#and I’m gay…my wrist is fragile

[clovesnz]

when you’ve spent so much time on snzblr in one night that ur hand hurts…😳

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

“Hey, Moon! Wait up!”

Moon stopped, looking over his shoulder to see a very out of breath Vanessa. She puts her hands on her knees, panting, “Fuck... I told you to slow down, geez!”

He smirked and shrugged, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Whoops. Sorry Ness, I didn’t hear ya. I was just about to change out of this silly clown outfit. Did you need something?”

Vanessa suppresses a laugh at her coworkers antics, huffing in annoyance, “It’s not funny, you dick. I’ve been chasing after you for like ten minutes!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so short!” Moon snarked, flicking the lip of her security hat deviously. 

Vanessa scoffed, punching him in the arm, “You--! Everyone is short compared to you! I can’t help that you have slendermen legs!”

“Sounds like an excuse~”

“If you’re going to be a little shit, then forget it.” she grumbled, rolling her eyes and turning to leave. She looked back when Moon put a hand on her arm, looking back up at him. His crimson eyes are tinted with mirth as he tries to keep a straight face, only the occassional snicker escaping. 

“Sorry, sorry. What did you need?”

Vanessa grins, reaching behind her back, “Welll, I may have gotten something on my most recent shopping trip!” She pulls a box out from behind her back, handing it to Moon with a flourish. It’s a small coal black box, like what you would see in a jewelry commercial. Moon raises an eyebrow at it, eyeing the box curiously.

“Are you proposing to me, Ness? Sorry to burst your bubble, but I am passionately gay.” He teased, getting another eye roll out of the guard. 

“Oh shut up. Just open it.”

Moon chuckled but obliged, pulling open the lid and freezing. Sitting inside the small case was a bracelet. An amethyst jewel was embedded prominently in the center of the accessory, carved into the shape of a little crescent moon. Red rubies line the remaining length, shiny and bright like cherries. He traces along the rubies and across the edge of the Moon. It looks almost glassy, fragile, like it would shatter if he wasn’t careful enough. Jewels so clear that they’re almost reflective.

“The rubies are the same color as your eyes! Pretty neat, right?”

“Ness.. I.. god, this must’ve cost a fortune. There’s no way I can accept this!” Moon stammers out, cheeks tinting a soft pink. 

Vanessa laughs, waving him off, “Don’t worry about the cost, it was less then a hundred bucks. Promise.”

“But.. it’s so nice. What’s the occassion? My birthday isn’t for a couple more months.” he cautiously takes the bracelet out of its box, rubbing the amethyst stone with his thumb. 

Vanessa shrugged, humming, “Does there have to be one? I saw it in the mall and it reminded me of you, and it wasn’t super expensive so I got it. Besides, you’ve been doing real well handling the double shift recently. Working the daycare and at night security must be exhausting”

“Eh, night shit isn’t that bad. I’m a night owl anyways so it works fine by me. Though I do wish I got to wear the actual security outfit during my shift, and didn’t have to wear this stupid clown outfit during it.”

She snickers, giving him a pat on the back, “Sorry bud. You know how the company is about its gimics. Anyways, what are you waiting for? Try it on!”

Moon fumbled with the bracelet and after a moment clicked it onto his wrist, twisting his arm around to admire it, “It looks great, Ness! Again, thank you so much for the gift. You really didn’t need to get me something this nice.”

“Hey, what’re friends for?”

Moon glanced down at his phone, eyeing the time, “I gotta go now. Sun will be worried if I’m not home soon.”

“Alright, have a good night!” Vanessa waved Moon goodbye, watching as he slipped into the parking lot and out of sight. She stares after him with half lidded eyes, a grin growing on her face.

“Oh, Moon... we’re going to work together just fine.”

[kaittalkstoomuch]

AHOY LADIES, GAYS, THEYS, GENTLEMEN! Grab your tissues. This one’s a doozy.

Chapter Nine: In The Air Tonight

Tw: huge fear of abandonment. Talks of losing someone. Anxiety. PTSD.

Midnight on March 22nd, 1986

It’s silent the moment Eddie says “Chrissy’s dead”. Tears fill up in his eyes and I don’t dare to let him go. He’s shaking as the lights flicker. I hold him tighter. “Shhh baby it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” I coo in his ear as he hyperventilates. “S-she… She was just standing there, frozen. Not moving. It was as if she was possessed. It felt like a horror movie. The lights would flicker frantically as I tried calling her. She wouldn’t reply. She couldn’t hear me. She was… so still. And then, she went onto my ceiling, as if something was pulling her.”

I rub his back as he tries to breathe but with the fresh trauma, he can’t. “Like, a force?” I ask softly. “Yeah… it almost felt… supernatural. I thought it was just a really bad trip. I was hoping for that. I was sober, I am sober. God, and then her bones started to snap. Like branches. It was… it was harrowing. That was when it was settling in that Chrissy was gone. God, I sound insane.” He says defeated putting his face in his hands. “Hey.” I grab his wrists. “Eddie, baby, you’re not insane.”

He looks at me with those sad doe eyes. This is a different version of Eddie, hell, it’s not even him at all. It was as if all of his innocence disappeared. I stroke his cheek softly and I’m just completely devastated. Chrissy’s gone and so was Eddie’s innocence. My heart is sinking for him. All of his light had faded. I need to find out what the hell happened. “Hey, let’s go to bed, yeah? I’m not going anywhere.” I try to get his messy curls out of his face, which is stained from the tears. “First, let’s wipe those tears and get you freshened up okay?” I led him to the bathroom by holding him closely.

The shaking seemed to stop as I set him down on the toilet seat. I grab a rag I had in the bathroom and wet it. I wrange it out and start patting Eddie’s face. His brown eyes are red and puffy from the crying. I examine his face more. The shock goes through my body just imagining what he’d witnessed. The boy is traumatized. What keeps going on in my mind is the manner of Chrissy’s death. What did he mean by it feeling “supernatural”? I mean, in recent years, I definitely can see that. For sure. Wait, could this have something to do with the Upside Down?

I start drying his face and I open the door to get him sweatpants and a t-shirt from my bag. “Roxie.” Eddie says terrified. “It’s okay Eds. I’m just getting you something to change into. I’ll leave the door open okay? I’m right here.” I softly speak going to kiss him before jetting out to grab the sweatpants and an old Ozzy shirt he owns. I run back into the room and set the clothes down. “See, I’m back.” I give him a peck on the lips before taking off his vest and jacket. I help him raise his arms up to take off his Hellfire Club shirt and slip the Ozzy one on. I then uncuff his handcuff-belt and take off his pants, then replace them with the sweatpants. He’s so delicate, I can’t break him anymore.

We go back into the main room and I get the bed ready. Eddie climbs in first as I turn off the lights. I then climb in and notice the walkie talkie on my side. If only I could communicate with Dustin like I did earlier. I don’t want to freak Eddie out more than he already is. Dustin has more knowledge than I do of the Upside Down. He experienced it with the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer. I just know it would be too much for Eddie. He’s so fragile right now, how could I properly say “hey you’re possibly right about it being supernatural” without him being more terrified. I hold him tightly thinking about it as he sleeps. I whisper, “I’m here baby boy, I’m right here.”

I grab his hand and hold it against his chest, faintly feeling his heartbeat. It’s calmed down since he came in, his breathing seems to be calming down too. My mind races with ideas of how to help him. Obviously, I’ll tell him repeatedly it was not his fault, which it absolutely wasn’t. I would tell him I will find out what happened and defend him. Fight for him. Protect him and his life. Protect Chrissy’s too, the dead has to rest too. I don’t want to hear Jason or his friends accuse her of being a slut. I know Dustin would have a solution, I just need to get in touch with him.

I feel Eddie wince against me and murmur “No!” “Don’t take her!” “NO!” He wakes up and turns to see me, relieved. I hold his face as he breathes heavily. He holds my face as well, the fear in his eyes disappears. “Eds, are you okay?” Eddie has tears form in his eyes once more, as if something happened. “Rox, baby, I thought I lost you. Oh my god.” I rub his chest, helping him calm down. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie holds my hands. We lay back against the pillows. “The thing that happened to Chrissy, it happened to you… We were talking about the future, after graduating. You’d just be frozen and not responding as I call out for you. I… I- couldn’t stop it. I had to watch you die.”

I continue to run him to calm him down. “Eddie, I'm right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He holds my face. Tears begin falling down his face once again. “Rox, what if you were next? I couldn’t live with myself. Ever. You are the love of my life. I can’t fucking lose you. I can’t stand to think about it. I can’t do that to you, or Dustin. Roxie, please don’t ever leave me. I- I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” I grab a hold of his hands, tears now forming in my eyes. “Eds, baby, hey. You will never ever lose me. You have me forever.”

We kiss and put our foreheads against each other. “When Chrissy was on the ceiling, all I could think about was finding and protecting you. I won’t let anything happen to you, or Dustin. I won’t.” I hold him close. “I’m right here, forever and always. So is Dustin. We’re not going anywhere trust me. I love you so much Eddie. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” We share a passionate, yearning kiss. Eddie holds me close. “I love you too Roxie. So fucking much.” “We should try to sleep again… here.” I turn around and Eddie holds me. “That’s better.” He kisses my cheek and holds our hands to my chest, which now my heart is beating rapidly. I kiss his hands, thinking about everything he told me. “Goodnight baby.” “Goodnight sweetheart.”

******

The sun shines through the cabin and I wake up to the walkie talkie. “Roxie, do you copy?” I, half awake, realize it’s my brother. I turn and look at Eddie, who’s peacefully asleep. I get up quietly, grab the walkie talkie, and jet to the bathroom. “Hey, sorry I was asleep. Listen, Dustin, something happened last night.” “Yeah, we know, Chrissy’s dead. It’s on the news.” Shit. “Is Eddie with you?” “Yes, he is. And ‘we’?” “Yeah, good. Robin, Steve, Max and I.” I put two and two together. “Okay, so oh need to come over right now. I think it may have something to do with the Upside Down.” I hear Dustin utter “shit” as I look over at Eddie from the bathroom. He’s still asleep. “Okay, Roger that. We’re on the way. Over and out.”

[ashdumpsterpile]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

[jojo-reader-hell]

You know what we ain’t had in a minute? The Big Gay™️.

Hello yes who wants to relive their high school days in such a way that us young queers didn’t have to stay in the closet?

Jolyne x Fem!Reader x Foo Fighters x Hermès Costello: Butterfly

This is dedicated to the girl who wanted to date me in junior year but I was too fucking closeted to understand that I wasn’t really into my ex boyfriend all that much.

Oh boy! High school queers!

Welp, remember those shitty homecoming dances where we were stuffed in tight dresses and wearing ugly ass makeup? That’s the place I’m taking you back to today.

The dj is actually pretty good. It’s definitely a playlist you’ll be recreating in ten years with your girlfriend on your 10th year anniversary.

He let you and your friends even get a good scream session in listening to Lil Jon uncensored.

Hey, there’s nothing more satisfying than being a group of girls at sixteen screaming about to the window to the wall to the sweat drop down your balls and making all these bitches crawl. It hits different.

The “aww skeet skeet motherfuckers aww skeet skeet goddamn” in unison? *chef kiss*🤌🏼

Unfortunately your boyfriend ditches you about halfway through the dance for some other chick and you end up being the sad girl crying in the corner of the bleachers, your black dress with the cats and pink polka dots can only bring you so much happiness.

One of your friends tries to comfort you. She’s the one who told you in art class that she’s bi and you confessed your own secret, so she knows just how to help you feel better.

“Don’t cry... You see that girl over there? She said if you’re into girls she’d totally want to dance with you. Do you want to go dance with her?”

You look up through runny tears to see the aforementioned girl staring at you. She’s wearing a scandalously lovely dress, twirling the rainbow of bracelets she has around her wrists.

A punk queen named Jolyne Cujoh.

She’s even wearing neon green lipstick to the dance.

You’ve seen her before. She’s the girl you’ve always been envious of.

Was it really envy/jealousy of her attractiveness? Or was it longing?

Jolyne is the kind of girl who mixes Juicy Couture with Tripp pants. A mix of 90’s chola and scene kid.

Her friends are checking you out too, the hot Afro Latina with dreads is making kisses at you. The cute enby one wants you too, bedroom eyes at you while suckling on a straw plunged into a big gulp.

Your other friends are nearly pushing Jolyne in your direction when they see you wiping your tears.

She’s beautiful. She’s even got Sailor Moon buns going on, and in the flicker of the lights she can see your starry eyed expression.

You’re very flattered she asked to dance with you.

It just takes one nod.

Crazy Town’s music starts playing when she approaches you, it’s all so perfectly orchestrated that there had to have been some outside help. The antithesis of butch, but still looks like in any kind of relationship you’d be the fragile one.

Yet when that chorus hits you with talk about the lady coming over because she’s your butterfly, you understand suddenly why they added the sugar baby part to it.

Like yes ma’am.

You’ve never been gayer in your life when you see her stand over you for a minute, then sit with you to take your hand.

“You want to dance with us?” She asks.

She has to yell a little bit so you’ll hear her, but you nod quickly and smile when she wipes your eyes.

Lifting you up from your seat, the next thing you know is she’s dragging you out to the floor, got your back pressed against her chest, hands on your waist as she slowly begins to gyrate her hips in time to the music.

Oh holy Jesus king of the Jews.

How fucking touch starved are you???

She made your legs shake.

You made her go crazy.

Did you even deserve this? You’re not sure and just dance out seductively to the three minutes thirty seven seconds of this song.

To you it feels like an eternity.

At some point you hear a commotion. It sounds like your now ex boyfriend getting into it with Jolyne’s friends. The disruption doesn’t bother you in the slightest, not when suddenly here comes Jolyne’s non binary partner sandwiching you between the two of them.

How the hell is the staff not stopping you three nearly dry humping on the floor? It’s probably because of the gorgeous girl that’s come up to wrap her arms around Jolyne and her friend.

There’s a whisper of Tres Flores in your nostrils when she leans down to whisper something to you, tawny warm skin brushing against your cheek.

“Hermosa...” she purrs.

It’s like a horny teen boy’s wet dream: death by being completely smothered in girls.

Except spoiler alert: that fantasy belongs to the gays now.

[hella-gay-day]

So I recently saw Raya and LOVED it, and now of course I'm submerging myself in gay content. Anyways, I saw somewhere on here art of Namaari being corrupted by the Druun, but hear me out (seriously this is rushed as fuck and just me throwing thoughts to paper I apologize for the quality lmao):

What if Raya and Namaari were traveling through Kumandra to search for any remaining Druun and somewhere in heart they find a small pool of black water. Raya, ever the curious one, gets closer to investigate, despite Namaari's constant warnings, and the moment her toe or finger or whatever makes close enough contact, the black liquid consumes her.

Namaari immediately rushes to her aid, only to find the pool empty and Raya at the center of it, groaning and rubbing her head. Namaari laughs at her for being an idiot, assuming it must've just been a trap for hunting, helps her out, and they go on their way.

Three days later, Raya starts hearing this dark, twisted voice in her dreams, voicing all of her darkest thoughts, fears, and desires. She shakes it off at first, figures its just a side effect of being turned to stone by the Druun, and carries on. But then it starts happening when she's awake, and then the voice begins to comment on her surroundings, and her conversations with Namaari, until she can't ignore its presence as it begins talking to her.

She starts to close herself off, afraid of what's happening to her but not wanting to worry Namaari with it. Namaari, naturally, notices, but keeps her distance. The trust between them is still new and fragile, the last thing she wants is to overstep her boundaries.

It's not until a few nights later that Namaari wakes up with a jolt to the sound of fighting nearby. She looks to Raya's sleeping mat but she's gone, so Namaari immediately takes off toward the sound of the fighting.

She's seen Raya fight before, but it's always been about survival, about trying to make it out alive. Right now, she's watching Raya fight a group of bandits with the intent to kill, a ferocity like no other fueling her every movement. When her sword cuts across one of the bandits' chests, her body turns toward Namaari, and the light of the falling bandit's torch reveals something from the depths of Namaari's nightmares.

