#also listen. I described him as pale here because he’s a can’t tan only burns kinda person

[tartagliove]

i've been thinking about farmer boy!ajax...

stardew valley au ✧ fluff ✧ 0.6k words

The little cabin before you could use some work. There are holes in the roof, where tiles have been torn off from wind and rain and time. They match the porch that wraps around the front of the small building, wooden floorboards missing and broken—the perfect trap for you to twist your ankle in. You'll have to watch your step.

Despite all of this, the cabin is charming in its own little way. Windows line each wall of the house. Although dust and cobwebs cling to the glass, they just need a good scrub before sunlight will stream inside all day long. You'll get the best view of the sun rising and setting upon gently sloping fields, which someday will be vibrant with colors and life.

That's the dream, at least.

For now, it's just you and the run-down cabin that could use a bit of love and work before you turn it into your new home. You, your cabin, the birds that warble a high-pitched melody from the trees, and the ginger-haired boy who leans against the rotting wooden fence that lines your property.

You flinch in surprise, spinning to face the stranger.

The first thing you notice is that he's not a boy at all. He certainly looks young, with tousled coppery hair, blue eyes that remind you more of the ocean than the sky, and rather fair skin that is interrupted by constellations of freckles. But the well defined muscles that flex and shift under a pair of denim overalls, and the handful of scars that litter his body only point to years of hard, physical labor.

He holds himself with ease, resting his forearms on your fence. This only serves to broaden his shoulders as he takes his time studying you as you've been doing to him. His eyes seem to blaze a trail as they roam across your body, taking in the nearly pristine sneakers and the stiff new backpack, along with the long-sleeved shirt that clings to your arms from humidity and sweat of the countryside.

"What's a pretty city-dweller like you doing out here on an abandoned farm, hm?" he asks, one brow raised, amusement dancing on his lips.

You fiddle with your fingers, the flutter that runs through you at the hidden compliment overridden by embarrassment that he's already able to tell where you're from. You look nothing like the seasoned farmer that he is, his fingers calloused and scarred.

"It's not abandoned," you say, a bit of indignation in your voice as you straighten your back and stare at him in determination, unwilling to flinch from his all-consuming gaze. "Not anymore, at least. I live here now."

A smile properly stretches across his face. "Oh, really? That makes us neighbors, then. I’m Ajax."

He offers his hand, and you take a few steps forward to grasp it. His grip is warm and firm; a bit rough compared to your own. You shake, once, twice, then release, pulling your hand behind you as if it will help you forget the feeling of his wrapped around yours.

He chuckles and tosses you another grin, pleased. "I’ll see you around then, farmer."

His taunting tone is irritating. The heat you’re feeling is certainly not due to the way he walks away, well-defined back framed by the blue straps of his overalls.

You don’t learn much about your new neighbor from this interaction, but you are sure about one thing. He certainly is not just a farmer boy.

[allsassnoclass]

my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

I have had the great fortune to participate in @ashesonthefloor‘s Halloween fic event this year!  Honestly it was a blast and I’m super excited to see everyone else’s creations!

Event Masterlist

For this event, we all were assigned a pairing, then got to choose from a list of prompts.  My prompt was as follows: “You’ve told me three separate times now you have a vampire kink and I’m starting to wonder if you know I’m a vampire.” Or, pretty explanatory. One person is a vampire. The other has a vampire “kink”. (Can also be them saying they like the aesthetic, or trying to hint that they know and don’t mind. Literally do what you want with it) I strayed a little bit, but the prompt idea is still there!  Hope you enjoy!

Michael is having a hard time figuring out if the amount of vampire jokes and references is due to Ashton knowing his deepest, darkest secret, or if that's just his sense of humor.

Read on ao3

1.

The first time it happens, they’re heading to their first date.

Michael hasn’t really dated anyone since the 90s, because dating is complicated.  He doesn’t age.  He can’t eat regular food.  Going out in the sun is dicy at best and results in extremely painful sunburn at worst.  He shows up in most mirrors now, because they rarely have silver backing anymore, but pictures are a no-go because his eyes cause a lens flare.

The last person he went on an actual date with was Calum, because they’ve been friends for centuries and figured they might as well give it a go.  Michael wishes they could have worked, but it took some making out before they both agreed that, as much as they love each other, it’s all platonic.  The date itself was fun, but there were no romantic butterflies to be found.  Michael has seen Calum naked many times before, and while he can appreciate a handsome man, when it’s Calum it does nothing for him.

Ashton is very handsome.  He’s also funny, and passionate, and he’s got more than enough snark to speak Michael’s language.  He’s got tenacity and determination, and for some reason part of that determination got directed towards getting Michael on a date with him.

He didn’t have to work very hard.  Michael said yes at the first opportunity.

For the first date, Ashton asked if he could pick him up, so Michael waits nervously in his living room, listening to his grandfather clock ticking.  (He’s had it since 1733.  It was made specifically for him by the clockmaker, a parting gift because if Michael stayed in the area for too much longer, his lack of ageing would get suspicious.)

(This is such a bad idea.  Even if this date goes well, Michael can’t be in a relationship with a human for very long before his secret will slip.)

His phone vibrates with a message, and he nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes that it’s just Calum, not Ashton about to cancel or spring a sudden change of plans.

Cal: have fun on your date ;) wow him with your Biting sense of humor

Michael: i hate you the puns got old centuries ago

Cal: you love them

Michael’s doorbell rings, startling him enough that he fumbles his phone and effectively cutting off any sort of argument he may have started to get into.  Michael stands from the couch, takes a deep breath, and answers the door.

Ashton looks really fucking good.  Michael has only really seen him in their work clothes, when Ashton is writing up articles about the local music scene and Michael is busy approving things to put on the website, but he dresses up very nicely.  His hair is artfully tousled in a way Michael knows must take a little bit of time, and Michael thinks there might be just a hint of glitter under his eyes that would make his heart palpitate if it still did stuff like that.  His shirt is short sleeved, showing off his arms nicely, and there are roses printed against the white fabric that match the ones in the bouquet in his hands.

Michael doesn’t know the last time someone gave him flowers.

“Hi,” Ashton says.  “You look amazing.”

Michael feels like he’s underdressed now.  He’s got on a black long sleeve, because the sun hasn’t fully set yet and he’s trying to cover as much skin as possible, and a pair of black jeans.  It’s a nicer shirt of his, something name brand that he can afford due to decades of saving here and there, but he’s well aware that his overall style leans more casual than dressy.

“Thanks,” he says.  “You look absolutely fantastic.”

Ashton glances down and smiles, pleased.  Michael likes that he can make him react like that.

“I got you flowers,” Ashton says.  “I hope you aren’t allergic.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d feel silly.”

“I’m not,” Michael smiles, taking them from him.  There are a few sprigs of lily of the valley tucked in amongst the roses and ferns, and he takes a deep inhale.  He loves the sweet scent of roses and how lively fresh flowers can appear to be even when they’re dying.  Maybe it’s self-centered, but he likes to think there are some similarities between him and the plants.  They’re not alive anymore, but they’re still going, and they can still bring people a little bit of joy for a few impermanent moments before moving on.

“I’ll put these in some water.  You can step in for a second, if you want.”

He had excessively cleaned the entry and living room earlier in the evening, paranoid in case something like this forced Ashton inside.  At least now he’s certain that there’s nothing incriminating lying about.

“Nice place,” Ashton says.

“Thanks,” Michael replies, already booking it for the kitchen to grab a vase.  Once he gets there he takes a moment to try to stop the slight shake to his hands and compose himself.

You are an ancient, immortal being who has lived through the fall of empires, he scolds himself.  You can handle one date with a cute boy who brought you flowers.

Ashton beams when Michael says he’s ready to go.

“I was thinking we could walk, if that’s okay,” he says while Michael locks the door behind them.  “It’s not far.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, yet?” Michael asks.  Ashton mimes zipping his lips.  The only information he gave Michael was that it’s going to be a pretty casual setting (and yet he showed up to Michael’s door looking like that) and that Michael won’t have to eat.  That’s something he specifically requested, making up a bunch of excuses about being gluten free and severely lactose intolerant and giving a list of other allergens a mile long.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ashton laughs when he pouts.  “Come on.”

He grabs Michael’s hand to start leading him down the street, and Michael absolutely will not admit to himself how nice it feels, warm and alive against his.

They go through some basic small talk on the way there, touching on current work projects since they’re in different departments and learning a bit more about each other’s families.  Michael makes an excuse about his being in Australia and tells Ashton about Calum instead, and Ashton fills time by describing his mom and siblings.  It’s cute to see the way he lights up, seeming radiant in the light of the setting sun that Michael has to squint harshly against.

“Wow, you really don’t like the sun,” Ashton says eventually.

“What? Oh, not really, I guess.”

“I should’ve known, but I wasn’t sure if all of you are fully nocturnal or not.”

“What?” Michael asks, alarm bells ringing.  “Why would you--what makes you say that?”

Ashton shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know.  You’re just so pale and pasty,” he says, obvious tease in his voice.  “Definitely closer to a creature of the night than an early bird, I’d guess.”

He’s joking.  Ashton has not, somehow, discovered his secret ten minutes into their first date.

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs.  “Not all of us can have perfect natural tans.  I burn really easily.”

“Do you glow in the dark, too?  Turn fluorescent under blacklights?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he leans a little into Ashton as he says it to let him know that the banter isn’t unwelcome.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means before Ashton is pulling him towards the doors of a large building.  He holds it open for him like a gentleman, and Michael misses the contact of their hands but appreciates having all of his senses free to process the new environment, which is full of a plethora of new sights, sounds, and smells.

“Roller skating?” Michael asks, looking around the large arena.  It’s dim, but his eyes adjust immediately to take in the wondrously tacky carpet outside the rink, highlighted in brief bursts by rotating colorful lights.  Loud music plays over the speakers, and in the arena people in small groups or pairs are making their way around the track.  He can smell fried food and various types of beverages coming from a bar in the corner, mingling with the scent of unfamiliar people.  He takes it all in for a moment, then dials back his senses to make it more bearable.

“It’ll be fun,” Ashton says.  “Willing to give it a go?”

“Definitely.”

They go get their skates, and Ashton pays for the shoe rental and the entrance fee.  Michael hasn’t been roller skating in probably around a decade, and he’s excited Ashton picked this as their date location.  So many date ideas these days have to do with food, the only thing Michael absolutely can’t participate in, but Ashton found something that will hopefully be fun while still allowing them to talk and get to know each other better.

“Ready?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods, and then they step out into the rink.

Ashton, it turns out, is worse at roller skating than Michael is.  That makes sense, because Michael did it a lot in the 70s and 90s and has gone a few times since to keep it fresh, and Ashton isn’t awful, but there are a few instances where he wobbles and his hand immediately reaches out to grab at Michael’s arm before he rebalances and apologizes.  Michael laughs at him good naturedly and does a few circles around him until Ashton huffs and Michael slips an arm through his.

“Come on,” Michael says.  “Once you’re used to this in about fifteen minutes, I’ll race you around the track.”

Michael wins the first race, but Ashton wins the second, although Michael is giggling too much for it to count, in his opinion.  They spend a lot of time making laps and talking, and Michael skates backwards to show off at every opportunity while Ashton dances to the songs that come on over the speakers to make him laugh.  It’s one of the best nights Michael has had in a long time, and by the time they leave they’re both walking slowly, stretching their time together as much as possible.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ashton says when they finally reach Michael’s door.  His front light makes the glitter under Ashton’s eyes sparkle, and Michael technically doesn’t have to breathe, but his breath still catches.

“Me too,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So...do you want to do this again?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.  I’ll take you out, next time.”

“Okay,” Ashton smiles, ducking his head.  Michael catches a faint blush on his cheeks, blood rushing up to color them, and he loves that he sees Ashton like this.  At work, he’s always cool and level-headed, confident in what he says and strong in his opinions.  Michael has managed to turn him bashful, and that is possibly the best thing to come out of the date.

“I should let you get on with your night,” Ashton says eventually.  Michael tries to find some sort of excuse to get him to stay, but then Ashton leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s cheek, soft and lingering.  When he takes a step back, Michael wants to pull him in again to memorize the scent of his skin and feel of his warmth.

“Good night,” Ashton says.

“Night,” Michael makes himself reply.  Ashton smiles again, then sets off down the street.  Michael watches him, smiling when he glances back and waves again, and continues to stand on his front stoop until Ashton is fully out of sight, even for him.

His phone buzzes as soon as he steps inside, and Michael pulls it out in case it’s something important or work related (or Ashton).

Cal: how was the date? or are you two still going…?

Michael: really fucking good

2.

On the third date, Michael gets to see the inside of Ashton’s apartment.

Michael took them stargazing for their second date.  There was a meteor shower he wanted to try to watch, anyway, and he found a good spot outside the city where it would be mostly visible.  Ashton likes being outdoors, and Michael doesn’t mind it at night, so he drove them out of the city, made the trek up a hill, and laid out a blanket for them to cuddle up in.  All in all, it was a great night.  Even the car ride to and from the location was amazing, because Michael told Ashton to make a playlist for it and they spent the entire time discussing favorite songs.  Ashton is such a snob about it sometimes, since he’s a music journalist and is always evaluating in his head, but there were a few surprises that he put on there simply because “good music doesn’t always have to be good music, Michael.”

Ashton kissed him on the cheek again when Michael walked him to his door.  Michael thinks that something so simple shouldn’t occupy so much space in his thoughts, but he’s been replaying it in his head over and over.  It’s a little distracting at work, especially when he gets one of Ashton’s articles to upload to the website.

They head to Ashton’s right after they both clock out.  Ashton doesn’t live far and typically walks (he really likes walking places, Michael has noticed), but Michael drives them so he’ll have his car handy at the end of the night.  It’s a relatively nice building, and Ashton holds the lobby door open for him, which counts enough as an invite to allow him to enter.  They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, then Ashton unlocks his door and steps in.

From what Michael can see, it’s a nice apartment.  The entry, kitchen, and living room flow easily together, and there’s a hallway off to the side that Michael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.

He can’t step over the threshold.  He hasn’t been invited in this time, not explicitly enough for him to freely enter despite knowing that Ashton wants him there.

“My roommate is out for the night.  I swear I cleaned before I left for work today,” Ashton says, puttering around the living room and picking up what looks like a stray sock, righting the pillows on the couch and straightening some books on the coffee table.  Michael leans against the doorframe and watches him.  Fluffing the pillows doesn’t really matter to Michael, but if it makes Ashton feel better it’s no hardship on him.

Ashton finishes, then glances around until he spots Michael still in the hall.

“Oh.  I didn’t really invite you in, did I.”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do,” Michael teases.  “I’d hate to intrude, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Ashton says, coming forward and taking both of Michael’s hands in his.  “Michael Clifford, I formally invite you into my home.  You are welcome here whenever you’d like.”

“A simple ‘hey, come in,’ would’ve been sufficient, but thanks,” he laughs, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says.  “If you’re going to be vampiric about entering my home, I’m going to treat you with the proper respect, Count Clifford.”

Apparently the vampire jokes are going to be a thing.  Michael can work with that, instead of panicking over it.  If he turns it into a bit, maybe Ashton will brush things off longer.

“Thank you, mortal.  Now, I vant to suck your blood,” he says, exaggerating the awful stereotypical (absolutely false and insulting) accent.  It gets a laugh from Ashton, though, which is what he wanted.

“If you manage to beat me at chess, I’ll let you,” Ashton says.

Michael hasn’t let himself think about Ashton’s blood.  He can control himself very easily around humans, and bloodlust isn’t really a thing with him unless he hasn’t eaten in over a week.  He has a specific concoction that he picks up from the magic shop like clockwork, a mixture of animal blood, some herbs, a few drops of human blood (humanely donated), and whatever the fuck is the flavor for that batch, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely forgotten how amazing it tastes to drink pure, living blood.  It’s incredibly intimate, and Michael hasn’t been that close with a human in a very, very long time.

“Okay,” he chokes, once the silence has stretched on too long.  Ashton quirks an eyebrow at him, but moves to get the board games without comment.

Michael loves board games.  He loves all games, really, and he mostly deals with video games now to keep as up to date as possible (and because he doesn't have to invite friends over to play most of them).  What’s nice about games, though, is that they can change every time.  Michael has been playing chess since it was invented, but he’s never played against Ashton, and it’s going to be an entirely new experience.

Unfortunately, Ashton is extremely good at chess.

“What the fuck,” Michael says, king toppling after a five-move checkmate.

“Darn,” Ashton replies, faux innocent.  “I guess there’ll be no bloodsucking tonight.”

“Wait, I want a rematch.  I’m good at chess, I swear.”

Ashton wins twice more before they move on to another game.  They cycle through a few before landing on a card game from Ashton’s family, one that Michael hasn’t heard of or played before.  It has a lot of complicated rules, and Ashton walks him through it slowly.  If Michael feints misunderstanding more than necessary just to have Ashton’s focus on him, leaning close to look at his cards and explain the best moves, then that’s his business.

Michael doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Ashton’s stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.

“How is it already nine o’clock?” he asks.  “Shit, you haven’t eaten yet.  You could’ve had something.”

Ashton just shakes his head.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you if I don’t have anything to feed you, too,” he says.  Michael wishes it were possible for him to digest human food, because while Ashton does have a nice amount of blood he could tap into with permission, somehow Michael doesn’t think that’s on the table

“I have a weird meal schedule, anyway,” he says.  “I eat a really big lunch, then only something small late at night.  I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll remember that for future reference,” Ashton says.  “Although someday I hope you let me feed you.”

It is such a good thing that breathing is an option for Michael, rather than a requirement.  Ashton may not have any clue how what he’s saying sounds, but that doesn’t mean Michael isn’t affected.

“We’ll see,” he says, although there’s no chance that’ll ever happen.  “I should probably head home, anyway.”

Ashton checks the time.

“You can stay longer if you want.  My roommate will be back soon, but he wouldn’t mind.”

Michael wants to stay, but he’s not sure he’d ever leave if he did.

“I think I’ll go.  I’m not sure we’re at the “meeting the roommates” stage yet.”

Michael stands, and Ashton follows to walk him out.

“I had a good time.  Again,” Ashton says as they walk down the stairs.

“Me too, even if I think you were somehow cheating at chess.”

