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andraxicated · 1 year ago

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Intimacy in all its forms

Pairings: ayato, heizou, albedo, kaeya, childe, scaramouche x f! reader

tags: fluff | highschool au! (currently reading seasons of blossom and i'm not okay)

a/n: this will probably be one of my last writings here before i'm once again swept up in school. this will be 3 parts with other characs!

taken from prompts here

pt. 2

Ayato | The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company.

—he was oh so capable. everyone admired and trusted him, he was all smiles to them and they'd worship the ground he walked on. he was good at everything; academics and athletics, student government positions, and work that seemed too much for one person. he handled it all like some kind of superman and you hated it so much. you hated how ayato promised he'd change his attitude when you're dating and he broke it—seeing him still handling paperwork when the sun was starting to set and the school was about to be empty.

"are you done?" you ask, leaning against the door to be met with his sorry eyes and words. "sorry (y/n), i'm about to be finished soon, you can go now if you want." what kind of question was that? of course, you'd stay with him.

you pull out a nearby chair and sat next to him, leaning closer and resting your head on his shoulder. "I can't have my afternoon nap because of you" you mutter before closing your eyes, hearing his hushed apologies that you inwardly groan to. and when you wake up, both of you go together in the darkened hallways hand-in-hand, passing by empty classrooms that you refuse to look at and ayato chuckles while glancing at you.

he doesn't call for a car ride when he's staying late, in fear of inconveniencing the family drivers but you tell him he's the only one who'd be inconvenienced commuting at a rush hour.

"how could I be inconvenienced when you're with me?" he says before yawning, a sign that he was about to succumb to exhaustion, and soon you feel a weight on your shoulder to see his blue hair nuzzling your face. ayato fell asleep on your shoulder as you held his hand, smoothing his knuckles over.

it was far from an uncomfortable silence. to have him resting on your shoulder, in your company, laying his guard down, and being vulnerable around you is enough to make your heart melt. you remember feeling something press against your head earlier when you were asleep on his shoulder, it felt like a kiss. and you know you'd always return the favor so you lean down a bit and kiss the top of his head, careful not to disturb him in this short slumber.

"take it easy sometimes, will you?" you whisper.

Heizou | The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.”

—you learned from the very start that heizou was a deductive person. it's like he knew everything as he was very quick to pick up on things. he even notices random stuff that you don't even know about. and all these little things he points out pile up and makes your heart flutter. you seriously think you're catching feelings and you hope this was one thing heizou won't know.

"you have something on your mind? you've been zoning out since earlier like your soul had flown out." he asks and you brush it off by saying you're just stressed from doing schoolwork. heizou won't pry if you don't want to tell him so instead...he's going to be the one to tell you something that's been weighing heavily on his mind.

it was just a peaceful day hanging out with him until he blurts out a confession out of the blue. "I like you (y/n)" he says and you're staring at him unbelievably with your eyes wide and mouth parted. he continues, "and I know that you like me too...at least from what I observed. turn me down if I'm wrong-"

"wait. how did you know that?" you cut him off. and you weren't even obvious with your crush from what you think. does he really know you that well to let you face your feelings for him?

"because i know you"

it had been bold of him to take that leap of faith to you. because there was that slight chance that he was just assuming and you only saw him as a friend. but his risk paid off knowing you all these years, staying by your side, and watching you fall for other people. for the first time, he chose to trust his guts rather than his mind. and it was rewarding to see you smile and hear your answer to his confession.

"once again you're right. i like you too, heizou"

Albedo | The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up

—your eyes flutter open and the first thing you see is long lashes and striking tufts of blonde hair. you're curled up against the bed, a safe distance from this warm body and you haven't processed the information yet that your "classmate" is still here and you slept in the same bed together.

your parents are coming home today by the way.

you mutter a curse, soon realizing that the wet streets have dried and albedo is still here. oh my god. albedo! you wanted to scream but he looked so peaceful sleeping, you thought it would be a crime to wake him. but from your stirring and panic, you stop for a bit just to see his eyes flutter open, staring at the ceiling for a moment, revealing a lovely color of teal that soon moved to stare at you.

"good morning" he groggily greets and you say it back meekly. oh you've been a bad bad girl. when your parents are away from vacation, you invited your boyfriend to your house for a movie and cuddles since it was rainy season. turns out, you lead him to the bed for a continued cuddle session until you fell asleep.

you both sit up at the same time and you carefully watch what he does next. albedo looks at you as you flinch in surprise. "I should go now, you said your parents are coming back today, right?" you nod and he moves to kiss your forehead, feeling the warmth of his soft lips that closed your eyes. "I should've said no but unfortunately, I realized I couldn't resist you. I'm dating a bad influence." albedo says, playing with your fingers as you shake your head while giggling.

"let's have breakfast together first. then you can go after that, we have plenty of time." you whisper, kissing his cheek before going out of your room, feeling flushed and giddy from this intimate secret.

Kaeya | The intimacy of someone saying "Text me when you're home safe."

—"you don't have to do this", you shake your head looking up at him yet he gives you an easy smile in return. "this is the least I could do as your suitor." he insisted to wait with you at the stop until your transportation arrives. kaeya always made you feel safe and assured, he was constantly looking out for you. and before you go, he held your arm and said "Text me when you're home safe." so when you arrive, you let down your bag and pull out your phone to text kaeya.

"I'm home now! how about you?" you waited for a few minutes, growing worried until you see him typing a message that read, "home too. it's raining these days and it's going to be hard to commute. do you want me to give you a ride home starting tomorrow?"

you type in, feeling embarrassed yet he beat you to it saying "it's only for the rainy days. i hate seeing you squeezing against other commuters too."

yet he didn't say you'd see his brother too in the front seat with kaeya enthusiastically tapping the passenger seat at the back for you to sit in. it was very awkward in the car, proceeding to kaeya's smooth words that his brother lets out a groan every few minutes or so. you know it was his way of letting his brother know that he actually has a girl with him.

"hi can you please drop me off just around the corner? it will be fine thank you." you spoke to the driver with a smile and kaeya was confused as to why you wanted to be dropped off there.

"are you hiding something from me? a secret boyfriend coming over?" he teases yet he was quite nervous for the reason. you laugh it off, pushing him playfully before easing his worries.

"my parents still don't know about you, right? let's avoid any confrontations for now, I just don't want to be teased by my family that's all." you held his hand, giving it a little squeeze to see him break out in a small smile. "i'm not hiding something i swear! i'm serious about you. i like you kaeya!" if someone, even your neighbors saw this sleek black car parking in front and you coming out of it, it will certainly be the topic of gossip. you just wanted to avoid that.

"i know. i like you too. but was that your answer—" "ehem, (y/n) here we are. stay safe." diluc cuts him off with a cough, announcing your location and you pull away much to kaeya's dismay. you give him your brightest smile before shyly waving, thanking the brothers and the driver then got out of the car, walking to your house, knowing they're still there parked and watching you go in.

kaeya's phone beeps, a notification of your message saying, "I'm home! Thank you for the ride♡"

Childe | The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting

—a piece of paper had found itself bouncing on your desk, all crumpled and white. you open it, not taking a glance at whoever behind you had thrown that but as soon as you open it you already know who it came from.

it was very evident from the handwriting, nice and clean but in terms of penmanship against other people you know, this person was on the middle tier. it was not something that gets someone to say "wow, your handwriting's good!" yet you loved seeing it anyway.

and you know he could see the corner of your lips rise from his view, it made him mirror the grin you so subtly hide in fear of being called out. you take a glance at the teacher before writing on the piece of paper.

replying to the message written, "Let's have lunch together :(( I miss you"

you write in, "Okay! And I missed you too even though we literally talked 10 minutes ago", you crumpled it back and threw the paper without looking, hoping ajax could somehow catch it.

have some faith in your boyfriend, would you? he's not part of the athletes if he's not that agile at catching. he secretly opens it and fails to hold back his chuckle that drew question marks above everybody's heads.

Scaramouche | The intimacy of answering the phone "Hey you."

—the phone rang, the door locked, and his heart fast as he was nervous about talking to you. pacing around, running a scenario of what would happen once you answered the phone.

scaramouche doesn't wait yet he finds himself wishing you'd pick up. but ultimately the tone ended without being answered and he was left with his screen showing a failed call.

he sighed, wanting to retire for the night until his phone rang once again with your name on it. he dives onto the bed to get ahold of the device and picks it up, speaking first as he always gets the first word.

"hey you"

"What's up?" he hated your dry reply. "What took you so long to pick up?" he wanted to know what kept you busy, didn't he tell you to always answer your phone when he calls?

"I took a shower and cleaned myself up. I'm literally in a towel. Why did you call?"

he didn't mean to do it but he immediately created a mental image of you freshly out of the shower with your hair wet and wearing a towel. the tip of his ears turned hot and he struggled to speak until you laughed over the phone and reminded him of what he was to you.

"hey boyfriend. you shouldn't be thinking of anything funny—"

"I wasn't!" he acted like a provoked cat as his shout tore that his mom shouted back asking who he was fighting. he was certainly fighting you and your schemes to get him all flustered, it worked though. and scara never changed, even after everything he always had the first word in calls. a "hey you" laced with unconcealed affection and a cheeky grin that follows.

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goldielia · 9 months ago

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your whatever

a part of: call it what you want au

it’s a sunny day at the start of october when will feels anxious stepping into their little corner in the library. it’s not noticeable, really. he’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, she knows he’ll be going straight to practice after they hang out. he brings two coffees, one of which she knows to be her exact (and slightly complicated) order and his posture is relaxed as usual.

but there’s something about his lopsided smile that she lo- likes so much that feels off today. she shrugs it off though when he places a kiss on her cheek in greeting and slides into the chair next to her, pulling one of her thighs over his. she abandoned her school work for today, having finished enough of it to not fall behind during a break she had in the morning. instead, she’s brought the book she’s currently reading to enjoy the atmosphere in the library and to keep him company while he gets the work done that she knows has been on his mind for almost a week now.

they’re polar opposites like that, she can’t stand not being caught up with her schoolwork while he needs the pressure of running out of time to get his stuff done. she leans into his side a little more, the two of them getting comfortable in their secluded corner hidden behind bookshelves and focusing on their respective tasks. she manages to read two chapters before he starts tapping her thigh subconsciously. when he lets out a huge sigh she feels along her side she can’t take it anymore.

“hey, are you okay?” he looks confused, “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” she closes her book, keeping a finger in between the pages where she stopped reading. “i don’t know what it is but something’s off about you today. it’s okay if you dont wanna talk but just tell me you’re okay.”

he sighs again, runs a hand over his face before he turns towards her “i’m okay but uh, can we maybe talk?” she reaches to put her book down and mark her page before she faces him again, pulling her legs up on her chair and resting her chin on top. “of course, will. what about?”

“well, uh, about this?” he points between them a little helplessly, hoping she's felt the sparks as well and he's not reading this totally wrong. “i mean, i don’t want you to be my girlfriend- i mean i want to, but like- oh god, i’m messing this up so badly”

“hey” she takes one of his hands in hers. “take a breath. i’m not going anywhere. think about what you want to say.” he closes his eyes briefly, putting a sentence together in his head before talking again. “i want this- i want us to be something. but i don’t know what. like- like i know a little bit about you and i really like that bit and i’d really like to get to know you more.. officially, i guess?”

he’s too nervous to meet her eyes, staring at their - still intertwined - hands instead but she’s quick to drop her legs from the chair and reach a her free hand to his cheek to gently turn his head towards her. he tries to find some kind of rejection in her eyes or on her face but all he sees is a soft smile, one that he hasn’t seen before. he can’t help but smile at her as well, corners of his mouth moving before he can stop it.

“can i kiss you?” “wha- what?” she giggles, leaning her forehead onto his shoulder, laughing at the dumbfounded look on his face. when she lifts her head again her freckled cheeks are flushed a sweet pink and suddenly she’s closer than he thinks she’s ever been. his eyes close on their own when her soft lips press against his, retreating after the shortest of moments.

his hands move before his brain turns back on, settling on her neck gently and pulling her back into another, an actual, kiss. he loses himself in it for a little bit, hears only his heartbeat as it thumps loudly in his ears and tastes her vanilla lip balm and the coffee he brought her earlier. he thinks he floats for a moment until her other hand comes to rest on his chest, grounding him back into the chair in the library. one strand of her hair tickles his cheek so he tucks it back behind her ear, not stopping kissing her.

it wasn’t his first kiss, not his second or third either but none of them compare to kissing ally. he thinks he could kiss her forever if the world allowed it. he’s the one that pulls back this time, slowly though, as if he isn’t sure he doesn’t want to dive back in. “i’ll be your whatever” she whispers, still so close he feels the words against his lips, "if you'll have me?" and really, he’d be stupid to say no to that.

#will smith hockey x oc #will smith hockey x reader #will smith hockey imagine #will smith hockey #goldie's call it what you want au #alaska argent

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anxiousgaypanicking · 11 days ago

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Comfort Items

Part Four: Thunderstorms Synopsis: Twin princes had been cursed centuries ago, forced to become mere items and subjected to whatever their owners wanted them to endure. Cuddles, pressure, or even being tossed out or passed down, until they could overcome their own arrogance and learn what it's like to love and to be loved, in all senses of the word. Taglist: @arodynamic-enby @arizona-tate @asdfghjklicia @hypnossanders @transmanrayner @under-the-blue-moonlight

“Logan, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think this is the way to your house,” Janus comments, as Logan intentionally takes a turn leading him further away from his street. “I understand math was a bit extreme today, but I didn’t think it’d scramble your brain.”

“I don’t understand what math has to do with my navigational skills,” Logan replies, as he continues confidently in the “wrong” direction. “In fact, I know exactly where I’m trying to go, and it’s not my house.” Then, as he pauses on the sidewalk and turns to Janus, Logan asks “why does that affect you anyway? The way to my house wouldn’t be the way to your house, either.”

Janus shrugs. “I thought we could spend a bit of time together.”

“You spent ‘a bit of time’ at my house yesterday. So much time, in fact, we ended up sharing my bed.”

“Am I not allowed to want to see you two days in a row?”

Logan keeps walking. “That’s not what I said. I more so meant that we already are together most of the week, so your phrasing doesn’t make much sense in that context.”

“Have you ever considered that this is why you’re bullied?”

Narrowing his eyes, Logan gives Janus a displeased look. The bruises on his ribcage throb as a reminder of his past altercations, in which he was left rather annoyingly hurt. Though a lot of the dark marks have faded into a pale yellow, they’re still there, and they’re still sore. “If you’re trying to make a joke, it’s not very funny.”

Janus looks briefly uncomfortable, more so out of guilt than anything else, before reiterating “why are we straying so far from your house? You never gave an explanation.”

“To avoid being tossed into a dumpster again.”

“Right, right. And where are we going to avoid that unfortunate scenario?”

“The library.”

Immediately, Janus is groaning. “The library? Seriously? We could have just lingered back at the school to avoid bullies! Now we have to walk all the way across town twice!”

“It’s not all the way across town,” Logan counters, “that’s a hyperbole. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk from here. And it’s nice outside; I thought you’d appreciate the sunlight.”

“I’d appreciate the sunlight more if we were suntanning on the beach.” Janus adjusts his backpack straps. “I don’t enjoy carrying around textbooks for an extra thirty minutes on top of the seven hours I have to lug them around at school.”

That has Logan smiling a little. “As if there are actual textbooks in your bag.”

