#big monster boy tries to look put together. Polite :)

[ghcstcd]

OK SO I’M NOT A FURRY BUT FOR MR. GRAVES BURNER I CAN BE-

[kentuckycaverats]

edinburgh by night update

recap first since it's been over a month since last session:

the ventrue seneschal staged a coup and ousted the toreador prince by framing her for sabbat collusion. he's now prince and backed by a ventrue justicar and her archon, the new seneschal. also a ventrue

the coterie staged a big fight so that we can help from both inside the cam and within the anarchs. mitra (ravnos) and sami (brujah) are playing the role of dutiful cammie loyalist while del (toreador thinblood) and delores (lasombra) help the anarchs

there's a hidden sub-sub-basement in the club mitra owns, and he and sami constructed a sewer entrance so the coterie (and del and tara) can still meet discretely

end of recap!! new session started with the coterie meeting up in the basement of the club to figure out a game plan

first we need an object that belonged to delores' sire so del can hook her up with the 'communicate with kindred sire' ritual. del killed her own sire (twice) so now her line is dead and she can mix her blood with another kindred's to perform the ritual for them

call up our boy beckett to ask him because delores' sire was kind of a big deal and he might know something. he sure does!! they were friends and coterie mates once, and he has a bookmark she loaned him

ritual time! delores learned that her bloodline is able to control a massive abyss monster called the leviathan, and she can use this to help aelsidhe reunite with del. eventually. it's in madrid rn and her sire's trapped at the bottom of the ocean

sami and mitra deal with soooooo much bullshit politic circlejerk stuff at elysium. they see tara!!! she looks so relieved to see them and also so fucking sad. st says it's clear that she misses del but she has to put on her ironclad Tremere Primogen mask so no one else sees. she and the boys pretend not to know each other (no one knows that she and del are together)

sami and mitra are Pretend Boyfriends* (*not very pretend at all) and harkins tries to rub lyons' (mitra's other partner) nose in this. lyons and mitra are already pretending not to be together, and lyons already knows about/is cool with mitra being poly. fuck you harkins

every time someone asks about the coterie breakup sami and mitra are like "yeah well you know delphine, that violent asshole bitch, and delores was always too.....................religious. yeah, we got sick of the catholic shit." this works every time

ventrue justicar rolls up with the staked prince of glasgow (brujah) whose sire was the prince of edinburgh 2 princes before harkins. the brujah primogen of edinburgh, who was besties and possibly lovers with said deceased prince, has a fit and insists on sitting in on the interrogation so the ventrue don't pull some shady shit

mitra and sami are in the room, the justicar leaves, the room fills with shadow and when the lights come back the brujah primogen and prince of glasgow are piles of ash. we're 90% sure this is the new lasombra sheriff's doing. same dude who claims to be delores sire but isn't, and who definitely wants to control the leviathan himself but can't because he isn't of delores' bloodline

[lilyvines]

Hi, can we get a bit more info on the Mundane(protagonist tommy and magic something everybody else au)? Like plotpoint, meetings? Im trying to bully myself into writing a fic

absolutely!! i would love it if you wrote a fic :D

also tons of people put cool ideas too so if you ever want more inspiration you can always look in the notes of the post!!

-Phil is a literal angel. like wings and everything. he doesn’t even hide them, but every single day, Tommy makes a joke about how Phil is a furry

- continuing with that, since I believe in death!kristin propaganda, Kristin is a goddess. Phil is an angel. Wilbur is a supernatural creature. Dream is a supernatural hunter. It makes dinner with dream incredibly tense, but Tommy is oblivious. Technoblade is just chilling

-Tommy: after dinner, Wilbur can sing us a song!

Dream, narrowing his eyes: what kind of song?

Wilbur, who probably has magic voice powers or smth idk: the kind you’ll never want to stop listening to (:

Tommy: omg wil can u play soft boy :D :D

-obviously Wilbur Phil or Kristin never actually fight with dream, it would make Tommy upset. So instead they’re just incredibly passive aggressive with each other

- there’s running theories within the magical underworld about what Tommy is to have attracted this much Crazy. Some people think gang leader. Some people think he’s some kind of magnet for the powerful. truthfully he’s just kinda Dumb

- a while ago, someone from one of the other’s Secret Lives tried to kill Tommy. Obviously they didn’t succeed, and Tommy didn’t even notice (bonus points if he completely accidentally evaded them and their attempts). But ever since then, everyone came together and decided to have someone stay with Tommy at all times. He hasn’t even noticed he has a guard, he just calls them clingy

- everyone else in like. the world knows gnf is actually [insert secret popstar name here] they just haven’t mentioned it out of politeness. Tommy on the other hand just genuinely has not noticed. George thinks that he’s an illusive master of disguise and is great at keeping his secret identity (he is not)

- there are 2 betting pools that end up getting set up amongst their friends. 1 that says whether or not Tommy knows or not. When it is eventually realized that he does not know, they set up a betting pool for when he’ll find out.

- technoblade bets a large sum of money it will happen soon, and since he doesn’t make a habit of losing, he dyes his hair bright pink to look like his magical girl counterpart. Tommy says that it looks good, and notices nothing else. Technoblade’s attempts continue to ramp up in ridiculousness until he comes out wearing a literal sailor moon outfit and a sign that says ‘I AM A MAGICAL GIRL’

- Tommy does not realize

- at one point, Tommy sees dream’s collection of super dangerous monster hunting stuff (I always think of dream as like a Winchester style hunter but u can adapt it ofc) and he just goes ‘wow dream you have a lot of guns. It’s the American in you, huh’

- he sees all of dream’s demon fighting stuff and goes ‘huh. Never knew you were catholic.’

- Tommy gets invited to tubbo’s giant lab where he develops his nukes and things. Instead of making the connection that his bestie is a mad scientist he just goes ‘wow tubbo you never told me you made props for a living.’ He then proceeds to get incredibly distracted by something completely unrelated to the nukes and forgets he’s in a giant lab

- I am a big supporter of adopted Tommy so I like to think he’s just a random kid they found on the street and since Phil tends to adopt any child shaped object that looks at him, he just like came home. Originally sbi had this hard time deciding whether or not to hide their secrets before going ‘it would be too hard to hide, we should just leave it out in the open instead and he’ll just figure it out’

- he did not, in fact, figure it out

- most of the supernatural underworld just does not understand Tommy, they all think something is like up with him, so they mostly don’t bother him. But every now and then he’ll get lost or something and a remarkably intelligent crow will show him the way home

- Tommy comes home and is like ‘I followed a crow home!’ And Phil thinks he’s gonna figure it out. In reality, Tommy just thinks there’s a crows nest in their house. He’s very excited

- since there are no birds in their house, he gets sad. Cue the rush from all of these incredibly cool and powerful people as they scramble to get some birds in the rafters. Tubbo builds some fake ones. Ranboo buys an industrial sized bag of bird seed. Wilbur tries to use his voice to charm them. dream and techno pour over spells and magic that would attract birds. Phil asks every bird in 40 miles to come live with him.

- eventually gnf shows up with a bunch of birds in a box. They come to him. He’s a Disney princess. He’s georgenotfound

- the birds make Tommy very happy. All is right within the world

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress Pt.VI

I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤

Warnings: light hint to sexual innuendo, Swearing

   Its been about a couple of months now since we found Tommy. The palace was up in a baby craze due to the new little prince they inherited. Once we got past the first couple week's of tommy living with us, we saw his true nature. He was a nice and sweet kid, don't get me wrong. But oh, he was also a trouble maker.

   Tommy would often bounce between hanging around Wilbur, Techno, Phil and even you. When you would be working at the forge Tommy would sometimes just slip in unannounced and make himself comfortable on a spare stack of metal. You'd only really notice him when he would ask you what something was, or what it did.

   That was the new update as well. After returning Techno had requested that you practice making earrings. Saying that he wanted to see how dainty you could work. Of course you didn't mind, back at your village you would often make rings, pendants, and sometimes earrings for those who asked. So making him a earring was no fuss at all. 

   Techno did start to wonder around to the forge often. usually seeing what you were making or what you were in the process of. Sometimes he would even make off hand comments to make you laugh. Your favorite visit’s from him were always when he would bring tommy. The two would walk in, Tommy holding Techno’s finger as his hand was a little too big for the young boy to fully grasp.

   Since you were a familiar face around the palace Techno had stopped wearing his Skull. Instead replacing it with his all to familiar golden reading glasses. You still stood by the ideal that you preferred him with no skull. Since he was, to you, very handsome. You did find out later that the skull he wore was for outsiders. He didn't feel the need to show his face to those who wouldn't be present very long in the empire. Choosing instead to leave them with the impression that he was a monster of a man, rather than a young prince with a heart of gold. When you say he had a heart of gold, you meant it.

   Recently techno has really opened up around you, becoming more relaxed in your presence. Phil had mentioned that it would only be a matter of time before he did, and sure enough he was right. If you didn't have anything to do with the forge that day you would sometimes read within his office well he worked. He never made tones of disagreement, or ask that you leave, instead he would just watch you sit before offering a ‘Hello’. It had become something that you often looked forward too.

   You and Wil were still thick as thieves. Techno would rag on Wil about how you two could sit and talk for hours, before declaring that you were bored with each other. Only for you two to part then reconcile in the library a hour later. Techno couldn't understand it, but in the end just accepted it for what it was.

   You had just finished cleaning up the forge for the night when you herd some light pitter patter of feet. Tommy. You slowly turned to face him. He was in his night wear, obviously he had just gotten out of bed. he looked distraught however. “What’s up bud?” you asked, putting the tongs and the spare metal away. He slightly shifted in his spot, his little teddy bear behind him.

   “I had a nightmare” he quietly mumbled. your eyes softened. Ever since you three found him he would have a recurring nightmare about ‘loosing my new family’ as tommy put it. Usually when he had this dream he would seek Techno, or you out for his comfort. Since you two were mostly together when he would look.

   “Want me to read to you?” you asked, kneeling down to his level. His bright blue eyes dancing about. He gave a little nod. he put his arms out for you to carry him. you shyly smiled at him.

   “buddy I'm a bit dirty...” You said softly, unsure if he was ok with getting dirty right before bed. He only shook his head and said ‘I don't mind’ as a response. So you gently took him into your arms as you stood. He didn't hesitate to curl into your neck. you glanced back at the room that held the forge, you mentally shrugged figuring the rest could wait until tomorrow. With Tommy in your arms you wondered out, heading for his room. On the way there Techno crossed path’s with you.

   “Oh (y/n)” he said as he looked from you to tommy. he furrowed his brows, asking what was wrong without physically saying it. You mouthed out that it was a nightmare, Techno slowly nodded understanding. He rested is hand on tommy’s head giving a reassuring rub to it. “Not havin’ such a good night big man?” he asked gently. Tommy turned his head to look at Techno, slowly shaking his head. Techno pondered a moment as he watched tommy. slowly he gained a idea. “You wanna hear somthin’ cool?” he said with a small smile. tommy nodded in response, gripping to your shirt.

   “Can (y/n) come?” Tommy asked quietly, watching Techno's kind eyes. Techno patted Tommy’s head before he nodded.

   “Yeah I mean, I guess she can come. Only if you deem her cool enough that is” Techno mused, glancing to your eyes. you raised a brow in question, watching Techno bite back a playful smile. Tommy nodded again. “You think she’s cool enough?” Techno asked Tommy, having him confirm his nod. “Yeah I think she’s cool enough too” He said, ruffling your hair before he walked off. queuing you to fallow him. You smiled and fixed your hair before fallowing him. Instead of leading you towards Tommy’s room, he lead you two to the Library. “Go sit on the couch over there” Techno said, pointing to the sofa closest to the fire. You nodded and wondered over, curious of what Techno had planned. 

   when you sat, you adjusted tommy so he sat in your lap. he pulled his bear close to his chest, hugging it tightly well the two of you waited for Techno. Luckily he didn't take long. When he returned, he had a Violin in hand. He was casually tuning it well he walked. You tiled your head curiously at him. “I didn't know you played” you said to him. He sent a bemused smile to you. taking a relaxed stance.

   “Trust me Princess... There's a lot you don't know about me” He waisted no time on starting a soft tune. Well Tommy eased into you, slowly becoming entranced with the peaceful notes, you became more interested in how he swayed to the light swing of his arms. His hands ever so delate as he held the bow, dancing it along the strings. working the instrument to cry out a melody ever so sweet. His face was that of concentration, focused on finding the proper notes to lull his younger sibling to sleep. This was just another reason why you found Technoblade so interesting. He could talk politics and war strategies so easily, sounding like a primed veteran well past his years. But then he could retire to the library and look like a young boy falling in love with the craft he just found.

   Well Techno played away, his eyes fell to you. Tommy had fallen asleep in your arms, finding security within them. His teddy bear tightly locked within his own arms. When he glanced up to you he almost had the breath knocked from his lungs. You sat so beautifully. Your eyes were ever so soft well watching him. You looked at him like he was the most important thing you had ever seen. Your face held a little bit of dirt, and ash from the hard work you did for the day, but he didn't mind. He actually preferred it. Too many times had the Court tried to set him up with a prim, and proper woman. One that was elegant, clean, pure, dainty. But He didn't want that. He wanted strong, hands calloused, smudged makeup, sweat dripping, imperfect, but yet somehow at the same time, perfect. He wanted flaw. He wasn't perfect, he had scars, he wasn't the most handsome boy, he was often classified as too bulky, and too tall. He also couldn't be held back with someone who wanted him, to pamper and please. He wanted someone who would treat him as a equal, who praised his knowledge on war instead of shunning it. Someone who embraced the flaws of the world, and turned them into works of art. His eyes wondered back over you, you had moved your head down to check on tommy. Your fingers delicately tracing over Tommy's cheek. Brushing the curls from his face.

   You looked back up to techno as he came to a stop. “That was beautiful... Why didn't you tell me you played?” you asked softly. Being mindful of the toddler asleep in your arms. Techno slowly lowered the Violin to the couch.

   “I didn't think it was that important to bring up” He said, returning the soft tone. Well he sat the instrument down his eyes met yours. You couldn't help but feel drawn to his eyes, they looked like beautiful glass, the fire’s reflection dancing within, making his eyes dance lively. “If you would like to talk more we should take him to bed first” he said, his eyes flickering to Tommy. You nodded slowly.

   “Right, of course.”

   After Techno and you had put Tommy to bed it was well into the night. Most of the servants and palace guards had retired to their beds, making way for the changing of the guards. Techno and you weren't really feeling the effects of sleep yet. Rather the two of you wanted to stay within each others company longer. Techno had walked you you to the garden, having snatched two blankets from the library before wondering out into the cold. Techno, having no where to be ended up taking his hair out from his braid. replacing it with a lower pony tail, giving his hair a moment of freedom from it’s confinement.

   The garden was beautiful. They couldn't grow flowers of course, but there were elegant sculptures that replaced them. in the middle of the whole garden was a artesian well fountain. although long frozen when the two of you passed by you could hear the water running within the ice. It was peaceful to walk with Techno. It was rare when the two of you would make late night walks. Usually you would take them during the day, or after dinner. But nothing past 10 o’clock mostly. 

   “So what’s something else I should know about you?” You inquired to him. He smiled to himself before turning to you. 

   “Are you really going to start school yard type questions with me?” He teased. You smiled and lightly laughed. He was smiling at you, admiring how you looked when you laughed.

   “Yeah, yeah I guess I am. You going to answer them?” You couldn't help but tease back. He chuckled and hummed.

   “Mmn. Maybe” he said bemused.

   “What’s your favorite color?” You asked, now aiming for the most basic questions just to make him laugh in turn. He leaned onto the railing that over looked the kingdom, pondering a moment.

   “Red’s a nice color, Or Plum Purple” He said looking at you. Taking a moment to ask you a question in turn. “Besides the forge what do you like to do?” You sat and thought a moment. 

   “I like to read, Action and Romance are a lot of fun” you mused, earning a laugh from him.

   “Romance eh? Waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet? Lamee” he said jokingly. You laughed and took a swat at his chest. 

    “Oh hush up, I bet you’d like someone to sweep you off your feet Techno” You said, your eyes scanning the horizon. He sat and thought on your words a moment.

   “Eh not particularly. Only lame nerds think of that” He said, turning, heading back for the garden door’s. you scoffed and laughed a bit. 

   “Jerk” you said between laughs. You were going to fallow, but then you had a wicked idea. You scooped up some snow in your hand and bit your lip trying to muffle your laugh. once you had a decent snowball you threw it at him. Bullseye. You had nailed him in the back of the head. He went still, You were a giggling mess now.

   “Oh, your in for it now Princess” He said, smirking has he turned. Running after you, his blanket long discarded as he ran to grab you. You squealed out laughing, running from him, discarding your blanket too. You didn't get far before he hooked his arm around your torso, pulling you into his chest well you flapped about like a fish. “Your gonna’ be pullin’ snow out of your shirt for a week when I'm done with ya’!” he said Laughing. Picking snow up before putting it on your head. Some of it even went down your shirt. You flopped about, laughing the whole time until he dropped you into the snow bank. He laughed at you and how you were practically buried within the snow. This only fueled your fire. you threw two more snowball’s the first one missed, but the second one he grabbed out of mid air. You tried to free yourself from the snow bank before he came over to you, but it was no use. he climbed into the bank and shoved the snow down the back of your shirt. But this time you caught him off guard. You grabbed his arm and pulled. setting him off balance so he fell into the snow. Now it was your turn to laugh. tossing more snow onto him. It didn't take him long to recover of course, he simply rolled and grabbed your arms. Pinning them down to the snow. His body hovered over yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His face was that of pure joy, the long stoic look gone. he was at his happiest with you right now. He looked down at you, smiles adorning both of your faces. You two were happy. Happy with the moment, you just wanted it to last as long as it could. Well you two looked into each other’s eyes everything else lost meaning.

   Without you two realizing, Phil watched above from one of the windows. He was smiling fondly at the little snowball war you just had. whether Techno had realized it yet or not, Phil did. Techno cared for you. Phil saw how he looked at you. During dinners, Lunches, casual talks, or even when the two of you hung out together. Techno looked at you with pure love and adoration. Phil knew if anyone was capable of wining Techno’s love it was going to be you. You were a hard worker, You cared for Techno’s brothers, got along well with all the servants, were mindful and respective of Techno's space, you also had enough spunk to rise up and toss back the teasing he threw. Phil knew this was the beginning of a love story.

   After your snowball fight with techno the two of you did end up going back inside rather quickly. Well Techno may have not been cold, you were definitely cold after all that. You could feel the snow melting on your back, the drops of water running down your skin. But that didn't stop Techno from walking beside you. The two of you walked side by side, your arms around each other to share the warmth. The lingering giggles were etched onto your faces in wide smiles.

   “I didn't hurt you at all, right?” Techno asked, double checking incase he was too rough. You shook your head smiling. Drawing your side of the blanket- that was wrapped around you both- closer to preserve the upcoming heat.

   “Nah, I coulda’ have taken ya’ if you had stayed above me more” Techno laughed fondly. Amused with your spurt of spunk.

   “Oh really now? You think you could take me?” This was now your turn to giggle. purposefully running into his side, shoving him lightly.

   “Mmn.. I think I could have found a way” You said looking up towards your room. You had offered to walk techno to his room, but he declined. He said he would feel better if ‘The lady was at her room safely’. You didn't mind, you figured next time you would walk him to his room in turn to make it even, maybe fire back with ‘I must make sure the young prince is safe’.

   He chuckled bemused. “If you really have that much spunk maybe I should teach you sword play, or maybe something more military related. you tilted your head up to him curiously. 

   “You would teach me something?” You asked, semi surprised, but also heart warmed that he would take time aside for you.

   “Of course, Princess. I’ll teach you anything you want” He looked down to you as he spoke. He was smiling gently. His tone was fond as he addressed you. “Now don't think I’ll go easy on you though” 

   “Oh, I didn't think you would” You said, resting your hand on the door handle, opening it. “Would you wanna come in and warm up a bit?” You inquired, looking up to him. He went a faint pink before biting back a shit eating grin.

   “Princess... Young men shouldn't be within young ladies chambers during such late hours... Unless, your trying to bed me?” He leaned on your door way. Biting back the largest grin. “Are you trying to bed me, Princess? I knew you had gotten some spunk but I never thought-” You laughed as he teased, going a bit red. trying to wave it off.

   “No- No, you know what I mean-” He laughed and cut you off.

   “Oh no, I know exactly what you mean” You smiled leaning on your door, looking up at him.

   “Are you done?” You asked giggling. He hummed, his face towards yours as he shifted a little closer.

   “Maybe” He said amused. “Go get some sleep, and warm up. I'm going to teach you sword play tomorrow” Your eyes lit up. Taking in a small gasp of excitement.

   “Are you really?” You asked almost unsure that he was still teasing.

   “I mean, Only if that interests you...” He said, his eyes lingering yours. You nodded fast and hugged him without much thought. Techno couldn't help the blood that ran to his face. He lightly cleared his throat as he rested his arms on you. A bit hesitant at first, but he slowly relaxed into your hold. Now understanding why Tommy liked to hug you a lot.

   “Thank you...” You mumbled into his chest.

   You swore if techno knocked you off your feet one more time you were going to find a way to shove his pretty head in the snow.

   Techno was a monster- in the sense of strength. You thought when fighting him, it would be a mutual teaching before he actually started going ham on you. But no, he literary just started striking with no hesitation. Only when he had your swords in a lock did you voice your lag.

   "Tech, please can we ease up?" You pleadded. He only watched you briefly. His inner General having come out a while ago.

   "Your strong. You can take it" he said sharply. Earning a whine from you. You weren't strong. You didn't do this on a daily. You only made the swords. But he was pushing you. Pushing your strength, and your nerves for one.

   "Techno I'm not strong, I- I've never done this-" he grabbed your sword and threw it away from you. Putting his own away. He grabbed your arm and pulled it to him. Pushing your sleeves up.

   "Flex your arm." He commanded. You hesitated, looking up at him. "Don't look at me like that. I said flex your arm" you slowly did as he said. Drawing your fist, and flexing your arm. He grabbed your bicep and squeezed a bit. "Notice how hard it is?" You nodded slowly. A slight sting from where he squeezed. "That's pure muscle. You are stronger than you realize. If you convince yourself that you are weak or that you cannot do this, then that's what will become of you" he paused his eyes flashing to yours. "I understand that you are no warrior, but you have strength. As soon as you stop telling yourself that you are weak, you will make progress." He pulled your sleeve down, fixing it for you. "Rome wasn't built over night, Princess. It took time, planning, care, and had to show promise. When I look at you, I see great promise."

   When he released your arm you walked over to pick your sword up. Techno readying his stance again. However, before you could break into another spar Phil had wondered out.

   "Ay' Techno you have a letter on your desk. You may want to read it" Phil said with a bit of concern. Techno dropped his stance his brow furrowing. He gave a 'Heh?' In confusion. He glanced to you and to Phil.

   “Can it wait a bit? I'm in the middle of teaching” Phil shook his head slowly. Techno paused as he thought a bit. "If I go, could you teach (y/n) a bit more? She feel's I'm too strong for her." He mused. His military side slowly fading away for his more domestic side.

   "I suppose so." Phil said with a gentle smile. Techno gathered his things and ruffled your hair before leaving. Phil turned his attention towards you. "What has he showed you?" Phil inquired, walking over to you.

   "Nothing besides showing me the ground.. seriously my back hurts.." you whined. Phil chuckled lightly at you.

   "I should have known. Here I'll teach you some basic's" Before long Phil had you doing simple moves and stances. Things he felt would be easy for you to ace. After a while you got a bit curious.

