. Nothing to do with the easy way MC was touching him, that physical contact between them a presence he was so unused to but deeply appreciated. Privately, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sleep all the better for it)

He’s too tired to think so pragmatically, for once he just wanted to do what felt natural, without overthinking it- to give in to the natural lean of his body, even as it sways him to the left, resting atop of MC.

Head cushioned by the fabric of their hood, as he easily fits to the junction of their shoulder, suddenly greeted by a wave of them- the faint smell of their shampoo, smooth material of new robes that hadn’t yet endured the might of a Hogwarts school year, and the slow beat of their heart, just audible over the muffle of robes and the droning of their Professor.

It lulls him to rest, not even realising as his breathing and MC’s effortlessly become synchronised, as the sweet pull of sleep finally getting the better of Ominis, along with a comfort he hadn’t felt in some time.

History of Magic wouldn’t be so bad, if he had this to look forward to in the future.

[fablesuntold]

Requested starter from: Haymitch Abernathy to Effie Trinket @musingmemories ✨

Mentor. If there was one word Haymitch hated more than life itself, it was that. As if he was in any fit state to be crowned that title anyway— a raging recovering alcoholic. And yet, by some miracle.. he’d somehow managed to play the role oh so well in ensuring both Katniss and Peeta’s safety throughout their first game. Hmph, maybe he wasn’t as useless as he’d originally thought. However, nothing good ever lasted. While one would have thought that with victory and being crowned a Victor came with a lavish life and the promise of exclusion from future games, it was all a misconception. A beautiful illusion created by the Capitol to trick them into a false sense of security. Haymitch had learned that the hard way.

They’d taken everything from him. Murdered his family and who he thought to be the love of his life at the time in cold blood all because of a supposed ‘stunt’ he’d pulled during his time in the arena. Showing the Capitol up apparently came with a price.. something Katniss and Peeta were now suffering through in the form of a surprise Quarter Quell.

All of this.. the cruel punishments, the sadistic smile from the President himself as he’d announced the Quarter Quell to the rest of Panem as if it were some special occasion.. it had driven Haymitch right back to hitting the bottle all over again after weeks on the promising path to sobriety. All gone out of the window now, finding himself back in the heart of the place he loathed; the Capitol, preparing to play the mentor all over again in what would undoubtedly be another bloodbath. Hooray for prosperity, right? Sure. There were no winners here.. only survivors forever at the mercy of President Snow in a never ending cycle.

Oh that was enough to have Haymitch drunkly stumbling over to the bar cart to snatch up the beloved whiskey bottle he’d been nursing for the last half an hour. He still had a couple of hours until daylight broke.. Katniss and Peeta wouldn’t be up and about yet.

However, his peaceful solitude was short lived with the rude interruption of the click! click! click! coming from high heels sauntering into the lounge in which he occupied, causing his movements to still as the obnoxiously bright pink hair entered his peripheral.

Effie. Great. Like he needed her eccentric little self chiding him again for the umpteenth time that day. “..Oh goodie, here comes the cavalry. I don’t suppose you’re here to pour me a glass, are you?” Tone laced with sarcasm, Haymitch refocused back on the golden liquid as it flowed freely into his glass until it almost hit the brim. One thing was certain; he sure did need a lot of liquid courage to withhold a conversation with Effie Trinket of all people. The woman was insufferable. “I’ve already had Katniss barking in one ear and Peeta in the other, so if you’ve got anything to add.. may as well spit it out~! Nobody’s shy here.” Words slurred, he finished off his concoction by haphazardly plonking three cubes of ice into the beverage. Who cared if his liver was going to give out eventually? Like he had anything left to live for.

Drink taken care of and safely in hand, Haymitch slouched down onto the nearest armchair and finally met Effie’s stern glare with a bored once over. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.. did I get that line right~?” Smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he raised his glass in a mocking toast, he wasted no time in kicking his feet up on the immaculately polished glass table in front of him.

[hostilecandle]

🍏 and 🍈 for the writer asks pls!

God I'm so sorry for this ramble 🙏😅

🍏 Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation-

Religious Imagery 😅 lmaoooo. I overuse that shit SOOO much. It's in every single fic I've ever written. Doesn't matter fluff or smut or what fandom, I always find a way to work it into the main themes. Literally writing a long af Price x Reader and its title is taken from Psalms 😅😅 I grew up a gay man in a Catholic military family in the Midwest of the United States. Gotta funnel that experience somewhere, so fics it is :D

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics-

Okay this said free pass to ramble about blorbo so I will be taking that opportunity here lol, so my apologies i have many thoughts about this man. I'll use CoD bc it's the fandom I'm in rn so I gotta say John Price (Both the og and reboot though I'm just gonna refer to the reboot Price for this). This man does things to my brain that need to be studied under a microscope I swear 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I have a whole ass character study of him written that's several pages long and I'm still not done.

Headcannons for him (some I've written, some just vibes):

-This man SCREAMS a good ol future midwestern dad type in the making to me. He loves to hunt and fish. He loves the solitude and quiet of both activities, even if he doesn't get anything. Its just peaceful. There is always a beer in the fridge for when the game is on. When he's got a family/partner/retired (whatever you'd prefer), he's a yard guy (yall know the type). I just feel like he cannot sit still when he's home. He's gotta be doing something with himself after years of keeping busy. He's got all the fun toys like a riding mower that is so unnecessary for the yard size but makes him happy. He's always outside in the spring/summer doing something to the yard and god forbid the grass get too tall. He's also not big on socializing with neighbors, a very much a keep to himself and/or his family kinda guy, but he's always SO polite and the ladies in his neighborhood love him.