Janus - who had fallen back to do his dramatic trudging - jogs a little to catch up with Logan, so that they’re walking side by side. “Fine. Maybe there isn’t much schoolwork in there. Sue me.”

“I don’t understand why you carry Roman around with you, honestly,” Logan then says, as the library comes into view. Though Logan isn’t currently in any physical danger, he feels himself relax as he sees it, flooded with a wave of relief as though this entire time he’s been attempting to escape from assailants, even though he’s sure they’re probably currently waiting for him on his street. “I feel as though he’s more likely to be damaged at school than he is at home.”

“With all the bug spray we drench everything with, I doubt that.” Janus then jabs his fingers into Logan’s back, feeling it’s way more firm than his own, but also quite a bit bigger than it traditionally is. “Besides, at least I have a reason. What’s your excuse?”

Logan’s cheeks go pink. “I. Well. We’ve already had this conversation before!”

“Yes, yes, but you never having owned a toy before doesn’t justify carrying it around like an old baby blanket. In fact, it’s quite odd that you’re this attached to this new thing, considering you’ve never had the opportunity to get attached to stuffed animals in the past. It isn’t nostalgia, and you’re barely a child anymore, so I doubt it’s because it makes you feel safe. Hm…” Janus thinks, tapping his chin as he ponders what the reason could be. “And we can’t say separation anxiety, because you made it very clear that wasn’t the case.”

Logan huffs. “That’s because it’s not. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with him.”

“Him? Not ‘it?’”

Giving Janus an unhappy look, Logan crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m serious. Am I supposed to just leave it on my bed? Against the pillows? Is it a toy or a decoration, and if it’s a toy why is it such high quality, and if it’s a decoration then why was it clearly made to be cuddled? It’s all… confusing.”

“You’re the only person I think I’ve seen have a crisis over what to do with a stuffed bear.”

“Well… why do you bring Roman everywhere? If you can’t just leave him at home then why keep him at all?”

Janus pauses for a moment, and then shrugs as he grabs the library door for Logan, and holds it open for him. “I’m not sure.”

“You stole it, didn’t you? Why’d you steal it?”

Janus finds himself a bit baffled at the question. “I’m… I don’t know. I’m a klepto; I see something, I take it!”

“You’re not a klepto. There has to be a reason.”

“I think you’re applying too much logic to a situation I was just trying to tease you about.”

Logan smiles again. “Technically, I teased you first.” He greets the librarian politely, and she nods back at him, as Janus follows Logan to the back of the building, far from the entrance and other people, as Logan finds a table and sets his bag down.

Their words die down once they’re both settled and seated, with Janus unzipping his bag to pull Roman out, setting him on the table. Logan does the same, putting them side by side.

“I assume you’re not going to look for a book or anything?” Logan asks, as he then pulls out a folder of schoolwork. He sets it on the desk in front of his own seat, though doesn’t open it.

Janus folds one leg over the other and gets comfortable, before pulling out his phone. “Nope.”

“Okay. I’m going to go search for a novel or two; would you please stay with the bears?”

Grinning at Logan, Janus coos “scared they’re going to get stolen?”

His words make Logan roll his eyes. “Admittedly, yes. We’re near the children’s section, and I don’t want a kid coming over and snatching either of the stuffed toys thinking they’re library property. Then I’d have to take them back, and the child would cry, and it’d be a mess.”

Nose scrunching, Janus responds “I hate kids,” and that’s assurance enough in Logan’s mind.

He walks off to go find himself a good read, while Janus ignores the two stuffies in favor of scrolling through his half-dead phone, which has been drained due to its constant use throughout the school day. There’s nothing else interesting for him to do.

That is, until he gets a bit curious about the stuffed animals. They are rather high quality - even Remus, who was found in poor condition by Logan. They almost look like build-a-bears in terms of their design, though they’re a bit smaller than typical build-a-bears would be. Maybe they were a limited release of some sort?

Though, as Janus reaches over and flicks another look at Roman’s tag, he’s reminded that there’s no brand. Just a name.

So, he lifts his phone and takes a picture of the two, before deciding to do a cross-image search, hoping to find a quick answer of sorts on google. And yet… there’s nothing.

Of course, pictures of stuffed animals do pop up. White bears, brown bears, green bears, even prince-adjacent bears, but there’s no exact match whatsoever. Even limited edition beanie babies would have some obscure image posted once in their life! Maybe… maybe these were hand-made? But being handmade wouldn’t explain the tags. Only companies do that.

Janus makes a face of frustration as he plucks Roman off the table, kicking his feet up onto it after as he holds Roman against his thighs.

“Did your company go defunct or something?” Janus asks, though he obviously doesn’t expect an answer. “Or were you recalled? Those seem like the only explanations as to why you and your brother don’t seem to exist anywhere online.”

Online? Roman tries to question - only having heard vaguely of the internet - but he’s stuck being silenced.

Janus squeezes Roman’s midsection suddenly, before poking at the sash crossing over Roman’s body. “Maybe you were made overseas… you look like you’re mocking royalty.”

Roman would gasp if he could. Mocking? He wants to say, incredibly offended, I am royalty!

Remus meanwhile would be cackling at Janus’s words. How brash a peasant, and one who looks like a mess himself! It’s almost ironic, considering the bits and pieces Remus has heard, that Janus would be so judgemental towards a stuffed animal when he himself seemed to live in filth. But the idea of Roman being undoubtedly upset by Janus’s casual comments is entertaining enough for Remus to truly not care, instead picturing Roman’s spoiled, pouty lip jutted out and him stomping his feet as he tries to argue against the pointed criticisms from their kingdom’s citizens.

“Golden straps? A sash? It’s very… costume-y.” Janus then leans back a bit to get a good look at Remus. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

I could say the same thing, Remus thinks, as if he could say anything at all.

But Janus is quiet after that, keeping Roman in his lap as he goes back to mindless nonsense on his phone, and sits quietly until Logan comes back with three books neatly stacked in his arms.

Two of them he sets on the floor, and one he hits lightly against Janus’s legs, softly scolding “don’t put your feet up on the table, it’s rude,” before setting his book on the desk himself.

Janus rolls his eyes, but brings his legs back anyway. “What books did you get?”

“This one is about single variable calculus in order to help me further understand the derivatives we’re completing,” Logan says, as he pulls a worksheet from his school folder. He fetches a pencil from his bag, and opens the textbook to a pre-sought chapter, going between reading it and filling out his paper.

“I can see that,” Janus mutters in reply, making a face of disgust. “I thought you understood derivatives.”

“I just want more practice.”

Janus thinks Logan doesn’t need the practice, but alas, he looks over at the other two books piled by Logan’s bag. “What about the others?”

“One’s nonfiction that delves into detail about space exploration, written by someone who spent a month on the international space station. It’s full of thorough observations about the nuances of zero gravity and life in different conditions, making comparisons between Earth and space in various ways in order to paint a larger picture of what life would be like among the stars.” Logan then glances at the second book. “The other’s uh… it’s fiction. A fable. I didn’t pick it out purposefully; one of the staff members told me they were planning on tossing a bunch of old books.”

Logan sets his pencil down, and scoots his chair back to grab the fictional work from beneath the space book. He holds it in his lap, brushing his fingers gently over the visibly worn cover.

“I’m carrying too much already to have taken more than three, but I’ll have to come back at some point before they throw out everything. It’s so saddening to see so many books just be… trashed. I have a half-empty bookcase they’d look perfect on, though. And I’ve been searching for new books to read anyway.”

You seem like quite the snoutband, Remus scoffs internally, though if he knew the modern term “nerd” he’d probably have just said that instead.

“But what’s the fable about,” Janus rephrases, and Logan turns it around.

“I don’t know… I admittedly just grabbed a book at random.” His thumb glides over an inscribed synopsis on the book’s backside. “Here. I’ll read the given description. ‘A tale of two princes who tended more to themselves than their kingdom, cared more about fun than leading fiercely, and who ultimately met their demise at the hands of a fair witch. And this is a story children are told. And children tell their children. And everyone knows it. So it is fabled.’ Huh.”

“Sounds lame,” Janus yawns.

Sounds… familiar, Roman thinks.

“But at least it’ll be a nice contrast to what you read normally,” Janus then continues. “Maybe you’ll realize fiction is better than fact every once in a while.”

“Doubtful,” Logan murmurs, as he flicks the fable open to the first page. No author’s note - which he’s not too surprised by, considering the book's apparent age - but there’s no written publication date or copyright sign. In fact, as Logan skims the first few pages, and then looks at the book’s spine, he can’t even find an author. His brows narrow in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Do you think there are many books titled ‘A Tale Of Two Princes?’”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Logan hands Janus the book, who looks completely uninterested in it. He gives Logan a bored look, but Logan just directs him to where the author’s name would be. “There’s no author listed,” he explains, “and no date of publication. It’s like this is a self-published, uncredited draft, but it’s bound with a cover so I don’t understand.”

“Maybe it’s someone wanting to stay anonymous,” Janus reasons, as he pushes the fable back into Logan’s hands. “If I wrote fairy tales I’d want to stay hidden too.”

“Be nice,” Logan scolds, though he bites his lip as he flips through the book. “Honestly, though, the lack of identification in this book makes me significantly more interested in it.”

“More interested than you are in your calc book?”

Logan lets out a singular, clearly fake laugh, and answers “yes, of course. My calculus textbook was written by Marcus Antcormick. ‘A Tale Of Two Princes’ was written by someone we don’t know. I feel like one of those is significantly more fascinating to think about.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Janus kicks his feet back onto the table, setting his soles atop Logan’s hardcover textbook, though his soles land carelessly on the book’s open pages. “I think an unattributed calculus book would be way weirder than a one-off fairy tale. One of these things has actual supposed importance and credibility basically tied to the qualifications of the author. Anybody can write a made-up schtick. Not just anyone could write a calc walkthrough.”

“Anyone could write a mathematics book,” Logan argues. “They’d just have to learn thoroughly about the material. It’s not impossible.” He then stands and pulls Janus’s feet off his book, before sitting once more. He sets the fable back on the ground as he resumes his writing. “I’ve thought about eventually writing textbooks, but I’m not good at… simplifying material. I understand it as-is and I have a hard time understanding why others can’t.”

“You think they should be able to?”

“No.” Logan lets out a hum. “I know everybody thinks differently. I just don’t understand what it is they’re not understanding. If it was English, I’d get it. A lot of documents or passages we have to analyze are incredibly verbose, redundant, or utilize vernacular far beyond what some people our age have been exposed to. But math is just numbers, and most of us learn the same equations at the same time.” His pencil taps against his paper, and he looks towards Janus with a rather contemplative glimmer in his eyes. “I guess… I guess me not understanding why they struggle with math is similar to them not understanding the equations.”

“I suppose.” Janus groans as he stretches out in his chair, holding Roman tight against his chest. “I think the logarithmic is just bullshit, personally.”

“It’s important.”

“It’d be important if I was planning on writing a mathematics textbook. Luckily, I’m not-”

Janus cuts himself off abruptly as he feels his phone vibrate in his lap, where he’d set it while talking to Logan. He lifts Roman slightly to glance at the screen, and sighs as he answers the phone. He turns his face away from Logan to further muffle the voice on the other end, and speaks quietly himself, though Logan hears him say “okay,” and “I already said I would,” followed by Janus sighing when the phone’s hung up.

Slowly, Logan closes his textbook. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just have to go home like… now, which is farther away from here than your house is.” Janus looks legitimately peeved for a second, though quickly plays it off with a light joke of “I’m tempted to come home with you anyway and take a few snacks from your pantry as comeuppance for dragging me along, but I'm feeling kind today.”

“You chose to follow me,” Logan reminds him. “Why do you need to rush home anyway?”

“Delivery. My parents need me to bring it inside.”

Though Janus doesn’t specify what’s in the package, or even if it’s valuable, Logan knows why he has to bring it inside. Living in a not-great area means it can be swiped right off their porch in a matter of minutes, regardless of if it’s pricey or not. And Janus’s parents probably aren’t home anyway.

Janus sighs as he stuffs Roman back into his bag, being weirdly careful not to squish or force his arms into any uncomfortably bent position, and then slings it right onto his shoulders. As he stands, Logan can see one of his legs trembling, as if overexerted.

“All this walking is going to kill me,” Janus mutters, before telling Logan outright “you really need to learn to drive. It’d be easier on my knees.” He groans. “Ugh, I’m getting so old.”

“I know how to drive, I just don’t have a car,” Logan replies, before adding “and you’re not ‘getting so old.’ You haven’t even turned eighteen yet.”

Janus raises his arms above his head to stretch them out. “God help everyone else the day I do.” Once he’s satisfied with the ache being alleviated from most of his body, he gives Logan a short wave, and then heads out, walking fast to hopefully get home sooner, leaving Logan alone, with Remus still seated across from him on the table.

“I guess I should head out too, huh?” Logan says aloud, though he’s speaking to no one in particular. He looks towards Remus the same way he’d look expectantly towards a friend for a response, but of course, none comes.

In fact, even if Remus could respond, he’s too focused on the proclamation of Janus’s age, and thus Logan’s own assumed age! Not even eighteen? Why, neither are we! He thinks. Him and Roman never reached eighteen years of age… not before they were turned, at least. And while the argument could be made that technically they’re years and years older than they actually are, they’ve spent most of that time in a weird, blacked-out state. Though they were cursed, at least whoever cursed them was merciful enough to not make them constantly aware. If they were stuck awake every moment of every day, they’d probably be way more miserable… even more so than they currently are!

I can’t imagine being this pathetic before eighteen years, Remus then scoffs. Is this what you do all day? Read literature and bore each other with meaningless anecdotes? Where’s the fun? The excitement? Didn’t we meet inside a waste bin?

Logan packs his folder back into his bag, and tucks Remus in there as well, much to Remus’s disdain.

I hate being cramped in here, he’d complain, if he could. I’ve spent most of my time in this form in darkness, and you constantly shove me back into it. Honestly, I’m starting to miss the trash!

Though he’s placed in the front of the backpack, he can still feel the pressure of Logan’s many items pressing on him from all sides as Logan adjusts the bag’s straps on his shoulders, and then gathers up his pile of books.

He hands them to the librarian along with his library card - which he keeps neatly secured on his keyring - and then packs those into his bag as well. It makes it heavier, and he struggles to get it zipped, but eventually he manages, though Remus ends up crushed by the books being smashed into his face and body.

Do you really need so many? He groans, as he’s surrounded by literature from all sides. He does get the opportunity to read the back of the fable, though, recognizing it as being the one Logan read aloud earlier.

It sounded incredibly familiar… not in a way he’s read before - he wasn’t much for reading, personally - but instead as something he’s… experienced.

‘A Tale Of Two Princes’ Remus reads. Huh. Sounds fucking immature. I expected something more… engaging, Logan. Truly, I’m disappointed.

Reading in general was quite a drag, but having an owner he seemed to enjoy it was going to bother Remus to no end. At least the kids that owned him would take him on adventures to the park or leave him to be chewed up by their pets! And while unpleasant, Remus found he quite enjoyed how interesting it was to feel the pain of wood chips or dog fangs scratching into his fake fur. He would even go so far as to say he liked it! But Logan was just so… boring.

Remus is bounced around with every step Logan takes on his trek home, and since he’s learned through context over the years what “cars” were, he can’t help but agree with Janus about the fact Logan should truly invest in one.