“Hey,” Ashton complains, then pauses.  “I was going to say that jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but everything is a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Michael says.  “That’s not true at all.  I have made some bad fashion choices in the past.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ashton says.  Michael wishes he could show him the pictures from the 80s, as embarrassing as they are.  They reach the bottom landing entirely too soon, but Ashton walks him out to the parking deck until they’re standing next to his car.

“So,” Ashton says, squaring his shoulders.  “We’ve been on three dates so far, and I really like you, Michael.  Hanging out with you has been some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  I was wondering if you wanted to officially be my boyfriend.”

Fuck.  The smart thing would be to cut this off now, before either of them get too attached, because Michael already thinks it would absolutely shatter his non-existent heart if Ashton found out and thought he was a monster.

“Absolutely,” he says instead, because he’s an idiot who wants what he can’t have.  “These past few dates have been the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”

Ashton beams, like the sun breaking through clouds.  He has dimples, and Michael really wants to press his fingers into the divots.  He just wants to touch Ashton everywhere, really, to feel the soft skin and know that there’s blood bringing heat to it from his heart to every corner and crevice.

There’s something so absolutely tantalizing about how alive Ashton is.  Michael knows that he can’t be more like him, not even if he was actually alive still, but he’s content to have him near.  He’d be content to watch from a distance, honestly, but if Ashton wants him close then Michael is going to stay close.

He should not be this whipped after only the third date.

“Well,” he says once they’ve spent too much time grinning at each other silently.

“I should let you go,” Ashton says.  “I’ll text you.”

“I’d like that,” Michael says.  He goes to open his car door, but Ashton’s hand on his wrist stops him.  He leans forward and to kiss Michael on the cheek, just like the past two dates, but this time it lands a bit lower and closer to the middle.  The corner of his mouth hits Michael’s and lingers there for just a second longer than he can bear.

“For fucks sake,” he breathes, then slots their lips together properly.  Ashton smiles into the kiss before he can get it under control and properly kiss back.  Maybe it’s dramatic to say that this kiss feels like it’s filling some hole in Michael that he didn’t know was vacant, but Michael is a dramatic guy, and there’s something special about the way their noses bump and how instinctual it is to shift closer.  Michael doesn’t really want it to end, so he gives Ashton another peck before pulling away fully.  Ashton’s eyes take a moment to flutter open.

It’s definitely far too early to be in love, but Michael is very self-aware after being around for so long, and he knows he’s going to have to actively try not to fall head-over-heels for Ashton.

“Have a good night, Ashton,” Michael says.

“You too.  Drive safe.”

Michael keeps his composure as he pulls out of the parking space, aware of Ashton’s eyes on him.  He manages to keep it together all the way home, actually, but the moment his door shuts behind him he’s leaning against it, giddy with a crush and wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

3.

Movie nights become a bit of a thing.  It’s a low-maintenance way to spend time together, and sometimes they’re both too tired after grueling work days or hard weeks to be around a lot of people.  Michael’s house has a pretty nice tv, and he has an extensive movie collection, including some horrible b-movies on VHS that Ashton finds endlessly amusing.  A lot of Michael’s favorite moments are spent snuggled up on the couch under Ashton’s arm or with his feet in his lap, watching the way the light from the screen plays off of his face more than the movie itself.

Ashton hasn’t seen the Twilight movies, which is almost a travesty.  Michael watched all of them in theaters with Calum, both of them weirdly captivated with how completely bonkers and inaccurate they are, and they’ve seen them often enough to quote them almost completely to each other at the drop of a hat.  Michael is tired today, and he wants something he doesn’t have to pay much attention to.

He sleeps significantly less than humans do, but that doesn’t mean that staying up for the past week and a half straight was a good idea.  He was also on his feet more than usual at work, and everything is hurting a little.  His body has better-than-average healing, but it’s also over a few centuries old.  Today, he’s feeling it.

Edward has just gotten the first sniff of Bella and looks like he’s about to puke when Ashton turns to him.  Michael is leaning against the corner of the couch, head lolling to the side and feet tucked up next to him.  He’s been looking at Ashton and letting his thoughts drift, and he should probably be more embarrassed than he is that he was caught at it.

“What’s up with you today?” Ashton asks.  “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Tired,” Michael says.  “My feet hurt.”

“I can help with one of those things,” he says.  “Give me your feet.”

“What?”

Ashton gestures until Michael uncurls, stretching his legs out until his feet land in Ashton’s lap.  He starts at Michael’s ankles, gently rubbing and then moving to the bottoms of his feet.  Michael jumps when he presses down on a particularly tight tendon, but it’s already feeling leagues better.

“I can’t believe you’re touching my feet,” he groans as Ashton presses a knuckle into the center, making his toes curl.  “That’s so gross.”

Ashton snorts.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll wash my hands after if it makes you feel better.  I just want to make you feel good.”

Michael’s face would be completely inflamed if he had the blood for it.

“Shut up.  This better not be a fetish for you.”

Ashton laughs this time, a full belly laugh that Michael would enjoy hearing more if it didn’t make him stop the massage.

“Would that be a deal breaker?” he giggles when he’s calmed down enough.  Michael takes a moment to evaluate if he’s actually joking or not, because he really likes Ashton and has loved being his boyfriend for the past couple of months, but feet might be where he draws the line.

“No, I don’t have a foot fetish,” Ashton says after a moment of Michael staring at him like a deer in the headlights.  Michael lets out a sigh of relief.  He can be adventurous about stuff like that, and he’s been around long enough to try basically everything, but someone being aroused by his feet will always be just a little too weird.

“Do you have any embarrassing fetishes or kinks?” Ashton asks conversationally.  “Just… for future reference, if that’s something you want.”

They haven’t done anything besides some lazy making out, which Michael is grateful for.  He likes that they’re taking their time with it.  He doesn’t want to rush this, but the thought has crossed his mind before.

He swallows.  Ashton’s alternating between glancing at the tv and paying attention to his massage, and Michael doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he’s not trapped under that gaze or upset that he doesn’t have Ashton’s full undivided attention.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Michael says.  “I’m open to a lot of things, but I really like being taken care of.  I’ve been told I can be demanding and needy.  Sometimes I like… being held down, I guess.  Nothing excessive, but…”

He’s an extra-strong, extra-resilient being.  Every time he feels like someone else has the control, it’s a special kind of rush.

Ashton glances at him from under his eyelashes, the blue-green light from the tv casting strange and otherworldly shadows over his face.  Michael swallows thickly again.

“I like taking care of my partner, so that works out,” Ashton says.  Michael nods.  Ashton turns back to the tv and tilts his head in consideration, putting his neck on full display.

“You know,” he says, “I never really was into biting, but now…” He trails off, then brings a finger up to his neck, tracing along the length of it subconsciously.  At least, Michael hopes that it’s subconscious.  The air is thick with tension, and if Ashton is doing this on purpose than he knows a lot more about Michael than he’s let on.

“It might be nice to be marked up a bit,” Ashton says.  He glances at Michael, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile.  “Maybe Bella had the right idea, going after a vampire.”

Michael snorts and the tension dissipates like a balloon popping.

“I hardly think anyone in this movie counts as a real vampire.”

“You don’t think real vampires sparkle in the sun?” Ashton asks.  “Darn.  What’s the point of vampires if you have to dump glitter on them for the sparkle effect?”

“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs.

“I’m the idiot?  You’re the one who’s all the way over there when you have a perfectly good boyfriend right here who’s ready to cuddle you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and shifts to tuck himself against Ashton’s side.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Very,” Ashton says, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them.  It’s cozy.  Michael sighs in contentment.

“Do your feet feel a little better?” Ashton asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you want to take a nap now, you can.”

Michael hums and seeks out Ashton’s other hand, tangling their fingers together sloppily.  He’s tired, but he probably won’t drift off.  He has all night for a power nap, and right now he doesn’t want to miss a second of his time with Ashton.

4.

The door bangs shut behind them, and Michael doesn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Ashton is on him again, lips incessantly seeking his and body caging him against the wall.  Michael’s own hands are already slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel the warm expanse of his back and pull him even closer.  He’s always run cold, even before he was turned, but right now he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, flames igniting with every point of contact between them.  Ashton gets a hand in his hair and tugs, and Michael makes a noise he wasn’t expecting to come out of him.

Don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, he repeats to himself.  It’s typically effortless to keep his fangs retracted and unnoticable, but he hasn’t done this with someone he truly likes in a very, very long time.  He can’t allow himself to get so mindlessly overwhelmed that they slip down.

Ashton detaches their lips to take a breath, and Michael takes the opportunity to trail kisses over his jawline and down the column of his throat.  Ashton hums into it, the sound reverberating through his vocal chords, and Michael nips at his throat to turn the hum into a groan, sucking at it again to ease the sting.

There’s a particular feeling of satisfaction at leaning back briefly to take in his progress, knowing that the blood is pooling just under the surface of Ashton’s skin.  When he returns to his ministrations with a slightly harsher bite, Ashton jolts, rocking into him.

“Fuck, Michael,” he breathes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Michael asks between kisses, trailing over his collarbones now because Ashton never buttons his fucking shirts.

“Anything.  Everything.  I--” He’s cut off by another groan that dissolves into a breathless laugh.  “You’re so fucking distracting; get back up here.”

He tugs on Michael’s hair again, guiding their mouths together.  It’s easier than breathing to let Ashton take control, and Michael could stand here all night and let himself be kissed against the wall if there weren’t other things he wanted to be doing in the bedroom.  Still, he whines when Ashton pulls away.

“I know you don’t sleep, and I’ll keep up as much as I can,” Ashton pants.  “I can’t fucking wait to take you apart.”

“So do it,” Michael says, not able to care about how desperate he sounds.  “No one’s stopping you.”

“You’re such a mouthy little shit,” he says, leaning back in for a kiss that Michael feels all the way down to his toes.  They don’t part again until they’re in the bedroom and falling onto the mattress.

-/-

Afterwards, Michael watches, amused, as Ashton fights to keep his eyes open.  They never turned on the lights, but Michael can see just fine with his vampire eyesight and the early rays of sunshine beginning to paint the sky outside in pinks and oranges.

“Just go to sleep,” Michael laughs, tracing another mindless pattern onto Ashton’s ribs.  “We’re done.  I can’t handle anything else.”

“Weird to sleep when you’re not,” he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed again.  “Can feel you watching me.”

“I won’t watch you,” Michael says.  “I’ll probably fall asleep right after.”

Ashton snorts halfheartedly.  Michael rolls his eyes, then nudges Ashton onto his side and fits himself behind him.  Ashton sighs and relaxes again almost immediately, a heavy weight at his front while Michael slides one arm under the pillow and anchors them together with the other.  He gets a great view of Ashton’s sweaty and tangled hair, and that’s about it.

“There,” Michael murmurs.  “Now I can’t watch you.  Happy?”

Ashton hums.  He’ll be out in less than a minute.

Regardless of all of Ashton’s jokes about Michael never sleeping (he resents that he looks tired enough at all times for that to be an assumption), Ashton managed to tire him out.  He doesn’t need to sleep right now, but there’s no harm in it.  He lets the steady push and pull of Ashton’s breathing and the heartbeat he can barely feel under his palm lull him, and he drifts off soon after.

5.

“You want me to meet your family?” Michael asks, eyes wide in the face of this new information.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ashton says nonchalantly, but the way he’s avoiding Michael’s eyes tells him this conversation is anything but casual.  He’s focused on throwing things into a blender, raspberries and peaches joining ice cubes and yogurt for a smoothie that Michael has watched him make dozens of times before.  Michael can drink smoothies if they’re blended enough, and honestly he’s got a bit of a blood hunger going on because the last batch of his concoction from the magic store tasted gross and he’s supposed to go in today to get the new one.  Still, a smoothie wouldn’t help with that, and he turned down Ashton’s offer in favor of a cup of coffee, wanting a warm mug in his hands.  He’s glad to have something to keep his arms from flailing at this new curveball, in any case.

Ashton turns on the blender, the angry sound filling the previously-serene morning.

He can’t meet Ashton’s mum and siblings.  He’s a vampire, and he’s already entirely too attached to Ashton as it is.  It’s easy to fantasize about revealing his secret and Ashton being okay with it when it’s just the two of them, but there’s no way he can get to know his family only to break their heart when he has to leave Ashton for his own good.

Michael can’t watch Ashton grow old without him.  He could do it for a few years, maybe a few decades, and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but eventually it would get too hard.  Michael’s good at running, and he’s good at being alone.  It’s harder to do both of those things with a family involved.

“That’s a big step,” Michael says once the blender stops.

“I’ve met Calum, and you said he’s closer than your family.”

“Against my will!”

Calum had insisted on meeting “the guy who’s got you wrapped around his finger,” and Michael had been powerless to stop it.  They get on like a house fire and Michael gets teased about five times more than he used to, but he secretly loves it.  Calum and Ashton are by far the two people he loves most in the world, and it’s nice to see them also enjoy each other.

“Michael,” Ashton says, pouring his smoothie into a glass and still refusing to look at him, something unfamiliar in his expression, “I’ve never gone this long without introducing them to someone I’m serious about.  They really want to meet you.”

“I--I want to meet them, too, but…”

Ashton sighs and finally faces him head-on.  Michael has never felt this small.

“Are you serious about us?”

“Of course,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and he watches something shutter in Ashton’s eyes.  He turns back to the blender, starting to dismantle it so he can rinse it properly, always trying to keep the kitchen neat, and Michael knows that he has to say something to try to fix this, anything to stop the sad slope of Ashton’s shoulders and that hurt look in his eyes.

“Ash, I have to tell you something,” he says before he can think twice.  Ashton hums, and Michael steels himself for whatever reaction is about to occur, whether he has to bolt for the door or not.  “I--um, well, I…”

He hasn’t had to confess to someone in over forty years.  He doesn’t know how to do it anymore.  He swallows and tries again.

“I don’t really know how to say this, but… I mean, I--”

“Shit,” Ashton exclaims, something clattering in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, and a second later the metallic tang of blood reaches his nose.

“Cut my thumb on the blender blades,” Ashton says, turning around and sticking the pad of his thumb in his mouth.  Michael stares at him, unable to move.

The thing is, Ashton’s blood smells really good.  He knew it would, because if he loves everything else about Ashton it makes sense that he would love him down to the blood in his veins and the DNA it carries, but this is the first time Ashton has split skin in his vicinity, and it’s more to handle than Michael thought it would be.  He’s hungry, and he’s upset, and Ashton is right there in front of him, bleeding.

He shakes himself from that train of thought.

“Are you alright?  How bad is it?” he asks.  Ashton takes his thumb out of his mouth to check, and that just makes the smell intensify.  Michael feels a bit of saliva pool in his mouth and swallows it back.

“It’s not too bad,” Ashton says.  “It mostly just hurts, but once the bleeding lessens I’ll put a bandaid on it and it should be fine.”

He goes to put it back in his mouth and glances up at Michael, freezing at whatever he sees there.  Michael doesn’t know what his face is doing, or why his posture feels so stiff, or what the fuck he’s supposed to do with Ashton just standing there with a bleeding thumb, and for a long moment they just stare at each other.  Michael forgets to breathe.

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a startled animal towards him, Ashton reaches out his hand towards Micheal.  A drop of blood drips off his thumb and onto the floor.  Michael couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“You know,” Ashton says, low and calm, “you could help me stop the bleeding, if you wanted.”

Michael stares at him, not comprehending the words, when he feels two pinpricks on the inside of his bottom lip.

His fangs dropped.

“I have to go,” he says, scrambling out of his seat and hastily putting his coffee on the table.  He probably spills some, but he can’t look back to check, shoving on his shoes and sprinting out the door, Ashton’s questions echoing behind him.

Shit.  Shit shit shit shit shit.

He’s scrambling for his phone as he tries to unlock his car, tears starting to cloud his vision with the panic.  He presses Calum’s speed dial as soon as he gets the door open, tearing out of the parking space without putting on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” Calum finally answers.

“My fangs dropped,” he says, consonants coming out in that strange way they do when his mouth has more teeth than usual.

“What happened?” Calum asks immediately.  He knows how serious something like this can be, especially for someone like Michael, who tries so hard to avoid it.  He sniffles and blinks the tears out of his eyes so he can see the road better.  Calum’s house is close, and he just needs to get a few more blocks before he has backup.

“I was with Ashton and he cut himself on a blender.  I--we had a fight, or--I made him feel bad, in any case, and I haven’t eaten enough, and then he cut himself and I felt the fangs and ran out of there with no explanation.  He’s going to hate me.  I’ve ruined everything!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Calum says, but it’s not like Ashton is his boyfriend.  Michael doesn’t know how to recover from something like this.

Calum tries to console him for the rest of the short car ride, stopping once Michael pulls into his driveway to turn an assessing gaze on him instead.  His expression tells Michael that he’s leaving much to be desired right now.

“Alright, Mikey.  Let’s get you out of the sun, yeah?  We’ll figure this out.”

He holds out his arms, and Michael falls right into them, letting Calum lead him into the house.  His fangs still prick at his lips, a sharp reminder of everything he ruined due to one second of lousy control.

+1

The bell to the magic shop digs as they enter, and Michael pulls down his sunglasses.  Calum got him to stop crying and gave him a bit of his own leftover concoction, because he hadn’t drunk all of it due to the taste, either.  It was enough for Michael to be able to get his fangs back under control, but it doesn’t stop how miserable he feels about the way he left, or the conversation they were having beforehand.

He can’t let himself be around Ashton if his fangs are going to drop like that.  He would never hurt him, he knows that, but there’s still the potential that he can’t ignore.  Ashton’s safety and comfort isn’t something he can risk.  Even if Ashton was somehow okay with him being a vampire, they wouldn’t work.

Michael has known this since the beginning.  He let himself fall in love, anyway.

There are three missed calls and over a dozen text messages that he still has to try to answer on his phone.  There’s no way to do that without breaking both of their hearts, but Calum told Ashton that Michael is physically okay and that he’d talk to him tomorrow.  For now, he needs to sort through his own feelings and calm down, and for that they need to pick up the weekly blood supply.

“Hi!” the witch at the counter says.  His name is Luke, and Calum’s been flirting with him ever since he started working there.  It would be cute if it didn’t make these excursions so tedious, and if Michael himself wasn’t currently mourning what is soon to be the end of an absolutely spectacular relationship.

“Our usual, please,” he says curtly.  Luke glances between him and Calum, who gives a beaming smile, then heads to the back storage room.

