#do you have any idea how bad I am at sewing circles.

[thecranewivesrpf]

the urge to make plushies vs my zero skill at sewing anything ever

[thedreadvampy]

If your skirt post is like A Genuine Question and not just ramble (feel free to ignore me), here are non-gender-related reasons I prefer trousers over skirts:

- I am fashion-wise incredibly challenged which means I do not understand how to wear a skirt in a way that looks good. I have tried many times and I just cannot figure it out. How do combine skirt with torso wear I do not get how y'all do this. (dresses are the easiest fashion option but they have other disadvantages obvsly)

- how am I supposed to find leggins/tights that are both warm enough and look good I can't do it

- I also cannot sew like at all so the pocketd thing is actually very much an issue and if I do have a skirt that has large enough pockets from the start as soon as I put like a key and a pocket knife in there it'll drag the skirt halfway down my hips?? (or it won't but it'll feel like it)

- skirts are in my experience notoriously bad at having useful belt loops. I need belt loops :(

If you have solutions for these (unless they involve "get good at understanding how to make clothes look good" bc that ship has sailed lol) please I'd love to appreciate skirts more

I cannot answer all of these satisfactorily and will admit. my argument is very ideal-world based. I think if we let go of the idea that skirts are feminine and thus impractical we would rapidly solve many of them.

point by point:

Styling a skirt:

the thing is there are a billion sorts of skirt so this is highly dependent on what you're looking for and what your body type is.

however I will say the number one mistake I think novice skirt wearers tend to make is wearing them at the same waist height as trousers (around the hips) and while many skirts are cut that way they're a lot harder to style imo. If it sits above the hip, most of the way up your belly, whether or not that's where your waist is, that's both more comfortable and easy more flexible with tops because on most people it will look pretty good to just tuck a shirt or t-shirt into that.

tops can be tucked into skirts or worn over them. I think a jumper with a long skirt looks good (although I'm not a big long skirt person myself bc I am. A Slut. and also bc I get tangled up in anything past mid calf) and personally I like a baggy t-shirt tucked into a fitted skirt or a tight t-shirt or camisole tucked into a pleated or flared skirt. also crop tops are usually a win if you're confident in them.

my advice for getting comfortable with trying out the tops you already own with skirts would be: if you get something straight cut, with a wide waistband, in a relatively sturdy fabric like denim or canvas, and in a neutral colour like black or blue, it should look good with anything you'd wear the same colour jeans with. eg (any length):

I think people are often intimidated by skirts because they're seen as like. Fashion Clothes. but anything that looks good with trousers, like, it might not look good with Every Skirt but there will be as many skirts as trousers it suits.

and in the same way you find a style of trousers you're likely to keep defaulting to you will probably find as you go there's a style and length that's very in your comfort zone and goes with your style. for me it's mid-thigh black skater/circle skirts, I own like 5 variations on that theme and on me it goes with everything.

also people who sell dresses as the solution to the top thing are built different to me. I have sweaty pits I can't be having 20 dresses in constant wash rotation. drawer full of interchangeable t-shirts and a skirt or two that you wash if it gets dirty, that's the way to do it. If you need work clothes, almost any skirt will go with a black or white button up shirt. you probably want to tuck that in though.

Good leggings/tights

It's a puzzler, and one that has taken years to figure out for myself. I tend to go for pretty boring black leggings and I fucking hate tights bc they're always the wrong length and if they sit right at the waist they crush my toes. plus Hole In Toes is even worse in tights than socks. so my advice is:

look for 'slip shorts' to protect your thighs- you want cotton or lycra. BEWARE. shapewear will disguise itself as slip shorts. it lies. you want comfort not a corset.

couple these with any annoying legwear. putting them over tights will stop the crotch falling down. put them under leggings if you, like me, find you keep wearing through the inner thigh of leggings and trousers.

in terms of good warm leggings - do your shopping in autumn/winter and look for thermal leggings/long underwear. don't cancel me for Fast Fashion Crimes but Primark periodically do these faux-fur lined winter leggings/footless tights which are SO GOOD, they last ages and have a nice high snug waist and cuffed ankles. I go full skirt in winter most years bc if you find good thermal leggings it's SO MUCH WARMER than trousers and much easier to layer.

if you find legwear that works for you BUY SEVERAL PAIRS. it's a constant ballache finding good leggings so snap them up while you know where.

If you're wearing tights or standard non-thermal leggings, I swear I am not spreading some e-girl agenda but knee-high/over-the-knee socks are great, they'll keep the bits of your legs that are most vulnerable to cold nice and toasty. On my legs knee highs tend to roll down so what I usually do is just fold the top over (like turning up jeans cuffs) and then they stay put.

Pockets

Yeah it's an issue 😠 fashion is stupid and the usual solution of 'shop in the men's section' tends not to apply. there are styles of skirt that are more likely to have pockets (a lot of the big poodle-skirt retro style alternative skirts do, so do most suspender skirts and about half of the denim skirts you tend to find) but yeah it's an ongoing battle. and the curse of the fake pocket is a constant threat. (also I have a couple of skirts which do, technically, have pockets, but they're loose skirts with shallow patch pockets so every time you sit down everything you own rains onto the floor)

I have no solutions for this except checking pockets vigilantly before I commit to buying skirts. I do sew but I'm usually too lazy/scared of ruining it to get around to putting pockets into skirts I didn't make, so I just commit to not buying any skirt without satisfying myself on its pockets first.

this is where we're in Ideal World thinking bc this is to my mind an issue of skirts being treated as exclusively fashion clothing/feminine clothing and in a world where we treated skirts as utility clothing I think there'd be more pocket options.

my only other advice is I recommend not buying skirts specifically at fast fashion places if you want pockets, you're a lot more likely to find pockety skirts in indie/alternative shops (and in charity/second hand shops from the people who can afford to buy from indie/alternative shops). this isn't me on my high horse btw most of what I wear is Primark or H&M bc I Have Been Poor Most Of My Adult Life buuuut the hunt's generally more successful not in high street shops.

Pockets (part deux)

if it feels like the skirt's dragging down, it's probably a waistband issue. I have had that issue on skirts which are a bit too loose or have an elastic-only waistband (like those floaty summer skirts where the waistband is just a tube with a loop of elastic through it) and it's a sensory nightmare.

What works for me is:

always choosing skirts with a proper waistband (2+cm wide, somewhat firm, ideally flat rather than scrunched up around elastic) which fit snugly and sit solidly above the hip.

only choosing skirts with some sort of closure. don't fall prey to the siren song of the slip-on skirt bc if it will slip on it will slip off. All my skirts have a zip, a lace, buttons, hooks, buckles, in one case I just safety pin it around my waist...the key thing here is that while you're not like. squeezing yourself. you can fasten it so it sits tight at the waistband and looser in the rest of the skirt

It is mostly a fit issue and most people I've talked to have found styles that don't give them these issues. However. It may well be quite body-dependent - I'm lucky in that my hips are a good lot wider than my waist, so anything I can put high enough to sit on my natural waist will stay firmly put. But I'm aware that some people are more. tubular. and things slide off easier. my notes would be: experiment with where it's most comfortable for things to sit. it may very well be higher than you think. and the broader and more fitted the waistband, the less you're likely to feel that pull off the hips - that's why kilts are so comfy, bc they have like a 6 inch buckled waistband, so even on someone whose waist comes out 3x as far as their hips, they stay put (if you put them on right. shout out to my partner's uncle whose kilt just straight up somehow both unbuckled and tangled up and fell off while he was walking into church for a wedding. that took skill.)

avoid skirts with elasticated and unreinforced waistbands. if it doesn't have a clearly defined and close fitting waistband it's not your friend. you can afford to go a bit tighter than you can with trousers too bc it won't tighten when you bend down or sit.

Beltloops

with both pockets and beltloops, anecdotally you're more likely to find them on heavier fabric skirts (canvas, denim, leather, tweed) with broader waistbands and more tailored styles. this is weird bc you don't. actually need a belt with those that much. like I say skirts move a lot less than trousers with the same waistband, both because they tend to sit higher but also because like the things that pull trousers down (sitting or bending) don't exert any extra force on skirts. moving your legs doesn't pull on skirts. so while as you pointed out the weight of stuff in the pockets/the weight of the skirt itself are pulling down, there's not a lot of like. dynamic force pulling it down. so if it has a decent waistband and fits ok there's less need for a belt (especially bc as I say you can comfortably fit skirts much more snugly than trousers). if you sit down in a skirt, it will ride up at the hem instead of pulling down at the waist - the kind of fixed point in trousers is at the crotch/hip whereas the fixed point on a skirt is the waist.

however. less need for belts is not no need for belts bc people change shape and clothes are sometimes too big. also it's fun to accessorise (I don't wear a lot of belts but I do wear a lot of chains in my belt loops bc I am permanently trapped in 2006). so a) I like skirts with some amount of modular fastening - multiple buttons on the waistline, buckles, a built in belt, slight stretch in the waist - but also b) it is, sadly, like pockets. they're out there but you have to look, and jump on it if you spot one that meets your needs. as I say, they're more likely to be present on heavier skirts, although I have seen quite a few light summer skirts that come with belts and you can just. bin the shit belt it came with and put a nicer one in. also there are WAY more belt loops on goth/alternative styles. this is presumably bc everyone else buying these also lives with me in the land of chains and studded belts.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Skirts is a land of contrasts. there's a LOT of types of skirt, a lot more than there are types of trouser, and it's about being picky about what suits your needs, getting the right fit for you, and investing in something relatively sturdily constructed (even if it's a light delicate thing). also wearing it snug and sitting at your natural waist or above, not on your hips.

idk why I wrote this entire wall of text I hope it is helpful. and I reiterate. Anything You Can Wear With Jeans You Can Wear With A Basic Skirt You're Comfortable In.

also for the love of god if you find good leggings buy 4 pairs then tell me immediately.

[thirtyoneflirtingnoneanddying]

12.15

Today is Ma’s birthday. Happy birthday Ma! I miss you and I wish things had been different before you passed. But you know all that is and you are once again pure love. So you get it.

Dad is just like you. I don’t know what else to say at this time really.

I get really sad sometimes. The other day it kinda flashed back that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to die. I wouldn’t do it, I just feel so hopeless. There are ways to subvert any given thing to make one perspective the truth. Which is hard.

But I guess that’s real.

Because nothing is real. And nothing known to man is the TRUTH. We make up all the reasons for everything based on what we see. Based on observation. And then we all agree to things on large scales and while that is useful to form civilizations and coexist, it kinda bleeds out into a lot of other things that prevent us from ascending as a human race. As energy. Like why is it so hard to BE? To live and let live.

And all of us suffer because we’re all damaged and blind and scared. Trying to survive. And on top of that we have to worry about money making or breaking that reality for all of us. We are so disconnected from how to take care of ourselves in the wild. So dependent on the state of things as they are. We cannot go back so how do we progress past this and make the circle back around to simplicity? How do we shake everyone awake?

I’m worried about the wrong shit lol

The reason things on a romantic level don’t work out is because I have not yet mastered myself. I know once I do, my need in a partner will be soooooo pared down and specific that I will just be unshakeable when it comes to the wrong people come around. Things will be so clear then.

I will be able to focus on how that person will impact all that I will have built for myself. I haven’t reached a high height yet! So how would I know what I want down the line? Lol wow

Like what if I get rich? Am I going to want someone who knows how that works to like double our shit and run it up? Probably!

I want a lavish life. I will have a lavish life.

I have to hold to the idea that I am in a serious relationship with the reaper and my higher self.

It is my brain that wants dopamine soooo bad lol

Because I wish so bad to be a girl that just sits and reads and like comprehends what she’s reading and learns things. But it’s just so difficult to be disciplined. I wish I was better at that. I wish I could rewire my brain.

Wish I could stay focused on something long enough to see it thru. Like sewing my hat or reading the books I got in Portland or really just anything. I can’t wait to be done with school and have my own place I can cook and do all these things in.

I am so ready to be someone else. I’m tired of being this one in chains. I want to take better care of myself. I think that’s what my eyebrows are trying to tell me. That compulsion is a message. A big one right on my face.

Maybe I’ll go get coffee somewhere tomorrow and work on my homework and like write something and work on my child support paperwork and all that. Just to like not rot.

I like that version of me

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (3/4)

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

(3.2k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication)

The reverse trope series masterlist.

AO3

Jaskier is perched on the edge of the bed, exactly where he woke up an eternity ago. The barmaid is filling the bathtub with one bucket of water after another, but he pays no attention.

He fidges with the splints on his arms, careful not to tug on the tendons. With how swollen his wrists are, that seems like an impossible feat.

“You alright by yourself?” the girl asks, pouring the last of the water.

“Yes.”

Jaskier lets the word out without a fight. It wouldn’t do much good anyway. The barmaid is gone within a second, and Jaskier sits alone in the inn room with both arms immobilized and a hot bath waiting.

Untying the laces is painful. Jaskier ends up with a head full of sweat by the time his doublet hits the ground, and the intricate bindings on his chemise give him an even bigger headache. His arms tremble like they are getting more broken by the minute.

It takes forever for Jaskier to strip himself nude and notice the bloodstains all the way down his neck. The wound at his nape is sewed close neatly, barely stinging by now, but with one look of himself in the mirror, Jaskier knows he’s a mess. The dried blood, added by the dark circles under his eyes, makes quite a harrowing picture.

He sinks into the hot water and rests his arms by the edge, the warmth loosening his muscles and clearing the smell of blood. Gradually, he lowers himself under the surface and feels his lungs burn.

Drowning himself would be a nice idea, if only he isn’t sticking out his forearms just so the splints don’t get soaked. Also, Geralt will blame himself even more, so there goes the thought.

Jaskier emerges and shakes away the droplets like a wet dog. He can’t get soap into his hair anyway. Sitting there in self-pity and regret is his only option.

And what right does Jaskier have to feel sorry for himself? Geralt is the one hurt by the poison he spewed, curse or not, and yet he still sewed up Jaskier’s neck and bandaged his wrists. He even ordered a bath for Jaskier when he left, for good this time, Jaskier is sure. There’s no reason for Geralt to stay after all, now that he believes Jaskier is ready to turn on him at every chance just like everybody else.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that a fae in the woods made him say it. Geralt will never be his friend again, let alone anything Jaskier has only allowed his heart to entertain in the wildest dreams.

That’s why he sucks in a surprised breath when a knock comes from the door. Jaskier bites into his lips, just to be safe.

“It’s me.” Geralt’s voice is small, tentative. “Do you need help?” After a stretch of silence, he pushes open the door slowly. “I only want to check on you—Gods, Jaskier, are you in pain?”

Is he? Perhaps soaking his wound in hot water and clutching at the tub with his broken hands isn’t that wise.

“I…” The chair screeches against the floor and Geralt settles next to Jaskier. “I know you don’t want to see me, but you can’t treat your injuries so carelessly. Here.”

Geralt picks up a bar of soap and dips it into water. The next thing Jaskier knows, gentle hands are threaded through his hair and massaging his scalp.

“I’ll just clean it and bandage it. It won’t take long.”

Jaskier looks into the unbearable sadness in those amber eyes, and hates that he’s doing this to Geralt.

“I hate that I’m doing this to you, Jaskier. I—” Geralt sighs. “I wish I could go back and leave you alone after the mountain. I’d make sure we never meet in that damned tavern in Posada if it means you won’t get hurt. Seeing you like this, I—”

Jaskier catches Geralt’s gaze, pleading and seeking, and feels the witcher still under his attention. No, he doesn’t deserve any comfort, not when he’s the one completely at blame. It’s bad enough that Geralt believed all those awful things, and Jaskier won’t ask for more.

