#by 'a good chunk of time' i mean like 2 weeks maybe? 1 sick week 1 holiday? hotch probs knew why maybe spun it as a research thing to

[fondfamilies]

when the show starts gideon's had time off for ptsd he buries it deep down & carries on & makes himself work with it, then when his little guy gets it too he passes on some shitty advice & otherwise (as much as we see) stays silent about it. then it all gets to gideon (you know, because he doesn't deal with it or take it seriously as far as we see) & he quits, leaving reid to keep working with ptsd & the bad advice. i love gideon but maybe it was good for reid to see that his mental health management was perhaps something to not take to heart too much hahah

[standingappablog]

I have theories I would like to share with y’all:

-We are left not knowing the fate of Marty and Nora, so I have some ideas of what could have happened to them.

Nora:

1.The most obvious theory, and probably the most likely is that she is in fact dead. With Rachel talking about her in the past tense and wearing her old runners it seems like she died saving her in the shark attack. Rachel also mentions that “their story” doesn’t end well. She also references at the beginning of her interview about how she treated Nora. Perhaps she felt guilty about how she treated her in their last few weeks together.

2.Now this one I know seems like a reach but, the shark attack was staged by gretchen to get Nora off the island so the experiment isnt exposed to the girls. Nora “dies” in the attack, therefore Leah has no way of blaming her. So to everyone else Nora is dead, which is why Rachel speaks of her in the past tense. (Again I’m leaning towards the her actually dying in the shark attack)

3. Or Nora could be completely fine and wasn’t interviewed because she was an informant.

Martha:

1.Now really we don’t know what happens to her. (So what I’m about to say is complete speculation) The only hint that we get is Agent Young going through her things in an attempt to find blackmail against her family. This makes us assume that she is either dead or in critical condition. Out of all of the girls towards the end of the season, the two who seem to be struggling the most are Leah and Martha. Shaken up by killing a living creature and facing the reality that she was abused as a child, makes me think Marty may have tried hurting herself. Probably towards the end of their stay on the island. Marty’s parents presumably signed her up for a relaxing time away with her best friend. So Gretchen, needing blackmail against the family so they wont sue her for whatever happened to Marty, makes me believe something like this happened to her.

Or

2. Marty’s death could have been an accident like Noras and Janettes, how? There is many possibilities, I mean they are surviving on an deserted island so exposure, sickness falling from a high place..getting lost. Ect.

Shelby:

We are left with a lot of questions about Shelby.

Her ankle:

1. The First shot we see of her in the facility is her ankle, so when I finished watching the first time, I assumed she must have ran after Nora to help save Rachel, this one is easy to believe but her leg doesn’t look like it was bitten by a shark, there isn’t any visible wounds, so I’m doubtful of this possibility.Also her injury seems fresh enough and the girls where supposed to be on the island for three months, so I doubt she got it in the shark attack, which took place three weeks into their time on the island.

2.We know that Shelby was suspicious throughout her interview, so maybe she might have tried escaping the facility beforehand and was tackled?Or she fell? So this happening before hand could explain why the investigators mentioned they weren’t going to go easy on her in her interview. She was also described to be in a pretty fragile mental state, and they didn’t know what version of her they where going to get.

3. Shelby hurt her ankle trying to save Martha. Like I mentioned before Marty may have died or got badly injured by hurting herself. Maybe Shelby was there and tried saving her, somewhat similar to the situation with her friend Becca.

4.Another theory I saw was that Toni may have accidentally hurt her like she did Reagan. There has been a lot of speculation if Toni and Shelby are on good terms or not. Maybe Marty’s death/ injuries become a conflict between them since she was present. Or a conflict about something entirely different could have cuased her ankle injury

5.Or simply she could have just fallen before her rescue from the island lol. Though her ankle is the first shot we get of her in the facility. That’s what makes me think it’s significant.

Her hair:

1. The two possibilities that I could think of is that, her hair was just so matted and unkept by the end of the three months that there was just no salvaging it so it was shaved, or:

2.Shelbys hair seemed to be her form of releasing her frustration. We know that her mental health declines after the shark attack, so she may in upset/frustration cut it all off or continues to take chunks out of her hair as a form of release.

Leah and Shelby (+possibly Dot and Agent Young)

Leah:

1.After the shark attack, if Nora does die I think Leah will have a difficult time convincing the others, especially Rachel that Nora is some sort of agent.

2. The groups friend just died, so hearing from Leah that Nora was in on whatever is happening to them won’t be taken well. Certainly not by Rachel, I can imagine Leah saying this about Nora would make her furious. They will probably assume that she is once again having a mental break, and won’t listen to her.

3.Even if Nora doesn’t die, she was told to do as much as she can to keep everyone in the dark, so I wouldn’t put it past her making Leah look like she is going crazy.

Shelby:

1.At first I don’t think Shelby will believe Leah, but she will probably slowly begin to suspect things like Leah did. The two have an understanding, as we where shown, Shelby knows what it feels like to breakdown, and have everyone think they are crazy. But she knows in that moment she isn’t crazy, and neither is Leah. So when she is rescued and quarantined in the facility it will probably convince her completely.

Anaphylactic shock:

1.Shelby going into anaphylactic shock. How did she even go into anaphylactic shock? Where they given food in their rooms and Gretchen would have to have known that she is allergic. Right?

2.I think Shelby left a time on the note to Leah for her to escape. She maybe was able to order shellfish to her room, and then would eat it during the time Leah was going to escape.

Or:

1. I think MAYBE Shelby and Dot figured out what was going on before being rescued. We see that Dot orders a plate of seafood, which she barely touches. What if somehow Dot got the seafood to Shelby, maybe by leaving it underneath the table and shelby taking it back to her room after her interview. So when Leah tries to escape she eats the seafood, which sets off the alarm and distracts the guards. And with Shelby leaving a time on the note for Leah to escape, she would know when to eat the Seafood. (Another reach I know)

And:

-Agent Young could also have helped them. We saw that he sympathised with the girls and that he was the one keeping tabs on all of them. Maybe he knowingly let the girls do this without telling anyone, making it easier for them to pass notes and for Leah to escape.

They all know:

-Another possibility is that Leah somehow convinces the others that something is going on. And plan out how to figure out what really is going on. All of the girls get their stories straight, and they purposely leave out parts that could be used against them. Playing the investigators. I’m less inclined to believe this one since Shelby gave the note to Leah telling her she was right all along, why would she do that if they all knew anyways?

Toni and Shelby:

I think a lot of us suspect that the twos releationship is a little rocky by the time they get to the facility. (I have another post explaining why I think they aren’t on good terms currently)

1.Like I mentioned before Toni and Shelbys conflict may involve Marty, with her dying or hurting herself, Toni who we have seen can have huge outbursts when she is upset, could blame Shelby for not doing enough ,because maybe she was present when it happened. So maybe Toni irrationally blames Shelby for whatever happened to Marty.

2.This irrational anger could also be the cause of Shelbys ankle injury. Of course I don’t think Toni would ever purposely hurt Shelby, but she could accidentally, just as she did with her previous girlfriend.

3.A theory I’ve seen suggested a few times is that, they staged their break up to protect each other. If they seem like they aren’t together anymore to the investigators, they can’t be used against one another. (I personally think this one is hella cute)

4. Another possible conflict is Tonis anger issues affecting their relationship just as it did with Reagan, Tonis outbursts may be too much for Shelby and that may become an issue.

5. Shelby not being able to come to terms with her sexuality. This one isn’t as likely, because as far as everyone is concerned they are stuck on the island for god knows how long. The idea of not going home any time soon only seems to make Shelby want to explore herself more. And everyone I feel like would be completely supportive.

Although:

-Martha may have an issue, not with the fact that they are together but more that when they found food instead of taking it back to everyone, they hooked up. Leaving Martha to kill the goat by herself, when she really didn’t need to. Maybe this could lead to Toni having to choose who’s side to take, her girlfriend or best friend. (Martha has “you and us” mentality with Shelby after her homophobic remarks. Toni also has told Martha “since when where there sides?”)

Annnnnnddd that is all, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I felt like typing it all out, I’d love to know what everyone thinks and your theories!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[pillage-and-lute]

The Courting Ways of Wolves (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

This is the final real plot chapter. Part 6 (epilogue) is up now.

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They had stayed in the merchant village a few more days, Geralt taking a few contracts, and then they’d left, although not before Geralt could buy the books for Jaskier and Ciri. He kept them wrapped in the brown paper the grumpy old merchant had used and squirreled them away in his pack.

And life more or less went back to normal. 

Geralt was trying, though. He was fastidious about giving Jaskier a compliment at least once a day, and he minded his manners. About two weeks after the merchant village, in a different and much less friendly town, Geralt had a new contract.

“You’ve managed to anger a wind spirit,” Geralt said. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the depths of human stupidity. 

“Well, we didn’t mean to,” the alderman said. “But that little trilithon has been there for ages, and the boys of the village were playing and...knocked it over.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “They knocked over the spirit’s temple,” he said.

“Well, not so much a temple, is it, it’s only about yea high,” the Alderman said, gesturing at about hip height.

“It is still a temple,” Geralt said, speaking slowly so that his words were understood. “And the wind spirit is tied to it’s temple. How would you like it if someone went kicking about inside your soul?”

“Is that why it’s throwing a fit then?”

Throwing a fit? Geralt thought. Having your soul knocked over must be horrible, of course the spirit was ‘throwing a fit’.

“Yes,” he said. 

“But you can help us?” the Alderman flapped his hands. “No one can go into the forest to hunt or even get firewood.”

“I’ll go right the trilithon, set it back as it should be,” Geralt said. “For the price we agreed.”

“Yes, yes,” said the man. “And that’ll fix it.”

“Yes,” Geralt said. “But once it’s done I’d recommend lighting some incense by the temple. Air spirits like that sort of thing, show you’re sorry.”

“Really?”

Geralt resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose again. “Yes, really. And if you leave more regular offerings it might even be friendly.”

“Offerings?”

“Light a candle by it, let the wind blow it out,” Geralt growled, thoroughly done with the conversation. “That’s what wind spirits like, incense and putting out candles. Really, spirits just like being remembered.”

The alderman agreed and Geralt left, buying a small candle from a wax worker on his way out of the town. Jaskier caught up not a meter past the last building in town.

“So,” he said excitedly. “Wind spirit.” 

“Yes,” Geralt said. “But you aren’t coming.”

Jaskier pouted, but Geralt didn’t look lest he give in. 

“It’s dangerous,” he said. “I don’t know how angry the spirit is, they can be very powerful.”

“I’ll stay behind you.”

“That may not do you much good. Go back to the inn.”

“No.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled low, trying to get his wayward bard to see the point. “It’s not safe.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“You could get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

They bickered the whole of the way to the woods where the temple was. Jaskier pulled out his notebook, he’d left his lute at the inn. 

The wind picked up, whirling ominously around them, lifting Geralt’s hair from his shoulders and rifling through Jaskier’s notebook. 

“Perhaps this shall have to be committed to memory, Jaskier said, tucking the notebook back into his doublet. The wind blew again and Jaskier shivered against the chill, so out of place in the middle of summer.

“Just,” Geralt said. “Stay behind me, and stay close.”

They made their way through the wood, the wind getting steadily stronger. The wood was old, full of venerable oaks with branches twisted with time. Roots seemed to try to trip them at every opportunity and the going was slow. At last, near the center, Geralt saw the little clearing. One shaft of light that made it’s way through the canopy lit on the three stones, collapsed in the center of the clearing. 

The toe of Geralt’s boot entered the clearing and suddenly the wind roared. Leaves, twigs, and acorns, lifted from the ground and hurtled past as the gale ripped about them. Jaskier had to press himself to a tree to avoid being blown over and Geralt staggered. 

Nevertheless, he took another step into the clearing. “I’m trying to help,” he said into the wind, the sound ripped away as soon as it left his lips. 

One more step.

The world exploded around him. He and Jaskier were thrown to the forest floor. The wind whipped like great ropes about them. Tree branches cracked off and splinters flew with deadly speed. Geralt crawled to Jaskier and pressed him to the ground, cradled by the roots of the large oak next to them. A splinter as long as Geralt’s hand embedded itself an inch deep into the tree root beside his head.

He curled around Jaskier as the wind screamed around them. He’d never minded the bard being as tall as he was, it made him feel less out of place, less monstrous, but today he wished he could shrink Jaskier down. He covered as much of him as he could, draping his body of Jaskier’s own. Geralt’s forehead pressed into the dirt next to Jaskier’s head, his shoulders blocking the most of the wind and the shrapnel from Jaskier’s face. Geralt curled his arms around his love, one under his back, wrapping him close, and the other coming up so that his hand could cup the back of Jaskier’s head. He turned Jaskier’s face towards his neck to protect it. 

