#and i had fun writing their supports

[shellysaurus-rex]

Fe OC Week 6 - Supports

Some of my fave Chanelle supports that I made ;w;

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[spacerangersam]

modern pat and thomas would have a podcast

[adrift-in-thyme]

I worked on the fic as promised and…it got out of hand. So instead of a snippet I’ll just give you guys the whole thing XD Thank you all for providing that extra nudge I needed to finish it!

Though there’s nothing too descriptive here, there are brief mentions of blood, injury, and captivity. So be careful and take care of yourselves <3

————————————————————-

There is another fae in their group.

Hyrule has sensed it since he joined this little band of heroes. Fairy magic is soft, gentle, easy to miss when it is not in concentrated amounts. But there is a strength to it, an unbreakable force that little else possesses.

While the dark arts are vicious, like a javelin through the heart, fairy magic is soothing and unshatterable. Dependable and comforting.

There are many different magical signatures amongst the men and boys who share his name. Some torn apart and melded back together into something stronger. Others as mighty as a gale force wind, or as swift and discerning as a rabbit, as decisive and resilient as a barricade. Still others as fierce as a soaring hawk, as vicious and protective as the wolves that prowl the forest, as crafty and quick as the mischievous foxes that sometimes play around Hyrule’s feet.

Hyrule keeps his eye on them all as they travel, discovering who they are, watching their tells, learning the ways their faces portray their emotions even when they attempt to cloak them. And he wonders who amongst them is a brother in more ways than shared spirit. Who among them flits on a pair of silken wings.

He wonders until the day Time breaks.

Their journey is a long, arduous one, treacherous and laden with pitfalls. It’s only natural that it would take its toll. Still, Time holds out impressively. Even while he studies him with the other heroes, Hyrule never sees that mask of his slip, never sees a chink in the armor he wears.

At least, not for the first three months of traveling together.

But then, one day, there is an accident. A simple slip up born of exhaustion. During a battle with a group of black-blooded beasts in Twilight’s Hyrule, Warriors doesn’t see a monster lunging for him. Not until it’s too late.

And when he crumples into a limp, bloodied heap, Time’s mask shatters.

He doesn’t manage to piece it back together for the rest of the day. Not when he carries Warriors back to camp. Not when he lays the captain down on his bed mat and helps Hyrule tend to him. Not even when Warriors comes to, groggy and sore but very much alive and very much himself.

The captain teases him about being over protective. Time’s answering smile is a hollow one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

The injury had been a severe one, Hyrule won’t deny that — perhaps, more so than any of them have endured thus far. But Time seems to take it the hardest of any of them. And Hyrule can’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe there is something more behind his behavior.

Could it be that Time has been feeling the overwhelming nature of this quest the same as the rest of them, caving beneath its weight but unwilling to show it?

So, during dinner that night when Time sets aside his untouched food and slips silently away, Hyrule trails after him.

He goes a short way into the surrounding forest, footsteps soft, ears pricked for any sound of disturbance. Then, he stops, casts a quick glance around him…and disappears.

Hyrule peeks out from the cover of a nearby bush, eyes wide as he stares at the place where the old man had stood. For a long moment, he remains motionless, thoughts whirring, trying to decipher what has just happened.

Hero of Hyrule or not, people don’t simply dissipate like the morning mist. Though, with Time’s seemingly endless collection of masks, he supposes something of the sort is possible. Still…

Hyrule frowns.

There is something else here, hovering in the damp night air. A familiar magic that now drifts lazily over to him in delicate wisps.

Hyrule straightens. His brows dip further.

He knows what Time’s magic looks like, smells like, feels like. It is difficult to ignore, after all, tangled and tortured as it is. Such power is meant to flow freely. But Time’s has been grasped in hands that are not his own, grasped and mangled, suffocated, stretched to its breaking point and further, morphed into something completely unlike what it must have been at the start.

It is nauseating to behold at times. Right now, however, right now Hyrule can’t bring himself to look away. Because threaded in between the heartbreak and pain are gentle strands of the faintest blue fae magic.

The traveler steps forward. His eyes travel over the trail Time’s power has left behind, leading all the way up into the highest branches of a nearby oak. If he squints, he can make out a tiny dot among the lush leaves, shimmering emerald.

His lips part in a silent “oh.” He dares to take another step forward, then another and another, wings issuing from his back as he goes, body shrinking until it too can soar up to the haven of foliage.

Time doesn’t startle when he lands quietly on the branch. He remains sitting where he is, legs hanging over the edge into the open air, wings wafting gracefully back and forth. Hyrule stares at them, almost taken aback by their beauty.

He should have expected it, he supposes. Every fairy’s pride is their wings, after all. But Time’s unforgiving plates of armor, his dull gray tunic and obsidian trousers, the glowing marks of crimson and navy blue adorning his face – they provide such a severe air. Strength, dedication to duty, and unyielding courage are what they convey.

His wings, however, they speak of softer things, fragile things held close and treasured.

They are long, sweeping along the height of Time’s body in flowing curves like those of a butterfly. Their translucent surface is colored a deep emerald and adorned with veins of pale pink. They remind Hyrule of the vibrancy of the forest after a long, hard storm; of the look of leaves when the emerging sun caresses their dewy surfaces.

He walks closer, almost enraptured by this sight. Perhaps, he should turn away from something so vulnerable. That is likely the polite thing to do. But he has traveled far beyond politeness now, mesmerized as he is by this discovery.

And when Time says, “Hello, Hyrule,” there is nothing in his tone to communicate that this is an invasion of his privacy. On the contrary, he sounds calm, unbothered. He pats the spot beside him and slowly, Hyrule settles down upon it. Their wings nearly touch.

“So, it’s you,” he says, awkward and awestruck.

A small smile quirks the old man’s lips. His gaze remains trained on the heroes gathered far, far below them. Their laughter and chatter float up to them in bubbles of murmured joy.

“Yes, it’s me,” he says, mildly, as though this meeting is no shock. As though he has been expecting it for a long while.

Silence settles for a moment as Hyrule scrambles for what else to say.

“How?” Is all he can come up with.

Time chuckles. Hyrule is certain the sound is lighter than usual.

“I’m not sure.” He cocks his head, bangs falling aside so Hyrule can see his markings. “I have theories, of course, but I have no way to prove any of them. And those who might have been able to explain are long gone.”

His voice is good-natured enough but the words carry a weight that Hyrule can feel in his soul. He ducks his head.

“I’m sorry.”

Time shrugs. “Their fates were not your doing. There is no need for you to ache for them. Or for me.” He turns now, a smile brightening his face once more. “What about you, Hyrule? What is the nature of your transformation? Were you born with it?”

“Oh, it’s just a spell,” Hyrule replies, quickly. “Though, I’ve wondered if I was born with fae blood in me. I don’t think it would’ve worked otherwise.”

Time hums, thoughtfully. He is quiet for a moment, once more staring down at their comrades.

“I wondered why I felt the presence of one of my brethren amongst the group. But it wasn’t my place to pry. Besides, I assumed it was only a matter of time before I discovered who it was. Secrets don’t stay concealed for long in a group such as ours.” He grins. “It seems you found me first, however.”

Hyrule laughs. “It sure seems that way.”