“Maybe it’ll taste less like shit this time,” he mutters.  Calum nudges him, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the bell over the door chimes again.  Michael knows who it is before he turns around, the scent and rhythm of his heartbeat as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Ashton freezes in the doorway.  He has changed into a sweatshirt, the one he wears when he’s having a bad day because it feels like a perpetual hug without having to be touched, and Michael is probably going to cry again.  Out of the three of them, Calum pulls himself together first.

“Hello, Ashton.  I didn’t know you frequented this shop.”

“Ashton!” Luke says, returning from the back with their order in a crate.  “Did you bring it?”

Michael finally notices the tupperware in his hands when he hands it to Luke, who opens a corner and sniffs.

“You know each other?” Michael asks.

“Oh, sorry!” Luke says.  “This is Ashton, my roommate.  I’d never eat lunch if he wasn’t there to bring it to me.”

“You’re the roommate?” Michael asks.  In all of their months of dating, he never managed to meet the roommate, even though Ashton has known Calum for weeks.  Weird schedules and Michael’s aversion to meeting and possibly getting attached to more people prevented it.  Luke looks between Michael, Calum, and Ashton, and then a lightbulb hits.

“You’re Ashton’s Michael!”

“How many other vampires named Michael do you know?” Ashton asks, and Michael reels back, Calum’s hand on his spine the only thing keeping him upright.

“You know?”  Ashton frowns.

“Michael, I’ve known since the first day I met you.”

“Wh--you never mentioned it!”

“I made some references, then figured it wasn’t something you were comfortable talking about.”

“Wait,” Luke says.  “You know Ashton is a minor deity, right?”

“What? ”

Michael turns desperately to Calum, because none of this makes sense, but Calum is having some sort of silent conversation with Luke.

“You two need to talk,” he says eventually.

“I need to show Calum something in the back, anyway,” Luke says, grabbing Calum’s sleeve and tugging him around the counter, shutting the door to the storeroom behind them.  It’s not the slickest move that Michael’s ever seen, but he’s having a crisis and can’t be bothered to laugh at Luke for it.

“So,” Ashton says.  “It seems there’s been a bit of miscommunication here.”

“You’re a deity?” Michael asks.  Ashton starts to blush, which is cute.  He clasps his hands together and nods once.

“Yeah, my entire family is.  The religion died down centuries ago, so it’s mostly our belief in each other that’s keeping us alive.  I’m basically just an immortal human now, but I’ve been around long enough to recognize other non-humans when I see them.”

“And you’ve known I was a vampire the entire time?” he asks.  Ashton nods.  “Oh.”

“I thought that you knew that I knew,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Michael says.  “I thought you would hate me when you found out.”

“I could never hate you,” Ashton says, taking a step forward and reaching for him before he aborts the movement.  Michael looks at his feet and wonders if what he says next will change that.

“My fangs dropped earlier, when you cut your thumb.”  His voice is steadier than anticipated, but he can’t help but brace himself for Ashton to back away or run screaming.  He doesn’t do either of those.

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

He nods, shame pooling in his stomach.

“I was offering, you know?  I wouldn’t have minded if you had a taste.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time,” Michael says, focusing on the shame so he doesn’t do something horrible like start thinking about what it would really be like to have some of Ashton’s blood.  “I just… lost control.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let myself.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ashton says gently, stepping closer until he can put his hands on Michael’s arms, then sliding down to grasp his hands.  “Can you look at me?”  Michael tries, then shakes his head.  “That’s okay, and your fangs dropping earlier is okay, too.  You had a lot on your mind, were probably a little hungry, and I was waving my bloody finger under your nose, even if you didn’t recognize it as an invitation.  What’s important is that you didn’t try anything without asking.  You didn’t hurt me; you removed yourself from the situation.  I would say that that’s keeping things pretty under control, wouldn’t you?”

“But I could’ve hurt you, even if I didn’t.”

“Michael, you’re not a mindless beast,” Ashton says.  “The fact that you’re this upset about your body’s natural physical reaction shows that.  You’re not going to do anything to hurt someone else like that.  You have to trust yourself.”

Michael wrinkles his nose, then finally makes himself meet Ashton’s eyes.  There’s nothing but compassion there, no fear or disgust.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Ashton repeats.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Michael agrees.  “I can trust myself with that.”

A grin breaks out on Ashton’s face.

“Good,” he says.  “I trust you, too.”

“And, about meeting your family,” Michael starts.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ashton says.  “I was a little pushy.  We can talk about it and figure out something that works for both of us.”

“I was going to say that I’ll do it,” Michael says.  “Half of my worry had to do with me being a vampire and you and your family being unsuspecting humans, but that’s not an issue anymore.”

“What about the other half?”

“Just normal meeting-the-family jitters,” he says.  “They’re really important to you, and I don’t want them to hate me because I didn’t meet them earlier.”

“They won’t hate you,” Ashton says.  “You’re a delight.”

“I hope they share that thought.”

“They will.  I love you, so they will, too.”

Michael feels like he’s going to burst.  He also feels menally exhausted from this entire affair and the emotional whiplash it’s giving him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  Ashton answers by leaning forward, and Michael sinks against him, melting into the feeling.

“So,” Calum says loudly, startling them both.  “Are you guys good now?”

“What do you think?” he snips.

“I don’t know, Luke,” Calum says, turning away from Michael and towards him.  “Do you think that they’re good now?”

“They did look rather cosy,” Luke says.  “In fact, I’d say that Ashton looked ready to pledge himself to Michael as his personal blood bank.  His little ketchup packet, if you will.”

Calum bursts out laughing.  Michael tries to be affronted, but Ashton starts laughing incredulously next to him.

“Ketchup packet?  Is that what I’m reduced to?”

“There are worse titles,” Calum says between bouts of laughter.  Luke looks ridiculously pleased at this development.

“Please never refer to him as my ketchup packet again,” Michael says.  “I’m begging you not to.”

“If the fangs fit,” Luke says, which makes Calum dissolve into laughter again.  It’s not even funny.  Honestly, they deserve each other.

“Come on,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back to my place.  I want to hear all about your vampire antics from the olden days, now that I know you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Only if I get to hear stories about being a minor deity,” Michael says, grabbing his part of the blood order.  “Cal, you’re paying for this one!”

They’re out the door before Calum can protest, and Ashton puts an arm around his waist as they walk.  It’s uncomfortably sunny out, but Michael feels no rush to get back inside.  They’re both immortal, and they’ve got the rest of their lives.

[justjessame]

Sins of the Father: Chapter 9

I considered skipping dinner, but I hadn’t had any time with Danny since breakfast and that felt wrong to me.  Sliding out of my bed and taking care to redress for dinner and remove any signs that might show that I had any distress at all during my day, I found that we’d be eating inside - and I was thankful for it.  

Anytime we dined al fresco, the atmosphere became more and more frantic until it became a party and I was in no mood for that.  

“You look more rested,” Dad offered once everyone greeted me, holding my chair for me, and brushing a kiss on my temple.  “Do you feel better?”  

“A bit,” smiling at Danny, I was happy to see that he wasn’t holding a grudge for my lack of attention during the day.  “I guess my jetlag finally caught up to me.”  

That was all the others needed to get going, and the conversation flowed.  Jed kept a careful distance, her comments never directed at me, but never too awkward either.  She knew how the sharks could smell blood in this group, and was well practiced already in keeping her weaknesses covered.  She needn’t have bothered, I was busy listening to Danny’s plans for the next day - he wanted to go to the beach and I was more than willing to take him.  

While we chatted with one another, and ate, the others discussed the best ways to deal with jetlag and weariness in general, because once you got them going - that’s really all it took.  

Dinner wound down sooner than it would have if we were eating on the patio, which was more welcome than I could contemplate.  Danny asked if I wanted to see something he’d found while I was resting that he’d left in his room, but Dad asked if I could spare a moment for him first.  

“Of course,” winking at my little brother and telling him to go ahead to his room and I’d meet him there, I followed Dad into his hidden study.  Wishing for all the world that we didn’t have any need for hidden rooms and cloak and dagger nonsense, but Ropers will Roper.  “Do you want me to pour you an after dinner drink?”  

“No,” he held up his still full glass.  “I’m good.”  He gestured to the chair next to his and I sat, wondering what the latest dictate would be concerning Tom and his nursing duties.  “How are you feeling, honestly?”  

I considered what he was asking.  How did I feel?  Tired, still, but not nearly as ready to run headlong into the ocean.  That was progress.  “Better.  I think resting helped.”  He nodded.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow.”  Another nod, but his mouth opened and I was certain he was going to remind me that lunch duties were still necessary.  

“Perhaps someone else could tend to Quince’s bandages,” he offered instead and I felt irritation crawl up my spine.  Someone else?  Who?  Jed?  “The doctor will be coming to remove the bridge holding his nose in place soon.  It can’t be that difficult to tend to his -” 

“I’ll check on him before we go out,” my mouth was saying before I even made the choice to say it.  “Then when we come back.”  Dad’s lips were curling into a smirk and I glared at him.  “What?”  

“Nothing.” He sat his glass down on the table in front of us and turned to me.  “I think that your idea is perfect.  Quince will no doubt find it far more pleasant than having Corky take over for you.”  

After saying goodnight to everyone and heading up to see what Danny had to show me - a piece of sea glass that had found its way onto our balcony - I made my way back to my room, after forcing a promise out of my little brother that he wouldn’t try waking me up before the sun rose.  

Keyed up from dinner among the entourage, the talk with my father, and then my decision to keep taking care of Tom - I felt that getting my bag ready for the beach might be a good way to relax before bed.  

It didn’t help.  So I drew a bubble bath and soaked.  And soaked.  And soaked.  It felt like my skin was vibrating and I had too much caffeine.  

Drying and dressing in another pajama set, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and studied my reflection - trying to see what Dad was alluding to when he said I drew attention like Jed.  Curly hair the color of the blackest ink, with the palest green eyes that anyone had ever seen - trust me, I’ve heard it my entire life - my skin stayed pale, until I got a sunburn that would terrify people to see (lobsters would be envious of the red) and then it would eventually darken to a nice golden tan.  Petite was the polite way to describe my height deficiency, short the cruel way.  That’s it, that’s what I could see staring back - well not the shortness, that was only noticeable when I stood next to a “normal” sized person.  

What did other people see when they looked at me?  A small curly, dark haired pale girl with big green eyes and - that’s it. That’s what they must see.  Right?  

Sighing, I worked my hair into a braid for bed.  Otherwise I’d end up with a bird/rat’s nest or a mouthful of it before morning.  Neither was something I’d care to deal with - again. The issue, I realized as I tied my braid off, was that I still wasn’t the slightest bit tired.  

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to my room, I glanced down at the pool and smiled when I noticed that Dad and Jed were there together - alone.  I couldn’t hear them, but I also couldn’t hear the normal noise of the rest of the group, so that might mean that I could go down to the kitchens for some cocoa or a snack without tripping over all of them.  

Grabbing my book, in case it took awhile to heat my drink, I left my room and started toward the kitchens - 

And ended up outside Tom’s room, where Sandy was sitting guard.  “Esme?” He barely breathed my name and didn’t get up from his chair.

Holding my finger to my lips, I smiled around it.  “Is he asleep?”  He shrugged and I fought rolling my eyes.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow and I thought if I checked his bandages tonight -” Sandy looked convinced, but then confused by my lack of first aid supplies.  “I leave some inside by his bed.”  A convenient lie.  “They shouldn’t need changed, but -”

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the door and yawned.  “Not like he’s going anywhere.”  

“Exactly.”  I agreed, moving to the door and knocking gently before opening it.  The mosquito netting, mostly for decoration, fluttered in the breeze of the open window of the balcony and I wondered who left it open?  “Tom?”  He was lying prone, but I could see him move in the light offered from the starry, moon bright night.  “It’s just me, Esme.”  

“Esme?”  His voice was rough, and I thought he might be half asleep.  “Ah, a dream,” he murmured, and twitched again - the linens moving lower off his legs.  

I bit my lip, wondering if he thought I was a dream or if he was flirting again.  Setting my book on the chair by his bed, I stared down at him and realized that he wasn’t awake, not fully anyway.  “Tom, could you -” I leaned over to try to wake him up, but I truly didn’t realize his strength, not even in his battered state.  With a tug he had me on the bed with him, his hands sliding up my sides, and then both hands were cupping my face and pulling it toward his own.  “Thomas, I think you should wake up,” I murmured, my legs were tangled with his and I was afraid I was going to injure him more.  

“If I wake up,” his breath was fanning my face, warm and spellbinding, making my stomach twist in a new delicious way.  “Then you’ll disappear and I can’t do this.”  One of his hands moved to cup the back of my head and the other went on a journey down the length of me, as his lips managed, even with the bridge and bandaged nose in the way, to finally touch mine.  His tongue dipped into my mouth when I gasped and I forgot what I was arguing with him about - why was I against this again?  And then he rolled over and we both remembered when he hissed in pain.  Right, invalid -  “Esme?”  He was squinting down at me, awake now, fully.  

I was burning, far hotter than the blush had been during the day, and this time it was EVERYWHERE.  And I was panting harder than either of us had been before too.  All I could manage to do was nod.  At least until I caught my breath again.  “Yes, it’s me.”  

“How did you end up -” He was hovering over me, his arms like a cage around me, while he tried to make sense of it.  “Did I -”

“You were having a dream,” I said.  “A vivid one.”  

“I -”  He didn’t seem to know what to do.  “Are you alright?”  

I nodded again.  Aside from feeling like I’ve been lit on fire, and the fact that there are parts of me that are literally a puddle - Yes, I’m fine.  “I’m fine.”  He didn’t move and I could tell why, it was pressed into the puddled part of me and it was making thinking pretty difficult for me too.  “I should have waited until morning.”  

“No,” he shook his head.  “No, don’t - it’s fine.”  We were stuck, but he was trying to convince me it was fine.  Of course, so was I.  “Why did you come tonight?”  Right, why was I here now?  

“I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow,” mentioning my little brother helped the part of him that was somewhat turgid start to relax slightly.  “I thought I’d check your bandages tonight.”  I started out strong, but it sounded lame even to me toward the end.  “I planned on coming in the morning as well.”  

“I see,” he wasn’t moving, even though he wasn’t in the same predicament as he had been.  “And while I was sleeping seemed a good time to check my bandages because?”  Fuck.  

“I couldn’t sleep.”  Verbal diarrhea.  I’ve come down with a horrible case of verbal diarrhea.  “I was coming down to get some cocoa and -”

“Ended up in my room instead.” Tom wasn’t being as careful with how he was hovering now, his rigidness might have gone slightly soft, but he let his hips settle into the softness of mine, and my body was more than willing to accommodate him. His fingertips were tracing the lines of my face, teasing my lips as I spoke.  “And somehow, we ended up like this -” he didn’t have to gesture or look down, I knew precisely what he meant.  

“You were having a dream.” I reminded him.  “About me.”  

“I know,” he leaned in and this time when he kissed me, we were both awake.  His lips were surprisingly soft for the beating he’d taken, and he grew bolder when he realized I was a willing participant, nipping at my fuller lower lip.  He pulled away when he noticed I wasn’t touching him.  “Esme?”  My eyes opened and he smiled.  “Touch me?  I won’t break, and I trust you.”  

My hands obeyed before I really considered his words, and his mouth met mine, my fingers sliding under his shirt and along the bandage I’d wrapped around his chest.   Thinking that lower might be more interesting for both of us, I dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and swallowed the growl that he fed me.  He rocked his hips into mine and I licked into his mouth as I felt the resurgence of his hardness, my legs wrapping around his and arching up into him.  He drug his mouth free from mine, the bandage, tape and bridge digging into my skin and wrecking havoc on my skin - not in a fun way.  Sighing, he pulled away.  

“I want you,” I nodded up at him, how badly I wanted him right back.  “But you’re going to wear tape burns if we continue right now.”  The laughter built in both of us and bubbled over, causing him to lie back on the bed, and hold open his arms for me to lay against his shoulder, still careful of his more tender parts.  “Will you stay the night with me?”  

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sandy was outside and while he might doze off, the idea of Corky finding me in Tom’s bed wasn’t something I wanted to experience on our first night together.  “I want to,” he’d gone still and silent again.  “I do, but I don’t want you to get harmed further because of me, do you understand?”  

I could feel him brush a kiss on the crown of my head, through my curls.  “I do.  I don’t like it, but I do.”  His arm that was wrapped around my back holding me to his side tightened.  “Can I hold you for a while at least?”  

“I’ll allow it,” I curled against him, breathing in the scent of his neck, and sadly the scent of the salve I’d slathered on him.  I laid in his arms until his breathing evened out and his arm relaxed.  Then I slipped away, grabbing my book and slipping out.

“How were his bandages?”  Sandy asked, looking no more awake than he had when I went inside.  

“Not too bad,” I offered with a smile.  “I’ll check in again in the morning.  I’m going to the kitchens for some cocoa, want something?”  

“Coffee?”  Nodding, I promised I’d get him a cup and headed to my original destination.  Grabbing two cups, one fully caffeinated and one of herbal tea instead of the chocolate.  I needed sleep, not more excitement.  And after Tom’s touch, I think warm tea would be a better option than sugar.  

I dropped Sandy’s coffee off and headed to my room.  Once inside, I sat down at my vanity again, to check my braid and nearly screamed.  Hoping that Sandy was too tired to have noticed or that it was too dark in the hallway - Tom hadn’t been wrong about the tape.  There on the side of my cheek, where he’d started to nip and move down, I had a huge mark that proved I’d done more in his room than just check on his bandages.  Grabbing everything I could think of to remove it, should it be removable, I tried - but no.  It was a scratch, and the closer I looked the more I wanted to smack my head against something.  It wasn’t just the tape, I think it came from the bridge, it was the same shape and size.  And - Closing my eyes, I gave up for the night.  Maybe when I woke up I’d come up with a fix, or maybe it was because I was so damn tired.  That’s it, I was sleepy and so it looked worse than it was.  Right? 