-From my own homelife experience but it just feels so Price, when he's home he's AWFUL about just leaving his firearm on the counter or coffee table or bed side. Just wherever he remembered to take it off and set down and it's just another thing to forget where he set it like his phone and wallet. Speaking of, he's terrible about losing his phone/keys/wallet/etc. He has a little dish by the entry that he swears he puts it all into but they're never there when he goes to leave and he has to scramble to find them every time

-He's a coffee drinker (black with just a little sugar) and unironically loves to read the paper whenever he gets the chance. He's a small talker and enjoys it, he talks about the weather, gas prices, taxes, and match scores. He gets bored easily when just waiting around and will chat with just about anyone

-He has horrific night terrors and carries a lot of guilt for things he's done in his job. He firmly believes it was all necessary and worth it for the greater good but he wrestles with himself a lot. I personally like to think when Gaz pushes him on it after the interrogation in MW, it actually rattled him a bit. Not because he felt any guilt necessarily for what had just happened (I don't think he felt any in that instance), but because that's one of the first times someone else has pressed him on his moral convictions. "You draw the line where you need it" is not a belief that comes from nowhere or from a man who hasn't wrestled with himself and asked himself the very same questions Gaz was throwing at him. He meant every word he said though and while I feel guilt will catch up to him in the late hours of the night some nights after years of living like this, he fully believes he's justified in everything he does and it's integral to his character and who John Price is as a person

-He's a staunch atheist. Baptized but never believed in a God really anyways but after the things he's seen, he can't find it in himself to even entertain the thought. That being said, in the bottom of his desk is one of those old fashioned crosses that's hollow that holds holy water and one's last will and testament. Obviously being in the military there's already the records of his will but keeps that in his desk regardless because on the off chance he's wrong about there not being a God, it doesn't hurt to be safe.

He's SUCH a Girl Dad™ in the making. He would THRIVE with having a daughter. I'm talking the tea parties, tiaras, letting her put makeup on him, his nails, all of it. He'd support her in any endeavors growing up and would do his damndest to be in the crowd any chance he can get. He'd be her biggest fan. Pictures of her on his desk, in his wallet. Always bragging about his daughter when he gets the chance because he'd be so proud of her

He's a salt of the earth kinda guy. Just has very classic masculinity. Like he's a Man™ and takes pride in it. But its in the, "I'm gonna take care of everything because this is how I care for what's important to me" way. He enjoys being the handyman around the house and who people come to because they respect him. He has a Project Car in the garage that he swears he'll get to and the back is littered with power tools and lumber

(Okay this parts not headcannon because he not old, he's only 37!!) He's actually very tech savvy and likes things to be as up to date as he can get so everything runs smooth.

He feels personally responsible for the wellbeing of the other main 3 of 141 but not in a fatherly way like people think, but these men are his brothers and he hand picked them, he has so much faith in their abilities. (However he unwittingly becomes a mentor figure to Soap very much against his knowledge and will lol)

He had to shave once for an Op and the boys ragged him so hard he refuses to ever shave again. Genuinely fucked him up a bit lol

He has a temper. He's got a good lid on it 99% of the time but its always simmering underneath

Has a wicked sense of humor. Most people don't know or recognize it but he's actually the funniest person in the 141. He's always cracking jokes to break the tension but he says it with such a straight face before breaking into smile to let you know he's joking.

[scaryman-fancam]

REVENANT - misc - how Revenant behaves during a crush - implied violence/canon typical behavior

- Revenant would never tell you he has feelings for you. Likely you’d draw your own assumption based on the instances you’d caught him following you, a silent chase you’d chosen to ignore as it never ended in your demise. You had caught him one night, but didn’t want him to know you’d seen him. How would you escape him otherwise? You play it cool, deciding to extend your walk home to 30 minutes, avoiding heading directly home, or to anyplace you would be cornered. 30 minutes came and gone, and he still followed. The longer you were out, the less people you saw, and he was still following. If he were to kill you… why hadn’t he yet? Was he toying with you? You give up and hurry home, hiding in your home and waiting for his ambush, but you survive another day. The next few nights are the same. It almost becomes routine to watch for his reflection behind yours in shop windows across the street out of the corner of your eye, or to listen to the eerily soothing sound of his quiet footfalls some distance away. He mimicked your step pattern, hoping you’d believe it was an echo, but by now you’d grown fond of the quiet metal scraping that shadowed your own steps. He’s like a guard dog, in a way.

- If you were a fellow legend, you’d be extremely aware of this emotional affliction of his, whether you were certain it was positive or negative though, is really a toss up. Many of the other legends worry about your safety. They had never seen Revenant behave so strangely, so they assume he’s got some grudge against you. On the field he’s either right up against you, observing you a little too closely, those glowing eyes burning into the back of your head as you try to ignore him and focus on the game, or he’s criticizing and questioning your every move.