“That isn’t why you followed me though, is it?” The old man’s gaze is sharp and discerning as he pins Hyrule with it. The traveler fights not to sink into himself beneath it.

“No.” His voice is a bit smaller than he wants it to be, embarrassment sneaking into it against his will. “It isn’t.”

Time nods and looks away again. Stance relaxed, expression guarded, he waits. Hyrule swallows, gathers his courage, and continues.

“I saw how upset you were about Wars.”

Time flinches almost imperceptibly. The walls that had gone relatively low rise again so far Hyrule is taken aback by it. Yet, he plows on anyway.

If anything, Time’s reaction validates his decision further.

“And…I saw how you tried to hide it, too. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. Because you don’t, old man, you don’t have to hide what you feel.” His gaze travels to those magnificent wings again, grander than his own, yet so similar. “Or what you are.”

“It’s dangerous,” Time murmurs. “You know that, traveler.”

Perhaps, he is talking solely about feelings and the open expression of them. But Hyrule sees a bottle anyway, brimming with desperate magic, translucent sides smeared with blood and tears, it’s top shut so tightly the air has grown thin.

“Not with us,” he says, firm despite the dizzying rush of fear the memories bring. “Not with me.”

He scoots closer. His shoulder bumps against Time’s, their wings brush. Time’s next exhale catches at the end.

To anyone else such proximity would be touching enough, a display of closeness between two brothers in arms and spirit. But Hyrule knows that to fae it means even more than that.

Wings are not only the pride of the fairy people. They are also their greatest power — and their very life. To allow someone else to touch your wings so freely is a show of trust as momentous as when Time had shown them his ocarina. Not the one embued with sacred magic and given to him by Lullaby. No, the one that is even more precious to him that even that one. The one Sariah had given him so very, very, (very, very, Hyrule adds for good measure) long ago.

The stiffness that had seeped into Time’s posture eases slightly. Hyrule feels a smile stretch across his face.

The two of them grow silent, allowing the symphony of night creatures to fill the space between them. Hyrule swings his legs, back and forth, back and forth, listening to the crickets and owls singing in time with the laughter of his brothers. Time still looks down upon them.

Watching over them, Hyrule realizes with a sudden burst of warmth.

Their leader can seem cold sometimes, distant. Little had he known the depths of his love for the heroes with whom he shared a spirit of courage.

There is much, he thinks in wonder, that he doesn’t know about the old man.

Beside him, Time sighs and exhaustion permeates it. “You all aren’t going to give up on me, are you?”

Hyrule sends him a grin. “Nope. We’re not gonna stop until we know all your secrets. All of them. And we’ll know because you’re comfortable enough with us enough to share them, because we’ve earned your trust enough to be gifted them.”

Emotion burns in Time’s eye when he turns to the traveler. His face is more vulnerable than Hyrule has ever seen it before — even when Warriors fell.

“My trust isn’t easy to earn.”

“And Hyrule isn’t easy to save.”

Time holds his gaze for a long moment. Then, he smiles. It is small, almost shy, but Hyrule knows it is a gift. The first of many, if he’s lucky.

“Well, then, I suppose you’re amply prepared for such a challenge.”

Hyrule leans in closer, pride welling within him when Time returns the gesture, and his grin grows.

Yeah. He thinks, watching with wide eyes as fairy dust floats around them. I am.

We all are.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Of Truths & Dreams; Sebek Zigvolt

Dreams can tell you a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Silver & Professor Trein

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches though), gender-neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, enemies-to-friends-to-*insert your relationship here*, reader is done with Sebek's bullshit, bullying Sebek hours (affectionate)

Content Warnings; Talk of death, swearing

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put any of my work into AI, that shit steals. If you do I'm eating your kneecaps.

Prologue & Lilia's Story | Malleus's Story

Sebek knew, even as a young child, that his parents’ marriage would end in heartbreak. That his mother would be left alone for centuries, heartbroken, because of his father’s humanity, because he was mortal. If you know something will only end in heartbreak, why go forth with it? Are a few decades of happiness truly worth it if it will bring centuries of loneliness? 

He used to not think in that light, but the whispers of fellow children, and the look of concern in his grandfather’s eyes upon seeing a single strand of silver in his son-in-law’s hair. His father was ageing, and when compared to the fae, he was ageing rapidly. His mother would still be young when his father would be growing old and senile. That’s what started the seed of bitterness, of resentment, of fear. 

Sebek was scared. He was scared that he may be dealt the same hand of fate; that his lifespan would be short like his father’s. And afraid that he would outlive him by several centuries if he inherited the fae lifespan. Both terrified him, and he was only six. Six years old and sitting on the tire swing that hung from the hawthorn tree, a scowl etched into his forehead. “It isn’t fair,” he muttered under his breath.

“What isn’t fair?” The gentle voice of his father startled Sebek, who fell off the swing. The older man picked him up and dusted off Sebek’s clothes. “There we go, not even a scratch,” he chuckled, ruffling his son’s pastel green hair.

How can he be so happy? Sebek scowled, and he felt a warmness build up in his eyes, tears. “Nothing,” he spat and ran off.

Unlike his mother, Sebek could lie, and it came easier to him than his siblings. It’s because I’m closer to him. And that scared him. It scared him, and he didn’t know why. He loves his father, but his humanity, that scares him. 

Pushing something away is much easier than accepting it, even adults, both human and fae, do it. Keep that fear and hide it away, under a mask of superiority. But the truth will always come out, one way or another.

I hate you! But he didn’t, Sebek loved him, but it was easier to pretend to hate something than to love it and then for it to wither before your very own eyes. 

…

Sebek’s dreams had colour, except for one. It was a mix of fae and human, and a sign from the Thorn Fairy that he had a soul match… but why was there one colour that was missing? His dreams should have been black and white, but the sky overhead was blue, the poppies in the field a brilliant red, and the centres of daisies a cheerful yellow. But one colour was missing, green. Where green should have been, there was nothing but shades of grey.

“Is anybody there?” His voice called out. He could hear his voice, his words weren’t floating in front of him. There was also no one else in the field with him. Sebek was alone. “ANYBODY?!”

He started running, he didn’t know where to, but he needed to get away. So he ran, and he kept on running until he came across a path which forked out into two directions, a crossroad. Sebek needed to choose. Left or right?

On the left, there was a butterfly flitting lazily down the path, whereas on the right was a hornet, its stinger wielded like a sword. The butterfly reminded him of his father, as butterflies do not live for long, and were seen as demure things. The hornet reminded him of his mother and grandfather, fierce and ready to defend; they, and the hornet, were knights. They feared nothing.

Sebek took off running down the right-hand path and kept on running until he came across a familiar castle, the castle where his grandfather worked. The fires glowed grey in Sebek’s eyes, but he knew they must have been green.

“Who are you?”

Sebek startled at the voice and he turned around. Standing behind him was a boy around his age with silvery hair, and lilac eyes. He could clearly make out his face, and his voice. The boy was clearly human, and that irked Sebek; his soul match wasn’t here but this random human child was? Behind him was the butterfly from earlier, glowing white and fluttering about before coming to rest on Sebek’s chest, resting on his heart.