“Jaskier?”

He looks down again and lets Geralt go back to his ministrations.

Geralt sighs with relief, and Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat.

Gods, he wants to explain, wants more than anything to erase the hurt he inflicted—if that is still possible. Letting Geralt believe those things is so fundamentally wrong. But how will Jaskier explain? With his voice gone and wrists ruined, there’s no real way of communication, and the thought of more awful things slipping out by accident is enough for Jaskier to wish for death by drowning again.

He let twenty years pass without ever admitting his love, and now he’s lost the chance.

The water trickles down Jaskier’s temple when Geralt rinses out the soap. His movement is achingly gentle, rough calluses ghosting over Jaskier’s skin only by accident. If only tenderness can kill. Tears well up again, and he’s losing control.

“Does it still hurt?” Geralt asks while retrieving a towel.

“No.”

The first preferable lie of the day.

Slowly, Jaskier turns around to let Geralt dry the curls near his forehead, his jaw clenching tight again. There’s a crease between Geralt’s brows, his amber eyes unconvinced. A large sheet is wrapped around Jaskier’s frame when he steps out of the tub.

Jaskier hisses when he tries to catch the hem of the sheet, and Geralt stills. “Let me see your wrists.”

Jaskier stares into amber eyes, silently hoping that without an answer, Geralt will leave him to his misery. He can’t afford another slip. And yet, determination creeps into Geralt’s features, and there’s no point in fighting anymore. A determined Geralt is not someone Jaskier can refuse.

“I’ll be quick,” Geralt pauses. “Please?”

It’s unfair how kind Geralt is being.

Jaskier’s shoulders sag when he pads across the room to sit on the bed, arms gathering the sheet into a heap near his midriff. He should maintain at least a shred of dignity.

Geralt sits down next to him, shoulders weighed down, looking just as tired as Jaskier feels. Still, when he unwraps Jaskier’s wrists, his motion is the most precise thing, touching just enough for practical purposes, not sparing even a brush of knuckles.

Even the slightest probing sends a sharp bolt of pain up Jaskier's arms, but it’s nothing compared to the torture of being so close to Geralt, dreading his fate—being left alone once again. This time, it’ll be permanent and he’ll deserve it.

Jaskier holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable blow that is Geralt declaring he’ll leave on first light. For reasons beyond this world, it doesn’t come. Instead, Geralt lets out a strangled sound.

Jaskier frowns. His wrists are painted with a plethora of black and purple bruises, the edges fading into green and yellow, which is just to be expected.

“You’ll never play again,” Geralt whispers. “If we don’t do anything about it.”

Does it matter? He has long since forgotten how to sing without Geralt in his songs.

“I—” Geralt wraps the gauze around the splints, one by one, tucking in the end. “I asked around just now. Word says a mage is only a day’s ride away. No one at the market was sure, but I am. Yen is only a day away. We can make it tomorrow.”

At the mention of the sorceress’s name, the press of teeth against his tongue is the last of Jaskier’s worry, and he retracts his arms instantly. Under the thin sheet, Jaskier shivers.

“Jaskier, I can’t leave you like this. You need your music when I—” Geralt shakes his head, the pursed line of his lips impossibly sad. “—When you go. Yennefer can fix it. I know you can’t stand me, but at least grant me the peace of mind. Let me know you will be all right, after.”

The dim room turns hazy in the candlelight, and Jaskeir can only curl into himself to stem the tears. He sits there for too long, not sure if he nodded. Wrapping the wound on his head doesn’t take long, and then Geralt is gone without a word.

Jaskier hugs himself tighter, and sobs into the quiet night, the aches of his body finally tiring him out.

 ~~

Strapping the lute case to Roach’s saddle is a task Geralt has done hundreds of times, and yet he fidgets with the contraption in the morning, adjusting it so many times, pulling at the knot again and again.

It’s almost like he wants to stretch their journey longer.

But then, one look at Jaskier’s splinted arms and bandaged head, he smoothes a hand down Roach’s mane and deemed her ready to go.

Riding on the mare while the witcher walks ahead of them is not the most novel experience for Jaskier. Despite Geralt’s overprotectiveness of his mare, he’s always let Jaskier ride if he was truly distressed—or simply complained loudly enough.

There’s no complaining during their one-day journey, even Roach is behaving like the good girl she is. Jaskier gladly endures her glares as long as she doesn’t throw him off her back. Perhaps she senses that will certainly kill him.

The small village looms by the end of the road, right next to the setting sun, and Jaskier’s knees almost buckle under him as he dismounts. He catches the saddle by instinct and chokes in a grunt. There’s fresh blood between his teeth. Geralt’s hands steady Jaskier by the elbows as he breathes through the pain, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Walking into Yennefer’s cottage like this is the last thing Jaskier wants, but what choice does he have? She has long since figured out how pathetic he is. A mere human plastered himself to a witcher’s side, never once considering the possibility that he’s unwanted. A mock or two from Yennefer of Vengerburg aren’t anything new.

To Jaskier’s surprise, when violet eyes meet him, there’s no mockery.

Yennefer stands from a workstation full of vials and bottles. Without sparing a glance at Geralt, she walks right past the witcher.

“Oh, bardling,” she says, “what have you gotten yourself into?”

It takes a brave man to not cower under her knowing gaze, and Jaskier is far from one. He wishes to hide in the setting sun and the darkening room, his feet quiet on the wooden floor and lips sealed. Without a voice, Jaskier is left with no presence anyway.

Pulling Yennefer away, Geralt must be explaining the situation. Once in a while, they will both turn their heads at Jaskier with a pinched look, an almost identical one. Paying attention to the conversation becomes difficult as exhaustion hits Jaskier at full force. The blood loss from the makes him dizzy after traveling on horse, his bones aching from all the jostling. Jaskier sinks into a soft armchair and lets low grumbling witcher baritone and Yennefer’s silvery voice wash over him. The sorceress could make a singer in another life, he muses. A great one, even. Not that he’ll ever admit it to her face, but a bard should recognize talent anywhere.

When Jaskeir is shaken awake by the shoulder, the sky is pitch dark and the tiny cottage is lit by a single candle. It gives out way more light than it should, illuminating everything in sight. Witchcraft will never stop giving Jaskier the creeps.

Geralt is nowhere to be found, and Yennefer looks down at him in pity.

“Come on.” She sounds even gentle; perhaps Jaskier is dying from these broken bones, he muses inwardly. “Do you want it fixed or not?”

Jaskier sits up against soft cushions while Yennefer gathers her herbs and medicine. A cup is shoved before his face and he barely manages to catch it with his hands heavily wrapped, and the content is the most disgusting thing he’s ever tasted.

Shuddering, Jaskier lets loose of his lips just for the momentary satisfaction of revenge. “You are vile, witch.”

Yennefer’s hands stop mid-air right before grabbing another bottle. Sharply, she turns around to observe Jaskier closely, her expression stone-cold, raven hair falling to frame her face elegantly. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Gods, you are the ugliest person I’ve laid eyes on.” Stopping seems an unlikely task right now. Jaskier feels horror sinking into his very core as the warm light gleams in violet eyes. “Your eyes are the most dreadful, and then there’s your voice. Utterly uninspiring. You’d make the most terrible singer if given the chance.”

Seconds tickle by, and Jaskeir expects to be turned into a toad on the spot. It seems Geralt has miscalculated. Bringing Jaskier here will solve his problem once and for all, because he’ll never play the lute again if the rest of his life will be spent on a lilypad. Jaskier feels heat draining from his cheeks, but for the second time, Yennefer surprises him.

The corners of her mouth turn upwards as she casts a silent spell with her fingers. Eyebrows raised, she asks without heat, “more comments for me?”

With a huff, Jaskeir launches again. “Has the great Yennefer of Vengerburg gone soft? I’d imagine with the amount of broken hearts you left in your wake, you would have remade yours with stone.” There’s a sizzle in the air, like magic appearing and fading at the same time, but Jaskier ignores it. “Now what? Not even one insult for me? After I called you the most beautiful person on—” Jaskier snaps his mouth shut, and feels for his tongue.

He’s free.

“Oh,” he lets out the longest exhale, and immediately, “shit.”

Jaskier watches in horror as a smile spreads across Yennefer’s face, the smugness unmasked in the way her arms crossed before her chest. Oh, the price he’d pay just for the ground to swallow him whole right now.

“The most what?”

Jaskier stares at the empty cup in his lap, and then back up at Yennefer.

“You—” he splutters. “Of course.”

“The fae curses come in all shapes and forms. This one was particularly whimsical.” Yennefer leans against her workstation, putting down two corked vials on the table. “Your wrists are bad, but not unsalvageable. Drink these in seven days and they’ll be fine.”

“I thought you could do magic.”

“You might have time to nurse a broken heart, but the rest of us don’t have the luxury. There’s a war. It costs magic.”

Yennefer turns away, and Jaskier looks at her—really looks at her for the first time since stepping into this town. There’s a weariness in the way she carries herself and the self-soothing gesture of pressing her palm on her stomach from time to time. Her make-up is immaculate as ever, but the droop of her lashes speaks of a haunting experience.

“Are you okay?” Jaskier clears his throat, legs tense and ready to go to her, but thinks better of it.

Violet eyes meet him sharply. “And you’re calling me soft?”

Jaskier huffs, almost offended. “You just lifted a fae curse for me out of the goodness of your will. I’d say that’s a reasonable accusation. I … I realize I haven’t said it. Thank you, Yennefer. It was kind of you. Despite what I may have said a few years ago in a drunken fit, I’d hate it if the war claimed you too.”

Remembering that night has Jaskier cringing, but Yennefer only lets out a dry laugh. After all, she did get him back on a few hours later, by tripping him on stage with the wave of a hand. Geralt was never amused by their petty squabbles.

“You are never what I expect you to be, Jaskier.”

“Did you think me incapable of a little gratitude?”

“I thought you incapable of many things.”

“Such as?”

Yennefer straightens her back, the soft curve of her lips fading. “Such as hurting Geralt.”

Shame washes over Jaskeir anew, and he winces. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Jaskier has always been aware that the mountain was not just an ending to his world, but one for the fated romance between Geralt and Yennefer as well. And yet, no matter how angry at the djinn wish, Yennefer still sounds fiercely protective of Geralt.

“I see this is where you turn me into a toad.”

Yennefer taps the vials absently, eyeing at Jaskier’s broken body. “Somehow I feel like you’re punished enough.”

She says that as if Jaskier’s physical wounds are anything compared to how deeply he must have hurt Geralt. The absence of him takes up all the space between Jaskier’s ribcage, and the grief is almost crushing. He sniffles, his nose sore and throat tight.

“You told him?” Jaskier asks, voice small. He doesn’t know which is worse, Geralt leaving believing those words were genuinely Jaskier’s, or him learning about the curse and then choosing to go. A liar, Geralt once called him with affection. Did he anticipate Jaskier would be lying to him too?

He’d hate either answer from Yennefer, but she doesn’t give one. Instead, her tone gentles, “did he realize?”

Jaskier snaps his head up with a crease between his brows. “What?”

“When you were cursed and bleeding, did he realize those lies weren’t yours?”

Jaskier sags with sorrow.

“You know the answer.”

Yennefer moves around the table and sits behind it, the magic candle obscuring her expression. There could be a hint of regret, but Jaskier doesn’t dare to assume.

“He didn’t recognize the looks of a man with his choices taken.”

Jaskier shakes his head like a rattle. “It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known.”

“Because Geralt was ready to believe your lies from the start,” she sighs. “As if you could ever utter those words. As if someone might want to stay with him simply because they wish to.”

No, his heart was not the only one that broke on top of the mountain.

“Do you think,” Jaskier tries, “if he told you about—”

“It’s too late for us,” she waves him off, readying parchment and a quill. “I don’t bother myself with could-have-beens, and neither should him, but.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Jaskier gets up, observing Yennefer’s long, meaningful look, and chuckles tightly. “You truly have gone soft, witch.”

“Don’t come to me dying again, bardling. A third time, I might just let you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Thanking Yennefer again is easy, so is the jab she returns, but finding Geralt becomes the only thing on Jaskier’s mind, so much so that he’s only doubling back after rushing out the door.

“Almost forgot.” He pockets the potions, albeit clumsily. “And where…?”

“There’s only one way out of town. He left not long ago.” Yennefer has begun writing a letter, not even looking up.

“Perfect.”

“I’m serious about the dying.”

Jaskier suppresses the urge to give her a kiss as they bid a final goodbye, and runs out into the night.

It’s not too late for them.

He just needs to make it right. Apologize, explain… Anything that can convince Geralt that he never meant those words, that he’s never seen Geralt as anything but the truest friend, that he’s loved, completely and unreservedly.

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

~~

A big thanks to Beginte on AO3 for pointing out the parallel between Jaskier and Geralt. Now they've switched roles and Jaskier is the one who said words he didn't mean and desperately wants to apologize.

Ah, the final chapter, here I come. Although I have no timeframe for my writing these days; school is starting to get busy and I am whelmed by the amount of paperwork involved in moving to a new country. Be patient with me, as I am with the local banking efficiency.

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon @holymotherwolf

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[shieldofrohan]

I don't think GRRM explores the flaws in Arya's characterisation rather he explores how the world is unfair to her. Whenever I read Jon, Sansa, Dany , Robb and Bran, I feel they behave as their age requires them to be. They show capabilities yet are not exempted from bad choices which a character at their age can easily commit. With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.

Hello Anon,

I have to agree and disagree with you.

I agree with that Martin writes Jon, Sansa and Dany better- MUCH BETTER.

I am obviously not a Daenerys fan but I enjoyed her character more than I did with Arya. I said it many times but I am going to say it again: Daenerys is the best written character in the series. She is much more interesting villain than man-pain Tyrion [looking at you Martin.. really, Tyrion?].

Objectively I find her character well written and interesting. But my problem with her is that her cult like fans who completely ignore her true position and characterization in the books. Hopefully in the future people will enjoy Dany character for the right reasons.

I felt like I need to explain my thoughts about Dany first to show my problems with the way of Arya was written by the author.

Arya is the WORST written main character. TRULY. Everything about her is so FAKE/FORCED/CLICHE/UNREALISTIC…

Author says that Arya is the underdog/outcast of the family. Does the writing show this?

NO!

She is literally her father's favorite child. We see Ned constantly favoring her, letting her do what she likes, he never scolds her, he makes time to talk with her about her traumas like losing a friend, he fcking finds a Water Dancer for her [but not a harp teacher for Sansa]. I have a great dad but jeez, even he never showed me this kind of devotion.

Catelyn seems like she knows her daughter well… we don’t see her abusing or ignoring her. She even acknowledges her struggles.

Her siblings love her. Even Sansa tries to keep include her into her own circle to enjoy things together, she covers for her against Septa Mordane.

As we can see, she seems doing fine as a tomboy girl in the family of 5 men/boys and 2 women/girls.

BUT SHE COULDN’T SEW SO SHE WAS BEING ABUSED.

Really? Wow she must be the only special snowflake who wasn’t good at sewing. I am sure rest of the girls in North were all experts. Arya is the only one who lacks some skill people and it made her super sad.

Fans tried to paint this as some "omg anti-feminism/sexism in society" thing and it feels absurd because Arya was bad at history and heraldy too..

A tomboy is not good at some female-coded skill is so fcking cliche for character building and I am not buying it. And this is BAD/LAZY WRITING.