[imacrowcawcaw]

Eyes of Juniper Ch. 1 (A Metallica Fic)

Ao3 Link

Author (as known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr Pairing: Lars Ulrich/James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett/Cliff Burton, Lars/Female Character (briefly), Lars/Male Character (kinda, more just awkward one sided flirting then Lars gets rescued by his knight in a ratty Motorhead shirt) Fandom: Metallica Tags/warnings: Sex-swap AU, early 80s era 'tallica, smut, gay smut, also het smut since the whole gender switch thing, drinking and alcohol, lots of cussing and profanity, should warn that Lars goes into detail about taking a piss cuz ya know it's new to him, Idk I'll add tags per chapter as I think of shit

Notes: 

1. Okay, so I spent like months thinking about whether to do this or not. On the one hand, yes this has so much potential to be fun (and I've seen some other sex swap stories i like). On the other hand, a lot of the whole sex/Gender swap thing is really stereotypical gender shit and goes against what I personally believe. But, creative juices won out and I'll try to keep true to character as much as possible while also making this funny and not too misogynistic (if that's possible).

2. This is a work in progress! I started it a year and a half ago, and now a friend is helping me continue 

3. This story is inspired by the song 'Jewel of the Summertime' by Audioslave (on their album Revelations) I love this song and it is awesome you should totally go listen to it.

4. The witch-lady is inspired by Aine, Celtic goddess of love, summer, wealth, and sovereignty. I literally just googled 'goddess of love' then scrolled through a list to find someone other than Aphrodite (don't get me wrong I love Greek mythology but it just wasn't right for this fic) and came across this girl. I only did a quick Wikipedia read, I'm not planning on going too heavy into her myth and more just using her for the plot but.... If anybody is more well versed in Celtic mythology and I seem to get something wrong, please feel free to comment and I'll try my best to make it accurate!

5. Woo damn that was a lot of stuff, I don't blame you if you didn't bother reading it. Now, on with the show!

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1984 (Lars' POV)

The first thing I felt when I woke up was this odd sense of.... well, just something being fuckin' off. Like I was missing something, but also like I had gained something? I felt like a brand-new person, although in my gut I was still me.... Man, I must have had WAY too much Jager last night, it's fucking with my head.

I slowly peeled the itchy fleece blanket off of my body and rolled onto the floor, which was about a foot from the bare mattress. We really needed to invest in some sheets, especially if we wanted to keep bringing chicks back to the house. Apparently, most girls are not at all impressed by stained, lumpy mattresses with almost no bedding on them.

Speaking of girls and mattresses, didn't I bring one home last night? I raised my head slightly from its position from the threadbare carpet and looked at the bed, trying to see if Anna (Was that her name?) was still there. Yep, there was a naked hippy still passed out in my bed, sweet!

I groaned quietly as I stood and shuffled my way out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. It was then I noticed that I didn't really have the usual alcohol-and-early-morning-and-piss induced erection, but my bladder was still straining. Huh, weird.

Whatever. I just wanted to pee, get rid of that feeling in my gut, and get that dead possum taste out of my mouth. Pushing open the door and wincing as the creaky hinges screeched through my headache, I pulled down my boxers and reached for my dick.... What the fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK?

WHERE WAS MY MOTHERFUCKIN DICK?!

Trying not to panic, I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment so I wouldn't have to see right away. But, of course, that kind of defeated the purpose of looking down, so I opened them again. No dick. The hell was going on?

Taking a deep, calming breath, I tried to think through this rationally. My dick, for whatever reason, was not where it was supposed to be. But, my bladder was still full and begging to be released, so obviously my system or whatever was still working. That need to pee was turning into a burning pain, so I tried to come up with a solution. If I don't have a cock, then I can piss through....what, exactly? Is there anything down there at all? What is even going on!?

Pulling in another deep breath through my nose, I let it hiss out between clenched teeth as I slowly, so slowly, touched my fingers to my abdomen and moved them downwards, dreading what I would find. Annnnnd....... Yep, there it was.

Velvety soft lips, slick, pungent juices; anatomy I knew so well but never, EVER expected to feel on myself. My crisis would have to wait a minute, though, 'cause my bladder was going to explode and no dick be damned I needed to do something about it.

Gingerly sitting my ass down on the toilet (god, so weird sitting down just to piss) I tried to slowly let it out. The feeling was...well there was certainly relief of the pressure, but it also felt strange in a way I couldn't really describe. I could possibly get used to it, not that I'm planning on staying like this or anything.

Cringing as I wiped, I slowly pulled the boxers back up to my hips that I just now noticed were a little wider than usual. And my hands, were they smaller? Softer? My chest too....HOLY SHIT I HAVE BOOBS! That, I might be able to get used to.

I turned to the mirror, and was quite shocked at what I saw. There was a girl standing there, with large, doe-like green eyes staring back at me from underneath brown bangs. She had a nice tan on her upper body, although her breasts were still pale where she clutched at them, small rosy nipples poking through her fingers. A pair of black cotton boxers stretched tight around the small curve of her hips, but hung loose around her milky thighs that almost touched. And this...this chick was me. ME.

Shaking my head, I splashed some water onto my face and rubbed my eyes, hoping it was just a fucked up dream. No such luck.

I was considering hiding in the bathroom forever, because no way in hell could I let the guys see me like this, let alone figure out how to explain, when I heard a scream. It sounded a lot like Kirk's voice, so I pushed my problems to the back of my head and ran into the hallway, stopping dead in my tracks at what I saw.

Anna, or whatever her name was, stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in flowing black robes with green Celtic designs all over them. She had jewels and charms hanging from her waist, wrists, neck, and ears, each tinkling as she tossed some sort of... Powder onto a very shocked looking Kirk. Or at least, I was pretty sure it was Kirk. He (she?) seemed to be in the same boat as me as far as bodies were concerned at the moment.

With a final dusting of powder, witchy-chick turned to me and smirked. "I hope you learn your lesson, I'll be back in a week. And as for you...." She turned to Kirk, "Well, you're just too damn cute! I couldn't resist seeing what a pretty girl you'd make!"

"This is your fault? You bitch! " I yelled. "Why the hell did you do this to us? Who are you? Change us back, then get the fuck out! I don't wanna be a damn girl, and neither does Kirk!" God this was fucking insane, that chick was crazy!

She hissed at me, eyes flashing in a way that could not be human. "Now you listen, GIRL. You'll stay like this for as long as I deem fit. You need to learn some respect for women, and being one is the best way to do that. I suppose you don't remember what you did last night?" She asked, looking bored and ready lo go fuck up someone else's life.

I thought hard, then it came creeping back to me. The bar, the Jager, the flirting with a group of girls, copping a feel and getting slapped, then her changing her mind and coming home with me, talking dirty in her ear, then unworldly sex, her whispering what sounded like a spell in my ear as I came... Holy shit.

"Is this about me grabbing your ass? I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" I begged, finally starting to let the situation sink in and desperation set. This could not be happening.

"Hmph," she snorted, "Begging isn't going to get you anywhere. I've seen humans beg for much less, and they still didn't get it. No, you'll love your life as a woman for a week, both of you, and hopefully you'll come to realize the struggles and terror that comes with it. If you've learned your lessons and are truly sorry, then you will be turned back. If not... Well you'll just have to stay like this until you do."

And just like that, she turned with a flourish and disappeared into thin air. My morning could not get any crazier, I was sure if it. But, because I wasn't actually sure and was suddenly doubting all logical occurrences in the world, I knocked on the wooden railing. That done, I turned towards Kirk.

He (seriously, do I call us he's or she's now? This is so fucked up) was shaking like a leaf, looking like he'd fall over any moment. I went over to grab him, calm him down, something.

"Shh shh, it's all right, Kirk," I muttered in his ear, awkwardly patting his back. I never thought I'd need to, but it really fucking sucks I can't comfort him any better than this. It was like this sour feeling in my chest that nestled in right next to my heart, whispering how awful I was at this and how he's probably mad at me for getting him into this situation.

Before I could ask him if he wanted to punt me out of a window, though, I heard some shuffling and talking coming from downstairs. James and Cliff were headed up here. As much as I wanted to hide for a week until my fuckin' "lesson" was up, I couldn't exactly drag Kirk into the hall closet in his current state, so I stood my ground.

"Hey, ladies, we do appreciate the service you've done our ugly ass friends, but could you keep the cat fight down until you've left the house?"

Ah, James, the man still didn't know how to talk to women after all this time. He was either too shy to form a sentence, or he put on this macho bravado that turned him into a drink asshole. Either way, this lady was not pleased.

By now I guess the guys had reached the landing Kirk and I were at and saw me hugging him, because Cliff chimed in, "Aww, they've made up! Good! Now, can I ask what exactly you two were telling about so loudly that it woke me and my boy James up? Did Lars do something?"

My back straightened at that, and I turned my head to him indignantly. "I did fucking not!" I retorted, even though apparently this whole situation was my fault. No need for them to know that, though.

"Holy shit, Lars!?!" James screamed.

I sighed. "Hi, Jamie."

----------

Chapter 2

[selfcontrolbuilders]

Self-Control Story, Branch 2 - Chapter 6: Stranded

The sound of waves slowly came into his audition. It was a calming, soothing sound. He felt like sleeping five more minutes… But he couldn’t. He felt like he had to do something… Something important… What was it…? Whatever it was it could wait a little…

-Hello? Are you still on this side of the world?-a slightly high-pitched voice asked-Are you okay?

He didn’t feel like moving, but he had. He tried to pull himself together and regain control of his body. With a bit of trouble, he managed to make his fingers twitch.

-Ah, so you are alive!-the voice said cheerfully.

He groaned as he struggled to get up. With some time and a little trouble he managed to get on his knees and see the owner of the voice’s feet. They wore sandals and a long… dress? He looked up to see the owner of the voice completely. Even though they looked slightly tired they smiled brightly, showing pointed fangs and perfectly white teeth. They had very long eyelashes, which prompted the builder apprentice to think it was a girl, but something was off were they one… Their amber-colored eyes looked down at him with a look of relief. A pair of pointed ears stuck out of a great amount of hair poking out in several ways. The piece of clothing still looked like a long-sleeved long white dress with the ends of it circled out in a triangle pattern. They were pale and a golden pendant hung from their neck, shining lively in comparison to the ill-like appearance of the bearer. Their hands were small and their fingers slender. The stranger started blushing.

-U-um… Can you stop staring at me like that-they said averting their gaze-It’s uncomfortable.

He averted his gaze… Whoever it was they were both on the same boat. Hating being stared at.

-Who are you, anyway? You were drowning not too long ago.

-Um…-good question, who was he…?-I… I’m Gelius.

-My name is Hargon-the other answered-I met someone on my way here, come, we’ll check on him just in case he hasn’t done… anything reckless.

The apprentice nodded and took their hand. Somehow, it felt safe.

-By the way, have you ever had that thing poking out of there-Hargon said pointing at a tail poking out of his attire.

-Ah, no, sorry. Um… there-he said hiding it.

They both got through a small cave hidden behind some sand. They met the one Hargon referred to when they crossed it. The man was standing on a notable rock and muttering things to himself. Gelius’ first impressions of that man was “Who is this weirdo with no shirt and a ponytail?” Then, his red eyes directed their gaze to them. Ice could feel himself starting to fangirl about the same weirdo he judged badly before. He felt his face heat up when he realize what he’d done… Before the boy came all the way there.

-Yo, Hargon, it seems you had some luck with the boy, didn’t you?

-Yes, I did have some luck. By the way, how’s the rest of the shore?

-There’s quite a thing over there-the boy said pointing at the other side of the shore.

Gelius was curious, what was this thing about? He was curious as to what it was the thing the stranger referred to. But he felt something pushing him back. He wanted but didn’t want to know. What was this strange feeling…? It was like dread. Did he know what was at the other side? Who knew? There was just one way of knowing it. Going to see it by his own eyes. By the time he gained back his senses the boy was waving a gloved hand at him.

-Hello? You there?

-Oh, um… Yeah, I was just… thinking.

-Oh, okay. I’m Malroth, and you?

-Gelius, my name’s Gelius.

-So… Want to see something gruesome?

Gelius didn’t answer. Usually he felt sick when it came to that. Injured, dead people… He felt the anxiety crawling up.

-Malroth, I don’t think he wants to see such a thing, he’s pale.

-Wasn’t he already pale? What’s the point on being paler than before?

-Well, it usually means you are not feeling well.

Malroth looked over at the builder apprentice. He indeed was paler than before, but color was coming back to his face. Not that it made a clear difference, he had always been very pale-skinned. Truth to be told, if he had any color it wasn’t thanks to genetics. Mother had described Father as very pale too. And his family in general was quite pale. In fact, his grandfather couldn’t stand outside during the Sun’s high hours for long because he got sun-burnt. Quite an issue for a builder like him, who was conditioned by weather to work. If it rained he usually didn’t build, and if it was very sunny he didn’t work either. Luckily, clouds were always passing by to cover the sunlight. Malroth looked quite tanned in comparison. He’d always envied those who could enjoy sunlight like that and not become walking burning tomatoes. He’d always wanted such a skin, not as delicate as his. He didn’t want to be like a damsel in distress, he wanted to be the hero that saved the world and made everyone happy… But over it all, he wanted a happy family proud of him.

-So, say, do you want to see it?-Malroth pushed the matter.

-Malroth, please-Hargon began but was cut off.

-Okay, fine I’ll go see it.

Malroth guided them to the other side of the shore, where there was a piece of that skeleton’s ship. There were also quite a lot of dead people.

-Talk about dead in the water, am I right?-Malroth said nudging Hargon with the elbow.

-Uh… Malroth, this is not to be taken lightly, we have about four corpses in our beach.

-Our? You own this place? Are you rich or something?-the builder questioned walking around the bodies to see if they were dead.

Hargon helped him see if there were any dead people. They lifted all of them and brought them over the dry area of the beach. They checked if any of them had pulse or breathed. Surprisingly, the last one they took, a pink-haired girl with a ponytail at one side of her head seemed to be still alive. Hargon’s hopes rose when they knew there was another one alive. They didn’t want to spend so much time with Malroth alone. They felt like they knew him from forever and have been together ever since they found each other in the Isle. There was something that made Hargon not want to spend so much time with somebody they’d grown fond of like that, since they were like best friends or siblings even: Malroth’s behavior. He was violent, destructive and… Well, had a strange conception of funny and other things. Contrastingly, they’d shown themselves calm and peaceful, always disposed to aid somebody.

-She’s still got seawater in her lungs-Hargon said after listening closely to her breathing-We should get it out in some way.

Hargon moved her so she was laying on the sand with her face facing the sky and positioned themselves over her. They brought their hands to the chest, and pushed so she’d spit the water. She started coughing it out shortly after. When she opened her eyes and saw the stranger over her and their hands on her chest she came to very rushed conclusions. She slapped them out of the way so hard they fell to the sand face-first and she ran to a room of sorts screaming. Hargon spat sand they’d taken in their mouth when they fell. The trio followed the girl until they got to the room she was hiding in.

-Hey, are you okay?-Gelius asked with a concerned tone.

-B-b-back off, you perverted pirates!-the pink-haired female shouted.

-I beg your pardon? What kind of term is the one you make use of?

-Oh, so now you go around being polite, you piece of degenerate rapist!

Hargon felt not only at a loss, but seriously insulted. All they’d done was try to help her out of a drowning process, was it that bad?

-I beg your pardon once again? What kind of evidence do you have on that accusation?

The girl puffed up her cheeks.

-You were shamelessly groping my chest and now you’re playing innocent? I’m very sure that had I been unconscious for a little more time you’d go ahead and do something worse!

-What?! After I tried to save you that’s how you thank me?! I am no degenerate that takes profit of other people!-Hargon said, snapping.

-Peace, please, peace-Gelius said-We can’t start arguing if we’re stuck here together. They did not try to rape you. They were just innocently pressing their hands against your chest to prompt the lungs to spit the water they had inside. There is no guilt by their side of the Balance.

Hargon directed him a look that said “What the hell is the Balance you talk about?”, but didn’t talk about the matter. The girl glared at the builder before she realized who he was.

-Wait, weren’t you that builder from Cantlin the monsters on the ship kept asking requests to?

Gelius nodded, smiling like a dork as if those had been good times.

-I couldn’t stand seeing how they ordered you around and seeing you work like a slave, it was quite nasty, wasn’t it?

-Actually, it was one of the best times I had in my life. You know, Cantlin’s demands for building have gone down lately, so… I guess I was begging for some work.

-You were actually begging them to kill you with such singing-the girl muttered under her breath.

-Either way, who are you?-Malroth said straight to the point.

-I’m Lulu, Mr. Shirtless-she said nonchalantly.

-I’m Malroth.

-Gelius.

-My name is Hargon.

Lulu looked at him with an “Are you serious?” expression. Hargon looked back at her confused.

-Seriously, how can I take seriously what you said about your innocence if you tell me you have the same name as the High Priest of the Children of Hargon on your name?

Perplexed, Hargon blinked a few times before processing what she said.

-I don’t have any children, I don’t know what you mean-he said.

Lulu glared at him.

-By the way, you haven’t answered my question about owning the island.

Everyone turned around to look at the builder perplexed. What did this have to do with the current situation?

-We do not-Malroth said-We just woke up here.

-I have a question, though. Why did you refer as they and them to me?

-Uh… Because I can’t discern your gender-Gelius answered.

-Well, to your information as far as I know my gender is masculine-Hargon remarked-So I should be directed as he or him.

Gelius nodded understanding and moved onto the next topic.

-Well, weird statements and names apart, we should focus on the fact we’re stuck here. We’re not going to survive like this, are we?

All of them nodded.

-No matter how much kelp we eat, we’ll run out of it-Hargon stated-Which means we should figure out another way of eating.

-Aside from that, I’m not willing to sleep on the floor-the pink-haired girl remarked-I come from an important family from Rippleport, I deserve a good bed.

-I need a way of storing stuff, four beds, something to cook with, a decent room and a way to get water we can drink-Gelius said-This is going to take a while.

-Does the oil I drained out of a slime serve for something?-Malroth said.

-It depends. Do you still have it?

Hargon and Malroth looked at each other.

-It fell to the floor-Malroth said.

-Had you heard me and emptied it on some kind of bottle you would not have had that problem.

-I can still drain another one-Malroth said, making Hargon face-palm.

-Malroth, you’ve been doing that for the last two days-he said.

-I can do it once more-he said smiling.

Hargon sighed and sat down.

-Well, you three have fun, I have had enough wandering for a couple of days.

-I’m staying too, actually-Lulu said-Could you fix the room first, Gelius?