Raya's face is filled with unbridled rage, like the day in Fang's throne room, but half of it is consumed by dark ichor and a sickly white eye. Her arm is too, the ichor extending down past her wrist and along her sword as though to increase the strength of every swipe. It's as though the Druun have possessed Raya, and that thought terrifies Namaari.

When their eyes lock, Raya begins charging toward her, the ichor consuming more and more of her. Namaari watches in fear the closer she gets, reaching for her own swords very reluctantly, not wanting to fight her new friend but if it means her survival then she must.

A desperate shout tears through Raya's throat when she's maybe three strides away from Namaari. "No! Not her!" She cries out. Namaari feels more confused than ever, but now that they're closer she can see that what was once rage in her eyes is now desperation. A deep, horrifying gargle of noise eminates from the ichor consuming her face.

"Y̸o̸u̴r̸ ̶d̵r̶e̴a̴m̵s̴ ̵a̸n̴d̵ ̸m̸e̵m̸o̶r̶i̷e̴s̵ ̷s̶a̶y̶ ̴t̸h̷a̴t̵ ̷s̷h̸e̷ ̸i̷s̷ ̸a̷ ̸t̸h̵r̶e̷a̷t̷.̶ ̶W̵h̴y̵ ̶w̸o̴u̸l̸d̵ ̵y̵o̵u̸ ̷s̶p̴a̷r̸e̷ ̸t̵h̵a̶t̶ ̷w̷h̴i̷c̸h̴ ̴i̴s̵ ̴y̵o̴u̶r̶ ̴e̶n̴e̶m̸y̵?̵" It says, the sheer sound of it filling every inch of Namaari with fear. The words it says fills her with shame, however. She was nothing but an enemy to Raya, a fuel to finish her crusade to find the gem pieces to save her father. By all accounts, she deserves nothing but hatred from Raya, maybe even-

"She saved my life, has saved the world, and I would trust her to do it again," Raya spits back at the darkness crawling along her skin. "Surely you see that in my memories as well."

Against her better judgment, Namaari takes a step closer to Raya, feels her heart break when Raya takes a fearful step back. "Raya.." she breathes out, voice shaking. "What.. What is that thing?"

"We," the reply comes from both the nightmarish ichor and a reluctant Raya, "are Venom."

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Secret Santa

For @thatesqcrush​​​’s Holiday Bingo!

Warnings: MANY. NSFW. Sexual assault (explicit about the immediate aftermath), trauma, angst, insecurity, eventually fluff. 

Today my brain really wanted emotionally fragile traumatized Barba who has a crush on reader but doesn’t know if they’ll ever see him as anything but broken now. Also it’s Christmas. 

Follow-ups: Te Quiero, Just Hold Me

Rafael Barba x Reader

3,000 words

Your ideal boyfriend would feed you chocolate like grapes in one of those ancient Greek paintings.

It was just an offhand remark you’d made at the bar one night in response to Rollins’s tipsy line of questioning about the perfect man. ADA Barba didn’t usually go out to socialize with the SVU squad, but he knew you were going to be there, so he went, too.

And not just any chocolate—no. Real, seventy-percent dark chocolate, single-origin beans. You preferred the fruity undertones of Madagascar cocoa, but were interested in exploring.

That was why Barba was carrying a box of expensive chocolate under his arm that night as he walked toward the 16th Precinct. He only agreed to participate in the SVU’s Secret Santa hoping he might get you, and was thrilled when he did. After a little trading. He knew Sonny would want Rollins, so it was easy to shuffle a few names around without making his own intentions obvious.

He bought a sampler box of fair-trade cocoas from around the world. The tag included a joke about feeding them to you, if you wanted. This year, Barba promised himself, he was going to admit his feelings for you.

Maybe it was foolish. You could have anyone. Why would you choose the cranky old lawyer? But he saw the approving way your eyes caught on him sometimes, when you didn’t think he was looking. The eternal pessimist in him said you just enjoyed his colorful ties, but it was enough to give him hope. The starved optimist whispered promises in his ear that this Christmas, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

Maybe this was the year he would fall asleep with a warm body tangled pleasantly around his as snow fell over the city.

That was what he was thinking about when it happened. The theoretical conversation with you distracted him from his surroundings, turning his cheeks pink from more than the early December chill. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until there was a sharp pain at the back of his head.

The box of chocolates slipped from his hands as he hit the ground, and rolled into the gutter. The flirtatious tag soaked with half-frozen slush until the ink blurred and ran.

***

When Barba didn’t make it to the Secret Santa exchange, you worried. But only a little. Olivia was sure he was just running late. Barba was always getting caught up with something or other, either being dragged into a meeting, or simply letting his social life slide in favor of working late.

When Liv’s call went to voicemail, you really started to worry. At least enough to call his office and find out he left for the night over an hour ago.

That nagging worry was confirmed the more you tried to find him, and turned into terror as it became an investigation. The ADA was missing. Security camera footage from a local bodega showed him being struck over the head with a bat and dragged into a van by three suspects.

One of them was identified as Jeremy Jones, a man whom Barba had tried to convict for a series of brutal rapes against closeted gay men. Ultimately, he was charged with manslaughter for the death of one of his victims. He served only half of a paltry six-year sentence and was released on good behavior that week. Apparently, Jones held a particular grudge against the openly bi prosecutor who tried to convict him of a hate crime. And he had made a few friends in prison.

The manhunt lasted three days, and the entire time you felt sick. Every hour—every minute—you didn’t find him was another minute god knows what was happening to Barba. If he was even still alive.

Only one of Jones’s victims had died, you tried to calm yourself. Of a heart attack. Barba was strong. But Jones wasn’t acting alone this time.

You felt sick.

After three days and a shootout with the NYPD, you found where Jones and his gang were hiding out.

You were the first one to discover the basement door, to kick it open.

You found Barba handcuffed to a bed, naked and beaten. His wrist was a horrible red-purple bruise where the metal dug in. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, though he seemed to be conscious. You radioed in for help and rushed to him, holding his head up, praying he was responsive. He yelped at the touch, recoiling from it. The cuffs rattled on the metal headboard.

“It’s OK. Shh. Rafael. It’s me,” you soothed, sitting at the corner of the bed beside him. “It’s the NYPD. We got them. You’re safe now. OK? They’re gone. The paramedics are already on the way.”

His eyes cleared, focused on you for just a moment. He seemed to recognize you—to understand what was happening. His mouth opened and almost made words, but only a dry rattle came out. His lips were swollen, and cracked with dehydration. Tears started rolling down his face, then. Dark, coppery dried blood covered the inside of his legs, pooled on the mattress, and bright red fresh blood streamed down over it.

He’d been missing for three days. Three whole days.

It was bad. He was in bad shape. You prayed the paramedics would get there soon. For the quick-witted prosecutor to be rendered unable to speak, his hair disheveled and plastered to his head with blood and fluids… For anyone to have done this to him… You tried to stay calm to help him be calm, but you were boiling over with rage and guilt.

It was your fault for not finding him sooner. For not being a better detective. For not worrying the second he was late.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the basement stairs and every muscle in his exhausted body went rigid. His free hand clung to you, nails digging into the skin of your palm.

“It’s just the paramedics.” You covered his hand with your own, squeezing. “They’re going to help you. I’ll be right here. You’re going to be OK, do you understand?”—his eyes were so blank and unfocused you weren’t sure that he did—“We found you, and… and you’re going to be OK now. We’re going to fix this.” Your voice was shaking.

It was a good thing the paramedics came in and took over before you started crying. The way his hand tightly held yours, not wanting to let go, wrenched your heart, and you needed to take a few minutes before you could be a detective again.

***

Barba was in the hospital for a week before being released. You went to see him, but were told he wasn’t taking visitors.

A week before Christmas, he reported to work.

A whole group from the 16th Precinct went down to 1 Hogan Place to welcome him back. He looked at home in his office, where he was supposed to be. His suit was as sharp (and loud) as ever. His hair was made without a strand out of place. You were relieved to see he was himself again. But his eyes were still haunted, and he flinched when Sonny knocked too loudly on the door frame.

He gave a weary smile, thanked everyone for their support, and sent everyone away except Liv.

Including you.

Your heart sank at the blow-off. You knew he’d weaseled half the precinct into trading Secret Santas until he got you. That had to mean you were special to him, the same way he was special to you.

Barba meant… more than you’d like to admit. It started so small you barely noticed it—that you were more inclined to go to events if Barba was also going. That you were always on his side during controversial cases, and even when you disagreed, you were more inclined to hear out his opinion than if he were anyone else. Then Rollins had a few tequila shots and started talking boys, and how the perfect man didn’t exist.

When you thought about the perfect man, only one person came to mind.

And you hadn’t had a chance to talk to him.

You knew he was going through something difficult, but that was why you wanted to be there for him. You wanted so badly to be part of his inner circle, like Liv—one of the people he leaned on instead of sending away.

You tried his office again the next day, by yourself. He avoided you, claiming he was busy with backlogged paperwork. The day after that, he legitimately wasn’t there—at the hospital for a follow-up—but never returned the message you left with Carmen.

On Christmas Eve, you tried again during lunch break. The lights were on in his office, but Carmen said he wasn’t there, sympathy in her eyes. He was there. You both knew it. He just didn’t want to see you. That night, you left him in peace. He would be spending Nochebuena with his mother, and you had plans of your own.

But on Christmas morning, you knew he wouldn’t be working all day. Neither were you.

You sent him a text and said you were coming over. He never responded, but an hour later, you knocked on his apartment door, anyway.

Footsteps slowly approached the door. A shadow fell over the peephole, and you grinned nervously, giving a little wave. The deadbolt slid open, then the door chain, and finally it opened to a tense lawyer, well dressed even on his day off in a cashmere sweater and chinos. Dark circles ringed his eyes from lack of sleep.

“Detective. H-hey. It’s not a good time. I’m… busy.” The flush in his cheeks rose, and he seemed eager to retreat back inside.

“You owe me a Christmas present!” you blurted out. It was juvenile. You knew the moment you opened your mouth it sounded like something a toddler would say, but at least it stopped him from closing the door on you.

He blinked. His chin tipped up just slightly in that haughty way that always preceded a cutting bit of sarcasm. “…Excuse me, I what?”

“It’s Christmas. You were my Secret Santa. So you owe me a gift.”

Realization dawned over him, along with the memory of everything that had happened the night he was meant to give you your present. His face fell.

“I… I’m sorry. I lost it.”

His eyes took on a dull, far away look, and you instantly regretted bringing it up. Of course that would be a painful memory. Fuck.

“It’s OK!” you took a step toward him, and he took one quickly back. Shit, you shouldn’t have done that, you scolded yourself. His face grew hotter, and he seemed humiliated with himself. “I-I mean… for the gift. All I want is to talk to you. For a minute. That would be plenty of a gift, if you could spare it. I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” he snapped.

“Well, I haven’t had the chance yet. It feels like you’ve been avoiding me. I just wanted to know if… if we’re OK.”

He paused. He didn’t answer immediately, but his expression softened. “I… I haven’t been…” He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. His jaw kept working, lips reshaping themselves of the cusp of words, as if he were trying to continue, but couldn’t find the right ones. The words that would make sense, and explain everything—that would click together like a jigsaw puzzle and make everything better.

“I just thought that we were… friends. And… I was worried about you… And now I’m worried you’re pushing me away. I know we’re not as close as you and Olivia… but…” Your head hung low. “Did I do something wrong?”

Barba turned away. He wrapped a hand over his face, fingers shielding his eyes from you. “I know you were the one who found me,” he groaned miserably. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. You of all people… Because now you’ll never be able to look at me without part of you always seeing me… like that. Like a victim.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, and you know it!” he snarled, surprising you with the sudden rise in volume.

He was seething, hurting, and you wanted to reassure him that you would never see him as less because of what was done to him. You laid a hand on his arm to comfort him, and he jerked away.

“Stop that! See? You’re doing it. Treating me like I’m… broken.” His whole body seemed to deflate, to shrink into itself. “It’s too late,” he croaked, a wistful smile cruelly turning the corner of his lip. “I’m never going to be whole in your eyes now.”

“Of course you are,” you said gently.

He gave a sharp, nasal huff. “Not like—ugh, never mind.”

“Not like what?”

His eyes met yours—green and turbulent as the ocean. There was a harrowed desperation in the creases of his forehead, the little wrinkles under his eyes deepening. “Like someone you could… Forget it!” He looked away, blinking rapidly.

“Barba… did you want to… Do you like…?”

You had a hopeful spark, an idea of what he was trying to say, what was bothering him, but you were afraid to say it and be proven wrong. You searched his face, inching closer. He looked horrified, like you were calling him out rather than hoping for it to be true—rifling through the sock drawer of his emotions.

No. You had to be the open one. He had too much to worry about already. You had to take the risk with your feelings.

“What I mean is… Please stop me if I’m out of line, but, Barba… no, Rafael… I like you. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I kept hoping you’d say it first, in case I was imagining things and you didn’t feel the same way. Then you disappeared, and…” Your breath caught in a tightening throat. “I thought I’d lost you forever. When we found you alive… Whatever you think changed with how I see you, all I was thinking was how happy I was you were alive. And that I’d get another chance to tell you how much I care about you.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the end, drying your eyes on your sleeves to no avail.

He had turned completely toward you at some point during your confession, no longer half-hiding his face. Some of the remaining distance between you had disappeared, too. His hands softly came up to press your upper arms. Even through your puffy winter coat, you could feel how big and strong they were. His haunted green eyes searched you closely, looking for any sign you weren’t serious. That this wasn’t real. That maybe it was just pity. But you could swear there was a hint in them, too, of a stunned, timid sort of hope. 

You swallowed, meeting his deep gaze. “And I really want to kiss you now… if that would be alright.”

“I… I’d like that.”

Though he trembled slightly, his breathing was soft and steady as you leaned toward him. The kiss was gentle and easy, starting with foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other. Then lips, delicately ghosting over each other. His were still healing, tender where they were split. You let him close the final micron of distance, pressing the warm fullness of his lips against yours. His hand caressed the side of your face, and his thumb delicately brushed the hair at your temple.

“Can we go slow?” he breathed as he pulled away, though not far. He kept his hand on your face, the other about your waist. “I know I just said I’m not broken…”

“But you need time. I understand. Trust me.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled in a melancholy smile as he stroked the side of your face longingly.

“I’m comfortable with whatever pace you want to set. Whether it’s holding hands, or… just talking. So long as I can keep spending time with you. I missed you. That’s all I need to be happy—just getting to be around my favorite counselor.”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “You know… you’re my favorite detective.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, grinning. “What about Liv?”

“She’s a lieutenant.”

“Ack! Got me on a technicality!”

“There’s no such thing as a technicality in law,” Barba smirked, playfully smug.

You snorted. Cheeky bastard.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Rafael, you can kiss me as many times as you like.”

His mouth melded against yours more confidently this time. More insistent, and yet more vulnerable, a soft groan reverberating in his throat. Just once, his lips parted yours, and his tongue darted out, tasting the opening of your lips before retreating shyly back. You let him lead, and didn’t push for more. You meant it when you said just being near him, part of his world, was enough.

He invited you inside.

If this was to make up for your gift, he owed you more than just a minute of conversation, he said, smiling. For the rest of the day, Barba turned his tidy, tiny Manhattan flat into a cozy winter refuge, complete with hot cocoa (spiked with spiced rum, of course), warm throw blankets, and an endless marathon of holiday movies to watch while snuggling on the couch.

It was the best Christmas you could remember, especially when, before the sun had even begun to set, Barba fell asleep holding you. The worry lines carved into his face smoothed out as he breathed steadily. He looked so peaceful, you didn’t mind being trapped on the couch until he woke up.

Maybe, you thought, those dark circles could start to fade.