Did Martin try to make her look like an underdog with this??

Well Sansa is not good at math? I am sure she had bad days because of this too but we didn’t read it. If you ask me Sansa (girly girl) being bad at math (male-coded subject) was more sexist than sewing and Arya thing [considering Sansa was good at music and playing instruments which require math but whatever.]

Arya is an outcast because she is not like other girls… WOW, it has never been written before, how did George come up with this idea? Meanwhile we have girls like Mormont girls so obviously she is not the only "NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS MARY SUE".

Evil Mordane bullied poor Arya. Mordane is totally not good for her BUT Arya literally never listens HER TEACHER. I am not talking about her lack of skill in sewing. Arya simply NEVER listens anyone. She disobeys her septa, she declines QUEEN’s invitations rudely, she talks sh*t about CROWN PRINCE while princess is next to them.

Girly lessons like sewing weren’t the only lessons she was not into it…

Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

[ACOK; Arya VII]

She simply never cares about any lessons and she simply refuses to learn basic DECORUM. Yeah I am sorry that she had to learn things she didn’t want to but welcome to real world.

MY POINT IS: all these are so weak points to make her look like an outcast/underdog.

Don’t even let me start with Jeyne Poole calling her HORSERACE nonsense. I said it before so I repeat it: This feels so forced in the story considering Arya is the daughter of Warden of the North and Jeyne is some simple daughter of a simple man who works for Starks.

This is what author himself says about class system:

Q: What was the hardest thing in writing about such an alien world?

GRRM: The vast majority of fantasy is middle agey time wise, and he himself finds the period fascinating; glad to adopt it for novel writing - likes knights and castles and such. He objects to bad fantasy practice which adopts a time setting without accepting the culture - imposing 20th century values like the cheeky stableboy telling off the princess (in reality cheeky stableboy would lose his tongue - look what happend to Mycah); the class system was not just and ornament and these people truly belived in blood, and the rank and priviledge that came with "good" blood. [2006]

But Jeyne somehow had no fear when she was “bullying” a princess. Does this make sense to you or does it feel forced to make Arya look like a victim. And this bad writing keeps repeating itself while author writes Arya and when you realize this pattern you can’t unsee it and it ruins the books a little.

I wrote all these to explain what is ACTUALLY wrong with Arya as a character. I don’t blame Arya for the bad writing, I blame the author.

And I disagree with you a little when you said: "With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.”

[I explained the her failings in society’s eyes part already.. that thing is a cliche and unrealistic writing]

I don’t agree with that reading Arya feels like reading an older woman. No it feels like reading a VERY UNREALISTIC AND DISTURBING CHILD. She totally makes mistakes:

Talking bad about prince in a room full of people, declining Queen’s invitations, not listening her septa and Sansa, making prince angry, hiding for 4 days while she should have gone to her father to deal with the mess so maybe Mycah and Lady wouldn’t be dead, attacking her sister, killing a stableboy, killing many other people, joining a assassin cult, killing a Black brother because she thinks she has the right etc..

She makes mistakes but we didn’t see her face any consequences. Will we see her face them?? When it comes to Arya I don’t trust GRRM. GRRM covers for her all the time. GRRM = Ned Stark. He favors her. I mean look at this:

Sansa saves Dontos who later molests her and he works for Baeslish who also molests her.

Arya saves Jaqen H’ghar and he turns out to be a Faceless Man who kills THREE people for her.

Sandor sexually assaults Sansa but not Arya [I am not saying he should!! But why is it always Sansa? Does the author punish Sansa for her beauty… ANSWER IS YES because I am done!]

Sansa trusts Joffrey and Cersei ends up the most hated character in the books [even author says she had a part in her father’s death and he is ok with fans hating her]

Meanwhile Arya’s spider senses tell her to not trust Roose Bolton or anyone etc.

Arya runs into people like Yoren or Harwin meanwhile Sansa… you got it.

Basically this is a simple case of author favoring a character and it happens in all books.

The only thing that indicates author knows she is not perfect is that him calling her a “psycho” or not disagreeing when fans call her a psycho [I know I usually make fun of this but actually this is not some good take about a child character especially if you say Starks- including Arya- are the heroes]

In conclusion: I think she is written terribly, she is the weakest part in the story and character building. I simply hate the way author deals with her character. I think she is not interesting. She turned out to be a very dark and disturbing child character and I have no idea what is GRRM trying to tell with her.

Thanks for the ask. Have a nice day.

[fakeloveaskblog]

I think you should art:)

🐌🕸

"ART! Just what I was thinking" Remus exclaimed.

"You literally just said you didn't know what to choose" Remy snarked back.

"ShuuuUUuush!! The park will still be here any other day but who knows the next time inspiration will strike!!"

He jumped up on his feet and kept tapping his feet into the ground while waiting for his friend to get ready to leave. He helped them up before taking their hand. It felt like a bunch of ants was walking around inside his bones so he had to fully concentrate to not run ahead.

"WAIT" He suddenly lit up and turned to Remy. He lightly grabbed their shoulders and shook them around "You can sew!"

"Unless my fingers all suddenly like ran away yeeeah" Remy replied.

"You can sew!! OHOHOH I know exactly what we're doing!"

"Girl I'm not like sewing into skin fyi you small freak. I aint playing doctor here"

"I wasn't even thinking of that! Though I did once see a video of-"

Remy literally shut his mouth with their fingers "Don't wanna hear it"

During the entire bus ride back home Remus was frenetically scribbling down into his sketchbook. Remy tried to ask him what we was doing a few times but he was too hyperfocused to hear. It looked like he was doodling a quick storyboard.

They hopped off on a stop sooner than they should because it stopped right by a supermarket. Remy got too choose whichever quick meal the two of them would have for dinner while Remus went to buy things for the art he was planning. They choose noodles while he came back with half a dozen energy drinks and a bag of oranges.

Remus had offered to carry all the grocery bags. He was ranting about different ways to create fake blood while Remy did their best to follow along.

"...I have like a question" They said while scratching their wrist.

"About the blood? Oh it's just a few simple ste-"

"I'm just thinking it would probs be like a good idea if like-" They stopped and took a deep breathe "Do you think you'd ever have a chance of relapse? Sorry for like being so blunt but like if I'm gonna be...using..I need to- it would be best if I knew what would be like triggering and like panicky and stuff"

Remus looked at them with a stumped expression. His slightly agape mouth quickly shut, all tight lipped as he looked away to think.

"I would Never want to do anything like that again" He spat out "I would never want to lose control, lose time, like that ever again"

"Okay..Okay. Good.

"All of the...bad things..happened 'cause I was high. Not him. I don't know how I would react to someone else being high. I guess I'll be fine. Hopefully"

"You gotta tell me if you don't react well. Kay?"

"Of course. Promise. I'll scream it to the high heavens if I don't dig it"

When they came back to the apartment a note had been stuck to the door. It was written in red glitter pen and signed with a crown. 'Going to brunch and a party. Don't burn down the place.'

"Muahahah! We got the whole place to ourself!!" Remus rubbed his grubby hands together while saying it.

He set the shopping bags down in the kitchen while Remy laid down right on the floor to stretch their aching muscles. Remus walked circles around them to get out energy before picking up a random piece of paper and writing on it. He taped it up on the wall and slapped his hand against it to get his friends attention.

Remy squinted up at the paper. In big letters were the words "HOW TO HIDE A DEAD BODY" written.

"GIRL ARE WE KILLING SOMEONE!?"

"Not right now!" Remus replied "It's the title!! We're doing a short film! An art short film!"

"Am I being buried or doing the burying? Just like so you know I think I'd look muuuuch better being buried"

"Neither!" He suddenly stiffened up and held his arms kind of like a nervous squirrel "Did I ask you if you're comfy with being filmed? I didn't think bout that- We can like- I got some clay I think? We can-"

"I'm okay with it" Remy interrupted.

"Oh" His hands returned to hang loosely by his sides "Okay!" He took his sketchbook and sat down on the floor beside them.

He showed them the story board while explaining what his idea was. It'd been running around in his head for a few months now but he didn't have any clue how to sew so he hadn't ever really thought further than the basic plan.

Remus stood up and held out his hands to make a sort of frame. He squinted at the couch "You'd think it look good filmed here?"

"It's like a nice apartment" Remy shrugged back while scratching their arm.

He stared at it for a few more seconds before beginning to push furniture around. He pulled a chair so it sat opposite to the couch and placed his phone on the chair since he was going to film with it. The windows behind the couch made the video all washy with light. He strained to move the couch so it wasn't standing in front of the windows.

"Need help with that?" Remy asked.

"Beanie, I'm a manly muscular ultra buff man!!! I can move a couch!! I could move this couch with only my dick! That's how buff every part of me is!"

Remy held their hands up and shrugged "Was just asking"

Eventually Remus managed to move the couch. He moved on to the other furniture and testing different angles and checking the lights and dunking an entire energy drink and hyperfocusing so hard he forgot Remy was still in the room.

They didn't mind it. Actually they thought he looked really pretty with that concentrated look on his face, all while his eyes glimmered with excitement.

It just turned so quiet so suddenly. They didn't have any distraction anymore, not that they would ever want to call Remus a distraction.

They scratched at their wrist again. It felt like something was missing. Like a huge chunk out of them had been ripped out. It was so starkly obvious to them they felt a bit insane when no one else seemed to notice.

The bruise on their wrist had healed. All that was left was their pale skin. The bruise was missing and no one seemed to see that. They scratched until the skin turned red.

It felt like their body was decaying. It felt like their brain had been replaced with a rotting animal carcass. They didn't know how to know if they were alive if they weren't afraid. The bruise on their wrist was missing.

Remy looked up when the skin around their wrist started to bleed ever so slightly. Remus was turning on and off different lights to test how it looked.

"Rem" Remy called out. The word had slipped out without them being able to stop it.

He turned around and looked at them "Hmm?"

"I gotta get high. Is that like- is it okay with you?"

"You okay?"

"I just need some xanax or something" They said without answering his question. "The watchers they said they could get me if I needed-"

"A healthy dose" Remus interrupted "Only a healthy dose"

"Yeah yeah 'course"

"I'm okay with it. Don't worry. Deep breathes beanie"

Remy parsed their lips to ask you for xanax but it felt reductive. They were sure you'd already heard them anyway.

[strawberrylemonz]

In my Arms

Part 2

Part 3 [CURRENT]

Part 4

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

Phil woke up in a dirt shack. At least, that’s what he gathered when he opened his eyes. He gathered a few things, like how he had a small headache, or how his forehead felt sore. Quietly groaning, he noticed that he was in a bed. Wasn’t he just outside? He tried questioning his voices, but they were just as lost as he was. It wasn’t until he remembered the big, blue eyes that stared at him, that he tried to sit up. That’s when he noticed Tommy. The boy was sitting on the ground, his head laying on the feet of the bed. His already dark circles were darker, and the boy seemed much older than what he actually was. The man had forgotten to ask the boy of his age, but it didn’t matter. Tommy was young, far too young to be dealing with any of this. It hurt Phil to see his youngest like this, to see him so frail and tired at such a young age. As Phil slowly sat up, he did his best to stay quiet and undetected. This, however, was a failure. The moment his foot twitched, Tommy sprung to life. The silent, sleeping boy was now awake, alert of his surroundings, an axe now in his hand. Once he realized there was no danger present in the room, he turned his attention to Phil. His eyes widened once he realized the man was awake. Shaking his head, the boy sprung to life. Rushing down some steps that Phil didn’t notice before, Tommy came back moments later with potions of all kind in his arms. Setting them down by Phil’s bed, Tommy moved with quick haste as he reached for Phil’s forehead. Phil, in turn, only sat in silence, watching the boy’s movement. Phil only flinched and recoiled when Tommy touched the area of his soreness. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry Phil, I forgot to tell you that I need to check on your stitches. It’s been a while since I’ve had a patient, so it slipped my mind.”

“Stitches? Patient? What? How long have I been in bed?”

“About three days, hold still-”

“Three days?!”

“Yeah, you hit your head pretty damn hard when you fell. Left a small gash, but I stitched it up for you. Now, can you please hold still? Jesus-” 

Phil finally sat back, still as can be, as Tommy quietly got to work. After checking up on his stitches, Tommy changed the bandages on the smaller injuries. Once he questioned Phil about how he felt, he gave him the appropriate potions to help him with his aches. As Tommy was putting away his supplies, Phil decided to start up small talk.

“Where did you learn to stitch up injuries?”

“During the beginnings of the revolution. I started to care for the injured, and learned to stitch them up. My skills improved quickly, and I ended up becoming the tailor of the server. I’m the best around, kinda proud of that.”

“Kind of? You may have had to learn because of a bad reason, but that’s a skill that comes in handy. You should be very proud of your skills.”

Phil smiled as he watch the boy beam with pride, even if it was short lived. “Yeah, not a lot of people on this server find sewing very useful”

“Fuck them, mate, it’s very useful. The people you saved are proof of that.”

“I guess so.”

“How old are you?”

Tommy blinked a few times, seemingly to not realize that Phil didn’t know. Resuming his actions, he just shrugged his shoulders as he responded.

“I’m sixteen. If you think about it, I’m basically an adult.”

Phil’s sick feeling returned to him. He thought that Tommy would have been eighteen, maybe almost 19. He knew that the boy was young, but he didn’t realize he was this young. Before he could think of anything else, Tommy spoke up once again.

“How old am I? In your world, I mean.”

Smiling slightly at the teen, Phil couldn’t help but picture his tiny Tommy, hopefully safe back at home. Humming, Phil spoke of his youngest son with a fond voice.

“He’s two right now, soon to be three. Enjoys challenging his older brothers while they spar in the background. He always has his favorite stuffed cow with him.” 

Tommy’s movement came to a stop as he listened to Phil speak of his younger self. He stood there for a moment, listening, before speaking up again, voice shaking.

“Do you like him?”

“Like him? I love him. What’s there not to love? He’s so smart and determined. His stubborn personality works well with his caring nature. He’s so curious and adventurous, it’s wonderful to see.”

Tommy finally turned to face Phil, making the older man freeze in the bed. Phil’s heart squeezed as he watched Tommy’s eyes water with unshed tears. The boy’s lower lip trembled as his fists shook. That’s all Phil needed to see to understand. Without saying a single word to the boy, Phil opened his arms up to him. Tommy’s eyes widened, tears beginning to leak out of his eyes. Then, like a shriek of pain, Tommy cried out. Tears spilled out his eyes as he rushed to the older man, who accepted the boy in his arms. Phil held the boy in his arms, rocking him in his arms as he ran his hands through the boy’s hair. Tommy just kept sobbing, not showing signs of calming down. As much as Phil wanted the boy to let his pent up tears out, he knew that Tommy would begin to hyperventilate and, if this kept on, he could get a serious panic attack. Phil knew the signs, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Aside from Techno, none of his sons had serious panic attack, if they even had any at all. Phil’s mind began to race as Tommy’s sobs began to worsen. Then, as if his mind reminded him of his toddler, Phil had an idea. Readjusting Tommy in his arms, he cradled the boy as he rested his chin on the boy’s shuddering head. He began to hum a tune, one that this Tommy seemed to recognize. Good. As Tommy leaned into Phil’s chest to feel and hear the rumbles from the hum, Phil opened his mouth. Softly singing a tune, Phil held the boy as he began to settle down.