Go away. Leave me alone. But Sebek bit his tongue and marched into the castle. “A future knight,” he boasted, bottling down his true emotions. “I’m going to be a knight. Like my grandfather!”

The boy walked behind Sebek and gave him a sleepy hum. “That’s who you’re going to be,” he said matter of factly, “I asked who are you not who are you going to be.” Not even three minutes of knowing each other, and the relationship between the two children was off to a rocky start.

“Names have power,” Sebek huffed. “How do I know you won’t use it to cross me, human?” He spat out the last word, human, his anger out in the open, his insecurity showing itself. “You tell me yours first.”

The other boy raised a pale brow at the hostility but decided it would just be better to accommodate rather than butt heads. “Silver. And you?”

Sebek huffed, but he could tell that the boy, Silver, was being honest with him. “Sebek.”

Silver offered him a soft smile, his eyes going from the butterfly which was still resting on Sebek’s heart to his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebek.”

And then Sebek woke up, blinking his eyes groggily. The only thing he could remember being the castle, his wanting to be a knight, and a butterfly that wouldn’t leave him alone.

…

…

…

The mirror took less than a second to place Sebek into Diasomnia, there was no better or other option. And Sebek was happy, so happy that he could continue serving Malleus, or in his words ‘Young Master’. Scratch that, Sebek was overjoyed. But the ceremony, which should have been perfect, was marred with chaos, because of a human. A magicless human.

Sebek shook his head. Today was good, regardless of the chaos. It should have not mattered, but Sebek couldn’t help but feel that it would have repercussions, a butterfly effect of sorts. It had the hairs on his neck stand on end. He could worry about it more in the morning though, he was of no use to anybody if he didn’t rest.

~

He was on the tire swing in the backyard, slowly going back and forth with the gentle breeze. What am I doing back here?

Usually, his dreams were about training, about being a knight, of protecting the Draconia line… not of childhood places, let alone at his own home. And sitting on the tire with him was the butterfly, still pale and glowing.

“What do you want,” he questioned the insect. 

But the bug paid him no mind and took flight, doing gentle loops around his head. And as Sebek watched the butterfly, he noticed the slow shift in his dream. Everything started to take on a green hue, and the butterfly was now a brilliant pastel green. That could mean only one thing.

They were here. Sebek didn’t really know what to think or feel. On one hand, compared to many, he hadn’t been waiting for very long, which is seen as a kind gesture from the Thorn Fairy. But on the other hand, Sebek was confused about what his colour difference could mean, and why now of all times? He didn’t have the time to go chasing after some random stranger. He had a duty to uphold, and if they got in the way, or possessed to be a danger to his Young Master… well, Sebek knew what he would have to do. 

The air in front of him shimmered. They are just entering the REM part of sleep now. Sebek clenched his fists and righted himself up, standing straight as a board. First impressions meant everything after all, and he for one did not want his first impression to be someone sitting on a tire swing and questioning flying insects. 

The air stopped shimmering, and they appeared in front of him, their appearance hidden because ‘Good things come to those who wait’ according to the Thorn Fairy. 

“Yeah, sure, why not. My day just had to get weirder,” their words floated in front of them, irritated. Sebek could feel their eyes looking him over, inspecting him, judging him. “Who are you supposed to be, huh?”

Sebek wasn’t sure what to expect when he first met his soul match, but he wasn’t expecting someone so… rude. Well, rude in his eyes at least. He felt his eye twitch, but he held together his composure. “I am your soul match!” The words were barked out, but they just floated in the breeze with no volume. The only thing that indicated that Sebek had said it loudly being the exclamation point at the end, as well as the sharpness of the letters.

But his soul match, even though he couldn’t properly make out their face, did not look impressed, and that rubbed him the wrong way. Every fae child grew up waiting in anticipation for their soul match to enter their dreams, to see their coloured hue tint their shared dreams. So why weren’t they more excited? 

“Did you pay any attention to me,” he huffed, still standing at attention, like his grandfather taught him. “I said that I’m your soul match!”

His soul match just brought their hand to their temple and massaged the spot. “I heard… saw? … you the first time, buddy,” they muttered tiredly. “That’s nice, that I’m your ‘soul match’,” they did air quotes around the term, “but I have no idea what that means or why I’m here.”

Sebek felt a lump form in his throat. Fae know about soul matches, even if it was kept secret from the outside world, fae knew. That meant that his soul match wasn’t fae, and other clans knew of the term, which only meant one thing. His soul match is human. 

They were weak and short-lived. Sebek had taught himself to look down on humans years ago, so why now, would the Thorn Fairy make his soul match human? The part of himself that he most feared?

…

…

…

You were running on fumes. Of the meagre sleep you were able to get, you were rudely interrupted by some stranger blathering about how humans were inferior. And quite frankly it pissed you off, royally so. You already got enough shit from everyone else about being magicless in a magic-dependent world, but for your ‘soul match’, someone you barely knew but was supposed to make you happy, constantly berating you for something that you couldn’t change. Yeah, you avoided them at all costs. And when you couldn’t avoid them? Well, you ignored them. It was much easier to ignore someone when you couldn’t actually hear them; all you needed to do was shut your eyes. Could you sleep when you were already sleeping? Well, you were. It was better than paying any attention to your bristly companion.

At least the tree you were resting under was nice, but you could feel your ‘soul match’ staring daggers at you. Cracking an eye open you found them standing as straight and stiff as a board, an air of a scowl surrounding them. 

“Who pissed in your cereal?” 

Your ‘soul match’ reeled back, and you saw a bunch of nonsense spelt out in the air before they controlled themself again, going back to their stiff posture. “THAT IS RUDE AND UNBECOMING TO SAY!” Their words were all capitalized, a sure fire sign that they were yelling at you. But since your first, and honestly disastrous, meeting weeks ago, it had very little effect on you. If anything, it was funny; seeing someone who held themself in such high regard be nothing more than a yappy dog. 

You waved them off, shooing away their words. “You didn’t answer my question though. Did someone piss in your cereal?”

“NO!” They shouted, looking so fed up with you. “You are so… so… so ANNOYING,” they fumbled around with what word to use but finally decided on one. Annoying. “Humans are so annoying! The lot of you!”

And there they went again, on their anti-human tirade again. Seriously, what is their problem? “Better annoying than some stuck up prick,” you countered.

You knew you were playing with fire, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to piss them off. You were tired of playing nice in your waking hours, so in your dreams? You could be as snarky and confrontational as you pleased. Consequences be damned.

They were fuming, and sputtering. “How dare you?! What makes you think you can just act like that?!”

You sighed and got up from your resting spot, and moved over to them. “Because. I. Can.” You poked them, hard, in the chest with each word. “And what makes you think you can act like that? Like an entitled asshole who demeans and belittles others who are different from you?! What is your damage?!”

And right as your soul match was about to answer you, you left the dream, waking up from your own frustration.

Looks like it was yet another night of a restless sleep, only to be met with disappointment and wanting to do nothing more than prove everyone wrong. Prove them wrong about you, and for your soul match, prove them wrong about humans.

…

Understandably, you were not in the best of moods that day. At best you got maybe three hours of rest before you woke up due to pure frustration at your ‘soul match’ and their sour disposition. And it was noticeable, well, noticeable to some people who could pick up the subtle shift. That your smile was a bit too forced, and that you weren’t fully paying attention.