   "Why does techno think I can pick this up so easy? He fights so hard" You questioned. Looking over to Phil. He hummed a moment well he pondered.

   "I uh, think that he just wants you to be able to defend yourself. He knows your strong, and besides. He thinks pretty highly of you, y'know'" you went a bit wide eyed. Techno thinks highly of you?

   You looked to Phil with a bit of shock on your face. "He does?" He nodded, Smiling gently. Phil gently took the sword from your hands and hung it on the wall with the others.

   Since you within the training hall, there was a plethora of weapons and armor of all kinds. The room was large, made for incasing many people. But the detail never faltered. The floor was of stone, pillars lining the outside to support a second floor. The ceiling was framed with gold, dark oak and a smooth white to open the room up more. It was a good place to spar and just ramble off thoughts.

   "Oh, of course. He's said it multiple times to me. That's why he was fine with you coming with us to the mansion. Don't think that he hasn't been paying attention to you on the daily." Phil said looking up to you.

   "He watches me?" You furrowed your brow slightly. Phil saw and continued.

   "Not in the creepy way. He just takes notes of things you do, say you like, ect. He knows your kind with tommy, that you are very organized with your work. Your very detail oriented. He's become quite smitten with you" Phil chuckled. Finding it all amusing.

   You were taken aback by this. You thought you two had a good friendship, but it looks like he's paid a lot of attention to you after all. It started to dawn on you. 'I don't really know much about him' you thought to yourself. Sure you knew his mom passed, his favorite color. But you never really dove into his personal life much beyond that. Maybe it was time you got to know him more. "If I wanted to know more about him... could I ask him?" You asked, looking up at Phil. He patted your head and started walking with you towards the hall.

   "Of course. Something tells me he wouldn't turn you away." Phil said, biting a smile back. He remembered you two last night playing within the snow. He knew Techno would never turn you away, he was in love with you, even if techno wasn't aware of it.

   After dinner you wondered towards Techno's office. You wanted to talk to him, get to know him better. You know he was powerful and kind, but you wanted to know more. What was his ambitions? His hopes, fears. You just wanted more.

   When you walked up to the doors you carefully knocked, hearing talking within. When you herd the 'come in' you pushed the doors open. Techno was sat in his chair per usual, he had his reading glasses on with papers on his desk. When you entered he complied them together neatly. Setting them aside for later. However there was also a rather tall woman. she was beautiful, dripping with total control. Her hand was rested on her sword. When she turned to face you. You saw Her face, It was hard but something told you their was more too her. Her skin looked like it was kissed by the sun himself. She looked like she wasn't from here, but the way she dressed herself in armor told you elsewise.

   "Hello (y/n)" techno said. The woman glanced to Techno and back to you. She offered a kind smile. "This is General Hawthorne, she's my leading General of the Empires army. I don't believe you two have met before" He said formally. Not having the tone he normally used with you.

   She offered her hand. "Its nice to finally meet you (y/n). His Imperial Majesty said we would have a new Blacksmith. But I never expected someone as young as you" Her smile was warm. When you took her hand to shake it you were shocked with the grip she had. Under her glove you could feel some rings digging into your hand. "Don't worry about addressing me as Hawthorne. Seraphina is fine, or Sarah" you nodded smiling to return hers. Wanting her to drop your hand, her grip a tad to much.

   "Its a pleasure to meet you, too" you said looking up to her. She turned back to Techno, taking a scroll from his desk.

   "I'll see you there then sire" Sarah said, smiling before she walked out. You watched her go, your eyes lingering on the door as you thought. Turning back to Techno.

Techno took his reading glasses off and set them aside on his desk. Leaning back in his chair. When he looked up at you his eyes softened, his tone also becoming casual. "What do you think about weddings?".

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynnarts @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro

[honeytae]

My heart is yours.

hi bubs! so basically this is just about the reader experiencing some jealousy, and jungkook is pretty confused lol. i’m gonna be honest i don’t know how good i feel about this bc angst just isn’t my thing but i hope you all think it’s okay! this is totally not based on real events enjoy! tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: angst, fluff word count: 3.0k

This was not how you wanted the night to go. 

Tonight had started off well; Jungkook had picked you up to arrive at Jimin’s birthday party together, and you had spent the first few hours dancing with him and his friends. You were having a really good time. Emphasis on were.

The fun had ended almost as soon as Jungkook left the table to get another round of drinks, leaving you to converse with some of Jimin’s friends you hadn’t met yet as he made his way to the bar.

In between conversations, you’d taken a brief glance over to the full bar, recognizing your boyfriend as the last one in line as he ruffled a hand through his hair. Smiling fondly at the sight, you’d turned back to one of Jimin’s friends from school, engaging in a conversation about how he knew the birthday boy. 

But the next time you looked over, your whole body seemed to set aflame in a blinding rage. 

Jungkook was no longer at the back of the line, in fact you had to boost yourself up taller in order to see the back of his head. But what you saw next to him was what really set you off; some pretty girl latched onto his arm as if she belonged there.

The chattering voices and pulsing music all seemed to fade into the background as you watched the woman continually push herself at your boyfriend. Clenching your fists, you caved into your seething anger, standing from your seat and stomping out of the room before you could think twice about it. 

He wanted to let that shit happen? Fine. But you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around and watch.

The rational part of you knew that you were acting ridiculous, much like a child throwing a tantrum with the way you’d just stormed off. But the rational part of you was not in control right now. The rational part of you had disappeared as soon as you saw her put her hands on your boyfriend.

Your heels clicked along the floorboards as you made your way toward the door, harsh breaths escaping your flared nostrils at the vision replaying over and over again in your head. 

You were so distracted that you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming toward you, nearly jumping out of your skin when you suddenly collided with a body. 

“Whoa, where are you going?” Jimin asked after steadying your body with his hands on your shoulders, seemingly walking back from the bathroom before you nearly trampled him on your fast paced trip down the hallway. 

A frown appeared on his face as he studied your reddened cheeks and overall shifted energy from only a few minutes ago, ducking his head as his eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, your mouth gaping for a second as you considered what to say, knowing you could not possibly state the actual reason you had attempted to storm out of the party without being seen as crazy by your friend.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” He lowered his voice, your eyes widening at the sudden excuse before you shook your head no.

You felt horrible lying to Jimin as he looked at you with a sympathetic frown, the back of his hand going to your forehead with a concerned furrow of his brows. But it was the only option you had; that or looking like the jealous maniac you were at the moment.

“I-I was just going to get some air.” You explained weakly, Jimin nodding before looking back at the flashing lights of the dance floor. 

Was that what you were trying to do? Honestly, you didn’t know. The only thing going through your mind while walking out through the hallway was simply getting as far as you could from what was going on at the bar.

“You want me to come with you?” He offered, making you smile slightly before shaking your head again. 

“No, Jimin, I’m fine. This is your party and I want you to go have fun. If I don’t see you again, happy birthday.” You faked a smile, the man nodding before pulling you in for a hug. 

It was then that you heard the quiet thumping of footsteps down the hall, pulling away from your friend’s embrace to find none other than your boyfriend approaching behind Jimin.

“Feel better, alright?” Jimin gently squeezed at your shoulder, you nodding in response before he walked away, leaving you alone with Jungkook in the otherwise empty hallway.

“You’re not feeling well, baby?” His brows knit pulled together, having overheard the last bit of the conversation in his stroll to find you after returning to your empty spot in the booth, drinks finally in hand. 

“Not really. Just need some air.” You sighed, your boyfriend stepping forward with a press of his palm to your spine to lead you outside, no hesitation in his actions as he concentrated on getting you out of the building. 

Despite the goosebumps pricking your arms, the cold air that met your skin when Jungkook shoved the door open felt nice. You didn’t even realize how overheated you’d gotten in your rage, only realizing then how sickly you’d probably looked to Jimin.

Well, at least that excuse would work out for you.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” Jungkook mumbled, interrupting your thoughts as he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders to drape over your own, taking a seat beside you on the sidewalk. 

You thanked him quietly at the polite gesture, sighing out as you placed your elbows on your knees, resting your forehead in your hands. Honestly, at this point, you did have a headache. But it wasn’t from alcohol or the pulsing music in the building behind you. 

It was entirely induced by the way the blood had rushed to your head when you’d seen that girl push herself at your boyfriend, shamelessly giggling at him in a high pitched tone that had you clenching your fists, the crescent moon imprints from your fingernails still dug into your palm.

It really wasn’t his fault; he hadn’t done anything in return. But at the sight, you couldn’t hold back the fiery monster inside of you, the feeling that you just wanted to slap whoever tried to steal this man from you.

You hated yourself for feeling this way, knowing that Jungkook deserved someone who didn’t make a fuss out of these silly little things. The anger had now almost completely faded, manifesting itself in frustration with yourself and your own insecurities.

Now you were just projecting, taking feelings that were in no way his fault out on him.

“What are you doing?” He spoke up, interrupting your thought process as you continued blinking down at the pavement beside your feet.

Jungkook had been sitting next to you this entire time, observing you with wide eyes as you seemed to completely dissociate; something not all too uncommon for you to do when you were upset about something. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly alert when he noticed your lower lip tremble a bit, big doe eyes staring back at you as he tried to figure out what was going on with you. 

“Nothing, Kook. I just want to go home, I think. I’ll get a cab so you can stay-” 

“Baby, if you want to leave, I’m coming with you. C’mon, let’s go home.” Jungkook said as he pushed himself up from the ground, reaching his palm out to you, a bit of relief washing through his body when you let him hold your hand and tug you up from the ground. 

Fuck, you wished he wasn’t so sweet. It made it even harder to be upset with him.

You didn’t let go of his hand once you were standing, Jungkook not taking the initiative of letting go either. The touch provided a bit of comfort to the both of you, his touch grounding your anger and your touch reassuring him that it was maybe not him that you were upset with. Maybe.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” He stopped you again, studying your expression with a slight pout. With a silent nod, you let him lead you down the sidewalk, footsteps in tune with his own as you made your way down the street.

Jungkook kept sneaking glances over at you, lost as he tried his best to navigate the clues your body language was giving him.

Your head was cast downward, eyes never meeting his even as he looked over at you. Your hand held his tightly, most likely subconsciously as you seemed completely in your own head at the moment. 

With a deep breath, he paused to interrupt your trudge along the sidewalk, his sudden stop causing you to pause as well, barely even registering the action as self deprivating thoughts continued to swirl around your head.

“Hey,” he softly called for your attention, your eyes meeting his at the sound, “what’s going on?” 

His question had you diverting your eyes again, instead focusing on a passing car as you bit the side of your cheek in angst. He was going to get it out of you sooner or later; he was persistent, always had been.

“I’m fine.” You responded, not knowing what else to say as the wind blew your hair back from your face. 

You watched as Jungkook’s face morphed from confusion to absolute sadness, his fingers gently soothing over your cheek to confirm what he’d thought he’d seen in the glow from the headlights of the car passing by seconds ago.

“Baby, you’re crying.” 

With a confused hum, you lifted your hand to your face, swiping your wet cheeks and cursing under your breath. You truly hadn’t felt it happen, but you supposed it was no wonder with the growing lump in your throat.

“I think it’s the wind.” You mumbled lamely, Jungkook scoffing before pulling you into a hug, guiding your head to the crook of his neck as you easily complied.

“If you think I’m buying that for a single second,” he sighed, “can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He asked sadly, awaiting an answer as you sniffled into his neck. 

“I don’t wanna say it. I already feel like an asshole.” You responded, feeling more tears prick your eyeballs at the mere thought of bringing up your doubts to him. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to take your own stupid insecurities and blame himself.

“What?” Jungkook asked, confusion lacing his tone as he slightly pulled away from you to glance at your face. 

“That girl fucking pissed me off. And then I stormed out like a child. I ignored you because I didn’t know how to approach the conversation like an adult. I hurt you, so now I’m crying.” You explained, sniffling as Jungkook swiped at your tears with his thumbs, confusion etched into his features at your scattered thoughts. 

“What girl pissed you off?” He cocked his head, making you widen your eyes in disbelief.

“At the party.” You stated obviously.

When his face still didn’t change, you sighed, biting your lip out of nerves before your boyfriend undid the action with his finger.  His eyebrows were still bunched in confusion, fumbling to figure out the cause of your emotions.

“At the bar, Kook. She was all over you.” You specified, the wheels slowly turning in Jungkook’s head as his mouth gaped open.

“Are you kidding?” He asked in disbelief, making you huff before crossing your arms over your chest, turning away from him with a plastered on smile.

“Yep, I guess I’m just a dumbass.” You shrugged, beginning to walk away before Jungkook caught you with an arm around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“No, no, no, stop. That’s not what I meant. I just, I can’t really believe you’re so upset about something like that.” He explained, you remaining silent as you adjusted your gaze down to the top button on his shirt.  

By now, the jealousy had almost fully faded, leaving you feeling ashamed and embarrassed of your previous actions influenced by your momentary rage.

“I can acknowledge that she wasn’t exactly being appropriate,” He spoke slowly, “but I wasn’t engaging with it, was I?” 

You shrugged at that, blinking at a nearby telephone pole as you nervously fiddled with your fingers tucked into Jungkook’s coat pocket.

“What does that mean?” He asked at the action, causing you to sigh as you looked back at him.

“It means I don’t know. You weren’t exactly pushing her off of you.” You explained, causing Jungkook to raise his eyebrows at you in a deadpanned stare.

“No, I didn’t push her off of me. That’s a step too far, don’t you think?” He asked, inhaling deeply in an attempt to ground his building frustrations, grabbing your hand in his and soothing his thumb over the skin of your knuckles.

“You have to trust me, love. I would never do anything to hurt you.” He spoke softly, you nodding in reply as his eyes implored yours to believe him.

“I know that. I do trust you, Kook. I’m sorry.” You sniffled, Jungkook pulling you into his chest again and stroking his fingers through your hair at the back of your head. 

“I’m not upset with you, baby. Just a little confused, is all.” He pulled back slightly to look at your face, tucking some loose strands of your hair behind your ears as his eyes studied your own puffy ones.

“Why did you get so upset?” He asked, making you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at the obvious answer to his question. 

“Because that girl was all over you an-”

“That’s not what I mean. Why did that girl bother you so much if you know I only want you?” He interrupted you, watching as you sighed knowingly, gulping the fresh lump in your throat down in an attempt to bury your emotions. 

“It’s not you. I trust you.” You assured him, the man nodding at you as he patiently waited for your elaboration. 

“It’s not you that’s the problem. It’s me.” You said shakily, face crumpling into tears once again making Jungkook step toward you to hug you once again. 

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it, it’s okay.” He soothed you, running his hand up and down your spine comfortingly before you pulled back slightly to look at him. 

“Me crying isn’t a reason to avoid this conversation, Jungkook. I’m being ridiculous and I’m sorry.” You wiped your tears with the pads of your fingers, swiping them away in frustration that you couldn’t express your thoughts and feelings without bawling like a baby.

“I know it’s not, it is a conversation we need to have, I know that. But you’re upset, I’m upset, we’re tired, and it’s fucking cold out here.” He finished with a slight laugh, making you chuckle as well.

“Let’s just go home, change into some comfortable clothes, and then we’ll talk. Calmly. Okay?” He asked, you frowning as you looked back at the building you’d tried to leave in a huff.

“You don’t want to stay? I’m fine with staying.” You assured him, the man chuckling slightly as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I just want to go home with my favorite girl.” He mumbled against the skin, pulling back to raise his eyebrows at your skeptical expression.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He nodded, smiling gently at you when you nodded in agreement, taking his hand in yours once again as you let him lead you to the car. 

“Hop on in, m’lady.” He gestured with a nod, holding the passenger side door open as you slipped past him to sit in the car. 

You expected him to close the door and round the vehicle to get into the drivers side, but you were surprised when he instead leaned over your body, placing his hand on your jaw to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Taken aback at the way his lips hungrily captured yours, your hand instinctively came up to support the back of his head as you allowed his tongue to push its way past your lips. 

The pads of your fingers soothed over the hair on his nape as his soft lips melded with yours, tiny puffs of air escaping from his nostrils and hitting your skin as he continued his dizzying ministrations.

Pulling back, he pressed a gentle kiss to your bottom lip, looking down at you with fluttered eyelids as he stroked his thumb across your cheek.

“My heart is yours. I‘m in love with you. And that will never change.” He reminded you, your eyes glued to his pretty features in awe as you soaked in his words. 

“I know that, Kookie. I do.” You responded quietly, the man nodding in satisfaction before leaning in to peck your lips one last time, pulling back and withdrawing himself from the car.

When he shut the door, you were surrounded in silence once again, but this time your mind wasn’t making it so loud.

It was eased even just the slightest bit at the man’s reassurances, comforted by the way his hand held your own, resting upon your thigh as he started the car.

Your insecurities would not vanish overnight, that was for sure. But with the tender patience Jungkook never failed to provide you with, you had no doubt that it was an issue that could be worked through.

Leaning over to press your lips to Jungkook’s cheek, a smile quirked his lips at the action, turning to you with a shy grin as your eyes traced his features in the dark.

“What was that for?” He asked, smile widening when you shrugged your shoulders.

“I just love you. Thank you for putting up with me and all my crazy bullshit.” You said, Jungkook scoffing in response, lifting your joint hands to kiss at your knuckles.

“I love you. Along with all your crazy bullshit.”

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

Timekeeper's assistants AU

Alright y'all! This is gonna be my info dump post for the Timekeepers assistant Au- buckle up cause it's gonna be a long one!

Inspired by @queendibz post here

The entire purpose of the assistant squad is to keep all the time lines running smoothly- this can range from stopping a world ending event to making sure things misplaced by natural ghost portals get put back into the right time and place.

So First up on the crew list,

Dan:

-Dan definitely isn't a homicidal maniac anymore but he's not 100 percent "redeemed" either.

-I mean he's probably still a bit of sadist but he tries not to be?

-The best description I can give is that he's in recovery, basically.

-So, Clockwork knew that Dan would eventually bust out of the thermos just because it wasn't built to hold a ghost of his power level for a prolonged period of time. But beyond that?? He has no idea about anything in regards to Dan. Since Dan's creation was averted, his timeline doesn't exist anymore. He's a paradox that exists outside of time, and unfortunately, that means he's the one entity in the multiverse that exists in Clockwork's blindspot. There's no way for him to know what Dan's going to do next.

-Anyway, Dan eventually breaks out of the thermos fully intending to Fuck Shit Up, And Clockwork makes a point of informing him that if he leaves the clock tower he will cease to exist. (Like Dan, the tower exists outside of time, so he's safe there.)

-Dan is the first member of the assistant squad. Granted, it took a while for him to come around to the idea of helping Clockwork but he got there eventually.

-Dan is an entity that was born out of the rage and grief of two very broken people and he has so much shit he's working through as a result

-One of the first things he had to do was recognize and accept that he's an entity that's completely separate from Vlad and Danny. He might have all their memories and the weight of their mistakes on his shoulders, and on top of that, the atrocities he himself committed because of them. The first step is realizing that he doesn't have to be defined by the people that made him.

-It's a really fucking difficult thing to do tho and he's got a lot of weird emotions in regards to Vlad, Danny and the Fentons as a result. A near constant identity crisis, self loathing, daddy issues, something that could arguably be called an Oedipus complex, (FUCKING THANKS, VLAD)

-Cannot stand the smell of fast food, it makes him nauseous and the sight of Nasty Burger sauce alone is enough to make him vomit Ectoplasm.

-He's just a hot mess all around y'all

-He tries to keep his interactions with the Danny's as minimal as possible at first bc of this. The first time he meets them in person he shape shifts into Danny like he did in TUE and just pretends to be one of them. Some of them have had interactions with their respective Dan's already and would be super wary of him and probably pretty freaked out otherwise.

-Dan is eventually allowed to leave the clocktower for supervised "Field missions" with the aid of a time medallion to keep him from poofing out of existence, but it takes a while for clockwork to build up that level of trust.

-Dan's shapeshifting ability Actually comes into play a bit on a lot of those missions, since he can Mimic Danny it also makes sense that he'd be able to impersonate Vlad in the same way. Granted he's not incredibly comfortable taking on either of their appearances but it does help him hone his shapeshifting ability to the point where he's able to pick and choose features from both Vlad and Danny and sorta make his own human disguise.

-Most of the time he acts as the eye in the sky from the tower, monitoring for timeline anomalies and then notifying the appropriate member of the assistant squad.

-He has a room under the clock tower that he operates from. I kinda like the idea of there being like, catacombs down there? Anyway he's got all kinds of monitors and view screens and he very rarely leaves. It also doubles as his "living space." He doesn't need to sleep but he's got a big mess of a pillow fort that he crashes in regardless bc sometimes you just NEED to be unconscious for a while. The catacombs are also absolutely full of those little blob ghosts that wander around the zone bc They're attracted to the ecto energy the tower gives off. He's really annoyed by them at first but they grow on him after a while and now he just dotes on them.

-There's a specific throw pillow sized one that likes to hang out in Dan's room a lot and he ended up getting a little over attached to the stupid thing. His name is Dorian. Bc he's a gift.

-SIR THATS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BLOB

-Dan's appearance has changed slightly. He wears his hair loose now and it's kinda just this big fiery mane when it's not contained. His cape is more of a cloak now, it has a hood and he wears it sorta pinned together at the shoulder so the DP logo is covered.

-Dan's relationship with the rest of the Danny's is kinda weird, and a little strained. He has a hard time being around them for very long because, well, he used to sort of be them? Except not really? He does care about them tho, and the last thing he'd want is for one of them to end up like him.

-His relationship with clockwork definitely starts out pretty familial, after he becomes his assistant, anyway. There's room for that to develop into meddling minutes but I'm not entirely sure if I'm gonna go that route yet.

-The Danny's only ever hear his voice for a while before he finally let's them meet him for real, so they end up calling him Charlie for a while as a joke. Cause Ya know. Charlie's angels. Even after Charlie still ends up being his designated name on missions.

Mer! Danny:

-Was recruited bc a lot of the shit that gets sucked through natural portals ends up in a body of water somewhere and when that happens he's on call to retrieve it.

-Is Actually not at all ghostly! Mer Danny's situation is basically the plot of H2O (just add water), or if you haven't seen that, Aquamarine. And by that I mean he's only a merfolk in water.

-He's an electric eel

-His Jack and Maddie are marine biologists, with a particular interest in marine cryptids

-We're taking sea monsters baby!!!

-Not entirely sure how this Danny ended up half mer yet but I'll figure it out, lmao.

-14 years old

-His nickname/ designation is "Moray"

Crown Prince! Danny:

-Nickname/designation is Prince / Princey

-16 years old

-Not allowed to go anywhere in the zone without the Fright knight bc of some ancient ghost law bullshit, so he has a constant babysitter.

-He's next in line bc he sealed away Pariah, but can't take the throne until he is both, A) at least 18 years and B) Completely deceased

-Vlad is his Regent bc he did have a part in the whole sealing the previous king thing, but he's also not completely dead so his power is super limited there.

-As Prince Danny has the crown of fire in his ghost form, although now the name is kinda ironic seeing as it's completely frozen over. It's blue now and it smokes like dry ice.

-As Regent, Vlad has the ring of rage for "safe keeping"

-Vlad and Danny are pretty much constantly at each other's throats, fright knights probably had to shut down more than a few of Vlad's attempts to usurp the crown from Danny through combat.

-Princey deals with the timeline issues that involve the ghost zones' internal / political affairs, and he's gotten very well versed with dealing with the Observants.

Winged! Danny :

-15 years old

-Mallard duck wings

-His Vlad is a swan

-Comes from a family of waterfowl, Jack is a goose, and Maddie is a white swan. Both he and jazz are ducks bc of their grandparents.