“Leaves from the vine, falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells drifting in the foam. Little soldier boy-”

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

i am 18 and need help with determining my mbti type.

i don't have many people around me: always one-three close friends, maybe a couple of their friends, but no more. i try to be friendly to everyone from my social circles though, because what if i will need their help one day? yet there are people who are repulsive to me or openly against me, and i am the same to them. i prefer to have a small friend group under my leadership and protection, and i will do a lot to help any of them. i am very loyal and value loyalty in people, but i don't give second chances. as soon as they do something bad and major, i just close the door in front of their face.

i am not an adventure seeker. i don't like doing something risky just for the sake of it; but if i am challenged, i can jump from the roof/talk to particular person/whatever my friends come up with (as long as it doesn't have visible bad outcome: for example trying drugs). i do that to assert dominance perhaps?

speaking of drugs: i don't want to try alcohol or smoke either, not only because it's bad for health, but also i hate the thought of having my mind controlled by a substance. in my country though, both smoking and drinking are very popular among teens, so i am like a white crow in almost any big company.

if i take risks, they are usually calculated. i have to be sure that this is the right thing to do.

i have various hobbies: drawing, sculpting, writing - those are permanent and i am decent in them. i pick up more with years, such as knitting and sewing, and at one point, fencing, then leave them and return again. when i have an idea for a project that can be realized, it eats me inside until i execute it, and i get ideas often. people consider me creative. i enjoy knowing a lot about various things, from history of the world to nine first digits of pi - and to show off with this knowledge, sometimes. i love learning new things, and i like analyzing people, that's why mbti and enneagram caught my interest two years ago.

i am great at predicting consequences of actions, will it be emotions of people or something else. i hate when i categorically tell people i will not like a particular thing (food or literally anything else) and they still encourage me to try, motivating it with "if you didn't try how can you know". i often think something will happen and later it does, while everyone else argues against that. my family considers me a pessimist because i rarely predict something positive (i do, i just don't tell them, because there is no point in warning then). once i predicted a fight between my relatives when nothing indicated it, except of one closing the door way too loudly. i think it may be that i unconsciously pick up changes that others don't see.

i feel everything deeply, and when it's really needed i can distance from my emotions. although with rage i find it very hard to do that, since while i am angry, i think i am right (later understand i was not). i analyze why i feel one or other thing, but i rarely tell anyone what conclusions i came to; i show my improvement with direct actions. i am rather moody and have mood swings, which i can, but don't want to control because it takes a lot of energy. feelings can blind me, and i don't like that because i prefer resolving conflicts calmly and logically.

i seem rather chaotic but in every thing i do there are structure and logic, and i don't feel obligated to explain it to everyone. i prefer doing things my way, and alone. i think i can do almost anything having enough information and tools (anything that does not involve too much physical strength; if it is about brain, with enough sources and time i'll definitely succeed).

of chaotic nature: my thoughts jump from one to another very quickly and weave itself in imaginary scenarios. very often i notice how one thing made me think about a bunch of other stuff and i have a whole story created. quick thinking lets me crack jokes and do tasks faster than others, because i see few steps ahead.

well i guess that's all, if you will need additional information, you can call me rainbow anon. thank you in advance, you're doing such a lot of work just to help people - i admire that.

Hi anon,

This has a lot of broad description but not a lot of specific examples, including some parts that are about what you believe you'd do but not what actually happens. Which is fine - you're young, and honestly my advice for most people your age who aren't fairly sure about type is "check back in when you're 20 and things have stabilized more" - but it's extremely hard to type.

Based on that vagueness and the discussion of chaos, working in bursts, and your thought process, my guess is dom Ne, but I could go with either Ti or Fi.

[asmo-ds]

(1) i tried to think of a belphie one so here it is, sorry if it kinda bad👉🏻👈🏻 mc has been begging belphie to go to the human realm for xmas tgt but he isn't very sure about it since he did try to kill mc. since mc knows how much he used to love the human realm and humans he probably also loved xmas, they thought he would be excited to go.

How to Love Christmas Again

Belphegor x gn!MC

Word Count: 4295

Genre: Fluff

Summary: As the holiday season rolls around, MC requests to go back home and spend Christmas at their apartment in the human world. Diavolo agrees on the condition they bring a brother to protect them since they have pact marks yet no knowledge of how to use them. Who better to bring then their sleepy boyfriend, Belphegor, even if it means they have to avoid all other humans the whole week!

“Oh right, I almost forgot that was today,” A young Belphegor reaches under his bed to pull out the gift boxes Lucifer had helped him wrap for his twin and the young girl. Beel runs to his own bed bringing out his own gifts for his siblings.

“Did you wrap these yourself, Lilith?” Beel giggles as he observes the horror show of wrapping paper around his gift from her.

“Did you wrap these yourself, Lilith?” Beel giggles as he observes the horror show of wrapping paper around his gift from her.

“Did you wrap these yourself, Lilith?” Beel giggles as he observes the horror show of wrapping paper around his gift from her.

“Did you wrap these yourself, Lilith?” Beel giggles as he observes the horror show of wrapping paper around his gift from her.

“Well… I tried to but had trouble, so I asked Mammon and Leviathan for help - but then Leviathan got wrapped up in tape and it just turned into a mess,” she giggles with a blinding smile. “Anyways open your gifts!”

Belphegor watches as Beel unwraps the gift from their baby sister, revealing a box of freshly baked cookies she had made that morning. Beelzebub gave her a hug thanking her before he moved to watch Belphegor open his gift from Lilith.

He unwrapped the gift and saw a soft pillow covered in the pattern sported by cows. He smiles wide and wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace. 

“I sewed it myself, I hope it is soft enough,” she smiles at him. 

After they opened their gifts from Beel, a new blanket for Belphegor, and a new dress for Lilith, they moved on to Belphegor’s gifts.

“Don’t call me cheesy, okay?” He blushes as they pull out the shiny golden necklaces. Beelzebub held a necklace with a charm shaped like a sun and Lilith’s sporting a star. Belphie reached down his shirt and pulled out the necklace he had gotten for himself, a moon-shaped charm resting on the chain. 

“Belphie these are beautiful!” Lilith exclaims as Belphegor puts it around her neck.

“Think of these as a promise. A promise that we’ll always protect each other.”

The three sat in the circle agreeing and swearing to protect each other no matter the cost.

The Celestial war was the last time he saw those stars. He watched as the necklace flew off of her chest, blood splatter landing on it as the arrow penetrated her wing. He watched as the chain snapped from the force of Lilith’s body flying backward. He watched as he broke his promise to protect her-

-

Belphie sat straight up, breathing heavily as he woke up from the flashback. He stared straight ahead as he tried to refocus his breathing. Despite the darkness of the attic - he could see the outline of a person next to him. He glanced down at MC as he turned on a lamp. He grabbed their face and checked their pulse, letting out a sigh of relief as they stirred, blinking away the sleep from their tired eyes. 

“Belphie? You ok?” MC reaches up to wipe a tear he hadn’t even realized fell from his violet eyes.

He couldn’t respond, his mouth open as nothing but a choked sob came out. MC sat up and pulled him against their chest, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Another nightmare?” they ask, receiving a shaky nod in return. Belphegor looks at the digital clock that rested beside his bed and reads the numbers.

It was 2:03 AM on December 20th.

-

The next morning, MC and Belphie arrived at breakfast. “MC, the human world holiday season has arrived, Diavolo wants you to be prepared to talk to him this morning about how we can incorporate these human world festivities into our home to make you more comfortable during your stay,” Lucifer announces as MC helps him clean the dishes. 

“Actually… I was wondering if perhaps I could go home. Just for a week or so to see family and be in my own home. Christmas is special for me and I don’t really want to spend it in Hell.” 

Lucifer looks surprised at their request and opens his mouth, most likely to protest the idea saying it would be a hazard to send MC out to the human world, but he is interrupted by another voice, one belonging to the demon prince himself.

“Of course you can go home for the holidays! Though it may be riskier for you seeing as you now have pacts with all seven demon brothers yet have no idea how to use them. So I will allow you to go home but you will have to take a brother with you,” Diavolo states, causing Lucifer to turn around in surprise.

“I will go with them Diavolo I am the only one who can be trusted-”

“No Lucifer, this is a special holiday and I want you to allow MC to choose for themselves for once.”

MC’s mind immediately goes to Belphie. They thank Diavolo with a big hug due to their excitement and run up towards the attic in search of their sleepy boyfriend. 

“Belphie! Belphie!” They jump on the pile of blankets that hid his body beneath them.

“What?” He groans.

“Diavolo said I could go home for a week to celebrate Christmas!” They exclaim and he gives them a half-assed smile.

“Cool. Have fun,” He turns over intending to go back to sleep and not wake up until after the season has passed.

“He said I have to take a brother with me though, so I figured, you used to love the human world so why don’t you join me?” They smile sweetly at him.

He tenses and looks at the ground, avoiding their pleading eyes. “I can’t.”

“But why?!” They whine.

“Because… because I don’t want anybody to get hurt.” He turns to look at MC and they see the fear in his eyes, “what if I get angry again? What if I kill an innocent human while we’re there. MC I can’t go, I don’t want to hurt anybody-”

“Well then we’ll just have to stay inside, no big deal,” they shrug as if they hadn’t a care in the world. “I’ll go food shopping the first day so that we can eat, then we’ll hide out in my apartment all week watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa and all that jazz.”

Belphegor looks at them with hope in his eyes as he contemplates whether or not to join them on their journey. 

“You pinky promise we won’t leave the apartment?” He looks at them with a very serious look, and they lean forward, lightly bonking their forehead against his. 

“I swear on my soul.” They state before leaning their head down to kiss him softly.

-

As they prepared to depart for their trip, Lucifer would not stop nagging Belphegor like a mom sending their kid off to summer camp.

“Don’t talk to any humans you don’t know, do you have mittens?! You can’t go without mittens, Belphegor, demons aren’t built for the cold you have to bundle up or else you’ll-” he is interrupted by Belphegor loudly saying his goodbye as he and MC stepped through the portal, landing in front of the apartment building where MC resided. The portal closed behind them and MC grabbed his hand, leading him into their apartment carrying his luggage.

“MC! Long time no see!” the security guard at the front desk smiles widely at them, “you on break from your exchange program in Sweden- or wherever it was you went- for the holidays?” He stands up and walks around the desk to talk more casually to the human.

“George! Yes I’m back, and this is my boyfriend, Belphie, I met him in the exchange program,” MC wraps themselves around Belphegor’s arm as he looks down shyly, afraid to look at any human other than MC.

“Nice to meet ya, Belphie. I’m George, you’ll probably see me a lot since I'm the head of security in this building,” the man reaches his hand out to shake Belphegor’s. Belphie nervously looks at MC who takes the hint and pipes up.

“Sorry about him! He’s Swedish, so he doesn’t really understand, plus he’s a germaphobe so he doesn’t shake hands,” they smile apologetically at the security guard who lowers his hand and gives a nod. 

“Tell him I said to enjoy his stay,” George says before walking off.

“Hey Belphie, George says to-”

“Yea I heard him, stupid,” he pokes MC’s cheek before they lead him to the elevator.

As MC reaches their front door and turns the keys they can see Belphie fidget, clearly nervous that they have yet to enter the privacy of MC’s home. 

MC uses one hand to push the door open and the other to rub their thumb soothingly over the demon’s knuckles. As soon as they shut the door it feels as if a thousand pounds had been lifted from his shoulders and he lets out a sigh.

“Ok, now that we’re here… do you want a tour?” MC chuckles, grabbing their boyfriend’s hand once more, leading him through the apartment and announcing the rooms as if they were a safari guide.

“Over here you see the bedroom. The natural habitat of an MC. The MC sleeps in this room and nearly never leaves it. This room is where things such as the mating season take place,” MC wiggles their eyebrows suggestively before giving an exaggerated wink, causing Belphegor to snort from how hard he was laughing.

“Your home is very cute, MC,” he compliments.

After picking up their room a bit and placing Belphie’s luggage in the bedroom, MC decides to set up their bed as a nest for them to cuddle in. Belphie and MC lay in the makeshift nest watching horribly hallmark Christmas movies and making fun of their plots before they eventually fall asleep, ending their first day in the human realm.

-

“Hey, be careful you three!” The white haired angel yells at three teens who run through a town decorated for Christmas.

“Woah! Belphie look!” Lilith grabs his shoulder and they look over to see a giant tree, all lit up (i know light bulbs probably didn’t exist in the era before Lilith died BUT we’re gonna pretend it do :D ) and covered in ornaments. 

“Oh, I think they’re gonna put the star on top now,” he, Lilith and Beel all push their way to the front of the crowd, ignoring Mammon calling for them to stay close to him.

“It’s so pretty!” Belphie looks at the young woman and his twin, smiling softly as they stare in awe at the shimmer lights as snow falls all around them in small soft flakes they melt on their skin. 

“I wish Lucifer, Asmo, and Leviathan weren’t so busy today-” Lilith frowns. “I know they really just didn’t want to come stand in the cold but… I really think if we could’ve convinced them to come they would have loved this.” Lilith smiles gently and looks back up at the twinkling lights of the star atop the giant pine tree before them, “I hope one day we can all see these lights together.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to get those guys down ‘ere, but ya guys got me!” Mammon catches up to them and smiles.

“Hey Mammon! Can we take a tree from the human world and decorate it at home?!” Lilith asks with a wide smile.

“Well it's a bit late this year, but next Christmas I pinky promise,” He raised his pinky towards her and they locked pinkies, bringing smiles to their faces.

But next Christmas never arrived for Lilith. It was on this trip that she met the human man who she fell for. It was mere months later that he fell ill and they were all cast down from the heavens. Bringing the death of Lilith and the birth of Satan.

-

Belphie slowly blinked as he winced away from the bright sunlight he wasn’t used to. He raised his nose to the air and smelled something good, so he stood and followed the scent to the kitchen. There he found MC in their pajamas, holding a pan with eggs over a plate that already had bacon and toast on it.

“Belphie!” They place down the pan and run to him, jumping onto him as he catches their thighs, wrapping themself around him as he holds them up, tightly embracing their small form and swinging back and forth playfully.

“Someone seems hyper this morning,” he lets go of MC and they climb down with a laugh.

 “I know you were nervous about coming here so I wanted to thank you for joining me with breakfast in bed… so go back to bed and let me surprise you!” Belphie rolls his eyes and climbs back into the bed, moments later MC enters holding the plate he had previously seen them preparing. “Tada! A traditional human world breakfast!”

They eat their breakfast and watch the news, Belphie accidentally laughing at some tragic events due to his demonic nature.

They spend some time decorating with some supplies MC had hidden away in the deepest depths of their closet. They hang a wreath on the inside of the front door and MC pulls out a fake mistletoe, hanging it on a ceiling lamp Belphie was underneath as he strung some lights around the room.

“What’s that thing?” He tilts his head upwards to look at it more closely.

“It’s a human world tradition, wanna try it out?” MC asks innocently.

“Sure why not, what do I have to do-” he’s interrupted by MC pulling his face down to his for a sweet kiss.

“It’s mistletoe, if you and someone else stand under it you have to kiss!” Belphie smiles and gives them one more kiss before looking back down into the box of decorations and spotting a star.

“Oh, this goes on top of the tree, right?” he asks and MC gives a small smile. 

“Yea but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get a tree up here by myself, so we might have to skip that part-”

“We have to have a tree! That's the best part!” Belphie suddenly bursts out, immediately blushing embarrassed by his sudden enthusiasm. “Lilith used to love the trees.”