Splinters and chunks of wood attacked them, whipped by the howling wind. Something sliced into the back of Geralt’s neck. He wished he’d worn his armor. He’d been foolish, walking into the woods without it. Thinking he could reason with an angry spirit. 

More wood sliced into his back and shoulders, and he felt the trickle of blood seeping into his shirt. 

“I wish,” he said in Jaskier’s ear. “That you’d stayed at the inn, I wish you weren’t here, in the midst of all this.”

“I hate being left at the inn,” Jaskier said. 

“But then you’d be safe.”

“But then I wouldn’t be with you.”

“If you weren’t with me you’d be safe,” Geralt said, wincing as another splinter embedded itself in his arm.

“When you leave me behind, I wonder if you’ll come back,” Jaskier said quietly. It was barely audible over the wind, but he whispered it almost directly into Geralt’s ear.

“I wouldn’t leave without you,” Geralt said. He hadn’t done that in more than twenty years.

“I don’t mean-Geralt I worry you’ll die. Like a witcher, all alone with some monster and I’ll just sit there in some damn inn and wait. I’ll wait a day, then another, then a third. And eventually I’ll find your body.”

“I wouldn’t leave without you,” Geralt repeated. It seemed like the right thing to say.

“I’d rather be here, right now,” Jaskier said, curling further into Geralt as the wind slammed wood into the ground beside them. “Than live that nightmare.”

The wind screamed again, splinters embedding themselves into Geralt’s flesh again. He grunted in pain but said, “I’ll get us out of this.” He didn’t say the ‘I love you’ that was trembling on his tongue. Now wasn’t the time. Not yet.

He held out one hand, wincing as shrapnel lacerated it, and cast a tiny igni. The wind blew it out immediately, but the howling lessened. 

Geralt did it again.

Again the flame blew out, but the wind spirit was calming.

“If you let me get closer, I can put your temple back,” he said. 

The wind whistled, but it sounded considering, although maybe that was just Geralt being hopeful. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’m coming nearer.” He crept closer to the clearing. The wind picked up again, but it felt more wary than threatening. 

He got almost within arms reach of the temple’s fallen stones and the wind howled again. It put Geralt in mind of a pet dog, sick and mad with pain, nipping it’s owners hand. A warning, but not an attack. Not yet.

“Another flame?” He asked. The wind blew some leaves around his feet.

He pulled the candle from his pocket and lit it with a concentrated igni. It was blown out and he could have sworn the accompaning gust sounded like a chuckle. 

“Okay,” he said, reaching out. “I’m gonna fix your temple, don’t kill me.” He looked across the clearing. Jaskier was standing, looking cautiously over at him. Geralt nodded. Jaskier smiled.

Geralt balanced the trilithon back into place.

The wind died suddenly and the clearing was surprisingly still. 

Geralt brushed off a flat stone just in front of the little temple, half buried beneath the earth. He melted the bottom of the candle and stuck it onto the stone. Jaskier came to kneel beside him and set down a handful of dandelions. They were the ones Geralt had heard him call ‘wish dandelions’, full heads of fluffy seeds ready to spread. 

A tiny burst of wind twirled the seeds away, spinning them in whimsical little loops through the air. 

Jaskier smiled at the display, but it quickly turned into a frown when he saw Geralt’s lacerated back. 

“You’re hurt,” he said, looking guilty. 

“Not badly.”

“Still,” Jaskier, said, standing. “Our business is done here, correct?”

Geralt nodded.

They walked into town and for once, with Geralt sliced and bleeding, the alderman didn’t even argue the payment.

The inn was too small for a bath, but a basin of lukewarm water and a rag was provided. Geralt sat on the floor, shirt off, with Jaskier’s legs bracketing him. The bard was sitting on the narrow bed and running the dap rag over Geralt’s back, pulling splinters when he could.

“You know,” he said after a while. “A few splinters wouldn’t have killed me, you didn’t have to shield me with your own body.”

Geralt turned and gently took the cloth from Jaskier’s hand, then he pressed a kiss to the back of the knuckles. 

Jaskier’s breath caught.

“I did have to,” Geralt said.��“I can’t stand to see you hurting.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt intently. “Geralt,” he said, voice sincere. “It’s okay, alright? You don’t have to keep doing all this.”

Geralt’s heart dropped. Jaskier loved him, surely, but did he want Geralt to stop courting him?

“Geralt, I forgave you a long time ago. I think I forgave you the second I saw you clutching Ciri like your life depended on it.” Jaskier said.

“This isn’t about the mountain,” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s hand again. “I know you forgive me, and some days--most days, I think you shouldn’t have. It’s about...Jaskier I don’t know how to say this.”

He fumbled quickly in his bag.

“Here,” he handed Jaskier a bit of paper, by now very crumpled.

“Number One,” Jaskier read. “Kiss his hand...Geralt, what?”

“Keep reading.”

“Number Two, use manners. You have been saying please sometimes lately. Number Three, compliment him (his music, his features, how he looks after a battle) How he looks after a battle?”

“Ciri’s suggestion,” Geralt said.

“Where did Ciri...? Ah, Eist, of course. Number Four, kill things and bring them to him. Is that why you’ve been hunting so much lately?”

“I’m trying to show that, that I can provide for you,” Geralt said sheepishly. 

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, leaning in. “You already do so much for me.”

“Number Five,” Geralt said, having long ago memorized the list by heart. “Bring him gifts that aren’t dead.” He offered the knife and sheath he’d bought a few weeks back. 

“According to my family, our family, gifts should be useful, romantic, and pretty.” 

Jaskier took the moonsilver dagger. There were tears in his eyes. “Geralt, you’ve been courting me?”

“Do you accept?”

Jaskier threw himself off the bed and into Geralt’s arms. “Yes,” he whispered. “A million times yes.” He was crying, but for once Geralt knew what the emotions meant. These were happy tears. They wet his collar as Jaskier held onto him.

“I don’t have any gifts for you,” the bard sniffled.

“You are a gift, Geralt said, pleased that this most important of times, the words worked. “Pretty, romantic, useful.” He looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Even in low light they were so, so blue. 

“I love you.”

“You...” Jaskier said. “How long?”

“I didn’t know it until Eskel pulled my head from my ass,” Geralt said ruefully. “But I think I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you.”

Jaskier chuckled damply and pressed a kiss to the bridge of Geralt’s nose. “I love you too,” he said. 

Geralt swallowed back the lump forming quickly in his throat. “And I know,” it was no good, emotion was rising up and clogging his words. He felt his tear ducts resisting the moisture that welled in his eyes. “I know I won’t be able to love you as long as I’d like.”

He began to cry in earnest now, but he held Jaskier’s face in his hands and continued. “But I will love you every day for the rest of your life, and then I’ll love you for every day the rest of mine.”

Jaskier was crying too, and he mimicked Geralt’s position, holding Geralt’s face and rubbing one thumb over the long scar on Geralt’s cheek. 

“Darling, dear heart,” he said. “My love, I know we never brought it up, but I thought you knew.”

“Knew...?”

“I’m a half-elf, dearest. I don’t age. No other chaos as far as I’ve found but you’ll have me forever,” Jaskier said, smiling even as tears rolled down his face.

“Forever?”

“Forever,”Jaskier confirmed. “Will that do?”

“Forever couldn’t possibly be long enough,” Geralt said.

Then Jaskier leaned in and kissed him. 

It was like fireworks. It was like the first snow of winter and the snowmelt in spring. It was every season rolled into one and somehow more real than any of them. It tasted like mouth and the beeswax mixture Jaskier wore to keep his lips soft and it was perfect. 

They kissed on the floor of the dingy inn room until Jaskier’s stomach growled and they had dinner together in the tavern like often did. Jaskier played his lute after dinner like he always did. They slid into bed beside one another like they sometimes did. 

This time, though, everything was better. It was peppered with kisses and love. And when they went to bed Geralt didn’t have to resist cuddling Jaskier at all.

Best of all, he got to be the little spoon.

Geralt thought of the two books in his bag and the little list that Jaskier had carefully folded into his notebook. He couldn’t wait for winter to see his whole family again. Courting didn’t work out exactly as they, or he, had thought it would, but it was better than he could have ever imagined.

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Its done! Epilogue is posted.

Tag List! 

@llamasdumpsterfire @goblinwhoships @aqueenrisesintheeast

[mysteriesofmarcy]

Spider-Sprig Review

Someone here watched Spider-Man. Someone else here watched the Incredibles.

Anne tells Sprig that they weren't in hiding in Amphibia. That's BS and you know it, Anne. You were hiding from everyone for a good chunk of season 1 and parts of season 2 because the frogs there were "slow to accept, and even slower to respect."

Here's what people were saying on the internet:

Frog Man saved a bank, entertainment, and old people.

Chicken stock plummeted in this episode, presumably related to a hen being sentenced to 25 to life.

An article from DuzzFeed. ("it's news, maybe") titled "Frog Man: Greatest Neighborhood Hero of All Time?" reads:

Los Angeles is agog man, for Frog Man! And who could blame anyone for loving this little weirdo. He's pink as a pig, built like an eight-year-old, has a tongue that makes us SICK, and yet this amphibious dynamo has captured the hearts of every Angeleno with his slimy charms.

And that Robert Otto guy looks suspiciously similar to the author shape shifter from Gravity Falls, does he not? Almost as if he was designed by the same artist... I mean, I know a lot of crew members worked on both shows, so probably.

And that's all for today! Tune in tomorrow when we talk about this week's other episode!

[princessbatears]

Kitten Moon

Lunar Cycle Series #3 | #1 | #2 |

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Summary: You and Frankie discover a tiny, abandoned kitten during an early spring full moon Warnings: mention of previously deceased pet, abandoned animal, mention of werewolf hunting for dinner Words: 900 Tags: Were!Frankie, adopting a new pet, established relationship, personal werewolf lore, purring, soooo much (too much? NEVER!) literal and figurative fluff

So much thanks to my partner in crime @hdlynn​ for prompting me with this idea, for letting me use a picture of her gorgeous cat when she was a kitten, and for being my beta reader! I couldn’t do any of this without you. 🥰

You’ve always loved having pets. You grew up with several, mostly dogs, a couple cats, a few gerbils. When you got married, your furchild was a little elderly mutt named Sherbert.

She passed away from heart disease shortly before the werewolf attack on Frankie, leaving you brokenhearted. He’d suggested adopting a new dog—maybe even a puppy—but every time he brought it up you burst into tears. The subject was quickly dropped.

One spring full moon, you’re walking back with Frankie after his hunt. It’d been uneventful and he didn’t even get bloody, which is a pleasant change.  There’s always less mess when he dines on several smaller wild animals instead of a large one.

He suddenly pauses, ears swiveling to the left as he sniffs the air. You watch him for signs of danger, but his eyes are worried rather than alarmed or aggressive. After a beat, he turns and starts in the direction of the country road near the edge of your property.

“Frankie, stop,” you hiss, worrying that someone will see him. Almost nobody travels this far out, especially at 2 a.m., but you don’t want to risk it. “Francisco!”

Ignoring you, his pace slows. That’s when you hear it: a tiny, pitiful mewling. Your heart sinks. A kitten is out here in the dark. The snow might be gone, but it’s still much too chilly for a helpless baby to be alone.

It only takes Frankie a second to find the black fluffball under a bush. It’s tiny, probably only a few weeks old. You expect it to be afraid of him, but it takes a few wobbly steps closer, screaming up at him for food. It must sense he only wants to help.

It screeches even more loudly when you crouch in front of it. “Where’s your mommy, little one?” you coo, scooping it into your hand. It’s damp and shivering. You’ve got to warm it up, then feed it.

You turn to Frankie anxiously. “Can you smell any others? A mother? More kittens?”

He inhales deeply before shaking his head somberly. That means it was probably dumped, either alone or with a mother it got separated from. Anger coils in your stomach. How could anyone do this to a defenseless creature?

“We need to hurry. Who knows how long it’s been out here?” You cradle the still-crying kitten to your chest.

Rearing onto his hide legs, he indicates that he’d like to carry you. Honestly, it’s not your favorite way to travel. He’s so tall that you’re uncomfortably high off the ground, and you’re afraid you’ll put his back out even though he could probably carry a horse without hurting himself.

Still, he can move faster than you can and the kitten needs to get out of the cold. “Okay,” you sigh.

