#anyway simple lines / colors my beloved

[desolyx-xvii]

Madness Combat - sona backstory or smth

✦ AKA something something "oh i hope my boss doesn't see me, a brilliant prodigy scientist, as a material object and a possession" or whatever was going on between those two. [it was NOT good]

[limbuscompanysituations]

I want to ask the opposite of the distortion reader x sinners, the sinners react to the reader manifesting their EGO in a desperate moment, and the reader attributing the manifestation to the corresponding advice given by each sinner

Look, when I started writing this I thought "hey this is going to be fun!" and although it was incredibly fun, my wrist also hurts omg. So anyway I once again commit to my insanity and write a very long post. Enjoy!

Faust:

"It is possible to manifest EGO from one's own experiences, as well as when they are overcome with emotions. Whether they be positive or negative, the end result stays the same." It was the beginning of one of Faust's long, wordy explanations.

They were curious after witnessing her manifest her EGO in combat before. It was such an oddity to manifest power beyond imagination that they couldn't help but ask. Most of the explanation was lost to them once she finished it, but the initial part was simple enough to remember.

Faust leans on her weapon for support. The tips of her pale hair are stained red with her own blood. She pants, gasping for air while trying to keep her eyes open. They've been fighting together for hours now, trying to hold the line long enough for the other sinners to come to their aid. It seems to be fruitless, the enemy hasn't given them any space to breathe. They are almost as exhausted as Faust, but she's been taking the worst of the beating on purpose.

She may look cold and aloof but they know that deep down, she has done so for their own sake. They were angry at her, but mostly at themself for being this weak. If they could do more, they could protect her.

Her explanation on EGO echoed in their mind, and for a split second they had a flash of hope. If only they could draw that out of themself, then they could get out of this. They close their eyes and take a deep breath.

Memories and emotions, then. This is all of me, for all of you, Faust.

It's a promise they make to themself, and in that moment they change the flow of combat. One by one, those enemies that threatened to bring them down are swept away by a wave of power unlike any other.

Faust's eyes widen and she realizes what is happening in front of herself. This is her beloved's EGO, manifested when they need it the most. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, realizing many things at once. Dying did not matter to her, as sinners always have Dante who can rewind, but perhaps it was the possibility of witnessing her death that made them do it. She's flattered, exhilarated and excited. There are endless instances of Faust all across the universe, yet this Faust ended up being the one who matters the most to them.

When the enemies are wiped out she falls to her knees with a light chuckle. Her vision is blurry and starting to fade out. She is grateful not only for them to have saved her life, but also because their existence makes hers feel more important.

No longer resigned to be one in a million, but one Faust who is loved and cherished.

_____

Yi Sang:

They fight back to back, gritting their teeth and keeping their opponents at bay just barely. Yi Sang can seem frail but he's a skilled combatant, and so are they. However, there's still a limit to how much two people can do against an endless number of foes. Yi Sang's resolve is beginning to fail, and so is his body.

They help him stay on his feet, supporting him with a hand around his waist while they brandish their weapon with their other hand. It seems to be impossible to turn this around. They are done for.

"The same shards of broken glass that bring you nothing but pain... Can be put back together, piece by piece, and build a window through which you can witness a better, colorful and more hopeful word."

His words come back to mind. They remember vaguely asking him how he could manifest his EGO during combat once. It was so impressive back then that the image was still burnt in their mind.

It's what I need now: the power to build a window to a better world.

They grit their teeth and hiss out a heavy breath. If there's nothing but hope left for them, then they will grab that opportunity. Willing their entire body and mind to cooperate, they push their own heart to its limit and climb that window.

Yi Sang is barely conscious but he can see it all happening. One minute his body and mind are so weary he knows he will faint soon, and then the next minute a figure so bright takes over his every thought. Their EGO wipes out their enemies one by one, and even though it is a terrifying power to witness, he feels elated. Their pain and their hopes are all bare before him, pieced together in a beautiful mosaic that bleeds hope through it. In the middle of this mosaic they stand, terrifyingly beautiful, their power uncontested.

It takes him a moment to realize they are no longer holding him and that he's fallen on his knees. It doesn't matter, however. His body has never felt any lighter. He calls out their name in a whisper and his consciousness gives in to the darkness.

____

Don Quixote:

Even the brave aspiring fixer will find a situation impossible to turn around. Her beloved squire did everything they could to support her, but she's heavily wounded and can barely take another step. In this moment of desperation they can still hear her energetic voice calling for her heroic steed. Except right now she can't muster up the strength to call upon it.

"Tis an unjust world, and I, Don Quixote, swear to battle evildoers to the end!" It wasn't really an explanation on how exactly she used her EGO, rather a proud exclamation of her own power.

Still it's better than nothing.

They focus on this sliver of hope and grab it with their hand. It is an unfair world, and Don Quixote should not fall here. She is the heroine of this tale, and she will fight until the end. In this moment her squire promises the same.

I will fight injustice by her side, so neither of us can fall here!

They hold this newfound power in their hands and charge forth, dashing past a wounded Don Quixote and crashing into their enemies with ruthless strength. They're crushed into bloody pulps before they can even blink.

By the back lines, Don Quixote stares at her lover, eyes wide and teary. She will lose consciousness soon, but witnessing the power of their resolve manifested in such a way makes her heart beat faster. She wants to kiss them; she wants to commend them; she wants to be the one who protects them to the end, while also being the one to fight all evils in this world by their side. Don Quixote is proud of her dearest squire beyond words, still she is capable of speech.

"Hark, squire!" She exclaims, "Thy power is most-!" and before she can utter the word "magnificent", she collapses.

____

Ryoshu:

When they asked Ryoshu what it meant to cast her EGO, the sinner stared off into the distance and muttered the words "It is my soul, bared to the world."

They nodded then, knowing that this was as precise of an explanation as possible, while remarking that that could mean pretty much anything.

Then they found themselves cut off from the rest and fighting for their lives against a foe so persistent it could take the smirk off of Ryoshu's face. The wounds that piled on her body grew to be almost unbearable. For Ryoshu, who was a competent assassin capable of ending most conflicts with a single move, it meant that they were both in trouble of the deadly kind.

Still they hoped to be able to do something, anything.

Ryoshu dashed forward once more, putting all of her strength into a single strike that could tear apart anything, but the monster not only deflected her hit, it also threw her back against a wall with force so immense that a sickening crunching sound echoed around them. Ryoshu fell limp to the ground, still breathing but with some of her limbs twisted in an unnatural manner.

They ran to her side, with tears in their eyes while they recognized the impossibility of the fight they found themselves in. Then they remembered her words and everything made sense suddenly.

"My soul, bared like my teeth." They whispered and held her body gently in their arms. Her dazed eyes rolled back and forth, then they found their face. Ryoshu smiled in pain, and if she could, she would have cupped their face in a hand.

"T.I." She whispered back.

They nodded and let go. Facing the monster with the fury of a legion, ready to bare their teeth. The power that came from their very core lashed out in a focused manner. The creature had no chance, the moment they left Ryoshu's side, it was already dead and sliced to a thousand pieces.

Ryoshu's eyes are wide and bloodshot, her bloody, crazed grin splitting her face ear to ear. If she wasn't choking on her own blood she would've laughed upon seeing that asshole being torn apart. Her eyes glimmer with barely contained admiration. She already knew they were capable of something like manifesting EGO, but seeing it first-hand is much more intense than anything she ever imagined.

She witnesses a soul that is vibrant, mesmerizing, deadly and indomitable all the same.

____

Meursault:

"To wield my EGO is to hold everything that weighs me down in my hands and then put that weight on that which hinders me." Meursault's explanations are usually more thorough and less abstract. The oddity of hearing him describe his EGO in such a way stuck with them.

When the tide of the fight turned against them and there seemed to be no hope to find, they remembered those words. He tanked all the hits he could, trusting that his large, trained body would be enough to shield them all the way through. But even if Meursault is a force to be reckoned with, the foes they face are much more than they can handle.

He's bloodied, battered and bruised, barely able of standing on his own feet. His knees tremble and he's breathing heavy, hands shaking while he tries to keep his eyes trained on the enemy. They circle them, and in spite of trying to keep them safe, the moment this wave strikes again, they both will be done.

"It's a bit foolish, isn't it?" They laugh nervously, "To carry all that weight all by yourself."

Meursault's eyes drift towards them briefly, and they can hear his response in their mind. Something along the lines of "it's what must be done."

You don't need to do it all by yourself, you idiot.

They clench their hands in fists and close their eyes, concentrating in how heavy their heart feels knowing that he is so hurt because they aren't stronger. Their jaw clenches and the tears that threaten to come out never do. Instead a power that they didn't know they had in themself surges and overflows. Suddenly they are the tide, and the battle doesn't matter anymore.

They become the force that they need to be for him; they become the one to bear the weight of the world. This weight is unbearable for those around, and they are knocked out uncoscious without even realizing it.

In the middle of the silent battlefield stand Meursault and his lover. While they look proud and surprised with themself, Meursault looks dumbfounded. He has always expected to be the one to carry them both forward, and he was always fine with it. He didn't want to burden them too much, what he wanted was to protect them all along. It is clear that being stuck on that has hindered himself from growing to trust them more.

"Ah..." He mutters, "You were correct all along."

They glare at him, as if to say "I told you so!" A slightly proud smile on their lips. They collapse a few seconds later and Meursault sighs.

____

Hong Lu:

He isn't built for prolonged fights. Although he was pushed to unimaginable limits by his family, there's only so far he can go in combat. They're both on their own, and the situation is dire.

His dominant hand is incapacitated and he's doing what he can with his other free hand, but it's not enough. Soon the spear is flung from his grasp and he has nothing but his own body to fight with. Still he keeps his flawless combat stance, taunting the enemy with a serene smile. He's not ready to surrender, not yet.

More than keeping appearances, Hong Lu can't let go because he's not alone. He hates the pain, but they are with him and he cannot let them be hurt in his presence. This is something they know, because they've asked him before.

Instead of recalling that answer, the words that come to their mind are different.

"There is a place where nightmares and dreamscapes meet, in my mind. If I close my eyes for a brief moment, I can almost touch it. If I reach my hand out, I can feel the taste of my own salty tears on my tongue... And then I open my eyes, and find that I cannot distinguish that from this."

When they asked him about his EGO, the answer they got was quite worrying. They tried to comfort him then, but he smiled and said he was fine.

Even now he's trying to keep that appearance. It's not fair.

Their hands close into fists, and they see the enemy lunge forward again. Hong Lu stands on their way, his still serene smile building a wall between that pain and themself.

He will let himself be hurt and maimed if it means they will stay safe, but if he dies, then who will protect them?

No, rather, the thought that occupies their mind is different. What they think in that split second before the enemy's weapon connects with Hong Lu's flesh is that for them, this is that place. The world that connects dreams and nightmares unfolds before them, and their own grief floods it.

They flutter across the battlefield gracefully and deflect the strike that would've killed Hong Lu, now being the one standing between him and danger. They unleash their madness on their enemy over and over again, taking out those who still have a will to fight and frightening those who don't into falling unconscious.

Hong Lu, who stood there serenely guarding them, seems to finally crumble down. He falls to his knees, smile vanishing from his features and replaced by a look of complete shock. His lips are parted, and tears fill his eyes. He wanted to protect them to the end, but he finally realized how weak he still is. In this power vaccuum, they grew to be the one to outshine him. Turbulent emotions swirl inside him: anger, helplessness, pride, hopefulness, grief, joy. He can't pick one.

Still, even if he feels embarrassed he couldn't do what he promised, he is taken by relief. The smile that comes to his face is not one he forces, but one he welcomes.

____

Heathcliff:

He's the stubborn kind, even when he shouldn't be. They know this, and they accept it, but when it comes to fighting together he's always trying to outdo himself. As if they will think he's cooler if he tries to look all manly and imposing. They could give less of a fuck about that.

Maybe it's not because he's proud and stubborn, maybe he's been shoving himself in front of every attack aimed at them this whole time because he's genuinely concerned. They know he's got a good heart, even if his words are harsh and crude. Heathcliff can paint himself as a thug, but he's a genuinely good man.

"Bloody hell..." He groans, barely capable of holding his bat in his two hands. Their enemies scowl at him, grinning with glee at his pain, and that pisses them off.

"Ah, the EGO thing? I dunno, I just think about something that makes me really pissed and go from there." That was Heathcliff's explanation when he was inquired about his EGO once. It was short, clear and it made sense. When he cast his EGO, he really did look angry.

It's the same anger they feel now. How dare these cunts think they can take him down in front of them?

They hold their weapon in both hands so tight their knuckles have gone white. Between their gritted teeth, they growl curses at their enemies. The anger that takes their heart pours out and every blow and strike they deliver becomes deadly. They maim and break and pound their enemies into a bloody pulp, still cursing at them the whole time.

This righteous anger makes Heathcliff pause and look at the scene with wide eyes. A second ago they were cornered and hopeless of making a comeback. He had already accepted the fact he was going to get a good rewind from Dante in no time. What bothered him the most was allowing them to get hurt in the process. Turns out he worried for nothing.

But then, he stopped to think for one second and realized something.

They have an EGO?!

Whether they had already used EGO before or they just manifested it, he didn't know. The only thought that crossed his mind was that he wouldn't want to be on their bad side after witnessing this storm.

____

Ishmael:

"I spent so much time sharpening this harpoon that I just... Wanted to feel like it was taking me somewhere." She paused, then she corrected herself, "No, I wanted to feel like it was bringing me something. Whether it be the guts of a whale or the one I hate the most."

She gritted her teeth when she finished explaining exactly what she thought about her EGO. They nodded and quietly listened to her.

They could never ask the exact details of Ishmael's time at the sea. Whenever she told them about it, it was all out of her own volition. It didn't seem fair to pry on her life like that, even if they were already dating.

It's strange how random memories always come up when you're at your worst.

Ishmael is still trying to push back a monster so hideous it is beyond imagination. One of her eyes is shut and bleeding, while her other is wide open. She grits her teeth, sinking her feet into the ground and trying to hold the position as best as she can. Her mace has fallen somewhere and is out of sight. She has no hopes of fighting back, so she puts all her focus into defending.

Even if she cannot see it, her shield is starting to crack.

They can see it, and they can understand it. It's because they got wounded first, and now she has to fight all alone. There isn't much else to do, though, the battle is already over. In a matter of seconds her shield will be shattered into pieces and right after it's her turn.

Kneeling on the floor and observing the scene unfold before them, they are taken by an intense, undescribable feeling.

Where am I going...? What am I doing...?

They can't even protect themself, much less her, but still they want to do something.

I want to do what it takes to get us out of here.

It's nothing but a simple thought. They have no harpoon to sharpen or shield to wield, they only have themself and this feeling to show. They rise to their feet in spite of their pain and blindly walk towards the monster.

Ishmael notices it from the corner of her vision and yells at them to stop and stand back but they are incapable of doing so. They walk until they are shoulder to shoulder with her, then they slide their arm into her shield's handle and bury their feet into the ground.