“Oh, then I’m sure we can find a way!” MC suddenly whips out their D.D.D, pressing a few buttons before raising it to their ear. “Hey Diavolo! I need a favor-”

-

“Here you two are, have fun decorating,” Diavolo says as they finish screwing a tree he and Lucifer had hauled up to MC’s apartment.

“Honestly, I don’t think you should have called us for this,” Lucifer shakes his head with annoyance.

“Yea you shouldn’t have come to the human world for a Christmas tree, you never could do it for Lilith when she begged-” Belphie scoffs, making Lucifer shoot a glare his way.

“Lucifer and Belphie please behave yourselves, you are representing the Devildom here in MC’s apartment,” Diavolo places a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.

(from here to the dash mark is a tiny itty bitty bit of Dialuci fluff as a small little bonus)

The three men suddenly hear some snickering as MC looks above Diavolo and Lucifer, causing everyone else to look up in return. They all looked up at the mistletoe that hung above them and MC and Belphie looked at each other with mischief in their eyes.

“Oh yea, Lord Diavolo MC taught me a fun human world tradition, would you two like to give it a try,” Belphie gives an evil smirk.

“Of course, Lucifer you join too!”

As Belphegor explained the tradition Lucifer grew extremely flustered and tried to argue his way out of it, losing in the end as the demon prince was too enthusiastic to participate in human culture and kissed him on the lips with little to no hesitation.

The men left, one beaming with excitement and the other sulking but blushing.

-

MC wrapped the lights around the tree, occasionally tripping over the long tangled wire. Belphie grabbed some tinsel, tossing it around the tree as MC finished the lights.

MC pulled out the normal ornaments first, handing some to Belphie to hang alongside them.

Then they got to the ones with meaning behind them.

“Baby’s first Christmas?” Belphie reads off the ornament shaped like a cradle.

“Oh yea, that’s from my first Christmas! It has my birthstone in there as well, see!”

As they dig through the ornaments and MC tells stories behind them all he can’t help but smile as he gets to know his lover deeper than he had before.

After hours of this, they finish and star at the star that had yet to be placed on top of the tree.

“Do you want put it on, Belphie?” MC smiles up at him.

“Me? Are you sure?”

“Of course this is your first time decorating for Christmas you said so you should get the full experience!” MC hands him the star and he looks at it, a bit nervous before feeling MC’s lips on his cheek, a silent cheer of encouragement.

He climbs the step ladder MC had placed next to the tree and places the star on, plugging it into the wall as it lit up with white lights.

MC runs to turn off the lights so they can see the Christmas light better and Belphie takes a step back, a big smile on his normally sleepy face.

They stand and stare at the tree happily for a few moments before MC excuses themselves to go make dinner. Belphie lays down on the bed and decides to take a power nap while MC cooks. 

-

“Ah, I’m so sorry sir!” Lilith exclaimed as she accidentally bumped into the shoulder of a young man. 

“No worries, having a lady as breath-taking as yourself bump into me must be my Christmas gift,” the man compliments the Angel before introducing himself.

“Lilith!” Belphegor calls after having searched for them for half an hour, he finally spotted them blushing as they chatted with a human man. Her three brothers watched from afar to ensure her safety, but allowed them to hang out together for a few more minutes.

“Lilith, we need to head back home now,” Mammon interrupted the pair, bringing a frown to his baby sister’s face. He walks away to let them say their goodbyes.

“Oh, uh, sir, I would love to see you again sometime, could we perhaps meet here in the center of town in three days time?” She asks with hope in her eyes and rosy cheeks. 

“Of course, I will wait here for you to return.” Belphie overheard their goodbyes and got slight chills, happy that his sister seemed excited, but fearful because he knew that love between Angel and human was something not taken lightly.

When they got home, Belphegor and Beelzebub sat and listened to their sister speak of the man and how they were going to return and see him soon. So every three days, the four of them travelled down to the human world, creating a new tradition. One day Lilith started going by herself, more frequently and sometimes spending days in the human world, staying with her new lover.

Belphegor was so happy to see his sister happy and he thanked Christmas for existing as he knew that if it didn’t she would never have met the person who gave her so much life. But now he couldn’t help but curse the wretched holiday as it caused her to meet the person she would give her life trying to heal.

-

Belphegor woke up the next morning with MC still in bed, sleeping next to him.

He smiled down at the human and thought to himself how hypocritical he was. He had been so mad at Lilith’s lover for her death and claimed loving humans if you were not human was wrong, but here he was staring with pure adoration at a human he was proud to call his.

MC stirred and looked up into sleepy violet eyes before slightly sitting up for a kiss.

They both got ready for the day, brushing their teeth, changing into new clothes and eventually arriving in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Ok, funny story,” MC laughs nervously as they open the cabinets, meeting nothing but air, “we are out of food and I’m going to have to go shopping. So you can either stay here alone or join me. It’s completely up to you.”

Belphegor weighs his options before a small voice in the back of his head tells him to join his significant other in public and protect them from witches or other supernatural creatures that may see the pact marks that adorned their skin.

They unplug the tree to avoid a fire and bundle up to avoid hypothermia. 

MC holds his hand the whole way, soothing any nerves he had. They tried to crack some jokes to make him feel less awkward but they eventually stopped as it didn’t seem to help him. 

As they shopped Belphie’s vice grip on MC’s hand loosened to a casual hold instead of a fearful one. 

“This is actually… kind of nice,” he mumbled as he looked around at the humans shopping, some kids horsing around as their mother tried to reign them in, an old couple slowly making their way down the aisle, a father trying to make his infant laugh at his funny faces.

“See, I told you it wouldn’t be so bad,” MC smiles at him sweetly.

They finished up their shopping and paid for their groceries before leaving. On the way home Belphegor made MC stop so they could look at a snow covered park where parents sat and watched their children and he saw some dogs run after frisbees and snowballs their owners had thrown.

The whole way home Belphie couldn’t stop smiling as he watched humans enjoy their lives despite theirs being so short compared to his own.

Then he saw a young lady bump into a man, apologizing before they struck up a conversation. He saw Lilith and her lover for half a second before blinking and seeing the strangers once more. 

When they arrived home and got settled in, putting away the groceries and getting back into their PJs, they sat in front of the TV, watching some show MC wanted to catch up on while they were home where it aired.

A commercial came on that Belphie had seen the night before. It was a Christmas movie that was apparently a “remake” of a story about some green man in the mountains stealing a holiday. He saw on the screen it was apparently ‘in theaters now’, so he turned to the human beside him.

“Hey MC… do you think maybe we could go see that tonight?” he smiled shyly and MC sat up and gave him a soft kiss.

“Of course! I’m glad to see you finally feel good about going outside.”

“I mean… movie theaters are just dark rooms you sit in watching a giant screen for a bit,” he shrugs, clearly still a bit nervous about being around other humans.

“Ok, it is still a start though!” MC hugs him before going onto their phone and looking for movie times.

-

At the end of the movie MC and Belphie walked out hand in hand, him acting much more natural than when they had first arrived.

They returned to the apartment building and were once again greeted by the security guard, George. 

“MC! MC’s boyfriend! Have a nice date?” he smiles at the pair.

“Yes! We saw a movie!” Belphie tries to put on his best Swedish accent and watches as the security guard looks surprised. 

“Very nice!” George smiles at him, talking very slowly to ensure Belphie could understand him.

Belphie continued to communicate in short and simple sentences in his god awful attempt at an accent. After they left the lobby, MC and Belphie broke into laughter.

“That was awful” MC laughs out, clutching their stomach.

“I only knew how the accent sounded from that show you were watching last night,” he responds, also laughing very hard.

The rest of the night, Belphie and MC make plans for the remainder of their time in the human world. 

The next day they went Ice Skating, Belphie falling over a lot before finally getting the hang of it. Though, by the time he got it, he was exhausted and falling asleep on the ice. MC had to hurry home so he didn’t knock out on the sidewalk.

The day after that was Christmas, and Belphie was grateful he hadn’t had any dreams to upset him the past few days.

He had bought MC a gift before they left the Devildom and MC had left to go get him one yesterday when he fell asleep. They both handed each other gifts and unwrapped them at the same time.

“A blanket that matches my pillow!” Belphie exclaims with a big smile, holding the cow print cloth up to get a better view of it. He wraps it around himself as MC finishes getting the wrapping off of his gift to them.

“Oh wow… Belphie this is beautiful,” they lift the necklace up and place the star shaped charm in their palm.

“I had it custom made,” he pulls his own necklace out from under his shirt, “Beel has one too, the third one, that is shaped like stars too, is on Lilith’s tomb under the house. You came and changed me, MC. I want you to know I don’t see you as Lilith, but you are still a piece of my family, and I promise to protect you forever.”

Belphie was certain he would never see the blood on those stars again, he would protect MC with his life and never let them get hurt by anyone or anything.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[glass-es-say]

Are Ya Winning, Gos?

“Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says solemnly. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you. We really need to get you a helmet.”

Gosalyn tries to teach Drake how to play Legend of Legends Quest.

Here on Ao3

“Uhg, are you kidding me!”

Drake blinks and looks away from patching his costume back together—again. He’d had no idea how many buttons Darkwing should’ve lost when he’d watched the show as a kid. He’s already had to put in a bulk order for them.

“Ahh!” Gosalyn drops her game in her lap and scrubs her hands over her face.

“Having fun?”

Gosalyn glares at him then slouches somehow further down into the couch.  Drake makes a mental note to include some more stretches in their training routine. “I’m trying to level up my character so I can play with Launchpad and one of the Dewey’s brothers whose character is super OP but this stupid Routerrock monster just! Keeps! Killing me!”

Huh. He can honestly say he hadn’t been expecting that. “Sounds annoying.” He frowns. “They want you to level up before you can join them?”

“No, uhg, they’re both super nice about it obviously but I haven’t really had time to play since before—you know. And I don’t want to be carried!” She punches the back cushion of the couch. “I want to kill stuff myself!”

“Just what every superhero wants to hear from his sidekick,” he responds wryly, standing up and wandering over to where she’s sprawled across the couch.

Gosalyn sits up just enough to roll her eyes at him. “It’s video game, you—uhg, whatever, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Oh?” he asks mildly, leaning his arms on the back of the couch and looking down at her. “You sure?”

“I mean, it’s—whatever, you don’t have to pretend to care, um, but. Basically, I’m trying to beat this big rock monster so my character can get stronger but there’s like, this trick to it that I just haven’t figured out yet. And it’s frustrating me. That’s all.”

“Sounds tough,” Drake says. “You must really enjoy playing to keep going after something so frustrating.”

She shrugs, looking away from him and down at the couch cushions. “I mean, it’s fun still, so.”

“Must be. Cool graphics, too. I like that ridiculously huge sword you’ve got.”

Gosalyn snorts. “Thanks. It was a quest reward.” She’s still pointedly not looking at him when she quietly says, “Do you—um, do you want to play?”

Drake blinks. “Really?”

“Well,” she starts, louder and brasher and attempting at blasé, “I’ve already died to this guy so many times not even you could screw up my character’s stats more, so.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “How reassuring.”

“But yeah, I mean. If you wanted to. I don’t mind.”

“Sure, okay,” Drake says, hurdling the couch and landing on the cushion next to Gosalyn. “Sounds like fun.”

She gives him a particular smile he’s been seeing more and more often as they get used to being around each other and he and Launchpad get to know her. It makes something warm and happy squeeze at his heart—he’s beginning to think he’d do pretty much anything to see her smile like that.

“Okay, so this is how you move around and stuff.” She makes her character spin around in a tight circle. “And these are the block and attack buttons. You can get the menu with this one, but please don’t use all my items or I’ll be very, very sad.”

“So you’re saying I should definitely use all those glowing potion things right now.”

“No!” She pushes at him. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Drake laughs and takes the controller from her. “Alright, alright, I promise not to touch them.”

She huffs and throws herself back on the couch then immediately leans back up again. “I’m out of PvP mode right now so if anyone else shows up you can just, like, ignore them. Do not chat with anyone, I—you know what, I’ll just disable that too.” She takes the controller back and navigates through the menu to toggle the chat function off.

“The amount of trust here is heartwarming,” Drake deadpans.

Gosalyn tabs down a few more rows and hesitates, then says, “I’m gonna set the camera on auto too, that’s probably a bit beyond you right now.” She clicks around, then hands the controller back over. “Okay! All set for what I’m sure is going to be a very entertaining fight.”

“Trust and confidence. I’m so touched.”

Gosalyn has left her character in a dark, narrow stone hallway. A line of torches dots the walls, dragging the player’s attention toward the glowing block of light at the end of the hall.

“So,” he asks. “Where am I going?

Gosalyn lets out a long breath. “Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. Drake makes a heroic effort and stops himself from laughing. “Okay, just keep going down the hallway. No—that’s the wrong way. Toward the light, Drake, please. This is already so painful.”

Drake does not snicker. He simply walks the character forward to the light and triggers the loading screen for the next area.

“Okay, so,” Gosalyn says as the shape of a large stone chamber renders onscreen. “There’s gonna be this big rock monster in this room—that’s who you’re fighting. He doesn’t have any minions so you can literally just focus on him and try not to get crushed.” She tilts her head. “I hope you’re better at that than you are in real life.”

“Are the continued insults really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, see him? That’s the guy. Don’t let him—”

A giant rock fist crushes him immediately. It isn’t exactly what Drake had in mind when Gosalyn asked him if he wanted to play. He huffs.

Gosalyn hisses in sympathy. “See that—that’s not what I meant by don’t get crushed.”

Drake levels her with a glare. “I kind of gathered that, thank you.”

He taps through the character respawn loading page until it drops them back in the corridor before the monster.

“Oh, yeah, try again. Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you.”

“That was one—that was tw—that doesn’t happen to me that often!”

“Oh, it super does,” she nods solemnly. “We really need to get you a helmet.”

“Now she’s all about helmets,” he says, moving the character forward into the battle area again. This time he darts away from the monster a couple times—but within a minute the character gets hit by not one, but two giant rock fists and the death screen pops back up.

“Yikes,” Gosalyn says. “This is just getting a little sad, actually, so maybe you can stop—"

“Wait,” Drake says, navigating his way back to the starting point. “Let me try one last time.”

“Uh, sure,” Gosalyn says. “But please don’t break my controller when you die again.”

“I won’t!” Die or break the controller, hopefully. “Look, I’ll make a bet with you. If I can beat this guy, you have to start helping me sew the buttons back on my costume.”

“And when you can’t?”

He makes a show of sighing. “We’ll get Hamburger Hippo for dinner tonight.”

She just looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide if it would be unheroic to let you make a bet you can’t possibly win.” She squints. “Eh, I want Hamburger Hippo more than I care about that. You’re on.”

Drake restarts the character and runs forward to the boss area. Right. No item run with a mid-level character that isn’t his. Now that he’s got a handle on Gosalyn’s specific build a single Routerrock won’t pose too much of a problem. He won’t hit speed-run times, but that’s just fine.

His heart beats quickly in his chest. The payoff for pulling this off is going to be so good.

Gosalyn shifts beside him. “You know, this is kind of a hard boss so you don’t need to like, feel bad if you can’t beat it or anything. I mean, I haven’t quite managed it yet—”

The room loads and Drake immediately scales the wall. Gosalyn stills beside him.

Three minutes later and the monster is dead, stone figure dissolving away into pixels. Gosalyn’s character punches the air and starts counting up new XP.

“What.”

Drake finally lets his grin break through. “Probably would’ve been faster with those power ups you’ve got banked, but eh. Your ranged damage is actually pretty good, though, how come you haven’t tried sniping it while dodging out of its melee distance?”