- This may just be Revenant’s first ‘crush’ since becoming a simulacrum. He doesn’t understand it quite yet, so instead of being nervous around you, he feels agitated. Everything to do with you makes him feel… funny. You must be messing with his programming, or something, or at least that’s what he assures himself. So starting off he is more aggressive, chastising you for getting too close or being too chatty, and even chasing to interrogate you when he witnesses you hanging around coworkers like Crypto, Loba, or Caustic. Are you teaming up with the hacker to do something nefarious to him? Or have you formed a pack with Caustic to weaken his defenses and dissect him once in for all? He does manage to realize his feelings once he discovers he’d be more upset by a third option: you are simply getting to be ‘closer’ with any of them.

- He definitely throws tantrums, and they aren’t pretty. He is usually an unreadable person, especially because he can’t make facial expressions, but when he’s jealous? He’s still unreadable but just frighteningly so. He sulks away after seeing Elliott “innocently” talking to you about a “mirage a trois,” his hands extended fully as he drags the claws along the ground, the walls, the doors, the windows; pulling up carpet, scraping paint off the walls, and pulling doors a little too hard, leaving them hanging crooked off of their hinges. Once he finally has a moment of peace and solitude, whether that be in the training grounds or in his quarters, he destroys EVERYTHING in his path. Its not until there’s so much gunshot residue on his hands that it’s making his metal joints stick that he finally gives it a rest, jamming the gun through one of the dummies as a final “fuck you” to the substitute for the object of his current hatred. You wouldn’t see him for a few days, that’s for sure. He’d try not to hold it against you, but if he finds that you’re not on his team, he’ll use the opportunity to satiate his grudge against you, and to feel needlessly close to you again.

[liloinkoink]

i said i’d post a finished lamplight scene if Ren won this round and he did so here you go

takes place basically immediately after Torchlight, as this is from a piece will be taking place between Torchlight and Strange Traveler

Martyn doesn’t know the god’s name, is the thing.

It’s not the biggest thing, not really, but it’s what sticks him most as the haze of his capture and escape begins to clear.

Passing out in the middle of the forest allows Martyn to get a good rest for the first time in weeks. He sleeps away the night and through the next day, only opening his eyes when late afternoon sunlight finally manages to angle its way into his eyes. When he finally does return to consciousness, it’s with the most peace of mind he’s had since they found out Grian was gone.

Free and rested and soaked in the safety of the quiet forest‘a dappled sunlight, Martyn’s mind moves slowly. He can’t place where he is, but he’s slept too well to find that immediately alarming. He’s lying in the grass, he’s warm—did he take a nap? What was he doing before…?

This is about the moment the gravity of Martyn’s new situation finally crashes down on him.

Martyn’s eyes snap open.

The city, the escape, the god—all of it hits Martyn at once. He’s escaped, thank the gods—the god?—but is he actually free?

A paladin’s oath is no joke. Martyn doesn’t know exactly what it all entails—he did warn the god he wouldn’t be any good at this—but for one, he’s fairly certain these things are meant to be lifelong. That’s all well and good when Martyn feels death just a few paces down the street, but now that it’s not so immediate…

Well. Martyn’s feeling a bit like he’s gotten married, and he hadn’t been sober when he’d met the bride.

When Martyn turns to the campfire he’d built the night before, the fire is still burning. All the kindling he’s collected is gone, but the fire doesn’t seem to be in danger of going out. Then again, this same fire burned for… how long without needing to be tended to? A decade, Martyn’d guesstimated, and the god is perfectly fine.

Gods are supposed to be unkillable, or so they say. Guess Grian had been right: Gods don’t die, after all. Even strange ones.

“Okay,” Martyn says, “Are you… still there?”

The fire fluffs up, a fwoomp of hot air hitting Martyn in the face.

“Cool. I guess I should have expected that,” Martyn says, mostly to himself. He crosses his legs, leaning his elbows on his knees, and stares into the fire.

Martyn is not and has never been a religious man. The sort of rigidity that came with an organized faith was never for him, and that’s not even considering the god. There were far too many dieties corrupted, in some form or another, by their own power. Gods who didn’t deign their followers worth listening to, gods who manipulated the lives of those who followed them, gods whose followers lived thankless lives and died meaningless deaths.

Martyn has no idea what the god he’s sworn his life to is like, nor does he know what the god would ask of Martyn. He doesn’t know if this god is strict, if the god is cruel. He seemed kind, from BigB’s brief story, but what effect does twenty years of solitude have on the mind? Is he stil the same god BigB knew? Martyn has no plans to spend his life in the service of conceited, controlling, callous gods—he’d rather the Watchers have just killed him.

He doesn’t know, though, does he? Martyn has no way of knowing what kind of god he’s saddled himself with. There are fates worse than death out there, fates more torturous than being the mouse in a cat’s game.

He doesn’t even know the god’s name.

Uncertainty like that doesn’t sit well with Martyn at all.

“Right,” Martyn mumbles, “It doesn’t look like we were followed. BigB and Jimmy weren’t when they left, so we might be in the clear.”

The campfire sparks, firing lightning in every direction.

“Hey!” Martyn jerks, scrambling back and out of range. He’d seen what happened to every single Watcher who touched that fire, and he does not plan to be next.

The fire abruptly cuts out, dimming down to red embers. Martyn watches the god simmer for a moment. When the god doesn’t throw out any other sparks, Martyn allows his shoulders to loosen.