[songbird-wings]

TUA as quotes from my friends/family

Klaus: Whats a more professional word for... Spooky? Five: *sighs* - Luther: Hey, Google understands dumb! Diego: Well that’s good news for you. - *Ben moving stuff around Klaus’s room* Klaus: Stop fucking things up in my room! Ben: Stop fucking things up in your life! Klaus:...bitch - Diego after breaking his wrist: Ouch, I felt my organ squish! Five: Okay first, not an organ and second, not a squish! - Vanya: I’m not interested in being polite, or heterosexual. - Luther: I’m dumbass. Diego: And I’m smartass. Both: Together we make - AssAss! - Allison: Ok listen, I want a dress that says “I’m a mysterious woman and everyone that sees me knows to keep their distance but is just too drawn to my to do so,”but at the same time a dress that says, “I’m a fragile field flower and you should sweep me off my feet and carry me to the sunset!” Vanya: I mean- you look good in blue so lets start there. - Klaus: Do you think our pets only love us because of Stockholm Syndrome? Ben: Well I mean your brain has been held hostage inside your body your whole life and you don’t even love yourself so... Klaus: Holy shit man!  - Reggie: If all of your friends jumped off a cliff, would you? Klaus: I mean ehhh yeah. Reggie: Good, I’ve raised you with no fear! Klaus: That’s not what- nevermind. - *Diego driving and Klaus turns the radio down* Klaus: Your car is making a weird noise, you hear that? Diego: *turns the radio back up* We can’t afford to hear weird noises! - Five: I’d literally murder a drifter right now if it meant I’d have the motivation to get my shit done today. Vanya: The fact that I believe you is concerning. - Vanya: Well Klaus is gay so I thought there could only be one gay per household! I didn’t want to steal your thing! Klaus: That’s not how this works!

_

Part 2 maybe????

[kevindayisafrog]

Non-Binary Kevin - it gets heavy, I guess

TW - body dysmorphia, hints at self harm and internalized homophobia

Kevin watched as the steam from his burning shower fogged up the mirror, hiding his scarred body once again. He sighed and leaned backwards into the hot stream of water, remembering a post he had read just last week: ‘people who have long hot showers tend to be the loneliest’. He let out a small scoff despite himself. The post was wrong. It wasn’t that he was lonely, he just enjoyed feeling the skin he hated melt away. Ever since he was young, as long as he could remember, he always felt uncomfortable in his body. His skin felt too tight here and too tight there; too smooth here and too bumped there. It’s not that he hated his physique, he just felt suffocated. He reached over and turned off the water and, grabbing a towel on his way out of the shower, walked over to the mirror. He held up the towel and let out a shaky breath before swiping away the squeaking condensation from the toothpaste splattered mirror. His haggard reflection stared back at him in a twisted gaze. He stepped back into the bath so that his full body was seen in the mirror. Turning this way and that, Kevin pulled at his skin and watched silently as his reflection did the same. He shivered slightly as the cold breeze seeped through the open bathroom window. He stared down at his body and winced before stepping out of the shower and pulling on his clothes over his still dripping skin.

Kevin watched Allison, Dan and Renee as they became engrossed in their own idle conversation. Allison was beyond beautiful; the perfect girl next door. Her platinum blond hair curved around her strong shoulders effortlessly. Her nails were perfectly manicured in a dark plum colour, making her slender fingers seem doll-like. Her tight black cropped shirt hugged comfortably around her chest and the sleeves hung loosely around her pale wrists. Kevin felt a weird pull at his gut as he looked away, catching Dan’s small smile. He darted his gaze to the floor and, once confident that Dan wasn’t watching, flicked his gaze back towards the girls. Dan was the polar opposite to Allison, yet she was gorgeous in her own way. Her short hair brushed her forehead neatly and made her eyes shine enigmatically. Her full lips were pulled in a wide grin, showing her perfectly straight teeth. She was wearing a loose red sweatshirt that ended halfway down her thigh. Her legs visibly toned beneath her jeans that were baggy around the knees. Again, Kevin felt the weird pang in his stomach, but this time it crawled up to burn his chest, too. Finally, he cast his gaze upon the innocent beauty that was Renee. Her cut short dyed hair was neatly brushed into straight lines around her cheeks. Her dimples dipped sweetly as her smile spread wider, making her skin crinkle slightly by her shining eyes. Her shoulders were pulled up straight, but her head was bent to show a gentle twinge of muscle in her neck. A beautiful ballet dancer’s neck. The pain finally fizzed into Kevin’s head as it gave way to a suffocating feeling beneath his skin. Was he jealous? He shook his head and turned to watch as his father scanned the room in silent approval. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward as he crossed his muscled arms across his broad chest. His defined jaw was jutted out as he watched his Foxes talk enthusiastically about the new season. Kevin felt a whimper trap itself in his throat as he cleared it self consciously, Nicky sending him a side glance. He turned his gaze finally to Matt as he sat, thighs pulled widely apart, leaning to rest his head on Dan’s shoulder. He was comfortable in his skin. They all were. So why wasn’t Kevin?

When Kevin got back to the dorms he glared into the mirror in the bathroom and let out unsteady shaky breaths. This constant crashing feeling hit him throughout his life, so why was it hurting so badly now? He clutched the sink with shaking hands and whispered into the mirror. “You’re a man, for fucks sake, you’re a man”, he let out a sob and repressed the urge to smash the mirror. He knew he’d only pull the glass onto his skin. He’d cut off the bits he didn’t want, carve new pieces that he wanted. Needed. He’d done it before. He let his legs fall beneath him as he rested his head against the side of the bath. How was everyone so comfortable with themselves? Why did he have to come out wrong? He bit his left hand with all his might as he sucked in a silent scream. He just wanted to feel like himself. But how could he be himself if he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a him?

As he lay in bed that night, he listened to the other boys’ breathing and replayed his past on the dark ceiling above him. Admittedly, he couldn’t remember many chunks of his childhood, but he could remember some as clear as day. One memory pulled at him continuously and left a cold feeling across his body. He remembered crying on the bathroom floor after a long fight with himself. Blood seeped out from under his fingernails and trickled down his palms. There wasn’t a part of him that he hadn’t tried to scratch away. That’s where Jean found him. That’s where he finally told someone. He remembered Jean whispering ‘you’re okay’s in his ear and something about genders not being real. He let out a wet laugh at the time, but now Kevin felt his ears buzz with the words as if Jean were still by his ear. ‘Non-binary’, ‘trans’, ‘fluid’ kept flowing out of Jean’s mouth and Kevin dismissed them at the time. He didn’t understand the words, but now he could try. He leaned over the railing on his loft bed and squinted into the dark room, attempting to see if any of the others were awake. Confident that they were all sleeping, he rolled over and pulled his phone off the pillow and went to the search engine. He hesitated over the search bar and quickly turned it into private mode - just to make sure. He typed in ‘gender fluid’ and scrolled for ages, a feeling of unease scratching at his neck. He turned his neck to stare at the room yet again and faced his screen. This didn’t feel like him. He typed into the search engine: ‘non-binary’. He sucked air through his teeth and exhaled shakily as he prepared for another hour of endless scrolling. After twenty different websites and four YouTube videos, Kevin locked his phone and closed his eyes. He pressed his palms angrily into his eyes and let out a quiet whine. Why did the most ordinary thing have to be so fucking complicated?

When he woke up the next morning his eyes were itchy from tears that he hadn’t known he shed. As he climbed out of bed he made eye contact with Nicky who stared at him with questioning eyes. “Fuck off”, Kevin muttered as he grabbed his clothes for the day and shut himself away in the bathroom down the hall. He refused to look at his reflection and instead turned on the shower to steam up the mirror. He couldn’t do this today. Once he had finished with washing and dressing, he leaned down to pick up his clothes and froze. Beneath his crumpled hoodie was a pamphlet, half hidden beneath the door. Kevin stepped back as if it was poisonous and stared at the door. Once he was sure that whoever placed it there was gone, he leaned down and picked up the pamphlet hesitantly. Stuck to the front page with a bright orange post it was the scribbled message: ‘You don’t have to tell me, just know I’m here’ in Nicky’s messy handwriting. Kevin frowned and peeled off the note to reveal the bold lettering beneath it: ‘Non-Binary and Me. Everything You Need To Know’. Kevin recoiled in horror and hid his face in his hands. How the fuck did that rat bastard know? He felt his cheeks burn and a sickness feeling began to crawl up his throat. He couldn’t fucking do this. He stuffed the pamphlet into his jeans pocket and left the bathroom with a calm mask. He couldn’t breathe.

“Can I come in?”, Nicky knocked softly on the bedroom door and Kevin froze by his drawers. “No”, he shouted back, but it came out in a more strangled way. “I’m coming in anyway”, Nicky pushed open the door and closed it quietly behind him. “Morning sunshine”, his bright smile was hesitant as Kevin turned his back. “Go away”, he seethed, the sick feeling returned with the heat. “Did you read it?” Nicky stepped into the room and dropped onto his bed cheerily. “I said fuck off”, Kevin grabbed the drawers with trembling hands. “No you didn’t, you said ‘go away’”, Nicky’s smile dropped slightly as he leaned forward towards Kevin. “I have another one for pronouns. It’s actually really-“ Nicky stopped as Kevin threw the pamphlet in his face. “My pronouns are he/him. I’m a fucking man, alright? Now take your fucking pamphlets and leave”, he watched Nicky’s smile drop and felt the guilt compete with the sickness. He pushed both feelings down and bit his bottom lip. “You know, I felt like that too. I used to lie about my sexuality so much that I started to believe it. But the feelings never went. They just kept eating at me. No matter how many people were happy with me being straight, the feelings of hatred were still there. I didn’t hate being gay, but I hated myself for hiding it. For lying to myself. But it feels so good being out, no more nights thinking that they were the last”, he let out a shaky laugh and Kevin stared in silence. He didn’t know what to say, he never did. “Don’t get me wrong, no matter what situation you’re in, coming out is still fucking terrifying. But just know that you don’t have to tell anyone, not even me. As long as you tell yourself, as long as you accept yourself. Then you’ll feel better”, Nicky lifted his bent head to smile a fragile smile at Kevin. They sat in silence as Kevin tapped his tongue across the back of his teeth. “I think I am”, he whispered, barely audibly. “You think you’re what?”, Nicky rubbed his hands together on his lap and met Kevin’s eyes. “I’m..I don’t think I’m- a man. Well I am, but..I don’t want to be. I don’t know”, Kevin punched his thigh and bit his lower lip, “I don’t want to be a girl though. I just want..I don’t know what I want. But”, he gestured limply to the pamphlet on Nicky’s lap. “I think I want that”, he dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I’m proud”, Nicky smiled warmly as Kevin’s head shot up, “do you want new pronouns?” Kevin stared blankly as he realized that he never gave himself the chance to think about it. Did he want new pronouns? He let different ones roll around his head, trying them against himself. “Umm..can we start with he/they?”, Kevin let themself hear the new pronouns out loud. “I think they suit you”, Nicky winked and stood up. “Wait”, Kevin leant over and pulled Nicky’s sleeve towards them. “Can you not say ‘they/them’ around the others. I don’t think I can deal with it right now”, they dropped their hand and Nicky caught it, giving it a small squeeze of understanding. “I’m proud of you”, he whispered before turning and leaving the room. “Fuck”, Kevin exhaled and rubbed a hand across their face. They could do this.

[toloveawarlord]

The Little Vampire (Ch. 2)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Characters: Nell, Levi, & Satan

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ @starry-starry-night24​ @gay-noodle-clan​

A/N: Day 3 of the 12 Days of OCmas! He is already so attached to his little vampire. Who should she meet next? 

Being summoned had turned into a complicated, scheduled event. Levi began to enjoy his trips to visit the girl, bringing her snacks and playing board games. She intently listened to his ramblings about Ruri-chan without judgement or teasing. He honestly had more fun with her than anyone else.

He looked forward to visiting, despite being confined to an empty bedroom.

Except today was different.

It was late, but he was up watching a new anime that was finally available in the Devildom when he was tugged through the void and into the human world. They weren’t scheduled to meet again until the end of the week. “Nell? What’s this abo-” His words trailing off.

The room was empty, and the circle at his feet poorly drawn as if done in a hurry. He’d never come without her being here, and never had the door been left open. The demon wasn’t sure that she left the room at all. Nell never told him about her life here, only asking that he keep her company and play games with her.

“L-Levi!” A shout from somewhere else in the house. Her voice shrill and desperate, hoarse like she’d been yelling for hours.

The layout of the house unknown to him, but the stench of humans drew him down the staircase. There were more than he’d expected, and all quite surprised at his sudden presence. As for Levi, his mouth gaped at the scene before him.

“Levi! Help me!” Nell cried out from where she was held down on the coffee table, a human on either side of her writhing body. A makeshift beheading block. She managed to get an arm out, helplessly reaching towards him.

The large human with the axe stuck his foot against her head, his boot cutting into her pale skin and drawing blood. “Stop squalling, you monster.” His hate-filled eyes turned to Levi. “This doesn’t concern demons so move along!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Levi spat out, demonic power erupting from his body. His transformation enough to send fear rattling through the pathetic human’s fragile forms. Golden irises were overflowing with absolute rage. His voice inhumanly deep and commanding. “That little vampire belongs to me.”

Although the leader tried to be strong, his limbs betrayed him, trembling like leaves in the presence of someone so powerful. “What does a demon want with a-” No words could form with his back against the wall, gaze unable to look away from the demon towering above him. The man completely paralyzed.

Levi’s head tilted to the side, assessing his prey with muted interest. Humans were so weak, and yet they pretended to be at the top of the food chain. “It won’t matter to you. You hurt someone important to me.” His tail slithered up to the man’s throat, wrapping gingerly around it....

With one squeeze, his head popped off, splatting against the floor.

The others scattered but none were able to escape. Angering a demon, even one without his strength was a death sentence. No one did so and lived to talk about it.

“Nell?” Levi regained control of himself, scratching his bloodstained cheek awkwardly. He found the vampire quivering in the corner of the room, violet eyes sweeping over the mess. A wave of guilt flooded over him. He must have frightened her so much with his anger.

He glanced around, finding her stuffed dinosaur under the coffee table, likely from when she’d dropped when they were throwing her around. He knelt down in front of her, reaching out and offering the stuffed animal to her. “I’m sorry- oof-”

The girl threw herself into his arms, the force knocking him over. Her cheek rubbed against his chest as she sniffled but smiled. “I knew you’d save me!” A mixture of emotions bubbled over. Nell was crying out of happiness and relief. “If you hadn’t come... they’d of--they’d of- hic.” The fear of almost dying turned into a sobbing mess. She tried to wipe them away with the backs of her hands.

Levi patted his hand against the top of her head. “It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.” Mostly because he’d killed them, but he had another reason. He produced a golden band from his pocket. “Check this out. I had my brother help me get it. It’ll let you come back to the Devildom with me. It’s like a super rare item!”

At first it was too big to fit around her dainty wrist, but it shrunk in size once it touched her skin. “Woah. You’re giving me a rare item? Like...” Her brows furrowed as she dug through her memory. “Like the Silver Lion sword in that dungeon game we played?”

“Yeah! Just like that! And it’s all yours! I mean... if you want to come with me.”

Her small arms locked around his neck. “Yes! I wanna go now. Can we go now? Before the others come and lock me up again.”

More humans? Levi cast a glance around at the carnage. He didn’t have the energy to face any more of them. Better to abandon this game than continue to fight. He’d gotten his prize anyways.

Nell nearly fell when they were transported back to his bedroom. She spun on the ball of her foot, throwing her hands up. “That was so cool! It was like poof and we were here!” Her spinning only stopped when she got dizzy, teetering around as she laughed.

Levi collapsed into his gaming chair, all his energy drained. Traveling between the two realms was a big enough strain, but also using so much demonic power only made the demon exhausted. With his elbow propped up on the arm, he rested his chin on his palm.

“Is this where you sleep?” Nell pushed her hands against the edge of the tub to see it better but slipped and fell headfirst into the pile of pillows. Her legs kicked in the air before she flipped upright.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Levi asked, nervously turning his gaze to find Henry in the large aquarium. Only normies slept in beds. His tub was the perfect size, and he could cuddle his Ruri-chan body pillow without any issues.

The girl hummed, brushed her white hair out of her face. “No, it makes sense.” She grinned at his surprised expression. “Besides, it’s comfy. Can I sleep here, too? I’m really tiny so we can both fit.”