-As Fenton his wings are white, like jazz, and as phantom they turn black with a green iridescent sheen.

-He's trans

-Nickname/ designation is inviso Bill. Bc ducks have bills haha get it-

-Ghostly wail?? Nah son he's gotta killer QUACK

-Absolute besties with Mer!Danny/ Moray, sometimes they go swimming together after a mission.

Clone! Danny:

-Physically he's a 12-year-old, but he's only been alive for a few months.

-Alt universe where Vlad manages to stabilize the perfect clone with his own DNA.

-Dani still exists, and the original danny from his time line also rescued the other problematic clones.

-Doesnt like the fact that he's a clone, and very much wants them all DEAD. Bc them running around is a reminder that he's not the real danny.

-Human half looks the same aside from the widows peak and the mallen streak. His ghost half takes after plasmius. Blue skin, and the Hazmat kept it's original white colors.

-Probably has fangs and a forked tounge.

-Not so much a member of the squad as he is someone that they need to be keeping an eye on.

-Does NOT get along with them.

-Dan enjoys making him uncomfortable.

-Designation is Masters / the brat (not to his face tho)

Family Breakfast AU! Danny:

-A BABY

-The boy is a fucking overpowered todler okay. He's an 8 year old.

-The biological son of his Vlad, was born a Halfa. Jack, Vlad and Maddie got their shit together and are in a healthy poly relationship.

-Got separated from Vlad one time in the zone and inadvertently adopted by the assistant squad and clockwork.

-His Vlad is aware of the squad and just. Dad's the crap out of the Danny's as a result. It makes for some..... interesting interactions.

-I can't think of a nickname so I'm just gonna be lazy and say he gets to be the one Tru Danny bc cute little kind privileges lmao.

Full ghost! Danny:

-15 years old, will always look 14.

-Nickname/designation is Toast

-Died in the portal accident and got fucking FRIED.

-He always smells like somethings burning.

-He's really bright and sorta sparks a bit, you can see his bones glowing through the hazmat.

-He still leave the zone to protect his version of amity, but lives with clockwork full time.

Canon Danny (NOT PHANTOM PLANET COMPLIANT) :

-Basically show Danny, except phantom planet never happened fuck you

-Joined the crew after the events of de stabilized

-Also he's trans fuck butch

-Franken! Danny

-Yall remember that Headless Danny Au? This is my take.

-Is Actually 20 years old, but physically stuck at age 14. Bc he's a walking corpse :)

-Came from a timeline that was directly parallel to Full ghost! Danny. He dies in the portal accident, but jack and Maddie are in the lab when it happens and manage to sort of bring him back using a combination of science and freaky ghost junk.

-So he's basically possessing/ stuck inside of his own dead body. Which, is thankfully not rotting or going into rigor mortis bc Ectoplasm is rather similar to formaldehyde, but he's not the most durable thing and bits and pieces fall off from time to time.

-Like his head. For example.

-He's pretty desensitized to it at this point and if he loses a leg after a ghost fight he doesn't see anything wrong with sitting down on the curb of a main street to stich it back on. His being dead isn't exactly a secret.

-Don't ever ask him to "give you a hand" bc he can and will not hesitate to pop one off and Chuck it at you.

-Said hand and any other body part will continue to function just fine even if it isn't attached to anything, btw.

-Nickname/ designation is Adam. Bc. Ya know. that's the name Frankenstein's monster gave itself.

Post Phantom Planet! Danny:

-A very jaded 22 year old who is driven only by spite and enough caffeine to kill a horse

-Very, very tired of the hero thing.

-Being a global celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be.

-Decided to follow Vlads lead and fuck off to space for a while. Partially to get away from everyone and also partially bc he kinda feels responsible for the fact that the only other person like him and probably floating DEAD in the void somewhere? And yeah Vlad fucked up all on his own but what if he'd tried harder to get through to him things could have been different-

-Joins the crew after a natural portal opens up in space and decides to help out and use clockworks resources to try and track down his Vlad.

-Nickname/ Designation is Polaris, aka the north star.

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bard’s Sister 

Geralt X Reader 

Part 2 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place Geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadn't seen since she was 5. The journey is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. This is still part of our introduction to the main characters and their personalities in this story. Next chapter will be more about (Y/N) and Geralt. I know I am trash at summaries.

I would like to state that I do plan on adding a pregnancy in the future to this story. (I know Geralt is steril. Just bare with me and the story line I’ve created) I just wanted to let eveyone know because I would hate for someone to get attached to the character and story only to have a plot line they do not like for themselves. I know not everyone like pregnancy plot lines but I’m such a sucker for dad!Geralt.

Trigger warnings: Cursing 

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,369

(Changed from 3rd to 1st person) 

The sun was high in the sky, it was nearly two in the afternoon. The garden below the large windows of the castle was shining brightly. The birds chirping, children playing in the river that ran through the center of the city. Life was good. The sun was shining a little brighter today. It was because Jaskier was finally home. 

I hadn’t realized how much I missed him till he was back. After breakfast, we walked around the castle’s courtyard. He and Geralt introduced me to their horses. To my pleasant surprise, Roach took a particular liking to me, as did her owner. He was nothing like the rumors. There were many times that I traveled out of our borders into the western part of the continent, and every time people had nothing but cruel fowl things to say about the poor witcher. Sure he wasn't perfect, but no one was. 

“Would you like to see my studies?” I asked as we walked down the long corridors that lead to three separate staircases. I glanced between the two men that were on either side of me. 

“Your studies?” Jaskier asked looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I told you in my letter that I’ve been working with a man over the last couple of years. He has trained me well. But I have many books, drawings notes all sorts of stuff that I’ve written about the world outside of our home.” We approached the base of the three staircases. 

“I’ve never seen a castle so big in my life.” Geralt’s sultry voice flooded my ears once again. I couldn’t help but smile up at him. He was so polite. He never turned his nose at us. I knew he didn’t have a very positive history with others like us. Yet he sent no judgment towards myself or my parents. He just listened, followed, and learned. I had never met someone so open to the world yet so closed off that the same time, and we’ve barely even begun to get o know each other.  

“Our mines are some of the richest you’d ever see in your life. From coal to diamonds. Nearly 85% of all ores get mined and sent out to the rest of the continent.” I started walking up the staircase on the far left, the stairs led up a long corridor that was open and bright, the mountains that shielded us from the rest of the world in perfect view. Both were still by my side. I stopped at the first picture that hung on the wall. 

“That’s my great-great-grandfather, he only recently passed but he started all of this.” I looked towards Geralt. He was listing intently, his eyes on me as soon as I looked in his direction. I knew Jaskier knew our history so I wasn't too worried if he was paying attention or not. 

“He came here from Termieria with his 6 younger brothers. The mines here had been closed for many many years. The town was completely deserted. There was a serious necrophage problem that no one wanted to deal with, so they just up and left. Leaving the plentiful mines full for someone else.” 

“Necrophages?��� Geralt questioned his eyebrow tiling in curiosity. 

“The people who inhabited the lands before we did, had not known of the creatures. Didn’t properly bury the dead. My grandfather wrote in his journal that when they got here the streets were lined with bodies that had been drug out of their shallow graves, crypts had been broken into. His best guess is that a flue came before the people fled, killing many in a short period.” I started walking ahead of the two men, down the hall towards my room. I pushed the door open walking in placing my books on the night table as they followed in slowly behind me. Their eyes wandered over every inch. Jaskier started wandering through the room looking at every picture on the wall. Most of them were sketches, mostly of him. Or the people he sang about in his ballads. He grabbed one off the wall and laughed softly. 

“Who is this supposed to be?” I walked over to him and laughed softly, my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. 

“That, that uh was my first sketch of Geralt.” The sound of his name got his attention, he was trying to be polite and not snoop. Although I didn't care if he wanted to look around. He walked away from the door over to Jaskier and me. He lingered behind me, very close behind me. I could feel his body heat on my back and his warm breath on my face as he peered over my shoulder at the parchment Jaskier was holding. 

“How old were you when you did this?” Jaskier asked.

“Eighteen, maybe nineteen. It was after your first balled about your adventures with Geralt that started to spread like wildfire. I went to a tavern one night with a friend and someone was singing it. I was intrigued by the song and asked them who they sang about. I was told they didn't write the song, our very own Prince had. So I listened to them play it over and over.  I asked around the and so see if people knew what the famed witcher looked like. I got conflicting answers from nearly everyone I asked.” Geralt reached his arm over me, his hand gently brushing my arm, sending chills down my spine. His hand grasped the paper as he looked at it closely.           

“They got the hair color right. That was about all. Some people have some very wild depictions that I drew, but none in any seriousness.” The particular one they were examining was nothing like Geralt. They got everything wrong but his hair color. Many people said he was a scrawny young lad with the strength of thousands of men, making him easier to blend in with the crowds. Granted this was very early on in my brother and the Witcher’s adventures together so not many people had paid close attention to the witcher. 

“You drew what people described?” Geralt asked. 

“Yes, some people tried to pay me but I told them to give it to the needy. I traveled with Serena for a couple of weeks right after I turned nineteen, we didn't venture far past the mountains but it was enough.” I couldn't help but frown at the memories of the people in the towns scowling and sticking their noses in the air when I asked about the Witcher and my brother. 

“Can I see the other ones?” Geralt’s question took me by surprise. 

“I don’t know…” 

“Oh come on, you're very talented (Y/N), let him see them,” Jaskier said and shoved my shoulder playfully. I smiled softly at him but shook my head. 

“It is not that I’m self-conscious of my work, it’s the depictions of Geralt outside of our Kingdom, for the most part, were cruel and inaccurate beyond belief. I only drew them because I was wasting their time asking questions. I honestly don't know why I kept them.” I nervously rubbed the back of my neck, the idea of Geralt seeing those ugly, horrendous, depictions of himself made my stomach turn. He didn’t deserve the hate he received. I never understood why people despised Witchers the way they did. I only experienced it outside of our kingdom. For some reason, whether it be our pure lack of monsters or the abundance of sunshine, my people seemed happier. Less judgmental than the outside world. I was grateful to live in such a kind and caring place, but it does get rather dull after a while. 

“I’d still like to see them.” Geralt said softly as he handed the parchment back to me. I sighed slightly uncomfortable with the idea, I took the parchment and hung it back up on the wall. 

“Let’s make a deal,” I said turning to them both. 

“Oh boy.” Jaskier teased. 

“I’ll show you the drawings if you let me paint you now, so I have an accurate model. Not just words.” Geralt’s eyes looked over me, his arms crossing over his chest. A small smirk formed over his lips as he watched me intently. 

“If you want to draw me so bad, just ask dove.” The nickname nearly threw me off my feet. My heartbeat quickened at a rapid pace and I couldn't even look him in the eye. Jaskier snickered and pulled out a chair by my desk. He was enjoying this way too much. I cleared my throat swelling thickly. 

“T-that I uh..” I had never been one to not have words. According to my parents, I talked too much. Just like my brother. Yet here I was gobsmacked and wordless. I grumbled under my breath moving to the desk Jaskier was sat at and made him move. He got up and I sat down. I opened the top hatch of the desk, lifting out folders and files of archives. Some containing spells, some more drawing, history of the continent, and even monster facts that I knew I wouldn’t ever need. I placed the folders on the floor. Jaskier grabbed a few and moved to my bed plopping himself down kicking his feet up. My head snapped over to him as he put his dirty boots all over my fresh linens. 

“Jaskier. If you don't get your boots off my bed, I will castrate you.” I warned turning back around rummaging some more. I heard him kick off his shoes. Geralt chuckled behind me. 

“Fiery are we.” He teased but I ignored him. Finally, at the bottom of all my work, I found the folder. I held it up to him, not wanting to watch his face as he looked at the disgusting depictions of himself. 

“Thank you, dove.” His lip was right next to my ear. I felt frozen. 

I couldn't tell if it was genuinely just a flirt or if this was directed to me. Sure I had heard the rumors of the witcher and his many women of the night, including the sorceress Yennefer. But this seemed different. I snapped back to reality when he let out a low chuckle. I turned around and stood up, peering over his arm to see what one he was looking at. This one was particularly nasty. His eyes were slanted like snake eyes, large fangs protruded out of his mouth, and his hair was a crazy mess. His eyes were blood red, his nose crooked from supposedly being punched so many times. His face was littered with so many scars he had scale-like skin. I remembered the man who gave me that description. 

“I met this man in a tavern in Solveiga, it’s the furthest I've ever been from home.” Jaskier stood up walking over and looking at the drawing Geralt was studying carefully. I didn't know why he was spending so much time on such a cruel piece. 

“He said you came through a few winters prior, he and a bunch of the townsmen had gathered some coins so you'd get rid of a Striga. I knew was lying the moment he opened his mouth.” Geralt looked up from the payment, his eyes meeting mine.

“Why do you think he's lying?” I took the folder from him, and just as I expected the parchment below the picture he was looking at was full of my notes. Every time I traveled and spoke to people about it. My brother or his companions took incredibly detailed notes, I never wanted to forget anything. I took the parchment out before handing him the folder back. I began to read the notes:

“This man takes me for a fool. No more than some silly girl. While he sits here and tells the tale of the Wolf he seems to be forgetting the incredibly important fact about Strigas, they only hunt during a full moon. He keeps saying that the beast was hunting their people every single night, slashing children, men, women, animals, every night for months. He’s using it to fuel the people's hatred of the witcher. He’s attempting to claim that they sent for him as soon as they knew of her presence. Claiming the witcher waited nearly three months before coming to discard the beast.” I flipped the page over scanning the meticulous notes. 

“He said the beast was killed on a new moon, he said he remembers it so vividly because of the lack of moonlight while he escorted the witcher to her crypt. I may not be a witcher, but I am not stupid. The man is trying to make matters worse by lying through his crooked yellow teeth. How dare he tarnish a name for the sake of his prosperity.” Geralt chuckled at the last part making me look up at him, he had an amused smile on his face, his eyes twinkled as he looked at me. 

“Why are you laughing?” I tilted my head to the side slightly and he just shook his head, putting the folder of parchment into the desk. He knelt and began picking up the rest of the folders neatly placing them inside the desk where they came from. 

“Because you got so mad that someone lied about me, yet you at the time were not even sure I was a real thing-“ 

“Person.” I quickly corrected him. His eyes glanced at me, he didn't move his head as he continued placing my papers where they belonged. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You called yourself a thing, you're not a thing Geralt. You're a real living breathing person.” His eyes found my own again. My heart raced as he studied my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful. His eyes were like hot pools of gold and honey. The complexity of the colors was mesmerizing.

“And I wasn't only mad that he was lying about you, I was mad that he was lying in general. About something anyone could disprove if they just picked up a book on monsters.” I noticed the parchment with the drawing he was just looking at was on my bed. I grabbed it to put it back on the desk. Geralt's strong hand gently grasped my wrist stopping me. His other hand gently grabbed the parchment from my hand. 

“I’d like to keep this one if you don't mind.” I looked at him shocked.

“Why that one?? Of all the ones I've done you choose one of the most inaccurate and the crudest?” It made no sense to me. Why did he want that? Was it some fun game of his to think he was just some stupid monster? 

“Because it shows your talent in a way the others don't. And besides, you got my nose perfectly. No one can do that.” I sighed heavily not liking the idea of him possessing such a cured drawing that was drawn purely on lies. 

“Fine. Keep it.” He smiled vicariously. I’d let him keep every single one if he smiled like that all the time. The smile quickly vanished when Jaskier came back over with the first file he took. The one he had been studying was full of my notes on herbology and alchemy. 

“You are incredibly smart (Y/N), I felt as though I was reading Yennefer’s notes.” A huge smile spread across my face at his compliment. 

“Thank you, Jax.” Geralt was now walking around my room, hands tucked under his arms as he studied the drawing and notes hanging on the walls. Some drawings were of monsters, some of the random people I’d met on my short travels, some maps I’d drawn up so I’d remember where I wanted to go when I had the chance. 

“Your talent is very wide-ranging, little dove. I have to say I’m very impressed with your knowledge.” That blasted nickname nearly kicked me off my feet again. 

I looked out my window noticing the sun was getting lower in the sky.

“If you'd like to get new clothes I’d suggest we do it now, it’ll be dark soon and the shops close earlier in the week.” Gertrude turned to me, nodding his head. 

“Please. These pants are so tight I’m afraid I may lose my legs.” 

We walked down the street. The sun was close to setting in the sky. The cool air kissed my bare chest as we walked. It was a comfortable silence between the three of us. For the first time in my life, I felt comfortable in silence. I hated the quiet with most people, it left room for negative thoughts, negative energies. Most times when it was unbearably quiet when I was present was because I was shut down from talking by the people around me. I know they meant no harm, I knew I had a lot to handle at times. I was just lonely. Board. I only had a few true friends. Most of the people I grew up with were married and with children now. I spent a lot of time alone, I liked being alone. It gave me space to think about the world. The world outside my small one. 

We approached the seamstress, walking through the wood door. A small bell rang in as we entered. Hildi walked out from the back, a bright smile on her face. She was a sweet older woman, not much older than my mum. She had been running this shop for as long as I could remember. She was the best seamstress in the country in my opinion. 

“Princess (Y/N)!! What a lovely surprise!” She walked around the counter and hugged me softly. Her hands-on the sweater I was in. She made it for me many years back for a birthday gift. She always had the best gifts. Full of love. I did adore the woman. Her attention turned to the men next to me. Her eyes grew bigger, her hand gently coming up to her chest. 

“My gods. The rumors were true. Jaskier!! How wonderful it is to see you again!!” Her hands wrapped around my brother who hugged her back. I couldn't tell if he remembered her or if he was just being nice. As she released him she looked at Geralt who was visibly tense, scared that she may try and hug him. 

“You must be Geralt of Rivia!” He nodded. 

“Rain!! Get out here!! And bring me my Witcher’s guide!!” Geralt's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the book. He shot me a glance and I just smiled. A few moments later Hildi’s daughter Rain appeared. She was my age. We knew each other in school. She was never nice to me. Picked on me. Would make jokes about Jaskier not being around. I never told anyone, in fear people would think I was nothing but a stuck up princess. Her presence made me uneasy. I slowly took a small step back, inching closer to my brother. Rain’s eyes landed on Geralt. I could practically see the drool pooling in her mouth. 

“Gods save me.” She moaned out. I had to fight off the urge to cringe at her outward burst. 

“The tales are true then?” She looked directly at me. 

“So maybe you weren’t lying all these years.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. 

Hildi was very blind to her daughter's cruelness. After her husband passed away it was just her and Rain. She’d do anything for her. I understood that. She was a devoted mother and wife. I knew how heartbroken she was. She walked to Rain and took the book from her hand and grabbed a quill that had been dipped in ink. She turned to Geralt, a very soft smile on her face. 

“Would you sign this for me?” His eyes bulged out of his head. 

“Y-you want me to sight your book?” I held back a giggle at his shock. He truly wasn't used to being appreciated. 

“Yes, please. If it is not too much to ask. Your stories were what got me through my husband’s death. Had it not been for the ballads and tales of your great bravery I may have not made it through.” Geralt’s shoulders softened at her words. He nodded his head and walked over to the counter. She opened the book to the first page and he scribbled down his name before giving her a soft smile. She gently placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. 

“You are truly a great hero here Geralt. If our country had a mascot, you'd be it.” Jaskier chucked lowly at her comment making me swat the back of his he’d. He hissed in pain and looked at me. I glared at him. 

“Do not ruin this for him,” I whispered. 

Hildi turned her attention back to me and smiled. 

“What can I do for you today my dear?”

“Well as you can see, Jaskier has a sore taste in fashion and also doesn’t understand sizing. I was hoping you could fit them in some better, more comfortable garments. Maybe a set of nice clothes for my party as well?” She gleamed. She hurried around her counter, grabbing a piece of parchment and measuring tape. She came back around and wasted no time in messing the two men. I sat down at a table by the window and watched as she rummaged through somethings in the back of her store. 

“So you're like a real witcher?” Rain’s voice caught my attention. She was leaning over the counter, her dress pulled down, the cleavage of her breasts on clear display as she dumbly curled her blond hair in her fingers. 

“No. I'm a fake one.” Geralt said back unamused. 

“But like are the rumors true?” She asked leaning even further over the counter. She was trying so desperately hard to get him to look down her dress. But he was simply uninterested. I felt my heartburn with envy. I hated that it did. He wasn't mine, he was nowhere near it. But the thought of him looking at her like that made my blood boil. 

“Rumors about what?” He took a step back from the counter slowly making his way over to where Jaskier and I were. 

“Ya know. About your huge cock.” Jaskier and I both choked on our spit. My hand flew over my mouth to keep my laugh in. It was a good thing her mother’s hearing wasn't all that great. Geralt looked visibly uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair next to me, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Jaskier and I were both trying to get ourselves under control after her question. She was completely unfazed. She thought she was hot shit. 

“Common witcher. Tear me apart. Show me the real monster you can be.” That sentence made my grip on the chair so tight I thought I could’ve broken the arm in half. I probably could have if I did not have any self-control. I’m much stronger than I look.

“Do not call him that.” I hissed. My teeth were clenched so hard I was sure I was breaking them. Her eyes flicked over to me. She looked me up and down trying to size me up. 

“Call him what? A witcher. Honey are you dumb. That’s what he is.” In a second I was inches from her face. I could feel my blood pumping thru my veins. 

“Do not ever call him a monster again.” I was a bit shocked at how mean I sounded. I had never been this angry with her before. I wanted to punch her stupid smile in more than anything. 

“(Y/N)..” I heard Jaskier’s voice behind me. He was very close to me. My hands were balled in fists at my sides. My knuckles were turning white with how angry I was. 

“I promise you, studying princess, he's been called worse.” She smiled cheekily at me and her hand came up and she attempted to pat my face like I was a dog. My reflexes were much faster than she realizes. I grabbed ahold of her wrist in an intron grip. I began to squeeze and bend her wrist back away from my face. Her face contorted in pain. She wasn't expecting me to be as strong as I was. 

“I said-'' I squeezed harder, and she gasped slightly as she tried to pull her hand away. “Do not call him that.” I threw her hand away from me before turning around and walking by the window. I hadn't realized both Jaskier and Geralt were standing behind me. 

Moments later Hildi came out completely oblivious to the scene that just took place. She had a cloth sack filled with clothes and placed them on the counter. 

“Alright, dearly that’ll be 45 coins.” She said as she wrote down the total in her book. I stood quickly pulling the amount from my coin purse and putting it in her hand. I smiled at her as best I could, Jaskier grabbed the bag of clothes. 

“If something doesn’t go right, bring them back.” 

“Thank you Hildi, very much.” Geralt said a charming smile on his lip. He gently shook her hand kissing the top of it. 

“Thank you, Geralt. It was a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger.” She patted his cheek as a mum does. I turned on my heels and walked out of the shop. The cold air hit my hot face. My blood pumped slow and hard through my veins as the anger disappeared from my body. Jaskier came out of the shop and threw his arm over my shoulders leaning into me. 

“Thank you.” He whispered lowly, Great not being very far behind us as we walked to the castle. 

“For?” 

“Defending him. Many people don’t realize how much he’s heard throughout his lifetime. I’m glad I’m not the only one who wants to help.” I turned to him and smiled. I leaned into his side hugging him gently before, turning around walking backward as I looked at Geralt. 

“If you would like, I’ll show you both to your rooms, and you can change. We can then have tea in the garden and I can draw you.” A soft smile graced his lips, his eyebrow rising softly. 

“You seriously want to draw me?” I nodded my head and stopped walking, but he didn’t. He kept getting closer and closer till he was a few inches from me. 