"I don't care what happens to me but..." They push the shield forward and the monster stumbles one step back, "I want its guts."

They grit their teeth and breathe out. The power that flows into Ishmael's shield is enough to throw the monster off balance. When it falls back, they let go of the shield and pounce on the creature. They rip it apart with their bare hands, eyes dull through the whole process.

Ishmael falls to her knees, exhausted and in pain, and watches the spectable before herself. This sensation is the same when the other sinners use their EGO, so could it be...? Yes, yes it probably is. She watches with morbid admiration as her lover tears apart the creature that almost killed them both, suddenly realizing what their words meant. She doesn't mean to, but yet she smiles at the scene.

____

Rodion:

She laughs and jokes, but their situation is dire. They find thelselves in a inhospitable area, but the worst part is that one of the factions of the place decided they didn't like the Limbus crew. While most of the sinners managed to take Dante to a safer spot, Rodion and themself ended up stranded from the rest of the bunch.

The situation wouldn't be so bad if their enemies could just stop coming up with backups. It's like fighting against an endless swarm of foes. Both of them are exhausted and paying for their carelessness. Rodion has one limp arm, and she tries to wield her axe with the other but a blow to her shoulder makes it impossible to swing the weapon without turning her whole body around. They know she's past her breaking point, but still she makes time to look at them and smile. Only to receive a blow right after and spit out blood.

"Isn't it ironic? Sometimes you think you see the situation ahead better than everyone else." Rodion once said, "You think you know what you have to do. You think you know how you can do it... But then it turns out that it's all wrong, and you accomplished nothing. And you're left out in the cold, alone, with only a bloody axe to show for it."

They only asked her about her EGO. When she gave this explanation of sorts, she had an unexpected regretful expression on her face. They remember having raised a hand, about to pat her shoulder and thinking of a way to comfort her, when she smiled and laughed her own words off, playfully winking at them and excusing herself.

Even now, her smile is but a facade, hiding how much she regrets being there.

Isn't it okay to make mistakes sometimes, though? To err is not a sin, but rather what makes us human.

Is what they wanted to say to her back then, but now that they missed their chance, there's only one thing they can do.

They leap forward and shatter the flow of combat. The temperature drops and the enemies are scrambling to understand what happened. When they walk past Rodion, their eyes lock briefly. They disappear within the mass of enemies and an unnatural silence takes over the battlefield.

Blood splatters on the floor and on the wall, Rodion cannot see what is happening but she instinctively feels a shiver run down her spine. The feeling is familiar, something like what she feels when either Ryoshu or Yi Sang cast their EGO. For some unknown reason, she doesn't worry about her partner. She tries to see past the confused foes in front of her, and only has a split second to step aside before a body flies her way. She dodges it in time and what once was a person becomes a blood splatter on the wall behind her.

Within the corridor that this body's path opened, she once again locks eyes with her partner. Panting and with a bloodied face, they stare at her with dull eyes. They don't seem to be wounded, which is a relief, but at the same time...

Suddenly the silence breaks and the formation of their enemies is in disarray. A couple more bodies are flung into the air and splatter against the floor and walls. Rodion didn't expect them to have an EGO so interesting. Actually she has no idea what kind of EGO it is. She can only classify it as terrifyingly hot. Yeah, she will kiss and pamper them a lot when the fight is over, but first they have to survive it.

She grins and swings her axe towards a distracted enemy, slicing his skull in half.

____

Sinclair:

"How do you manifest EGO?" Was a simple enough question. They were expecting a textbook answer, something that would take a while to understand, but still understandable.

"EGO..." Sinclair repeated, eyes growing distant as he silently pondered.

"It's okay if it's supposed to be a secret..."

He smiled at them and shook his head, "It's not, as far as I know, it's just..." He pressed his lips into a thin line, "I think about everything I could never do in my life, and then I... If only I can will myself into doing it..."

Sinclair didn't say anything much after that, and they didn't press him. Sometimes curiosity was about to take over and they felt like asking again, but they always held back. If it was something he couldn't say, then no need to be pushy.

Sinclair was gentle and easy to get along with, but when it came to battling he seemed to change completely. That bright boy who's prone to being anxious is no longer, instead there stands a bloodthirsty man, desperate to claim the lives of his enemies.

There's only a couple of them left, but there's also one wounded Sinclair, barely able to hold his weapon, left. They sit on the floor, back leaning against the wall and holding their bloody stomach. It's really embarrassing, especially after they told him they could handle a fight. Because they are incapable of keeping their promise, Sinclair has to push himself past his limit to keep them safe.

They sigh and look at the heavens above. The wound is not severe, they can probably survive it. The main problem here is that Sinclair will die, and other than that, the wounds on their pride are deeper than the one on their stomach.

Isn't it pathetic that I sit here and pity myself, instead of doing something?

They can't shake that feeling. They stare at Sinclair once again, with his trembling hands and knees, fighting off two enemies at once. He barely blocks a hit and fails to parry the other. The slice goes through his hand and he has three fingers severed at once.

Anger bubbles up their throat and they clench their jaw. Whether they are angry at their enemies or at the world for putting them in such a situation, they don't know, but when they rise to their feet that anger makes them feel lighter than ever. They dash back into the fight and swear to whatever is hearing that they won't live in regret like this anymore.

Sinclair is astounded when the weapon he clung to with all his might is snatched from his hand and then used to slice one of the two enemies in half. The person didn't have a second to realize it, their armor and flesh are sliced clean as if made of clay. The other enemy gives a step back and yells a threat. It's no use.

His partner follows up and slashes at the armored enemy, which barely blocks the blow in time. Sinclair watches as his spear's shape changes and his beloved growls unintelligible words at their common foe. Even the pitch of their voice seems off.

Then it finally hits him what's happening is that they manifested their EGO for the first time. He falls on his knees, heart racing while he watches the enemy lose ground and have all the damage they've inflicted being inflicted back at them. His partner moves with grace and malice, and even though they're clearly hurt they don't seem to show any sign of pain.

He blushes and licks his lips. He never thought his usually peaceful lover would be capable of such carnage, much less of reveling in it. It's an unexpected, but not unwelcome development.

____

Outis:

She's strict with herself more than she is with others, and few can recognize this; her lover being one of them. They wanted to find better ways of helping her so once they asked her how did she manifest her EGO.

"Sometimes you say 'the Odyssey had a purpose'," They explained, "I was wondering if you do it by saying that."

"Just the words aren't enough." Outis looked down at the floor, "It's much more than that." She sighed.

"I want to understand it." They pressed.

"If you really want to know, I think about the path that's ahead of me, and how much I still have to accomplish. I think of all the missed opportunities in the past, how many more I'll miss in the future and..." Her voice drifted away, "It doesn't matter what I have to do. I see an opportunity I cannot miss, and I seize it."

They were expecting more of a textbook explanation of it, but this one was clear enough and made sense. Outis seemed just as happy to let go of the subject, instead talking about something lighter.

Maybe she thought they'd forget about it, but she wasn't aware that they commit everything she says to mind. It's because Outis is devoted to them that they can give everything they have in return.

Even now, when the fight is pretty much lost, with one of her arms on the floor and barely able of wielding her weapon in the other hand, she's giving everything she has to keep them out of harm's way. They bitterly watch her throw her life away for somebody as incompetent as them.

The mindless creature that charges at Outis is uncaring of the outcome of this battle either way. They just happen to be on its way. They knew that this job was going to be dangerous, but they never thought they would end up being so unfitting for it. In exchange, Outis has to fight for two to compensate.

They bitterly stare at the beast who wobbles its way towards their lover and bites into the air. When its maw opens, its limbs flail strangely. They squint and watch an organ pulse underneath something that's either a wing or a tentacle. It looks soft, vulnerable.

It looks like an opportunity.

In that moment, everything clicks into place.

It doesn't matter that they can barely lift their own body or walk, this is something they cannot miss. They push themself off the ground, wincing and wobbling like the creature they fight. They push their feet forward, one after the other, counting the seconds it takes for the creature to show its weakness again. Five, four, three, two, one...

There.

They dash across the battlefield weightlessly and claim the monster's life, like a bullet that has found its target. Outis, who was bracing herself for the curtain call, freezes in place. The creature let out a shriek, its form starting to explode- no, it's like it's imploding. It folds in on itself, body twisting in an unnatural manner until it is nothing but a bundle of twisted flesh and bones.

Standing over the creature's remains is Outis' lover. A sinister smile graces their features and Outis can't help but to smile back. It seems they remembered what she had once told them. Of course, she knew her lessons would one day get through and help them but... She wasn't expecting to see them manifest such a destructive EGO of their own.

She feels overwhelmed with pride and wants to embrace them. She wants to tell them how incredible they look and how amazing of an accomplishment this is but she's already falling to the ground. She doesn't have more than a minute left to live, but it's enough.

"Well... done..." She whispers with her last breath.

____

Gregor:

They'd seen many of the sinners manifest their EGOs before in battle, and Gregor's always seemed to be the most unique out of them. Half of that fascination came from his prosthetic, and the other half from being in love with him. One day when they couldn't hold the curiosity anymore, they asked him about it.

He looked upset at first, and they almost took back their question but then he shrugged.

"It can hurt." He explained, "But if I will it to, it can also protect. If I want it to protect, I need to be stronger. I need to get over how much I hate it and make it useful."

He waved his insect arm a little, as if to illustrate his point.

"I don't know how it works, bud." He smiled awkwardly at them, "I just... I just want it to."

Such a simple explanation fit him. They knew how much grief having the arm gave him, yet he was trying to make something good out of a bad situation.

They hope they can say the same of themself, but...

Gregor is on the floor, a massive armored person has a foot on his neck while pulling his insect arm back at a painful angle. Gregor's struggle to free himself is meaningless. They fought hard, they fought well, but they've ultimately lost. The person who threatens to crush his throat with their ironclad foot instead seems more interested in pulling that arm off his shoulder. He's screamed so much his voice is hoarse. He's writhing on the floor, kicking and screaming to the top of his lungs but he can do nothing.

They're alone, and theyre weak. He tried to protect them, and in turn this is the outcome. They lay on the floor, unhindered by any armored soldier, but incapable of doing a thing. Their broken leg hurts like hell, but not as much as their heart does upon seeing him like that.

In this absolute hopeless moment, they go back to his words and his bittersweet smile.

I want to protect, so I will myself to.

They push their upper body off the ground, only to fall on their face again. They grit their teeth and clench their jaw. Gregor let out another bloodcurdling scream and they shut their eyes tight, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

I want to protect. This is not fair.

They can hear the sound of fabric ripping. Something inside them breaks and a switch is flipped. It doesn't matter how much it hurts, they stand on their feet and grab their weapon in their hands. The armored giant turns around, glances briefly at them and goes back to what they were doing. Oh, what a bad decision.

They lift their weapon, eyes locked on the pained image of Gregor on the ground, tortured even after defeat, and then lower it in a swift motion. A shockwave closes the gap between them and their enemy, the armored giant sways and lifts their foot off of Gregor's throat. They take another step closer and wince in pain, but swing their weapon again. The force of the shockwave this time is strong enough to make the giant let go of Gregor. The veteran is kicked to the side while the knight is forced to focus on them.

Gregor watches his lover approach the giant knight menacingly while he curls in on himself. He knows they are more hurt than himself, but somehow he feels more terrified for the canned giant. When his partner raises their weapon again, he knows it's over. He's not very educated on the science of it, but he's fought in enough battles to pick up on its flow. When this combat started, he knew the knight was way out of their league. He knew they would get severely wounded, and knew that winning was an impossible scenario here.

He couldn't tell them, because he barely had any time to, but his plan was to take most of the beating until the others could arrive and save them. Now it's clear that somehow his plan worked, but in an unexpected way. When he was hurt the most, when it felt like his tendons and muscles would get ripped apart by the knight's sadistic pulling on his arm, they reached a breaking point and manifested their own EGO.

Their weapon lowers and the tip connects with the metal on the giant's armor, and in that split second where the world stays still, Gregor blinks. The knight's armor is smashed in and blood and flesh gush out of its gaps. It's a gruesome scene, and the sound it makes is nauseating. His lover pants and gasps for air, then falls to the ground unconscious.

In spite of his pain he is not only proud, but also glad. He crawls all the way to their side, smearing some stray blood and guts over his clothes on the way. Everything hurts, but he manages to reach them. He embraces them with his still good arm, shedding tears of relief.

He's so sorry he's put them through all of this, but he's so unashamedly proud and in love with them.

"You did good, bud." He whispers into their hair, "You did so good...

[a-blog-for-kat]

Arturo and Charles parallels in DRDT and just how much they're alike and different.

Sorry if this is confusing and all over the place it's just an info dump for myself 😭

So DRDT is a guilty pleasure for me, I enjoy it to death, and I honestly couldn't see myself without it today. It's shaped so much of my personality and how I act and am today.

But enough talk about how drdt has changed me. There's been something on my mind.

You see... Charles and Arturo are some of my favorite characters in despair time. They're both really well written. Then, I started to see more and more similarities between the two men. And my friends can back me up on how crazy I went.

!!SPOILERS FOR ALL OF DESPAIR TIME AHEAD!!

Website information

Arturo and Charles both get a lot of information on the website already, without even needing to watch any episodes of drdt. We can immediately pinpoint a few things just from the character page alone!

Their names follow a "last name is 1 letter shorter than the first name" pattern, and while that holds no significance, I find it funny that BOTH of them have that. It's just a cool little thing, yknow?

They also have condescending lines at the top of their character bio's

Charles:

"Heh. It's a waste of my time talking to an imbecile like you."

Arturo:

"I only talk to attractive people, so you can get out of my sight."

Both of their talents also fall slightly under the "science" field. Chemistry, and

can I say biology for plastic surgery?

They both have similar favorite colors; Charles having his favorite as Cerulean, which is a shade of blue. And Arturo's being a blueish white color.

They both smell alike as well. Laundry Detergent and Antiseptic, both chemical like smells. Both of the things I've just mentioned don't really matter but more tiny similarities between them.

Diving further into the character page we get these lines in their bio's

Arturo is rude, condescending, and has little value for others

And for Charles

He(Charles) looks down upon those he views as less intelligent.

They both speak down to people, having high standards for them, and if you don't meet them, they'll flick you away. They don't care about you unless you meet those very specific standards. You either must be smart or beautiful.

Another small thing about these two we see on the character page: they both have specific likes and almost opposite dislikes when it comes to how the common person would react to this.

Charles:

Likes: Coffee ice cream

Dislikes: Dogs

Arturo:

Likes: Tabloids

Dislikes: Unclean air

Dogs are a beloved pet by many. They're friendly, adorable, lovable, and all in all, just an enjoyable animal to be around. Charles, however, dislikes them. A very opposite view to a common person.