Carefully, Frankie scoops you up and begins to run. It’s a jarring ride. His back legs aren’t made for going long distances, but the time you tried to ride him like a pony ended with you losing your grip and landing in poison ivy. You’d taken a good chunk of his fur with you, too. Nobody wants a repeat of that debacle.

Within minutes, he’s setting you on your feet again. You feel vaguely motion sick, however,  your concern for the kitten overrules your desire to sit down.

Hurrying into the living room, you use your free hand to grab a blanket off the nearest sofa. You feel Frankie gently tug on your coat sleeve to get your attention. When you turn, he’s curling up in a ball on the floor. He gestures for you to place the kitten in the center of the cinnamon roll he’s made of himself.

Smiling, you tuck it into his fluffy fur. It immediately begins to knead with its teeny paws, which you take as a sign it likes where it is.

Unfortunately, there isn’t an emergency vet anywhere near you and the pet store won’t be open for hours. Grabbing your phone, you begin to research homemade kitten food. You find an acceptable formula recipe that you can give it until you’re able to get something better in the morning.

“I’m going to make it some food. Are you good here?” you ask Frankie. He thumps his tail softly before beginning to bathe the kitten with his tongue. There’s something about the sweetness of the gesture that makes you nearly weep. He’s going to be an amazing father.

You hurry to the kitchen to heat evaporated milk and an egg yolk together. Then, you find an unused medicine syringe in the bathroom.

“Okay, baby kitty,” you whisper, settling on the floor, “you ready for some grub?”

The kitten suckles eagerly, its tiny ears beating back and forth. It makes biscuits against Frankie’s fur again.

You stroke its back with a finger. Frankie’s ministrations have warmed and dried it. The dark fluff is so soft. You feel something inside you finally start to heal.

“Hey,” you say softly, “how do you feel about a cat as our next pet?”

He gives you a massive grin before licking the kitten’s messy face clean. It doesn’t seem to care that his tongue is wider than it is. In fact, it vibrates with the cutest little purr.

You lay down next to them, resting your head on Frankie’s side, and watch your new family member snuggle down for a much needed snooze.

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Werewolf Masterlist

[messengerhermes]

Let's talk home maintenance. Let's talk about home maintenance when the home is you. Content Warnings: This post is about building coping skills in the face of depression and PTSD, and other mental health challenges, it will allude to suicidal ideation and suicidality. So here's the thing. You are your house. Your body, your mind, all of you, is the home you live in. Some of the shit in your house is stuff you inherited, some of it's been gifted to you, some of it's found it's way in there over time, but all of it informs the general ambience of your home. Likewise, the rooms, the layout, the color of the walls, where your floorboards creak, and how the pipes whistle and hum when you run the hot water are all shaped by the experiences you've had from when you were first spat out into the world. Hell, they're shaped by the experiences of those who raised you in this world to. Having a home can be an incredible experience. But it can also, sometimes, be hell, be boring, be painful, be overwhelming. Especially because throughout our lives, our homes will change. New rooms will spring into existence, old ones may jam themselves shut. A cupboard you've never been able to get open will suddenly bang it's doors wide in the middle of the night. All the knick knacks well meaning relatives have given you over the years will break through the attic floor raining a clashing decor nightmare into your living room. The poltergeist you've managed to ignore for ten years will suddenly start rattling every tchotchke you've got, screaming loud enough to break glass whenever you have guests, and rearranging the contents off all your drawers. A hurricane will blow through and break all your windows, or a deep freeze will burst your pipes and flood the place. And when the home is you, you can't just sell it and buy a new one. There are periods in our life where our home may feel smothering, or frighteningly alien to us, or broken beyond repair, or any myriad of things that can warp the way we experience it. We can begin making our own ghosts, tearing at the floorboards and ripping up the plaster. We can stop believing that anyone would want to visit this place. Stop. Breathe. Here's a secret that is not a secret: No matter how often someone comes over to our house, they will never match the amount of time we spend there. Yes, even the people who we've decided to share gardens with, who we've built connecting walkways with. Even when you are absolutely sick of your house because it is always there with it's drippy pipes and groaning furnace and the wallpaper you loved five years ago but now it makes you nauseas to look at, other people are not going to feel that visceral exhaustion about your house, because they only ever visit. And the truth is, sometimes they are as deeply sick of their own houses as you are of yours, and sometimes, going to visit each other can help ease that frustration, that loneliness, and exhaustion. Even if neither of you does a damn thing to work on your houses in that moment. Sitting together, letting each other witness the ways your houses groan and rock in the wind, the faded places, the half finished renovations, is enough. Alright, now that this post has gone on for ages, I want to talk about home maintenance, or "What to do if you're getting sick of your house." This is not complete, or perfect, but hopefully it helps. 1. Sort through everything. Create an inventory of all the features and traits in your home, all the things it can do. Marie Kondo that shit. Decide what you're keeping, what you're tossing, and what to pass on to someone else. Thank the things you're letting go of, they came into your house because at some point you needed them, and it's okay to be different now. If you're struggling to find anything you like, or anything worth keeping, invite others into the process. Ask them to make lists of shit they like about you, things they notice as strengths, traits that come to mind when they think of you, or positive memories. Actually sit with those answers, don't dismiss

them. Figure out which parts feel good and which parts feel like you're playing a role that doesn't suit you anymore. Sort accordingly. Keep the list of all the things you're keeping somewhere you can review it often. Add to it as new things occur to you or people in your life pay you compliments.

2. Identify places for updates. Now that you're offloading some shit and know what you want to keep, think about what things you want updated. Maybe you want to change that aforementioned wallpaper. Maybe the boiler needs fixing. Maybe you want to call someone in to see about that poltergeist. Maybe you want a new kitchen. Break down the places you want change to happen into smaller components, and if possible, figure out how much time they might each take. You're not gonna rip out your entire kitchen all at once and get it done in a month, that's shit for real houses, not metaphor houses. But maybe you can tile a new backsplash, and then refinish your cabinets. Maybe you can get a new fridge.

3. Break things Up. Break those updates up into categories based on how much time and energy they'll take you. Something like "Quick Fixes" for updates that are just swapping things out (say, a new haircut, changes in wardrobe, different accessories, rearranging the furniture in your actual meatspace living space), "Short Term Projects" (like finding a new job, picking up a new hobby, reconnecting with folks, finding a therapist or support group--things that may require more energy than the quick fixes, but can be done over the span of a few months), and "Long Term Projects" (things like, going to therapy or joining a support group, addressing a deeper trauma or hard thing via talking with friends, reading on the subject and shifting behavior patterns, et al, this list is made up of stuff that can take years). For the long term projects, see if you can break them down into items that fit into the shorter lists (for example, if a long term project for you is Transition maybe that can be broken up into smaller components of changing your hair/clothes/pronouns, talking with close friends, accessing support groups, going to social events, identifying what you want for your transition, accessing healthcare if you're interested in medical transition). 4. Pace Yourself. Now that you've broken up your lists, figure out the pacing that works for you. Maybe you can do five quick fixes in a week and that will be a huge help. Maybe you can do a quick fix here and there and cycle between a couple of the short term projects. Maybe two of your long term projects overlap in some of their components and it makes them easier to tackle. Figure out what is doable for you, but also check in with yourself. Maybe you'll have a very "go go go" six months where you blast through a big chunk of short term projects, or feel like you make huge headway on a long-term project but then you hit a plateau. Don't try and force yourself to keep that pace, let yourself move where you're at. 5. Tell People About Your Housework. I know, vulnerability. Awful, disgusting, terrifying. Too bad. Do it anyway. Okay, let me be kinder here: When you tell people that your home is not perfect, that you have to do work on things, that you want to make changes and are, it give them permission to do the same thing. That's community, that's power, that's care. When you share, be clear about how you're sharing and what you're wanting from them. Are you looking for advice? Are you proud of something and want recognition? Do you need to be hyped up for something hard? Are you looking to share about the rough stuff and have the other person also share their rough stuff and that's how y'all support one another? 6. Call for a Barn Raising. Remember how I said if you can't think of things to keep when you're sorting through your house, call in others? Yeah, keep doing that. Maybe that support looks like just having someone sit with you as you talk through shit. Maybe it looks like getting to go out and blow bubbles in the park or ice skate, or lie in the grass and watch the clouds. Maybe it looks like grocery shopping together, or eating together so you'll actually eat. Maybe it looks like joining a Discord or Reddit with the same interests as you and posting. Our house is our own, but we are not meant to live all alone way up on some hillside, and we're not meant to fix up our homes alone either. Relearn pleasure with others, relearn joy, and curiosity, and grief, and hope and be held in your sadness and hurt. 7. Recognize Your Home is Lovable. Love is an action. Love is joy, is laughter, is pleasure, is tenderness. It is also care and effort. It is not easy to love in deep ways. It takes work, sometimes it means going out of your way, sometimes it means doing things that are tiring. You are not bad or wrong for sometimes requiring effort to love. Needing dedicated attention, having places where you bristle and snarl, having periods where you struggle to hold your home in tenderness and need others to remind you of its wonder is human. Be accountable for the

places your actions have left hurts, change your behavior, accept how relationships shift in the wake of your actions. But do not let the shame monsters in your basement chew away at the floorboards above them til everything falls in that pit. Practice believing you are worthy of love, even in the painful moments where someone you love may no longer love you in turn. Yes, this step is hard as shit. When we lose a person's love, or are struggling to love ourselves, it can be easy to fall into the trap of thinking we are not worthy of anyone's love at all. But we are. It's as simple and profoundly difficult as that.

8. Rest and Feel Good. Literally, do nothing. Lie belly up in the sunshine. Read/listen to a good book, enjoy a show you love. Create emotional playlists and lose yourself in feelings. Paint, draw, sculpt, crochet, cross stitch, play an instrument, do it wonderfully, do it terribly, just do it if it feels good. Shove your hands in the dirt and make homes for tender seedlings, enjoy their journey, mourn when they wither, celebrate when they bloom. Cook things you've never made before, cook things you make all the time. Relish good food. Relish criticizing terrible food. Go to markets and shove your hands in the dry grain barrels, run your palms over fabrics and feel their textures. Smile at pretty strangers you have no intention of talking to and enjoy how the expression feels on your face. Tell people when you like their clothes. Find people to hold, to lie pressed up close in hammocks or scrunched up on the couch together. Kiss if you're the kissing type. Fuck if you're the fucking type. Dance if that moves you. Get your ass slapped if that moves you. Let yourself feel good without guilt, without suffering, without shame. Your pain is not a fee you must pay for pleasure. We are animals and are made for all the sweetness of life. Relish in that. I will stop here, since I have gone on long enough. This list is not a prescription, it is not the One True Answer, nor is it complete. But, if you decided to read all way through it, if you woke up this morning and put your head in your hands in a house that is haunted, is weighted down with strange rooms with inheritances you don't know what to do with, I hope you can move through the clutter and fix your hands on one thing you wish to keep in it all. And then another. And another. I hope you can be the home you dream of, again and again and again.