“Yes, Geralt I do. You have a special spot in my heart, not just because I believe you are a true knight. And many people are just too scared to admit that, but also for keeping my brother safe all these years. You deserve to feel appreciated.” His features softened as his eyes searched my face before settling on my own eyes. His hand gently came up and he moved a small piece of hair from my face. 

“A deal is a deal, little dove.” I felt as though my soul was being sucked out through his hand. Every fiber in my body wanted to pull him closer to me, to show him love, and tenderness. Something I knew he never actually had. 

“Good, follow me,” I said with a smile.

After I showed them to their rooms; my brother’s old room not far from my own, and Geralt’s which shared a wall with my room, I went down to the garden. My easel, charcoals, and paints were set up on the table as they came down from changing and freshening up. Geralt looked more beautiful in clothes he could breathe in. his attire was so simple yet he made it look like the finest silks and jewels. It was a soft cotton button-down, it was loos on him, his pants were tight, but in a way that allowed him to move and feel free. I could tell by the way he walked he felt much more comfortable and in his element.   

“You look like you feel better,” I said with a smile. Even Jaskier changed. A white shirt. And some black pants. He looked as he always did when I was a kid. The obscene choices in fashion were only adopted after he left home. 

“I do.” I plainly said, a small smile on his lips. He and Jaskier sat down and I poured them tea. They both snacked on a few fruit tarts while I began sketching the background of the garden. allowing them to eat and not have to sit still just yet. 

“So...while I draw maybe you could both share a story?” I glanced behind my paper and looked at the two. Jaskier smiled and leaned back into his chair fixing his hair and popping open a few buttons for the portrait. 

“What story do you want to hear?” Geralt asked. Leaning back, his shoulders relaxing, a small piece of hair fell from the bit that he had tied back. It looked deliciously messy. It made him look disheveled, nearly like he was right out of bed. 

“Wait!” I yelled and grabbed his hand gently, pulling his hand back softly. 

“I like it. Keep it.” his hand went back down to his leg to rest. His eyes watched me for a few minutes. I studied their faces beginning my base sketches. 

“What story shall we tell her Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the sky, the last of the light kissing his skin. 

“We could tell her about the Djinn?” Geralt said back, glancing at Jaskier before looking back at me, a coy smile on his face. 

“A Djinn?? I’ve only ever read myths about them. You encountered one?” My curiosity was blossoming, the urge to get more details about the creatures I had been taught about.

“Geralt here was going onto day gods knows what on no sleep. He was beyond grumpy.” Jaskier tilted his head back up and looked at me with a smirk. 

“The git said my singing was like a pie with no filling!!” I couldn’t hold back my laugh. It was much louder than I wanted, not very ladylike at all. 

“Oh… I may have to steal that one.” I said in between giggles, whipping my eyes. 

“I was hoping to use a wish from the Djinn to help me sleep. But unfortunately, your brother got in the way.” As Geralt spoke I moved into his details on his face, my eyes traveling all over his beautiful face. From the way, his brows arched to the cute little dimple on his chin. His face was beautiful. Some scares were prominent enough that I could see them if I looked hard enough he had one on his cheek, it looked newer than all the others, the skin being a bit lighter than the rest of his skin. 

“What did he do this time?”

“He decided that because I told him I no longer appreciated his singing that he would take the Djinn away from me till I took back what I said.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t take it back?” I glanced at him from behind my easel, he was watching me closely, his eyes slanted like he was studying a pray. 

“No. No, he didn’t. And I almost died!” Jaskier shouted dramatically causing my eyes to drift from Geralt over to him. 

“Don’t be dramatic Jaskier,” I mumbled, putting down the charcoal I had been using. Now turning my attention to the paints I had in front of me. I started mixing the colors Id need for Geralt’s skin tone. 

“No, this time he’s right. He did almost die. Unfortunately for Jaskier, he refused to let go of the vase the Djinn was in. While we tugged on it, the lid came off. Maybe the Djinn knew I was a witcher and its curse wouldn’t work on me, or maybe it was just annoyed at Jaskier. Either way, it attacked him.” My eyes were focused on the painting, brows furrowed as he spoke. I waited a moment for him to continue but he didn’t. 

“I’m listing Geralt, please continue,” I said my eyes moving to his, the colores pooling in my head as I prepared for what pigments id be using to paint them. 

“I don’t want to interrupt.” I shook my head a soft smile on my face. 

“I will,” Jaskier said as he sipped his tea, looking at me. 

“The Djinn attacked my throat. Made it swell, I was coughing up blood.” My painting stopped as I looked at him. My stomach sank a little as he spoke. I knew Jaskier had been put in harm’s way before but hearing the first-hand accounts made my stomach ache. 

“Geralt took me to an elven healer that wasn’t too far from where the river bed was. Unfortunately for me, he couldn’t help me. But he knew of a mage that could help.” My hand started to paint again, filling in the sketch with colors on Jaskier’s face as he spoke. 

“We can skip over those details Jaskier.” Geralt huffed crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Why? Don’t want my baby sister knowing that we had to sit threw an entier orgey just for you to speak to the mage?” Jaskier snickered looking away from me to his friend, 

“Jaskier, shut up.” Geralt grumbled. His eyes avoided my own when I went to look at him. 

“An orgey?” I had heard the word but hadn’t ever fully understood what it was. 

“What’s that?” I questioned looking at my brother. His head fell back as he cackled. 

“Oh dear sister how you’ve been so sheltered from the world.” My cheeks flushed red at his words. 

“Jaskier don’t be rude,” I mumbled grabbing a fine liner brush from my pile. Adding some final detail into Jaskier’s blue eyes. 

“It’s when a very large group of people get together in one room and have sex.” The blood rushed to my head at his words. I could feel my ears turning red. My brother was right. I had been sheltered about sex in my family. I didn’t have friends who I could talk to it about, and never really had anyone in my life I was willing to have sex with. 

Unlike many women my age I never viewed my virginity like a sacred rose that no one could touch, I just wanted it to be lost to someone who deserved it. No someone I was forced to allow to deserve it. 

“Oh look at how red she is.” Jaskier snickered standing up and poking my sides. I smacked his hands away glaring at him. He was now able to see the nearly completed painting. All I had left was my Geralt’s eyes and some details in his hair. 

“Gods (Y/N), this is amazing.” He whispered his hand on my shoulder. I smiled softly, swallowing the spit that had gathered in my throat thickly. 

“Thank you, please sit down and continue your story.” Jaskier did as I asked. 

“The mage was Yennefer. She helped me. Saved my life. The mage and I may not get along, but I do owe her my life.” I smiled softly as he spoke of the mage I had heard so much about. 

“I’ll be sure to thank her myself if I ever come across her,” I said with a smile. My attention turned back to Geralt who didn’t look please at the topic of our conversation. His eyes were on his leg that bounced slightly. He was anxious. 

“Geralt love, I cannot see your eyes. That’s nearly all I have left.” At the sound of my voice, his head tilted up so he could look at me in the eye. 

I smiled sweetly at him. I broke eye contact as I added in the different hues of orange and a bit of red. Some gold flecks showed themselves in his inner iris. The depth of the color was so enchanting. I could paint just his eyes forever. I finished with his hair after a few minutes of silence. Both men just enjoying the warm afternoon air. They both looked relaxed, peaceful, safe even.    

“I’ve finished, boys,” I said whipping my hands on my apron. I stood up and turned the easel around to the two. They both sat up straight, eyes wandering all over the painting. 

“You, my dear sister are beyond talented.” Jaskier mused looking at me, a bright smile on his face. 

“We both are.” I smiled at him. Geralt was still examining the painting, his eyes flicking over every inch of himself. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. It made me nervous.

“I know the hair isn’t perfect. I’m still trying to get the brush technique down-”

“It is perfect.” Geralt interrupted me, a smile on his face as he looked at me. 

I smiled back at him, my heart beating a little quicker. 

“Can I keep it?” Geralt asked. 

“Seriously?” I asked him. 

“Well, actually it’s probably best you keep it. I don’t have a home, so I wouldn’t want to ruin it…” I smiled softly, taking a step closer to him. 

“I’ll keep it safe but if you ever have a place that you want to keep it, ill get it to you,” I said, softly stroking the stray strand of hair behind his ear. His face tilted up as he looked at me. 

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night boys,” I said gathering my items in my hands. 

“What about dinner?” Jaskier asked. 

“I’ll grab something from the kitchen, I’m quite tired. I need a bath. I’ll see you both in the morning.” I said hugging Jaskier goodnight. I turned to Geralt, courage surging through my veins. I bent down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Goodnight Geralt.” His cheeks turned a very, very soft shade of pink, but only for a moment. Our eyes locked again. 

“Good night, dove.”  

[rumblebumble22]

How did I start to write? Aw, quite awkward

Actually, I have always been quite a shy writer. I remember how I shared my first story with my school friends, that was about my favourite music band. The band’s members became characters in my story, who did all the things which I imagined. Before I showed this story to my friend, I was quite amazed. Not by my talent, certainly, but by the fact that I like write. The words run on the paper. I typed the text on my old home computer and then printed it. I was absorbed by the flood of the story, and everything I imagined was in front of me, in the stack of black-and-white paper. 

My friends weren’t so amazed by my piece of art, though. They called it cute and talented, but I knew they just wanted to be polite. Actually, they just didn’t care much about my writing, even though they tried to hide it. What makes young girls excited and nervous? Well, we all know: their look, weight, pimples and boys who ignored them.

They walked timidly in the school’s hallways and gazed at their boys, but I didn't. Instead I I literally lived in the library, so absorbed by books that I hardly notice what is going on around me. My friends changed their haircuts, earrings, and lipsticks, and complained annoyingly about their crashes. I listened to them attentively, but sometimes caught myself wondering when all this will end and I could come back to the book.

Months passed. I got my first diary and with excitement started to write out my first notes. I described everything around me: what I ate, where I was and what I felt. My thoughts weren’t original and truthfully, not very interesting. But what are you waiting for from the 12 year old girl? I liked what I did: the crunch of pen on the paper, the fresh-looked ink which filled out sheets. The magic was in the process, not in the result. 

One of my favourite ways of spending time was to walk down the street, then choose a cozy bench, sit and write. I chose hidden places with many trees and no people. Sitting there, under the mild yellow light of the lantern and writing, was better than anything else. It was only me, far away from my noisy family, school problems and the spiky gazes of schoolmates. When I was there, I felt free and safe at the same time. I had control over my life when I filled the pages, and nobody could take it away from me. 

My diaries were with me throughout all the years. At first I had the messy black notebook, with the worn cover and yellow pages. Then there was the notebook which looked more like a Bible: chubby bundle of pages, leather cover and the golden lock. I was too scared to write in it; it seemed too mature for 14 years old girl. This intimidated monster looked at me judgingly and commanded me to pen only original and well-composed thoughts. Therefore, I avoided this notebook and instead wrote on random pieces of paper. From time to time, I lost a few of them while putting them together like a greedy crow.

At some point, I became too pissed off by this notebook that I ripped out the cover and painted the first pages with different markers. Right after that I felt better and immediately wrote down my first thought: ”13 August. Fuck you.'' The monster with a big golden lock dissapeared and I could finally write in this notebook my thoughts.  

In my youth I gave up writing quite often, because there were so many other things which I wanted to do, like drawing or playing guitar. However, I found that other activities didn’t help me so well to fly out of my mind, drop bothering thoughts and just be there, on the page. At the same time, writing looked for me like something so simple that I didn’t think it actually might be interesting. It was like a child toy, which I adored first but refused to pick up when I grew up.

Aw, how wrong I was. I made heaps of inarticulate attempts to be this or that in my life. I became more and more disconnected from writing. I wanted to prove that I’m competent, that I could do difficult things. I was a boss, a manager, an artist, a musician, and a tattoo model. I was a bartender and even a ''girl-in-sport'' at some point. I was everyone and did everything, except the one thing to which I was most inclined — write. 

Then one day something cracked in me and I looked around. Why am I here? What do I do? I hated my job at the time and even though I made good money. Truthfully, I craved for meaning in my life. This meaning could not be found in my dull work.

Not only did I quit my job, but I also quit this lifestyle. If you think it was easy, it was not. When you build a life style, it's difficult to change it, even if it doesn't fit you anymore. Now I think about my connection with this life like some type of abusive relationship. I felt pain, boredom and anxiety, but I didn’t quit for two years. You can ask ‘’Why?’’. Because it was boring and shitty, but at the same time… Comfortable? Familiar? Predictably? You name it.

At last there was a moment when I couldn’t beat the blunt pain of feeling that I’m not in the right place. I knew I had wandered off into a dark forest and if nothing changes, I’ll stay there forever. It was a forest of sparkling offices, neat suits and white-toothed smiles. The place of brute force, the castle with chains on the walls. Under the chains were nameplates: ‘’Director of this. Department of those’’ 

I hate all these things so much that I started to hate them on paper. I hate it so much that my hate helped me to find the way out of my job. I started writing to express my difficult feelings. It helped. Then I write an article for some indie magazine — for free, of course. After that I closed my eyes and sent an appliance job. A writer’s job. It wasn’t a New York magazine or Guardian, certainly. Don't forget, we're not in a movie theater. It was just some small advertising company, and they needed a writer. So here I was.

Disheveled guy scrolled down my online blog, which I wrote for fun, and laughed at a couple of jokes.

’Did you write it or steal it?''

‘’I wrote it’’

‘ÓK, when can you start working?''

I gasped and almost jumped up in the chair. But I didn’t because it was a zoom call and well, you know, a job interview. 

‘’After three days’’.

‘’Great. I’ll take you’’.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you're still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”  

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”  

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

He loved watching you de-escalate social situations. Sometimes it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who just melted when you spoke to them directly – you were effortlessly charming and completely disarming. You once managed to convince a band of attacking thieves to stand down so efficiently that by the end of the night, they ended up joining you for dinner around the fire. Yes, Geralt was the professional when it came to handling monsters, but you were the people person of the group.

Watching you now was no exception. Your body language, the way your warm smiled reached your eyes with ease, how smoothly you managed put yourself between Jaskier and the furious man; it was impressive to say the least.

Unfortunately, his attention was pulled away from you suddenly.

“I can’t believe Y/N is here tonight, I thought I’d never see her again!”

At the sound of your name, Geralt whipped his head in the direction of the speaker, cat-like eyes scanning the crowd swiftly.

“Yeah, the very same Y/N I’ve told you about. An amazing lay, I swear it!”

The man in question was holding court half a dozen other knights; they kept snickering and looking off at you in turns. They were teasing him, egging him on for details.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks,” the man stated confidently, “don’t let that smile fool you gentlemen. The last time I took her was in an alley! The little whore was mad for it – couldn’t wait for it, needed it right there and then.”

Geralt was fuming.

He pushed his way through the crowd with great force and little care. He was worried about your honour. Your reputation in the courts – that was all. That was enough to explain the way rage seethed through him and the strange urge to be sick that was hitting him in waves. He was concerned for you as a partner and a friend.

He wasn’t jealous.

“Gods her skin… smelled so good, felt even better… I’m getting her back tonight gents,” he boasted, puffing out his chest.

“You don’t have a chance,” said the knight closest to the bastard bragging about shagging you, “it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other, and if she’s as good as you say, she definitely found someone new.”

Damn right, Geralt thought furiously, swallowing the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

“No, no, believe me the way she mewled and screamed for me? She’ll do more than remember,” he said, disgusting confidence dripping off every word, “she’ll beg to have me back.”

You’ll beg for mercy when I crush your fucking skull you pathetic –

His murderous march was abruptly interrupted by Jaskier. The bard cut in front of him and planted himself squarely before him, chattering on incomprehensibly.

Geralt’s eyes were bugging out in panic as he watched the bastard strut confidently towards you. He tried to push past Jaskier but the bard was quick to match him in posture.

“Look I know you’re upset with me for ruining your evening but she came after me,” he insisted, “I mean I can’t blame her the song his perhaps my most romantic sonnet. Speaking of my writing – Geralt can you look at me when I am sharing my musings with you, please? Thank you – as I was saying, Y/N inspired me tonight to write this song –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “move!”

“Wha – why?” Jaskier pivoted on the spot – keeping Geralt’s path blocked – as he sought the source of his friends’ fury. When he saw that you were speaking politely to some knight he scoffed loudly before turning back.

“Oh-ho, no,” he laughed, “you’re jealous of that oaf? Geralt, seriously?”

“I am not jealous,” he spat, only able to look at Jaskier for a moment before his glare shot back up towards you.

“She’s just being polite! Seriously you always assume the worst in people, Geralt, it’s sad.”

“I see people as they are,” he muttered, watching closely as the knight took a half-step towards you, he let out a menacing growl when you didn’t step backwards. “For what they are.”

“Okay then why can’t you see that’s just some poor sap who, I don’t know, maybe wants to thank Y/N for her help in saving this kingdom.”

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“You don’t need a Witchers’ hearing to know what’s happening over there,” he brambled on putting on voices as he acted out the conversation, “’Hi I’m Y/N’, ‘Hi I’m an unimportant but very grateful knight, pleased to meet you blah blah blah…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, shut UP –” he stopped himself when he heard your laugh, the deep full laugh you normally reserved for him.

Jaskier heard your laugh too, and turned his head to double check he’d heard right. When he saw the familiar twinkle in your eye, he looked Geralt with wide eyes.

“They know each other?” he asked.

“They,” he started, struggling to get the words out, “t-they knew each other.”

“Wait you don’t mean,” Jaskier started, connecting the dots, “that they knew each other intimately?” He wagged his fingers suggestively as he said the last word.

When Geralt’s only reply was a low, seething hum, Jaskier whistled lowly before shaking his head.

“Well that explains,” he waved his hands vaguely at Geralt, “this reaction.”

Geralt was about to shove the bard aside when he saw you waving him over. You were smiling widely as you waved, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He cleared his throat and pushed Jaskier lightly before charging towards you with the bard in tow.

“Ah, finally!” you exclaimed, swiftly wrapping your arms around his bicep, pulling him close, “Geralt, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Hoeck. Hoeck this is Geralt, my partner,” as you spoke, you moved to loop his arm around your waist, “and this is Jaskier, he’s responsible for the wonderful music tonight.”

“The White Wolf,” said Hoek, sizing Geralt up, “wow - what an honour.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and took the knight’s hand in a tight grip, feeling immense satisfaction watching the man wince.

“And -erm, thank you sir Jaskier, for the wonderful music,” he said, trying and failing to subtly rub at his hand.

“Thank you, good sir. I speaking of, I should get back out there.” He shot you and Geralt a look and swung his lute around his back before strumming a few notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You all nodded to him as he strode off, beckoning the band to join him.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you. Geralt was clearly seething as he held your waist in a tighter grasp than necessary. After a beat, you shot Hoek a tight-lipped smile and made up some excuse about needing to say hello to the king and queen before the night came to a close.

“Ah certainly,” he said, disappointment obvious, “well if you ever find yourself in need of company –”

“I won’t,” you said quickly.

“She won’t,” Geralt growled, his deep voice overlapping with yours.

At that, the knight swallowed thickly and walked back towards his group with tail between his legs and his hand held close to his chest.

Once alone, you turned in Geralt’s arms and looked up at his sour face accusingly.

“Why did it take you so long to come rescue me!” you said, tugging playfully at his hair.

“Didn’t look like you wanted to be saved,” he said lowly, eyes still alight with jealousy, “and Jaskier got in my way.”

“That’s a shit excuse and a weak lie. He was all over me! It took all I had not to rip the bastard’s arms off!” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. “Gods he has some nerve.”

“Hm,” he hissed, “you’re right about that.”

“Geralt,” you looked up at him carefully and gently caressed the crease between his brows, “this is more than jealousy. What’s going on?”

Geralt hesitated before relaxing his face into your hand and took a small sigh. “It’s nothing. And I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes down to meet yours.

“Thank you,” you said, cupping his face before moving your hands to rest on his chest, “can you talk to me?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” he warned.

“Don’t be obstinate,” you countered.

Geralt rolled his eyes at you before pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I was a little jealous, and maybe,” he sighed deeply, “I was a little worried.”

“Geralt,” you started, your heart breaking at the sight of him, “you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly, “but the way he was talking about you – knowing he had been with you in that way...” Geralt stopped himself as he felt his anger come roaring back at the memory. “I wanted to kill him.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset with you if you had,” you said, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Your time with Hoek was beyond brief; he was nice enough at first but quickly he became aggressive and possessive. You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked back on your time together and you hated that your beloved witcher was letting this get to him.

“Oh, Geralt,” you murmured when you realized he wasn’t letting up, “I’m yours. Completely and unwaveringly yours.” You kissed his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.

He kissed you back slowly at first, but his kiss deepened as you leaned into him. Geralt pulled away just a little and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… I’m – I love you so much…” he whispered, “it’s just… the things he said about you –” he started, hating himself for needing to hear your side of the story.

“Either untrue or exaggerated, that I can promise.”

“Something about an alley…?” Geralt asked, holding his breath.

“Oh ew! That was a terrible night,” you shuddered, “he was so insistent! Wouldn’t take no for an answer – Wait, what was he saying about it? Gods, maybe I’ll kill him.” Anger and humiliation burned at the back of your throat.

Seeing your visceral reaction, Geralt was immediately overcome by feelings of guilt, for making you relive the memory, relief, that your reaction was so negative, and rage, knowing that not only did this pompous ass make forceful advances on you but he always lied about it to a crowd.

Feeling the intensity of your anger radiating off you, Geralt was about to suggest that the two of you left before you did anything you’d regret when Jaskier came running through the crowd shouting that it was time to leave.

You took off running behind the bard, holding Geralt’s hand tightly as you raced down the castle’s corridors.

“Why are we running?” you shouted, a little breathless.

“I might have added a little something to our charming friend’s drink, and he might be having a very intense negative reaction to it!” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed through fits of laughter, “Jaskier!”

“He’ll be fine! Eventually!” he added, he turned and ran backwards so he could shoot you a wink before adding, “No one messes with our girl, right Geralt?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at his friend before he ran up behind you and scooped you up bridal-style – all without breaking his stride.

“Damn right,” he said, smiling widely at Jaskier before planting a quick kiss to your temple.

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, nineteen

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

Walking in on Lyria/Rowan in a compromising position

How the hell are you two friends? We’re not. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Aelin sighed as she scrolled through her texts. Putting Lorcan and Lysandra on the same group text had turned out to be her own undoing. Together, they were a tag team that she had not been prepared for, bouncing ideas back and forth with a never-ending list of potential suitors.

She rolled her eyes as Lysandra’s latest text came through.

WE HAVE A HOMECOMING DANCE CONTENDER!

Lorcan’s text came quickly after.

Don’t spoil it. I want to see her face in person when we tell her.

Monsters. Both of them. It seemed that something they could both agree on was wanting to be Aelin’s wingman, and it had bonded the two faster than Aelin could have predicted.

Because apparently Aelin was too picky. When the first names started rolling in, all Aelin could think was all of the reasons why they wouldn’t be a good match for her. She looked at the unanswered notification on her phone, not clicking into the text from Rowan, but reading the words clearly.

Will I see you at Homecoming?

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time replying to it. The answer was yes. She would be there, of course. But she was nervous that if she told him that, she’d inevitably have to make plans to meet up. And she definitely didn’t want to hang out with him and Lyria on the cheerleader’s big night.

Homecoming was a huge affair at Orynth High – a full weekend extravaganza with a pep rally around a bonfire, followed by the game and a dance on Saturday night. And of course, Lorcan would be hosting a giant after party. Aelin had always loved Homecoming. She and Rowan had always gone out to dinner before the pep rally and heckled the game from the sidelines, then Aelin would force him to come to the dance, mocking the way he’d grump about going but inevitably have a good time. It was one of her favorite school traditions, but this year she was dreading it. She knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the last two Homecomings.