Professor Trein noticed, and Lucius had stayed on your lap throughout the entire class. And as he was walking up and down the aisles, making sure people were actually doing their work, the older man tapped you on the shoulder. “Prefect, a word after class,” it was said quietly enough that you were the only one to hear that, and he went back on patrol.

Shit, was I spacing off? You just hoped that it wasn’t anything serious. The last thing you needed was Crowley finding out about your grades slipping or any other infraction, and getting on your case and bringing up your situation for the nth time. So, the rest of the class seemed to drag on for what felt like forever, even though in reality, there were only fifteen minutes left. But every time you felt the anxiety spike, Lucius would shift in your lap or knead his paws into your uniform, dragging you away from obsessing over it. And finally, the bell rang.

“You guys go on without me,” you said to Ace, Deuce and Grim, shooting them a tired smile. “I’ll catch up with you.”

The trio waved you off, and headed off, leaving you alone with Professor Trein, who was sitting at his desk, preparing for his next lecture.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “You wanted to speak with me, Professor?”

He set his papers down, and motioned for you to take a seat, which you did. This, this meant something bad, you could tell. Why else would he motion for you to take a seat?

“Prefect,” he sighed tiredly, “have you been taking care of yourself?”

Of course he noticed, Trein, unlike your friends, noticed the familiar look. He noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, and the dark shadows under your eyes. Noticed the cheerful air grow weary, which was such a pity. You shouldn’t have to shoulder everything you do, especially while juggling all of the responsibilities and new knowledge that you’ve been acquiring. 

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “No, not really,” you admitted. 

Professor Trein nodded, since he already knew that, even without the confirmation. “I won’t press you for details, but I’ll have a discussion with the others, about lightening your workload. Please, do take care of yourself, Prefect.”

Take care of yourself. That’s something you hadn’t really been doing, what with all the errands, the near-death overblot incidents, and the piss poor sleep you’ve been getting lately because of your ‘soul match’.

“I’ll try.” You couldn’t guarantee anything, but you would try.

“Alright then, that’s a start. Now, off you go, lest you be late,” he collected the papers he needed and adjusted his coat, ready for his next lecture. “Be kind to yourself, Prefect.”

…

…  

Sebek woke up that day irritated. What is your damage?! Who did that human think they were? But that statement irked him more than it really should. He wasn’t harmed, his value and worth was not impaired. So why was he so affected by the phrase? Why should he care so much about what a stranger said to him? Because no matter what, they are still your soul match. He shook his head and marched out of his room, going ahead and performing his morning duties, his mood being apparent, following him like a storm cloud.

Silver noticed this as Sebek came to a stop beside him, ready to greet Malleus. “Something is obviously upsetting you,” he murmured, shooting him a sideways look while still standing at attention.

Sebek glared at Silver out of the corner of his eye, his brow slightly pinched. “It’s none of your business,” he hissed under his breath. The last thing he needed was for the Young Master to catch wind that he was distracted while on the job. Malleus wouldn’t really mind, but Sebek wouldn’t forgive himself for his own ineptitude. 

Silver sighed and turned his eyes back towards Malleus’s door. “It’s better to admit something than bottle it up Sebek. Eventually the truth will come out, one way or another.”

“Now is not the time for that,” Sebek said, trying to control his volume. “And it doesn’t concern you.” It concerns only me and them. 

Silver raised his brow but left well enough alone, he knew better than to egg Sebek on when he was in one of his moods. But he knew that the truth would come out, and he felt like it would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later. He just hoped Sebek didn’t just blow up on the wrong person. Not because Sebek was bad for feeling whatever emotions he was feeling, but because not everyone understood him.

Maybe even Sebek didn’t even understand himself either.

…

…

You and your soul match were back at the house, but instead of standing straight up like they had a stick up their ass, they were sitting in the tire swing, swinging gently back and forth. And the butterfly that always followed them around, was resting comfortably on their chest, right above their heart. Here was this usually grumpy and tall person, swinging on a tire swing, a butterfly on their chest, and it was kind of cute. In a really weird way. But you could tell they weren’t happy, muttering to themself.

Usually, you would poke the bear to get a reaction out of them, but tonight you didn’t want to. You were too tired to put in the effort. Plus in all the weeks of antagonising each other, you hadn’t really gotten to know them.

“Hi,” you said, coming to rest beside the tire swing.

Your soul match — who was in actuality, Sebek —  gave you a curt nod as a hello back. Something was on his mind.

“What did you mean the other day?” He turned to look at you, eyes probing to try and find something that would tell him who you were in the waking world. But your appearance remained fuzzy, except for your eyes, which gleamed softly in the green lighting of the dream. He hadn’t really paid them any attention, but now he was lost in them, and what he saw was tiredness. “What did you mean by, what is my damage?”

Sebek wasn’t angry, which surprised you. You would have thought he would be a thundering storm cloud, but he was more like the cool breeze that came once the storm had passed. And you noticed his eyes, chartreuse with vertical slits. You could have sworn that you had seen those eyes before, you knew those eyes, but the person in mind was evading you.

You sighed, and the butterfly that was resting on his chest took flight, did a loopdeloop, and came to rest over your heart instead. “I don’t know, “ you admitted. “I was angry and tired. My life is just hectic and sleep is usually an escape from that, but instead I found myself in here with you… You didn’t really help either. Kept on looking down on me for being human, so I kinda snapped… I’m sorry.”

Sebek felt his voice get stuck in his throat. I should be the sorry one. But instead he offered his hand to you. A handshake. “Don’t be sorry for your anger; it’s better out than to let it fester.”

You took his answer to heart. It felt weird, the two of you were at each other’s throats for so long, but because of your combined tiredness and realizations, there was a truce of sorts. “So,” you looked Sebek in the eye, “what does this make us?”

He raised a brow, “Well, we are soul matches. The Thorn Fairy decides upon a person who will bring out the best in you, and in turn, you do the same for them.” He scratched the back of his neck. He knew that he had to tell you everything, but it felt like he was doing something wrong; technically this is breaking a rule, but you deserved to know. “We can be anything we want to be. It’s up to us.”

“Huh, that’s nice I guess. That we get to choose what we are. Thought for a second we would be forced together by the narrative to be in a relationship,” you chuckled. But it was nice that you could choose what the two of you were. “For now how about uneasy friends?”

“Uneasy friends?”

“Yeah, ya know I can’t forgive you that easily for dissing my entire species. Kinda hard to forgive that.” Your tone was light, but you were serious. You couldn’t just go from being dearly detested to buddy-buddy with your soul match.

Sebek pursed his lips but he knew that he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, truly.” And it was genuine. Sebek didn’t hate humans, he loved them, but that love scared him because he knew that they wouldn’t last forever. That you wouldn’t last forever. 

You leaned back, splaying out in the grass. “Well, explanations can wait. I for one want to cloud watch. You wanna join?”

Sebek rolled his eyes but decided to humour you. “What does that cloud look like?” To him it just looked like an odd blob.

“Hmmmm, kinda looks like a crocodile in a blanket burrito,” you mused. And you were kind of right, but it still looked like an odd blob to Sebek.