Gelius muttered something under his breath that sounded quite rude, but agreed and started moving the planks of the ship from where they were to the little gaps. Once the place was fixed Gelius and Malroth went to take some slimes down to get oil. Hargon looked at the clouds from the inside of the little shelter. What wonders would be outside of this deserted island? It was something he wanted to know very badly, but he couldn’t just swim out of the island to another, he hadn’t that much stamina. Hargon had been curious. Ever since he woke up that day, he felt like he was forgetting something important, like he had to do something. It didn’t matter how much he tried to think about it, he didn’t know what was missing.

As the oil dropped to a little bottle Ice had, Malroth squeezed the slime with even more strength than he should. With the oil in the bottle they proceeded to try searching for other items. They eventually stumbled with some shells. Malroth examined it before kicking it, revealing it was a scallywinkle. Then something crossed the builder’s mind. He went to take it and examine it.

-It’s raw, but with some fire I think I can make it edible-he mumbled while pocketing his discovery-Three more will do.

They only found two more, since most of them had already been either washed away, kicked by Malroth while examining the beach or hidden beneath the sand. When they came back they found Lulu and Hargon having an argument.

-Well, you see, I’ve never ever had interaction with a girl in my life, so excuse me if  I’m not the gentleman you search for, okay?-Hargon shouted angrily over at the pink-haired girl.

-Oh, pardon me, after you spoke so politely I confused you with someone with actual manners, but it turns out those were only words.

-Well, I have not learned how to treat wealthy women because I never met one in my life! Stop rambling about my education and think, how would I ever be able to interact with a girl of your status in a deserted island, you bird-brain!?

Lulu gasped at the insult. What did he say? Hargon had really lost his cool there, it was true, nobody ever taught him how to treat noblewomen nicely, but there was an actually good reason behind. A knock on the door got both of them distracted from their fight. The builder and Malroth entered with a pile of wood and a bottle of oil. Both of the arguing parts looked at them with curiosity. Ice put the wood on the floor and emptied the bottle on the wood. He took out a pair of stones out of his pocket and lit up the fire by frothing them together. He then tossed the three scallywinkles onto the fire.

-Hey, hey! Gelius, the scalywinkles you picked up have…

-No, I put them in the fire on purpose.

Malroth instantly relaxed. He’d never seen how to cook something like that so he didn’t know you had to put something in a fire to get them cooked. Malroth smelled the air. It was the same salty smell, but with the disgusting smell of that thing. Malroth’s expression changed to one of disgust. What the hell was cooking? Hargon smelled it and made a face.

-What smells like the fart of a fish?-Hargon asked intrigued by the curious smell.

-I think it’s the scallywinkles I put on the bonfire. They never smelled quite well.

Hargon glared at the scallywinkles as if they were an offense to the world. He’d rather stick with kelp and dried seaweed. Or perhaps those monsters he’d seen in the wild… No. He wouldn’t hurt them unless they hurt him. He sat by the fire and extended his hands towards it. He felt warm for once in what felt like forever. He welcomed the feeling, since it felt quite nice. Lulu took a place next to him, near the corner to take the warmth and look at the cooking food. Malroth and Gelius were the only ones standing now.

-We have food and a room. Next up: Beds and water. How can I take salt from the sea water…?-Gelius thought aloud.

-That’s a nice question-he answered himself-We could make a complex purification system.

-Purification? Hm… You mean like filling something with sea water and channeling it through a crystallization process to take the salt off and using water as drink and salt as condiment?

-Correct, that is a brilliant way of depicting it.

Malroth, Hargon and Lulu looked with shocked expressions to Gelius, who seemed very happy with his statements and self-conversation.

-Alright, so… What do I base the channeling stuff on, I have no way of forging crystal here.

-Hum… You could always make a pipe system with the wood… Or take the stones and wood and create a forge yourself…

-Wait, every ship has glass on it, hasn’t it?

-I’m mostly certain they do have crystal, why?

-There could still be some here I can warm up and modify.

-Yeah, sounds logical, but on the other hand all of this is illogical.

-We can still try. We have a bonfire and the necessary tools except… A metal bar.

The young boy started looking at the sand with curiosity. He got down on all fours and started looking for something. A couple of hours later, he came back with a great amount of shards of crystal. Ice left them on the floor and went to look for a treasure chest he’d seen. He took it and brought it all the way to the room. He put it on one of the corners of said room and opened it. He started looking inside until he found something he wanted. There was a bar poking out of the inner structure. He took out the bar from there and pocketed his find.

Hargon had taken out the scallywinkles when he saw them turning a bit black and Gelius wasn’t coming. They were cooling on the floor because they were too hot for eating. The builder looked at them.

-You know, you have a good eye for this, perhaps I’ll make you toast more scallywinkles-Gelius said-I think you can eat them now. Now if you excuse me, I have some glass to mold.

Ice started dumping the crystal on the fire. With the metal piece he got from the treasure chest he started molding it into pipes and bottles.

-Why can’t you use the one you already have?-Malroth asked seeing that he was making another one.

-I can’t use the same bottle for two things at the same time-Gelius answered while molding some more glass.

Once he was finished he took some more wood from the bag and started creating a home-made distillation system. He took a pile of wood and put it beneath the bottle he’d made and took a stick from the lit up bonfire to light up the other one. He took the bottle from the system and filled it with seawater. He put it back on its place and waited to see if it worked. About twenty minutes later the water started boiling, leaving salt behind. Ice then put the other bottle, filled with more seawater on the upper part of the system, making the poured water act as refrigerator and the water started flowing onto the empty bottle he’d previously attached. How did he get so much glass from the ship’s remains was a mystery. Slowly, the bottle started filling itself.

He then ran off to get some dry grass and Malroth followed almost instantly. Lulu and Hargon were left behind nibbling at their scallywinkles, which were much better than kelp in Hargon’s opinion.

-They may be slimy, but at least these have some taste that doesn’t resemble that of seaweeds. That is a good change.

Lulu didn’t answer. She mostly agreed they were plainly nice and a bit slimy, but it was the only food they could get. Malroth and Gelius were taking some grass out of the shore. It was dry, but it was that or sleep on sand… They found quite a bunch but after Ice did the calculations…

-We only have for three beds. Should I just go and use sand?

-Nah, we can work a solution out-Malroth said confidently-Hargon and I are just like brothers, so we might sleep together on one of them.

With Malroth’s reassurance he and Ice made their way back to the place they’d made their house. He got working on the bench right away, creating the plans to make a consistent regular pile of straw. He then got in and dropped the straw slowly so it gained the shape of a half-comfortable mattress. He did this process thrice. There were three straw beds but no more straw in his hands, just like he’d thought.

-Well, that’s all we can have. I can sleep on the floor-Gelius started to be cut off by an angered Malroth.

-I already told you Hargon and I are fine by just sleeping together, we’re just like brothers!

-You look like the type who takes two beds for himself-Gelius answered.

-Then sleep with me too, won’t you? You said you were okay with the floor so I think sleeping with a bed-occupier is fine too, isn’t it?

Hargon sighed. Gelius wasn’t meaning that at all. Did Malroth understand the word privacy? The answer is he didn’t know about it. But… Then why did he know about it? He felt as if many things he wanted to understand were way beyond his grasp. What brought him here if there’s nothing here in the first place? How does he know things Malroth doesn’t? He couldn’t help himself but feel strange. A lot of things escaped his grasp.

-So, tell me, who’s sleeping with who then?-Lulu said.

-Tell me how you’re better off, sleeping with someone or alone-Gelius said.

-I want to sleep alone, I can’t sleep with a boy in the same bed as me, especially that degenerated.

-I’m no degenerated!-Hargon protested-It’s not my fault I don’t know ladies’ etiquette when I live with this weirdo over here!-he said pointing at Malroth.

-I’m a weirdo now? Then what are you, wearing a dress around? You look like a girl, you idiot!

-Oh, so I’m supposed to look like other people want me to now? Go out of this place if you’re not comfortable!

Gelius sighed. This was beginning to look like a family full of siblings with no parents to look after the kids.

-Peace here, please. We’re stuck together in this island and last thing we need is an argument. So, Lulu is not sleeping with none of us… Let’s see, we have to discuss what we’re going to do now.

-I’m fine sleeping with Malroth, but only if he apologizes.

-I have to apologize? You’re the one who should apologize in the first place!

The builder took a deep breath and tried to pull up some more patience.

-Okay, at the count of three, you’ll apologize at the same time, then you’ll be even and will sleep together, I’ll take the other bed. One, two, three.

-I’m sorry-both of them said, but not sounding really genuine.

-Hey, Gelius I’ve seen you build for a while now… Can I… try? I mean, I already mentioned I didn’t know a builder in my whole life so… I spent the last five hour making sure you didn’t get killed by slimes and I wanted to try what you do.

-Sure, try it on that bench outside, I’ll overlook the process.

They both got out. Hargon thought about it for a while. He got out and saw Malroth hitting with a hammer whatever he was trying to build. He felt it was exactly the thing he wasn’t supposed to do. Gelius’ face was also a poem. Hargon neared to watch the process. Once Malroth was finished he gave up and gave Gelius what was left of the materials. The builder looked at it and seemed to visualize something instantly. He wrote it down on the book he was carrying around, which seemed to be in mint condition despite the fact he’d been underwater a couple of hours ago carrying that thing around. Hargon neared even more out of interest to the point he was next to Malroth watching how he created whatever he was making.

Some minutes later he handed over an oaken club to Malroth. Malroth looked at it and asked surprised if it was for him. The builder nodded with the same dopey smile he’d been wearing this whole time. Were all builders this dorky, was the first though that crossed Hargon’s mind before asking a question not even he was expecting.

-Can I… Can I try?-the young human asked pointing at the working bench.

Gelius nodded and handed him over some materials. Then a thought crossed Hargon’s mind. He had some kelp, surely that could be used for something? Hargon took the wood, sand, kelp and other stuff he’d brought with him before the builder got here. He started looking at them before inspiration came and took the kelp and some dried seaweed. He asked for a bowl that was granted by the builder and started mashing it inside that bowl with the hammer Malroth had tossed aside. Once he got a consistent mass of seaweed and kelp he asked for a place to let it dry. Ice brought it next to the bonfire. It turned into some kind of dust after a couple of minutes. Hargon asked for some water and the builder handed over the bottle of water. Again, he asked for a bottle, this time empty. The young apprentice took out some of the left out glass and molded another bottle. Hargon poured some water and the powder. He put a finger over the bottle’s mouth and started shaking it to mix it. The water turned into some kind of green thing.

-Malroth, are you going to eat that scallywinkle?-Hargon asked.

-No. It’s slimy and weird. I don’t want it.

Hargon took it and squeezed it to pour whatever got out of it into the bottle. He once again mixed the liquid and looked at it.

-The only thing that is left is a magical touch, but I do not know which spell is the one that needs to be cast. Does anybody have something to seal this?

The builder lent him a piece of wood that had been sculpted purposefully to seal a bottle. Hargon put it on the bottle before pocketing it Rubiss knows where. His ears then perked up. He could feel a presence not too far and very different to the ones slimes gave away. Malroth seemed to feel it too, since they both looked in the same direction. They nodded and ran off towards the direction, the builder running behind them. When they got there there were some monsters Hargon found familiar yet he hadn’t seen any in his life. The monster that seemed the leader squeaked something and started the attack. Hargon furrowed his brows.

-Don’t use that language!

Hargon jumped and kicked one of the slimes. He proceeded to punch the rat and effectively trigger a multifeet ability. Gelius started slicing down while saying sorry to each slime he took on when he got there and Malroth… Mashed the enemies in his own style. After all monsters were defeated, Gelius stuck his hand out and Malroth and Hargon felt both the urge to “slap” it. But when they tried, they collided with each other.

-Woah, Hargon, what the hell?

-I could say the same to you, what are you doing?

They glared at each other. Gelius gestured them to look at him.

-Look, let’s… fix this. You both wanted to do it, didn’t you? Then… How about this, I stick both of my hands out and you take one each.

The young builder did like he said and the others simply followed nature’s impulses and hit them with their own.

-What was that anyway? Why did I feel the irresistible urge to slap it?-Malroth asked curious.

-It’s called high five. It’s a thing friends do to celebrate a job they did well-Gelius explained-And since I consider you both my friends now, you can call me Ice.

Both of them nodded, taking in the explanation.

-I never considered myself the touchy-feely type, but I guess I can make an exception for this-Malroth said.

Hargon looked at the place the rat had died. He muttered something along the lines of “You deserved that”. Ice raised a brow, but shook it off. It had gotten dark while they’d been fighting and when they came back to their shelter found a very angry Lulu.

-Why did you run away when I was telling you what you had to do when you wake up tomorrow morning? And why are you all covered in oil and dirt?-Lulu scolded them.

-There were some monsters outside. So we mashed them-Malroth answered simply-Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I’m about to conk out any second now, so I’m going to go sleep. Tomorrow I’d like to explore the island with you Ice, Hargon and I’ve had enough of exploring together for a while, haven’t we?

-Possibly, but introducing the place to him might make it fun. Anyway-he yawned-I am as sleepy as you are Malroth. Good night to everyone.

Hargon neared one of the straw beds and sat down on it. Malroth did the same but between that straw bed and the other one next to it. Lulu took the free one and that left Ice to take the one Malroth had half taken. During that night Malroth ended up hugging both Hargon and Ice, action that Ice answered by hugging the hand and Hargon simply laid his head on Malroth’s chest like it was a pillow. 

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[lizord-lord]

The Invisible Language

(This is a vent fic. I was struggling with having to dump a friend yesterday and it got me dwelling on my social struggles..and so I tried my hand at actually writing a fic to project all my problems through! XD)

(For anyone who doesn’t know, I have autism-Aspergers specifically, and I totally 100% headcanon Logan as an aspie. I have this post detailing why. So..for those of you who also stan autistuc Logan (and maybe a bit of ADHD Roman) here is this, me basically throwing my entire life story on our poor nerd and I am so sorry but also not XD. Also, the book I mentioned is very real, and I actually own it. It’s really useful, if a bit dated and heteronormative)

Warnings: Descriptions of sensory overload (similar to a panic attack) social struggles, very brief mention of selfharm, mentions of fistfights and minor physical violence.

Ships: none, but you can probably see my logicality heart in there lmao

The Invisible Language.

It was all just so complicated now.

Or rather, now he knew how complicated it was.

Before, Logan had always just thought he was bad with people. That was fine. It fit, with his habit of staying inside with his nose in a book. The socially awkward, introverted nerd who wasn’t good with kids.

It was simple.

But that’s the thing. Life isn’t simple. And neither was Logan. Even as a six year old.

The socially awkward, introverted nerd, from what he’d seen on tv, would have cried or just silently tried to make due when another kid ‘accidentally’ spilled tomato juice all over his copy of Alice in Wonderland. Logan Sanders leapt from his desk, grabbed the kid’s wrist, and yanked him down so his head smashed into the wood.

The socially awkward one was laughed at. Logan was sent to the office.

Time and time again this would happen. Until he turned eight, and his parents pulled him out of school. He was homeschooled after that, and it was simultaneously like a breath of fresh air and entering a stifling hot room. He was free of the children, free to discover on his own, but he found himself itching for more, to ask questions about things his parents could answer, to do projects he’d heard about online but often ended up screaming in his attempts to recreate them because it wasn’t explained, why this, why that, how do I do that, it doesn’t make sense!!

Homeschooling was a blessing and a curse. He made due. He did well in fact, almost all of his online courses were marked complete with a neat 100 for the score. It was enough for them, but not for him.  Eight year old Logan hated it. Ten year old Logan was used to it.

Eleven year old Logan dug his heels into it.

Middle school. His parents wanted to send him back. He understood their reasoning, the rational half of his brain did. Middle school was a big change, adolescence, and the middle ground before high school, which he always knew he would be going to-you can’t get college credit from online courses and library books after all, not the ones he was using. It would give him time to prepare. And yet he was a creature of habit, so used to his solitary life..

Logan has no choice however.

On the first day he stepped inside, armed with only the knowledge of American Girl books he’d skimmed through (who cared if they were meant for girls, they didn’t write helpful guides for boys!) and distant memories of elementary school. The first weeks went by as a blur, and Logan ate it up. The assignments, the grades, the smirk he always found himself wearing when he placed his assignments in the bin. That triumph didn’t even compare to the rush of pride and satisfaction he felt when the teacher told the class that he test they’d been given was apparently too hard, many kids failed and only one student actually got a perfect score, and his paper was handed back with a 100 written on the top.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hold the paper up a bit and catch the eyes of the numerous people who stared at him with no surprise in their eyes.

Logan even found friends in those first few weeks. A darkly dressed kid who, much like him, never really knew where to go during paired projects and ended up working with him. He found that Virgil was actually very bright, a relief when he looked around the room to see people talking and not doing anything useful. The pale boy was quiet, but listened as Logan chattered away about his  plans for the assignment.

Patton was next, a round-faced boy who seemed to share at least a few words with everyone he saw. Logan didn’t mind that. He wasn’t a lazy student, maybe a bit easily distracted, but when he was sat next to Logan in science his work quality was always at least a solid B, as long as he was shushed every now and again. He seemed better with people too, and Logan found himself enjoying his company.

Then there was Roman. He was introduced to their little trio by Patton, who apparently shared a drama class with the tanned boy. He was..a handful. And yet Logan found himself challenged by him. Their friendship was an unusual one, full of debates that more often than not ended in yelling, but at least they started off with intelligent points and interesting ideas-and if often Patton had to break off their passion so neither of them landed with lunch detention, well that was the price to pay.

He was enjoying himself here.

Then the second month. Logan remembered where he was when a redheaded girl told him he was wrong in that ‘you’re a moron’ tone when he told her that actually, the word for the study of space was astronomy, not astrology. When a boy in a green sweater had blatantly ignored him when he asked him to stop scooting his chair across the hard floors. When an entire group of people had continued to call him Logie even though he’d told them over and over he hated it. Many of them seemed to do it just because it annoyed him. This went on. Every day another simpleton would disrespect him. Every day he’d tell him to stop. Often he’d snap at them, or swear. That always got him snickers in return. And Logan found himself clenching his fists as his whole body burned red hot.

It happened again a week after this started. A boy with a Minecraft t-shirt cut him off in the lunch line, and when Logan told him to go to the end, the boy only scoffed and responded with “Are you in kindergarten?” in a tone that made his blood boil with how fucking snotty it was.

Logan’s hand was fisted in the back of that obnoxious t-shirt and pulling back with all its might before he could think.

The boy ended up on the floor crying, and Logan ended up suspended.

There were more incidents that year. Mostly yelling or swearing, but minor physical violence was not unheard of. It was common even.