[bronanlynch]

weekly (monthly?) media roundup

ok so I do want to actually do these on some sort of schedule but unfortunately, as you already know, brains,

listening: Malice in Wonderland by Fangbanger, which I found from a tumblr post that described them as band for “if you have a complicated relationship with gender, had a falling out with god, hate the government, or just think that vampires are neat" and y’know? yeah. my notes on this song from several weeks ago are that I might not know any of these people’s genders but I do know they’ve listened to MCR

reading: the new Cassandra Clare book, Chain of Iron. it’s boring and homophobic. in the first book of this series, we find out that the heroine’s brother is gay and in a relationship with a man who has no intention of ever coming out publicly because 1) the book is set in 1903 in England, it was literally illegal and 2) he’s trying to have a career in politics. the heroine decides that this means he’s ashamed of her brother and doesn’t deserve him, and she is present and active in their breakup conversation.

above is the relationship chart I made from the first book, it really hasn’t changed much except now the main guy and the main girl are married, the lesbians got back together and then broke up again, the main girl’s gay brother hooked up with one of her husband’s friend, who’s a Good Gay and therefore worthy of love unlike the Bad Gay ex who is constantly mocked by just about every character for. checks notes. caring about appearances and manners given that his life and career are based on those things. the brother and his new love interest break up because the brother still thinks he’s a bad person for ever having dated his ex. also the main girl has now platonically run off to Paris with her husband’s platonic soulmate who is allegedly in love with her but it’s really unconvincing that he’s not actually in love with her husband (he’s not for very stupid lore reasons, the whole ‘parabatai are magically prevented from being romantically in love, except for these two straight people, when historically parabatai pairs were two men’ makes my fucking blood boil)

you might ask why I still read these books even though they make me angry and the answer is the 1) the aesthetic slaps 2) some of the characters are fun 3) the premise has enough potential that it could be good if it was good 4) sometimes I need to get cathartically angry abt bad fiction bc it just. does not matter

watching: so many things that I’m gonna just. run through them real quick

Word of Honor: gestures vaguely at how it’s slowly taking over my blog

Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty: love a found family, eh about the politics, can’t believe I predictably got a new fave character within the last two episodes of the show because one of the main characters is betrayed by his second-in-command and I think treason is the sexiest part of a relationship

SamBucky show: in the original draft of this post I said that it was so boring that week (episode 3) that I completely forgot about it until I saw the draft below this one talking about how bad and boring it is. at least more happened in later episodes and they’re finally giving me some tasty queerbaiting but the premise and the politics are. wow. it sure is military propaganda

My Hero Academia: new season is fun, love a tournament arc. don’t love that they tell us right away that the double agent character is a double agent, it was more fun in the manga when you’re not sure if he’s a traitor or not for a pretty long time

Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun: new season is cute, there sure is some gender happening. there’s a tsundere bisexual catgirl

Backflip!!: I usually avoid high school sports anime for backstory reasons but my roommate wanted to watch it with me and oh boy these gymnasts sure are gay for each other huh

Joran: The Princess of Snow and Blood: my roommate pitched this to me as ‘cyberpunk but in the 1930s’ and there sure is dark lighting, lots of glowy neon stuff, and government oppression, which are the most important elements of cyberpunk apparently. not sure how I feel about it yet, because there’s a cool shapeshifting lady assassin with a revenge quest but there’s also a trans character who was revealed to be trans in a way that I personally did not enjoy. yes you can have transphobic villains but like. hmm. maybe the audience shouldn’t find out that someone is trans because the villain cuts his shirt away specifically to ~put him in his place. or maybe I personally am just sensitive to that but either way no thank you

on the other hand, the main character is sick as shit

The World Ends with You: god I love an anime about the power of friendship. I’ve only had these kids for two episodes and I would lay down my life for them

Nirvana in Fire: we’re only three episodes in and I did spend the first half of the first ep being like. oh god which of these people are actually important who am I supposed to care about here. and then by the end of the first ep I knew which ones I cared about and am now very afraid for their safety. do love the political intrigue though

playing: got through the first mission of Brigmore Witches. I love a good undercover mission, I wish I hadn’t been too afraid of like. alarms going off if I freed the other prisoners because I think Comrade Daud should do a jailbreak, and Lizzy Stride can call me anytime

also recently have played various ttrpgs including Firebrands, more Things, Eldritch and Terrifying, Link, and of course more Beam Saber (oh shit I meant to do my recap post for last session OOPS)

making: Zan and I made some real good chicken parm the other night, vaguely based on this recipe. by which I mean, we looked at the recipe to see how many eggs to use and how long to cook it and pretty much nothing else. the egg marinade step seemed unnecessary and I made the sauce the way I always make tomato sauce, which some day I should write down because it does in fact fuck. the secret is a shit-ton of oregano and basil and no chunks of tomato because fuck that. bad texture

Zan made the zucchini which also slapped, using some of the leftover bread crumbs

writing: I’ve posted a couple of things but most recently I wrote some rarepair femslash. this is the first fic for this ship on ao3 and the second ship in the f/f tag for this fandom that’s actually about the women in the show (as opposed to showing up in the f/f tag because it’s marked as “multi” or like. genderbent versions of the main m/m ship) but like. look at them. they’re terrible evil assassin women and they’re in love. anyway I’ve gotten over being embarrassed about having written a sex scene and moved on to wanting people to read my fic. there’s sparring as foreplay it’s a good time

[duhragonball]

Caught up on JoJolion

Apparently, Part 8 will come to an end with the next chapter.   Last week, some anon sent me a spoiler-y ask, and I blocked them because (a) I was five chapters behind and (b) I’m kind of sick of presumptuous anons.  

I want to take a moment to clarify this: If you send me an anonymous ask, you’re already on thin ice with me.   The unwritten message I get from anons is “Hi, I know you, but I’ve decided that you don’t get to know anything about me.   Now, this is what I’ve come to say...”   That’s a really annoying way to lead off, so you really shouldn’t compound it by asking me to talk about Luke Skywalker’s dad or whatever. 

It wasn’t that big a spoiler.  I don’t mean to blow it out of proportion, but the point is: this greyface didn’t even hesitate, like I’m some thinkpiece vending machine and all you have to do is drop a quarter in the slot.

The truth is, I always get worried when I’m about to block an anon, because I’m like “Wait, what if this is someone I know?”   But I went for it, because I knew I’d talk about it on here, and I didn’t want the inevitable follow-up ask, where the anon’s like “sorry dude, it won’t happen again.”   And then I feel all awkward for getting upset over it.    No, I’m just cutting this off now.  It won’t happen again, because I blocked you.

I don’t know if there’s going to be a Part 9 or not.  I’m not sure when or how soon that information would be available.    But if there is one, I probably won’t keep up to date with it.   I’ll catch up on it when I’m bored, like I did today with Part 8, but I’m probably not going to talk about it much because I’ve learned that it takes a while for these JoJo arcs to make sense.  So maybe don’t ask me about Part 9 for a couple of years, okay?   Do I need to make an ultimatum on this?   Nah, I don’t think I do. 

All right, so with that out of the way... let’s talk serious spoilers.

What really frustrates me about the final battle was that it was like 20+ chapters long, and it’s over now and I still have no idea who got killed and who just ended up getting badly hurt.   Like, people talked about Jobin being dead, but for all I know he’s going to show up in the final chapter and act like I’m the idiot for not realizing he was okay.   Other examples:

Norisuke was in a damn body bag, but apparently he was never actually hurt as badly as it seemed, then it looked like he was taking a turn for the worse, and then no, he’s okay again.   I guess?

Kei Nijimura got a cane driven through her eye, but she lived long enough to hand off that cell phone to Josuke, so was she okay?   She looked pretty dead when it was over, though.    So did the cane kill her?  How did she survive long enough to hand off the phone, then? 

Likewise, Kaato took a saw to the gut, but it’s unclear whether this would be enough to kill her.  

Tooru seemed to be conclusively killed, but his Stand popped up again one more time, so who the fuck knows?

But the worst offender is Rai Mamezuku, who got a chunk of his head carved out during the battle, and then he kept talking to Josuke for the next few chapters anyway.  

Rai is the one that makes it impossible for me to know what the hell happened to the others.  Dramatically, it seems fitting for Jobin and Kaato to die, since their plans involved finding a way to save Tsurugi without sacrificing themselves.   But Rai got a piece of his head taken out and he kept on talking, so I honestly can’t tell if the woman who took a sawblade to the gut will survive or not.  

This has been an issue in JJBA for a long time now, and I don’t expect it to go away anytime soon.   Polnareff got pretty badly hurt in Part 3, and there were a few times I just assumed he was definitely dead, but then he’d keep showing up anyway and I’m like “Okay, I guess this is happening.”  But there were a lot fewer characters in Part 3.   By the end, they pretty firmly established who survived and who didn’t, so even if it seemed fishy, you at least knew where things stood.  When Part 8 pulls the same trick, it gets really, really confusing.  

Anyway, it seems to be over now, and there’s a lot of things I’d like to see resolved, but of course, Araki decided to end the tale with a seemingly pointless flashback, a la Vento Aureo.   There’s been times where I really enjoyed Part 8, but other times it just really frustrates me.  I thought I would have a firmer opinion on it by now, but no, I’m just as frustrated with it as I was in Chapter 5, or whenever that surfer dude said he ate his own fingers. 

Mostly, I’m just displeased with the standard JoJo formula that’s dominated the series since Part 3: The good guys have to fight this seemingly endless group of evil Stand Users to resolve the plot.    In Part 3, it actually works, because they’re traveling towards the main villain and the bad guys are all working for the villain, so it only makes sense to play it out this way.   I think Part 5 and 7 make good use of the formula because Part 5 involves protecting Trish from assassins, and Part 7 is another cross-continental journey like Part 3.   

But Parts 4, 6, and 8 got really tiresome with the idea, because for the most part everyone’s stuck in the same location, and there’s not much rhyme or reason to the bad guys attacking one at a time.  In Part 4, it’s just randos most of the time, with no apparent organization.   In Part 6, there is an organization, but not a very big one, and most of the enemies are just dupes being manipulated by the main villain.    With Part 8, it’s all Rock Humans, but three or four separate groups of Rock Humans, and a few Human antagonists as well. 

I guess what I’m saying is: If you took out three of the Stand battles of any of these later parts, you probably wouldn’t be losing much.   With JoJolion, you could probably remove six Stand battles and lose very little.   It’s very long, and I don’t think the length really adds much to the story.    At least when Johnny won a Stand Battle in Part 7, he was able to ride further east and make progress in the race.    When Josuke beats Poor Tom he just has to trudge on ahead to the next fight.  

Now, I say all of that, but I was kind of sore about Parts 4 and 5 for similar reasons.    I finished those stories and felt like none of it made much sense.   But on subsequent re-readings/re-watchings, I’ve come to appreciate them more.   So maybe I just need to wait a while and read through Part 8 all in one go.  A decent portion of it is available in color now, and it’ll help to go through it again now that I already know what happens.  But for now, it’s probably near the bottom of my list, which currently goes like this:

Part 2, Battle Tendency

Part 3, Stardust Crusaders

Part 6, Stone Ocean

Part 7, Steel Ball Run

Part 1, Phantom Blood

Part 5, Vento Aureo

Part 8, Jojolion

Part 4, Diamond is Unbreakable

Standard disclaimer: Part 4 is fine, but one of them has to be the worst one, and in my opinion it’s Part 4.   Part 8 is a step above by being more focused, and I like the Josuke/Yasuho relationship, and there’s no Rohan in SBR-Morioh, and the streets are paved with cheese.

And that’s pretty much all I have to say for now. 

[lostinfantasies38]

Ten Favorite Dialogues from 2020

I picked 10 dialogue exchanges that I loved from the stories I posted this year. A few of them are from the same stories, since I spent a good chunk of the year working on long fics instead of one shots or shorter stories. Under the cut bc they are lengthy.

I also realized that most of my zingers tend to be in my descriptions and don’t always make it into my character’s dialogue. I might have to change that. 

In no particular order:

1.

Dorian chuckled. “Honestly, you two are disgraceful. You can’t come to a club looking like sex on legs when you aren’t single. You’re going to give people a heart attack.”

“Jealous, Dorian?” Alistair needled.

“Insanely,” he replied smoothly. “Aside from myself and Zevran,”—he saluted the elf who shot him a saucy wink—“you’re the most attractive men here. And to add insult to injury, you’re together,” he sighed dramatically.

Accidental Alliance, a oneshot modern Cullistair AU 

2. 

“Step two of the pie liberation was to avoid suspicion of the adults.” Evan giggled at Connor’s phrasing and thought he heard Alex snort in amusement, too. “Zoe’s job was to act as a distraction, which wasn’t hard to accomplish because Cynthia decked her out in this frilly monstrosity that every woman within a five-mile radius oohed and aahed over. She fucking hated it, of course, but it worked in our favor for The Plan. And yes, those are honest to God capitals, babe. Think Mission Impossible: Thanksgiving 2010.”

“Alternate title: Pie Larceny,” Evan quipped, overjoyed by Connor’s rich laughter. Alex definitely chuckled at that.

“Yes! Oh my God, that’s amazing. I’m totally renaming it Pie Larceny.”

Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen

3.

“It makes me want to wrap you in blankets and bubble wrap and smother you with attention until you’re sick of looking at me, though.”

A broken laugh tumbled out of Evan’s mouth. “Well, there’s a mental picture. What are you gonna do? Roll me down the street?”

“I’m working out the logistics, but rolling you around does sound kinda fun,” Connor teased.

Snorting, Evan retorted, “I mean, you do have practice rolling joints. Guess a bundled up boyfriend isn’t much difference.”

Connor’s borderline hysterical laughter almost drowned out Evan’s airy chuckles. “Jesus Christ, Evan,” he wheezed, shakily wiping away tears. 

Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen 

4.

Returning his head to the shadows, he hissed, “Sister Agnes is milling around. I need a distraction so I can reach our room.”

Kai grinned and pulled a dehydrated pepper from his pocket. “Down the hatch.”

Gavin stopped him with a concern expression. “Are you sure about this?”