Coffee Cat in 30? Lysandra asked, interrupting her train of thought, and Aelin chuckled when Lorcan sent back a thumbs up immediately.

She supposed she had nothing better to do today. It certainly beat staring at Rowan’s unanswered text.

Thirty minutes later, Aelin was shocked to find her friends packed into the corner couch section of Manon’s favorite coffee spot. She hadn’t anticipated them all being there, but sure enough, Lysandra, Elide, Manon and Lorcan were all there, drinks in hand, whispering softly. Manon sat as far away from Lorcan as possible, her golden eyes narrowed as she greeted Aelin with a stiff smile. Aelin had gathered the two had bad blood, but hadn’t been able to suss out where it came from.

Lysandra patted the seat next to her and handed her a hazelnut coffee. Aelin moaned appreciatively as she took a sip.

“Okay, hit me.”

The group looked at each other conspiratorially before Lysandra beamed. “Chaol Westfall.”

“No,” Aelin responded automatically.

Lysandra held up her hand with a frown. “Hear us out! You’ve turned down at least ten other guys, and this one is a really good option!”

“He’s my lab partner!” Aelin insisted. “I’m not willing to tank my Physics grade for a handful of dates that will inevitably end poorly.”

Manon scoffed loudly. “Defeatist,” she said at the same time Lorcan said, “Cynic.”

They briefly made eye contact and looked away quickly again. Aelin could feel her lips purse in curiosity. But she wasn’t able to ask what was on her mind because Elide did it for her. “Why aren’t you two friends?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Manon laughed, her head tipping back wildly. “Because we’re mortal enemies,” she said with a wry smile at her girlfriend.

Elide looked between the pair, so starkly different in appearance – one pale and white haired, the other dark skinned and dark haired – and shrugged. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

Lorcan raised a dark brow in Elide’s direction and smiled in a way that Aelin had never seen before. It made her strangely nervous. And if the vice grip Manon was keeping on Elide’s hand was any indication, she felt similarly.

“Back to Chaol,” Lysandra quipped, and Aelin could feel herself slouch over, annoyed. They really weren’t going to let this one go. “He’s smart. You know that because you are lab partners. He’s so polite. You already know he’s a good dancer. Remember your birthday party?”

Aelin nodded, though the memory of dancing with Chaol seemed like lifetimes ago, not mere months.

“I think he’s a super solid option,” Elide chimed in.

Aelin sighed. “And what if I ask him and he says no?”

Lorcan held up a finger. “We have a backup choice. Obviously.” Aelin held her breath, waiting for the other name to drop. “Fenrys Moonbeam.”

“What?” Aelin replied, confused. “No. He’s on the lacrosse team with Rowan.” The rest of the group stared at her, as if her comment meant anything. “I don’t want anything I do to eventually make its way to locker room talk!” she explained, her frustration with her friends rising by the minute.

“Stop shooting every suggestion down!” Manon huffed, clearly just as annoyed with Aelin.

“What are we shooting down?” Rowan’s voice called from behind the group, and Aelin jumped as she felt his hand touch her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy, hovering over the back of the couch and watched as he removed his hand from her quickly, shoving it back into his pocket as he glanced at the group of friends.

“We’re trying to come up with a boyfriend for Aelin,” Lorcan explained, all too aware of the grenade he’d just launched. Aelin glared at him.

“Oh?” Rowan replied, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead. Aelin wished she could stand up and push it back down.

“But she’s being a total naysayer,” Lysandra frowned.

“Good,” Rowan said, exhaling quickly, causing Aelin to frown at him. What does that mean? She asked him silently, and he backed off immediately. “I just mean, no one at school is nearly good enough for you.”

There was a pregnant pause of silence while Aelin struggled to find something to say in response to him, but she couldn’t think of a single thing, other that – what about you? Are you good enough? She shook the thought from her head.

“I still vote Chaol,” Lorcan chimed in, causing Aelin to sigh again.

“If I ask Chaol to Homecoming, will you all leave me alone?” she asked. She wasn’t surprised in the least to see four matching grins staring back at her. “Though, I still don’t think he’s going to say yes,” she added.

Rowan coughed lightly behind her, and she looked over her shoulder again as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said, his eyes suddenly trained on the floor, his sneaker tapping lightly.

“What are you even doing here?” Aelin asked, feeling annoyed with his response, until he blanched and then she just felt like a dick for snapping.

“Sometimes Maeve sends me to do competition recon,” he said with a shrug. “So I guess I should…” He pointed in the direction of the coffee counter. “But I’ll see you at Homecoming.” His voice was soft as it addressed her, and Aelin could feel her stomach clench slightly. She nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the front of the line.

“Awkwardddd,” Lorcan sang, and Aelin glared at him again. Lorcan held up his hands, laughing. “What? I knew he had a new girlfriend, but I didn’t realize you two had broken up.”

Aelin felt her eyes narrow at the oafish boy on the opposite couch as the group burst out laughing, at her expense, per usual. “You all suck.”    

She sighed at the expectant faces looking her way. “So, Chaol?” she asked, still unsure about it.

“Chaol,” they replied in unison, spurring another round of giggles. Aelin was so annoyed, she barely even noticed Rowan glance over his shoulder at the laughing group before exiting the coffee shop quietly.

. . .

It turned out everyone’s assessment had been correct. Despite it only being a few days warning, Chaol had enthusiastically accepted Aelin’s invite to the dance. He also asked if she’d want to go to the pep rally together, completely surprising her. Not particularly ready for a one-on-one date, she suggested he join her group of friends, which he was more than happy to do.

Aelin stared at her sweatshirt and jeans and wondered if she should dress up more for a date, but she shook it off. It was going to be freezing cold at the pep rally and game, and she wasn’t exactly trying too hard to impress the boy who had seen her strung out in science labs most days.

She was just finishing lining her eyes with dark liner when the doorbell rang. She tried to run downstairs and beat her dad, but Rhoe opened the door with a small smirk. “Hello?” he said to the brunette boy on the other side of the door.

Chaol was also wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief that they both seemed to be on the same page. She bounded up to the door, pushing her dad out of the way as she made her way out of the house.

Rhoe cleared his throat. “Aelin, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, and she could see the laughter in his blue eyes as she tried to sneak away.

“Dad, this is Chaol. Chaol, this is my dad.”

Chaol stuck out his hand stiffly, and Rhoe smiled as he took the boy’s hand in his. “Mr. Galathynius. It’s so nice to meet you officially. My name is Chaol Westfall,” he began all too politely. “Thank you for letting me take Aelin out tonight,” he said, and Aelin’s cheeks burned with a furious blush at her dad’s widening smile.

“You are most welcome,” Rhoe replied sarcastically, and Aelin wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She could already tell this date wasn’t going to go well if Chaol thought Rhoe let Aelin do anything.

“Shall we?” Chaol asked, extending his arm to Aelin, and she took it, looking back at her dad as Chaol opened the passenger door to his small sedan.

It was weird to be so, handled? Aelin was so used to being independent that it was strange to have someone opening and closing doors for her. It was not her usual. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she knew she needed to just relax and give Chaol a fair shot. At least, that’s what her friends would say.

The drive to school was short, but awkward. Chaol tried to fill the silence with questions about her week, but the pair had seen each other every day that week during class, and it felt like there wasn’t really that much to say.

Luckily, they’d decided to meet up with Lysandra and Wes for the pep rally, and Aelin was grateful that they’d saved them spots beside them. She greeted her friends with hugs, but she paused when she saw Rowan on the other side of Wes. She hadn’t anticipated him being a part of their group tonight. She didn’t know why. It hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“H-hey?” she said. His reply was overwhelmed by a massive wave of cheers as Principal Havilliard lit the bonfire, which came blazing to life in front of them. It immediately warmed Aelin, sending a small shiver down her spine.

“Are you cold?” Chaol asked, his chestnut eyes filled with concern. “I have an extra jacket in my car I can grab for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Aelin replied. He nodded happily and watched as the pep rally started, but Aelin couldn’t focus at all. Her eyes kept sliding to the side where Rowan’s bright hair peeked out over Wes’s head. It seemed like he was getting even taller every day.

She felt this strange pressure, this weird tension settling around her shoulders, tugging her towards Rowan. She was so focused on him that she startled, surprised, as Chaol slid his hand into hers, linking their fingers.

She looked over, but Chaol wasn’t looking at her at all. He was listening to Principal Havilliard welcome everyone to the rally with a small smile on his lips. Aelin exhaled as she squeezed his hand back. It wasn’t exactly comfortable or natural, but she was giving this a chance.

She felt her heart pound as the cheerleaders ran out in front of the fire, starting their routine. Lyria settled in the front row and Aelin swallowed thickly as she watched her warm brown eyes seek out Rowan in the audience. Aelin refuse to look at Rowan’s face as he watched her. Instead, Aelin focused on the dancing girls in front of her. She watched with a wildly beating pulse as their green and gold uniforms flounced with every move. It was almost indecent.

At the end of the routine, Lyria broke form and skipped into the crowd, making her way straight to Rowan. And Aelin could feel the pressure on her hand increase as Lyria grabbed Rowan by the neck and pulled him in for a large kiss. Too large for public, if Aelin was honest.

Lyria smiled as she pressed her lips against Rowan’s again before making her way back to the group of cheerleaders, who giggled wildly at her. Despite the fire raging in front of her face, Aelin felt completely frozen. She didn’t even process the rest of the rally, ignoring the rest of the cheers and cries, until Chaol tugged at her hand.

“You ready to go?” he asked, and Aelin nodded, still in a bit of a daze.

They were silent again on the ride home, and Aelin could feel her mood souring as they pulled into her driveway. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan long enough to give Chaol the time of day. She felt awful.

Biting her lip, she decided to do something drastic. Just to get Rowan out of her head.

“So,” Chaol began as he put his car into park, but Aelin ignored him and leaned over the console and kissed him. Her hands went to his hair, tugging the dark hair as tightly as she could to her face.

If Chaol was surprised, he barely showed it, his lips moving beneath hers, responding surely and confidently. His lips were rough and chapped and dry, and their lips seemed to mash against each other uncomfortably, instead of fitting together. The lack of chemistry was so evident, that Aelin wasn’t even offended when Chaol pulled away, wiping his mouth. What a disaster.

“Umm…” Her eyes fell to her lap as she chuckled softly. “Sorry.”

She was trying to figure out a way to let Chaol down easily. It was so clear there was no romantic spark between the two when Chaol started laughing loudly. She looked back up, his brown eyes warm with laughter as he smiled at her. He pushed a strand of her pink hair behind her ear and clasped his hand on her shoulder.

“That was…” He laughed again. “Oh gods.” He looked at her with apologetic eyes, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “We’re still friends, right?”

At least they were on the same page. She nodded, laughter bubbling up in her chest, too. She supposed this is why she needed to start dating. To see who she actually connected with. It turned out Chaol was not that person.

“Do you still want to go to the dance together tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m still game,” he said, reassuring her.

“As friends?” Aelin said, and Chaol smiled widely.

“As friends,” he said.

Aelin couldn’t stop laughing as she made her way out of the car, getting her phone out to update the group text on their candidate.

Chaol = DUD. I’ve never had such a bad kiss.

She nearly dropped her phone as Rowan texted back. LOL.

Another text quickly followed. Sorry, don’t mean to laugh. I’m very sorry to hear that.

Aelin practically smacked her face with her hand as she groaned and all caps texted back in a flurry. THAT TEXT WAS FOR LYS, NOT YOU. UGHHHHH.

He didn’t reply again, and so Aelin put her phone away as she got ready for bed. She knew she should text the group chat for real, but she was too keyed up, thinking about Rowan. It’d been so long since his name lit up her phone, she forgot the electric jolt that ran through her spine when it happened.  

And though she knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him, she couldn’t help but run her hand between her legs, imagining what it’d be like to kiss him instead. She had a feeling that Rowan’s lips would be soft, and she wondered if their mouths would fit together perfectly. She didn’t let herself think too hard about how quickly she brought herself to release thinking of him, succumbing to sleep quickly after.

. . .

“Do you want a drink?” Chaol asked, slightly breathless, as the fast song morphed into a too-sexy R&B hit for their dance comfort.

Aelin nodded, tugging at the neckline of her dark green dress. Her dad had surprised her with it, and she couldn’t even begin to express how good she felt in it. It was the perfect length, hitting just above her knee with a soft flounce, and the neckline was tightly fitted slight sweetheart, held up by two thin spaghetti straps. It was perfect. And despite being at the dance with just a friend, she still felt remarkably beautiful. It was a strange but delightful feeling.

After their short drink break, Chaol and Aelin returned to the dance floor. She’d forgotten how much Chaol loved to dance – in that respect, her friends had chosen wisely. She ignored their pointed looks all night, though, content to just have fun with Chaol. Which, strangely, she was. Having fun. In fact, she was having so much fun that she barely even noticed when Rowan and Lyria entered the dance, hand in hand. Instead, she refocused on Chaol, her limbs flailing as she tried to keep up with the boy in front of her.  

As the succession of dance songs morphed into a slower beat, Aelin anticipated Chaol taking them off the floor again, but instead, he stepped closer and hovered his hand over her waist, his eyebrow raised in question. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, wondering if this was somehow breaching the friend agreement they’d come to, but Aelin figured slow dancing with a friend was totally fine. In fact, they’d done it before.

She nodded, and he smiled, stepping closer as he slid his hand around her back, pulling her close. They swayed to the music, Chaol leading her around in circles, taking back out his ballroom dance skills and showing them off.

“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile. He grinned outright, spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in time with the music, never falling out of step. Aelin’s skirt flared around her knees, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back and laugh at the sensation. It felt so good to release her worries, just for a little bit.

“My mom will be so pleased to hear that,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Aelin found herself laughing, tripping over her own feet as she tried to keep up with him, causing Chaol to snort.

“You, on the other hand…”

Aelin pretended to be offended, a pronounced frown on her lips, her brow furrowed as she chastised him. “Hey! I am extremely graceful.”

As if on cue, she tripped over her foot again, falling into Chaol’s chest with a soft thump. Both laughing, wide smiles on their faces, Chaol managed to save her fall by spinning it into a low dip.

When the dance came to a close, Aelin looked around to see a small circle of people had formed around them, applauding wildly. Chaol stepped aside and pointed to Aelin, who curtseyed as a soft blush colored her cheeks.

When the circle cleared, Aelin caught a glance of a slumped over figure on the bleachers, sitting alone, dark green eyes marred by a furrowed brow and pronounced scowl on his face. Rowan did always hate a school dance. Her heartbeat picked up as she stared at him, looking dapper in his dark grey suit. How many times had she danced with him at a school dance? It felt so odd to her to see him so far away, annoyed and alone. Her eyes flitted across the floor, looking for Lyria. She was with her usual gaggle of friends, completely unfazed by her lonely boyfriend sitting in the corner.

Aelin warred with herself, wanting to go over and say hello to him, but also knowing that she shouldn’t do that. She was just about to look away when his green eyes lifted and met hers across the room. She waved briefly, hesitant and unsure in her small gesture, but it was met with such a contented grin that she couldn’t bring herself to regret doing it.

She was about to take a step toward him when Lysandra came rushing up to her in a whirl, her arm hooking around Aelin’s and spinning her in the opposite direction.

“Come on, it’s time to head to Lorcan’s,” she said. “This party’s getting stale.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but laughed regardless. She knew what her friend was doing. Keeping her away from Rowan. She couldn’t be trusted, left to her own devices.

Aelin looked over to Chaol, figuring she should extend the invite to him, too. “Do you want to come?” she asked, and she felt her stomach sink slightly as Chaol shook his head.

“No offense, that’s just not really my scene.”

“No offense taken,” she said quickly.

“I can drive you there, though, if you need a ride?” he offered, and Aelin was once again thrown off by how polite he was.

Lysandra smiled and wrapped her arm around Aelin’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Nah, we’ve got her.”

“Thanks, though,” Aelin said sincerely. She was grateful for Chaol’s company. With his distraction, she’d been able to keep her mind off of Rowan in a way she hadn’t before. Maybe her friends were right. She should be less of a cynic and defeatist. She could find someone. It wouldn’t be Rowan, and it definitely wouldn’t be Chaol, but, it’d be someone.

. . .

At Lorcan’s the party was already raging, the rest of them far behind the drunken students who’d left the dance early to go in search of free beer and better music.

“Babesss,” Lorcan slurred, his dark eyes unfocused as he sipped at some gross-smelling green concoction. “You’re finally here!”

He looked at Lysandra with a raised brow. “How’d it go?”

Lysandra sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, she’s here alone, so I guess you were right.”

Lorcan snorted loudly. “Sorry, but I told you. The Goody Two Shoes wasn’t going to cut it.”

Lysandra handed Lorcan a twenty-dollar bill, and Aelin gaped.

“You know, I am standing right here,” she said, completely annoyed that her friends were betting on her love life.

“What?” Lorcan laughed, slinging his arms around the two girls and leading them into the kitchen. He dunked two cups into a trash bag and pulled out neon green liquid.

“What is this?” Aelin asked, sniffing the concoction dubiously.

Lorcan laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

Aelin took a tiny sip and shuddered at the sickly sweet taste of apples and some sour liquor she was sure was potent as anything.

“Just… drink it slow,” Lorcan said with a pointed brow in Aelin’s direction.

“Rude,” Aelin laughed. “I’ve learned!”

“She has,” Lysandra assured Lorcan, who couldn’t resist grinning at the two girls.

“In that case…” He paused dramatically. “Who wants to play beer pong?”

Both girls cheered exuberantly, causing Aelin to smile. If she’d told herself that she’d be part of Lorcan’s inner circle, personally invited to play beer pong with him and his friends, she would not have believed it. Things had really changed since her first Lorcan Salvaterre party.

As they approached the beer pong table, though, she was hit with a wave of déjà vu as the Moonbeam twins welcomed her with matching grins. It was almost an exact replica of the night she had made the decision to kiss Rowan. Only instead of Rowan at her side, now it was Lorcan. Something about that made her feel strange and unsettled. She looked around, as if Rowan would magically appear at her side out of thin air, but he was nowhere to be found among the throngs of drunk upperclassmen.

Fenrys cocked his head at her approach and threw a tanned arm around her shoulders. “Aelin Galathynius, as I live and breathe.”

“Fen,” Connall said in a low, warning tone.

“What? I’m just welcoming a beautiful girl to our table.” Fenrys winked at Aelin, bringing a soft blush to her cheeks under his attentions.

“Babe, are you blushing?” Lorcan laughed, poking at her reddened cheek.

“No!” Aelin said, swatting his hand away. “It’s this disgusting drink,” she said, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes slide back to Fenrys. Despite her insistence that she shouldn’t get involved with someone on the lacrosse team, there was no denying that Fenrys was incredibly attractive. And he had called her beautiful. It felt nice.

Fenry’s winked again as he caught her eye, and she was sure her face was flaming as the rest of the table burst into laughter. He let his arm fall from her shoulder to the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he took his first shot.  

“Come on, partner,” he said, nudging her hip with his and sinking his first shot, much to Lorcan’s chagrin. “Sorry Con,” he said, shooting a sly smile at his twin, who simply flicked him off as he skulked away into the party.

As they played, Aelin could feel herself loosening up. Lysandra and Lorcan were predictably a power team, sinking every single shot flawlessly. And with each cup of beer Fenrys drank, he got a little looser himself, his hand grazing her arm, her back, her side, pushing her hair behind her ear with small little teasing motions.

It was different than being touched by Rowan. It didn’t have that same shock to her system, jolting her awake, but it was still electric, just at a much lower voltage.

And even though they’d lost three games to Lorcan and Lysandra, Aelin was feeling on top of the world. The green drink coursing through her system had taken its toll, making her feel light and floaty and warm all over.

“Again?” Lorcan asked, stacking the cups back into a pyramid, but Aelin shook her head.

“Oh,” Fenrys said, his shoulders sagging with disappointment at Aelin’s decision to stop playing. It made her feel invulnerable.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something else instead?” Aelin said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, causing the boy to snap his dark eyes in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his body suddenly mere inches away from hers. Aelin leaned over on her toes and whispered in his ear, her voice low and gravelly from alcohol.

“Wanna go upstairs and makeout?” she asked, her heart pounding at how brazen she was being, but there was something about Fenrys’s confident smile and flirty touches that reassured her in her pursuits.

A wicked smile curled across Fenrys’s lips as his eyes gleamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Aelin grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs as Lysandra and Lorcan whooped and hollered behind them. Aelin ignored them, focusing on the feel of Fen’s hand delicately twined with hers.

At the top of the stairs, Fenrys’s control snapped, and Aelin found herself pushed up against the hallway wall with his mouth on top of hers. His lips tasted like stale beer with just a faint hint of the sticky sweet apple drink, and she found that she didn’t mind it at all. She wrapped her hands in his curly hair as his hands slid across the silky fabric of her dress, palms greedy to touch every cloth-covered inch he could. Warmth spread across each spot he touched, and she leaned into him.

She hummed as his mouth opened, his tongue sliding against hers roughly as her head hit the wall with a loud thump.

“Ow,” she laughed as they stumbled their way down the hall, teeth clinking against each other as they fell against each other again and again. Fenry’s reached out, trying each door they reached, but each and every one was locked.

“Get a room!” a booming voice called behind them.

“We’re trying,” she giggled, breathing heavily as Fenry’s moved his mouth down her neck with sloppy kisses. “Oh…” she moaned as Fenrys’s teeth scraped against the sensitive skin behind her ear. That was different. Good different.

They stumbled to the very end of the hall, Fenrys attacking her lips again as he reached behind her and turned the last door in the hallway. It turned in his grasp, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan appreciatively as Fen pressed his entire body against hers, leading them into the darkened room.

“Uhh, occupied!” a low strained voice came from the darkness, and Aelin froze, feeling like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Rowan?” she squeaked out, refusing to look over her shoulder at whatever was going on in the bedroom behind her for fear that it might kill her.

“Aelin?!” he sputtered back, and Aelin could feel her entire body tense at the sound of rustling fabric and people moving around.

“Fenrys,” Fen said, causing Aelin to bark out a loud laugh.

“Lyria,” the girl deadpanned. Aelin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, removing any of Fen’s attempt at levity.

“Sorry, Whitethorn,” Fenrys apologized, pulling Aelin by the waist, closer to him. “As you were…” he continued, backing up out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway. Aelin blinked several times, but all she could see was images of Rowan and Lyria, tangled in sheets, spurred on by her wildest imagination.

Fenrys leaned in to kiss Aelin again, but she was still frozen, heart pounding loudly against her ribs, so hard that it almost hurt.

He sighed loudly and gave her a reassuring smile as he took a step back. “Mood killed, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, willing herself to hear anything other than Rowan’s breathy tone coming from a darkened room at a party. She hated how upset she felt, how she felt like she was suffocating at the idea of him sleeping with Lyria, if that’s what they were doing. Given the circumstances, it seemed likely. Aelin swallowed back a wave of nausea.

But Fenrys refused her apology, pushing her hair behind her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. “I kind of figured.” He paused, looking at her seriously. “It’s okay,” Fenrys said with too warm a smile for how much of an asshole Aelin felt like. She covered her face, completely horrified.

“I’m gonna…” Aelin ducked under Fenry’s arm and headed toward the stairs, needing some fresh air. Luckily, Fenrys didn’t make a big deal about it at all, meandering downstairs with her and rejoining another game of beer pong as Aelin snuck into the cold night.

She wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, sinking onto a chair on Lorcan’s front porch. She stared into the distance, willing her nausea to subside as she breathed slowly. So deep in concentration, she barely even heard anyone take the seat next to her until he began speaking.