“S-sure.” He hadn’t thought this far ahead. The situation had turned out to be more dire than he’d realized, but even without it, the demon didn’t have anything in place for her once they’d arrived here. Levi racked his brain for his next move while the girl continually dove into the pillows and then popped up on the other side of the tub and repeated.

The only thing he did know was that Lucifer couldn’t find out she was here.

“I see the item worked for you.”

Nell slipped back under the pillows, peeking out between them to spy on the new demon in the room. His green eyes flickered to where she hid but quickly moved to Levi. Which one was he? She’d heard about all of them.

“Although, I’m not sure that keeping a human as a pet is a good idea.”

“I’m not a human!” The girl sprung up, haphazardly knocking the pillows out of the tub and onto the floor. Her index fingers tapped against her two large canines. “I’m a vampire. See? Fangs!”

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do next, but think you can keep her a secret? If Lucifer finds out, he’ll punish me for sure.” His shoulders dropped in dejection. And who knows what he’d do to Nell. “Nell, this is my brother Satan.”

“Oh, the one that likes books and is a cat.”

“A cat?” Satan blinked at her in confusion. He wasn’t not like a cat, although he didn’t think that would be a bad thing. She certainly didn’t say it as a negative, so it was possible that it was meant as a compliment.

The vampire climbed out of the tub and approached the fourth born brother who was deep in serious thought. Her hand tugged on his sleeve, violet eyes that of puppy’s. “Please don’t tell the bossy one I’m here. I want to stay with Levi.” Her gaze fell away, distracted by the mountain of games and toys around her. “If I have to go back, the humans will kill me.”

Satan chuckled at her reference to the eldest as the bossy one. “Your secret is safe with me.” He ruffled her hair and smiled softly. She was quite cute, and it would be entertaining to see how long Levi could keep her hidden.

“Nell, no!” Levi chastised. His tail wrapped around her waist, hauling the girl away from his brother. Her fangs grazed against Satan’s wrist but didn’t actually sink in. He held her in the air, sighing. “You can’t bite him. Actually, you can’t bite anyone. No biting.”

Her index fingers poked together as she gave Satan a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Levi, you do know you have to feed her, right? Vampires survive on blood, and if she’s willing to bite a demon, then she must be starving,” Satan said, observing the two with curiosity. He’d never seen Levi so invested in something 3-D.

“I know. I’ll figure something out.” He set her down but didn’t release his tail’s grip. Procuring human blood in the Devildom would be difficult. And if he bought it online in bulk, Lucifer was sure to notice. Levi gritted his teeth and rolled up his sleeve. “For now, you can drink from me. Just be quick.” His head turned away, not wanting to see his own blood.

Nell stared at his bare skin, tongue gliding across her teeth. She hadn’t properly drunk in a while, and it was oh so tempting. “Are you sure? I can control myself... maybe.” She would do her best to abstain.

“Yes. I’m sure. It’ll be like in that one episode where Ruri-chan’s best friend was turned into a vampire and needed blood so Ruri-chan sacrificed herself for them to not suffer! A true inspiration!”

Her soft giggle drew his attention back to her. “You’re so funny, Levi. I bet Ruri-chan would be super proud of you.”

Tears welled in his eyes. If that were true, he could die a happy demon. “Alright, let’s do this! Ahh- ouch!” Levi whined as her fangs pierced his skin. It was nothing at all in Ruri-chan! It stung and burned. He clenched his fist and bit his lip. He would not back down.

But damn did it hurt!

Nell drank enough to feel full and then collapsed forward onto his lap with a happy sigh. “You have nice blood,” she whispered, eyelids too heavy to stay open. With a full tummy and the adrenaline of the day wearing off, the little vampire fell promptly asleep.

“I’ll do some research on where you can purchase blood. In the meantime, be sure to keep her in here where none of the others will find her,” Satan said. Once Mammon or Asmo got a hold of a secret, the entire house would know about it in a matter of minutes.

“Thanks, Satan. I owe you,” Levi said, reaching a hesitant head out to pet her white hair. She was kind of like a pet, like Henry, but more hands on. He lifted her up and climbed into his tub with her. She’d been right, they both could fit in here comfortably. For the first night ever, he didn’t need his Ruri-chan pillow.

But keeping her a secret would turn out to be much harder than he’d imagined.

[the-shiftshop]

Hey Diary - Part 3

PART 1 and PART 2 of the Hey Diary Series

I tried my best to not fall asleep, scared by what may happen if I do. The whole night, I couldn’t get my head off: 1.) The possibility that reality wont change and Keith and the others might come back to their right senses while remembering whatever they did to themselves, 2.) The possibility that nothing will happen and Keith will keep those feelings for me throughout the whole year in school, and 3.) The fact that Keith gave me a blowjob.

I’ve tossed around the bed all night, remembering how Keith looked at me while he suck me off, how he kissed me and how his tongue intertwined with mine, and no, although I may be getting hard, I’m still putting a blame to myself. This isn’t supposed to happen. I know this would be against what Keith wanted. Even though he had been bullying me since the first day, I still have my morals. I shouldn’t have messed with him, and who knows what Peter and Tom did? I do remember including them in the changes.

Anyway, I still need to go to school and find out. I quickly took a short shower to get rid of my smell, wore my shirt and a jacket, grabbed my bag then proceeded to school.

--

Arriving at the school, right before I enter our building, someone pulled me by the arm. It was a sudden pull and it was very strong so I was just lead to wherever.

It was Keith, obviously mad as he was gripping my wrist, hard. I grunted and tried to tell him to stop, but he was ignoring me and continued pulling me to the varsity’s locker room. He pushed me against one locker with both arms blocking both directions I can use as an escape. He stared at me but I can’t figure out what kind of face is he making. He looks so mad but when I try to stare into his eyes, he would look soft and would look away. He would occasionally swallow hard but will shake his head afterwards.

“What,” Keith started. “What have you done to me, asshole?” He said, stuttering on the cuss as if he couldn’t bare to call me that anymore. I couldn’t answer so he asked me one more time. “What did you do?!” This time, it was much more of a yell.

“Did you drug me? Did you cast a spell on me? What did you fucking do?!”

Keith looked like as if he’s about to cry. He crumbled to the floor, both arms leaning on my legs as he try to hold himself why crying.

“I’m... sorry...” is my only reply. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to tell him about the Diary App. I don’t even know what he will do after he learn about the truth.

I just let Keith cry all the tears in front of me. Somehow a little satisfied to get a revenge on him, but I’m still very mad at myself for doing this to him.

“Right after that night, when I came back home, I couldn’t help myself but to think about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you look, how cute you looked when you made that lewd face while I was blowing you- Fuck! I’m not fucking gay! I knew that when I woke up. I remembered everything, but everything is mixed up! I can’t even tell which is true among these memories in my head. I wanted to get mad at you, but I can’t. Instead of getting so furious, I would resort to picturing you naked, tied up on my bed, and the next thing I’ll know I’m already jacking off! What the fuck did you do to me, Felix!”

I let Kieth finish what he was saying in between sobs. Apparently, I learned a new thing about the Diary App. Reality wont change if I don’t take the picture and in Keith’s case, when he woke up, he came back to his senses, but the changes are still in effect. At this point, I have no idea what I’ll do with Keith. I just pulled Keith up and told him to stand up properly. Keith placed his arms down and he looked at me, frowning, looking so fragile as if he’s about to have another breakdown in a few seconds. Still sobbing, he suddenly hugged me.

“Please. I’m telling you now, whatever I said last night about picking on you. I really meant that. I am very sorry about what I did to you. It’s just that...” He cut himself. “You seemed to get so much attention while I do not. I’ll admit that I was so jealous of you, but please, whatever the way, please return me back. I don’t want these feelings lingering around my body. Please.”

I can feel his tears run through my clothes onto my skin. Keith has been crying so much. I took a deep breathe and pushed him off my body.

“Fine. I really am sorry too for doing this to you, but do you really promise you won’t do that anymore?” I looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Damn it. Stop looking at me like that. You’re making me hard.” Keith looked away. “I promise. I really do.”

I laughed at him and pulled out my new phone and boot up the Diary App. Curiously, Keith leaned over to look at my phone. I then clicked on the previous log I have typed in.

“What’s that?” Keith asked. “What are you doing?”

“This is a Diary App. The one I used to change you.” I replied. I then started scrolling about, looking for any clue to know how to revert him back. “To be honest, I don’t really know how to turn you back.”

“What the fuck?” He looked at me with his eyebrows furrowed, but then he quickly looked away.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just got this phone the day you stole my old one.”

“Right.” Keith then sat down in front of me.

I tried all my best to look for a guide in the app that could tell me what to do. I could tell Keith’s staring at me body, though. He would sometimes lick his lips as he do so. I tried my best to focus on my phone and find what I need.

In a few while, I saw a help button at the very bottom of the page, in very small texts. I clicked it and a popup showed up. I finally found the guide and so I scrolled down to find just what I need for the moment.

How to revert changes.

Unlike making changes, reverting people back to their former state does not require sleeping to make the changes permanent.

In order to revert people back, hold on the log you want to remove, wait about 3 seconds until another popup shows up. You will be given an option between Archive and Delete. Click Delete, then Accept, and you’re done.

The process should happen in instant.

With that, I went to my recent log, held it and pressed delete.

“Hey, Keith I think-”

I cut myself right after I saw Keith jerking off in front of me. He started moaning loud, reaching his climax, until his eyes suddenly opened wide. He stopped himself, leaving himself on the edge, then he quickly wore his boxers and pants back. His cheeks red. He then faced the other way.

“I... I didn’t mean to...” Keith said. “It was because I couldn’t help myself a few seconds ago.”

“So I guess, you’re back to yourself?” I asked.

“Yeah I guess, I’m back.” Keith replied, then he went quiet, “I’m... back...” He faced me and hugged me tight. “I’m back! Thank you so much, Felix!”

“H-Hey, hey! I can’t breathe!” I said in between laugh. Then we suddenly realized what we were doing.

Kieth quickly moved away from me and scratched his head. As for me, I tried to distract myself by looking down at my phone. Keith took a deep breath and tired to speak.

“Hey, whatever happened last night, let’s keep that to ourselves, okay? I mean, I have nothing against gay people, if you’re somehow one of them, I just can’t see myself doing that, and about that false rumor I spread, that’s just to ruin your reputation. I didn’t intend to show any homophobia.”

“Deal.” I smiled.

Keith gave me his hand and I shook it. He took a hard grip on mine and he smiled back, a hint that our war is over.

--

We started walking towards our classroom. After what happened, Keith suddenly became talkative to me, and as for me, I started to enjoy his company. He talked a lot about sports, thinking that I could relate because he thought I play ball too. I guess that’s because of this new life of mine. Nevertheless, I still find him fun.

“Hey, by the way.” Keith suddenly changed the topic and pointed at my phone. “Where did you get that, anyway?”

“Well... In a store... It’s very complicated to explain but I’m sure that shop is somewhat magic.” I replied.

“I would say I don’t want to believe that, but experiencing what happened to me previously, that seems possible.” He remarked.

Keith then pushed his chest out and took a long deep breath.

“Why? Do you have something in mind?” I asked.

“Well... What else can it do?”

Trying to avoid telling him about my former self, I explained him what the app can do. From age change to racial change to even the impossible. He seemed so impressed, like a kid watching those Harry Potter movies for the first time. He started to show so much interest with the app. Meanwhile, I have already placed my trust on him.

“Can you like... Turn me into something?” Keith asked, with a closed lip grin. “I mean aside from turning me gay. Can you maybe make me older, or younger.”

“What do you exactly have in mind?”

We stopped walking with Keith thinking with his finger on his head. A few seconds later, he snapped and pointed at me.

“Make me old enough to be a teacher for a day.”

We stared at each other. I gripped my phone hard. Keith then gave me a bright smile.

What exactly is he trying to do here? 

[trans-snart]

So I couldn’t stop thinking about Joe & Nicky and Origin of Love, and that spiraled into a MIKA-specific playlist because that’s just the kind of gay I am. Enjoy!

It can be shuffled, of course, but the song order forms a narrative structure as well. Selected lyrics are under the cut for anyone interested!

Playlist title comes from the live performance of Lollipop where the lyrics were changed to "but now I'm 32 years old / and all that bullshit I was told / I lived my life and love was found / and love never let me down"

*I personally did not do any of the translating for the French or Italian, but please let me know if there’s an error that should be corrected! Click the titles for the full song translations!

Any Other World:

Take a bow, play the part of a lonely, lonely heart / Say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in, to the world you thought you lived in

I tried to live alone / But lonely is so lonely, alone / So, human as I am / I had to give up my defenses

Overrated:

Words get broken, cut me open / Love confound me, kill me quickly / Breathe out, breathe in / Throw me living off the deep end while I’m sleeping / I'm a crazy fool, I'm a fool addicted / To the touch of you, to your poison kisses / What you got to lose? / What do you think this is?...

Offered up my wrist, and you thought you hit it / But your arrow missed, couldn’t kill me with it / All I asked of you was to free my pain / So you couldn’t do this to me again

Heroes:

It's your blood on me / And my blood on you / But to make you bleed / The only thing I wouldn't do...

We fight, we yearn / We never learn / And through it all / The hero falls

I wish there was a way / To give you a hand to hold / 'Cause you don't have to die in your glory / Die, to never grow old

Porcelain:

It's a small cry that is screaming inside / It's a paper cut that is bleeding me dry / Porcelain, it's the state that I'm in / Hold me carefully, just one breath could shatter me

'Cause you and I, were one of a kind, unbreakable / How was I supposed to find / Out that I'd crumble

I Went To Hell Last Night:

I went to hell last night / Followed you there, I was standing by your side / The saddest thing I've ever seen / Made me angrier than I've ever been / But in the darkest place, a saving grace / After all we've been through / Though it kills me to say this / There's a little bit of God in you…

And one day you will see / Part of you is part of me / There's a little bit of God in everything

L’amour Fait Ce Qu’il Veut:

Pour ce salaud [For this bastard] / Je fais le tour de la terre [I go all around the world] / Jusqu'au Congo [To Congo] / Je m'enfuis dans le désert du Sahara [I flee into the Sahara Desert] / Tout en haut du sommet de l'Himalaya [Way up high from the Himalayan peak] / Sur la lune, à Cuba [To the moon, to Cuba]

Mais l'amour fait ce qu'il veut, fait ce qu'il veut de moi [But love does what it wants, does what it wants with me] / Mais l'amour, baby blue, fait ce qu'il veut de nous [But love, baby blue, does what it wants with us]

I See You:

I'm sitting across from you / I'm dreaming of the things I'd do / I don't speak, you don't know me at all / For fear of what you might do / I say nothing but stare at you / And I'm dreaming, I'm tripping over you

Truth be told, my problems solved / You mean the world to me but you'll never know / You could be cruel to me / Why go risking the way / That I see you?...

I'm standing across from you / I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do

Talk About You:

Walk through the jungle that used to be my town / Everything's different, you've turned it upside down / It happened to me, totally unprepared / Just the beginning, but I'm not even scared / ‘Cause living like this is risking all that I know / And if it kills me, that's the way I want to go

Domani:

Cercherò una scusa per sentirmi fragile [I'll try to find an excuse to feel fragile] / Perché tu mi fai paura e non lo so nascondere [Because you scare me and I can't hide it] / Il cuore ha sempre ciò che vuole [The heart always has what it wants] / Ma io vorrei soltanto i graffi sulla schiena [But I just want the scratches on my back] / Nudi nel retrovisore [Naked in the rear-view mirror] / In macchina io e te con la radio accesa [You and me in the car with the radio on]...

Pensiamo troppo al domani [We think too much about tomorrow] / Ma oggi siamo qui e non ci troviamo più [But today we are here we no longer find ourselves] / Chissà cosa sarà domani [Who knows what tomorrow might bring] / Non vedo il panorama resti solo tu [I don't see the view, just you]

Feels Like Love:

Baby, look at us / Any fool could see / I was made for you / And you were made for me / Okay, tell me no / And we could play that game / Waste a lot of time, but still feel the same

We could walk away / And just like others would / Or we live our lives / Like we know we should / 'Cause it feels like / Yes, it feels like love...