He snorted softly. “Please, I grew up eating these. My mum sends them because she knows I love them. They’re like candy. I’ll be shitting fire for a week, but they don’t hurt my mouth. I’ll burn hot and sweat like crazy though. Trust me, it’ll work.”

The redhead arched an eyebrow. “So you carry them in your pocket at all times?”

“No,” Kai answered irritably. “That’s why I needed Easton earlier. To act as a distraction for me so I could get it out of my room.”

Gavin sighed. “If you’re sure. I mean, we could brawl in the hallway, that would work, too.”

Alistair glanced around the corner. “Hurry up and choose. I’m not waiting forever.” Kai smirked and popped the pepper in his mouth.

“Well, that decides it,” Gavin groaned. Alistair tried not to laugh as over the course of a few minutes, Kai’s face visibly flushed in response to the spicy heat and sweat pooled under his hair, running in rivulets across his face.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Like you’ve got the sweat,” Gavin replied sardonically.

“Perfect,” he retorted. “Right, good luck, Alistair. If I fail to distract everyone, Gavin’s got you covered.”

Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic - excerpt from Ch 11 featuring a few of my OCs and Alistair 

5.

Wrapping his arms around her as she hummed at the stove, he said, “Sirra and Alistair either just left my apartment or she only now deigned to tell me they’re gone.”

Eowyn grinned wickedly at him, checking the clock on the dining room wall. “My, my! Four hours later! Scandalous.”

“I wish you could have seen them. The magnetism! It was instant.”

She giggled. “I saw the photos. That’s more of Alistair’s almost-O face than I ever want to see again, thanks very much.”

He snorted. “Fair enough.” After a pause, Zevran chuckled, “I give them a month.”

Rounding on him in horror, Eowyn stared at him with wide mossy eyes. “You just said they were perfect together! Do you think we made a mistake?”

“No, amore mio. I mean, I give them a month before they elope. I might have been party to their engagement shoot today.”

She blinked slowly as the giggles built until she was clutching the kitchen counter in a fit of uncontrolled mirth. “Okay, that may be accurate knowing Alistair!”

“I’m thinking of changing my business cards. Should I add ‘Matchmaker Extraordinaire’ or ‘Signor Soulmate’?” he asked cheekily.

Shot In The Dark - Sirra Brosca/Alistair modern AU oneshot [dialogue shown is between Zevran/OC]

6.

Cullen grinned with him. “Me either. Maybe we can improve your chess skills enough for you to graduate from mediocre.”

“Oh, ha ha. You and the others can have fun with that, thanks very much. Here I was hoping we could spend more time in bed,” he teased, sliding a hand into his curls.

Rolling his eyes playfully, the blonde retorted, “Of course, count on you to think how often we can sleep together instead of improving our skills.”

“That is how we improve our skills.”

“Training skills, you fiend.”

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Alistair quipped, “Well, one of us has to be the boring one in the relationship. Glad it’s not me.” Cullen elbowed him gently in the ribs, chuckling along with his lover’s bright laughter.

Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic, excerpt from Ch 12 

7.

“You’re not worthless,” Alistair whispered. The breath she’d been holding passed her lips with a tiny mewl of surprise. Still unable to look at one other, Alistair kept his hand on her wrist and she resisted the urge to scoot further away.

Sirra murmured, “You don’t know me, Alistair. You can’t say that.”

“I can,” he insisted firmly, his fingers pressing just a bit harder on her flesh. “It doesn’t matter who you were. When you join the Grey Wardens, all that matters is who you are. I may not know who you used to be in Orzammar, but I have a pretty good idea who you are in the sun.”

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 4

8.

“I’m sorry, Alistair, I wanted to surprise you. Most dwarves in Orzammar, caste and casteless alike, have genital piercings. It’s cultural and unrelated to murder.”

His eyebrows climbed into his hair. “Even the men? How in the Maker’s name does that work?” Sirra opened her mouth to explain, but he hastily held up a hand and shivered. “Rhetorical question. Please do not answer that.”  

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 14

9.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, gracing him with a watery smile. “If I had known you were up here, I would have left Orzammar years ago and tracked you down,” Sirra mused, only half joking. 

“Oh, really?” he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “I can just imagine you sneaking into the droll monastery and breaking me out. I would have assumed you were a figment of my imagination, a desire demon, or Maker-sent. Regardless, I doubt I could have resisted the mischievous glint in your eyes as you crept in to find me in my smalls, surrounded by thirty other recruits, and told me to run away with you.” 

Laughing, Sirra raked her short nails down his toned chest. “A naked teenage version of you? I would have taken you on the spot, letting the recruits feast their eyes on us, before dashing out the front door with your bare ass in tow.” 

He closed his eyes with a lusty moan, and swallowed hard, his voice strained when he replied. “Definitely Maker-sent then. To think, we could have been on the lam for the last few years, making mad love wherever we went.” 

Sighing melodramatically, Alistair smirked and playfully bopped the tip of her nose with his. “Ah, well, at least I have you now and that’s all that matters.”

Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 17

10.

“Stop it,” Morrigan mumbled irritably.

Alistair feigned innocence. “Stop what? I’m sitting here like a good patient. I wasn’t even talking until right now.”

Yellow eyes bored into hazel as the subtle light faded around them, his shoulder apparently healed. “You know very well what. Stop staring at my hands. ‘Tis most distracting.”

“And here I thought it was my hands distracting you during the fight,” he smirked. “Not where my eyes happened to land. How could you have known that I might have been paying attention, if you weren’t observing me, too, hmm?”

Scoffing, Morrigan took a large step back and crossed her arms haughtily over her chest. “You are insufferable.”

Sheathing his sword, Alistair shrugged with affected boredom. “I may be insufferable, Morrigan, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth.” 

Snagging his shield from where it fell on the ground, he slung it over his back and murmured for her ears alone. “Besides, for a cranky witch who grew up in a swamp, they’re surprisingly soft and gentle… when they want to be, that is.” 

You Give Me That Lovin’ Feelin’ - ch 2. Part 1 of 3 of Morristair written for @scharoux 14 Days of DA Lovers 

[fangirlingincamouflage]

Blind Hope Chapter Six

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: ??? (I can’t remember) Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer:  I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals. I make no money from this fanfiction. TW/CW: Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

You Are Here

Chapter 7

Looking back, it was easy to ignore his messages for the first two weeks. You had work to get lost in and pain meds to dull everything. Between your cracked ribs, the stitches in your head, and fielding calls from people who meant well but took up too much energy to talk to, it was pretty easy to act like you had every intention of responding to Nick, without ever actually getting around to doing it.

"I'm awake," his first message said. "They said you already were released. What happened? Are you okay?"

It hurt. It hurt to read. It hurt even more not to respond. But you did it. You told yourself it was for the best. Being with you is what got him hurt in the first place. Sure, you could blame bigotry, and you'd be right, but that doesn't erase what happened, and that you were at the core.

"I know what happened was scary. Please, just talk to me." Another message says. "I just want to know you are safe."

You don't respond to that one either. You know what you'll say. You will tell him that you are perfectly okay. That it's fine. Just a scratch. Sure, your head got busted open and you are on some impressive pain killers. And yeah, you have to change the bandage twice a day because stitches are no joke, especially those on the head. And sure a chunk of hair is missing from where they shaved it to put said stitches in place. But does any of that really compare to what he went through?

"I'm okay if that's what you're worried about. It looked worse than it was."

You know exactly how bad it was. It wasn't like you just gathered your stuff and left after Nick's mother stopped in and delivered her bomb of truth. In fact, once the shock of her words had worn off you'd gotten yourself pretty riled up with a lot of thoughts that centered on how-dare-she. You'd gathered up[ all of your things, and stormed up to the Intensive Care Unit, you'd argued with a nurse, you'd begged and pleaded until they let you in to see him. And, if you are being honest, compared to Nick all you had was a scratch. Tubes were shoved up his nose, forcing him to keep breathing while needles fed him medication and hydration. The natural blue splotches on his skin did their best to hide the bruising, but it was too easy to see that the damage had been done. Gone was the coppery vest, all he wore was an ugly hospital gown and medical tape. One eye was swollen shut, one hand looked like it had seen the wrong side of a hammer. Or, more likely, a boot. He'd whimpered when you'd touched him, in pain despite being pumped full of who knew what.

That's when you had decided that Elizabeth Jakoby had been right. Being with Nick would have been selfish. Yes, he made you happy. Yes, his kisses made you light up. But was any of that worth the pain it put him through? No. Of course not. You needed to leave. And you needed to cut the relationship off. He'd get over you. He'd find a nice orc woman to settle down with. He'd be happy with his garden and his badge. He didn't need you. And he certainly didn't need another trip to the hospital.

So you called June and let her mother you into bed, and promised yourself that no matter what messages Nick Jakoby sent, you'd just ignore them. Sure, you knew it was bad form to ghost him. But you also knew that if you tried to actually break it off, it would kill something inside of you. Some tiny glimmer of hope that there were still good people in the world.

Those first two weeks were easy. They came before the new flower delivery, and the card that only had "I'm sorry," written in his hasty, blocky script. And then came the uber eats driver delivering from the Indian place you'd had your very first date. And then came the movie tickets and a little notecard saying "I'll be here, at seven this Friday. I hope you will be too."

You made yourself sick throwing the ticket in the garbage. You'd even poured week-old leftovers on top of it to keep yourself from digging it out. That night you invited June and her wife over and the three of you watched cheesy movies until dawn, if only to keep you from dwelling on where you rather would have been.

You got your stitches out. You were given a clean bill of health. Your hair grew back. Two weeks turned into two months, and then into half a year.

You went on dates. Some weren't too bad. Somewhere horrible. But no matter how nice the date was, or where you went, all you could think about was sharing a loaded waffle with a guy who saw the greatness in the universe. All you could do was reach up and feel that scar on your forehead and wonder 'what if?'.

"This is ridiculous." June flopped herself down on the couch. She was wearing her favorite orange and yellow pajama set. She had a plate of chocolate cake in one hand, and a fork in the other. She was eating her feeling since the love of her life was out to sea again. It made for a good excuse to buy a cake and have a sleepover. You are pretty glad that you have a best friend who still likes sleepovers. "You should call him."

"Listen, June, I know you thought we were perfect for each other but-"

June's demielf eyes narrow to cat-like slits. "Oh please."

"June, it was just two dates."

"And?"

"How much can you really know about a person in two dates?"

"You know when I decided I was gonna marry Em?" she asks.

"Well, you proposed on-"

"Date one."

You pause. "What?"

"I knew before the end of date one that she was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I knew it like I know the sky is blue and Versace does bold prints." She waves her hand through the air.

"That's not possible."

"Oh, it is. I realized I was doing everything I could to make her laugh because the sound of it was the best music I'd ever heard."

You can't help but remember Nick's laugh, and the way it came out too loud and honest. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

"And I wanted to keep ordering food, just so we could stay there longer," June continues.

After your first date, you and Nick just walked, walked until the only place you could go was home. You'd never wanted the night to end.

"But what really sealed the deal was how bad I wanted to see her again, even when we'd just said goodnight."

"But," you say, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest. "Couldn't it have just been an infatuation? Wasn't it just potential? Time and effort are what made it love, not your first date."

June shrugs. "Sounds to me like you are trying to convince someone in this room, and I'm pretty sure it's not me."

You lapse into silence as the words ring in your ears. Who are you trying to convince? You know that you had an amazing time with Nick. You know exactly what it felt like to laugh with him, run your hands across his shoulders, kiss him. You know that it was the exact mix of easy and heart tingling. You know that if ever there had been potential for something great, it existed in those two nights with Nick Jakoby.

"It doesn't matter," you say. "I wont get him hurt again."

June sets her plate aside and takes your hand in hers. "Sweetie, I get that. I do. But..." She takes a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know if you are ready to hear this but I'm going to go ahead and say it anyway."

She shifts her place on the couch until she is facing you, your hands cupped gently in her own. The look she gives you is one of kindness, but no-nonsense. It's a mother's look.

"I feel like you are about to ground me for doing something dumb," you say, trying to be light-hearted.

"Kind of. I mean, I do think you did something stupid."

You start to pull away. "June-"

She takes your hands again, more firmly. "You did. You did do something dumb. I love you, hun. I really do but this time? This time I think you screwed up."

"How? By protecting him? By making sure he never has to be in that hospital bed again? June, you didn't see him it was...it was-" You can't even bring yourself to say how bad it was.

June's hands tighten ever so slightly. "I know, sweetie. I know. It sucked. I know how seeing you hurt made me feel, and I can only imagine that it was worse seeing Nick like that. And I can only imagine how guilty it made you feel. But honestly? None of that matters."