Logan walks a lot quicker home than he did to the library, assured that no teenage bully would linger for more than ten minutes on his street. Nobody his age is patient enough for that, especially when that waiting would just lead to a brief and painful physical encounter. Their mindset is most likely that of “we could beat him up another day.” And they could… unless Logan made going to the library a consistent stop. Hm. Maybe he’d have to finish those books tonight; then he could exchange them tomorrow.

It was unlikely, considering he still had work to do (such as that unfinished worksheet, and some brief literature homework), but he’d have free time tonight!

As he nears his porch, he sees that the clouds are greying overhead, and hums to himself as he believes there’s probably going to be a storm tonight. Perhaps he’d set out a kettle and sip tea through the thunder - he wasn’t going to be able to sleep with the noise anyway.

As he heads inside, he’s greeted with both of his parents being home.

“Hi,” Logan greets them, as he moves through the door. His mother - Caroline - turns around. She’s on the phone with somebody, notably listening more than speaking, but she gives him a nod of acknowledgement. His father - Anthony - has documents laid out on the table. Logan peers at them, and sees printed out screenshots of messages, though he can’t read the texts contained within. Anthony doesn’t respond, and Logan presumes he’s too engrossed in his work to be aware of his surroundings.

He walks around them to the cupboard, which he fetches a kettle from. He fills it with tap water, and then sets it on the stove to boil. Then, he heads up to his room.

He sets his bag on the ground and pulls out his books. He sets the calculus textbook on his desk along with a few folders filled with the work he’ll have to do tonight, and then sets the other two books and Remus on his bed. Remus is tucked up against his pillows, comfortably pressed in the corner of two, and the books are stacked before him. Logan then sets his bookbag at the foot of his bed.

Pushing his door open with his foot, Logan makes sure he’ll be able to hear the pot whistle from upstairs, and then sits at his desk to finish his math worksheet.

Since he got about halfway through at the library, he’s able to finish it up by the time he hears the kettle begin to whistle, and waits until it’s screeching to finally head downstairs and tend to it. He’s down there for a bit, leaving Remus bored in his bedroom, until he comes back up with a mug with a tea bag in it. Logan dips the bag repeatedly into the mug, and then stirs the tea with a spoon, before bringing it to his mouth and blowing some steam away before taking a sip. He sets the cup on the corner of his desk and sits back down, as rain slowly starts to beat against his window.

Remus is left incredibly understimulated as he rests in Logan's unentertaining room. There’s barely anything to look at along the walls, on his desk - there’s nothing anywhere!

Remus couldn’t imagine having such a drab residence. His own room was filled with golden trinkets and the bones of game he’d skillfully hunted. He had taken time to pick their bones clean and smooth out their imperfections before framing the structure around his room or fixing the innards into decor. Rib bones turned to windchimes, or small hearts pickled in a jar for a splash of colour amongst his shelves.

Though, his most prized decorations were ripped outright away from his citizens. An indigo scarf yanked from a woman, pregnant with child. And a golden chain, thin and handcrafted with the minimal material found panning in the river. Remus loved how pretty they looked ripped up and hanging messily from hooks or nails in his walls. Honestly, if Logan could ever fight back against those people picking on him, Remus encourages him to take a souvenir! At least it’d make his room less mind-numbing!

A large crack outside has Logan turning slightly in his chair, taking a swig from his mug as he watches the rain pour down outside, a lot harder than it was moments earlier. As Logan watches, there’s a flash of lightning, brighter than even the light in his room, and it’s gone as soon as it hits.

The wind is loud against his window, and Logan sighs as he hopes the storm seizes soon. He’s got school tomorrow, and would rather not be up all night.

He turns back to his work, and finishes up with his borrowed calculus textbook, before closing it and setting it on the ground next to him. As he moves on to his literature work, he’s once again absorbed in his writing, and Remus is back to listening to the raging storm mixed with the scratching of paper.

At some point, Logan heads back downstairs to get a refill of tea, and Remus is able to hear a very muffled conversation between him and his supposed caregivers.

“Do you have to go back to work right now?” Logan asks. “It’s late.”

“It’s surgery,” Caroline responds. “Just because it’s dark outside doesn’t mean my patient can postpone her liver failure. We just found a donor.”

“It’s storming pretty bad out there,” Anthony interjects, before he lets out a long sigh. “But, I suppose the rain won’t stop death, either. Just… drive safe.”

“I will.”

“I love you,” Logan says, followed by the front door slamming. No words follow after, and Logan comes back upstairs with a second cupful of heated tea. He stirs it slowly, but doesn’t drink it. He turns back to his work, but Remus doesn’t hear him write at all. Just soft drinking and silence.

It isn’t until Anthony comes upstairs sometime later that Remus is finally greeted with something interesting.

“Hey… uh… your friend is outside.”

Logan gives him a weird look. “What?”

“At the front door.”

Logan stands up and heads downstairs again, and Anthony glances at the bed, giving Remus a funny look. Remus would stick his tongue out at him if he could. As Anthony leaves the room, Logan’s stepping back into it, with Janus following closely behind him. Janus is completely soaked; even the bag he’s wearing sags with water.

“I hate the rain,” Janus hisses, shivering in his sopping clothes. “And your dad just… left me on the porch!”

“I think he was giving me the opportunity to turn you away,” Logan says in response, as he digs comfortable, baggy clothes out from the back of his dresser. He gives them to Janus, who rushes to strip out of the wet fabric clinging to his body. “I think he was also shocked to see you at the front door for once.”

“I’m not going to scale a tree in the middle of a storm,” Janus huffs. “Last thing I need is to be struck by lightning.”

He pulls on Logan’s clothes, and immediately throws himself into Logan’s bed, shamelessly bundling himself in the blankets. His eyebrows are creased, seemingly stressed. Remus can hear his teeth chatter. As thunder booms outside, Janus’s knuckles go white on the sheets. Even his face is pale.

As Logan scoops up Janus’s clothes and dumps them into his hamper, he asks “what are you doing out in the storm anyway?”

“Roof was leaking,” Janus mumbles. “And there was a draft. It was chilly.”

“I’ll see if I can find my mom’s heating pad.” Logan wipes his damp hands on his pants, before turning back to Janus, who is buried so deep in the covers that only half his face is visible. His eyes are intensely fixated on the window, and he looks shaken anytime lightning strikes outside, and nearly winces with each loud crackle of thunder. So, Logan asks “are you alright?”

Immediately, he’s met with a glare. “That’s a stupid question,” Janus snaps.

Logan looks unphased. “Don’t be rude; I’m just concerned,” he says, as he kneels to grab Janus’s bag. Opening it, he’s not surprised to see Roman, though Roman is just as wet as everything else. He picks him up and squeezes one of his paws, frowning when water begins to drip down the sides of his fingers. But it’s not like Janus’s wet hair wasn’t already soaking into his pillows, so he gives Roman to Janus despite not loving the idea of water in his bed.

“I don’t need this teddy bear,” Janus huffs, as he takes Roman anyway. “What I need is for the storm to cease.”

“Storms don’t just magically stop.”

“They should!” Janus dramatically hits his hands against the mattress, only to jump at another burst of thunder. He swallows the spit in his mouth, before jokingly mumbling “the weather should just… do as I say.”

“You sound like a spoiled prince.”

Both Roman and Remus immediately make noises of complaint, but of course those pitiful disagreements never reach the two humans’ ears.

Though, the mention of princes has Logan humming as he reaches to grab his fable. He sets it on his bed, and then rolls Janus gently over, until he’s laying against the pillows stacked neatly against the wall, and pressing into Remus with his shoulder. Both of them are uncomfortable with this position, so Janus grabs Remus and holds him too, as Logan slides into bed next to him.

He gets under the blankets just enough to cover his thighs, and then sets up the book.

Janus gives him a look. “Are you really going to read right now?”

“Of course,” Logan simply responds. “I’m almost finished with my work anyway, so taking some time to read won’t hinder my productivity.” Logan then glances Janus’s way, and gives him a small, considerate smile. “I… also assumed a distraction would be appreciated.”

“I don’t need to be distracted from anything,” Janus replies, through gritted teeth, though Roman would have to disagree with him considering how hard Janus is squeezing his plush body. If Roman could choke, he’d be fighting for his life right now. Despite his words however, Janus cuddles closer to Logan’s legs as lightning flashes throughout the room.

“Consider this an excuse for me to practice reading aloud, then,” Logan says, as he flips open to the first page of the fairytale. There’s not even a table of contents, which bothers Logan a bit. “We can start at the beginning. ‘Chapter One. At the peak of spring, when birds were singing and flowers were blossoming, when orchards were graced with precious fruit and fields tilled in preparation, twins were born within the grandeur castle. Few were present for the birth, aside from the queen, king, and midwife, but there was a feeling of premonition that spread throughout the village that day. A horrible, distressing feeling, as if the citizens somehow knew the horrors to come…’”

Though Remus hates books, and Roman was struggling in Janus’s tight grip, they both can’t help but listen to this tale. Again, they’re both struck with a strange sense of familiarity, in the worst possible way. Logan’s voice remains neutral, if not a tad interested as he reads, as Janus stays silent, with the only disturbance being the storm raging on just outside. But even that doesn’t distract the twins… no, they’re stuck taking in Logan’s words, trying to recall where they first heard them. Sometime in the past… sometime very, very far past.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #agp fic #roceit #intrulogical #creativitwins #fluff fic #inanimate tf #teddy bear tf #stuffed animal tf

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maccreadysbaby · 16 days ago

Text

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

it’s getting real

part thirty-three

❝ PLAGUE DOCTOR ❞

FRIDAY — AUGUST 3 — 8:02PM

BENTLEY AND ASTEN DIDN’T TALK BESIDES A FEW SENTENCES OVER THE WEEK, ABOUT CLASS OR SCHOOLWORK OR SOMETHING EQUALLY BORING AND USELESS.

As weird as it sounded, Bentley was starting to get... used to it. He just… hung out with other people. He’d started talking more with Valor, and had gone back out into the city with Rockie just because they felt like going to Times Square. He’d been getting steadily better at soccer and closer with Varian and Koa, and Bellamy was starting to open up more, to talk when other roommates were around, to come out of his room even when Bentley wasn’t there.

He’d gone to get ice cream with Vera and Layla again, had helped Summer hang posters and banners for some kind of name drawing thing (which took them until like, midnight), and texted Chloe a lot, even if she didn’t talk to him in person much besides early mornings and late nights.

He hadn’t heard from his father, he hadn’t had any more breakdowns or bad dreams, he’d spoken to a Wayne every day about nothing important, and everything was… good. Even now, on a Friday night at almost eight, everything was quiet, and normal.

But he guessed it all could’ve been a little better, had a fundamental piece of the puzzle not been missing. (As in a blue-haired Brazilian who’d literally almost died by Bentley’s side way too many times for a lie to ruin their friendship.)

“-no, yeah, Jackson’s whole dorm has, like, the plague. He’s texting me about it right now. Sounds rough,” Varian trailed off. He, Koa, Valor, Bellamy, and Bentley were sitting at the dining table, playing a mean game of uno. Valor was winning. (Bentley may or may not have had about an entire deck of cards in his hand, courtesy of sitting next to Koa, who had absolutely no mercy.)

“Didn’t I see you frolicking around at their breakfast table this morning?” Valor questioned with a snicker, laying a card down, and Varian shrugged.

“Nah. My immune system is so terrible that sometimes it has pity on me and keeps me from getting sick,” He muttered, laying one on top of Valor's. “I’ll be fine.”

“Speaking of sick,” Koa piped up, laying a card down on his turn. Bentley drew four. “I haven’t seen Rockie or Asten since dinner. Where are they?”

Bentley glanced up from his hand of cards, to Valor, who was the most likely one to know the answer to that. Unsurprisingly, he simply shrugged. “Rockie said he wasn’t feeling good. I don’t know about Asten.”

Koa groaned. “Oh, Jesus, we have the plague already.”

Varian held his hands up. “Wasn’t me!”

“He’s not sick,” Valor continued. Everyone sort of waited for him to elaborate on that statement, but he never did, just waited for them to keep playing. So eventually they just… let it go.

Bentley put a card down, and Bellamy did right after.

“Was Asten feeling okay?” Varian questioned, glancing over at Bentley. He shrugged lightly, and thought about making an offhand comment on Asten's current vanished status, but decided to just settle on:

“I dunno,”

Varian then looked over at Valor, who also shrugged. “I have no idea. Uno.”

“Me, either,”

“I don’t think Asten’s here,”

Everyone glanced down to the end of the table, where Bellamy was looking back at them. He seemed to shrink a little under all the eyes, but he didn't get up and move, or apologize, which was a good improvement in Bentley's book.

“What do you mean?” Valor questioned, leaning forward slightly.

Bellamy's brown eyes flicked vaguely toward the door. “I saw him leave right when we got back from dinner. I don’t think anyone was really paying attention.”

Bentley glanced down at the table, at his cards.

Asten was really into utilizing his newfound freedom, wasn’t he? Just up and leaving midday with none of his roommates and no heads-up for anyone?

Valor hummed. “That's odd.”

Another moment of quiet passed, and Varian laid a card down, then Koa, then Bentley and Bellamy. When Valor's turn came around, he put his final card atop the deck to declare himself winner with an abrupt: “I’ll be back later.”

Then he stood up, grabbed a hoodie, and left the dorm without much more than a split-second glance back.

Bentley wondered if he was going to look for Asten.

“Yeah, I think I’m over getting absolutely annihilated repeatedly,” Koa sighed, placing his cards down on the table. “I have homework, and Sunday night me is going to be pissed if I don’t do it now.”

Varian gave him a sarcastic round of applause. “How mature of you!”

“Don’t get used to it,”

Bentley chuckled lightly, gathering up the cards as they dispersed from the table and stacking them to put them back in the box.

“I’m glad we stopped, I was losing so hard,” He muttered, and Bellamy snickered at him, sliding his hand of cards across the table toward the box.

“I was close to winning,”

Bentley glanced up at him. “Of course you were, just like you won the three games before that.”

“Luck of the draw,” Bellamy shrugged.

Bentley shoved the cards in the box and folded it up. “Literally.”

It was quiet for another moment, and they heard Varian and Koa bickering in the background for a few seconds before Koa emerged from his bedroom, settling on one of the couches with a binder. Varian came out and plopped down on the other couch.

Bentley glanced down the table at Bellamy, who was sitting quietly. "I'm proud of you."

Bellamy glanced up at him, and a confused look crossed his features. "Why?"

"Because you've been doing so well with the other roommates," Bentley replied. "It's great. I know firsthand that it helps when you know other people can see the effort."

Bellamy smiled lightly, his eyes trailing down to the tabletop. He opened his mouth, but his soft words were drowned out when something loud and pulsing invaded Bentley's ears. A heartbeat; quick, and hard, like someone was running.

He glanced between all three of his visible roommates in quick succession, even if he knew it probably wasn’t them. Sure enough, one by one, they checked out, Varian, Koa, and Bellamy, their pulses calm and even. It was unsurprising to find that the pounding was coming from behind a closed door.

Rockie and Valor’s closed door.

Bentley zoned back in, and Bellamy was looking at him curiously.

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh. I just said thank you,” Bellamy replied, creasing his brow. “What did you hear?”

Bentley glanced up at the bedroom door across the way. “Rockie’s heartbeat. It’s fast.”

Bellamy glanced back at the door as if it would magically open so he could see in. “Maybe you should go check on him.”