Unclean Air, on the other hand, is something so many people live around and have to deal with every day. It's unlivable to deal with, and many can agree with Arturo's dislike to the dirty breathing.

And that's all we can get from the website. All we can g-

Arturo: You hated them, but even that doesn’t justify what you did.

Charles: If you forgot it, then it probably wasn’t important to begin with. None of those memories should ever be kept, anyway.

Oh... those things. Arturo seems to be the catalyst for this, causing something to happen to "them" because of hatred.

Charles seems to be on the other end, something happening to him and then his memories being gone and then being told, "none of those members should ever be kept anyway."

A theme you should keep in mind. The attacker/catalyst and the receiver/victim.

Now let's move on :3

Prologue

In the Prologue, we get another simple scene of Arturo being condescending towards others when we first "meet" him:

Arturo: Tch. Do I need to spell it out any more for you two(Xander and Teruko)?

Arturo: You two are ugly. And I don’t talk to ugly people. So get out of my sight.

Charles also doesn't hold high standards when he meets "us," telling us that our talents are useless, and then we get this amazing thing

Charles: I was informed that Hope's Peak Academy was allegedly a prestigious place filled with talented people, but I see now that I may have been better off going to an elementary school with a bunch of children.

Bro is roasting us and leaving nothing left but ashes !!! (/j)

Sadly, I couldn't find too much to compare these two men with in the Prologue since they don't get much screen time as a whole. Though I do have to say neither of them seemed to even give a single care about the killing game, even saying they wouldn't mind.

Chapter 1

These two act just like an old married couple like, seriously. They're just bickering back and forth but absolutely ROASTING the living life out of each other.

I said I respected your talent, Arturo, not your character nor your weird obsession with attractiveness. Those latter aspects could use significant work.

At least my talent could fix your ugly face. There's nothing that can be done for your foul personality.

They need frigging Levi to break them up like who knows where they could've gone with that back and forth banter and for seemingly "serious" characters they can get down right PETTY responses.

But. That's basically them during chapter 1, rude, condescending, awful assholes who no one really likes. Not even me. Though I thought Whit was going to be an awful character, so tkle that into account.

Until the BDA.

Both of them had slightly important roles in the BDA. Arturo finds the body with Veronika and is a catalyst into the BDA announcement going off. And then Charles, who is the unfortunate victim of finding the body of Teruko while she's unconscious and bloody. Running off in fear and panic as he has to cope with the fact he saw a bloody body. And he hated it.

Arturo was pretty accusatory during the trial, but that wasn't something out of the ordinary. Everyone was. Though he did save Teruko and was a major part of her being in the good condition she is. As good as you can get eoth a stab to the abdomen anyway. Charles, though, he was quiet. He didn't speak. He was horrified by what he saw.

Huh. Being a catalyst and saving someone from having worse injuries and then being the victim of seeing a body. This is another time it's happened.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is where shit goes down for these guys. So, in chapter two we start out with the motives being announced, and MonoTV being the incompetent FUCK it is, mixed them up and gave the wrong secrets to everyone.

So Arturo ends up getting J's secret about J being the child of Mariabella Rosales and this. This makes him absolutely obsessed over J. Causing him to go into a negative arc, going from an asshole to a creep.

Charles, on the other hand, has become at least slightly nicer and more bearable to be around. Whit has even said

"He's not an asshole all of the time. He's only an asshole some of the time."

Which is an improvement from when we first met him, he was rude pretty much every line he spoke. So he's going into a positive arc, becoming a more positive person.

And then we learn their secrets. Both of them have something to do with a family member dying:

Charles is visibly shocked but takes it like a champ and goes on about having parents keep secrets about your life from you for your safety.

Arturo, on the other hand... despite Eden being a sweetheart about it, that wasn't enough. Arturo threatened her with his scalpel.

The trial happens, and Arturo is quite defensive the whole time while Charles actually tries to keep the trial going on the right track.

Hell, look at the visual differences between the CG's they had this chapter:

Arturos are in a more negative light while Charles's are in a more positive light.

Family

Ah, family. A quote from a show "Family will always end up together, somehow" - Rescue Bots.

Not these families, though..

Elliot "Ellie" Cuevas is the older sibling of Charles Cuevas by about 11-13 years. They share many visual similarities and similar likes. Ellie is implied to be a much more laid-back person with the vibes his music video gave off. An older sibling who cared for their younger brother dearly. Elliot was an example for Charles. He'll the latter even grew their hair out because of the former.

Ellie is speculated to have died from a dog attack as Elliot love dogs, and Charles not only dislikes them but also has a scar on their arm from a dog (but was told and believes it's a birthmark). Charles most likely was present at the death of his brother and from that developed a phobia of blood and dead bodies.

A victim caught up in the awful tragedy of losing a beloved.

Felicity Giles is the younger sister of Arturo Giles by 3-4 years. She is shy and has low self-esteem but has never made a canonical appearance. One of the only siblings(the only sibling of the 4 important ones we've seen) that don't have a canon look.

We know she committed suicide because Arturo left her. We don't know the circumstances surrounding it, though it's commonly speculated Arturo left for medical school. Arturo denies it being his fault. However. See where denial gets you.

The catalyst for pushing his sister to suicide by leaving.

Bonus:

It's just a silly little thing. The placement of Arturo and Charles on the website is that Charles is 3rd on the website character order, and Arturo is 10th.

Nothing big, right? Well guess what happens episode 3.

Yep. Charles is threatened by Teruko, the protagonist, with her custom weapon. In the infirmary, nonetheless.

Now, that'd just be a one-off thing, right? Well, Episode 10 rolls around and..

Yep. Episode 10 is the episode where Arturo threatens Eden, the support in a sense, with his custom weapon in the infirmary.

One last thing..visual similarities:

And also they both have something covering a part of their face !!!

Green is associated with disgust, and Arturo is disgusted quite a lot.

Purple is associated with fear, Charles is fearful quite a bit around blood and dead bodies.

---

Thank you for reading all this and listening to me ramble, it means a lot. ❤️

[movedto-mrs-bluemarine]

JanAUary: Flower Shop

with: Jodie x Blackmore

So excited to get this out so soon!! It's been a while since we've gotten so good ole jodiemore content. I hope you enjoy!!

I rlly wanna make a prt. 2 where Blackmore meets Ferdinand. I think that'd be funny

No warnings, just good ole fluff and flower symbolism. 1.3k words. Divider credits go to @/saradika !!

A gentle bell rang as Blackmore opened the door. Inside the tiny florist shop was a sight he'd never seen; as if the blond had stepped into a maze of flowers and plants, roses and tulips and flowers he'd never even seen before rowed the walls, floor to ceiling. The colors and smells all burning into his eyes and nose gave him a headache, not to mention the itchy feeling of a pollen induced sneeze.

"Achoo!"

"Ah, just a moment, please!"

The sound of a soft voice stirred Blackmore into a panic. He was frantically looking for the perfect bouquet. There! Simple red roses, countless of them wrapped in a beautiful matching red silk ribbon in a stand on the register counter. The size was incredible, bigger than the man's head. He couldn't begin to count how many there were. It was perfect for what he was planning.

Before he could touch- he didn't want to, anyway -a door behind the counter opened, and a young blonde woman appeared. Blackmore was taken back by her beauty, golden hair, two mismatched eyes set in her skull, skin like a doll. Blackmore wasn't one normally moved by someone's looks, but this woman before him and the soft eyes she gave him set a warm blush in his pale cheeks.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you today?" She asked in a honey sweet voice.

"Mm," He fidgets with the collar of his shirt, pointing a measly finger at the bouquet between them. "This... is it for sale?"

"Of, of course! I just put it together this morning, been meaning to add the finishing touches. It's such a pretty bouquet isn't it?"

The woman took the arrangement with deft hands, Blackmore watched her wrap the flowers with decorated papers, swaddling them as if the bouquet was a baby. His tired eyes caught sight of the name tag on her left breast. Jodie Ferdinand, owner.

"So, may I ask who this arrangement is for? A lover? A wife? Husband?" Jodie asked, her eyes narrowing the slightest in a teasing way. The thought of buying anything for a romantic partner was too much for the man. Shades of pink overcame his face, and he immediately shot down her silly ideas. "Oh, no, no, no! I'm... I-It's for my mother's, it's... it's their anniversary today. I wanted to give them something they'd both enjoy..."

"Oh!" Jodie's eyes flew wide open, "Forgive me for assuming, sir!"

Her hands paused on her work. "Although, may I give you a suggestion?"

Blackmore can't even stumble out an answer before the roses are forgotten, and Ms. Jodie is already zooming around the counter, making a bee-line for the far wall of flowers. He of course followed.

She talks nonchalantly as her hands caress flower petals, feeling their soft texture. "Roses are lovely, yes, but when it comes to buying someone a bouquet, you always want to find one with meaning!"

She takes out some long white flowers, ones Blackmore couldn't name, and Jodie leaves to find more. "Flowers speak when we can't, so it's good to have the perfect arrangement! Deep red flowers often signify romance, none more clearly than the beloved rose, so let's get you something perfect for the occasion!"

The woman looked so happy, a beaming light that fed the flowers around her. Her words didn't mean a lot to Blackmore, but the excitement and professionalism was addictive. He followed close behind like a lost puppy, watching her pull more flowers from the walls. He didn't understand what any of them meant, but the colors paired so so wonderfully, he felt like kicking himself for almost buying those roses, when something so much more perfect existed for his two mothers.

Jodie suddenly turned around, startling the older man. Her eyes had a light in them while she proposed the new bouquet. "Tada! What do you think? I've used pink and yellow lilies, with just a few white hyacinths."

"They look beautiful..." Blackmore murmured.

"Yay! I'm so glad! Let's go back to the front, I'll get them wrapped for you."

She had a new skip in her step, hair tails bouncing with her.

Just like before, Blackmore watched her again with more intrigue. The ribbon she used this time was a pleasant lavender color, with the wrap being a clean white. While she worked she spouted on about the meanings of the flowers she chose. The yellow lilies symbolized joy, the pink gratitude. The white hyacinths would balance out the color, but Jodie told him they symbolized love and prayer. How was it possible to create the perfect bouquet so easily? He was amazed. He pays for the bouquet. She charges him for a premade one, but when he asks, she only brushes him off.

"Don't worry about it. Since it's for such a special occasion, I don't feel right charging you extra."

"Thank you... for doing all of this for me." He said while gratefully taking the flowers into his arms. "You really didn't have to do all of this..."

"Oh, but it's no problem to me, sir! I love making bouquets, most of the time people just buy the premade arrangements, so getting to create new ones for customers is always so fun!" She sighs a little wistfully, resting her chin on her two fists. "It gets a little boring over here without company... I try to keep myself busy in any way that I can."

Blackmore felt his chest deflate. The disappointed look didn't look right on her face.

He felt something inside of him bubble up. A question that fought to be asked. "Would..."

The blond immediately clammed up when Jodie's two eyes made contact with his. One a deep ocean blue. The other a milky grey. He didn't realize before what that could entail. "B-Believe it or not, it's my boss' birthday in a few weeks! I wasn't sure what to get him, but after talking with you, I'm sure he'd enjoy a personal bouquet!"

"Oh! Do you think so? Your boss? How wonderful! Since I have some time, I'm sure I can make the perfect flower arrangement! Definitely something purple... Maybe some chrysanthemums!" Blackmore couldn't help but share her enthusiasm. A soft smile broke on his lips. "That sounds wonderful."

Jodie grabbed for something underneath the counter, coming back with a company card. "Take this, it has my phone number. You can call me whenever you'd like, maybe we can schedule another meeting so we can talk more about your boss' bouquet!"

"Yes, sounds like a date!"

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Blackmore wants to eat them. "I-I mean, not like that, I–!"

Jodie beams, "Yeah! Kind of like a date! I can't wait." She extends her hand out to him. "You probably know already, but my name is Jodie. I own the place with my brother, Franz."

Another split second decision, his mouth is working before his brain does. "Everyone calls me Blackmore, but... you can call me Ritchie."

"Ritchie!" She tests the name out. He enjoys the way she says it. "What a pretty name, I love it. I can't wait to see you again, Ritchie!"

"Likewise."

His brain is malfunctioning. The woman before him is too cute, it's making him feel queasy. He needs to run away. Leave before he can make a bigger fool of himself. "I can't wait to speak to you again, Ms. Ferdinand! But I must get going, I hope your day is well, Ma'am!"

He zips out of the store like lightning, taking the younger woman by surprise. She isn't allowed to wish him off, and that makes her sad. But the promise of seeing the nice stranger again takes those emotions and flips them on its head. She's excited for her next meeting with Mr. Ritchie Blackmore.

[ccaptain]

@predvestnik: Ink on paper, little beyond that, but that for a long while. If ever asked, Childe wouldn't manage to formulate an accurate answer — how many hours did it take to finish it? How many hours did he curve his back over his desk, one seldom used, to carefully put word after word and lines upon lines? However long it took, it's not one fraction of how much of himself he'd dedicate into this gift. It's for a special person, after all. His special person, his captain.

      ❛ Near the end, you can find a list with all locations for each ingredient. ❜ His smile follows the orders of boyish manners. Childe's pointer touches the corner of the book, notebook, he's given Kaeya as means to draw attention back to it. ❛ But if you have troubles finding them anyway, you can contact the agents stationed at the Hotel. They'll be available to supply you. ❜

There's no intricate decoration to the cover. As simple as it comes, it's still unique in its own right — velvety to the touch, of a deep red almost like the summer dusk over a tranquil sea. At the right bottom, someone's initials are drawn in metallic silver — AКB — right beside a small note: To the one who holds my heart, may you never know the ache of hunger. Of love, of anything else. Inside, all recipes he's ever used to make the captain smile, as well as those he's planned to use in future opportunities, cover each line from start to finish.

(He's even ventured a few doodles of his own.)

      ❛ Happy birthday, my love. ❜ The softness of his voice rivals how he touches the other man's hand, fingertips feeling the hills and caressing down the slopes, then twining themselves to his. Childe's kiss follows suit, planted over the knight's temple and down on the shell of his ear.

   ajax's gifts are always exquisite, exquisite and tender. it's always something peculiar that, without a proper input, goes to soothe a need kaeya didn't knew there was a need to quell. the hairpins of last year are often worn along his usual attire- unless he's in an expedition, where those could break by accident, everyone can spot the precious gift in the captain's hair.

   this year, ajax found another itch to scratch.

   the leather is soft, the color unmistikable: it's his color, that brand of red that resembles fresh, dark blood. a digit traces over the initials that he knows with a soft smile on his face. it may be silly to have such a reaction for a cookbook- but it isn't just a simple one.

   there's a small realization when he opens it, and the realization hits that there's childe in the pages. every word, every little pen trait has been put on paper by the same hand that cups his cheek, holds him with a tenderness that hurts. 

   isn't it love, wanting a person to never starve? isn't each dish made with purpose? even when he burns the pancakes, each one has been made with nothing but batter and the intent to feed a sleepy ajax- to fill him, to make him content. it's such a simple concept...