"Why not?"

She blows out a soft breath. You can see a hard line of tension in her shoulders. She closes her eyes and when she opens them they are filled with a steady resolve. "Because you didn't even give him a choice. And hun, that was shitty." Since you rarely ever hear June curse, you know exactly how much she must mean this. "I know why you did it. I get it, but I don't really agree with it. You hurt yourself, which was your choice. But you hurt him too. You didn't give him an explanation, and you didn't give him closure." She holds up a hand before you can interrupt. "I'm not saying every person you go on a date with deserves a point by point explanation for why you don't want to see them again. But we both know that Nick wasn't just some date."

"I knew he'd try to talk me out of it."

June shrugs. "Maybe. Probably. But after getting hurt the way that he did, don't you think that he deserved the chance to try?"

Guilt drags at your stomach. You shake your head and pull your hands out of her grip. She lets you.

"I don't know that I'd have been strong enough to tell him no."

June shrugs. "Maybe because you shouldn't have."

You make a sound in the back of your throat and reach for the remote. "Come on, the show is-"

The words you were going to say die in your throat. The screen is filled with a news broadcast. A pretty woman you barely notice is talking about a fire downtown. The words Bright, officers down, possible magical terrorism hang like an ugly miasma in your ears. A picture of Nick superimposes itself over the fire.

You don't even remember getting up. You don't remember grabbing your coat. All you hear is the jingle of keys as you head to the hospital you ought never to have left him at.

[xxmisty]

My Big Humiliating Torchwood Confession - Part 1 :P

Warning: this will be a LONG post, and i’m sorry about that! 

Lucy is sat opposite me asking me repeatedly if I’ve started typing yet because she knows how desperately i’m putting off making this post!!1

This is awful, this is.... probably the most embarrassingly intimate confession i’ll have made since the day I opened up about my fetish way back at the start of 2013. And on the surface of it it probably doesn’t seem like that big of a deal but IT IS TO ME! And a big chunk of the trauma i’m about to express is tongue in cheek but it’s genuinely been - and continues to be - a huge bundle of DISTRESS AND HUMILIATION AND UTTER RESENTMENT!!! Because this year has been.... one hell of a personal journey and i don’t even mean anything to do with the pandemic.

It all started on New Year’s Day. I was feeling horrendously ill; the miraculous medication that had started to give me my life back had run out and thanks to the festive postal delays my new lot hadn’t arrived yet. I was in agony, I had a horrible headache, I felt sick and I could hardly move. We spent the day watching a bunch of muppet stuff, and that night we watched the first ep of season 12 of Doctor Who and, y’know, it was a pretty damn good episode (plus thirteen in the suit.... fuuckkk) 

So afterwards we started having a discussion about Chris Chibnall - we’ve long held criticisms about some of his writing (not all of it, but it’s a mixed bag) and Lucy told me I still hadn’t seen his worst writing because that was for Torchwood...

Which I had never seen. Which I had been desperately trying not to see, although I didn’t know why. I just always had this vibe like a big “NO ENTRY!” sign at the idea of ever watching it. It’s not as though I had a logical reason for it, it’s not like I’d read up about it and thought, ‘naahhhhhh, I don’t fancy watching that’. I just had a big WARNING sign in my head, telling me not to go there. 

Several years ago Lucy made me watch the first episode (after i’d been avoiding her threats of showing it to me for like 2 years) and like... it wasn’t horrible? It wasn’t... great either... but it didn’t kill me. Then a couple of years ago she showed me Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang because we were having a big Runaways phase so she wanted to show me an episode with James Marsters in. Again, it didn’t kill me. It wasn’t horrible. But I still had those big NO ENTRY!!! signs up in my head. I was still trying desperately to avoid actually being shown Torchwood as a show.

And the the new year happened and I was too WEAK AND DEFENCELESS to know what was happening when Lucy and I cuddled up in bed that night. I was too sick to really comprehend what she was doing or to fight back when she announced she was going to show me the very worst of Chris Chibnall’s writing... and put on Day One followed by Cyberwoman.

Oh. My. God.

All day I had been in a state of physical agony. Suddenly my mental and emotional state was far, FAR worse!!! The sex gas alien was bad enough, then by the time she put on Cyberwoman my brain was trying to shut down. I used to suffer blackouts and, god, I kept blacking out all the way through it, and instead of being her usual loving, wonderful self she KEPT FORCING ME TO COME ROUND TO WATCH IT!!!

By this point it was gone midnight and I was in a state of utter distress!! This was the worst double helping of tv I had ever sat through in my life and I sat up and let forth a tirade of absolute distress! This, I decided, had to be the reason I’d been avoiding Torchwood. Because it was more like.... Torurewood :P 

Yep, that had to be it. Couldn’t possibly be anything worse, could it? 

At least now lucy had shown me those two terrible Chibnall eps I would NEVER EVER HAVE TO WATCH THEM AGAIN. Or ANY Torchwood episodes. Yes, my ordeal was over. Had to be.

Nope. We went back to bed and she put on Out if Time. And i’ll admit, the story was much stronger but goddddd I had issues with the endings! And my level of despair started to rise even higher. I HATED Torchwood! This was the most distressing night’s viewing ever and I just wanted to go to sleep and be done with it all! Lucy put one more episode on afterwards: They Keep Killing Suzie. And that was much better but halfway through we finally fell asleep - so surely my trauma was over with.

Nope.

I had horrible nightmares of a very thirsty Gwen coming onto me all night, over and over again and it was HORRIBLE!!! Like, you have no idea how distressed I was! And when I woke up I blamed lucy whole-heartedly and she very sympathetically laughed at my plight!

But yeah. My trauma was over. No more Torchwood. I’d suffered the night from hell. Now it was time to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and move on! My medication arrived that day, I started work on some new pet portraits and life went back to normal.

Until that night, when I saw the telltale sign of Lucy putting a video on and turning her iPad around and then there they were - the opening titles of Torchwood - and I wanted to jump out the boat and into the canal and swim as far away as possible!!!

But the episode she put on was Fragments. She said she wanted to show me Chris Chibnall’s finest episode. And y’know what? It was really pretty fucking good. And god, I was fURIOUS about that!!! When we went to bed she pulled a real double whammy though by putting on Adam - which became instantly one of my favourite episodes of ANYTHING, EVER. And I looked at my wife, shook my head, sighed and told her, ‘nice save, Lucy... nice save...’

Over the next couple of weeks we also had a major Doctor Who rewatch and revisited most of the New Who era, and - to my mixed feelings - she dotted various other episodes of Torchwood in around them. I was conflicted - after the Adam and Fragments double bill I was no longer in brain-screamy hatred territory. I did however keep having flashbacks to that godawful night. Plus i’d had several further nightmares about a thirsty Gwen and I did NOT like it! But by a couple of weeks into January I’d seen a fair bit of Torchwood. Some of them twice. 

Around this same time I’d started back in testosterone after not being able to afford it for the last 3 years. And then I started to notice I was getting some..... urghhhhhh..... unusual... and very uncomfortable feelings... about certain.... things... and characters.

And I started falling headlong into a great big gay panic :P

And here’s where the whole story becomes a HELL of a lot more embarrassing so i’m going to put it under a read more :P

Did ya click on that read more? Wh-why? there’s nothing to see here... especially not a long tale of shame and distress :P ugggghhhhhhh ok, FINE;

Basically there were two things happening at the same time. One was that I started to feel something I hadn’t felt in two decades. When I was a kid/teen we didn’t have the phrase ‘hyperfixation’ so I just called them obsessions. I always had obsessions, at any given point there was always this ONE THING that was my entire life. i lived it, breathed it, became it. It was my whole world, my whole personality, my focus, my lifeline. 9 times out of 10 it would be a tv show. Between the ages of 12 and 15 I would generally change my obsession about once a month. There were several ‘usual suspects’ that would cycle around over and over - Red Dwarf, The Brittas Empire, Sonic the Hedgehog, Halfway Across the Galaxy, Parallel 9, Out of this World... 

late in 1995 I became obsessed with The X Files and - bizarrely - that obsession just ran and ran. I was so used to my obsession changing around once every month that it was bizarre to still be absolutely hyperfixated on it almost 9 months later. And then, in June 1996, my longest ever obsession took its place, a little known uk fantasy show called Bugs. 

That... was my longest running obsession. And oh my god, was I ever obsessed with it. I have no idea how that one obsession kept going for 3 years. i’m sorry this is particularly wordy but this is kind of personal and I want to explain this right.

If you’ve been following me for a while you’ll probably known that one of the most defining moments of my life happened in the summer of ‘98. My cousin’s husband sexually assaulted me and my life spiralled into total despair. While that night was bad enough, the slow breakdown I went through over the course of the year that followed was harder to recover from. And eventually I came out the other side to some degree but i’d lost my love of three things that made me the person I was: writing, drawing and being obsessed. All three were so closely entangled with that night and surviving afterwards that it changed something that had always been a fundamental part of me.

I was no longer able to feel obsession. To hyperfixate the way I previously had. It was like something was broken inside me. And that was like a loss unto itself. It was SUCH a big part of me. It had been the only way i’d survived years of depression when I was young. My obsessions were what kept me afloat. 

In the last decade there are a few things that I called ‘obsessions’ and I thought were as close as I would ever get to the way I used to feel. I thought maybe it was because i’d ‘grown up’ (pah). That’s not to say that i wasn't thoroughly into Ashes to Ashes, FNAF and Homestuck, for example, because of course I was! I even called them obsessions, but there was something that just... wasn’t the same, no matter what I did.

And over time, I got back the other things I’d lost. I started writing my A2A fics in 2010 and Lucy helped me to start drawing again in 2018 and god, both times it was like finally having a piece of myself returned after so long! As for my ‘obsessions’, I just thought I wasn't able to feel the way I used to because I wasn’t a kid any more.

But then, I thought that about Christmas Eve too, and then lucy came into my life <3

Still, the last thing I was expecting was... for *those* feelings to start sneaking back in my life. Feelings I hadn’t been able to experience since the summer of 1998-9. And to my further distress I discovered that they were relating to a certain show that I’d had a traumatising introduction to on new year’s day...

Suddenly it was all I could think about; TORCHWOOD! TORCHWOOD! Aargghhhhh and yet I still hated it! It was still awful! And yet... at the same time... it was so goooooooood.... arghhhhh, every time we watched an episode there was a  knife twisting in my guts, reminding me that I hadn’t even felt these feelings over things we’d been HUGELY into... the fandoms we’d met through, the fandoms we discovered together. Nope. It was Torchwood that brought back my ability to hyperfixate! And I have SO MANY ANGRY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS!!!! Grrrrrrrrr!!

And believe me, I kept thinking it was going to stop and go away BUT IT HASN’T! It’s only gotten worse! And as of yesterday Torchwood officially became my second  longest obsession ever!!!

I. AM. FURIOUS!!!

It’s... urrghhhh I hate this fact but it’s almost like I have a crush on the *show*??!!! I... can’t explain it better than that??? It’s like, if I could throw Torchwood on the bed and make sweet, sweet love to it I would :P and yeah, i’m saying all of this tongue in cheek but i’ve had a fucking sky high libido ever since I went back on T (ohhhhh and believe me I am LOVING it!!! 💙💙💙) But it’s like... there are elements of Torchwood itself that are so fucking hot that I get.... reactions that I am SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED ABOUT for so many reasons deidjdhdggjhaaahhhhhhhhh

Lucy literally only has to say ‘Torchwood’ at me and I end up in a gibbering heap half the time - I am not even kidding!!!

This, however, is NOT the worst thing that happened as a result of Lucy making me watch this god damned show.

But honestly this post has gone on WAY too long already so i’m going to save that for part 2.

Oh god... my shame.... my total and utter shame....

To be continued :P

[genuflectx]

Just wanna rant about my job a bit, will probably delete this later. But I think I may quit my job within the next month or so u_u’

Originally when I joined this job last year it was under originations- I helped people apply and get approved for loans, or offered general tech support when they needed help with the process online. I felt like I was helping these nice old people, they were rarely mean (save for the occasional grouchy old man after he gets rejected), and the work load was decent. Not too heavy, not too boring. 

Then the pandemic hit. My entire team, which had been hired only a few months before, were rushed in for “accelerated training” on the credit card support department. I believe it was just like 4 weeks of training for a tooootally different workflow. We worked in the servicing department for what, maybe a month? Then they furloughed a ton of people and managers and moved us AGAIN, this time to collections. So calling to collect debts on our credit card product. When I joined this company it was under the understanding I did NOT want to do collections because it makes me sad and feel shitty. But they promised us we would be transferred back to originations after a bit, so whatever.