Bentley glanced at him, then at the bedroom door again, a few moments of silent contemplation passing between both of them. Valor said Rockie wasn’t feeling good, but that he also wasn’t sick. What did that even mean?

Despite the lingering question, Bentley stood anyhow, making his way around the table. He ruffled Bellamy’s hair on the way by, which, a few short weeks ago, wouldn’t have gotten panic in response, but today, earned him a little smile.

He made his way to Rockie’s door and, checking the pulse one last time (no change), knocked softly. “Rockie? It’s Bentley.”

A moment passed where Varian and Koa glanced over at him, then between each other. Bentley glanced back at Bellamy, who looked back at him, all four of them waiting for a response that never came. The pulse remained unchanged, a repetitive bam, bam, bam in Bentley’s skull.

He knocked again. “Rockie?”

Again, no response. Nothing to suggest his voice or knocking had been heard in the slightest.

With a glance over to Koa, who was watching again, Bentley shrugged. Then he turned the knob and pushed Rockie’s bedroom door open in the slightest.

It was dark in the room. The blackout curtains were pulled tight even against the darkness of nighttime, and the bathroom lights were on, but the door was closed, only letting in the faintest sliver of dim light. Bentley might’ve guessed Rockie was in the bathroom, if it weren’t for the curled up figure that kept shifting uncomfortably on the bottom bunk.

Bentley stepped in farther, and when he did, he was met by the smell of sterile cleaner that reminded him of a hospital and made his nose crinkle. He closed the door softly behind him.

As his eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, the figure on the bed became clearer — it was definitely Rockie. He was laying on the edge of his mattress, knees tucked up tight and arms wrapped around himself, trembling slightly on top of his covers. Trembling, Bentley noticed, not shivering -- less of an off and on movement that came with the cold and more of a constant… vibration, almost? His eyebrows were pitched inward slightly, his eyes and face twitching every now and then like he was having a bad dream.

Bentley stepped forward slowly. “Hey, Rockie?”

Of course, he went unheard. Bentley took another grueling step forward, and the closer he got, the more he heard Rockie’s soft but undeniably ragged, uneven breaths. It wasn’t terrified thrashing or screaming like Bentley and Bellamy were accustomed to, it was just… he didn't know. Really calm, in a weird way. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so calm during a bad dream. That was what was happening, right? What else would it be?

Nevertheless, he inched forward again, closer to the bed. “Rockie?”

Waking him up was way easier than Bentley thought it would be. He didn’t have to shake him or tap him or raise his voice like everyone did for him — Rockie’s green eyes just flicked open at the simple mutter of his name, breath hitching in his throat with a nearly inaudible, sharp inhale.

Despite his startling calmness, Bentley took notice of the shininess that quickly gathered at the bottom of his eyes.

“Hey, Rockie. Just me…” Bentley trailed off, taking another tentative step forward, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. “Valor said you weren’t feeling good, so I was just coming to check on you…”

Rockie’s dull eyes focused on him, then flicked around the room as though he was gathering his bearings. Then he sighed lightly, curling up tighter like he was uncomfortable, blinking a few times until there was no sign of the previous wetness. He swallowed and let his eyes fall shut again. “Thanks, Bentley. I’m okay.”

With a frown, Bentley slowly reached forward and rested a tentative hand on his forehead. The older boy just smiled faintly in this almost half-aware, half-asleep kind of way. “Don't have a fever.”

Bentley drew his hand back.

“My meds like to screw with me,” He mumbled with a strange movement that was probably meant to be a shrug, not even opening his eyes. “But it’s fine.”

Bentley cringed to himself, glancing at the cleaning supplies that were stationed haphazardly outside of their bathroom door. “Your medicine makes you sick?”

Bentley understood side effects like feeling nauseous if you didn’t eat food with certain medicines, but a pill that put him on bed arrest seemed kinda… unnecessary?

Rockie hummed into his pillow, obviously only half-present. “When it pleases.”

Bentley was quiet for a short minute. “Is there anything you want or… need?”

Rockie’s eyes fluttered open, bouncing around the room a little in contemplation before drifting closed again. “S’ Valor here?”

“...No, he left just a few minutes ago,” Bentley replied sheepishly. “Sorry.”

For a minute, after that, Rockie didn’t say anything. Bentley might’ve thought he was asleep if it weren’t for the contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Another vague look of discomfort crossed his features. “Then I guess not.”

While Bentley couldn’t see it, his powers (a blessing and sometimes a curse, too.) allowed him to feel the vague tears that built at the corners of Rockie’s eyes. Did he need Valor that bad? Because Bentley would run across campus to find him. It wouldn’t be hard, he had giant white wings!

“If there’s something you need me to do… I can do it,” Bentley continued softly (because he couldn’t just tell Rockie hey, I can feel your tears, because I’m creepy.)

Rockie just sort of shook his head and didn’t open his eyes.

“No, it’s okay… I can text you if I need you,” He replied cooly, turning his head into his pillow in a clever way so Bentley couldn’t really see his face anymore.

Bentley just sort of nodded even though he was hesitant to leave. He just kind of stood there for a minute, and in his drowsy state, Rockie didn’t seem to mind. He just laid there.

But Bentley assumed he should talk again before he fell asleep if he was going to, so he continued, softly: “Do you want me to stay?”

A moment of hesitation hung in the air, like Rockie wanted to say yes. But then he swallowed again, and adjusted his head on his pillow. “No, it's okay.”

Bentley bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Mm. I’m just gonna sleep,” He replied. Then he opened his mouth to say something else, but decided against it. “Thanks… Bentley.”

“No problem…” Bentley replied, as he began to move for the door. “Text me if you need me, okay?”

“I will,”

So with that, he left and closed the door softly behind him, keeping his phone ringer on and the screen in his sightline until further notice.

He pretended he didn’t feel the stubborn one or two tears that fell down Rockie’s face a few moments after he left.

It was midnight, and Valor wasn't back.

Neither was Asten.

Bentley would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. But, since Asten was clearly so tough and capable and experienced that he could just vanish on his own without telling anybody, he obviously had no reason to worry.

But he did anyway. Because it was Asten; and it was basically Bentley’s full-time job to worry about him, even if they weren’t talking.

Rockie hadn’t texted him since he’d checked on him earlier, but he kept his phone turned up and sitting next to his pillow anyways. He’d checked on him once more about an hour and a half ago, but he looked to be asleep, so Bentley didn’t bother him.

It was about twenty minutes past midnight when Bentley’s phone did chime. He was quick to look at it, but the name on the screen was Chloe, not Rockie.

He opened the text and quickly scanned it.

Well, me and my roommates are all officially dying.

Bentley scrunched his face up, typing back a quick: what?

The bubonic plague that’s going around has struck. She texted back. It’s so annoying. It’s ultra contagious so they won’t let us leave the dorm. The nurse had to come to us this morning.

Bentley cringed to himself. I’m sorry, was his message back. That must’ve been the same plague that Varian was talking about one of his friends having.

Her text: It’s fine, I get time to binge watch netflix. Are you guys uninfected? Came in a moment later.

Yeah, thankfully, He replied.

Make sure to wear your plague doctor mask to class, she typed. And send me a selfie, too.

Bentley smiled to himself. I’d rather be caught dead than wear one of those.

She sent back an amused message of: Oh don’t worry, you will! With a funny gif of someone dressed completely as a plague doctor dancing.

Bentley found himself smiling in amusement at the screen. And a second later, she sent another text.

Anyways, I was just letting you know since you were around me. The nurse prescribed me an unholy amount of sleep, so I’m gonna try and do that. Keyword, try.

Bentley snickered lightly to himself. I guess I should, too. He sent back.

Goodnight, Bentley :)

Goodnight.

The text thread went offline, and a few moments later, he laid his phone back down next to his head.

Well, whatever sickness they had obviously wasn’t that bad, or Chloe wouldn’t have been texting back so well. Or planning to have a netflix marathon.

About three seconds into his contemplations, his phone dinged again.

When he checked, it was Valor's name shining on the lockscreen, along with the text: Hey, you awake?

Bentley exhaled heavily, reaching over and typing: yeah. What’s up?

Valor’s typing bubbles popped up and disappeared a few times, and it only worked to make Bentley more anxious. He’d left after they mentioned Asten, which probably meant he was looking for, or maybe even found him. And lots of typing bubbles meant a long text. And long texts were usually bad texts. Was this a bad text about Asten?

Do me a favor and check on Rockie? He told me you went in earlier. Was Valor’s mysterious terrible text that… didn’t end up being so terrible. Then another came in quickly after. He usually has nightmares when he feels bad. They’re rough sometimes.

Bentley blew out a sigh of relief and texted back: Yeah, I’ll go check on him.

Valor’s bubbles bounced at the corner of the screen for a while before the next message, Thanks, I shouldn’t be much longer, popped up.

You’re welcome, was what Bentley sent back.

Then, with a soft sigh, he pushed himself up out of his bed, rubbing his eyes lightly. He flicked the bedroom lamp on and sent a glance to Asten’s bunk, as if he’d magically appear there just because Bentley wanted him to.

He didn’t.

Nonetheless, Bentley swung his bedroom door open, stepping out into the dim living area. Varian was the only one out there, and only one lamp was on. He was asleep on the couch with a laptop open on the table like he’d been watching something.

Bentley closed his bedroom door softly and tiptoed over toward Rockie’s, his footfalls almost dead silent in an attempt not to wake Varian. He thought about knocking, but wouldn’t that just risk waking both Varian and Rockie?

So he opened Rockie’s door just a few inches, peeking inside at the bottom bunk.

It was empty.

With an exhale, Bentley pushed the door open just enough to slide himself through, then closed it behind him. Rockie wasn’t in the bed, which meant he was in the bathroom. Unless he’d taken an impromptu trip out like Asten. Or leaped out of his window. (Given they were on the sixth floor, probably not.)

But the bathroom light was on, and the door was closed, and the fan was running, which probably meant he was in there.

Bentley stepped up to the door and, after a second, knocked lightly. “Rockie? You okay?”

Five seconds passed, then ten. No reply.

“Rockie?”

Bentley went unheard. He tried to twist the door handle, and it moved freely. Was it really his place to go barging in? Valor had asked him to check…

With a cringe, mostly because he didn’t want to make Rockie upset if he didn’t want him in there, he continued: “I’m… gonna come in, okay?”

Nothing.

Bentley pushed the door open.

It thudded softly against something when it was only about halfway open, and when Bentley looked down to check what it was, it ended up being Rockie’s foot. He was curled up on the bathroom floor on top of what looked like a thin, black throw blanket, legs tucked up and arms wound around himself just like he had been in his bed. He looked like he was asleep, the same vague discomfort splayed across his features that had been earlier.

When the door nudged his foot, his frown deepened, and he pulled his legs in tighter.

“Rockie? You awake?” Bentley asked softly. He waited for an answer, but it ever came, and he never opened his eyes.

Bentley sighed and pulled his phone out, shooting a text to Chloe that said: Still awake?

Not ten seconds later, he got one that said: Yeah. I just found say yes to the dress on my computer so I think sleeping tonight is a no. Thought you were trying to go to bed?

Sick roommate, Bentley replied. What does the bubonic high school plague entail?

Chloe’s typing bubbles popped up off and on for a few moments, before a text came: Well, it started with just feeling gross, then came all the stupid symptoms. I’d say the worst ones are the like sun-level fevers and throwing up every three milliseconds. But there’s also just weird random stuff like muscle cramps and burning and stuff, which I can honestly say is a first for me while sick. You think your roommate has it?

Bentley glanced up at Rockie. While he looked extraordinarily uncomfortable, he didn’t exactly look sick. Bentley moved to the other end of the bathroom as quietly as he could, crouching down and gently resting the back of his fingers against Rockie’s forehead. He shifted a little under the touch, but didn’t stir fully.

He doesn’t have a fever, Bentley typed back to Chloe. Just checking. Thanks.

No prob.

Bentley sighed lightly, his eyes lingering on Rockie’s limp form. He wished he could help, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about sickness caused by medicine. He remembered Tim complaining about the fact that he couldn’t mix a lot of pain meds and stuff with Fluoxetine, so he didn’t really… have anything else he could offer up. Except for himself, but Rockie had said he didn’t want him to stay earlier. So…

Rockie suddenly made a quiet noise, almost a whimper of sorts. Bentley glanced down at him, and he was coiling up tighter, brows furrowed. Bentley could hear the accelerating bu-dump of his heartbeat.

He reached out to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder, and-

There was a flash, and a searing, stabbing pain ripped through Bentley’s head. He was falling, and falling, and WHAM! He hit the floor with a thud that sent a deep pain shooting through every bone in his body.

He groaned lightly. What the hell?

He peeled his eyes open and glanced around. Instead of Rockie’s bathroom, he was in… a long, white hallway? Lined with doors, with dim lights that flickered every now and then? It was cold, and when he looked down at himself, he was in a hospital gown with no socks or shoes.

Where…

Suddenly, a muffled: bang, bang, bang, bang, bang sounded from the other end of the long, dark hall, and Bentley’s head snapped up in that direction. It was just… long. And dim. And empty.

Bentley pushed himself off of the cold white floor and glanced both directions down the hall. They seemed to be endless, so long it made him kinda dizzy, with flickering lights here and there. There were so many doors he couldn’t even begin to count them all.

The banging came from the opposite direction it had before, and he whipped around that way, greeted by nothing but emptiness.

And suddenly, the entire hallway went pitch black.

And a second later, one light, all the way at the end, flicked on.

And she was standing there.

Bentley felt the moment his soul nearly left his body, going absolutely rigid, unable to move, unable to breathe like all of the air was sucked right out of his lungs by a force he couldn’t see. All coherent thought screeched to a halt, and he heard, felt his heartbeat slamming in his ears. Panic clawed it's way up his throat, and all of his senses fired at once — he wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to start crying, he wanted to kill her, he wanted to scream in her face, he wanted to get out of here, he wanted to go home.

He couldn’t think enough to react. He just stood there.

And she just stared at him, with her glowing amber eyes, with her bloody stitched-together smile, with her stringy platinum hair that was more of a brown and crimson mix now than anything.

And finally, she lifted a hand. And she waved.

“Miss me, Babybird?”

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

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cannibal-walleye · 16 days ago

Note

RAHHHHH CANNIBAL WALLEYE WALLEYE CANNIBAL YOU NEVER MISSSSS JUMPING OFF THE WALLLSSSS

Just got the chance to finish chapter 9 and i will cryyyyyy. Impulse :( Skizz caring about Impulse :( they're all so stupid :( I can't wait till I have time to draw RAHHH

I have a feeling this is going to be one of the chapters that really stick with me. Aside from the WONDERFUL writing, and the AMAZING portrayal of emotions, I can, unfortunately, really connect and sympathize with Impulse this chapter lol

Obviously not to go too into detail or start venting or anything, today has been A LOT. had to get up earlier than i can properly function, go to physical therapy, just got back from a saline infusion,

(Trigger warning: needles, and slight medical errors. feel free to skip lol Tylically the place i go to for infusions are quick and easy, but today they didnt fail once, but TWICE. blew two veins, and when they finally got everything said and done, the needle hurt like HELL going in, when usually i can't feel it)

and I STILL have another appointment I need to go to later today. On top of all that I also have to fit in schoolwork. Definitely feels like stuff that doesn't normally bother me is building up, and FAST, I can only imagine what Impulse is feeling. Actually, not true, I can READ it lol. (And it will never fail to make me Feel™ what they are Feeling™)

Once again, everything is so very wonderfully written it's insane. Despite being similar to what I'm currently feeling, it still felt like an escape rather than adding to the stress, yknow? Which, personally, as someone who struggles with writing in general. Is just plain insane to me.