“C’mon, dude, there’s no need to vaporize me after a day,” Martyn mutters, an uncertain laugh slipping through his teeth, “Wait, should I be calling you dude? Is that blasphemy?”

The fire crackles, swelling back up, lit to a dull and pleasant orange Martyn isn’t sure what to make of. At the least, the god doesn’t seem angry, so he takes that as a good enough sign for the moment.

At least, good enough to try to push it, just a little.

“Well. You’re going to be dude for now, until I find something to call you. I don’t know your name,” Martyn declares. The fire crackles, a disarmingly comfortable sound. Martyn might feel a bit more valiantly defiant in the face of a god if the didn’t feel like he was scolding his house’s fireplace.

Drastic stand taken, Martyn pushes himself to his feet and gets to poking around the clearing. Most of the leaves have fallen off the trees by now, and he kicks through a few leaf piles until he finds a branch suitable for a torch.

He could just leave, he supposes, picking up a decent-sized stick. The god doesn’t seem to be able to move without help. Martyn could just go, leave him in the dirt here.

Martyn glances back over his shoulder at the campfire, frowning. But the god did help him. He enchanted all of Martyn’s items, did away with everyone who was pursuing him. Martyn’s worries aside, in their very limited interaction, the god truly has been nothing but kind to him.

Besides, if the god can move on his own, and Martyn leaves him…

The branch in his hand is growing some sort of strange fungus, so he sets it back down. He’ll find a better stick and a better plan. Martyn doesn’t really fancy the idea of becoming ash today.

Martyn does find a stick eventually. He takes it back to the god, waving it a bit in front of him.

“Alright, ready to go? And not set me on fire?” Martyn asks. The campfire fluffs up again, which doesn’t exactly inspire Martyn with confidence, but whatever.

The torch takes immediately, snuffing out the campfire.

“Right, you did that back in the, uh, shrine, too, didn’t you?” Martyn asks. The fire lights up, and Martyn hums.

“We should probably figure out ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for you, at least, if we want to be able to talk at all,” Martyn notes, holding the torch out in front of his face. “If you can get bright like that on command—“ The fire brightens considerably, “…yeah, okay. Lighten up for yes, dim down for no?”

The fire beams once more. If Martyn didn’t know any better, he’d think the god were smiling. Martyn nods.

“Good, alright. Then I guess all we’ve got to do now is go.”

[daybreakrising]

@iniziare: "No, it's nothing; it was just— a bad dream, that's all." (For Bladie of the Blades; first instinct is that this was her having woken up from a bad dream, and so she wanders into whatever area he's in, in whatever the SH HQ is/looks like, but, perhaps creativity leads you elsewhere. But it's a tiny smidgen of one of the ideas possibly, maybe, depends!).

There is often a kind of solace and solitude to be found in the dead of night, when most souls still slumber peacefully. He remembers cherishing these silent hours a lifetime ago, of sitting in the quiet beneath the night sky, feeling the stresses of the day melting away - often alone, but not always. The ghost of a presence at his side, the radiating warmth of another living soul at his shoulder...

Much about him might have changed, but this, it seems, remains a constant. Of course, there is now an element of necessity about his late-night idlings - for when one has little need of sleep, what else can one do but wander amongst the shadows of night? It is not uncommon for his unlikely companions to find him meditating in complete darkness, or lost in thoughts with a gaze turned to the stars.

The difference now is that he is rarely the only one awake. During restless wanderings, he has heard the electronic orchestra of beeps, chirps, warbles - punctuated with explosions, gunfire, or other such familiar sounds of destruction - filtering through the silence: Silver Wolf no doubt absorbed in some all-night gaming session, frantic fingers racing across screens and keyboards alike, oblivious to the time ticking by. There have been occasions where he has found himself with equally silent company: Sam, a quietly looming presence that most would be intimidated by, yet he finds oddly calming. To exist comfortably in a space with another without the expectation of conversation is something of a rarity; not here, though. Not with these people.

Tonight, however, he is alone in the silence. This 'base' of theirs is largely empty: only he and Kafka reside temporarily within its walls, a brief respite before they take up their next mission, ever following Elio's script. It is little more than a safehouse; one of many scattered across worlds that the Stellaron Hunters have access to.

He sits upon the sill of the only window within the room, crimson gaze flitting periodically from the sky beyond to the closed door that sits, partially shrouded in shadow, at the end of the hall. Sleep, after all, is a vulnerable state. It is only right that he should guard her, no? She, who guards him from the demons inside his head; who frees him from their grasp to grant him a sliver of peace.

It is not by chance that he often finds himself nearby throughout his sleepless nights.

There is little that escapes his notice in such quiet - so he hears the gentle pad of footsteps even before the soft click of a handle precedes the opening of that partially-shadowed door. He turns from the window even as she appears from the dark void beyond, that intense crimson gaze immediately seeking her face. What he reads there has him reaching for the sword that is never far from his grasp - but her words stall him. There is no threat. At least, not one that he can fight.

A bad dream, that's all.

Her dismissal doesn't convince him. He knows the power a dream can have upon the mind. He doesn't dream often these days, but he is still haunted by the ghosts of his past, still suffers beneath the weight of everything he has lost, everything he has done. He still sometimes wakes with racing heart (cursed, unstoppable heart) and gasping breath.

"I'll make some tea." He rises from the window sill, crosses silently to the kitchenette he knows is equipped with the basics. He says nothing more until he offers her a steaming cup and a softened gaze that carries within it an unspoken invitation: you can tell me, if you like.