This is how it is, after just one kiss / Do you really think I'm inventing this? / 'Cause it feels like love to me

Tiny Love:

I couldn't train a bunch of doves to spell your name / It's a 'don't-know-what-they're-missing' kind of love

Our kind of love, it gets better every day / Crazy colors in the grey, our love / Tiny love, it's a tiny love...

Oh, tiny love / So small that you can't find us / The world revolves around us / Oh, tiny love / This kind of love, it can't be no other way / One kind of love blows the other ones away

Step With Me:

Is this happening to me? / Have I lost all my defenses? / Should I wait around and see / What it's like to lose my senses? / Always looking for the chase / From the high ground to the ditches / But the chase I'll never miss / Now I know what happiness is...

Sun is shining up ahead / In 30 years we'll still be happy / Making movies in my head / Making Hollywood look tiny / Don't know why but all your words / Sound just like a melody / From the pieces that I've heard / I could build a symphony

Boum Boum Boum:

Pas la peine d'aller cavaler [An escapade isn't needed] / Y’a que ça qui m’fait voyager [This is what makes me travel] / Pas les cocotiers de Tulum [Not the coconut palms of Tulum] / Quand toi et moi on fait boum boum boum [When you and I are making boom boom boom]

Et tous les bourgeois du seizième [And all the sixteenth's bourgeois] / Se demandent pourquoi je t'aime [Wonder why I love you] / Pour le voir pas besoin d'un zoom [To see it, they don't need a zoom] / Quand toi et moi on fait boum boum boum [When you and I are making boom boom boom]

Sanremo:

If I could, I know where I'd be / In a little town in Italy / Close your eyes, come away with me / Tomorrow we will be / Sitting by the seaside / Drinking up the sunshine / You're here, so why don't we go / Dancing in Sanremo? / We could be there in a couple of hours / To the place with the yellow flowers / Somewhere only we know / Sunset in Sanremo

To feel like this / Is one in a million / A suspended moment / Can we seal it with a tender kiss?

Sound Of An Orchestra:

You don’t even know everything I hear / Every move, every note, every time you’re near / If I close my eyes, promise I can see / A hundred people playing and it’s just for me / I can hear it, I can hear it, I can hear it, I swear / All the music you’re provoking, filling up the air

Tiny Love (Reprise):

This tiny love, it might be small / But it's the greatest of them all / This tiny love would disappear / You can't forget that it was here / We are tiny to the world, but in our hearts / We are giants with our tiny, tiny love…

And if it all goes bad / And our love sets like the sun / I'd give up a hundred thousand loves / For just this one

Origin Of Love:

You are the sun and the light / You are the freedom I fight / God will do nothing to stop it / The origin is you / You’re the origin of love...

Like every word that you preach / Like every word that you teach / With every rule that you breach / You know the origin is you

From the air I breathe, to the love I need / Only thing I know, you're the origin of love / From the God above, to the one I love / Only thing that's true, the origin is you...

Your love is air, I breathe it in around me / Don't know it's there, but without it I'm drowning

Love, you're the origin of love / (thank God that you found me)

[mattzerella-sticks]

I’m Here (Coda to 1x10 “Brainwave Jr.”, Wildstar pre-slash, 3.2k)

Losing Henry was sad, but it's not the first person Courtney knew whose future was snatched by the Injustice Society of America. That doesn't make his death any less tragic. It does remind Courtney how screwed up and dangerous her life was. At least she was able to wake up the next day and keep moving. And so was Beth, and Rick. But Yolanda...

Where was Yolanda? Courtney needs to know.

           Courtney’s bag falls to her wrist as her shoulders sag, expectant tension fizzling out in disappointment. She stands frozen at the corner of the school’s hallway, gaze trained on a familiar and abandoned locker. Students and faculty passing it without a second thought, unaware that its owner will no longer have use for the space and all left inside. While the memory stays fresh because it constantly repeats itself every few seconds, Courtney still woke up thinking it might have been a dream. A projection from Brainwave, forcibly implanted in their minds, instead of the awful truth. That she would walk into school and find Henry going about his day like everyone else.

           He’d never get the chance again. Like Joey, Joey’s parents… her dad -

           “Hey,” she feels a hand snake itself around her elbow, startling Courtney from her thoughts. Beth offers a kind smile while dragging her past Henry’s old locker. “How are you holding up?”

           She glances behind her one last time in punishment, answering without thinking. “Better than Henry.”

           “I think we can all say that.” Rick joins them, squeezing Courtney in a loose hug on her other side. Their trio walk in silence until they reach Courtney’s locker, letting her search inside for her books. “Yesterday was fucked up.”

           “I can’t believe Mr. King…” Beth hugs herself, shivering, “he always seemed kind of… cold, whenever I would run into him at the hospital. But, to do that – to his own son – that’s…”

           “Fucked up?”

           She sighs, “Yeah, exactly.”

           Rick leans against the lockers, staring ahead with a dazed look in his eye Courtney recognizes. She saw it in her own reflection, after washing her face the night Joey died. Like being dragged from icy waters and left on fragile ice, no protection from the freezing winds slashing your skin like knives. Surviving, but barely. “You kept saying he was a villain. And knowing what we know it wasn’t hard to trust you. But being there and watching… If he was willing to do that to his own son… what’s that mean for any of us?”

           Courtney stuffs textbooks into their section, steadying herself with a deep breath. “It means we need to strike them before they get at us,” she tells them, voice bouncing off her locker walls. “To prove that Henry didn’t… didn’t sacrifice himself in vain, and that we can stop his father and the others. Prove to them all that good will triumph and…” Losing steam, she closes her locker with a slam. “And everything else.”

           Scoffing, Rick pushes off the locker. “And everything else? Real inspiring speech there, Court.” His sarcasm drips off his words and onto her shoes. “Give us the truth, do we have any chance in beating them? Or are we doomed to end up like Henry?”

           Before she can answer him, Beth jumps in. “Of course we do,” she says, a brighter, more genuine smile stretched across her face. “We’re the good guys! Plus, we’ll all be together – I don’t see how they can beat us as a team!”

           “Beth…” Rick pinches his brow, fighting the smirk twitching on his lips, “I doubt the power of friendship and teamwork will work on cold-blooded killers.”

           “Maybe it will if you let yourself believe. You know, Chuck says –“

           “I don’t want to hear what your computer boyfriend has to say.”

           “Chuck’s not my boyfriend,” she whispers, shoving at Rick while choking on an awkward chuckle. “And he’s not a computer – he’s an AI. An AI of a superhero, who’s in my backpack and can probably hear us.”

           Rick’s good mood finally appears, egged on by teasing Beth. “Sorry,” he says, grabbing for her shoulder. A friendly gesture hiding betrayal because he immediately spins her around, loudly talking with her backpack. “I didn’t mean to offend your AI boyfriend!”

           “Rick!”

           Watching Beth repeatedly slap Rick should have lifted Courtney’s spirits further. They settle at a halfway point, enough that she knows moping around won’t do any good. For Henry, and everyone else in the town, they need to pick up and carry on. She’s thankful for her friends being there, helping her believe in the muddled speech she gave earlier. Beth, Rick, and –

           “Hey,” she interrupts their bickering, looking around, “Where’s Yolanda?”

           Her question snuffed what little lightness broke through the heavy darkness. Beth draws her hands back from Rick’s collar, wringing them. “Courtney,” she starts, eyes bouncing around everywhere except Courtney, “do you really expect her to be here. After what happened with Henry…?”

           Courtney remembers. Escaping from the underground tunnels, tears streaming down hers and the others’ cheeks. Navigating the dark tunnels, searching for the staircase they came down. Yolanda tripping halfway, a sob ripped from her chest alongside Henry’s name. In the next breath Rick picked her up and shouted, “Keep moving!” Courtney trailing after them, numbly letting Beth lead so she can hold the rear. Brainwave, Dragon King, or any of his cronies could have rushed them at that point; she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy with Yolanda and how she clung so tight her claws ripped through Rick’s cape. Cycling through a number of phrases that didn’t feel right enough.

           It didn’t matter. They stopped running, ten blocks from Cindy’s old house. Gasping, tugging on their masks save for Yolanda. In the space between Rick setting her down and Courtney asking if anyone was hurt, she disappeared.

           And she refuses to answer any of Courtney’s texts.

           “No,” she tells them, “Did I hope…?”

           Rick shrugs sympathetically. “Yolanda needs her space right now,” he says, “her and Henry… shit’s complicated. I doubt she’d be able to fake enough enthusiasm to make it through school like she normally does.”

           “But it’s not safe,” Courtney fires back, frowning, “The Injustice Society… Beth’s right. We need to be together. If she’s alone and-and upset, it’d be easy for them to pick her off and…” She replaces Henry’s body with Yolanda’s, a frightening chill rushing through her like Jordan grabbed Courtney with his icy hand and squeezed.

           Except it’s not Jordan, it’s Beth again. She lets go of her wrist, stepping away. “If Yolanda’s in danger, she’ll call,” Beth tells her, “Besides, it’s daytime right now. The Injustice Society’s been operating in secret for how long? They won’t risk blowing their cover now. If we haven’t heard from her when school ends, then we can go to Pat and go looking. Okay?”

           Courtney nods, stomach uneasy. “Okay.” She bites her lip, thinking. “Also, until this is all… sorted out, I think we should be closer, easier to reach in case there is danger. Like… sleepovers?”

           Beth claps, bouncing. “Sleepover!” she gasps, “I’ve always wanted to have a sleepover!”

           “You know this will be less about braiding hair and more about keeping us alive, right?” Rick asks, crossing his arms.

           “I won’t let that take this victory away from me!”

           Courtney looks at Rick. “You in? I’m sure my mom will be cool now that she knows about… everything, but she might have you sleep downstairs.”

           He rolls his eyes. “Just tell her I’m gay. That nothing’ll happen.”

           “Listen, after the Cosmic Rod, I think I’m done lying to my mom for a while…”

           “Good thing it’s not a lie.”

           “Oh.” Courtney pauses, letting Rick’s tactless declaration sink in so she won’t continue with a foot in her mouth. She was getting too familiar with the taste of shoe leather. “I’m not sure that’ll change her mind, but it’s good to know. Thank you… for telling us.”

           Rick’s mouth stretches in a thin smile, haze faded from his eyes. “Honestly thought you knew.” He and Beth set off from Courtney’s locker, slow in their exit. “You coming? The whole sticking together plan won’t work if you get detention for being late… then we’d all have to get detention –“

           “I will not,” Beth says, “Courtney don’t get detention!”

           Courtney chuckles, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be there, you guys go on ahead…” She waits until they disappear around the corner, her happy expression dropping into seriousness.

           Class is the furthest thing on her mind. A waste of her time. She knows what she must do, even if it goes against her own orders. Courtney knows Beth and Rick won’t be mad, though, if her plan works out.

           First, she needs to escape. Doing that should take a few minutes, especially with how quickly the halls are emptying. Courtney casually retraces her steps, tiptoeing past closed doors hoping no one spots her. Still, knowing how important it is she leave quickly, Courtney cannot help detouring by the dark training room. Punching bag swinging from the breeze instead of Yolanda’s punches. The dull thud echoing with her grunts, Yolanda truly in her element. In those days when they were still strangers, and she wondered who would join her new Justice Society, Courtney found herself drawn by those noises. Studied her friend’s form and skill, hidden from view. Although Yolanda knew. Always did, but never bothered shooing her off.

           Both were glad Yolanda let Courtney watch as long as she did.

           “Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?”

           Courtney spins, an excuse ready at the draw. She doesn’t use it. Silence preferable given who caught her.

           Cameron’s brows dip in confusion, “Hey, Courtney… you okay?” He waves his hand in front of her face, Courtney flinching despite herself. There wasn’t any frost.

           “Sorry, Cameron,” she says, slouching, “you caught me off guard.”

           “No kidding…” He pulls tighter on his backpack strap, other hand buried in his pocket. “So… what’re you doing?”

           Nothing she can tell him about. When Courtney pieced together Jordan’s identity, she briefly considered what it meant for her and Cameron. She did mourn the possibility of something more happening between them, but the biggest feeling Courtney had about that being over was relief. “I was on my way to the bathroom,” she lies, “because of… girl issues.”

           He blinks at her. “Girl issues?”

           “Y’know,” she gestures at her body, “the usual. Think I’d get a break because of the accident, but no… time stops for no woman.”

           Cameron understands, a slight blush dusting his pale cheeks. “Oh, I… I hope you feel better,” he says, shifting on his feet, “Hey, if you’re not busy later –“

           “Sorry Cameron, gotta go!”

           Courtney disappears, rushing off from the scene. She doesn’t stop until she sees the doors leading to the parking lot, practically barreling into them. However they refuse her, knocking her away. Not taking rejection lightly, Courtney tries again. And again. Rattles the push bar so loudly she’s sure anyone in a five-mile radius can hear her. Huffing, Courtney kicks the door and collapses against it.

           “Stupid… door… why won’t you… open…?”

           She hears someone clear their throat behind her, Courtney tensing. Peeling herself off the door, Courtney sees the school’s janitor standing a few feet away. Staring disapprovingly, no doubt frowning from behind his bushy beard. Mop held at his side like a sword, scabbarded in its bucket. “Are you trying to leave?”

           “Leave?” Courtney snorts, waving his question off, “No… why would I – that’s…” Wincing, she braces for what comes next. “Please don’t tell the principal!”

           Eyes closed, she hears what happens next. How the janitor walks closer, mop bucket rolling after him like a trusty steed. His soft humming accompanied by the jingling of a few keys. Finally, the squeaking of hinges as the doors open. Courtney pries her eyes open, gaping at the janitor. He holds it open for her, waiting.

           “I don’t understand,” she says, “Why’re you -?”

           “I’m sure there are more important places you need to be.”

           While cryptic, Courtney shoves her suspicions aside. Questioning her janitor can be saved for a later date, when she can ask Pat if any of the Injustice Society had beards, talked in a strange accent, and were named Justin. Until then, Courtney thanks him and runs outside. Finds the Rod waiting at the parking lot’s entrance, hovering in place. “Hey,” she says, petting its head, “I know you need your rest, but…”

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

           She was in the woods. Courtney descends from the sky, silent, as Yolanda tears through another tree. Many others laid strewn about the bloodless battlefield, victims of her claws. Given the amount, Courtney guesses Yolanda was there all night. She hadn’t gone home, slept, ate, or even changed her outfit. The Wildcat bodysuit looked duller, dust from the tunnel’s debris untouched. Peering closer, Courtney saw some in her hair.

           Rick was right. This is some complicated shit.

           Yolanda stops, one hand raised above about to slice through more wood. “I know you’re there Courtney,” she says, “can you please leave me alone?”

           Courtney jumps off the Rod, it flying off like it knew they should have space. “I think alone is the last thing you should be.” She walks closer, careful. “Do you want to talk about it?”

           She swings her hand down, Courtney wincing as metal nails meet wood. “Not really.”

           Nodding, Courtney changed course and sat on one of the fallen logs. Watched Yolanda finish eviscerating the tree’s trunk until it couldn’t stand any longer. The tree fell onto one of the others with a loud crash. Its death wail hiding Yolanda’s own screams that left her ragged and clutching onto the base of the trunk. Courtney’s heart twists at the sight, and her fingers twitch on her knees. She doesn’t move, though.

           “Feel better?”

           Yolanda catches her breath. She punctures the trunk with her claws, voice a deep growl. “No,” she says, “because it wasn’t Brainwave. None of them were Brainwave.”

           Studying the massacre again, a heavy weight settles in her stomach. “Yolanda,” she starts, “are you seriously thinking of killing –“

           “Yes.” Yolanda turns on her heel, facing Courtney. Shoulders squared and head held high, she almost convinced Courtney. Except her bottom lip wobbles slightly. “After what he did to his own son? What he promised to do to you, your family… there’s only one way of stopping him.”

           “Yolanda,” Courtney stands, frowning, “you can’t.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because we’re the good guys,” she hisses, striding closer, “Good guys don’t kill. We stop the people who want to kill.” On instinct she grabs for Yolanda’s wrist, only for the other girl to snatch it away. Nerves fraying at the action.