Also the shower scene. Beautifully written. You can practically feel the tension melting off of Impulse before his thoughts start getting a bit too much. Very relatable. Very cozy with the perfect amount of oomph. I want Skizz to hug him and tell him it's going to be okay so bad I could rival the sun in intensity. Like. Cannibal. Cannibal please. Let them be happy. (Make it last. I want to see them suffer.) I want to draw them being happy together (i want to draw them being sad together. They should be miserable a bit longer. As a treat.)

Don't want this to go on for too long, because I feel like it's already longer than it probably should be, even if I could ramble for hours. But I just wanted to say that this chapter made me especially happy :] (also im surprised Skizz didn't know he was a demon. Hmm. The thoughts are brewing lol.)

Last but not least, do you mind being called just "cannibal?" Because personally, I find it very silly, but if it bothers you at all I can just. Not, lol. <3 (Also feel free not to answer this if its too long or makes you uncomfortable in any way, I definitely rambled about my day way more than I intended. Whoops.)

hehehe I know >:3 (I'm gonna answer this with a paragraph for each of ur paragraphs btw)

Cry. Do it. I dare you to. They ARE so silly and sad and also so so caring for each other <3 <3 ((also if u drew something i would love u forever haha))

I'm so pleased to hear that you think it's going to stick with you! That's actually such an honor, you're making me blush ^///^ But yeah, I think we're all relating to Impulse this chapter, which is honestly rather unfortunate. But hey! At least I'm hitting home 🙃

I don't mind venting!! Vent away <3 Also I feel that, getting up earlier than it feels you can function. Had that last semester, fortunately I have no 8 ams this time around.

I'm so sorry to hear that D: I hope you're all recovered by the time I answer this <3 I had a similar thing years ago, where I injured myself and they had to draw blood and just couldn't get the needle right. I think they tried 5 times on both arms. Somehow, I'm not afraid of needles after that, but I totally get what you're experiencing and wish you all the best *throws infinite hearts at you*

It really is just an endless cycle sometimes, huh? The little things can pile up quickly if you're not careful about noticing and taking care of yourself. I hope you got to take a warm shower, or do something comforting to you afterwards. My go-to is a mug of hot chocolate :] (and speaking of, I actually just had one lol)

Thank you thank you thank you!!! I'm glad it felt like an escape. I find it difficult to read works that are bleak or overly miserable, so I'm happy to hear that it wasn't just sad for you, that it helped with your own experiences. Something something comfort in solidarity and shared suffering

Yeah the shower scene :))) Fun fact: I came up with the idea while in the shower. It's so distracting at first when there's something to do, what with washing up n such. And then, there's that period where it's so comfortable, but purposeless, and that's where the thoughts get you. At least for me, and thus Impulse. But mostly, a very very safe space where things don't feel quite so oppressive. And the Skizz hugs, I'm sure they're coming one day ;) ((also the "I want to see them suffer" is far too true for me lmao. make it ANGSTY)) Again, if you draw, I will give u a real life kiss and make you a cinnamon roll. You deserve to draw them, as a treat. ((YES DRAW THEM SAD >:D the misery makes the relief all the sweeter at the end))

I don't mind long asks! And I ESPECIALLY don't mind rambling about my story. I live off that stuff, yes please. Genuinely makes my day, reading comments and seeing these extra reactions :)))) If you want to ramble, always feel free to send in an ask, or even message me directly! I won't bite you (I only bite Skizz), and I'm always happy to have someone to ramble about skizzpulse with (So, if you have thoughts brewing about Skizz not knowing he was a demon, you're invited to send them my way)

You can call me Walleye! Cannibal just describes my feelings on Imp and Skizz, you know? And yeah, Cannibal does feel like a silly name, so hopefully Walleye feels a little less silly

Thank you so so sosoSOOSOSOSOSO much for the ask, I can't even begin to explain how happy this makes me. Hopy you're feeling better! Drink water, get some rest, take care of yourself!! <3

Walleye out o7

#walleye asks #this side of the screen #skizzleman #impulsesv #hermitcraft #ao3 fanfic #skizzpulse #<- technically ig?

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quibbs126 · 2 months ago

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So I probably shouldn’t have been drawing these last night and this morning, considering I have schoolwork to do that’s due by tonight, and I won’t be back home until 6, but I have, so here we are

So I’m really not sure anyone remembers, considering the last time I drew them was around 2 years ago, but these guys are some of my old Evoland 2.5 (I guess) characters, specifically Juno and Jovi

They’ve been percolating around in my head for the past while, as well as these two new characters, and with my work sketches I decided to finally get around to redesigning them in full. Or at least, half up

I do feel like Juno and Jovi look the best, but that’s probably also because I’ve never drawn the other two before. I only had vague ideas for the other two. But I do like how the siblings turned out

Solus is definitely getting a redesign though

Anyways, how about I explain them to you? Since you don’t know who they are

So basically they’re supposed to be from a vague centuries later future of Evoland 2, but also not really considering time loop and all that. So the events of Evoland 2 sort of happened, but also no time travel or time loop

I’ve rewritten Juno and Jovi’s backstories multiple times, but it has now swung back around to making them Demon royalty. But I never like having Juno be the actual crown princess, so that’s what Solus is here for. Solus is the crown prince of the new Demon kingdom (it isn’t called Demonia anymore, though it is still the last name of the royal family), with his father as the king. Juno and Jovi are his cousins (Juno is the older one), with them also having royal blood as their mother was the younger sister of the current king, their uncle

The pair of them live with their uncle and cousin since their parents died when they were children. Juno is a young adult, around her 50s, Jovi a teenager in his 40s, while their cousin Solus is around his 80s or so

Oh and also by proxy of being the royal family, these guys are then Menos’ direct descendants via Reno

I have this vision of Solus wearing sunglasses, which you see here, but honestly I’m not sure if I should keep them. Maybe they’re a bit anachronistic

But the reason he wears sunglasses is that Solus is in fact blind, and he has been his entire life. He’s had to work around his blindness in some areas, like the fact that he can’t really read or write in the conventional sense, but he’s plenty capable. He also I think throws knives, which might not sound safe, but he can do it fine. He doesn’t really like people knowing he’s blind, so he doesn’t tell people, and he wears the sunglasses to avoid the problem of no direct eye contact

And then we have the last character, who I cannot for the life of me name. I just don’t really know what to call her. But she is a Troll, so for now I’m just going to call her Troll Lady

She is in fact the fiancé of Solus, and while there is political value in their marriage, they’re doing it because they want to, they are very much in love. She also runs a factory and is a good 9 feet tall or so (Solus is around 6)

To explain worldbuilding, first let’s start with the Demons. So in this world they did not die out after the Great War, managing to pull through just barely (they might have used the Magi Lab, I’m not sure). But for a time, all Demons lived in the Temple of Menos, which is also known as the Sacred Temple. Eventually their population grew large enough, as well as the Great Flood having already happened and the world settled, that the Demons came back down to the surface and started living in the remains of the old kingdom Demonia, though some chose to stay in the Temple instead. The Demons basically live in a giant tower below the Temple (considering they used to all live in the same building anyways), at the top of which they can access the Temple. Some have moved outwards into the rest of the world, or just more space in the old country, but most live in the Tower

To be honest I haven’t really decided what their culture is like, between the Past/Present Demons, the Temple of Menos Demons, and whatever might have occurred in those next centuries and how they would have evolved. But their outfits are supposed to be inspired by the Temple of Menos outfits, I know that

Moving on the the Trolls, basically my idea is that unlike the Wikings, Humans or Demons, they never really had any sort of cataclysmic event to decimate their population or set them back a lot (the Flood did have them seal up caves so they don’t die, but they were already living underground anyways), so they really flourished and evolved in the next centuries. Currently, they’re very skilled metal workers and inventors, being spearheads of what’s basically an Industrial Revolution in the world. They also don’t really kidnap people anymore, they’ve moved past those days

Though one random thing is that they still think Demons are really hot. My idea is that they’ve got particular beauty conventions, and so to them Demons are just gorgeous. It’s basically supposed to be how like in fantasy, elves (and/or vampires) are considered to be these ethereal beauties, and just naturally very attractive. That’s how the Trolls see Demons, they are their elves in that sense. I don’t know why I have that, but it is

Troll Lady wasn’t originally going to be a Troll, I think she was originally going to be from a separate group of Demons that splintered off from the main ones sometime after the Great War. But then I later thought that maybe she should be another race entirely, considering she’s supposed to be incredibly tall and everything (her two tenants were that she was 9-10 feet tall and that she wore a mask to cover her face), and I was going to make one up like Orks or something when I remembered “oh wait, the Trolls exist”. And not only that, but our encounter with them literally already had them kidnapping a Demon because they thought he was attractive, it’d be perfect to have be our new Demon prince’s fiancé. And so yeah, she’s a Troll

So now let’s talk design things, since I still want to say them. Mostly with Solus

I’m gonna be honest, at this rate I’ve forgotten that we don’t see any Demons with orange hair and that I gave Juno that hair color to be unique. But the artbook has some Demon concepts with orange hair, so I’ll take it. Same thing goes for Solus having his dark purple skin. The artbook told me these were possibilities, so I am going to run with them. We didn’t see enough Demons to know otherwise

But I also feel like Solus and Juno look too similar. Yeah, they’re cousins, but between the three of them, I feel like it’d be far more believable to assume Juno and Solus are the pair of siblings while Jovi is their cousin, when that isn’t the case (also Juno and Jovi are now bio related instead of Jovi being adopted)

Part of the issue, at least when it comes to the hair, is that Solus is supposed to have a sun motif, at least with his powers, his colors, his name and also the fact that he’s blind. So I wanted to give him orange hair, and I’m not sure any others would work (especially as I consider yellow hair to be specific to the “Super Saiyan” mode for Demons). But Juno already has orange hair, so they end up looking really similar

I suppose the best solution would be to just change Juno’s hair color, but her hair’s always been orange, it feels wrong to change that. But it gets rid of the problem, so I should. But what do I change it to then?

Also, I really don’t know their color schemes right now, at least outfit wise. I think Jovi’s looks fine, but I’m struggling with Juno’s and Solus’. I just kind of slapped stuff on

I guess what they need is more concept designs for me to flesh them out. But I don’t know how easy that’ll be

And then as for troll lady, her outfit colors are fine, but I didn’t really know what to do for her colors other than just the regular Troll colors from the cards. I mean, I guess it works, but I also feel like I should do more

I also feel like her anatomy needs work, but that’s fair enough. She’s supposed to have a different build from the Demons (and Humans) due to being a different species, but I haven’t quite fleshed out what that would entail. Or what she looks like under the mask

Maybe I should do some Troll practice later on

But I think that about covers everything, so I should stop now and go get ready for work. And I suppose in the meantime, take these

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quonka · 5 months ago

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"Hey, this pretty much universally beloved video game OST actually kind of hits-- why is no one else talking about this?"

Sometime last year in September while looking for more background music to study and write to other than the Neopets: The Darkest Faerie OST, I looked up the Minecraft OST on YouTube.

Then that same December, my personal 2023 Spotify Wrapped released with C418 as my number one artist, who produced the Minecraft Volume Alpha album in 2011 and the Minecraft Volume Beta album in 2013; along with his three 2018 singles for the OST Axolotl, Dragon Fish, and Shuniji.

with a total of 2,518 minutes listened to, in the span of a little less than four months; I was put in his top 1% of listeners-- something I had definitely felt a little embarrassed about at the time.

My number three artist then was Lena Raine, who also worked on the later entries into the OST, with Minecraft: Nether Update in 2020; Minecraft: Caves and Cliffs in 2021; Minecraft: The Wild Update in 2022; and also has a fair number of tracks in the most recent addition to the OST, 2024 Minecraft: Tricky Trials.

Mine-Craft

I can't even say that the reason why I can focus so well to this soundtrack is because I have a nostalgia for the game like in my Darkest Faerie Post. While I did absolutely play the game a lot when I was younger like every other twelve-year-old with computer access; for as long as I can remember, I've specifically turned off the in-game music so I could listen to my own.

That's why for so long, I never really had any palpable attachment to the music.

However, due to that whim in September, I have discovered probably my favorite Video Game OST ever-- one that I listen to for schoolwork yes-- but also one that I often listen to when walking around my college campus between classes, or when biking around my neighborhood, or reading a book for fun-- or when I just need to calm down.

Variety Hour

I think the one of the main reasons why it's so versatile is just the number of artists that have produced songs towards its collection. There's C418 and Lena Raine, but there's also Kumi Tanioka, Samuel Åberg, and Adam Cherof.

This could have been a drawback, where so many different contributors to the same project might've lead to some discordance in the whole sound of the OST-- but none of the artist's sounds really clash with each other all too much, which is incredibly impressive considering the time gap from the release of the first album to the most current album.

Probably one of the most different songs I've heard on the soundtrack so far is Adam Cherof 's 2024 Precipice -- and honestly, I couldn't care less because this song is genuinely incredible. There's so much passion, and energy, and it really feels like you're standing atop a precipice, with the faster tempo of the song and the airy echoing of chimes and keys acting to simulate the wind whipping past your ears-- it's fun, and adventurous, and different and I adore it.

youtube

Back to the Beginning

Because Minecraft: Tricky Trials released so recently, it was not in my 2023 wrapped, but with just how many great and repeatable songs are on that album, I fully except to see both Precipice and Creator in my 2024 wrapped.

The song that did take my number one spot though was Équinoxe, off that original album, with Ancestry off of Minecraft: Caves and Cliffs taking my second spot and Moog City again from that original album taking my third spot.

While both Moog City and Équinoxe are beautiful pieces that I could go on and on about, I specifically want to talk about Ancestry.

This song is this beautiful and unnerving atmospheric piece that specifically was designed to play in the Deep Dark Biome, which as the name suggests, is a haunting little area deep underground with little to no light.

I love all the echoing in this song, the crispy static just under the pulsating higher tones, the glitchy wind instrument sounds-- it all contributes to this gorgeous "mysterious and unknown scary" ambiance that the dev team was aiming for.

youtube

There are a couple songs like this one too, full of a darker, more somber atmosphere-- another one of my favorites being from C418's Minecraft Volume Beta, The End, or from his Minecraft Volume Alpha, Thirteen.

I guess I'm a sucker for a darker soundtrack because the Minecraft OST has more than its fair share of cold and heavy ambiance.

Looking Forward

I could genuinely talk at length for at least half of this soundtrack. There are so many rich pieces, and motifs, and melodies that I've grown incredibly found of. There are still songs on the OST that I feel like I'm discovering for the first time, where they might not have caught my ear the first couple listens-- but after a while I've started to really hear the intricacies in their scores and gain a new appreciation for them.

I'm honestly considering making a tier list for the soundtrack, or maybe even doing a couple posts at the very least.

I genuinely think that if anyone hasn't listened to the Minecraft OST, they should give it a shot, whether it just be for fun, or to study and write to. You really don't need to have an overwhelming sense of nostalgia to enjoy the music-- and I'm proof.