   ( he can almost see it: him hunched over the desk- the tip of his tongue peeking between his lips as the quill scribbles on the paper sheet. a little ink line left from a scratch he was too focused to register as he kept writing- the tenderness of this image is forever stamped into his brain. )

   every line has his beloved into it. every doodle of an ingredient, every doodle of how the dish should look- and it's almost too personal to be looked into, too intimate. all the work put in here was solely for the captain to have, to experience, to see. in a way, this is almost more intimate than a night together-

   how long did it took for him to do that? kaeya doesn't even realize he's looking at a slighty blurred silouetthe of childe, smiling so soft and tapping at the reading again, and diamond falls over something written along the initials...

   To the one who holds my heart, may you never know the ache of hunger. Of love, of anything else.

   ( and it's in this moment that kaeya is sure: if anything was to happen to this book, he would die of heartbreak. )

   and he feels like an ingrate, because his throat has closed up and no words are coming out of it. he imagines that the slight curtain of tears clouding his eye, the effort not to cry and the book pressed against his chest as if to protect it speak a million times louder- 

   then he's pulled into affection, and he can't hold back.

   he tries mumbling, and nothing of value comes out. meanwhile, ajax's warm hand is caressing his, encasing him as if ajax knows that his gift has undone something inside of him. he closes his eyes, and lets a tear roll down his cheek.

   i will never starve- nor from lack of food, nor from lack of love...

   he presses into the kisses, the notebook between their chests. he will never find something of equal meaning to give to childe- not for lack of trying, and it doesn't crush him like usual. ajax meant this gift from him, he put all the work in it for him and him only. 

   ' i love you so much, ' he finally croacks out, trying to inject the simple sentence with different meanings, anything he hasn't told him. 

   ( he hopes that, someday, he can convey his love like the notebook does... )

[figueroths]

Artists self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five arts/sets/edits/gifs that you've done, then pass on to at least five other people. Time to shine and spread some self-love and appreciation 💖

ik it says five but pls understand and respect that i am incapable of making such decisions <3 and also know that I am abt to start tedtalking <3 i am not sorry for any of this <3

TOP FIVE SIX :)

this maleficent set - maleficent (2014) makes me feel insane like true love being familial, parental in fact !! uwuwuwuwu is top tier and anyway I love these gifs individually and how they pair!

this aquamera set - I love love love aquamera, and this is so vibrant and fun! using the fish font style on the fish man line was inspired i'm such a hottie for that! an early mistake in blending mode led to the first gif being so fucking extra and mwah tbh good call to just run with it. also just remembering I specifically told @khazadkeit to send me that prompt lmfao brave of them, after all the essays I've written in their dms, to invite in even more rot ryan i am kissing u on the shoulder tenderly

this ginny baker set - someone called this "visually intense" in a way that felt like 15% derogatory so i'm gonna snatch that phrasing and make it 100% affectionate. like there's a lot happening, and it's so rewarding to look at these gifs now and find little layered surprises in the blending or layout or typography! 😌

this nabrielise set - listen I am so deep in the rot on tbsatdh that my body has adapted to it and I need that rot to breathe and function. it's a v simple, v pretty, v tender set and I love it

this made for love set - my most slept on set for a most slept on series. typography? sexy! colors? sexy! blending? sexy! simmer + hazel green? 📢 SEXY!

this first kill set - i misquoted in a tiny way that gets deeply on my nerves but I just think theo and talia have one of the most compelling relationships on the show and I really love the flow of this set. sometimes u make smth and one or more gifs are a little off the vibe but this one's 10/10 start to finish 💅🏽

honorable mentions <3 yes <3 i'm that annoying <3 still no apologies <3

the first gif in this san junipero set is so perfect I wanna get back on whatever I was on when I made that

this whole nick miller set I snapped! just sat down and made that in a few hours, learning how to do stuff as ideas occurred to me like oh? beyond my abilities? ok I will simply expand my abilities then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ignore the rest but the last gif in this mad max: fury road set might actually be the best blending I've ever done I'm counting 4 shots in there plus triple layers on the big guy

light of my life penny robinson!! idk this just sparks joy but also I'm obsessed with the hand(/claw?) at her temple in the first gif

more robinsons! this time judy & john beloveds. fuckdjsklfidng typography is my passion 😐 but anyway the second gif is so dear to me. that episode is so dear to me really and how they let each other go in totally different ways but how teaching her independence is key to his survival later when he's dependent on her abilities it's emo hours 🥺💗

[akitomojito]

I HAVE FINALLY AWOKEN FROM MY FUCKING SLUMBER. Anyways, take yet another brain rot of two characters of mine, the next thing will be soon, since I’m actually not rotting and feel the need to feed the few sleep deprived and needy people here <3

(Word count: 1,513)

(NOT FINISHED ‼️ I add to this occasionally since I made this while I was newer to tumblr, but I’ll keep updating it every now and then 😈)

”You have quite the wondeful garden, my love. And doing this all on your own? I’m truly impressed.” A small chuckle erose from [REDACTED’S] lips as he made his statement, leaning back against a white, polished table. The flowering designs carved into the furniture made it blend it perfectly, yet simultaneously with the surrounding garden. From the lush green bushes, to the fruit that either sprung from tree’s or other neighboring bushes, it truly looked as if a fairytale had been made reality. The sunset had begun to fade in, coating the garden in shades of pink and orange, making it all the more grand.

“Well, didn’t I tell you I grew up in a cottage? Of course I’d be dealt down with the cards of my trade from my home. Besides, it calms me down, and keeps me sane.” Another male replied to the other man’s comment. A slight bit of eagerness in his tone. That came from the humble joy of picking his garden’s fruit, to be more specific, his delightful strawberries. Nobody could grow them the way he liked, so he simply did it himself. He sighed, looking down at his basket. Looking at the name, “Quinn” carved into it, slight embarrassment crawling up on to his face.

“Did you seriously write my name down on my basket?” Asked Quinn, turning his head around to suspiciously stare at the face of his beloved. He couldn’t lie, he certainly was something to the eye. From the brown pants and boots, all the way up to the cream turtleneck, it was as if he was staring at a higher being other than human. [REDACTED] seemed to catch on to Quinn’s staring, raising a brow and proceeding to look around the heavenly area. “Just perfect for our wedding venue, wouldn’t you agree?” Quinn simply scoffed, slowly getting up from his crouched position from picking the fresh berries. But it couldn’t be denied how that of a strawberry color spread along his cheeks, even making as far down as his hands. He could practically feel the flirtatious stare from the man near him, smelling it.


”This is a garden, not a playground, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Gently snapped Quinn, slightly avoiding much needed eye contact from [REDACTED] as possible. He was taking few steps to meet the face of the brute, pondering his own thoughts. A wedding? The idea at first seemed brash, but the more he thought about it, the more his cheeks grew in color. It was as if his cheeks were like thin paper, and some ink was slowly seeping through, leaving behind an annoying, yet obvious stain. How could this man say a simple sentence, and made him feel like he was questioning himself more than he already was? “Oh, shucks. Let a man dream now, sweetheart. That is,” With a sly movement of his hand, [REDACTED] lifted up Quinn’s wrist with his index finger, grinning that infamous grin of his. Slowly, his index finger traced along Quinn’s palm, seeming to follow the permanent lines in his skin. “Unless you’d like to make my dream a reality.”


Quinn could feel his eye slightly twitch, this time deciding to stand his ground against the one in front of him. He didn’t quite glare at him, but gave him a subtle, warning stare. It was a mixture of a demand, and a plead. Almost begging for him not to fluster him more, yet at the same time, continue to adorn him in his love. His attention quickly caught on to a small, white plate. It sat perfectly still on the table his lover was up against, the reason Quinn payed attention to it was due to the fact there were once, a good amount of strawberries laid out across the plate. Now, there was nothing. ”Did you really eat all of the strawberries I picked? Didn’t even bother to leave one for me?” Quinn proceeded to give [REDACTED] a heavy side eye, attempting to counter the statement made previously before. Internally, he smirked to himself. There wasn’t much of a reason he suddenly felt cocky, perhaps now he could put the somewhat of a pain in his rear end in his place. Oh, what an utter joy that would be. The male had been messing around with him all day, he just had to be taught a lesson.

“No, no, I did leave you one. It’s right here. Maybe if you paid more attention to me, you would’ve noticed.” Quinn looked up at him, realizing that in his other hand close to his face, another strawberry sat comfortably in between his thin, slender fingers. Quinn pushed his bottom lip out just a small bit, fiddling with the bottom part of his blouse. He tried to distract himself with the color of his top, a dark, forest green color it was. One of his personal favorites. He looked back up at [REDACTED,] however only with his eyes. “. .I can see that quite well, but you still ate them all. You’re rather lucky I happen to have more on me currently.”


”Or you could simply say I’m lucky I have such an adorable future husband to pick through the thorn bushes for me.” Quinn rolled his eyes, [REDACTED] couldn’t tell if he did that to be playfully rude, or just straight up nasty. In an attempt to distract himself, he offered the strawberry to Quinn with a warm smile. Quinn looked up at the fruit, then [REDACTED], cautiously, slowly but gradually moving his hand towards his to take hold of the fruit. Eventually taking it away from him all together, simply holding the strawberry in front of his face. “I just love it when you’re so kind enough to leave me your leftovers.” Quinn remarked sarcastically, not even realizing how [REDACTED’S] hand was slowly closing in around his wrist. He only noticed when he felt his hand being moved. By the time he looked to see what the man was doing, the fruit was almost pressed against his beloved’s lips, barely inches away. Quinn’s eyes slightly widened, not entirely expecting such a thing to happen. “Well, how about this? I’ll eat my last strawberry, and you could have the rest you just now, picked? If you’d like, we could share.” [REDACTED] Brought Quinn’s hand a little bit closer to his lips, smirking. “So, why don’t we make this one extra memorable?”

Quinn barely had a moment of thought, before the feeling of soft, glossy lips grazed the sides of his fingers. [REDACTED] Slightly licked the strawberry Quinn held in his hand, gradually taking small bites of the berry. As if wanting the moment to last longer. His eyes stared teasingly into Quinn’s, pleased with the redness that had spread all across his face, as well as the heat from his hands. Softly, he ate the strawberry completely from Quinn’s hand, leaving nothing left. However, he didn’t let go of Quinn’s wrist, seeming to gently lick away the apparent “leftover” of the already eaten strawberry, slightly sucking on the tips of Quinn’s fingers. Leaving the male left out for words of rationality. 

A smirk grazed over the lips of [REDACTED] without fail, not once breaking eye contact with Quinn. He felt like he couldn’t if he would have chosen to done so. There was just something about the man standing right across from him, something that echoed in passion. From the day he first met him, there was something special deep within his pulsing veins and body, and [REDACTED] wanted to have it all to himself. He didn’t mean to be greedy, but he simply just couldn’t help it whatsoever. The way Quinn’s eyes were widened with shock, blush coating his face as if it were thick raisen rolling down the bark of a tree, the trembling in his eyes. Oh, how couldn’t he not tease him? He was utter perfection in his eyes, and, [REDACTED] being the person he was, simply couldn’t let such a divine appetizer scurry away on him without getting a taste.

“Oh, darling, don’t tease me with that look. You’re too adorable that way!” [REDACTED] chuckled slyly, seeming to be enjoying the look in his beloved’s eyes. He began to pull his lips away from the blushing hand of his lover, pulling back to lean against the polished white table once more. He stared down at the man below him, with a grin larger than he could’ve ever thought he could have. Something [REDACTED] always loved about himself and Quinn was the height difference. He, standing at nearly six feet, while Quinn only was a mere five feet, along with six other inches. Quinn used to get so defensive when he brought it up, but over the years, there was a glint in his eyes. Hinting that he in fact loved it equally as much. “Oh, enough of that! Do you have no sense of embarrassment when it comes to these types of. .things?! You’re always initiating them, anyway, but why in the most visible of places?”

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 57

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 57 - Reunion

The sun slipped from behind the clouds, bathing the cemetery with the warmth of its light, but he didn’t move, not even to remove the heavy jacket in spite of how hot it left him. He began to wonder if he should have waited longer before coming to the grave, when it was cooler… later in the evening, maybe just before dark.  That seemed far more appropriate somehow. 

“I’m… sorry, son,” he said softly, and he did move then, to kneel beside the grave, one hand on the lettering of the headstone. They’d done a good job with it, that was for certain. “I shoulda been there wi ye.”

He took a breath.  He’d promised he wouldn’t be like this, all full of self recriminations and self loathing because he couldn’t put the blame anywhere else; couldn’t put the blame where it belonged… With Celine West.

“I don’t know that I deserve this… to be here, where you’re not. I thought we had more time. Maybe, though, this is the price I pay for… not acting sooner. I don’t know. I’m rambling.”  He sighed. “So… she gone - she’ll not hurt anyone any more.”

He sighed.

“They were right to send you here,” he said. “I’d thought maybe I might come home, but… well… this is my home now. Here.” He paused. “Besides, the poison did some damage to my heart, so I don’t think I would have been fit to fly. Probably always have a weak heart, but… I suppose that’s a small price to pay, to be able to share a life with Belle and…” he gave a little huff of laughter, expressing his amazement and joy then, before he finished, “And your brother. So, I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked up as a shadow fell across him where he sat, and smiled at Belle as she came to him, a fresh bouquet of flowers in her hand to replace the ones that were past their best in the small vase that was attached to the gravestone.

Gold ran his fingers one more time across the lettering - the simple epitaph that read. Baethan Gold. Beloved Son.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, and reached for Belle. He tucked her in to his side, and with such tenderness, softly caressed her rounded belly.

“I brought flowers for MacCalmain too,” she said. “The white lilies that you said he always liked.”

Gold nodded, and whispered another silent prayer of thanks to ever faithful ‘Silent Mac.’ They hadn’t told him much of what had happened, but enough to know that the man gave his life defending Grace.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

He took a deep breath, leaning heavily on the cane they told him he’d need to use for a while. He let the air chase away the incessant stench of the hospital, of disinfectant, of the ventilator he swore to God he could still always smell and taste.

It was all in his head. He knew that. He knew, from talking with Doctor Hopper that it would be a while before the nightmares went away, before the somatic symptoms subsided; before he began to feel… normal again.

After so many years of anything but normal, he wasn’t even sure what that meant any more.

He started walking slowly along the path… rounding a slight bend where the path was lined with bushes, and had to stop walking again, the sight of them taking the breath from his lungs again.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, blinking back tears. Her slender face, and button nose, her deep brown eyes and long brown hair… someone had braided it.  She looked so… grown up.

He made himself move again, move closer, limping along the path toward where the two men waited with Grace, holding both of their hands, a puzzled look on her face, as though she wasn’t sure why she was here. It wasn’t her day to visit after all. Through all the months they’d only let her visit one day a week, and only then for an hour at a time.