“Buh—Because that’s no fun,” she says distantly. “Wait—what just happened!?”

Gosalyn’s staring between him and the game with a flat look of shock. Drake sets the controller back in her lap and leans back. “I’m a nerdy kid from the ‘90s, Gos. I’ve put more hours into Legend of Legends Quest than you’ve been alive.” He stands and stretches his arms above him. “Hope you’re excited to start sewing buttons.”

“You tricked me!” She cries, vaulting off the couch and throwing herself at his upper back. It knocks the wind out of him and they both go tumbling to the floor.

Drake groans into the rug. Ow. At least Gosalyn had something to cushion her fall.

“You Legend Quest sharked me! Liar!”

Drake wheezes face down onto the floor. “Oh my god, Gos, I’m not LP you can’t just —”

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” she says, but she jumps off of his back and scurries around to kneel by his head instead. “Or you will be until it gets out that Darkwing Duck himself is a scam artist. A con man. A frivolous fraud who lies to innocent children—”

Drake sits up with a groan, rotating his shoulder. “You really want that burger, huh.”

She sniffs. “What I want is for my hero to be a good role model. And yet,” she sighs dramatically, “I am let down. Literally.”

“Again,” Drake says, “I am neither LP nor a climbing wall.”

Gosalyn rolls her eyes and drops down to sit beside him. She doesn’t look at him, just bites her lip and fiddles with the string of her sweatshirt. Drake rubs shoulder and watches her with growing curiosity.

“Uh, you know, there’s a local multiplayer now,” she half-mumbles to the floor. “If you wanted to play again, or whatever.”

Drake swallows around the warmth spreading through his chest. “Would you—do you want to?”

Gosalyn gives a kind of half-shrug. “You know. It could be fun.”

He can’t help the stupid smile that spreads across his face. “I’d like that a lot,” he says, rolling to his feet and reaching down to help Gosalyn back upright. “Let me get my account code so I can log in as my main.”

She gasps and punches his arm. “You have a main? You know what main means? You are such a cheater!” She shakes her head with mock solemnity. “You’re a terrible influence on a growing young mind.”

Drake chuckles and rubs his arm. “Alright, we’ll get Hamburger Hippo. But only tonight! And you still have to help me resew buttons.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Do you know how to get the Lightning Longbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright. Deal accepted.”

*

"...Your character is basically just Darkwing."

"I don't know why you're in any way surprised."

“God, you’re the lamest superhero ever. Even Gizmoduck is cooler.”

“Hey!”

*

Friend request received from GosaWin

 Friend request accepted

[miyaniacs]

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

Chapter 6 - Unexpected Events 

Chapter 5 - You are mine. ; Index ; masterlist

warnings: mentions of death and blood

Tuesday, 7pm 

Ushijima left about an hour ago, he stayed quite long after last night. Strange enough you had a feeling that he felt bad when he saw all the bruises he left on your body and how you frowned with every movement. 

You sigh and fall down on your sofa, pulling your blanket over your legs. 

Why have I chose this life again? You sigh and look over at the plush owl. 

Yeah why have you? At first you could say it was as if you were forced. Ushijima saved you this one night, that still hunts your dreams. Until that night you’ve always been naive, walking around the city at night, partying until the next morning or waking up in some strangers bed. 

That night you got into the car of those two guys, they told you they just needed to ‘talk with some of their guys’.  You got out of the car with them, the ‘other guys’ already waiting for them, but as soon as they saw you something changed. “We got something for us to have some fun” the one next to you said and pushed you forwards, you stumbled on the hard ground. The other got closer and you knew what was going to happen to you, but then he came. You still remember his words: “You’re here to work and not to take advantage of some innocent girl. GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER NOW!”. Then a shoot, and the guy who was feeling you up just seconds before fall down next to you. Blood running put off the wound on his head. The next thing you felt was his arm around your waist pulling you up, protectively pushing you against him, the gun in his other hand. You can still feel the warmth that filled your body in that moment. You never felt so save before.

Ushijima took you home that night and stayed until you felt asleep. The next morning you woke up finding some fresh croissants in your kitchen together with his number, saying that you should text him. And so you did.. and he asked you for one small favour. This favour was 2 years ago. You got used to all the money, the adrenaline and the fun. 

“I’m so sorry Bokuto.” You say and pull the owl into your chest, feeling the tiredness taking over your body you closed your eyes. 

Wednesday, 2am

Your eyes shoot open. What was this noise? Is someone at your door? Yeah there is definitely someone banging on your door. 

You grab your gun and walk over to your door. 

“Y/n.. please tell me you can hear me.” Wait you know this voice, but it sounds different? 

You look throw the door viewer and you see exactly what you feared to see. 

Quickly you open the door and help Bokuto in. Blood dripping out of a wound on his arm, his right eye is swollen and all in all he doesn’t look good, probably due to the blood loss. 

You guide him to your bathroom and he sits down on your toilet. 

“Can you take off your shirt?” You ask him and he nods, taking off his shirt. You grab a long tweezer and some bandages. FUCK your disinfectants are empty. “Bo, I’m sorry but I need to get vodka, I forgot to stock up on my disinfectants.” You look back at him, “Take that towel and press against the wound.” Hurrying back to your kitchen you grab the vodka and come back into the bath only to find Bokuto passed out. “FUCK!” You exclaimed and quicks check his pulse. 

Okay. Everything is alright. He just passed out. You quickly clean up the wound with the vodka, which eventually gets him back to reality. “SHITT” he groans. “I need to get the bullet out. Here bite on that towel.” You hand him the towel he was originally supposed to press on his wound. 

Carefully you remove the bullet with the tweezers and sew the wound together. You’re really glad you volunteered for the ambulance when you were 18. After putting on the bandage, you finally look into his eyes. 

“Bo, what happened?” Your eyes filled with sorrow. 

“Nothing major, one of the gangs that worked for us though it was a good idea to act up.”, He took a sip out of the vodka, “but don’t worry, I took care of them.” He lazily smirks. 

“Bokuto - “ you start but he interrupts you. “It’s fine really, I can go now if you want. Your apartment just was the nearest and I needed somewhere to go and you told me that you volunteered for the ambulance so, sorry if I caused trouble.” He gets up, his face twitched in pain. 

Why do all of them have to act so tough. You can’t even count the times Tosh stood in front of your door, with several wounds barley able to walk - all the convincing it took you to made him stay, it was ridicules. 

“Bokuto, please stay.” You stutter. He turns around and looks down at you. “Do you really want that?” He asks. You nod and take his hand leading him to your bedroom, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates at first but then took off his shoes and lays down.

“Do you need anything?” You ask him and he smiles. “Just you in my arms.” Your heart arches and you slowly walk towards him. You sit down next to him and he wraps his non injured arm around you to pull you down on his chest. After a few seconds you shift and wrap one arm around his waist, your head rests on his chest while you throw one of your legs over his. 

“Who caused them?” He asks, his fingers tracing the marks Ushijima left on your collarbone and neck. You gulp, already looking for an excuse. “Wait never mind, just tell me if it’s something serious with this guy?” He mumbles his fingers now run through your hair. “I really don’t know, it’s mainly sex but I-“ you sigh, you’ve actually always been confused about what this thing between you and Tosh is. “It’s fine, that just means that I have to take more effort in now to make you mine.” You feel your cheeks burn at his words - ‘To make you mine.’. 

As if you’re in trance you look at his eyes and push yourself up, to kiss him. Finally you feel his soft lips again. Switching the position you’re now sitting onto of him, deepening the kiss. You don’t know how much practice he got, but you’re melting in the kiss, both of you not wanting to break it. Soon after you need air, he gently stokes your cheek and gives you a perk on your lips. “We should sleep okay?” You whine in response. “No baby, we sleep now, we are not in the right state to get this more heated.” He chuckles as you mumbles something not understandable and cuddle back up on him. His arm pulls you tighter onto him, his face nuzzled in your hair, as you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart. 

Wednesday, 7 am

You wake up by someone calling your name. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bokuto whispers in your ear while planting kisses on your temples. “Baby, I know you’re awake.” He laughs softly and you groan. “Just a few more minutes..” You mumble and cuddle closer to him, hiding your face in his chest, shielding your eyes from the morning sun. 

“Baby.. You need to get up. You have a class at 9am.” He stokes your hair and looks at you lovingly. You move your head, eyes fluttering because of the light and place a kiss on his jawline.

“I’ll just skip it.” You close your eyes again but Bokuto takes away the blankets and now you’re freezing. “OMG BO?!” Your eyes are now fully open and you look at him disgusted. “You don’t need to care about my education” you huff. Yes, you’re grumpy in the morning. Especially with the lack of sleep and your needed caffein.  “Go and get ready, I’ll make some coffee grumpy.” Bokuto laughs. “Wait, let me check your arm first.” You look at the bandage on his arm, which has a light red sport showing. “No, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He lies, and clearly you know that he does, but you don’t have the energy right now to discuss this topic any further with him so you just sigh and make your way to the bathroom. 

Wednesday,  7:50 am 

“Here.” Bokuto places the cup in front of you, while you scroll through your phone checking your messages.  “Thank you Bo.” You smile, not lifting your eyes off your phone. “Should I drive you to your campus?” He asks and lifts his own cup up to his lips. “Would that be okay for you?” You now look at him. His hair is still messy, he has dark circles under his eyes, one of his eyes is still some colour of purple, his shirt isn’t buttoned up completely, leaving the upper buttons undone.  “You look like shit.” You state. “Oh you were the one putting vodka on my wound, how do you expect me to look?” He rolls his eyes in a joking way before he adds ”besides I’d put on a different shirt if I were you. There is quite some discolorations showing.” You groan, remembering the mess Ushijima left on your skin and get up to put on a T-Shirt with a higher collar. 

Wednesday, 8:40 am 

You get out of Bokuto’s car after saying your goodbye and promising him that you won*t ignore his messages and be save and most importantly text him if you’d feel uncomfortable. 

Walking towards the building your class is held in you receive a massage from Ushijima. 

From: Tosh 

Wait for me in the room after the lecture ends.  We need to meet Kags at the Casino afterwards.

You reread the message for five times and the ‘wait for me in the room’ won’t make any sense. 

“Hey Y/N!” Your best friends walk up to you and you great them putting your phone away. It’s Ushijima after all who knows why you need to wait there for him. 

Wednesday, 9:15 am 

The door opens and your faculty director walks in. “I’m sorry to announce that Professor Bernstein died.” All the student immediately start to whisper, all the crazies theories about his death coming up, “YET we quickly found someone who will take his place for the rest of the semester. Please welcome -“ you stop listening. You already know who he is, and now you know why your old professor has died all of sudden. You roll your eyes as Ushijimas lock with yours. 

Wednesday, 1:30 pm 

You told your friends that you need to talk with the Professor because of some essay you had to do. They just smirked at you “You don’t have to lie, we have eyes. He is hot as fuck, shoot your shot babygirl.” 

Sadly you weren't the only one staying in the room. Around 10 other female students are circling the desk Ushijima leans against asking him question after question - or more likely flirting with him. You huff. As if anyone of them would have a chance with him. The black hair one with this extremely deep cut shirt takes a step forward and - puts her hand on his chest? 

The more you watch her touching him, the more annoyed you get. You sigh loudly, getting attention. He smirks and tells the other girls off, which still try to stay ,but quickly run off as his presence changes, showing that that he was not kindly asking them. 

He slowly walks up to you. “Why?” You just ask him. “It was the Boss’s idea. We’re all worried about your safety since this Bastard picked you up on the campus and also came to you last night.” By now he reached the sport you’re standing, hovering over you. You open your mouth to say something but he’s faster “Don’t worry, I know you’re just playing your role babygirl.” He gently stokes your cheek. “Shouldn't we go now? I bet the others are already waiting.” You grumble and add “You took long enough answering those questions - about what? If your muscles are real?” If you could take back your words you would. The last part was supposed to be your thoughts only. “Is my baby jealous?” He smirks. Yes, yes you are jealous. You’re not used to see other girls flirt with him that offensively. Usually when the two of you are around others it was visible for everyone that he was with you. “Now you know how I feel, when I see you with Bokuto. So just imagine how you’d feel if you know one of them spends the night at mine.” He whispers the last part in your ear. Your stomach twists simply by the thought of some other girl sharing a bed with him. Your lack of answers is enough for him to smile softly. “Exactly baby. But don’t worry. I don’t want anyone else than you.” he gently kisses the soft skin behind your ear. “Now let’s get going, the boss is waiting”

taglist ( open ) : @kageyamasbraincell , @theduvetpirate , @tendouthighs​ ,  @lilacshouko​ @softhourswithseb​ @theperksofcoffee​ @cuddlesslut​ @chromaticstudio  @shhhlikeme, @kynyta​  @yammmers 

[ephyla]

Boss Lady

Hey guys, I hope you had an amazing Christmas!

This story was inspired by a post I saw a couple of months ago on a subreddit called MaliciousCompliance. I immediately thought that this is something that Hiccup and Astrid would totally do and just hoped I would be inspired to write it at some point. Well, today is that day, so enjoy!!

Summary: 

MODERN AU

Her boss’s insistence on changing her dress code leaves her in a fit of rage. Good thing that she has an amazing boyfriend to help her maliciously comply to his stupid requirements.

***

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘I’m just saying that it would be more appropriate if you dressed more like a professional.’

Astrid was internally fuming, but she tried to keep her cool in his office.

‘And what do you mean by ‘professional’ exactly?’ The young woman asked, her teeth grinding.

‘You know, dresses, heels, skirts.’ Her boss replied nonchalantly.

‘With all due respect, why am I the only one you approached with this request?’ If murder was legal, she would have skinned him alive a long time ago.

‘Because they’re not my assistant.’

***

Hiccup was preparing dinner when he heard the door slam brutally. He turned the heat off and placed the pan on a cool surface. His girlfriend, in a fit of rage, was struggling to untie her shoelaces as he walked into the living room.

‘Bad day at work?’ Astrid just grumbled. ‘Who was it this time, Thuggory? Lars?’

‘My obnoxious boss.’

‘Ah.. Should’ve guessed it. Why did he call you in his office this time? Your shoulders were distracting him? Did you show your ankles again?’ Her boyfriend dramatically gasped.

Astrid worked in a small company where the employees were not required to dress professionally since they’re not facing any customers. There’s still the A/C turned on full blast, so it wasn’t like Astrid was showing a lot of skin to begin with, not that it mattered. But her dirty old boss thought it would be appropriate to point out her attire on an almost daily basis. She quickly got tired of it and decided to have part of her closet dedicated to unflattering clothes so she could avoid being grossly objectified by her superior. Today, however, he crossed a line.

‘That pig decided that I should be wearing ‘corporate clothing since I’m his assistant’ while the others are free to wear jeans and t-shirts.’ Astrid fumed as she violently threw her bag on the sofa and stomped toward the bathroom to take shower. Not having the time to reply, Hiccup simply walked back to the kitchen to finish the cooking.

When Astrid came back, she seemed to have cooled off a bit. They sat at the table as they ate their dinner.

‘You know my dad would hire you if I asked him. You’re smart, focused and hardworking. He would love to have you as an employee. And he loves you. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even his son seeing how much he dotes on you.’ Hiccup laughs. A small smile formed on his girlfriend’s face. ‘You know he loves you to death. I’m not the one that’s getting my ribs crushed every time he hugs me because he missed me. Besides, I don’t think it’s fair for me to suddenly be hired on the spot by your father just because I’m dating you. Some more qualified people might need it more than me. I already have a decent paying job, it’s just that I hate the people I’m working with.’