           “Funny,” she scoffs, glaring, “were you the good guy when you fried his brains? When you put him in a coma?”

           Courtney blushes, faltering somewhat. “It was an accident,” she tells Yolanda, “I had only just gotten the Rod. I didn’t mean to –“

           “Which is why he’s still walking. Why he was able to…” Yolanda skips over the words, shaking her head. She pops her claws, holding them between her and Courtney. “I won’t make the same mistake you made.”

           “Yolanda…” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s conflicted. A small voice in her head sides with her friend, thinking how a man as awful as Henry King doesn’t deserve life if he would so flippantly take it from people he should care about – like his wife and son. But another one, a voice she thinks is her father’s, overpowers the crueler instinct. “I won’t let you make that mistake.”

           “I. Don’t. Care,” she spits, slashing the air, “I’ll go at him by myself if I have to. Let him try and stop me.”

           Again, the image of Yolanda buried under a pile or rubble pops into view. Seeing it spurs Courtney forward, and she seizes her friend’s hand despite the sharp nails. “No! He’ll kill you!”

           “Courtney –“

           “Please, Yolanda,” she says, trusting her gut as she drags Yolanda into a hug despite her rigidness. “Please… don’t go after him alone. You saw what he can do, I can’t… just, promise me.”

           The silence stretches on more than Courtney would like, but thankfully Yolanda agrees. “Fine,” she says, “I won’t go after him alone.” She shifts in Courtney’s hold, “But I have to… he has to pay, for what he did to Henry.”

           Courtney curls her fingers around Yolanda’s neck, closing her eyes. “Do you think Henry would want you to kill his dad?”

           Yolanda shudders, breath wet on Courtney’s neck. She waits as the other girl considers her question, defenses slowly crumbling. Her arms rise and wrap around Courtney’s back while a sob breaks free. “It’s not fair,” she hiccups, “it’s not fair!”

           “I know Yolanda, I know…”

           “No, it… I spent so much time hating Henry. Believing he was nothing more than an evil bully. Convincing myself that if he were to die, that I wouldn’t feel a thing. Hell, I almost eviscerated him myself. There were so many times that I could, that I wanted to. I mean, he ruined my life. But at the end I… I still loved him.” Her knees wobble, so Courtney guides them to the floor. Courtney kneeling, with Yolanda stretched out across her lap. “And now he’s gone. Because he trusted his father to be a good man, when really he’s scum. Maybe we could’ve worked on what we had, or maybe I could have forgiven him. That was taken away from me. He died and I couldn’t forgive him. I still can’t forgive him for what he did… even after he gave his life for us. I’m not a good guy Courtney. I’m an animal…”

           “You’re not an animal Yolanda,” Courtney tells her, stroking her hair. She tucks her head under chin, resting on the helmet. “Yolanda, you’re a hero. You’re exactly the kind of person I knew you were when I gave you Wildcat’s costume. And what Henry did… what Brainwave did, that doesn’t change anything. Because you’re strong. That’s why you never gave in, why you won’t let yourself kill Brainwave even though every part of you may want to. You won’t let yourself sink to their level.”

           “I’m tired of having to be strong all the time,” Yolanda says, “Why can’t it be easy?”

           Courtney sighs, “I wish they were. I wish my dad wasn’t a superhero, and he and all the others weren’t killed. But he's gone, and they’re gone… so it’s up to us to stop the bad guys.”

           “Do we have to stop them now?”

           Pausing, Courtney’s lips quirk up in a tiny smile. “No… no, not right now. We can just sit here and be easy. Sound okay with you?”

           Yolanda nods, “I’d like that.”

           They stay like that for a while, Courtney holding Yolanda. Rocking her slowly, gently like the waves. Yolanda’s body relaxes in her arms, breaths evening until Courtney thinks she’s asleep. When she says the other girl’s name and gets no response, she continues at a whisper. “I’m sorry so much has been taken from you,” Courtney tells her, staring up at the cloudless sky, “I won’t let them take anything else. We’re going to beat them. You, me… Beth, Rick, even Pat… we’re the Justice Society. The good guys. Good always wins in the end.”

           In the forest, surrounded by fallen trees and with a slumbering Yolanda in her lap, Courtney finally believes in what she said. The lingering shadows of Henry’s death shed from her mind, the wisps disappearing into the sky. A hushed voice breaks through her lazy thoughts, thanking Courtney. Before she can wonder who said that, Yolanda stirs in her grasp.

           Distracted, Courtney soothes her tired friend. “It’s okay Yolanda, I’m here… nothing will happen. And if it does? I’ll protect you…”

[bigscaryyanderewriter]

Since you're doing for steven universe, may i ask for some good yandere diamond trio? Or if you dont do more than one, then just spinel.

I am gay af for big women and like... Don't get much bigger than the diamonds, enjoyed writing this. Hope you like it.

1.7k words

TW: Yandere Themes, Dehumanization

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Earth was all you knew, it was your home. Nothing had ever happened to make you think there would ever be anything other place for you. That was until you met a large blue woman. A diamond.

You sat, legs swinging as you sat on a rock near the large crystal platform that had been sitting there since before you ever were thought of probably. It was a peaceful place, birds quietly chirping before you. Tears streaming silently. The meadow had the crystal platform and the large remnants of some odd structure.

Your place of solace and the soft stream were the only things here to comfort you. This place was more home to you than the house where your sisters would lock you out, mock you, make you out at naive and small due to your youth. It hurt so much. You were going to runaway you thought.

A bag was packed, you would escape. Leave and go away from this torment. Though now, you sat there and knew you had nowhere to go. Until a beam of light filled the clearing, coming from the sky and making you nearly fall. 

The thing you saw as your heart thudded within your chest. A large blue woman. Her features tired and stressed as she took a few steps to the ruin and stared down. Her arms crossed in front of her as she seemed to be in thought, mourning over something. She was rounded, seeming like a blue hill in a way...

You heard her quietly sighing, face in her hands as you knew that face. It was the face your older sister had made when looking at the old pictures of your parents and when the bills were too much, when she needed help.

When she needed help and comforted, told it was all going to work out. You slowly crept over, your voice near silent as you reached out, putting a hand on her skirt bottom as you spoke.

"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am… I know it must hurt. Are you okay?" You looked up as she looked down, seeming shocked and disturbed by you as she looked back to the ruin. 

A shaky sigh leaving her as she scoffed. "I'm more than fine. I don't need your comfort, you're nothing but a little organic lifeform… You can't even begin to understand what I feel." 

"Perhaps I do, being organic… We don't live forever, so we experience things like aging and death often. I know what it is like to lose someone you care for and to have those you love become… Not how you remember. Foreign to you. We change much faster and more turbulently than you would think." You said in away loud enough for her to hear, but not yelling. 

She looked down, reaching for you even as you were startled. Her hand lifting you to her face as she looked at you. "Young human, you are odd. I didn't know that you creatures had any idea of grief or loss." 

"We… We do. Some more than others will ever know. We all have to experience it and there is not always someone to help." You explain as you tentatively put a hand to her cheek in a way to comfortingly pet her. 

It seemed to take her back a bit as she looked to the side. A small pearl girl at her side looked up as she looked over at you, seeming a bit shocked too. "You do then. Little human… This world is changing for the better. A boy, Steven, is changing it and the universe for the better. You have not been touched by the changes, I know that it is still… Hard here for you. It may not change soon. Please, come with me, we need someone like you. Someone to share love with, to care for. Someone to care for us, as hard as it is to admit." She sighed and looked at you, her tears rolling down as you joined her, a smile breaking on your face. 

"I understand that so well. You remind me of my sister… She cared, but I don't think she does anymore. Maybe I should come with you. I don't even know what your name is though." You murmur and as you sit in her palm, smiling.

She smiled back as she said, "I am Blue Diamond… We would never stop caring for you. Ever. I promise you this. The others are sure to love you, I am sure of it." 

Her thumb pressed into your cheek as you laughed a bit, hugging onto her. She seemed to be for than pleased by the cuddly interactions as she gave you a beautiful laugh in return, turning as she carried you with her to the crystal platform and whisked you away.

The whooshing of the portal and the light made you squeal a bit as you were taken to a hub of portals, a ship waiting. A blue arm. It was wrist upwards as she carried you as you messed with her sleeves.  She warned you, "Be careful now, little one. You're very small and quite high up."

You weren't paying attention to the crinkle of her eyes in joy as you walked along her arm, climbing to her shoulder and sitting there as when you both entered the ship. You were so small… So fragile, but sweet and silly. It was fun for the big diamond to watch you play about and expectantly look back at her with those eyes as you smiled when she waved for you to continue. 

She started a call in the middle though, motioning you to hide as she talked with a large yellow woman and an even larger white woman. "I have a pleasant surprise for both of you when I come back to homeworld, please be present for the reveal. I believe you both will be quite excited because I very much am." 

You blushed as she said this, knowing she had to be speaking of you. The smile in her voice, she seemed near giddy. 

The trip seemed over before you knew it as Blue pulled you up into her arms, cradling you like a baby. It made you squirm with a bit of discomfort, but she hushed you as she hid you in her long sleeves. "Stop moving about, I want you to be a surprise for the other two. They'll be so happy to meet you. I know it." 

Blue walked with you in her sleeves, your head popping out just enough for you to get air. She learned humans do need air from Steven! How well she was doing in remembering things about humans. Though, she wasn't sure how she would introduce you. She was uncertain of how Yellow and White would react. Everything had calmed so much since the loosening of their grip on their planets. 

The doors opened before her as she was announced by her pearl… Her movements as she walked into the room were slow. 

You shoved your head back beneath the sleeve as you heard a slightly harsher voice speak. It made you get a bit scared at first. "Blue, what did you have that you needed to show us? I mean, if it isn't something amazing, I will be quite disappointed." The voice chuckled.

"Yes, Blue, dear. It was rather sudden, even if things have slowed quite a bit for all of us." A second voice said, a bit higher and it maybe your heart beat faster. Like you were in the presence of power. It was intimidating.

"With that in mind, I have made a decision and would like to introduce you to our newest acquisition… She is silly and so sweet, small…" She slowly pulled her sleeve back as you turned your head to look at the two other, sitting up with your hands flat on Blue as you moved to sit on your knees… Well, you took an educated guess and figured that they were also diamonds. 

"Hello, Diamonds!" You wave with both hands, a shy smile on your face before you are being held out in the cupped hands of Blue. 

"A human? Is this because of Steven, because this one is not anything like Steven." Yellow diamond said rather factually.

"Oh no, she isn't like Steven exactly.. She is in some ways, but she needs to have us. We need someone. To care for, for us, to make things happier and more whole. You know what I am talking about." She said as Yellow blushed and looked aside. White leaned forward to examine you. Your hand reached out to touch her nose as she was so close.

"Hello?" You tilted your head, but she seemed to find it quite silly as she laughed out.

"I suppose I was quite close, yeah? Haha." She pulled away and looked to Yellow.

"You know, perhaps we could try this out. I mean, we can always send her to Earth with Steven and his little Crystal Gems if it is not working well. She'll be cared for there, but I say we keep her." She scoops you from Blue and holds you out to Yellow with a grin, you were getting a bit worried from all this being forced about. Especially if they grip you too hard on accident at some point. 

Yellow looked at you and you piped up, "How big of a commitment am I? I mean, given how small you all think I am." 

This made her freeze before laughing, "Yes, I suppose you are quite small. How hard could it possibly be!" She smiled as she put her hand under her chin. "Oh, this human is a funny one. We should definitely keep them."

"Is it decided then?" Blue asked the two and they glanced between each other, sharing nods. 

"Yes, I believe it is." White said with finality, "We'll keep the human, but we'll have to ask Steven for tips on human care." 

You had a twist in your gut… This foreign place, aliens… They didn't seem to view you as equal even, just a sweet pet. Maybe it was your imagination, but something was off. You were almost certain that going home was not an option though and you wanted to feel safe. They seemed to be very safe and they wanted you desperately enough to agree so quickly. 

The thing is that you were going to be staying if they had any say in it, already attached to the perfect idea of their new human companion. A sweet pet. A sweet, little pet to entertain them.

[hiddendreamer67]

The Dragonfly Curse

Summary: Roman often gets hit with small curses by the Dragon Witch- little things being forced to speak only in rhyme or becoming incredibly clumsy for a day. He hides this from the others, as to him they’re punishment enough for his failures. They’re small measly problems- which makes this latest curse ironic in that he’s reduced to a four-inch tall dragonfly-winged fairy.

Words: 4,780

This is a commission piece for @i-will-physically-fight-you! Thank you again for commissioning me, this was so much fun to write. :) My commissions are open! More information available on my blog.

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Roman treaded through the forest, footsteps light as he fought to keep his presence unknown. Uneasily he twisted his wrist, the handle of his blade recognizing the familiar movements as he gave the sword a small twirl to calm his nerves. It grounded him, reminding him that even in this vast expanse Roman still had strength. A strength he had to wield if he intended to protect those he loved.

Imagination could be a fickle thing. Once upon a time, Thomas was young. His dreams were filled with puppy dogs and rainbows (the symbolism ever present in his gay subconscious), and Roman was happy to traverse the magical paradise that had appeared through a portal in his room. Back then it was a magical place, so full of laughter and cheer. Roman had always wished he could bring some of that wonderous joy into his own room so that he could let his fellow sides in on the fun.

Now, Roman’s greatest fear was exposing his family to this hell.

As Thomas had grown older, the Imagination had become overgrown with negative creations, a side effect of the dark sides no doubt. For far too long Roman had blamed Virgil for the shadow figures that now crept behind every tree, or the inky dark marshes that threatened to swallow unsuspecting villagers whole. Now Roman knew better; the horrible demons lurking around the Imagination had appeared on their own, independent of a single creator, instead representing something far darker than the embodiment of anxiety himself.

Roman chuckled darkly to himself. Maybe Virgil would be amusedly offended at the idea of something having a more terrifying aesthetic than his hundred layers of black eyeshadow. The image was nice to chuckle at, but Roman knew it would never be a reality. He couldn’t let Virgil, or anyone else he cared about for that matter, ever learn about these invaders. They were Roman’s problem alone, his burden to bear. Why else would the portal into Imagination only exist in his own room? Clearly this was his purpose as a knight- to protect those he loved, even from fear of danger itself. Ignorance was bliss, surely.

Of course, Roman was unable to hide everything from the sides, much as he wanted to remain covert. There were times when Roman would… lose. The Dragon Witch was a formidable opponent, much as Roman loathed to admit it, and she took pleasure in laying curses upon Roman for her amusement. These curses were hardly permanent but would carry into the mindscape. Perhaps this was the Dragon Witch’s way of trying to affect the world beyond this accursed land, knowing she herself could never get past the portal. Sending back a defeated and hexed Roman was the closest she could get to throwing something of her own into the mindscape.

Thankfully, these curses had never been particularly threatening to Roman’s physical form, just his pride. That only made them hurt worse in Roman’s mind. Was it not enough to be defeated in his own realm? Must she bruise his fragile ego? But in this way, she knew his weaknesses. Stabs wounds healed. The echoing laughter in his mind did not.

Roman thought back briefly, recounting some of her more memorable curses. One of the first had been upon his tongue, turning it a dull silver in mockery of the phrase ‘silver tongue’ and forcing the princely figure to only speak in rhymes. The others thought he was just being dramatic as ever, putting up with his antics as Roman attempted to compliment Patton’s cooking skills and ended up launching into an eloquent soliloquy about the talent of the heart to bring such “delectable, respectable, selectable treats to the table, how my dearest Patton have you proven yourself so able-“ and so the rhyming continued. Roman had even enjoyed that one, leaning into it to test his own feats of poetry. He challenged Logan to a rematch of their rap battle, this time proving himself a worthy opponent.