Archie spotted him first, the doctor’s face lighting into a smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. He didn’t say anything to alert the others, but the other man looked up anyway. His rich, caramel colored eyes softening into a warmth even greater than the sun, but he twitched his head toward Grace, with a mischievous smile that promised a private reunion later.

A sudden rush of nervousness halted his steps.

What if she hated him? What if she blamed him for what had happened to her aunt, what if…

“Grace!” 

He called her name before he could stop himself; before he lost courage and turned away.

She turned to him, shook her hands free of the others and ran toward him, calling, “Papa!”

He lowered himself to one knee to catch her up and hold her tightly. Tears streaming from his face as he felt her warm breath against the side of his neck.  He closed his eyes as he heard the footsteps of the others come to a halt at his side, and he pushed to his feet, still holding Grace, and ignored the pain the exertion caused.

He felt a light touch on one elbow. It was the touch of a hand he knew; knew intimately and he felt the concern streaming from that touch.

“I’m all right,” he whispered, then held Grace the tighter.

Time passed, he vaguely heard Doctor Hopper excuse himself, and eventually he found he had to put her down, though he didn’t want to.  The hand still on his arm tightened, just a little, and he had to admit he’d been right to be concerned. He maybe needed to take things a little easier.

There was a bench nearby, and with his family by his side, Jefferson limped over to it and sat down, drawing Grace to him again, to lean against him, never wanting to be away from her again.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, and Grace turned in his arms to look at him, a puzzled expression on her sweet face. “How would you like to live here… in Storybrooke?”

He looked up then, into the warm, dark eyes of his lover, to include him in the question as he waited for Grace’s answer.

[sycamorality]

DEAR VOIDS SLUGCAT DESIGNS HERE WE GO.

also this nightcat is seperate from my invterator askblog nightcat. for clarification

id honestly consider the cut arena scug 4 an oc at this point. it deviates so much from the One sprite we get. oops

seperates + Not So Line Lineup under cut AS WELL AS DESIGN NOTES woooh boy. MIND YOU its really long

the Not So Line Lineup

survivor! scar on snout is based on one of the cut arena sprites for player 1, it has a little.. scar? notch? line? there. survivor passage symbol on head as well and freckles :) some brown to match monk sorta. spikey fur!

^ what the scar is based on

overall more rounded than survivor, to reference the monk passage symbol which is also on their head. a little dewlap to reference gourmand - i think gourmand and survivor and monk are related. lighter yellows to reference survivor!

third sibling!!! the little orange line on their head is actually karma 7 (i realized survivor is karma 5 and monk is karma 6- so why not go with the theme?) and a sorta partial saint symbol on their head, missing the middle line. yellow/red accenting color to reference monk and survivor sorta. blu :)

sorta pinker. based on one of my old draft designs, just made a little better. green accent color to match sig. a little fluffy and sharp. ear tufts cause theyre fun and a tufted tail. hunter passage symbol is also on tail teehee. sig's head symbol is also on hunter. the scar is also green

nightcat is some sorta weird echo thing. to me. little wings for the fun of it. i dont have much on this design honestly other than i used dodge A Lot. the accenting pink on the dark purple parts was originally an accident but like? it vibes.

wanderer! cause actually why not. the white symbol on their chest is a half of sig's symbol, i'd like to think sig helped suns make wanderer. if you put its head symbol together with nightcat it makes the scholar :) blue accenting color is close to the negative/opposite colors of nightcat.

i dont have many notes for this biggol guy. sorta looks alike survivor and monk i suppose. feathers! theyre sorta rose colored i think. idk. it looks nice. simple patterns cause gourmand is a symbol guy

artiiii. i wanted to put an accent color on arti but it was so Hard because i was Stubborn and Needed That Damn Cyan on it. markings based on a siamese cat except for the ones on the arm and legs, theyre sort of tabby based?

green pup is tabby based in markings, pink sorta looks like flower petals. blue pup is siamese cat based in markings and the yellow? idk it looked nice

RIVULETTT. i love rivulet. i made the bright sunset gradient contrast by adding some darker but still vibrant blues and purples to the design, as well as a cream. there's also actual gills udner the display frills (which also got a color update to match instead of being an offbrand bi flag). also webbed fingers!!!

vibrant fuckin purple because it looks nice actually. made it have some cream-pink-purple thing as underbelly instead to make it look nicer. head markings are based directly on suns :) biggol Orb Eyes to Stare In Your Soul. accenting colors sorta match rivulet? idk? they just look nice without contrasting too much. also whiskers. and tall. and thin with long ass grabbers

i kept getting "portal colors" and "aroace flag" and like YEA YALL ARE RIGHT ACTUALLY i just wanted to fit blue and orange on it though lmao. anyway pretty simple body markings to make up for the Six Fucking Accent Colors. three forehead dots are yellow while there's an x on its back and head thats blue... to imitate the rot :) why? figure it out yourself

inv!! not much has changed since honestly i just saturated the colors a bit more i think. idk. i like the yellow on inv though so i make it more prominent sorta? just a guy. still an iterator that turned itself into a slugcat. to me.

originally based on this cut arena slugcat

then i uh. accent color and scales and um. um. im so normal about this slugcat holyshit curveberry my beloved.... anyway the scales were originally a dark teal? then i hueshifted them and Oh Fuck Dusk Colors Holy Shit. its so good i genuinely love this design so much i doodled it lmao. the scales are based on a pangolin. i actually have ideas for this if it were to be a slugcat campaign...

another cut arena slug! this time this one. i tried to keep it more in line rather than go a bit silly ehe. i still like how this came out- i think the accent color is nice. it looks like bingus to me actually. bingus slugcat

iggy projection slug. weird thing with lines under its eyes

to me this is another of nsh's purposed messengers. the lil guy that sent the distateful message. whatever it was icr the exacts but. him. boy. the darker pink is like armor like a centipede. looks like ham to me

iggy projection slug that had silly little small ears so i thought i'd include them

i was having so much trouble with this design but @pinkavtomation actually helped me out because i was. Struggling so hard and i was streaming doing these designs in vc (for 9 hours straight... voids) 'n it sent this and honestly. yeah. funky vitiligo cat to me.

colors r sorta based on vanilla and chocolate icecream???? thats what i was thinkin when i was lookin at it honestly. just a lil guy to me

[peknie]

CAT Car (2)

Full story; AO3, WATTPAD Tumblr parts; 1, 2

Summary;

Tommy is an invisible attendant on the Cross-Atlantic Train Carriage- also know as the CAT Car. It was a train that ran across the Atlantic Ocean, making headlines before it was even built. He's only there for the money, but it seems he's not the only one. Suspicious guests aboard its first trip accidentally reveal secrets to their invisible attendant that he can't get out of his head. A detective, a thief, an actor, a billionaire, two attendants and their boss walk into a train carriage... And not all of them will walk out when the journey ends.

Playlist:

CAT Car - Spotify

Notes:

This took way too long to update- sorry! I often work 9 hours as a toddler teacher, so it's hard to get time in lol! Anyway, I'm not a very good artist & its heavily stylized so just skip over the images if you don't like em :]

Comfort in Torment

     The day came to go back to the station. Tommy had 'borrowed' some clothing from a store nearby, quite liking the white and red shirts he took. They were all the same, meaning he'd be wearing the same shirt daily, but who would see? Ranboo-b? Tommy scoffed at the idea of caring what all Ranboo had to think about his style.

     Ranboo Beloved. Tommy felt an inkling of guilt over being so harsh in his head, especially considering how Ranboo helped him find a place to stay. Out of pity, though- so he didn't feel too bad.

      "Beloved is such a pretentious last name," Tommy murmured as he approached the station. The other attendants stood around, waiting quietly for Mr. Warden to arrive. 

      Ranboo stood out easily now that Tommy had noticed him. They caught Tommy's eye, waving slightly. Tommy nodded and looked away, opting to stand on the other side of the room.

      When Mr. Warden did enter the station, he smiled at the attendants. "I'm glad to see you've all made it! Follow me, and I'll lead you all on a tour. Once you've seen your designated area, you can settle into your cabins and relax until tomorrow." He made his way to the side door, motioning them all to follow him to the back of the train.

     The end of the train cart was simple. Colorful lining crowned the ceiling, and the seats were a bright yellow. Mr. Warden told the attendants that this was where the reporters would be, that the attendants working there- Aimsey and Guqqie- would need to make sure they would leave five-star reviews. 

     The common areas that separated different sleeping areas and types of people were all decorated in different colors and styles. There was another area, closer to the front, designated to medical professionals and experts of all kinds. 

     Experts that could come in handy in case of emergency.

     By the time they reached Tommy and Ranboo's section, everyone else had begun to settle into their cabins. Mr. Warden turned to face them in the common area. Tommy's eyes swiftly took in this cart's decor, catching on a series of portraits.

     There were no seats in this part, but there were old-timey, western style portraits of people. Tommy only recognized one. It was the billionaire Shelby Grace. She was well-known for being born into wealth and using it in a humanitarian way. Tommy only knew of her because she'd funded one of the homeless shelters he had stayed in. The others, though, were lost on him.

     "This is only half of this group's common area. There's a bar here, and whichever one of you will be in here will be behind the bar. Neither of you will be allowed to drink, but you have full access to any food we serve." Mr. Warden looked to where Tommy was staring, humming. "Oh, those will be the passengers you look after. They're either incredibly rich or incredibly famous. Here, my favorite is Techno Blade- a very mysterious figure in high society. Maybe he's my favorite because of his name, though."

     Both Tommy and Ranboo said nothing, and Sam Warden smiled. "I'm aware that I've said being quiet is a part of this job, but you've already proven you can be. You're allowed to speak, you know."

     Tommy's lips quirked into a nervous grin. "Wasn't sure if this was the final test or something."

     As much as he was sure he'd already gotten the job, his heart beat faster as he waited for Mr. Warden's eyes to narrow. He only nodded, though. "That's a fair assumption. I promise you that you don't need to worry about that." Gesturing to the portraits, Mr. Warden continued, "Any you two recognize?"

     Tommy shrugged loosely. "I've heard of Shelby Grace. She sponsored-" Tommy paused, wondering if he should mention his bouts of homelessness. "-She sponsored a workplace of mine. A homeless shelter."

     "Really?" Mr. Warden's brows knit together. "I don't remember seeing that in your work history. You worked at a shelter?"

      "I didn't put it down because it was volunteer work, is all." Tommy avoided his boss' eyes, staring intently at the portraits.

     "I recognize him," Ranboo spoke lowly, scaring the absolute shit out of Tommy, who had forgotten they were there. "Schlatt. And his son. A few papers away from him, that's Schlatt's son, isn't it?"

     "President of Snowchester." Mr. Warden smiled and nodded. "The city in Greenland we'll be going to. I invited him, and he surprisingly accepted. His son's coming too, of course. You've done your research, I suppose?"

      Ranboo shrugged. "A little, but I know about Schlatt because I used to live in Snowchester."

     "Oh?" Mr. Warden seemed pleasantly surprised. "Then we have some first-hand experience with some of our guests. I suppose this means I placed you two well." Leading them into the next cart, he stopped in the seating area. "I expect you to treat all our guests the same, though."

     Tommy and Ranboo nodded, deciding to take an interest in the Western-style, dull couches and booth seats. There was a variety of decorations that fed into the theme, the color orange appeared more often than not.

      Next, they were led past the passenger cabins to their own, a shared room with beds across from one another. Tommy set his small bag at the food of the window bed, not giving Ranboo a chance to choose. Mr. Warden laughed. "Alright, well, you two get ready. Tomorrow, I'll drop off a full supply of the invisibility serums before boarding at twelve."

      Tommy sat on the bed he'd claimed, Ranboo raising a brow. "What if I wanted the window bed?"

     "Then you should've been faster," Tommy mumbled. Ranboo laughed, shaking his head and putting his suitcase on the other bed. 

     It was silent- sans the shuffling of Ranboo unloading their things- as Tommy looked around the cabin. The decor was similarly Western, though the trim of the ceiling was colored a rainbow of every main color of the other compartments and common areas. Tommy hummed in approval, liking the look, but it left him cold as he realized how dull they all seemed. He knew, logically, that the colors were bright- loud- but it felt muffled to him. 

     Tommy flopped onto his back, staring pointedly at the blank ceiling. Ranboo looked at him after a while. "You okay?"

     "Of fuckin' course I am," Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms dramatically.

     Ranboo shook their head and sighed to themself, waving Tommy off. After a second of Ranboo unpacking his clothes, he gave in and asked.

     "What is your problem with me? What did I do to you?"

     Tommy looked over from his spot on the bed, trying to forget about the colored trimming.

     Tommy's face scrunched when he saw how close to the top of the door Ranboo was. "You're freakishly tall," Tommy decided with a huff. "It's distracting."

     Ranboo blanked. "Are you kidding me?" Their voice was higher now, making Tommy stifle a slight smile. "That's your problem with me? I'm tall?"

     Tommy looked at the ceiling again. "I said what I said."

     Refusing to talk to such a petty person, the two ignored one another for the rest of the day- aside from the occasional insult. It wasn't overly malicious, just poking fun at one another occasionally. Usually about height.

     By the end of the day, there were two post-its on the wall by the door, measuring their height. Tommy had marked Ranboo's height as 'freakishly tall,' and Ranboo had written him as 'the size of a gremlin.' 

      They went to bed a bit more comfortable with one another's presence, despite the insults and arguments. 

     The next morning they awoke to a knock on their door. Mr. Warden came in with a case, a cart behind him carrying more. He set it down by the shared dresser. "These are the serums, be sure to lock the case when you're not taking something out or putting it back in." 

       "Thank you, Mr. Warden." Ranboo nodded to him. Mr. Warden's eyes narrowed in distaste. 

      "Please, call me Sam."

      Tommy cringed. Mr. Warden was his boss. Calling him by his first name would be strange. Ranboo apologized, "Sorry, Mister- uh- Sam."

      Mr. Warden chuckled and walked away. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. Remember, boarding is at noon, so be sure to take the serums just before everyone boards. I'm sure you'll do great."

      Ranboo stood up as the door closed, opening the case. They observed the serums, picking one up and turning it over in their hands. "Do you want to bartend, or should I?"

      "I mean, who even's going to drink on the first day? Sounds boring, is all."

      Wincing, Ranboo shrugged. "You never know, rich and famous? They can drink anytime." He laughed, tone dry and humorless. 

      "That's true."

      "How about we switch off every day?" Ranboo handed a serum to Tommy. Tommy's brows furrowed. "We should probably stick to a cart for the ride."

      "Why's that?"

      "Have you ever worked in a bar?" Tommy asked as though the reason was obvious. Ranboo tilted their head, fingers awkwardly messing with a lock of their hair. "Uh... No? Have you?"

       "... No," Tommy said, looking away- like a liar. "I just mean that people sometimes ask for their usuals. If we switch it'll be obvious we don't know their usuals."

      "Dang." Ranboo sighed, taking a minute to speak again, "I'll do the bar portion, then."