‘I know, I know. But it’s also not fair for you to endure all this just for your boss’s sick pleasure. You’re not paid to be his eye-candy. You’re paid to be his assistant, and right now he clearly is trying to force you to make his disgusting fantasies a reality. Just please, think about it, alright?’ Astrid looked away, but Hiccup scooted his chair closer and caressed her cheek, making her face him again. Her frown still visible. ‘I’ve noticed you know.’ He stated.

‘Noticed what?’

‘You’ve been stressed a lot since you got this job. You barely eat or get a decent night of sleep anymore’ Hiccup traced the dark bags under her eyes. ‘You always seem irritated by something’ He brought a hand to her hand on his sleeve, trying to relax her death grip. She released him and he grabbed her hand, holding it to his chest. ‘You barely have the time for your friends and family. If we didn’t live together, I probably wouldn’t have seen much of you either. I worry about you. I miss you’ Astrid looked away again.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize th-‘

‘It’s not your fault babe. What I’m trying to say is, maybe it’s time for you to be a bit selfish. You’ve worked so hard to get where you’re at, and your accomplishments are not being acknowledged because your boss is only thinking with his dick. You deserve so much better than this. Please accept my help. Not only will the job my dad offer you will be more high paying, but also less stressful. Well, as stress less it can get with Snot and the twins.’ The pair laughed. ‘But most importantly, you’ll also be working with me.’

‘Now that last part seems very tempting.’ Astrid smiles. Working with Stoick and Hiccup definitely sounds much better than being stuck with her current job.

‘Well I sure hope so! I would take serious offence if you told me you’d rather work with that sleezy old man over me!’ Her boyfriend replies while laughing. ‘But in all seriousness, I’ll talk to my dad, I know he’ll be more than thrilled to help you. If by some thorsaken reason he refuses, then I’ll help. I mean you’ve been by my side for the longest time. You stood by me when I lost my leg and had to learn how to walk again.’ He stomps his prosthetic on the floor to prove his point. ‘It’s really the least I can do.’ Astrid sighed.

‘Alright, just this time, I’ll let you help me. Because I really can’t stand working in the hellhole anymore.’ Hiccup beams and raises the hand he’s holding to his lip, kissing her palm. ‘Great! I’ll call dad now and will let you know as soon as I’m sure you got the job. Then you can finally send your two weeks notice letter.’

‘Already written since the end of my first week on the job. For now, I just have to worry about this dumb new dress code made specifically for me.’ Astrid rolled her eyes.

‘I think I might have an idea. Let’s go to the mall this weekend.’ Astrid saw Hiccup struggling to hide a mischievous grin as he got up and walked to the bedroom to pick up his charging phone.

***

‘Hiccup, you’re missing a leg, not your sight, this is very obviously not my size.’

‘Exactly, it’s perfect, I’ll lend you one of my belts so you can keep these up.’ The piece of clothing in question were a pair brown dress pants in the size M from the men’s section. ‘Now let’s check if they have a matching blazer. I’ll also lend you my dress shirts since they’re not the main focus.’ Hiccup picked out a matching blazer in the same size and held it out to Astrid. ‘Actually, let’s find you a dress shirt so we can see how the whole outfit looks like when you go try it.’ Astrid followed Hiccup as he walked towards the shirts and picked one out.

‘Go try this first, I’ll go find a few other outfits you can try.’ He shoos Astrid to the changing rooms.

‘First outfit?’

‘I mean if you want to wear only one outfit every single day until you leave that place, that’s your choice. But it would be wiser if you had a few spares’ He replied sarcastically. Astrid scoffed and left to change.

Hiccup took his time finding a few other oversized outfits for his girlfriend. Once he was satisfied with his choice, he walked towards the changing rooms.

‘Astrid?’ He called out.

‘In here’ She replied from the very end of the corridor. ‘Honestly, I hate the outfit, but this is a great idea.’ Astrid pulled the curtains aside and dramatically posed. His bewildered expression made her laugh.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Hiccup quickly recovered from the initial shock. ‘In all honesty, terrible, but at the same time you seem to be able to pull it off.’ Astrid twirled around.

‘I think if I styled it a bit and asked Heather to sew a few things, because we all know I can’t sew to save my life, it could become a nice outfit. At least we’re not wasting money. She said as she rolled up her sleeves.

‘That’s a pretty good idea.’ Hiccup grins. ‘Is it weird that I want you to bend me over a table and call you ‘Sir’ or ‘Daddy’?’

‘Eh, maybe. I’m used to you being weird though.’ Astrid laughs. ‘But please don’t call me that, it creeps me out.’

‘Roger that. Here, I got you some other outfits. I don’t think you need dress shoes, that might be too much. You can use your pair of loafers.’ Her boyfriend handed her the clothes and went to take a seat while she tried the rest of the clothing.

***

Astrid closed the door behind her. More gently than last time indicating her much better mood. Hiccup’s head popped out of their bedroom’s doorway. He smiled when he saw her good mood and walked towards her and kissed her.

‘I assume things went well?’

‘You should’ve seen the look on his dumb face! I spent the entire day trying not to laugh!’ She rejoiced as she circled her arm around his neck. They swayed for a couple of seconds before ungraciously landing on the sofa. ‘He couldn’t really say anything, because technically, I did what he asked for. I dressed professionally. I just decided to ignore his suggestions about wearing a dress or heels. I mean, who does he think he is, my stylist?’ Her boyfriend laughed and hugged her.

‘I wish I was there to see it all. But I’m happy it worked out for you.’

‘It’s all thanks to you. Things would have gotten way worse if you didn’t have this idea. I most likely would have shoved my heel down his throat or something, probably getting myself fired in the process. Then again that’s not such a bad outcome.’ Astrid rambled.

‘What can I say, I am pretty amazi- Ow!’ He cried as Astrid lightly punched him in the shoulder. He sulked as he held on said shoulder. ‘Whyy?’

‘I could see your ego poking its head out of your oversized mop of hair of yours.’

‘Harhar, if it’s not the leg jokes then it’s got to be the hair jokes. I should’ve seen that one coming.’ He mumbled that last part. Astrid smiled and kissed him.

‘But you’re right, you really are amazing. You’re the best.’

***

I’m normally not a big fan of Modern AUs, so I kind of struggled writing this one. Either way, hope you liked it!

Happy New Year!!

[miridiums-writing]

Squid x Miridium

Miridium = she/he. Short as shit, I am 5’1 irl soooooo, miniture, I accidentally turned into a flustered mess who can’t deal with any compliments but the dynamic works

Squid = they/them. The taller one, I didn’t specify height because brain went no, squid kinda turned into a mysterious flirty advisory and I’m not complaining

Summary ; squid and Miridium have been enemies for years, battle after battle they have fought with no clear winner, but this time squid is determined to finally win

Warnings; blood, gore, fighting

Tag list : @squid-god-supreme since it's literally about you

Miridium crashed into the large oak door, his breaths laboured from running so far after them. Without considering what he was running into, he roughly pulled the door open. “Come on squid, stop playing this ridiculous game with me.” She heard a chuckle near the back of the room, Miridium looked around the room, quickly observing this is what looked like a theatre, with a large stage near the back. Just like squid to choose something like this to run to, they were always one for dramatics. Miridium crept forward through the pews, listening out for any other movement in the room, by the time he had reached the stage he had still heard nothing at all other than their own footsteps against the polished wood floor.

Squid was crouched at the back of the stage, their sword resting against their leg. Their own breathing wasn’t quite as haggard as Miridium’s, though in comparison they had had more time to rest. They smirked to themselves as they heard his footsteps get closer to their hiding place. Squid could distinctly remember from all the other times they had fought how easy it was to fluster Miridium, and pushing his buttons was squid’s most favourite past time. They could hear him hesitate at the stage stairs, come on Miri just a little further and this battle is mine for the winning.

Both got poised and ready to attack the other, their swords twitching to get unsheathed. With a shout squid jumped out from their crouched position, pouncing onto Miri, thankfully Miri had unsheathed his sword just in time and both swords crashed against each other, then the true fight began, each blocking and attacking the other with immense speed and agility, the only sound surrounding the room was metal against metal, and slight grunts at both ends as they battled for the win. Squid pushed their sword against Miri’s, their faces close together now, squid smirked down at Miri, seeing his face of concentration and rage. “Why don’t you just let me win for once shortcake?” Miri glared up at Squid at the nickname, every time without fail Squid had somehow managed to get under her skin and annoy the hell out of her. “Shut up!” she yelled, finally pushing squid back, causing them to stumble slightly before they inevitably regained their balance, their smirk only growing larger. “Fine, guess ill just have to be more persuasive!” They ran back at Miri, sword raise ready to attack her. Miri, quickly jumped out of the way of the dangerous blow. Though he misjudged his landing and felt himself starting to fall from the stage. In a blind state of panic for their wellbeing squid grabbed a-hold of her hand and pulled her towards themselves, their arms circling protectively around her body.

When the adrenaline on both sides starts to dull down is, they realized the position they were in. squid pulled their arms away from her and took a step back, giving them the space, they assumed Miri would want. “Just, don’t do that shortcake, you’ll take a nasty fall.” Miri had still yet to say a word to squid, her own brain had short-circuited slightly, and she had no idea what to do, her emotions going haywire. Her head repeating the same sentence again and again as it tried to understand the events that had just taken place. It meant nothing. “Lets just pretend that never happened. Besides,” she picked up her sword from the ground. “I was about to win.” Squids usual signature smirk etched back onto their face. “Oh yeah, lets see about that.” Both fighters raised their swords once more before a gut retching wail sounded from outside. Miri’s face turned white as she looked up at squid. Squid’s eyes hardened as they turned their gaze to the door, waiting for one of those things to enter. “How many do you think there are” Miri said quietly, afraid making too loud a noise would attract those things to them. “Can’t believe I’m saying this,” squid said, tucking their sword under their arm and putting the left hand out to Miri. “Let’s fight together for once and get the hell out of here, then we go on like nothing happened. Its my fault this happened, I drew us too far away from the circle” Miri considered their offer for a moment before she nodded to herself and put her hand in theirs. “Just this once, then we forget.” They shook hands before they turned to the door, swords raised once more and ready to fight it.

The door was smashed open off its hinges as the thing pushed its way through the door, it didn’t really have a name other than the thing, it didn’t seem to resemble anything anyone had seen before the worlds fall. It was a grotesque creature with horns along its back, its skin a pale off-white colour covered in a clear slime, it a rather rotund body, with small stubby legs, 10 in all. Its mouth was the worst. Closed it just look like a creepy smile, but as its moth opened, they could see its rows and rows of teeth, with a hole that went straight down to its stomach. It made a wailing noise as it slugged across the floor into the room. The things weren’t incredibly fast, but they didn’t need to be. They always came in large packs, and both Squid and Miri knew the others weren’t far behind, if they both wanted to make it out alive, they were going to need to work together.

Squid and Miri glanced at each other, nodding in a reassuring way at the other and turned their gaze to the thing, both ready to fight for not only their own survival, but the others too

Both Squid and Miri were drenched in the disgusting slime now, wounds adorned both their bodies. They had fought long and hard, a pack of 20 of them had surrounded the building and had taken over 2 hours to kill them all. Miri wasn’t quite as badly wounded as Squid as they had a bad habit of swooping in at the last moment and stopping him from getting hurt. Miri trudged over to Squid, putting an arm around them and helping them up, they both hobbled away from the carnage. While scoping out the area earlier Miri had noticed a first aid stand not too far from the building as it looked like an old run-down amusement park. Squid’s body weight leaned heavily onto Miri, causing them to struggle to pull them along, but knowing that he owed them his life. Squid tried to keep their groans of pain to themselves, trying to be as helpful as possible, so Miri didn’t feel like she was doing all the work.

Miri kicked the door down of the broken building, pulling Squid inside with her and placing them onto a seat in the corner before searching through all the drawers and cupboards for some kind of assistance. In her panic she then realized how disgusting her hands and clothing was, she rushed to the sink and thanked god that the water still ran before removing her top layer of armour and setting it aside, leaving him in a black shirt and leggings. Once he had cleaned himself up, he collected up bandages, sterilised wipes and anything else he felt might be needed. Squid had toppled over now, their wounds beginning to take a real tole on them. With quick precision and fluidity Miri removed Squid’s armour and set it beside her own before carefully pealing away Squid’s shirt. Their wound was rather deep, one of the things must have managed to bite them at some point. It was oozing blood and looked rather agitated. Miri was no medical professional, but even she knew this was way above her. The only thing she could thing to do was to clean it, sew it as best she could, bandage it and Squid back to the Circle quickly before they died.

Squid was starting to lose consciousness now and if they fell asleep, they wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. Miri tired to keep Squid awake, even at one point hitting them, but nothing seemed to work. Setting his resolve, he lay squid down across multiple chairs, and got to work cleaning their wounds.

Squid’s eyes started to open, the pain in their chest being much worse than they remembered, and much worse than any wound they had received before. Squid looked around the room, trying to get their bearings before their eyes landed on the figure slumped and asleep in a crumpled heap against the counter on the floor. Squid could recognize the curly green hair from anywhere, and a soft smile fell onto their face. Miri had dragged them here and had even fixed them up. If Squid didn’t know any better, they would think she went soft. Squid carefully pulled themself up from the chair and hobbled over to her side. Squid let their arm drape over their body, and they settled themself against the counter. Without even thinking twice about it they set a kiss against Miri’s forehead.

Its funny to think all of these years they had fought and battled one another, and one afternoon everything had changed. It squid was honesty with themself, and they often weren’t, being here like this with Miri was nice, it felt natural, it felt right. As squid passed out once more, they only hoped that Miri would feel the same

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED!!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Can you please add to the come Hell or Helwater story? I would be eternally grateful. Also do you post any where but here? Like A03 or something?

Come Hell or Helwater - Part Nineteen

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen

And here’s where you can find it on AO3.

*********************************************

Something was going on. Brianna wasn’t sure what, but there was something strange going on between her mother and Jamie. Whatever it was, they didn’t want her to know about it. Every time she walked into the room, they turned all their attention on her. It was overwhelming and she didn’t like it. She’d rather they told her what was going on. If it didn’t stop soon, if they didn’t say something… she would. 

Isobel and Lord and Lady Dunsany had returned a few days after her mother. Brianna’s lessons with Isobel had resumed but neither of them were as interested as they had been. Isobel was excited about her sister’s condition and would be going back and forth between the two houses a great deal in the coming months. 

“It’s a comfort to her to have me there,” Isobel explained as she struggled to show Brianna how to do decorative needlework. She was embroidering a cap for her sister’s baby. 

Brianna was supposed to be putting a monogram onto a handkerchief for her father, but she couldn’t tell Isobel that the initials were wrong. She just worked quietly on the A and M, figuring someday she could add a J to the beginning and an I and E at the end. It wouldn’t be centered properly in the corner but at least it would properly be his. 

“It’s important that she rest and not be upset by anything – it’s bad for the baby,” Isobel explained. 

“And when you’re not there, is she upset?” Brianna asked. 

“It isn’t polite to gossip about such things,” Isobel replied, more with resignation than an aim to scold Brianna for her question. “But she is certainly more inclined to find things upsetting when there’s no one around who can help her with running the household.”

“And you miss your sister too, I suppose.” 

“Of course. We were close when we were younger. Our brother was older and we both looked up to him – Geneva especially. I… I remember his death more than him, really. It brought us closer, I suppose,” Isobel confessed. 