The Dragon Witch had been less than pleased when he returned the next week, whistling a nameless tune and declaring how “your devious plan backfired; I’m feeling rather inspired!” Perhaps it was his jesting that had earned him the next hex, cursing him to become unstable on his feet. Roman had spent the day tripping over himself, spilling water any time a cup was placed in his hands and falling flat on his face on more than one occasion. Roman could only play those instances off with the line “I’ve falling for you, my fairest Virgil!” so many times before it was clear that this behavior wasn’t going to end. Virgil told him to snap out of it, and Roman was forced to spend the rest of the evening in his room willing his boots to stop making a fool of him.

So the curses continued, slowly accumulating through the years to remind Roman of his failures. Each lasted only a day, gone by the time he woke the next day. Never the same curse- after all, being part of the Imagination, even the Dragon Witch had standards. Unoriginality wouldn’t stand. Normally Roman would appreciate this creativity, but used against him it was less than pleasant having to bravely face his punishments. Which is why Roman made it a point not to lose often.

Roman paused, his feet stopping atop the large carpet of leaves painted in beautiful golden hues. It would be a beautiful sight, if the stillness in the air did not make the hairs on the back of his neck stand so unpleasantly.

“I was almost thinking you would not show.” Roman spoke up, raising his voice. He kept his gaze straight ahead, giving no other indication he knew there was a trespasser amongst the woods. “Or rather, if you’re attempting to be sneaky, you need to work on your dramatics, you son of a birch.”

There was a giggling through the air, as though the trees found this insult particularly amusing. Roman thought they might, and he gave a small smirk, radiating the essence of a casual hero who was sure of his blade. Perhaps if he imagined himself as such, it would prove true.

“Son of a birch?” A tree, darker than the rest, appeared insulted off to the left a few more paces down the path. The foliage shifted, the tree shrinking and curling in on itself as a woman emerged from the wreckage. She looked annoyed, the atmosphere immediately darkening as she stepped forwards. “I was an aspen, you royal twig!”

“Well you’re certainly as-pain in my butt.” Roman retorted. The trees merely groaned at that one, a few of the younger saplings muttering amongst themselves as though trying to figure out what exactly he meant. Roman rolled his eyes. “Alright peanut gallery, I get it, not my best work.”

“Peanut gallery, now there’s an idea.” The Dragon Witch put a finger to her chin, as if considering an idea. “Perhaps when I beat you today I’ll turn you into a peanut plant. Or better yet, I’ll trap you in a peanut gallery comic, so you will be forced to watch everyone laugh at your antics.”

“I’ve already been a comic book character.” Roman groaned, pretending to be bored as he stretched out a crick in his neck. “And you did a strawberry bush only a month ago. Have you really run out of curses so soon? You seem a bit lost for inspiration. How about I do you a favor. After I kick your butt, you can spend the week thinking up better ideas.”

“You make me laugh, Prince Roman.” The Dragon Witch said, but her mouth was still a flat line. “But perhaps you should save the theatrics for your stage.”

“Gladly.” With no more fanfare, Roman charged, sword at the ready. He took a swipe at the Dragon Witch. Unsurprisingly, she disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. Knowing this trick, Roman wasted no time in bringing his elbow reeling backwards, satisfied by the ‘oof!’ of pain that came as he painfully elbowed her in the stomach. Roman had no qualms against playing dirty against a girl, especially because gender is a social construct and she started it.

“Why, you little-!” Before she could wrap her claws around Roman the prince rolled to the side, coming up to face her head on again. The Dragon Witch growled, a ball of green flame appearing in her hand.

“You wouldn’t.” Roman squinted, trying to gauge how far his opponent would go.

“Oh, I would.” The Dragon Witch sneered, tossing the flame to the ground. Instantly the golden leaves began to catch fire, the flames spreading as quickly the entire scene became ablaze.

Roman’s eyes widened only momentarily before he began to frantically dash back down the path, the flames licking at his heels. He knew that the trees themselves would likely be protected, mere puppets designed by the Witch who wanted an audience (she always was one for theatrics), but everything else in this forest was fair game.

“You’re insane!” Roman yelped, shaking his leg briefly as his pants briefly caught fire. The Witch cackled at this, giving chase through the path as the green flickers did nothing to harm her. If anything, they curled around her ankles, hugging their creator gently.

“Liar liar, pants on fire!” The Dragon Witch seemed to only find humor in this scenario, grinning manically.

“What are you, twelve?” Roman huffed, his breathing becoming heaving as he fought to keep running. Why didn’t Thomas go to the gym more often? Probably due to Patton’s love of cookies. Even if Patton was a fluffball, at this particular moment Roman was wishing he could change a lot of the heart’s habits if only to gain a little more endurance for these aggravating chase scenes. When he got back to the Mindspace, Roman was certainly going to fill Thomas’ dreams with more eye candy muscled men in the hopes of inspiring him to exercise even once.

Too distracted by thoughts of shirtless men, Roman was oblivious to the branches reaching out for him until it was too late. The wooden limbs wrapped around him, forcing his sword to clatter to the ground as one of the tree spirits tugged him into a tight grip.

“No fair!” Roman pouted, watching the Dragon Witch approach with a devious smirk, her flames coming with her.

“What’s wrong, Prince Roman?” She feigned ignorance, lifting her hand to direct the flames to begin climbing the tree, getting closer and closer to his legs which were desperately trying to kick out of their way. “Come now, surely you haven’t been bested by a few candle flames and a tree? Get up, Prince Roman. Fight. Where’s that courageous hero who dared to march into myrealm just hours ago, dressed in regal colors and claiming ownership of a land he can never hope to control?”

“I YIELD!” Roman suddenly declared through gritted teeth, his knees tucked up to his chest as the fire licked at his boots. To declare himself unsuccessful hurt more than their burn, and as the flames disappeared Roman felt the own fire of determination dying in his heart.

It seemed recently it had burning out quicker with each battle, these losses slowly taking a toll on even his resolve.

“Aww, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The Dragon Witch teased. Roman gave her a defiant glare.

“I already yielded, there’s no need to drag it out.” Roman huffed, slumping back in the tree’s embrace. “Just get it over with, do your thing. Give me your curse and I’ll be on my way. What will it be, the comic or the plant? Well? What are you waiting for?”

The Dragon Witch paused, her expression for once perfectly blank. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Why should I be?” Roman shrugged, feeling a bit proud that he could make her scowl even in her victory. A conversation was still a battle when it came to the Dragon Witch, and at least Roman could win this. “Your little curses are nuisances at best. Your strongest has only ever left me cowering under a blanket for a day. Just a day, nothing more. Nothing sticks. You can’t hurt me, not in any real way at least, because everything you do is temporary. Your magic is just little parlor tricks.”

“Little parlor tricks?!” She screeched and spat. “How dare you! You insufferable pest, you incompetent sprite, you infinitesimal thorn in my side!” The Dragon Witch’s eyes blazed with a fury unmated by any Roman had ever seen, and for the first time in forever Roman really did feel afraid. She struck her hand across his face, leaving a scorching mark with a familiar tingling feeling of magic.

“There.” The Dragon Witch hissed, letting the tree drop Roman into an unassuming pile on the ground. “How’s that for a parlor trick?” Without another word she spun on her heel and left. The fact that she didn’t stick around to watch her spell take effect was a sure sign that Roman had pissed her off more than usual, which likely didn’t bode well for whatever unfortunate hex had just been quite literally slapped upon him.

Roman groaned, his body feeling like it was collapsing in on itself as Roman curled up into a tight ball. A searing pain had begun just along his spine, and Roman heard the fabric of his shirt begin to tear. Rude; he was particularly fond of this ensemble. But even Princey couldn’t lament the ruination of his garments for long, instead letting out a gasp as another round of fiery discomfort shot through his back. Was this the curse? To be in misery for a day? It certainly made Roman regret being so mouthy.

Thankfully, the pain slowly began to ebb away, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. Roman felt as though something was laying across his back, and new nerves connected to these new appendages. Cautiously Roman opened his eyes, looking back for confirmation.

Wings- he had wings. Dragonfly wings, to be exact. It seemed the Dragon Witch was still just as fond of draconic irony as always.

“Well that’s not so bad.” Roman decided. Sure, they were painful to grow, and they would certainly be impossible to hide, but Roman had stayed in his room during a curse before. He gave them a cautious flutter, wincing as one wing smacked him in the face. Perhaps this would take a bit more practice.

Roman stood up, gaining his footing on the slippery leaf below him and prepping for a test flight. Wait… yes, that was leaf, singular. Roman stared down at his feet incredulously, not believing his eyes. That had to be a very large leaf, unless…

The princely figure let out a groan, looking up to see his suspicions were confirmed. The dark trees now loomed over him, appearing to be hundreds of feet tall. It wasn’t just wings, then. The witch had cursed Roman to become a fairy of all things, reduced to nothing but a poor copy of tinkerbell.

At this size, Roman was even more wary of Imagination land, picturing all the horrible creatures that could make quick work of him. He had to get back, now.

“Alright, faith and trust and all that jazz.” Roman psyched himself up, scrunching his face and giving his body a shake to let out his nerves. He focused on getting his wings to flap properly this time, nearly crying out in relief when his feet left the ground.

“Don’t look down.” Roman instructed himself, firmly keeping his gaze forward as he shot through the air, beginning to get the hang of flying as he dodged the various brambles. More than once Roman nearly went headfirst into a spiderweb, skidding to a stop at the last moment. Thankfully he reached the exit on the other side of the forest without becoming prey to any of the shadowy demons. He was relieved that the door still recognized his presence in this form, swinging open wide. Roman wouldn’t have been able to open it himself.

“…woah.” Roman floated inside, momentarily shocked by how unfamiliar his own bedroom looked at this size. He settled down onto his desk, thrown off by the way he had to look up to see the bristled tips of his paintbrushes. How odd.

A knock came at the door, so loud and intimidating that Roman nearly jumped out of his skin. “Kiddo?” Patton’s voice was clearly gentle, but still it rumbled with an unnatural quality. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

“Ah, no thanks, Pat!” Roman called back, hoping his nerves weren’t heard in his voice.

There was silence, and then another knock. “Kiddo? You in there?”

Oh, of course- an impulse to hit his own forehead overcame Roman. If Patton’s voice was so loud, it only followed that Roman’s voice must be quiet in comparison. He’d have to commit if he wanted to be heard.

“NO THANKS!” Roman called again, this time cupping his hands to his mouth to be heard.

“Oh, okay!” Patton sounded relieved, if not a bit disappointed. Roman deflated slightly, knowing this was another consequence of the curse. He hated letting Patton down. “Well, uh, I’ll check in on you again later!”

He would, of course, the little puffball.

***

Roman tried not to let the knot of guilt twist in him too tight when Patton came back to ask at dinner, then again at breakfast, and a third time at lunch the next day.

This was the longest day of his life. Roman groaned, collapsing back onto his pillow. It only took a few moments for him to realize this was a terrible plan, nearly getting stuck as he sunk into the overly plush surface. Why wasn’t he back to normal yet? It had been 24 hours, hadn’t it?

Patton came back again at dinner. He was more insistent. Roman snapped at him, and it hurt.

What was he meant to do? Roman couldn’t sleep that second night, his wings beginning to twitch anxiously. A curse had never lasted this long before. Should he tell the others?

The new fairy quickly shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. Going to them meant admitting defeat. He would have to come clean about his rivalry with the Dragon Witch, letting them know of all his countless failures. What would they think of him? What sort of creativity was he if he couldn’t do his one job of keeping Imagination in check? Roman had to protect his family, not the other way around. Besides, he could only imagine the jests he would receive in this form:

“It seems you are incapable of even performing your own tasks adequately-“

“You tried your best, Kiddo, but leave it up to the real sides next time-”

“What’s the matter, Princey? A little thing like you couldn’t possibly help-“

A knock on the door jolted Roman out of his thoughts, the fae rubbing at the wetness on his cheeks. When had he started crying?

“Roman?” That was Logan’s voice, so cool and calculating and pleasant in tone. “We have been sent to retrieve you for breakfast. Are you alright?”

Roman couldn’t even work up the energy to respond. He just let his head loll to the side. Sooner or later the others would learn to leave him alone. Maybe they’d even forget about him… if he was going to be stuck like this, it might be for the best. Roman was useless.

“I can feel the sulking from here.” A third voice muttered, Roman’s sensitive ears picking up Virgil’s annoyed tone. “I say we just break in.”

Roman quickly sat up. What? Them, here? No, they couldn’t see him like this! He flew into the air, eyes scanning for any place he could hide.

“I thought you were against barging into bedrooms?” Logan spoke.

“Nah, just my room. Call me a hypocrite.”

Roman panicked, hearing the doorknob begin to turn. Without hesitation he dashed out of sight, settling onto the top of his wardrobe. Just in time, too, as moments later his fellow sides came barging into the room.

“PRINCEY, GET UP!” Virgil’s volume made the tiny side cringe, Roman pressing his hands firmly to his ears. “…princey?”

“It appears he’s not here.” Logan sated, the two gazing at the bed with conflicting amounts of bewilderment.

“Yeah, thanks, Sherlock.” Virgil’s facial features had turned decidedly blank, trying to process what was right in front of him.

“You do not sound thankful.” Logan murmured.

Virgil ignored his quip, throwing the blanket off the bed. Of course, the entire thing still looked untouched. The anxious side began to run his hands through his hair, seeming conflicted before he rushed back to the door. “PATTON, GET UP HERE!”

There was a frantic pounding of footsteps, Patton clearly running up the stairs before he too appeared in the doorway. “What is it? Is Roman sick?”

“Sick in the head- he’s gone.” Despite his angry words, Virgil looked frantic, and Roman felt far more than a twinge of guilt.

“This is peculiar.” Logan frowned, a hand put to his chin. “The mindscape is only so large. It contains each of our respective spaces and one communal area. Thomas is asleep, so he’s not there, and none of us have seen Roman in over 48 hours. Where could he possibly have gone?”

“Uh…I have an idea.”

The other two sides looked where Patton was pointing, the door to Imagination still ajar.

No! Roman’s eyes widened with fear. The others couldn’t go in there, they’d be killed for sure! Roman had always lied about Imagination, treating it like a magical secret only for him so that they would never know the true misery he faced every day.

“Do you think his realm would grant us access?” Logan took a step closer, making Roman tense up. “I was under the impression that subconscious domains were only accessible by the primary side.”

“Well, the door’s open.” Patton shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

“Hold on a minute, Pat.” Virgil reached an arm out, grabbing Patton’s forearm. “I don’t like the look of this. Roman’s an idiot-“ Hey! “-but maybe there’s a reason we shouldn’t go in there. We don’t know what it’s like. Maybe we’ll get corrupted just like you guys do in my room.”

For once, Roman was relieved Dark and Brooding was always so cautious. Maybe his friends would be safe after all.

“Virgil, it’s Imagination.” Patton removed Virgil’s hand with a smile, crushing all Roman’s hopes and dreams. “It’s not going to hurt us! I bet it’s got cotton candy clouds and singing flowers and puppies everywhere. “

“I take it back, that’s much worse.” Virgil cringed, but he allowed Patton to take his hand and guide him forward.

“Assumptions will get us nowhere; there is only one way to know for certain.” Logan reached for the handle-

“WAIT!” Roman cried out, his voice shrill and high-pitched as three heads whirling around to meet his terrified expression. Roman gulped, still frightened of their reactions but knowing he had made the right decision. It was better they looked down on him forever if it meant they stayed safe.

Still, having three giants focused on him was nothing to sneeze at- even with all his pomp and circumstance, Roman found himself continuing to huddle against the top of the wardrobe, knowing the jig was up.

“…Roman?” Patton called out, his voice softer than it had ever been. “Is that you?”

Roman winced. “Yeah, it’s… it’s me.”

He was thankful for his high vantage point, but he knew that if the others wanted to get him down it would be an easy enough task. He might be able to fly, but there were three of them for goodness sakes. At this size, a butterfly net could overpower him.

Roman groaned at the imagery, trying to get these thoughts out of his head. Why was he so frightened of the people he loved? Sure they were bigger now- er, he was smaller now- but they still had to care a little bit for him… right? Logan wouldn’t really pin him to a board and Patton wouldn’t really squeeze the life out of him and wow these images really need to stop right now get a GRIP, Princey!