Here is the entire, currently up-to-date Minecraft OST playlist on Spotify neatly organized in chronological order by user Darra (Everybody say thank you Darra). If you don't have Spotify though, here is the similarly organized playlist by user NightBunny8 on Youtube (Everybody say thank you NightBunny8).

To anyone who is familiar with soundtrack though, what are your favorite songs? or the opposite; if anyone hates any of the songs off the OST, I'd love to hear which ones. I can't say I really Hate any of the songs... maybe one... but that can wait for the tier list or a subsequent post.

#minecraft #video games #videogame ost #minecraft ost #blog #Youtube #music #study music

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summercourtship · 1 year ago

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter five: sanity in the honeymoon phase [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 4937 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

You woke up the next morning, somehow with Jonathan still beside you sleeping soundly, a newfound clarity in your thoughts. Like your mind had organized all of your thoughts while you slept and in doing so created a plan.

Snatching a T-shirt off the floor, you pulled it on as you left your bed. You gently opened the door, glancing backwards to make sure you hadn’t bothered him. But before you left, you grabbed your bookbag, needing something from inside it but not wanting to rummage through it with Jonathan still asleep.

The apartment was cold, the chill morning air seeping in through the cracks between your door and the floor, from in between window panes. Throwing a glare at the apparently useless radiator in the corner, you grabbed a worn cardigan off of your couch. You slipped it over your still tired limbs before sitting at your kitchen-catch-all table, moving the empty take out bag to the other side. You’d throw it out later.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pen and notepad- the notepad, the one you’d had glued to your hand all through the Riddler’s crime spree last year. Flipping to a blank page in the notepad, you wrote at the top of the page, in all capital letters, EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT THE SCARECROW.

Skipping down a line you began scribbling some bullet points of what you knew about the criminal. It wasn’t much yet, but you were confident in your ability to find more information. For fun, of course. Targets Pharmaceuticals and chemical manufacturers- drugs? Out of public eye- motives unknown-- FIND OUT SOMEHOW?? Burlap scarecrow mask-- why?? What symbolism? Fear?

As you sat, staring at your minuscule list, trying to think of anything else that was applicable, the bedroom door opened again. Jonathan crept out, pausing when he saw you at the table. You wondered what he thought you’d be doing when he left the bed.

“What are you doing?” His voice was husky from his sleep, the lowered timbre of his voice sending a bolt of electricity over your skin. He moved closer, peering over your shoulder. You didn’t bother covering up your notepad.

“Just writing.” You slowly looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling softly before turning back to your work. “Things I need to get out of my head.”

“About the Scarecrow?” He cleared his throat quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

You didn’t know where this research- because that’s what you intended for this to become- would go. At the worst, you’d chalk it up as personal practice, a pet project. It would sit gathering dust in a folder, tucked away in a drawer like your other abandoned project.

You didn’t even allow yourself to consider what the research would be at best. It was barely an idea, anyway, dreamt up by your unconscious mind. Something to keep your mind occupied when you weren’t trying to finish your schoolwork.

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with what you were talking about last night?”

“I’m not becoming a vigilante if that’s what you’re asking me.” Cringing inwardly, you sighed. “I have no dreams about heroism, personally. You could say I’m just engaging in current events.”

Investigating. That’s the word for what you wanted to do.

“You should be careful where you stick your nose.”

An involuntary chill ran down your spine at his warning. He’s just looking out for you, you thought. But still, you shrugged the chill away, putting your pen down and slipping off the chair. You fitted yourself between Jonathan and the table where he had left just enough space for your body.

You could worry about the Scarecrow finding out about your investigation when it was more than words in a notepad. At that moment, you were more interested in Jonathan.

“And why is that?”

He was toying with a loose string on your cardigan, again throwing you that wry smile before he responded.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You smiled back at his use of the tired cliche.

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

The kiss started gentle this time, a delicate joining of your mouths. But Jonathan soon leaned against you, his open mouth coaxing your own wider as he pressed you backwards. You threw a hand backwards, grabbing for purchase against the table and landing on your notebook. Involuntarily you clench your hand, crumbling your notes about the Scarecrow in your desperation to steady yourself against Jonathan.

Your hand traveled down his body, brushing over his slowly hardening length in his pants. He groaned against your mouth as you rubbed the heel of your hand against him, smiling into the kiss until he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away, holding it by your side.

“If I didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d fuck you on this table, right now.” He muttered in your ear, his voice low and grinding.

“Then don’t go.”

“I have to.” With what seems to be incredible self-control, he pulls away from you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown. He was still as hungry as he had been last night.

If you were more confident in your abilities to seduce a man, even one that was two inches away from taking you on your kitchen table, you would’ve pouted. Made yourself irresistible so that he wouldn’t leave you, aroused and waited. But you still had an inkling of insecurity that kept you from pulling that trick out of the bag, so you let him step away from you with a sigh.

“When can we see-”

“I’ll be out of town this weekend, and have a pretty busy next week. But the week after is spring break so we can do something then.”

“Alright.” You did your best to hide your disappointment.

“Are you going to be okay, today?”

“I still have a class today, you know.” You sighed, thinking about the cipher assignment you still needed to complete for your intelligence history class. “I’ll be fine. I’m beginning to think I didn’t even see anything last night. Maybe I just… imagined it. I was really tired from the library so it makes sense.”

A brief moment of confusion flickered across his face before it disappeared behind his composed mask again.

“Hallucinations aren’t good, either.”

You don’t tell him that it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d seen someone who wasn’t there, that day of the mayor’s remembrance ceremony flashing in your mind. But even though you’d said you imagined seeing the Scarecrow, you didn’t actually think it. You just didn’t want Jonathan to worry about you. It had been an impulsive lie, born from guilt at seeing his face mired with concern.

“I’m all good, trust me.” You looked down at your hand, the notes crumpled on the table before slowly turning back to him. “If you don’t want me to look into the Scarecrow, I won’t.”

Again, you were lying. You fully intended on gathering as much information on the Scarecrow as you could before he was caught, essentially heading up your own personal investigation into Gotham’s newest masked weirdo.

You’re sure that he didn’t quite believe this lie either but he didn’t call you out on it. You were only lying to get him to stop worrying about you, to stop thinking that you were intending on going out and hunting the criminal down.

Of course you weren’t going to. For one, as far as you or anyone else knew, he’d just committed a few robberies and frightened a few citizens (yourself included). For another, you weren’t exactly the type of person who could survive hunting someone else down.

You would leave that to Batman.

The week leading up to spring break was busy, though not because of work or even the few midterms you had to take or essays you had to turn in.

“Just this, thanks.” You placed the new, fresh notepad on the office supply store’s counter, watching as the teenage girl working the cash register popped her gum and lazily rang it up.

You’d bought a notepad for the Riddler. It only made sense to give yourself a fresh start for the Scarecrow. Because even though your initial notetaking session had been interrupted, you had the strangest desire to figure out the Scarecrow before everyone else.

But you weren’t planning on doing anything reckless. Nothing at all like what Jonathan had said that night. It was just research, after all. You had no dreams of heroism, no desire to become a vigilante or even do anything with the information you’d find. You were just going to write down some headlines, scour Gotham social media, keep an eye out for anything weird. Nothing that required you from leaving the safety of your home.

You would be smarter, this time.

You’re sure of it.

But maybe you were just kidding yourself.

If you had gone to college in a small town with a population of 80% college students, you probably would’ve noticed the absence of people during spring break. The streets would be practically empty, the stores like ghost towns.

But in a city of Gotham’s size, three-quarters of the student body leaving for tropical destinations or to return to a safer home for the week did nothing to relieve the claustrophobic population. Crowds still swelled the streets, the constant honking and screeching of cars still reached you from stories above it all.

Not like you would have really noticed, laying on top of Jonathan’s lithe body, breathing in his scent for the third day in a row, tracing random patterns on his chest. The first few days of your spring break had been bliss, tangling your limbs with his, mixing your breaths together for hours on end.

You both had other things to be doing. Yet the idea of separating from one another was blasphemous. And, as you had quickly learned, Jonathan would not stop until he was completely satisfied, though his desire was apparently insatiable.

Eventually, you would have to free yourself from his hold, escape from his bedroom back into the real world. You had school work to do, shifts down at the store to attend. But they were so easy to forget when his mouth traced open kisses along your body, when he was able to set your body alight with a flame you hadn’t known existed inside of you.

Slowly, you sat up, running a hand over your hair. You could feel Jonathan’s eyes on you but he made no moves, simply content to watch you.

Pulling the comforter back, you placed your feet on the cool floor, not bothering to grab a blanket as you left the bedroom. Jonathan didn’t follow or call after you.

You grabbed your work bag- which was what you had intended on working on when you’d come over to his apartment three days ago but had been quickly distracted by Jonathan’s fingers and tongue. And you had stayed distracted, too enraptured by his attention to focus on anything else.

Instead of sitting at his table to get your work done, you walked back into the bedroom and settled on the bed with your papers. You could feel him watching you as you pulled out the first paper and a red pen, beginning to grade.

You remained like that for a few minutes before you heard him moving around behind you. He pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, and you could sense the smile he pressed against your skin, the curve of his lips stinging until he pulled away. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at the work you were doing. The work he could, technically, be helping you with.

“I am trying-” You threw a glance back at him, unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face, “to grade the assignment that you had due the class before break!”

He hummed, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew that he would be disappointed if you slacked off. Even if the reason was his own warmth beckoning to you from behind, a constant temptation to drag you away from the work you had to get done.

“I’ll take you down to Arkham tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question and it was barely a suggestion. There were no if that’s cool with you-s from him.

You put your red pen down, turning to look at him fully, your eyes roaming around his face.

“Are you sure?” It was redundant. If he was uncertain, if he was ever uncertain about anything, he wouldn’t bother telling you he was doing it. If you knew nothing else about him, it was that he was not the type to act when he was unsure.

He nodded, slow, his eyes dragging down your own face to your lips. You knew what the look on his face meant but you still put a hand on his shoulder to keep him at bay.

“I need to finish grading this.”

“It’s Tuesday, you have time.” It was a whisper against your lips, his hands moving to pull you closer to him from the waist.

“Hmm. I’m going to an asylum tomorrow, so I’m not sure if I’ll be available to work on it in the future.” But as you said it, you moved to straddle his thighs, linking your arms around his shoulders. You figured if you joked about heading down to Arkham, you’d forget to be nervous when it came down to it in the morning.

“Well, I know one of the doctors who works there. Maybe he can help you out.” Smiling at his response, you grinded down against his cock, which was quickly becoming hard from your sudden bout of attention.

You leaned backwards, grabbing your work and tossing it off of the bed, not caring when the papers scattered around his room.

“Oh, I’m sure he can.”

It was funny, you think, that the sky should decide to be bright and beautiful on the day you were visiting the darkest building of Gotham City. The waves crashed upon the rocks below as Jonathan’s car rolled through the main gates, gorgeous yet horrifying trees lining the drive to the main building. From your understanding, there were a few different buildings on Arkham's campus, including the old mansion and botanical garden. That was something the general public could come up and visit, situated far enough on the other side of the island that there was enough space to separate it from the asylum.

Staring out the window as the building slowly came into view through the trees, you fiddled with the visitor’s pass Jonathan had given you before you’d climbed in his car thirty minutes ago. Thankfully, it was labeled as RESTRICTED ACCESS, meaning he couldn’t take you into any questionable corners just for the sake of taking you there.

You should be flattered, you think. He wanted to show you his other workplace, let you see another side of his world.

But really, you were just nervous that this was going to somehow go completely wrong. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard of anything going right at the asylum, which was a dark blot on the city’s already dark canvas.

Arkham Asylum loomed over you like a giant, its gothic visage intimidating even in broad daylight. Maybe moreso, seeing that all the horrific elements of the asylum you saw in photographs weren’t due to nighttime shadows and rain. It was just what the buildings looked like, their entire presence spine-chilling. Worse when you considered who was locked up inside, perpetrators of some of Gotham’s worst crimes.

Finally, Jonathan pulled into his parking space, which was nestled behind the building.

You were torn between wanting to yank the seatbelt off of you, eager to get the visit over with, or to lock yourself inside so you didn’t have to leave the safety of the car. As you got out of the car, you looked over the roof to Jonathan.

“And you’re sure I’m allowed to just… visit? This isn’t just a trick to somehow admit me?”

Jonathan just hummed from your side, but you’re sure that your constant questions on the subject were becoming annoying. “I wouldn’t have brought you if it wasn’t allowed.” He began walking towards the door, briefly looking back at you. “And you’re not insane.”

“Thank you for the reassurance.” You responded dryly, fingers toying with the strap of your purse like someone would appear out of nowhere to snatch it from you.

You began the short walk across the wet parking lot, the smell of damp pavement and grass heavy in the air. Despite what you had expected, you heard nothing from inside the building. No screaming or shouting, no alarms or blaring announcements. It was absolutely silent, the only sound you could hear was birds chirping and waves hitting the lower rocks. And that was somehow worse than if you had heard everything that was going on inside the stone walls.

Jonathan pushed the door open, holding it aside as you stepped into the building before he followed you in, firmly closing the door behind you. It latched with finality and you took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm down.

You were officially inside Arkham Asylum.

The entry room was small, a metal detector preceding the doorway into the next room, a guard sitting in a chair by a table with a radio that was playing a loop of guards calling in. Faintly, you could smell anti-bacterial spray underneath the overpowering scent of something sweet and floral from the air freshener on the table. A security camera was mounted in the corner, aimed directly at you. You looked at it for a moment before wrenching your vision away, allowing yourself to be escorted through the metal detector with little flourish.

“I’m not going to meet any of the inmates, right?” You whispered after grabbing your bag from the plastic box they’d put it in as you’d gone through the door.

“No.” He smiled wryly before he spoke again. “Not unless there’s a breakout just as we get in there.”

“Please don’t even joke about that.” It was a well known secret that Arkham was prone to the occasional bout of hemorrhaging its inmates but you really didn’t want to witness it first hand. It was nerve racking enough when you were in the city and got the alert on your phone, you didn’t fancy being stuck on the island while an escape was happening.

“I’ll just take you to my office, show you around the visiting areas… nothing that’s too restricted.”

“I would hope not, my visitor’s card isn’t good for that.”

“I’ve told you. People don’t say no to me.” He pushed open another door, this time leading you into a dimly lit hallway. “If I wanted to take you somewhere, I would find a way.”

Jonathan’s tour of Arkham consisted of nothing more than walking through hallways and pointing out various points of interest. The door that led to the cells, the door that led to the rec rooms, the door that led to the intensive treatment wing, the door that led to the medical wing. Oh, look, a window that overlooked the exercise yard where there were a few orange and white clad inmates shuffling around, if they were moving at all. That’s a change in scenery.

“Why did you want to bring me here, anyway?” You asked as you walked down another hall that was identical to every other one you’d been brought down. Most of the hallways were lined with dated tile, bars over any windows and cracks in the flooring. Lights were yellowed and flickering, dust and dirt gathered in the corners. His only response was a non-committal noise from the back of his throat. He was saved from further questioning when he stopped by an archway that led into a small room with an empty desk and two doors leading off of it. He brought you to one of them, a non obtrusive wooden door. His name was on the plaque that was attached to the door, followed by his credentials.

Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door, revealing his office.

His office in Arkham was pretty similar to his office in the university, a dark wood desk sitting in between two large windows overlooking the asylum grounds and, in the distance, Gotham’s skyline.