“So, I guess you got that kiss after all…”

“Rowan…” she whined. “Can we not?” She bit her lip. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

He frowned, pausing ominously.

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly.  

“What?” Aelin asked, startled by the question. “No, of course not.”

He shrugged, his dress shirt open and rumpled, his tie long gone. “It feels like you do.” He paused.

She wanted to snap at him, unload all her hurt on him, but she paused when she took in his face. She’d never seen him look so tired, so sad. “No, I don’t hate you,” Aelin said, giving him a soft smile and earning a small smile in return.

He exhaled a long, steady breath, and leaned back in the chair, letting the rocking chair sway back and forth as he pondered his next words.

“But you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Rowan said suddenly. Aelin opened her mouth to protest, but Rowan barreled forward, his tone urgent. “No, you don’t. I’m not that dumb, Ace. You straight up told me. It just… sucks. Because you’re my best friend, but…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Ro…” Aelin said, her heart tugging, wanting to comfort the boy in front of her, but completely unsure of what to say.

“No,” he repeated. “Please let me finish.” Aelin nodded, biting her lip, forcibly preventing herself from interrupting what he so clearly needed to get out. “I was so excited when I got that text from you last night. I thought, maybe you’d decided you wanted to be friends again, and then to hear it was a mistake…” He laughed sadly. “Gods, I felt like such an idiot. You’ve always been my person.” His words came more rapidly as he got more worked up. “And you decided all of this without me, and I don’t understand. Like, telling me I didn’t need to pick you up from school anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated, but Aelin couldn’t really process what he was saying.

“I just figured you wanted time alone with your girlfriend…”

He practically growled as he sighed. “Why would you assume that without asking me? I only gave her a ride the first morning because she asked if I would. I’ve been driving alone to school for weeks,” he said.

“Really?” Aelin asked, confused.

“And I know I’m going to sound like a complete tool when I say that it hurt my feelings, but… that really hurt my feelings.” Aelin opened her mouth again to say something, but nothing came out. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Rowan be so forthcoming about his feelings. He was more the type of person to hold his feelings in forever.

“I didn’t know,” Aelin whispered.

Rowan scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you didn’t ask. You just bailed.”

Then it was Aelin’s turn to frown. “It’s not like you tried to reach out!” she snapped, and she could see the hurt turn into anger as Rowan raised his voice again.

“Because you didn’t want me to!” he growled. “And… you seemed… fine.” He laughed sadly. “And I am so not fine.”

Aelin breathed steadily. “You think I’m fine…?” she laughed with no humor.

“Yeah!” he cried, exasperated. “You have all these friends, and I’m the loser with no other friends but you. Lys, Elide, Wes… they only invited me around because of you,” he laughed sadly. “And, I keep waiting for you to reach back out to me – I don’t want to force you to be friends with me when you clearly didn’t want that, but you never do.” He sighed loudly. “And without you, I don’t have anyone.”

Aelin whispered. “I don’t think your girlfriend would agree with that.” She scrunched her nose.

“Don’t tell me this is about Lyria, because you’ve been acting weird long since before she came around,” he huffed, and Aelin threw up her arms, annoyed with the boy in front of her who clearly didn’t understand anything.

“Maybe there’s just an expiration date on boy girl friendships,” she sighed, and she watched as Rowan’s cheeks grew red.

“Stop,” he stuttered. “That’s bullshit.” He breathed. “You put an expiration on it, not me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “I put an expiration on us? Ro, we don’t talk about anything anymore. I just walked in on you having sex with your girlfriend!” she exploded. “I didn’t even know you were having sex anymore. Because we can’t talk about that stuff! Because it’s weird, okay? You freaked out when I hugged you, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me I put an expiration on our friendship because I didn’t.”

Aelin felt her heart pound with every staccato word that exited her mouth. She felt flames on the sides of her face, burning her up as she finally told Rowan how she felt.

“I…” He shook his head. “Lyria got accepted into a college prep program at the OU. If she decides to go, she’ll be gone all of November and December, and we’d be in a long distance relationship,” he said, causing Aelin’s heart to pick up pace again. Lyria was leaving? “That’s what we were talking about upstairs,” he said. “We weren’t, um… doing anything. We haven’t even done anything other than kiss.”

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, and she breathed easily as the knot in her chest unfurled at Rowan’s intense stare. She hated how much better she felt. It stung and soothed her simultaneously.

“A college program?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan ran his hand through his hair.

“Huh,” Aelin replied, unsure of what else to say. Rowan seemed to sense it, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “What? She just doesn’t seem that into her studies.”

“I knew you didn’t like her!” Rowan laughed. Aelin wanted to defend herself, but she shrugged instead. She didn’t feel like getting into how the very opposite was actually the truth.

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m not Fenrys’s biggest fan at the moment.”

“Rowan…” Aelin sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about this with him. She hadn’t anticipated him seeing it. She’d wanted time to process it all. But it seemed like he wasn’t going to give her that.

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know you don’t want to be my friend right now.” She watched as he scratched the back of his. “And you can go back to hating me tomorrow, I promise. But, can we just pretend tonight? For a little bit?”

She nodded, unable to deny him her friendship. The truth was, she’d missed it, too.

And so she unleashed. Aelin found herself rambling about the last month of her life, telling Rowan about how she started cooking with Maeve, how much she loved it, and her long walks home. He apologized, not realizing that Aelin had decided to walk instead of find another ride. But Aelin waved him off, instead telling him her favorite recipes and how much she’d learned just from being in the kitchen and being a part of prep. She went on and on about how she ended up becoming friends with Manon, and the weird group of friends that had formed in Rowan’s absence. She even told him about the terrible kiss with Chaol and how she’d decided to kiss someone tonight to make up for it. He laughed heartily at her description of her bad kiss, sighing loudly as he wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes away.

“You deserve a good kiss,” he said, rocking himself back and forth again, the movement starting to hypnotize Aelin as she watched.

“Well, Fenrys delivered,” Aelin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Gross,” he muttered.

“Rude!”

He laughed as she changed the topic, telling him about her tough classes, and he immediately picked up on it, following suit and talking about his own.

Talking to Rowan was like riding a bike. A really comfortable bike. He laughed in all the right spots, and by the time they were finished catching up on Aelin’s life, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He offered to drive her home, and Aelin stupidly accepted, both of them singing happily as he played her Game Day Mix that she’d made for him all those months ago. As she looked over at him, she could feel her breath catch.

Gods, she missed him. She missed everything about him. And it hurt all over again.

She was like an addict who had easily relapsed. She couldn’t believe how careless she’d been. She thought she could have him just a tiny bit, but she was too stuck on him still. She’d taken a giant step forward with Chaol and Fenrys and then immediately retreated, letting Rowan back into her heart. Who was she kidding? He’d never left her heart. She’d just gotten better at ignoring that persistent tug, always pulling her to him.

As they turned onto Aelin’s street, they fell into a hushed silence. One that was so strangely comfortable that she almost forgot he was there until he spoke up again.

“I guess we’re done pretending,” he said, rubbing his hands against his knees as he parked in her driveway, and Aelin nodded.

“I just want us to still tell each other the big things, even if you don’t want to do the stuff in between.” He paused. “Like, if you decide to date Fenrys, can you tell me?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” she replied softly, and he nodded again. “I don’t hate you,” she said, feeling the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he said, relieved.

“I promise if I ever hate you, you will not have to wonder,” she sassed, and she laughed as Rowan shoved her shoulder, sparks flying up her arm at the brief moment of contact.

Aelin exited the car with a small wave and took a deep, steadying breath as he drove off into the night. Yes, she had relapsed. But, she’d also kissed two boys in two nights. She clearly just needed to push herself a little further.

She fell asleep that night, wondering who the next boy on her list would be.

~*~

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[gunterfan1992]

“Obsidian” Comic-Con Panel Highlights! *SPOILERS*

If you've missed it, Adventure Time was featured this year at the (virtual) San Diego Comic-Con. The video is right here:

If you do not have the opportunity to watch the panel, I’ve jotted down some highlights. Read on for more (but be warned, as there are spoilers):

Distant Lands was an “older idea” that has its origins during the final season of AT.

The BMO space story and Bubbline story, in particular, were envisioned as miniseries “to fill out the back-half of a longer season” that we, unfortunately, never got.

The writers didn’t want to focus on Finn and Jake too much in Distant Lands because their story was “mostly done—and that was the series.”

When workshopping possible miniseries during the final season, many revolved around minor characters that the writers played.

The producers chose to start with a BMO episode because it is an “easy access point.” Adam also argued that, due to BMO’s kid-like perspective, “the episode [would] feel younger by default.”

“Baby Finn and Jake… I love the look of baby Finn and Jake.”—Niki Yang

According to Niki, “BMO always bounces back!” is her favorite line because “we live in such a strange time,” and that line suggests that “we will bounce back together.”

Curda believes that after BMO departs Y5′s satellite world, Y5 was able to reorganize the Drift and make significant social and political change.

“Obsidian” will touch on pre-series events and post-finale events.

In regard to the previous point, Olson said: “It was really cool to be able to see some of the things in the past that happened between them and how it will affect their, future moving forward.”

Olson was “really excited” when she read the script for “Obsidian,” and she thinks that fans will be able to “tick off a lot of questions.”

The name ‘Obsidian’ is “a metaphor” and the “most powerful fusion” (SU joke, haha), but it has mostly to do with the location of this episode, which takes place in the Glass Kingdom. Adam explained that the name was chosen because obsidian can be protective, but it can also be weaponized (just like Marcy and PB, who can love one another but also be quite mean); he also notes that obsidian can be a “cleansing” material, and this episode will explore some of their “older conflicts” while also considering what their relationship would be like “down the road” after the finale.

Olivia Olson argues that, when she asked Ward about Bubbline in 2014 (prior to her spilling the beans at a 2014 Barnes and Noble panel), she was being “highly speculative” and investigating for the Marceline scrapbook. [Note: Olson was visibly uncomfortable during this portion of the Q&A, suggesting she wasn’t quite OK talking about it.]

“Obsidian” is going to give us a chance to see “so many sides of Marceline.” Much of the episode is focused on her “getting over some of the barriers that she’s put in place for herself.”

“Obsidian” features several new songs, composed by a number of “amazing songwriters.” Many of these songwriters were working hard to replicate Rebecca Sugar’s signature style; the writers also tried to show how Marceline has grown as a songwriter over the years (including from when she was a kid, when she was an “angry punk,” and now as an adult who still has some issues to focus on).

All of the songs were composed before the episode was storyboarded.

Adam and the writers wanted a song in the episode because otherwise, it would be a “missed opportunity.”

It was “an emotional day” for Olivia when she recorded a specific song, and it caused everyone in the recording studio to tear up. She “hopes we get a similar reaction” from the fans.

There are new characters in “Obsidian,” including characters who show up in the beginning as analogs for Finn and Jake. One of them is called “Glass Boy,” and he is a Finn-esque “instigator” who gets PB and Marcy to talk about their past.

Glass Boy is voiced by Michaela Dietz, who played Amethyst on Steven Universe!

The final two specials focus on topics/characters that weren’t explored that well, or might have been explored if the show had gone on for longer. My guess is Peppermint Butler (duh) and the Lich (highly, highly speculative on my part).

Adam notes that the writers didn’t want to go “so far a-field” and focus on D-list characters in these special. The main characters in the final two specials will be major (duh).

One of the songs is called “Monster,” and it was written by Half Shy. It seems to be one of the ‘big’ ones, and of course focuses on Marceline and Bubblegum’s relationship.

Those are the big ones that jumped out to me! Let me know if there were some other cool facts and tidbits that I should’ve added!

[aria-greenhoodie]

My opinions on every Dream smp character (/rp /c! /lh) 

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE CREATORS THIS IS ABOUT THE CHARACTERS AND THIS IS ALL SAID LIGHTHEARTEDLY!!!

Dream - die.

George - Does he even exist??? I think he just stays asleep in a shroom forest until Dream XD drags him out for “fun time.”

Sapnap - Pet Killer. >:( But is engaged to Karl and Quackity who are both cool so I guess it’s fine.

Callahan - All knowing and terrifying, but fantastic and great.

Sam - What the fuck??? Is??? Going on with this man??? He’s fucked up. I don’t think hes a bad person but he needs someone to tell him to fucking stop, because he has done bad shit, even if I dont think he’s bad, like, what in the fuck. I kinda wanna bite him.

Warden - IM SORRY IM SORRY DONT KILL ME FUCK SHIT PISS BALLS IM SOR

Sam Nook - The best Sam. I’d kill and die for him. irl. /gen. This is not a joke. I love this robot. SO MUCH. Love so muchh. <333

Alyssa - Exists? I think???

Ponk - I don’t know a lot about her but I want to know more and I know they are WONDERFUL AND DIDN’T DESERVE WHAT SAM DID TO HIM, SAM WHAT THE FUCK, THIS IS WHY YOU NEED TO BE PUT IN FUCKING LINE, PONK WAS SO NICE TO YOU EVEN AFTER ALL THAT, WHAT THE FUUUUCK

BBH - Bit fucked up. Not that pleasant.

Tommy - Big Man. Always correct. Don’t argue with me about this, I'll bite you. And he probably will too. He reminds me of me when I was in middle school and because of that I will side with him always.

Tubbo - Awe, what a little lad! Oh, he’s a bit fucked up. O-oh… he’s a LOT fucked up… Still a little lad though! Also pretty gender. Also according to literally every single “WHICH DSMP CHARACTER ARE YOU?” quiz I take I’m him, so that’s cool!

Fundy - I hold you very gently and tenderly but also very far away at arms length just in case.

Punz - Punz

Purpled - Funky fucking alien boy!!! Good builder, really cool, deserved better, I got really sad when Quackity blew up his UFO because it looked fucking sick and if it was mine I would have cried.

Wilbur - Seems very polite, but also maybe a little unhinged…

Ghostbur -pspsppssps sweet man so polite come back to me please pspspspspspspps come here pspspspspspspss yes I would love some blue now come closer pspsppspspspspss

Revivedbur - Sir please do not fuck this up I’m rooting for you because I know you can do great things please do not make me regret this please sir I believe in you please

Schlatt - Drunk bitch. Fuckin died. L.

Skeppy - Wait what even is your lore? You got corrupted by the Egg at some point but did you do anything after that?? Do you even still EXIST????

Eret - King, Queen, Royalty at its finest, you have tried so hard and I love you for it, also you’re violently gender and kinda pretty ngl so I may be biased but stfu you fucking kill it you funky fucking Herobrine ily <333

Jack Manifold - ON THAT JACK MANIFOLD GRIND! THE JACK MANIFOLD GRIND NEVER STOPS!

Nikki - Babe ily you deserved better, I may be rooting for Revivedbur but if you wanna punch that mf in his undead face I fully support you ily ily ily

Quackity - YOU! YOU!!! FUCKING YOU!!! I’M GOING TO VIOLENTLY ADORE YOU!!! YOU ARE SO FUNKY!!! YOU’RE ONE OF THE ONLY CAPITALISTS I WILL ACCEPT!!! FUCKMAN!!! LOVE YOUR WORK ON ALL THOSE WARCRIMES!!! <3333333

Karl Jacobs - Funky Time lad! Also really pretty. And kinda gender, but only a little bit. Those cool drawings of his old skin that the fandom came up with where he's a weird colorful rubber-hose-armed marshmallow human thing are more gender than what he is now, though.

Hbomb - Furry /pos. Seems nice enough.

Technoblade - BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! TECHNO NEVER DIES! LOVE ME AN ANARCHIST OLD MAN PIG WHO WILL DESTROY ANYTHING IN HIS PATH! Also Piglin /pos.

Antfrost - Furry /neg. He’s actually fine, but I don't actually have much to say about him.

Philza Minecraft - is quite old, he is married to a woman, which I find interesting. I love him but would also like to punch him, just once. Just one little punch. Nothing super hard, just a little punch. Love ya, Dadza <3

Connor - Sonic Kinnie. I know he has lore but I cannot understand it and only know 1/10 of it so I can't actually say much about him. He seems depressed all the time though, so I feel bad for him.

Captain Puffy - The best Father I have ever seen <3 Also the only semi-fucking-responsible adult??? Like Sam used to be too but then he… yeah… I love her!

Viky - Doesn't exist in cannon I think??

Lazar - Does he exist in cannon either????

Ranboo - YOU!!! You <333 YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!! I love you!! You make me a little sad sometimes but also INCREDIBLY happy!! My little hypocrite <3 my little walking contradiction <3 also REALLY gender, VIOLENTLY so. And Enderman /very pos.

Foolish - I like you! I don’t know much about you, but I’m learning more! I like your builds and attitude! Nice man :)

Hannah - I know literally NOTHING about you at all but I want to because you seem so badass and cool holy shit

Slimecicle - FUCKING WEIRD ASS SLUDGE MONSTER FROM THE BEGINING OF TIME???? YES PLEASE!!! SO GENDER!!! SO COOL!!! LOVE!!! LOVE LOV ELVOEKJDENJJW!!!!!!!!!! I love this fucking man <3333333 Filled with bones and meat and not slime at all <333333333

Michael McChill - Dream Stan /neg I don’t know much about this guy, actually, pretty neutral on him.

Michael _Beloved - Nice boy! Very polite! Probably could kill me if he wanted! Good lad!

Michelle - Oh she would whoop my ass. Great and fantastic!

Yogurt - babeyy,,,,,, boi,,,,, come hereee,,,,,, pspspsppspspsspspsp,,,,,,, i love youuu,,,,,,,

Foolish Jr. - Seems energetic and excitable! Good lad!

Finley - Fantastic, wonderful girl!

Shroud - I LOVE YOU. I WILL FIGHT ANY WAR YOU ASK ME TO. I WILL KILL MY FAMILY FOR YOU. SHROUD SUPREMACY. AAAAAAAAAAAA.

Mexican Dream - Eyyyyyy look at he! Look at the he!!! I like he :)))) he’s cool.

Dream XD - Oh so you’re THAT kind of asshole. Love it. 10/10. Also biblically accurate angel inspired designs for this mf??? So gender. Violently gender. Love that shit.

Drista - YOU!!!! ARE!!! SO!!!! COOL!!!! I WOULD KILL AND DIE FOR YOU!!!! LET'S BLOW SHIT UP TOGETHER!!!! CHAOS!!!!! ARSON!!!!! YES!!!!!

Mamacita - p, prett y wom an,,, 

Mumza Kristin - If anyone doesn't like Mumza I’ll cut their body into fourths and burry the pieces under a Denny’s <3 She’s so poggers.

Friend - Friend! :DDD

[stories-about-cheating-women]

Casper the cum-filled ghost

It is Friday night and josh is getting ready for the Halloween party at his girlfriend’s sorority house. Josh always disliked the large parties Sara’s sorority threw; they are full of drunk dudes trying to prove their manliness and fuck anything that moves. It doesn’t help that Sara’s sorority sisters are some of the most.. slutty girls on campus, for lack of a more polite term. Josh always hated how guys would lump Sara into the group of sorority sluts just by the letters on her little jacket. And guys were always staring at her as she bounces around campus in her sorority mandated short skirts. Josh couldn’t blame them, though. Sara was blessed with a body of a fertility goddess: long legs, thick thighs, a full bubble butt, slim waist, large boobs, and wavy red hair.

As Josh stared at himself in the mirror, he can’t help but worry about tonight. His costume is a baggy ghost costume that Sara sewed for him out of a white bed sheet. Josh mumbles to himself “ugh I look like Casper the socially awkward ghost.” Sara quickly walks up behind him and gives him a firm hug around the waist. “Don’t worry about tonight, babe! Your costume looks super cute, and we will look so adorable with our scooby-doo theme. I make a very sexy Velma, If I do say so myself.” Sara was right, she looks amazingly sexy, as usual. Josh looks her up and down and says “ I Don’t know, Sara, are you sure Velma would show that much… everything? Those guys are gonna see you as a piece of meat to sink their teeth into as soon as possible!”

Sara puts on a pouty face and stares into Josh’s eyes as she runs her finger up and down his chest “But babyyy- all the other girls are wearing sexy costumes. I don’t want to be the only prude there! They will bully me for weeks!” Her hand starts to work its way down Josh’s torso and into his pants. “I may even be inclined to give you a special gift, if you are a good boy tonight. hehe” Her hand grasps his soft dick and starts to slowly move back and forward. Josh begins to moan and says “Babe, that’s no fair! You know I can’t say no to you like this.” Sara looks up at him and coyly says “Then don’t.”

The party

As Josh and Sara walk down from Sara’s room, the music grown louder and louder. There are already a handful of guys from the frats hanging out and drinking with Sara’s sorority sister. The guys are dressed in all sorts of half assed costumes such as lumberjack with no shirt on, fireman with no shirt on, and professor with a cutoff tee-shirt. This is exactly what Josh was trying to avoid. Of course, the girls are eating the costumes up. Its just because they have muscles, Josh thinks to himself. Soon Sara notices a guy she has class with and runs over to talk to him. She turns her head to Josh as she is walking away and says “Hey babe, I know that guy from statistics, I’m gonna go say hi! Why don’t you mingle with the other guys?”

Josh watches with an uneasy feeling in his stomach as Sara salters over to some guy and grabs his arm as she starts to laugh. The guy is wearing a similar costume to Josh. A ghost costume, with the arms cut off, of course. Josh walks over to the other guys and grabs a beer. “Hey man. Is that your girl?” one of the bros asks. “Yea that’s Sara. My girlfriend.” The group whistles and nods in approval. “I didn’t know the girls in this sorority were allowed to have boyfriends haha. With all the party responsibilities and all that.” Josh does not like the sound of that. He knew the sorority had a bad reputation for having lose women, but not that everyone in the frats knew too. Josh swallows hard and replies “Oh yea. Well Sara isn’t like the other girls. She just likes to have fun and hang out with her friends.” The guy motions over to Sara and says “Oh like she is having fun with that guy right now? Haha good luck, bro. Steve is a player if I’ve ever seen one.” Josh’s stomach drops even further as he looks over to see Sara on some dude’s shoulders being spun around in circles… Her skirt is WAY too short for that.

As Josh begins to walk over to Sara to ask her what she is doing, Amanda, Sara’s friend, stops him. “Hey Josh, can you help us move some boxes? They are really heavy and we need a big strong guy to handle them! Pleassseeee.” Josh tries to object, but Amanda is already pulling him into the basement stairway. As he looks back he can see the group of guys he was standing with try and get a good look up Sara’s skirt, but they can’t look long as the guy begins to walk off with her towards the kegs. Fuck. “Hey Amanda, who is that guy Sara is with now?” Amanda looks back at him and smiles “Ow that is Steve! He is so cool. He helps us around the house when anything breaks. He is such a manly man. hehe he also helps a few of the girls out in another way, if you know what I mean.” She says slyly. Josh is confused “You mean like… tutoring services?” Amanda looks at him blankly “No silly. Now take these boxes of beer upstairs for me please! Thanks, hun!” and she scampers up the stairs. Josh sighs.

As Sara sees Amanda lead Josh down the stairs, she quickly turns to Steve and says “Alright baby, its time you show me what my friends have been talking about for the last month! I’m very… curious. Hehe” As Sara moves Steve into the kitchen, away from the crowd, she glances down eagerly to his crotch. Steve looks her up and down and then says “hmm well it won’t be much to look at until its hard so… I don’t know what to do about that.” Sara looks him in the eyes and slowly smiles. She moves over to the counter and pretends to reach for something in a shelf high up. Clearly, she cannot reach, so she looks back at Steve and says “A little help please.” Here words dripping in sensuality. As Steve comes up behind Sara, she pushes her ass into his crotch and begins gyrating her hips back and forward. She can feel a large mass begin to press into her firm ass. After a minute of this, Sara hears a familiar voice out in the living room. It is Josh asking where to put the boxes from downstairs. Sara then hears Amanda tell him to bring them into the kitchen.