But, if all she needs of him is quiet company in the dead of night, she shall have it. He will sit with her beneath the night sky: a presence at his side, the radiating warmth of another living soul at his shoulder.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

30k-40k Words (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

baby can't you see? (i'm calling) (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: Two years after Dan's ill-advised stint up a mountain, and Phil's escape from a Royal psychopath, their dramatic flying off into the horizon hasn't had such a steady landing. Phil is consumed by his new venture in giving back to the world, but Dan is receiving none of this graciousness. Their living situation remains unstable, and they're barely in the same room long enough to hold hands.

It's all about to break apart, when the pandemic hits them where it hurts. Once again, Dan and Phil find themselves thrown into isolation with one another, back up where it all began. The memories of The Secret of the Alps are both fond and traumatic; being there again, trapped and in a bitter feud, is worryingly familiar. Can they make it out together a second time around? Or is this cycle doomed to repeat itself forever, until one of them calls it quits?

clean the kitchen (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: after a tragedy destroys everything he had, dan finds himself living a life far from what he had once expected.

everything seems like a huge mess, and all he can do is do his best to clean it up, piece by piece, little by little.

Cold, Empty Mattresses and Falling Stars (ao3) - conshellation

Summary: 2009 au where phil and his family own a campground/cabins in an area that is known for stargazing and phil has lived his entire life there, therefore knowing a lot about stars. dan and his family come from the city to said campground because dan is a nerd and asked to come there for his birthday.

colors in the gray (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: In a different world living a different life, Dan works at Starbucks and is about to publish his first novel when Phil (literally) steals his way into Dan's life.

Just Like Magic (ao3) - waylesssad

Summary: There is a lot more to magic than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

Learning Curves (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Dan, a youtuber, sees an old A levels teacher in a gay bar years after he left school. That same teacher is Phil Lester, the hunkiest teach Dan ever did see. He makes a plan to subtly bump into him and reintroduce himself as a successful adult. While the reintroduction doesn't go quite as planned, the two end up in bed together, much to Dan's delight. Phil on the other hand has some reservations about the whole thing, throwing a wrench into Dan's lustful plans.

Live Incidentally (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: At thirty-two, Phil’s fine with this lot in life— manager for Printzoid, a flat he rents on his own in a relatively nice part of London, friends he sees at least twice a month for board game nights, an ex-fiancé he’s trying damn hard to get over, and a brother who means well even if Martyn doesn’t understand why Phil insists there’s a distinction between their father’s artwork being creative and Martyn’s music being creative and Phil’s novelty t-shirts being... not-creative.

A fic about adulthood and opening up.

married at first sight (ao3) - nothingbutniall

Summary: Dan and Phil get matched together on the new season of Married At First Sight.

No Man Is An Island (ao3) - strawberrysunflower

Summary: While drunk and desperate to get away from the creatively-stifling hubbub of London, Dan rents a farmhouse on the Isle of Man for four weeks to finish writing his latest book. All he wants is silence. Peace. Solitude.

Then he meets Phil, the farm owners’ dorky, clumsy, stupidly handsome son.

Our Flaws Are Aligned (ao3) - phantasizeit

Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers, but they hate each other. Phil is reminded of this when he’s forced to interact with him at the Spain Creator’s Summit. Their situation isn’t helped by their complicated past when their firecracker relationship crashed and burned. When Stop, Speak, Support contacts Phil to be a headlining speaker in their tour across schools in the UK, he is more than excited, until he finds out he’ll working next to his YouTube enemy. Phil doesn’t expect their time planning the tour together to rekindle old feelings he thought he’d long since buried.

Practically Perfect In Every Way (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: Unhappily married father of two Phil Lester needs to hire a housekeeper-slash-babysitter when work gets crazy. The new babysitter, Dan, is kind, articulate, into video games, and absolutely gorgeous. Phil begins to doubt that it's worth trying to make his failing marriage work... and his kids agree.

RIFT (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: Phil is just a mere eight-year-old naive child when his mom keenly introduces him to his new stepbrother, Dan. They become friends and start living together fairly quickly. As years slip by, Phil slowly realises three things: First, Dan looks at him with pain in his gaze. Second, an inexplicable rift is separating them. Third, what he feels for Dan is more than just brotherly love.

Seaspell (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: A kiss, a curse, a quest.

When Dan discovers that the prince of his kingdom and childhood best friend, Phil, has been been hidden away in the castle for years after his disappearance, he quickly understands why. A curse has been passed down through the Lester family for generations, marking Phil with magic and transforming him into a creature of the waves and sea, forcing him to hide from a kingdom that is afraid of the unknown. But curses are made to be broken, and Dan joins him on a journey across the ocean to find the Witch that cast the spell, as his own growing feelings and a hidden danger rise to the surface.

Siren Call (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Beware of the siren's call, they tell you.

Dan had heard enough horror stories about sirens to be thoroughly terrified. He never wanted to go near the water, but as fate would have it, Dan's father had to sign him up for on a merchant's ship bound for the siren's passage. Dan had a sinking feeling that he was not going to survive an encounter with one of the deadly predators. Those touched by the siren's kiss were bound to drown. Except... it doesn't go quite like that.

stardust trail leading back to you (ao3) - toffeelemon

Summary: Phil is a full time alien conspiracist, a PhD dropout using his extensive Astronomy knowledge to justify his quarter life crisis of running around London all day chasing so-called aliens.