Logan didn’t want that. He wanted to be cool, to drop the bullies and idiots with bullets of intelligence from his tongue, but everything he tried a witty comeback they’d give him either confused looks, no acknowledgement as all, or retort with ‘Your mom’ jokes, a sort of ‘insult’ that required barely a single brain cell to perform.

They never listened. They were stupid, childish, disrespectful. Logan stuck only to his three friends and the many teachers he’d grown quite friendly with, They liked him after all, he was precocious and that was something teachers always found fun. with adults, he also found he could make himself actually heard, his theories, ideas, suggestions, it was a glorious freedom he had previously only had with Patton, Roman, and Virgil.

But things didn’t get that much better.

In fact, in seventh grade Logan found his outbursts getting worse. They were farther and fewer between, but the eventual rage that would explode was far worse than before. It was like the dam that held back his rage had grown stronger, but that meant it took more water to barrel it over, and that sent far more devastating floods down the peaceful valley of his mind.

In eighth grade, he got into a fistfight with a boy who had called Roman gay as an insult, not knowing that it was true or that the word should not be used in such a manner. When the boy refused to listen to Logan’s explanation of what the word meant and instead switched tracks to scoffing every time he said it was a normal and perfectly acceptable, beautiful thing. And by the time the midget of a bigot tossed in the dreaded f-slur Logan’s mind was so crimson he only felt a rush of relief when his fist connected with the boy’s head.

It was two weeks of suspension for that. And it was during that time that Logan’s mother revealed something to him that he had never expected.

Tales of his childhood-or babyhood rather, where he had exhibited strange behaviors no other parent seemed to have seems.

“I think you might have Aspergers,” she had said.

And now, here he was. He couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to tell him of her suspicions. But now Logan was sitting on his bed, the blanket covered with constellations, staring at the cover of a book.

It was a familiar scene.

But this wasn’t a book chosen by Logan’s own hand, or by the school, or even a recommendation from his parents or a loan from his younger sister Abby.

It had been gifted to him by the man at the Autism Center.

The Asperkid’s Secret Guide to Social Rules.

He’d read the whole thing.

Before, he’d thought he was just awkward.

But no. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. It wasn’t that he just didn’t know that w to say. He was. missing an entire way of communicating that people his mind now knew as ‘neurotypicals’ spoke in without realizing it.

The secret language. Body language, facial expressions, tone, he knew that all existed yes..but he’d never seen it. At least not in the subtleties the book described. And all these double meanings of phrases? So the dark-skinned girl who had asked him what he was reading during math class didn’t want to just read the back and learn Sherlock Holmes’ latest mystery? She’ wanted to get to know him?

Why didn’t she just say so!

It was so much more complicated now. The vague, yet simple term of ‘weird’ was replaced by the vast, yet specific, confusing, and multifaceted word that was autistic. A word he’d never have expected to apply to him. Mental health went really a subject he’d looked into, feelings were too wound into it.. and feelings had always been his greatest vice.

So now, with that book in his hand, he thought.

There was a whole other world he couldn’t see..that’s what he had been missing all this time? was the specific shifts in tone in posture people made-what he’d always thought to be absently-something his parents expected him to understand and that was why he always seemed to have to be elbowed when running his mouth?

It was like….like telepathy. Yes, to Logan, the cues he now found himself putting extra effort into finding; his sister’s slightly hunched shoulders at the dinner table, his dad’s slightly turned up nose when he mentioned his history teacher, were a sort of telepathy that the ‘normal’ population all shared. But it wasn’t as if it was that simple. Of course, it was tauntingly, agonizingly complicated. You see, these people were all telepaths, sharing cues in an invisible tongue-and yet, none of them knew they were telepathic. And yet still, they all expected everyone else to be.

So that was why he was strange. Logan had looked up how much of communication was non-verbal - he felt his eyes go wide when he saw the percentage dedicated to ‘body language’.

Fifty-eight percent.

Fifty-eight percent.

What else could he have missed?

Logan was both happy and uncomfortable with the diagnosis. He now knew terms, words, blessed reasons for his little ticks, why he felt like something was terribly wrong for at least an hour just because he’d had to take an alternate route to school (routine disruption), why was such a picky eater (finickiness caused by sensitivity to textures and certain flavors/smells), why people always responded with confusion whenever they saw him pepper the science teacher with question after question, challenge after challenge like he was trying to understand how the universe wove itself in the span of five minutes, and looked surprised when Roman asked him if he knew why Patton was being quiet. Logan had responded with a simple no, informing the other that Patton hadn’t told him-and when the slightly taller boy had suggested that he ask, Logan realized the thought had never occurred to him.

Most importantly, it explained what Roman had dubbed ‘The Fitness Fiasco’. To sum it up, Logan had thought of a new game for their groups to play in gym class—something besides basketball for once in their lives, and yet as he tried to explain, the girl who seemed to have taken charge of the group he was trying to explain the idea to kept talking over him, ignoring him, challenging what he said—and the noise. The noise, how all the chattering and the sound of balls bouncing on the floor, the rage he felt at being slighted in this way, how it had attacked him. How he’d suddenly found himself tensing, wanting to run or to yell, unsure which, how the sound turned solid and pressed in-his muscles going taut, his hands twitching with every word from the students mouths,  how his arm violently jerked away as Patton tried to comfort him- And then the scream. He’d screamed at the top of his lungs for quiet, falling to the ground and sobbing in the fetal position—eyes screwed shut behind his glasses and hands clamped tight to his ears, unsure of what was even falling from his mouth aside from the fact that he was begging, begging for silence. It had only quieted a bit as people turned to stare, and then he’d felt hands on his shoulders, ones he jerked away from—but no one knew what to do. Virgil’s low whispers for him to breathe, to use the 4-7-8 method that the emo always used to calm his own panic attacks, was only met with more incoherent begging for silence. It had been Patton who rescued him, who brought the teacher over and ended up guiding the sobbing Logan to an empty classroom. There he had been met with silence. There he felt his terrified bawling turn to weeping with relief. In the silence, he’d recovered, his muscles lost the tension, and he allowed the freckled boy to wrap him in a hug.

He’d only been able to call it a panic attack before. But now he knew the term. Sensory overload, brought on my the noise and the stress.

It had been a relief just to know that. To know that in moments when he stood among too many people, feeling his muscles clench as their shoulders brushed his, that his hands should not go out to push them away, but to his ears, to block out the trigger.

It became a cue, when debates with Roman got heated—they were friends after all, if rivals as well, and it was understood that if Logan’s jaw suddenly clenched and his hands went up to cover his ears, they had to pause for at least a minute.

But of course, knowing where the holes in his social skills were led to Logan compensating, and it didn’t..always feel natural. He found himself staring at people, trying to read their faces, for a little too long on many an occasion, or overreacting to something because he’d overanalyzed the tone. He found himself having to bite his tongue on many an occasion to keep himself from simply explaining why he did what he did to his parents, who would only take it as making excuses.

It was a balance of the good, the bad, and the ugly. He understood now that his all-or-nothing attitude was why he found himself simply not doing projects if he couldn’t grasp the material—and this led to him having to more often than not, swallow his pride and ask for help when he was getting frustrated. Yet the same black-and-white philosophy got him gasps of shock from Roman when he explained that, in the story Roman had been iterating to him, the whole second half of the plot could have been avoided if Leealli had simply decapitated Sorcerer Kai while they were trapped in her dungeon. Roman had protested, saying it would make her just as terrible as they, but Logan had frowned, explaining that yes, the act was cruel, but if a single act of evil by her direct hand was all it took to stop countless others by her indirect hand, wasn’t it worth it?

But he had also been the one to convince Patton not to remain friends with Oliver, when one day, sitting on the cotton candy clouds that patterned Patton’s quilt, the smaller boy had confided in him that Oliver had vented about his habits of self-harm to the kind soul for three hours the night previous, yet refused any help Patton gave, shot down any attempt at saying he was worth more than he thought.

It was Logan who had took Patton’s hand and told him that people like that could only be helped by themselves and a therapist, that he should not take it upon himself to bear others’ problems in that way. Who had given him a hesitant hug and told him that his mental health was just as important as theirs.

His friends were his lifeline. Maybe they tripped him up—well, they definitely did, yet as much as he found himself apologizing to Virgil for seeming angry when he was simply tired and being a bit blunter and more insensitive with his words than usual (not that he usually was tactful or sensitive when it came to criticism, even constructive criticism) he found himself sighing in relief as the anxious boy shared with him his own experiences in worrying about the negative undertones in the words of others too much to be considered healthy. They would sit and talk about it, the same experience for two different reasons, one of them due to the irrational fear of people disliking him or being angry, and the other due to worrying he was doing something incorrectly that he was not aware of, failing to pick up on a crucial piece of information.

As much as Logan found himself and Roman butting heads, even shouting at each other during friendly debates gone sour, name-calling and snapping fault after fault, he reflected fondly on the time he had been ecstatic to discover that Roman’s own ADHD-riddled brain hyperfixated on Disney just as his own did on Sherlock, and they would both go on for hours about their obsessions while sadly recalling how old interests had faded.

As much as he often found himself hurting Patton unintentionally, and even worse, learning that Patton had been hiding that fact from him for weeks as to spare his feelings, as difficult as it was to convince (well, more plead with) Patton to tell him these things, as he wouldn’t be offended much and he had no other way of knowing what he was doing wrong, he found himself sitting by his side, all attention completely fixated on what to him were mindblowing truths about people and yet seemed common, boring knowledge to Patton, as the freckled boy explained cues and rules, that invisible language Logan did not speak.

Those friends stuck by him, even though others did not. With all the walls Logan had built up around his emotions, to protect himself and others, few could breach the fortifications—except for those who had already been on the inside as he built them. And he was fine with that.

Going to a therapist was...awkward at first, but it helped. Mr. Picani understood his aversion to talking of his feelings, and instead cleverly tricked him every time, asking questions about events until Logan was off on an angry rant. With that expelled, they’d talk through possible solutions.

He kept the book. And most of the other books he was given on the topic, eager to learn and understand more things about himself, knowing the reasons behind behaviors, quirks in things had always been one of his favorite things, and now he found it was possible in people.

As Logan worked through his discovery during the last semester of eighth grade and through that summer, with his Virgil, Patton, Roman, his parents, Mr. Picani, and occasionally even his rainbow-haired little sister, he found his mind shifting. He was truly calm now more often than not, able to express his rationale...well, rationally, rather than through insults. His debates grew calmer, and while he certainly had his slip-ups..he was improving. Slowly. Steadily.

His viewpoint of the world was unusual, like an outsider, and while that could be isolating, if he explained it well, people were often interested to hear it. It was different, his own; the metaphor Logan found himself using was that everyone else was a Macintosh computer, and he and his fellow spectrumites were PCs, capable of all the same things, though in ways the world was not wired to accommodate. Also, clearly superior in many a way.

His core programming was different, even if his exterior seemed the same, and Logan was okay with that. He’d never know the invisible language, not as a native would, but he could learn it—the same way he learned slang, through help, a lot of online research, his friends, and some study notes here and there.

It was complicated, they way he figured things out, the systems he’d devised. But complicated problems would never be solved with simple solutions.

And he still had plenty of time left to learn.

(Thanks to @poisonedapples for betaing this and basically screaming RELATABLE every two second, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear!)

(...I don’t really have a general fic taglist so imma just- y e a here)

Tags: @royallyanxious @whatwashernameagain @sandersmarvel @the-incedible-sulk @supremestoverlord @hanramz-the-fander @childhood-wishes-and-dreams @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @madly-handsome @galaxy-warping @extremist-water-agenda @ierindoodles @princeanxious

[universal-kitty]

How about Godot?

Also, I hope you feel better soon 💖

   The door clicked open and- with a relieved sigh- Rachel was finally home. As much as they appreciated being with friends, making connections, it all left them too...anxious. Did the others really like them? Was there any friendships left to build on? Was it a wasted effort, better spent alone? What if they didn’t even want them around, tolerating them only because they still had one tie to the group, and so they put up with the unwanted shenanigans because of their friendship...?

   Anxiety swirled in their gut as they set down their backpack with a sigh, trying to find some joy in the pink front of the bag, showing off the inside array of fictional characters they cared too much about.

   To no avail. It didn’t lessen the anxiety and rising panic in the slightest.

   “Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes... Welcome home, Kitten.” That caught Rachel’s attention, looking up to see the visor of their boyfriend, Godot. The former Diego Armando... Legally still was, but you’d never much hear him acknowledge those “old days,” as he said. They were over with. Godot is all that remained.

    “Hey, Godot...” He eased things, but not by enough. Something noted in the way his head tilted, staring them down behind the visor. Rachel was used to this, by now; the constant switching of is he looking versus is he not? Today, however, it isn’t a question.

   He sees a lack of energy and they know it.

   “Something wrong?” He asks at last, stepping closer and slipping his hands onto their hips. It’s their favorite way to be held, sighing softly in comfort as they lean into him, head resting on his chest.

   “Yes...and no. No, because I think I’m just overthinking it. This shouldn’t be a big deal... But at the same time, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing.”

   “Oh?”

   “Yeah... I mean, I wanted this! I wanted to be included in a friend group again. I wanted to lessen the hurt that he...had so much fun without me. Cause I don’t have a group of friends to hang out with around here... You know? But suddenly, amidst a game and realizing I still don’t know how to talk to people... I don’t know!!” Rachel sucked in a harsh breath, shaking slightly under his touch. Quietly, he moved his hands up, pulling them closer to him and noting how their hands tightly gripped his shirt. “I want to believe they want me around, but... I feel like I don’t belong, still. I wonder if anyone wants me there at all.

   “...I just want to belong somewhere, Godot... I don’t want to keep being like this, but it’s so, so hard to...” It wasn’t a surprise that a few tears escaped, crying softly into his tie. He was relieved that he didn’t have his coffee at the time, at least; able to kneel down a bit in order to sweep up his distressed datemate into his arms and move away from the entrance, back over into the living room.

   Taking a seat with his Kitten in his lap, arms wrapping around them in the way he knew they liked best and doing what his visor would allow of pressing his face close to their’s. Perhaps not the best attempt with such a machine on his face, but he worked with what he could.

   “Your anxiety... It’s a too-hot cup,” he mused thoughtfully, loud enough to be heard over the muffled sobs. “You can’t drink from it so quickly, or you will only get burned. Even if they don’t last long in the views of others, the burns on your heart never heal the same, do they? We both know this sort of pain, but you, Kitten, have it happen more than I do... Your brain works overtime. Don’t let it.

   “I know it’s hard to do. Took me a long while to figure it out, myself. Time inside and out of jail... Don’t need jail time to know what I’m going to tell you though, right?”

   A pause settled and though the tears hadn’t quite stopped, the harsh breathing was steadying and so were the sobs. A slow calm as they came down from scarier heights...and Godot, still patiently waiting for them to answer.

   “That... That I, um, should...work past my anxiety? And keep trying?” Rachel’s meek voice was so cute, but not quite the answer he sought.

   “Close, but not quite, Kitten. Work past your anxiety, by all means. However, if things aren’t working out for you, stop. You can’t force yourself to like black coffee with how sweet you are... Don’t force yourself to give some of that sweetness into other’s cups who don’t even deserve it.” Rachel paused, looking up at him and the tight line his lips had become. His tone had suddenly become biting and while it was certainly in part because of the situation at hand...

   “...You deserve it, though. Don’t bring yourself down with me, babe,” they said, voice soft as they stroked his prickly cheek of stubble, fingertips caressing the skin below the edge of his visor. He shuddered, but stayed quiet. “...I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t force myself, it’s just-”

   “Leave the worries to Trite,” he pointed out, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. Though the two had long settled their differences, hearing Godot refer to his old “rival” Phoenix as “Trite” meant he was teasing again...and purposefully aiming for smiles. (None yet, but the look Rachel gave him for it was good enough.) “We’ll eventually get back home to California. There’s some good friends of ours there, isn’t that right? Edgeworth, Rhodes, Wright, the Feys... Things will get better, Kitten. No need to fuss about life, when life works itself out all the time. With or without our help.”

   “...I suppose.”

   “I’m right.” Another grin as they sighed, wiping away remaining tears that lingered on their lashes. The grin settled as he watched them, affection only growing in his eyes at how Rachel was settling down; tired, still a little tense, but doing better, step by step.

   Those beginnings of recovery were all his heart needed.

   “...Thanks, babe. ‘m love you.” A pause, looking up at him suddenly. “...Can I take your visor off? I wanna see you.”

   “I won’t be able to see you, though,” Godot pointed out, tilting his head; a visual way to show the arched brow under the visor. Rachel seemed a little sheepish at the reminder, but pushed on.

   “I know...but I want to see you. Just for a little bit...! I’ll put it on after, okay?” There was a gentle persistence in their words. Easy enough to say no to, to promise “some other time” and enjoy the moment in it’s red visuals. The only vision he had left...

   The only issue is he long found himself not wanting to deprive his love of even the little things. Even if it meant his vision for a few minutes...

   Godot sighed. “Alright, I suppose... But afterwards, you’re putting it back on and I’m making us coffee.”

   “Deal,” was their speedy response, moving so that they straddled his lap, hands beelining for the familiar clips that kept the visor on his face. With the removal of it, his vision was gone...but Rachel had described his most recent appearance to him not that long ago, at least.

   Skin was still tan, but looked a little paler thanks to the visor and lack of sunlight. His eyes had become glossy, pale from the damage the poison had done to his eyes. A true blind man, far as he could tell. And a more recent addition, a streak of still-noticeable white from one side of his face to the other, crossing the bridge of his nose; a scar from when Dahlia’s channeled spirit had struck him across the face with a blade.

   They insisted it added to his charm, but Godot was unsure of that. (Still, suppose if his Kitten says so, it might have to be true. That, and they insisted Mia would’ve agreed. He was sure on that much, at least. Perhaps they were right, after all...)

   He sighed at the darkness, the warmth traveling over his face in the form of fingers and the faintest feeling of their breath. Those his eyes moved, he saw nothing...but for some reason, the weirdo liked watching his eyes move. Never could explain it beyond, “It’s cool to see them move... I love your eyes. That’s...really all there is to it, I suppose.”

   “...I love you,” they murmured again, Godot breathing in when the air around him warmed, hair tickling his cheek. Moving in for a kiss? He was just finding his mind again to reply in kind when their lips were over his, gentle and just slightly chapped. (Where had their chapstick gone, the goof?) He kissed back, a hand threading through their hair and getting a firm hold on it once his fingers peeked through the strands.