…

…

…

Things had quieted down in your and Sebek’s dreams, and for the first time in weeks you felt well rested and not like you were going to randomly pass out in alchemy class only to find yourself headfirst in a cauldron. Plus you felt like you could actually get along with your soul match now, but you still liked to bug them just a little bit so the two of you could bicker. It was fun to see their reactions.

“So, if you’re fae, that must mean that you’re super old right?” You had a shiteating grin on your face, and your words floated around their head, poking at them to mirror what you had said.

Sebek rolled his eyes, he had become accustomed to your sense of humour, it was charming in its own bewildering way. “I am not old!”

You bumped his shoulder, “So you’re just a kid? Ew, gross.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD EITHER!” There it is, that spark, like a bolt of lightning. “If you must know, I am attending a mage school! Therefore, I am not old.”

You hummed, thinking. “What school? Maybe we go to the same one? Although I probably would have recognized you, what with your… unique personality and being fae and all. I don’t think I could mistake you for somebody else.”

Sebek faltered. They attend a mage school? “What do you mean by that, human?” 

There was that word again, human, but this time it was said with fondness, without hostility.

“Personality or school?”

Sebek sighed, and massaged his temple. “Why do I feel like you’ll just answer both?”

You sent him a wink, “Because I will!~ Part of my charms.” You chuckled but decided to humour him by getting straight to the point. “Well, even though you can be prickly, you care very deeply. A bit awkward, but in an endearing way. Loud, and opinionated. It would be hard to miss you, ya know. I mean that in a nice way too, by the way.” You stopped, and considered what you were going to say next, as it could mean finding him in the waking world much easier, but you were ready to meet him. “As for the school thing, I go to Night Raven College.”

“WHAT?!” His words were the largest that you had ever seen, and you knew that you probably would have needed to cover your ears if you could actually hear them. “YOU GO TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE?! SINCE WHEN?!”

Sebek was distraught. You were so close but he didn’t even know? How could he be so blind?!

“Judging from your reaction I’m guessing you also go there, huh? Small world after all, I guess.” Your words didn’t reflect how you were actually feeling though, they mirrored Sebek’s perfectly. “Since you’re fae, I’m also guessing that you’re in Diasomnia. Am I right?”

Sebek looked at you, beguiled. “Y-yes! And what of you?!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Huh, weird. “Looks like that’s a dead giveaway…” you muttered. Seems like the Thorn Fairy wasn’t going to make this easy for the two of you. But you got an idea. “Tomorrow at lunch, meet me in the botanical gardens! By the roses!”

You were snatched out from the land of dreams by your alarm going off, but you knew what you needed to do. You were ready to meet them. You were ready to meet your soul match.

…

…

Sebek was nervous. After so much he was finally going to meet his soul match. He knew he had seen those eyes somewhere before, been subjected to their teasing on several occasions, but the dreams kept your identity secret, shrouded in mystery. But now, now he and you would know. So why was he nervous? You had come to know him in your shared dreams, but Sebek was nervous that you would reject him once you knew who he truly was.

So he had arrived at the botanical garden in a sprint, having run from his class the moment the bell signified it was over. And it was empty, save for the butterflies and other pollinators that flitted about. It gave him time to gather his thoughts, and he paced by the roses, trying to place where he had seen you before. It was all so annoyingly familiar, it was on the tip of his tongue, but your face and name evaded him. Sebek wasn’t used to being nervous.

He had placed nervousness as weakness, as something human. He couldn’t afford to be nervous, not when he had a duty to the crown to fulfil. But maybe being nervous wasn’t bad. Maybe being human wasn’t bad. Yes, they were weak and had their faults, but that’s what made them beautiful. And Sebek realized and accepted that that was just as much a part of him as it was a part of you.

Sure, it was messy, but Sebek was coming to accept that part of himself because of you. And it would be a work in progress, as he had years of a combination of an inferiority and superiority complex due to the mixture of fae and human, but he was willing to work on it. Not just because of you though, it was a combination of you, accepting himself, and forgiving his father. 

He was mad at him for so long because it was easier to be mad than to love and then lose him. He was mad for his mother. But now he just wanted to say that he was sorry. That he loved him, that he loved him so much that he was scared of losing him. 

The door to the botanical garden opened, and Sebek froze. First impressions are everything! He was about to straighten himself up, but he remembered the last time. This wasn’t a first impression, you knew him, you’ve known him for a while. So, he relaxed, he took a seat on the bench next to the roses. And focused on calming his breathing.

A butterfly, a pale green butterfly, flew around his head before coming to rest on his shoulder, crawling leisurely until it got to a comfy spot, sitting above his heart.

He looked up from looking fondly at the small insect to find you, his soul match, standing in the middle of the path with a butterfly, the same colour as his, resting on your heart.

“I knew that you felt familiar! Ha ha!” You smiled, like you had just won something.

And Sebek felt the same. 

Fin!~

Author's Notes; I love Sebek, but I also like bugging him, so I kinda made the reader a menace in this one. Go forth! Be menaces in the world! Huzzah!

Tags; @xxoomiii, @eynnwwyjth, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @savanaclaw1996

Masterlist~

[anghraine]

Aww, Ash admitted to me when we were discussing Star Wars opinions that she's not only thought about these things before, she's actually really feeling like using her advanced creative writing degree to write ...................... fanfiction, and has actually done so in the past.

me, shoving my 67 SW fanfics on AO3 under the bed: Oh hey, awesome! That sounds really interesting.

[dolokhoded]

my one season 4 complaint is Where The Fuck Was Aneesa

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Dead dashboard confessional parasocial hours: it’s been so nice to see Taylor kind of reclaim her place in the world and work out in real time what does or doesn’t feel good in terms of being out there, and she’s clearly flourishing on a personal level by taking in all these experiences! And idk if it’s just the late hour or the post-livestream hangover or what, but it just kinda feels like something shifted yet again last week — like she and Travis did their goofy little skit because Theatre Kids and it was fun and felt good and she’s like “YES more of that please!”

And I’m not saying that as in “omg she’s going to publish her entire life online now” at all, but more in like, it’s kind of endearing to see her try these new things and figure out her boundaries and be like “yes this sparks joy and I want more of it in my life” (or on the flip side, cutting out the things that don’t and protecting her peace). I know that ET article earlier today was just a fluff piece to keep stoking the fires until they can actually Say It, but there’s something about Tree’s the quote saying they had fun coming up with it and were glad they got to share that moment together and want to keep having fun like that was just really sweet. And again, I don’t think it means they’re going to publicize their lives regularly by any means, I really do feel like it was like, “hey you know what would be funny?” And they took it from there — almost like that skit was for them and we were lucky to be bystanders to the bit lol. They just have so much fun together and it shows. I don’t think they’re trying to capitalize off their relationship, I think it’s just the pop star on a global stage equivalent of that one couple you have in your friend group that always goes all out for Halloween with the elaborate couple costume and commits to the bit every year.