“I have another one, in the basement. For obvious reasons, I will not be taking you down there.”

You looked at him from where you’d been observing a framed painting on the opposite side of the room from him.

“Why do you need two offices?”

“It’s a large asylum. Sometimes it's easier to keep patient’s records closer to where they’re kept in the building than here. And this office is better for visitors. The other one doesn’t have windows, which makes it well suited for sessions with the inmates.”

“Why-” But he quickly moved on, not letting you ask what he meant by his comment. From what you’d heard, direct sunlight was good for those struggling with their mental health, was it not? But, then again, you weren’t the one with a doctorate. You didn’t even have your bachelor’s, what do you know?

“The windows are nice, aren’t they?” You moved across the office to look out the windows, which were covered by half opened blinds which filtered the light into small lines across the room. His office, it seemed, overlooked the river, offering a decent view of the city. You knew that he was just pointing them out because he wanted to distract you from the question you’d wanted to ask. But you indulged him anyway.

“The view is good.” You moved away from the window but instead stepped right into Jonathan, who had moved to stand directly behind you. You adjusted your position slightly, allowing yourself to lean backwards into Jonathan’s body.

Then his hands were on your hips, brushing over the modest shirt you were wearing. For a brief moment, you regret wearing it, wishing you had instead worn something else, something more revealing or tantalizing. Then you remembered that you’d picked it out in the morning, knowing you were being smart by covering yourself up for the day’s visit. It wasn’t a club. It was a hospital.

With this in mind, you stepped away from him. Don’t fuck in his office, you reminded yourself. And when you turned and saw the familiar hungry look in Jonathan’s eyes that you’d been trying to sate for the past week, you simply ignored it. You knew that if he really wanted to bend you over and take you there, he would do it. But it looked like he also knew it wasn’t smart to try anything, because he simply took a deep breath and turned, leading you outside of his office again.

But instead of continuing back into the hallway, he stopped in the small room that connected Jonathan’s and another’s office to the hall. The desk that you’d noticed earlier was the only real furnishing in the room, but there was a dead plant in the corner. Nothing much to look at.

“Here is what I really wanted you to see.”

You craned your neck around his body, trying to see what he was looking at. You certainly couldn’t see it from where you were standing. But even when you looked around him, there was nothing else in the room. You looked at him, meeting his eyes before he pointedly looked at the desk.

The empty desk that was pushed against a wall. Its surface was covered in illegible etchings and it had clearly seen better days, the metal legs splotched with rust and the wood discolored.

You stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him, not getting the joke. But he was already looking at you and your breath stuttered before you caught it again, swallowing the sudden lump of nervousness that had sprung up in your throat.

“You brought me here to look at a desk?”

“The asylum has recently decided that I needed, or deserved, a… secretary. Receptionist. Assistant. Whatever you want to call it.” He prattled off the different names for the same job. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant by telling you this but you needed him to ask you.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He admonished, so quickly after you’d finished speaking that for a moment you thought you imagined it. Heat blossomed in your cheeks and you’re not sure if your reaction was entirely because you were embarrassed at being chided like a child. “You’ve proven yourself a good assistant. You hate your current job. Come work with me here.”

You pursed your lips, a litany of questions springing up in your mind at his suggestion. Some completely rational questions, like what is the pay and what exactly would my duties be, and some a bit less rational.

“Would you be my boss, then?”

“Of sorts but not quite.” He leaned against the desk, which groaned slightly from just the light amount of pressure he was putting on it. If you accepted the job, you decided, you would need a different desk than the one in front of you. “Your superior, of course.”

How many different power dynamics did Jonathan want the two of you to be arranged in? You were almost tempted to ask if he wanted to also be your psychiatrist, just to get that one off the table as well.

“Does this count as an interview?”

“This is a job offer.”

“I’d at least want to finish the semester before starting up here.”

“That’s-” He put his hand on the small of your back, leading you back into the hallway and away from his office and your potential desk, “-fine.”

He began to lead you back through the maze of hallways he had taken you down when you’d arrived, clearly signaling that the tour was over.

“Is there anything else you’re interested in seeing?”

“I don’t think so.” You smiled, wanting him to see that you appreciated him taking the effort to show you around the asylum, that you weren’t just trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. You were still confused as to why he had brought you into the asylum to offer the job instead of doing it over dinner like any normal person would.

But, you thought, if you accept the job offer, you’d be coming up here all the time. So maybe it was to get a brief feel for the asylum before you accepted or denied him?

“Not unless you can show me the records room.” You laughed to show that you were joking, that you knew that no civilian would ever be allowed anywhere near the records of Arkham. Not to protect the patients, of course, but rather to protect the asylum and any of its secrets.

If you accept the job, you might get to go down there one day…

He pushed open the doors, leading you into the next hallway. He wasn’t speaking now, obviously content to take you out of the building and back home- he’d done what he came for. But maybe, you think while trying not to linger on the thought, instead of taking you back to your place, you’d go back to his apartment and you’d spend the rest of the day under his worship.

In the hallway next to the one you were walking down, separated from yours with a half-wall and row of windows, a line of inmates were being escorted in the opposite direction.

Don’t look, your mind whispered. But like there was something else you couldn’t quite hear beckoning you, you slowly turned your head just as an inmate on the other side of the glass raised his.

A startled gasp broke away from you, your eyes now locked on the very real figure of the man who had occupied your thoughts for the past year and a half. But where you would have expected to fall into your usual symptoms of anxiety upon seeing him, you almost felt disappointed. Like you were walking past an exhibit at a museum, realizing that the thing you had built up so much in your head was really, horribly… mundane. The man you had been so afraid of, had nightmares about, was just a man. A round-faced, almost boyish looking man, hair limp and lifeless, his clear glasses cracked on the left pane. But behind the glasses, his eyes were bright and intelligent, narrowed slightly at you as he examined you much like you were observing him.

Your foot moves, stuttering against the linoleum floor briefly, like it wanted you to step closer to the glass, to get a closer look at Edward Nashton.

It wasn’t until Jonathan called your name, clearly not seeing what had happened, that you tore your eyes away from the inmate’s and practically ran down the hallway, your visitor card swinging on your neck. Your heart was racing, yes. Not because of seeing the Riddler in the flesh, but because the moment had felt… intimate and the idea of someone- Jonathan, especially- seeing it was somehow mortifying.

But if you had turned around at any point in your dash down the hallway, back to the safety that Jonathan’s proximity lent to you, you would’ve seen that he was still watching you, only turning when you were completely out of the hallway, the door swinging shut behind you.

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #my writing #my fic #batman x reader

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randalsgrave · 1 year ago

Text

Sweetness and Light: Part Seven

Got nothing to say, other than schoolwork is the biggest time-suck in existence. Oh, and hold onto your butts - after this part things are going to get REAL interesting REAL fast. This is a long time in the making and I'm so excited for the stuff that comes after it ;)

Bob takes a gamble.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 5.2K

WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men)

***

“What are your thoughts on aquariums?”

It’s Wednesday, and the question comes on the way to the schoolhouse at seven in the morning. At first, it’s innocent and innocuous, enough for Katie to reply and not give much thought to it.

That all changes when Bob asks his follow-up question.

“Would you wanna come with me to one on Saturday?”

After the events of last weekend, things are different between the two of them. Katie’s still not sure what exactly it is, but something has shifted and the pull towards Bob is only getting stronger. Part of her wants nothing to do with it, wants desperately to cling to the ‘capable single female’ persona she’s worked hard at and not let feelings interfere with her goals. Few things torpedo aspirations faster than emotional connection, and with everything she’s already been through, Katie is hard-pressed to let them affect her. Very, very hard-pressed.

And yet… another part of her is curious. The pull is compelling, and perhaps against her better judgment, she wants to see what might be in store for her - hell, the both of them.

So, Katie agrees, with a hesitant but smiling ‘sure’ that has Bob grinning like he just won the lottery. The whole thing is enough to raise an eyebrow at, sure, but nothing to worry about, right?

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Of course, it isn’t until Saturday rolls around that Katie realizes that, oh shit, this is a lot more serious than she might’ve thought.

She knows she’s in trouble when it takes her well over a half-hour to decide on what she’s wearing. Outfits that she normally wouldn’t give a second thought to are all of a sudden not good enough, or convey too much of one thing and not enough of another. Comfy old t-shirt and jean shorts? Way too casual. Linen button-down and a crop top? Nope. Leggings and Birkenstocks? Absolutely not. Each outfit proves more unworthy than the last, and it’s all Katie can do not to curl up in a ball and scream. If things are already this nerve-wracking, what’s the rest of the day going to be like for her?

Eventually, she manages to settle on an outfit, opting for a light gray t-shirt, mom jeans, and a well-loved pair of sage-colored sneakers, but then… Should I opt for jewelry? It all looks kinda’ plain without it - but what if it looks like I’m trying too hard? Oh my god, this can’t be happening…

One moment later and Katie is donning a pair of small gold hoops, but it’s not without its fair share of anxious butterflies. This is so stupid, she thinks. No one is going to care how much or how little effort she puts into what she’s wearing. And why should they? It’s not a big deal. It’s literally just another hangout with Bob, no different from the countless others they’ve had over the last few weeks.

Only it’s not, not by a long shot.

Sure, the hangout on Saturday was casual, easy, devoid of any sort of emotional tension - about as far away from a date as a person could possibly get. But then Sunday happened, and now everything is suddenly a mess of confusion, complicated emotions, and unanswered questions. Today’s hangout is different. After last weekend, this one now feels an awful lot like a real, no-shit date - and as much as she hates to admit it, it freaks Katie out. Whether it’s because she’s out of practice and refuses to admit it, or because it involves Bob and there is something pulling the two of them together, her heart is pounding frantically in her ribcage, and for a while, she’s not sure how to make it stop.

She ruminates on the current state she’s in while she fiddles with her hair in the bathroom, fingers twisting it up, pulling it down, twisting it up, pulling it down. Most likely she’s the only one freaking out here, and if that’s the case then she needs to stop. She doesn’t need to be making Bob feel weird because she can’t regulate her emotions - but god, if only she knew where she stood with him. It would make dealing with her feelings - and her nerves - so much easier.

She heaves a heavy sigh, pulls some of her hair back into a low half-pony. It doesn’t matter. They’re friends, and good ones, at that. That should certainly be enough for Katie - and for the most part, it is.

Still, the ‘more’s’, the what-if’s… they nag at her, make her wonder and ponder and panic, because what if?

“Oh for fuck’s sake - enough,” she hisses at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You’re going to an aquarium with a good friend of yours; that is all you’re doing today. You’re not getting married, you’re not pledging eternity with him, you’re not making a long-term dating pact - you are going to a fucking aquarium.” She closes her eyes, breathes deep, musters up more courage for herself. “You may have feelings for him, but you don’t have to let them complicate things. Just… don’t make it weird. Please don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, because I can’t bear the thought of losing him like that.

Katie heaves a long sigh, tucks a strand of loose hair behind one ear - and smiles at her reflection in the mirror, almost bravely. She looks nice - and that’s what she’s going to focus on. That, and just enjoying the day. There’s no telling how today’s going to go (if it’s even going to go in any direction), but she’s not about to let her nerves, or her feelings, or the fear of the unknown, or anything compromise today. She can do this. This’ll be no sweat.

Hopefully.

***

Bob Floyd is certain he’s going to have a heart attack today.

For the last five minutes, he’s been fighting the urge to pace back and forth across the lobby, something that - for whatever reason - his brain is telling him is critical for his survival today. Not that it would do him a lot of good. If anything, it would probably worsen the anxiety gnawing at him.

It had been such a good idea on Wednesday, inviting Katie to tag along with him to the Birch Aquarium over the weekend. They’d been spending so much time together already; inviting her to come along had been a no-brainer.

Of course, only now does Bob realize that maybe this isn’t such a great idea. After the events of this past Sunday, something is different. There’s something going on between the two of them, and while Bob can’t necessarily put his finger on what it is, he knows it’s there, and it’s making him nervous. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. He should be laying low, trying to figure out what’s going on, and trying to make an appropriate plan of action.

And yet, here he is, sticking to his plans with his hands clasped and a tight but pleasant smile on his face. Of course, whether or not he’s an idiot for it remains to be seen.

He doesn’t wait very long for Katie. He’s leaning forward, stretching his legs when she appears in his line of sight, dressed casually with her dark hair half down and spilling softly over her shoulders. That’s new, he thinks - Bob can’t recall a time recently that Katie’s worn her hair down… or a time ever, for that matter. It’s…

Pretty.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she looks nice, that he likes seeing her with her hair down, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The words stick miserably and stubbornly in his throat.

If only things were easy.

He stands and smiles, still tight but gradually loosening. “Ready?”

Katie nods, trails behind him out of the Navy Lodge and into the parking lot. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” he says as he jangles his keys in one hand, “I was thinking we grab something for lunch before we head over. After that, just… wander around the aquarium and hang out, I guess.”

“Sounds good to me… What’re you thinking for lunch?”

“Chinese food sound good to you? I’ve had a craving for chili dumplings and mapo tofu lately.”

“Ooh, I’d be down for some dumplings. Let’s do it.”

“Sweet.” They clamber into Bob’s car, Katie seated somewhat primly in the passenger seat, Bob settled behind the driver’s wheel, his hands flexing in nervous anticipation. Keep it calm, guy, he tells himself sternly as he turns the key in the ignition and starts the car up. There’s no telling what’s gonna happen today, but right now, you’re just getting lunch with her. That’s it. Just keep it calm.

He swings out of the parking lot, steers them off-base and onto the freeway, fingers gently tapping the steering wheel in time with his music. Not much is said between the two of them; they’re each lost in their own heads - and even if they weren’t, what’s there to say right now?

Of course, Bob can only hope that this is the limit of it all. He’s not sure how he’ll get through the afternoon if they wind up not speaking to each other the whole time.

About twenty minutes later, the two of them are seated inside a small Chinese restaurant, one couple out of three occupying the space. It’s much quieter here than Harry’s Coffee Shop was last weekend, not to mention more subdued and serious. Bob can’t help the thought that his choice of lunch spot might not have been the right one today. Then again, Bob’s convinced that every decision he’s made for today has been a wrong one, but such is the nature of anxiety. Logically, he knows that this is not true - but to his annoyance, the thought persists.

Save for some small talk in between bites of food, they spend almost the whole meal in silence. Bob’s head is a whirl of thoughts and questions as he eats, eyes carefully watching the woman sitting across from him. In some ways it feels like the lunch they had the first time they met. However, unlike the first time they met, Bob knows Katie now, has spent considerable time with her and learned things about her. He doesn’t need to guess if she likes being around him, or wonder if they have anything in common or if she’s just humoring him - at least, until now he hasn’t needed to. The fact that he suddenly feels like he does leaves a pit in his stomach, a large one.

Did things really change that drastically between them last weekend?

“So why the aquarium?” Katie asks out of nowhere. It’s nearly the end of the meal, and not including the moments of small talk, it’s the first time she’s spoken to Bob since they left the lodge. “Got something planned or are you just a big fan of sea life?”

Bob shrugs before spooning the last of his mapo tofu into his mouth. “I guess it’s the second one. Uh” - c’mon Floyd, keep it together - “I’ve been going to aquariums since I was a kid, and, well… I like checking out the ones I haven’t been to before. Y’know?”