Phil just desperately wants to believe that he is not alone in the universe.

Agent D is the best Men in Black agent that London has ever seen in the last decade, promptly forgotten, dismissed and excluded from human society. He likes it that way. An emotionally constipated galactic agent only has so much room in his heart for a handful of extraterrestrial immigrants.

Until a particularly persistent man keeps disrupting missions, and a permanent fixture by the name of rookie Agent P eventually carves a space into Dee’s lonely existence.

Super Experiment (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: What happens when someone who usually stays inside on the internet goes for a night out just for once and then gets dragged into a crazy scientist's weird experiment? It's a specific question but it's the question Dan and Phil have been asking themselves since they got dragged into this. Now while not accidentally killing themselves or others with new found powers from the experiment, Dan and Phil have to find out who is behind this and somehow stop them all badass and video game like. Or probably not.

the beast you've made of me (ao3) - azurephil (orphan_account)

Summary: Phil’s eccentric aunt lives hours away in the countryside and needs someone to house-sit while she goes on holiday during the summer. He expects it to be peaceful, albeit boring. Then he meets the gardener.

The Chariot (ao3) - throughtheirsnoses (det395)

Summary: Phil Lester is a psychic but a really bad one at that, with no luck at tarot cards or tea leaves or magic 8 balls, only muddled, incoherent nightmares to follow. In the middle of finishing his grad degree, losing and making friends, and transitioning into adulthood, it’s hard to keep protecting himself. Dan is the hardest part, the young and confused man who keeps dominating his most intense dreams.

the last act of the show (ao3) - vvelna

Summary: Phil has made a living from faking relationships for nearly a decade. His new client is an actor named Dan Howell.

The Lovers (VI) (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan, guardian of the forest, feels inadequate to love and of love. His best friend Phil loves him despite that.. but doesn't know quite what to do when Dan becomes a hypocrite- playing with both their feelings

The Path to Happiness (ao3) - nebulous_frog

Summary: Phil, Prince of Stratalary, has an arranged marriage with Daniel, Prince of Iridacia. He doesn't think he'll have any feelings for the prince, that is, until he meets him.

they don't know (about us) (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan and Phil in Jamaica, July 2010.

This Could be the End of Everything (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: Dan’s finally starting university, the phase of his life he’s been waiting for since he was a small child. His first real chance at freedom, away from his parents. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans for him.

to let the light in (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Searching for a fresh start after a decade of dead ends in London, Dan becomes obsessed with a storytelling show on Rossendale Radio and a voice that hasn't been broadcast in years.

to roll with what comes (ao3) - symmetricdnp

Summary: But Phil had thought those were just stories. Stories that people would stumble upon online or hear from a friend, that’d make them think of how lucky they were that it didn’t happen to them.

Phil's comfortable yet decidedly average life gets turned upside down when he ends up bonded to a barista that he's exchanged about three sentences with.

Trying New Things (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: The first thing to catch Dan’s interest is what he’s wearing, of course: a pair of weather inappropriate jeans and a red jacket, a pair of thick framed glasses balanced on his nose. He’s tall but not in the gangly, awkward way Dan is tall; not in the way that would suggest he hasn’t quite grown into his body. Dan’s new neighbour is confidently tall, like he has muscle hiding under that restrictive outfit.

***

In which Dan has a not-so-subtle crush on his new neighbour.

Virus (ao3) - Lackless

Summary: Set in a dystopian future, Dan is a super-smart, super-lonely hacker who discovers an old piece of tech and gets swept into an intrigue that will change his world...

when it rains, it's lemon cakes (ao3) - gogystyle

Summary: Sneaking around. Crushed pastries at the bottom of the tray. Kisses at dawn and the impending threat of an arranged marriage.

Phil meets a tall stranger on a late-night rendezvous through the castle. What happens when that stranger's smile and laugh fill an entire room, burrowing besides Phil's heart and refusing to leave?

Wifey (ao3) - transdimensional_void

Summary: Phil's known since she was young that she is Very, Very Gay.

She's known since about a month ago that the goddess of a makeup artist at the M•A•C store makes her knees weak.

Now, if she only knew how to ask her on a date...

with a bullet (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: phil returns to his room after a party thrown by his housemates only to discover that there’s already someone in his bed

World's Greatest First Love: The Case of Daniel Howell (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Dan Howell wanted a clean break from his father’s publishing company. It was why he applied for a different company in London: to stop the ridicule of his coworkers for riding on his ‘daddy’s coat tails’. But he wasn’t expecting to suddenly be going from a literature editor, to a graphic novel editor. And he certainly wasn't expecting to come face first with his first love who broke his heart from when he was a teenager: who just happens to be his new editor-in-chief.

[invinciblerodent]

🍓

Arvid, Ray and Iona ❤

Oooh, yay!

I've kind of been thinking a bit about Arvid's relationship with his mother, honestly. That's not a very "fun" fact lol, but it is probably important for his post-game character development, that he essentially meets his birth mother, Gemria, for the first time at his wedding.

I like to think about how their relationship might turn out post-game, because, well, it's not like they're going to be close (I think in general he's going to feel closer to Morena, if anything), but just exchanging the occasional letter and being courteous, friendly with one another will do a lot in helping the both of them feel more at peace with each other.