“Are you harmed?” Logan asked, his question surprising the creative side. Logan was often ignorant to other’s state of being.

“Just my pride.” Roman admitted.

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, but it lacked its usual sass. His expression was more shaken than it should be, and the emo looked paler than usual. “Care to tell us what’s going on?”

Not really. Roman wanted to say, but he knew it was too late to back out now.

“Will you come down from there, Kiddo?” Patton took a step forward, cupping his palms and looking ready to catch Roman. He gazed at those hands for a minute, contemplating the risk before he fluttered down to stand in Patton’s palms. This action earned a series of gasps as his wings had previously gone unnoticed.

“It was the Dragon Witch.” Roman admitted, rubbing at his arm self-consciously. “She cursed me to take this form.”

“So, you’ve just been hiding up here all alone?” Patton looked just about ready to cry. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want you all to think any lesser of me.” Roman ran a hand through his hair. “I know you all think of me as foolish already, and I thought- if you knew how much I failed, that would just be used against me as well. I’m not the protector I pretend to be. I’ve tried to hide this from you because look at me now! A few inches tall and wings on my back like some laughable child cartoon character. I couldn’t stand the mockery on top of everything else.”

“Roman, that is preposterous.” Logan said firmly, earning an elbow to the side from Virgil that didn’t stop the nerd from continuing. “Regardless of your current stature, you are a core element of Thomas’ personality. We require your input. We function best as a cohesive team. Sharing information about your own struggles will only better us as a unit because we will be better equipped to assist you.”

“The nerd’s right.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty. “Jeez, Princey, I mean… I know we call each other names, but I don’t mean anything by it. I just thought that was our thing. I’m not gonna mock you when you’re clearly hurting, that’d just be cruel.”

“Failure is normal, kiddo.” Patton reached his thumb up, rubbing it comfortingly along Roman’s side. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant. “Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you’re a failure.”

Roman winced. “Ah, actually, it’s… it’s more than once.” The words began to spill out of him, gaining momentum. “I lose to her so often, she always has the upper hand and it’s never the same curse and I keep hiding them from you but they only last a day and this one hasn’t stopped and I don’t know what to do and I’m going to be tiny and useless forever-“

“OY!” Virgil’s shout made Roman flinch again, and the anxious side had the decency to look sheepish. “…sorry. But you need to cut it out. Panicking is my thing.”

“Roman, it doesn’t matter if you’ve failed a hundred, trillion, billion times.” Patton corrected his wording.

“That’s not statistically possible.” Logan looked confused.

“You will never be a failure in our eyes.” Patton insisted. “You are brave, and kind, and lovable, and you bring so much to the table every single day. We couldn’t do it without you, Kiddo. And even at this size you’re the same amazing Prince we know and love. You’re just… a pocket prince now!”

“Roman, I admit that curses are not my area of expertise.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “But, I believe that with our efforts combined, there is certain to be a way to reverse these effects, especially given the knowledge the previous curses all took time to wear off.”

“Let us help you.” Virgil said, his tone bordering on pleading.

Roman looked around at his family. His fantastic, brilliant, amazing family. How could he have not trusted them with this? Of course they wouldn’t see him as lesser, just because of a small curse. His failures were not what defined him.

“Okay.” Roman agreed, feeling nearly overwhelmed with the love he had for them all.

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Summary: A softer re-imagining of the morning after the forest fire. "Pulling back, I take him all in - His hair fanned out against the pillow, and a raw, dazed expression gracing his face (All traces of his usual smugness, thankfully, removed). Before he quickly snaps back into himself - Grimacing up at me, and turning his face to hide it in the pillow. The tips of his ears colouring slightly, as he does so, clearly embarrassed (I wonder if he can blush properly. He hasn’t yet, I don’t think, but maybe I just need to try harder. It would definitely be worth the effort)."

Tags: Fluff, Dramatic Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Pitch, Morning Kisses, Morning Cuddles

Words: 2,476

Simon

Baz has barely a second to properly open his eyes, before I jump him again - Pressing him down into the mattress, and littering his face in kisses (I’ve been awake for at least an hour just waiting for him to wake up, and I’m not known to be the most patient person, so I don't want to waste a second). 

Pushing his palms against my chest, he rolls me away onto my back besides him, with a groan. 

“Snow. You need to brush your teeth,” he complains. 

But I’m so distracted by the lushness of his voice, still deepened with sleep, that I miss most of what he’s trying to say (It isn’t my fault, though. He sounds fit. Super fucking fit). I do, however, catch that he’s gone back to calling me Snow, which is annoying. I wish he’d just call me Simon.  He did last night. 

“What?” I ask, dumbly. 

“You need to brush your teeth.” 

“Nu uh,” I argue, propping myself up on my elbows and smiling down at him. “You’re not the Queen of bloody England, Baz. You can handle morning breath.” 

“I absolutely can not.” 

I roll my eyes. Dramatic bastard. 

“Just spell them then, fusspot.” 

“God, please don’t tell me that you just spell your teeth,” he moans. “I remember your ‘Clean as a Whistle’ showering phase in Fourth year, you know? I won’t tolerate a repeat of that just because we snogged.” 

“Just because we’re snogging,” I correct. “Present tense.”

He arches an elegant brow up at me, but he doesn’t argue - Which is good. We’re definitely still snogging. Whether he wants to admit it, or not. 

“I don’t spell my teeth, you dick!” 

“Fine. Then go and brush them.” 

Pouting, I grab a hold of his wrist and squeeze. His skin cool against mine - Although, definitely warmer than it was last night (I must’ve warmed him up with all the cuddling - He slept in my arms last night. It was proper ridiculous). 

“No, Baz,” I whine, shifting and straddling his lap.“I wanna’ stay here with you. So just … spell them, or suck it up.” 

Scoffing, he reaches over and grabs his wand from his bedside table - Apparently unwilling to argue it any further. 

“Fine, you mule. Smile.” 

Pleased, I obey - Flashing him my widest photograph smile, as he rests his wand against my front teeth (There’s a slight gap between them, but he doesn’t say anything about it). 

“Minty Fresh.” 

“There we go,” I say, smiling down at him properly now. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Well ... you say that, but it clearly goes beyond your level of capability. So, I’d argue that it’s hard enough.” 

While his words are as sharp as ever, I can tell that he doesn’t really mean them. There’s no malice in his voice, just light amusement. It’s teasing, not taunting. And I like it. I like this. A softer Baz. A sweeter Baz. 

“Whatever,” I groan, leaning down towards him, so that our faces are mere centimetres apart. “Can I kiss you now?” 

“If you must,” he breezes, nonchalantly (Although his voice wobbles slightly - Giving him away. He wants this just as much as me, I know).

And so I do, reaching down and pressing our lips together without further discussion. Baz falling soft and pliant, as he sighs contentedly. My chest constricting at the feel of him - All safe, and warm, and happy, with me. 

And it’s all so much slower this time - Languid and unhurried where it was clashing and desperate (Last night was a bit of a fever dream) - but it’s no less good. In fact, it’s better like this. In the still daylight of morning, it all feels far more real. Far less fragile. And it’s driving me barmy - My heart swelling and racing, eagerly, with every move against him. 

Shit. Maybe I am Gay? I probably wouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, if I wasn’t, right? I mean, I know some straight people, like, ‘experiment’ with stuff like this, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what I’m doing. Last night I kissed him ‘cause I wanted to, not for … science, or some shit. I just … wanted it. I still want it. So that must make me … Something? 

But as I start to question myself - What all of … this makes me - My throat fills with that typical stressed tightness, and I decide to stop thinking about it (For now, anyway). There’s much better things to focus on, at the moment. Like Baz. And breakfast (I hope we’re having breakfast. Sometimes he skips it at Watford, but that’s probably ‘cause of the fang thing. Hopefully he won’t today). 

Pulling back, I take him all in - His hair fanned out against the pillow, and a raw, dazed expression gracing his face (All traces of his usual smugness, thankfully, removed). Before he quickly snaps back into himself - Grimacing up at me, and turning his face to hide it in the pillow. The tips of his ears colouring slightly, as he does so, clearly embarrassed (I wonder if he can blush properly. He hasn’t yet, I don’t think, but maybe I just need to try harder. It would definitely be worth the effort). 

“Take a picture, Snow. It’ll last longer,” he drones, his voice filled with, what I now suspect, is faux confidence. 

And, even though he clearly doesn’t mean it, I really think that I might. He’s so beautiful. 

————————————————————————————

We’ve stopped kissing now; opting, instead, to lie together, quietly. Snuggled up together under the warmth of his duvet. 

We’re positioned similarly to last night - Bodies pressed firmly together, and an arm slung over his waist - Except this time, we’re facing one another. The tip of his slightly skewiff nose resting against mine, as we look at each other. Well … I’m looking at him - At his stormy grey eyes, and his slightly cut bottom lip (It must be from the fangs. It’s so fucking wicked that he has fangs). But he’s looking … somewhere behind me. His brow furrowed, and a gnarled little scowl spread across his lips (I would try to kiss it away, if I thought that it would work, but I doubt it. He seems too … stressed, for all of that). 

Instead, I splay my hand out against his stomach. Tracing, what I hope are, comforting circles against the soft skin there. And it all feels a little bit strange; since I haven’t done anything like this before (Agatha wasn’t big on physical affection), but he isn’t complaining, so I think he’s happy enough. Baz is definitely the kind of guy to scold a - Lover? Boyfriend? Enemy roommate with benefits? Whatever - for doing something wrong. He’s not one to accept mediocrity (Which sort of makes me wonder what I’m even doing here at all, to be honest), so his silence must be a good sign. 

“Baz,” I whisper. “Are you alright? You seem all … far away.” 

“I’m alright,” he sighs, scrunching his eyes shut (Even though he definitely doesn't seem it). “I’m just thinking.” 

“‘Bout what?” 

“You.” 

Oh. Crowley. He shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that. 

“What about me?” 

“About how … I’m not entirely sure that all of this, isn’t just the effect of some kind of ‘Sweet Dreams’ spell,” he says, jaw tight, and voice strained. “I hope you know that, if I wake up and I’m back at Watford, I won’t hesitate to throttle you.”

Helplessly, I beam over at him (Even though that’s probably a more-than-a-little-bit of a fucked response to being threatened). 

“I know. But this ‘ain't a dream. I promise. See?” I laugh, pinching at his waist, forcefully. Pulling a girlish little yelp from his lips (Much to my delight). “If this were a dream, that would’ve woken you up.” 

“Brute,” he grumbles, swatting at my wrist. “There were less aggressive ways you could’ve proved your point.” 

I shrug. “Probably. I couldn’t think of any, though. And I didn’t do it that hard, you’re just being sensitive.” 

“Whatever you say, Snow.” 

“Yeah,” I smile. “But, uh …. Why would it be a dream, anyway? This would be a bit of a weird dream, no?” 

“Trust me, I’ve had weirder.”

“Starring me?” I ask, curious (And perhaps a little puffed up). 

“Starring you,” he confirms, eyes searching my face desperately. 

Jesus Christ. 

The absolute earnestness of his confession takes me by surprise; knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Since he definitely isn’t taking the piss (He looks much too frightened to be joking). 

“Wicked,” I breathe. And I really am trying my best to be reassuring, but my apparent go-to tactic of calling things he’s insecure about ‘wicked’, probably isn’t doing much in terms of restoring his self-esteem. “I mean … not that. No, I mean that is wicked, but just … I dream about you too.” 

“Yes, Snow, I know,” he sighs. “I’ve been witness to plenty of your nightmare sessions.” 

“No,” I groan. “I mean … sometimes, yeah. But you’re in my nice dreams, too, sometimes. More so, recently.” 

He scrunches up his face, apparently unsure of what to say (And I never thought that I’d live to see the day where I finally succeeded in leaving him speechless, but here we are). 

“Baz, um … how long have you actually … wanted this?”

“Why?” he drawls, hands scrunching up into tensed fists, against my chest.

“I’m just curious. It doesn’t, like, matter or anything? I just wanted to know.” 

Silently, he draws a hand up and starts smoothing the lines of my upper-arm, anxiously (I think he might have a bit of a ‘thing’ for my arms, to be honest. He kept on squeezing them last night, like he couldn’t get enough. And, I suppose that, with all the sword-wielding I’ve done over the past few years, they’re pretty alright. If he didn’t have his vampire super-strength bullshit, I reckon that I could have him in an arm wrestling match). 

“A long time,” he mumbles. “I … figured it out for sure, in Fifth year. But it started before then. Long before then.”

“How much longer?”  

“Basically the day we met.” 

“Oh,” I gasp. 

And I know that I should probably think of something better to say, considering that he’s just fessed up to having had a crush on me for the better part of a decade, but I’m feeling a little ... overwhelmed, to say the least. 

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” he spits, all bitter and sulky. 

And while I do understand his frustration with my … underwhelming reply, I’m really not sure what else he was expecting. We both know that I’m no good with words, and it’s not like he spent all his time at Watford writing me love letters (Pretty much the opposite, actually). 

“Don’t be like that,” I groan, reaching out and brushing a stray wave of hair away from his face. “I only realised yesterday, but … I think that it’s been longer than that for me, too. Penny may have had a point about the football matches, you know.” 

“The football matches?” 

“Yeah, um … you know how I used to go to all of your games?”

“Of course. Simon Snow: my greatest enemy and number one footie supporter. Bit of a contradiction.” 

“Yeah, well … Penny said that she thought it was weird. Not in like a … homophobic way, or something-” He snickers then, put I press on, regardless. “I’m not even … you know. But she said that I should think about why I really wanted to go to them so badly, considering that there was pretty much no chance of you plotting while you were on the pitch-”

“Which I tried to tell you, several times,” he interrupts (Apparently incapable of stopping himself from butting in, for even a minute). 

“- Yes, which you tried to tell me ... Anyway, back to what I was saying! I never really listened to her when she said it - I just got all stroppy with her ‘cause she was always complaining about me being obsessed - But … I think maybe I should’ve. ‘Cause, I think she may have had a point. I’m not so sure that it really was about the plotting. I mean, I think even I knew, deep down, that you couldn’t have been doing that. And … I always kind of, secretly, wanted you to do the thing where you lifted up your shirt to wipe your face. I never really thought about it at the time, ‘cause it stressed me out a little bit. But it definitely used to confuse me. I … just tried put it down to jealousy, and all that, at the time, but I’m pretty sure that I was wrong, given … recent events. I think I probably just thought you were a bit fit, to be honest.”

The last few words come out horribly stumbled and rushed, and I’m definitely blushing like an idiot, by the time I’ve finished. But then he’s grinning up at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling up cutely (And it’s still a weird to think of him like that, since he could probably drain me dry in half a second, but it’s definitely fitting when he’s like this. All joyful and barbless), and my humiliation is suddenly all worth it. 

“Is that so?” he purrs. 

“Yep. Definitely.”

And then he’s muttering something in Italian (Mera-viggy-soemthing-or-other), and pulling me back down towards him by the back of my neck. Shutting me up in the absolute best way possible - Pressing his lips against mine greedily. And it’s all a little apprehensive - Breaths stuttering, and a slight tremble running up his spine - But what he lacks in confidence, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm (He’s always been a quick study, but I can finally appreciate his, oftentimes annoying, meticulous nature, for myself). And soon enough I’m just fucking melting into his touch - So hot and insistent - But I still can’t stop the words from bubbling up inside me:

“Baz,” I sing, sitting back and cupping his face in my hands. “You know that this isn’t fair at all, right?” 

“What?” he startles, a worried twist overtaking his brow. The concern on his face so genuine, that I almost feel guilty for what I’m doing … Almost (He definitely still deserves it for being so bloody prissy all the time). 

“You didn’t spell your teeth. It’s well harsh making me all Aero-y, if you’re not willing to do the same yourself. Both disgusting and grossly unfair,” I tease, doing my best to mimic his signature ‘I’m Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and I think I’m better than everybody else’ voice. 

Glaring up at me, he grabs at his wand and fires out another quick “Minty Fresh”, before reaching out and grabbing at my curls, giving them a not-so-gentle tug. 

“Happy now, ‘fusspot’?”

“Oh yeah,” I glow. “More than.”