“What’s it like?” Brianna asked, suddenly curious. “Having a sister?”

Isobel’s eyes widened with surprise but then she folded her hands into her lap, needle and thread carefully held between the forefinger and thumb of her right hand, the delicate, unfinished cap clutched in her left hand. 

“Well… She liked to be in charge when we played, but I didn’t mind. I think she’s always been more fanciful so her games were more enjoyable than anything I ever thought of. There were times when we would quarrel, but I don’t know as I’ve heard of any siblings who don’t disagree from time to time,” Isobel confided with a warm smile. “It was harder for her, being older, I think. She had to do everything first when it came to being about in society when we visited London. She’s also prettier so more has been expected of her in other ways. Her marriage has been a successful one… in some ways more than others. I do think we enjoy one another’s company better now and I am excited to become an aunt,” Isobel said with a grin, her attention returning to the baby’s cap in her hands. 

Brianna gave her a polite smile, pondering the relationship Isobel described. 

She’d had some friends in Boston, but no one she was particularly close to. Even if she had wanted to have friends over to her house, many of their parents weren’t keen to let their daughters visit the Randall household. Despite the fact that Frank was a respectable professor, Claire not only worked, she had a man’s profession. They didn’t want their children getting ideas. Of course, it could only do Brianna good to see the example set in their own households, so she was always welcome there (but once her mother discovered what was behind their hospitality, she preferred to have Brianna either join Frank at the university or do her homework in her own office at the hospital). 

Some of those sort-of friends had siblings, though. Angela’s older sister sometimes let them play with her makeup but she also yelled at them when they accidentally spilled her favorite nail polish on her desk. Barbara’s older brother mostly just ignored them whenever Brianna happened to see him and Barbara didn’t seem to mind too much. Doris had a younger sister who had just been starting school and she complained about how all her old things were being passed down – things Barbara still considered hers. 

They’d stayed at Lallybroch for a few days before setting out for Helwater. It hadn’t been much time for Brianna to get to know her cousins (and it had been a little overwhelming because there were so many of them), but maybe she would come to see them like siblings… if they ever got back to Lallybroch. 

“And what about you?” Isobel asked Brianna gently. “Do you think you would find the prospect of a younger brother or sister exciting?”

Brianna looked up at Isobel, confused. How had the older girl guessed what she’d been thinking about?

“I… guess,” Brianna replied. “I know I wanted one when I was littler but after a while of wanting one and not getting one, I guess I stopped hoping for one.” 

“Mmmhmm…” Isobel nodded, her eyes darting back and forth from her needlework to Brianna, something playful in her gaze and at the edges of her mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing. I suppose… I wished for a younger sister sometimes when Geneva was being unkind to me. I told myself I would only treat my younger sister with kindness. While I may not have gotten a younger sister in the way I’d hoped, the girl I imagined she would be was a lot like you – in behavior more than appearance,” she added with a quiet laugh.

“That’s kind of you to say,” Brianna responded flatly, still confused by Isobel’s behavior. She looked to the clock on the mantel. It was a little earlier than they usually quit for the day but Brianna had had enough of Isobel’s riddles. “I should go back and help Mama,” she said, carefully putting her work away. “She hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

“I heard,” Isobel said, laying her own work aside and rising to follow Brianna to the door. “Send her my best wishes that she’ll soon feel better. Encourage her to rest and take care of her if she’ll let you.”

“I will,” Brianna promised but there was something in the way Isobel said it, in the way that she smiled that left Brianna turning their conversation over and over in her mind as she made her way back to their cottage. 

When Brianna arrived, her mother was standing at her work table but she wasn’t working. She had one hand braced on the table, the other at the small of her back rubbing circles into it. 

“Are you okay, Mama?” Brianna asked, closing the door quietly behind her.

“I thought you were supposed to be having your sewing lesson with Lady Isobel,” Claire remarked, straightening at the table and reaching for some dried herbs to add to her mortar for grinding. 

“I told her I needed to come back early to help you,” she said, moving to a spot on the other side of the table. 

“Very well. Here,” Claire slid the mortar across to Brianna and then handed her the pestle. “Grind those and then add them–” 

“I know, Mama. I’ve helped you make this balm before,” Brianna assured her with an annoyed laugh.

Claire laughed quietly, moving to prepare the beeswax for melting. She paused at the end of the table, leaning into it again and running a hand over herself, first down her front and then to that spot at the small of her back for a moment. With a small nod to herself, she resumed her task. 

Brianna had noticed and again asked, “Are you okay, Mama?” Seeing her mother sigh, seeing her prepare to lie or only tell half the truth, Brianna set the pestle aside with more force than she intended, and asked with more force, “Are you sick? Is that why you and Da have been acting strange?”

“I’m not sick, sweetheart,” Claire assured her. “I’m… I’m going to have a baby. I wasn’t sure for a while and there’s still a lot that can go wrong,” she babbled, “but no, I’m not sick.”

“Oh,” Brianna said, picking the pestle back up and grinding the herbs, simply for something to do with her hands. “Are you… happy about it?”

Claire looked at Brianna for a moment, a smile slowly breaking across her face. “I am. But I’m also terrified. The last time I did this was a looooong time ago.” 

Brianna laughed. “I’m not that old.”

“No, but you’re not my little baby anymore either,” Claire lamented. 

“You’re still scared even though this time you have me and Da?” 

“Last time… I didn’t have much left to lose if things went wrong,” Claire answered, quietly. “This time…”

“You’ll be fine, Mama. Da and I will make sure of it,” Brianna promised.

“That’s exactly what your father keeps saying.”

“Two against one,” Brianna said with a shrug. “You should listen to us.”

Claire chuckled. “I suppose I should.”

“Can I tell Lady Isobel? She’s making a cap for Lady Geneva’s baby. Maybe she can show me how to make one for this baby.”

“That would be nice… And what about you? I know it’s a surprise but, are you happy about it? You won’t be close enough in age to be playmates…”

“I don’t know. It’s strange to think of having a baby here,” she remarked, looking around their small cottage. “But I guess it’s kind of like everything else. It’s strange at first, but then you get used to it and have a hard time imagining any other way. I still miss… I was gonna say ‘home’ but this is home now. Where we were before feels more and more like a dream.”

“Hmmm. It does. Not a bad dream or a good dream… just a little… not real.”

“But I always have you to help me remember it,” Brianna said.

“And I have you,” Claire agreed. “And that is something that will always be just ours.”

Brianna smiled, liking the thought of having something that she alone shared with her mother.

[randomikemendegen]

It's nearly 4:45 in the morning (at the time of writing) where I am but fuck it, my brain's creative juices are flowing but my body says no so HERE'S A TEXT POST ABOUT MY OCS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE DORM LEADERS--

(note: I WILL be drawing a relationship chart sooner or later... or in the future, hopefully soon 🤡🤡🤡)

HEARTSLABYUL

Quintin Blanpine — Riddle Rosehearts

At first, their relationship was really.... kind of "cruel", in a way really.

What with Riddle essentially working Quin to the bone, though his reasoning was more of [He needs to build more confidence in himself] and genuinely thought that what he was doing was the right thing. Quintin wasn't PLEASED AT ALL with the treatment, but kept quiet about it...

.... at least until Chapter 1 occured.

They got to actually talking and found that they had some common grounds and became close acquaintances.

(One such thing is their shared thought of Seisear being a huge PAIN to deal with despite his usually good and sincere intentions; another is actually them bonding over the dormitory's hedgehogs and love of crossword puzzles.)

Seisear Marchare — Riddle Rosehearts

A one-sided "friendship" on Sei's part (initially).

Riddle really HATED how Seisear was almost always out-of-control "like a petulant child" and seemed to follow his own sets of rules, thus he more often than not hit the other student with his Unique Magic in order to make him reflect even just slightly.

Seisear on the other hand found Riddle to be quite the "hilarious little prince"~. He always found the redhead's reactions funny, and while he may act terribly uncontrollable, Sei does notice how lonesome and closed-off Riddle seems to be-- it's mostly the reason why he likes to bug his classmate almost all the time~.

(Thankfully it seems like after Chapter 1, they've actually become closer and a little bit more friendly... though Sei still keeps getting collared with [Off With Your Head!] due to how far he can go with messing with Riddle for the laughs~.]

SAVANACLAW

Lala-Phula Tigris — Leona Kingscholar

Kind of an odd relationship.

On one hand, they both act somewhat antagonistic towards each other, on the other hand they're actually... kind of close??? To say the least??? Like, they casually throw snarky words and insults at each other, but they also acknowledge each other as "okay"???

Leona finds Lala to be more like a bothersome kid that won't stop pulling his tail for some attention (if you can call the regular declarations of challenge to be that).

Meanwhile Lala thinks that Leona isn't deserving of being "the king of the pack" (ie. dorm leader, in her own terms) but also begrudgingly accepting the fact that he is genuinely strong and thus respects him.

Raetel Gura — Leona Kingscholar

More animosity here than the previous one that Leona and Lala had, though it's not out of actual malice and there's no actual fighting that's happened so far (except for the first time they met), but there ARE some close calls here and there.

Though they're more prone to hurling insults at each other and getting creative with their wordings on how to best annoy the other instead.

Raetel is GENUINELY livid with Leona, mostly out of the fact that they know that Leona could do so much better but chooses NOT to and instead prefers to usually lazy around.

Leona on the other hand mostly thinks of Raetel just as "that fox-sham of a teacher's kid", along with expressing annoyance at how much Raet gets up in his case.

OCTAVINELLE

Leviotan Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

This relationship is on thin-fucking-ice. Period.

Levi knows Azul's type and thus is ALWAYS wary and cautious of his dorm leader, while Azul notes on how distrusting Levi is and is just as wary of his potential plans and methods in which he can foil him.

Funnily enough though, they actually respect each other to some extent and have some slightly similarities here and there that have even both of them acknowledging that fact.

It's to the point of them actually often being seen talking with each other, though if you inquire about that they'll just reply with "it's just business talk".

Viviane Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

Friends....???? To be more accurate, Vivi sees Azul as a friend (like she does with literally everyone else) while on Azul's end he's not sure if they could even BE called "friends".

They certainly are on good terms though that's for sure.

Viviane can see past through Azul's personality and pick up on how actually lonely he is and how much hard work he had to do to finally get to his current self, so she's genuinely really nice and friendly to him.

Meanwhile Azul's kind of wary about Vivi's sincere attitude and is a bit doubtful, though he doesn't mind it at all now that they're both in 2nd year and even seems to actually take a liking to having her in his company on occasion.

Azul still thinks she would make for a good business advertisement and attraction to Mostro Lounge, but Levi threatens to suffocate him to death if he ever tries to so he'll have to pass on the tempting thoughts.

(NO SCARABIA FOR NOW I'M SORRYYYY :(((( I'LL MAKE SOME SOON I PROMISE)

POMEFIORE

Fuyume Yukitosu — Vil Schoenheit

Acquaintances? Of sorts?? It's,,, kinda hard to describe this relationship.

Fuyume has no specific feelings whatsoever to her dorm leader and is perfectly willing to go/do whatever he asks or whatever house rules there are.

Vil meanwhile likes the fact that Fuyu is among the more obedient (especially to the strict regiments that he makes EVERYONE adhere to) of the Pomefiore students, though he can't help but vocalize on how she should open up more to other people.

Which results in her acting like a confused child at times because she has zero ideas on how to NORMALLY converse with someone, so Vil personally takes to putting her in more social circles despite any plights she may have.

He is slightly bit jealous at how she doesn't need to do anything and still remain beautiful, but that feeling decreases due to the fact that she's basically almost like a wallflower with no life and thus can't help but also becoming strict with her in an attempt to get her to finally bloom.

IGNIHYDE

Ophiou Chos Gorgos — Idia Shroud

Close friends!! They have a lot of shared hobbies, likes, dislikes, and interests!!!

They're even close enough that they call each other with nicknames and are even online friends (they even message each other whenever Idia doesn't wanna go out of his room).

Ophiou does sincerely appreciate and like Idia's companionship (along with Ortho), and is very grateful to have someone he could finally call a "friend", yet he does acknowledge on how isolated Idia is more so than himself and can't help but occasionally worry. He is also still mildly scared of being rejected by his (first) friend because of his eyes.

Idia, meanwhile, is DELIGHTED to find someone he calls a "kindred spirit" and is even more open and honest with Ophi due to this fact. Though even then, sometimes Idia's slightly afraid that he might push him away if he ever gets too heated up about any topic and end up looking/acting creepy.

Regardless, they both game together on occasion and even hold anime marathons. (Of course, Ortho is more than welcome to join in)

Raneus Salpho — Idia Shroud

This relationship, unlike the previous one, is more distant. The two of them don't interact that much, but whenever they do, it's with a comfortable distance between them.

It's not that they hate each other, it's just that sometimes their interests align and it's mostly the reason they interact. (Even though they've known each other from way back, they were still distant towards each other and didn't talk much)

Idia often approaches Ran for commissions in sewing cosplay clothing or even just general merchandise that can be sewn before quickly going back to his room.

Though the few amount of times he actually managed to talk with Ran, he found that they actually had some few common grounds... before Ran ended up (unintentionally) scaring him (again).

Raneis meanwhile is totally neutral to his dorm leader, but is a tiny bit annoyed with how Idia doesn't take care of his appearance and thus often finds himself essentially getting up on his face and even threatens him to take better care of himself. Besides that little nugget, he takes up on Idia's requests with no complaint whatsoever.

DIASOMNIA

Cirnu Alva Valirgethen — Malleus Draconia

Cirnu treats Malleus like a younger brother and you can't change my mind.

Okay okay, but in all seriousness, they have a really close relationship! Almost sibling-like, in a way.

While Cirnu does like occasionally playfully messing with Malleus, it's just harmless fun and she's quick to apologize if she says anything out of line. She (also) looks out for Malleus and feels bad that he's not getting invited to anything by anyone, and tries her best to cheer him up by reminding the other Diasomnia members to NOT forget to invite him to any parties that the dorm may have.

(It's also the major reason as to why, despite knowing about it since way back, she allows and supports Malleus and Yuu to interact with each other.)

Malleus, meanwhile, does sincerely appreciate her efforts in making sure he does get invited to stuff and socializing, he does wish that she would be a bit more gentle in her readings since it's a bit embarrassing.

Especially since she often calls him "boy", despite the fact that even though she IS older than him, they only have a few years of an age gap between them.

Berebis R. L'Ephegor — Malleus Draconia

Another complicated relationship to explain??? Kind of????

On one hand, they've barely interacted with each other, but on the other, Malleus' heard of Bel so many times from either Lilia, Cirnu, Silver, and/or Sebek (definitely more with that last one due to his annoyance with Bel).

So Malleus more often than not decides to go looking for him out of curiosity.

After some awkward distance and general apathy (mostly from Bel's side) for a while, their relationship eventually becomes that of quiet acknowledgement and understanding. And occasional harmless jokes and teasing (from both sides).

Due to Bel being among the very few that neither fear nor revere him, Malleus finds some form of comfort and companionship in him. He's mildly curious as to why Bel is the way he is but doesn't push that topic any further since except for a few times due to being unintentionally more curious than he should.

Bel meanwhile didn't like the fact that the most powerful student of NRC kept approaching him and often ignored him, but eventually relented and decided to converse with Malleus. Only to actually end up slightly come to like how Malleus was different from his initial perception, and now kind of enjoys his company.... but you won't get him to admit it. Ever.