   Hearing their shaky breaths when they pulled away made him smile a little, listening to it a moment longer. Feeling the warmth of their breaths and the slight heat of their face. Blushing? Wouldn’t surprise him any; Rachel tended to light up like a candle around him... So, so easily. Really gave him an ego boost, if he was honest.

   “I love you, too, Kitten.” He took a risk in giving them a return peck and- whether by luck or assistance- he made it. “Now, why don’t you put my visor back on? I promised coffee and... I think some cuddling will have to be in the plans for today.” The excited, soft squeak was all he needed to hear, laughing softly as Rachel quickly start getting his visor back onto his face, already thinking up other plans for later to help his Kitten cheer up a little more... Even if they would be hot enough to put their coffee to shame~

[thehappiestandunluckiest]

Being Radioactive

If the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of radioactive is the imagine dragons song, same.

So, January 10th, I traveled up to Lisbon. A scared, young gazelle, about to absorb a radioactive substance that would hopefully kill the powerful assassin that had taken over her 20 year old body. Something that I never had felt before but felt as soon as I was told that I had cancer was.... There are multiple cells in my body right now just eating away at my temple, and I have no power over it, and at any moment one could just go on a little trip through my body and stop at a vital organ and make itself at home and have little babies and over run my body and kill me. Now, I know that sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it feels, or at least that’s how I felt. I felt helpless, like a ticking time bomb, cancer is a bitch but feeling so helpless and even worse, feeling like a foreigner in your own body was so odd. I felt displaced like I was in my body but also being kicked out of it. I know I didn't have it anywhere near as bad as others have, I was lucky, I am lucky, that’s what I kept telling myself. But I couldn’t ignore feeling like I had an army of little Hitlers in my body, over throwing my own cells, altering my hormones, chewing through me. 

I traveled up to Lisbon, smile on my face and jokes always on the tip of my tongue, but that’s how I react to stress, that why my bosses always love me, I thrive in chaos, or at least I trick everyone else into thinking I do. I was anxious but relieved to be getting this out of the way. If all worked out, I would be free of these pests that contaminate relentlessly. But i would also be having scans to see if it had spread, and that freaked me out, I wanted to be oblivious and stay in denial but I know that’s not the way to go.

So we travel up to Lisbon, and have two days as an out-patient where I spent a couple of hours each day having tests run and injections given in the oncology dept. It was fun having THE nurse from hell. I’m joking, but she sure was a character (and we all know what that means). Now I am not mean, but you will soon understand why I didn’t gel to this woman. So she grabs me and drags me to a room, “oh the nurse has vanished, we will just have to start ourselves” this set off alarms in my head - she seemed super hostile and her stabbing me with needles was not what I wanted. 

She flings a plastic cup at me, “you have to pee in this”, she throws me into a bathroom, with another girl trying to pee into a cup. She goes “HA! oops” and closes the door. NOW LISTEN HERE! Have you ever had to pee into one of those cups? It’s a very very vulnerable position to be in. Hunched over, begging your bladder to open the flood gates, hand in the toilet bowl covered in your own piss. I felt so sorry for her. So I pee into this cup, clean up and go back to the nurses office. The older nurse is back and I let out the breath I had been holding in out of anxiety. Now, I just want to mention that all these stories are super real and I for real can’t make this sh#t up!“ God! Those shoes need to go into the bin! They’re so dirty.” She says as she’s leaning on the door frame. 

This woman! I’m sat in the chair anxious awaiting the medicine that will help stop me from dying and she’s talking about my slightly dirty sneakers....So, the older nurse asks me where I’m from, she worked in London for a few years so we get into some small talk whilst she takes my blood, she’s distracting me from my ridiculous phobia. She asks me what I’m studying. “Oh - no. I actually work in a hotel, I’m a waitress.” “WHAT?! You don’t have a degree? How far is that going to get you, you can’t go far in life without one?” Now at this point I wanted to puke on the floor, not because I felt sick but so she would have to clean up my bile from the ground - that’s her job, how amazing is your f#cking degree now love? But I am a good christian girl so I simply say “well, I didn’t want to go to university. I got a good job straight out of school in a company that I can evolve in and have been evolving in”. The older nurse says she agrees that I am doing a good job going after what I want and not what is expected of me and that its the fact that you love what you do that counts. “Ok Emma that’s everything for today, see you tomorrow, same time!”

Now lets get to the real radioactive part. 

Let’s set the mood. I haven’t eaten anything, not that I’d want to. Yesterdays injections have a side effect of headaches, not too bad. I am pale, make upless and wearing xxl sweat pants and an xl sweater - I’m more sweatpants than human but it made me feel all cozy. I have a suitcase filled with art supplies, my laptop, books and toiletries - the essentials you might say. Feeling sorry for me yet? I actually wasn’t too worried only one side effect - the slow death of suffocation if your esophagus swells up from the radiation burning your salivary glands. No biggie. (I would like to inform you all that even though this is all true - its sarcasm just for anyone who’s worried about me).

The hospital is huge, and very luxurious. Everyone is walking around with gucci bags and beautiful tans and I’m looking like hell but that’s ok I’m beyond caring. 

I’m escorted to my room, it’s beautiful. Huge windows, lots of space, overlooking some of the city and the pediatrics block. I’m given the big speech explaining everything, let me give it to you in precis form as my Dad would say. I have to flush the toilet 4 times when i poop, and twice when i pee. The toilet has chambers so you have to aim said poop and pee into these chambers (it was like yoga trying to get into positions to aim but I don’t want to describe my bowel movements too much we aren’t that close yet - at least buy me coffee first!)

So the room is lovely only noticable difference is the space odessy esque toilet, and the huge lead panel that is placed infront of the door. They repeat that all of this is not for my own safety but for everyone elses, I harness all the power - is this the part where I become a super villan? 

The fancy director of nuclear science came to my room in her anti radiation suit (yes - just like in HBO Chernobyl) and I injected the little pill through the rather odd tube. It was in a big lead box and had all the hazard signs on it and and made a  *shhhhhhhh* sound when the box opened, what a fancy-dancy little pill.

Surprisingly I did not glow in the dark or have magnetic abilities - disappointing to say the least. 

My two day stay was pretty uneventful, the food was actually quite good. I drank 10l of water and 2l of pure lemon juice - I was on the toilet ever 30 minutes and spent a good 7 minutes each time for the flushing routine. This lemon juice was to keep my salivary glands working which would stop my throat from swelling and thus stop me from maybe chocking myself to a long, endless sleep. I ended up with ulcers in my mouth from the lemon juice, BUT my skin got really clear and I had never felt so hydrated in all my life. I was left alone and my only comunication with my nurses was through the telecom. When my food was left for me I had to stand in the corner next by the window and wait until they had left my food behind the big lead panel before I could move again. It was kinda crazy because they looked at me like I was a monster in a cage. You know when you were a kid and turned the lights off in the hall and ran to your bed out of fear of the dark? That’s how they looked at me - it was oddly humourous and simultaneously eery and isolating (but I am writing this entry during the COVID19 pandemic and have been isolated in my house for 2 months now so that was nothing looking back on it).

All fluids that came out of me were very radioactive so I had to shower often. I was scared of choking in my sleep so I set alarms every two hours (I’m just very cautious ok!). On my last day I needed to have an MRI and blood tests done and so myself and another young girl, same age as me and same situation as me, were escorted to the tests area. We wadled through the whole hospital, the nurse would ask everyone to stay away from us and people would scatter away from us like we were radioactive - wait a minute.....

I had my scan, and had the geirger meter see how radioactuve I still was. Honestky this was what I was scared of. Not the actual treatment itself but what the results would be. I think this is a normal fear. It would change everything. Had it spread? Had it evolved into an even more malicious beast? So many thoughts running through my head. We went back to our rooms and awaited these dreaded results. 

My dad had driven up to Lisbon to pick me up, he loves the drive. He calls and says that he is going to wait for me to be ‘set free’ until he goes into the hospital (all of us have spent too much time in hospital to the point that its a normal place to spend our time so we try and avoid it like the plague). 

The doctor comes into my room and stands right next to me. Crazy human contact wow it’s so crazy how powerful having someone even just stood close to you has an effect on you.

My results are very positive - thank God. I smile and thank the doctor, I really am so happy. This enourmously heavy weight has been taken off of my shoulders, my eyebrows unforrowed and my shoulders eased up, my jaw declenched, my stomach stopped its sumersaults and I could breathe again.

The nurse calls me to say I need someone to come and get me for me to be discharged. I try and call my dad, straight to voicemail. I message no answer. I call my mum no answer. I call my brother, finally an answer after 4 attempts but he’s useless to me 2 hours away. shit. I am finally free and I can’t get out of the damn place! After an hour of me trying to call him and me freaking out because I don’t want to be stuck here any longer. I hear a voice through the door. “I am looking for my daughter”, ok lets get out of here. 

I cant hug anyone or stay too close, I am tired but dying for some icecream. I finally am free, free of this monster. I wont be 100% out of the woods for a while yet but for now I am good. I stay in isolation at home for a week before I am allowed back out in public. The day I finally go out in public is to the shopping centre. I set off the alarms. The security alarms were going off as I walked past them. I walked through the shopping mall lauging like a lunatic, I really was radiocative after all.  This was it- my super power. 

I still worry from time to time, I get little scares and I obsessivly check for lumps and bumps, but I can rest a little easier now. I hope noone has to go through what I went through, or anything of the sort. But I would like to say that it wasnt all that bad, the treatment ran so smoothly that I thought that they had given me a dud pill. The operations before the treatment were also very smooth sailing. The whole thing went by easily (as easily as cutting your throat open can go), Why am I saying this? Because before I went for treatment I wanted to see how others reacted just so that I knew what to expect and so that i could prepare. Online everything was negative, blogs said that it was the worst experience. Not that it’s a great experience either but I think it’s important to not scare people about these things. Being sick sucks. It truly does, but being cured, or trying to get better is a true blessing, and us lucky lucky individuals who have access to health care (and even luckier if its free health care) and those of us who can go through these operations and come out on the other side should be so so grateful. I’m grateful for my operations, my access to clean hospitals, the best medical professionals, the kind auxilary staff that smiled at me when I was scared, the recepcionists that winked at me and wished me well. My parents that drove me accross the country to be treated by the best. My job for giving me health insurance that helped pay for some of the costs.

What I’m trying to say is that we sometimes over think the bad, and honestly I could easily sit here and write about a WHOLE LOAD of bad that has happened to me, but it wont changed anything or make it better, but what does is looking back and saying wow- I am so lucky. I had people send me best wishes, my collegues at work looked after me when I was ill, my family cared for me when I wasn’t able to do so on my own. Be grateful, add sunshine to a rainy day and see the rainbows appear. 

love,

Em x

[royal-writer]

Essie - questionnaire

Just trying to get to know Essie better, ignore me! Will add more later.

1. Does s/he enjoy puzzles?

Not particularly. Even given nothing to do, Essie would probably prefer much anything else.

2. Does s/he enjoy education?

I don’t even know if she had a real education. I’m sure she learned more on her own means. I think she’s pretty neutral on learning. It helps better you but she doesn’t see it as fun but neither does she see it as terrible.

3. What is his/her sexual orientation?

Pansexual Panromantic.

4. Is s/he right-handed, left-handed, or ambidextrous?

Right-handed but ambidextrous casting spells cuz, well, ya almost gotta be..

5. Is s/he fashionable?

Essie don’t give a fuck. She wears what she likes, or wears what is suitable to the weather, or wears shit just to piss people off. So probably not.

6. What is their favorite food(s)?

Okay, here goes: smoked salmon on a bed of greens, herb roast pheasant, venison steak cooked rare to med-rare with roasted potatoes, garlic clam soup, mushroom and leek stew, berry tarts with mint, stuffed trout, pickled duck eggs, sharp cheeses, sunflower seeds, almonds, honeycakes, and she has a preference for drinking spiced ale, orchid wines, and elven made wines that are sweeter and aromatic. I can also see her having a taste for tea, particularly with honey, and sweet or spiced ciders. Maybe some hard spirits in a group atmosphere.

7. Has s/he ever broken a bone?

Nope, not yet at least.

8. Any interests or hobbies?

She enjoys magic, even using it to make kids happy. She enjoys dancing, secretly. Gambling maybe, uh... going on adventures obviously. Will add more if I think of it; she’s lived a life of survival so she probably doesn’t hide many hobbies.

9. Does s/he consider themself organized?

lmao no and she knows that. Ms. Throw-It-All-In-The-Bag.

10. How does s/he handle feeling nauseous?

No food, only liquids. Try laying down. If it doesn’t stop after a while, try walking around slowly in hopes to agitate self enough to just hurl.

11. What is his/her full name?

Essätha Medüza - the last name is a kick on Medusa from mythology.

12. Introvert or extrovert?

She’s a wanna-be-extro. Doesn’t trust others well, but has a desire to fit in and hang with others. At the moment she’s honestly more intro by nature though.

13. Can s/he cook?

Probably okay. Still prone to burning food from time to time lol whoops. But for the most part it’ll be edible, probably just not super tasty.

14. Did s/he have any friends growing up?

Yes! I plan on doing art for some of ‘em eventually.

15. How does s/he react to storms? Being caught in the storm?

Essie likes a good rainfall. Probably doesn’t mind being caught in them, even ‘bad’ storms, so long as it isn’t snow. Too damn cold.

16. Does s/he collect anything?

Nope. Maybe scars. //bricked// Nah because of her lifestyle, she’s not one to gather trinkets or stuff. Necessities and useful stuff only really.

17. Is s/he religious?

lol nope. Doesn’t care for gods or religion or any of that junk.

18. What inspires him/her?

I don’t know... uh, music for dancing. Sunsets and sunrises. The idea that life can get better. Transformation/growing.

19. Do they have a role model?

Maybe her mom, despite not knowing her. Eventually I’m sure she’ll see some of her fellow team members in this way.

20. What’s their favorite joke?

Probably secretly snake puns. Examples: “let me give you a hiss”, “viper that smirk off your face”, “I’ll snake some puns in there”, etc.

21. How would your character describe his/her friends? Lover? Parents?

dnd group companions to be determined.

Opal: (kind stranger) Orange furry cat woman. Seems to follow her own moral code of good which is pure and generous. Pretty kind.

Kraw: (teacher) Bird man of tans, reds, and dark browns/blacks. Grumpy but has a good heart. May try eating you if you’re an animal or can turn into an animal but otherwise nice. Drinker but a sad drinker when he does.

Solace: (ally/best friend) Outgoing, bubbly, considerate reddish-pink tiefling with obsidian eyes and violet blue-toned hair. She’s a rebel but is caring despite her dicey past. Essie considers her a better person than herself.

Phoenix: (aquitaine) Lady crazypants. Charcoal skin with scar-like markings that glow like lava flow when she’s using her powers. Fiery colored eyes and hair. Very much gives a masculine vibe. Will kill you with no regrets. Something’s wrong with her but she is willing to work with others for her own gain which is relatable.

Bretella: (frienemy) Considered a trustworthy ally. Green skinned redhead with golden eyes. Tends to weary flashy or seductive clothing. Will bail you out of a situation but patronize you later. High self-esteem.

Miz'ri: (enemy) A lost friend. Light grey skin, white hair, pale lilac eyes. Essie wishes that the millions of things that went wrong between them hadn’t. She hopes there’s still godo to be found in Miz’ri. A sad, broken soul.

Hepsiba: (mother) Truly the most beautiful person in existence. Warm, loving, considerate, gentle, sweet, gorgeous. Hepsiba is gone now, but her memory is still a vibrant light of warmth. Essie probably looks to the stars and likes to think her mom is up there, staring down at her. Mom was an auburn-skinned beauty with brown eyes.

Tyfiell: (father) Never met him. Mom spoke well of him, but Essie doesn’t think well of someone who ditched her mom. Said to be a dark-skinned Yuan-Ti Pureblood with dark eyes and a wicked smile. Rogue class.

22. How would s/he describe themself?

LOL nothing good unfortunately... She thinks she’s physically ugly due to how she was treated by others when she was young. She doesn’t find redeemable qualities in herself too much, either. Resident snake lady would probably say “I don’t got time for this” if asked. “I’m a scaly Yuan-Ti woman, hi.”

23. What is his/her birthday? Star sign? Do they fit it?

April 12, which would make their zodiac the Aries. It sounds semi fitting, as they’re labeled as ‘courageous, confident, short-tempered, and impulsive’ but like anything else, there’s some manners that aren’t perfectly fitting (optimistic, aggressive, etc).

24. How good is s/he at mending clothes?

She doesn’t know the Mending ability lol! Kidding aside, I don’t believe it’s her hobby or anything. I mean, if you look at some of her clothes, they’ve got tears and threads pulled free. Probably not.

25. How does s/he react to someone spilling something on them?

Depends on the atmosphere? 90% of the time she’ll realize it’s an accident, jump when it happens, and then request the server or whomever fetch something to help clean up the mess- not impolitely just with some urgency in her tone. She’d probably only have a .1% chance going off an the server because hey, shit happens, but if she’s in a bad mood already she may snap at anyone around she’s unhappy with at the moment.

26. How does s/he react to being approached by law enforcement?

‘Oh shit time to run they’re probably after me’ is her thought processing.

27. Do they paint/draw?

Nah, not really her cup of tea.

28. Does s/he prefer any musical instruments?

Essie can’t play, but she probably enjoys winds and strings for daily life, but the occasionally ‘sick beat’ of a big band of instruments to dance to would be A+.

29. If they had a tumblr, what would their account name be?

venomspikedwine

30. How good are they at keeping an eye on their money? Do they also splurge frequently?

Admittedly, Essatha enjoys hoarding funds. As someone who grew up with little, she’s a bit of a hoarder and is very unlikely to misplace even a copper piece. If she splurges, she’s likely drunk or enjoying a ‘luxury’ she didn’t have much as a child (ex: tarts), or items useful for survival, combat, friends, etc.

31. 3-5 random pieces of trivia about them that doesn’t come up often?

Essie loves music; especially pieces with a soft melody. She grew a garden once. Lastly she has had no real schooling; she’s mostly self-taught or listened in on others or hired other’s to teach her. This might be one of the reasons why she’s a bit of a slow reader.