It just seems like they’re really settling into things and figuring out as they go along how they can do the things they want to do within the parameters of what feels safe and joyful and is less scary than it once was. Taylor got to take part in her own way in something meaningful to Travis (e.g. the Super Bowl) and he’s gotten to take part in something meaningful to her (the show) and it’s just really sweet how they embrace each other’s worlds. And maybe it was “new and defining” because Taylor’s never been that overt before on stage on a tour of this scale, and not only did the world not cave in, she had a blast and got to have a chuckle. For someone who said she always wished she had someone by her side to share her successes with and never did even in her longest relationship previously, it’s got to be wild to literally have her partner on stage with her on her record-breaking tour.

No wonder she’s probably gagged at all this. The universe really did shift and it was all for them etc.

[marrfixated]

(More thoughts and drafting! Some weird formatting I know but it was all one block in my notes)

Emma is doing just fine. Average. It’s really not so bad.

She’s just been dealing with a lot of change. And with too many things not changing.

Which is… an odd thing to struggle with.

Because she likes change. Daunting challenges. The unpredictable. Doing new things every day and never being scared of them. And she likes independence.

She had thought so, at least.

After the show, she had been hit in the face with just how… isolated she was. She had only had two friends before the first season, but she had left them behind. Her mother wasn’t doing the best, and she didn’t have any nearby family.

She found herself laying in her bed in the middle of the day most of the time, scrolling through her contacts and old conversations.

Or scrolling through her comments on TikTok.

A few weeks ago, she had tried some stunt involving a motorcycle and an inflatable pool. She probably wouldn’t have messed it up if her hands weren’t trembling.

(She had forgot to check the breaks, and wasn’t sure if they were working.)

(They were.)

The blood dripping down her face and the gash in her lip didn’t sting as much as it did watching the video.

She looked ridiculous, and she probably always did. It was better when she had someone else to do it with. Maybe she was losing her touch.

She didn’t post the video.

She turned back to dancing instead, which did feel less embarassing, despite the constant mocking feedback. Sure, the jokes were “funny”, but she didn’t care about any of it. She didn’t feel the rush, she wasn’t planning every day, and she wasn’t known or loved for anything.

Except for what she lost.

And, the show, to an extent.

-Ugh, she misses the show. She shouldn’t, but as stupid as it sounds, she really did. She missed doing crazy things and talking to people. Having a chance of winning. Beating everyone. Being cheered on. It wasn’t always great, but at least it was something. She misses doing something.

And she really misses Bowie. She missed Bowie, but she knows better than anyone that she can’t go back to that. They just- have better things to do now. He probably does.

He’s got Raj- which is great! And she’s happy for him! She’s happy for everyone. For Wayne, however he’s doing, for Julia, despite everything.

And Caleb. For having Priya.

Emma is jealous that Bowie gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that everyone else gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that, unlike everyone else, winning the show probably wouldn’t have made her any happier.

She isn’t sure what would.

[happy-tori-friends]

mine creachures arrived (i underestimated how large they would be)

now they get to live on the dusty bedside shelf with some other friends :)

[taegularities]

just thinking thoughts

[productofaritual]

I wanna see a loveless aro during Hogwarts Valentine's Day (obligatory fuck JK Rowling, she's a terf and we hate her)

The billions of magic hearts and cupids and flying love notes and owl delivered confessions and gifts

And in the middle is just. A guy. Stepping over the paper hearts. Flicking confetti off their oatmeal. Minding their business while everyone goes crazy. Smiling to themself because a holiday means they get extra food. Teasing their friends for being lovestruck. Just chillin, no crush no romance, but not ruining the fun for everyone. Just a guy. Just a loveless aro guy living their best life.

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Tell It to Me, My Dearest Star

Almost done with this wonderful week of these dorks. Sorry for the 'blast from the past' bit at the beginning, I RAN with this (lmao). If ya want to be added or taken off the taglist, pls ask!

Pairing: Logince, gen

Trigger/Content Warning: insecurity, violent imagery/metaphors (I guess?) 

Description: Logan starts to infodump to Roman, but he stops himself before he can get “annoying”. Roman sees the lights dim in his friend’s eyes, and he refuses to let Logan feel so grey for any longer.

Extra: written for Day 6: Tell Me About It of @loginceweek2024! Features my headcanon that when Logan gets really excited or happy about something, his pupils and irises turn into stars (like a star shape instead of a normal circle) and his eyes glow a little more indigo. It operates a lot like Virgil’s purple eyeshadow. Edit: so, I ended up writing them as implicitly queerplatonic and alterous. That was an accident, but we need more qpp and alterous partnerships always. Writing this drabble is also how I realized I'm alterous (lmao).

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

No matter what anyone else says, Roman cannot find anything better than listening to Logan speak about things that excite him. 

He’s aware he hasn’t been the most obvious about wanting to listen. In the past, he’s had a tendency to ignore Logan or joke at his expense. He’s silenced him before, and that… god, Roman still feels guilty over it. He was much less focused on ‘how will this affect him?’ and a lot more on desperately getting praise from wherever he could get it. He’s not proud of it. The Prince had been more in Survival Mode, and positive attention and praise was so scarce, and then everything he grew up on- all of his structure for right and wrong and do’s and don'ts- it all came crumbling down, and he- he- well, it got fucked real quick. When Logan and Roman finally talked calmly after such a long time of being opposed, he realized just how much in common they had when it came to being hurt. He’s trying to do better, now. He and the nerd are healing, together, and are trying for each other and themselves. Now, Roman refuses to give into old habits of saying shut up, and he encourages Logan to talk more. Now, Logan is much more mindful of his critiques towards Roman and his work, finally beginning to understand what Roman being the Ego actually means. And they’ve both apologized. Every time they feel they need to, every time the other needs apologetic closure, and only when they need to. If one of them starts saying sorry, I’m sorry for something they shouldn’t have to be sorry for, or have already expressed being sorry for, then the other will gently remind them that it’s okay, we’re past that, there’s no need for you to apologize, let’s just breathe for a minute. 

And they both have some mixed feelings over Janus to bond over, especially when he or Patton are still pricks. Maybe they don’t do it consciously, but those two have a lot to work through before certain things can be considered to be forgiven or not. Until then, tensions still rise in the air. 

One thing that remains very important for everyone to work on is not silencing literal Logic when he disagrees or brings up a different point. That’s a nasty habit they all developed at some point. Patton and Roman have done it the longest, then Virgil slowly fell into that line, then Janus was… Janus, and Remus only really did it during his introductory video to prove a point. Unlike most of the Others, Remus made sure that Logan understood he didn’t mean it to harm Logan, just so the Others would start listening to or acknowledging him once in a while. Well, in his own way, at least. Something about a stained, makeshift mini book of poetry making it to Logan’s desk, presumingly signed by the Duke with some weird Remus-typical note attached. It helped, as far as Logan’s concerned. It was the first apology he’d gotten in a long time. He and Remus would spend time together sometimes after that, after the whole situation with Working Through Intrusive Thoughts, and made some sort of… alliance? Friendship? Whatever it is, it works for them. They’re both finally getting listened to, now. In the ways that they need to be. And acknowledged, just like they both dreamed. 