Slowly things have gone downhill since. Just tiny things adding up. They implemented a internet speed minimum requirement, which is understandable working from home, but we lost another good chunk of people who got fired for that, some who I’d made friends with. Hell, I got THREATENED with firing due to this, forcing us to run an Ethernet cable through 2 stories of our house. And I was PISSED because I was the only one on the team making a 100% average on QA scores. Then a few people quit, leaving only 3 people from my original originations team. They hired a new manager to oversee work force management (WFM) and quality assurance (QA) around this point and I’m CONVINCED it got worse because of her changes...

They changed our outbound dialing system to a cheaper one, promising all these improvements, and who woulda guessed... the quality of work life barely improved with this piece of crap tech but hey, it cut costs. Next they dismantled the debt management company department (DMC) and trained us in it so we’re technically trained for and work in two departments. On top of the promise that in the far future that they will cross-train us with the loan department too, a totally different product. We also have to do the emails for our department as well.

Then things got bad. Non stop calls for a months. Likely related to the unfortunate weather disasters in our outsourced locations. The outbound dialer, which is an autodialer that WFM loads up with late people to auto-call, starting filling up with impossible amounts of people to call for our agent count. We started going from 5000 to call every few hours to 10,000. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t clear the queue, they will load more in at certain times of the day. So we’d get 10,000 at 1pm, we’d get it down to 3,000 by 5pm, and they’d just load it back up to 10,000 again. 

Then they added on the mandatory overtime. Everyone in our department either has to do a half shift extra on either saturday or sunday- with mine being on saturday. Another person quit (down to 2 from my original team). We’re understaffed as hell and they tell us that they’re FINALLY training a new class. And know what? They ONLY enacted the OT and got a new class because their service levels were down. Service levels are a mandatory legal level of how many agents per how many customers we have, they get in legal trouble when it drops too far for too long. They didn’t give a shit about our stress until their damn legal agreement dropped and then forced the OT on us. Wow. We feel so appreciated. 

And THEN the OT was supposed to go until Feb 14th- today. THEY EXTENDED IT ANOTHER WEEK. 

And and and a few days after they told us it was extended these dudes LAY OFF 3 managers, including our team’s manager, who I REALLY liked, and stuck us into the team of a manager who is notorious for giving out incorrect policy info! Why! >:( 

Some other small things they’ve done that have added up slowly: They sent me a “nice” alluminum mug for my high QA score. Stuck it in the washer once and the pretty gold lettering on the front melted. It also leaks. They do these “thank you” videos some time where the upper management (never faces you recognize save for 2 or 3). BUT they made us watch this 10 minute long “thank you” Christmas video BETWEEN CALLS instead of scheduling time for us to do it like usual. Due to the short staffing, they changed how our weekly meetings with our manager/team go. Instead of having the whole team go into a meeting with her twice per week, they made her split this into 3 smaller meetings once per week, so that 2 or 3 team members meet with her at a time (more people on the floor to take calls). It spread her thin- before they laid her off of course. After they enacted the OT a week or so into it one of the upper management people sent us all an email telling us we basically weren’t doing good enough because our collections numbers weren’t high enough.. KNOWING we’re under staffed, she still emailed that. Come on.

So ya know what? My fiance and friends have encouraged me to just move on. This company isn’t what it was when I started a year ago, and idk if it’s legit just due to covid or if this WFM/QA overseer that they hired near the end of 2020 is fully to blame. I hate hearing customers tell me day in day out about their family dying, about being homeless/evicted. I hate old ladies screaming at me because they can’t comprehend that WE ARE IN A PANDEMIC and the MAIL WILL BE LATE, so their damn paper checks need to be mailed out at least 2-3 weeks in advanced- OR THEY COULD JUST CALL AND PAY LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. Tired of people insulting me and calling me names because THEY’RE late and THEY missed a payment and they can’t accept responsibility- because they think screaming at someone making a few bucks over min wage will do anyone any good or make their shitty credit score any better.

All this mandatory OT and my nice manager being fired has put a lot of stress on me, if the other crap wasn’t enough. We’re really financially stable in this household even if I did quit, even if I’d feel guilty af. And it could be months before I found another job as safe and well-paying as this one, but at least my mental health would recover.

So I have about a day of sick time and 80 hours of PTO. My plan is to hopefully schedule out all 80 hours, or at least 85% of my PTO if I can, then when I come back to put in a 1 week notice. By then the new agents will be in full swing. I can get the money from the PTO I earned at this shit collections job and then try and move on to bigger and better things. And in the mean time while looking, I can work on art/writing and I can also possibly get a new car with all the money we’ve saved up. My mama and granny might end up disapproving and judge me but 2020 was such a shit year and I’m tired of this. I feel like this job is taking advantage of us and legit just doesn’t give a crap about their employees.

Okay! Well that’s outta my system! Bleck

[alaenawrites]

Falling For You (part 4!)

Part 4 of Falling For You! Read part 1 here, part 2 here, and part 3 here.