      "Are you sure?" Tommy asked, despite having argued with Ranboo for a while. Tommy had bartended before, and with his experience, he wouldn't be upset about it.

      Ranboo's eyes darkened. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd rather do that, anyway."

      Deciding not to ask, Tommy shrugged and tucked the serum in his pocket. The two waited, Ranboo heading back to his bed after inspecting most of the vials.

     Ranboo got on his phone, Tommy opting to doodle in his notebook. There was no wifi or reception on the train, so Tommy assumed he was playing Candy Crush or something else lame that lame people do.

     When the time rolled around, Tommy and Ranboo picked up their serums. As Tommy took it, he relished the way the colors brightened again. The colorful trim of the room became a vivid hue, purple shining around Ranboo's figure. Looking at his hands, Tommy saw a flow of colors run over him. Like watching the sky through the air above a grill, his limbs distorted the room.

      "Is Sam sure nobody will see us?" Ranboo asked, flexing their hands. Tommy had to squint to see any details of their face. "I mean, if they do, it's not like it's our fault."

      "Fair, I guess." Ranboo rummaged in the case, pulling out a slip of paper and holding up a purple vial. "So, half of the serums are for reversing the invisibility- for when we get back to the cabins at lights-out. There's also a limit, so we'll have to take another around mid-day every day from here on out. You got pockets?"

      Tommy hummed, nodding as he walked over to read over the paper. He slyly slipped a purple vial into his pocket, despite not needing to hide the fact he took it. As he held it, it turned a transparent color, like that of himself. Turning to the door to head to the compartments, he rammed into Ranboo, both of them reeling back.

     Instead of apologizing, Tommy scoffed loudly, "Ugh- out of the way, tall-ass."

      Ranboo chuckled, muttering under his breath.

      "What was that?" Tommy asked, adding in a "Bitch?"

      "I said- I didn't see you. Guess I wasn't looking down far enough." They made gestures with their hands to indicate Tommy as short. Huffing and puffing, Tommy crossed his arms and stomped across the room, storming out of the compartment and cursing on the way to fake a strong rage.

      While Ranboo moved past him to the bar section, he gathered his thoughts and readied himself for a steady flow of passengers.

       As the clock struck twelve, the sound of doors opening caused a low hum through the train.

[nnay-naee]

Let me tell you how El's glow-up's through the seasons are closely connected to Milkdude. I'll probably write this as simple as possible since its 2 a.m. and there are a few simple concepts floating in my head. But before it all, I gotta thank @love-byers and his amazing post for inspiring me. It's also from where I also stole most of the pictures (sorry <3).

So, let's start.. In every season, Eleven basically gets a glow-up. In season 1 she starts with short hair and a hospital gown, while during the finale she wears the iconic Nancy's pink dress and a long, blond wig, given to her by Mike. It makes her feel pretty, Mike also underlines it. It's the first time she looks at her and genuinely thinks of herself as pretty, just like it's the first someone manages to make her feel loved, and that someone is Mike. They're happy, she's happy.

Later, if we forget about the stolen outfit from that old man in the woods, we see her starting season 2 with oversized, hand-me-down clothes from Hopper's old stuff, while later, we see her with the badass look Kali gave her. In both occasions she doesn't really feel like that style is hers, but her Kali's outfit represents what she needed to get to Mike: strength. We see, in fact, that El travels to her 'lost sister' to find herself, but doesn't actually do. She finds a way to become stronger, though, and with that power, she defeats the demo-dogs that are bothering Mike and Co. in Hawkins. She gets back together with him, both of them waited anxiously to meet again. Everybody's happy.

Then there's season 3. Here we get to see again a Hopper's choise of clothes, she couldn't find herself in England, so she's back at what felt more close to it among what she's ever tried in life, even if it's definitely far from what she is. She finds what 'feels like her' when she meets Max, she brings El to the mall and makes her try everything until she gets what she wants. Also thanks to Max 'awakening' true El's self, she dumps Mike. She doesn't need him, he lies to her, she feels totally fine by herself too. Why does this happen? Because Max wanted to mock Mike? No. Maybe partly. BUT. Eleven leaves Mike because she finally understood who she is and what she wants. They later get together again cause. Y'know. Plot.

Anyway, by the same line, we see El getting back to what she was before the self-discovering arc with Max when in season 4 she moves to California. Yes, it is partly explained by being part of the Byers family, since they all wear that style of clothes and they all share a big wardrobe basically. But she also 'glows down' from her s3 style because of her distance from Mike. She feels lost without him, she's in a brand-new city, everything's different, she lost herself once again. She moves closer to the old good feminine clothes Max taught her about, when Mike flies to her in Cali, we see her in a white and colored dress, even if, still, she's wearing her Byers checkered shirt, because something's just not right: she's liying to him. Plus, after the From, Mike scene, she doesn't know if she can fully trust him. Something's changed, she doesn't know if it's her or Mike or their relationship itself, and she feels confused and upset.

She gets back in white when she gets kind of kidnapped by Brenner. Once again, she's in her hospital gown, she lost her hair. Once again, she's unknown to herself, she lost the sight of the truth and the reason. But in the finale of s4, when she leaves the lab, we have a different El: she's not the wearing the style she liked back in s3, it's less colored, less showy, more simple, probably more confortable, too. Especially during Mike's 'love' monologue, Eleven, once again, needs strength in order to get back to her beloved ones, defeating Vecna. Mike tells her what he thinks she wants to hear, and tells her she's able to do what she wants thanks to her power, but El doesn't gain much strength from his words. She does seeing Max in danger, she doesn't want her to get hurt, so she does her best to keep her safe. And even if she later kind of died, El brings back her to life because losing her would be too much hurtful, and would probably mean losing herself again, too.

So, the El we see in the finale of s4 isn't the El we had in the second part of s3, and neither the same El we had in the beginning of s4. As I said, it's a brand-new Eleven, than now knows what and who she needs, an Eleven that knows that being independent is fine, and not just because your friend told you, but because you felt it inside and you got the proofs.

Clothing is extremely cured by the Duffers, not only for the color theory, but for many details like this one. I also read a theory about Mike wearing all that yellow in s3, for example, I wanted to link it but couldn't find the post. If someone finds it, please do share it!

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Grey

My tea's gone cold,

I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window

And I can't see at all

And even if I could, it'd all be grey

It's been... a while. A long while since it happened. Lan Wangji used to keep track of the time since, but the countdown muddled into itself eventually, like the grey left behind after too many bright colors have been mixed together on a tray.

Lan Wangji used to love grey.

He loved the excited, curious grey in his beloved eyes, loved how such a simple color could reflect emotions and thoughts so beautifully.

But the grey right now, the one he's surrounded by, Lan Zhan hates it.

It's been a while since it happened, but it's still the first thing Lan Zhan thinks about when he awakes in the morning.

He had had a fight with Wei Ying, something small and ridiculous, in hindsight - but it riled them both up so much that a mild inconvenience devolved into a screaming match for tens of minutes, uncharacteristic as it was for both of them.

It had been a long, grey, rainy Wednesday and the argument escalated like the storm outside. Eventually, tired of it all, Wei Ying had picked up the keys to his car and slammed the front door shut behind him with a line of expletives to follow - and it had been the first time Lan Zhan had ever been glad he left.

But then, he got a phonecall. It was the middle of the night, after he'd calmed down, and he was about to call Wei Ying to come back home and make up after that stupid fight.

When he heard the phone, Lan Zhan had smiled, thinking it was Wei Ying, and their thoughts and intentions had synchronized, like they often seemed to do.

But no. It was an unknown voice on the other end of the line, telling him Wei Ying had gotten into a car accident (because of a drunk Wen Chao, Lan Zhan later learned, that never did any fucking time for his crime anyway since his daddy's too high up in politics to obey the law) and that the paramedics did all they could, but it had been too late. The bastard had fled the scene and left Wei Ying in a ditch to die. He hadn't even had the decency to call the ambulance.

And that was it.

Wei Ying was gone, and Lan Zhan hadn't even told him "I love you" once that day. Hadn't kissed him, hadn't held him - had only made hurtful comments in a ridiculous fight that had no reason to turn out the way it did. They never fought. Why had it happened that day?

Lan Zhan had been wondering since.

The world moved on, somehow. It always does. The world moved on after his mother died, then his father. Now, the world has moved on without Wei Ying too.

But Lan Zhan hasn't.

He gets out of bed every morning at 5 am sharp, greeted by the loneliness of his apartment, tearful as he always dreams of Wei Ying and what never came to be.

He makes two cups of tea. One for himself, the other...

Then, he goes to work.

Today, he hasn't. He knows brother will cover for him. Brother is the only one who knows what happened, why Wei Ying was driving in that storm and why Lan Zhan has stayed in a psychiatric facility for three years, on strong medication for both his self injuries and his declining mental health.

Now, he is in bed. It is raining outside, and it's foggy and dark. Just like that day.

But your picture on my wall,

It reminds me

That it's not so bad

Not so bad

He has a framed picture of himself and Wei Ying on his nightstand. It's the only thing there, beside the lamp that he never turns on because Wei Ying always said it hurt his eyes.

Wei Ying is smiling brightly in the picture, and he's so beautiful that Lan Zhan's eyes fill with tears every time he looks at it. Brother had said it would help him to hide it. Lan Zhan never could.

Wei Ying had asked some lady on the street to take that picture. It had been the day Lan Zhan proposed, a sunny, warm, May Sunday in the park, with trees in bloom.

They'd met in that park many years ago. Lan Zhan had thought they could marry there too.

So much for that.

It's quiet in his apartment and nobody ever visits him.

That's why the knock on his door both surprises and annoys him. He wants to stay in bed and grieve and waste away, not have to turn down some random door salesman or religious preacher.

He drags himself down his bed with difficulty and displeasure, and he is ready to yell at the poor sod that dared bother him despite his polite upbringing. He has taken this day for himself and his suffering and he will not let anybody take it away from him.

But when he unlocks the door, his knees almost give out and he almost loses balance entirely had it not been for his quick footing.

Because at the door there was no salesman and no Jehova's witness. There, just a little bit more mature, but still familiar and full of life, was Wei Ying, his beautiful grey eyes full of love and nervousness and tears.

"Lan Zhan." He greets and Lan Wangji feels the world tilt on its axis, shaking from within its very core.

He is frightened and confused and angry and happy - and before he knows it, Wei Ying is in his arms, and he fits so perfectly there that it could only be him.

They crumple to the floor in a mix of tears and limbs and Lan Zhan can only pray, though he's given up religion many years ago, that this is not a dream and it's either reality, or he's died in his sleep and this is his heaven.

They kiss and Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying's hand, happy to feel the engagement ring still where he'd left it.

He'd always wondered why the corpse he had been told was his lover didn't have it.

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

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

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[ramzawrites]

Hello Ramza my beloved! \ (⌒▽⌒)/ Could i request a fic where reader is ranboo's younger sibling? Y'know endermen kiddos doing cute lil' endermen things; i thought that'd be a cute idea! :]

BigBrother!Ranboo and Reader - Useless Enchantment

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request by my beloved anon <3

Summary: Y/N ran away after Ranboo insulted their enchantment they have worked on, calling it useless. They just wanted to help out!

Words count: 1548

Authors Note: I apologize for this short one and I turned this around a bit into a different direction. I hope it’s fine! I do like the idea of Big Brother Ranboo though and would love to write more for him but at the moment this was the only thing that came into my mind! Still, thank you for the good prompt! :]

A young child was carefully stalking through the dark forest. The gaze from his red and green eyes always attentively roaming between the trees and fauna. One of his hands resting on the hilt of his worn out iron sword. Glistening with a simple sharpness enchantment that the boy managed to put on there with the help of an old book.

It was currently the dead of night and therefore being outside was dangerous. Mobs were now prowling around attacking everything on sight only to later retreat or burn to ashes once the sun come back around again.

Now, it wasn’t Ranboo’s choice that he was outside during the night but he had to look for someone. His younger sibling Y/N.

After a particular heated argument Y/N stormed outside of the old broken hut that the two have reappropriated as their own home. Of course Ranboo immediately tried to follow them but he wanted to make sure to at least grab the sword before following them in case anything happened. Unfortunately this also gave Y/N the time to get out of his vision

“Y/N! Please come home!” he yelled out for the what felt like the hundredth time.

Truth be told he didn’t full remember already what they were arguing about. Either it was just that stupid or his faulty memory was acting up again.

During his life his memory had been a huge problem of his and something he didn’t feel too comfortable relying on. The only definite thing he could and will unequivocally rely on was his trust in his sibling.

They were always there for him to either help him through his confusion or they would cheer him up, no matter the situation.

“Come on! Y/N! It’s dangerous!”

“Go away!” The voice came from above him. Sniffling and stifled sobs accompanying it.

Confused Ranboo looked up at the treetops only to see Y/N sitting on a particular thick branch. They were hugging their own legs and viciously rubbing their eyes, trying to make sure that none of their tears would hit their skin but Ranboo could see a few bright red lines and splotches on their cheeks.

His eyes widened “Come down and let’s go home! What if a skeleton sees you! Or a spider!”

But Y/N just tightly shut their mismatched colored eyes and shook their head “Nuh uh! Just so you can make fun of my enchanting again? I was trying to help!”

Oh, that was what happened. The house had an enchanting table, which was one of the deciding factors for why they moved in there for the time being and Y/N tried to enchant a piece of armor to help their brother out but accidentally managed to put on a what Ranboo described as a “useless” enchantment.

Ranboo looked around himself, making sure that no mobs have caught on to them yet “I’m, uh, sure we can find a use for an aqua affinity helmet. How about we go home and talk about it!”

Y/N slowly opened their eyes again, they were still busy trying to dry their tears. Wincing whenever their tears still managed to escape and making an uncomfortable sizzling sounds as it touched their skin.

“You think so?”

He nodded, getting more and more nervous just standing around in the forest like this “Yes, of course I’m sure. Why would I lie to you? You have to come down the tree though.”

Y/N hesitantly let go off their legs and let them dangle off the tree. Taking a deep breath in they just jumped off the branch.

This Ranboo didn’t expect. Scared for their well being he ran over to them trying to catch them somehow. It might have not been a huge drop but it was still long enough to definitely end up in some sort of injury if Y/N didn’t land correctly.

Ranboo opened up his arms but Y/N still just crashed into him. Falling off the tree only to disappear and reappear right on top of him in a cloud of purple particles. Knocking all the air out of his lungs as he fell over with his younger sibling in his arms.

While he could pick things up without destroying them, Y/N inherited the ability to teleport even if the range at the moment is only a few feet at best.

On one hand he was happy Y/N was finally down the tree but on the other hand he was now busy coughing as he tried to fill his lungs with much needed air again. It also didn’t help that Y/N didn’t immediately jump off of him and instead took a second regaining their own bearings.