From what Logan remembers, Virgil was the next to make an effort in healing his bond with the detective. It was awkward, to say the least, after realizing he was beginning to treat Logan like he was treated before his Acceptance. That realization was like a bullet to his chest, a brick to his head, a train- well, you get the point. The first attempted apology was horribly cringe- to Virgil, anyway- and nerve-wrecking and clumsy. After a few more quiet, honest talks in the middle of the night when neither could sleep, Logan slowly became less and less tense around him. Virgil developed a different habit, one where he checks in on the astrophile by leaning against him and letting himself rumble like a cat. It has the same effects as a cat purring, and it eventually became routine when the other couldn’t sleep. They’d meet in the nerd’s room- we already learned what happens when the Lights are in Virgil’s room for too long, so that’s a no-go- and lean against each other, either until someone was ready to talk or until they decided to sleep and cuddle the rest of the night away. 

Then, it was Roman. Out of everyone- well, every Side, technically Thomas had started working on things with his Logic sometime after Remus’ appearance, and others followed suit- he’s not proud to admit it took him more time than the other two to get out of his self-pitying head. So, when he first talked and apologized to his nerdy companion, Logan almost… he didn’t break down, not entirely, but there was a lot of anger and hurt that finally got released. Roman saw for himself the orange glow of it hurts, why, why, why, make it stop, please make it stop, and it terrified him. It terrified him because Logan was hurting so much- he still is, but he has some support now- and Roman was a part of the damn cause of it. That first apology ended with a sobbing, orange-eyed Logan being held tight in the knight’s arms, never to be left so alone ever again. That began their journey of revealing their hurt and pain to each other, and though Roman hadn’t been the first, he’d become the absolute closest to the poor astrophile rather quickly. It was like a switch flicked on in their brains, and… and it opened a lot of realizations for both of them. Logan learned what being the Ego entails for the princely Side, and realized how awful he’d been without truly noticing. 

Of course, all that being said, there’s still times when someone relapses and lashes out against the wrong people, or tells someone to shut up, no one likes listening to you when it’s been made known that’s the worst thing they can do. Luckily, with the help of those who are trying and are healing, there are apologies and weighted blankets and cuddle piles and half-jokes about something they know won’t hurt anyone. They’ll want movies without anyone’s triggers in them, and they’ll sleep until it’s time for dinner or until morning comes. 

But, of fucking course, not everyone is so nice and shit. Patton and Janus are seemingly in their own healing bubble, working with each other, but still they somehow in some damn way aren’t very good with the Others. Janus and Remus have become… complicated with each other, as Remus comes to Roman’s defense a lot more than either of them thought he would. The twins themselves are trying to reconnect after so many years of being separated and at opposite ends. 

Perhaps Janus and Patton are trying, but it’s just… well, it’s a lot more complicated with how things have gone. It’s not like they’re not trying. They are, in their own way, but all the damage done runs deep, deep, deep into the bones of bodies. Maybe it’s just easier to try with each other more than with the Others. Maybe, there’s just some unforgivable things, and some Sides who need more time. Maybe, just maybe… it’ll end up alright, someday, somehow, in some sort of mutual agreement of how to help Thomas. Maybe some things will never truly heal, will never truly be gone, but they all can still try and get as close to okay as they can. 

But I digress. Enough about the past! It’s done and gone. Why not focus on some brighter, better things?

Roman cannot find anything better than listening to Logan speak about things that excite him.

It’s not just because of his voice. Logan’s voice gets passionate when talks. You can hear the difference between things he says because they’re relevant and important, and the things that he knows eons-worth of knowledge on because he wants to. He’s a curious facet. If it interests him, truly, Roman’s seen him read and read and read until his eyes pop out his head- figuratively, Remus, you chaotic gremlin- and not stop unless someone can kindly force him into bed and sleep. Oh, it’s not just his wonderful voice. It’s also the way he lights up, the entirety of him, when he rants for hours and hours on things like constellations or Doctor Who or sea otters. It’s the way his hands flap excitedly as he paces and rambles. It’s the way he snaps his fingers without realizing, or when he clicks a forgotten pen mindlessly in one hand as he sits. He can’t keep still, not when he really talks and talks, no, how can someone keep still when all this repressed energy finally gets a chance to burst out and dance around? He bounces his leg or taps his fingers on the table, or he’ll even rock slightly in his seat. Maybe the pen clicking or the snapping can be a little annoying to hear, but it’s not that much and Roman will gladly endure any ‘annoyance’ so his beloved friend can stim all his excitement in a safe environment. He understands, to some degree- he stims too, he gets excited and can’t sit still, he gets it- and he knows that not everyone has the patience for snapping and clicking and rocking. Logan deserves to express himself, beyond anything, and Roman feels honoured that the detective feels comfortable enough to do it around him. 

Where was he going with this… oh, right!

It’s not just his stimming and his voice, though they’re very good reasons, but it’s also the way his eyes literally get starry. It’s similar to Virgil’s eyeshadow, for a point of reference, in how Roman theorizes it works. His pupils and irises turn into this star shape, and his eyes glow and shimmer this vibrant indigo that he hasn’t really seen before. It’s- oh, it’s magnificent! Roman could stare for hours at those wonderful eyes. He could, and he has, and they’re so beautiful. He’s… god, he adores Logan so much and is so glad he gets to see Logan like he does. They used to be constant opposites, and now- now, he gets to be close with him. 

Roman knows how he sounds, but it’s not like that. It’s not in a romantic sense, not fully. Maybe it’s, like, semi-romantic-ish. But mostly it’s this endless care for his friend- best friend, if he so dares- and he’s so happy. He’s happy! He’s happy with Logan. It’s this platonic-not-platonic, queer, strange feeling that makes his heart alive. He’s not sure how to describe it. All he knows, thanks to building up courage to talk it out with Logan, is that his astrophile feels the same. Neither knows how to label it, but maybe it’s better unlabelled. It’s them, and they’re happy with the way they are. They’re happy with each other, and that’s all that matters. 

“-reading a book on jellyfish breeds a few days ago, and I learned about Aurelia Aurita. They’re more commonly known as Moon Jellyfish. Did you know they went into space as an experiment in 1991? They also are the oldest multi-organ animal, dating back 500 million years. Think of how far back that dates, Roman! Dinosaurs only date back 250 million years, about half the amount of Moon Jellyfish. Creatures older than the prehistoric era! Oh, and get this: they also- also…”

Logan stops forcefully himself mid-sentence, stilling his pacing and pen clicking he’d been doing. His eyes, which are star-shaped and vibrant, fade back into that greyish blue, circular thing they usually are. The light literally dims from his eyes, and his face and body and stance. Roman’s eyebrows furrow, mildly confused and concerned for his companion. Logan puts his pen in his shirt pocket with the rest of them, looking a little lost and hazy. He blinks, shaking his head slightly, and turns to Roman. His prince has been sitting in his chair and staring this entire time, he notes, and he sits across from him on the other side of the table. They’re in the Mindscape’s Library. Rather it’s more Logan’s library, since he’s usually the only one- besides maybe Janus- who uses it. Point is Logan’s forcing himself to be still and quiet, and it hurts a soft part of Roman’s chest to see. 

“I’m sorry, Roman. I hadn’t realized I was rambling,” Logan says cooly, distant, and won’t look at Roman. 