Josh walks into the kitchen carrying a large box of beer and sets it on the floor with a large grunt. Steve speaks up “Hey buddy, those look a little heavy for you. Do you need a hand with that?” Josh looks up and sees Sara and Steve standing together by the counter. “Umm no they aren’t too heavy for me, but thanks. What are you guys doing?” Sara says “Oh we were just.. looking for cups for the guests. But they were too high up, so I had to get Steve to reach for me.” Josh looks at Steve suspiciously but eventually states that he needs to get the rest of the heavy beers from the basement and walks out.

As soon as Josh leaves, Sara looks at Steve and asks “So, is it ready for me to have a look now?” Steve chuckles and reaches down to his pants, under the cloth of the ghost costume, and zips open his pants. He then grabs the base of his dick and pulls the fabric on the costume taunt. Sara’s mouth drops open. Steve has what looks like a giant, extra thick dildo hidden under his costume. Sara gasps “O.M.G… that can not be real!” Steve seems to like her reaction “Oh its real alright. Just ask Amanda.” Sara growls “there is no way that dumb bimbo is gonna keep this all to herself.” And, with that, she drops to her knees and craws under the ghost costume. As Sara looks up, she is met with the biggest dick she has seen in her life, even watching porn. Suddenly Steve hears a “Holy fucking shit” come from under his costume, and he can’t help but smile.

Soon Steve feels a warm hand grasp the base of his thick cock, followed by a pair of moist lips at the tip. Steve moans and says “Careful babe, it’s been a day or two since I drained these balls. Go easy on me.” Sara notices that each of his balls are big enough to fill her hands. What Sara heard was ‘please suck my soul out of my cock’ and that is exactly what she does. She grasps the monster cock with both hands, and there is still enough room for two more hands to fit. Sara begins to slowly force the bulbous head into her tiny mouth. After a few effortful grunts, the large head squeezes past her plump lips and POPs into her mouth. Steve shutters as he can feel Sara’s moans on his cock head. Slowly, more and more cock is forced into Sara’s tiny mouth and suddenly they can both feel the monster bump into the back of Sara’s tight throat. Sara is trying her best to fit Steve’s big cock into her throat, but she is out of practice due to Josh’s below average dick never making it this far. She gags and slobbers on Steve’s member, but to no avail.

As Josh begins to enter the kitchen with his second case of beer, he is relieved to see Steve standing alone. “Hey man. Did you see where Sara ran off to? I have a few more cases to bring up, but then I want to hang out with her some.” Steve looks at Josh for a second before answering. “Hmm yea.. last I saw her was a minute or two ago. I’ll tell her you are looking for her though.” Josh looks around and then replies “Ok. Thanks man. Hey, can you get me a cup from the cabinet too? I think I need some beer after all this heavy lifting.” And he slaps the case of beer he just brought up. Steve begins to lean to the cabinet, but then he realizes he cannot get close enough with his dick and Sara in the way. Steve decides the only way to keep things inconspicuous is to slowly lean into the cabinet, pushing Sara into the base of the cabinet. Once she is pressed up against the drawers, Steve can almost reach the cups, but he is still about a half a foot away.

Josh takes this opportunity to point out that Steve is being weird “Umm why are you moving so slow? Is this some sort of joke? Whatever, I can just get the cup myself.” Steve replies “No! No, I’m sorry I was just thinking about something else. Here I’ll get it.” And with that he leans forward and forces the remaining half a foot of cock into Sara’s throat, directly in front of her unsuspecting boyfriend. Underneath the ghost costume, Sara has tears running down the side of her face as she fights back the urge to gag and cough. Her nails are digging into Steve’s thighs as she squeezes them for all she is worth. Finally, Steve has the cup in his hand and leans back to give it to Josh “Here you go. Sorry I got distracted there for a second.” Josh takes the cup and says “No problem. Thanks.” And he walks out of the kitchen.

Once Sara hears Josh leave, she begins to have an unbelievably strong orgasm. She starts to shake and moan, and Steve feels all of this through his rock-hard cock. Sara’s orgasm pushes Steve over the edge. His bulging sack pulls up against his cock and Sara feels the monster in her throat begin to swell even larger. The first shot of cum forces its way up through the cock, and Sara can feel her tongue be forced down by the expanding cum vein. Soon She feels a warm sensation filling her throat. This happens two more time before Sara notices the warm feeling is filling her stomach now too. She begins to pull back, but Steve notices and places his hands firmly against the back of her head. “You aren’t getting off that easy, slut. I told you I was backed up!” and with that Steve forces Sara’s chin up against his pulsing balls and continues to fill her with his cum. All Sara can do is count the pulses of cum being unloaded into her stomach. Five, six, seven, … ten, eleven, twelve, … and they finally begin to tamper off around twenty.

Steve lets out a heavy sigh as he feels his balls relax and his cock begins to soften. He releases Sara’s head and she slowly falls backwards, the monster cock sliding out of her mouth like a sick version of the never-ending handkerchiefs magic trick. Once a foot of cock is outside Sara’s mouth, another POP is heard as the fat cockhead is forced from her mouth. Sara collapses on the floor in a quivering pile. She is still cumming. Once she regains her senses, she reaches down to her once tight and toned tummy to find a bulging cum filled belly. Steve puts his cock back into his pants and sighs “Oh Sara… what am I goanna do with you now? I can’t leave you here for Josh to find.” Steve reaches down and picks her up over his shoulder, like earlier, and he begins to carry her up to her room. Steve cant help but notice the stream of girl cum running down Sara’s legs.. he may need to address that shortly.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare. 

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!” 

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

——— 

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays. 

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.” 

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?” 

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

——— 

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows? 

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”  

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

[archetypal-archivist]

Xisuma and Evil X- A Hero By Any Other Name

So. This happened. You ever get the urge to write 9000 words of Evil X and Xisuma as brothers that in a Super Hero AU where the government is corrupt and runs all the heroes into the ground in the name of “protecting the most people possible”? With lots of Evil X making poor choices to help out his exhausted hero of a brother? And then have that story end up taking over your life for about a week until you can get it all out? Yeah. Yeah, glad I finally finished this but gosh darn am I double glad that I can move on to other projects.

Also on AO3.

__________

A story in which there are two little boys, a pair of twins by the names of Evil X and Xisuma. Xisuma is good and kind and responsible, everything that his mother ever wanted and more. Evil X was the mistake, the additional child their parents didn't want nor could afford to have. Their parents had run the math, knew the risks, knew that if they penny-pinched enough, they could afford to have the child they always dreamed of. Evil X threw their maths into chaos, and if they wanted one son, they had to take both.

Evil X and Xisuma knew that Evil X was a mistake, that his presence was why their family could never afford to go to the movies, why they couldn't buy school lunches like all the other kids, why their parents were so stressed and tired and cruel. Still, Xisuma was glad that his brother existed, even if it made his parents' lives harder. He wondered if that made him a bad son.

In time, Evil X and Xisuma were left alone by everyone in their lives and until all they had are each other and the void that their parents left them with when they had to look them in the eye and tell them that they couldn't take care of them anymore. Even now Xisuma thinks that the void raised them better than their parents ever did, teaching him and his brother to lie through their teeth, be sneaky, be cruel.

In the orphanage and the many foster homes that followed, Evil X did his best to take care of his twin as a sort of penance for screwing up the life Xisuma could have led. In return, Xisuma lied and lied and lied to the matrons and the well-meaning children about anything and everything he needed to. They don't need anyone but each other. (Truth.) They are happy. He is everything that Evil X needs, Evil X doesn't want a family. Xisuma is enough. (Lie.)

(Gods, don't take his brother away.)

Xisuma grew up with lies on his tongue and smiles in his eyes, warping himself into the golden child, larger than life. Evil X grew up in the shadows with bruised knuckles, a bruised heart, and eventually, scars across his face from a fight gone bloody and wrong. He was protecting Xisuma, the scars were worth it- his brother accepts them with an odd little smile on his face and a shattering in his eyes. It is a moment that stays with them long after.

---

Eventually, foster homes turn into streets and dumpsters, and long nights spent under the covers together are turned into nights spent up in the branches of trees in the park. Xisuma makes friends with the pigeons while Evil X pretends not to like their feathered neighbors. They curl up the same though, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces high in their bower. Made for each other, quietly shaping themselves around their twin so as to better protect them and shield them from the cold.

Evil X comes home to their tree with stolen sweaters and wilted flowers and popcorn kernels from behind the movie theater so that the birds don't starve. Xisuma meets him with tears of wonder in his eyes and fire dancing on his fingertips.

Xisuma has magic. Evil X tries not to be jealous. As it turns out, he has very little to be jealous of when it's revealed that there are many other people who have magic throughout the city- or rather, "superpowers." It's like something straight out of a comic book, if that comic book resembled something like Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" or the Transformers IDW continuity.

People start dying. A lot of people. Those with powers that make them look monstrous are feared, hated, and eventually outcast. Those with powers that are useful are drafted to fight wars and heal people for hours and hours with no rest in the hospitals. Xisuma sells himself to the city officials behind Evil X's back and in return, he and his brother get a cold glass and steel apartment and food enough that they will never starve again.

Evil X begins to build up muscle, fleshing out and growing tall and strong. He hates it, hates his body, because Xisuma never becomes more than whipcord strength and whispered words- down-turned eyes, up-turned lips. Reassurances that he's happy, really, truly. So obedient, his brother, the ideal filial son to the system that Evil X could never bring himself to be. They train the civilian out of his twin and mold him into a leader, a real proper superhero.

They don't give his brother lunch breaks. They need his power too badly, they say. There are people dying and they need his strength.

Gods, it makes him sick.

Xisuma's slight figure hides in his brother's shadow when they are at home, and Evil X does his best to wrap around him until the "monsters" of the world can't get him. Evil X lets Xisuma's flames dance across his fingertips and tickle his face, their gentle warmth driving out some of the chill in their big empty apartment. On truly special days, they go to the park to feed the birds. The higher ups don't like that, of course, insisting that Xisuma under Evil X's care is like using his spark for a kerosene lamp, contained, stifled, unable to help anyone in any way that matters.

The city wants a bonfire. Evil X growls and tells them no, but Xisuma just smiles and his eyes shatter a little more as he goes with them willingly, offering himself up as kindling. His superhero name is Matchstick of all things, and Evil X knows his brother well enough to know that he picked it out himself.

A nod to the fact that he is destroying himself? An inside joke and an apology in one, maybe. It breaks his heart too much to think on it.

---

With time, the rules and roles become a little clearer and the war begins to solidify. Basic rights for those with powers is still in the works, but Xisuma is able to start eating a little more. Evil X makes him protein shakes to take with him to work anyway.

The heroes are this: Matchstick, Reaper, Ivy-Over, Xenon, Spatter, Shank, Krypton, and Trigometric. Xisuma, Cleo, Gemini, Tango, Vintage Beef, Iskall, Impulse, Cubfan.

The villains are this: Armistice, Zyon, Ooze, Clockwork, Poultryman, Valkerie, and Lumesce. (Welsknight, Etho, Jevin, Mumbo, Grian, Stress, Pearl- but our hero doesn't know this yet.)

Evil X sits on their shared bed and holds his twin in his arms, listening to him talk about work with troubled eyes.

Reaper. Cruel, with a tongue like a knife and teeth even sharper. She eats her enemies whole and seems to enjoy the taste of blood. Somewhere in the dark of the building is a man named Joe who whispers comebacks and threats to her for her to use in her next fight. She has not seen him free or unshackled in three years. Around his neck is a metal collar, an irony too bitter for her to speak of often. Xisuma hopes they treat him well.

Ivy-Over, blinded by the glitter and shine of heroism, still firmly thinking the best of her political overlords. Naive. Carefully herded off the battlefields as soon as her fights are over so that she never sees the casualties her massive vines leave in their wake. Xisuma worries that one day the illusion will be broken and with it her mind. She seems like the kind of person who could regress to using entrails as a skipping rope if pushed far enough. Evil X does his best to reassure him, but the lies turn to mulch in his mouth.

Xenon and Krypton, a duo that never let the higher ups split them up or force them to fight alone. Together they share a record for the fewest recorded injuries, as well as a certain fierceness in their eyes as they volley explosive balls of shadow and light between them, bouncing them back and forth to build up velocity before letting them loose on their enemies. Still, the people whisper about how much more help they could do if they were simply separated, able to cover more places at once. At night, Xisuma hears them crying, bundled tight in each other's arms and mourning their missing third.

Shank, their sniper. Supreme accuracy, a consequence of his self-built bionic eye and his special laser rifle. The higher ups are murmuring about what he could do if more of him was bionic. What improvements could be made to his body? How many more lives could be saved? (How many more "monsters" could be put behind bars?)

Splatter, their brawler. A sip of blood and he hulks out, his strength becoming all the greater the more he drinks, so the higher ups give him all the blood he could stomach and more. They never tell him where it comes from, and he's too afraid to ask. (He was a butcher before this whole hero thing, he had explained to Xisuma once. He knows what animal blood tastes like. What they give him is definitely not animal blood- and sometimes, it makes him feel sick. He always was allergic to steroids.)

Trigometric, who bent reality into fractals, who seemed just a bit more broken than the rest. He actually liked his job, and that perhaps made him less of a hero and more of a monster. (Mr. Goodtimes was a head of government of some renown, famous for his power plays and his campaign that favored brutal action against those that the city condemned. Trigometric called him "Scar" with affection on his lips and that was perhaps scariest of all.)

It's terrifying hearing about his twin's coworkers and their varying flavors of unfortunate and unstable, even worse when he has to stay at home and watch the news to see if his brother has survived to see another day against the violent protests and the drug rings and mobs and super villains.

Because there are super villains. He even meets one.

---

The pigeons need feeding. Life or death, whether Xisuma is around to remind him or no, the pigeons need feeding so every Tuesday and Saturday Evil X goes to the park with a bag of bird seed. It just so happens that one sunshine-filled summer day there is someone there before him. Crouched close to a few pigeons, at first he thinks the figure is just dressed in a purple cloak, but when the figure stands up and stretches, the cloak separates to reveal a pair of brilliant purple wings. Poultryman.

Evil X has seen his brother come back from fights and he knows that while Poultryman is a figure of some renown, his battles rarely cause collateral damage- that's more the hallmark of his partner Clockwork. So when Poultryman turns to face him, trademark white mask over his eyes and an odd expression on his face, Evil X just glares and walks up to him to dump the bag of bird seed on the super villain's feet.

"For the birds," he says tersely before spinning on his heel, preparing to walk away. The sound of bright, cheerful laughter has him pausing and the sound of wings meeting the dirt has him turning around. Poultryman is on the ground, rolling around in the bird seed and laughing his head off, clutching his stomach and flapping his wings wildly, which only makes even more of a mess.

"Pffftt- hahaHAhAHaH! Oh gods, your face! If I couldn't tell you were so pissed off to see me I wouldv'e thought this was the greatest prank ever!" Oookay? Evil X crosses his arms, unimpressed and left with a sneaking suspicion he is being made fun of.

"And?" Poultryman lets out a last few wheezing gasps before smoothly rolling to his feet, mask askew and utterly covered in dirt, grass, and bird seed. The local pigeons have, surprisingly enough, not scattered just yet.

"And that was brilliant! Tell me, are you the one who's been feeding the birds around here? The pigeons have been dying to introduce me to their 'friend' and I've been eager to meet them ever since. Well, the word translates more to family but there's some non-pigeon implications mixed in there, so friend works a little better. I don't think my feathered friends have quite yet figured out how to buy their own bird seed. You don't look like a pigeon anyway."

"No. I am not a pigeon," Evil X sighs, shifting his feet but keeping his posture defensive. If he remembers right, Poultryman never did any real damage but he apparently came off to Xisuma as a little unhinged and he'd rather not test the super villain's good mood. "And yes, I feed the birds around here. Can I go?"

Poultryman tilts his head to the side, going abruptly silent and still, all emotion wiped from his body language, expression, and voice. "That depends. Would you like to make Matchstick's life a little easier? I have a deal for you."

---

It goes a little something like this.

Clockwork and Poultryman schedule a raid on a local food processing plant, hoping to take their newest shipment of tin. Matchstick and Splatter are in the area and are called in to help. It's a poor match up to begin with, with Splatter's strength not doing much against Clockwork's robotika and Matchstick- while able to keep up with Poultryman in the air, barely- can't seem to land a solid hit on the villain. It doesn't help that he seems to be limited in how hard he hits, too conscious of what his flames might do to Poultryman's vulnerable feathers and of just how high they are in the air. Clockwork, meanwhile, is free to pilfer what he and his partner please from the plant.

However, despite the lack of damage the super heroes are able to do, the villains do even less. To Evil X, that is all that matters.

In another part of the city, a group of civilians meet in an abandoned railway car, dry docked in a train yard with its rusted frame resting on several heavy blocks of wood. The door is chained shut, but that means little when the underneath has a hole cut into it and if one is determined enough, crawling inside is easy. There, they exchange moth-eaten blankets, half-broken appliances, tattered clothes, and the tools to fix them. Money. Documents.

Evil X brings food. The government promised food unending to him and his brother, he may as well take advantage of it.

A deceptively normal-looking man with glasses and a deactivated metal collar around his neck brings a stack of books in, most of them picture books for the children. Another man, this one with green skin and robotik prosthetics, brings a stack of battered but newly repaired mobile phones, gaze shifting around nervously, as if scared to be caught there. Evil X makes a quiet note of the men but moves on. Theirs is not a story he feels like tampering with today.

When Xisuma comes home to find Evil X laying face-down in bed, fast asleep, he just smiles and tucks himself in beside his twin. Today is the first day in a long time he had come out from a fight unscathed, and tomorrow he will share the good news with his brother. For now, he sleeps.

---

In time, Evil X becomes a staple of the Homeless Enforcing Principles, which quickly gets abbreviated to the rather unimaginative "HEP." He wonders in the back of his mind if a certain man in glasses had something to do with the name, but decides not to bother with that quickly enough. He has enough on his plate as is with his newly adopted duties.

You see, when you get a diverse enough body of people together from all echelons in the city, and then put them into a rather small space, they begin to do what every group of friendly strangers like to do on the train- start complaining. Sometimes it's about the new "neighborhood watch" starting trouble on the corner of 6th and Fruit, sometimes it's about the new increase in taxes their boss wants to implement, sometimes it's about the stock that slips through the gaps when the trucks come to restock the supermarket.

Between him and his twin, Evil X never really was the one for idle chit-chat, but he knew lies just as well as his brother did and public speaking was just lying with a pretty bow on top. Stock begins to get left off of inventory sheets and put into the hands of the needy. The "neighborhood watch" get pointed towards the parts of the city that actually need their help (conveniently drawing the attention of the local law enforcement, who can actually do something about the problem).

He begins to donate more and more food to the cause, waistline thinning in the process. He thinks he likes his figure better that way.

As Evil X puts more time into his new project, crime rates don't exactly go down, but the number of people arrested for stupid reasons certainly does. The other members of HEP begin to bring in their friends and family and the pool of resources and talents grows, expanding outside the walls of their train car and out into people's basements, gas station parking lots, metal trash bin bonfires in the park. Little pools of community, and for Evil X, wellsprings of information.

Clockwork and Poultryman are some of the first actual super villains to come to the meetings, this time under the names of Mumbo Jumbo and Grian, but they are not the last.

---

Armistice arrives hanging off of Lumesce's shoulder one night, his metal body forcing her to drag him along on the ground, shredded legs unable to hold his own weight. She cries steady tears of light, seemingly near-physically pained at being unable to further help him. Evil X watches quietly from the background as Grian looks up and over the bonfire from where he is tending the jagged gash in the unconscious Mumbo's leg.

"Wels. Pearl. Got you too, huh?" The carefully kept-up cheer is gone from the man's face as the duo settle down by the fire, sprawling out in a rough heap.

The woman, Pearl, nods wearily, pulling off her hood and wiping at her face, glowing tears staining her black jacket. "Yeah. Trigometric decided he wanted to come and 'play' for a bit, seems he finally caught on to the illegal clinic I was running down in Mr. TFC's basement. I was lucky enough to get an anonymous tip that he was coming, but Wels got caught in the crossfire for defending me." Grian nods back, eyes distant.

"Give Mumbo a hand with his leg, I'll go grab the last of our tin for Wels to eat so he can patch himself up. E-X?" Evil X straightens up at the winged man's attention. "Call up Keralis and see if you can't get some hew housing sorted for Mr. TFC. I doubt his house survived in the crossfire and you might as well fix it for him with my permission and funds rather than just sort it out behind my back and try to sell it to me as an 'investment' later."  With that parting remark Grian stands up stiffly and flies away, leaving Pearl to make her way over to his partner, healing tears already streaming down her face so that she can start to fix the wound.

On the other side of the fire, Wels reaches down and rubs at the sharp and twisted metal of the remnants of his left leg, expression lost and weary. "Things can't keep going like this, so many of us are running on fumes by this point. Something has to change." Expressionless, Evil X just turns away, pulls out his cellphone, and begins to make a few calls.

He carefully ignores the twisting of his heart in his chest.

The next day, Mr. TFC has a room in a decent hotel and Evil X sits on his perfectly white couch staring at his overly large TV, watching the news. Armistice and Poultryman are fighting against Matchstick and Ivy-Over, dashing in and landing a few hits before retreating to the shadows, then running up to repeat the process again. The fight ends with both sides retreating, the heroes to the hospital, the villains to skies with Poultryman straining to bear both Armistice's weight and the load of cash stolen cash in his arms.

Grian's going to pull a wing muscle again, Evil X just knows it.

Xisuma leaves the fight unscathed. Gemini isn't nearly so lucky.

---

The next super villain he meets is mostly on accident, a random encounter more than anything. Tired of lounging about all day, if you call making connections and surfing the internet doing fuck all, Evil X decides he hates himself a bit more than he usually does and decides to go job hunting. A quick internet search later and he finds himself standing outside an abandoned warehouse on the North docks. He and his brother never had much more than their birth certificates and social security numbers to their name, so shady suited him perfectly fine.

A man steps out from behind a corner dressed in a hospital mask, black pea-coat, and a sailor's breton cap as white as his hair. Evil X freezes, eyes going wide as the familiar-looking stranger goes bug-eyed to see him right back. Then the man shifts his weight to his back foot, crossing his arms and wincing playfully, very real trepidation lurking in his posture.

"Uh, you wouldn't happen to by Matchstick's brother, would you?" Evil X takes a careful step away from the man, who he now recognizes as Zyon from watching the news, one of Xisuma's more common foes. His own research proved that the fellow had ice powers to put an iceberg to shame, which was ironic considering that he was secretly the business mogul Etho, who ran a shipping company helpfully named "Titanic Inc." It was doubly ironic since "Zyon" was notorious for causing problems for "Etho," who then claimed the insurance payouts when the boats eventually sank.

That the boats that sank frequently carried weapons, junk food made with GMO ingredients, and weirdly enough, socks, was of little consequence to him, but he kept that amusing tidbit in his back pocket for later. (The sailors on board were... collateral. And a nonissue. Anyone who signed up on a ship run by "Titanic Inc." deserved what they got.)

(Their deaths were not his concern.)

"Yeah, that's me. And you're Zyon- or rather, Etho." Zyon chuckles nervously.

"Yep yep, that's me. And you're very firmly on the 'no touchie' list around here, so I'm just gonna gooo...." Zyon flinches as Evil X suddenly attaches himself to his wrist, expression steely.