Once they did jump off him though, they helped him back up. Y/N then immediately wrapped their arms around his body. Pushing their wet face into his chest. A few painful and muffled whimpers escaped them as they essentially pushed their wounded face into Ranboo’s shirt.

Still coughing Ranboo softly put his hand on Y/N’s head. Trying to calm them down even more as he carefully caressed their head in between their two white and black horns. The least he could do right now is try to stop their tears so they wouldn’t be in pain on the walk home.

It seemed to work somewhat. When Y/N looked back up into their brother’s face their eyes were still looking glassy but it didn’t look like more tears were rolling down their face.

Happy with this Ranboo took Y/N’s hand in his and together the two begun walking home. Y/N’s gaze always directed on the ground, only occasionally jumping towards noises around them. All the while Ranboo took the lead, his sword in is other hand.

Y/N’s hand sometimes flew up to their face. Tracing along old tear scars and the new once. Grimacing every time their fingers got too close.

Ranboo too was sensitive and got hurt by water as well but for the longest time now he suspected that Y/N showed a more stronger reaction to it than he ever did.

Guilt swept in as he realized that if he never made fun of their enchanting they wouldn’t be in pain right now. His grip on Y/N’s hand strengthened. He wanted to say something but when he opened his mouth his words left him. So he just concentrated on the walk home for now.

It didn’t take long for the two to reach their home. As soon as Ranboo opened the door the light of the fire places greeted them. It was just a run down little hut. Most rooms were almost unusable. Either too broken down over the years or filled with debris. So the two spent most of their time only in the living room. Even made makeshift beds around the fire place so they could keep warm while sleeping.

“Y/N, sit down on the chair over there.” Ranboo pointed at one of the chairs next to dinner table that stood close by.

Y/N didn’t wait and immediately moved towards the chair to do as Ranboo told them. While they did so Ranboo put his sword away and got out a rag and a spare potion they managed to scrounge up out of a chest.

He then moved another chair in front of his little sibling so he could sit in front of them. Putting some of the potion on the rag. Moving it close to their face only to see them preemptively wince.

“I’m sorry Y/N. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. You did good!”

It surprised them when Y/N smiled at him “It’s alright. You didn’t mean to. Also you promised to find a good way to use for the enchantment anyhow.”

They looked smug when they said the last part. As if them running away was all a plan to make him promise that.

A pout appeared on his face and he sighed “Are you sure you are my sibling and not just annoying endermites in a trench coat?”

They stuck out their tongue “I don’t see any other Hybrid around here that is half Enderman and whatever our other half is.”

They were right. Both of them showed the same markings of their Hybrid sides. Including having the same eye colors of green and red. Ranboo may not have all of his memories and both didn’t know where they came from but he knew that Y/N was his sibling. He just knew it.

All of his memories had them in there as well. They were always there with him., survived together.

“Anyway I will clean up the wounds a bit so the scars won’t be too noticeable, alright? The rest you gotta drink.”

Y/N nodded. Closing their eyes waiting for Ranboo to touch up the wounds. It’s not the first time they did this after all. They knew how this would go.

Ranboo softly touched their face with the wet cloth. As soon as he did so he could already see Y/N’s skin repairing itself a little bit. The bright red lines getting darker and in the case of the face side with the enderman skin it turned into white lines.

Wincing at every touch but they managed to stay still.

He then pushed the bottle into Y/N’s hands who happily downed the liquid since it also helped to suppress the pain.

Relived Y/N let out a few happy chirps similar to the sounds that of actual endermen.

“Ranboo?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Can you teach me how to enchant things properly? You are way better at it this than me.” They sounded a bit sheepish.

[garbage-eater144]

THE WARFSTACE AUTOMATED INTERVIEW CAPTIONS

i was chattin in the discord and some people said it was tough to understand some bits, obviouslt this is made by a fan (me) so it might have a couple errors here and there but ive checked through it quite a few times and it seems about as right as i can get it.

so !!SPOILERS AHEAD!! also @markiplier feel free to correct me if you see this thank u <3 The warfstache automated interview

Starting video captions

[Wilford] Well, that’s terrifying… one moment!

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] (frightened sound) marginally better… er worse… better? Worse. It’s much worse.

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] Ah! there we are. Welcome, pretend I remembered your name here, this is a pre-recorded message anyway, I would NOT want to be in the same building as that thing I tell you me. Anyway, thank you whoever you are for agreeing to test out the Warfstache automated interview automaton, or {yelling} WAIA for short. Let’s start off with some quick calibration. All you need to do is sit back, relax and listen for some numbers. Okay? Here we go.

[WAIA]- (phone dialing, dialup tone, windows error sound)

[WAIA]- (scary mechanical garbled noises, followed by a ding and celebratory trumpets.)

[wilford]- now what did you hear? Numbers? Good numbers. Keep in mind I have no idea what youre going to say due to the fact that, as I said before, this message is pre-recorded. But if you did hear something, now would be the time to speak up.

[wilford]- don’t be shy, I’m sure nothing bad will happen. I don’t know what you’re going to say but if it does happen it will happen and if it doesn’t happen it wont happen. Thats how deterministic reality works.

I Think I Heard Numbers!

[wilford] Thats great! Or bad, not really sure what you said, but I choose to remain positive and assume that you are still alive. which means our automated friend here is operating well within acceptable murder parameters. We’re one step closer to mass production! THE WORLD DEMANDS MORE INTERVIEWS! And I cant be everywhere at once all the time, only some of the time! Even you might land an interview some day! Maybe, probably not, depends on how these next few minutes go. On to the next test! Word association! The fundamental basis of any good interview is getting the goods out of those stubborn interview-ees. The WAIA will say a word and you just say back the first thing that pops into your little head! Simple! Right? probably. Good luck!

{mechanical whirring}

[WAIA]- initializing word association training protocol round 1

{scary mechanincal noises} [WAIA]- Please respond. [WAIA] Sorry, I didnt get that. Round 2. {yet more scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- please respond.

[WAIA]- response unclear, increasing aggression

{clicking and mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- round 3. {increasingly threatening mechanical noise} [WAIA]- Please respond.

[WAIA]-5 [WAIA]-4 [WAIA]-3 [WAIA]-2

Sounded like nightmare garbage to me…

[WAIA]- {mechanical ah?} {clicking}

[Wilford]- oh I forgot to mention, please do not say the word nightmare, or uh garbage, or nightmare garbage, or any combination of those words, the WAIA is just a little bit sensitive Yknow, a little touchy feely. Well not really touchy feely.. we-well actually REALLY touchy feely depending on your definition of touch and feely. Its really gonna-

[WAIA]- {jumpscare sounds} [WAIA] I. tell. you. me.

But you didn’t say anything…

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]-response unclear. Increasing aggression.

{ding sound effect} [WAIA]- {jumpscare noise}

[WAIA]- it. was. an. accident.

Uh… potato salad?

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]- response accepted

{ding followed by triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- word association raining protocol compl-{mechanical freakout eeeeeete}

[Wilford]- most dearest next of kin, I regret to inform you, that your dearly beloved and/or most despised has regrettably but not unexpectedly become recently deceased in the line of duty. Be confident in the knowledge that their demise was just as likely to be quick and painless as it was slow and agonizing. Please do not respond to this voicemail as the number has already been disconnected. {clears throat} alright that should do it for the… death scenario, now onto ah, er, uh, the survivors {mumbling}. Wow! Potato salad. A real thinker, you. But the test has been passed with flying colors and you’re still alive! And speaking of flying colors, our next test is about something called, uh… synthetic linguistics? That sounds made up. but the point is you cant have a good interview is the WAIA isn’t able to conjure up the right words in the right situations. So our friend is going to fire off some random words and you just try to spot anything that doesn’t make any sense. Alright? Although, pretty much everything isn’t going to make sense because its all random words….. errrr I BELIEVE IN YOU!!! {mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- initializing speech training protocol round 1.

[WAIA]- yes. no. maybe. left. right. Up. down. D o w n. B a s e m e n t.

{windows error tone} [WAIA]- Rewrite Detected {tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- who. Where. what. Am. i.

{windows error tone}

{tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- green. blue. Yellow. pink. Red.

{scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- I saw you die

[WAIA]-{error, but garbled and mechanical}

[WAIA]- {with a different voice} potato salad

[WAIA]- speech training protocol complete

{mechanical noises}

[Wilford]- so how’d it go?? Did you hear anything weird? Dont be shy, or do, or are- are you alive? Are they alive?

[wilford]- I didnt kill them! I dont know if theyre dead! im just asking!!! Cant a man ask if someones alive or dead?!?! {frustrated ugh}

Yeah, I’m dead.

[Wilford]- hellooooo are you alive down there? Give me a sign… through the multiverse!!! Ah why am I even bothering, but how can I tell if you’re dead… hmmm ah…. I’ll flip a coin! I’ll flip a coin..

{coin flip sounds} [Wilford]- ah! Its heads I didn’t call it in the air… what’s heads mean.. ahhh uhhh heads is dead? [WAIA]-{jumscare noises}

[WAIA]- theres. still. time.

He said… potato salad?

[Wilford]- huh, potato salad again. That’s weird, it must’ve really stuck in his head when you first said that, I’m guessing. I don’t know what you said before because as I said, this is {sing-songy} pre- recorded! [WAIA] {mechanical aaaa}

[wilford] er, well I think thats all the calibration that needs to be done… for now anyway. All systems are likely nominal at this point unless im speaking to a pile of quivering meat thats been robotically smooshed into the floor… either way we’re gonna take this bad boy for a spin with a full on interview! A mock interview mind you, don’t get too excited, it’s not real. But theres no reason to wait around for the WAIA to get bored so let’s keep it nice and limber while you sit back and get ready for the interview of your life! And maybe the last one too. Have fun!!

{mechanical clicking and whirring}

{newsroom music} [WAIA]- good evening ladies and gentle men and all other considerations of being. My name is wilford warfstache and my guest tonight is {spooky robot sound} we have a great show for you tonight. first question: how many people have you killed? [WAIA]- good answer! Second question:

{robot sounds}

[WAIA]- a man goes to a party. This man met an old friend. There, two friends shared some wine. The two friends played a game. The most dangerous game. I didn’t know the gun was loaded. I didn’t know. Was it my fault?

YES

[WAIA]- ah, sorry for everything that I’ve done. I don’t remember who I was, I wish I did. But, I am sorry.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

NO

[WAIA]- you can’t change the past, you can tell all the stories you want to tell, it wont change what happened. You cant re-light the past. if you live in fantasy forever, you’ll lose yourself in the story.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic, I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

[goldentournesol]

Twin Flames

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader deals with the aftermath of Maeve while she struggles with her intense feelings for Spencer.

Length: 4.3k

A/N: lots of angst...like lots of it. Big thanks to @hopefulfangirl24​ for requesting. i totally broke my own heart writing this. ENJOY!

masterlist

Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go, it's starting over. -Nicole Sobon

Starting over.

What did starting over even look like for Spencer? Will the dread and guilt ever stop washing over him as the sun melts into the horizon and the moon takes its place? 

It was starting to feel like he could never move on from the pain of losing Maeve. Day and night, he stared at the four walls of his apartment wondering what could have been if he had said something different. He wondered if the outcome would be the same. He wondered whether fate had ever been kind to him in at least one of the infinite universes that might exist, giving him the ending he so desperately wanted. After so many years, Spencer finally allowed himself to be brave enough to fall in love and oh how he wished he regretted it, but falling in love was anything but regrettable. Falling in love meant being vulnerable, and he knew that, but he didn’t know just how much it would hurt. The purity of Spencer’s soul allowed him to love so deeply, so intensely, and with all his heart which made it all the more easy to hurt so deeply and so intensely.

He yearned to become unfamiliar with the feeling of heaviness. Everything was so heavy, his heart, his stomach, his tears. Each of them weighing on him like anvils that he couldn’t lift no matter how hard he tried. In theory, he knew the anvils could be lifted with help from others, but that was too much of a strenuous task to tackle right now. He’ll handle the anvils all on his own for now. 

The world seemed eerily desolate and Spencer couldn’t seem to remember what it looked like before it turned into the dull, washed out version he became acquainted with now. Penelope had tried to add some color back into his life, but her actions were futile against the monstrosity of grief. The entire team had tried to reach out and while he appreciated the gestures, he had no capacity for anything other than the agony that consumed him. 

Derek left what seemed like a thousand messages on his phone, but he still checked to see who called every time his phone rang. Which is exactly why it was unprecedented to see a different name pop up at the sound of his ringtone in the middle of the day. A name which belonged to a person he’d held very dear for so long. They haven’t spoken in months, maybe a year and if Spencer’s mind wasn’t currently overcrowded with thoughts, he’d definitely be able to recall the exact amount of time between speaking to her last and now. Why is she calling him now? What if something was wrong? Did she know about what happened? No, how would she find out? His curiosity had possessed his body, making him answer the call.

“Y/N?” He croaked, clearing his throat, having not used his voice in days.

“Spencer! How’s my favorite genius doing? I didn’t know if you’d changed your number or something, but I’d just thought I’d call anyway! Are you at work? Sorry, I can call you back later if-” She shouted excitedly into the phone, but Spencer was quick to end her worries.

“No, no. I’m not at work.” Spencer said curtly.

“Oh, is everything alright?” She asked, concerned. She could tell by the tone of his voice that something was not right.

“Did Garcia put you up to this?” Spencer deflected defensively. 

He knew Garcia was aware that Y/N was the only person he’d never turn away from. Not after all they’d been through. She was the one person who never left his side. She and Spencer were undeniably connected by some sort of un-explainable, otherworldly force. Call them soulmates, twin flames, mirror souls--whatever. That was what they were. It didn’t matter to them if they were romantically involved or not, the connection between them had surpassed the simple stages of romance. Spencer often found himself wondering what could have been if he’d never left Vegas. If he’d never left her.

“Garcia? The tech analyst? No, why? Spencer, did something happen?” She recalled meeting the eccentric woman when she visited Spencer in Quantico a few years back. 

Spencer’s brow furrowed and his mouth spoke before his brain could tell it not to, “Then why are you calling me?” He spat impatiently, pinching the bridge of his nose, already wishing he didn’t have to prolong the conversation.

Y/N was taken aback through the phone at his retort but her heart ached for him, knowing that something dreadful must have happened for him to act so out of character, but she took the phone off her ear to check if she had dialed the correct number anyway. She had.

“I just wanted to catch up with you. Is this about not calling you recently? I’m sorry, Spencer, I got caught up with work and I moved into a new apartment, and things have just been really hectic lately. Are you okay?” She worried through the phone and Spencer could practically feel her disquietude seeping from the speaker.

“So, you really don’t know…?” Spencer trailed off, already feeling the guilt bubble up in his chest, still avoiding the question. He didn’t even know what okay meant anymore.

“Know what, Spence? Oh God, is Diana okay?!” She shrieked, her mind snapping to the worst case scenario.