Almost at the end! Probably about two more chapters left. Thank you all so much for reading!! Next fic in the works :))

~~~

Remus stared up at the moon, glowing in the night sky. He imagined that she was smiling down on her little children on Earth, laughing to the sun about how silly they were, and sending kisses to her star babies. He smiled. What an odd thought, the moon and the sun and their star babies.

“You beat me here!” came a delighted voice. Remus almost fell off the roof. “Woah, woah, you okay?” Remus looked up at the boy standing next to him, robe sleeves rolled up to the elbows, dark hair held up in a messy bun with his wand. Accepting the hand held out for support, Remus stood, nodding his head. 

“You scared me, is all.”

“Didn’t hear me come up?” 

“I don’t know how, usually you walk like an elephant,” Remus teased, intertwining their fingers.

Sirius’s mouth opened wide in feigned shock, lips quirking up at the edges. He pulled his hand away and placed both dramatically over his heart. 

“Oh, Remus, you wound me.” Remus wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, laughing. “Besides, did you know that elephants can actually walk almost silently? So that’s factually incorrect in both ways, so-”

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius’s, cutting him off. He made a startled noise, then relaxed into the kiss, licking into Remus’s mouth, arms wrapping around his waist. 

After what felt like an hour (but was probably really only a couple minutes), they pulled away, grinning. Remus felt like his heart might burst. Being with Sirius was so simple, so easy, so good that he couldn’t imagine life without him. 

Shaking the thoughts away, he cleared his throat and nodded towards the blankets and pillows he had brought from his common room. 

“Hungry?”

Sirius nodded, still smiling, “Starving. Shall we?”

They sat down on the pile Remus had built and opened the picnic basket Sirius had filled in the kitchens. 

Sirius produced things from within with a flourish. “Tonight’s menu consists of chocolate cake, pear juice, pumpkin pasties, taffy, and…” he pulled out one final item from the basket, pulling off the cover, “mystery dessert à la Sirius.” 

Remus laughed. “Hopefully that means the house elves.”

“What, you don’t believe I made it?”

“You are a horrible cook. I’ve seen you try to make eggs, don’t try to convince me. Besides, when would you have time?”

Sirius scrunched his nose, though his mouth was lifted slightly at the corners. “Yes. Fine. Mystery dessert à la the house elves. Happy?” He cut a large chunk out of the blue, slightly gelatinous, cake-and-ice-cream-with-jello looking thing.

“Yes, very,” Remus smiled. He leaned in, pressing a small kiss to Sirius’s cheek. “Uh, what actually is that? Is it edible, or…” Sirius shrugged.

“I actually have no idea. I mean, I know it’s edible.” He prodded at his own lump with his fork, “Uhh… I’m pretty sure it’s edible. I told the house elves to make a multi-dessert dessert, so here we are I suppose. On three?” 

Remus nodded. “Three…”

“Two…” 

They looked at each other and took a bite. Remus managed to swallow his bite before feeling too sick, but Sirius had no such luck. He ran to the edge of the tower, throwing up over the edge. 

Remus cracked up. After a couple seconds, he knelt next to Sirius and handed him a wet towel. 

“You okay?” Remus rubbed soothing circles into Sirius’s back and helped him up, still wiping laughter tears from his eyes. 

Sirius nodded and smiled weakly, wiping his mouth on the towel. “Someone’s going to be feeling a lot worse tomorrow when they accidentally step in that.”

Remus glanced over the tower’s roof at the grounds far below that and laughed. “Yeah, probably. If it didn’t end up on someone’s dorm window first.”

“Let’s… maybe not eat that anymore. And, uh, in the future we should probably not accept mystery desserts from the house elves.”

“Noted.” They smiled at each other, faces reflected in the pale moonlight. Remus was reminded again how natural, how happy this was, being with Sirius. He just hoped Sirius felt the same way.

~

After everything in the basket (except the mystery dessert) had long been finished and all of the constellations Sirius knew had been pointed out to Remus, they put all of the empty wrappers and dirty dishes back into the basket and folded up the blankets. 

Back inside the tower, Remus looked at Sirius and nudged him with his shoulder. Sirius smiled and leaned in for a kiss, and Remus felt the fireworks go off in his stomach for the millionth time that night.

“So,” Remus began, smiling sadly.

“So.”

“So this is goodnight, then.” 

Sirius laughed sadly. “I suppose it is. I wish the night didn’t have to end.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Remus played with the idea in his head. “What if you spend the night?”

~

Sirius traced a scar on Remus’s back lightly, admiring the way the sunlight reflected off his honey curls. He had asked once where the scars had come from, but Remus hadn’t said. He couldn’t really blame him, he hadn’t told him about his either. 

Laying back down, he stared at the deep blue curtains above him and folded his arms over his chest. He could feel the brush of Remus’s ribs against his with every inhale, the warmth that was radiating off of him. 

Feeling his chest expand with his deep breath, he savored the early morning smells that, he realized, were becoming more and more common; they had spent almost every morning together for the past few weeks, usually in the Gryffindor common room (nobody noticed if Remus was gone, apparently Ravenclaws didn’t always sleep in their own beds), but he could get away with Ravenclaw every now and then, like now. 

He let his mind wander over the past month, starting with the first date on the Astronomy tower roof. Smiling, at the memory, he thought of all the Friday night stargazing dates they’d had up there since, all the secret glances in the hallways, the little notes passed in the History of Magic, the one class they had together. He thought of the pleading conversations with James in their dorm room, the last one ending with Sirius telling him about their plans for the first date. “Just stay away from him,” the other boy had hissed, eyes hard. That was the last he had seen of James, other than a turned back or a bowed head. 

Sirius looked over at the boy beside him, the peacefully sleeping boy with the soft eyes and the warm smile and the kind heart and the loving soul. The boy who didn’t deserve someone like him, someone who had nothing to offer and no future to give. This boy deserved the world, and Sirius had barely a house, never a home. He felt the tears rise up in his throat, but only one escaped down his cheek before he managed to capture them. He knew what he had to do.

~

When Remus woke up the next morning, his bed was empty except for a small piece of parchment. 

I’m sorry. You deserve better. Tell James I tried.

Yours forever,

Sirius

[s-aned]

Dark Paradise - Chapter 1 - “I killed her”

“I killed her”

Her voice whips through the air. The older man turns his head towards the young woman, a frown twisting his face. Did he understood what she meant?

It’s been a few minutes since he arrived on the back porch. The lights were out, but she was there, sitting with her gaze fixed on the mountains or in the void, softly humming to herself a tune he didn't know.

“It’s 2 a.m., why aren’t you sleeping?

- What about you?”

Fair enough. He let out a small sigh before sitting down next to the young woman. He rubbed the back of his neck, his body still tense after a long day of work. Silence had settled in. Not a tense or embarrassed one. If she could be talkative and teasing, she also knew how to savor the comfort of a shared silence. That’s one thing he surely appreciated.

It had been a few weeks since she moved into his home, about one year after he settled in Jackson. At first glance, she seemed like a strange roommate for this fifty-year-old man, as she must have barely left her twenties. But she couldn't stay with Tommy and Maria forever and he had a spare room. Everyone seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

Joel was beginning to enjoy this company, and the good meals that accompanied it. He found it amazing how someone who struggles to eat anything other than soup can enjoy cooking so much. Gradually, a relationship of trust began to take hold. That's why he doesn’t hesitate long before breaking the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier to the girls. Your mom. Tommy and I… We also lost our mom to sickness. She... She got cancer. Before the outbreak. Nasty business.”

She nods but doesn’t add anything. She knows that the man isn’t one to spill about his past. She knows about Sarah, and some bits of his past in Boston QZ. Oh, she doesn’t know much, but enough to understand that he had seen and done things that morality could disapprove of.

And yet, she doesn’t dare to tell him what is on her heart. She’s afraid of his reaction. She’s trying to resist but the words are making their way to her mouth and she’s unable to hold them back, like a sour, uncontrollable bile. It’s too late. It must come out, regardless of his reaction.

“I killed her.”

She hears a rustle, and feel his incomprehension’s look on her. She resumes, turning her head towards him without daring to meet his gaze.

“My… My mom. I killed her.”

She bits her lip, wanting to prevent the tears from falling. She has started now, there is no going back. Might as well tell him everything.

“She… She was sick, real sick. But she kept dying. Most of the time when she was awake, she wasn’t even conscious, her open eyes and her mouth only let out a few inconsistent messages. And she was in pain, she was in excruciating pain. Day and night, she moaned. It was just the two of us. The neighbors would drop me food sometimes. But most of the time, I was alone with her suffering. I would stay day and night by her side, with no more hope of seeing her emerge. But her body was refusing to give up.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a breath before starting again.

“One night, she was finally sleeping. I wasn’t. She seemed so peaceful, so quiet. I thought, this is it. This is how she should be. Just in peace. No more pain. It was dark in the room, there was no moon that night. So I gave her a kiss before taking a pillow and… I put it on her head. As strong as I could. She didn’t react. I stayed like that for minutes but it felt like hours. I stayed until I felt it… Her last breath.”

Tears are now streaming down her cheeks. She stares into void, pursed lips adding nothing more. She doesn’t know why she told him about it. What would he think of her now?

“How old were you?

-14.”

He lets out an overwhelmed sigh. He already knew she had been through hard times. Heck, who hasn’t in this crazy world? But putting her own mother out of pain, that was something else. He tries to find something to say to ease her.

“You relieved her. QZ life wasn’t easy, she might have suffered for weeks, months even, if you hadn’t done that. You did that out of love. You’re brave.

-No, I’m not. After I did it, I just grabbed my stuff and left. I abandoned her there. God knows how much time it took before someone noticed. It’s probably the smell that alerted the neighbors. I didn’t give her a decent burial, and we both know that FEDRA probably tossed her bodies with all the others, infected or not.

-Why did you leave?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She knows that she will have to tell the full story if she keeps going. But now looks as bad as any other time. The night offers some protection. She lets it go.

“Hmm, I was an orphan. They would have put me in one of those FEDRA institutions. I heard what happened there. All this stories about girls being abused by soldiers or other boarders. I thought I was better to try it on my own.

-How did you survive without being caught?

-My dad. He had a sister in that QZ. We barely knew her, she had fallen out with him and when he died, we cut ties completely. I showed up at her place, and she was kind enough to take me. Oh sure, she treated me like a dog, making me do all the thankless jobs. But at least I had a roof over my head. After a few months she started dating this guy, scumbag but it kept her from being alone, I guess. There was only one room, so most of the time I had to stay in the hallway. But slowly, he started to look at me. Once, she was gone god knows where, he cornered me and told me a whole bunch of stuff a 15-year-old shouldn't hear from a grown-up man. My aunt walked in as he began to slide his hand under my shirt, and of course she got it on me. She beat the crap out of me, before tossing me out of her place. Obviously, she kept all my stuff, ID included. Probably sold it to black market, the bitch. I was left with only the clothes on my back."

She finally looks up at the man, unable to read the expression on his face. Sadness, anger, pity? She had only seen this face once. The day Tommy and he found her, after she killed her captors. It was Joel, she believes, who put a bullet in the head of the last of them. The one who had caught her and was standing over her, his knife stuck in her lower abdomen.

Joel had the same expression than today when, in Jackson's infirmary, she told them that she had been sold to these men, after being forcibly prostituted for months, years maybe, in her previous QZ. She didn't know where they were taking her, but she knew full well that her function would remain the same.

“Is that when?” He leaves his question hanging, but she understands what he means. She shakes her head.

“No. There was this guy I saw from time to time, we flirted with each other. He had managed to set up a junk studio in a building in the slum quarters of the QZ. He let me settle there. Of course, he didn’t ask for a kiss on the cheek in return. I won’t teach you how a 16-year-old boy is like.” She says sarcastically, a slight smirk appearing on her lips. Joel chuckles lightly. Touched. It’s around that age he got his girlfriend pregnant, and with that, got in adulthood prematurely. She goes back to her story.

“He got tired of me eventually, and I felt that soon I would find myself again in the cold streets, at the mercy of the first predator lurking around. But Heaven proved merciful, and I met Talia. She was in her fifties and had quite a temper. She saw me hanging out on the street in the rain and pulled me into a building that looked completely abandoned. She asked me questions, listened to my story without commenting, before opening another door. I discovered that there was a whole other life in this city. Rare alcohol, red armchairs and above all, a stage in the middle of which sat a bar.”

She grins at the surprised look of man.

“Yep Joel. There was a strip club in my QZ. She made me sit, gave me a towel to dry myself and began to explain what was happening there. There was no resistance group like your fireflies in my area. There were small local gang, who greased the military tab to do their little business.

At first, she didn't even want me in the room when the club was open. I was way too young for her liking, she couldn't tolerate me being exposed to men. So I did the housework, some services for the girls, all the little chores behind the scenes. From there I watched them dance and drive all the spectators crazy. Soldiers, small strikes, or average guy, they all drooled and get rid of everything they owned for a look, a caress.

After a year, I was entitled to serve at the bar. But just at the bar, I was forbidden to pass in the aisles. It was the girls' work. Talia was tough but she took good care of all of us. We were like family. When the club was closed, we laughed a lot. It was a good time.”

She ends her story with a sigh, before taking a sip of her infusion, now cold. She grimaces. She would have liked it to be whiskey. She still has plenty to talk about, but she's not sure she has the strength for it. The older man must feel it, because he doesn't ask any more questions.

She's already released a big chunk tonight. And what is yet to come is not the happiest. Above all, she is afraid of his reaction. For the moment, he believes she was an innocent victim, captured by ill-intentioned men. But she's not quite sure. She often wondered if she hadn't been responsible for all of this. So she keeps quiet and lets the silence of the night engulf her.

There is nothing more to say, and yet none of them moves. It’s only when a gust of wind makes her shiver that Joel straightens up and speaks in a firm but gentle tone she now knows by heart.

“Let’s go inside. You have to try to sleep.”

-------

Chapter 2

[exhaustedarts]

Spreading Like Poison Ch.2

Ch. 1  Ch. 3  Ch. 4

Virgil and Janus have been dating for over a year now, and the fans were demanding a Q&A after it finally was announced. 

Janus had gotten a spot near the beanbag chair, which was opposite of Virgil. There was one question for the ‘Anxceit ship,’ as the fanders called it. It was directed at Virgil.

Thomas asked, “Is Deceit a shitty boyfriend to have?” He looked up at Virgil, surprised.

Janus had stood there in shock, his mouth gaping open. The others were put off by it too, but Virgil didn’t skip a beat. 

“I mean, I wouldnt say shitty, but he isn't a great one, either… He lies duh, he'siterally the personification of deception, but he also doesn't listen to me.  I make a point, he doesnt like it. I don't really get why he always contradicts me, though. Its kind of.. Well, illogical. And I know logic isn’t his forte, so..”

Janus sputtered. “Wh- b- I-”

Patton frowned. “You do do that. I mean the contradiction. Well, I assume also the lying. Maybe you should try to agree with each other more! Agreement is the key to a healthy relationship.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, his hand sliding to his katana. “What do you lie about, Janus?”

Janus felt his sasy, sarcastic video persona crumble. “I- I try not to,” He said, looking around the room nervously. “I’ve been trying not to mess up, honest!”

Virgil shrugged. “It doesn’t really bother me.”

Logan had adjusted his glasses in that, ‘I’m about to spout a few facts,’ way. “It seemed to me that it did seem to bother you, at least a little. In fact, according to recent psychologists, lying in a relationship destroys self esteem, and it develops trust issues between people. As humans, we need to be able to trust someone, and usually someone who is deceptive is someone we don’t need to trust. Perhaps Janus is not the best partner.”

Janus felt absolutely sick. Thomas’s Logic had proved that he was a bad boyfriend. “I- I- I-” He couldn’t force a proper sentence out. After a couple failed attempts, fully aware of the others watching him, he forced out some kind of sentence. “I don’t want to be, I don’t mean to,” He hiccuped. “I’m- I’m so sorry,” he said, and with a choked off sob, he sunk out before he could hear a reply. 

The room was silent for a moment. 

“He seemed genuinely upset,” Thomas said, shocked. “That wasn’t his lying tone, I think that he really didn’t know he was hurting Virgil like that.”

"The poor kiddo.." Patton said. "I'm gonna go check on him." 

"He actually kinda likes to deal with things alone.. learned that the hard way." Virgil chuckled. 

"The hard way?" 

"Yeah, he hisses at me then ignores me. It's fine though."

Patton made a concerned nose at the back of his throat. "Kiddo, it sounds like a bad relationship. Maybe you guys should break up?"

Virgil shrugged. "Maybe." 

Janus sighed heavily. He was looking back at the footage in the present, and he honestly couldn't care less at this point. Virgil had made it evident that he'd fucked up everything. But he loved Virgil! He didnt want to break up with him, and he hadn't brought it up.

At this point, he was just feeling depressed.  He didnt really want to do anything anymore unless it was sitting on the couch taking up as little room as possible. 

After he had heard Virgil say how he lies and how it made a bad relationship, to ensure he didnt lie, he talked as little as possible. 

He had even given up his self care days. Those were the days where he sat in his room in a Scooby Doo onesie, binged all of the What's New Scooby Doo's, and ate an entire pot of Mac n' cheese. Logan highly protested those days, since they were bad for his health, so he just quit them to avoid discourse. 

Earlier in the week, he had taken his box of 'special' memories and given them back. Logans old tie, Roman's old sash, and one of Patton's stuffed animals. He remembered presenting them to the sides with a look of shame on his face. 

The hardest to return was Virgil's old hoodie. He had been nervous about it for an hour before he had finally worked up the courage. He had said, “I.. I kept this after you changed your style. I know it was weird, but you hated me and.. I didnt know what to do.”

Virgil was silent for a full minute before answering. “Creep,” he said, and hung the hoodie in his closet.

So here Janus was now, laying on his bed and watching the latest Sides episode for the eighth time in a row.

He felt a tug on his navel and he flinched. Someone was lying. 

He sighed again, putting his phone away. He needed to get some food, he knew that. But he just couldn’t bring himself to care. So he just laid there, staring at the ceiling. 

Someone knocked on the door and Janus groaned. “Come on in,” He said, rolling over.

Virgil opened the door. “Yo, snakeface. Haven’t seen you in a while, so get your ass downstairs before I drag you down.”

“I don't really want to..” Janus’s bed was soft, and he was comfortable and warm. 

“I know that we dont need to eat or do anything, but stop being lazy. Its really not the good kind of selfish.” Virgil said pointedly, sitting down on Janus’s bed. 

Janus sighed. “But-”

“Just come down before everyone is more stressed out. Remus had a whole cake for breakfast, now hes chasing down the others going, ‘IMMA FUCK YOU’ and you know how to deal with it. Also you should eat something otherwise Patton’ll die from the stress.”

Janus twisted the sheets. “Okay. Um, who let him have a whole cake?”

“He got up and made one at 3 in the morning. It actually looked edible. Then he just started ripping out chunks of it and eating it. Theres frosting everywhere.”

Janus chuckled. Virgil was just sitting there with him for once, and he felt content to just stay like this, with Virgil and his snake plushes. But he had to go downstairs. 

“Hey Virgil?” He said, sitting up. “Do you hate me?” He lifted his eyes to Virgils.

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I was rewatching the QnA thing, and- and the one question about if I’m a shitty boyfriend.. And I was just wondering if you.. if you hate me.” Janus stared into his lap. 

Virgil scooched closer, putting his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “Is it because I dont hug you enough? I can be more affectionate!”

Janus’s skin was lit on fire and he smiled softly. “Yeah… this is nice..” 

Virgil gave him a light squeeze and stood up. “We can cuddle later. Right now, lets go downstairs.”

Janus groaned and pushed himself off the bed. “Remind me again, why do I have to go?"

"You know how to calm Remus down. Now come onnnn," He tugged on Janus arm like a child, smiling.

Janus laughed. "Okay, okay!" He grabbed his hat and allowed Virgil to drag him out.