"List?" It's more statement than question, but it has Zyon gulping back a frantic giggle anyway.

"Oh no, I'm not messing with that one. Let's just say you should take that up with your brother and leave it at that. Get too deep into that mess and someone's gonna end up regretting it- and I'm not that dumb, that's for sure!" With that parting remark, Evil X finds his feet frozen to the ground and Zyon running off, dropping the black pea-coat of Etho to reveal the icy blue Kevlar ninja suit of the super villain underneath.

Bemusedly Evil X watches Zyon vault up a stack of pipes onto a nearby roof, then off towards the city where he could better better disappear.

Hmm. Seems like he needs to step up his game.

---

He runs into Ooze at the supermarket. Apparently they both prefer the green grapes to the purple ones. The more you know.

---

It's his encounter with Valkerie that really sets things off.

Xisuma comes home one day, tears streaming down his face and his gloves covered in blood and dust. He crumples in a heap at Evil X's feet where he sits on the couch and drops his face into his twin's lap, trembling. His arms dangle at his sides, blood dripping from his fingers onto the sterile white carpeting.

"Four dead found in a park near here. All teenagers, just having fun. Just. Just fucking kids! She ruptured their ear drums and they bled out because they couldn't move to get to safety. Gods E-X, their eyes... They looked so scared..." Evil X stays quiet and runs his fingers through his brother's hair, heedless of the muck clinging to the ends. Xisuma shakes himself to bits in his hands. "They were just kids. We couldn't do even do anything but clean up the mess afterwards."

Xisuma pauses, hesitant, before choking out- "That could have been us. Had we still been on our own, that could have been us." Ah. So that's it.

"We're safe, you know. Whoever Valkerie is, she won't get us here."

"But we don't know that! What if you're out shopping and she's at the market, or if she gets on the news and her scream works through the TV? What then?! I can't-" The words die in his twin's throat and Evil X gulps back his own.

I can't lose you. It's a phrase that's crossed his own mind more than once.

"Okay. Okay. I'll stay home until she's caught, okay? Get delivery or something, I don't know. And I'll keep the TV off, the radio too. Shhh. Shhhhh. I'll be okay." Xisuma struggles closer, shoving his face into his brother's stomach and getting snot and tears all over the both of them. Evil X doesn't complain. It's a lie and they both know it, but they've lived lies before, are used to it. What's one more, in the face of that?

To be fair, Evil X gives it a few weeks before he makes his move, and he knows he'll be fine so really it's only half a lie anyway.

---

Feet crunch against gravel as Evil X approaches the woman kneeling in the center of the abandoned construction site, hands over her mouth, eyes scrunched, biting the flesh of her thumb to keep her sobs held in.

"Hello Ms. Valkerie. Grian's told me about you."

The woman whips around, eyes wide and bloodshot at his sudden appearance, before she shakily lowers her hands from her mouth to clutch at the fabric of her pink cardigan. "I'm- I'm not some monster, got it? I'm just Stress, j-just- I'm just me! I don't want to hurt anyone!" Her voice goes shrill and thin towards the end and Evil X hides his wince, although apparently not well enough because she immediately slaps a hand over her mouth again, eyes watering anew.

"Okay. It's okay, Stress. I'm here to help," he placates, lowering himself down to sit next to her in the dirt. Around them, rusted I-beams and concrete pillars rise, giving them some semblance of privacy. The full moon lurks overhead, casting them both in a silver glow. "You're life must be very hard, hm?"

Stress nods, expression wary.

"And retail is very- ha- stressful too, I imagine?" Here a little grin leaks out from behind her hand. "All those customers whining on and on about discounts. 'Oh, I have a gift receipt why can't I return this?' Like, lady, you opened this box. 'I'm gonna talk to your manager!' Lady, he's just gonna say the exact same thing."

A stifled giggle and a whispered "Worse! I work in the women's clothing department." Evil X gives a mock gasp, face going wide and shocked.

"So you don't just have to deal with fussy customers- you deal with fussy suburban soccer moms!" Stress tips forward with the force of her muffled laughter, tucking her damp face into the curve of his neck and putting her full weight on him. Hesitantly she clutches the tail of his shirt with her freehand, then a little tighter when he makes no move to shove her off. Evil X just wraps a gentle arm around her shoulders.

"Some of those customers must make you want to go home and just scream, huh." Her laughter tapers off, but she nods, quiet. "So you go somewhere empty and abandoned and scream your heart out so you don't kill someone." Another nod, a little hitch in Stress' breathing. "And you scream and scream, so glad to release some of your pent-up feelings, but oops. It turns out there are people there anyway. And your screaming just killed them. You've become a murderer and the police brands you accordingly."

The hand in his shirt tightens, tugging. "I- I didn't want to hurt them! I didn't want to hurt anyone! But- but it just happened and then I was running, and no one saw me so I had to just go to work the next day, a-and. And-"

"And now you're the wanted super villain Valkerie." His hand smoothes up and down her back as her breath hitches again, once, twice, and then wetness against his neck.

"Valkerie is such a stupid name, anyway. I'm not escorting anyone anywhere, let alone to Valhalla. I just scream and. And they're dead."

Evil X hums quietly. "You must be very tired."

"...Yes. Yes." The moon slips through the sky for a while and they drift with it, lost in thought. Evil X stares up at it, squinting against its light to try and figure out what time it is, if Xisuma is likely to be home yet. The gravel is harsh against his knees.

Then. "Things can't keep going like this. I'm so tired, all the time these days. It's just work, day in and day out, and all this stress." She pulls away then and Evil X watches as Stress scrubs at her face, expression going cold and determined. She stares him straight in the eyes, but something about her still seems lost, like she's gazing through him. "Something has to change or else someone is going to get themselves killed."

He tilts his eyes head, considering, thoughtful, with a well-hidden edge to his voice.

"I think I could help with that."

---

The morning news. Four calls placed, a frantic brother reassured, Stress is sitting a cafe on the corner of Elm and 5th. Her gut flutters with nerves but Evil X can see her expression is calm from her position in the background of the shot. The news anchor is a pretty blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman blathering on about how the cafe apparently is the oldest one in the city and some other historical nonsense. Out of shot of the camera, a desperate, dog-eared petty thief is running for his life down 6th street, the hulking figure of Spatter hot on his heels.

They round a corner, onto 5th. Past the cafe, the startled reporter, the public shrieking as their morning is disrupted. Stress nearly throws up as her heart launches itself into her throat but she's... There's a plan and she's going to stick to it.

So she stands up, small and in the background of the shot, but her bright pink jacket makes her stand out. She opens her mouth, expression going scared like a civilian's, and screams just as she had been told to. It's not for long, barely a second or two all told, but it's enough to have the people near her cringing away, blood trickling from their eyes and from where their fingernails dig into their skin in trying to cover their ears.

Spatter freezes in his tracks, pupils mere pinpricks as the sudden outpouring of blood triggers something deep and wild in him. The camera shakes, the frightened camera man ducking down to avoid notice but carefully recording what's about to happen, as if sensing that whatever happens next is about to be important.

The hero turns towards Stress, eyes wild, and although she's scared out of her mind, she stands her ground. Her voice barely even shakes as she speaks.

"S-stop. Stop running, can't you see you're scaring people? You nearly ran me over!" In the eyes of the camera Stress looks like a frightened civilian gone civil defender in pink, the morning light casting her in gold and the cafe's shadow creeping over Spatter's massive, muscled-out form to cast him in darkness and grey. The lack of harsh lighting makes it even more obvious when he starts sniffing the air, darting eyes pausing on all the bloodied hands and finally resting on the woman who caused the damage.

The world has insisted, long and loud, that he is a hero and with that comes certain ingrained responsibilities. Stress is Valkerie. Splatter fixes his gaze on her and with a snarl, he moves.

The camera catches it in perfect, awful clarity when his arm goes through her stomach and her blood starts pooling on the floor. Her expression is so betrayed.

From his place on his clean, white couch at home, Evil X turns the TV off.

---

Stress is buried with honors and all media depictions of Valkerie as a monster cease as the streets are made "safe" from the super villain. Instead, news programs and talk shows take up a new crusade, this one against the "heroes" that protected the city and the governing bodies that controlled their movements. Mr. Goodtimes has his name dragged through the mud, and each day his brother comes home with stories about how frazzled Trigometric is, Evil X has to hide his smile.

Seeming to pick up on the way things are turning, Clockwork disappears from the public eye while Poultryman steps up the showmanship, making more appearances in public spaces to egg government buildings and steal petty amounts of scrap metal from junk yards and factory scrap heaps. The heroes that give chase, usually Xenon and Krypton, end up causing more damage than they actually prevent.

Ivy-Over- shocked at the public outrage about the apartments left in shambles after her particularly brutal battle against Zyon- rather predictably ends up snapping, although not in any way Evil X expected.

She ends up going to the news and telling them everything. Public outrage rises anew.

There's a riot in town square and Matchstick and Reaper are sent in to stop it. Thirteen people die, kindly Mr. TFC one of them. Xisuma comes home, collapses into Evil X's arms, and cries.

Things have to change. And so they do.

---

Midnight and two figures meet on a roof top somewhere overlooking the domed silhouette of city hall. The first wears a set of armor shaded in green and grey, a purple visor over his eyes and an oxygen-filter over the lower half of his face. The second figure has wings, stretched wide to block out the light of the crescent moon above.

Matchstick. Poultryman.

Xisuma. Grian.

Matchstick tilts his head to the side, drawing himself up to his full height to loom over the far shorter villain. "The status quo is falling apart, Poultryman. Does the deal still hold?"

Poultryman rolls his head to make it clear he had just rolled his eyes, the purple insignia on his mask flashing to display his annoyance. "Yeah yeah, I've spread the word to the others and they're not as crazy as the news likes to make 'em out to be. No one has hurt your precious 'E-X,' nor do they have any plans to. Too much trouble to mess with beyond trying to keep him out of whatever crime scene we'll be making, and that's hard enough as is. Your brother has a habit of making himself hard to track and it's getting... troubling."

The hero's posture suddenly goes as stiff as his namesake, smoke starting to hiss from the vents carefully built into his suit. "Troubling?"

Violet wings flap once, twice, before pulling tight against Poultryman's back and not for the first time, Matchstick curses himself for never bothering to learn what his various wing positions mean. The villain in question just rolls his shoulders back and settles into a careful parade rest that gives nothing away, expression pensive.

"Xisuma..." Matchstick flinches back, the careful line between them wavering at the name. "What exactly do you about your brother?"

A hesitant head tilt and he taps his fingers along his leg, thinking back to when he had last spent more than a few fleeting hours with his twin at a time.

"He likes sweet foods, even if he pretends he doesn't. Has more money invested in Derp Coin than he probably should. Likes red and black but gets fussy if anyone calls him a goth. Never seems to sleep, or eat regular meals, but he never seems to forget anything either. Best brother I could ever ask for- he loves me, I know that for sure. All the important stuff. Why?"

A wisp of cloud drifts overhead, casting a brief shadow over the pair, and in the sudden darkness Matchstick could swear that Poultryman had pulled a frown. Then the moment passes and the villain is back to his usual inscrutable self, the only emotion in his body language being what he had put there intentionally. His wings remain tight to his back.

"Then I think you might be in for a bit of a surprise one day, Matchstick. Here's to hoping you can roll with the coming storm."

---

Evil X is beloved by the HEP network. Regardless of Grian's intention in putting him in contact with them- or even why the villain knew of the group to start with- his repeated contributions to their food stocks made him an opening among them and his ability to make and exploit connections made him their hero. If you were desperate, hungry, in need? Evil X could get you whatever you needed at the cost of a simple favor.

When it came to the price of a life, a favor is a small thing to ask indeed. Is it any wonder that they became so loyal to him? So when Evil X began asking questions about some of the city's more sensitive secrets and its shadier underbelly, it was only natural that they told him.

From the tall man with green skin, he learned the best places to dump things so that they disappeared. From a sleepy-looking fellow with a bandana, he learned the locations of the best drug dealers, and from those dealers he learned of their suppliers, their manufacturers, the places where heroes never walked. From the man with glasses, he learned about the back doors and hidden routes through the biggest, most important buildings, the places where they held people until they could make them disappear.

And with this information, Evil X's services expanded even further. Drugs for the addicts, as contaminant-free and trust-worthy as he could find them. Ways to make people appear and disappear in the eyes of the law (and the occasional abusive spouse). Alcohol, cigarettes- and most importantly, information.

Or rather, black mail. If you wanted to know something on someone, Evil X became the person to go to. Months of careful manipulation had spread his name and his reach through all levels of the city and people from all walks of life took advantage of her services, although usually all meetings were held over the phone and through a voice changer fashioned to look just like his twin's mask. The secrecy only increased his popularity, as people just love a good mystery and a grey-shaded crime boss made a lovely story indeed.

And soon, this caught the intention of another of the city's fabled figures- the mad scientist who lived deep in the underbelly of the city, a place where no light shone. The man, the myth, the legend... Void.

But then, myths never were all that accurate, especially with things like names.

---

Curly blond hair, brown cardigan, a ripped white lab coat. Calculating purple eyes and a wide, wide eerily white grin. Short and stocky with a complexion like a ripe peach, the blue light coming off the lights overhead casting hazy shadows over his form, everything about the good doctor is simultaneously creepy and a soft sort of handsome- he has to say, he's impressed. The mythical Zedaph lives up to the city's dark rumors of him and he says as much, which prompts that grin to grow all the wider.

"Ah, hello Weaver! Y'know, I kind of thought you'd be shorter. And down here a lot sooner, I almost could say I missed you~!" Evil X balks as the scientist steps forward and grips his chin to tilt his head down, purple eyes wandering over his scarred features.

"It's not like you make yourself easy to find- and that's not my name." Zedaph shakes his head, leaning his face up with just scant inches between them.

"Little spider, you might be pretty good at hearing things but you're awful at listening. If you have large enough ears, you'd find you're just about the most talked about thing in the underground these days-"

"Do spiders have ears...?"

"-so like it or not, your web is big enough that people have been spotting it in odd places, which means your twin will probably catch on soon. Which means..." Here Zedpah spins away to walk to the opposite wall, pressing a few buttons on his tablet which make the underground laboratory brighten considerably. Evil X tries not to feel bereft at the sudden loss of contact. "Your plans are gonna have to hit double time. And I love me a good speed potion!"

Speechless, Evil X just nods as the scientist opens a previously hidden door and pulls out a laptop case from inside, turning to present it to him with a fiercely proud expression on his face.

"Knock 'em dead darling. I can't wait to see you rock their world~!"

---

What does the end of an era look like? It's not a sudden collapse of civilization, people screaming and running through the streets. It's not the violent murder of the governmental leaders or riots against the past order. It's not as clear cut as all that. Nor is it so subtle that people look around one day and go huh, as the world around them had shifted beneath their feet without their notice. Indeed, there are many who saw the tide rising and were all too happy to watch the waters sweep in and away.

It goes like this.

The super villains go missing. First one week goes by with no wild scheme or dangerous incident, then two, then three. The higher ups are frantic with worry, running constant meetings and keeping the super heroes out on the streets for as long as they could without the heroes themselves rioting. It keeps Matchstick out of the way of Weaver, and at the moment, that's all the thought he can afford to spare his twin. It's for the best, really. The next step is important.

Across every government-issued computer in the city, an email is issued out. Personalized, first middle last name, parents' names, chidlrens' names. An alphabetical list of every law the person in question had broken in the last ten years, the number of witnesses who saw them do it, sometimes video footage or photo-copied documents if the crime was serious enough to warrant more concrete proof. What the punishments for those crimes would be. What could be done, if those punishments were waived for money or fame.

Nearly a thousand people get an email in the span of 24 hours. (Evil X never wants to write another email ever-fucking-again. None. Ever.) The heroes also receive an email detailing what laws were broken by denying them rights, food, decent living conditions and overtime pay, as well as the names of several lawyers who would work for them for free if the email was shown to them within three days time.

Every email is emblazoned with a web-like logo with a bright red "X" sitting in the middle like a bloody spider. Though some plucky tech people attempt to track the emails back to the sender, their every attempt is rebuffed by the impossible firewalls built into the computer the messages were sent from. As imagined, chaos in its most understated form ensues.

The city officials scramble to keep their sinking ship from falling apart and the little people kept cooped up in square offices and cell blocks come crawling out of the woodwork to jump ship. Some of the heroes, such as Xenon, Matchstick, and Shank try desperately to hold things together, but others like Reaper head for the nearest legal office and hole up with a team of vicious prosecutor attorneys. Meanwhile, the civilians go about their business, unaware of what is going on in the ivory towers far above their notice.

Xisuma comes home to fin their apartment empty, and although betrayal sits like a rock in his gut, his guts still squirm with desperate, aching fear. (No... please, no.)

The super villains make their reappearance with flair, setting the stage for the next act. Each one takes to a corner of the city, working in pairs to capture civilians and hold them hostage en mass, their efforts to wide spread for the remaining heroes to deal with in one go. From here, walking along a quiet street and watched by hundreds of frightened eyes- a captive audience- Weaver makes his debut as he makes his way to the city capital.

Tall, whip-thin enough to make his proportions lean more towards slenderman than super model, and dressed in red and black armor with a matching helmet and visor, Weaver cuts an imposing figure as he makes his way up the white marble steps of the capital building to where a nervous-looking reporter stands. She straightens up at his approach though and with a nod to her camera crew, she starts asking questions just in time for Poultryman to swoop in and land beside the newest super villain, expression stern but a clear presence of support.

In his hands a laptop is clutched.

---

The demands are simple in theory, but Xisuma feels his heart thunder in his throat at every point on the list.

The week would be split into three types of days. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays would proceed as normal and the heroes and villains could go at each other as they pleased. Fridays would be reserved for the villains to do as necessary without hero interference under the caveat that no blood would be spilled, and Sundays heroes could have the same. Tuesdays and Saturdays, no one would fight, a proper break for everyone.

The villains would keep to their side of the bargain, Weaver says darkly as he stares directly into camera, just so long as the heroes kept to theirs. And measures would be taken for anyone who chose not to comply. Xisuma's brain goes fuzzy with static as the super villain makes a few other demands, something about fair wages and from when to when each group could operate, but his gaze remains locked to where he can just barely make out his twin's face through his visor. The words filter through him, dismissed into a soft numbing blur.

The air suddenly feels chilled on his skin, fingers twitching in his lap, a rough, twisting feeling in his gut like the bottom of his stomach just dropped away. He feels trapped, unable to move from the couch, from the wrong side of the screen. Oh, he thinks hazily to himself, he's about to be sick. Hmm, ought to do- something. About all of- of this.

Gods... What did his brother do?

---

An era ends like this- Poultryman sweeps Weaver away in his arms and in his place, Evil X comes home. Xisuma watches his brother come through the door, eyes glued to his brother's face even as Evil X places his keys on the table by the door and takes off his shoes. There's a gentle realization bubbling up that this is the first time he's seen his brother's bare face with his own eyes, without the tint of a visor between them, in far too long. His twin's got paler as of late, making the eye bags and scars stand out all the more.

"You're home." The words hang in the air and Evil X sags at their weight, leaning against the door as if to prop himself up for the conversation to come. His arms hang behind his back, a laptop case dangling in his grip.

"You know this isn't home any more than the tree was."

"We- we were supposed to be safe here. This was where we were going to stay!" Xisuma is going red now, rising up from the couch in his anger, and Evil X watches him with the dredged-up calm of a man resigned to drowning. Good, anger he could handle.

"You thought this was where we would stay, got us a nice, normal apartment that looks like it's out of a fashion plate without asking me. You think I like staying in this pretty white bird cage that you bought by selling yourself to the most corrupt people around? This place isn't any safer for us than the tree was, and at least in the park we had company!"

"Says the one who fell into bed with the literal bad guy! At least here you weren't getting into fights every other week."

"No, now you're the one doing that!" They're shouting at each other. They never do that. An acrid taste fills Evil X's mouth and he gulps it back, along with a few words he just knows he would regret if he said them. A deep breath, a slow in and out. "Look, just. Don't be a hypocrite, okay?"

Xisuma pauses in his wind up for a proper tirade, eyes wary and wet. "What?"

"You aren't the only self sacrificing moron here."

"...Oh." Yeah. Oh.

Here Evil X takes another breath, resisting the urge to hold it, then extends his arm to show his twin the laptop case. "Hey."

Xisuma folds his arms behind his back, looking at his feet and then up again, shuffling back a step. "Yeah?"

"Got you a present. You always were the best of us, so. Here. It was the last part of the deal I kinda set up, a kind of fail-safe slash card to add to your deck. This laptop has evidence of my entire operation, every backroom deal, every piece of black mail, every person I've had killed or vanished or what have you. Everything I've been up to for the last however long. And... it's for you to read. It's not gonna be fun, but like, I trust you so it's okay. If you read this and really, honestly think I've crossed a line you can't forgive me for, you can turn this into the police and... I'll deal with whatever you choose to do with me. No loop holes, no take-backs."

Here Evil X leans his full weight against the door and lets his arm swing back down to his side, gaze sliding off to the side and a melancholy smile curling at his lips and pulling at his scars. "I trust you. I trust you. It... It'll be okay, yeah? Just make whatever choice you need to. Don't hesitate." He doesn't promise anything, keeps the words 'I'll be okay' from spilling into the air between them, but instead allows a careful submission to enter his posture, head bowed and figure loose and hanging.

It... might not be alright, but it will be right and that will have to be good enough. (It has to be.)

Xisuma chokes, a sob rising in his throat as his brave, strong brother gives up before his eyes. The air in his lungs freezes solid at the thought of having to choose whether or not his twin lives or dies, because that's what this is, he can't pretend that the city wouldn't execute him at the slightest chance, agreements be damned. His gaze tracks wildly from the laptop case to the top of his brother's head to the window, as if trying to see if anyone could be watching, could make the choice for him.

It's not fair. It's not fair, why him, why? He was so good, tried so hard- his heart is loud in his ears, breath rattling in and out in wheezing gasps- sobbing now, utterly sobbing. Evil X doesn't look up, doesn't try to comfort him. Won't even move, gods.

Fuck it.

Evil X startles, back banging against the door as Xisuma rushes forward and rips the case from his hands, only to chuck it into the far corner before throwing himself into his arms. On instinct Evil X catches him and holds him close just in time for Xisuma to bury his face in the crook of his neck and burst into messy, tearful sobs. They shake together and Evil X lets his head thump back gently against the door, eyes hazily gazing up at the ceiling.

"It's not- *hic*- it's not fair! I didn't want this!"

"I know. I know." He runs his hand over his twin's back, his taller form bowing forward to shelter his brother's smaller one. Somehow, even now it feels like Xisuma is the larger one between them, solid and warm in his arms.

"Why do I have to choose? I never wanted this! Why?! Why would you do this for me?"

"You're my brother. I love you." A gasping, wet sob against his neck and his twin lets out a moan like a dying cow, low and agonized. Evil X focuses on a soot mark on the white ceiling, tears stinging his eyes and running down his face to plop softly into his brother's hair.

"But why?!" Screaming. Gods, he can't-

"I love you. I love you." Rocking now, back and forth, gentle, just as he had when he had come home from beating up the men who had tried to lay stomp out his brother's heart, scarred and beaten and bloody. I love you, he had said then, and he repeats it now.

Later, much later, Xisuma will have to boot up the laptop and read through its contents. He will try to burn it, first, but Zedaph's work is more durable than most and Evil X will watch as his twin will dump his emotions into his flames, desperately trying to stoke them hotter and brighter. Later, a choice will have to be made.

But for now, Evil X will hold his brother, warm and safe, and let him cry.