Instead, the sweet jellyfish enthusiast looks at his hands. His hands, which twitch with the need to move move move but are otherwise denied that need. He seems to be bracing. The faint reminder of why and how much he did this in discussions and what bracing feels like- Roman knows, he’s had to do the same to survive around certain people and in certain situations- and the hurt in his chest burns the wrong way. It’s not a good burning, not like when the little fire in his heart crackles happily. No, this is an icky burning like he’s a witch set to burn for his sins on a pyre. 

“No need for an apology, specs,” Roman speaks soft and kind, eyes reflecting the same as his voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Roman. However, I do know I can be annoying, and I wouldn’t want to annoy you with irrelevant information.”

Oh, Logan, no. No no, you could never annoy me with that voice of yours.

Roman’s gaze of concern worsens. 

“Logan- hey, hey, shh, it’s just me, Roman, okay?”

The Prince immediately soothes once his nerd flinches at the mere mention of his own name, and it makes his hurting chest ache. It aches his heart, to see him scared and tense and so sure he’s at fault. How did it dissolve so quickly into this? Where did his ranting, rambling starlight go? Why is his precious detective hurting, right now, in this moment? 

“What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours, starlight?” 

Logan eases a little at the pet name, knowing only Roman calls him that. He looks up at his knight in royal attire, his shoulders slumping once he sees the soft soft soft gaze in his eyes. 

It’s safe, he tries to remind himself and his mean brain, it’s safe with Roman. 

“There you go, my star. Now, what’s going on? How can I help you feel better?”

“I-” Logan swallows around an unnoticed lodge in his throat. “I don’t know. I’m just… I didn’t realize I was talking for so long.”

“There’s nothing wrong with talking, my star. You weren’t annoying me. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to.”

“Wait- please, don’t? Please?” 

“Oh, my dearest, I’m here, I’m staying. No need to fret, dearest.”

Logan nods, more to himself than anything. His hands twitch again. 

“It’s not good to repress when you need to stim, starlight. It’s okay, you’re safe with me.”

Roman tilts his head slightly, smiling this little encouraging smile that Logan can’t help but fall prey to. He lets his fingers tap quietly, slowly on the table. Just one hand, the other now supports his chin. It’s as if he were testing to see if it’s really okay. Roman remains patient, wearing the same smile as his star slowly relaxes and stops regulating the way his fingers tap tap tap against the wood. He still wonders why Logan suddenly went from passionate rambling to that quiet bracing, but it can wait until later. 

“Feeling better, my dear detective?” Roman catches the lightest blush on Logan’s face as he playfully rolls his eyes, reacting so because of the pet name. 

His detective huffs a smile, “A little bit, yes. Thank you, dear.”

“I’m always here, Detective Jellyfish.”

Logan snorts. 

“Now, what happened there? You were so vibrant, and then the grey took that away.”

His starlight sets his support-hand next to his tapping one, letting it tap as well. He sighs, looking away from his prince again.

“It’s just one little thought. It shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does, doesn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“Are you comfortable sharing it with me, my dearest?”

“It’s- yes, I am. It’s just this thought that I’m annoying you. I used to, didn’t I? I was always told to shut up because I talked too long, and I- I guess… ugh, I don’t know. It’s like this echo that I hear but don’t hear, telling me to be quiet, don’t annoy you, to shut up. It’s so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb-”

Logan gives him a look, sassy side-eye in its finest. 

“Okay, it’s a little dumb, but that’s okay. Mean thoughts are stupid. And they aren’t right now, specs. They’re echoes of past bullshit. What’s Remus always saying, there’s no rhyme or reason to it? Didn’t you say they don’t reflect on a person’s character? Hm?”

Logan looks back to him, fully, finally, and this horribly vulnerable confusion sparkles in his eyes. 

“You listened to me?”

Roman bares a soft smile, hoping his eyes reflect his honesty. 

“Yes, I did. I’ve listened to you a lot more than I let on, specs.”

“Oh,” comes a watery voice.

“Yes, ‘oh’- oh, oh, my dear darling nerd, can I touch you?”

Logan shakes head, “I- I can’t, ‘m sorry-”

“It’s okay, sweet jellie. Need a weighted blanket? I think you left yours in my room from our movie night.”

“Please?”

“I’ve got it. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Logan nods as he sniffles, and Roman quickly sinks out. Before Logan’s mean thoughts from earlier even try to resurface, his prince is back with a star-planet-themed weighted blanket in his arms. He’s changed into soft things as well, and Logan finds himself snapping into his prized onesie. Roman carefully tugs the blanket over Logan, placing it around his shoulders and bundling his precious star into the sensory-safe fabric. Logan wipes his tears away, sniffling again. Roman sits back down at his seat once he’s sure his star is situated. 

“You were talking about moon jellies, right? What fact were you going to say, Star Bundle?”

Logan blinks, blushing at the pet name. Stupid Roman and his stupid creativity. It’s not fair that he knows him so well.

“...you really want me to continue?”

“Yes, yes, I do. Tell it to me, my dearest star,” Roman smirks as he purrs the pet name. 

Logan doesn’t pout, thank you, but it’s close. 

“Okay… well, did you know they glow in the dark?”

Roman’s fond look is all the reassurance he needs as he continues his jellyfish ranting, those beautiful star-shaped and vibrant indigo eyes returning.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie

[possamble]

Ooff I see that threesome WIP. Appreciate all that warning. I don't think I have the heart in me to read that hahaha. Just feels weird to have two women in a relationship and insert a man for funsies. But hey, maybe it's just me being being into only Farcille and them being monogamous and only for each other. I'm just gonna pretend it's a separate Falin and Marcille from a little creature universe so I won't look at them differently when I read the fic hahaha. Still will be reading anything else from you though. You're one of my favorite fic writers and will be waiting patiently for updates!!

I truly appreciate you being frank with what you want and don't want to read and being civil about it-- but I have to say. I'd understand and accept if you looked at me differently for making that kind of content. Maybe I'm not the kind of creator you thought I was, or my creative priorities don't line up with yours, and maybe you enjoy my content less because of that. That's all fine and well--you have every right to curate your own fandom experience and I encourage everyone to do so.

But it's very curious that you specifically said that you'd look at the characters differently. I would understand if you wanted to separate them bc it doesn't fit into your preferred image of them and that's all. But at first glance, your wording implies that they would be somehow tarnished for you if they decided to sleep with a male friend for fun some years down the line.

I don't know you, and I won't pretend I have any standing to interrogate you on a minor word choice. But here's an unsolicited heads up, if you'd humor me: you may want to examine where that sentiment is coming from. It could very well just be a knee-jerk reaction to non-monogamous content for your favourite pairing (I get that, I'm usually the one privately bitching when I see Marcille or Falin shipped with anyone else) but it could also be coming from a place that's very disparaging to adult wlw who sleep with men of their own volition. And I hope you'll agree that's something worth being wary of in yourself.

[wikipedie]

grief is like a really ugly couch

I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room—but eventually, you learn to live with it. ― Jodi Picoult, Leaving Time

[coelacat]

man while i understand it im so tired of the attitude of "if you dont think critically of every media you like ever and if you like stuff you cant think critically about youre stupid" mentality. its so prevalent just about everywhere i go online, youd forget that its an insanely online take