And for something cute, although I do love Gale just dropping to his knees for every kiss, I like to think that Arvid is a very considerate boy, and kisses the back of his husband's hand more often than he'd request a "real" kiss when they're just out and about. (He gets a forehead smooch back, it's all good. Hoping that Gale's back won't suffer the same fate as his knees.)

...... also I'm currently listening to a semi-new-to-me song I have as an Arvid-theme contender right now, and it's really hitting me just right in the club tonight

There is SO MUCH in my head still about Ray, it's hard to even pick lol

let's see... one of my favorite little things about him is that I kind of made him, in a not super noticeable way, sort of partly fantasy-Hungarian- and I tried reflecting that in his speech as I was writing for him by taking Hungarian sayings and common phrases, and translating them word for word. That gave me things like "only oxen drink in solitude" (as an invitation to share a drink) and "to stare a wolf in the eye" (to stare unblinking at something/someone) and "I've a nail in my head about it" (i've an idea, I've been thinking about sthg), and other kinda folksy-sounding phrases that don't really exist in English as far as I'm aware, but it works for him.

He's my big lummox of a man with the smiling eyes, and the clever tongue, and the absolutely fascinatingly buck wild use of language sometimes, and I continue to love him to bits. god please let him be okay in veilguard please please please

ooh she angy in this one let's fix that

Iona is another one where I have just so many little thoughts that I can't decide what to talk about...

A cute thing I've been microwaving in my head, again mostly for the late- or post-game portions is that Iona would, over time, develop a small habit of indicating honesty by gently placing Astarion’s hand over her heart so he can feel its pace, knowing that that’s not something that one can possibly fake. (With the both of them having a history in lying even to one another, this is a gesture that they don’t really speak about, but one that he would nevertheless appreciate.) (Also, it's a titty in his hand. Of course he appreciates it.)

She’s also a frequent face-toucher (good god i've written her cradling his jaw/cheek so many times by now), and enjoys tracing his features with the very tips of her fingers- which somewhat also lets him “see” himself through her eyes, even after the death of the tadpole.

He might ask her to describe what she’s doing, as a very soft, intimate form of connection that makes use of her strength in using words.

When in a sappy sort of mood, she’ll sometimes settle on his lap, and trace his lips, describing how charming she finds the slight unevenness of his top lip, or trace a finger to the corner of his eye and describe how much she loves the way they crinkle when he looks at her so warmly.

Because I'm a sap and as much as I love them being tragic and weird and dealing with their respective shit, I also love them being soft and gentle with each other's fragile little hearts okay just let me have this

[hendolish]

Your Ben/Jack fic is gorgeous!! I love the way you wrote their dynamic! Thank you for that <3

If possible could you write something set during an england camp (euros or something else) where Ben can’t sleep (maybe because he’s nervous about a game or whether he’ll be picked to start or maybe he just struggles getting to sleep at night in general - or a mix of both) and it’s 2am so he texts Jack asking if he’s still awake. Jack isn’t but the text wakes him up so he replies something like “well I am now”, and the next thing he knows Ben is outside knocking on his door. Jack opens the door and Ben looks exhausted, his eyes are all red from crying and Jack just pulls him into the biggest hug which makes Ben start crying again. Jack tucks him into bed and looks after him and it’s only when they’re cuddling that Ben finally drifts off to sleep.

ben chilwell/jack grealish | suite dreams ♡

The weight of an upcoming match casts a heavy air throughout the England camp. The prestigious Euros championship has everyone on edge, especially with high stakes lingering just around the corner.

In the quiet solitude of his room, Ben tosses and turns in bed, struggling to find sleep. Thoughts race through his mind: What if he isn't picked for the starting eleven? What if he makes a mistake during the game? The anxiety, combined with a predisposition to fitful sleep, has him on edge.

Reaching for his phone, he notes the time - 2 am. Without overthinking, his fingers move to text Jack, "You up?"

Minutes feel like hours as he waits for a reply, second-guessing his decision. The familiar 'ding' of an incoming message makes his heart leap. “Well, I am now," reads Jack's mildly sarcastic response.

Ben hesitates for a split second before typing, “Can I come over?” He pulls on some joggers without waiting for an answer, and soon finds himself outside Jack’s room, knocking softly. He's running on pure emotion, exhaustion evident in his posture and eyes.

The door swings open to reveal a groggy Jack, hair tousled from sleep. But his casual demeanour drops the moment he catches sight of Ben's tear-streaked face. Without uttering a word, Jack pulls him into a comforting embrace, holding him tight as Ben's emotions threaten to spill over once more.

"You're okay, Chilly," Jack murmurs, using the nickname that's slowly become a term of endearment between them. "I've got you."

They move to the bed, where Jack helps Ben settle in, tucking the covers around him. The quiet room is a stark contrast to the cacophony inside Ben's head, but Jack's presence has a calming effect. They lie side by side, Jack's arm draped protectively over Ben.

And as the minutes pass, Ben’s breathing evens out, the tightness in his chest ebbing. Nestled against Jack, the worries of the world fade, and, for the first time that night, Ben drifts into a deep, peaceful slumber. Jack, feeling the weight of Ben's trust, offers a silent promise to always be there, no matter what may happen.