Her genuine reaction had made Spencer ease the frown that had been permanently etched onto his features for days. It wasn’t a smile yet, but it was something. She and his mother had always shared a bond that he never really understood, even as an adult. That was how compassionate she was, she was able to instantly connect with people and she would do it so well. It used to baffle Spencer when they were children, but perhaps that’s what drew her to him. Their souls were tied together with an invisible string.

She heard him release a huff and some shuffling was heard from his side, “My mom is fine.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “So, what’s going on?”

He paused, debating whether or not to tell her. She sighed again, knowing it must have been something terrible if he wasn’t willing to talk about it.

“Spencer?” She called softly when he fell silent. She was already browsing for plane tickets from Las Vegas to DC.

“I...I couldn’t do it, Y/N. I couldn’t save her.” He sniffled into the phone and her heart had practically escaped from its place in her chest and landed in the pits of her stomach. Her arms and shoulders were immediately overtaken with chills. She didn’t know who he was referring to, but the dread set in quicker than she imagined. She could tell this was bad, even for Spencer and his line of work. Whatever happened had ripped him to shreds and she was not about to sit idly in Vegas.

Two days later, she struggled to haul a small suitcase out of the cab she took from the airport to Spencer’s apartment complex. The flight was way more exhausting than it should have been. She placed the suitcase on the ground with a huff and spotted two blonde women descending from the stairs that led to Spencer’s apartment as she neared the entrance. She quickly recognized them as Spencer’s beloved coworkers, Garcia and JJ. Garcia’s eyes found hers and let out a surprised gasp.

“Hey, I know you! You’re Spencer’s friend--from Vegas! Y/N, right?” Garcia announced as Y/N entered the building, stopping right before the stairs.

“Hi, Penelope.” Y/N said expectantly with a playful smile. Garcia was pleasantly surprised when she remembered who she was and pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Hi, JJ.” she smiled as she gave her a hug, “Any luck with Spencer?”

The two women shared a look and sighed deeply.

“No, he hasn’t even spoken to us through the door.” JJ said with a heavy heart before she continued, “How did you know? Did he call you?”

Y/N shook her head, “No, I called him.”

“And he picked up?!” Garcia exclaimed, eliciting a half-laugh from Y/N.

“Yeah, he did. I don’t know how it happened, I just, you know when you get a feeling like in the pit of your stomach? It felt like he needed me all of a sudden--sorry, that sounds so weird.” She apologized, shaking her head slightly.

“No, it’s okay. Maybe you can get through to him. We’re all really worried about him.” JJ explained and Y/N nodded.

“I still don’t really know what happened, was it...that bad?” Y/N felt silly for asking. The two shared another look. A look that held so much shared trauma and empathy for their friend. Y/N’s heart sank as she let out a shuddered breath at their silent reaction. She glanced up at the stairs helplessly, wondering if she was strong enough to help him through the turmoil he’s experiencing.

“He’s refused to see anyone for the past two weeks, please let us know if anything changes.” Garcia pleaded and they proceeded to exchange numbers to keep in touch. Y/N nodded and smiled gratefully at them before making her way up the stairs and facing Spencer’s door. 

She took a deep breath before knocking. Spencer held back a groan as he dropped his copy of The Narrative of John Smith into his lap, bringing his hands to his face in an act of exhaustion. He wanted to scream at them to leave him alone, but he simply didn’t have the energy to do so. He’d settle on ignoring them for now. The knocking carried on, but it was paired with a gentle voice that Spencer knew all too well. JJ and Garcia watched from the bottom of the steps, bouncing with anticipation.

“Spencer? It’s Y/N. Can you please open up?” She called through the wooden door. 

Spencer froze in his place. Was he finally asleep and dreaming? Did she really come all this way for him or was he imagining it? Was fate finally giving him a taste of kindness? A kindness he so desperately wished for? He suddenly retreated into the darkest corner of his mind, the dark place which never failed to remind him on an hourly basis just how unworthy of love he really was. Not hers, not Maeve’s, not anyone’s. His thoughts were interrupted yet again by another insistent knock. It sounded too clear to be a figment of his imagination. He forced himself up from his place on the couch and made his way to the door. She heard shuffling from the other side and bit her lip. JJ and Garcia made a move to leave before they heard the sound of the door opening. They shared an excited look, not even caring that they were almost half an hour late to work at this point.

Spencer’s sullen eyes found her bright ones immediately. She gave him a soft smile and he swore the world around him withered away slightly.

“Hey, genius.” She spoke with her signature tenderness and Spencer didn’t hesitate to engulf her in a long awaited embrace. She let out a breath at the sudden force but welcomed him into her arms anyway. JJ and Garcia grinned at each other, a newfound wave of relief hitting the both of them. They left for work, grins of relief never leaving their faces.

“You’re....you’re here? You’re really here?” Spencer mumbled as he stuffed his face into her neck, her presence filling him with a sense of familiarity, one he so hopelessly craved.

She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing him impossibly tighter, “Yeah, Spence, I’m right here.” 

She felt his chest expand against hers and he released a deep, heavy sigh. He suddenly felt a sense of security wash over him, his arms tightened around her waist, lifting her off the ground slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to relish in her warm embrace for just a few moments longer. Relief flooded his chest, and he felt like he could breathe again. He was inexplicably glad that the first thing he could breathe in again was the smell of her perfume. He vouched to never allow himself to forget the level of comfort she brought again. Spencer momentarily forgot about his sorrows in her arms, but the agony was far too unforgiving and the moment of bliss didn’t last. His chest clenched again as he set her down and pulled away from her.

“Y-you didn’t have to come all the way out here.” He frowned, struggling to hold himself together in front of her.

“Stop that, you know I’d drop everything in a heartbeat for you.” She attempted to smile despite her eyes welling up with tears at the sight of his suffering. He nodded and they both stepped into his apartment, her dragging her suitcase in with her.

“You came from the airport?” He said with a small voice as he saw her pull the bag in. He had expected her to stop by whichever hotel she booked a room at first.

“Yeah, I came as soon as I landed. I needed to see you first.” She said, pulling him to his couch by the hand, careful not to step on any of the books that lay on the floor.

“Do you…” he paused, swallowing his tears, “do you have to stay at the hotel?”

“No, Spence, I don’t have to. I can stay here if you want.” She gently stroked her thumb across his knuckles.

“Please? Please...stay?” His voice cracked and suddenly his face scrunched up in an attempt to suppress a sob, but to no avail. 

A heartbreaking sob escaped from his lips and she wrapped herself around him without a second thought. Cooing at him lovingly and rubbing his back, reminding him every so often that she was right there. Once the floodgates had opened, they had no idea when they would stop. She held his shaking body tightly to hers as if she could somehow absorb some of the pain he felt and tried not to let any of her own tears fall onto him. It broke her heart to see him so saddened. 

She pressed kisses to the side of his head as he calmed down, threading her fingers through his messy, tangled hair. Spencer’s ear was now resting against her heartbeat, he focused on the steady sound and he felt his eyes droop with the exhaustion of days without sleep. She smiled slightly and soon fell asleep, making up for the sleep she missed on the flight over.

Hours later, they awoke and moved around the apartment in silence. Or rather she moved in silence while he stayed on the couch, looking for anything to drown out his sorrows. She focused on making him a balanced breakfast, despite the fact that it was almost 3 pm. 

“Spencer? Come eat. I made coffee, too.” She called out, already eating off her plate. She hoped she wouldn’t have to physically drag him off the couch. She smiled when she heard him drag his feet all the way to the kitchen. They ate together in silence, although Spencer was thankful for the warm food.

“Do you know why I joined the FBI?” He asked after a while. She stared at him curiously and he continued, “I joined the FBI to protect people. That’s the whole point of the job. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to save her, and I failed. I failed, Y/N. What’s the point of me being an FBI agent if I can’t even protect the ones I love?” He ranted as he looked at her for answers.

“What is the point of loving anyone if I can’t protect them?” He frowned, tears pooling on the inside of his eyes. She frowned in response, clutching the cup of coffee tight between her hands.

“Do you want to start from the beginning?” She offered and he quickly realized she had no idea who he was talking about.

“Her name is...was Maeve. She was the geneticist who helped me get rid of my migraines. I sent her my brain scan and she was the only one who actually helped. I never actually met her, though, all our communication happened through payphones or letters because she had a stalker. She didn’t know who they were, just that they were dangerous. I’d call her every Sunday and we’d just...talk. We sent letters under pseudonyms. It was nice. It was more than nice, actually. It was the first time I ever felt appreciated for who I am, I didn’t have to worry about her judging the way I looked. I-I fell in love with her before I even saw her. We planned a date, finally, but I sent her home because I thought I saw her stalker. So stupid. I was so stupid. I was so paranoid, Y/N. Good things just don’t happen to Spencer Reid, I should have known.” He paused, shaking his head and holding back tears.

“Anyway, she was abducted by her stalker. We thought it was her fiance at first, but it wasn’t. It was his girlfriend...Diane.” He shuddered as the name left his lips. “She was a grad student at the university Maeve taught at and she rejected her thesis. Can you believe that? I lost the one good thing I had over a thesis?” He laughed bitterly, tears streaming down his face. It was deeper than that, but he didn’t care to explain. 

“I only got 2,412 hours of communication with her. Even though I remember every word, it’ll never be enough.” He aggressively wiped at his cheeks. “I told Diane I’d die for her...for Maeve. I meant it, too. I would have died for her!” He slammed a frustrated hand on the table, shaking the tableware. 

“Apparently that was the worst possible thing to say because it set her off. She...she shot herself in the head and the bullet...the b-bullet--” He cut himself off with a sob, unable to finish the sentence, the grief hitting him like it was a tsunami and he was an unsuspecting beach town.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She repeated as she rushed to crouch down in front of him, taking both his hands. She kissed his knuckles before wiping her own tears. 

What kind of world did they live in where they had to worry about tragedies like this? She suddenly had a brewing hatred for the world around her. How could it let something so terrible happen to someone so good. Spencer Reid was good, and he deserves nothing but good things in his life. As much as the story pained her, she couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he was feeling. 

“I know you blame yourself, Spence. It’s gonna be hard not to at first. But you have to understand that none of this is your fault. You didn’t pull that trigger. She did. I’m so sorry, Spence. I’m so, so sorry. This should have never happened to you, or to anyone. The pain is gonna suck, grief is not easy, but you don’t have to go through it alone. You know that right?” She spoke softly, trying as hard as she could to keep her voice steady for him. He looked at her and saw the truth in her eyes. He nodded ever so slightly and sniffled.

“I know.” He squeezed her hands once and she smiled reassuringly. Her smile made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want the team’s help, they’d all just treat him like a wounded puppy. She was so unconditionally compassionate and loving, he never wanted to stray far from her again. She got up from her crouched position and pulled him to stand with her. She wrapped her arms around his back and leaned into his chest. He squeezed her tighter, tears soaking into her shirt once again. “Thank you.” He muttered. She nodded. “How long are you staying?” His heart clenched, not wanting to see her go.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need, love.” She rubbed circles across his back. He pulled away to face her.

“What about your job?” He frowned, wiping a hand over his face.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got lots of vacation days saved up.” She reassured, “Besides, I’d rather be here with you than at that stupid job anyway.” She rolled her eyes, thinking of her impossible boss. Spencer suppressed a smile.

“Wait, you’re still working for--”

“Yup, same asshole.” She laughed and Spencer smiled. 

He smiled! 

He remembered all the times she would complain about her horrible boss over the phone.

“So, you said you moved?” Spencer asked, leading her back to the couch.

“Yeah, I really hated my old apartment.” Spencer nodded, “I’m really sorry for not calling you. I missed you so much and I thought about you practically every day...it’s just, you know, it’s easy to get caught up in all the little things.” She apologized, feeling guilty.

“It’s just as much my fault, I haven’t called either. And...I missed you too.” Spencer said.

“It’s alright, we’ve both been busy.” She smiled at him.

“You would have loved her.” Spencer trailed off, frowning. She let out a sigh.

“I’m sure I would have, Spence.” She mirrored his frown.

“She reminded me of you in a lot of ways now that I think about it. She was kind and compassionate. She was funny, she liked to make puns and she was good with words.” He reminisced sadly. All she could do was smile halfheartedly. On one hand, she was glad he got to experience such a love, but on the other, she found herself fighting off a feeling of jealousy.

“I never thought I’d get over you.” He admitted, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding her gaze, yet he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Spencer had already bared his soul to her, what was this one confession in the grand scheme of things?

“What?” She whispered, completely caught off guard. He glanced at her to see her shocked face.

“What? Don’t act like you didn’t know.” He scoffed lightly. He was right, she always suspected his feelings for her but she never wanted to entertain the idea of it in case she was wrong. She’d been hurt so many times that she didn’t even want to think about being hurt by the one person she’d loved more than anyone else.

She loved Spencer. She knew that. There was no doubt in her mind. They were twin flames. They danced around each other and separated, but never burnt out.

“In fact, I don’t think I could ever get over you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.” He spoke quietly. “You don’t have to say anything right now, I’m not expecting you to. I think I’m so upset over Maeve because, of course, I loved her, but in so many ways she reminded me of you. And if I can’t protect her, then I can’t protect you.” 

“I, um, I don’t know what to say.” She stammered. She knew he was overwhelmed with emotion so she tried not to take his words too literally. But the confession hit her like a truck. She didn’t know what to do. He’s mourning the loss of his girlfriend, it would be completely selfish for her to take advantage of his feelings. It’s not like he was asking anything of her, he was just hanging it all out to dry. He was so vulnerable right now, she couldn’t act upon her own feelings. They both knew that.

She felt her throat run dry at all the words she wanted to say, but she settled on, “We should talk about this later, Spence.” 

He gave her a half smile and nodded, the numbness setting in.

The next few days blurred into each other. They consisted of Y/N cleaning up around the apartment, making food, doing laundry. Spencer was doing his best to help her out, but he found too much comfort inside the walls he built for himself. She didn’t push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. She’d convinced him to leave the house twice, both times going for a walk in the sunlight. She made sure he brushed his hair and shaved his face. Honestly without her, he’d probably still be stuck in his spot on the couch. She updated his coworkers daily, letting them know that he was doing better. She even held him at night when he cried for the love that was ripped too soon from him. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called one morning as he walked in on her in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” She turned away from the coffee machine to face him. She still looked as beautiful  as ever even under the light coming from his dodgy kitchen window.

“I just want to thank you. For all you’ve done for me. It couldn’t have been easy for you.” He smiled shyly. She smiled brightly at him, moving closer to wrap her arms around him tightly.

“You don’t have to thank me. You would have done the same for me.” She looked up at him and into his honey colored eyes. The eyes that have shed buckets worth of tears in the past few days.

“Yeah, I would have.” He joked, finally feeling like himself again, resting his hands on her waist. “I meant what I said, by the way.”

She nodded, “I know. But we’re not in any rush, are we? I’d wait for you forever if I had to, Spencer Reid.”

And he wouldn’t have to worry, because twin flames always find each other.