“That’s fair. God… I honestly can’t remember the last time I went to an aquarium…”

Bob’s not entirely sure how to respond to that, but he manages a partial smile. “Well, hopefully you like the one we’re going to. Birch Aquarium’s supposed to be really nice.” Christ - maybe this is more like the day they met than he thought; he can’t remember any other time their conversations have been this stiff and awkward. God, I hope it doesn’t stay this way.

They finish their lunch quietly, then head back out to Bob’s car and crawl their way through downtown San Diego to the aquarium. When they get there, it’s packed, pulsing with the energy of young children out with their families for the weekend. Bob, though initially taken aback (if not a bit overwhelmed) at the chaotic busyness of the place, finds himself relieved at its presence. His interactions with Katie have been far more enjoyable and relaxed in places like this, where the noise and energy are good distractions from the thoughts racing through his head. They take up enough of his time and attention as it is. All he wants right now is to enjoy his day out with Katie.

“Looks like all of San Diego decided today was a good day to head to the aquarium,” Katie quips wryly after they buy their tickets, right as a gang of children whizzes by them in a shriek of laughter.

Bob chuckles. “Sure does. You’re okay with the crowds and kids, right? I probably should’ve asked before we got here, but uh…”

“Oh yeah, I’m good. Honestly it’s a good thing there are a ton of kids here on the weekend; I’d be kinda’ concerned if there weren’t.”

“Fair enough… So… Whaddaya wanna look at first?”

Katie looks over at Bob with a grin on her face, her gaze landing on his in a way that makes his heart stutter, just the tiniest bit. “You’re the aquarium guy here,” she replies amusedly. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

“Okay… Hope y’know that means we’re looking at everything then.”

“Buy me a snack halfway through and it’ll be no problem,” Katie snarks.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They venture into the first of many exhibits, a large atrium with penguins on display, which fly off the rock shelf and shoot through the water, their speed and precision almost reminiscent of the jets they fly around in. Then, it’s on to the next atrium, a room full of sharks and stingrays and “other big beasties,” as Katie calls them, swimming languidly in their never-ending loops and figure-eights. About an hour later, it’s the seadragons and seahorses exhibit, followed by the tide pools, a peek into the oddities area, and - as promised - a small snack for Katie.

Speaking of Katie… She’s still quiet, but not the awkward, conversation-devoid kind she was at lunch. In here, she’s studiously quiet, eyes and attention intently focused on the sea life swimming before her, lips curled up in a permanent, happy smile.

How wonderful it is when she smiles, Bob thinks.

Of course, her smile is even bigger and brighter when they make their way into the coral reef exhibit and the world explodes into aquatic color. Fish of all kinds peek through the crevices, flashing across the glass before darting out of sight once more. At the sight of them, Katie’s eyes practically sparkle.

“The coral reef tanks were always my favorite,” she says, voice warm and filled with fondness. “I didn’t really do the whole aquarium thing much, but anytime I did, this was always my favorite part.”

“Mine too. Well, that and the open ocean tanks. I like watching the shoals.”

She’s watching a yellow tang swim to and fro in rapt interest when he says it. “...The shoals?”

“Yeah, the uh… the big groups of fish that kind of… move as one, I guess? Like they do this kind of tornado or helix movement in the water-”

“Oh, those things!” Katie exclaims. “I love watching those. It’s kind of like watching fish ballet. D’yknow if we can see them here?”

“Y’know, I’m not sure. Lemme look at a map real quick.” Bob pulls a twice-folded map from his back jeans pocket, scans it for signs of the exhibit in question. Unfortunately for them, this aquarium doesn’t seem to have one, something of a mild disappointment for Bob (and Katie too, if the slightly crestfallen look on her face is any indication). He does, however, notice something else that might be of interest. “Any interest in checking out the kelp forest? It’s a couple rooms over. If this map’s any indicator it’s also the biggest one here.”

“I’m down. Let’s do it.”

They make their way through the winding hall of tropical reefs and brilliant fish, past families and oohing-aahing gangs of children, into an area that grows darker and darker until, suddenly…

Katie gasps when they find themselves walking into a blue-tinged atrium with easily the largest tank either of them has ever seen. Bob’s not that far off, releasing a long, low whistle at the sight before him. This is unlike anything he’s seen before - and he’s been to a lot of aquariums in his lifetime.

“This might’ve just become my new favorite part. God, look at this…” Katie positions herself front and center before the tank, blue eyes bright and glittering in the low light of the room. “I love it.”

By some miracle, it’s quiet in the exhibit room. No families or massive groups of kids and teenagers, no yelling and shrieking, no buzz of conversation - just Bob, Katie, and the massive kelp forest before them. Peace at last, and the beauty is theirs alone to enjoy. And oh, it really is beautiful. Fish of all kinds drift languidly amongst the leaves, riding the currents that rock them gently from one side to the other. Light shimmers down into the water and filters through the kelp, scattering soft shards of gold through the otherwise blue exhibit room. And the bright, crystalline blue radiating out from the tank softens, then fades into the darkness of the room it’s contained within. It is… otherworldly.

“Have you ever seen something so beautiful?” Katie breathes, utterly mesmerized by the view before her.

It is, it absolutely is - and yet Bob can’t bring himself to care about it. His focus is on one thing and one thing only: the woman standing beside him. Katie is already pretty to begin with, but in here? She’s ethereal. The soft wave of her hair down her back, the blue light of the water on her face, the gleam of awe and fascination in her eyes…

Bob would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Katie Garland - strong feelings. Hell, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that he’s in love with her. He’s been in love with her, ever since the day they went hiking together at Pyles Peak. He may not have been entirely sure of those feelings before, but in here, in this room, after four weeks of morning coffee and classes and quiet (and not-so-quiet) moments together, he realizes two things - just how sure he is of his feelings, and equally how screwed he is.

Surely there has to be a way to tell her.

That’s the thing, though. There is a way, and Bob knows it - but it involves physical contact, and Bob’s not sure if that’s a gamble he should take. He’s lucky enough just to be friends with Katie; the thought of doing something that might compromise that friendship, that might push her away from him… It scares him. It scares the living shit out of him. After everything they’ve been through and done together in the last five weeks, it would be the worst damn thing to lose her like that.

So why does the thought persist?

He breathes deep, watches a leopard shark glide past him. What he’s thinking of doing is risky - really risky, and if there is one thing that Bob doesn’t like doing, it’s taking risks. As a WSO, he can’t afford to take them; he needs to be sharp and on the money at all times, needs to know everything about everything and all their little in-betweens. Anything less than that will get him burned, and badly. He can’t take risks. He just can’t.

But he also knows that if he doesn’t do this, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.

Now or never, Bob. Now or never.

Bob breathes, mumbles to himself, resigned but resolute - “Fuck it.”

And then he does the unthinkable: he reaches over, turns Katie gently towards him with his hand on her cheek, and leans in.

He feels her go stiff beneath him the instant he kisses her, and for a second, it’s all Bob can do not to panic, because oh fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck, did he miscalculate the whole thing?

But then, another second passes, and just when Bob thinks he’s destroyed this relationship beyond all recognition, Katie leans into him and returns the kiss, and…

It’s as if the world just disappears around them. In seconds, the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters, is the feeling of her lips on his own, and suddenly Bob’s almost mad that he didn’t think to do this sooner. They’re soft, warm, gentle - her, in every way possible. It’s as close to a dream come true as Bob thinks he’s gotten in a while.

When Katie finally pulls away, there’s no missing the blown-out appearance of her eyes, nor the way her chest stutters as she breathes. Surprised? Taken aback? Boy, both of those would be a hell of an understatement.

“Well,” she says quietly. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, um… I guess it does.” Bob’s heart is racing, pounding in his chest as he watches emotions and the most miniscule of expressions fleet across Katie’s face. What is she thinking right now? Hopefully not that I’m a creep. The anxiety of all this might actually kill him.

But, if there’s one thing that the smile that blooms on Katie’s face makes clear, it’s that she’s not angry or upset. In fact, as she slips her hand into his, Bob realizes that she’s quite the opposite. It’s all he can do not to heave a sigh of utter relief.

Risk calculation: successful. Very successful.

“So… We gonna check out the rest of the aquarium or what?”

Bob blinks. “Hm?”

“I mean, you did say something about looking at everything earlier - unless you’ve changed your mind and just wanna stare at me holding your hand now…”

Heat floods Bob’s cheeks as he realizes that he has, in fact, been staring at Katie’s fingers interlaced with his own for far longer than he probably should. Smooth, Floyd. Real smooth.

He smiles sheepishly at her. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m kind of in awe right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Pretty girl like you returns a kiss I give her, and wants to hold my hand?” His bottom lip curls up and he nods, underscoring the point he’s trying to make. “Yeah, I’d say I’m in awe.”

“Keep saying things like that and I might give you another one,” Katie jokes, eyes twinkling.

Oh, I’d be the damn luckiest man if you did.

“C’mon.” She squeezes his hand, draws him closer to her. “We’ve got more fish to look at.”

Bob doesn’t even try to subdue the grin that splits across his face. He leaves it there for all the world to see, big, bright, and utterly filled with joy. This is quite possibly the best day of his life.

He’s never been so goddamn happy to have taken a risk.

***

Not once does Katie let go of Bob’s hand the rest of the time they’re at the aquarium. She’s certain that if she does, she’s going to float away, drift off on a current of pure euphoria.

Or shock. Especially shock.

Katie may be all smiles and laughs and bright eyes, but inside she’s a mess, a shaking, heart-pounding, slack-jawed mess. Bob Floyd kissed her. Bob fucking Floyd kissed her. She might’ve had the tiniest inkling that something was going to happen (after last weekend, how could she not?), but still…

Color her fucking surprised.

Is she, though? Is she really that surprised that something happened?

Or is she more surprised that Bob beat her to it?

Because truth be told, she had been contemplating doing the same thing to him back in the kelp forest exhibit.

In hindsight, for as compelled as she was to do it, Katie doubts she would’ve been able to; her body had turned to lead and her feet had rooted themselves to the floor the moment they’d set foot in the exhibit room. No amount of resolve, bravery, or desire could’ve overcome that. No… In hindsight, Katie’s relieved that Bob acted first. No doubt he was just as nervous as she was, but… he did it. And she’s never been so glad for it.

Now, here they are, one kiss later, holding hands and strolling shoulder to shoulder, wandering ‘round the aquarium as if they’re the only two people in existence… And what a grand feeling it is. It feels…

Right.

Hours go by - hours that feel like minutes. By the time they stop to think about it, it’s almost 1700 and closing time. They’re being all but herded out of the aquarium by staff, but they manage to convince someone to let them poke around the gift shop for five minutes. “In and out,” Bob tells them. “Promise.”

Sure enough, he makes good on his promise, doing one quick orbit around the gift shop before confidently picking out a t-shirt and a baseball cap. “You planning on getting anything?” Bob asks Katie as he’s making his way to the front to pay.

“Eh, I thought about it, but probably not.”

“Good.” He pays for his things, folds up and tucks the t-shirt under one arm before turning and handing the baseball cap to Katie. “This is for you. New gear to wear next time you go hiking.”

The cap is dusty blue, emblazoned with ‘Birch Aquarium’ in white block lettering with a shark below it - nice and simple, definitely something she’d get for herself. Hell, she’d looked at it and considered buying it before making up her mind not to. Bob must have noticed her looking at it, because he’d plucked it out of the dozens of other hats on display without a second thought. For him to do that…

Katie has never had anybody do that for her before.

Her words are quiet as she takes the cap and attaches it to the strap of her purse. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but…” He smiles. “Seemed like a good way to wrap up a nice day.”

This man. Good god.

She feels the blush creeping across her face at his words, and on instinct, she ducks her head away - only to have her face turned back towards him.

“You don’t have to do that, y’know. It’s cute when you blush.”

Forget blushing. Scarlet rips across Katie’s face at that comment.

“Jesus Bob,” she hisses with a giggle, “didn’t realize you were trying to kill me in public here.” She slips her hand into his, and pulls him out of the gift shop and the aquarium before anyone else has a chance to see how thoroughly red-faced he has her.

And Bob? Bob laughs the entire way out.

A few more hours later, they’re back at the Navy Lodge, bellies full after an impromptu dinner at In n’ Out, smiles on their faces after all kinds of conversation and not-so-subtle flirting. The day might not have started out as a date, but it did eventually turn into one, and Katie has to admit, after everything that’s happened today, she’s really fucking glad it did. No doubt Bob’s on the same page, she thinks briefly.

They make it a point not to hold hands or have any sort of physical contact when they walk through the lobby and ride the elevator up to the third floor; they’re in new territory and need time to figure out how exactly to tread in it. That, and god forbid Fanboy or someone else in their class turns a corner and sees them doing that. There would be no end to the sly comments and innuendo from the others.

But that doesn’t mean that they don’t hover as close to each other as humanly possible.

Bob escorts Katie back to her room in relative silence, hand near the small of her back, body turned just the tiniest bit towards hers. He radiates warmth and it’s all Katie can do not to curl into him.

“I know I took you by surprise earlier, but I hope you didn’t mind,” he says quietly when they arrive back at her room and she unlocks the door.

Katie shakes her head. “Not at all.” When she tells Bob why, she’s certain she sees small stars fly across his eyes.

“Man, my luck’s been real good to me lately… Would you, uh, want to meet up and do something tomorrow? I’m not sure what yet, but, uh… something.”

Oh Bob, do you even have to ask at this point?

“I’d love that.” She’ll happily do anything with Bob if it means getting to spend time with him in this capacity from now on. She likes this - what they have, whatever it is. She likes it a lot.

Bob says nothing - simply smiles at Katie, nods his head once. He then turns to leave and head back to his room, but before he’s even taken a step, Katie’s hand around his wrist stops him, draws him back to her. Not yet, you.

“Wait - is there anyone in the hall?”

“Uh” - Bob leans back, swings his head from one side to the other - “no, there isn’t, wha…”

Katie says nothing. She glances down the hall to her left, then to her right - then raises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to Bob’s, right palm cupping his jaw, fingertips curling gently into the soft blond hair on the back of his head. It’s a short, simple kiss, barely three seconds long, but it reaffirms the one they shared earlier in the afternoon, the one that changed… well, everything.

She gives him one more, just for good measure, then steps back. “There,” she beams. “Now that’s how you wrap up a nice day.”

Bob says nothing; he simply stands there, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Katie, who has to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter. If she had known that initiating a kiss was all it would take to short-circuit Bob, she would’ve done it a lot sooner.

When he’s able to collect himself a moment later, he coughs. “S’pose that’s fair payback for the comment I made earlier,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Her laughter soon dies away and her face softens. There’s one last thing she needs to say before they end things for the night. “Today was probably the nicest time I’ve had with someone in a long time.”

A pause - a long one. “...Really?”

Katie nods. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then… A smile, the brightest, sweetest one he’s given her yet. “I’m glad.”

If a smile could send her straight to heaven, this one absolutely would.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bob,” Katie all but whispers.

He reaches out, gives her hand a single squeeze, then turns and strolls off down the hall, steps light and springing. It’s the last thing she sees before she closes the door and heads straight to her bed, ready to fall onto it in a mess of giggles and happy, dopey smiles.

Of course, the last thing she sees has nothing on the last thing she hears - a single hissed “Yes!” from the farthest end of the hallway, a restrained cry of triumph.

She laughs, curls herself around a pillow. That, right there. That is her favorite part of today.

@thestagsheadsblog @everything-i-love-in-life @docdetective @luckyladycreator2

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