32. Does s/he prefer dawn or dusk?

She feels more ‘lively’ during dawn but enjoys dusk for the twilight glow, the stars, etc. So both with maybe a slight preference for dusk.

33. Have them describe themself in 3 words!

(no, Essie, you can’t use ‘snake lady’ for 2 words, use adjectives).

confident, misunderstood, bull-headed

34. How would s/he react to someone confessing they have a crush on them?

All the blushing. So much blushing. Open-mouthed like ‘uhh??’ If she doesn’t return the feelings, she’ll probably be really embarrassed. Stuttering as she tries the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. Unless it’s not someone she’s close with, in which case, she’d use their ‘crush’ to her advantage. If it’s someone she has a crush on as well, she’ll blush and look away. Be shy. You’d probably need to convince her to speak or look at you again cuz she’d be like ‘?! they like me? me???’

35. What is his/her favorite scent?

Desserts, rain, the outdoors (especially earthy scents).

36. If they had a Pokemon team, what PKMN would they have?

With ‘starter’: Serperior, Weavile, Houndoom, Phantump, Dragalge, Togetic.

Without ‘starter’: same team, replace Serperior with Kangaskhan.

37. Can s/he sing? act?

She can’t sing well but that won’t stop her when she has the urge. Obviously she can act, or she wouldn’t play people so well lol.

38. Can s/he swim?

Yep!

39. Does s/he drink? Do drugs? Smoke?

Yes she drinks, no she doesn’t do drugs (unless medicines in the d&d count? I don’t know what sort of drugs they have), no she doesn’t smoke.

40. Are they good with children?

Yeah actually! She wants kids to have a happy youth, unlike what she had, so she’s willing to do things to entertain and help kiddos. If a kid cons her, she’d try to even hunt them down purely to see if there’s any way she could help them.

41. What sort of atmosphere does s/he give off?

Depends. Either antisocial or exceptional flirt depending on what’s going on to the average person.

42. Do they believe in any form of afterlife?

Yeah, she thinks there’s an afterlife. What it entails, she doesn’t dare imagine.

43. What’s the first thing s/he does in the morning after waking?

Roll outta bed/sleeping bag and get dressed, think about getting something to drink asap.

44. Who would be his/her voice actor/ress?

Morrigan from Dragon Age, voiced by Claudia Black. Dragon Age: Inquisition seems the best bet, as Morrigan’s voice seems more controlled and less bubbly than Origins. Perhaps Origins though when she’s interacting with Sul?

45. How would you describe his/her aesthetic?

Clothing wise: revealing/sexy. Personal taste: nature, stars, anything that’s just lulling, tranquil, natural to the world...

46. How would s/he react to supernatural/paranormal phenomenons?

Willing to fight a ghost. Probably be spooked at first, but after the first encounter with these sort of creations, she’d probably be okay. Just that first time... “woah let’s punch this ghost” half damage “holy shit you can punch a ghost? Cool. Also magic time becuz wow that didn’t do shit”.

47. How would s/he confess their love to others?

Judging by conversations with Heather, she’d be hecka frustrated. What are feelings. I don’t know what this is. Why do I care about you so much please explain this to me? And once she figures out that it’s love she’s feeling... that explains the confusion, the butterflies in her stomach, the awkward shyness even she couldn’t explain when she reacted to them being nice but... I must now blush... and hide my face...

48. How do they react to being bored?

Time to unbored herself by doing something. Hunting, pestering others, flirting, gambling, anything but sitting there jiggin her leg if she can help it. Restlessness doesn’t fit her.

49. Have they ever been stung by a bee?

Yush.

50. If they had to pick a Disney Princess/Prince, which do they like? Which do they feel most alike? Which do they aspire to be most like?

Essie would probably really like Tiana for her go-getter attitude. She probably feels most like Rapunzel, locked away from the world and badly treated by her ‘caretaker(s)’ (the city she grew up in) but now she’s free and adventuring and seeking her own trues and fulfilling her curiosities. Who she’d probably most aspire to be I guess would be Moana (not qualified as a Disney princess yet, but admirable all the same. Moana went on an adventure, conquered it, found herself, defeated the big bad, etc) or Merida (they share like-characteristics, and Merida didn’t need a man to complete her, though family/friends it reveals are important).

21 Q’s for d&d Chars and OCS, taken from here

1. What influenced or inspired the creation of this character?

First d&d campaign. Kept getting stuck between a handful of races. Finally got down to 4, then 3, then 2. Had to wait and see if Ammy would approve Yuan-Ti Purebloods. Got approved. Suddenly whAM - inspiration. Didn’t want a flat typical ‘evil’ Yuan-Ti. Her background was helpfully inspired by the one I picked- Urchin. I just continued adding tragedy because I’m an asshole.

2. What is your character’s relationship with their family? Family is a word which here refers to biological relatives, close companions, and/or the individual(s) who raised them.

Essie’s only known family was her mother. She was very close with her, sadly, her mom passed when she was young, probably 3-4ish. She never knew her dad. Her relationship with chosen family is positive. Details on ‘chosen’ family will be thought up further later, as I’m confident she’ll come to consider her traveling companions like family.

3. Who is the closest person to them?

Her mum (deceased), and eventually probably Sul and the group. I feel she’ll particularly enjoy Cackle and Adela but we’ll see~

4. What were the conditions surrounding their formative years?

Harsh livin of survival all her life yo. Fighting for food, stealing to get by, learning how to use and deceive people to get things she needed and then eventually, things she wanted.

5. What creature would they like to have as a pet?

Snakes and doggos.

6. Do they have any bad habits?

Does stealing count? Lmao uh, other than that, maybe gambling a bit..

7. Is there anyone they’d die for? Kill for?

Old friends, later their dnd group obviously.

8. Who was their first love?

I’m gonna be cheesy here and say Sulhadur. Mostly because she never really knew what love was anymore until him. Whoops feels-

9. How would this character react to someone confessing their love for them?

^ See up there, I know I answered a question like this already.

10. How old is this character?

Twenty.

11. Are they normally peaceful or aggressive?

Peaceful probably- just leave her be and let her do what she gonna do.

12. How does this character handle stress?

Probably get frustrated. Pull on hair, get loud, vent and rant.

13. Does your character consider themselves lucky?

Hahahahaah- no.

14. What is their favorite holiday?

I... Honestly don’t know? If we’re going by holidays present now, probably Halloween or smth low-key based around family. As for d&d holidays, of those I found, she’d probably prefer Trolltide (a variation on Halloween), and either Feast of the Moon or Feast of the Ancestors.

15. What is the best gift they could receive?

Mom’s love. //bricked// Mom’s ring??? That seems about all at the moment...

16. If they could instantly kill one person in the world without consequence, who would it be?

Probably everyone in their childhood city whoops- or at least someone there that caused her tremendous pain.

17. If they were in possession of a trio of wishes, what would their three wishes be?

Mom to come back to life (probably rejected), happiness (rejected), money (rejected), new clothes, new items to help with spells, idk something to help the dnd group as a whole then.

18. What is their favorite spell or method of attack?

Unknown at the moment. I’ll probably say her Magic Missiles and Acid Splash.

19. What are their guilty pleasures?

Give her desserts!

20. What is something this character is or could be addicted to?

Happiness? Desserts. Yes happiness and desserts sounds about right.

21. Have you actually played this character yet? 

Just started! :D

25 Q’s for your d&d Chars and OCs, taken from here

1. What is this character’s alignment?

Chaotic Neutral

2. What is a notable quote from this character? Alternatively, what is their favorite quote?

No notable quotes yet, just started playing her. Favorite quote would probably be something like ‘only the strong survive’ or ‘a sheep in wolves clothing’.

3. Summarize your character’s backstory with no more than three sentences.

Small innocent snake-child is born to a snake-lady whom has no spouse. She’s raised by her loving mother until she passes away of illness. The remainder of her life has been an uphill battle for survival and equality.

4. Describe your character using a song title.

Snake Charmer. //bricked// oR What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger.

5. Are there any story arcs you would like this character to explore?

ALL

6. What would your character like (or have liked) to do with their life?

They’d like to find happiness. They’d have liked to have a better childhood filled with joy and happiness too, and a healthy mom, and to better herself.

7. Who is your character’s best friend?

Solace technically from her old group. We’ll see what happens in her new group!

8. Who is your character’s worst enemy?

Miz’ri from her old group thus far~

9. Who has, for better or worse, had the most impact on your character’s life?

Thus far, her mother and the people of her childhood city.

10. What is the most badass thing this character has done?

Nothing really yet? Other than survive. Maybe persuaded Lord Hardon- I mean Amon- to chill his nuts.

11. What crime is this character most likely to be convicted of?

Thievery obviously lmao. And being too cute.

12. What meme would you use to describe the character?

Hello Darkness My Old Friend, But That’s None Of My Business, Fuck That Shit I’m Out.

13. Does this character swear frequently?

Probs!

14.What is this character’s relationship with religion or the church?

Fuck that shit I’m out, no thanks!

15. Would this character ever make a deal with a devil or dark spirit?

Under the right circumstances, maybe. But doubtful cuz she ain’t that stupid. Usually. Probably. Unless dire circumstances.

16. Emotion or Logic?

Logic. What are emotion. Plz explain.

17. Soup or Salad?

Soup and stews!

18. What is the character’s favorite Pokémon?

Phantump :’I

19. What Pokémon Go team would they be on?

Team Valor.

20. Is your character currently in love? Is there anyone in love with your character?

No-yes. Eventually.

21. Do you ship your character with any other characters? (This includes characters from other universes and canons)

Sul and her are meant to be okay.....

22. How would this character seduce a lover?

OH GOD well- apparently with flirty, charm, good looks, lots of hip swaying, smooth talking, etc (and her high Persuasion stat) works in her favor. Sul it- it would just come naturally. Essie’s shy with him it’s precious. It’s because she loves him tho.

23. If your character could play any part in a drama, stage production, or musical, what part would they play?

Behind the scenes, probably something like a makeup artist. In a piece, she’d probably be an actress, and a more low-key role because plz don’t spotlight me the arts aren’t my thing...

24. What is your character’s favorite album?

WIP WIP WIP ?? No albums in d&d realm so??? questionable.

25. What does this character mean to you?

I love her she’s my new daughter duh.

[rosecolored-gay]

All questions

Sure.

1.Who was the last person you held hands with?- Abe
2. Are you outgoing or shy?- Eh, I’m a mix of both.
3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?- Abe
4. Are you easy to get along with?- I think I am, yes.
5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?- Mhm.
6. What kind of people are you attracted to?- The ones who make me laugh, make me feel comfortable.
7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?- Who knows?
8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?- Nick. Miss him like crazy.
9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?- Depends on who I’m talking about it with.
10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?- Caitlin ❤
11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?- “I am too at this point” 
12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?- Who I am hates who I’ve been - Relient K- Beside you - 5sos- Somewhere only we know - glee cover- Evergreen - Knuckle Puck- Happy - nsn
13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?- There’s only one person now who can touch my hair without me flipping out 
14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?- Yes
15. What good thing happened this summer?- Hah last summer was shit. Hopefully this one will be better.
16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?- No
17. Do you think there is life on other planets?
- I don’t know18. Do you still talk to your first crush?- Nah
19. Do you like bubble baths?- I don’t think I’ve ever taken one
20. Do you like your neighbors?- Omg no, they’re assholes.
21. What are your bad habits?- I bite my nails, I play with my hair too much, I worry more than I should, I overthink.
22. Where would you like to travel?- Canada, the keys
23. Do you have trust issues?- Yea
24. Favorite part of your daily routine?- Sleeping?
25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?- The whole thing 
26. What do you do when you wake up?- Check my phone 
27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?- I actually like being really pale.
28. Who are you most comfortable around?- Abe and Caitlin
29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?- Don’t care enough to talk to them 
30. Do you ever want to get married?- I mean I have a fake wedding set for 7 years from now
31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?- Nope, but all of my friends still accidentally ask me for hair ties constantly 
32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?- Hayley Williams and Emma Watson
33. Spell your name with your chin.- wntdd - that is nowhere near Alyssa
34. Do you play sports? What sports?- I used to do martial arts, and I was a swimmer.
35. Would you rather live without TV or music?- Tv probably 
36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?- Duh
37. What do you say during awkward silences?
- come here often? But like only to one person 38. Describe your dream girl/guy?- Makes me laugh, sings in the car with me
39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?- I hate shopping so much. But vans I guess 
40. What do you want to do after high school?- Well I’m already in college so.
41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?- Hahahahahaha, no.
42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?- Depends on who I’m with. If I’m with someone I’m close to, then something is on my mind. If I’m with someone I’m not close to, I’m probably just gauging the situation.
43. Do you smile at strangers?- Yeah.
44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?- Outer space.
45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?- Knowing I get to see certain people.
46. What are you paranoid about?- so many things
47. Have you ever been high?- I think 
48. Have you ever been drunk?- yes
49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?- nah
50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?- black I think.
51. Ever wished you were someone else?- for a while I did, now I don’t.
52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?- my appearance.
53. Favourite makeup brand?- I don’t wear makeup
54. Favourite store?- vans 
55. Favourite blog?- probably Caitlin’s or some of the gay ones I follow, too lazy to name you all
56. Favourite colour?- grey and blue
57. Favourite food? - so hard to answer. I love burgers 
58. Last thing you ate?- chicken and quinoa
59. First thing you ate this morning?- eggs, but at like 2pm
60. Ever won a competition? For what?- martial arts and swimming
61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?- okay so I was suspended in middle school for some kid being an ass. I told him to shut up and he stabbed me with a pencil, so I stabbed him back and then he throw a desk at my head and we both got suspended.
62. Been arrested? For what?- no.
63. Ever been in love? - who knows what it was?
64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?- it was with this super sweet guy in 6th grade. The kiss wasn’t that great but I ran into him a few years ago and he’s gay and so am I so it was really funny.
65. Are you hungry right now?- nah
66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?- sometimes. But then again there’s only 2 people I constantly talk to 
67. Facebook or Twitter?-Twitter
68. Twitter or Tumblr?- tumblr 
69. Are you watching tv right now?- just turned it off, was watching bones.
70. Names of your bestfriends? - Caitlin, Abrianna
71. Craving something? What?- can’t have it, won’t name it.
72. What colour are your towels?- half are reddish orange, half are turquoise 
72. How many pillows do you sleep with?- 2 under my head
73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?- yes, this adorable stuffed otter that I got with Abe in Georgia. Hers is named Lenny and mine is Miku
74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?- shit, I have so many because of when I was a kid.
75. Favourite animal?- otter right now
76. What colour is your underwear?- blue 
77. Chocolate or Vanilla?- vanilla
78. Favourite ice cream flavour?- for some weird reason I love pistachio
79. What colour shirt are you wearing?- faded red
80. What colour pants?- blue and black boxers
81. Favourite tv show?- greys anatomy
82. Favourite movie?- at the moment it’s the pacifier
83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?- mean girls 
84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?- mean girls 
85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?- fuck if I remember their names. the one that says you can’t sit with us 
86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?- dory
87. First person you talked to today?- Caitlin
88. Last person you talked to today?- my mother
89. Name a person you hate?- some rude guy I have to be around a lot 
90. Name a person you love?- Abe
91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?- YES
92. In a fight with someone?- eh
93. How many sweatpants do you have?- idk, not a lot actually 
94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?- like 5, but Abe has one rn so like 4
95. Last movie you watched?- we only watched half of it, but finding dory
96. Favourite actress?- Sandra oh 
97. Favourite actor?- Justin chambers
98. Do you tan a lot?- I’m so white lol, I burn like a lobster.
99. Have any pets?- yes, two dogs that are my babies. I also really love my best friends animals so that would end up adding 3 cats 
100. How are you feeling?- confused af
101. Do you type fast?- yes, and like 1000x faster when I’m angry
102. Do you regret anything from your past?- spending so much time and effort on someone who screwed me over
103. Can you spell well?- yes, I won spelling bees when I was younger 
104. Do you miss anyone from your past?- some old friends that I lost touch with, but otherwise no.
105. Ever been to a bonfire party?- yes 
106. Ever broken someone’s heart?- probably?
107. Have you ever been on a horse?- yes!
108. What should you be doing?- sleeping 
109. Is something irritating you right now?- yeah
110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?-um yes.
111. Do you have trust issues?- yes
112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?- pretty sure it was Caitlin, but Bart was in the car
113. What was your childhood nickname?- Brandi used to call me “lyss”, she’s like the only one who was ever allowed to give me a nickname
114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?- a few times
115. Do you play the Wii?- no
116. Are you listening to music right now?- yes, it’s a playlist of some stuff I listened to yesterday 
117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?- nope
118. Do you like Chinese food?- yessss
119. Favourite book?- right now because I read so much, end of watch by Stephen king
120. Are you afraid of the dark?- sometimes
121. Are you mean?- heck yes I can be such an ass
122. Is cheating ever okay?- no. no one fucking deserves to wonder why they weren’t good enough.
123. Can you keep white shoes clean?-yes 
124. Do you believe in love at first sight?- idk
125. Do you believe in true love?- yeah
126. Are you currently bored?- kinda but I’m answering these so no
127. What makes you happy?- goofy days with my fave people/person
128. Would you change your name?- yeah maybe 
129. What your zodiac sign?- Gemini, but I’m not an asshat
130. Do you like subway?- not really 
131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?- well I’m gay so that’s awkward, but I know he doesn’t lol.
132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?- Caitlin!
133. Favourite lyrics right now?- “you make me happy, whether you know it or not"
134. Can you count to one million?- yes
135. Dumbest lie you ever told?- "I’m fine"
136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?- closed at my house, but when I’m at someone else’s house it’s up to them
137. How tall are you?- I’m short thanks. 5'2 AND A HALF. The half counts.
138. Curly or Straight hair?- I prefer whatever
139. Brunette or Blonde?- reddish, not a fan of blondes. Brunettes are okay.
140. Summer or Winter?- winter
141. Night or Day?- night
142. Favourite month?- novemberish
143. Are you a vegetarian?-no
144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?- dark or milk, depends on what it is
145. Tea or Coffee?- iced tea and iced coffee. the only good hot coffee is from wawa
146. Was today a good day?- not really too great 
147. Mars or Snickers?- neither 
148. What’s your favourite quote?- I don’t have one right now.
149. Do you believe in ghosts?- eh.
150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line- that’s way too far, I’m not getting out of bed!

Enjoy these anon. Maybe come off anon and tell me who you are?