♡

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 11

CW: obsessive thoughts, drug mention

Intermezzo ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 12

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Yaletown Park looked more like a rocky desert than anything adjacent to the open hangout it was sold as, especially in the hollow glow of the streetlights. Caught between high-risers and vacant retail space, the few square meters of cobble only offered some trash or needles to pluck from the ground. If the grass patches shooting out here and there were ever kept trim in the first place remained a mystery.

Behind a strategically chosen planter sat a reserved man, smoking the second pack of the day and stewing in his jaded mood, still waiting for whoever wanted to stop by. All this was normal for Morris by now.

The evening had started promising, with frat boys strolling along the sidewalk and a few girls in tow; a view that was starting to become more and more frequent. He smiled joylessly, remembering how he met Amber on a night like this.

More than a year must've passed since then, he figured, trying to cling onto thoughts that wouldn't shock him with memories of someone he didn't have to think about anymore. At least when he was chased around enough.

"You're gonna sit there until I tell you otherwise!"

Goddamn. Not that it was easy for Belanger either, patrolling the streets to prospect the usual scum. No regret laid in avoiding each other, but since Morris was dependent on any signal to engage with the more casual clientele, he was stuck in place. 

That's what I get for my not so tight scheduling. 

As a fixer caught at the bottom of the food chain, and honest to god no agency or willingness to change his position, it was better to keep his mouth shut and head down. But with skin still in the game, did he have another option? For all he cared, they could make him do their laundry and scrub all crack houses of the state squeaky-clean. Anything else than ending up in Dutch's office with that thing-  

Another thought he quickly shoved aside, another problem to ignore till it blew up.

Except a lone hobo who threw up way too close to his shoes, nothing ripped Morris out of the daydreaming that kept his last sliver of sanity alive. The risk of being arrested on the spot or stabbed to death by someone who needed cash even more than him aside, the prize of it all was just...surviving.

"One day you wake up, and your whole life is spent in what?" Amber's life lesson was now sober reality, spot-on to the last detail.

Hearing her voice again used to pierce through his gut and leave him wrecked with self-hatred, although these feelings had died down in the time they spent apart. Not that he didn't try to distract himself from the distraction, oh no, he had several chances to drown out boiling memories of past love during the spring months, but this year it was different. Nobody was waiting at home. Morris couldn't let go, not this time, not since her...since him-

If Belanger didn't call right now, he would find a good use for all those narcotics in his pocket.

A break from it all, that's what he needed to work himself to the bone for. 

Wrapping his leather jacket closer around his body, Morris wished to disappear into it completely. Even the colorful August couldn't hide that it had gotten colder in the last days of an already far too chilly summer. 

Without any warning, his peaceful solitude was interrupted again. 

A figure stumbled blindly along the sidewalk. Morris' gaze followed them closely, how disoriented feet pushed each other forward and finally letting them flop down onto a bench near the park's exit.

Drunk or high, certainly. Care for another round? 10 bucks for a flat of fentanyl - dark green, quite popular at the moment. 

Still, Belanger didn't give him the go-ahead yet. Maybe he should make today's slow business hum: be proactive, independent. Write it on a resume, why not.

His stiff knee gave an audible crack as it was forced to stand straight, lazily stretching the sore muscles in his back and taking the first few steps towards his potential customer, Morris started to become flustered. 

Could be a setup, for all he knew. Something was off. 

The soon-to-be buyer was wrapped up in shadows, sitting quietly by themself and only rarely mumbling at the stones below their feet.

He approached until their shoes nearly touched, time to play offense: "You good?"

Nothing. Awkward, he wasn't used to making the first move like this.

Shoving at the motionless shoulders only made their head flop forward, and a forced sigh quickly followed it. First week on campus, probably, lost their friends and self-control only to aimlessly walk around the neighborhood.

"You definitely had enough fun for today, buddy," Morris scoffed, ready to turn around. 

Suddenly, he faltered. They had to rethink Belanger's strategy if he ought to stay here, passed-out freshmen were only good for catching unwanted attention and as long as Dutch didn't want to see his ass in jail, any cops on patrol should be avoided. Not that they lost sleep about the mass of catatonic bodies scattered throughout the city streets, just when they were seen in the wrong parts of town - the pleasant ones.

"Move," so he demanded, quickly lifting up their chin, nestled against the stiff collar of their windbreaker, with his fist. "You're gonna get me in trouble."

The hot breath against Morris' hand sent shivers up his spine. After nights like these, he felt mostly frozen numb, but the air coming out in labored and shallow puffs let his fingers tingle with newfound life.

Suddenly, the howl of an ambulance cut through the silence. Not for them, of course, it was surely headed east. As it took a turn and rushed past the unusual couple, Morris caught a quick glimpse of his vis-à-vis.

For less than a heartbeat, his body froze.

His mouth began to open and close like a fish on land, unable to produce a single word, whilst the prickle spread from his back through every inch of his body. A wonderful illusion bloomed under the blue-red-blue-red flicker and as quickly as it had reached both, it left them alone in the nightly glow of streetlights.

Morris didn't hear himself gasp, the rush of blood in his ears was too deafening. Now dead focused on the freckle-sprinkled skin, tousled dark hair and soft lashes, an inward pull kept him from blinking: the fear that he would be ripped out of his trance.

No dream, no wishful thinking. Morris would recognize this face anywhere.

"Elliot?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24